#[bread roll suffers]

[idioticallyisland]

why hello dear viewers... Welcome to idiotically island.... Please.... Ask the residents while you're here...

There are.... More residents but they're abit shy right now... They'll appear soon...

[binch-i-might-be]

okay if I managed to keep my food expenses at around 50 euros a month and didn't buy anything at all except for flat, car, insurance, and rat expenses, I should be able to make the money back in six to seven months

[rubbermalletrabbit]

This and some butter tbh

[p1nkshield]

Prompt idea: Danny has been attending Wayne family dinners for weeks now and he truly doesn’t know how he got this far

Danny has been without a home or a means to get food for a while because of either identity reveal gone bad or Dan timeline shenanigans. Either way he needs to eat. As a last ditch attempt Danny tries to attend/infiltrate a Wayne family dinner. He’s seen the Wayne kids around Gotham and he’s sure that he could look and act the part enough to get in the door and out with some bread rolls at least.

Was it his best idea? No.

But he sure as sugar ain’t firing on all cylinders rn.

And Bruce already has a gaggle of blue eyed, black haired children.

What’s one more?

Batfam of course notices immediately when a whole new kid shows up, grabs some miscellaneous pieces of food and then prattles off some excuse about “not being that hungry.” (Clearly a bald faced lie) And that they were “Going to the library to study for finals, bye Dad!”

1. No one skips out on family dinners. Even Jason was here.

2. Alfred sets the table for everyone ahead of time and the kid had no place to sit.

3. Nobody in this house studies anything beyond case files.

4. Nobody in this house calls Bruce Dad.

Danny thinks he is suffering from success. No matter where he is in Gotham someone picks him up and insists he’ll be late for family dinner which is unacceptable.

Alfred just wants to feed the boy.

The batkids are amused by his efforts to look as though he’s been here all along.

Bruce is drafting adoption papers as we speak.

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

A Day in Life

Synopsis: A day in the life of Jason Todd. Also, he's a househusband now. Oh, and a little plot twist.

Pairing: Househusband!Jason Todd X Gn!Reader; Platonic!Batfam

Tw: Canon level angst for Jason; Some sexual innuendos; Writer apparently doesn't know how to finish a story anymore; This is pretty slice-of-life so maybe boring?; English is not my first language.

Word count: 3,8k

Requested? No.

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

Wake up, make out, get up. First steps of your everyday routine. Sometimes making out turns into something more, but not today.

From his past life, as Robin, Jason learned a lot about discipline. As much as he tried to forget everything and everyone from his past before you, some habits die hard, although with time, with you and with therapy, he accepted that not all of his experience was bad or should be thrown away just because of one sociopathic clown who hurt him. Yes, Jason died, came back angry and did a lot of shit. But he was still alive and this could be a second chance.

While you, his darling spouse, get ready for work, Jason gets up, puts on his apron, fills the dog bowl for Daphne — your little brown dachshund that you adopted together four months after getting married —, opens the doors to the garden, so the dog can do whatever, and finally starts making breakfast and lunch. Breakfast so you two can eat together and lunch for you to eat at work. Sometimes you both meet up and eat together at your office or a restaurant. Today, that's not the case.

Simple yogurt with fresh fruits and nuts, coupled with a slice of chocolate cake he baked the day prior, eggs, toast and coffee for breakfast. As for your lunch box, a natural sandwich, salad, fruits and juice. He also fills up your two liter water bottle, so you feel pressured have no excuse but to stay hydrated.

Food. Until he was 12 his relationship with food was complicated, to stay the least. At first, his beloved but troubled mom would be in no condition to cook him three or more nice and fulfilling meals a day for a growing boy, he either had to learn and make do with quick instant food, eggs and old bread, or starve, since money was something he only saw when it was being handled to her drug dealer. His father was even worse. Jason loved his mom. Still suffers for her. He hated his father who was the one making her addiction worse. He’s still happy he died.

Living on the streets, food was a dream. A bad dream. It either came from trash or he had to do things that made him feel humiliated and guilty just to get some. And it was gone in a flash, he was so hungry he devoured it all in a second, and then his belly hurt.

Then he came. Jason loved his new father. Loved his new grandfather. Loved their food. So healthy, abundant and full of taste. So fun to prepare. He learned a lot from Alfred because he loved to spend time with him, play with the ingredients and make everyone and himself happy with the results.

But then he had those memories wiped out of his mind, (un)fortunately they came back, but at that time food was in the back of his mind. Sure, he didn't have to worry about starving, crime paid more than enough for that, but he didn't put much thought into any of it.

Now, with you, he's making new memories with food. He cooked and baked a lot with you and for you throughout all your relationship, and you did the same for him. He loves his kitchen, just like the rest of your house. The pantry and fridge are always full thanks to you. You take good care of him. You make his trust in you be worth it. And he reciprocates it. Healthy and nice food that brings comfort and makes you roll your eyes. Especially after he started frequenting cooking classes as a hobby, again, thanks to you.

After you are gone with a full belly and a pet in the ass (just like him, honestly), he continues his routine. He changes clothes and goes to the gym. Jason never stopped exercising, but the lack of all the activity vigilantism entails and with all the treats you two have, he started getting more soft. You loved it, he hated it. — Okay he didn't hate it, he just wasn't the most happy with it. Roy thought it was kinda funny, until Jason pointed out he also got softer after Lian. You honestly couldn't see why all that softness they were talking about was so bad since they were still very muscular and defined, just less dry and more snuggly. You honestly thought your Jaybird could go even further. — So the addiction of yoga to his routine happened.

After that, he goes straight home, eats, showers, takes care of his appearance to keep looking like a proper hubby that you can shove on your bitter frenemies faces, and makes sure to keep the maintenance of the house, so you can come back tired from work and enjoy a perfect house to rest on.

Hygiene. Another things that was complicated with his biological family. His father wouldn't touch a single plate or broom, and would beat and scream at his mom if she didn't put her high (again, because of him) ass up and did the labor. Most often than not, their house was messy, had a bad smell that his little nose was so used to that it's not like he minded, and had insects around. His clothes were dirty hand-me-downs, some fit him, some didn't, a lot of them had holes. His hair tangled and itchy.

When he went to the streets, it just got worse.

Bruce and Alfred fixed that. He finally learned what stink was because he only knew good and neutral scents. His clothes fit him. Everything around him was clean and well-kept. No holes, no stains. Hair always trimmed, soft and clean. Well maintained.

When he came back, cleanliness was basic. Of course he is gonna keep everything around him clean. Habit and common sense, you know? Clothes his size because why the hell would he use hand-me-downs when he can just buy his own? And they had to be the right size for his new 6’2 and almost 200 lbs body. Hair? Whatever. Always washed but as long as it didn't look ridiculous he didn't have time to put much thought on his appearance. He was genuinely surprised you were attracted to him at first sight.

Being with you, he learned to enjoy the little things in life again. Sometimes he finds himself unmoving in front of a random room of the house, or in front of the mirror, trying to grasp if it's all real, If this is really his life, if that's how he looks. His mind flashes memories of his childhood home and his current home. He ignores the memories of the manor not only because of the betrayal he felt for Bruce, but also because the manor was from the Wayne's. He was a Wayne. He is not anymore. This is him. His new house, with you, is what he wished he had growing up. What he always dreamed of. Love. Company. And comfort. He felt all of that while being a Wayne, until he despised the Wayne's. Not the couple that died decades ago or the centuries old descendants. But his father and his siblings.

On days where he doesn't take care of the house, he practices his hobbies. He now has time to do it all, surprising you, his therapist, Roy, and himself, he did cooking, gardening, pottery, crocheting and of course, reading. You paid for all his classes, praised him on his achievements, added his creations to the decor of the house, accompanied him on any event or place related to his interests, gave him his own library in one of the rooms in the house. He even made some friends between middle-aged women and the only other househusband and stay-a-home dad that frequented those places.

It was very funny and cute seeing rough, huge, leather jacket wearing and scarred Jason Todd telling jokes to 50-year-old white moms/grandmas and sometimes even babysitting their kids, pets and plants. You knew he could be a good dad one day if you decided to have kids. He was also more than happy to have just you, Daphne and good friends. And plants.

Warmth. When he was a kid his parents broke the heater during a fight, he wondered if they didn't have money to fix it, even with his father's activities, or if his father just refused to fix it. Anyhow, it was always cold in Gotham, freezing on winter, his dirty clothes with holes didn't help much. The streets didn't seem much different in that aspect. The manor kept him warm when he wasn't seven feet under the dirt, in a casket. When he came back, Jason always wore the warmest of clothes, even while sweating, he didn't know why. Now he did. Your house is always warm. Your body is always warm. Comfort. Your love gave him comfort. Warmth. A reason to live.

Love. His mom. Bruce and Alfred. You.

After he was done and rested for a little, Jason took Daphne for a walk in the way to the grocery shop. He wanted to try a new receipt you saw on tiktok today for dinner and had to get more flour and something for the filling.

After a few minutes of walking on his perfectly nice looking and safe neighborhood — nothing like crime alley. The type of neighborhood he saw on the television and imagined those other happy kids his age living and envied them. Dreamed of being adopted into one of their families while jumping from orphanage to orphanage. It never happened. He just got more abused. And then the manor was so isolated that you could only see mansions and plants all around. So big and far away that they looked empty of life. — he got there and strapped the dog to a post, next to a smiley golden retriever.

He got in and- fuck it, I'm going home. The empanadas can wait another day.

— Jason? Oh my god. Jason! Is that you?! — The infuriatingly familiar loud voice calls out from the middle of the shop and all heads turn to look. Shit, he can't go now without embarrassing himself in front of the cashier of his favorite and most visited shop. So he just nods, takes a basket and walks as if there was nothing interesting happening. It worked with the others costumers, unfortunately, Dick thought it was way too interesting and forgot his own basket that only contained eggs and cereal, and started following him around, this time, with a less surprised tone.

— Hey, Dick. — Jason idly muttered, that just made his coff coff brother indignant.

— Hey, Dick?! What the hell? Where were you? It's been three years! We thought you were dead! Or kidnapped! We never stopped looking for you! We were worried! We mourned! What happened? — Was it bad that Jason didn't want to give him a real answer? Probably. Especially with how much his therapist, who he saw on the days he didn't go to the gym, told him he should try to mend things with his family. So much so that he started actually contemplating it recently. But if he did it, it was going to be on his own time. Not by bumping into them in the grocery store. Oh, well. Jason was always good at adapting. The best.

And wow, three years had passed? Makes sense. Recovery does take time and he's been really happy for a while. Jason still remembers the day he decided to quit everything. It was the same day he decided you were the one, truthfully he always knew you were marriage material, the perfect one for him, out of his league, straight out of his most amazing dreams, peak goal for him, but he wasn't sure if he deserved to be the one you should be stuck with forever. He desperately wanted to, but he had to commit. Ride or die. He loved you, now more than ever, and didn't want to waste your time. He was still a bit messy at the time, but you made it all better, he was a lot better than he was before you came into the picture. You were the right choice. Jason always took you seriously, he was just insecure. So, while still in around eight months of relationship, he quit everything.

He quit his family. He quit vigilantism. He searched for recovery. And a year and a half later, with a little more than two years of dating, he made the big proposal. You married on your three-year anniversary. Got Daphne four months later. It's been around three or four months ever since.

While Dick’s math might not be exact, it is not necessary in this context, the point came across just fine.

He also knew that the fact that you both decided to not leave Gotham was going to bite him in the ass one day. One way or another.

— What happened? Oh, well. I retired. Got married. And now I'm a dad. — Daphne was like a daughter to him, so it was the same, right?

His nonchalant reply didn't seem to satisfy the other, though. Todd could see it, the urge to strangle him in his eyes. Dick wouldn't strangle his dead missing little brother, would he?

— You… You what? — Dick was in disbelief.

— You guys searched for me? Thanks, I guess? It means a lot. — Jason just sniffed and went on his way, leaving Grayson behind, paralyzed.

Maybe he could be fast enough and get out of there before the older one got a grasp of his senses back and followed him out. Part of him felt hope, the other heard yours and his therapist voices in his head, and the nagging was annoying. Maybe he never stopped being a “grump”, like you always amusedly said.

Oh, no. Here he comes again. Jason suppresses an eye-roll.

— Stop. Can you really explain? — The mix of emotions was almost overwhelming, an urge to cry, punch a wall, punch Jason's face, scream and who knows what more was running through Dick's body.

Jason sighed and finally addressed him completely. Tone lower so no one could hear.

— Okay. I met someone… Someone good. Someone special. A civilian. I was tired of everything. So I decided to retire and made sure none of you could find me. I'm surprised Roy and Lian kept the secret from you, though. Anyway. Now I'm a stay-at-home hubby, have a dog and go to therapy. You happy? — A beat of silence. — Hey, don't make that face… I was going to tell you guys eventually… When I felt like it… It's not like you guys saw me a lot. How much time did it take for you all to miss me? I made an appearance once in a while when someone asked for help and that's it. Alfred knew everything so if you’re gonna be mad at anyone, be at him too, not just me… And Roy. Don't forget Roy.

— A-Are you kidding me? Oh, yes, blame the butler! You couldn't even tell us? Like “hey guys, I'm gonna retire and take some time for myself for a while. Also, come to my wedding!” I wanted to be invited, you know?! Why didn't you invite me? Did you at least invite Alfred? Did- — Jason rolled his eyes and cut his rant.

— Yes, Alfred was there. Front row and everything. — Dick shrieked.

— T-That’s not the point! — His voice raised slightly from exasperation and both of them checked around for anyone's attention, then came back to the conversation.

Jason raised a hand to interrupt him and took a deep breath.

— Look. I wasn't in a nice place at the time, okay? I'm better now… And I was going to talk to you guys sooner rather than later… — Jason let a moment of vulnerability shine, hoping that would melt his brother's heart and fix things. It did. — We will have a second wedding when we renovate our vows in our 5th anniversary. You can be there… Everyone can be there. — Jason cleared his throat to interrupt the other again. — But now I have to get home in time to make dinner for my honeyboo, so why don't we… Stay in contact and… One of those days everyone can have dinner together and catch up, huh?

Dick took one of the deepest breaths of his whole life. Jason pursed his lips.

— Okay… — He stuck a finger in his face roughly. — But don't disappear again. Or else I promise I’m gonna personally make everyone track you down, understood? — Jason snorted. As if Tim and Bruce wouldn't do it already once they knew everything. As if Bruce didn't secretly keep track of him this whole time. Unless… Unless everyone changed and he didn't know his… His family anymore.

Why did it make him feel weird?

— Yes, boss. — Jason saluted him and left.

— Relax… — You elongated the word. — Nothing bad it's gonna happen… — You went behind Jason and tried rubbing his broad shoulders to chase the tenseness away. The sight and feel of his muscles almost made you drool, and you blinked to focus again.

— How do you know? — You pursed your lips and went to his side to try to make him take his eyes off of cleaning the countertop for the 4th time due to anxiety.

— Because they love you. And they care about you. And they miss you. — Jason deadpanned you. — Just give it a chance. If anything goes wrong, we will just kick them out and you never have to talk to them, ever again. We can even move if you want. Or go on a vacation to the same place we had our honeymoon, I can wear that skimpy piece you like… Spoil you rotten… — Your voice lowered seductively and you pressed your body to his side, running your hand up and down his arms with some pressure.

Jason’s mind went blank and he was speechless for a few seconds. Your eyebrows raised with a small, convincing smile that made all his worries go away. He sighed.

— Okay… Okay, you’re right… — He leaned down and sneaked an arm around your waist. You both shared a slow and wet kiss, bordering between sensual and calming. Unfortunately, he had to wait a few hours before having some action. He pulled his face away a few centimeters, looking you in the eyes. — I thought I had ripped that thing. — You blinked.

— You just might have. But I bought another one because I looked too good on it not to wear it again. — You shared a chuckle when the doorbell rang. You both looked at the door, then at each other. — Want me to get it? — You ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm the last of his nerves. Jason swallowed.

�� No. Have to get it over with. — He took a deep breath and then let out. Pulling away from your embrace. — Put the juice on the table for me, please? — You hummed and nodded.

Without giving a second thought, he walked in long strides and abruptly opened the door.

It was like that scene in Avengers: End Game when on one side there was just Captain America against the whole Thanos's army, just staring at each other.

— Are you wearing an apron? — Damian snarked with an eyebrow raised. Jason looked down. Yes, he was. Good start.

— Take your shoes off, there’s other shoes for you all there. And here I was having hope that at fifteen you wouldn't be a demon anymore. — Jason said sarcastically and gave them space to enter.

As soon as they got in the neighborhood they were all already skeptical. If you were the only one working, how much do you earn to live in such a nice area and with this nice house? They could even see a pool in the backyard and there were TWO expensive cars in the driveway. Jason said he quit all of the crime lord thing, did he keep the savings? Did he invest?

The little dog came running and barking, taking their attention away from the house and their shoes, Damian immediately crouched to pet her. Jason let a side of his lips go up. At least that hasn't changed.

— Her name is Daphne. — Jason spoke over the cooing of Duke and Cass at the dog. He locked eyes with Bruce who had an unreadable expression on his face. He looked older, Jason didn't know how to feel about that. Then gazed at Dick, who had a shit eating grin, Alfred, whose satisfied smile warmed his heart, and Tim, who was analyzing the space while changing shoes.

— Nice place. So, what does your partner do? — Are they committing fraud? — You appeared from the corner and replied for him.

— I direct the Queen Industries’s Gotham’s office. — You answered softly with a polite smile, stopping besides Jason, who wrapped an arm around you. Everyone's gaze turning on you made you feel shy, but you held on with confidence.

— Oh, wow, so Jason really is a malewife. — Your eyes widened in surprised and you couldn't hold back a laugh. Jason let a small smile graze his lips, coaxing the easiness out of him.

— I offered to pay cleaning and cooking service, but he wanted to do things himself. — You say, a little afraid they would get angry at you for “slavering” their Jason.

— Did you buy those cars outside? — Wow, Tim really was as skeptical as Jason had said.

— Hmhmm. — You nodded simply, as if it was nothing.

Jason's siblings raised their eyebrows and Bruce cleared his throat, and took a step forward, feet clad in fluffy slippers. He offered a hand and presented himself politely to you. You wondered how much of that was his persona and how much was just a father meeting his son's partner.

While giving them a tour of the house, the family — aside from Alfred who already knew it all — observed the details, happy memories in the form of pictures of trips, your marriage, birthdays, anniversaries, Daphne's growing stages, spontaneous moments that just deserved to be eternalized, trinkets, handmade pots, plants, Daphne’s toys, and the decor that was just a mix of you both. No guns in the walls, no corpses buried in the backyard, no blood stains. The only signals that it was their Jason living here and not a clone were the books, pictures and hidden security measures. 

It was… Good. Peaceful. Clearly the change in scenario helped him. It hurt them a little, some more than others, that it took him cutting them off for him to start healing, although, maybe opening up this new side of him for them meant that it wasn't just that. And it wasn't. The fault didn't fall completely on them. Nor on Jason. And one person, you, can't be the solution for all global crisis. Mental health is complex. Trauma is complicated. Past can't be changed, but the future can. 

That night, everyone enjoyed Jason's cooking, Daphne and the new future.

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@wandalfnation

[theealbatross]

fight the alchemy (s.s)

Plot | After a tumultuous year, Sebastian’s life was finally okay – passable, up-to-scratch, satisfactory. And he had just almost reached peace – when his brilliant, painfully observant, carelessly crude genius of a friend, Garreth Weasley, started pointing out unnecessary facts that could rip all that harmony to shreds.

or, Garreth asks why Sebastian isn’t dating you. Sebastian spirals.

Tags | fluff, sebastian is a thought daughter, low self esteem, seb is a playboy BUT NOT REALLY, horny thots but we keep it pg, insecurity so deep you try to fight cupid, cupid fights back

An Ashwinder’s wand to his neck and Sebastian could honestly and truly say that he was … alright.

Life wasn’t perfect, by any means. His uncle was murdered dead, an estranged twin sister in Paris who refuses to answer his letters, a mistrustful Ominis that breathes on his neck, and a tattered companionship that was barely hanging on by a thread.

But he was okay.

Thankfully, Solomon was still dead, Anne was still alive, and still cranky Ominis is now open to reconciliation. Plus, if all else had fallen, he at least managed to save your cherished friendship thanks to your forgiving nature.

Thus, as thanks to the people who had not yet given up on him, he had sworn to live the rest of his academic life as a meek, unassuming, law-abiding student of Hogwarts.

And he did such a good job at it.

The professors are now impressed at his steadily increasing grades (so much so that the Ravenclaws are now finally seeing him as a threat again) and he even managed to make Imelda’s team as her beater to keep him occupied.

The latter, however, had a grating consequence – he had become popular.

It was thrilling, at first, he went on dates to make up for the years he had lost, kissed the pretty girls because it felt like he should (as one of the few bastards lucky enough to live every raging teenager’s dream), and accepted the slaps on the face politely when they inevitably broke up.

But now he’s just gotten tired and bored of it all.

Ominis says it’s a genius’ folly, to always find a fault in something and then drop it when it doesn’t quite meet his standard of perfect. Leander says he’s just a bastard.

He cups his face with his hand, wincing. Her fucking ring caught on his skin and he can’t be arsed to suffer through the bitterness of a Wiggenweld Potion for a mere scratch.

Garreth doesn’t bother to swallow his bread before saying, “Really, mate? I thought you liked this one?”

“Liked her rack, more likely,” Andrew quipped from his seat on the stone steps of the boathouse.

Sebastian threw his scarf on his face, satisfied at his squawk.

“No talking about my ex-girlfriends,” he warned. It was one of his few rules when it came to his male friends. He may be a bastard but as someone with a sister and a couple of good female friendships, he makes it a point to never become one of those losers who talk badly about women they have a history with. Just so he can have a moral high ground when he beats up anyone who might do it to his friends.

“All right, all right,” Andrew raised his hands in playful surrender, throwing Sebastian’s scarf back to him. “But as your friend, I think it’s about time you stop swapping out girls every time you get bored of them.”

“I don’t swap them out,” he rolls his eyes. “Breakups are normal.”

“Breakups are normal,” Garreth points out. “Six breakups in 2 years is an issue.”

“Maybe I’m just meant for the bachelor life,” he mumbles, ignoring the pointed accusation from Garreth. Fucking perceptive prick. “Not everyone gets to meet their soulmate in Hogwarts, asshole.”

Garreth grins, “Natty’s great, isn’t she?”

Sebastian and Andrew both throw their scarves at him, the three of them bursting out in laughter and boos.

“To the Three Broomsticks, then?” Andrew stood up, patting his pants.

As 7th years it was nearly impossible to take a breather with the looming threat of exams that will dictate the rest of your life and the inescapable trap of adulthood that awaits them in a couple of months. So, his friends had made it a point to at least go out once every week whenever they could, really take advantage of their last year as students where they had no other responsibility but to survive the week.

In a year’s time, seeing each other as often as they do will be nothing short of a miracle.

“Leander and Everett are already there, saved up a table since it’s a Friday, it’s gonna be packed full,” Andrew explains.

Sebastian looks around, eyes scanning the castle in the setting sun. “You go on ahead I’m waiting for –”

“Sebastian!”

A flash of movement appeared rushing down the stairs towards the boathouse, your face beaming as you waved to the three of them. When you were a foot away from him you jumped into his arms, shrieking energetically when he grabbed your waist and lifted you above his head.

“Sorry, I’m late,” you pant, smiling at your friends once you’re back on the ground. “Professor Hecate asked me to stay back for a minute, something about revisions on my research.”

“I can’t believe you got permission to research in The Restricted Section after the crazy nonsense you pulled in 5th year,” Garreth shook his head. Sebastian wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side, beaming in pride. Nobody knows but the two of you that the very thing you were researching were the technicalities of how you broke Anne’s curse so it could be taught to the nurses in St. Mungos and hopefully spread to the rest of wizardkind.

“It’s exactly because I had the nerve to break the rules that I was given the honorable opportunity,” you dramatically curtsied. “And they said Gryffindors were the brave ones.”

That made Sebastian laugh. Garreth blinks, eyes squinting at him for a second but he doesn’t look offended, more … focused on Sebastian.

“Alright, no more of that House Rivalry. Quidditch Season is over,” Andrew quips.

“Wiped your asses there too, Larson,” he quipped, Andrew’s jaw drops, looking at Garreth for help and receiving none. He was still staring at Sebastian, eyes shifting between him and you.

Andrew groans. “Slytherins are assholes.”

Slytherins are, apparently, also light-weights.

Well, at least one of them is.

He adjusts his hold on your body as the other hand wraps his coat around your body properly. After your last ‘improved’ butterbeer you had slumped into his lap, rudely snoozing off on the crook of his neck and refusing to wake up even when it was time for your group to leave – not that he would’ve allowed that to happen, with your demanding research it was a miracle to get you to sleep let alone let loose.

The rest of the group had gone in first to scope the scenery and bribe the patrolling Head students with leftover chips while he and Garreth were stuck carrying you and an unconscious Amit that they had managed to catch last-minute in Hogsmeade. Poor bastard.

“I was thinking –”

“Please don’t,” he groans.

“Why have you two never dated?”

Sebastian stops his fussing, barely able to use his head to ensure he keeps walking, and continue to Act Normal, now using both of his hands to hold you tighter.

“You’re drunk,” he deflects. The puffs of your breath warm his entire body.

“Because! When I think about it …”

Please, for the love of the great Merlin stop thinking.

“You’ve been inseparable from the start! I can’t believe it’s escaped my notice you’ve never dated. You say your past relationships got boring and got annoying but you’ve never been bored and annoyed with her and you’ve been friends for years!”

Bored with you? He’s had more near-fatal heart attacks because of you than breakups. Sebastian barely had the time to be bored. And sometimes you do get at each other’s throats but it was always fixed after a proper conversation. If his killing his uncle couldn’t turn you away then he doubts anything you do could ever turn him away.

“Plus, with all the respect and love to my beautiful darling Natty, she’s a fucking catch, mate!”

If Garreth wasn’t carrying a sinless half-dead Amit, Sebastian would’ve punched him in his mouth just to stop him from talking.

“I’m just saying,” Garreth walks ahead of him, clearly aware of the fuse he had just lit. Sebastian was tempted to kick the back of his knees just for the satisfaction of seeing him fall.  “Maybe you can join the club and find your soulmate in Hogwarts.”

Garreth winks.

“We’re still accepting members.”

He’s decided.

He needs to kill Garreth.

He has not been able to sleep properly for the past week and it’s all because of that ginger prick and his needless remarks.

“Why have you two never dated?”

Sebastian’s pencil cracks in his hand.

“Is he alright?” he hears an underclassman whisper on the other table. He glances at them and they flinch. Quickly, he softens his expression ("You really need to stop scowling at people, Sebastian."), unaware he had glared at them and sent a wary smile in apology. It would just be unfair to aim his ire at innocent people when he could just use it to rip out every strand of Weasley’s hair.

“He’s been staring at that page for an hour. Maybe we should call –”

He stands up, escaping.

Sebastian never realized just how much he spent his time with you until people were looking at him funny when he was walking or sitting alone in public places. At first, he thought there had been crumbs on his face or one of his asshole friends stuck a note on his back like a kid. Plus, he hadn’t been feeling his best since that night but he thought it had been the lack of sleep.

It wasn’t until he had met Imelda on the grounds that he found his answer:

“Where’s the rest of you?”

He blinked at his captain, “I’m sorry?”

She shook her head. “Man, it feels weird seeing you alone. Did you guys have a fight? You’re usually shadowing her like a puppy after class.”

Then everything clicks, the strange looks, the feeling of missing something (like a forgotten important homework after he had reached the top of the Astronomy Tower) – it’s been a side effect of avoiding you.

Okay, it’s not that he’s avoiding you per se. He just needs space. He needs to think and he finds that can’t do that once he feels your eyes on him. With his luck, you’re going to see right through him and that would just be unideal if not a fucking catastrophe.

That’s why he’s taken it upon himself to stay off your way until he puts his thoughts in a row and finally screws his head on straight again. Or he could just kill Garreth, get sent straight to Azakaban, and avoid confronting these complicated thoughts altogether.

“I can’t believe it’s escaped my notice you’ve never dated!”

He sits on a bench, hands on his head as he let out a prolonged groan, “The fucking bastard.”

Why did he have to point it out? Why did Garreth have to bring what he, upon reflection, had buried on the back of his head, just waiting for that one little flick of acknowledgment before it blew his brains out.

Because Sebastian is a lot of things but he’s not a fucking moron.

It’s not that the thought of being together is unpleasant. If he lets himself consider it his chest feels like it would escape his ribcage both in excitement and utter terror.

But Garreth was right: he’d never thought about it before – hadn’t thought the idea was conceivable in this reality.

He has a feeling it was his way of preserving whatever pure relationship he had left. He’s not exactly rich with true companionship and he’s not idiotic enough to risk it all over a bloody crush. 

And not just any crush – his best friend, the person who saved his life and then helped him rebuild it when he was finished smashing it to pieces. The one who never turned her back even when his blood had given up. The girl who has a line of eligible bachelors following her on their knees for a single chance, ones who could offer her more than he ever could – ones who could offer her the world.

So, yeah – forgive him, but he’s never really allowed himself to entertain the idea of them dating. Sebastian has tested his luck enough.

Unless the roles switch and he gets to save the wizarding world this time then maybe … yeah, maybe -- maybe in another fucking life.

The thought makes him stand up, walking straight out of the campus to hopefully drown the sorrows of the depressing state of his love life with the best fire whiskey Hogshead could offer. How does he even move on from this? How does he make peace with the fact that he has sealed his fate of living the rest of his life alone? 

It’s impossible, he’s decided. Even if he graduates at the top of the classes he is taking and gets accepted into the Auror Programme that Sharp had recommended him for, their social standing is still heavens apart. He’s an orphan, with a husk of an extended family and no money to his name.

It wouldn’t matter to you, never really cared for pure bloodlines or lineages and he knows anyone who brings that up when they’re courting you will receive the most disgusted look on your face. 

But he cares – you are the most special person in his life. He wants the best for you. And the best is not something he can provide.

His depressing thoughts halt as his steps falter, a familiar scent tickling his nose. A familiar scent that leads straight into the Forbidden Forest. When he looks up to the sky, he realizes the sun has almost finished setting.

She can’t be that reckless, right?

He was barely surprised when he chanted the incantation that triggered the charm they had both put in their necklaces, the sparkling thread leads straight into the forest. And if he knows you half as well as he thinks he does then he knows exactly where it’s gonna lead to.

There goes his late-night plan.

It isn’t exactly his first jaunt in the forbidden space but it still gives him the creeps especially so close to the night. Why you’re so fond of the place is something he’ll never understand.

But that’s just the way you were, just another part of your quirks that makes you so endearing.

How you throw your head back when you laugh, that you get so cranky when you’re studying that no one dares to approach you but him, even the way you messily eat your favorite chocolate pastry of the week yet never fail to share a piece with him.

With this new revelation, he bitterly accepts the reason for his philandering ways. That he simply is another prick who is coping with not being able to attain the love of his life at the expense of those poor girls.

His self-condemnation however was cut short when he heard the waterfall, not being able to help the smirk on his face when he turned the corner and found you just as he had expected: in the middle of the clear, dark, water, floating carelessly on your back.

Gods, you are a beauty. He’s always thought so, the entire male population in Hogwarts thought so too. If they somehow get to break through your walls and manage to get to know you, he might just have to beat them away with an actual stick.

“Sebastian,” you smile, his heart stops. “I knew you’d find me.”

You swim to him gracefully, barely disturbing the water with only your eyes above the water but there was no hiding the grin in your face. Like a pitiful sailor seduced by a siren, his feet dragged him to the edge, a short ledge above from where you were looking up at him.

“You left your scent on purpose,” he states, kneeling to get a closer look at you. What a beauty – mischievous, cunning, irresistible. He’s never loved anyone more. “Naughty, naughty, darling.”

She pulls herself up the ledge, their faces inches away from each other. He nails his eyes to yours so they wouldn’t be tempted to look down at your soaking figure cloaked only by a thin chemise “I had to get you somehow, knew you couldn’t resist a damsel in distress.”

“Funny,” he softly glares, chuckling when she preens, clearly satisfied that her plan worked perfectly. “With all the water in the Black Lake, you had to pick the Forbidden Forest to swim in.”

You dip yourself back down in the water, swimming away but still facing him. “Come, Sebastian. I’ve been bored all week since you’ve been avoiding me.”

Guilt runs through his spine at the sudden coldness in your offhanded comment. Clearly, his absence hasn’t escaped your notice as he had hoped.

Like a scolded pup, he follows your command to a T. Eyes never leaving your floating figure as he removed his coat, folding it neatly along with the rest of his clothes until he was left in his underclothes.

He winces at the touch of the freezing water. A heating charm would do wonders but the way your unsympathetic eyes never left his figure gave him a feeling that this was a punishment he was meant to endure.

He steels himself, diving into the water and only resurfacing when he is right in front of you. “You called?”

“You’re so fucking full of yourself,” you splash the cold water at him, shrieking when he reaches out for your arms and barely managing to slip away.

He dives again, grinning at your confused flounder, until you realize your mistake, looking down just as he catches your waist, your surprised shriek, and his unrestrained laughter breaks through the quiet of the forest.

“You done running now, pet?” he locks his hands on your back, pushing you close until he is carrying both your weight in the water, chin resting on your chest as your hands run through his soaking hair.

Your darkened hair frames your face, like a sheer curtain it drops, teasing his cheeks, and hiding your conversation from the rest of the forest – in the dimness, your eyes have never been more radiant, even if it was clearly pissed at him.

Skinship wasn’t foreign between the two of you. When you’ve saved each other’s lives from certain death more times than you care to count, cuddling is the least of your worries.

But there is something about the forest's silence, the sparse moonlight that peaks through the dense trees, the sound of the droplets falling from your hair to the water, and the distant echoes of the animals that make everything intimate. -- more intimate than usual.

“Are you?” you throw his question back at him mercilessly, your hands on the back of his neck, locking his face to look up at you – finally at you. The weeklong separation had been torture and now that the distance had cut his regular contact with his favorite witch, he finally realized how fast his heart was beating when he was around her.

He smiles.

He was satisfied, he swore he was.

Sebastian’s life was finally okay – passable, up-to-scratch, satisfactory. He shouldn’t strive for more, couldn’t allow himself that luxury – the luxury of love, the luxury of you.

But as he stares at your eyes, as he feels the ice in your skin, as he imagines a future where it wasn't him that gets to bite the plump of your lips – that dirty, greedy part of him crawls out of the hole he had shoved it in.

He feels it win.

“Are you done running now?” you whisper, a droplet falls from the tip of your nose to the space just below his eyes, his breath hitches, like your magnetic presence had sucked out all the air of the forest.

“I wasn’t running,” she raises a brow, and Sebastian presses his lips to your ears. “I was thinking.”

“And?”

Leander was right: he really is a bastard.

But he’s a bastard who will no longer wait for another life to love you. He's a bastard who will get what he wants.

“I think,” he whispers, at peace. “I think I’m gonna marry you someday.”

[rottenpumpkin13]

We heard from Sephiroth, but any unhinged things Genesis has said? (I love your posts ♥)

• "Would it be unethical to fake my own death just to see who cries the hardest?"

• "If Sephiroth can slice a malboro in half and be called a 'hero,' why am I labeled 'unstable' for suggesting we solve the printer jam with a crow bar and hubris?"

• "This banquet is a tragedy. Look at this bread roll, Angeal—look at it. It's dryer than Midgar's air after a week of smog."

• "The true tragedy of daily life is that I'm not allowed to offer my constructive criticism at my leisure without being written up for bullying. I am a man repressed, stifled by barbarism."

• "Today, I witnessed a man use mayonnaise as a pasta sauce. If that isn't proof that the apocalypse is imminent, I don't know what is."

• "Behold, my final fuck hath departed. Farewell, sweet courtesy, I barely knew thee."

• "Every great man has a tragic flaw. Mine is that I must suffer the indignity of people who think instant coffee is an acceptable beverage."

• *When he made the mistake of asking Zack how he was doing as a polite greeting, and Zack responded with "hang on, let me think...."* "The suspense is both infinite and insufferable."

• *During a budget meeting* "They'll approve a new leather coat for Sephiroth without question, but my request for a solid gold flute is 'frivolous spending.' The poetry of injustice."

• "I have just discovered someone used my personal copy of Loveless as a drink coaster. Angeal, please explain to the court that what follows is not violence, but performance art."

• *During weapons maintenance* "This sword polish is subpar. How am I supposed to maintain my aesthetic when my reflection looks like it's been filtered through the fog of Sephiroth's childhood memories?"

• "This mission is pointless. We could solve all our problems if Shinra just gave me a flamethrower and five minutes of unsupervised freedom."

• "The Goddess weeps. Not for our sins, but because this apple has the texture of wet cardboard."

• *During a meeting, waiting for Lazard to show up* "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to honor the death of my patience. May it rest in peace."

• *watching Angeal have a mental breakdown over building a book shelf* "You cannot truly know a man until you've seen him assemble furniture. A test of patience, ingenuity, and his ability to read hieroglyphs masquerading as instructions."

• "If the Goddess truly loved us, she would have made people flammable by glare alone. The fact that they aren't proves we live in an imperfect universe."

[daenysthedreamersblog]

KNUCKLE VELVET

Nothing in my heart is hoping you'll come back

Too cold to know what I don't have without you

summary: your main goal in life was to take care of your family, and you had been... until a new peacekeeper comes to your district leaving death and pain wherever he stepped

pairings: peacekeeper!coryo x reader

warnings: MDNI! violence, death, blood, coercion/ manipulation, swearing, power imbalance, hitting, choking, dub-con, oral sex, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, guns.

notes: omggg so this actually was supposed to be a completely different story when i started, but it took a side turn and ended here. its not nearly as dark (so sorry) as i originally intended but hoping where i lacked in darkness i made up for in heartbreak so hope u all still enjoy :)

Death had been your shadow since you could remember, or at least it had felt that way since you were a young child. You saw it for the first time when you nearly drowned in the lake with you sister, it stared at you while you choked on your own short life. It had taken your mother, infected your father, it loomed over you incessantly like a cruel god. You tried hard to keep it at bay, to run from it, make it lose your scent, but it was obsessive, possessive of you. It would come for you some day.

And in a crowded, too-loud, scorching room you saw your death in his beautiful face.

With delicately furrowed brows you shoved the heel of your hand into the dough the ache ever present in your left wrist. You ignored it, focusing on kneading the dough.

Your father was a baker, or at least he had been before he had fallen ill. It wasn't anything special, mostly selling what he could out of your childhood home or trading it for supplies. You got by, your family got by, better than most he always reminded you. It was fine, an easy job, a distracting mundane task that sometimes supplied leftovers you couldn't complain about. So here you were, kneading bread when he no longer could.

You placed the towel over the bowl and wiped your hands off on your apron as footsteps creaked from behind.

"Started without me?" Your sister yawned walking into the kitchen eyeing the three bowls of rising dough.

"Couldn't sleep." You untied your apron and placed it on the counter as she tucked her chin into your shoulder.

She sighed, "You worry too much."

You did, someone had to, but you bite your tongue. "You can clean then." You chuckled walking away from her.

"We should do something tonight." She is already moving the dishes around and wiping off the counters as you look over your shoulder at her, your hand on the wall. "Would be nice to get out of here for a few hours."

You smile, "Sure." And then you disappear down the hallway to your father's room. He's in bed, half asleep when you sit down near his feet making sure he was breathing. "Are you hungry?" You roll your wrist in your hand as you ask him.

His head turns to take you in, "No."

"Did you take your medicine?"

"Yes." His eyes dart to the left and you know he's lying. You sigh as you walk forward pulling open the drawer to find it empty.

You can't look away from it. "I'll get more."

"She is right, you worry too much." He taps his foot against your thigh, "How's my bread?" He ask you to distract you from the tiredness in his voice, from the pale color in his skin, from the fact that he was dying. All you wished then was to take his illness onto yourself so he nor your sister had to suffer.

Once all the bread is made and prepared to be sold, your sister and you leave in the night. You slip on a blue dress and small grey cardigan taking off down the gravel road towards town. Fresh summer air clears the flour from your lungs as you walk next to her arms linked at the elbow a lightness in your step as you try to forget the woes at home.

"Does that band still play?" You asked as the building comes into sight various individuals moving in and out if it.

"Yeah." Her voice is solemn. "They're good but..." It wasn't the same since they lost their singer. She had died in the games, or at least that's what everyone said but you didn't remember, you didn't watch the games if you could help it. Then everyone had moved on like they always did.

You and your sister entered the warm room littered with people from your district and off duty peacekeepers. Most of them were friendly, and the ones that weren't rarely came here on their nights off so you let your shoulders relax. You watched the band perform a few songs with mason jars filled with clear alcohol, even indulging your sister in a couple dances when a familiar face caught your eye, one that had helped you far too often than you deserved. "Last drink?" You nodded your head to the bar. "Don't go too far."

She waved you off still swaying to the tune of the guitar as you disappeared through the crowd. You kept your head down clutching the empty jars as you walked. He was talking as he walked in a perpendicular direction perfectly lining up with where you needed to hit him. You threw a glance over your shoulder the same time your body collided with his, glass jars falling to the floor with a violent crack. "I'm so-Oh." His eyes meet yours as you bend at the knees to try and pick up the broken pieces.

"Medicine." You whisper out when it's just the two of you near the floor. "My father. I need...Please."

He rubs a hand over his face, "I'll try, but...I'll try."

You look at his face knowing he sees the desperation there, "Thank you."

"Need any help?"

Your eyes shoot up quickly staring at a beautiful death.

You've never seen him before, you would know with his clear blue eyes and white blonde hair shining out above the crowd like a beacon. He's standing across from the mess staring down at you, "It was an accident-!"

"You're bleeding." He says drawing your attention to the sudden stinging pain across your palm, the red liquid bubbling up from the fresh cut.

You shake your head, "It's fine."

"We should get that cleaned up." You open your mouth to protest, but he only slips his hand under your arm helping you up. "I insist." You glance back at your friend, Gavin, who often did help you with various needs your father had in exchanged for baked goods, and then you looked back at the other peacekeeper dragging you away.

He leads you towards the back as the band continues to play a loud song. "Sit." He points to an empty barrel, "I'll be right back." And then he disappears back out into the crowd. You glance around the empty room filled with supplies and unused musical equipment. Tentatively, you climb onto the barrel to sit admiring the gash along your hand, the bleeding was slowing, but it did look rather nasty. "They didn't have much," Your eyes shoot up, following him until he stands in front of you with a wet rag and a few bandages. "But it's better than nothing."

"You're new." You observe as he takes your bleeding hand.

He presses the rag to the wound the wince slipping out, "Got in yesterday."

He starts to try and clean it. "Do you like it here?" He scoffs to himself causing the corners of your mouth to turn up. "Dumb question." He glances up at you face close enough your can see the shades of blue in his eyes.

"It has it's charms." He dries off your hand before finding the large gauze pad to tape around it.

"Where were you from?" You regret it as you ask, as a sudden darkness comes over him throwing the room into silence the music a distant thrumming from beyond. You watch him tape up your hand with cheap supplies until it covers the cut neatly. "Thank you."

He doesn't drop your hand, "Are you always clumsy?" He traces the small scar on your pinky.

"Occupational hazard." You watch his face as he looks at you once more the question in his pretty eyes. "I bake, had a few run in with knives."

His mouth quirks up, "I hope you don't often run into knives or off duty peacekeepers."

You take your hand back, "I don't make a habit of it."

"You could...Make a habit of it." He stares down at you his thigh suddenly warm against your knee. "At least certain ones."

You take a sharp breath, "We both know that's not a good idea." You slide off the barrel, chest forced against his as you move and then your sliding past him. "Thank you, again. I should go find my sister."

"See you around clumsy girl."

The blush bites at your cheeks and you hope he can't see it in this light, but you suspect he does as something flashes across his face. You don't stick around to find out as you head back into the crowd. You find your sister talking with another peacekeeper, "I'm gunna head home." You show her your hand.

"Be safe." She smiles going back to her brown haired friend. You glance over you shoulder finding that man who helped you watching you, you should tear your eyes away from him, but he should as well, but here he was, staring brazenly at you something burns under your skin.

You blink shaking your head and turn to leave, tugging the cardigan tighter around your shoulders as you walk home alone. You often did, you never encountered any trouble, but something felt off. The hair on your neck stood up the whole way home like something-someone was watching you.

You turned to look, but nothing was there.

The sun drenches the kitchen in an orange glow as you carefully measure out flour failing to keep it balanced with only one good hand. You scowl down at your bandaged palm as you dump the contents into the bowl. You should just wait for your sister and make her do it, but you opted to let her sleep in to throw yourself into a distraction.

What if he wasn't able to get anymore medicine?

Were you supposed to watch as your father withered away and let death come into your home once more?

You're so lost in thought you don't even hear the front door open until it shuts.

He's standing there in front of the closed door taking up every space he wanted to, and doing it beautifully. You struggle to form the question, to string together a sentence to convey your confusion. He answers anyways, "I wanted to check on you." He motioned with a finger to your hand.

You glance behind him, "How did you kn-!"

He steps further inside before you can finish, taking in the sight of your kitchen/makeshift bakery. "Do you need any help while I'm here?" You know your expression must exhibit the shock still running through your veins as he stands in your home because he smiles softly and rolls up his sleeves, "I'm sure it would be easier than kneading with only one hand."

You submit and take a step back, "Sure uh..." You motion to the bowl, "It needs two more cups of flour." You watch him walk forward, too clean for the room despite the grim coating the tips of his fingers. "You can wash your hands in there." You point to the sink.

"How is your hand?" He asked as he runs his long fingers through cool water.

You glance down at the now tarnished bandage across your palm. "Only stings sometimes." You look back up at him, "My left one gives me more trouble."

He turns off the sink and uses a rag to dry his hands off. "Why's that?"

You watch him with careful eyes move around your kitchen to collect the supplies he made you abandon. "Just years of abusing it." He eyes your left wrist and then scoops out flour. You have to show him how to measure it out properly but he gets it for the most part. You feel yourself relax watching him add it all to the bowl and mixing it.

"Now what?" He asked over his shoulder.

"We let it rise." You walk over to throw a clean rag over the bowl.

"How long?"

You can't help the smile. "A minimum of five hours."

He put his fist against his hips, "Well what do you do while you wait?"

"Make more dough."

So you do. You stand next to him this time walking him through each ingredient helping by throwing in the teaspoon of salt for him. You find yourself laughing as the time slips away, as you sprinkle out the flour for him to knead the dough into. You enjoy the way his body feels near yours, how his arm accidentally brushes against you. He isn't the best, but you had a feeling he never did something like this before, and he was helping.

He wipes the back of his hand across his forehead, "How are you not more buff?"

You flex your right arm, "I think I'm quite scary."

He smirks down at you bringing his hand up to wrap around your bicep, "Terrifying." His hand burns your skin as you stare up at him, as blue eyes drink up your face like cool water on this horrid summer day. He's too close, he's too warm and you watch the droplet of sweat slide down his temple.

Your mouth waters. You blink and step back, "I usually don't make this much in one day."

"So you're using me?" He jokes as you slide the tin to cook the bread in.

"Something like that." Your cheeks are flushed and you gently take the loaf from him to place in the tin. "My sister can do the rest. You probably should head back before you get in trouble."

He nodded, "I brought you something." You open your mouth to protest not wanting to push your luck with all his generosity, but he digs into his pocket anyway pulling out fresh medical grade bandages no doubt from his peacekeeper base.

"Oh I can't." You whisper.

"I insist." He takes your hand anyways your body moving forward slightly. "I feel awful about being the reason you got cut up."

You glance up at him as he takes the old wrap off. "You didn't..."

He only smiles to himself as he cleans off the cut because maybe he was. You remembered hitting Gavin on purpose, remembered picking up shattered glass over hushed conversation, and then he was standing over you fresh blood leaking from your hand. It didn't matter, not truly, at least not to you. It would heal and fade and barely be a memory.

His thumb slides over the freshly clean bandage across your hand, "If you need anything..." Your eyes meet as he holds onto your hand, you want to tell him theres no need. Well there was but he couldn't know that, it would get everyone involved killed.

"You've been kind enough."

"Hmm." His other hand comes up, fingers brushing away flour coated hair from your face. "I don't mind."

You nearly sigh as his fingers trail down your face, "Thank you." You whisper out his fingers holding your chin between them.

"Clumsy girl." Something darkens in his eyes as his body lets off too much heat leaning down towards you.

Your breath catches feeling the warmth of his own against your face. You're not supposed to do this, he's not supposed to do this, but you can't seem to care as a slickness forms between your legs. Your lips part and he's quick to press his thumb into your bottom one the tip poking into your mouth antiseptic and flour leaking onto your tongue.

The floorboards down the hallway creak, and he drops your hand the same time you step away from him. With a blazing blush you try to kindly smile at him to avoid the feelings crawling up your spine, to avoid whatever awkwardness might arise.

He dips his head in farewell and leaves before anyone sees him in your kitchen.

Your sister muses beside you as you move around the small stand tidying it up to busy your hands. The frayed edges of the bandages were a good indication that the wound was healing but you kept it wrapped tight while you had something decent covering it. You trace the line of dust colored tape remembering the feel of his warm palm pressed underneath and you hate the skip in your chest.

You glance up eyes meeting Gavin and all pulse inducing thoughts vanish. He frowns as he shakes his head, your heart plummets realizing he won't be able to get your father any medicine. He's gone the next second as your thoughts pound down on you with every worse case scenario flying through it. You go to look at your sister, but she's speaking with someone.

The peacekeeper she had been with the other night is handing your sister money a tender smile in his lips as he pushes too much into her hand. "My Ma will love these." He points to the loaves he wants. "She misses district cooking, says the flour in the Capitol doesn't taste the same." His eyes find your surprised ones and he only motions to the loaf, "Your sister told me all about your famous sourdough, so I had to come try it out."

"Sejanus." She tells you.

"Thank you." You nod studying him, "Your mother is in the Capitol?"

Sejanus's eyes grow distant. "Yeah." He doesn't continue and you know better than to push.

"Sejanus." You look towards the familiar voice your new blonde acquaintance walking up to his side. "Is he bothering you?" He jokes.

"Quite the opposite." It's your sister that responds an innocent pink tint in her cheeks.

The blonde smirks at you, "I'll wrap these up for you so you both can be on your way." You pulled the loaf back and turned around to wrap it up for him.

"How long have you known Gavin?" You tried not to straighten up even though you felt your body locking up at the mention of him.

"Who?" It sounded so stupid coming out of your mouth, too high pitched as your fingers fumbled with the tie on the bread. You never called him by his name, it was easier to pretend you didn't know him at all.

"Gavin." You turned cradling the loaf in your arms. Your eyes scanned the market, you saw your sister and Sejanus conversing off to the side leaving you alone in interrogation.

You chuckled awkwardly handing over the bread. "I don't know who that is."

But his hand came around yours as you held it out for him, long fingers trapping yours a shock going up your bones wherever skin met skin. "Hmm. Must have been a mistake then."

You offered him a smile, "Do you want anything?" You needed to changed the subject, if he saw you with Gavin somehow besides when you ran into him, if he knew... "Don't you want a little taste of all your hard work?"

"I didn't bring any money." He slipped the bread into his hands.

But you were being rash as you sliced a piece for him, "Here, free sample." You watched him take it, "Don't tell anyone I let you have one."

He popped it into his mouth, "It'll be our little secret clumsy girl."

You turned away to hide your blush as your sister returned, "We should go out again tonight." She tried to phrase it as a question, but her voice was too loud and you had a feeling her and that boy planned it all.

You glanced back at them, at those pretty blue eyes, and your worries seemed to be a little bit smaller. She nudged your leg but you didn't need much convincing wanting to let her have as much joy while she still could, "Fine."

She lets you borrow another dress, a dark green one that falls above your knees flowers knitted along the bodice. You hate that your stomach is in knots as you walk with her, you hate that you're interested in what you will find, interested in him. You knew it was wrong but you couldn't help being intrigued how he made your heart race.

She slides through the crowd with you holding your hand with a rough grip to drag you with purpose. She knew where she was going. "Sejanus!" She beams dropping you hand and rushing towards him.

"I got you guys drinks already." He says holding out two mason jars of clear liquor.

You take it graciously and peer around the room suddenly feeling like you were intruding on whatever your sister was planning for her night. So you push around them and climb onto one of the empty barrel chairs and sip on your drink watching the couples spinning around the dance floor.

"I think Sejanus has a little crush on your sister." You feel his chest against your back first as his words float down to you both of you watching the pair laughing together in serene oblivion. You fight the urge to lean back into him.

You take another drink to calm your nerves as his fingers splay along the table near you. "Is he nice?"

His mouth in near your ear now, lips pressed to the shell of it. "Nicer than me."

You swallow turning your head slightly to take in his face so close to your own, "Are you nice?"

"I'm gentle when I want to be." His eyes take in your lips and then float back up again. You tug at your bottom lip the room suddenly beginning to feel too warm, too small. "Dance with me." He pulls back straightening up.

"Oh that's not-!"

But he has your hand in his, and he's helping you to your feet leading you away to the dance floor moving you around until his other hand lands on your hip pulling you in close. The song is slow, but you barely hear it as your breaths come in too loud with his chest pressed against yours. You let him lead watching the small smirk spread across pretty pink lips as your feet move in tandem with his, "Look at that." He chuckles, "My clumsy girl knows how to dance."

My clumsy girl.

It makes your stomach flutter and you know you should stomp out whatever was growing there, but you let him come closer, let his thumb trail across your left wrist to feel your quickened pulse. "Does it always hurt?" He asked.

"No." You can't look away from him even as his eyes are trained on your weak wrist. "Only when I use it too much."

"Hmm." He stills. Then he's slowly bringing your left wrist towards his mouth to plant a single kiss to the veins running underneath it.

Your face burns, your skin burns, you're overwhelmed by the heat.

Someone shouted and your head whipped around as bodies slammed into one another a fight breaking out in the middle of the room. You took a step forward to find your sister but the hand wrapped around your left wrist is dragging you back, yanking too hard where he shouldn't. He was pulling you from the crowd away from the brawl and people shouting, you looked over your shoulder seeing Sejanus sheltering your sister away as well. The side door flew open and slammed shut making you jump by the sudden loudness as the noise of The Hob became distantly quiet.

You turn towards him in the dark alley and can only get a single breath in before he's moving towards you, backing you up against the brick wall, caging you in.

"What are-!"

He swallows your words with a punishing kiss. You're mind goes blank. You feel his hands under your jaw cradling your face, his tongue grazes your bottom lip begging, baiting for you to open but the shock seals you shut. You taste the moonshine on his mouth, the stale flavor of minty military toothpaste and your hands finally go to his chest to push yourself away from him.

"We can't."

He only digs himself further into you smashing your mouths together once more. This time its his teeth that sink into your bottom lip roughly, sharply, until the taste of rust takes over everything else. You gasp in pain as he uses that to shove his tongue into your mouth. He tilts your face up more melding your mouths together and for a moment you do get lost in it, in the blind overwhelming passion, but theres something else there you don't turn your head towards as he grips you too tightly, like he doesn't want you to slip away into the night.

You kiss him back, you even tangle your fingers in his clothes savoring the way he consumed you.

His hand goes to your waist inching up your ribs with every devilish swipe of his tongue. Your eyes fly open as his thumb slides across the underside of your breast. Your hand goes to his wrist to still him, but he grabs it to pin it to the wall above your head.

"Ouch," You whisper out as he bends the joint too far. "You're hurting me."

His lips ghost down your neck, "Sorry," Your eyes flutter close as his teeth graze your carotid. "Can't seem to help myself."

"We-we should stop." You try to get your hand back but he's holding it too tight. "Someone could see us."

He goes still, finally pulling his head up to stare down at you. "Like who." It isn't a question and your brows furrow, "Are you worried your little boyfriend Gavin will see?"

"Wh-What?" You almost laugh. "I don't even-!"

His hand wraps around your throat, not hard, but enough to shut you up. "You're lying. I know theres something going on between you two, I saw the way he looked at you that night, and again at the market, all forlorn and devastated."

"He's nobody." It hurt you to say that after his kindness all these years.

"At least we agree on that." He yanks your jaw forward to sneer down at you, "I don't like sharing clumsy girl." He drops your hand and lets go of your face letting you roll the weak joint around.

You glance up at him, "Why are you being like this?"

He doesn't look at you just watches as he shifts his foot around, "I'll walk you home." He grabs you by the bicep pulling you from the alley and leading you home.

The walk home is silent as you trudge slightly a step behind him suddenly aware of how naive you had been to become tangled with him. He was a peacekeeper, a pawn for the Capitol, why did you ever think he could be something else too? Yet, you still felt something fluttering as your eyes took in his tall frame, remembering running hands along his muscled chest as he kissed you.

"Thank you." You tell him as he deposits you at your door. He did make sure you got out safely during the fight, and walked you home when he didn't need to. You met his blue eyes, maybe there was more to him than rough edges.

He doesn't respond only takes your face in his hands and kisses you roughly sucking on the throbbing wound along your lip until you groan out in pain again, and even then he keeps kissing you, keeps biting you until he finally steps back. His eyes look you up and down before he turns around and heads back into the darkness.

You watch his figure disappear, you stand there for a moment staring at the space he had occupied tracing the bruising lip he had given you still tasting the sweat, and spit, and blood.

You turn your face to the sun letting the early rays drench your skin. It was quiet out here, away from the district, only the birds and bugs to keep you company while the rest of the world slid away from existence.

You let the grass sway against your feet as you curled your legs underneath you staring down at your freshly uncovered hand. It had healed, but the small pinkish scar ran along your palm. You traced it with a sigh unsure where to place everything you were feeling regarding the man who has now given you two wounds.

As if on queue the ground is being crushed by boots and you whip your head to the side watching him approach you. He stops a few feet away a bunch of dying dandelions in his hand, "Your sister told me you might be out here." You hug your legs to your chest as you watch him step forward more. "I wanted to come apologize. I don't know what came over me. I think I had too much to drink and got angry about something stupid." He stops in front of you, blocking the sun holding out the bundle of yellow weeds. "These are for you."

You study his face, sunlight leaking out around his head like a halo casting his shadow over your body, and then you hold out your hand for him to place them in.

"Angry about what?"

He takes it as a sign and sits down next to you. You glance down at the dandelions. "I would have rather given you roses," He reaches out tucking hair behind your ear making you look at him; you know that wasn't what he had been upset about. His hand trails down your face brushing softly along your bottom lip. You wince slightly, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"We're not supposed..." You trail off the words seeming ridiculous in your head, but you weren't supposed to be together.

He inches closer to you until his leg is touching yours, "I know."

It didn't seem like it would stop either of you as you feel yourself leaning into his touch, "Just don't do it again." You find yourself saying taking his excuses and letting him cup your face to lean in towards you. Your breath hitches as his whole hand slides along your jaw, body heat radiates off him like the oven in your kitchen after a day worth of baking and you melt into it. You let him turn your body, let him lay it down on the bed of grass.

His bottom lip brushes yours and you close your eyes. You're aware of everywhere his hands are touching you, your hip, your jaw, aware of his thigh against the front of yours. His tongue licks upward hitting your top teeth and you sigh into his mouth as fingers dig into flesh, as your hands come up to his chest, as he kisses you slipping his tongue into your mouth, slowly, exploring the texture and groove of your mouth. Your hands twist into clothing, his grip hardening as you kiss him back gently, tentatively, like you know you shouldn't but you can't help it.

His hand covers your breast, kneading flesh through your clothes and you find your fingers around his wrist, the protest climbing in your throat, but it struggles to come out as his thumb passes over your nipples. It's overwhelming and raw and wrong. None of it makes sense, not as his mouth kisses across your jaw, down your neck, sucking the sensitive flesh as he rolls your nipple through fabric.

You feel his smile against your neck as you moan dragging his fingers down your body to slip under the hem of your dress. Your hand flies to his wrist again as he climbs up your thigh, he lets you wrap your fingers around his arm, "Shh..." He mutters into your skin. "Let me." He kisses down the column of your throat. "Let me make you feel good." He kisses you collarbone and slowly your fingers are slipping off of him. "Good girl." He traces the fabric of your underwear, sliding his fingers under the side as your toes curl into grass.

With another soft kiss he pushes two fingers inside of you. You close your eyes turning your head as you take a deep breath feeling him curling inside of you, feeling him push in deeper.

"Look at me." He whispers as his hand begins to move in and out of you at a gentle pace. You slowly turn your head, the heat staining your cheeks red as you take in his face. "Do you like this?" You bite your lip nodding your head as he strokes a sweet spot inside of you. "Tell me." He mumbles onto your lips.

Your mouth parts in a gasp as his palm presses down onto your clit and he's swallowing your pleasure. "It feels good."

"What feels good?" He's moving faster, his hand thrusting harder into you. He licks into your mouth caressing the moan out of you, "What feels good clumsy girl?"

"You!" You pant into his open mouth sweat glistening off your pounding chest.

He pulls back to stare down at you, "You gunna cum for me?" You squeeze your eyes shut, back arching into him the pressure building in your stomach as his hand shifts to press his thumb down on your clit to move in tandem with his hand. You feel your legs shaking beneath him, "You are. You must." He sighs contently and it's enough to throw you over the edge, heels digging into the ground, hands gripping his shirt as you clamp down around his hand. You have your eyes squeezed so tight the sun blinds you when you finally open them, as the orgasm blows over you like the breeze pushing the blades of grass.

You don't even realize he pulled his hand out until he's standing over you feet planted on either side of your spread thighs.

"What are-!"

His soaked hand is running along his cock, stroking himself over you. "Just lie there." He tells you with his tongue between his teeth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he fucks his fist to your exposed body. You want to look away, not stare, not pay attention to the lewd sounds his hand was making as it slid up and down his hard length.

But you can't help it. Not as he pants out curses, not as he drinks in your body, your face like a man starved for water. You meet his eyes, dark and focused on you and find yourself mesmerized by him.

"Take them off." He grunts out motioning to your drenched panties. "Now." You're still shaking from the orgasm, at least you think, as you slide them down your legs. "Show me." He moves his hand faster as your brows furrow slightly. He presses down on your thigh with a hard boot and you bite your cheek to cover the whine of pain, "Show me."

You let your head relax onto the grass as you part your legs for him to stare at your bare cunt. You watch clouds go by in the blue sky listening to him groan as he fucks his hand to the sight of your naked girlhood. You fist the bottom of your dress chewing on your swollen bottom lip.

Suddenly hot ropes of cum splatter across your bare chest and dress as he slowly keeps pumping his fist letting every drop leak onto you.

The world is darker as he blocks the sun once more, like a fallen angel losing its light as his cum dries on your sweaty skin. He tucks himself away before kneeling down across your torso. He runs two fingers through the clumps of white along to tops of your breast, stares at it, then stares at you. "Open." Your lips part slowly and he's pushing his fingers into your mouth shoving cum onto the back of your tongue. "Lick it off." Something strange creeps up your spine, something you are not sure you like, as your tongue swirls around his fingers taking the salty substance down your throat. "My clumsy girl." He flattens his fingers out, pressing your tongue down and then he pulls them out. He runs his hand along your chest once more smearing everything across bare skin, watching it shine in sunlight along your naked chest, slipping it under the top of your dress to coat it along your breast. He takes his hand back, admiring his work, and wipes his hand off on your clothes.

He picks your underwear off the ground and tucks them away. Then he's walking past you, leaving you lying there.

The sun feels colder as it hits your body, as you trace the boot shaped indent he had left in your leg.

A week passes by and you never see him. You find yourself searching for him involuntarily wherever you go. You glance out of your kitchen window to see if he's walking up to your home, you peer around the market to see if he's paroling the perimeter with the other peacekeepers, you even find an excuse to pass by the base to see if he's just beyond the fences.

You weren't sure why you were doing it, you weren't sure why it tugged at something inside of you, you weren't sure why deep down in your subconscious you felt...relief.

You didn't study that feeling too much.

Maybe he had left, shipped off somewhere else far away from you. Maybe he had gotten what he wanted from you and now he would move on to the next naive girl. You hated that he possibly viewed you as naive, you hated that you knew it was true. You had been naive. You always tried so hard to be smart with your heart, but the first glance at a pair of pretty blue eyes had made you forget, made you clumsy.

You shook your head as your fist pounded dough, falling in love with a man like that would be stupid. Falling in love with him would be like falling in love with darkness; frighting and consuming unless the moon was out. You didn't even know darkness's name.

No, you had just let him touch you far more than you should have simply because you enjoyed the way he kissed you, like he wanted to swallow you completely to keep you with him. You liked the way he made you feel like you were wanted, like you were his. You didn't want to be his...well maybe in a different world that had a different answer.

There was something else there, something horrid that chilled your bones whenever he looked at you in certain lights. You found your relief sitting right next to that feeling.

The door creaks open and your head spins so fast hoping he's finally come to see you.

Your heart sinks, "Gavin." You blink to hide worry, "You shouldn't be here."

He comes into the room more, "I know, I'm sorry. I felt awful about.."

"It's not your fault." You offer him a reassuring smile even though its fake. You tried to understand, but mostly you felt angry.

He sighs leaning against the counter across from you, "Well I had to keep trying." He digs into his pocket before sliding the vial over to you. You stare at it too shocked to move, "I was only able to get one but-!"

You're running around the counter to hug him, "Thank you." He pats your back as you pull back to beam up at him like life had somehow been shoved back into you. You step back grabbing up the vial to tuck away.

"Just make it last a month." He tells you, "I don't know when I'll be able to get more."

You nod heading to a cabinet and pulling down two loaves of bread to give to him as payment. You push them across the counter at him, "Thank you." You repeat because thats all you feel; gratitude and hope.

He scoops up the bread, "Your sister has been hanging around that Sejanus a lot."

You sigh, "I know...he seems nice." You smirk over at him, "But you know how peacekeepers can be."

"Oh I know." He chuckles but nods. "He's a good guy, hotheaded about stuff he shouldn't be, but he's alright." He knocks his knuckles against the counter, "I should head out. Take care kiddo." Gavin walks to the door leaving you in better spirts than he came.

You spend the rest of the day cleaning, sitting by your father's bedside after giving him half a dose of the medicine. He doesn't ask where you got it from, and you don't tell him. You know he suspects how but he never brings it up choosing to let you both live in the bliss of unknowns. You wait until he falls asleep to leave his bedside closing the door to leave him in peace.

It's dark outside as you close the curtains on all the windows before picking up the boxes of trash you needed to take outside. You sigh heavily as you hoist them up onto your hip and push the door open.

The outside is quiet and moonless, dark and empty, an amber street light offering the only glow along your home to guide you on the path around the house. Once everything is out of your hands you finally hear the crunch of gravel, the hair on the back of you neck stands up.

You stare out at the darkness feeling it stare back.

"Hello?"

Your body is slammed backward against your home before you're crumpling to the ground. A hand wraps around your arm to pull you to your feet to shove you back against the wall.

Your heart skips. "You're a liar." He snarls in your face before shoving your head back with the palm of his hand. "I hate liars."

"I-I di-!"

He slaps you across the face, it snaps to the side in a stinging blow. "You said he was nobody." You're too shocked to respond, to ask. "Why the fuck was he here?" Ice trickled down your body as you realize he had saw Gavin here today.

You slowly turn your head, "You never came...I looked for you."

An owl hoots off in the trees as his silence engulfs you. He holds your face between his thumb and finger before coming closer whispering onto your lips, "And then you were all over him like the little slut you are." You stare up at the black sky, "Don't even deny it I saw the two of you hugging in your little hovel."

"It's not what it looks like."

He lets go of your face only to slap it the other direction blood filling your mouth as your lip split all over again. He takes a step back and you try to regain control of your breathing.

"You said you wouldn't hurt me again."

"No you told me not to." He grabs you by the hair and flings you to the ground. "And I don't need to listen to you." Your knees hit the dirt first and you try to move, try to shove away, but his hand is twisted in your hair holding you in place in front of him. "You want to act like a slut." You hear him unzipping his pants. "You'll get treated like one."

You let your eyes close and ignore the sounds of him, ignore what is about to happen, ignore that just a few days ago you had wanted this, wanted him. He tugs on your chin and you let him open your mouth to push himself into it until he hits the back of your throat. His hand hits the wall as he sits there on your tongue for just a moment the taste of him dripping down your throat, it taste like the sweat you had seen slide down his forehead in your kitchen, taste like the scent of him when he bandaged your hand and his body had been so close. You despise how good it is, despise that your body warms. He pulls back and slides his cock back into your mouth over and over and over again until fresh tears spill down your face, as spit covers your chin. He pushes your head back, your hands coming up to grip his thighs fighting the urge to touch him more, fighting the urge to bite down to make him stop.

"Fuck." He breaths and a soft moan leaves your throat causing him to laugh at you. "Like my cock that much huh?" He slams himself deep into your mouth growling as your head hits the wall behind you with the force, "Such a fucking whore."

You don't, you can't, you won't.

But your tongue darts out and your nails dig into his thighs and he's fucking your mouth until he spills down your throat.

"Don't swallow it." He commands pressing his forehead into his arm against the wall. You don't because he told you not to as his cock twitches against your tongue until it begins to soften. He pulls it out and tucks himself away before bending down to gaze at your ruddy tear stained face. "How does it taste?" He pushes hair away from your cheeks smiling as you don't respond his cum pooling in your mouth. He shuffles to the side before running something along your hands, "You feel that?" Your fingers trace the ridges, the grooves, recognizing the shape fear pouring out you. "Yeah that's right. I would hate for something bad to happen to you...or your sister." Your eyes try to stay on his face instead of the gun in his hands. "Don't ever fucking lie to me again." A thumb strokes your bottom lip, "Okay you can swallow now."

You gulp it down, letting the remnants of him slide down your throat as your dignity sat in the dirt between your knees. For a moment you stare at each other, his face half covered in darkness, half illuminated by lamp lights, and for some reason you just want him to kiss you again, hold you. His knuckle brushes the corner of your mouth wiping away whatever cum was trailing down your face. He stands up helping you back onto your feet.

You want to tell him to leave you alone as a tear slides out of your eye, but he cups your face. He leans down, brushing his lips along yours. "My clumsy girl."

"I...I'm not..." You close your eyes wondering which part of the sentence you were trying to disagree with, but he kisses you. He tucks his hand into the base of your skull pulling you closer to him and you find yourself giving into the sensation, giving into him. It consumes you, he consumes you, delving into your mouth, tasting the salty tears, the remains of him still wedged between teeth. You can't even break away from him, he has to be the one to pull away first.

"Don't make me hurt you again." He says it so gently you almost agree with him.

You pull back slightly to stare up at his face coated in the night sky. You feel paralyzed in his arms like a fear shaped boot broke through your vertebrae as the question muddled your brain.

How does this end?

"Sejanus!" You sister's voice floats through the room and your groaning as you stand up soothing the ache in your knees. "What brings you out here?"

Your heart stops in your chest as blue eyes meet yours. You hear the blood pounding in your ears as you stare at him, as he stares at you the room tunneling in on him. You can't even hear Sejanus's reply to the question, but he's digging into his pocket for money as your sister moves around the kitchen.

Your mouth feels dry as your eyes look towards the room your father slept in the same time his does. "How is your father?" You snap back to Sejanus who is now looking at you. "Your sister mentioned he was ill."

"He's fine." You clear your throat moving behind your counter.

"What happened to him?"

You're not sure where to look. "He had to work in the mines...it messed with his lungs."

"I'm so sorry." Sejanus says and you genuinely believe him. "I'm supposed to attend medic training maybe I could find some way to help him."

"How kind of you." Your sister replies as she wraps up loaves he overpaid for and suddenly walking outside with him leaving you alone in the kitchen with this man.

The room feels like its squeezing in on you as he drinks in your frightened expression. He moves, coming around the counter to be standing a few inches from you. You watch his hand come up to trace his fingers along your cheek. "Did you like it?" He whispers against your head. "Don't pretend you didn't." Blue eyes flicker around your face and he begins to chuckle at what he finds there, "I bet you fucking touched yourself to the taste of my cock in your mouth, came so hard with my cum still on your molars." He came close, breath fanning around your face, "You would do the same around my cock isn't that right?"

A tear slipped down your cheek in defeat.

"Say it." He cooed hand sliding down your body to grip at the flesh of your ass pulling your body flush against his. "Fucking tell me." He growled teeth against your own.

"I did." You whisper bile rising in your throat as you remembered sliding your hand, still slick from your spit on his cock, between your legs when you came back in the house. "I did."

"Hmm." He takes your left hand running his nail along your ulnar bone. Then he's stepping away from you, turning around, and leaving without another word.

You slide down the wall with your head in your hands confused, overwhelmed, ashamed. There was only one thing to do to stop this tidal wave of psychological torture you were inflicting on yourself.

You wait for the next hanging, you wait for the next distraction when everyone's heads are turned away, and then you slip out into the night quietly making your way to the peacekeepers base. It's sweltering hot as you crouch behind buildings and slip between broken fences to get where you need to go. You feel sweat dripping down your back, sliding down the side of your temple as you keep to the shadows waiting...waiting...

You used to know his schedule so well, but you had become distracted, sloppy and now you weren't sure if you would even see him tonight to plead for his help. This was stupid, this was silly even if you did find Gavin what were you to say? This devious blue eyed man was stalking you, harassing you? You had let him. You had let him into your home, into your life, let him defile you knowing it was wrong, knowing you were courting death. Even if Gavin believed you his commander would just find a way to make it your fault and get you in trouble somehow.

Your shoulders deflated. You felt stuck.

You glance beyond the wall at the medical building. How simple would it be to slip inside and pull what you needed while no one was watching.

You're moving before you can talk yourself out of it, slipping inside the unguarded door to the thankfully empty room. It smells clean with neat unoccupied beds lining the wall and you wonder how much good they could do if they actually offered to help the district's people. It motivates you to start searching, digging through draws to find anything that could help your father. You feel adrenaline rushing through you making your vision too focused as you sift through vials of medicine that wasn't what you needed, your heart is racing, pounding in your ears as the quiet outside beats down on you.

You pause, it's too quiet. You got inside too easy. It shouldn't be this easy. The hair on your neck stands up a feeling you only got when-!

Flood lights creep into the window shining against his beautifully wicked face as the tears slide down your unblinking eyes. You couldn't look away as he slowly walks forward. He comes near you, face pressed into the side of your hair. "Little thief."

You feel him push hair off your neck to trace your jaw. "I didn't st-!"

His hand is around your throat quicker than a snake's strike and he's shoving you until your back hits the metal cabinet against the wall. "You as bad a liar as you are a thief." You claw up his arm as he stares you down, "I wanted to see you tonight, walked all the way to your little hovel just to find out you weren't there." He squeezes harder as your vision pulses at the edges, "Is this a little rendezvous for you and that stupid boy?" You furrow your brows in pain, in confusion so he slams your head back against the cabinet your ears ringing. "Don't play dumb I know you came here for him." He came forward, "You belong to me."

You fingers loosen on his forearm as you plead with your eyes. I know, I know. You try to tell him so he lets you go, lets you breath.

He does and you gasp for air, blinded by it, overwhelmed with oxygen you don't even realize he's shoving his hand inside of you. "Stop!" You croak out. "Please." But it's too breathy as he presses his forehead to yours curling his fingers as you plead into his open mouth. "I didn't-I didn't do..." You trail of into a moan as his palm presses down against your clit.

Blue eyes stare you down and for a moment you forget he's angry, you forget you're scared.

He yanks you from the wall and shoves you face down into one of medical beds. It groans as your hand tries to force yourself up but its too weak so you're flinging backwards towards him as he hoist your dress up. "Don't." You plead. "Don't do this." You swallow, "He used to help my father. I'm sorry. I-I only want you please, not-not him."

He leans down, kissing your shoulder. "Then don't you want this?" You feel his hard length press against your body.

"Not like this." You squeeze your eyes shut, fingers digging into the metal frame of the bed.

"How would you have me then?" His mouth grazes up your neck. "In your little bed spread open for me?" His mouth presses against your ear, "Or would you want to be top? Up against a wall? Out in the grass and dirt on all fours like an animal?"

His teeth dig into your ear lobe, "I-I want to look at you." You had imagined it, on the nights you came to the images of him above you, rocking into you with gentle ease. It was candle lit and sweet and everything he never had truly been. You tried to turn to look at him, "I want to know your name."

"No." He pulls away from you. You lay there for a moment wondering if this was all some sick way to scare you, that he wouldn't actually do anything. "Don't worry. I don't want you like this either." He shifts around and soon enough cold metal is skimming across your inner thigh.

"Wh-!"

He pushes the gun into you before you can breath. You cry out at the intrusion, your back arches as something burns from inside of you that you know you shouldn't like. He pulls it back slightly to push it in again and again and again thrusting the weapon in and out of you until you start panting. "Please." You whimper unsure what you're pleading for and he's too quick to slide his hand underneath you, rubbing circles into your clit as he fucks you into this thin mattress with his gun. You're a mess, your feet struggling to hold you as your climax builds rapidly. You feel yourself clench around it fisting the sheets, groaning into them to muffle the sounds.

You fucking moan.

You're not even sure if its in pain or enjoyment. "Like that huh?" He asked pressing down onto your clit hard, the ridges on the gun hitting some strange delicious angle. "Like me fucking you with my gun." You squeeze your eyes tight feeling the heat pooling in your stomach, you even push your hips back to take more of it. He growls, "Gods you're a sick fucking slut for it."

Maybe you were delirious, maybe you were everything he said you were, maybe it was the fact he could kill you right now with one slip of his finger, but your orgasm slams into and your gushing around his gun like some pathetic whore fingers twisting into sheets. You're overwhelmed with it, the darkness around you blending together as it takes you under and spits you out. You feel him yank it out of you and set it carefully on the bed beside you.

You feel wrong, you feel empty as you lay there against the bed in a post orgasm bliss and all you want to do is cry. "Come here." The bed dips as he sits next to you, his arm wrapping under your body.

"Let me go!" You sob but he flips you around to cradle your shaking body in his arms. "Let me go." You try again, weaker this time as your body leans into his, as his hand strokes down the side of your head. "Let me go..." You close your eyes as more tears stream down your flushed cheeks.

He never does.

He holds you for a while, his chin resting atop of your head while he caresses your body in his arms until the sky outside the windows starts to split into purples and pinks. He unravels himself from you guiding you to your feet, and without a single glance he walks out of the room. You stare after him loneliness engulfing you in its grey flame.

You drag yourself out of the building and back home, your own disgusting pleasure sliding between your thighs the entire walk.

You go to your father's room taking up the seat beside his bed and close your eyes for a second. "You're sad." He said quietly.

"I'm tired." You sigh.

He chuckles, "Same thing." You meet his gaze, "Does this have anything to do with that peacekeeper?" You sit up straighter unintentionally. "He came by earlier looking for you." You can barely hear what else your father says as you stand up going to the bedside drawer. You catch snippets of him warning you, telling you to be careful, but your eyes narrow on the empty drawer.

The empty drawer.

"He was in here?" It cracks on the way out.

But the front door flies open and your sister is standing in the bedroom doorway out of breath and frantic. Your eyes meet and you know something horrible has happened because of you.

Death was breathing down your neck.

The wind blows your unbound hair back as you stare shocked at his shackled feet dangling in a suspended moment in time. You can't bring yourself to look at his face, at that sweet face that had always helped you time and time again. It was pale now, bruised and cold, and dead.

He was dead.

Gavin was dead, hanging there like he had been nothing.

The tears leaked down your face.

"It didn't make sense at first." He starts. You don't even jump at his voice behind you, nor do you move as he comes closer to you. "Why you purposely ran into him that night we met, or why he was watching you in the market, or why he came by your home, but then you said he had helped your father." You take a shaking breath, "Your sick father." You felt him behind you now, "I found all those empty vials in your home, the same vials you were probably trying to steal from the medical building." You hear him digging into his pocket pulling out an empty clear vial and throwing it at your feet.

The last of your father's medicine.

"I-I needed..." You choke out terrified. Because it was empty, because it was supposed to last you another month if you stretched it, but now it was gone and so was any chance of getting more.

"Daddy needed it more."

You slowly turned to look at him, "He didn't deserve this." You can feel his body hanging heavily like the rope was tied to your own hands. You had practically kicked the stool out from under his own feet that sent him hanging.

"No, he didn't." He cocks his head to the side. He steps closer to you tucking hair behind your ear and his gun looms behind him like a twisted guardian angel.

You stare up at him, "You're a monster."

He leaned down and snarled into your mouth, "Yes I am."

He was never going to stop, he was never going to leave you alone.

You shove him roughly and take off flying past the hanging tree, flying past Gavin's dangling body and into the woods behind it. You run further and further into the woods, you know he probably is faster, more trained than you, but you don't stop, you can't stop. Green and brown blur past you as you sprint through the forest. You try to look over your shoulder to see how far away he is, but you're too busy dodging trees, jumping over loose logs.

Then your foot snags of vines and your tumbling into the dirt. Your left hand takes the brunt of the fall and you bite down the cry turning swiftly ready to kick him away from you, but he never comes.

You sit up frantically looking around for him, but he's no where.

It's too quiet, so quiet the sound of your pounding heart blares into you, so quiet you hear the bullet as it whizzes past your head. It hits the tree behind you, splintering wood, and you don't wait as you scramble to your feet to keep running. You don't look back, you don't look down, you just keep running even as your body groans in weary pain, even as the next gun shot sounds off around you.

He was hunting you like the prey he always saw you as.

You pump your arms faster, push your legs harder zig-zagging your way through the trees as bullets hit the trunks around you. You're running faster than you can breath the only noise in your head was the fear pumping through your veins. Your lungs burned hotter every breath that spat out of your mouth as branches smacked off your face, arms, skin, blood splattering in its wake as you ran. You kept running, you kept running even though it hurt more than the idea of giving up.

You threw yourself behind a tree shoving your palm into your mouth to quiet the rattling gasp you took.

He wasn't far, you could hear leaves crunching underneath heavy boots.

You stifled the whimper.

He was whistling to himself as he slowly walked through the woods soft rain drops plopping down on the leaves above. "Clumsy girl," He sang as thunder clapped overhead. "No need to hide from me." His foot slowly snapped over twigs causing you to jump as he neared you.

You hear him shift and then the bullet hit the tree bark shattering around you as you take off again, but this time he's shooting at your feet dirt splattering across bare ankles. He's not shooting at you, he's herding you. And you had fallen for it.

His arm wraps around your neck yanking you backwards and slams you against a tree wet hair slapping across your skin, and then you're staring down the barrel of a smoking gun. He peers at you, "Why'd you run?" You spit at his feet causing him to laugh as he lowers the gun grabbing you by the throat and squeezing. "Why'd you run?" He presses in close, his nose digging into your cheek and you try to gasp at the firmness between his legs, but nothing comes out. You stare upward at the canopy of leaves as it goes in and out of panicked focus, as the life is choked out of you. Lighting cracks across the sky, rain drops hitting your purple face.

He lets go, lets you finally take a breath, lets your vision return to take in his devoid face.

There's nothing there but blue emptiness.

"You killed him." Your voice cracks. "He was just-!"

He takes you by the hair and throws you to the ground. You start to claw at him, kick at him to get him away from you, but he knows your weak spots all too well having studied every bad habit you had willingly showed him and grabs your right hand to pin it into the dirt. With as much strength as you can muster in it you slap him with your poor left hand pain ricocheting down the tendon. In one swift movement he plants his boot on your left wrist and presses down until you feel the fragile bones snap.

He doesn't cover your mouth as you scream, as pain blinds you, as you writhe under him sobbing rain pouring down now around you turning the ground into mud. He pushes hair off of your face, attempting to be tender after breaking your pathetic wrist drinking in the sounds of you agony like a God of pain, like crushing your bones was a form of foreplay. You roll your head away to take in the sight of your mangled hand twisted in all the wrong directions. It feels numb, you feel numb.

Then you are both staring at each other trying to breath. He watches your chest heave, you watch his mouth part eyes finally meeting. You're afraid to speak, afraid to move. Rain melts your skin as you lay there suspended in a moment of disbelief the distant pain washing away into the dirt beneath you.

"Why'd you run?"

"Because I'm afraid of you."

"Wrong answer."

He flips you over to lay you in the wet dirt as he climbs over you his belt buckle ringing in your ears, his gun thrown carelessly into the mud. No, no, no you panic as his hand pushes your skull into the ground smearing it to the side of your face, as you feel him between your legs. You frantically look around and with pain suffocating you, your broken left hand wraps around his gun and you slam it backwards into his head.

He tumbles off of you as you stagger upward pointing the gun at him wavering on your feet.

He laughs at you. "Well go on then." He nurses the bruise forming on his temple. You're shaking as you hold the weapon at him barely able to keep it upright, but he climbs to his feet. "No... we both know you're not capable of that."

"You don't know anything about me." You try to seethe, but it comes out feebly.

"Don't I?" He cocks his head to the side. "I know if you kill me you'll hang for it, and then your father will die too." He takes a step forward until the gun is pressed into his chest. "And who will be there to comfort your dear sister."

You dare let yourself smirk, "Sejanus. You said he was nicer than you."

His features falter for a millisecond, but then the mask is back. "Which we both know isn't nice at all."

Your finger quivers against the trigger. "Anybody is better than you."

His hand reels, and you think he's going to knock the gun from your hand but instead he slaps you across the face the gun firing into the sky. The force of the blow sends you back into the ground, but you're already moving again despite the sting in your cheek, the blood and dirt in your mouth, running through the storm crashing down onto everything. You see the break in the trees, the dark blue expanse of freedom if you could just get to it.

You gasp coming to an abrupt halt.

You look down.

You watch in a calm shock as blood blooms like a rose across your dress.

The pain never registers, not soon enough as your knee gives out first and you collapse back onto the ground watching him tower over you. You press your hand into the wound feeling the stinging anguish it causes while he watches your broken body bleed out on the forest bed. You were going to die, and all you could do was stare up at him while you hemorrhaged.

He turned on his heel and walked away leaving you to die alone.

You started crying then, crying and holding your weeping wound as the realization of it all crept into you.

"Come back." You sobbed out. "Come back." You whispered, rain and tears drenching your face.

Something flapped above you the black bird taking flight screaming your words out into the woods. "Come back." They called, "Come back." You watched them soar above you smudging together through the water in your eyes. It became a sad quiet song to drift you off into nothing if you let it. You didn't know how far into the woods you were exactly, but maybe someone heard the gunshots, maybe you could get up and try to make it home. Your body felt warm from the blood coating you and you figured you'd never make it home ever again.

You waited for Death.

Boots pounded into the dirt coming up towards you quickly scooping up your limp body and running with it. You groaned in pain trying to look up at him but gave up as your body dangled in his arms. He clambered up wooden steps and soon a door was slammed behind you quieting the storm outside.

You finally looked at him as he gently set you on the floorboards. He tears your dress down the middle examining the bleeding wound, and then he's digging. You scream, your vision going away at the sheer excruciating pain of it, you hope you'll just pass out soon but you feel his fingers inside your stomach, hear every wet noise as blood pours out of you.

You barely register the small ping as it hits the floor beside you. You relish the relief even as his hands press your shredded dress fabric into the bullet hole.

"Breathe." He tells you. "Just breathe."

"You shot me."

His brows are furrowed as he pulls the bloody clothes away and stands up rummaging through things. "I need to close it." Stuff clatters to the ground as the shiver racks through you. He comes back hold a fishing hook and line. You try to brace for it as it pierced your skin, as he tries to close the hole he caused. You flinch but the pain is secondary to everything going on around you, all you can seem to focus on is his face.

"You would be beautiful if you weren't so evil."

A ghost of a smile from him, "So, I'm your villain then?"

"Why else are you doing this?"

The muscle in his eye twitched and maybe because you're going to die he actually answers. "My whole life, all I've wanted was power." He pulls the line through your skin again as your teeth chatter. "With you..." He had power over you, he had control and ownership from the first moment he saw you, commanded you and you submitted so easily. He pushed the hook back through.

You weakly smile, "I must be pretty special huh?"

Something crosses his face, something you don't examine too closely. It's gone within seconds his hands tying off the stitch, "You're nothing."

He leans back studying the hack job of a suture he attempted on you, watches blood still slowly trickle out of it as you continue to shake in shock. "Yeah well...my blood is on your hands."

He stares down at his maroon stained fingers and then meets your gaze. He moves for you scooping you up in his arms and carrying you back out of the door. It's still raining as he walks with your limp body, mud squishing underneath his feet and then water, you hear splashing as he wades through the shallow water with you until his chest is submerged. "Are you going to drown me after all that trouble?"

You stare up at grey clouds as your body floats along the gentle waves. He laughs lightly, "No." He stares down at you running a wet hand along your cheek dirt coming away. "I'm cleaning the blood off."

You let him. You let yourself float lifeless in the dark water as lightning scatters across the clouds. You blink. You breath. You try to stay alive as your wrist throbs, as blood continues to spread out beneath you.

His hands are far gentler than they've ever been as they skid across skin cleansing you of all his sins. You can't stop looking at him, as rain drips off his lashes onto your lips quenching a thirst you know shouldn't be there. He looked so peaceful, kind even, the hero in this twisted story and you figured you had died on that cabin floor. Light was going to split the heavens and take your body, or maybe the ground would open up to drag you into hell.

Water sloshed in your ears. Maybe you would be stuck in this in between of your death, forever wounded, with him.

"Will you tell me your name?" You whisper as rays of sun peak out from behind treacherous skies.

He swallows as he begins moving back to shore, "If you don't die I'll tell you my name."

You close your eyes, body swaying with each long cold step he takes back to that cabin. You knew he wouldn't take you home, not until he knew he wouldn't get in trouble for murdering you. He uses a knitted blanket to dry you off and sets you back on the floor. No, you hadn't died yet as the chilling pain racked through your bones, "Am I gunna die?"

"I don't know." He kneels by your side. "I don't know." The rain still softly patters down against the roof as he watches you breath, "Why'd you run?" He whispers.

Your ribs burn as they expand, as they try to get oxygen to your struggling heart. And maybe because you're going to die you actually answer. Your lips part, mouth dry and numb, as tears slide across your face. "Because I'm afraid of what it makes me."

"What?"

"Falling in love with you." You watch his teeth grid, watch his fingers flex. But nothing else. "Will you hold me..." Your breath rattles, "While I go."

He pauses for quite a while, so long that you let your eyes close. The floor boards creak as he shifts, as his body lays down next to yours, as his arm tucks under your head and he pulls you close to his warm chest. You listen to his heart as yours slows. "I'm leaving." He starts, "I leave for officer training in the morning and I'm never coming back."

"Good." You nod. You'll never see him again, and yet it brings new tears to your eyes.

His fingers trace the curve of your ear, "Look at me." You tilt your head up to him and he leans down softly pressing his lips to yours. You pull your face from him letting the shaky breath leave you, and then you kiss him again.

He opens you up gently swirling his tongue into your mouth, caressing your own in its own embrace as his hands shift your body. You whine out in pain, but he doesn't stop until he's hovering over you. You don't stop him either. He kisses across your jaw, down your throttled neck, licking the hand print bruise he had left there. You wrap your good hand around the back of his neck to hold him closer to you as his own kneads into your breast. He keeps moving lower wrapping his mouth around your peaked nipple lavishing it with his tongue, sucking and biting it so tenderly it makes your back arch into him for the cost of more pain.

He moves down more until his head is between your thighs, prying your burning muscles open, kissing your clit first before running his tongue along it. "Look at you," He peers between your legs chuckling to himself, "And I'm your villain." You run your hand along his buzzed hair moaning for it, for him as he traces delicate circles into your clit fingers pushing inside of you making pleasure consume you so much you hardly remember your wounds.

He makes you forget them too easily. He wraps his mouth around your clit and sucks against it pressing down hard with his tongue until you see stars, until he has you completely undone by him. You moan out into the air as you cum against his face feeling him licking at you as you ride through it.

He picks his head up climbing back up your body, he stills taking in the botched wound in your stomach. He runs his tongue along it before kissing it ever so softly.

"Why did you save me?" You ask as you stare up at him listening to him unbuckle his belt once more. "Why did you come back?"

He blinks, "Because you asked me to."

You feel him plant himself between your legs, "Would you stay," A shaky breath. "If I asked you to." You had wanted and feared this and now you're not sure if you could ever want anything else.

He pushed inside of you slowly, stretching you open in sweet agony and relief. It's blinding and painful and nothing could have ever prepared you for how it would fill you completely. You breath into his open mouth on yours, feeling him slide in deeper, deeper, deeper until you're more full of him than yourself. "No."

Then he shifts to pull back, to slam back into you as you cry out in pain. Not at him, at everything else. You stare up at him the hard metal of his dogtags hitting against your face with every thrust. Your nails dig into his back, legs coming around him to pull him closer, feel his warm skin on your own. He nips at your bottom lip and you don't care that it hurts anymore, you don't care that he hurt you at all. He feels too good inside of you. His hand sneaks between your bodies to press into your clit, "Cum on my cock." He groans into your feverish skin the rough chain cooling your skin.

"Tell me your name." You moan tilting your hips for him. "I want-I want..." You want to know it, know him.

He only fucks you harder, unforgivably harder that has you squeezing your eyes in pain and ecstasy. He bites down on your jaw, digs his teeth into your jugular, taking piece after piece of you. He breaks skin, he splits you apart seam by seam until theres nothing left of you. You would let him crush you, break you if he wanted, as long as he didn't let go. You groan out as his tongue laps at the wounds he gave you, as his fingers dig into your waist to thrust into you hard until you finally cum around his cock pounding into you.

"My clumsy girl," He smiles into your collarbone. You're nodding, your arching your back for him, letting your pleasure consume you as his cock hits every deep rooted thing inside of you. You don't even realize he started moving faster, pounding into you harder. His hands grab you by the ribs and he's spilling inside you thrusting slowly as he pushes everything deeper. Until finally he stops moving.

You don't move, you can't. "I was supposed to win." Your chest hits his with every heavy breath, with every sacred word, "And then they died and I got sent here." Your throat feels incredibly dry. "It still isn't enough, I want more." He stares down at your right hand, then slowly traces the white gash along it from the night you met him. "Come with me." Your brows scrunch in confusion at his whispered confessional, "Come with me." He repeats again running his finger back over the scar.

"Where?" You croak.

He brushes his thumb over it once more, "The Capitol."

The images flash across your mind as you watch him. You by his side in pretty clothing sitting in a warm glorious home with food that wasn't leftover stale bread. Images of lounging on soft couches with his arms around you, with kisses sweeter than sugar and sunlight on your naked skin. He doted and cared and made you matter. And after years of constantly caring for others around you, it was an addicting daydream.

But it's gone like smoke on a mirror. You could only see death in his face, and as sweet and tempting that death would be it would be anything but. He wouldn't kill you softly. He wanted you in a cage for only his enjoyment and control and it would break you down until you no longer existed. He didn't truly care, he just wanted to prove he could, prove that he already had.

Blue eyes meet yours, your answer to him being read there as he finally pulls out of you the hollowness ringing through your soul. He stands up, tucking himself away before rummaging through the house he brought you inside of, then he comes back kneeling by your limp left hand. He gingerly takes it and ever so slowly begins to wrap it up tightly to set the bones back in place. You too numbed by the pain to register it, so you watch his face while he tends to your wounds. Then he sets it back on the ground but you grab his fingers before he lets go completely.

You tug on his ring finger. Stay, You say with your eyes in more ways than one, Stay. He could be free here, away from a haunted past that had made him vengeful and power hungry.

He doesn't say anything. He just lays down next to you, pulling you close once more as your eyes shut, as you drift off into nothing within his arms.

By morning he's gone.

You lay on that cabin floor as the truth sinks in. You're not dead, and he's gone.

He was gone. You were happy about it. You glanced around the cabin eyeing the white shirt spread out for you the silver chain draped across it. You reach for it fingers wrapping around his dog-tags.

You trace his name.

You tug the shirt on your body slipping the dog-tags around your neck and with the little strength you have, you stand up. It takes you a while but you leave the cabin tenderly walking back towards the damp shore. You wade out into the water, like he had done with you broken body, and lean back until you were floating weightless on your back, staring up at the bright sun.

He wanted his power, and he never would find that here; it would never be enough for his starving rotted soul. For some reason your heart hurt more than the ever bullet did.

You wished for his shadows. You wished for his death.

Your father died when winter came, it was too cold, and without medicine, once the winter fever set in he never had a chance.

Your sister does all the baking now. Your left hand never healed properly making it too difficult to use it, you try to help her in other ways, but baking reminds you of him and makes the wounds burn even though they were healed, you hate that they healed. You hate him.

You run your hand along the chain around your neck, the dog-tags tucked deep beneath your clothes. All you had left of him was that precious metal and a gunshot wound, and as you watch him sworn in as president, as your sister sells bread beside you, you hope one day Death sends a baker to destroy Coriolanus Snow.

endnotes: hi friends!! hope u enjoyed!! this story legit was so fucking hard to write. it had a whole different concept and characters and everything but it just never clicked with me even tho i had so many ideas but i couldn't figure out how to move through it fluidly. i rewrote this whole thing SO many times bc i couldn't connect with it, had to take a break, and finally ended up here with a version that wasn't what i set out for it to be, but ended up enjoying it a lot more ? i think hormones got to me and i just made it really sad instead of vicious :) but anyways!! love u all so much!!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

miscellaneous fellow honest headcanons

These aren't following any prompt in particular, these are just thoughts I had when I saw the guy hammin' it up and then turning on us.

Some of these headcanons are informed by fan art I've seen and discussions I've had with friends, while others are purely me.

Curiouser and Curiouser...

He calls people “little lads” and “little ladies”.

Fellow has a very noticeable laugh. Like, he grunts and snorts and has tears rolling down his cheeks. (He tends to laugh at others’ misery, thinking of it as “retribution” or “payback” for the injustices he has suffered himself.)

Bro shaves using a knife (yes, he shaves because he is a grown ass man) because razors are hella expensive.

He uses that cheap cologne and cakes it on THICK. This, in his mind, gives off the impression that he’s a well-off and put-together individual you should tooootally trust.

Also the type of person that lays it on thick with his words. If he’s trying to impress a date or something, he’ll shower them with so many compliments it almost seems fake. But no, he’s just the type to simp hard when he happens to be genuine 💀 most of the time he’s faking it though—

He’s very street smart, but in a way where he confuses hostile people by talking over them and acting overly friendly. They usually stuns them long enough for him and Gidel to skedaddle.

If he gets dumped, he'd be the pathetic whimpering boyfriend that begs for his ex to take him back. When they inevitably don't, he mopes all day about it.

He chain smokes and aggressively drinks as a coping mechanism on his bad days 😔 and sometimes he gambles (like, on those scratch-off cards) hoping that he'll strike it rich and buy him and Gidel a better life...

Basically, he generally does not have his shit together but tries his best to pass like someone who does (and usually succeeds at it).

Fellow appears in public wearing his full suit, but at home (ie whatever ratty temporary housing their boss found for them before they move on to the next place) he just wears a T-shirt and lounges around in boxers (and sometimes socks with holes in them).

He uses those disposable eyeshadow wands that snap in half at the slightest bit of too much pressure. Fellow acts like the Claire’s kid makeup he uses is the luxury stuff, but Vil can tell the pigmentation isn’t all there and there’s MAD fallout.

He may be broke AF and have his moments of emotional spiraling, but he has pretty decent budgeting skills. Fellow lives for sales and does extreme couponing to stretch their money as far as it will go.

He invests in other cost-saving methods like wearing shoes until the sole is literally flopping off and just adding water to residual soap in a pump bottle to make the soap "last longer".

Fellow is really good at cutting food (bread, beans) thin to conserve it. Yes, this is a reference to an old Mickey Mouse cartoon—

When he was younger, he had dreams of being an actor (and, more specifically, starring in musicals). That's why he's often humming, swinging around his cane, and/or whistling as he's on the prowl for idiots to sucker—they're remainders of his thespian days before his dreams were crushed into itty bitty pieces.

Man looks like he'd be great at tap dancing.

Before his current gig, he tried a bunch of other scams including a MLM at one point to get by. His signature spell came in pretty clutch in those days too.

Fellow’s not that good at reading or spelling—in fact, he was never a particularly strong student. (“I didn’t fail school!! The schools failed ME!!”) He’s easily frustrated by academics and thinks there should be more hands-on and practical skills taught in learning institutions.

I think it's a given that he and Ruggie would be besties since they both want to eat the rich but I also think Fellow would kiss ass to Azul and then rage about how shitty + entitled Azul is (Azul reminds Fellow of his boss)💀 Scammers hate other scammers because they're both competing to scam the same people--

Even though Fellow is an asshole to most others (well, when he’s not flattering them to lure them into a trap), he’s always nice to Gidel and puts him first. If there’s ever a situation where they’re short on something (clothes, food, etc), Gidel gets priority. This is why Gidel has a full outfit (even if parts are patches or mismatched) whereas Fellow himself has a glove that is so worn out there’s a hole in one of the pinkie fingers.

Fellow may not be blessed with a bounty of magic, but he’s quick on his feet and good with words. Because of these skills, he’s talented at spinning bedtime stories, which he often tells to Gidel to help him fall asleep on nights that are particularly cold and nasty.

Gidel still believes in Santy Claws and wishing upon stars, and Fellow doesn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. He’ll figure it out on his own one day, Fellow thinks. He just doesn’t want to be the one to ruin those childhood joys for him.

Playing pretend is another shared past time of theirs. It helps Fellow get into character before he goes off to swindle people, and it gives Gidel a way to express himself in spite of being mute. They have a routine they do together where Fellow pretends to be a doctor diagnosing a patient and Gidel takes down notes for him as his medical scribe. Yes, this is a Pinocchio reference—

They actually have many more games they play (mainly because they cannot afford other forms of entertainment). Some of the games are clever ruses conjured by Fellow to teach Gidel survival tips and tricks: the who-can-make-their-piece-of-bread-last-longer game, hide-and-seek (from the authorities), etc.

For special occasions, Fellow saves up some money on the side to grant Gidel little luxuries, like a box of crayons to doodle with.

Gidel hugs Fellow’s leg or waist to cheer him up when he’s upset. He also hides behind Fellow when he’s scared or feeling shy.

He’s just really attached to Gidel cuz they have no one else in this cruel world, just them against the world 😔 He sees a lot of his younger self in the little boy… the opportunities lost because of their circumstances… “It’s alright, Gidel. Leave it to Fellow-sama.”

[idioticallyisland]

bread roll are you a twink

[mononijikayu]

“slipping through my fingers” — gojo satoru.

Your little Satoshi pouted for a moment, clearly missing their presence.You were sure he was going to bawl about it as well, swaying him and reassuring him that he’s going to see them later on. But his loving father Gojo Satoru, was always quick to adapt and took over playing with him after breakfast. Crisis was averted in the department of tears as Gojo Satoshi giggled, his chubby hands clumsily trying to catch the ball Satoru rolled towards him.

GENRE: post hidden - inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, family, comfort, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, mention of pregnancy, mention of breastfeeding, mention of postpartum effects, depiction of the aftermath of birth, depiction of parenthood, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

LISTEN: slipping through my fingers by abba

NOTE: i had to skip nanami and toji because today is a very important day. today according to the united nations, is global day of parents. today we should honor parents, biological or not, or those we chose - they are people we should embrace. from gaza, to here in asia, to anywhere, all parents, all those who stand as our parents - they deserve all our love. happy global day of parents from me to you!!! i love you!!!

masterlist

u s and t h e m

kayu's playlist — side 700;

TIME PASSED BY SO FAST. The morning sun filtered through the light gray curtains, casting a warm, golden hue over the living room. It was rare for the Gojo household to be this serene. But you were happy that it was the case. It was as if a gentle rain of gentle peace had showered over your home the moment your son was born. It was as if he had completed this family. You knew you weren’t the only one that thought that way. 

You hummed softly, feeling the warmth on your skin as you prepared breakfast. It was a good morning.It was one of those rare days when your husband Gojo Satoru was at home. And that puts you in a good mood. Your husband doesn’t sleep much and more so. That has always worried you, even when he was your kouhai. Nothing had changed with the fact that he’s always out and about working and doing missions. 

But you worry still, that you aren’t there to soothe him and tell him it was alright to rest. When he’s home, you could do that. You didn’t have to worry as much as you usually do. Having him home means he could be here with the family. That also means he could stay in bed longer, savoring the simple pleasure of waking up next to you. These moments were precious, and you clung to them more than you could explain.

The start of the morning was happily slow, the house enveloped in a serene calm. You cherished the tranquility, knowing how fleeting it often was. As you moved about the kitchen, you could feel the warm sun against your silk robe. There it was again, the familiar sounds of the coffee maker and the sizzling of bacon omelets created a comforting symphony. The sound of the oven racks filled with fresh buttered bread. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the scent of breakfast.

You smiled as you thought about Satoru still in bed, his tousled white hair spread across the pillow, a rare sight of peacefulness. You poured a cup of coffee for yourself, adding two spoonfuls of honey. You knew Satoru would probably not be drinking coffee. 

But just in case, you made hot choco he could heat up in the microwave later, adding just the right amount of cream and sugar to him. You take out the eggs from the fry pan and humming as you take out the buttered bread from the oven. Balancing the breakfast plate, you made your way to the living room, placing the plates on the coffee table.

As you expected, the morning birds were already there waiting for you to wake. Megumi and Tsumiki were already awake when you got out of the kitchen. They sat on the couch, engrossed in a morning cartoon, Tsumiki’s laughter and chatter filling the room with warmth and Megumi’s quiet hums as he listened to his sister’s commentary while drinking his carton of choco milk. 

Tsumiki glanced up and greeted you with a bright smile. "Good morning!"

"Good morning, sweetie!" you replied, returning to the kitchen for your coffee mug on the table. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did.” Tsumiki grinned, hugging you by your sides.“Thank you for helping me put my new butterfly comforters last night, Gen-san!”

You smiled at her, urging her to breakfast. “Then go eat, hm?”

You then moved towards the sleepy porcupine haired boy, ruffling his hair with a small grin. He looked away from the television, offering a small, sleepy smile. “You must have been up reading those novels again, hm?”

Megumi's eyes widened slightly before he looked away. “...no, I didn’t.”

“Hmm… so if I check your room, I wouldn’t see a pile of books—”

“No!” He got defensive, standing up from his chair, now almost fully awake.

You blinked and looked at Tsumiki, and the two of you giggled together.

Megumi blushed as he sighed. You patted his head softly, causing him to blush even more. “You know, you’re lucky that it’s a Sunday, kid,” you smiled at him. “You would have been sleepy all day.”

“.....It was good.”

You kissed the top of his head. “I know it was.”

"Where's Satoru-san?" Tsumiki asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"He's still resting," you said, settling onto the couch beside them. "He had a long week, so we're letting him sleep in today."

Megumi nodded, his attention already drifting back to the show. You called Megumi down to sit by you and Tsumiki as you both ate your meals. Megumi was not the type to indulge in breakfast, he liked just drinking his choco milk and going on with the morning. But some days, he liked to indulge himself. He sat beside you, and put his choco milk on the side. Tsumiki and you started to chatter about the cartoon while Megumi ate in silence, nodding along with what you both were saying. 

Tsumiki was happy to help you carry the dishes back into the kitchen while Megumi took a cleaning rag and started to clean the coffee table spotless. Tsumiki started talking about what she was planning to do today, all the while you listened and handed the plates for her to dry with the kitchen towel. Megumi came by soon after, asking for help to wash the cleaning rag.

 When that was done, Megumi took out the lint roller and started to check for any speck of dirt like crumbs. When he was done, you three went back to the living room and started watching a movie together. Tsumiki snuggled closer on your right while Megumi slept soundly on your left. You smiled and hugged her back, and massaged Megumi’s hair tenderly.

The baby monitor on the table crackled to life, and you heard soft cooing sounds coming from the nursery. "Looks like our little one is awake for the day." you said, standing up. "I'll go get him."

Tsumiki’s eyes brightened as she nodded. You stood there carefully, trying to be careful not to wake Megumi. You walked down the hallway, the morning light from the wide windows guiding your way. Entering the nursery, you found your six-month-old son awake in his crib, his bright eyes lighting up as he saw you like an ocean in the dawn. You grinned at him.

"Good morning, sweetheart," you cooed, lifting him into your arms. He babbled happily, his tiny hands reaching for your face. “You had a good sleep, didn’t you?”

As you returned to the living room, you saw your husband Satoru emerging from the bedroom, rubbing sleep from his cerulean eyes. He smiled when he saw you holding your son. "Morning, my treasures." he greeted, his voice warm and filled with love. “You both look so lively today, aren’t you?”

“You should say ‘good morning’ to papa, shouldn’t you, Satoshi?” You cooed as you handed your son gently giggled as Satoru took him in his arms. 

“You’re just so happy to see ‘e, hm?” Your husband grinned as he gently wrapped his arms around your baby boy. “You should still sleep with us. I miss having you on our bed, ‘toshi.”

“Our Satoshi needs to learn how to be an independent little boy.” You kissed your husband tenderly on his lips, pouting as you part from him. “He’s not gonna last in our bed with all the rolling he’s been doing.”

“But ‘toshi wants to be with his mama and papa, don’t you, little one?” He cooes against your husband, both big blue eyes looking at you. “See, he agrees!”

“Not enough to be an argument.”

“Soon enough, ‘toshi. We’ll get there, don’t worry!”

"We shall see, naughty boys." you replied, grinning at him. "So, did you sleep well?"

"Like a baby," he chuckled, kissing your son’s cheek.. "Well, almost as well as our baby here."

You both laughed, and Satoru leaned in to kiss you, his lips soft and warm against yours. "I missed waking up with you, y’know?" he murmured. “Knowing you guys are here waiting for me to come home and I can’t be here. It sucks.”

"I’ve missed it too,’toru." you said, feeling a surge of affection for the man standing before you. "Let's enjoy this slow morning together, hm? Make it worthwhile until tomorrow, hm?”

Satoru nodded, taking your son's tiny hand in his. "I keep noticing it. But he's growing up so fast," he huffed at you, a hint of sadness in his voice. "He can sit up now, and he’s rolling. Soon enough he’s gonna start crawling.”

You sighed, kissing your son’s little head. “I still can’t believe he’s already six months old, my love. He’s already so big.”

“Sometimes I wish I could slow down time," Satoru said wistfully, staring at your little boy as he grabbed the sheets in his fingers. “He’s already so big, and I can’t always be home.”

"I know," you said softly, taking a moment to take his free hand in yours. “And don’t feel bad. You’re doing your best. You know that.”

“I do know that.” He sighed, squeezing your hand gently. “But I just… ever since he was born, I just wanted to be his dad. Just wanna stay here at home and raise him. Not out there, fighting curses and stuff. I wanna see him and ‘miki and ‘gumi growing up together, y’know? I don’t wanna do the job anymore.”

You looked into his bright cerulean eyes, seeing the conflict and the deep longing. You knew your Satoru hated being a sorcerer. Everything about it was painful for him. But he liked being a teacher, he liked that job. He wanted to do it for the longest time because he always thought it was the best way he could make change work. He saw that nurturing the youth was the best way to bring the Jujutsu world into the modern world. 

But with all that, he also felt that to do what he does, to make it work — he has to sacrifice all the time he could be with you and the kids. And that, he hated more than he hated the sorcerer’s life. He hated being apart from what matters most in his life. Gojo Satoru was just a man too. He’s a man that longs for home, for family. 

"You’re an amazing dad, Satoru," you reassured him. "And I know it’s hard, but you’re doing what you can to keep us safe and happy. The kids know that too. They love you for it.”

He nodded, a soft smile forming on his lips as he glanced back at your son. “It’s just… every moment I’m away, I feel like I’m missing out. I want to be there for every milestone, every laugh, every tear. I don’t want to miss anything anymore.”

"I understand," you whispered, your heart aching for him. "And we’ll make the most of the time we have together. Maybe one day, things will change, and you’ll be able to be home more. But for now, let’s cherish every moment.”

Satoru leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "Thank you," he murmured. "For understanding. For always being here. For making this place a home."

"We’re a team, my love." you said, squeezing his hand. "And no matter what, we’ll face everything together, hm? We’ll always be together.”

Your little boy cooed and giggled, making you both look at him. You laugh as you both kiss his cheeks. Looks like he agrees with the two of you. The two of you sat there, soaking in the precious morning. Despite the challenges and the fleeting nature of time, you found solace in each other and the beautiful family you were building. It makes you look forward to more days like these ones. You wanted nothing more than to be embraced by this peace.

The two of you stepped out of your bedroom a little while later, with Satoshi safely nestled in Satoru’s capable hands. Megumi’s porcupine hair sprang up as he sat up from his sleeping position, Tsumiki greeting him awake with a small smile. The soft sounds of your son gurgling and babbling filled the air, drawing Megumi and Tsumiki's attention toward the three of you.

Tsumiki squealed in delight and walked toward you, saying good morning to Satoshi. The baby seemed just as delighted with her, his tiny hand reaching out to Tsumiki. Megumi approached as well, and when Satoshi noticed him, his other hand reached out toward Megumi.

“Good morning, little guy!” Tsumiki cooed, gently taking Satoshi’s hand. "Did you sleep well?”

Satoshi responded with a happy babble, his eyes twinkling with curiosity and joy. Megumi, trying to hide his own excitement, gently took Satoshi’s other hand, earning a giggle from the baby.

“Looks like someone’s happy to see his big brother and sister,” Satoru said with a smile, his eyes soft as he watched the three of them interact. “He’s definitely wanting to have some play time with you both.”

“Then we will, Satoru-san!” Tsumiki grinned as her eyes filled with the stars. “I’m excited to see him play with the blocks again.”

“Hm, ‘toshi managed to lift them up well last night, didn’t he?” Satoru grinned back at her, his cerulean eyes darting at his baby boy. “What do you think, ‘toshi? Can you top yourself today, little dawn?”

Megumi, still holding Satoshi’s hand, looked up at Satoru. “He’s growing up so fast. It feels like just yesterday he was born.”

“I know,” Satoru replied, his voice tinged with a mixture of pride and wistfulness. “But we’re lucky to see him grow and to be a part of his little dawnings, hm?”

You watched the scene unfold, feeling a deep sense of contentment. “Every moment is precious, everyone.” you said softly, leaning against Satoru. “And we’re making the most of them.”

As the morning sun continued to filter through the windows, casting a warm glow over your family, you felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. In the gentle embrace of dawn's light, amidst the everyday hustle and bustle, there existed a profound beauty. It was in these simple, yet profound moments that the true essence of life revealed itself. Despite the challenges and the rapid passage of time, these moments of connection and love were what made everything worthwhile.

The morning rays illuminated the room, dancing playfully across the walls, and you couldn't help but marvel at the way they seemed to highlight the love that filled the space. Each tender glance, every shared smile, spoke volumes of the bonds that held your family together.

In these fleeting moments, as the world outside rushed by, time seemed to slow down, allowing you to savor the sweetness of the present. It was as if the universe had pressed pause, granting you a brief respite from the chaos of everyday life.

As you looked around at the faces of your loved ones, bathed in the golden light of morning, you realized that this, right here, was what it was all about. It was about cherishing the small moments, the quiet conversations, and the shared laughter. It was about finding beauty in the ordinary and love in the everyday.

And so, as the sun continued its journey across the sky, you held onto this feeling of gratitude, letting it wash over you like a gentle wave. For in these moments, surrounded by the warmth of your family, you knew that life was truly a gift worth treasuring.

Life could not get any better than this.

You couldn’t wait to see how it unfolds.

This morning will be a happy one again.

That you were never going to doubt.

YOU FEARED THAT BOTH OF YOU WEREN’T READY FOR THIS. A package arrived that morning from aunt Arisu and your mother. Satoru was confused, looking at his phone. He never ordered anything and even when he did, he would get a notification. He learned the hard way of not having a notification when he bought something and you were the one who saw it. He looked at you, shaking his head. You didn’t order either. You were a bit more suspicious with ordering online. Ever since your Mewtwo figurine arrived with discoloration, you were trying to be more careful. You shook your head at him just as much.

When you saw the letter from your mother, you instantly thought you knew what it was. She had been talking about how near Satoshi was with being able to eat solids. Last time you visited Mikoto manor in Kyoto, Satoshi was stealing her natto bowl. She had laughed it off, but now you realized that her laugh was pride for her grandson growing up. And now, both you and Satoru were sitting on the floor, surrounded by an array of baby food jars, each promising a different culinary adventure for your little one.

Sweet potatoes, peas, applesauce, and bananas were neatly lined up, each jar meticulously packaged one after another. You checked the bottom for the expiration dates. You don’t think Satoshi will be able to finish all of it. You don’t even think that Satoshi would like every flavor. He’s still drinking from your breast milk too. It was exciting, that’s for sure. But you were concerned about the fact that these will go to waste.

You held your son with one hand, his weight comfortably nestled against your hip, while the other hand deftly navigated through the array of baby food jars. It was a delicate balancing act, one that you had perfected through countless days of caring for Satoshi. As you carefully sifted through the jars, your fingers grazed over the smooth glass surfaces, each one holding the promise of a new taste sensation for your little one. 

Despite the occasional wobble as Satoshi squirmed in your arms, you remained focused, determined to find the perfect combination of flavors to tantalize his taste buds. With each jar you picked up, you couldn't help but marvel at the thoughtfulness that went into creating these tiny culinary delights, each one meticulously crafted to nourish and delight your growing son.

As you finally settled on a few jars to try, you felt a sense of satisfaction wash over you. It wasn't just about feeding your son; it was about nourishing his curiosity, his sense of adventure, and his growing appetite for life. And as you looked down at Satoshi's eager face, you knew that this simple act of selecting baby food was just the beginning of a lifetime of shared experiences and cherished memories.

Satoru let out a small sigh, running a hand through his white hair as he looked at the jars.”I don’t even know where Arisu got all this.”

“Apparently, my mom and her managed to find all this from one of the windows we hired at the temple.” You say, sighing as you arrange the jars in a safe distance from your son. “And it worked well for her daughter’s baby. So mom and aunt Arisu thought this was going to be good for Satoshi too.”

"I can't believe he's already six months old." he said, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and melancholy. "It feels like just yesterday we were bringing him home from the hospital. And now, look at this. He’ll be eating this soon enough!”

You reached out, placing a comforting hand on his knee. "I know, Satoru. It feels like time is slipping through our fingers."

He gave you a small, wistful smile, his bright eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Remember when we finished the fifth-month photo album? I thought I'd be fine, but seeing how much he's grown...I couldn't help but cry."

You chuckled softly, squeezing his knee gently. "And now we're here, trying to figure out what our little boy's first solid food will be. It's a big milestone."

Satoru looked down at your son, who was busy gnawing on a soft toy, oblivious to the significance of the moment. "What do you think he'll like?" he asked, his voice soft and tender.

You glanced at the array of jars, considering each one. "Well, he seems to like sweet things. Maybe we should start with the applesauce?"

Satoru nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I think that's a good idea. Applesauce it is." He reached for the jar, his fingers trembling slightly. "Do you want to do the honors, or should I?"

You smiled, seeing the emotion in his eyes. "Let's do it together."

Gently, you both lifted your son into his high chair, his curious eyes darting between the two of you and the jar of applesauce. You opened the jar, the sweet aroma filling the air, and dipped a tiny spoon into the puree.

Satoru held your son's hands, steadying him as you brought the spoon to his lips. Tentatively, your son opened his mouth, tasting the applesauce for the first time. His eyes widened in surprise, then crinkled in delight as he smacked his lips.

Both you and Satoru laughed, tears of joy streaming down your faces. "He likes it!" Satoru exclaimed, his voice breaking with emotion. "He really likes it!"

You nodded, feeling a swell of happiness in your chest. "He does. Our little boy is growing up so fast."

Satoru wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close as you both watched your son eagerly reach for the spoon, ready for another taste of his new favorite food. "I love you," Satoru whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"I love you too," you replied, resting your head on his shoulder. "And I love our little family."

As the three of you sat there, basking in the glow of this precious moment, you couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude wash over you. The soft light filtering through the windows cast a warm embrace over your little family, illuminating the joy and contentment that filled the room.

In that fleeting moment, surrounded by jars of baby food and the sound of Satoshi's delighted babbling, time seemed to stand still. It was as if the universe had conspired to create a perfect tableau, a snapshot of love and togetherness frozen in time.

As you looked at Satoru and then down at Satoshi, a wave of emotion threatened to overwhelm you. Here, in this simple moment, you found everything you had ever wanted—a loving partner, a beautiful child, and a sense of belonging that filled your heart to the brim.

You could have not seen this years ago.

But you were glad you didn’t then.

Because now, you were truly happy.

Beyond all words can truly be express.

ALL THAT PLAYING MADE SATOSHI TIRED. Megumi and Tsumiki excused themselves back to their rooms after spending some time in the living room. They said they had other things they needed to do. You didn’t question it that much, they always took time to play with Satoshi before they did their own things — so you let them go. 

Your little Satoshi pouted for a moment, clearly missing their presence.You were sure he was going to bawl about it as well, swaying him and reassuring him that he’s going to see them later on. But his loving father Gojo Satoru, was always quick to adapt and took over playing with him after breakfast. Crisis was averted in the department of tears as Gojo Satoshi giggled, his chubby hands clumsily trying to catch the ball Satoru rolled towards him. 

He was energetic for hours on end, very much on par with his father’s own energy. But after using all that energy playing with his father, your son started to get groggy. He started crying, getting hungry for milk. His contorted face looks exactly like your husband’s own face when he starts to get mopey when he wants his sweet snacks. 

Your husband rolled his eyes playfully, when you pointed it out while breastfeeding him. Satoru then took him from you, to burp him and put him to bed. Your breasts were still full after that, so you had to pump all the rest into a bottle to be frozen later on. By that time, you were too drained of energy. You put the bottles away and your husband Satoru kissed you and thanked you, telling you to go get some rest. He was the one who was going to deal with lunch. He wants to take care of you, he said. And he meant it. With those words, you fell in love with him again. And so you laid down on the couch, trying to take some rest.

Once Satoshi was down for his nap, he put him in his crib. He kisses his cheek, telling him to have good dreams. When Satoru saw you next, you were asleep in the living room couch. He couldn’t help but want to place a kiss on your cheeks. His bright blue eyes were full of awe as you rested on the couch. His precious wife. You made everything in life easier, that was sure. You worked hard taking care of the kids, of your baby, of him. You deserved to rest, he loves to think. And now, he wants to take care of you.

Satoru checked the fridge, humming as he took a look at the food inside. He wanted to prepare something nutritious for everyone but especially something good for you. You were still breastfeeding Satoshi, so your health was paramount in his mind. When he saw the salmon, he knew he was going to make some delicious grilled salmon. He'd read that it helps with the pain in your breasts. He saw the miso, and he thought it would be perfect for marinating the salmon. You’d like it a lot. There was some seaweed in the fridge too, and he thought it would be great in a soup. With some tofu, shiitake mushrooms, and a bit of meat, it would be both hearty and enjoyable.

He moved efficiently around the kitchen, his movements practiced and precise. He marinated the salmon in miso, set it aside to soak in the flavors, and started on the soup. The kitchen filled with the rich aroma of shiitake mushrooms simmering, mingling with the subtle scent of seaweed. As he carefully grilled the salmon, he could hear you stirring awake in the bedroom.

You always had a keen sense of smell, and the scent of the grilled miso salmon must have reached you. He grinned as he heard you padding down the hallway, still a little groggy from sleep. You walked up to the kitchen, wrapping your arms around him from behind. "It smells so good, 'toru," you murmured, your voice thick with sleep.

He turned his head slightly to kiss your forehead, his heart swelling with affection. “I made something special for you. Thought it might help with the breastfeeding pain.”

You smiled against his back, pressing a light kiss there. “You’re too good to me.”

Satoru chuckled, a warm, deep sound that resonated through his chest. “Only the best for my favorite person in the world.” he teased gently, turning back to the stove to check on the soup. “The salmon’s almost done. Just a few more minutes.”

You stayed there for a moment, savoring the comfort of being close to him, before reluctantly pulling away to set the table. You were carefully putting each bowl and each utensil, the glasses. You could still feel the grogginess in your limbs, but the delicious smells and the thoughtfulness behind Satoru’s cooking filled you with a warm, contented feeling. Your husband was the best person you could ever ask for, you think. And now, you could only love him even more.

As you finished setting the table, Satoru plated the food, arranging the grilled salmon and bowls of steaming soup with care. “Lunch is served, my darling.” he announced with a flourish, making you laugh. “Come on, you awake now?”

You both sat down, and he watched with satisfaction as you took your first bite of the salmon. “It’s amazing,” you said, your eyes lighting up. “You outdid yourself, Satoru.”

He smiled, feeling a deep sense of contentment. “I’m glad you like it.”

“We should call the kids so they can eat with us.” He stands up.

“I’ll come with you, so that we can eat together.” You follow him.

He hands you his own hand. “Well, take my hands.”

You look at him, blinking. “Why?”

“Because holding hands makes everything good.” He grins at you.

You giggled, intertwining his hand with your own. “Yeah, yeah, you’re so corny.”

“Hey! I’m just a man in love!”

The house was relatively a normal house, but it was quite spacious. It was obvious that Satoru spent some money finding a house which would fit all of your comforts. Megumi and Tsumiki’s room was on the other side of the second floor, just a few doors away from your own bedroom and just a little bit further from the nursery. You and Satoru quietly made your way through the house, you both humming a song stuck in his head. And now that he had hummed it long enough, you learned it and hummed with you too. 

The house was interestingly silent, but it wasn’t unusual. At times, Megumi was just reading a book he had taken home from the library. And Tsumiki would be too busy finishing her drawings with her windowpane. The silence was always comforting in the Gojo household. It was like being wrapped around you like a warm blanket. However,  as you got nearer the kids’ rooms, the tranquility was soon interrupted by faint, muffled voices. You were pretty sure that it came from Megumi’s room.

You exchanged a curious glance with Satoru before heading toward the source of the commotion. Your face furrows. Megumi and Tsumiki rarely fight. If they were fighting, it must be serious. You pulled Satoru towards Megumi’s door. Standing outside Megumi's door, you could hear the sounds of a hushed argument even more clearer now.

"Shhh, Megumi, calm down! you’ll wake Satoshi!” Tsumiki whispered urgently.

“We have to do it right!” Megumi retorted in a low voice, clearly frustrated. “No, no, don’t add that!”

“But it makes it even more lively–”

“It makes it messy!”

Satoru looked at you and you nodded at your husband. You and Satoru knocked gently on the door. But there was no response. Almost instantly, the room fell silent. You looked at your husband again, now confused. After a moment,  Fushiguro Tsumiki opened the door ever so slightly, a nervous smile on her face.

“What’s going on here?” Satoru’s eyes trying to check inside the room. You were pretty sure that he was trying to check with his six-eyes, if there was something wrong.. “You kids are getting lively, huh?”

Tsumiki opened the door even more and Megumi and herexchanged quick glances. You and Satoru entered a bit by the doorway before Tsumiki spoke up. “We… um, we were working on something.” She stepped aside, moving to the side as though she was hiding something. “Just for school, you know… like usual.”

Satoru raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by their attempt at secrecy. "School projects on a Sunday? Sounds serious."

“If you had projects, you could have told us, ‘miki.” You told her, patting her head. “You don’t have to do them alone.”

“N-no, it's fine. It’s nothing really.”

“Hm, you sure, ‘miki?” Your husband reinforced, then looked at Megumi. “‘bout you, ‘gumi? You okay there?”

Tsumiki's nervous smile widened as she tried to maintain her composure. “Yeah, it’s just a little project. Nothing big.”

But your curiosity was piqued. “Can we see what you’re working on?” you asked gently, trying not to pressure them too much. “If that’s okay with you.”

Megumi and Tsumiki looked at each other.

Tsumiki’s fingers were entangled like spider webs.

Megumi looked down at the edge of his cold feet.

You and Satoru knew those little tells very well.

But you wanted them to tell you about it honestly.

Megumi purses his lips before he lets out a sigh. realizing they couldn’t keep the secret any longer. He stepped forward, his own hands now fidgeting slightly. “Okay, but… it’s not just for school,” he admitted. “It’s….something else.”

Your husband’s dark glasses lowered, lips smiling. “Oh? And what is it, hm? Don’t worry, we won’t judge. If it’s fixable, it's nothing. If it isn’t, it's okay too. As long as you both are alright, okay? Besides, you guys must be hungry. We’ll eat after, okay?”

Megumi and Tsumiki looked at both of you.

They both slowly nodded at your husband.

He smiles at them, patting their heads.

“Okay so, what is it all about, kiddos?”

Tsumiki took a deep breath, her eyes shining with a mix of excitement and nerves. Her hands are still fidgeting together. “We were making something special. It’s nothing much….but….my friend at school, she’s Korean, and she told me about this holiday they have called Parents’ Day. It’s a day to appreciate your parents, and I thought it was really nice. To…..So…..I convinced Megumi to help me make something for you guys.”

Megumi nodded, still looking a bit uncomfortable. He rubs the back of his neck, feeling his face slightly turning red. “We never really knew our parents long enough to call them that, parents.” he said quietly. “But you and Gojo–san… you’re all we have. The closest thing to parents we’ve got.”

Tsumiki picked up a small, handmade scrapbook from Megumi’s desk and handed it to you. “We wanted to do something special for you both. To show you how much you mean to us.”

Your heart swelled with emotion as you took a look at the scrapbook in Tsumiki’s hands. Satoru, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, put a hand on Megumi’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. As you accepted the scrapbook from Tsumiki's outstretched hands, you felt a rush of nostalgia wash over you. 

Opening the scrapbook, the weight of the memories contained within the pages was palpable, each photo and memento a testament to the bonds of friendship and the shared experiences they had all treasured. Satoru's silent gesture spoke volumes, his cerulean eyes shimmering with unshed tears that mirrored the emotions swirling within Hiromi's own heart. The gentle pressure of his hand on Megumi's shoulder, squeezing it as though to thank him for this little gift. 

In that fleeting moment, as you held the scrapbook in your hands, you felt a profound sense of gratitude.. Their unwavering support and understanding had been a source of strength during the darkest moments of your journey, and now, as you reminisced about the past, it served as a beacon of hope for the future. Nothing else mattered, but the wonder of the future. Because they were here with you. Megumi and Tsumiki, and now Satoshi — all three were truly yours and Satoru’s world.

With tears glistening in your eyes, you turned to Tsumiki, your voice choked with emotion. "Thank you," you whispered,  "For this, and for everything. ‘miki, you and Megumi are our world, hm? Never forget that.”

Tsumiki's smile was gentle and reassuring, her eyes reflecting the same depth of emotion that permeated the room. "Thank you for loving us, me and Megumi." she replied softly, her voice a soothing melody in the stillness. 

“Oh ‘miki, you don’t have to thank us for that.” Satoru whispered, pulling Megumi closer to him. Megumi looked like he was going to lose it. But he didn’t push Satoru away. He just let him pull him closer. “This is…this is just….”

Opening the first page, you saw Megumi and Tsumiki's handwriting: “Happy Parents' Day. Thank you for choosing us. We may not be your kids by blood, but we’re happy that you still chose to love us. We love you. Tsumiki and Megumi.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you read the heartfelt message. You looked at Satoru, who was equally moved, then back at Megumi and Tsumiki. “This is… this is the most beautiful gift we’ve ever received, you both.” you said, your voice choked with emotion. “Thank you so much.”

Satoru knelt down, pulling both kids into a tight hug. “You two are our family,” he said, his voice thick with tears. “We love you more than anything.”

You joined the embrace, wrapping your arms around all two of them. “Thank you,” you whispered. “For being the best children we could ever ask for. You both and Satoshi, you’re our world okay?”

Megumi and Tsumiki nodded, their eyes shining with tears of their own. "We love you too," Megumi murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tsumiki nodded in agreement, her voice soft yet filled with conviction. "You're the best parents we could ever have."

You cried for a while, just embracing each other. The lunch got cold, that was certain. But you could always heat it up again. This moment, this is what mattered. Time may be slipping from your fingers all the time, but you could live in these moments forever, you know that.

Wrapped in each other's arms, you felt the weight of the world lift, replaced by the comfort of love and understanding. It didn't matter that the food grew cold or that the outside world continued to spin on its axis. In this moment, with Satoru's arms around you, with Megumi and Tsumiki’s warmth on you, Satoshi’s warm small hands on your own —  you knew that you will live on happily. You could survive anything, if you have them. You could live in their solace.

As tears slowly dried on your cheeks, you knew that life was a series of fleeting moments, but it was these moments of connection and intimacy that made it all worthwhile. You held onto Satoru and the kids a little tighter, grateful for the love that anchored you in a world that often felt uncertain. You will be alright, that was for sure. 

Everything will be alright, you knew that well enough.

You couldn’t wait to see what could be in the future.

You couldn’t wait to grow old with the love of your life.

You couldn’t wait to see your kids grow up happily.

epilogue

november, 2018;

Fushiguro Megumi stood at the gates of Jujutsu High, his heart heavy with the weight of recent events. Shibuya had left its mark on him, both physically and emotionally, and now he found himself back at the place where it all began. But now there are other worries, other concerns that need him. He didn’t come and see you, because he knew you would forbid him from being in danger. And he can’t stop himself. He had to do what he could. Now, more than ever.

His purpose for coming back here, even though it was dangerous, was clear—to retrieve some of his belongings before disappearing into hiding. Before he finds Itadori, he had to get some things here, ones that were needed for survival. 

With determined steps, he made his way to Gojo–sensei’s office, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The door creaked open, revealing a room frozen in time—a testament to the chaos that had engulfed their world.

His blue-green eyes fell upon the photo album, sitting on Gojo–sensei’s desk, untouched since that day, since October 31st. He purses his lips as he thinks about it. Should he go? He tried to stop himself, but he knew he couldn’t. He missed him. Megumi knew he did. But he didn’t want to say it out loud.

Because it wouldn’t be easy. He wouldn’t be able to move forward with what had to be done. Still, he needed some comfort. He needed some relief. To know what it was like to have known that man, that man who had raised him.

Megumi approached the room slowly, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. He gulped, his throat tight with emotion, before twisting the door open. Gojo-sensei's room stood before him, a sanctuary untouched by the chaos that had engulfed the rest of the world.

The air was heavy with the scent of incense, mingling with the faint aroma of coffee—a comforting presence that wrapped around Megumi like a warm embrace. He stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room, taking in every detail—the neatly arranged shelves, the piles of books stacked haphazardly on the desk, the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the curtains.

Gojo-sensei never really locked his room. Because people knew not to go in. It was only for him, this sanctuary. Not even the higher-ups had the courage to intrude upon his private space. Not even when they had attacked Jujutsu High awhile ago. And so since then, since he had been taken by others from Megumi, from the world that adored him —Gojo Satoru’s office had no occupants. 

Megum took small careful strides as hei moved forward, careful not to alert anyone of his presence in the premises. He pauses for a moment. He sighed as he let his hand reach out to touch the smooth surface of the desk. And there, nestled among a stack of papers, paperwork that man refused to ever do without you, Megumi found it—the scrapbook he and Tsumiki had given you and Gojo–sensei all those years ago.

As he gingerly lifted the scrapbook from its place, a rush of memories flooded his mind. He remembered the countless hours spent carefully selecting photos, writing heartfelt messages, and crafting each page with love and care. It had been a labor of love from him and Tsumiki, to you and Gojo–sensei. 

As he flipped through the pages, the images leaped out at him like ghosts from another worldly plane—smiling faces frozen in time, laughter echoing through the halls of  that house, moments of triumph and joy captured forever in glossy photographs. Each page told a story, a snapshot of their journey together, and as Fushiguro Megumi traced his fingers over the familiar images, he couldn't help but feel a swell of emotion in his chest.

It was a reminder of the family they had built years ago, in a home that was filled with tenderness—a bond forged not by blood, but by shared experiences, shared hardships, and shared dreams. And as Megumi held the scrapbook in his hands, he knew that no matter where life took him, these memories would always be his anchor, grounding him.

With a sense of reverence, he tucked the scrapbook under his arm, knowing that it was all he could have of his family right now. And as he left Gojo-sensei's room behind him, he knew whatever was going to come was not going to be easy. But he had this. Until you all met again, this would be enough. Until he had his family again, he wouldn't stop at nothing. He won’t let those people, those evil people, rob him of his family ever again.

[samkerrworshipper]

found family | arsenal women x reader

no warnings just sickness, comfort and a little bit of angst

blurb: when r decides it’s a good idea to go out in the snow for the first time after training they suffer the consequences, and then suffer the consequences of trying to conceal their sickness

sorry if this draws on, wanted to give y’all something so this is from the drafts lol and idk how i feel about it

Doing snow angels after training in nothing more than shirts and shorts was never going to be a good idea, but I’d done it anyway. Me, Katie, Caitlin, Alessia and Beth having snuck out without telling any of our other teammates to have a moment in the snow. It was some harmless fun that we were sure our coaches and captains wouldn’t approve of, so we’d snuck out of the recovery room without anybody taking notice and had some fun in the snow. We hadn’t been out in it for much longer than 20 minutes, just long enough to slip out and in. It was rare for there to be so much snow so early in the year, I had hardly been expecting it and it wasn’t the normal sludge that North London was renowned for, it was proper fluffy white snow, the stuff you see in hallmark movies. I was the only player on the team who had never seen real snow before, so when I’d pleaded with Katie to take me out in it, she could hardly say no to me.

Beth, Caitlin and Alessia had just been casualties. Katie had taken Lessi under her wing since her start at Arsenal, the two had very quickly become bonded and there wasn’t much you could do with Katie anymore without Alessia and Caitlin being her companions.

Beth and Viv had happened to overhear our conversation in recovery and Beth had pleaded with us to let her come, Viv just shook her head at us, clearly in disapproval of our decisions but also not bothering herself with trying to stop us, there wasn’t any point, she wouldn’t win.

So we’d somehow managed to sneak out of the recovery rooms and out onto the spare field, which was covered in a blanket of white snow. Almost immediately I’d thrown myself down into the powder, shivering slightly at the coldness but not really caring, it was an experience that felt so incredibly surreal that I was in complete ignorance over my senses.

The four other women just sat and watched as I rolled around in the snow, Katie and Beth shaking their heads at my antics. Alessia busied herself with getting in a snowball fight with Caitlin. It had stayed fairly tame until I’d thrown one at Katie’s head and then it had turned into a full on war, ending with Katie and I wrestling in the snow.

Our snow escapades had ended with Beth forcing me out of the snow and into a jacket, I was shivering all ready but I didn’t care, my heart felt mended in a way that was inexplicably perfect.

I’d been forced into a hot shower by Katie, her overbearing motherly tendencies also making Alessia and Caitlin join me. Beth had been the only one to not enter the snow so she’d slipped her way into the dinner room whilst us other girls had been busy warming our bodies back up. Caitlin and Alessia were fairly quick, but I took a little bit longer, my body still shivering even as I exited the shower to throw on some sweats.

Katie’s furrowed brow was enough to tell me that she was a little worried about the fact that I was still shivering and cold, but she didn’t vocalise her worries, instead opting to rush me and the other girls into the dinner room. Somehow our absence had gone unnoticed, something that I was shocked by because we were hardly the quiet crew of the group.

I’d slid into a seat across from Viv and beside Steph, my body still a quivering mess. Viv’s eyeroll was enough of an ‘I told you so’, the older dutch woman clearly disapproving of our decisions. I tucked into my dinner, pesto pasta with chicken and garlic bread. It didn’t take long for Steph, my fellow Matilda to notice my shivering body. My fingers struggling every once in a while to hold my fork still.

“Little bit cold, y/n/n?”

I smirked and chuckled at the light implication from Steph, trying my very hardest to not give away the intense chills that were wracking my body, I was sure they would fade eventually.

“Just not fully used to this London weather I suppose, had someone warned me it was going to be so cold I think I would have stayed in Perth.”

Steph nodded at me knowingly, before returning to her conversation she’d been having with Beth, leaving me face to face with Viv, who had worry weaved between her brows as she studied me. Beth and Viv had just been two of the people who had taken me under their wing since my arrival at the Arsenal. Viv especially, although she’d never admit it, had particularly gone out of her way to look after me. On top of the two captains, Leah and Kim who had practically adopted me as soon as I’d walked through the doors. Leah was harder on me then anyone else, considering she was also a mentor to me on the defensive side of the pitch, so when she’d taken me under her wing I’d been a little bit terrified. She was always on my ass, I was always the first person in trouble with her and the first person to be blamed for anything. I was also the youngest on the team, and my personality was loud and bubbly, something that didn’t assist in helping me keep my head down around the team.

It was one of the reasons Beth and I got on famously, the both of us always looking to cause a little bit of mayhem but most of all have fun, Katie normally getting caught up in our antics considering she was the team's designated prankster.

Right now though, I felt anything but bubbly, my head beginning to pound against my trembling form as I pushed the pasta around my bowl, no longer feeling the overwhelming hunger I’d left a few minutes ago.

It was the clambering of a teammate sitting down beside me that pulled me from my daze, dropping my fork on the bowl as I turned to see who was sitting next to me.

“Hey lover girl.”

Kyra’s hand found it’s way to my head, ruffling my hair, her hand retracting back quickly though as soon as she made contact with my scalp, her eyebrows furrowing into a similar expression to what Viv had given me a few minutes ago when I’d been caught out by her.

“Why’s your head so cold? Feels like you’ve just come out of the ice baths.”

Kyra’s voice was nothing but friendly, but with the mixture of my sudden headache and my annoyance over people telling me that I was cold I couldn’t help but give her a bitten back response.

“I’m fine, just leave me the fuck alone.”

Kyra visibly flinched back at my words and everyone around us went quiet fairly quickly, everyone sensing the sudden tension and confrontation occurring between me and my teammate. Kyra slid into the seat beside me, one of her hands falling to my thigh which I immediately flinched away from.

“Everything okay, sweetie?”

I moved myself away from Kyra, inching myself further towards Steph, my other national teammate who seemed as equally confused by my behaviour as Kyra was.

“Y/n, a word?”

It was the voice from the other end of the table that captured my attention, Leah standing from the table already, clearly having detected the awkwardness between Kyra and I.

I clambered my way from my seat, scuffing my feet against the carpeted floor of the dining room as I tagged along behind Leah, following her out of the room and out into the corridor. I flicked the hood of my jumper over my head, toying with the drawstring as Leah turned to face me as soon as we were out of earshot from the group.

“What was that about?”

Her facial expression was as stern as ever as she looked at me, I kept my eyes on my feet, my head fucking hurt and I was still shivering, it was less noticeable though as I stood, I kept my hands out of sight and tried my very hardest to keep my body still.

“She was pissing me off.”

I could hear Leah frowning from in front of me, I didn’t need to look at her face to sense it.

“Does her pissing you off make it okay to tell her to fuck off, because I would hardly say that she deserved that, what’s up? This whole attitude is hardly normal for you.”

I kept my eyes focused on my shoes, toying with a bit of fluff that was stuck on the carpet, edging it slowly across the material with my shoed foot.

“Nothing’s up, I’m fine.”

Leah’s arm grabbing for my sleeve covered hand hadn’t been what I was accepting, the action drawing my eyes up to meet her own.

“I won’t have this piss poor attitude, go home, get some sleep and be here with a fresh mind tomorrow morning, understood?”

I pulled my hand from Leah’s, not letting her hold on to mine long enough to feel the tremors coursing across my skin.

“Aye, Aye, captain.”

I rolled my eyes at Leah, fake saluting her as I walked back into the dining room, picking my keys and phone up from the table quickly before exiting the building, not leaving any room to ask any questions as I stormed out of the room.

I somehow made it back to my apartment without passing out at the wheel, a miracle if you asked me. I didn’t have the will to do anything besides fall straight into my bed, very quickly changing into a pair of flannel pyjamas and stacking a pile of blankets on top of my sheets before climbing into the bed and relaxing into the mix of blankets, the mixture of heat and darkness calming my symptoms just enough to lull me into a fever induced sleep.

I woke up multiple times during the night, vomiting, coughing, sweats, chills, it all. My sleep was restless and by the time my alarms were going off I felt worse than ever. I was supposed to be at training by 9, but I could hardly manage to get out of bed to get to the toilet, let alone even attempt to try and put my training gear on and run around on a football pitch for three hours. I let my phone snooze one last time before flicking a text to Jonas, telling him that I was feeling a little bit under the weather and was just going to take the day to recuperate, all though something in my gut told me that one day wouldn’t be enough, not with the croaky cough that was wracking my whole body and the fever that I knew I was running. It was winter in London, I’d probably just picked up a 48 hour bug.

Jonas replied fairly quickly, telling me that he hoped I felt better and that it was a good idea to take a rest day.

With that text I turned off all of my alarms and burrowed back into my blanket fort, the effort of even having to look at my phone and piece together a text being too much for my head. My whole body hurt, my chest and ribs hurting every single time I took a breath, let alone coughed. The chills from yesterday were yet to pass, my whole body feeling like I was still out lying in the snow, even though I knew in reality my whole body was overheating. That thought still didn’t stop me from piling more blankets on top of my body, settling back into my bed with a groan as a wave of nausea and pain washed over me.

I faded in and out of the day, similarly to as I had done at night, my fever induced state making even my conscious moments feel like a dream. I ignored the incessant sound of my phone buzzing on my bedside table, opting to ignore anybody or anything that was popping up on it, I had one job in North London, play football, and I’d alerted my coach so that was as far as my social correspondence needed to go, any teammates or friends who decided my life was their business didn’t matter to me right now, my body hurt to much to care.

Somewhere around 5 or 6 the incessant coughing came to be too much for my body and I found my body keeled over the toilet bowl, dry heaving as I coughed up the mucus and phlegm that was caught up in my lungs. It was a painful experience, my lungs burning with every single breath that left my body, the oxygen burning on its way in.

I dragged myself back to my bed once I was done, the sun just beginning to set and my body having the capacity to do nothing more than lie down in my bed and wait for darkness to come so I could go back to sleep, tomorrow was our day off, so at least I didn’t have to worry about explaining another absence to Jonas.

My sleep through the night was even worse than the previous day, probably credited to the lack of energy I had in my body. The pain in my chest worsening drastically and in the wee hours of the morning I dragged a blanket and pillow into my ensuite, coming to the realisation that I didn’t have the energy to walk back and forth from the bathroom every time I had to go to the bathroom, which was fairly frequent with the amount of shit I was coughing up. I contemplated calling a teammate or Sam, whose apartment was fairly close to mine and I trusted her enough to ask her to come over. I didn’t though, opting to fall asleep on my toilet seat instead of getting up to go fetch my phone.

I stayed like that for most of the night, I think, honestly somewhere along in the night it all blurred into one. Until I was awoken brutally at 8am by the sound of pounding on my apartment door. I ignored it, half not believing that the sound was real and that it was just the sound of my fucking skull pounding against my brain in my head, a reflection of how my head had felt for the past 24 hours.

The knocking only grew louder and more persistent though, until it finally ceased and not much longer than 30 seconds later I was face to face with my two arsenal captains, both of their faces pink and rosy from the London cold and slightly exasperated.

“Hey skippers.”

My voice was laced with delirium, the only thing keeping me conscious at that point.

“Hey Joey, how you feeling?”

Leah walked cautiously towards me, letting Kim do the talking whilst she approached me and pressed the back of her palm to my forehead, grimacing almost immediately as her hand made contact with my own skin. I leant into the contact, her hand a relief from the fluctuating temperature my body had been upholding.

“Fuck, she’s burning up.”

Leah’s accent was thicker than normal, her voice covered in a blanket of concern that I’d never heard before.

“I’ll get Katie and Viv to come up, they can help get her into the car, we’ll have to take her to A&E, it’s bloody impossible to get an appointment with a doctor at this time of year.”

I shook my head at Kim almost immediately, or shook it as much as I could with the headache I had.

“M’ fine, just a 48 hour bug.”

My voice made me sound so much smaller, like I was a six year old and it was doing absolutely nothing to get my point across, in contradiction probably making my argument far weaker.

“Viv told us about you playing in the snow. What were you thinking? Playing in the snow with no clothes on after training, different breed you aussies.”

Kim mused at me, smiling a little bit as she watched Leah hurry around my bathroom, searching around. I frowned guiltily, knowing that once I felt better, once this was all over I’d be on the receiving end of a rather lengthy lecture about not endangering myself, a lecture I was sure Beth and Katie would have already received, considering Viv had snitched on us.

“I’m fine, I feel fine.”

My words were followed up by a fit of coughs that had me leaning back over the bowl of the toilet coughing up more phlegm, hardly a convincing point. My cough was dry, from the lack of fluids I’d consumed and the lack of liquids that were left in my body from the vomiting. My throat completely raw from the continuous retching.

“Don’t sound fine, sweetheart.”

Kim’s words were paused by Leah exclaiming as she located my first aid kit, that the two of them had put in my apartment when I’d moved in, claiming I was far too clumsy to not have one. She pulled out a thermometer almost immediately.

“I’ll make you a deal sweetheart, if you are below 38 then we’ll stay here. Me and Leah will look after you, like we could have yesterday if you had called us, or anyone. If you are above 38 though then we have to go to the hospital, because we don’t want you getting seriously sick, I know it sucks but we have to keep you safe sweetie. Kerr would have my neck if I didn’t return her best defender back in perfect condition when the international break rolls around, understood?”

I frowned at Kim, her stern scottish accent leaving no room for argument. I opened my mouth up to Leah, letting her slip the piece of metal into my dry and inflamed mouth. Waiting patiently until it beeped and frowning almost as soon as she saw it.

“41.”

Fuck. That number even made me frown a little bit, because that was unsafely high and all of us knew it. It explained all of my symptoms, and the cloud that I’d been floating on for the last day, a fever induced high that was the cause of my incessant sweating and shakes.

Kim frowned down at me, I shrugged at her in defeat, both of us knowing what it meant.

“C’mon sweet, let's get you changed and in the car.”

I looked up at Leah, my body folding in defeat as she bent down to lift me from the floor. I immediately wrapped my arms around her, letting her carry me back into my bedroom. She made quick work of changing me out of my pyjamas into a plain grey pair of sweatpants and an arsenal hoodie, giving me a peck to the forehead once she was done getting me changed. Her lips, cold from the London air felt so good on my burning skin, relaxing the itching and searing sensation that had covered every surface of my skin.

“Kim?”

Kim had busied herself with collecting a bag of my belongings, chargers, electronics, a change of clothes, and my toiletries. I had pretty much gone limp in Leah’s arms, letting her brush through my hair and comb it into a plait at the back of my head. The vice captain whispering sweet nothings in my ear as I groaned and coughed, my body tired from the constant pain.

“Yes, Joey?”

She took a pause in her hunt for my things, turning to face me, one of her eyebrows quirked at me in questioning. .

“Do you think you could text Sammy for me, please, and maybe Macca, I don’t want them to worry about me.”

My voice was so quiet I wasn’t even sure she’d heard it. The worry was growing on me though, the realisation that I really wasn’t as well as I’d been telling myself and Sam would want to be the first person called. Kim gave me a little smile before nodding and getting back to her job, collecting the last of my things just as I heard my front door open again.

“Of course I can sweet, let’s just get you in the car and then we can text whoever you need, alright?”

I heard Katie and Viv making their way through my flat, eventually making it to the doorway of my room, poking their heads around the side of my bedroom door.

As soon as I caught sight of Viv I bursted into tears, no longer being able to hold in the emotions that I’d holed up for the better part of the past 24 hours.

She was quick to be at my side, not protesting whatsoever as I threw myself into her arms, soaking the shoulder of her jumper with my tears and snot immediately. I was a blubbering mess, murmuring a flurry of apologies and admissions into Viv’s collarbone, the guilt of my actions settling into my gut.

“Hey, liefje, it’s okay, take some deep breaths for us.”

I burrowed my head into Viv, the feeling of sickness washing back over my body and making me feel worse.

“We’ve got you kiddo, I know you feel icky, but we need to get you to the hospital, to get you some help, so you can feel a bit better.”

I groaned into Viv’s body, rolling my eyes as she snickered a little bit at my reaction.

“I know you don’t want to, but we’re all really worried about you and you need some help, you're burning up like crazy, so let us take you, please?”

Leah’s palms were rubbing circles into my back, relaxing the muscles that were so tense. Viv’s arm was wrapped tightly around my shoulder, like she was protecting me from the world.

“C’mon kid, Katie and I have the car downstairs, all warm for you.”

Viv’s offer was enough to have me sighing in defeat and pursing my lips. I nodded half heartedly, letting Leah pull me from Viv’s arms so she could stand up. Leah helped me to pull my ugg boots over my feet whilst Kim and Katie finished collecting my things. I tried valiantly to walk by myself, but only made it to my doorway before my legs were weakening below me and Leah had to catch me. She carried me bridal style to the car, squishing me into the backseat between her and Kim.

My head found its way into the nook of Kim’s neck, silent tears and snot making its way down my face as we drove slowly towards the hospital. Leah, with a tissue at hand, very discreetly wiped at my face when I needed it and kneaded my arm muscles with her hands, helping my trembling hands to relax just a little bit. Slowly as we continued to drive any energy that I had previously possessed started to fade.

Kim called Sam, at my insistence, Sam was worried as soon as she heard Kim’s voice and after the explanation practically begged Kim to let her speak to me, so I was put on the phone with Sam, even at my reluctance.

“Joey?”

“Yup.”

“Hey sweet, how you feeling?”

I gulped slightly, not wanting to make Sam worry but also not wanting to lie to my skipper.

“Shit, I’m fine though.”

I could hear Sam’s eye roll from the otherside of the phone.

“41 degree temperature doesn’t sound too fine to me, what were you thinking?”

“Just wanted to have some fun.”

Sam’s scoff from the other side of the phone was enough to tell me she was more than displeased with my actions, something that most of the people in the car seemed to share.

“Next time you want to have fun, can you do it with someone other than McCabe, I hardly think she’s a role model for you, considering both of your reckless personas.”

Somehow Katie managed to overhear Sam’s words, a look of complete offence washing over her face.

“I’ll have you know Kerr that she practically begged me.”

Leah shushed Katie with a glare, the guilty look on Katie’s face told me she’d already had to hear a mouthful from our captains, and she would be on the receiving end of another one if she didn’t shut her mouth.

“Mm, sounds like our girl, well I’m going to go collect Alanna, Macca and Caitie, who are all very concerned about your wellbeing and we’ll see you at the hospital, okay?”

“Mm kay, thank you Sammy.”

As soon as the phone call ended I passed my phone back to Kim, relaxing my body back against hers, the actions of the day taking a toll on my body and resulting in a dramatic drop in my energy levels.

When we did arrive at the hospital I was hardly coherent, back on a fever induced cloud that made me hardly conscious. Katie was tasked with carrying me into the ER, Leah not being able to carry me much further than a few feet with her recovering knee injury. When we made it into the ER I was immediately tended to and sent straight into a room. My body was immediately connected to a series of machines and wires.

I fought against the nurses, to the point where Leah had to actually climb into the bed with me to keep me calm, my delusional body unhappy with the cold hands and cords connecting with my body. The contact with Leah though had seemed to calm me enough though for the doctors to be able to do their jobs and connect me up to monitors and IV fluids that my body was in desperate need of. There was a lot of bustling happening around me, but I kept my eyes closed, feeling instantly better when some pain relief and medicine was administered to my body, making me sleepy enough to fade into a deep sleep.

When I woke up I was hit with a reminder of my throbbing headache, my whole body hurt. Chest, ribs, head, it all hurt. I struggled to open my eyes and when I did my headache was only worsened by the light flooding into my room through the gaps in my blinds. I was shocked by the sheer amount of people crowded in my room, a different room to the one I’d fallen asleep in. My eyes flashed across my body, taking in all of the wires that my body was connected to, wires, leads, IV cords, my body was covered in more wires than it was skin. I panicked almost immediately, reaching to pull at the cords but my hands were stopped almost immediately.

“Hey Joey.”

It was Kim’s eyes that caught my own, her deep Scottish accent getting my attention and taking it away from the crawling feeling across my skin that all of the wires were causing.

“W-What happened?”

My eyes were darting across the room, my brain trying to remember what course of events had lead to me being in this position. My eyes caught onto my teammates, who were piled on sofas and chairs in the room.

“You went out in the snow, do you remember that? Katie took you out and you got a chill from it, because your body was vulnerable with the cold you developed pneumonia, pretty serious, you had us all worried for a little bit. Leah and I came to your apartment, because you hadn’t shown up to training and we were all worried about you, and we found you and took you here.”

It was a lot of information to take in, I couldn’t do much more than nod my head at Kim, like a goldfish.

“M’ sorry for worrying you.”

Kim smiled at me, shaking her head.

“It’s okay Joey, all forgiven, we’ll talk about it another day, right now you need to focus on getting yourself better.”

I pursed my lips, eyeing Sam who was sitting at my bedside, looking me up and down. There was a lot of emotions on her face, her jaw was locked and I could see some disappointment and concern in her eyes, amongst other things.

“Sam-.”

“We’ll talk about it another day Joey, I’ve already laid into McCabe about not giving into you, I don’t think Williamson is going to be letting you out of her sight anytime soon. I just want to know why you didn’t call me, or anyone. Sweet, there are so many people around who care about you and you worried us all, had you called anyone when your symptoms had started to show, or even the previous morning this all could have been avoided.”

Sam’s voice was stern, the voice she used when she mad at one of her girls for getting in unnecessary trouble.

“Didn’t want to bother anybody.”

Sam stood up at my reply, taking two short steps to my bedside and looking at Kim.

“Nobody in this room would have felt bothered, you were sick y/n, seriously sick and had Kim or Leah not decided to come and check on you, you could be dead right now, or in the ICU. You are so lucky to have a group of people that genuinely care and love for you and it worries me that you aren’t utlising that, what did I promise your parents when you told them that you were going to be making the move to London?”

I bit down hard on my lip. Sam had always been like my second mom, or older sister, ever since I’d started playing with the Matildas, when I was 15. She’d been a major influence in my life, so when my parents had found out that I had plans to move to North London to play for Arsenal at 19 they were displeased to say the least, I was hardly 18 as well, still a baby. They’d made Sam promise a bunch of things to them, considering we were both in London together.

“That you wouldn’t let anything happen to me, and you’d keep me safe.”

Sam’s jaw locked even more than it previously had, her eyes were dark brown, stormy almost, I could feel the internal conflict she was going through just by looking at them.

“Exactly, so how do you think it makes me feel when you are endangering yourself? It makes me feel like I should be calling your parents and telling them that maybe this wasn’t the best decision, maybe you need another year or two at home before you can live by yourself out here.”

I shook my head at Sam, that was the last thing I wanted. After all, it had taken so much begging with my parents to get me out here in the first place, being sent back practically ensured they’d never let me come back out here.

“Sam, please, this is where I need to be.”

“I have no doubt in my mind that those words are true, on a playing level you should be here. But you continue to prove that you can’t be trusted to make decisions for yourself. Going out in the snow was crazy, not telling anyone you felt sick was crazy. You're not proving to me or your parents that this was a good idea.”

I could feel tears brimming up in the back of my eyes. It had taken a lot of effort to get my parents to let me be here, there was nothing they wanted less than to send their eighteen year old daughter to London, all by herself, playing in a senior women's team.

“Please, please let me stay. I can’t go home, if I go home then that’s the end for me, Perth won’t take me back after how I left. My parents have enough on their plate with six other kids, let alone having to deal with me, please, I need to stay. I’ll make better decisions, I promise, please just let me stay.”

I’d shot up in the bed, tugging the cords and blankets up with me. Sam sat herself down on the edge of my bed, looking at me eye to eye.

“I know you’re sorry, and I really want to believe that you can do this, there is nothing that I want more than for you to be here and proving how amazing you are, but your risking your own health Joey, and I toe the line there. What happens when you get injured and decide not to tell anybody, I know you and I know that you are never going to ask people for help and I can’t be around 24/7 here to look out for you, if I could I would. I can’t trust that you are going to look after yourself when I’m not here.”

I felt a series of big, fat, wet, warm tears drip down my cheek, I felt like shit and all of my dreams were being crushed.

“We’ll look after her, we’ll take her in if we have to. Nobody wants to see y/n/n going home because of this, we’ll look out for her, please don’t make her go home.”

It was Beth’s voice, from the other side of the room that caught my attention. There was a guilty expression across her face, Alessia, Katie, Caitlin and Beth all carrying the same similar guilty expression, my accomplices.

Sam turned to Beth, it was clear she was tossing up her options.

“Beth’s right, she should stay, she’s worked hard enough to stay and we can hardly afford losing any defenders right now. I’ll take her in, she can move into the spare room in my house, I run a tight ship, I’ll keep her under control.”

It was the voice of Leah that was both my saving grace and sent a chill of fear down my spine. Moving in with Leah didn’t exactly sound like my dream situation, I knew that Leah would hold me accountable for my shit, something I wasn’t necessarily ready to deal with. Sam had immense respect for the England captain though, often times she’d expressed to me how much she admired Leah for doing what she did at such a young age, she was stern though, she didn’t forget anything and nothing got past Leah.

“Okay, if she can move in with Williamson then she can stay, this is all stuff we can talk about when you are feeling better though, you need your rest joey, with all those meds running through your body god knows how tired you must be, hm?”

I squirmed a little bit under the covers, not wanting to give into Sam’s words but also not denying that she was right, I did feel tired. Sam’s hand found its way to my cheek, wiping away the tears I had shed and giving me a little smile, the smile she kept for these moments, the rough ones that warranted some kind of assurance that it was all going to be okay.

“Go to sleep Joey, we’ll figure it all out when you are feeling better, right now you need rest, so you can feel better.”

I relaxed back into the uncomfortable hospital pillows, that all of a sudden didn’t feel so uncomfortable to my body, which was slowly starting to fade into a deep cloud of sleep. Sam pressed a kiss to my hairline before sitting back down in her seat and watching me drift off to sleep. Maybe everything wasn’t perfect, maybe I still had things that I needed to learn but I did have one thing, and that was a family that I’d found in my teammates.

[uhhlifeig]

Gothic - October 18 - word count: 533 - @wolfstarmicrofic

It was a dark and stormy night, which was absolutely perfect for Sirius Black, self-proclaimed Lord of All Things Goth. 

He stood dramatically on the balcony of Potter Manor, his black cape billowing in the wind (which, incidentally, was being created by a very dedicated fan positioned just out of sight).

The skies were angry, much like Sirius felt every time Remus refused to acknowledge his superior knowledge. The audacity of the man to wear khakis during a thunderstorm.

Sirius narrowed his eyes into the raging abyss, letting out a deep and theatrical sigh. His eyeliner was on point tonight. Everything was perfect.

“Why are you on the balcony again?” came the weary voice of Remus from behind him. “And why are you wearing a- is that a towel?”

Sirius did not turn to acknowledge this blatant disrespect. No, instead, he clutched his cape tighter around his shoulders and whispered, “Because, Moony… it is my destiny to brood here. And no, this is a cape.”

Remus blinked at him. “Right,” he said slowly. “But you’re getting water all over the floor. It’s leaking in through the doorway.”

“Let it leak, Moony, for it is a metaphor. A metaphor for the soul’s inevitable decay, for the relentless seepage of despair into the hollow chambers of one’s very essence.”

Remus, dressed in a very un-goth, un-punk cardigan, crossed his arms. “It’s a metaphor for you not closing the bloody door.”

At that, Sirius finally turned, his hair somehow artfully damp and not at all like a drowned rat (he had so perfected this look). He raised a single eyebrow, the eyebrow of someone who understood suffering.

“Why must you be so mundane, Remus? You don’t understand the art of suffering. Of brooding. You, with your-” he gestured vaguely, “-knitted sweaters and warmth.”

Remus glanced down at his cardigan. “It’s cold.”

“That’s the point!” Sirius cried, sweeping dramatically into the room, wet cape swirling behind him like the shadow of a tormented soul. “You must embrace the cold. Let it chill your heart until only darkness remains. Then- then you’ll truly understand me.”

Remus sighed. “Sirius, I’m not going to freeze just because you think it’s ‘aesthetic.’”

Sirius gasped, scandalized. “Aesthetic? Aesthetic? This is not about aesthetics, Remus. This is about-” He paused. “This is about existential despair and mortality. About gazing into the void and having the void gaze back!”

Remus stared at him, unimpressed. “Uh-huh. Are we still on for dinner, or is this a night of ‘wallowing in the darkness of your own existence’?”

Sirius straightened his cape, once again adopting his perfectly gothic posture. “The darkness calls to me, Moony. It whispers of loss, of shadowed corridors and forgotten tombs.”

“The Italian place, then?” Remus asked.

Sirius faltered, torn between his duty to brood and his love of garlic bread.

Remus, ever the practical one, clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, Lord of the Shadows. They’ve got wine.”

Sirius exhaled a long, suffering sigh, but his resolve crumbled at the thought of pasta. “Very well, but mark my words- tonight, I will dine... in despair.”

Remus rolled his eyes and grabbed his jacket. “And I’ll order you extra breadsticks, as usual.”

[sunnybunnyy2]

Dark Cell

Daryl Dixon x platonic!reader

Negan smith x daughter!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.1k TIME: Season 7 Warnings: imprisonment, mentions of saviours, mentions of Glenn and Abraham, mentions of dog food

Series Masterlist

Daryl could feel the gazes on him as he swept the outside of the Sanctuary. Most of them were laughing and taking joy out of his humiliation, others were with pity.

Most of the pity looks were coming from the women and the others were from men that had gone through a similar situation as him before they had rolled over and submitted to Negan.

Negan

Even the name left a bad taste in his mouth, the mere thought of thinking of the heartless man caused vile to raise up his throat before he pushed it down to continue with his daily punishment.

He would sit in his cell for two days, sitting in the pitch black, the only sound that filled the small space was the heavy foot steps of those who walked by and the maddening sound of ‘easy street’ booming on replay. The only food that was spared to him was the leftover bread and expired wet dog food. Then he would be put to work for two days, working for sixteen hours a day before being returned to his cell for Dwight to humiliate him all over again.

Sometimes if he got lucky Negan would bring him to Alexandria and even if it was to make a joke out of him, he craved to make sure his family was okay.

It killed him that he couldn’t reach out and hug his family, his brother and he knew it killed Rick too.

He knew how Rick was, he cared more about his people then he did himself. He would always put himself in harms way to protect his group and it was in his best interest to just cooperate with Negan and his demand to save everyone in Alexandria from suffering the same fate as Glenn and Abraham had on that fateful night.

A hard shove snapped him out of his thoughts as a saviour glared up at him from his slightly smaller frame and as he did he finally caught your eye.

He realized you must’ve been around Carl’s age, you were wearing light blue jeans and an orange sweater that dipped down the shoulders, your eyes tightly locked on his face.

He turned his head back to the task at hand and continued his work not wanting to receive an unnecessary punishment.

It almost caused embarrassment to consume him. He was never like this, he would never cower in fear of somebody. He promised himself he would never back down but for the well-being of everyone in Alexandria, he swallowed his pride and allowed himself to be made a fool.

….

He heard light foot steps making there way down the hallway. He had just assumed a women would be on night watch, he certainly wasn’t expecting you to be opening his small, dark cell.

His questioning eyes watched you as you left the door open a small sliver, just enough to shine a little light into a certain part of the cell but left it closed enough that it wouldn’t be noticed if someone had decided that, that was the best time to look down the doomy hallway. A small plate was in your grasp leaving a sick feeling in his stomach at having to eat another dog food sandwich, but his worry was quickly put to rest when you took a seat in the corner closest to the ajared door.

“I’m not here to hurt you. I promise.” You finally spoke as you noticed the look he was giving you.

He noticed you look down at the plate before slowly sliding it over to him and it was just then that he realized it’s contents. It was two sandwiches, they were made with white bread, some kind of cold cut meat and they contained lettuce, tomato and what he assumed was mustard.

“It’s for you. Sorry I couldn’t make something else, It’s just really late and the cook went out for a smoke break so it was all I had time to grab. I wasn’t really sure what you liked so I just assumed. I hate tomatoes and mustard but I didn’t think you did.” You rambled on anxiously toying with your fingers as you looked at him, and as you did you noticed the reluctant look on his face.

“Go ahead, it’s okay.” He looked at it for a few more minutes, silence filling the room as you stared down at the ground before your eyes snapped up at the sound of him grabbing the plate before stuffing his face with its contents.

You heard a sound leave his lips as he ate the most fresh and real food he has had in more then two weeks.

“Hopefully it’s okay, I mean it has to be better then what they feed people over here.” There was no response only the sound of chewing filled the room. Normally the sound would make you cringe but you were just happy he was finally eating something good.

It only took a few minutes for the sound to dim into nothing as he quietly placed the plate back where you had originally placed it.

His eyes left the floor and met yours through his dark hair, and he looked at you for a moment before he gave you a slight nod.

If you hadn’t been paying close attention to the larger man you wouldn’t have noticed but you were. You could see the uncertainty in his gaze as well as the appreciation.

“I can bring you something else next time. I might just cook it in my room and try and bring it to you a bit earlier.”

He just continued looking at you, as if to decipher if you were lying or not before looking away.

“Is there anything you like?” You asked turning your head to try and catch his eye but it was useless.

You let out a light sigh in understanding before reaching to grab the plate, slowly pulling yourself to your feet as you pushed the door open quietly and just wide enough to squeeze through. As you did so you were halfway through the door, when you heard the deep but scratchy voice.

“Thank you.” As all that was said and when you turned your head you saw him now facing you. You couldn’t see his eyes due to the lack of light and his long hair but you could only assume he was looking at you.

A smile pulled at your lips as you mutter an “Of course.” Before you finally exited the cell, quietly closing and locking it as you tiptoed your way to your overly large room. When doing so your eyes landed on the watch on your wrist that read 2:10 am, thank god your dad was asleep.

[newtonsheffield]

In the Surprise Neddy AU or even in your original BSCU, what does it look like when Kate and Anthony go back to India? Do they go back? What kind of memories do they share there? How much does Kate enjoy watching Anthony try to scarf down spicy food? You know Neddy can tolerate more spice than his father 🤣🤣🤣🤣

Oh I love the idea of Kate being genuinely excited to get Anthony back just a little bit for the fact that their three year old’s favourite breakfast is plain white bread and Lurpak. Anthony himself is a little thrilled that he was invited on the family trip Kate’s organised for her Poppy’s birthday this year. He’s excited to learn about her family, meet her extended relatives. And it is a great trip, Anthony gets everyone upgraded to first class and it’s Neddy’s first trip on a plane so he’s very excited about watching the planes in the airport and privately Kate thinks that Neddy’s passport photo is the most adorable thing she’s ever seen. It’s nice to be able to share things about her culture with Anthony, it’s nice to see Anthony and her Poppy sitting together with their airline slippers on. And it’s nice to share this with Neddy as well, it’s nice for them to have time as a family and celebrate both sides of their family. Nice for her to have her grandfather show her where he grew up, show her his favourite things.

But it’s also hilarious to watch Anthony order the spiciest thing on the menu.

“Are you… going to stop him?” Edwina asked, listening to Anthony order in the broken Tamil he’d learned on his app.

Kate made a noncommittal noise, “Eh, he’s a big boy.”

Edwina scoffed, “He gets red faced when there’s too much pepper on his pasta.”

Kate looked at her boyfriend across the table, “Let him suffer just a little. I’m stuck with his son whose favourite sushi is a California roll, this seems… fair.”

“He could die.”

“He probably won’t have a heart attack, right?” Kate asked her sister. “Neddy’s sort of attached to him. And I kinda like the guy.”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

[peppermintquartz]

I voted early ☑️. Buck and Tommy’s first Thanksgiving together.

Buck has been slaving over the meal for the past three days. Tommy has played willing if slightly resigned assistant, decorating, buying groceries, moving furniture, moving furniture again, redecorating, buying more decorations and groceries, and taste-testing.

It's not like Buck doesn't know he has been a little obsessed, to the point he almost broke down in tears over the mashed potatoes (Buck, panicking as he rummaged through the drawers: "How is it that you don't have a ricer? You have a house and you don't have a ricer?" Tommy, with raised eyebrows and a shrug: "How does Bobby do his mashed potatoes?" Buck: "...with a fork."). But he wants it to be perfect.

It's their first Thanksgiving together as a family, and they're hosting. He wants nothing more than for this to be the best Thanksgiving he's ever had, that Tommy's ever had, to make up for the strained Thanksgiving dinners they each had to suffer through as kids.

Now the turkey is roasting nicely in the big oven, the bread rolls are keeping warm in the smaller oven, batches of wings are being fried in the air fryer, and the drinks are well received - homemade fruit spritzers along with wines and craft beers - and their guests are laughing while playing some tag-related game in their backyard.

Bobby wanders into the kitchen and takes a deep breath. "Everything smells amazing, Buck."

"Thanks," Buck says. He is feeling a little (a lot) emotional at how good it all is. Tommy is mingling, introducing newcomers to the old-timers, joking with Hen, Chimney and Eddie, directing the older kids to play with the younger ones.

"Don't forget to enjoy the moment, kid," Bobby says quietly, an understanding gleam in his kind eyes.

Buck smiles and ducks his head. "I am."

Later, after the turkey is brought to the table to a chorus of "oohs" and "aahs", and they each have to share one thing they're grateful for, Buck waits for everyone to go round. Tommy, with a teasing glimmer in his eyes, says, "That Thanksgiving is only once a year..." He winks at Buck, and adds, "so we can truly appreciate all this."

It's Buck's turn. He beams around the table and holds up his glass. "I'm thankful for family, the one I'm related to, and the one I found."

---

Vote & Prompt!