#anyway at least i went back and studied skulls a bit more

[socksandbuttons]

im too busy to animate bUT I WANT TO

#OH DO I WANT TO #anyway i tried animiating updog the otherday...... it didnt go well #But BUT i learned #anyway just loving the way jakei aniamtes error thats all #anyway at least i went back and studied skulls a bit more #slowly making my way thru bone anatomy #in random intervals #i dread the ribs i really do but #its gotta be done eventually #anyway shoutout to the time i made an animatic in like a day #and the ones i forget to upload #learning how to color in like opentoonz #slowly but surely i will get there #sketching things out and stuff is a lot easier #still dont understand half of that program but its Okay #i figured out how the brushes work #anyway UM ill upload someting then be off

[1000punks]

bonding. //reversing

bonding. //masterlist

pairing: spawn!Astarion x named!Tav (non-binary OC)

warnings: 18+. nsft. mdni. hurt/comfort, angst, canon-typical descriptions of gaslighting/manipulation.

word count: 5,061

summary: two gays remodel a house domestic fluff and some character background building, set in post-game baldur's gate. two people who are weird and traumatized work on their relationship and reclaim their sexuality through a shared kink. lots of gooey romantic smut while these two slowly figure out their future together.

named!Tav is my non-binary tiefling ranger, Festé. i was seeing far too few fics with tiefling!Tav and i thought it was crucial, nay, critical to include them in the headcanons. i hope you all enjoy! ♡

header credit: MANTIS. // @astarionposting

It was hard to slip into a trance, even with his face buried in his imp's chest, and their arm draped over his back. Festé had fallen asleep while petting over his scars and through his hair, and he had enjoyed every moment of it. Astarion tried again, screwing his eyes shut and counting their heartbeats in his mind. He let their rhythmic breathing lull him back to relaxation, their chest rising and falling slowly. The elf turned his head, opting to rest his cheek on their shoulder, and to brush his lips against their neck. They shifted slightly, and splayed their hand against his back before relaxing it. Astarion continued to count, letting his mind wander. As if it weren't enough to be next to them twenty-four hours a day, Festé often made starring appearances in his thoughts and memories. Greedy, he thought, to have them all to himself, and to still desire more from them.

Regardless, tonight he remembered the very first time he opened up to them, to anyone, about his vampirism. Astarion heaved a sigh and recalled how they had looked when he had been caught bending over their bedroll. Almost demure, definitely curious, but not the least bit fazed. He relaxed and slipped into the memory fully, echoes of the conversation they had had that night coming into focus.

He was studying their face as he hastily explained how he had come to be kneeling over them in the dead of night, the sudden anxiety of the situation forcing the truth out. Shit, he cursed himself, as he took in their furrowed brow and tense posture. Why did he have to pick the ranger? They may be small, but from the looks of them… Gods, he was desperate; and he needed this to work. He needed to have just a taste of power, so he whipped up a half-truth.

They softened their posture at his words, he could easily see it, but something in their eyes bore deep into his chest. He felt… exposed under their unwavering gaze. That feeling in his chest, was it shame? The imp probably saw right through him, but they were playing along anyway? Astarion felt a twinge at the very back of his skull, jerking him out of character for an instant. The damned tadpole.

Festé didn't pry, though. It was genuinely disarming, but his lips were already shaping themselves around another half-truth: "…You can trust me." The memory blurred a bit around the edges as he continued, "I only need a taste, I swear." The imp's eyes were piercing, burning; and yet they had still agreed. What were they playing at?

From there, he had shoved the confusion away, the practiced seductive notes slipping into his voice as he invited the tiefling to lay back. Astarion went for their neck, and immediately, fireworks were going off somewhere within his ribcage. The smokiness of their blood was altogether new, but it was jarring how familiar it felt at the same time. His breathing quickened, despite his best efforts to remain calm as the first swallow coursed down his throat. The elf dug his nails into the dirt involuntarily, feeling the imp struggle underneath him with the pain. They raised their hand out of his line of sight, and he only noticed when he felt their fingers tug at the front of his shirt, softly as you please.

"That's… enough," their uncharacteristically deep voice had broken the spell their blood had cast on him, and they gently pushed Astarion away.

He spoke the first genuine truth he had that night, "That… was amazing," and the tiefling's gaze was piercing once more, though they were smiling widely at him. So stupid, he thought, smiling so warmly at the beast who was sure to be one's demise. Eventually, the elf had walked away, a new spark stirring within his chest.

Unfortunately, when he found himself alone just beyond the treeline, he realized he had felt something else stirring, as well. He panted, whirling around to glance back toward the camp before letting one shoulder come to rest against a tree. Astarion felt the sharp twist of lust coupled with the instinctual revulsion, and the act of relieving himself of both only served to instill a deep confusion within him. A confusion he repressed swiftly as he hunted for something he could kill.

The memory swam before his eyes, and he was standing in the clearing outside of camp. Most of his weight was being supported by the trunk of a large tree, and he was panting and clutching his chest. He supposed that if he had possessed a beating heart, it would be arresting right now.

"Just say… your lines, you stupid elf…" he muttered harshly under his breath. Suddenly, rage flared in his chest along with the panic, and he was tearing off his shirt, throwing it aside carelessly. This was just another thing that had been tainted for him, even if he wanted to enjoy it. He pressed his back against the tree, covering his face with his hands, while a litany of whispers fell from his lips. "It's just, one more mark. You can do this. You can do this." He kneaded at his eyes with the heels of his palms. "Just do it," he snarled.

Footsteps were approaching, and his ears twitched, judging the distance: out of earshot, but not for long. Three, two, one… He stepped out from the shadows of the trees; his features composed, but the disgust barely contained.

"There you are. I've been waiting." The bile was rising in his throat, but he smirked anyway. "Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you." A harmless lie; the imp was good-looking, to be sure, but he never imagined he would be doing this again. "Waiting to have you." He looked them over, his vision going double for a moment while he fought the familiar nausea, the pit in his stomach opening up wide as he stepped towards them. He wished that he could vomit, if only just to make the feeling go away. Then he glanced up, focusing on the tiefling's eyes, and fought to keep his features blank and composed. That disarming expression again, as if the damned imp was examining his very soul. They had such a genuinely warm countenance about them, it showed in their smile. Perhaps they knew, he thought, and yet they were playing his little game.

Festé smirked, mirroring him, but their eyes burned and narrowed. "You don't have me yet," they countered in their rich, low voice. He was off-book now, taken aback, but the moves were more or less the same.

The memory blurred and faded slightly. He hadn't wanted to remember the details, but he did recall his surprise at how warm their body had been. It was useless to compare it to the many other bodies he had touched, or that had touched him. Theirs was…different. To boot, they had offered their neck to him once again, which he only imagined was part of some larger fetish.

Astarion withdrew from that one for the time being, and all of the memories collapsed in on themselves for an instant, and then began cycling rapidly. Every night, they had allowed him in, to feed; and he took, and took. He began to look forward to their visits to his tent every morning, bouncing over to check on him, to ask if he had fed enough, to offer him the same that night. Over time, he had speculated more and more that it wasn't simply a fetish of theirs, not with the way they had lingered near him in camp, nor the way they were by his side before and after every meeting, every battle. Over and over, different locations, different lighting, and different situations: every time he had seen their beautiful smile moved, rapid-fire, across his mind. How he had grown to love that smile, and how he had begun to crave it, to covet it.

There he was, the night after they had faced that detestable drow at Moonrise. He caught Festé's arm by his fingertips, and motioned his head to a spot at the edge of camp. It was a tense moment, and he didn't want anyone else to hear him lay it bare. He studied their features as he began to confess, leaving his feelings and sins out in the open for them to judge, but they didn't. When the tiefling had instead wrapped their arms around him so tenderly, he fought the urge to sink to his knees, to weep and beg for them to stop; but also to never stop. He didn't deserve this care, and certainly not in the wake of confessing to sleeping with them to get ahead. But he craved it so desperately at the same time. It was only then, with his face buried in their shoulder, that he had pieced it together. Festé wanted to help sustain him, they didn't want him to feed to fulfill some sick fetish of theirs. The imp truly wanted him to live. They were forcing him to live, to contend with being alive, whether they had intended to or not. They were nurturing him, and to this day, he was still contending with that truth.

Astarion began to ruminate on the past two days, turning it over and comparing it to how he had felt the very first time they had slept together; and something tightened in his chest, distracting him. What if they were able to live on forever with him? What if it was their choice, and what if Gale's plan to get the ring ended up working? On the other hand, what if it was all a trap? He had an inkling that a vampire lord wouldn't stray too near to the city, unless they had plans to claim the now-open territory for themself. It would be a shame if he and Festé had come this far in their relationship for everything to be ruined.

He focused on their argument the previous day, watching their good eye burn dangerously as they looked up at him, their fingers pressing to his lips. "That's right, I don't," Festé spat.

Oh. They wouldn't even consider the idea? He must be more of a burden than he thought.

"But you wouldn't have known that, because neither of you bothered to ask me. You assumed, both of you. I wasn't angry then, but I am now." Their deep voice shot up half an octave in exasperation. He watched them pinch the bridge of their nose, crestfallen. Of course, it was as he thought, he was too much, wasn't he? Why else would they be so upset?

"You d… What?" he tilted his head, sitting back on the imp's thighs, deciding in that instant to push his luck. "You don't… want that? Isn't that what every mortal wants?" he hissed, his thoughts turning back to that drow at Moonrise once again, and to all of the thousands of faceless people he had bedded. They were all entranced by him, and most of them against their will. What was different here?

He blinked softly as Festé heaved a great sigh underneath him. It sounded happy, and he felt their fingers trace over his back, once, while they shifted under his weight, turning their head the other way. He pursed his lips, inhaling against the hollow of their neck, and he concentrated once more, feeling back into his memories of the previous day.

"You didn't, Star. You said you had no choice in the matter." They met his eyes, and he took in their grim expression. His chest felt like it was caving in on itself. "I do, and while I would give my life to spend forever with you, I don't think the risk is worth the potential reward." He knew that if his heart could beat, it would have stopped, right there and then. They wouldn't risk it? Not even for eternity with him?

"You… You don't?" His voice sounded faint, even to himself, and he dropped his gaze from theirs. The weight he now felt in his chest refused to dissipate. He wished…

"You're right, what if someone got hurt in the process? What if one of our friends got hurt? What if, gods forbid, you got hurt, or killed? It's selfish, but the rest of my short life with you, like this," he warmed a bit when their fingers skated over his cheek, "Where I can give you… all of me? I'd rather that than potentially spending eternity with regrets, or deaths weighing on my conscience." The imp smiled, though it didn't reach their eyes. He studied them, and frowned. How dare they call themself selfish, when what they had just said was so entirely selfless? Festé had always put everyone else's needs and desires above their own, even when it was at their own expense or detriment. He wanted to shout at them, to ask what they truly wanted, because he could plainly see something hidden in their eyes. The memory dispersed for a second as he recalled another, after his unfortunate 'siblings' had stormed their camp on the outskirts of Baldur's Gate.

"You're the only one. Other people don't have a heart like you. You're you. No one is like that." He said it with such conviction, and he truly meant it from the bottom of his heart, though he had felt something inside him twist violently as he spoke the words. The context had changed, but not the content.

He withdrew, and thought it over; how unfortunate he was then, not knowing just how true those words would become, Festé's face and the backdrop of their bedroom swam into view once more, and the elf parted his lips.

"You want the same thing as I do." Damnable imp, he loved them so. He closed his eyes slowly, and loathe as he was to accept it in the moment, he knew that the tiefling's big heart would prevent them from taking risks with anyone's safety besides their own. If they faced down a vampire lord, it would have only been in the situation with… him. Astarion couldn't bear to think the name right now. It was only because he, the prodigal spawn, was in clear and present danger. They truly didn't covet this life, that much was apparent. "You want to protect me, and I want to protect you," he sighed. You want to protect everyone except yourself, he added silently.

The thought of having them, though? Forever? It was a tempting prospect. He retreated from the argument, focusing on the point where he had the imp back in his arms; and he contrasted it with the first time he had slept with them. He was sickened that first time by the ghosts of his past, and the mere notion of his own arousal when he gazed over the tiefling's body. How warm they had been, though; and no less warm last night when they had taken to bed together again. His disgust with sex was gradually being replaced with a hunger that he couldn't quite put into words. Astarion, if he had his way, would have his hands on his imp at all times, whether it be a single fingertip or being buried deeply within their body. He decided, as he pinned both of Festé's wrists above their head, that if it were possible, he would crawl inside their chest and make a home for himself next to their heart. "I want to take all of the pleasures of your body, pet. Be good for me." Come now, show your devotion to me one more time. I'm begging you, he thought, feeling them squirm as he bared his fangs and opened a fresh wound on their neck.

They began to shake as he swallowed deeply, and he considered what would happen if he went too far, resting his body on theirs. It was torturous, loving someone so much that your first instinct was to devour them. He ground his hips against theirs, a snarling thought tearing its way through his mind when he felt their blood lose some pressure, their whimpers growing weaker. I'll drain you; I'll make you stay the only way I know how. He blinked in surprise, mentally shaking himself and pulling away with a harsh sigh. He all but tore the lacing from the front of his trousers, pushing the animalistic, bloodthirsty thought back behind a mental wall while he shoved his pants off. The elf patted his thigh and caught them in his arms, glad that they couldn't perceive his fingers trembling as he held them. So warm… It was a bit blurry, he was preoccupied with the feral desire to be inside of them once again. Even being this close was sweet agony. Their skin burned against his own, and he found himself wondering if it was from their hellish blood, or from some other secret. No human had felt this way against his skin. He pressed them closer. "Now that you're weakened and pliant for me, darling," he couldn't help purring in appreciation, his voice coming out rough and foreign, "I think it's only fair that you're further reminded who you belong to." And who belongs to you, you damned imp. Gods, they looked so precious. He raised a hand and pushed it into their hair, framing their face and smiling. He intended the gesture to be tender, but he probably looked terrifying. "Hasn't it been so long? By now, you've probably forgotten how I feel inside you, hmm?" He knew that he had, and he stifled his gasp when they moved in his lap, gripping them and pulling them closer. Anywhere he could reach, please, just…

He slid into them, and moaned against their ear like it had been his first time. It was mortifying, but Festé didn't seem to mind, locking their arms around his neck and rocking against him. Yes. Please, he wanted to cry out. Please hold me. Hold on to me as tightly as I hold on to you. Let me hear you. Let me feel you. Let me love you. He felt powerless as he experienced the scene unfold once again. Drowning, that's what he would call it; he was drowning himself in them. But if this was drowning, was it really all that bad? Was it so bad if he got to hold them, to feel genuine pleasure, to enjoy himself for the first time in two centuries?

Their snarling moan snapped him out of his own thoughts for a moment. What if he was simply hurting them with how - or what - he was? Oh… oh, that feeling, their fingers on his back that had almost driven him mad the first time, but he slowed his thrusts regardless. "H…hurts, Star…" He was sure it did, they looked positively wrecked; then he realized just how deeply he had pushed inside, he was met with resistance. Shit.

"Do you want me to stop, my pet?" He studied their face intensely, his fingers curling tightly around their jaw. They shook their head. "Or would you have me continue to ruin you?" His tone betrayed the lust that he felt radiating from his chest. They nodded and pressed their cheek firmly to the elf's hand. "You like how much it hurts?" He didn't let his surprise show through, and watched the imp nod again, moaning out. All for him. He stroked his thumb over their cheek, alabaster on rose. "Good, darling. I'm not nearly finished with you." I'll never be finished with you, he promised silently. I'm so utterly lost in you.

For the last time, he pushed away from the memory. The elf pressed his lips gingerly to Festé's neck, eyes still squeezed shut, as he slowly drifted back to full consciousness. As delicious as they were, his memories had only served to make him more sickened with himself. Much as he was loathe to do so, he moved his limbs slowly, inhaling their scent for one last time and pressing his fingers between theirs on top of the bedsheets. Astarion peeled himself away with an exasperated sigh, careful not to jar his sleeping imp, and padded into the dingy bathroom. The sunlight was only just starting to fade; and thankfully, this was the only room in the house with no windows.

He reached for the taps of the bathtub, twisting them and sitting on the edge as the basin filled, studying the reflection of the ceiling in the water where he knew his head should have been. With another sigh, he reached down, cutting through the surface of the water with his fingertips.

Astarion didn't want to lose them, not when they had permeated every pore of his skin and every fibre of his being. However, considering condemning them to death? Well, technically life, he rolled his eyes silently. How could he choose between them belonging to someone else, or having them leave him? It was impossible. He turned the taps off and slipped into the steaming water, settling in and watching the light slowly drain around him. Eventually, he wet a washcloth and set it on his head, slinking down further in the water with a relaxed sigh. The droplets of water tickled his shoulders and his chest when they landed, and he closed his eyes, listening. Festé's breath shuddered, and they turned over, their heart rate still slow and calm; and Astarion's ears twitched as he heard them sigh softly, mumbling his name under their breath. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and he kept silent; but they didn't say anything else. Once it was dark, the elf heard his imp stir, and the gentle rustle of fabric when they pulled back the bedsheets. They paused, and he heard them exhale slowly and toss their shirt to the floor, followed by the quiet creak of the floorboards when they got up.

"Star?" they whispered, a hint of concern in their voice.

"In here, darling," he called. His throat felt like it was coated with sand, and he inhaled as he heard their heartbeat grow louder.

"Gods, my love. I know we both have excellent nightvision, but we could stand to light a candle, couldn't we?" Astarion heard them pick up the candlestick from the kitchen table and snap their fingers. "There, now it looks a little less like a cave…" The floorboards creaked as the tiefling padded into the bathroom, and he rested his head back against the edge of the tub, looking up at them upside down. They were beaming at him, and he felt his stomach flip over as he lay eyes on what they were wearing, frowning a bit. Confusion crossed their features, and they whispered, "What is it, my love?"

He looked away, covering his mouth with one hand and swallowing. "You look very handsome in that, is all." Not to mention, they would be getting their scent all over it. They laughed softly, looking down at themself.

"Well, my shirt was covered in blood, Star. You can't blame me for picking up the first thing that I saw." Astarion glanced at them and smiled. Their voice was always so rich and husky when they first woke up, and it gave him shivers. Not that he would ever admit it. He turned in the water, crossing his arms over the edge of the tub and resting his chin on top of them, humming. They sat on the small stool, setting the candle on the floor, and arching their eyebrows. "What is it?"

"Oh, nothing, darling. I'm just surprised you can still walk." The bravado slipped in, he couldn't help it. He chuckled when they rolled their eyes, pulling the washcloth off of his head and leaning down to kiss his forehead.

"You know…" they whispered softly, leaning in further, and Astarion's ear twitched, he could feel the heat of their breath all too well.

"Hmm?"

"I haven't washed your hair for you in a while, my love. Would you like that?" They sat back, a warm smile playing over their lips. "Maybe a scalp massage?" The tiefling stood when Astarion nodded, moving to let them sit on the edge of the tub, and turning away once more. Festé cupped their hands and scooped water over the back of his head, and he shivered as it ran down his back. He bowed his head as the tiefling leaned forward to scoop more, and flinched slightly when they pushed their fingers through his curls. The elf settled between their thighs as they took up the soap and lathered it in their palms. "Just relax, love," they murmured, and he let his shoulders slump with a long sigh. "Did you have a bad rest?" They spoke in a low voice as they pushed their fingers back into his hair, working them in slow, firm circles over his scalp.

How did they always know? "You could say that. Just a lot on my mind, darling. That's all," he tried to keep his tone airy, and winced as he finished. They would see right through it.

"If you don't want to talk about it right now, we can talk about it later, my love. Just let me know." They pulled his hair back gently, leaning his head back and moving their fingers over his temples. It felt divine, and the elf drew his legs up a bit under the water's surface.

"Mn… you caught me, darling," he chuckled sheepishly. "I will, though, I promise." Even if it would be difficult to grit out. He swallowed again, deciding to change the subject. "You don't want to get in? You're… not to be rude, darling, but you're quite ripe."

"Is it distracting?" They paused with their hands in his hair, looking down at him with a smirk. "I just didn't want to assume…" they slipped their tail into the tub, curling it against his stomach. Astarion shifted in the water, and the imp's smirk grew wider as they ran their fingers along the length of his pointy ears. His eyes fluttered closed instinctively, and he shuddered. Festé leaned down and kissed his cheek before tilting his head back up and scooping more water to rinse his hair.

"That, mnh…" he started, calming himself with a slow sigh, "That felt really nice, darling," he finished in a husky whisper, his shoulders twitching as the water ran down his back once more. He moved one of his arms between his thighs, leaning forward slightly; the imp's tail was flicking against his stomach.

"Good, I'm glad," they murmured, kneading gently over the back of his neck with their thumbs. They were more roughly textured than he expected, and he arched his back with a pleasured hiss. "Sorry, too much?" He shook his head, sending water droplets everywhere, and Festé chuckled. "Alright, my love." They continued kneading slowly down to his shoulders, working on the tight muscles. It was painful, to be sure, but he couldn't recall a single time before the imp had come into his life where the pain was balanced out with such care taken with his body. Festé came upon a particularly hard knot, and he couldn't help but let out a low moan, tilting his head to the side. "Does this feel okay?" Their hands had paused again, gentle on his skin.

"Please… don't stop," he hissed, reaching up to grip the side of the tub, his other arm still between his legs. How humiliating, he mused, getting aroused by a simple massage, not to mention trying to hide it. They were just being nice, after all. He took another slow, steady breath, letting them loosen the knot. "It feels… excellent, darling. A…Ah!" Their thumbs all but pried his shoulder apart where it met the base of his neck, and his entire body tensed. It sent a tendril of heat directly to his groin.

"Lay back," they spoke softly, splaying one palm over his chest. Gods damn it. "It'll feel sore, but the knot is gone n- Oh." They had been looking at his face when they had pushed at his chest, but had glanced down while they spoke. Their eyes grew wide before they averted their gaze from his groin. "I'm sorry, love. I didn't realize it felt that good. Do you need a moment?" Astarion frowned, catching their wrist as they meant to sit up. His voice came out in a pathetic whimper, and he cursed himself silently.

"N…no. Please, darling," he pulled their hand back to his chest, and they huffed softly, grazing their fingernails over his nipple. "Please, don't stop." Suddenly, he was ashamed, he knew exactly what he was craving at this moment, and prayed that his imp wouldn't read it in his eyes. He looked away quickly, his grip loosening on their wrist. To his surprise, they circled his nipple with their thumb and pinched it, eliciting a gasp to rush down his throat, and moved to peck at the side of his neck.

"You want to do things a different way today?" their voice came out as a deep purr, "All you had to do was ask, my love. All you ever have to do is ask." They sat up, ghosting their hand over his throat and making him shiver once more. Damn them for being so intuitive; he had never felt so bare before anyone else in his life. With a soft grunt, he sat up and turned to face them, sitting on his knees and feeling conflicted.

"You don't think I'm asking too mu-" they placed their finger gently against his lips as he met their eyes. They were smiling, and he couldn't find a trace of haughtiness in the gesture. He tilted his head when their free hand rested against his cheek, their thumb stroking his skin gently.

"Not at all," they chuckled. "But I'll have to warn you," they narrowed their eyes at him, "I'm a lot nicer than you are, Star. I'll give you absolutely anything you want, as many times as you want." Their tone was playful, and they bent down to kiss him slowly, tangling their hands in his hair.

a/n: wowzers, first of all thank you for reading! the people who support this fic are actually cooler than everyone else, sorry not sorry this was so weird for me to write, astarion is a completely different beast from festé is. i like exploring his selfishness and conflicted thoughts, and i really hope the way that i wrote his little trip down memory lane isn't too confusing for the folks reading. love you all! stay squeaky! (you get sub!astarion, as a treat!)

#.fic #fic: bonding. #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #astarion acunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #spawn!astarion x named!tav #bg3 astarion #astarion #oc: festé

[tiannasfanfic]

I Still Believe: Part 1

Eddie Munson x Reader (Angst)

| Masterlist | AO3 Link |

Summary: The world has been dimmer since Eddie Munson has been gone. Even your old spot out at Skull Rock has lost its charm, but you still go out there to feel close to him. Will a trip out there after dark finally help you grieve through your loss...or will it be your undoing?

Rating: Mature

Author Note: Gender neutral Reader, they/them pronouns used, if any. Part 1 of 3. Happy Spooky Season! We're gonna throw some horror into the mix with this one! Enjoy!

CW: Horror elements (being stalked, chased, grabbed, attacked by a vampire); vampire elements (stalking prey, hunting, attacking prey, non-con feeding); marijuana use for medical purposes (anxiety, grief); Jason harassing people; Eddie being protective (and slightly Dommy if you squint).

Word Count: 3,135

One thing you and Eddie Munson always enjoyed doing together was taking walks in the woods.

At least twice a week you two would head out on foot from the trailer park to Skull Rock, smoke a joint or three, and then make out until you both had come down enough to walk back.

It was something you kept doing after he was gone, even now six months later. You didn’t get as high when you went out there by yourself, thus didn’t stay as long as a result, but you always looked forward to this little bit of time. It felt like a big part of Eddie was still there, like this is where his spirit chose to come to rest. Since there was no grave for you to mourn over, this would have to do.

“Hey sweetie,” you said, as you settled down in you and Eddie’s spot under the large rock. “Sorry I’m so late tonight, I got stuck reorganizing the western paperbacks by myself. Dave was supposed to help, but you know what trying to get help from him is like.”

You scoffed at your own words as you took your rolling supplies from your jacket pocket.

“And then, get this, the douche really had the nerve later to come over and ask me if I’d ever gotten around to-“

And on you went as you got your jointed rolled, filling Eddie in on your day as if he were sitting there with you instead of off in the next life.

While Eddie’s death hit everyone in different ways, it hit you especially hard.

Friends since fourth grade, lovers since Sophomore year and out publicly as a couple since senior year, you two were supposed to be together forever.

That was the plan, anyway.

After Eddie graduated this year, your plan had been to Sadie Hawkins the fuck out of him and ask him to marry you. You hadn’t decided how yet, but you had the ring already. It was a simple vampire skull with red stones for eyes. Nothing fancy, but it was so very Eddie.

Initially, it was supposed to be a graduation present. You’d been holding onto it for two years ever since he was supposed to walk the stage with you. But, as the months went on after graduation and now all of your time spent together was outside of school, the place where you both had to censor your relationship, the feelings between you deepened. You got closer, which you didn’t even know was possible. You were together every day after school, and you spent weekends with him and Wayne since your mom was never home. So long as you were helping Eddie study and his grades were improving (and you two were being safe together), Wayne didn’t mind. Despite being held back two more years, his grades had steadily gotten better until it was just one class holding him back.

While you two had discussed the idea of marriage at some point, both of you were in full agreement that was for way later when the two of you were old. You were still going back and forth on the idea of college but were working full time at the library in the meantime. Eddie wanted to devote his attention to the band after graduation and see where that took them. Neither of you even knew if you wanted kids ever.

But then, sometime while Eddie was on holiday break during his last senior year, you realized, why wait? You two could still do all those things married. He already supported you no matter what you wanted to do and vice versa.

Then Spring Break happened. And Eddie was gone.

You started wearing the ring you were going to give to Eddie on a chain around your neck. A few months later, you added a smaller ring to the chain when Wayne found a ring box in Eddie’s desk. Eddie had the same idea you did as it was clearly an engagement ring. The skull’s mate was a small silver ring that had a band of tiny clear stones running through the middle.

“Robin called yesterday,” you said, finally switching topics from work after you got your joint lit. “Steve’s having everyone out to his parents cabin next weekend. I might go. I don’t know though.” “It feels like everyone just keeps me around because they feel sorry for me.”

You knew that wasn’t true and regretted saying it as soon as it left your lips, even though no one was around to hear you.

You may have only met everyone after Eddie was already a wanted man, but they’d all made a big effort to become a part of your life. You counted them as some of your best friends since you all shared in a similar traumatic experience.

It was by pure chance you even stumbled onto what was really going on. You had been looking for Eddie yourself after the news broke, which ended up leading to an altercation with Jason in the parking lot of your job. They had tracked you down to question you about Eddie and you told them where they could stick their questions. It turned slightly violent when they tried to restrain you, and you had to pull the switchblade Eddie had given you in order to get away. After that, you decided you could protect your boyfriend better by keeping an eye on that asshole instead of looking for Eddie.

Tailing Jason led you to the War Zone, which led to you helping Nancy. At the time, you didn’t know who she was. You had graduated the original year Eddie should’ve and didn’t know any of them. You just saw Jason harassing some poor girl.

After you helped run Jason off, you apologized to Nancy, explaining he was gunning for your boyfriend and had jumped you too to find out where he was.

“Oh?” Nancy asked warily, her nerves still on edge. “Who’s your boyfriend?”

“Eddie Munson,” you said, and upon seeing Nancy’s eyes go wide, you took that as an expression of horror and held up a hand. “Look, I know what you’re about to say, but he did NOT kill Chrissy. He wouldn’t. We were all friends. Yeah, we weren’t close anymore, but, for fucks sake, that boy can’t even kill a spider, okay?!? I have to catch them and take them outside or else he gets sad- whoa! Hey!”

At that point, Nancy had finished paying for her weapons. She grabbed you by the wrist in a grip made of iron and started dragging you towards the front entrance and out into the parking lot. The others were coming out of the store just in time to see her shoving you, a total stranger, into the RV.

The RV where their friend, who was currently wanted for murder, was hiding.

Dustin started to yell in alarm, but Steve shushed him so he wouldn’t draw attention. While the whole thing was extremely unexpected, Steve knew Nancy wouldn’t just involve a stranger like that on a whim. He led the group in a fast walk to the RV, where he yanked the door open and barreled inside, tense, and ready for anything.

He walked in and was greeted by the sight of you and Eddie standing in the middle of the RV, arms wrapped tightly around each other and sobbing into each other’s necks. After a few minutes, you pulled back from him slightly to take his face in your hands, wiping his tears away and kissing all over his face before ending at his lips. Eddie held you to him, clinging to you for dear life as he kissed you.

There was a quick round of introductions, and Dustin was able to finally put a face to your name. Eddie had mentioned you a few times at Hellfire, but you hadn’t met any of them yet. Since they were on a time crunch, you were given a very abbreviated overview of what was going on. You were eager and ready to help…then Eddie told you no, saying he wouldn’t let you go with them.

Since RVs don’t have fans, the shit simply hit the ceiling instead.

A fight ensued that everyone else was forced to awkwardly watch. It your first ever fight as a couple. Sure, you’d argued as all couples do, especially with as long as you’d been best friends, but you had never truly fought.

Finally, with tears flowing again from both of you, Eddie gently pulled you to him and took your face in his hands. He looked into your eyes, and you could see how terrified he truly was.

“Please, baby,” he begged you, pressing his forehead to yours. “I couldn’t save her. Let me go knowing I at least saved you.”

How do you say no to that?

You don’t, that’s how.

A few minutes later, you quietly watched the RV drive away with the love of your life inside. When the RV was out of sight, you headed back to your car and went home, abandoning your tail of Jason since you promised Eddie you would.

You have regretted listening to him every day since.

Presently, it was full dark by the time you told Eddie you loved him and started heading back. It way, way later than you would normally leave. Being out in the woods by yourself wasn’t a clever idea after dark since it was easy to get lost. Coming out when it was so close to sunset hadn’t been a good idea anyway, but you weren’t about to miss the one part of your routine that kept you sane.

Right as you were about to enter the cover of the trees, you suddenly felt like you were being watched.

You turned back to look at Skull Rock. While you hadn’t heard anyone approaching, you had been lost in your thoughts and could have easily missed it. The wind picked up suddenly and whooshed through the small clearing, making it hard to hear anything else but the drying leaves rattling around. You didn’t see anyone though. You passed the whole thing off to your imagination and continued on. The feeling stopped as soon as you passed into the tree line, which seemed to confirm that it was all in your head.

However, you only gotten a handful of feet when the feeling was back.

You swallowed heavily and your heart started to pound. While earlier it hadn’t been much of a feeling, as if you had been given a once over, this time you could almost feel a pair of eyes boring into you.

And every one of your self-preservation instincts were going off.

Your guts were screaming. The hair on your body was at attention, goosebumps raised all over your skin. Your brain was sending frantic impulses to run away down into your legs, which you were fighting off. Danger or no, running blindly through the dark in the woods wasn’t a clever idea. You picked up your pace though and were soon at the edge of the trees.

As you emerged from the trees, you sped up more, not jogging, but walking very fast. You could see the trailer you shared with your mom just over a hundred feet away or so, the front door facing the woods rather than the driveway. It had been put in backwards and was never fixed, so the front door was the back door and vice versa. The only problem with this was, the improper installation had caused the rear of the trailer to settle oddly, which had caused the floor to warp. Depending on the time of year, sometimes you couldn’t get that door to open at all.

You were debating which door to go to first when a branch snapping behind you made the last of your resolve snap along with it.

The logical portion of your brain tried to reason with you for a second. It told you that there was actually nothing behind you, that you were just being paranoid. For one, you were alone at night in the woods, which your overactive imagination was having a field day with. For two, you were trying out a new strain of marijuana, which was probably causing most of this. While you normally didn’t get paranoid when you smoked your normal stuff, there was always the chance that any new strain might do that to you and your dealer had insisted you try this one, swearing it would help your anxiety better.

But try telling that to panic when it hits.

You took off for the trailer. There was no stopping your legs now.

The distance from where you were just a little beyond the tree line to the front door suddenly seemed five times as long. It was normally an easy run. You’d done it plenty of times before with Eddie chasing behind you, with him occasionally putting on a burst of speed so he could pinch you on the ass and make you go faster. But it wasn’t Eddie behind you now.

There was no doubt in your mind now that you were being chased. With each running step, you became increasingly sure of it. As your path seemed to stretch out ahead of you and time seemed to go in slow motion, you could feel a presence there. You couldn’t hear anything over your own heart pounding in your ears, your gasping breaths, and your own running feet, but there was no mistaking something was there now. All you could feel behind you was danger, and you could feel it getting closer, but you didn’t turn around to look. You didn’t dare. You focused on nothing but getting to that door in front of you.

You didn’t even try to stop running when you reached the trailer. You crashed into the door and frantically grabbed for the knob. No one was home since your mom worked nights, but the front door was never locked since the deadbolt didn’t line up with the warped doorframe anymore. Leaning away from the door, you pulled with all your strength.

It jerked opened a few inches, then wedged against a raised floorboard and wouldn’t budge.

“Fuck!” you screamed.

Letting go of the knob, you grabbed the edge of the door and tried to pull it open that way, which got you another inch of movement before it got stuck again. You slammed your fist against it and made a break for it to run around the trailer to the back door.

Right after you rounded the corner, something large slammed into you at speed from the side. It was so dark and happened so fast you didn’t have the chance to see what it was. Your body hit the side of the trailer with enough force you felt the tin wall shake behind you. All the wind was knocked from you on impact and your shoulder exploded with pain. A strong appendage quickly wrapped around your torso, pinning both of your arms to your sides. Before you could scream, a hand clapped firmly over your mouth. Long fingers gripped into your cheeks, bits of cold metal digging into your skin as your head was yanked to the side. You tried to struggle, tried to put up a fight, but whatever had a hold of you was so strong you barely managed to wiggle in its grasp.

Suddenly, pain sliced into side of your neck. You felt long, sharp teeth puncturing through your skin, sliding through the soft tissue easily. A scream rose out of your throat, blocked by the hand still covering your mouth. You squeezed your eyes closed, using one last burst of energy to struggle against your attacker. But it was no use. You were pinned against this monster. It had to be something from that place Dustin and the others told you about. The Upside Down, was it? Had to be…but you were sure now that you’d never find out.

The pain lessened slightly as you felt the teeth pull away, replaced by a mouth clamping down on your torn flesh, sending a fresh bolt of burning pain through you.

But then…you were gone.

The pain quickly shifted to a pleasurable sensation, rendering you limp in your assailants’ arms. It was beyond description, an almost euphoric relaxation that was like a combination of the high from really good weed and the high from a really good orgasm, but beyond either. All you could do was whimper as you felt the will to the fight off your attacker leave you and be replaced by wanting. That in itself should have been terrifying. The part of your brain still focused on self-preservation screamed at you in horror to do something, anything, to try to save yourself…

Then you realized you didn’t want too anymore. All of your will to fight was gone. You were well and truly fucked, and you knew it.

Tears ran down your face as your blood was drained from you. You felt yourself growing weaker by the moment.

The monster shifted its grip then, releasing your neck very quickly in order to turn you towards it, then slammed your back against the trailer. It dove right back into, squashing you against the wall as you felt the painful teeth once again in your flesh. It was quick and soon replaced by the same pleasurable relaxation.

With it holding you from the front now, your face was closer now and you could smell it. Your senses were overwhelmed with the smell of blood, sweat, dirt and something acrid, almost sour smelling that you couldn’t identify.

Your knees buckled. Your vision started fading. The only thing keeping you upright was being pinned between the weight of the monster and the side of the trailer.

As your consciousness was fading and your head fell forward onto the monster, you became aware of some very old, very vague smells hidden under the unpleasant ones. There was a hint of leather, a slight whiff of tobacco, a kiss of marijuana. And, finally, fainter than anything else, the trace of an inexpensive cologne you’d know anywhere.

Eddie.

Your heart skipped a beat in that old familiar way as memories of your lover rushed to the forefront of your mind. A slight smile came to your lips, the last of your inner panic dissolving into acceptance.

Eddie had come to you in your final moments, and you’d be with him again soon.

“Eddie,” you whispered without realizing it.

Before your vision completely faded away, the last thing you saw was a pair of glowing orange-brown eyes that seemed to widen as they looked into yours.

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #vampire eddie #vampire eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson angst #vampire!eddie #eddie munson fanfic

[alovesongshewrote]

Woof | Eddie Munson x Reader

Plot:  You're the calm horse to Eddie "the Freak" Munson's chaotic dog. Or you were. [Eddie Munson x Gender Neutral!Reader]

Word count:  1,797

Warnings:  drug use at the end, the reader is kind of having an existential crisis, but i don't go into it. n*zi mention in the disclaimer below.

Disclaimer: Uh, yeah, fuck netflix, and fuck whoever came up with having a "stranger things experience" in a former n*zi prison where jewish and romani people were exterminated. that's an incredibly fucked up thing to do, and i do not support or endorse it.

A/N: alrighty, well, consider this a concept piece: if you want more, let me know, and i could make this into a series. i could make it extra tragic if eddie dies in volume 2, which i think he will. anyway.

Tags: @blixeon ur getting tagged bc i yelled about this to you at like, 1am and you liked the idea

Y’know how sometimes teachers will put their more chaotic students next to the calmer ones in a desperate attempt to bring some peace to the classroom? And it’s kinda weird because those are both students, so it’s kinda like getting a horse to watch your dog, but they do it anyway either because they’re underfunded or because they’re just bad at their job or what have you?

Yeah. For a solid chunk of your public school experience, you were the calm horse to Eddie “The Freak” Munson’s chaotic dog.

And quite honestly, that plan fucking backfired.  

In their efforts to get Eddie to calm down and stop causing scenes, they had put you in the perfect position to 1) become his friend, and 2) get corrupted into chaos. No surprise here, you did both of those things.

Though you never truly matched Eddie’s level of audacity, you did manage to get up there by the time you graduated. Your personal havok included, but was not limited to, releasing a horde of hamsters onto your middle school in the seventh grade, causing mild damage to several lockers, and “spilling” milk on Tommy H. because he was just getting on your nerves more than usual that day. 

As you blossomed from a standard calm horse to a chaotic dog-horse hybrid, Eddie remained by your side, just as you remained by his. Your loyalty to each other never wavered at any stage. There was no one else you’d rather have on your team, no one else you’d rather talk to. Even when his hair was buzzed, and when you were on the quiet side, your bond (forged by a shared set of desks and a shared status of “the weird one”) was nigh unbreakable.

Things even got borderline romantic in the end - not to say that a romantic relationship is better than a platonic relationship, by the way. Platonic relationships are valid as fuck, and they’re just as good as romantic relationships. Romance is just the way it went with you and Eddie- at least for a moment. It was full-on friends to lovers, 600k words that I’m not going to bore you with. Long story short, you ended up kissing him by Skull Rock, and he gave you one of his rings. It was cute. It was sweet.

And then you graduated. And he didn’t. And then you left the state for college.

You didn’t speak for two years.

It wasn’t intentional, it just kind of happened. It was harder to keep up long-distance friendships in the days before the internet. Still, you missed him. He was your person, and then he was gone. You made your way through life, but he always stayed in the back of your mind.

And then, bada bing, bada boom, 1986 rolled around. You had taken a sizable bite out of a legal studies diploma, and in doing so, you burnt yourself all the way out. You were lost, and tired, and you really didn’t know what you were doing with your life anymore. So, you did the only rational thing you could think to do- you ran right home. Cursed or not, at least you didn’t have to deal with citing your sources in Hawkins.  

The town was more or less as you’d left it, just a bit more traumatized. Everything and everyone felt on edge as if the town was holding its breath, waiting for the next tragedy to unfurl itself upon them. Your parents were welcoming, happy to have their pride and joy home from school, and also happy to have you safe where they could see you. You couldn’t blame them for that one. The longer you spent in Hawkins, the more you understood the anxiety that came with your loved ones going unaccounted for.  

Overall, you were pretty good at keeping track of the people you cared about- but there was one person who you couldn’t find, no matter how hard you searched. It was almost like Eddie was actively avoiding you. Of course, you couldn’t be sure, but you still weren’t lovin’ it.

That fun bundle of anxious thoughts combined with the existential stress that followed you home from school kept you up at night. You didn’t sleep well at the best of times, but with all of that on your plate? You kind of just stared at the ceiling for eight hours at a time, stressed as hell and bored out of your mind.

So eventually, you just decided to go out and do something. Anything. Anything at all, you just needed the stimulation- you required enrichment in your environment, goddamnit.

Of course, everything was closed, so you ended up driving circles around Hawkins every night, waiting for some kind of plot to happen to you.

And then it did! The plot fucking rear-ended you like a bitch!

You almost didn’t want to blame the plot- it was raining pretty hard that night, and the roads were a little slick. Unfortunately, the plot drives like a fucking madman, and he always does this, and he always has.

Even so, when you climbed out of your car and saw the face of the man that hit you- or rather when you heard the voice of the man who hit you- you couldn’t find it in yourself to be mad.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!”

“Munson?” 

Eddie looked like a deer in headlights, which, in some ways, he was. The man barely got a word in before you had him by the shoulders.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Where have you been, man?”

Your smile was bright enough to light up the storm around you. Eddie tried to ignore that, and in doing so, he ignored your question altogether.

“I- I’m sorry about your car?” The way he says it makes it sound like a question, even though it’s very much a statement.  

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it, I- Huh- oh, fuck, it’s wet out here, come on-” you grabbed his arm, confusing the hell out of him as you all but dragged him with you, “Get in my car, it’s dry.”

He wonders, briefly, why you decided to climb into your newly damaged car instead of his relatively undamaged van, but he doesn’t stop to question it. Instead, he just followed you in and out of the rain.

The two of you fell silent the second you closed the doors behind you. You sat like that for a few minutes, both of you waiting for the other to start the conversation. Eventually, you snapped. 

“Ok, but seriously man, where have you been? I was kind of getting nervous, to be honest-”

“In my defence, I did not know you were back.”

You shrugged, “Fair enough. I mean, I’ve only been back for like, five minutes.”

“And you didn’t come to find me? Tsk, tsk, (Y/N), I’m disappointed.”

“I tried!” Your voice was half a whine and half a laugh, “I genuinely couldn’t find you, it sucked. I mean, shit man, you live here, you have to be aware of what people say, right? Hawkins is cursed, people go missing, monsters lurk in the shadows, blah blah blah,” you wiggle your arms around as you speak to accentuate your point, “Things are weird here, y’know? And when you can’t find the people you care about, it’s possible that something bad happened-”

He scoffed and tried to ignore the fact that you still cared about him, “Yeeeeah, I don’t think you have to worry about me. Depending on who you ask, I’m a very big part of the curse.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Why? Oh, no, wait, is it because of Dungeons and Dragons?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s about Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Jesus Christ,” you let your head hit the steering wheel, “Small towns are fucked, I swear to God.”

He nodded in agreement, and the car returned to silence. The only sounds were the rain hitting the roof and the sounds of your breathing.  

“Hey, y’know what?” You sat back up, “You should come with me. Like, when or if I go back to school, you should come with me.”

“Yeahhh, that’s not gonna happen. I still haven’t graduated, so… yeah, it’s not- it’s not gonna happen.”

“Huh. Well, shit, do you wanna swap places?”

He didn’t answer that question, he just kind of looked at you like, “???”

“Yeah, I mean, I think I’d kill to just go back to high school? I didn’t have to worry about tuition, or where my life is going, or citing my fucking sources,” you leaned back, your hands running over your face, “And yeah, the food was shit, and the people were generally awful with you being the exception, but I- I just feel so lost now. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with my life anymore, man.”

For a moment, you’re lost in your own mind. Then, you feel a hand on the side of your face. And another hand on your face. Eddie Munson held your face in his hands. His grip was gentle, much softer than anyone else would expect it to be. His fingers were rough against your skin, but you really didn’t mind it- if anything, it was a feeling you’d missed.

“(Y/N), babe, I am still in high school. I also have no idea what I’m doing with my life!”

You shut your eyes and leaned into his hold, letting yourself relax for the first time in ages. One of your hands wrapped around one of his wrists, just to feel a little closer to him. Eddie tried to fight off the butterflies in his stomach. He failed miserably.

“We should form a union,” you whispered, “A union of people who just… don’t know what they’re fucking doing.”

He nodded along with you before taking his hands from your face and slapping his thighs and pushing the door open, “I don’t know what we’re gonna do with our lives, but I know what we should be doing right now. Come with me!”

It was your turn to follow in confusion- which you did. You let him pull you out into the rain and into his van, where he promptly threw a bag of weed at your face. He didn’t mean to throw it in your face, but it hit you there anyway. The two of you proceeded to hotbox the shit out of Eddie’s van.

You weren’t entirely sure if it was the drugs or the fact that you finally knew your dear friend was safe, but you were finally able to sleep that night, safe and sound.

And then a teenager got murdered in his living room like a week later, but let’s not worry about that.

#eddie munson x reader #stranger things eddie x reader #x reader

[slasherholic]

synopsis: you reflect on a few incidents in your relationship with asa that really should have tipped you off as red flags while you wait for him to come back and torture you some more.

contains: gender neutral reader, graphic depictions of violence and torture, psychological torture, death, kidnapping, rib trauma, referenced abuse, current abuse because it’s fucking asa, I’ll throw in manipulation and gaslighting just to be safe.

note: quite a few scenes and tidbits in this were heavily inspired by a chat I had with the brilliant and lovely @sanguine--honey, so thanks again for letting me include those in this fic c:

word count: 4k

(Part One, Part Two)

Asa Emory / The Collector x Reader | Loose Ends | Part Three

When he finally unchained you from the pole he dragged you violently up several flights of steep stairs. His strength seemed tireless no matter how much you struggled.

You were bruised and battered and smearing blood on the floor behind you when he got to where he was taking you. He ignored the desperate way you were still screaming at him and threw you violently in a black trunk in a room with bright white lights and steel lab tables. He had slammed the heavy door shut so hard the force of it knocked a painting off the wall. Many locks turned on the other side. You clutched your stomach with both hands and doubled over and began to dry heave.

You sat crying in the dark. When the tears wouldn’t come out anymore, you looked for a way out. Tried to feel around the edges. Your arms burned terribly and you could smell your own body fluids lingering among the overwhelming smell of disinfectant loitering in the air. Your face ached from where he’d held your mouth to silence you when he plunged the needle in. There was a perfectly round hole in the side of the trunk, the size of your pinky nail, that appeared to have been made with a drill. An airhole. Or a peephole.

But the trunk itself was locked up tight. There was no getting out.

 You studied the room through the peephole. There were four other trunks sitting upright on the floor to the left of you, at least that you could see, lined up one after the next to form a semicircle. Each was a different color—red, blue, green, brown, in that order.

You called out very softly and asked if anyone was there.

Silence.

Sniffling again, you sat with your knees curled tightly into your chest, and allowed your mind to romp.

There had been signs, red flags abound, and you had ignored them, made excuses for him in your head, filed every uncomfortable incident away to be rationalized at a later date. You might not have known until the very end that he was this. But you had known enough. Asa, beneath his carefully manufactured charm and suave, was the coldest man you had ever met.

So you arrived at the crushing conclusion that you had nobody to blame for this but yourself.

There had been one instance, close to the start of your relationship, or whatever it was you had with him, where you found yourself very inebriated in his expensively furnished living room.

Asa had implied over dinner that he would like to go upstairs and have sex after you were finished, and he’d cleared the plates off his dining table nearly twenty minutes ago. You challenged him to arm-wrestle first.

“Please?” You spread your legs out on his blue persian rug, intent on staying awhile. 

Asa sat across the room from you in the cushioned chair closest to the hall, his hands folded in his lap. The look on his face was growing rather unamused.

“I already said no. Can we move along?”

“Come on, have a little fun.”

His expression grew more dour still.

“You’re drunk. Very drunk. I thought I told you to go easy with the drinking.”

“You, Dr. Emory, are being a total stick in the mud.”

You pestered him about it until he humored you.

He took you by the hand and set your arm up on his nice coffee table which he had cleared delicately of a stag beetle specimen in a spotless glass display.

“Count of three.” You slurred, a smile growing in your eyes, one he didn’t care to return.

“One.”

He adjusted his grip dexterously around your fingers. His arm was bigger than yours by far.

“Two.”

The thick tendons in his wrist jumped out. It would be no contest. You wanted to try anyway. You thought it would be fun.

“Three.”

You fought against his hand with everything you had. You laughed. Asa let you struggle against him for a few moments, regarding you with an utter lack of concern on his face. For all your efforts you couldn’t budge his wrist by a centimeter. 

Then he smashed your hand so quick and hard into the coffee table your knuckles throbbed and you yelled.

The laughter fell from your face like a stone. You jerked in his grip. His hold moved down to your wrist where he held you tightly and didn’t let go. Suddenly, you didn’t like the way he was looking at you.

Asa, leaning forward, spoke to you very slowly, and made you linger on every syllable, as if you were stupid.

“Are you finished? Shall we move on? Or would you like to go again?”

He squeezed your wrist a bit harder. You could feel the pulse in your arm quickening, throbbing in his grip, which was getting tighter every second.

You let him take you upstairs without suggesting any more games.

In the morning, you hardly remembered the sex, but your hand was bruised. Asa didn’t mention anything to you about it as he got ready for work. It was the last time you had ever been drunk around him.

You jolted awake in the trunk. Your arms burned in a way that sent vicious chills through your extremities. There was a wet stain on the wall where you must have fallen asleep at some point. Resting a hand on the trunk, you stared cautiously through the peephole.

Asa wasn’t there. But the painting that had fallen was back in its place on the wall.

Your stomach sank. You thought some more to try and distract yourself from the pain in your arms and your aching body.

There had been that one night in the park. The night you stayed awake many sleepless hours trying and failing not to remember what you witnessed.

The sunset had dissipated and the only light remaining in the park was what filtered down from the black street lamps towering like spires all along the sidewalk. Asa had touched something on the bench he didn’t like, and had gotten up to wash his hands in the nearby bathroom. 

You watched a pair of moths fluttering around each other near the lamp across the path and noticed someone approaching from the corner of your eye. Assuming it was Asa, you turned to ask him what species he figured they were.

It wasn’t Asa. 

The mugger shoved you forcefully off the park bench. You spilled onto the cold sidewalk, knocking your head on the concrete.

“Give me the fucking wallet.”

The man must have thought you were alone. He wore black jeans and a grey t-shirt. He brandished a short switchblade at you which you stared at with wide terrified eyes. You were shocked to silence, frozen in place.

The mugger made a grab for the wallet in your shaking hands.

And Asa had tackled him from behind with such force that both men went spilling into the grass on the opposite side of the path.

He was back on his feet by the time the mugger was still clambering to his mud-stained knees. You watched Asa’s hand go somewhere beneath his olive jacket as he pulled out a knife you hadn’t known he carried. He flipped it in his grip and held it with the blade angled down toward the grass. His face had become profoundly unreadable. 

His movements dripped with practice and polish as he sized your mugger up. The muscles in his legs were spring-loaded as he stalked back and forth along the grass. Every step had a purpose.

He dove in for a slash across the man’s stomach. You saw blood spray in a wide arc and heard the man make a painful strangled sound. Asa ducked beneath a clumsy swipe for his face, stepping away again. He passed his knife from one hand to the other; now, he was circling the man. Not adjusting his stance. Circling him.

The man lunged at him with a grunt. The switchblade raced for his chest. Asa caught his wrist and slashed him deep across the thigh.

You’d always known his reflexes were astonishingly quick. Once, you dropped your expensive camera while photographing the exhibits at the museum, and he had grabbed it before it hit the ground, lecturing you in a more-or-less jesting manner about getting a lanyard for it as he stood to hand it back to you, an incident which at the time had made your cheeks warm.

Asa planted his shoe squarely in the man’s abdomen and kicked him away hard. The man made a guttural sound as he tumbled back on the grass, gasping for air, and Asa let him clamber to his feet again, still circling. The look on his face was no longer indifference. It was something far more intense.

The man turned, staggering, and tried to run.

Asa was faster. He tackled him again, wrestled him brutally to the sidewalk. The man swung blindly, got lucky in his desperation—and clipped him across the shoulder.

Asa snarled. Not a grunt, it had been a snarl, low and throaty, like an animal.

He slashed violently at the man and his knife flashed sharply in the lamp light. Blood erupted from the cut in a heavy mist. The man fell back on the ground, dropping his own blade, clutching his throat. Asa straddled him on his knees, and grabbed him by the face, wrenching his head up. You heard the crack of the man’s skull meeting the concrete from where you sat.

The man started shouting desperately for help.

You watched Asa raise his knife. His arms and shoulders flexed and strained the sleeves of his jacket. You knew by the look on his face alone that you were about to witness a murder. Before you knew what you were doing, you were yelling at him to stop.

Asa didn’t hear. Or he ignored you.

He drove the knife hard into the man’s stomach.

The man made a wet strangled sound, bringing up his arm to try and block the onslaught, because Asa was already raising his arm again.

He stabbed the same spot. Every stab that followed was faster. The man’s yelling became screaming and you saw Asa’s hand shift to cover his mouth. The man’s muffled screams fell to thin whining. Then ragged wheezing. Then, stopped. 

A cricket chirped beyond the reach of the street lamps. The moths fluttered near the bulb across the path.

Asa straightened up his posture. His nostrils flared heavily with breath. He seemed to take in the gored body on the concrete beneath him, which had gone motionless.

Five seconds hardly passed before he stood, slowly, rising to his full height, carefully side-stepping the body. The man’s blood trickled off the tip of his wet knife and dripped on the concrete next to his black dress shoes. His jacket sleeves and the sides of his charcoal pants across his thighs were stained with long dark swaths. He rolled his shoulders. The breeze tousled his disordered hair.

There had been a few moments you could recall when it really occurred to you how big Asa was.

He wore flattering clothes often, and your eyes were sometimes tempted towards the wide muscles in his chest, but the way he talked to you was very ensnaring, as he always seemed to have something interesting or intelligent or just plain sarcastic in a dry but not-to-be-taken-seriously way to say; so when he spoke, you found it difficult to look anywhere but at his handsome face. You only really witnessed the scope of his strength when you slept with him. The ways he was able to handle you when he wanted made you feel, at times, incredibly vulnerable around him.

Asa had turned his whole body toward you when he considered you where you sat huddled on the sidewalk, reigning in the hot breaths which broadened his chest and spiraled into the chilly night. The man’s blood had gotten on his cheek. You started to shiver. He regarded you with a look that read staggering disapproval, as though this, and what would inevitably follow, was not worth his time, as though it might as well have been your fault, as though he was currently considering very strongly doing something about it later in private.

“You should call the police.”

Before you knew what you were doing or why you were really doing it you scrambled for your phone in your pocket and tapped on the screen with very shaky fingers, “9-1-1.”

The ambulances pulled up to the street corner first followed shortly by two squad cars. Asa stood up slowly from the green park bench to meet them, and you stayed kneeling on the cold sidewalk.

He introduced himself to the officers as Dr. Asa Emory and dealt with their questions very professionally. At one point, he had pulled a neatly folded paper out of his wallet, which the questioning officer took, shined her flashlight at, and returned to him, nodding her head. The story was very apparent: a couple walking in the park had been assaulted at knife-point, and a registered concealed-carry weapon had been used to dispatch the aggressor.

The officers came over to question you. Asa, standing off to the side, removed his bloodied jacket, which he hung neatly over the park bench. He watched you closely. The look on his face was like the prick of a thorn.

You diverted your gaze away from him and nodded at the officer’s questions dumbly, staring at the medical workers as they bagged up the body on the sidewalk. An EMT was called over, who concluded that you were in moderate shock, and that you should go to the hospital.

“I won’t be riding along with you.” Asa was down to his tan sweater, rubbing his newly cleaned fingers together at his side, which he had been given bottles of water to wash off at his request. The indifference on his face didn’t lift as they strapped you down to the gurney.

“The officers have a few more questions, so I’ve agreed to go with them down to the station.”

His words were factual and rhetorical, as if your input on the matter wasn’t at all needed, so you didn’t say anything back to him.

It was the last you heard from him until he showed up in your hospital room several hours later. Your stomach lept a little when the door opened and he came in.

He was wearing a change of clothes, his hair groomed back into place, looking very much the part of respectable Dr. Emory again. He had brought you dinner from the lobby downstairs. 

He sat in the only chair in the room as you picked at the warm mashed potatoes in the black tray, and made conversation about how you were handling things, and if there was anything he could get you, and though it all felt very shallow and obligatory you found yourself playing along as best you could, because sitting in the room alone with him was giving you very obvious goosebumps.

Asa drove you home later that night. You got out of his car without a word, went to your door, and quickly did the lock behind you.

After falling into bed, you were afraid of him. You couldn’t bring yourself to admit it then; you tried to cling tightly to the parts of him you still thought you loved. But from then on, you were, genuinely, afraid of him.

What made it worse, you suspected he saw it, too.

His holds on your wrist when you turned away from him before he had quite finished lecturing you about something very irresponsible or just plain ignorant you had done were firmer. There was the way he moved his jacket occasionally when he shifted his posture, and you caught a glimpse of his holstered knife for a moment too long. And how, when he asked you a question—one to which you didn’t immediately have an answer—he turned all his attention on you, and began to approach you, boxing you in, cutting off your escape, slowly repeating the question. 

He’d known. Without a doubt, he had known.

Sobbing started in the trunk next to you and it jolted you harshly out of your thoughts.

It sounded like a man. A younger man. You tried to talk to him.

“Hello?”

Sudden silence fell. You repeated yourself.

“Is someone there?”

“-Yes.”

The voice came out very quietly. For a moment, you didn’t say anything. You didn’t know what there was to say.

“What’s your name?”

Silence for another moment.

“It’s Noah.”

There was rattling as Noah shifted in his trunk.

Noah told you he’d been taken on a Tuesday. A horrendous sinking feeling settled in your stomach at that.

Tuesday was six days ago. Asa had come back very late that night smelling strongly of disinfectant and nitrile, as he did sometimes. You figured he'd stayed past closing hours at work for something important but asked him about it anyway, in the name of making casual conversation, an occurrence which had been growing steadily more reclusive between the two of you. His response had been clipped and curt. You didn’t ask him any more about it.

Noah seemed to hear Asa coming down the hall before you did.

“Stop. Stop talking.” His voice was suddenly desperate, laced with terror. “He’s coming back. He’s coming back. Please don’t talk. Don’t say anything.”

But that wasn’t part of the plan.

The locks clicked open on the other side of the black door.

You started pleading at him with your raw hoarse voice the second he stepped into the room.

“Asa, please! You know I didn’t tell anyone! I’ll do anything you want, you know I will! Asa, please!”

You weren’t even sure what you were begging him for. Please let me out. Please clean my arms before they get infected. Please don’t hurt me anymore.

He shoved your trunk so violently as he walked past that your head knocked against the wood and everything went dizzy for a moment.

Through the airhole, through your fresh, blurry tears, you watched him squat down, and unlock the brown trunk next to yours, the one the young man was in.

Noah couldn’t have been older than his early twenties but his face was exhausted and gaunt. His shirt was gone and his red sweatpants were soaked through with sweat or something else. The shackles around his wrists and ankles rattled as Asa’s arm darted into the trunk.

He wrenched the young man out by his tangled brown hair. Noah made an anguished sound, but didn’t struggle much as Asa hauled him swiftly towards the operating table. 

It occurred to you then what Asa had drilled the peephole in your trunk for. 

The young man begged desperate things while Asa locked his shackled wrists and ankles down to the fixtures on the table. No. Not again. Stop. Please don’t do it again. You looked closer, noticing the long row of stitches running down his side, the skin around them still red and puffy, and thought you might be sick.

Asa grabbed him roughly by the face, and leaned in very close, settling his hand on his bare abdomen. He said something next to Noah’s head too quiet for you to overhear. Noah’s chest heaved rapidly. Asa stood again, and gave the side of his ribs a light stroke before he walked away.

The young man on the table had paled fast. He lay staring at the ceiling with huge unblinking eyes, trembling, looking very much in shock at what he had just heard.

Asa took his time choosing the surgical tools from his cabinets. You watched him prepare the room, too afraid to look away. Maybe it was all a bluff. Please god let it be a bluff. He laid out two separate trays on the stainless-steel countertops, putting his tools in one, and set an extra out near the sink.

It wasn’t a bluff.

Noah was very awake when Asa began to cut his chest open. 

His body obscured your view of the table but you knew the exact moment the scalpel sank in because the young man made a horrible screeching noise and began thrashing violently in his chains in a huge clamor. His body seized and his eyes rolled back in his head. He seemed to try to vomit; nothing came out. 

Asa did not carry out his work hastily. Finished with the bloodied scalpel, he set it in the tray adjacent to his clean tools. When he turned away from the counter, you glimpsed his face.

The look of steady concentration he wore was no different from the times he’d let you watch him process an important specimen or sketch or paint. He clamped Noah’s skin back with pairs of forceps, and peeled off his wet black gloves, beneath which he was already wearing a fresh pair.

You took in the sight on the table while Asa went to the corner of the room to discard the gloves. Noah’s wet red ribs glistened beneath the long hanging lights and you could smell the slippery viscera from where you sat. You watched them expand as his lungs inflated with tortured breath, which was no longer anything but a bloody gurgling deep in his throat.

Asa came back, going next for the surgical pliers, ghosting his hand along his options until he seemed to settle on the proper one. When he looked up, pliers in hand, he was deliberately, unmistakably, casting his gaze across the room at your trunk. As if to make sure you were still watching.

Your heart nearly stopped. Air wouldn’t come in.

Then he returned to his work and started clipping Noah’s ribs off.

You could hear the bone snapping every time. The young man passed out more than twice on the table and that was the only time there was silence in the room.

Asa deposited the rib clippings in a third tray, and went to wash them free of blood and tissue in the steel sink while the near-corpse on the table made awful rattling noises, struggling to breathe; Noah seemed to be watching Asa, too, trying at least, but the immensity of his struggle had burst capillaries in his eyes.

Asa laid the ribs out on a pristine white cloth, organizing them from shortest to longest, toweling them individually off, and went about measuring them lengthwise with a yellow tape, then again around their circumference. He placed them gently in a bin, sealed the lid tight, went for a pen, and wrote something in his neat handwriting on the label.

You watched him take a curved needle and load it carefully with fine black suturing thread pinched delicately between his finger and thumb. Noah screamed and squirmed weakly with all he had left as it went in, which wasn’t much at all. Asa pulled the needle in and out, bringing his skin back together until his gaping chest was shut again.

The young man was still alive when Asa hauled him back into the trunk, a fresh row of black knots holding his ruined flesh closed.

Or at least he was still twitching, blinking, drawing shuddering agonized breaths through his wide-open mouth from which there ran an endless trickle of saliva and blood. The bottom of his stitched-shut chest was concave where his lower ribs used to be. He didn’t look like he’d live another hour. You hoped he wouldn’t.

Asa shut the lid and did the latches.

He went back to the counter for the ribs, taking an indirect path around the table, which carried him right towards you. You scrambled back from him as fast you could. The trunk didn’t let you get very far. You felt his fingers rap along the lid from one side to the other and couldn’t choke back your broken sound.

He left through the heavy door, doing up all the locks, and this time, you heeded Noah’s advice. Your mouth stayed utterly, obediently, shut.

After a few minutes of hopeless wheezing, Noah fell silent in the brown trunk, and never made another sound after that.

#asa emory #asa emory x reader #the collector #the collection #slashers #horror #slasher x reader #reader insert #writing #fanfic #darkfic #tw: torture #tw: abuse

[r0zyp0zy0zy]

✿M.I- Restrained in the Hospital✶★

Make a request!

Master list

Warnings: hand job, exhibitionism?

Words: 1344

Pairing: Midoriya Izuku x FEM!reader

Summary: Izuku’s arms are broken, again, so you jerk him off for him <3

===NSFW/ SUGGESTIVE UNDER THE CUT===

This was bad. No, Izuku wasn't thinking about his limp and broken arms, each wound snugly in a white cast; he was thinking about the raging hard-on he had, unable to do anything to relive the tent under the thin hospital blanket that covered him. And sure, he was pretty embarrassed when the staff had to help him go to the bathroom and an inconvenient boner would pop up, but he was even more embarrassed when he knew AllMight was dropping by soon.

Izuku struggled in the sheets, trying to at least make the bulge look like a crease in the fabric. He desperately thought of boring things that would get him out of this mess. Math homework. All that cleaning with Kacchan. Math homework. Tutoring. Being tutored by you. Uh oh. He just made it worse. Of course his monkey brain would think of you. He remembered one time when you were helping him study, and you really were, up until Izuku couldn't help his stupid hormone crazed body and—

"Hey, Izu-Chan~!" You sauntered your way into his hospital room, bag slung over your shoulder. "Sorry for not telling you I would pop by; you can't really reach your phone... so.."

You analyzed his face as you went to sit down in the chair beside his bed, noting the hot red streaks that adorned his cheeks. His smile was bright as always, but it had a tinge of anxiety in it. No... embarrassment? It was difficult to tell.

"H-how are things?" Izuku asked stiffly, eyes trying to avoid looking at you.

"Same old," you sighed, taking out some chapstick and applying it thickly to your lips, "damm, this weather is making my lips dry."

"Y-yah," Izuku agreed, attempting to make it look like he was watching the birds outside.

You tried to guess what was up with him. Top secret information he was holding? Maybe... but the conveniently placed wrinkle in the fabric of his blanket said otherwise.

"So," you popped your lips together, "how do you keep yourself occupied when you can't use your hands and arms?"

"Uh mostly music, and making brain notes of things I should work on," Izuku attempted to shrug, "but mostly just sleeping, or daydreaming..."

"... about what?" You pressed, trying to sound nonchalant, grazing a finger on a slightly dusted side table.

"Uhm, well... mostly about becoming a h-hero, a-and, well... uh.." Izuku struggled. "And thinking about hanging out with you..."

"Just hanging out?" You teased, scooching your chair a little closer and leaning your head on his hospital bed railing.

"Uhm, y'see, well- I, um," Izuku stuttered. He was so cute trying to come up with a convincing lie. You couldn't help but smile at his awkwardness.

"C'mon, spit it out," you giggle, teasing a hand down to draw circles on his thigh, deathly close to the 'wrinkle' in the fabric.

"... and about having sex with you," he murmured so quietly that you barely heard him. Ah, there it was. The shameful confession. You weren't going to tease him, (that much, anyway), so you just inched your hand closer to where you assumed his dick was.

"W-what are you doing!?" Izuku exclaimed nervously, his mouth forming a wiggly line to keep from yelling even more.

"You're horny right now, Izu," you batted your eyelashes up at him, slowly moving your hand under the covers, "and I'm gonna help you get off. Right here, right now."

"R-really?" He said, awestruck, "I-I mean, no! We'll get caught!"

You rolled your eyes, "the worst they can do is send me out of the building. It's not like they're gonna throw you out of the hospital."

Deku was deep in thought, mumbling the pros and cons of the situation, ".. well she's got a point... hm but— allmight will be here soon... can't have that.... but on the other hand—."

"Izu, baby," you shook him out of his daze, "calm down, ok? If you really don't want me to I don't have to—."

"—no, wait! I really want you to, it's just- I'll be so embarrassed if AllMight comes early and h-he sees what we're doing..." he stuttered, trying to wave his arms about.

"Careful, baby, don't hurt yourself," you stood up, holding his casts still and trailing your hands down to Izuku's chest.

He was frozen to the spot when your hands didn't stop, and continued down to just above where his dick was. His eyes were as wide as disks, and he couldn't peel them off of you when you folded back the pristine white comforter. You could hear his heart monitor speed up a little, and bit your lip. Shit. You had forgotten about that. You decided to ignore it, and continued to pull up his hospital gown to his chest.

"F-fuck," Izuku whimpered once his hard-on was free. "Haven't touched m- myself in s-so long."

"'So long' being like three days," you hummed, wrapping your fingers casually around Izuku's red cock. He whined under your touch, the heart monitor getting quicker. "Hm, better relax a bit, don't want a nurse coming here to check your heart."

"O-oh..." he scrunched up his face and took a few deep breaths.

You knew that his heartbeat quickening was inevitable, so you just hoped the nurse that checked up on Deku would only peak in and immediately leave. You got into a steady rhythm; spreading his pre-cum over the head, and firmly pumping his length. Izuku's eyes were glazed over, not able to peel off of your movements.

Izuku was struggling to contain himself, flexing his legs and biting his lip. He always came pretty fast whenever you were touching him like this, your teasing doe eyes looking up at him. So now that he hadn't given his dick some proper attention for the past three days, he was extra sensitive.

"Y-y/n, please," Izuku huffed out a breath. "Get t-tissues or something r-ready— I'm so close."

"We won't need tissues, baby," you smirked, lowering your mouth to his cock, flattening your tongue against the underside of his glans.

The way Izuku's eyes nearly popped out of his skull made you want to just get on the bed and fuck him. His face was beet red, and you guessed that his blush trailed down his chest as well. His sweet, lewd, moans filled the room as you innocently looked up at him.

"Soon— gonna cum soon," Izuku whimpered, his eyes half lidded. He refused to look away from your enticing mouth, and he didn't want to waste his time with blinking.

"Go on and cum for me, Izu," you pleaded, your tongue lapping at the underside of his glans.

Deku's eyes practically rolled into the back of his head, and he heaved a silent wail as he came into your mouth. Tears formed at the corner of his eyes, and he glanced down at you. Izuku could've sworn that he almost came again just from looking at you as you made a show of swallowing his cum.

"Ah~" Izuku squirmed when you rubbed at the head of his sensitive cock, unable to get away. "Th-the heart monitor, y-y/n-chan."

You glanced at the machine, and then at the door. You smirked when you saw a nurse's blonde hair whip past the door to his room, swiftly ignoring the two of you.

"What about it, Izu~?" You teased, licking off the remainder of his cum.

Deku's whole body shivered once you gave him a last departing kiss, and you tucked him back into place. His face was glowing pink, but he looked a lot more relaxed than he was before. He let you lean down to kiss his lips, wishing his arms weren't broken so he could touch you.

"MIDORIYA, MY BOY," AllMight announced, stepping into the room. He was in his hero costume, as usual, and gave you a bright smile, "oh, hello to you too, young y/n."

"Hi," you waved politely, grabbing your bag. "I'll leave you two to chat."

"O-ok," Izuku whispered, his face flushing deeper. "See ya."

#midoriya izuku #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya #izuku midoriya x reader #mha #bnha #anime

[averykedavra]

For the prompts, #5 with intruality if you're comfortable?

(Hi! Intruality is the cutest, thanks for the prompt, and sorry for the delay!)

Words: 1706

“Sometimes,” Remus says, “I wonder if you even like me.”

“What?” Patton almost drops the bag of groceries. Miraculously, he manages to hold onto it. “Remus, what are you talking about? Of course I like you!”

“I dunno.” Remus’ feet skim the ground, and his fingers are blurring into each other, like they always do when he’s upset. “It sure feels like you hate me sometimes.”

Patton gapes at him and tries desperately to remember when he said something like that. But he can’t think of anything. They just went to the grocery store, bought some food for the apartment, and left. And sure, there was that little skirmish when Remus toppled over the cans of tomato soup, but Patton knew he didn’t mean it! And they didn’t even get kicked out again.

“What are you talking about?” Patton decides to ask again, in the hopes that Remus will answer. Remus hardly ever talks when he doesn’t want to, but it’s worth a shot.

“Today,” Remus finally says. He’s trying hard to seem unbothered, but it isn’t working. “I almost got you in trouble again.”

“You did no such thing.” Patton fixes Remus with his determined dad friend look. “Sometimes cans of tomato soup happen to fall over. Nobody could even see you!”

“Yeah, so they blamed you again.” Remus gestures at the groceries in Patton’s hands. “‘S always you. Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

“No!” Patton exclaims. “You’re my best friend!”

“I’m dead, Patton.”

Patton’s stomach does a little somersault, and not the fun kind. “Yeah, but that doesn’t change anything.”

Remus folds his arms as they cross the street. To anyone else, Patton is talking to himself. Remus only shows himself to people he likes. And he likes Patton, he always has, and Patton likes him.

Why would Remus ever think otherwise?

And yes, they didn’t start off on the best foot, but things are good now! Super and duper and all-around fun. Remus is just like a regular roommate, except for the occasional showers of blood.

“Look, I’m sorry or whatever,” Remus says, as if Patton’s been pushing for an apology. “I don’t mean to keep messing things up.”

“You haven’t messed anything up.”

Remus huffs, and the sign near them clangs, like pebbles have hit it.

“I’m not mad at you,” Patton says. “I don’t see why I would be. Nothing bad happened, we’ve got our groceries, including your deodorant--”

That does draw a smile out of Remus.

“--so it’s no big deal!” Patton smiles back at him. “Everything’s a-okay. Always has been, always will be.”

Remus smiles a bit more, and then it drops, like a cloud passing over the sun.

“Don’t act like that,” Remus finally says, reluctantly.

“Like what?”

“Like everything’s fine.” Remus waved an arm through a trash can. “Like everything’s hunky-dory and peachy and there isn’t a single thing we gotta work on.”

“I’m not saying there isn’t,” Patton says. “I’m just saying there isn’t right now!”

“There always is!” Remus snaps back, and Patton wonders just how long he’s held himself back from saying this. It’s a scary thought--Remus never holds anything back. “There’s always something wrong, and you’re always trying to brush right past it.”

“Well, excuse me for not dwelling on the bad stuff!” Patton hoists the groceries further in his arms. Remus hasn’t offered to help carry them, but if they drop, Remus will catch them. At least, he hopes so. “I’m just trying to look on the bright side!”

“Look in a butthole, it’ll give you a better view.”

Patton winces.

“See?” Remus waves his arms at Patton. “I gross you out! You can’t stand me sometimes!”

“You’re my friend!”

“And friends can still gross each other out!” Remus shrugs. “I dunno where you got this idea that friends can never ever fight each other.”

“I don’t know where you got the idea that I hate you!” Patton tries to walk faster and burn off his frustration, but it makes his grocery bag teeter, so he slows down. “You may be a bit--eccentric--”

“Freaky-deaky!”

“But you’re still my bestie!” Patton smiles at him. “Dynamic duo over here!”

Remus rolls his eyes all the way around. “Most people aren’t best friends with ghosts.”

Patton grips the grocery bag tighter. He’s not sure if he can feel it slipping, or if he’s just worrying over nothing. “Well, I’m not most people, then.”

“People think you’re weird.”

“People can deal.”

“I get you in trouble.”

“You don’t much,” Patton says, which is truer than it used to be. Remus tries harder now. “And it’s worth it to have you around!”

“You didn’t ask for me!” Remus bursts out. “You didn’t ask for this!”

Patton opens his mouth and closes it again. Remus seems to be finally done, because he drifts silently along the sidewalk, like a cloud of dust in the sunlight. The cars rumble past. Someone’s sitting on the stoop of their apartment, drinking a coffee, and Patton knows it looks like he’s all alone. Holding his groceries, struggling over the cracks in the concrete, talking to no one at all.

“You’re a real friend,” Patton says. “Even if you’re not, like--there.”

“I don’t have a heartbeat,” Remus supplies. “And I can do this!”

Patton doesn’t close his eyes fast enough, but Remus only tugs his tongue around his face. It’s not half as bad as sometimes. Patton almost finds himself smiling.

“See?” Patton teases. “Why get an alive friend when dead ones can wrap their tongues around their skulls?”

“True,” Remus says.

“And I like you,” Patton says, gripping the groceries tightly. “No matter what.”

Remus is quiet for a bit. “You didn’t use to.”

“Well, you didn’t use to be dead,” Patton points out. Snapping a bit, but he can’t help himself. “Things change.”

“True.”

Patton didn’t use to like Remus. And it took a lot of getting used to, having a roommate who didn’t sleep, a roommate who ate deodorant and banged pots in midair and whispered things in Patton’s ear while he was talking. Remus didn’t want to be there--he made that clear enough.

Or maybe he did want to be there. Maybe he wanted to be there, to be as real as he could, as loud and as obnoxious and as there as possible.

Patton got used to him. Patton managed.

And at first it was for Roman. It was so Remus wouldn’t have to bother Roman while he was studying, and Remus wouldn’t have to get upset as much. And then it was for Patton’s pride--because gosh darn it, he would make friends with this ghost. He was Patton. He could make friends with anyone.

Then he did.

And now--he did so much more than manage.

Now he did it for Remus. Because they were friends, and they got along, and Remus deserved someone who could see him.

Patton didn’t know how to explain that, though. Remus still had a point--things did get tense, sometimes, and maybe Patton brushed that under the rug a bit too much. But it evened out. You had to crack eggs to make an omelet. Friends fought, and it was okay.

“You’re my friend,” was the version of all those thoughts that Patton managed to say. “I care about you. I’m not mad at you, and I’m not stuck with you. I like you a lot.”

“I like you too,” Remus said, “but--”

“No buts!” Patton giggled and Remus giggled, too. “Ha, butts--anyway, no objections. We are friends. You get on my nerves sometimes, but you’re still super fun, so it evens out!”

“But--”

“Not a single butt, mister!” Patton shifts the groceries in his arms. “If I like you and you like me, doesn’t seem like there’s much more to talk about.”

“But...” Remus waits for Patton to interrupt him. Patton gives him a nod. “You--you could probably find, like, another friend if you really wanted. Send me to hang out somewhere else.”

Patton looks at him. Remus looks away. His face is blurry, but Patton thinks he can see a frown.

“Yeah, I could find another friend,” Patton says. “But they wouldn’t be you!”

“That’s the point.”

“Then it’s a bad point!” Patton adjusts the groceries so he can extract one arm and point at Remus. “See, this is a good point. My good point. Which is that I like you just the way you are, and if you keep talking bad about yourself, I’m going to physically fight you!”

Remus snickers a bit. “You’re sure?”

“Of course! One thousand percent!” Patton nods determinedly. “What other friend would get that jerk to leave us alone at the farmer’s market?”

“He was asking for it,” Remus says.

“He was!” Patton agrees. “Or what about the time you found my wallet? In, like, ten seconds? Sure, the tables and plates got a bit scuffed, but it was super efficient!”

Remus smiles a bit wider. “I did do that. That was cool.”

“The coolest!” Patton’s getting into his stride now. “And you watch movies with me, and you’re great for moving boxes, and you’re so creative with your facial expressions, and you make me laugh--”

“And I look out for you,” Remus says suddenly, like he didn’t put the pieces together. “Without me, you’d be--”

“Fine,” Patton says, because he’s not used to relying on people. “But sad,” he adds, because he relies on them anyway.

“Huh.” Remus nods to himself. “Oh yeah, this whole thing goes both ways. Can’t believe I didn’t think of that part.”

Patton smiles at him. “Do you feel better?”

“Yeah, I think so!” Remus grins. “You’re a real firework, Pat-Pat!”

“A firework?”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re all bright and cheery and fun!” Remus laughs. “And because you set the table on fire that one time--”

Patton flushes. “I didn’t--”

“I saw you--”

Remus is laughing, and despite himself, Patton starts laughing, too. He almost doesn’t notice when the groceries slip from under his arm.

He drops the groceries. And Remus catches them, easily, before they hit the ground.

“I need my deodorant,” Remus says as a defense, when Patton gives him a thankful smile. “Be careful.”

Patton picks up the floating groceries. “Don’t worry, I will be.”

Give me a prompt, and I’ll write a short drabble!

#intruality #patton sanders #remus sanders #sanders sides #remus sanders angst #tw death #ghost au #the intruality ended up platonic or maybe pre-romantic #watch me just throw darts at the dartboard for these pairings #is it platonic? romantic? other? who the fuck knows? not me! #send me prompts to watch me flail with dialogue and forget abt relationships #anyway i'm gonna take a teeny break for a walk but then i'll be back!! #averywrites #anon #asks and answers

[donutloverxo]

Pink lady

Note - For the lovely @lielullabyes 500 followers challenge! Congrats babe🥰🥰

And for @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18s challenge and birthday! I'm sorry I'm a bit late! Hope y'all like it❤❤

Summary - You try to convince your professor to give you a better grade.

Warnings - smut, age gap, professor/student relationship, deep throating, cock warming.

Prompts - professor!character x student!reader for snow

Gif prompt + your professor has a different kind of extra credit in mind for navy and siri

Pairing - Andy Barber x reader

Word count - almost 4k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

You closed your eyes rubbing them to sooth the dryness. You had a long day and getting anything through your thick skull was turning out to be a challenge.

Of course it would. You were never an amazing student. You just studied the night before the exam and cramped whatever you could, writing what you remember on the test the next day. And yeah it wasn’t the most ideal way to study but it had worked so far for you. You got by alright.

It was more of all the shitty professors you’ve ever had than your fault. None of them could ever get you really interested in their subjects. They either didn’t care enough or only knew how to abuse their power.

But then he walked into your class. He was pretty enough to be a model or an actor. You just assumed he was someone famous. You felt as if you’ve met him before, as if you’ve known him your whole life. You were shocked to hear he was your new criminology professor, along with being a DA. Which has to be a demanding job.

It was impossible to not listen to him when he spoke, his voice so smooth like honey, carrying hints of a Boston accent he let slip whenever he got too passionate, which was quiet often.

He had broad shoulders and thick biceps he hit under those expensive suits and dress shirts. But it was more than that. He acted as if he cared. About his students, about the things he was teaching you. He always encouraged questions and helped everyone with their doubts. He had you on the edge of your seat with every word he said.

He even knew all the students by their names. Well... everyone except you.

You never interacted much in your classes, too afraid to make a fool of yourself in front of your dream man. So you had decided to buckle down and study as much as you can so you can finally raise your hand when he asked a question. How amazing it would be to hear him say ‘Good job' to you.

Maybe it isn’t classy to harbor such sinful thoughts about your professor. But the way his pants stretched over his round butt, hugging his long legs and creasing as he leaned against the edge of his table, his thick dark beard framing his face so perfectly, was just so mesmerizing. He was sex on legs. Were you really to blame here?

You had made sure to get to class ten minutes early so you could sit on the first bench. To get a close up look at the show. He was talking about something, you couldn’t really focus on. Your eyes stuck to his crotch, and how you could clearly see the imprint of his...

“Shit” You whispered as you heard him call out your surname, suddenly realising that he had his eyes on you.

“What do you think?” He asked.

“Wh – I – don’t really think a lot.” You stammered “I’m sorry what was the question?” You cringed at yourself.

“Try to pay attention next time.” He scolded you as you cowered under his intense gaze, his lips set in a hard line as he went back to addressing the whole class and resuming his lecture.

He didn’t even spare a look at you the rest of the class. You had to keep your tears at bay. It would’ve been better if you were invisible to him. Anything would be better than being publicly humiliated like that.

You decided then and there that you don’t like him. Sure you weren’t paying attention but how dare he point that out? He would never do that to anyone else. What the fuck did he have against you.

Nope. You were going to hate him now and bear him till the end of the semester. But then, all your resolve went out the window as soon as he turned around to write something on the board, giving everyone a nice view of his 'cute bubble butt'. At least that’s what you heard someone else call it. Although the kind of feelings it gave you were anything but cute.

After two long torturous hours the class was dismissed. You scrambled to pack up your bag. You were about to leave your, but body stopped of its own accord when you heard him call out your surname again. Sending shivers down your spine. You took a deep breathe turning around to look at him, your mouth suddenly dry and your hands clammy and sweaty.

“Yes professor Barber?” You asked as you stood a few feet away from him, staring at his shoes as if they were the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen. You could not look at his face. You would melt on spot and make an idiot of yourself, again.

You cursed as he walked towards you standing just in front. You had never been so close to him before, you could smell his musky cologne, feel his hot breath on your forehead.

“Don’t you think it’s rude to not look at your professor when speaking to him?” He asked cocking his head.

He couldn’t but feel proud and satisfied as you complied so easily, looking up at him. The tip of your tongue peaked out to lick your lip before your lower lip was caught in your teeth as you chewed harshly on it. A very distracting habit of yours. He really had to resist the urge to groan.

He wondered if you knew you were so cruelly teasing him or if you were as oblivious as you seemed to be.

He was excited when he was offered a position to be a teacher, a chance to shape young minds. To make a larger difference in the world. He stayed up all night preparing for his first lecture. He was always thorough with his work. He had made up his mind to do his best and be a good teacher.

But he knew he was ruined as soon as his eyes landed on you.

He wasn’t one for making friends. Always having trouble trusting people. Especially in his profession. It wasn’t that he was shy. He hated small talk and just didn’t have a lot to say, unless he was in a courtroom, even if he did he wasn’t always sure how he should say it.

But when he and his colleagues had a win on a particularly hard case, bringing down a huge mob after working tirelessly for over 3 months, he agreed to go out for drinks to celebrate. He did need to wind down a bit. When he wasn’t at the office he was at home either working or sleeping.

He was sitting on the bar stool with Henry the paralegal he had come to like the guy. He had been a huge help with the case. Henry was going on about his daughters biology project when Andy felt a tap on his shoulder he looked over his shoulder before turning around to get a proper you.

There you stood, leaning against the bar with a dopey grin on your face. He couldn’t help but do you a once over, looking you up and down, you were wearing a hot pink dress that hugged your waist before flaring over your hips. He smiled at your cute kitten heels with small white bows on them. You looked so beautiful, your hair tied up in a high ponytail as curls framed your sweet face.

“Hello mister businessman mister!” You giggled before covering your mouth as you let out a hiccup. “Oops excuse me.”

“I’m not a businessman.” He smiled shaking his head.

“Well you sure do look like one!” you laughed weakly punching his bicep “Oh my gosh” You gulped pressing his bicep in your palm “You must work out.”

“I dabble here and there.” He said waving it off as if it wasn’t a big deal “Can I buy you a drink? Are you old enough to be here?” He wondered.

“I’ll have you know I’m more than old enough” You said proudly. Normally, he would never even consider flirting with someone who looked so young, but for some reason he just couldn’t stop. “Yes I will have a drink. Wait no! No I won’t!” You gasped.

“That’s probably a good idea. You seemed to have had plenty. How about a coffee?” He offered.

“Nope I’m fine. I’m here for my friend Stacey. She likes you.” You drawled out moving your hips side to side dancing to a tune stuck in your head.

“And you don’t like me?” He pouted.

“Noooo” You whined cupping his beard in your hands. He kept pouting to milk some more sympathy from you but was completely taken aback when you pressed your soft cushiony lips over his. You pulled back staring into his eyes and said “I like you a lot! But sisters before misters you know. I couldn’t do that to my friend.” And now you were the one pouting.

He heard Henry clear his throat behind him “I’ll just go on home then. See you tomorrow man.” Andy couldn’t be bothered to turn around to say goodbye, his eyes completely focused on you.

“Oh no your friend left. Whatever you’re going home with Stacey anyway.” You looked around for your friend “Where is she? Oh no! She’s not here.”

Andy frowned looking around the bar with you “Don’t worry she must be in the bathroom or something. Why don’t you try calling her?”

You whipped out your phone from your bag. Your lips starting quivering and eyes turned glossy as you looked at it. “Hey what happened?” His instincts screaming at him to sooth your panic state. He just ran his hand up and down your forearm, there wasn’t much else he could do without seeming like a creep.

“My friend left! She said she went home with a wall street guy. Left me all alone.”

He frowned at that. “Your friend doesn’t deserve you.” He stated as if he knew you. He didn’t but he knew how loyal you were to your friend when you turned him down. Who would abandon such a sweet thing like you?

“And we were gonna go to dinner and everything.” You sniffled “I’ll have to walk home now.”

“No you won’t.” He blurted clenching his jaw. He knew just how bad men could be. He would never let a clearly inebriated woman go home alone.

Sure in any other case he would’ve called or even paid for an taxi. But he couldn’t say goodbye to you just yet. So he offered to take you home. And with some convincing you agreed.

He secured you into the passenger seat before putting your address in the GPS. He found himself laughing more than he ever had at your incoherent drunken ramblings.

“Do you believe in aliens?” Before he could even answer you continued “What if this is all just a simulation. By aliens. Like what if we’re in a tv show. That’d be awesome.” You leaned against the window, closing your eyes.

“Are you this funny when you’re sober?” He wanted to know. Although he had an inkling that you definitely would be.

“Yes I am! But my friends tell me I talk too much.” You said scrunching up your nose.

“I could listen to you talk all night. But I think we’re here.” He said parking across a building. “is this it?”

“Yeah” You nodded. “You’re right dude. They don’t deserve me.”

“Don’t call me dude.” He grumbled. You call your friends ‘dude’. And he had no intentions of being just a friend to you.

“Fine dude” You chuckled. “Do you have a pen?” You asked.

“Uh I think” He felt his pockets and then pulled out a fountain pen he always carried around with him.

You took it from him and shook your head. “You business men and your pens” You snatched his arm and started writing something on his palm.

“I keep telling you I’m not a business man.” He argued.

His heart swelled with giddiness as he saw you write down numbers on his open palm.

“Call me if you wanna hear me talk some more, ‘night.” You struggled to open the door before stumbling out. He made sure you got inside your building safely before he entered your number in his phone. He didn’t ask your name, too caught up in your rant about women’s jeans not having pockets. So he just saved it as ‘pink lady’.

He was so excited to hear from you again that he called you the next morning. Only you had given him the wrong number. He didn’t know if it was a mistake or if you had just lead him on. He considered maybe ‘accidentally’ bumping into you near your apartment. But then he saw you. In his class, as his student.

You didn’t seem to remember him but obviously had a crush on him. You weren’t such a confident talker without the influence of alcohol, the one time he asked you what your name was you just replied with ‘I’ve never had one.’ Which was adorable but also infuriating.

Was he so damn forgettable? How did you manage to do such a number on him, so much so that you haunted his wet dreams, but you had completely forgotten about him and the whole encounter. Going about your merry life, your mind not plagued with such unprofessional and unethical thoughts.

He wanted to know you. To hear you ramble some more or be awkward. Literally anything but the cold shoulder you were giving him. So he did a bad thing. He called you out when you were clearly too busy ogling him. He revelled in the sick pleasure he got from embarrassing you.

“Why don’t we go talk in my office?” He suggested and collected his books without waiting for your answer. You both made your way over to his office, you following a few steps behind him. “After you.” He said as he held the door open for you.

He locked the little latch as he closed the door, instructing you to take a seat. He wasn’t sure why he had called you over. It wasn’t like he could actually act on his feelings. Or ask you if you remembered him at all. It would be out of the question. He would get fired from the university, his reputation would be tarnished.

He took a seat at his desk shuffling through the papers in his drawer and brought one out on the desk.

He felt his cock twitch in his pants as he took in your demure state. How you had made yourself so small across him. He decided then. He couldn’t possibly not do anything about his feelings. Once his mind was set on something he HAS to have it.

Every fibre of his being was screaming at him to simply bend you over the desk and take you in the most primal way possible. But he could wait. In just a few months you would graduate and he would ask you out. There was a possibility that you would turn him down. Again. But he’d take his chances and get what he wanted. He always did.

“Your grades aren’t doing so well Miss L/N” He said passing the paper over to you. “It’s a C. You barely passed. If you don’t get a B or up in your next exam you won’t pass my class.” As much as he loved seeing you everyday he needed you to graduate so he could have his way with you.

“Oh” You let out as you looked at the test.

“That’s all you have to say? What’s wrong? Do you not understand my teaching?” To which you shook your head no “Maybe you should focus on your studies before going to clubs and getting drunk.” He spit leaning back in his chair. He knew he was being harsh, but he also knew that you needed some tough love.

“I – clubs?” You looked up at him and frowned “I don’t go to clubs! How would you know anyway?”

“Oh so you don’t remember.” He sneered not taking too kindly to being forgotten so easily. “January’s last Thursday. You were wearing a pink dress.”

You looked as if you were in deep thought before your eyes widened almost popping out of their sockets. “Oh my god! You’re that business man!” You gasped.

“Listen closely. Because I won’t say it again. I’m not a business man. I’m a district attorney and your professor.” He said sternly as he threw his head back loosening his tie so frustrated with you. He’d have to be patient. Something he very obviously wasn’t. It’s alright. You were worth waiting for.

“Sorry” You mumbled half heartedly. You knew you remembered him from somewhere. You thought you had dreamt of meeting a handsome and charming business man. Apparently you were wrong. “Why am I here professor Barber?” You asked.

“I told you. You need to get your grades up.”

“Yeah but I’m sure many other students must’ve gotten a C or lower as well. Why are you so concerned with me? What’s so special about me?” You spit with an accusatory tone.

“I care about all my students.” It wasn’t a lie. He did. He just cared about you a little bit more.

“Uh – huh. Then why did you lock the door?”

“I didn’t want anyone to disturb us.” He cleared his throat as he sat up straight in his seat.

“Sure.” You rolled your eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“Why? What are you gonna do about it?” You asked before exaggeratedly rolling them again.

He scoffed “You’re such a brat.” He shook his head. “I’ll have you straightened up in less than a week when you’re mine.”

You hummed at that. “In your dreams old man.”

“You’ll see sweetheart. I just have to wait till June.”

“Well how about you can have a little taste now? I can give you something if you can change my grade.” You offered biting your lips again.

He groaned at the tempting offer and sight “There’s nothing you can give me that will change my mind.”

“Isn’t there?” You got up and walked around the desk to him, exaggeratedly swaying your hips.

He moved in his chair to look at you kneeling between his legs. Rubbing your hands on his thighs.

“I’m sure I can change your mind.” You said confidently as you undid his buckle and pulled down his zipper.

“I doubt it.” A thought of maybe stopping you as you took his hard cock out of his briefs came to him. But then you looked at his length with such awe, as if you were admiring it.

“You like it?” He smirked.

You could only nod your head and try your best to not drool. “It’s the most beautiful dick I’ve ever seen.” You admitted. It was also the biggest, his rosy mushroom head slippery with precum, couple of blue veins adorning his thick shaft. You could wait to suck the life out of him.

“How many dicks have you seen?” He frowned. He didn’t really liking you thinking about anyone else’s dick, not when his was right in front of you. “Never mind. Finish what you started.” His impatience took over him as he pushed your head down, forcing you to open your mouth and swallow him whole. He moaned at the feeling of your warm wet mouth wrapped around him. “Relax your throat.” He ordered as he pushed deeper into you.

Sighing deeply as his tip hit the back of your throat, groaning as you choked around him before swallowing. “That’s it good girl.” He praised caressing your jaw. Rubbing away the tears cascading down your cheeks.

He pulled some papers out of his bag as your raised your brows at him. “I need to get some work done sweetheart.” He shifted his hips to sit back on his chair. “How about you keep me warm till then?” He said as you whined “What? Do you have other plans?”

You shook your head as he muttered a “Good” And started going through his paperwork. “You can swallow honey. But that’s all you can do. Don’t you dare move.” He warned.

It was proving to be quiet a task. He couldn’t really focus on anything but your mouth and how he wanted to just fuck it and you stupid. But he was teaching you a lesson. He had to wait a while before he came down your throat. Besides this would give him an opportunity to really savor the feel of you.

You laid your head on his thigh as he flipped through his papers for the next half an hour. Suckling here and there to not mess up his pants. When you realised that he might be interested in you, even just a little. You hoped he would just take you, make your dreams come true. You had no idea what the fuck this shit about waiting was. But you were too afraid to say no to him.

He haphazardly put down his pen. Releasing a shaky breath he finally took hold of your head. Rolling his hips a little, he pulled his length out and pushed it back in. Setting a slow and steady pace, knowing that he’d come all too soon.

You moaned as his hand went down to cup your breast fondling it so gently. He lost it as he felt the little vibrations “Do it again” He demanded as you moaned around his length. He held onto the back of your throat driving his hips up a couple of times before spilling in your throat. “Swallow it all.” He ordered as he pulled out of your mouth with a loud ‘pop’.

He groaned as he as your throat swallow a gulp “Clean me up. I have to go to work.” He pushed his tip against your lips as your tongue peaked out and licked what you couldn’t swallow and your spit off of him. You gave his tip a last kiss before tucking him back in his pants.

You stood up on wobbly feet, straightening the wrinkles in your dress. You went over to your chair cleaning your mouth up with a hanky Professor offered. “So you’ll change my grade now?” You pushed your test towards him.

He laughed “We never agreed to that sweetheart.”

“But I – but we – but I just!”

He shushed you putting his papers back in his bag “That would be unethical. You’ll be coming to my house for lessons. We have to make sure you graduate. Are you free tonight?” He looked up as you nodded “Good. Then we’ll decide if you’re worthy of a reward.” He pulled his laptop bag over his shoulder as he walked towards the door, unlatching it and holding it open for you. “I’ll see you tonight sweetheart.”

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm. Comments and feedback are appreciated! ❤❤

Beautiful dividers by @whimsicalrogers.

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

#shamelesshoesforchris #snowswritingchallenge #andy barber #andy barber x oc #andy barber x y/n #andy barber x you #andy barber x reader #andy x reader #chris x reader

[byulsgrease]

to hold ⋆ I promise you

previous || masterlist || next

(~1.2k words, no cw's that I can think of)

"C'mon, let's goooo," she whined. "Why do you always have your nose stuck in a book? We only get 20 minutes for recess, ya know."

Not my fault that Lemony Snicket had little kid me on the hook... for 13 books straight. But Byul, always antsy, begged like an eager puppy. This time was no different. She pried each individual finger off the pages to death grip my hand in hers, nearly yanking my arm off to lead me out of the classroom and out to the playground. Maybe the fresh air wasn't so bad. But I think she could still stand to read a book once in a while.

She did that a lot, now that I think about it. Dragging me somewhere by the arm, holding my hand. It's been a while, though.

☆*:.｡.★.｡.:*☆

From middle school onward, we'd retake the love languages quiz when bored. Or the enneagram. Or the MBTI. And if we were daring or needed a laugh, the rice purity test. It must've been a love languages day. Of course the simplicity of love languages made for small number of possible outcomes, and having been around each other for so long probably made retaking it a bit pointless. But what else would we have done, studied? Hah.

We probably laid side-by-side on the floor of our college dorm while hanging onto our phones for dear life above our heads, the biggest goal always to prevent the pain of dropping them on our faces, but it usually happened anyway.

"Did the questions change? I swear it's a little bit different every time."

"I think you just forget what the questions are every time," she responded in her typical teasing nonchalance.

"I suppose we always retake these once we've forgotten what our results are."

"But we know each other's love languages by memory. And our own."

"Yeah, but the percentages could change. You done?"

As a kid, my mom made me take the quiz. Maybe she tried to peer into my psyche or something, but I got gifts as my primary. I still don't understand if "gifts" means receiving or giving, because I'm an absolutely terrible gift-giver. But receiving always seemed materialistic. I know now that it's the "this gift made me think of you" sentiment, but still. Not a truth to be particularly proud of. The other languages always seemed more noble, or at least deserving.

"Yep. Same as always, physical touch followed by quality time."

"Oh shit, 3-way tie between gifts, words of affirmation, and quality time," flipping the results screen towards her. I guess this is why I remember. She let out a surprised hum.

"That's new."

"Do you remember the last time we took this?"

"Absolutely no idea. But hey, this means you're ~changing~," she emphasized with a chuckle.

"College has certainly changed us," I pointedly agreed.

"Mm, yeah." Her lips pursed in thought.

Whether we thought about the same changes or not, I had no clue. Sure, we changed as individuals, but I think our relationship changed in early adulthood too, the "us". I guess that's just what came with growing up. We weren't (and aren't) kids anymore.

☆*:.｡.★.｡.:*☆

I have no clue what possessed her to ask.

"Hey, can you hold me?"

"You're really that touch starved, huh?" It's not my primary love language. She blushed, skin's usual paleness subsumed by an absolute pink.

"I dunno! I just thought I'd ask..." Her hand came up behind her neck sheepishly, fingers toying with the hair at the base of her skull. I laughed. Big part of our relationship, laughing— with and at each other —all the time.

Opened up my arms and waved her over to the couch anyway, not like we had anything better to do. She slipped in, pressing her back into my chest. Unsure of proper hand placement, I rested one on her hip. Her fingers immediately clasped around my wrist with conviction and brought my arm down around her front in an actual spooning position, hand now in front of her other hip. The scent of her cologne she always insisted on wearing remains unforgettable. She’s changed it several times over the years but always seems to return to this one. Heck, she’s probably wearing it today.

"So what's this for, exactly?" I asked, head lifted and turned down to peer at the side of her face. She paused before answering, probably trying to figure out how much she wanted to divulge.

"I'm just stressed, school and all," she sighed, absentmindedly tracing lines on my sleeve with one hand and supporting her head with the other. Figured it was best to not press in much further— she's not the most forthcoming but I'd known from past squabbles that she'd only tell me as much as she needed to. "You know what I actually want? Someone to tell me that it's gonna be alright. I feel like being an adult just gets harder as time goes on— what's the point," she huffed existentially. "I just wanna be a kid again, where I didn't have to care about anything."

"You really wanna go back to when we were kids?" She had to be kidding, right? Did she not remember the incident?

"Yeah, like back when my biggest problems were things like getting you to play outside with me or explaining away to my mom where all the ramyun went," she said with a half-smirk and slight shake of her shoulders, reminiscing. I stay silent and let her enjoy the re-lived memories, if I brought up the obvious the conversation would've probably taken a turn for the worse.

"Okay, well," laying back down to rest my chin on her shoulder, "I'm here to tell you that everything will be fine. We're working hard, it'll turn out." Hopefully it came out confident and assured— I had no idea what the hell I was doing back then either. She blushed again and shrank further into herself (and my arms, by proxy), turning her head away from mine to bury her cheek into the couch. "Aww, Moonstar getting flustered?" I teased, squeezing her tighter as the heat radiated off her face. I paused and said more seriously, "You work way too hard taking care of everyone else. It's okay to want the same for yourself and ask for it, even if I poke fun."

That might’ve been the first time I kissed her— on the cheek, at least. I had no idea what possessed me to do that. Guess I just wanted to hit the point home?

Before this, I had no clue I could have that kind of effect on someone. Making friends came pretty easy to me, but Byul instantaneously charmed the pants off nearly anyone she met. I'd say both of us weren't really the type to date around, though. Even casual crushes seemed pretty rare— or at least based on the ones we deemed important enough to talk about with each other.

But yeah, she got all flustered too, stammering and stumbling over her words, which I found endearing (next to funny). I just shushed her and squeezed her tighter, resting my cheek against hers as they shared the mutual burn. It’s not like I had the words either. Still don't.

Not to say that our relationship remained strictly platonic, it certainly didn't. At least not back then.

#tell me why I keep working on another series that isn't this one 💀 #I promise you #mamamoo imagines #moonbyul x reader #moon byulyi #mamamoo fluff #moonbyul imagines #mamamoo x reader #kpop fic #mamamoo moonbyul #gg fluff

[themoonlitsojourner]

Chapter 3: Come back home

Gar thought Raven didn't care. And he couldn't fault her for it after what happened when HE wore his heart on his sleeve. But now she's here with him. And he can't believe just how wrong he was.

In the dark room, lit only by fairy lights and the stars on the ceiling, Tara and Gar danced. They swayed back and forth, shuffling their feet in a pattern neither of them quite knew. The way they were dancing wasn’t important, after all. They were content just to be together, no matter what they were doing.

“How’s this for a dance?” Gar grinned. “It’s not exactly prom, but-”

“It’s perfect,” Tara reassured him. With a sigh, she leaned forward to rest her head on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Yeah.” He smiled down at her, running his hand lightly through her silky blond hair. “It’s no big deal, really. I’d do a lot more for you.”

When Tara looked up at him, tears shone in her ocean blue eyes. Tears he hadn’t understood at the time, mistaking them for happiness instead of sorrow. For affection instead of the dread of what was to come.

Leaning forward, she kissed him, so softly and sweetly he knew he’d remember that night forever. But like all the others they shared, it wasn’t long before the memory turned bittersweet.

~~~

Gar wakes up slowly. Why rush to return to his empty room and the aching hole in his chest? To the endless rain pouring down both outside his window and in his head?

But this morning is different. Today he awakens to cool jeans under his cheek and a gentle hand resting on his shoulder.

Gar’s eyes flutter open. No, he’s not still dreaming. He’s definitely lying with his head in someone’s lap. And when he cranes his neck to look, he can’t quite believe his eyes.

It’s Raven, of all people, who sleeps propped against the wall, head bowed and hair falling in front of her face, her hand resting on his shoulder. Her lips part slightly as she exhales quietly.

How does she do that? How does she find peace and control, the two things that have eluded Gar all his life? Especially now, when his world has shattered on the ground. He can’t imagine what the inside of his skull must look like right now. He doesn’t need to be an empath to know he’s a mess.

And yet Raven stayed. She pulled the pain from him, despite the havok it must have caused in her mind and the crick she’s totally going to have in her neck when she wakes up. She kept her promise.

Maybe he shouldn’t be so shocked. Maybe he should have a little more faith in his teammate. But honestly… Gar’d always thought Raven didn’t like him. That she only tolerated his presence. It’s why he can’t quite wrap his mind around it now that her actions say differently.

She could have decided to wait out the storm, could have let him push her away like the rest of the Titans. But instead she went miles out of her way to meet him in the dark hole he dug for himself.

When Gar closes his eyes, he can picture how she pulled his grief into herself, face creased in concentration. He can picture the single tear that rolled down her cheek, the first time he’s ever seen her cry. She hurt herself to help him. Why, he has no clue. It’s crazy. He’s lying with his head in her lap, for goodness sake!

I’ve gotta be a real mess if she’s letting me get this close. It’s all he can think of, that he looks so torn apart that she’s taking pity on him. Whatever the reason, he’s grateful.

“Rae.” She doesn’t stir. “It’s morning, sleepy-head.” Gar can’t help smirking. “And I think this is the first time I’ve ever been awake before you.”

“It’ll probably be the last,” Raven mumbles, still half asleep but falling easily into the familiar pattern of their banter. She pulls away from the wall, straightens, and immediately winces. Yup. Crick in the neck. Blinking against the light from the window, her careful gaze scans Gar’s face. Searching for the cracks.

“Are you okay?”

The world roars back to life around Garfield, the pictures and memories he’s desperate to forget flooding in.

“No.” He closes his eyes.

Raven lifts her hand from his shoulder. A pang shoots through Gar’s chest. Time’s up. She’s going to leave now, but he really shouldn’t be surprised. He is surprised she stayed this long though, that she answered a request he had no right to make. What was he thinking, anyway, asking the team empath to keep his chaotic mind company?

Gar’s about to sit up and let her go, and he knows she’s thinking the same thing, when he senses her hesitate. And instead of pushing his head from her lap, she pushes his hair back from his face.

As her cool fingers brush his forehead, Gar means to hold still, to listen to the part of him that’s afraid moving will make her stop. But the other side of him is so much stronger. It’s the part that needs to be reassured and held no matter who’s giving it, the part that’s been touch-starved by the hours locked alone in his room.

So Gar forgets who’s reassuring him and curls into it, seeking out more touch, more comfort. He presses his forehead into Raven’s side, letting her crisp cold wash away the muggy heat of his room.

Until he realizes what he’s doing. Never, in a million years, would Raven let him get this close. He’s totally making her uncomfortable.

You screwed up, you screwed, now she’s definitely going to leave.

But Raven doesn’t push him away. She stiffens, yeah, and she hesitates. Then she continues to stroke his hair. Her movements are awkward and unpracticed (he knows this is way outside her comfort zone), but there’s genuine care behind them. Gar tries not to purr when her fingernails scratch against his scalp in a way all the animal in him likes.

But it only takes a few seconds for reality to set in. Gar can’t ignore it any longer. Raven might be willing to stay and keep him company, but she can’t.

She has to go meditate so she can recharge. She’s told the team over and over that it’s not optional, and despite her incredible mental strength, Gar can feel the strain seeping in. The struggle to keep her mind level and calm after last night’s onslaught of emotions reflects in the tight control of her movements. She has to leave, and he can’t ask her to come back. Not after how much she’s given of herself just to be here.

Not when he isn’t sure if he’s even worth the effort.

“You should probably go.” Gar rolls off her lap.

Raven watches him for a moment, surprise altering her neutral expression and lifting her eyebrows a fraction. Does she think he doesn’t know how much of a toll her powers take on her? Maybe not. He doesn’t exactly act like he’s paying attention most of the time.

Raven’s mask falls back into place and she nods, rising from the bed. Gar looks away as she walks toward the door, unable to watch her go but too scared to admit he doesn’t want to be alone. Too ashamed to ask her to send Vic in. He’d never look at Gar the same way after seeing him like this.

Garfield hears the door swing open, but it doesn’t shut. He glances over to see Raven standing with her hand on the doorknob and studying him. Her eyes soften when he meets them, just the smallest bit.

“You’re not alone, Gar.”

Then she’s gone.

Gar stares at the closed door. You’re not alone. Just like he told her so long ago, back when they were still kids. Before their lives got so complicated and tragic.

What did he know then?

~~~

Garfield stays in his room all day. Despite the stubborn pessimist that she is, Raven hoped he’d reach out if given a little more time and space. That he would let his friends and teammates help instead of locking them out.

Apparently, she should have stuck with pessimism.

Raven has been reading the same line over and over when Victor flops onto the other end of the couch. She doesn’t need to ask where he was.

“This won’t last forever.” She lowers her book to give Victor her best attempt at an encouraging and understanding expression. “He’ll come around.”

Vic doesn’t even look at her. The frustration in his voice isn’t quite able to mask the pain. “You sure?”

Raven doesn’t have an answer.

~~~

It’s not her place and maybe it won’t change anything, but by the time night falls she can’t stand by any longer. If he won’t come out, then she’ll come to him.

Raven steps into Garfield’s room, edging around the pile of dirty laundry. “Victor misses you.”

They all do.

He’s lying in the same position as last time, on his side with his back to the door. Watching the rain that never seems to end. “I think I’ve figured it out.”

Though he can’t see her do it, Raven lifts an eyebrow. “Figured what out?”

“Why you like to be alone. Why you like the quiet. It numbs the pain doesn’t it? Calms the storm inside.” He crosses his arms and pulls his knees to his chest. “It makes it easier not to care. It’s safer that way, isn’t it?

Raven’s skin goes cold. But this time, it’s not because of her powers. It’s fear for Garfield and the way he’s talking. “This isn’t about me. And everything you just said? That’s not you.”

Gar rolls onto his back, cloudy eyes drifting to her face. “I just wanted to say I get it now. I’m sorry I didn’t before.”

This is not a time to freeze up, or wonder why in the world Gar chose to talk to the one person in the tower who is least equipped to help him. This is not a time to wish she’d learned something other than control and magic from Azar, such as how to interact properly with others. No, this is a time for action. To do something, to say something to help her friend. And maybe it won’t help. But Victor’s words echo in her mind.

Will it hurt?

Gar blinks, jaw falling open as Raven kneels beside the bed and lays her head on her arms, tilting it sideways so that she can meet his wide green eyes from the same angle. She needs to be on his level. See things from his perspective, both literally and figuratively.

“Quiet keeps the pain from getting worse. Solitude protects others from the storm.” She shakes her head. “But neither makes it better.”

~~~

Gar has never been this close to Raven before. Even when his head was in her lap she was still “up there,” her face a good two feet away from his. There’s always been a distance between them, both physically and emotionally, one that he could never figure out how to cross.

But now they’re equal, literally seeing eye to eye. Maybe that’s why Gar finds traces of... of feeling on the face he’s always thought battled Cinderblock’s for the title of stoniest. Or maybe the traces were always there. Maybe he just didn’t understand them until now. That’s true of a lot of things, actually.

He never thought of Raven’s distance as protection, both for herself and for her friends. But betrayal and loss really change a guy’s perspective on the world. So does a walk in his teammate’s shadowy shoes and even darker mind. Not that he’d ever tell her he could feel her emotions just as well as she could his when she used her powers to lessen the pain. She’d be mortified.

“I know it’s the last thing you want right now.”

Garfield’s attention flicks back to Rae, noticing the lavender color of her eyes as she speaks.

“But come downstairs. Please.” She drops her gaze, almost… embarrassed?

“Your friends miss you. They need you.”

Need… him? Gar can’t recall anyone ever saying they needed him. During a mission, sure, “Beast Boy, we need you to turn into a dinosaur,” but that’s Beast Boy. No one has ever needed Garfield.

He lowers his ears. “You need me?”

“Yes. We’re not a team without you.”

We. She’s saying we now. And he thought she’d prefer the team without him. Guess I was wrong about a lot of things.

Raven’s voice drops, and Gar knows what she’s about to tell him is important.

“What you said before, about not caring… I’m not supposed to care. It was the one rule I made when I joined the Titans, to protect myself and the others.” She tenses her jaw. “If I didn’t care, there would be fewer emotions to keep under control. And it wouldn’t hurt when the team told me to leave after they found out what I really was.”

As if we’d ever let you leave.

“Yeah. I understand that now.” Gar swallows past the lump in his throat. “It’s pretty smart, even though we’d never do that to you.” If I hadn’t cared about Tara, then I wouldn’t be hurting like this. My heart wouldn’t be shattered on the ground.

“No.” Raven shakes her head, frustration seeping into her voice. “No, it isn’t. That’s not what I’m saying.”

Gar scrunches up his nose, baffled, and she sighs.

“I’m not explaining this right. Garfield…” Her expression softens, and the mask falls away from her face. Completely and entirely. And for the first time, Garfield sees Raven, really sees her. No walls. No sarcasm or deflection. Just Raven, real and complete.

“I do care,” she confesses. “About you, Koriand’r, Victor, and Richard.” She looks away. “I care a lot. When it comes to the team, I’ve found it’s impossible not to.” Her brow furrows. “That means I’m going to get hurt someday, one way or the other. Something terrible will happen, or someone will walk away from the team, and I’ll feel like the world is ending.”

Just like I do right now.

“But it’s a price I’m willing to pay for my friendships.”

Raven pauses. Then she speaks slowly, as if realizing how she truly feels for the first time. “They’re worth it.”

Garfield’s mind whirls, set afloat in a strange new dimension where Raven makes eloquent speeches and shares heartfelt secrets. Where she cares about even him.

“You don’t hate me.” To Gar’s complete embarrassment, his voice cracks and the waterworks start. “I-I really thought-”

Raven’s eyes widen in complete horror. “Hate you? No! You… actually thought that?”

“You told…” Gar can’t say her name, images of blood soaked bandages flashing before his eyes. His hands tremble as he clears his throat and forces himself to continue. “Y-you said you used to.”

Raven falls silent. He can almost see her working through her thoughts. He had no idea how much went on behind her blank expression.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Sometimes I’ve been annoyed or irritated by you, especially during the first year. But I’ve never hated you.” She blinks and glances away. “It’s, um… kind of impossible, actually.”

For a moment, Gar forgets that Raven is Queen of No-Hugs and throws his arms around her neck. But this alternate dimension just gets stranger when she awkwardly pats him on the back in return.

Outside, the skies open up with a loud crash as the storm that the constant rain’s been threatening to bring all week finally breaks. Raindrops pound against the window in a steady rhythm while low thunder rumbles in the background. It sounds good. It feels like a release.

“I’m not going to lie.”

Gar lets go and pulls back, watching Raven’s face as she exhales.

“It will be hard at first. You’ll feel like you’re faking it every time you do something that makes you happy. But the joy will come back.”

“How do you know?” I want to hope, Rae. I want to so badly.

“Because you’re Gar.” She says it with finality, like that’s her whole answer. No hard logic or practical attempts to convince him. Just faith that he’ll come out alright because of who he is. Faith in him. “You’re stronger than you know.”

“Okay.” Garfield watches relief flood her eyes. She… she really was worried about him. “I’ll try.”

Five minutes later, Gar slips into the living room behind Raven, feeling oddly shy and self-conscious in his own home. But that only lasts the few seconds it takes for Kori to spot him.

“Garfield!” She flies straight at him like a rocket, stopping only inches short of running into him. Her eyes shine with unshed tears and she stretches out her arms. “May I give you a hug, please?”

“Why not?” Gar shrugs, blinking to hide his own tears. For once, he doesn’t mind how bone-crushing all Starfire’s hugs are. It’s never felt so good to have someone so happy to see him again. He’s never missed his friends this much.

The sound of Kori’s excitement brings Victor rushing in, Dick close at his heels.

A relieved grin splits the cyborg’s face. “BB,” he says quietly, holding out his fist. His soft brown eyes search Garfield’s face, still lined with concern.

With a start, Gar realizes how much he scared him.

“Cy.” He taps Vic’s fist with his own. “I’m… I’m sorry, dude.”

Stepping forward, Vic wraps him in a bear hug. “Man, don’t you dare apologize.” Is that… a sniffle Gar hears? “I’ve missed you, buddy.”

“Yeah,” Gar whispers into his best friend’s sweatshirt. “Me too, bro.”

After Vic releases Gar, Dick steps forward and wraps an arm around his shoulder, pulling him into a brief but sincere hug. “Good to have you back, Gar. Whatever you need, just ask. We’re behind you no matter what.”

Gar’s heart still throbs. The pain is still there. He has a feeling it will be for a long time. But as his gaze drifts from friend to friend, from teammate to teammate, he knows he’ll be okay.

His eyes land on Raven. The slightest corner of her mouth turns up and she nods, reminding him that he’s not alone. He never has been.

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2)

(Previous fic in series: Slow dancing in the Darkness)

(Next fic in series: The Sound of the Sword)

#just use the link to read the first chapter and the previous fic in the series #bbrae #beast boy #raven #garfield logan #teen titans #teen titans animated #teen titans animated series #mine #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #writing #hurt/comfort

[soulmate-game]

Continuation of the story from Day 1, because you guys requested it enough that I started Thinking, lol.

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Day 3: Siblings

—*—*—*—*—*

Dinner. One day after meeting her father for the first time. She had managed to postpone any sort of… socialization and emotional bonding, during their meeting earlier for everyone to choose from Marinette’s initial sketches for them and generally consult some more, by once again steamrolling everyone with Professionalism and Business Marinette.

But no longer. She couldn’t escape. Staring at a giant wooden, elaborate door like it was her pathway to Prison—

“Stop dramatizing everything in your head, Mari,” Adrien fondly scolded, gently rapping the side of her skull with one knuckle. “I got things to do, for your company I might add, so I can’t stay. But, you’ll be fine,” he leaned in, smirking at her and winking as he lowered his voice. “Besides, you’ve been through way worse than a little family reunion, Bugaboo. You’ve faced down way scarier people than the Waynes. You got this,” he encouraged before giving her a solid clap on the shoulder and a chaste kiss on the cheek, walking back towards their sleek but understated dark red car. Rented, of course, for the business trip, but nonetheless very nice.

Adrien had driver’s licenses for just about every major country. Marinette stopped questioning it a while ago.

She waited until he was gone before throwing her hands up. “Scarier people, he says. Like the Bat clan isn’t known for being some of the most intimidating heroes and vigilantes in the spotlight,” she grumbled. When she turned around, it was to the door already being open, and she jumped a bit in surprise. She hadn’t heard anyone answer the door, but sure enough Alfred Pennyworth stood there holding the door with a small smile, with Bruce Wayne and all of Marinette’s siblings gathered behind him. At least this time, nobody had their spouses or children. Every one of them was smirking, some more sharply than others (Damian).

“Would you like to come in, Miss Dupain-Cheng?” Alfred asked, waving his hand to gesture to the fact that there was plenty of room for her to enter. Blushing, she did just that, taking a breath and forcing herself to actually look at the family she had just met instead of down at her glossy navy blue pumps. Jason, the man with the white fringe in his hair. Second Robin, current Red Hood, her mind supplied, spoke up with a grin and his arms crossed over his chest.

“You don’t look so suave anymore, little Queenie,” he teased. Marinette instantly made a face, screwing up her nose.

“No. That nickname is vetoed. One of my friend’s nicknames is Queenie, and not only will she never let me live it down if she finds out someone called me that, but, just no,” Marinette dramatically shivered. “Most of my friends call me Princess nowadays anyway,” she shrugged. “Adrien started it, and it somehow caught on. It’s too much work to protest at this point.”

“You’re not good with crowds,” the soft spoken woman, Cassandra, decided to add. Marinette winced, shifting on her feet even as she followed the group to the dining room.

“Ehhh. I’ve gotten used to dealing with press and stuff, to a certain degree anyway considering my alias. And wearing my Business persona always helps in consultations. But, I’m not…” Marinette bit the inside of her cheek, clearly a little uncomfortable as she looked around. “The best at… actually talking to people outside of my small group of friends.”

Bruce sighed as most of his kids chuckled or snorted at that. Dick, the oldest but second-shortest of the men besides Tim, came over and draped an arm familiarly over Marinette’s shoulders. He still towered over her though, so he had to slouch a bit to do so.

“Ah, that would be the genetics. Let’s hope you stay where you are at instead of getting as bad at communication as B,” he told her cheerfully. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“What about Damian?”

“He’s even worse!”

“Tt,” said teenager tutted, rolling his eyes as they entered the dining room and he was able to come up to Marinette’s other side. “That was mostly how I was raised before I met Father. I have gotten a lot better than I used to be, Grayson.”

Dick gave him a smile, graciously relieving Marinette of the close contact in favor of rustling Damian’s hair despite the fact that the younger Wayne was taller than him already. “Yes, you sure have! But you still need improvement, baby bird.”

Soon enough, everyone managed to get seated around the large dining table. Bruce insisted that Marinette take one of the seats next to him at the head of the table, across from Damian, since this was her first family dinner. Dick sat next to her, Jason across from him, followed by Tim and Duke on Damian’s side of the table. On the other side of Dick sat Cassandra, and then Stephanie. Alfred served everyone before also taking a seat at the table, on the opposite end from Bruce.

And, true to BatFam tradition, everything was a little awkward for the first minute or two. Marinette didn’t know what to say, and nobody quite knew where to begin. Dick would normally start a conversation, but he was trying to glare into Bruce’s head a silent message of “talk to her, damn it.”

Finally seeming to get it, Bruce cleared his throat and turned to Marinette. “So, I wanted to ask. When do you find out about being my daughter?”

Several people around the table closed their eyes in mourning for Bruce’s social skills. Marinette though, just smiled in slight relief at the decision of how to start talking being taken from her.

“Oh. It was in stages, really. When I was ten, we started our unit in school on genetics. I don’t usually care enough about science to do much more than the school requires, but genetics captivated me for some reason. I researched it almost obsessively at home for a while, almost instantly realizing that there had to be a reason that I had blue eyes when none of the rest of my family did. After a week or two, I found my Maman and Papan’s adoption papers in their room,” she blushed, tugging on one end of her bangs, which she had framing her face since she was wearing her hair down that day. “I uh… I’ve always been a little nosy. I never told them that I found the papers, to me it was just the answer I needed. I didn’t think about it at all after that, and my obsession over genetics went away. It wasn’t until I was thirteen that I decided to look into my birth parents,” Marinette sighed, shoving a bite of food in her mouth to buy her time before continuing. Everyone was focused on her, and it was a little unsettling. Every one of them had a sharper gaze than a normal person, and it made her feel like she was made of glass and everyone else could see right through her. “I was going through a lot, back then. I wanted someone to be mad at, I wanted to be able to blame my DNA for the things that had happened.”

“Things?” Bruce interrupted, back straight and eyebrows drawn down. “What things?” Marinette giggled, tilting her head instead of answering and just letting her eyes study him. Bruce Wayne, Batman, the Dark Knight. Original vigilante of Gotham city, one of the founding members of the Justice League. Famous for his secrecy, intimidating presence, and intelligence. Then she switched her gaze, one by one, to everyone else at the table before leaning back and taking a sip of her soda.

“Do you guys know anything about the situation Paris experienced for four years?” She asked, instead of directly answering. It was Tim who frowned, leaning forward to look at her and reply.

“I heard very vague rumors of weird things, but nothing concrete enough to investigate. What happened?”

Marinette hummed, deciding to sum it up for them. “The short version? When I was thirteen, a classmate of mine spontaneously turned into a giant rock monster and destroyed a good portion of the city. Turns out, that was the first of many attacks by our city’s very own supervillain, Hawkmoth. He had a magical artifact that allowed him to take advantage of anyone’s negative emotions to give them powers and brainwash them into being, essentially, temporary villains that he used for his own means. Two heroes showed up out of nowhere, powered by similar magical artifacts, to combat him and free the people he corrupted. Ladybug and Chat Noir, the original Parisian heroes and the leaders of the team that later had to form.”

Jason frowned, along with everyone else at the table. Finally, it was Duke who asked:

“How did we not know about villains in Paris?” To which Marinette just gave him a dangerously wicked smirk that was far too similar to Damian’s for anyone’s comfort.

“Because I do my job,” she told him flatly, sipping from her cup as everyone stared at her in various amounts of shock. “That’s why finding out that my biological father was Batman made so much sense. That’s why I wanted to find out who my birth parents were. I wanted to blame the heroism on genetics. And, it doesn’t look like I was exactly wrong.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Yeah, that was how her first family dinner and subsequent identity reveal went.

Luckily, considering that Bruce had hired MDC for a pretty long job, Marinette was able to finish school online instead of going back to Paris for it. There was no real need anyway, they had defeated Hawkmoth and gotten Adrien emancipated so for now it was calm in Paris. They didn’t need their heroes anymore, for the time being. This meant that Marinette and Adrien, along with a few employees that helped measure and cut fabric and do secretarial duties they needed help with, got to stay in Gotham while Marinette went back and forth to Wayne manor, Wayne Tower, and back to their temporary home.

After about a month, Marinette was comfortable enough with the Waynes that she found herself lounging in the bat cave as she sketched, though she kept raising her eyes to the glass tubes that held old uniforms. Damian was sat across from her, essentially laying out over two chairs while he played some game upside down on his phone. He might usually be a cold brat, even for a sixteen year old, but even he liked to abuse the way furniture should be used and ignore the world via technology.

But he still caught her constantly wandering gaze.

“You don’t like them.”

“They suck!” Marinette immediately agreed, slamming her sketchbook on the metal briefing table. “Your Robin outfit is the only passable one there is! The colors aren’t even the issue, even high fashion designers can appreciate a good color clash moment. But what was Father thinking?! Putting Grayson in that glorified onesie— why are there no pants?! Jason’s at least as a cape that can cocoon his body and prevent anyone from seeing the disaster beneath. I should thank Tim for at least upgrading the suit to having pants, but he still kept the outside-underwear look that I cannot forgive. The attempt at fashion, though, is appreciated. Disappointing, but appreciated.”

“That pretty much sums them all up,” Damian quipped, getting a snort of amusement out of his sister. Maybe that was one thing he had grown to like about her. She didn’t reprimand him for his sense of humor, and usually she even laughed along. The more morbid humor would get a playful shove and a glare, but no real animosity. And she understood him on a different level, too. One he appreciated even more.

“You said, yesterday, that the Cure brings back everyone who dies during a Miraculous-related incident,” Damian spoke up again after a moment, pointedly not looking at her. “Did you ever count?”

Marinette, this being one of the reasons he was quickly growing fond of her, immediately understood. She sighed, closing her notebook. She might have only been two years his elder, but she had had what felt like a lifetime of more experiences than he did, usually in the friendship and social department though. They were roughly equal in their heroism experience, which was weird to think about, but Damian still valued her input. It was different from the rest of the family.

“It was different in Paris than it would be for anyone else. I didn’t keep track of the number of people who died,” she finally answered, taking her hair out of its work bun and running her hands through the midnight black locks. “But I kept track of how often. Since nobody remembered their deaths, I guess I felt it was my responsibility to remember my failures for them. My former best friend, Alya. Over the course of those four years, she died seventeen times. Her boyfriend, Nino, died fourteen. The Mayor died three times. Chloe, my current friend and former bully, died twenty-two times,” she grimaced at Damian’s shocked expression, nodding grimly. “During those first two, maybe two and a half years, she was one of the primary Akuma targets. She was still either an active bully or in the beginning of trying to change for the better, so she caused a lot of negative emotions everywhere she went. Things got better once she matured a bit, though. Anyway, there’s this girl I used to babysit. Manon. She died five times before she was even ten years old,” Marinette shook her head, that look of age and exhaustion that Damian saw in every Wayne and every hero he had ever fought with seeping into her eyes. “My parents, they died thirty-seven times. They were constantly worried about me, and ran into danger on several occasions trying to find and keep me safe. But I could never tell them who I was. I physically could. I had the power to sit them down and say; Hey, I’m Ladybug. Stop running out and getting yourselves killed. But I never did. I valued my identity first. So I usually ended up seeing, in the middle of a fight, one or both of them squished under falling debris. Or drowned. Frozen solid. Burned alive,” she paused, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “So no. I don’t understand what it was like for you, to count bodies as you felled them. But hell, if it doesn’t feel like I should. Logic doesn’t mean much in the face of emotion, especially guilt. I know I didn’t kill the people I care about, but every single one of their deaths weighs on me like I was the one that caused it.”

Damian nodded, and they shared a few moments of peaceful, contemplative silence as they both ruminated on their less than pleasant memories without fear of being yelled at for what those memories contained.

“But, I do have a secret,” she admitted softly, attracting her brother’s emerald-eyed attention again. The normally cheerful woman was much more subdued even than before, sapphire irises self conscious and vulnerable, which was rare. She licked her lips, even more rare considering her love of her light pink lipstick, and moved off her chair so that she was, instead, sitting on the cold stone floor. Without hesitation, Damian joined her.

“Technically, it didn’t happen. It was a timeline that my friend, the one who I gave the snake Miraculous, essentially erased when he reversed time. But I remember it even though I shouldn’t. How could I forget?”

“You took a life,” Damian whispered, grimacing in empathy. “First time?”

“And the second, and the fifth,” she admitted. “Viperion had to try seven times before I stopped repeating it. But it was always the same person, back during our final battle. I killed Gabriel Agreste seven times. But nobody but me and Luca will ever remember.”

Damian and Marinette both knew it wasn’t the same as Damian’s childhood. They both knew that they would likely never fully understand one another’s trauma. Not the nuances of it. But they did understand the important parts, the broad strokes. Despite their vastly different lives, they understood the big parts that shaped one another.

That was why Damian took to her so quickly. If he had been younger and still bratty, naive, and angry at everything, then it would be a different story entirely. But he was matured, more willing to let himself feel sympathy. And that made the difference.

“You never forget the first person,” he remarked.

“No matter the age or timeline,” she agreed. “I saw how hard it was to stop. How sickeningly addictive it can be, but I hate what it makes me more than I like how it feels.”

“... me too,” Damian whispered. “Me too.”

—*—*—*—*—*

“Wooo!” Marinette cheered as she flew through the air, her hands latching onto Dick’s. There was no audience, but there didn’t need to be. Just the two of them, doing a routine that they’ve been working on during the few chances they had for the past several weeks. Marinette had never done trapeze before Dick helped her learn, but her time swinging through Paris streets helped tremendously alongside her general Gymnastics experience.

Marinette and Dick flipped through the air, swinging from bar to bar, Dick occasionally catching and tossing her again. They soared through the air, both curling through two flips before landing on their respective platforms with matching wide smiles. Marinette, chest heaving a bit since she was slightly out of shape (meaning that she wasn’t at all out of shape, only out of practice when it came to swinging through the air for any length of time. There’s a difference). She met Dick on the floor, who proceeded to ruffle her hair happily.

“That was awesome! Looks like you finally got the routine down,” he praised. She laughed, elbowing him.

“I bet I’m better on the balance beam,” she challenged, making Dick grin widely.

“Oh you are on!”

—*—*—*—*—*

“Ya ever died before?” Jason asked, making Marinette chuckle.

“Two-hundred and eighty-seven times.”

“You started as Ladybug at thirteen, right?”

“Yup. No training or mentor for the first year either.”

“Yeah, then that sounds about right. Wanna go break all the traffic laws?”

“Only if we take your bike.”

“Fuckin’ Duh. What else?”

—*—*—*—*—*

“You stalked Adrien?” Tim asked, smirking that insufferable smirk of his. Marinette groaned, flopping back onto the sofa.

“No! I didn’t mean it that way, anyway. I just took a lot of pictures and spied on him.”

“Yup. You’re Bruce’s kid,” he remarked, tapping away at his laptop. Marinette narrowed her eyes.

“You have noooo place to judge, Mister ‘Dick Grayson is the only person alive who can do four somersaults in the air!’ And ‘Yes, I‘ve known that you are batman since I was eight. Look at all these pictures I took when I— what was your terminology again?”

Tim rolled his eyes, but a grin was peeking through. “Yeah, yeah.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Four months later, and Marinette was staring down at all the garment bags she had painstakingly filled. Outfits for every single one of her new family members. It took a while, but they were ready for the Wayne Gala. Adrien slung am arm over her shoulder.

“You’ve outdone yourself again, Princess,” he praised, grinning at the array of coveted outfits they were about to transport. “But one teensy weeny, tiny little thing.”

“What is it, Chaton?”

Adrien grinned. “Do you have a dress for yourself? Bruce invited you, too, didn’t he?”

Marinette’s face drained of color, right as a knock sounded on the door. Adrien, seeing as Marinette was so far into Panic Mode that she could not be reached at the moment, went to open the door. A second later, plastic was all Marinette could see. Blinking, she raised her head.

It was Cass, holding out a pink garment bag with Marinette’s name on it.

“Thought you would forget,” was all the other woman offered as explanation. Marinette, after gaping for a moment, slowly took the bag from her. Cass smirked. “Present from WE.”

Marinette laughed.

“You guys are the best.”

—*—*—*—*—*

@momothefemur @ladybug-182 @starlightshield @trippingovermyfeet @greatcatblaze @sam-i-am-0222 @bluesimani @ruelukas22 @acoolspacegirl

#mlb x dc #ml x dc #maribat #b!dbwm2020 #bio dad bruce wayne #Day Three #platonic Brucinette #Platonic Daminette

[miioouu]

dare or extreme dare

So i saw this on @todobakus-doll blog, and um i couldn’t help myself! 

Warning: smut, characters are 18+...

    Some nights were spent alone, others are spent together. And well tonight is the latter. The whole dekusquad and bakusquad were having a game night. It wasn't rare for the two friend groups to have nights together, despite a certain blond attitude on the matter. But in reality, he wasn't doing it for himself, or his friends, he was doing it for his boyfriend. He knew how much it meant for Shoto that he gets along with his friends, even a little bit. It always makes him happy and proud, he wasn't one to show emotions but when it's the two of them, the way his cold hand runs through untamable curly hair, Bakugou could tell, feel the love. Well in all honesty, it's not just the two of them, when he feels soft lips pressing on his cheek, smaller body curling in his side, his eyes looking down at yours, his world felt complete. But that's beside the point, tonight he came to win. Spin the bottle, cards, whatever electric boy and alien girl prepared for tonight he will win.

      Both of the boys were a bit sad that you're not a part of the game, but they knew that you had university entrance exams you need to study for, so they didn't pressure you. Anyway, the night was going great, laughs and jokes filling the room, soft music playing, not too loud to disturb the other students but just enough so they can feel it flow through their body. Intense glances being exchanged between the lovers, yet keeping it low key, no one needs to find out about them. Finally, they all agreed on a game. While the usual party game was truth and dare, not for them. Dare and extreme dare. When you either show how weak you are, or how fearless you can be. When already inappropriate dares turn to the extreme. When worrying dares turn to dangerous ones. To make the game even more interesting, they went into pairs. Iida and Kaminari, Mina and Ochako, Kirishima and Deku, Sero and Tsuyu, and unfortunately, Todoroki and Bakugou. While it's not really that big of a deal to be paired together, they knew how dirty and naughty these games always turn out, and well, they just don't want to give it away.

     Few turns already passed, and to say that the group were being extra with their dares tonight is such an understatement. Deku almost fell to his death. Sero will for sure be sick for the next few days. Iida, is still shaking from doing something so immoral. And now it's the secret couple's turn. Eyes darting from one another, the other members of the group. It really must be their unlucky day, Denki was the one to give then the dare. Every second passing, the mischief in the electric boy's eyes intensifying, making the two other boys nervous, anxious for what's coming. Hearing soft steps getting closer, it's like you can see the light bulb illuminating above Kaminari's head "Ok so dare, kiss the next person who enters the room in their cheek. Extreme, make out for them for one whole minute!" Oohs and ahs filling the room, the two antisocial boys complaining and groaning until they saw you poking out of the door. Sweet smile on your face, rosy cheeks from interrupting them, but that's not what their attention was on. Short shorts exposing your legs, smooth and so appealing. Light, thin silky shirt, if they focus really good, they can make out the outline of your nipples making their mouth water, their mind go wild and with hesitation, both of them in unison "Extreme" and they ran to you.

     Quicker, the dual boy was the first to reach you. Hands caressing up and down your bare arms, cold sending shivers down your spine. You didn't even have time to question his behavior before he pressed his lips to yours. Slow at first but when your hands gripped on his shoulder, nails digging into his flesh trying to push him away, rationalize with him, the mood around you changed. His tongue swiping at your bottom lip and when you denied him access, he didn't hesitate to loop his arm around you. Cold, freezing fingers traveling up your naked thigh, pushing up your shorts and punching at the soft skin of your ass. Gasping from the shock, from embarrassment, you didn't realize that you granted him his wish. Tongue wasting no time, diving in your mouth and exploring the wet cavern. You could feel the others staring at you. Their eyes glued on your form, burning holes into your very soul. Unease taking over you, but with his hand still massaging your behind, his wet muscle down your throat, there's other feelings you're more worried about.

     "Alright, minute's done. My turn now!" The angry blond shoving Todoroki aside only to replace him. Confused and puzzled, what are they talking about? But just like before, your mouth opened to demand answers only to be shut with chapped lips colliding with yours. The taste of alcohol traveling from his mouth to yours, making your head dizzy. Or is it the lack of oxygen? His hands roaming over your form, tracing every curve, every part that you're so insecure about, in his eyes you're nothing less than perfection. Like your body has a mind of its own, your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, fingers locking in his untamable hair. Pulling and yanking at them, earning you a hiss, a tightening of his grip around your waist. This action made you moan, low and erotic, being swallowed by his mouth. What happened to the usual shy and quite y/n? Letting herself go in front of everyone, almost letting the secret slip. With a man devouring her and her eyes, bright, begging another.

      The rest of the group didn't even know what to do. Stop you? That didn't seem like a good option, especially not when Bakugou seemed to drag you out of the room, your hand intertwined with Shoto's pulling him with you. It's just you three fooling around, nothing to look too deeply into. Or that's what they thought.... Out of sight and in your bedroom now, air felt heavy, it's hard to breathe. Embarrassment taking over you. Cheeks red, your teeth nibbling at your already swollen bottom lip, folded over yourself trying to hide from them. If you thought that this will make the boys slow down and explain what's happening, you're wrong. It only added to the fire boiling in their blood, eager to see you burn in lust with them. Step after step, they're getting closer. Slowly, like fierce animals hunting their teeny tiny prey, you. And it's not like you can back away, you're already pressed to the wall. Two hands catching your wrist, pulling you off the wall, just enough for another body to slip in. Your chest pressed against a much harder, muscular one, your eyes staring into heterochromatic ones. Your back leaning on an also tough torso, but that was the least of your worries. Your ass, there was something hard poking it. Bakugou's bulge straining his jeans and the protrusive fabric rubbing against your technically naked skin. Shoto's mouth found yours again. Gentle but not too much. Rough but just the right amount. His kiss making you melt from love and fire up in lust. And to make you blaze even more, Katsuki's teeth sinking and indenting your shoulders, neck, every part of your skin. You were in flame and they were the gasoline, your gasoline....

       Things were getting heated. Like the shy y/n existed no more, your hands went exploring. From traveling up Todoroki's shirt, palming every bulge on his abs, flicking his nipples whenever you had the chance, brushing up his collarbones and down his shoulder, his arms, feeling every flex, every tension of muscle; to threading your fingers in Bakugou's ashy blonds, single digit caressing up and down his neck, shoulder blades, gripping at his nape and pulling infinitely closer to you, your ass grinding on his aching dick. It's really getting hot in here, why don't you take off your clothes then? And that's exactly what you did. Separating yourself from the two young men, all taking off your shirt at once, not wanting to lose any more time. Bakugou was the first to get all naked, nothing unusual, he always liked to show off his body, especially to the two of you. Sitting on the edge of your bed, hid hands on your hips, pulling you close. Palms molding your chest, only to journey south, lower and lower finding the elastic of your shorts, pulling them down your legs. Then come your panties. Your frilly white ones with a bow on the front looking so adorable and innocent, but the shining dark spot on the front proving otherwise. And the string attaching the cotton to your pussy added to the obvious sin. And before anything could happen, Bakugou didn't forget, always so worry of you even in moments like this, pulling out the lube from your lowest drawer, smearing it on his dick and two covered digits pressing against your asshole, slipping in easily it wasn't the first time after all. And when all was alright, he sat you down, his cock replacing his fingers your back arching off his chest, your eyes rolling back your skull and your moans shakily leaving your mouth.

     In the midst of it all, you didn't realize, you didn't notice, Todoroki sitting across of you, hard shaft in hand, working it up and down, until he saw you relaxing in your "seat". Approaching you, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, the little giggle erupting from you like melody to his ears, and yet there's something much better he'd like to listen to, a much better song. Pushing both you and the angry blond back, he climbed on top, earning a little scoff from the boy behind you but it was left ignored. His hand gripping your hip steady as he slowly pushed past your folds, every vein grazing your inner walls. And now that both boys were starting to move inside you, the orchestra began. A cacophony of your moans and whimpers, your begs and whines, all wreathed with the clapping skin, the low dangerous growls and the soft lovable praises. State of euphoria, you lost yourself in, and therefore it wasn't long before you reached your peak. With high voice, a mess of their names escaped your parted rosy lips, your head thrown back as your lidded eyes stared into intense red ones, your nails digging, like daggers of heavenly pleasure into broad shoulders, you came. And yet the concert didn't stop; still pounding in and out of you, but by their sloppy messy thrusts you knew they were ever so close. And prove, Shoto was the first to join you in short lived bliss, white painting your insides, so so deeply shooting inside of you, making you feel all fuzzy and warm inside. And when you were still relishing in that feeling, Bakugou added to it, cumming as your back hole clenched around him, milking him for every single drop of his seed. And if you thought you're done, just when both of them pulled out, seeing their hot love dripping and oozing out of you, it was enough to get them going all over again and again and again..... Really you should thank your friends for this awesome round of dare or extreme dare....

#todoroki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto #bakugo x reader #Bakugou x reader x todoroki #Todoroki x reader x bakugou #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha headcanons #bnha bakugou #bnha todoroki #bnha smut #smut

[forthekags]

Number Nine

Kageyama x FemReader

Part Three

Read Part 2 Here

Read Part 1 Here

About: You were introduced to the Karasuno Boys’ Volleyball club during your second year. Yachi needed help after Kiyoko had taken her leave, so she asked you to join her. Although, it would have been smarter to look for a first year, but you were new and looked lonely. When you met the boys you were bit overwhelmed but they grew on you in no time. Kageyama was a little rough around the edges at first, he was awkward and couldn’t hold eye-contact. He was a blushing baboon for the first few days. He was sure to keep his distance but you only found it exciting and hilarious. Sure enough you two became friends from all your taunting and teasing. You’re about to enter your third year, and this was your make it or break it. You had to start thinking about your own future- and so did Kageyama.

Thunder

"Hey, Y/N?" Yachi had a nervous voice when she approached you. It was lunchtime and instead of taking your nap like scheduled, you were bouncing the ball on the side of the building. A bit aggressive, in Yachi's opinion. 

"Hey whatsup," you greeted. 

"Um, is everything okay with Kageyama?" You smacked the ball harder. "I just wanted to make sure because well I haven't seen you two talk to each other the past two days. And Hinata told me that Kageyama has been asking him for help on his homework." You hit the ball so hard, it lost control and flew right past you. You groaned and banged your hand on your head. “Did you have a fight or something? Why is he not studying with you anymore?”

You jogged over to get it and Yachi followed. 

"Look Yachi," you said nonchalantly, "I'm not really his babysitter or whatever. So I can't tell you what's going on inside that empty skull of his." 

"Sorry… I just- I thought… nevermind." She offered a smile, "I’ll figure it out." 

You released a breath, a bit shaken up from the extra physical activity and the mental burden of an abnormal Kageyama. It wasn’t your job to get him back to normal. He’s a big boy, someone who can handle their own issues so you shouldn’t feel bad about turning Yachi down. If she was intensely worried, maybe she should go ask him directly. 

How bad could it be? 

It had been two days since your little argument. You had missed morning practice and the beginning time of your first class because you woke up late. He’s always there for morning practice and that didn’t change but stopping by your house did. Your mom usually lets him in so he can get your lazy butt out of bed, so when he didn’t show up... there wasn’t anyone to wake you up. 

Kageyama had been turning in crappy homework, it was a small plummet in his work so that itself put him a bit on edge. During his study time with Yachi and Hinata, he’d spend most of the time arguing with Hinata about taking up too much space or explaining it too fast. And you, you weren’t sleeping during lunch partly because you had to do some work for your first class causing you to be a little sour to anyone who tries to have a conversation with you. During after-school practices, the whole team felt the strange tension between you two. How you didn’t want to look at his way and how he pretended you weren’t even there. He would be long gone before you changed out of your gym outfit when practice was done, so you walked home alone. 

Little did you both know that Yachi was getting real sick and tired of it. After your conversation with her, she marched to where Shoyo had been waiting around the corner. He was annoyed too with Kageyama’s increase in abuse. He was scared that if this kept up, that there’d be a full-on fight between the King and Tsukishima. However, Tsuki had also been a bit quieter, not enough but a noticeable amount. 

They ended up coming up with a plan. A plan that would get you two in the same room and be forced to talk to each other. That way whatever happened can be sorted out and things will go back to normal in no time. At least, that’s what Hinata thought. Yachi thought it would worsen things and you two would just end up arguing more. Though Hinata said that was a good outcome too. Needless to say, the plan was in motion and their setup was a success.

After school, instead of going to practice, you headed towards Mr. Shota’s classroom to receive your punishment. You had the luck to have an altercation with Mr. Shota while he was in a sour mood. He was known for giving detentions like a grocery store taste test. You don’t get detention, it never seemed to come up, but this week hasn’t been a normal week for you… You couldn’t find your skirt uniform after your recreational time, so you went with your gym pants to class and passed by Mr. Shota himself. He didn’t even give you a chance to explain! You went back to look for your damn skirt uniform and found it in the exact place you left it. When you walked out with the proper attire, Mr. Shota saw you again and assumed you were lying either way. 

When you stepped into his classroom, there were three other people already there. Poor souls that were in Mr. Shota’s line of sight. As you took a seat and made some shuffling sounds, they turned their heads to look at you and there he was. Kageyama was sitting in the second row near the windows on the third seat, he quickly looked away when you looked his way. His cheeks burned with an unknown feeling so he covered them up by resting his head on his hands and his elbows on the desk. 

Kageyama was in there because Hinata had triggered some sort of river of cuss words in him. Mr. Shota was not very fond of it. He sulked about it the rest of the day until now, because now he was sulking about you. He won’t admit it to anyone but he hated ignoring you. It was so much work. He wasn’t even mad at you, he just couldn’t look at you- not in an angry way! Just… that… it was something he was still trying to figure out. Unfortunately you were mad at him. 

Every time he’d look away you would get angry. You didn’t understand what was going on with him and he wouldn’t tell you, so good riddance. 

You sat near the back and closer to the back door- far away from him. 

“Great you’re all here- I don’t have to go searching in club rooms.” Mr. Shota sounded like he was over this teaching and disciplining. You quietly thought why would he create a reason for him to stay later than he should. “My room needs deep cleaning, it’s about that time anyway, and the music room is worse. Since it’s four of you, Hiro and Miyamoto you’ll be in here while Y/N and Kag-”

“No!” You jumped out of your seat.

“Y/N! Do you want another day added?” 

“No no no… but can I clean your class instead, Mr. Shota?” You had all eyes on you because of your little outburst but you begged either way. The awkward tension that will emit during this will kill you for sure. 

“Oh of course let me give you a hand while I’m at it.” His voice dripped with sarcasm but his facial expression was stoic. “Lying is a great deal Miss Y/N, especially when it’s done to a teacher. You get the music room with potty mouth over here.”

“But I didn’t lie-”

“Enough, Y/N.” That sat you back down, defeated and upset. 

Tobio was a bit hurt. No- not just a bit- he was pained that you were so bothered by being in the same room as him. You two were friends, right? He’s never been so close to someone before. He’s never been able to keep a friend for this long… Other than the team, you were always there. Even outside of school, he’s never one to hang out with people- it’s too much sometimes- but with you. Well, he likes hanging out with you. 

You two followed Mr. Shota to the music room and listened to his instructions and warnings. He gave you one last warning about that attitude, it was irking him. While you stared away, Kags would glance every now and then. He wanted to make sure you were okay, but didn’t know if he should keep his distance or go for it and apologize. What did he need to apologize for? Not going over… ignoring you… Okay, yeah he needs to say sorry for that. 

But what if you bring up that thing again. The whole reason you had that one argument. 

You polished some instruments until you could see your reflection and put them away neatly. It was therapeutic for the most part, but when the other person in the room would move some chair to broom the area, it would throw you off again. Mr. Shota exaggerated when he said it was a mess in here. It was disorganized, sure, but nothing tear-worthy. 

“Y/N?” You looked up and matched Kageyama's confused eyes. There was a pause while you expected him to continue. He was looking for the right words… "Are we… Are we still friends?" 

His voice was low and he blushed from embarrassment while avoiding eye contact. Something fluttered in your chest, a familiar feeling, and it made you soften your features. You looked away and took some time to ponder the question. Not that you needed any, because you already knew the obvious answer. 

"Yes," you say- a little bothered and aggressive but sincere. "Friends fight, it's normal." You pick up the instrument and put it away then move on to the next. This time you were cleaning it a bit more aggressively. As if you were irritated with the inanimate object. 

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He couldn't help but smile in relief, he wasn't going to lose you. 

"So… Can I come over today?" 

You dropped the instrument and made a few of them chatter with each other. They made a ruckus as they hit one another and toppled over a nearby stand. Kageyama rushed over to help you before you two got in trouble again, especially since you were already walking on a tightrope with the teacher.

You were bamboozled, like a sneak attack on a careless soldier. This boy might be the most oblivious airhead you’ll ever meet. How did he think that was okay to ask? 

“Leave it!” You picked up the instrument that he was reaching for along with the many others. Soon you were carrying eight different instruments with a variety of sizes in your arms looking like one breeze will knock you over. 

“Y/N, you’re going to hurt yourself or break one of those things!” He hesitated in reaching over, rightfully so because you threw a glare at him when he neared you. 

“I’m not going to break one of these things, I am perfectly capable of doing it myself!” You got your footing back and mentally thanked the gods, and a second later you hear a clank hit the ground. One of the flutes slipped through your fingers and chipped. Your eyes widened and you glanced back at Kageyama who looked like he was about to make a run for it. “So much for a volleyball player, Kags!”

“What! Did you want me to receive it and throw it up in the air?” He asked bewildered. 

“Aren’t you supposed to have fast reflexes, you turdball!” 

“You’re the one who didn’t let me help you with all those!”

“God, I am so telling Coach about you lacking,” you threatened. “Well don’t just stand there! Help me with this!” 

He rushed over and grabbed the big ones from your arms. You rubbed away any scratches and evidence of a disturbance before putting them up. Kageyama stood there until you got all of them one by one from his arms now. He had a pouting face but didn't say anything during that time. 

"I'm still mad at you," you mumbled. His pout only annoyed you because you were in between pinching his cheek and stomping his foot. Only because his cheeks show up more and his eyes are always avoiding, and his lips do this thing where his bottom lip sticks out more from frowning. Kageyama only has a handful of intense expressions, most of which can be seen whenever he's on the court. But when he's not, he gets embarrassed and upset and tired and nervous. And when you're not watching, he gets excited and soft and hurt. 

But they were rare, so when it happens in front of you, you can't help but appreciate it or tease it. 

"I'm sorry," he said. "Really, I am. It's just… I still haven't figured it out." 

"What is it about?" You wanted him to know that you were there if he needed you. And, you wanted your best friend back. 

"I promise you'll be the first person I tell." 

You rolled your eyes. "As if that's saying anything, who else would you even tell?" He chuckled and that made you smile. You can still humor him, that's good to know. 

"No one that matters as much," he sighed. He wasn't looking directly at you, he said it more as if he was saying it to himself or if it was like a distant memory. "So… Can I come over?" He asked again. 

You started tapping your finger on your chin, as if you were pondering the question. "Only if you buy me tea for a week! Morning AND afternoon!" You raised your pinky in the air and waited for his word.

"A week! Do you think I'm rich!?" He looked at you crazy but you were determined. 

"Not after this week," you said.

He groaned and huffed but took your pinky with his, sealing the compromise. He was warm compared to your freezing hands, so much that it surprised you. Your eyebrows raised and you quickly grabbed onto his hand with both of yours. 

"Ah! You're ice cold, Y/N!" He tried pulling back but you held on. 

"And you're soooo warm!"

#lovehate #tobio icons #tobio imagine #short story #fanfic #writing #haikyuu #haikuu! #Kageyama #reader insert #hinata #shoryohinata #haikyuufanfic #tobiofanfic

[archonanqi]

fragile as dust | 5 - culmination

🔖 [first] [prev] [next]

🔖 a/n - aaah some stuff finally starts going down in this chapter, thanks y'all for staying patient through the last four chapters. please let me know if you’d like to be tagged for updates! enjoy!

—

  “Admittedly,” Zhongli sighed, “I may have gone a little overboard with the food.”

   You both peered at the carnage leftover from your feast, the table strewn with at least half of the meal left.

   “Are you full?” Zhongli inquired. He wasn’t smiling, but there was unmistakeable amusement in his voice. You nodded — a few minutes ago, you’d felt like you could have eaten everything on the table, but the physical limits of your stomach betrayed you. “Very well. Let’s clean up, then I will show you around the house. How does that sound?”

   It still took you by surprise, each time he asked you for your opinion. “It sounds good, Mr. Zhongli.”

—

   The first time you touched him was as he handed you one of the plates, as you thumbed over the intricate blue-white markings and felt your fingers brush.  You didn’t know it then, but it would not be the last.

   He was wearing his gloves, and so it was really leather that you’d touched, but it was electrifying all the same. You winced, searching his features for any displeasure. It was not your place to so much as gaze upon a noble of  half his status without permission, let alone touch — you’d been taught that lesson, quickly and very early on.

   “Please take this to the kitchen,” he requested, as though nothing had happened. You obeyed with slow, deliberate steps, squashing even any thoughts of dropping the fine china. Gingerly — how in Celestia was even the inside of his fridge elegant? — you set it down, closed the door and almost jumped out of your skin. He was standing right behind you, arms crossed as he studied you, features unreadable.

   “Tell me a little about yourself, Hansi.”

   Small talk? Or a test? Surely, certainly, he wasn’t genuinely curious? You felt naked under his probing gaze, still clad in that plain white dress. Had it really only been a day since you’d met Zhongli? Every second with him seemed to stretch over the length of a millennia. Instinctively, your hands wandered to your chest, feeling for your Vision. Wasn’t there. Wouldn’t help you even if it was.

   I grew up in a shithole with a dozen other people. I stole, robbed, dredged myself through life, you imagined yourself saying to him, just to get sold to a nobleman who thinks I’m too stupid to understand his intentions. 

   By the way, three nights ago, Rex Lapis smoked up something real good and gave me a Geo Vision I don’t know how to use.

   “There is nothing to know about me,” you said, instead, “save that I am bound to you in loyal servitude, and that I will do as you please, Mr. Zhongli.“

   “Hm.” Zhongli hummed, a low echo. His golden gaze rend you through Then, rather abruptly, he said, “Let’s begin the house tour, shall we?”

   Somehow, his curtness stung. Had you said something wrong? What you’d said — that was the textbook response you were meant to give, no? Regardless, you nodded your obedience, swallowing the fear you felt, as always, at his displeasure.

—

   You almost expected there to be a dungeon of some sort hidden behind one of the doors, some skulls, maybe a poor chained up Hilichurl or two.

   What you didn’t expect was so many rocks. 

   And paintings. And scrolls, and trinkets, and jewelry, arranged carefully upon display stands in each room. You remembered how cluttered the drawers were that you hid your Vision in. In the daylight, now that your mind wasn’t clouded with as much fear and fatigue, you were realizing just how much stuff Zhongli owned.

    (Vaguely, it brought to mind images of dragons — the billowing, fire-breathing, treasure-hoarding creatures you’d read about in one of the many storybooks you’d stolen. You shook that image out of your head. Zhongli was plenty intimidating, even without a set of horns and fangs.)

   “—and this is the bathroom,” Zhongli said, pushing open the door. The bathroom, on its own, was bigger than the shack you’d shared with four other families growing up. In the middle of the room, the dark marble floor gave way to a large, circular bathtub — it looked a little like a pool. “You are free to use it, and anything in it, whenever you’d like.”

   The idea of a hot bath was heaven, but you were a hundred percent certain that your current state — dirt-caked fingernails and unkempt hair and all — was all that was keeping you safe. If you got nice and clean, who was to say what he would decide to do to you?

   No, you would avoid taking a bath as long as you could.

   Zhongli closed the door, and hesitated. “Hmm. There is less than I thought to show you,” he admitted. “These other rooms are simply full of items I’ve collected over the years, and I’m sure they would bore you.“

   “It would be my pleasure to hear more about them,” you said, quickly. You wanted to keep him talking; as long as he was talking, he was doing nothing else. Besides, you found yourself growing more and more intrigued about Zhongli — only so that you could read him better, you promised yourself.

   “Well, then far be it from me to deny you your pleasure,” he said. “What would you like to know more about?”

   You glanced around, gaze landing on a small, glass standing display case. Two gemstones sat side by side in it, both a rich, translucent gold — like his eyes, you thought. “What are those?”

   “Cor Lapis,” he said, and you heard a hint of something in his voice. Pride? “They were a gift, from someone close to me.”

   “Are they worth a lot? They’re so pretty.” You bit your lip. They were probably worth more than the average Liyue merchant would ever earn. Pretty? Really?

   “In terms of Mora, yes, they are worth no small amount,” Zhongli replied. “However, their value far surpasses material currency, for these are prime Cor Lapis samples from Mount Hulao.”

   “Hulao... in Jueyun Karst?” You’d heard the rumors that floated between drunk fishermen and merchants, of the dangers of the mountain, of those who entered and came back changed. You had never put much stock in them — drunk men would say just about anything.

   “Yes. And as I’m sure you know, Jueyun Karst is a dangerous place to venture into, without the proper precautions.”

   “Dangerous… even for you?” You glanced at the Vision hanging off his waist. You couldn’t imagine a situation where Zhongli would ever be forced to break that collected facade of his.

   “For any human.”

   You found yourself enjoying the light conversation — you couldn’t remember the last time you’d spoken to another person like this. “Who gave you these?” You tried to smile, and it came easier than you expected. “They must have been really nice, to give away something so expensive.”

   Immediately, you regret opening your mouth. Zhongli’s eyes darkened, and his face fell visibly.

   “Yes. She… was certainly very kind,” he said, quietly. He looked as though he wanted to say something else, but didn't. Couldn’t.

   Was? You wanted to kick yourself. Of course you’d manage to bring up his dead friend in your first real conversation with him. The next seconds of silence were almost unbearable. Finally, you spoke up with the first thing that popped into your head. “So, you like rocks?”

   By the Archon, weren’t you on a roll today.

   You were pleasantly baffled to hear him chuckle, a deep, throaty rumble from the depths of his chest. “Yes, one could say that I am fond of them.” He said, amidst soft laughter. “And you?”

   “I don’t know much about them,” you admitted, “but the ones you have are beautiful, Mr. Zhongli.” So was his laugh.

   “Is that so?” He asked, the previous conversation seemingly forgotten, as he strode over to a case across the room, “perhaps you will find these to your fancy as well — these pieces of Noctilucuous Jade were mined from the deepest mines of the Mingyun...“

—

   By the time Zhongli had finished regaling you about his rock collection, the sky outside had become a smear of pink and orange, the sun drifting barely over the horizon. You hadn’t even noticed the time — Zhongli simply had the kind of voice that demanded wholehearted attention.

   “I seem to have gotten carried away again,” Zhongli smiled. Was it just you, or were his smiles coming more frequently? “Thank you for being such a good listener, Hansi.”

   You nodded in response, not quite sure what to say to that. The praise had a strange, warm feeling spreading through your chest.

   “All that’s left of the house is the library upstairs,” he paused, the tacit question clear on his lips.

   You froze. Ever since you started stealing to survive, you’d made a point to sell everything that couldn’t be eaten. Jewelry, hairpins, no matter how pretty, no matter how much your heart ached to put them on, went straight to the pawn store. But you could never sell books. You couldn’t bear to give up the worlds within them, the promises that one day you would be able to live as freely as the heroes of those stories.

   So you stole. First from Wanwen bookstore, then when the owner learned to watch for your grubby hands, from bags and pockets and homes. You devoured them like hot meals, kept them under the floorboards of your corner, read them out loud to the kids who lived with you, read them till the dirt from your fingers had smeared the words to unrecognition.

   You wanted to see Zhongli’s library, so badly that it hurt.

   But to tell him this would be to admit to him that you’d stolen those books, that you taught yourself a skill that someone of your social class didn’t deserve to learn. Something you weren’t worthy of.

   “I can’t read anyway,” you lied.

   “I see,” Zhongli said. “Then, shall we go and get some dinner? Are you feeling well enough to make a trip to Liyue Harbor? I know the most splendid restaurant.”

—

   You thought that things were going relatively well, that you were doing a fine job of squashing the unease and distrust of Zhongli that still gnawed at the corners of your mind. You were giddily excited, even, to be going to a restaurant for the first time.

   So, as you two arrived at the outskirts of Liyue, close enough to hear the bustle of nightlife, you certainly weren’t expecting the sudden wave of emotions that knocked you clean off your feet.

   It had started small — the unrelenting reminder of how out of place you would look at the restaurant. How out of place you would look in public, next to Zhongli in all his regality. Then: how out of place you truly were — how absurd of you to have started warming up to Zhongli when you knew, with every fiber of your being, what all men like him wanted; when you knew that one day he would grow impatient of waiting for you to offer it.

   If you took his dinner, his food, his kindness, what would you begin to owe him?

    Suddenly, you couldn’t breathe. The bile that rose through your throat was hot and bitter, and you doubled over and retched noisily into the nearest bush. Vaguely, you could hear Zhongli’s exclamation and his footsteps approaching, but you couldn’t stop until your stomach was empty once again.

   You flinched violently at his light touch on your shoulder. “Hansi,” he said, and you were baffled at how genuine his concern sounded, “what happened? What’s wrong?”

   “I don’t know,” you whispered, and it was true. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—“

   “Please don’t apologize. Can you stand?” Zhongli asked, voice low and soothing. “Let’s get you home.”

   You nodded. “I’m sorry I ruined dinner.”

   “Nonsense, your health is infinitely more important.” He said. “Do you think that you can walk?”

   Once again, you nodded. You let him lead you home.

—

   When you reached the front door of the house, Zhongli’s hand on your shoulder firm and gentle, something had begun — deep in your heart — to fester. The fear, the confusion, the things that had fallen into place but didn’t quite fit together — it had all been boiling too long, too hot. 

   “Mr. Zhongli.” You said, as you stepped through the door, once again greeted by a warm gust of air. 

   “Yes, Hansi?” He asked, close behind. His hand on your shoulder was suddenly heavy, and hot. You shrugged it off, whipping around to stare him in the eyes.

   “Please, just— do whatever you’re planning to do to me.” You said, knowing that if you lost your momentum now you would never get it back.

   “I beg your pardon?”

   “I’m not a child. We both know what I'm here for. When I lived on the streets, two pieces Mora would have earned any nobleman a night -- let alone... however much you’ve spent.” You were vaguely aware of how many lines you were crossing with each word, but there was no stopping the words flowing from your lips now. You could feel your heart thrashing against your chest, anger warming your bones. 

   “We both know that I have nowhere to run, no way to defend myself, so just DO it already. Be cruel, hit me, whatever, do your thing so that I can stop holding my Archon-damned breath and waiting for the inevitable. What exactly are your intentions with me, sir?”

   You paused to catch your breath, and the horror set in suddenly. Your temper had always been the bane of your well-being — you just had to let it get the best of you, every time, didn’t you? Why couldn’t you have just bided your time and waited for his patience to run out later rather than sooner?

   Zhongli stayed silent, face pulled into a frown as though he was pondering over your words. Time seemed to slow into a viscous fluid, drowning you in its wake. You glanced down the hallway at your room.

   If he raised his hand against you, would you be able to make it to your room? Would you be able to grab your Geo Vision before he caught you, and would you even be able to use it against him, against the years of experience he’s had with his? You knew the answer to all of those questions: a resounding no.

   Would he let you live if you apologized? You opened your mouth to beg.

   “My intentions with you...” he said, brow pulled down over heavy lids. “Hm. It seems that I must apologize.”

   You let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding. For the umpteenth time since your meeting with Zhongli, you wondered: What?

   “I have been trying to let you acclimate to your new life at your own pace, whilst moving on from your old.” Zhongli’s pursed lips were the only sign of discomfort in his composed features. “I did not know that such concerns were going through your head, though I should have seen that your seeming lack of fear was but a facade from your incredibly strong character.”

   In the corner of your eye, you saw your hands trembling. You tried to get them to stop. They would not.

   Zhongli swept on. “The circumstances of our meeting are... unfortunate. In time, you will understand my intentions in orchestrating our meeting, but for now -- you have been put in a very uncomfortable situation. I am remiss for not having acknowledged this much earlier.”

   What?

   Zhongli cleared his throat. “Hansi, please listen to me. While you are under my roof, I will never lift a finger to cause you any harm, physically or otherwise. And for as long as you are a part of my household, I will do everything in my power to ensure that you are never again touched by hunger, frost, hardship. That you will never be subject to the kind of fear that’s making you tremble,” he reached out slowly and took your hand, “like this.” 

   He had done all the speaking, but it was you who had lost the breath from your lungs. Each of his words was a low rumble, earthquakes in their own right. You didn’t know if you believed him, but you so badly, badly wanted to, with every inch of your shaking body.

   “I do not expect you to believe me, right now,” he said, as though reading your mind. He let go of your hand, and it fell back to your side, still shaking. “However, you will soon come to learn that I never break my word.”

   You were beginning to see why Rex Lapis had chosen to grace this man with a Vision. He commanded — no, demanded — your attention, your respect, your trust, your entire being. There was more to him than the rich, lonely nobleman he seemed to be; in that moment, you had never been more sure of it.

   “Is there anything else you would like to ask me, Hansi?” Zhongli asked.

   You shook your head, mutely. There were a lot of things you wanted to say to that, but the swollen words stuck in your throat. “Thank you, Mr. Zhongli,” you said, and hoped he heard everything behind it. 

  Tomorrow morning, you supposed, it’d be alright if you had that bath.

#zhongli #zhongli fanfic #Zhongli fanfiction #Zhongli genshin #genshin #genshin fanfic #Zhongli x reader #fragile as dust #anqi writes #my writing #this is solidly toeing the boundaries of self indulgence/projection #but I hope y'all like it anyway ;;

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Story of the Past

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Five

A JSE Fanfic

It’s the backstory chapter! Whoo! djaskfh Anyway, I thought we should hear more about Henrik and Jackie, start to get the details of who they were before the Masked Phantoms. And also, it’s about time we address the missing element that Chase has been noticing...and in the process introduce a new boy! :D Hope you enjoy reading!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It was snowing for the first time that year. Chase stood in the shadow of the dragon’s bones, hat pressed to his head, and watched it fall from the sky. The snowfall wasn’t particularly thick, but the flakes were fat and clumped together. It would probably leave a respectable layer by the time it was over.

It was ten days since Chase went out on his first mission with the Phantoms, and nothing much had happened in the meantime. Jackie and the two others on the mission were alright, Elin recovering from the magical burns she’d gotten from that wizard. Apparently no other missions had gone out since then, though there were a lot of messages coming in from other locations and Phantoms who were already out. Probably the most notable thing was the approach of the winter holy days. The winter solstice was only a few weeks away, and everyone was talking about preparing the celebrations.

There was the faint sound of footsteps in the snow, and soon Henrik appeared by his side. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Chase,” he said, adjusting his scarf. “I was delayed. Many people have come down with sudden cold sicknesses and I was handing out medicine.”

“It’s alright, Henrik,” Chase said understandably. “I think you should set up more fires, not just the ones for cooking. I’ve never been in a mountain house that doesn’t have a fireplace for winter.”

“Perhaps, perhaps.” Henrik nodded. “We could cut open holes in the canvas covering the storage and the skull, so that the smoke will not fill it up.”

Chase laughed a bit. “If you did that, the smoke would come out of the skull’s eyes and nostrils. Then it would really look like a dragon.”

Henrik laughed as well. “So, now then. Onto other matters. I will keep our reading lesson short today so that we can get out of the snowfall. Can I see the board you were using?”

Most of the lesson was spent refreshing and reviewing what Chase had already learned. Even though both of them had winter coats now, it was still cold standing out in the snow, and Chase’s fingers were quickly losing heat. Still, he felt like it was actually warmer than it should have been. Especially when it was snowing. Just as they were wrapping up, he decided to point this out. “You know, even though we’re high in the mountains, I feel like it’s warmer here than it would be back home. Isn’t that strange?”

“Oh, that is probably because of the skeleton.” Henrik knocked on the nearest bone. “Dragons were very magical creatures, you know. And most of their magic was fire and heat, in some form or another. Even after this dragon is long gone, its magic is still attached to its bones, and that is probably making it a bit warmer.”

“Huh. Fascinating.” Chase pressed a hand to the bone. It was cold as stone, but magic worked in strange ways, so he wasn’t going to doubt Henrik’s explanation. “For a doctor, you know a lot about how magic works.”

“Well, you have to be prepared,” Henrik said. “You could encounter injuries that were caused by any sort of magic. And witchcraft’s potions are excellent medicine.”

“Yea, but these are some intricate details. I understand Tripp and the other sorcerers here knowing about that, but you’re not a magic-wielder.” Chase shrugged.

“I keep my ear out for new things to learn. And I learned a lot from—” Henrik stopped. “From...my studies. Anyway, I think we can stop for now. You will just need to practice more, as always. It seems you’re having trouble with—”

“Why does everyone do that?” Chase blurted out.

“...do what?” Henrik asked, visibly confused.

“Practically everyone I’ve talked to has avoided speaking about something at some point or another,” Chase said. “A person, I’m guessing. I’m not one to pry, so I’ve just let it happen, but honestly it’s pretty frustrating.” His voice slowly grew in volume. “I’ve been here for half a season now. I have my own mask, I helped out last time, I’ve even done the dishes and other chores. Isn’t that enough? Am I not considered part of the group yet?! Does no one trust me?! I—” He sighed, and continued in a softer voice. “Sorry. I...It’s...frustrating, to have this happen over and over. And it...it feels...discouraging. Like I’m not really a part of everything, and nothing I do will...be good enough.”

Henrik didn’t respond for a while. Chase started to worry that he pushed too far, but then Henrik leaned in close and put a hand on his shoulder. “Chase. It is nothing to do with you, I can promise you that.” His voice was gentle, but firm underneath. “I am sorry for making you feel that way. It is just...well, it is still a sore subject for Jackie and me. But we never told anyone that they cannot talk about him. I suppose they just didn’t want to tell you in case we did not want you to know.”

“...oh.” Chase said softly. “Is it...sensitive? No, wait, you don’t have to tell me, it’s not my business—”

“No, I want to,” Henrik insisted. “Everyone else here already knows. Because they have all been here since it happened a year ago. You are the first new person we have found, so it makes sense that you are the only one who does not know.” He paused. “But I should talk with Jackie about how to tell you. It is about him, too.”

“I see.” Honestly, Chase felt relieved that it wasn’t the big secret he’d been building it up to be in his mind. It wasn’t a lack of trust, it was just personal. “I’m...sorry about all that. I guess Lukas has just been getting to me.”

Henrik scowled. “Ignore that ass. His mistrust is to a ridiculous degree.”

Chase laughed. “Hard to do that when he’s in charge of the crosses.”

“I am issuing an official decree to ignore him. Next time he does something based on suspicion, tell him I told you to ignore him.”

“Alright, I get it.” Chase laughed some more.

Henrik cracked a grin, too. “I will talk to Jackie about the matter you were worried about. We’ll tell you about it so people can stop being ridiculous about avoiding it.” He rubbed his hands together. “Whoo. Now I say we wrap this up and go somewhere warmer.”

“Great idea.” Chase brushed the snow off his hat. “We’ll be snow-covered statues if we stand out here any longer.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A couple days passed without anything extraordinary happening. Lukas tried to put him through more bow and arrow ‘training,’ to which Chase told him that he wasn’t supposed to listen to him. Naturally, Lukas looked upset about that, but he let off. Chase thought that was strange. Why was that what got him to ease up on his suspicions? But he was quickly distracted when Holly stepped in to give him some pointers on using his hunting knife in self-defense. Today, this involved her emphasizing that a knife of this design was used for cutting, not stabbing, and helping him to practice slashing a dummy with it. Chase felt he had the technique down, but it would probably be much more difficult when faced with a moving person.

Talk of winter celebrations continued. Evidently, every faith had a holy day on the winter solstice. Chase was most familiar with the Longest Night, which celebrated winter and paid tribute to the Elder of Dark, but that wasn’t the only one. There was also the Moonlight Festival, which Henrik told him was the Celestial Sisters’ winter holy day, and the Freezing, which Nemet said was part of the Temple of the Forge. So, naturally, practically everyone at Wyvernlair was excited to celebrate. Even those that weren’t faithful were looking forward to feasts and parties.

Then one night, about three days after his last reading lesson with Henrik, Chase was passing by the skull on his way to his tent, and he heard someone call his name. “Huh?” He stopped and turned towards the call. “Oh, hello, Jackie. How’re you doing?”

“I’m okay,” Jackie said. He had his mask off and the hood of his cloak—he still wore his waist-length red one, even though the cold might call for a longer one—pulled down. “Can you...come here for a few moments? We need to talk.”

Immediately, Chase’s nerves shot through the metaphorical roof. “Yea, of course.” He followed Jackie into the skull.

The whole place was empty, which was unusual. He hadn’t been in here that often, but there was always at least a small group of people inside. Mostly sitting at the desks or the map table. Now, there was no one. Except for Henrik. He was sitting on a chair by a small fire, enclosed by a ring of stones. The fire was placed underneath one of the skull’s eye sockets, so it wasn’t exactly in the center of the room, but it was close enough. When Jackie and Chase walked in, Henrik looked up and gestured them over. There were two more chairs by the fire.

Chase slowly sat down, trying not to appear anxious. Jackie didn’t sit, and instead merely bounced on his feet, running his fingers along the edge of his chain mail shirt. For a moment Chase was distracted by the fact that Jackie almost always wore that mail armor—they had some in storage and he’d tried a shirt on, just out of curiosity, and it was surprisingly heavy. But then he got over being impressed and returned to being nervous. “So...what did you want to talk about? Did I do something?”

“No no no, it is not that,” Henrik hurried to say. “It is just—we have decided to tell you about the subject everyone was avoiding. Do you remember that?”

“Oh. Oh!” Chase’s eyes widened a bit. “I wasn’t expecting you to actually tell me.”

“Well, of course we would.” Henrik sounded a bit surprised. “It would not be fair otherwise.”

Jackie let out a breath. “Yea.” Now that Chase wasn’t worrying about what the conversation would be, he could tell that Jackie was also nervous. Or...that wasn’t exactly the right word. Agitated, maybe.

“So, you have noticed that people are talking around something,” Henrik continued. “And you have picked up that this is a person, yes?” He waited for Chase to nod. “Yes. Well, that person...was a friend of ours.” He indicated Jackie and himself. “His name was Marvin.”

“Marvin,” Chase repeated. That wasn’t a name heard often in the mountains. It sounded coastal.

Henrik nodded. “He was the other founder. It was the three of us.”

“The other...what?” Chase asked, confused.

“The...other founder?” Henrik repeated, equally confused.

“Founder of what?”

“Of the Masked Phantoms, Chase.”

“...wait.” Things started to click into place. Why Jackie and Henrik wore masks with more colorful designs. Why they always seemed so busy. Why Henrik had been able to get Lukas to back off with such authority. Chase shot to his feet. “You two are in charge of everything?!”

“Elders, did you not know that?!” Jackie said, absolutely shocked.

“No! I didn’t! Nobody told me!” Chase shook his head in disbelief. “I thought some things were strange, but I never realized—oh elders, no wonder Lukas is so suspicious of me. I walked right up into your main camp and immediately got friendly with the leaders of the whole secret resistance.” He might have reacted the same, honestly.

Jackie threw his hands up in the air, walking away for a few paces before coming back. “Elders and Sisters, Chase.”

“What?! I’m new to this!” Chase protested. “I’ve never joined a group like this before, not a guild or a hunting band or anything. I don’t know how leadership works! And you’re all flatlanders, for all I know, this was just a regional difference.”

“So who did you think was in charge?” Henrik asked.

“I don’t know. Some far-off figure who led from the shadows. You two are just...here. Interacting with everyone regularly. Jackie went on a mission with me, what if something happened?”

“We’re not kings, Chase,” Jackie said. “We like people to know we’re working with them. And trust me, nothing would have happened to me in Skytown. It would’ve been close if you hadn’t shown up, though. We might have lost Elin. And even if something did happen to me, Schneep stayed here, so we wouldn’t have lost leadership.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t realize it,” Chase muttered. “So this Marvin was also a leader? What...happened to him?”

Henrik started to say something, but Jackie interrupted. “He turned into an ass.”

“Jackie, it has been a year,” Henrik sighed.

“That doesn’t mean he wasn’t a bastard about it,” Jackie muttered. “Prick.”

Henrik rubbed his temples as if a headache was starting to come on. “I am still upset, too, but you are holding this grudge for too long.”

“What happened?” Chase repeated.

Henrik and Jackie glanced at each other, and Chase got the distinct feeling they were having a silent conversation. “Actually...do you mind if we tell you the story from the beginning?” Henrik asked after a long period of silence.

“Um...is this something that would make me seem even more suspicious for getting you two to open up to me?” Chase asked.

Jackie laughed. “Only in Lukas’s eyes. A few people around know this story, but I will admit, not most of them. Nemet, Tripp, Ana. The ones who’ve been around for a while. But it’s no secret. I hear there are some exaggerated versions of the story traveling around other camps.”

Chase grinned a bit. “But...why tell me? What if I’m actually a spy, or what if I switch sides—”

“I do not believe you would do that, Chase,” Henrik said quietly. “I met you once before. You are a kind, open man, and you care for your family and others. You would not side with the King.”

Chase’s chest swelled with emotion—the sadness and worry he was used to feeling when his family was mentioned, but combined with a warm feeling, knowing that others had faith in him. He nodded, and said nothing, blinking back sudden wetness in his eyes.

“So.” Henrik took a deep breath. “Let us start from the beginning.” He paused once more, then started to talk. “To understand why the subject matter is still bothering us—or, well, bothering Jackie—so much, I think the beginning is essential. Everything started fifteen years ago. I arrived in Glasúil off a ship, and headed down the coast and a bit inland. My parents had paid for me to study under a doctor named Slaine, who lived in the town of Fíornear.”

“Wait.” Chase didn’t want to interrupt so soon, but he had to hear that again. “Fíornear? As in...Fíornear Field?”

“Ah, yes. See, you would know that place.” Henrik smiled a bit, amused. “I have no doubt you grew up hearing stories of the warriors trained on the Field. But I did not. All I knew about it was the town name, and that it was a big, important area of the kingdom. Luckily, it was very easy to get directions to the town. I was glad that I had already studied your language before coming here. But it was...difficult, still. At that point, I could understand everything when it was in writing, but many people talked too fast for me to keep up.

“Because of this, when I actually arrived in the town of Fíornear, I was very confused. I was expecting something fancier, if I must say. The whole town was—and still is—very, ah...utilitarian. The only place that fit my expectations was the small castle where the area’s noble family lived, and even that was fortified with thick walls. I could tell that this was a place where warriors lived and worked, and I was very confused. And sort of afraid, if I must say so, thinking I had accidentally wandered onto a restricted area in a foreign land.

“So I thought I would get more directions. If this was Fíornear, I would ask where Slaine lived. If it was not, I would ask how to get there. I entered the first building I saw on the edge of town. It was a tavern with a name I could not understand, but that I would later learn was the Flint and Dagger Tavern. I would also later learn that this was known as a place where troublemakers gathered. Warriors who were learning the trade at the Field, but who were too ill-tempered to mingle with the others. They had taken this tavern as their own.

“Now imagine a fourteen-year-old boy walking into this tavern. A bookish-looking boy who is carrying all his possessions in a bag with him, including all his money, and who is rather skinny and likely to blow over in a strong wind.”

“I think your past self would be insulted to hear that, Schneep,” Jackie laughed.

Henrik grinned. “No, no, trust me, I was very aware of this fact. Even more so as everyone else in the tavern was strong enough to pick me up with one hand. They were all giving me looks, and I immediately felt I was not welcome. But I thought I could hurry through. So I walk up to the tavern keeper, and before I could even say anything, he says something along the lines of ‘Get out of here, kid.’ The exact details escape me.

“Of course, as I said, I do not understand the spoken language as well, so I think I misheard him. And I say, very clumsily, ‘Excuse me, is this Fíornear?’ And I mispronounced it, too, calling it ‘fee-OHR-neer’ instead of ‘FEE-or-narr.’ And from there, a few of the patrons in the tavern started grumbling at each other, sitting at a table in the middle of the room so they are not even hidden.

“The tavern keeper says, ‘Why? Are you looking for it? Hoping to become a warrior?’ and he gives me a very mocking smile at that last part. And I say, ‘No, I am looking for a doctor named Slaine.’

“And before I can say anything else, the group who are sitting and grumbling stand up and walk over to me. All of them, older than me, taller, and quite a bit stronger. One of them said something that was like, ‘So you’re a fancy foreign boy, then?’ And I am very confused. I know he is insulting me, but I am not sure how, so I just try to ask if this is the right town once more. They all laugh, and say things that are too fast for me to understand, but I know they are still insulting me. The one who spoke before leans down, very close to me, and grabs the front of my shirt. ‘You’d better get out of this place before we throw you out,’ he says. ‘You don’t belong here.’

“At that moment, I understand that this is a mistake, and I apologize, trying to leave. But this taller, older boy is not letting go of my shirt, even though he wants me to get out. I try apologizing again, and I look around for help, but everybody is looking away. Until, all of a sudden, there is a shout of ‘Hey!’ and next thing I know, the older boy is hit in the head with a shoe. I turn in the direction it came from, and there is a tiny girl standing on top of one of the tables, holding the other shoe in the pair.”

“I was not tiny!” Jackie protested.

Henrik laughed. “You were a small twelve-year-old child, all your height came from the table.”

“Okay, alright, but I hadn’t hit my growth spurt yet! And I was full of righteous anger so that makes up for it!”

“Wait, Jackie, you were the girl?” Chase clarified.

“I was,” Jackie said, turning to look at Chase. “I didn’t realize it at the time this story takes place, but I was born in a different name.”

“Oh!” Chase nodded. “You’re a man?”

“Mostly, yea.”

“I see. You look good.”

“Thank you,” Jackie grinned. “But I thought you were married.”

“Hey, don’t take it that way, I mean it as a friend.” Chase chuckled a bit. “What were you doing in this tavern?”

“Oh, I was training on the Field,” Jackie said proudly.

“Really?! At twelve?!” Chase didn’t hide his surprise. Though Fíornear Field technically trained anyone over the age of twelve to be a royal warrior, there usually weren’t students that young. “How did you convince your parents?”

“Well...I didn’t,” Jackie admitted. He finally sat down in the third chair. “See, I grew up on a farm, smack dab in the middle of the kingdom. It was boring. I had siblings, two older and three younger, and I could play with them, but I just wasn’t interested in farmwork. Mam and Dad said that I could start warrior training when I turned fifteen, but I didn’t want to wait! I’d be practically an adult by then, and it seemed so far. So I...ran away.”

“Oh, elders,” Chase gasped.

“Once I was actually receiving training, I asked the armsmaster to write a letter back to them,” Jackie said. “Because I couldn’t write yet. I didn’t want them to worry, but I wanted to be sure I had a place at the Field before that happened, so it’d be harder for them to drag me home.”

“Elders, I can’t imagine being that old and going out on my own,” Chase shook his head in disbelief.

Jackie grinned. “Well, I was a tiny fireball as a kid, fierce and stubborn. I wanted to fight villains and protect people. And as you can probably tell, one of the first times I did that was by throwing a shoe at Samuel when he was harassing Henrik.” He briefly shook his head in disgust. “That boy wasn’t worthy of that name, he was a bully in every way.”

“Let me guess...things rolled downhill quickly after the bully got hit with the shoe,” Chase said.

“Well...eventually. He certainly let go of Schneep right away. I remember shouting at him to ‘Leave him alone!’ and of course, he immediately got angry. He picked up the shoe again—which was mine, by the way, off my feet—and said, ‘I won’t be taking orders from a pipsqueak mouse like you!’ and threw it back at me. I managed to catch it, which was pretty impressive if I say so, and shouted back, ‘If I’m a mouse, you’re a brute, picking on someone half your size! Fight like a warrior!’”

“And then what happened?” Henrik prompted.

Jackie sighed. “He and all his lads charged at me.”

“Ancient elders,” Chase groaned.

“It could have gone worse!” Jackie insisted. “Apparently picking on someone so young was too much for some of the other patrons, and they all jumped in to stop them. Oh, and I leapt right off the table before any of them could get there! I...didn’t exactly land on my feet, but it didn’t hurt that much, compared to being rammed by about eight or nine sixteen-year-old warriors-in-training. You know, Samuel and half his lads got denied training before the winter. Ha! Served them right.

“Anyway, then I stood up and ran over to Schneep while the other patrons were trying to hold back those lads. I asked him if he was alright, and he said he was fine. Then I said, ‘Good, now let’s get out of here!’

“Before we could ‘get out of there,’ though, Samuel shouted, ‘Get those brats!’ and about three of his lads went to block the front entrance. So I grabbed Schneep’s hand and ran the other way, into the back halls of the tavern that connects the kitchen, and the storage, and the lavatory, and whatever else was back there, I forget. By that point, a brawl was starting, so we had a head start. I knew there’d be a back entrance to the building, but I wasn’t sure where. It was my first time going there, you know, and I’d only gone out of curiosity, not any desire to visit regularly.

“So it wasn’t long before we were lost. We took a few wrong turns, and Henrik asked me, ‘Do you know where we are going?’ and I lied and said, ‘Of course!’ But he didn’t believe me. And I could hear footsteps and shouting following us, and I knew either Samuel or one of his lads would find us soon.

“But before that can happen, I hear someone say, very quietly, ‘Excuse me?’ I jump a bit, spin around, and almost punch this tall kid who’d suddenly come out of one of the rooms. Luckily, Schneep stopped me. And the tall kid says, ‘You’re the people that got attacked back there?’ And I don’t answer right away, because I’m a bit suspicious. But this boy isn’t one of Samuel’s lads. He wasn’t built enough, if you know what I mean. Instead, he was this really tall, sort of willowy boy around Schneep’s age, wearing this fancy ring that looked like real silver with a real emerald in it. So I say ‘yea, that’s us.’ And he says, ‘Alright. I’ll help you get out.’

“This boy turns to the nearest wall and stares at it for a while, like he’s trying to read invisible words. Then he pokes his ring, and all of a sudden, the emerald in it starts glowing. I remember staring in shock as he pressed the emerald to the wall near the floor, then raised it up, around, and down. As he did, the glowing light rubbed off on the wall like chalk on a board, drawing this doorway that was round at the top. Once the doorway was done, he pressed on the wall in the middle, and it just disappeared. Instead, there was suddenly the outside, even though we should have still been in the middle of the building.

“‘You have to go through first,’ this kid says. I’m a bit suspicious, but then Schneep nods and walks right through this doorway. And now I feel responsible for him, so I follow him, and next thing I know, I’m outside the tavern, on its side. The tall kid walks through the doorway, and then it disappears. And we all just stare at each other for a while. It’s a bit awkward, but I felt like we were all connected somehow, you know? So I say, ‘I’m Jackie. Daughter of Fiona,’ because, again, I hadn’t realized my name was wrong yet. Schneep introduces himself as ‘Henrik von Schneeplestein,’ and this new kid just says, ‘I’m Marvin.’”

Chase physically started. “Marvin was a wizard?!”

“And a very talented one, too,” Henrik added. “The spell he used there was a Doorway Through Walls, and I understand it’s not usually taught to fourteen-year-olds.”

“But...” Chase shook his head a bit. “You said that wizards usually side with the King. A-and Tripp told me that was because the royal family provides their magic focuses, so how—?”

“Most focuses are temporary,” Jackie said. “They get worn out from channeling magic for so long. You might get one or two years out of them before they need to be fixed up or replaced. But there are ones that can last decades. They just...cost a hefty fee.”

“Marvin stole his,” Henrik added.

Jackie laughed a bit. “Yea. He did.” But his smile was more sad than anything. And short-lived too, as he realized he was smiling and quickly dropped it into a frown.

“So that’s how you three met,” Chase said, putting together the pieces. “So...you stayed in contact?”

“It was easy to do so,” Henrik said. “Jackie was training at the Field, I was studying with Slaine, and Marvin lived in town. We would meet up as often as possible. There were difficulties, of course, mine and Jackie’s schedules were full, and Marvin’s parents did not approve of him leaving home, so he had to sneak out.”

“We had a lot of little adventures,” Jackie said, leaning back and linking his hands behind his head. “Schneep was the brain, I was the brawn, and Marvin was the—well, he said he was the beauty, but really, he was the power, with his magic. And, uh, money, actually. You don’t get a lot of coin as a warrior-in-training or a doctor’s apprentice.”

“But I think we should skip over those,” Henrik said. “I think we may have taken too long explaining our first meeting.”

“Alright, skip to the part where you decide to form a group to rebel against the King,” Chase suggested. “When did that start? The moment he was crowned?”

“No, not at all,” Henrik said. “In fact, I was quite happy for him. Though a little shocked, to be honest. I had just finished my studies, and I felt barely ready to step out into my own. Yet he was being crowned King of an entire kingdom, and he was a year younger than me!”

“Couldn’t be helped,” Jackie sighed. “Not with the last King and Queen gone, be at peace. At least he got a year to prepare?”

“Twenty is hardly better than nineteen,” Henrik huffed. “But either way, we could not have known what was to happen.”

“What started it all?” Chase asked.

Jackie and Henrik glanced at each other. “It was about three years later, or so,” Jackie said. “At that point, I was one of the royal warriors, so I was able to notice some things. Our commands were...questionable. My captain told all of us that we ‘weren’t to hold back’ against troublemakers. There was talk of shutting down dissidence, and testing the people’s loyalty. Now, keep in mind, there hadn’t even been a whisper of rebellion before this, but this sort of talk seemed to appear overnight. And a lot of my fellows, people I had considered friends, were eating this up.”

“And then the King cut the funding for medicine and doctors,” Henrik added. “You know how most of us doctors receive supplies and salaries from the royal funds, yes?”

“Except for the travelling doctors,” Chase agreed. “They’re a separate thing. You were a town doctor once?”

“Yes, so I knew we were receiving less,” Henrik grumbled. “And now, years later, it is even less. The royal fund is not paying for supplies anymore, meaning doctors have to ask for donations so they can afford what they need.”

“And Marvin was hearing rumors about the noble houses,” Jackie said. “How they were turning on other families that weren’t loyal enough to the crown.”

“All of this was so different from what the King had been doing when first crowned.” Henrik shook his head. “And the three of us talked, and we realized that he must have been hiding his true intentions. Waiting until his position was secure, and then enforcing his rule, making sure every last person in this kingdom followed him.”

“And we had to do something about it!” Jackie shouted, standing up. “Something more! Something drastic!”

“Something that we could not do as ourselves,” Henrik said. “So, we decided to use masks, to hide who we were.”

“Little things first. But you would not believe how quickly things got out of hand.” Jackie whistled. “Something about the masks inspired something, I guess. People started following us after we went out to stop injustice, asking to join. And well, more people meant we could do more to help, so we expanded. Now here we are, five years later.”

Chase didn’t say anything for a moment. It just all seemed...so much. The Masked Phantoms was created by just three people. Two of which he was starting to consider friends. But that begged the question...why were only two of them left? “What happened to Marvin?”

Jackie took a deep breath, as if holding back a rant of words. “I know I just said our plan was to do something drastic. I just said that. But...there are...limits.” The last word came out as a growl.

“Jackie, please. Sit down,” Henrik said softly. Jackie stayed standing, so he sighed, and continued. “Our goal has always been to protect people. And so, we encourage fighting to be a last resort.”

“I’ve picked up on that, yes,” Chase said. “Holly always says you should never strike first.”

“Marvin thought we weren’t doing enough. He started to say that we should strike first. And strike...fatally.”

“How could he?!” Jackie shouted. “How could he?! The King’s warriors are just people, same as us! They have families to support, friends that would miss them! They’re following orders, and shouldn’t be blamed! Even the noble houses are under the crown! Doing what they need to! Nobody should die unless there’s no avoiding it!”

“Jackie, calm down!” Henrik snapped.

Jackie fell silent. He looked over at Chase. “One day, the three of us were talking about our plans. The long-term ones, our goals. And Marvin—he—just—so casually—like it was nothing, he said we should kill the King.”

“What?!” Chase stood up as well. “You can’t do that! The royal lineage hasn’t been broken for centuries! It goes all the way back to Samuel the Green-Eyed, it’s entwined within the land itself. You can’t end it!”

“Yes! See! This is it!” Jackie shouted. “People care about the line! They care about the legend of it! They care about our history!”

“I can see where Marvin was coming from, though,” Henrik said. “The King has abused his power for years, and people are suffering. Killing him might end it, and it would mean he would never return to try and regain his rule. But we cannot kill him right away.  Not unless the people agree with that decision. And if we assassinate him now, people will definitely not agree. Half the population will immediately revolt against whatever new rule we try to establish. We must strip the King of his powers, then plan what to do.”

Chase forced himself to take a step back from the immediate indignant anger he’d felt upon hearing someone was planning to end the Glasúil line. Really, did it matter that much? Well...yes, actually. The royal family had ruled peacefully for centuries, and people loved them. Not just because of who they were, but because of what Jackie said, the history and legend. But if this King ordered villages burned down for no reason? Yes, he could see where Marvin was coming from, too. 

But Henrik was right. People would be raging at the idea. His own reaction was proof of that. Killing the King now would just lead to chaos. “So you kicked Marvin out, then?”

Jackie laughed. “Oh noooo, we didn’t do that! The bastard said he was too good for us, and stormed out! What an ass!”

“To be fair, we did have...quite a large fight, leading up to that,” Henrik pointed out. “Personal insults were said.”

“Mostly between me and him,” Jackie admitted. “Schneep tried to mediate.”

Henrik laughed bitterly. “For the first minute, yes. I got caught up in it, too, do not pretend I didn’t. I would apologize, if I could.”

“I wouldn’t,” Jackie muttered. “Not unless he does first.”

“Not even for punching him?”

“Nope.”

Chase looked back and forth between the two of them. He wasn’t about to press, but he could tell that this fight had been bad. “So...he left.”

“A year ago, yes,” Henrik confirmed. “We hear about his...activities, occasionally. A wizard in a mask, acting on his own. Mostly destroying noble property and warrior forts.”

“With no regard for casualties,” Jackie added angrily. He grunted in frustration, then looked back at Chase. His voice softened. “...sorry to dump all this on you. It’s just been so long since we’ve talked about it, I guess we needed to.”

“No, it’s fine,” Chase assured him. “I understand, you can’t keep your feelings buried forever.”

“Well...alright then.” Jackie let out a long breath, then leaned in and gave Chase a quick one-armed hug. “Thanks for listening.”

Henrik stood up, gave Chase a similar quick hug, then stepped back. “We have been talking for a while. We told everyone not to disturb us, but...”

“More busy leader duties?” Chase asked humorously.

Henrik gave him a wry smile. “More busy leader duties.”

“Don’t worry,” Chase said. “I understand. And really, I’m just glad that you took the time to tell me all this. You didn’t have to.”

“We wanted to,” Henrik said. “And now, when others try to avoid the subject, you can say that you already know about Marvin, so it is not a problem.”

“Do you...think you’ll ever cross paths again?”

“I hope we do,” Jackie said. “So I can punch him again.” He hit his hand in demonstration. “But...on a more serious note, I think it’s inevitable. Our goals are the same, even if our methods are different. Eventually, we’re going to have to meet him again.” He paused. “And the more time goes on, the closer that moment becomes.”

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

The Southern Moors of Glasúil were not built for permanent settlements. They were wetlands, with watery soil that wasn’t fit to farm on, without gems or metals to mine, and with mud that could easily ruin books, art, and clothes. But still, people found a way to live there, using the resources native to the moors to trade for what they needed. Most of the time, people lived on boats that floated down the many rivers, migrating seasonally as certain areas got difficult to work with. But a few locations had become home to permanent towns, towns that floated in the middle of still water or had their buildings tower on stilts.

This was a town that fit into the latter category. Houses, shops, everything was on stilts that were at least twice as tall as the average man, built like that to avoid the rising waters that would come every spring.

But for now, in the winter, the waters were just thin streams that wound around the tall buildings, some of them covered in a thin layer of ice. But the biggest stream was unfrozen. And this night, under the light of the stars and the waning moon, a single rowboat was floating down this stream. A boy, probably around ten to thirteen years old, was paddling it to his destination. He kept glancing up at the stilted buildings, waiting to see someone on the wooden bridges that connected them. But it was late, and it was winter, and although the Southern Moors weren’t all frozen yet, it was still cold. So the boy paddled on.

Then, he glanced up at the wooden bridges again. And there he saw...a cat. Sitting near one of the wooden ladders leading down to the ground, its eyes reflecting the starlight as it stared at him. The boy stopped paddling, tied up the boat, and climbed out, grabbing the wooden ladder. Once on the solid wooden walkway around the building, the cat darted around him and across the bridge.

He followed the cat to the next building, a house, where it stopped and sat outside the door. Swallowing nervously, he pulled open the door.

The inside was filled with a wide array of candles, all of various colors, but mostly orange and black. They sat on every possible surface, even the floor near the walls, but only a few were lit. The layout was that of a normal one-room house, with a bed in one corner, a rocking chair in another, and a table with two chairs in the middle. And there was a man sitting in one of the chairs.

The cat darted past the boy and leapt onto the table. Its fur was mostly white, but its ears were dark gray, and its tail was striped gray and black. Its legs were similarly striped, though with brown and white, and the fur on its face had a pattern of brown stripes. It stared at the man with big blue eyes, and the man started petting it.

The man himself was...unusual. Most of his clothes were hidden by a thick black cloak, leaving just his gloved hands and his head visible. Though, that wouldn’t do much. His features were hidden by a white mask in the shape of a cat’s face. Colorful markings decorated the surface, red whiskers on the cheeks and green spirals in the ears, with the four card symbols in black in the center of the forehead. Brown chin-length hair framed the mask in waves.

“Um...” The boy hovered in the doorway.

“Close the door,” the man said, and the boy did so. “What did you find?”

The boy walked closer to the table, though he didn’t sit in the chair. “Um...well...my cousin, Ryenn, she works at Portmota Castle. Does their laundry and cleaning. And she...she says that the King has chosen them for his Longest Night celebration. H-he’s arriving soon, maybe within the week.”

“I see.” The cat hopped into the man’s lap and curled up, where he continued to pet it. “How does your cousin know this?”

“Well, they were doing preparations, cleaning things more than usual. And she asked why, and the others said that the lady was getting ready for the King’s visit. Apparently she got a letter in secret, saying that the celebration at Fíornear was a ruse and it was actually going to happen at her holding.”

“I see,” the man repeated, nodding.

The boy hesitated. “Um...can I...? The, uh...”

“Yes, of course.” The man reached into his cloak and pulled out a small leather pouch. He set it down on top of the table. It made a clinking sound as the coins inside rattled against each other. 

The boy stared at it, then slowly reached down, waiting for something to happen. When nothing did, he snatched the pouch up, checked the inside, and saw it was filled with golden coins. His eyes widened. He looked at the man and quickly nodded. “Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a problem. I should be thanking you for what you told me.”

“Right.” The boy took a few steps back, suddenly uneasy. “Uh...” Then, without another word, he turned and scrambled out of the house. The man could hear him running all the way back to his boat.

“He shouldn’t be so scared,” the man said to himself. The cat in his lap purred and sat up, stretching. He winced. “Draco, your claws.” Of course, the cat didn’t say anything. In fact, it started kneading his legs. “Ah!” The man gasped, then sighed. “Silly boy.” He picked up the cat and set it on the floor, where it whined at him. “Sorry, but you can’t be up here. I need the space.”

The man then reached into his cloak and pulled out several things. A map, some parchment, a quill and bottle of ink, and finally, a necklace with an ornate pendant: a flat, palm-sized emerald in a thin silver frame, smooth on the front but with golden patterns inlaid on the back. The man ran a finger along the edge of the pendant, and it started to glow. He flicked the light off his fingers, and it scattered, flying to all the unlit candles and lighting them, providing more than enough light to see.

“Now, let’s get to work.” The man picked up the quill, dipped it, and wrote down a name: Portmota, the noble family the King would be visiting for the solstice. He’d heard rumors that the celebration wasn’t actually going to be at Fíornear, but this confirmed it. Now, he just had to come up with a plan. Something more subtle than his usual heads-on approach. This was too important to risk.

He’d make sure the King didn’t live to see the spring.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #jacksepticeye au #chase brody #jackieboy man #dr schneeplestein #marvin the magnificent #brigid writes fanfiction #fantasymasksau

[soundofseventeen]

Stood Up (Lee Jihoon)

Wow I have little consistency here. BUT. Here we are. Anyway I wrote this, hated it, deleted it all, and then rewrote it but flipped. SO ENJOY! 💛

Requested by @ruthio21​

9 -  “You know, you can stay if you want.”

You leaned on the counter, sighing to yourself. Of course this was going to be another slow evening. You just wanted to go home. That was all you wanted to do. You wanted to go home, curl up under a blanket, and finish that book you started last night that kept you up until about 3am. The book which you thought you had put in your bag this morning but apparently did not. Oh how much you wanted to just say screw it and leave right now. 

But your bills argued otherwise, so you had to stay at the almost empty restaurant. 

“Bored?” You heard, turning your head to see Mingyu, writing some notes from a textbook you didn’t even bother to comprehend. He told you what he was studying at least 4 times, but frankly it never managed to stick into your skull. 

“So bored.” You sighed, starting to try and keep your pencil standing straight up. Stupid counters not being even, surely that’s why you couldn’t get it to stand up. 

“Want to help me study?” He asked, causing you to just stare at him. After several seconds of staring, Mingyu shrugged and turned back to his book. 

“Fine, sit in boredom until you’re done then.” He said, starting to read the page, his hand scribbling next to him. You stuck your tongue out at him, knowing he didn’t even see it and turned to face the door. 

You quickly stood up as the door opened, seeing a single man walk in. 

“Hello!” You greeted, smiling at him. “Table for one?” You asked, the man looking at you. 

“Uh… Two, actually.” He said, you nodding. 

“Ah, gotcha. You can just sit in any of the open booths, I’ll grab you some waters.” You smiled, walking in back to get the drinks. You carefully walked the two waters to the table, setting one down in front of the man and the other across from him. 

“Would you like menus or would you like to wait for your date?” You asked, the man looking at you. To your surprise, he let out a nervous chuckle. 

“Ah, it is kind of obvious this is a date, huh?” He asked, you shrugging. 

“I didn’t mean to assume…” You said, and he quickly waved his hand. 

“No, no you were right. It’s uh… It’s a blind date actually. My friend Soonyoung said he knew this person who would be a good fit for me and went on a whole thing about how I don’t really date and meet people so he kind of badgered me into going on this date and I don’t know he showed me a picture and I guess they are kind of cute but now I’m worried it’s going to go terribly or we won’t match up well or I won’t be enough for them and…” He looked up at you, staring back at him. “...That was… That was too much information huh?” 

“...Just a bit.” You said, seeing the man’s face turn red. “Can uh… Can I bring you something else to drink?” 

“Coke please.” He said, clearing his throat. You nodded, walking back to the counter, Mingyu looking at you with an eyebrow raised. 

“What was that about?” He quietly asked, nodding his head towards the man. 

“Blind date.” You whispered back, Mingyu nodding and looking at him again. You grabbed the soda and brought it back, setting it next to his water. 

“I’ll be back in a bit with menus then… If you need anything else my name is Y/N.” You smiled, pointing at your nametag. 

“Thanks.” He said, giving you a small smile. You quickly nodded your head, turning to head behind the counter before you seemed too flustered. He was fairly cute. 

You managed to get a little busier, handling most of the people coming in so Mingyu could study (you agreed to split the tips from his usual tables, and he did help when you had three orders at once). However, your eyes kept darting back to the single man, sitting alone at the booth. Still. 

During one of your down times, you watched him as he scrolled through his phone, occasionally stopping to watch something or type out a message. Maybe to his date? Maybe to his friend, possibly the one named Soonyoung? Maybe he was just typing notes for later. 

“Still no date, huh?” Mingyu asked, standing next to you. 

“Doesn’t look like it.” You said, tilting your head. 

“What?” Mingyu asked, chuckling a bit. 

“What kind of person do you think is going to show up?” You absentmindedly asked, glancing at Mingyu after a second. Mingyu shrugged, looking at the man. 

“I don’t know. At this rate I’d say a kind of shitty one.” He said, causing you to hit his arm. “What? The guy has been sitting there for almost an hour. They clearly haven’t cancelled or informed him, because he would have left by now.” Mingyu said, looking at you. 

“Maybe they’re just running late.” 

“If they were running this late, they would have rescheduled.” Mingyu sighed. “Gotta say, dude has hope. I would have left a half hour ago.” Mingyu added, turning to bring a plate to another table. You turned back to the man, who was now looking out the window. You picked up a menu, bringing it over to the table. 

“So… Do you want to order something now and then your date can-”

“They’re not coming.” He said, looking up at you and giving you a slightly sad smile. 

“What?” You asked, blinking at him. 

“I couldn’t reach them, so I asked my friend about 20 minutes ago. Something apparently came up last minute and they couldn’t come.” He said, tapping the menu. 

“Oh… I’m sorry.” You added, the man shrugging. 

“It’s not your fault.” He said, giving you another sad smile. “I was just kind of looking forward to it a little more than I thought, I guess.” 

“Why did you stay so long then?” You asked, tilting your head. “If you knew they weren’t coming 20 minutes ago, why did you stay here?” 

“I don’t know. I would have felt embarrassed for you and the other guy to see me leave alone.” He said, nodding at Mingyu behind the counter. “But uh… I guess I can leave now. Sorry for keeping your table filled all night.” He said, standing up and pulling out his wallet to pay for his drink. 

“Wait uh…” You said, putting up a hand. The man looked at you, eyebrows up. “You know, you can stay if you want.” 

“Huh?” He asked, blinking a bit. “Oh, no I couldn’t. I’ve taken enough of your time tonight-”

“Oh just come sit at the counter. You can hang out with me and Mingyu.” You said, waving a hand for him to follow you. “I must warn you, I’m the exciting one.” You whispered, winking before walking towards the counter. The man stood there for a second before hesitantly putting his wallet away and following you. 

“So, this is Mingyu.” You said, pointing at Mingyu, watching as he looked up at the new guest at the counter before looking at you. “And as I said earlier I am Y/N.” You said, pointing to yourself. 

“Jihoon.” He said, holding up a hand. 

“Nice to meet you Jihoon.” You grinned, placing a menu in front of him. “So what sounds good?” 

“Uh…” Jihoon glanced at the menu, eyeing different things. “A burger sounds okay.” 

“Then a burger it is!” You said, heading in back to place the order. 

“Sorry about your date.” Mingyu said, Jihoon looking at him. “Y/N mentioned you were waiting for one.” 

“Ah… It’s okay.” He said. “It’s uh… Not too bad of an evening I guess.” Mingyu nodded. He glanced over to the clock, eyes widening a bit. 

“Oh shit. I have to go…” He looked around the restaurant, not seeing too many guests. “Look, can you tell Y/N I had to run? If it gets swamped in here tell them to call Cheol, he lives down the street. If you offer him free dessert he’ll come help. Thanks.” Mingyu said, getting up and swinging a bag over his shoulder before Jihoon could respond. You came back out as the door shut behind Mingyu. 

“...Where did Mingyu go?” 

“He uh…” Jihoon looked back at the door. “He said he had to go.” You looked at the clock. 

“Ah that’s right.” You looked back at Jihoon. “He has an exam in the morning.” 

“Ah.” Jihoon responded. 

“So you see that couple over there?” You nodded your head to the right, Jihoon turning to face a young pair in a booth, awkwardly sitting together. Jihoon nodded, turning to you to see a smile on your face. “They’re like, 15, but this is the third time they’ve been in here to do homework. They have this awkward crush energy and it's kind of been my activity during work to see when they make it official. I think tonight might be the night.” You explained, Jihoon nodding along. He half listened, instead finding himself being a little flattered by your smile. 

“Oh shoot, I’ll be right back.” You said, tapping your hand on his before going to help a customer at another table. Jihoon just stared where you tapped his hand, blinking a bit. 

Okay, maybe this wouldn’t be a terrible night after all.

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