#I’m so happy same brainwaves same everything

[victimized-martyr]

I recently got my brother into south park and he basically told me he ships Kyman?!? he just started tellin me on his own that “Kyle and Cartman really need each other, also the show isn’t the same without them being all weird. They should get together.” I’m such a proud big sis. He even told me Cartman Finds Love is one of his favorites of the show. I’m 😭

[hyperactively-me]

Okay but king ghost if his queen was kidnapped or held for ransom?? I just want some protective ghost in my life

the way i had this idea planned for a while already, but anon, our brainwaves are connecting. i’ve gotten literally countless requests for this same idea. if you sent in a request similar to this, i’m so sorry, i wasn’t ignoring you, i've just had this planned for a while! (word count: 5.8k)

king!ghost x reader -- taken

warnings: kidnapping, physical fighting, physical injuries/blood/bruises, semi-vague descriptions of torture, torture tactics, throw up, restraints, heavy angst, i guess a happy ending? maybe??? idk 😭, ummmm idk what else... please please please let me know if there's anything i've missed. this is a dark chapter! check your media consumption based off the warnings!

It was a quiet night. Eerily quiet. The sounds of the summer insects ceased, the hot air still, unmoving. You were in bed, trying to sleep. You had no clue what time it was, all you knew is that you were hot and exhausted.

You roll onto your side, huffing as you throw the covers off your body. You close your eyes again, trying to will yourself to sleep.

A moment later, you hear a creak coming from the far side of the room where the doors to the balcony are. 

You immediately sit up, scanning the room.

“Hello?” you call out, your voice wavering as you slip out of bed. You immediately grab your knife from the drawer of your bedside table, walking around the side of your bed to stare at your slightly ajar balcony door. 

Your heart drops in your chest, but before you can say anything, a hand holding a rag clamps around your mouth. Soap was right outside your door. If you could just— Your scream is muffled as you try to fight off the intruder, swinging your knife back and hitting flesh, trying to stomp on their foot, kick them, anything. The intruder lets out a strangled cry from your stab, pulling your head back farther. You know you’ve made contact when you feel blood trickle down your hand. Serves them right for trying to kidnap you. The intruder wraps their arm around your torso, yanking you back as they shove the rag over your nose, forcing you to inhale the fumes. 

Your movements become more sloppy as the fumes enter your nostrils, your eyes fluttering as you fight with everything in you to stay awake. Your knife clatters on the ground as you become limp. 

“That’s it, go to sleep,” a man’s voice whispers in your ear, sending a cold chill throughout your body. And with that, you succumb to unconsciousness.

. . .

You wake up in a cold, damp cell. You go to rub your eyes, but are stopped by the clanking of metal chains. You look down, and your hands are bound together by heavy, metal manacles. 

“What the—” you say, pulling at the restraints multiple times to no avail, the iron bolted into the wall to prevent you from running. “No, no, no no no—” you cry out, flailing as you try to free yourself from the cuffs. Your heart is racing in your chest, how could this happen? The overwhelming urge to cry washes over you, but you bite your lip to stop yourself.

Your body shivers at the low temperature of the cell, the stone keeping the cold air stale in your cell. You’re still in what you wore to bed which was…not much. You push yourself to standing, walking up to the bars of the cell, trying your best to peek out into the hallway. 

The hallway is dimly lit, revealing the cold, unforgiving walls of what appears to be an underground dungeon of some sort. The air is cool, and the distant sound of footsteps echoes through the corridors. Panic tightens its grip on you as you assess your surroundings.

“Hey! Is anyone there?” you shout, your voice bouncing off the stone walls. There's no response, just the eerie silence of the place. You take a deep breath, fighting against the rising sense of despair.

As you peer down the hallway, you catch a glimpse of movement. Footsteps approach, and your heart races anew. A figure emerges from the shadows, wearing a uniform that tells you all you need to know. It’s a uniform from the Southern Kingdom. You back away from the bars, pressing your back up against the wall behind you. 

“Your majesty,” the figure says, their voice devoid of any emotion. “You won’t be leaving anytime soon.”

Your mind races with questions, but the figure remains stoic, indifferent to you cowering in the corner. The reality of your situation sets in, and a mix of fear and frustration swirls within you.

“Who are you? Why am I here?” you demand, desperation lacing your words.

The person ignores your questions, producing a set of keys to unlock the cell door. The heavy door creaks open, revealing a corridor lined with more cells. The person steps inside the cell, much to your dismay. Your breathing picks up as he steps towards you, afraid of retaliation. Instead, he makes his way towards the wall where your manacles are attached. With a key, he releases the chain from the wall and takes it in his grip. Shortening the length of the chain, he yanks on it, causing you to stumble forward. 

“Walk,” he commands, basically dragging you behind him out of your cell. You contemplate pulling against him, but not before you spot the sword on his hip. Without further thought, you lunge forward, pushing the man to the ground in front of you as you reach for his sword with your bound hands. 

The man grunts as he hits the cold, stone floor. Seizing the opportunity, you manage to grab the hilt of his sword with your restrained hands, the metal feeling cold against your skin. Adrenaline surges through you as you pull the sword free from its scabbard.

Without a moment’s hesitation, you point the weapon at the man. “Who are you? Why am I here?” you demand again, your voice trembling with fear and anger.

The man on the floor looks up at you, a hint of surprise crossing his face. Despite the advantage of the sword in your hands, he doesn’t seem intimidated in the slightest. The nonchalant look on his face makes you even angrier, and you don’t hesitate pressing the tip of the sword against his shoulder. “You won’t find answers by waving that around,” he states calmly.

Before you can react, the man kicks you out from under your feet, causing you to drop the sword as your hands instinctively go to catch yourself – that is, catch yourself the best cuffed hands can. 

You hit the ground hard, the impact jarring through your body. Groaning, you roll onto your side, the cold stones digging into your skin, surely leaving a bruise where you fell. The man swiftly rises to his feet, his expression unchanged.

“Come along, now,” he says as he yanks the chains, completely unbothered. 

You struggle to your feet, the manacles limiting your movements. Glaring at the man, you reluctantly follow as he leads you through the labyrinthine corridors of the underground dungeon. The man, seemingly unfazed, leads you through the dark, winding corridors of the underground dungeon. The chill in the air makes you shiver, both from the cold and the anxiety that tightens your chest.

As you walk, you try to gather your thoughts. How did you end up in the hands of the Southern Kingdom? How did the man breach the castle walls and enter your bedroom? How long have you been gone? Where are you? Where is Simon? Johnny? The questions swirl in your mind, but the stoic silence of your captor offers no answers.

The dimly lit passageways seem endless, twisting and turning without rhyme or reason. Eventually, you arrive at a heavy, iron door guarded by two Southern Kingdom soldiers. They exchange a nod with your captor, who proceeds to unlock the door. It creaks open, revealing a dimly lit room.

The room is adorned with flickering torches, casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. A wooden table sits in the center, surrounded by a few mismatched chairs. You notice there’s a guard standing watch in the corner of the room, and two other people sitting in chairs, most likely waiting for your arrival. The air is thick with tension as you’re pushed into one of the chairs.

“Watch it,” you growl, slightly folding into yourself in the chair. 

The figure steps back, motioning to the other two people in the room. One of them is wearing a mask that conceals their features, leaving only their cold, calculating eyes visible. You try to read any emotion in their eyes, but they remain expressionless. 

“Who are you, and why am I here?” you demand for the third time, your voice wavering between defiance and desperation. You look between the three people, anger bubbling up within you. 

The man who brought you here remains silent for a moment, studying you with an unsettling intensity. Finally, he speaks, his words measured and devoid of any warmth. “You wouldn’t have gone with us willingly, so I am sorry you have to be here this way.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. 

The figure’s eyes narrow at your display of defiance. “Your insolence won't change your circumstances.” 

You move to stand up from the chair, but you’re pushed back down by the guard lingering in the room. “We’d appreciate it if you didn’t resist.”

You stare at him, the glare still plainly visible on your face. He seems satisfied enough with your cooperation. 

“Now, you’re here because your kingdom has assets and resources we need. Your husband, the great King Ghost, won’t give up easily, but we have leverage now, don’t we?” 

You should’ve known.

A chill runs down your spine. You clench your fists, frustration and fear fueling your determination.

“Tell me what you want,” you demand, your voice firm despite the tension in the room.

The figure leans forward, resting their hands on the table, their face just inches from yours. “Your cooperation, your majesty. Tell us what you know, and we won’t hurt you.” 

Your blood runs cold at that. Hurt you? Now that caught your attention. 

You raise an eyebrow. “So, what? You plan to use me as a bargaining chip to force Ghost’s hand?”

“Yes. You’re one of his only weaknesses,” says the man who hasn’t spoken until now. “Ever since you sent your reinforcements, our army has been experiencing some… setbacks. We were going to come to this as a last resort, but the time came to use you in our strategy.”

He’s rolling up his sleeves with care, pulling some intimidating tools out of the drawer of the table. 

He notices you eyeing the tools warily. “Oh, don’t worry. We won’t be using these unless you really won’t listen.”

“And, just a brief mention before we start the questioning, you should really do more thorough background checks on your staff. You were given over to us by one of your own. Within the palace, might I add.” 

With a swift motion, the man wearing the mask pulls it off their head, revealing a face you didn’t expect. It's someone you recognize, someone from your own court—an advisor you thought was loyal, someone who had been with you especially over the past few weeks. 

“Edmund?” you gasp, disbelief and betrayal coloring your voice. “How could you?”

Edmund avoids your gaze, his eyes fixed on the table. “It was never personal, your majesty. The Southern Kingdom made an offer, and I couldn’t refuse.”

You seethe with anger, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. “Greater good? Kidnapping me in the middle of the night? Betraying me? What greater good could possibly justify this?”

He shrugs. “Money.” 

With that, Edmund slinks out of the room. 

The word echoes through the room, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. Money. The one thing that could corrupt even the seemingly loyal. Edmund’s betrayal stings deeper than any blade, and you struggle to comprehend how someone you trusted could sell you out.

“Cooperate, and you won’t have to endure unnecessary pain,” one of the men states coldly, motioning to the tools.

Your eyes narrow at the proposition. “And if I refuse?”

A hand slaps your cheek, the sharp sound echoing through the room. “Refusing won't make this any easier for you.”

Your cheek throbs from the slap, but you meet his gaze defiantly. You won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you break. You can’t. 

The man with the tools takes a step forward, his gaze fixed on you like a predator closing in on its prey. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. The choice is yours.”

You glance at the guard, a mixture of anger and disappointment in your eyes.

“Now, let’s start with something simple. Kastron’s silver supply. Where is it located?” he demands, his patience wearing thin. “Start talking, little princess.”

. . . 

You’re not sure how long it’s been since you were dragged into this interrogation room, but all you know is that your body positively aches. You were treated relentlessly, punched to your gut and slapped at the expense of one of your captor’s short tempers. Thankfully they haven’t used the tools on you, but you can’t help but be weary of them. Your body slumps in the chair, pain radiating from your abdomen. The cold, harsh reality of your situation weighs heavily on your shoulders. Sweat beads on your forehead, a mixture of fear and physical exertion.

The interrogators stand around you, unsatisfied with the information you've provided so far. The room feels suffocating, the air thick with tension and the acrid scent of burning torches.

“Last chance,” he sneers, the coldness in his eyes sending shivers down your spine.

You grit your teeth, your jaw aching from the force of their blows. The loyalty to your kingdom surges within you. You won't betray your people, no matter the cost.

“I won’t... betray... Kastron,” you manage to spit out, defiance in your eyes.

The interrogator scowls, and without warning, delivers another brutal blow to your stomach. The pain is unbearable, and you gasp for breath.

“Stubborn little thing, aren’t you?” the man with the tools taunts, a sadistic grin on his face.

As the interrogators prepare for another round of questioning, the heavy door to the room swings open. A new figure enters, their silhouette backlit by the torchlight. The men exchange glances, a hint of surprise in their eyes.

“Alright, that is enough for today,” a commanding voice echoes through the room.

The figure steps forward, revealing a man, dressed in military attire. His eyes are stern and hold no compassion.

“Release her,” he orders, her voice brooking no argument.

The interrogators, albeit reluctantly, step back. The guard unlocks your restraints, and you slump forward, breathing heavily.

The man turns to the interrogators, his expression stern. “That’s enough, you may go.”

The two men scowl but don’t argue. They exit the room, leaving you alone with the mysterious man.

He turns to you, his gaze assessing. “You’ve endured more than necessary. My apologies.”

“You’re not sorry. Go straight to hell,” you spit. 

The man’s stern expression falters for a moment, but he quickly regains his composure. “I understand your anger, but I’m here to explain to you what’s going on. I’m General Shepherd. I lead the Southern Kingdom’s military.”

You’re silent. You recognize the name from a few brief mentions around the castle whilst receiving intel about the war, but you’ve never seen him before.

“We’re not here to hurt you—” 

You glare at him, still seething with anger and distrust. “Do you hear yourself? What the fuck are you talking about, when I’ve been kidnapped and tortured? Why should I hear anything you have to say?” 

Shepherd grabs your jaw harshly, fingers squeezing your cheeks. You claw at his wrist gripping your face, but he doesn’t let go. 

“If you would listen to what I’m telling you, then you wouldn’t be sitting in this room. Don’t wear my patience thin, your majesty.” 

His words are sharp, and you can feel the intensity in his grip on your jaw. Shepherd releases you, allowing you to lean back into the chair. You shoot him a venomous look, but he seems unfazed.

“Your husband, King Ghost, has been a thorn in our side for far too long. Quite the nuisance. The war between our kingdoms has dragged on, costing our side quite a lot. We need a resolution, and we need it soon,” Shepherd explains, his gaze locking onto yours.

“So, what? You think kidnapping me and torturing me is going to make Ghost surrender?” you scoff, annoyance evident in your voice. “He won’t surrender, if that’s what you want. He’s going to fight back harder, and you’re going to wish you never had me here.” 

“Still, it’s a means to an end. A desperate attempt to force his hand,” Shepherd replies, frustration in his voice. “We have leverage now, and we plan to use it to bring about a swift end to Kastron’s military. We’re not heartless, your majesty. We aim to minimize bloodshed.”

You can’t help but laugh bitterly. “Minimize bloodshed? By kidnapping me and using me as a bargaining tool? Very noble and humanitarian of you.”

Shepherd narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t respond to your sarcasm. “Your husband won’t let harm come to you. He'll do whatever it takes to secure your safety.”

“He’s not going to surrender,” you mutter under your breath. He’s going to do much, much worse than anyone could ever imagine. 

“He will. This war has dragged on for too long. We need a resolution, and we need it now,” Shepherd emphasizes, his tone stern. 

Your mind races, considering the weight of the situation. You hate Shepherd for this, subjecting you to a cruel game that you never wanted to be part of in the first place. It wasn’t even Kastron that started this war, it was the Southern Kingdom. The hypocrisy of the Southern Kingdom and unjust treatment of your own kingdom has driven you up the wall. You think about your people, your kingdom, and the lives at stake.

Your gaze pierces through Shepherd’s cold exterior.

Shepherd sighs, as if he anticipated your skepticism. “You don’t have to trust me. But you should consider the bigger picture. Your cooperation can save lives, including your own.”

A conflicted expression crosses your face. The idea of cooperating with your captors goes against every instinct, but the desire for an end to the war lingers in the back of your mind. You weigh your options, knowing that every decision carries significant consequences.

“What do you expect from me?” you ask, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.

Shepherd studies you for a moment before responding, “Information. Insight into Kastron's military strategies, resources, weaknesses. Anything that can expedite the end of the war and give Kastron over to us.”

You laugh humorlessly. “See, that’s exactly what I don’t want.” 

Shepherd’s gaze remains unwavering. “Your wants are not the priority here. The fate of your kingdom is on your shoulders. If you truly care about your people and your husband, you’ll consider the bigger picture.”

Your jaw clenches, frustration boiling within you. You know Shepherd is partially right, but the resentment toward the Southern Kingdom clouds your judgment. You take a deep breath, attempting to push aside your anger.

“What guarantee do I have that you won’t just use me and murder me when it’s convenient?” you challenge, searching for any sign of honesty in Shepherd’s eyes.

He leans in, his expression serious. “My word. Betraying the terms of our agreement would not serve the interests of either of our kingdoms.”

Agreement, you scoff inside your head. As if I had any choice in the first place. 

You find his words hard to believe. The events leading up to this point have shattered your trust in anyone associated with the Southern Kingdom. However, you can’t deny the urgency of the situation.

You decide to not say anything. Shepherd nods, seemingly satisfied with your response. “All we ask is that you provide us with information. I’ll give you time to think this over.” 

Shepherd motions for you to stand, and you do so with a glare. Your body protests, every movement sending pain coursing through you. He leads you out of the room, the guards following closely behind. The dimly lit corridors of the underground dungeon stretch ahead, and you realize that you’re not being taken to the same cell you were initially in. 

Eventually, you arrive at a somewhat more comfortable room. It's still a cell, cold iron bars keeping you prisoner, but there's a cot and a small table. 

Shepherd removes the manacles from your wrists, allowing you to rub your raw skin. 

“I’m going to leave these off. Don’t get smart.” 

The heavy door clanks shut behind you, finally leaving you alone with your thoughts. A guard stands watch outside your cell, giving you no privacy. 

The reality of your situation settles in, and you can't help but feel powerlessness. The fate of Kastron rests, in part, on your shoulders. You sit on the cot, your mind racing with questions and uncertainties. 

As you ponder the road ahead of you, a small opening in the door slides open, and a guard hands you a meager meal. The gesture is cold, impersonal, but you accept it nonetheless. The guard retreats, leaving you alone again.

The hours pass slowly in the dimly lit cell. You wrestle with conflicting emotions—anger, fear, determination. The echoes of Shepherd’s words linger in your mind, and you can’t help but have doubts in your mind. Would Simon come rescue you? Or would you have to escape on your own? You don’t even know where you are being kept. Your thoughts flicker to Kastron, what Johnny must be doing right now. Surely they’re looking for you. 

As the torches flicker and the dungeon remains shrouded in darkness, you brace yourself for the challenges that will come with tomorrow. Shepherd needs your cooperation, and you’re not going to give it to him, no matter the cost. The journey ahead is uncertain, but one thing is clear—you will not surrender easily, and the fight for Kastron is far from over.

. . . 

The next two days, you’re dragged back to the same room for interrogation. Again, you refuse to speak, each blow raining down harder on you. Your nose was bloodied, face battered and red, and ribs surely bruised from the blows. You’ve been in a perpetual state of fight or flight, adrenaline and pain racking your body in devastating amounts. You were plain exhausted, body reaching its limit. 

But you didn’t really care. You wanted to keep Kastron and Simon safe, so you stayed silent. Save for your screams of pain. 

On the third night, you found yourself alone in the dungeons. It was unusual, as there was usually a guard in place to make sure you didn’t do anything out of line. 

You move to the iron bars, trying your best to peek both ways before pulling out a stolen fork from one of your meals. The metal of the fork feels strangely empowering in your hands as you work on the lock. The dim light in the dungeon barely illuminates your surroundings, but you're determined to seize any opportunity for escape. The occasional distant sound of footsteps echoes through the corridor, reminding you of the ever-present threat of getting caught. 

As you manipulate the lock with the makeshift tool, you can’t shake off the nagging feeling that this might be a setup. Perhaps Shepherd or someone else in the Southern Kingdom’s monarchy is testing your resolve, observing whether you’d take advantage of a momentary lapse in surveillance. You can’t bring yourself to care that much. 

The lock finally clicks, and the cell door creaks open. You hesitate for a moment, listening intently for any signs of approaching footsteps. The dungeon remains eerily quiet. Slipping the fork into your clothing, you step out cautiously, avoiding the patches of cold, damp floor. Your battered body protests with every movement, but the urgency of your situation fuels your determination. 

You move silently, keenly aware that any noise could betray your escape. The cool air sends shivers down your spine as you head towards the direction you’re taken in for interrogation. It’s a risky venture, and most likely a stupid venture, but you don’t want to be holed up in this godforsaken hell hole for much longer. 

After what feels like an eternity, you reach a heavy, iron door. It's slightly ajar, revealing a sliver of dim light from the other side. Your heart pounds in your chest as you inch it open, revealing a narrow staircase leading upward. The ascent is slow and agonizing, each step a reminder of the physical toll the past days of torture have taken on your body. You wince with each step, taking deep, steadying breaths. As you approach the top, you hear hushed voices and the occasional clank of armor.

Peeking through the crack in the door, you spot a guard stationed at the top of the stairs, seemingly engrossed in conversation with another. Their attention is diverted, providing you with a small window of opportunity.

Summoning the last reserves of your strength, you push the door open just enough to slip through without making a sound. The corridor beyond is dimly lit, and you stick to the shadows, hugging the cold stone wall. Pressing yourself against the wall, you listen carefully to the conversations around you, trying to piece together an escape route. Your gaze falls upon an entryway that has the last hints of the sunset pouring through the crevices. 

You reach the entryway, and a sense of trepidation washes over you. Before you could push open the door and make a run for it, a hand grabs your upper arm. Without hesitation, you clench your fork in your hand and stab the perpetrator with the prongs. 

The guard lets out a pained scream as your makeshift weapon finds its mark. They release their grip on your arm, stumbling back in pain.

“You bitch!” They cry, and a few more guards appear on the scene after hearing their scream. 

Adrenaline courses through your veins as you realize that your window of escape is rapidly closing. Without waiting any further, you burst through the entryway, darting into the fading light of the setting sun.

You bolt as fast as you can across the cobblestones, the sounds of yelling guards and footsteps hot on your tail. Every step makes it feel as though fire is shooting up your body, but you push through. Just as you think you’re about to make a clean getaway into the forest outside the bunker, you’re side tackled to the ground. 

The impact is brutal, and pain shoots through your battered body as you collide with the hard ground. The guards quickly swarm around you, their faces contorted with anger. One of them wrestles the stolen fork from your hand, while the others pin you down, restraining your limbs.

“Bloody rebel,” one of the guards snarls, spittle flying as they speak.

“Get the fuck– off of me!” you scream, trying to swipe and hit at anyone in your reach. 

Your attempt at escape only intensifies their aggression. The guard you wounded with the fork clutches their side, a seething expression of pain etched across their face.

The leader of the guards, a stern-faced man with a scar running across his cheek, steps forward. “Thought you could just waltz out of here, did ya?”

He delivers a swift kick to your ribs, making you howl in pain. The guards show no mercy as they haul you to your feet. You go deadweight in their grasp, making it harder for them to drag you back to your cell. When they manage to pull you halfway back to your cell, you start kicking and screaming again, not wanting to make this easy for them.

“Fuck all of you, let go of me!” you scream, trying to yank your wrists from their grasp. 

“Shut the fuck up,” a guard yells at you, digging their fingernails into your wrist. 

As you're thrown back into your dark, dank cell, the manacles are back on, alongside chains on each ankle. The heavy door clangs shut behind you, and the bitter taste of defeat settles in your mouth. Two guards now stand outside your cell, watching you intently. 

A few minutes go by, and General Shepherd strides into the hallway. His eyes, devoid of warmth, fixate on your battered form.

“Leave us,” his voice commands, and the guards retreat from the dungeon.

He stands just outside the iron bars, his gaze cold and calculating. 

“You’re a persistent one,” he remarks, his tone devoid of empathy.

Despite your battered state, you summon what strength remains within you and glare defiantly at Shepherd. 

You glare at him, defiance burning despite the exhaustion. “Fuck off.”

He doesn’t say anything, which enrages you.

“I said, fuck. Off. Leave me alone!” you yell. Shepherd's stoic expression doesn’t waver. Instead, he observes you with an unsettling calmness that sends shivers down your spine. The silence stretches, and you can feel the weight of his gaze.

Finally, he speaks, his voice low and measured. “You have spirit, I'll give you that. But it's time to realize the futility of your resistance. It’s been nearly four days. More than half a week. I don’t have the time or patience to keep you around.” 

“I’ll never bow to the likes of you,” you retort.

Shepherd sighs, almost as if he’s disappointed. “You’re not seeing the bigger picture here. Your defiance only prolongs the suffering. Kastron can have peace, Ghost won’t have to face such difficult decisions. All we need is your cooperation.” 

“I’d rather die,” you spit out, every word laced with venom. “And I don’t think Ghost would appreciate it if I turned up dead. You think he’ll surrender just because you beat me to a pulp? Think again. He’s coming to get me any day now, but that doesn’t mean he’ll show you mercy or pull back the troops. You’ll see. And you’ll be sorry you even looked at Kastron’s borders.” 

His gaze doesn’t falter. “Perhaps. But, death is a choice, too. And it’s not just your life at stake, is it? There’s a kingdom relying on your decisions.”

You clench your fists, the chains rattling with your restrained anger. “I won't betray my people for your false promises.”

Shepherd leans against the cold stone wall, crossing his arms. “Think about it. Reflect on where you are right now. I’ll be back tomorrow, bright and early. I hope you’ll have come to your senses by then.”

Without waiting for your response, he turns and leaves the dungeon, the heavy door slamming shut behind him. Alone in the cold darkness, you curl up on the cot as best you can given the heavy chains.

. . .

Shepherd keeps his promise, returning in the morning. 

“Well?” he prompts, a hint of impatience in his tone.

You meet his gaze with defiance. “Go. To. Hell.”

His expression remains unreadable. “Very well. You’ve made your choice.”

You’re dragged back to the interrogation room, only this time you’re silent. 

You’re met with the tools set right in front of your chair, and a scary looking person you’ve never seen before. 

As you’re restrained to a chair, your eyes glaze over. 

For once in your life, you’re quiet. No snarky comments, no sharp words. You’re silent.

Because you’re truly afraid.

. . . 

The metallic scent of blood fills the air. You don’t think you’ve ever lost as much blood in your life. 

The room is spinning, and your body feels detached from your consciousness. The pain, once sharp and immediate, has dulled into a throbbing ache that permeates every fiber of your being. The interrogator’s methods have taken a drastic toll, and you’re teetering on the edge of consciousness. 

You think your wrist is sprained, if not broken. You glance down at it, the swollen and bruised flesh causing your stomach to churn. You definitely look worse for wear right now. 

Eventually, they tire of their methods, leaving you slumped in the chair, bloodied and broken. The tools they used on you lie abandoned on a nearby table. Every movement, no matter how slight, sends waves of pain through your form.

As the interrogator steps away, their job seemingly done, a faint groan pushes past your split upper lip. The throbbing in your head matches the rhythm of your heartbeat, each pulse amplifying the pain. Your vision swims, and you struggle to keep your eyes open.

Shepherd approaches, crouching to meet your gaze. 

“I had hoped you would see reason," he says, almost conversationally. “The pain will continue until you cooperate.”

You manage a hoarse chuckle, the sound more bitter than amused. “Sorry I can’t be of use to you.”

He straightens, his gaze unwavering. “I have all the time in the world. You however… I’m not so sure. I suggest you reconsider. Your defiance harms not only you but those you claim to protect.”

With that, Shepherd turns and exits the room, motioning the guards to take you back to your cell. 

The guards, their expressions cold and indifferent, unshackle you from the blood-stained chair. Your body protests as you’re hoisted up, pain shooting through every limb. They guide you out of the interrogation room, each step a painful shuffle. Your vision is blurring, and you lose your footing a few times. As they lead you back to your cell, you catch glimpses of other new prisoners, faces worn and defeated. The stench of dampness and decay fills your nostrils, and you throw up on the floor in front of you. You think some of it has traces of blood. 

The guards show no reaction to your vomit, their faces remaining stoic and indifferent. You stumble forward, the world spinning around you, and your steps become increasingly unsteady.

The door to your cell creaks open, and you’re unceremoniously thrown inside. The manacles and chains are back on, securing you in the darkness. The guards, their duty done, exit without a word, leaving you alone with your pain.

You lie on the floor for who knows how long, focusing on your breathing and attempting to not fall asleep in the fear that you won’t wake up for a long time due to the severity of your injuries. 

In, and out.

In, and out. 

In, and out. 

A few hours pass, and you manage to calm your swirling vision and headache. With a grunt, you pull yourself up to your cot with your good hand, dropping onto the solid mattress with a grunt. 

You’re not sure how much longer you could go on like this. It was all too much. 

As you lay there in the dimness of your cell, a distant noise catches your attention. Footsteps, echoing through the dungeon. At first, you dismiss it as another patrol, but the rhythm and urgency in the steps hinted at something different. A figure emerges in front of your bars, and you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the return of the guards or another round of interrogation. 

To your surprise, a familiar voice cut through the silence.

“Dove?”

- - - - -

(masterlist)

[hemipenal-system]

So I love digestion and am even a little into hard vore and being torn apart. But I never want them to end in death. Personally, I think reviving can be relaxing and sexy through aftercare.

To avoid any existential issues, we'll say your brainwaves and conciousness are stored in the nervous system of your predator. It's not enough for you to be awake in the body or even dream, but it's more like you take a nice nap.

The first reform idea I had when I originally got into vore was for a dragon pred laying you as an egg. Slowly coming to in a pool of liquid within the egg. Not fully reconstituded yet but that's fine. You haven't been laid. Maybe your pred talks to you as you regain your strength. You can hear the various growls of her internal organs. At last, you can feel your egg shudder and shake as you leave your pred's body. One more thing to remember as you hatch- your mind may be the same but your body is brand new. You may not actually be human anymore.

Another revival idea I had was simply waking up in bed with your partner. Your body still feels a little wet and raw all over. It's been freshly recrafted through advanced biological engineering or magic. But you know this process takes months. You look at your partner smiling at you. It seems maybe only a couple hours ago you saw your blood dripping out of her mouth, though in reality it has been much longer. You'll think of all you missed later. Right now your partner is cooing, telling you that you were an excellent meal but she's so happy to see your face again.

I'm not great at writing but you get the gist. I think reformation is super slept on as a fantastic ending to a vore story. Not to mention you can throw in stuff like tf and oviposition as from my first example.

i’m less into digestion but i am big into being chewed and ripped apart and not dying permanently, same as you. i’ve never really thought abt reformation before, it’s always just been something that happens. that being said

i am in love with the egg idea. getting pinned down and ripped apart, everything fading to black as they tilt their head back and swallow the bloody mess that is your body

waking up in damp darkness, nestled tightly in a firm but slightly pliable shell, panicking for a moment before you remember where you are and what you were doing before the world faded, realizing happily that you don’t seem to be injured in any way and knowing from playing with your partner that you’re tucked snugly between their hind legs, just slightly ahead of their cloaca

feeling every movement they make for the next couple hours as they go through the instinctual motions of nesting, realizing they’re about to lay and need to be prepared

sensing yourself pitch sideways and then jostle around, knowing their abdominal muscles are pushing you out slowly and you just have to relax and let it happen

seeing a gentle ray of light as they hold the egg in their claws and gently nip at it with their fangs to break the tough shell. a dragon infant could do it on their own but humans are so small and weak and you need help. you’re not sharp enough to pierce the thick skin around you.

your partner nosing at you lovingly, long, strong tongue licking the sweat and embryotic slime off your skin, purring as they savor your taste that they’ve missed so much for the last couple days

looking around and seeing your house trashed, since they rearranged when their nesting instincts kicked in. cushions and blankets are everywhere to make sure they had a safe, comfortable space to lay and you can’t even be mad about it because the way they purr and nuzzle at you, massive tongue lashing against your face and neck in a bizarre attempt at a kiss, is so adorable

feeling loved by the dragon who tore you apart and ate you (because you asked them to)

[itwoodbeprefect]

belated writing emoji asks, if you still feel like answering

🤡🦅👀

(these look weirdly big for some reason, apologies!)

ooh, this looks like an interesting horror story. a GIANT clown is about to be attacked by a HUGE bird but unbeknownst to either of them... disembodied eyes (BIG ones)... are watching... 👀 (but bigger)

🤡 What’s a line, scene, or exchange you’ve written that made you laugh? & 🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

hee, you and @luredin had similar brainwaves it seems, because she also started with both of these in the same order! i answered them here, but i can come up with another example for the clown: in Johnny Lawrence vs. The Computer: A Tale of BOOP (a cobra kai fic) i was definitely cackling while writing some of johnny’s internal monologue around tech. he’s canonically awful with it to the point of parody (he's never owned a computer before! he's not a nerd!), which is obviously a great starting point, and this fic is essentially about johnny (briefly) drunkenly trying to catfish daniel and then getting mad about it, while he also just doesn’t understand how anything works:

The thing that makes the internet so great and also so much worse than the real world is that everything is really impersonal. You don’t hear people talk, you don’t see their faces, and you sure as hell can’t kick their ass through a wifi. So who’s gonna know if Johnny decides to play a prank on LaRusso and pretend he’s someone else? Who’s gonna figure out he’s not Jennifer Smith, a hot single mom with really great honkers who’s looking for a strong man to sell her a car?

Johnny types the email, sends it, laughs to himself about it for a bit (LaRusso is going to look so dumb if he thinks Johnny is actually a hot single mom with great honkers) and then wakes up hungover the next day and forgets all about it.

Until his computer goes BOOP.

There’s a fresh email in his internet.

there’s also a bit where he feels pretty smart for knowing that his email adress has a typo in it, because even he knows it’s email, not gmail - and a reference at the end to johnny having ongoing email exchanges with “half a dozen African princes with really naïve ideas of money management” (because there’s a scene in canon where he gives his information to all kinds of spam/conspiracy websites, iirc), which is of course a very obvious joke, but i just like the idea of that a lot. everyone’s wasting their time in those interactions, and they probably all deserve it.

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

well. for the starsky watches westerns fic i’ve recently been googling pretty cowboy hats, and it led to what’s probably going to be the first kiss scene! i keep changing the color of hutch’s hat though, so that’s yet to be decided.

also, yesterday i finally watched 1971’s zachariah, which was exciting because a) i learned i should have done that much earlier (not the painful warhol-esque experience i was dreading at all!!! honestly an almost perfect movie! and oh my god, that poster) and b) it (arguably together with blazing saddles, and maybe one or two others i still need to actually watch) throws a delicious spanner in the works for the central thesis of the fic so far, which was something like “if you’re a queercoded cowboy (in the movies), you’re probably going to end up dead (so what does that mean if i see us in them)” - and i’m sticking with that, but it’s great to be able to paint in more than one shade. (not only does zachariah not die, he gets a happy end! with his cowbff boyfriend buddy partner! after they start the movie by shOOTING A HOMOPHOBE. like i said, an almost perfect movie, and very exciting stuff to me.)

i also wrote some louise content (the guinea pig, i’m stubbornly keeping her as a part of this) that i could probably have used for the clown answer. while they’re watching red river:

“That’s a nice-looking gun you were about to use back there,” says Cherry Valance, and Starsky, his eyes newly opened, is left almost breathless from the impact.

“Don’t look,” he says, and cups a hand over Louise’s little face, because what’s happening on screen - those guys fondling each other’s guns, making them go off - it’s downright indecent.

send me emojis (if you want)!🌈  

[maximoff-pan]

they’re not the only ones iii | benedict bridgerton

Summary: 4 times your life with Benedict changed for the better, and the 1 time it stayed the same (or, four life changing moments pre and post marrying Benedict, and one extra fluffy moment of pure domestic bliss)…

Pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

Word Count: 6.7k

Warning(s): another 4 + 1??? oops I know, fluff (lots of it), mild angst, you know the drill by now

A/n: hi lovelies! The third part is finally here! I’m not sure I like it as much as the first two (I struggled a lot writing it and self doubt started to creep in as always), but I just wanted to thank you all for being so kind and so patient with me. It means the world! I hope you all enjoy and please let me know what you think! Comments and feedback are much appreciated <3

read part one & part two

i

telling the family

Bored, boring, boredom…

Anthony’s eyes trail across his mother’s sitting room, most of her eight children apart from Gregory and Hyacinth, are conversing amongst each other. He finds himself sitting idly beside Kate, Daphne and Simon across from them. He picks his nails in disinterest.

Now, not to be rude, he���s sure they’re having a lovely conversation full of important things he should be listening to, but he just can’t seem to bring himself to focus on it. Instead, their voices meld into nothing, simply static in the brainwaves of his mind.

His breathing slows into a shallow rhythm as his line of sight drifts, further and further to the left, until it hits you. You’re laughing at something Benedict has said, nearly doubled over in glee. It’s not an unusual occurrence, but it strikes him suddenly.

Everything seems to be normal, he supposes, and yet it feels oddly so. Anthony cannot for the life of him describe it, but there’s this nagging feeling in his chest that’s telling him, screaming at him: something’s different.

Benedict’s hand resting on your knee, the carefree echo in your laugh, the twinkle in both of your eyes, it’s almost regular, almost like it always has been between you, but Anthony would put his life on it, there’s been a shift. It’s almost like….

In a split second, Anthony perks up in his seat, startling his wife and causing three pairs of eyes to snap to him.

“Anthony, are you alright?” The three of them inquire. He ignores them, his revelation much too important to lose focus on.

You know. He thinks. You and Benedict, you’re together. And not just in the sense that you’re sitting beside each other, enjoying one another’s company, no. Anthony Bridgerton is no man’s fool, romance, love, desire, it’s all present in your body language. You and Benedict are no longer just friends.

A smile spreads across his face, maniacal with a hint of amusement. Equally, in his heart, he’s happy. Anthony cannot think of two people who belong together more, and yet he wonders, why haven’t you told anyone yet?

He decides, if you won’t, he’s going to. Oh, he salivates at the thought, the fun he could have with this…

Abruptly standing, he waves off Kate’s protests of concern as he edges his way closer to the other side of the room, leaving his wife and the Bassets behind in confusion. Plopping himself down on the couch where you, Benedict, and Eloise are sitting, he eyes Colin and Penelope who are sat across from the three of you.

“Brother!” Colin exclaims. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

You can feel Anthony’s amber orbs burning a hole through you, his voice utterly clinical as he says, “I’m testing a theory.” He’s observing you, and you don’t like it in the slightest.

“A theory?” Eloise closes her book in excitement. “And what might that be?”

Anthony’s gaze narrows and his jaw clicks in focus. He’s debating whether he should be forthcoming with his suspicions, or if he should keep toying with you a little longer. It could be fun to watch you squirm. But then again, outing your secret relationship, with no warning at that, might be more shocking, and even more fun.

He decides to go for the former, revealing, “Two people in this room, are recently engaged.”

Your eyes fly to Benedict’s in a brief panic. Both of your gazes read the same: how could Anthony have possibly figured it out? It’s not like either of you have been obvious about it. As far as you’re aware, you’ve kept everything the same, oblivious pining included.

Now, before he can pat himself on the back too much, Anthony hadn’t been sure of your engagement before he’d said anything. He’d simply assumed, (a dangerous game to play when one is uncertain), and decided to take the risk by voicing that assumption. But based on the premise that Benedict looks like his life has flashed before his eyes, and that he’s gone so white he could rival any ghost, Anthony knows he’d been bang on the money. He’s quite proud of himself if he’s being honest, his pat on the back now well earned.

Eloise drops her book in a haste as she exclaims, “How could you have kept this from me?” Your heart races, trying desperately to avoid her eye. Except, she’s not talking to you or Benedict. She’s directing her assertion towards Penelope and Colin.

Penelope opens her mouth to protest, but no words come out, while Colin’s jaw opens, then closes, then opens again in shock, as his brows furrow in confusion. This is making no sense to either of them.

Unfortunately for them (or fortunately depending on who you’re asking), Eloise has the wrong couple, and Anthony knows it. “Not them.” He chides, lips smirking in enjoyment.

At that, Colin releases a loud sigh of relief. “I thought I would remember proposing.”

Penelope finds her voice, laughing that bubbly laugh she often does. “I should hope so.” She narrows her eyes, focus resting solely on you. “But that would mean…” she trails off airily.

You avert your gaze from her, not quite ready to confront it, before you shift your focus to the oldest Bridgerton. He’s sitting like he’s perched, waiting for the fog to clear. You lick your lips in concentration, eyeing Anthony down. The smug bastard’s relishing in this game, but you won’t let him win. Beside you, Benedict isn’t so sure. He’s struggling to keep quiet, ready to come clean about everything, yet he’s not positive he’d be able to find the words if he tried.

“Oh…” A look of realization dawns on her face. Penelope’s figured it out, you’re fairly sure everyone has.

There’s a sudden shift in the air. Four pairs of eyes turn to you and your betrothed, three in shock, and one in utter delight. He’s ready for the fun to begin.

Benedict’s gone as white as a sheet; you’ve never seen him so pale. But you hang on with a smile on your face. You’re not about to give Anthony the satisfaction of seeing you lose your composure.

You sigh internally, you guess this is payback for trying so hard to out Anthony’s feelings for Kate before they got engaged. And for making fun of him for being so blindly lovesick. And for many other things, you’re sure. So maybe you deserve this a little bit. But only a little.

Besides, the Bridgerton’s were going to have to find out about your engagement eventually. Why not now?

“What?” You question them, hand reaching for Benedict’s. He calms under your touch, a small smile resting on his face. There’s a smugness of your own forming in your tone, “Are we to pretend that none of you saw this coming?”

Anthony chuckles at your response. You’re both taking this way better than he thought. Of course you’d have to go ruin all the fun by being mature adults about the situation. Damn you.

“You’re engaged?” Eloise splutters rather loudly, alerting everyone else in the room.

And it’s not a second later that Daphne has darted up from her seat, rushing her way towards you. “Please tell me I heard Eloise correctly.” She breathes, nearly squealing. “Because it sounded to me like you and my dearest brother are to be wed.”

“Daphne.” Simon urges, now standing beside her. He’s chuckling at his wife’s excitement. “Give the poor girl some space.”

You and Benedict share a smile, as he prepares himself for the onslaught of questions that are to come. “We wanted to wait a while before we told anyone.” Benedict turns to his oldest sibling pointedly. “But I suppose Anthony had other plans.”

“As I see it,” Anthony interjects. “It is merely reparation for old ploys. Your intended should surely understand.”

Brown eyes meet (e/c) knowingly. You more than understand; it’s all in good nature. As far as your relationship with the viscount is concerned, you’ve always held a playful rivalry with each other.

“And you were most correct (Y/n),” Eloise cuts in, one hand resting on her hip and the other resting at her side, “we all saw this coming.” She pauses. “Maybe not in this fashion, but certainly with the same end result.”

The matter of fact manner of the statement makes you smile, as you watch each of Benedict’s siblings nod in agreement. Even Simon takes part in the teasing. This feels like what a family should be like, this feels like home.

And as Anthony takes a step back from the huddled group of Bridgerton’s, he feels Kate’s hand brush against his, as she pulls him into the corner of the room. A cheeky grin adorns her face. She’s just as happy as Anthony to see you and Benedict together, finally after everything. Even more so, she’s amused with how everyone found out.

Eyeing her husband, mischief laced in her tone, she leans into him whispering, “You simply could not help yourself.” Her voice sends shivers down his spine. “You just had to meddle.”

He hums right back, careening under her touch. “That I did, my love. You know me too well.”

Kate smiles to herself, and sighs. If there’s two things she knows for certain, it’s that yes, she knows Anthony Bridgerton better than even the man himself, and equally, she’s never been more glad that he’s a meddlesome match maker with a penchant for interfering with his siblings love lives.

Because as far as she’s concerned, outside of her relationship with her husband, there’s no two people more suited for each other than you and Benedict. Of that, she is unequivocally sure.

ii

the wedding

You’ve dreamed of this day for what feels like your entire life: your wedding to Benedict Bridgerton. But now that it’s finally here, you can’t help but want it to be over. And not in a bad way. You love weddings, you think they’re positively magical, but by God do you want yours to be over.

Because if you have to wait one more second to kiss Benedict, really kiss him, you think you might die. And yes, that is definitely an exaggeration, but you just cannot wait to be his wife. The ceremony is nice, of course, although it’s really more for your families. Because if you’re being honest, you’d marry Benedict on the busy streets of London in a ratty old dress if it meant you could be his.

You’d truly do anything to marry him.

The ceremony is held at Aubrey Hall, with only your closest family and friends invited. It’s quiet and quaint like you both wanted, neither of you caring too much to make a spectacle out of your wedding.

All in all, the guest list is essentially made up of Benedict’s mother, his siblings and their significant others, your parents, and Lady Danbury of course. It just seemed right, having a more intimate and private ceremony. It’s all you could ever need, especially considering if given the chance, you would’ve just as easily run off and eloped with Benedict, to avoid the hassle of a large wedding.

And when it’s over, and you’ve finally said ‘I do’, you kiss him like you’ve never kissed him before. You kiss him with hope and passion, a glimpse of the future you are to have with him. It leaves you wanting more, wanting all of him. Because no one else could complete you like he does.

Benedict feels more than the same. Because when he’d seen you walk down the carpeted aisle, and into the garden outside of his childhood home, he’d never felt anything like it. It was as if his life with you flashed before his eyes, all those years you spent loving each other in secret, preparing him for this day. And when you leapt up to kiss him, he felt his heart soar.

You’re his wife, and he’s your husband, ‘til death do you part. It’s almost surreal to think about.

But it’s truly at the reception where you both feel most at ease. While your wedding was wonderful, you’re more than excited that it’s over. Because you’re married now. And you can act like it. You no longer have to hide your affections, hold back on your touches. You can dance as many times as you like without society judging you for it, and you can kiss your husband in glee.

It’s an utterly freeing feeling, listening to the music drift around you, as you waltze in Benedict’s arms. Everyone is enjoying the party, either dancing or simply chatting amongst themselves, plenty of food and drink to go around. The sounds of laughter and joy make you smile. This is your family now, and you couldn’t be happier about it.

A soft sigh momentarily catches you off guard. Your husband, you smile to yourself. He’s trying to get your attention, successfully so. You hum in his arms, urging for him to speak up. And when he does, his voice is angelic.

“Look at me darling.” Benedict tilts your chin upward, eyes meeting yours with so much love. “No one else matters.” He murmurs. It’s almost as if he’s trying to convince you of that fact, something he need not do.

“How could they?” Your smile is sweet, your voice airily drifting with the warm breeze. “When I have you as my husband.”

He hums, swaying you gently back and forth. “I do love it when you call me that.”

“Oh you do, do you?” You tease playfully. Jesting has always been one of the foundations to your friendship. That’s not about to change after over two decades. “I would have never guessed.”

Benedict eyes you with want, nearly growling as he pulls you into a searing kiss. “But not as much as I relish in calling you my wife.”

A light gag interrupts your moment.

“A tad possessive are we?” Eloise’s voice snaps in, gravelly and raw. You both break apart with dopey grins, the look of desire still resting on your faces. Her eyes meet Benedict’s as she mocks an expression of disgust. “I hadn’t thought you capable of it.” She finishes.

Benedict lets out something akin to a snort. “And I hadn’t thought you capable of being a meddlesome, pestering young woman.” He pauses, sarcasm running through his words. “Oh, wait…”

Eloise scrunches her face in faux distaste.

“Eloise.” Anthony chides, sauntering next to her, more than ready to continue the child like Bridgerton banter, “Leave the poor couple alone.” He’s teasing her, trying to get on her nerves. And quite frankly, you find it hilarious.

“I’m simply stating my opinion brother.” She tilts her head innocently. It amuses you because Eloise is anything but. And everyone knows it. “As a woman should.” There it is.

Anthony chuckles, brown eyes glimmering with mischief. “We’re well aware of your thoughts on the subject of marriage and public displays of affection sister, but please do allow the newlyweds to enjoy themselves. This day only happens once in a lifetime after all.”

Eloise scoffs. “Never.” She taunts with the raise of her brow. “What would be the fun in that?”

Benedict’s eyes flick between his two siblings, a wide smile growing on his face. He turns to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you in closer.

You know that look, you know it well. Benedict is nothing if not a pathetic sap for pretty words, especially when he’s the one uttering said pretty words.

“It is really a shame that I find myself indifferent to what either of you think.” He starts, throwing caution to the wind. “And because I cannot find a more intelligent way to put this, I’ll simply say what is on my mind…”

Eloise and Anthony share a look of pure amusement, they too know what is to come. “Please do.” They say in unison, surprising each of the siblings. This might be the first time in a long while that they’ve agreed on anything. And it just had to be at your expense.

“Simply put,” he smiles, voice going soft. Maybe he’s had a bit too much to drink. “I love my wife. And I want nothing more than to show everyone that I love my wife, and to be insufferably enamoured with each other for the rest of my life. If that is an issue for anyone, I do not believe I could force myself to care.”

“Mm,” Anthony hums in agreement, taking a swig of his own drink as he cheers to Benedict’s half-speech.

Eloise scoffs. “Oh, is that all brother?” She asks.

A deadpan expression crosses Benedict’s face, and you giggle at the sight.

“Eloise, Eloise, Eloise.” Anthony tsks. “That, was simply the tip of the iceberg that is Benedict’s love for (Y/n). It will never be all.”

“Anthony is right.” Benedict asserts.

“As I always am.”

Eloise rolls her eyes. “Oh please. There is nothing easier to be correct about than Benedict being madly in love with his wife.”

Anthony sticks his tongue out at her, mumbling something along the lines of, regardless, I was still right. It’s immaturity at its finest, and you’re enjoying every second of it.

You let out a genuine laugh at the exchange, “Alright children. Calm yourselves.”

“Look at you.” Anthony’s eyes bore into yours, cheekily. “Not even hours after your wedding and you’re already so motherly. It’s adorable really.”

“Very funny.” Is your immediate reply.

“How mature.” Is Eloise’s.

And as the three of you continue to banter back and forth, spitting joking insults and hurling equally venomous retorts, Benedict can’t help but let out a sigh of contentment.

He’ll admit, after that night at Lady Danbury’s where you’d gotten engaged, he had been a little nervous that your relationship turning from platonic to romantic would be an adjustment not only for the two of you, but for his siblings as well. Because as long as you’d known his family, you and Benedict had simply been friends, although as he quickly came to find out, not one Bridgerton thought you wouldn’t end up together.

But seeing you and his siblings laughing together, poking fun and joking around with one another, he knows that his initial concern was sheer stupidity on his part. Because if he’s being honest, the only thing that has changed, is that instead of being simply best friends, you are now best friends who know they are in love with each other.

Best friends who are married. Yes, he smiles, he quite likes that sound of that. (Y/n) and Benedict Bridgerton, husband and wife. He would never and could never want it any other way.

iii

lady whistedown…

“Colin,” Eloise’s raspy voice is laced with sleep. It’s late, she’s tired, and she wants nothing more than to go to bed. “Whatever it is you wish to tell us, could it not have waited until the morning?”

Your gaze flicks to your husband’s, a reassuring calm passing over you. Both of you watch as the two siblings have a near stand off. And while you agree, it is extremely late, and you are quite tired, you can’t help but find yourself intrigued by the situation.

“No.” Colin’s eyes are frantic. “This cannot wait.”

It’s such an interesting turn of events, you ponder with a smile on your face. Eloise, who usually thirsts for knowledge, appearing so disinterested at the prospect of her brother’s clearly important information.

Eloise huffs, equally expectant and annoyed. “Go on then,” she waves. “If you must.”

Colin hesitates, struggling to find his words. “I—I don’t know how,” he stutters. His jaw is clenched, and his eyes dart across the room. And while his distress is only furthering Eloise’s displeasure, it causes something different for you.

A pang in your chest forms. Empathy, you recognize. Something is distressing Colin so much so that he can’t form the words. He looks like his life has been turned upside down, like the world is crumbling at his feet. And it hurts you.

You’ve never seen him like this. Neither has Benedict.

Unclasping your hand from your husband’s, you reach forward for Colin. Maybe another person’s touch will ground him; it’s always worked with Benedict.

He reacts immediately, eyes meeting yours, a sigh falling from his lips. “I’m afraid to say anything.” He says finally. “Because it’s not my secret to tell, but it hurts.” You can see he’s on the verge of tears, hear the quiver in his voice. “It hurts more than anything I have felt in my life.”

Betrayal is the one word that comes to your mind. Colin feels betrayed. And that can only mean one of a few things, one of which sticks out like a sore thumb. Penelope Featherington. It has to be her; no one else has this kind of power over Colin.

And because of that, you know exactly what is troubling him. He knows who she is, what she’s done. “Is this about Lady Whistledown?” You ask softly, already knowing the answer.

As he nods, you watch the recognition flood across his face. Colin now knows you know, something not even Benedict is aware of. His gaze darts to Eloise suddenly and then back to you, as if asking, does she know?

You can’t help but notice the subtext behind his stare that goes beyond her simple knowledge of Penelope’s identity. It’s more than that. Does my sister know her best friend is a prolific liar? Does she feel the same betrayal I do?

Benedict takes note of this silent conversation you’re having with his brother. His brows furrow, and his lips pull into a tight thin line. He’s never felt more confused in his life. Because as he can see by the softened expression on Eloise’s face, even she’s clued in to Colin’s news.

And he, for the life of him, cannot seem to read between the lines. What is he missing?

“Penelope, she—“ Colin breathes, only to be cut off by a cough from Benedict.

“Hold on.” Benedict’s hand shoots up in protest, the dots starting to connect. “Penelope is Lady Whistledown?”

The silence that ensues is all the confirmation he needs. Three pairs of eyes hit the floor. You’re avoiding his gaze. “And you knew?” Benedict’s voice is directed at you, although he’s just as pointed towards Eloise. He can’t blame Colin for any of this.

Colin’s eyes widen as he takes in Benedict’s words. He turns to you and Eloise. “Neither of you told him?” He asks.

In unison, you say, “no.” There’s apprehension in both of your tones, nervous and unsure of how Benedict will react.

“I found out a few nights ago.” Colin eyes you and his sister in curiosity. “How long have you known?”

“A couple of months.” Eloise muses quietly.

“I’ve known for about half a year.”

Half a year? The words blur in Benedict’s mind, that’s an incredibly long amount of time for you to hold this in. It must have been eating you alive.

Benedict takes one look between you and his sister, stormy eyes narrowing, lips pursed in deep thought. He wants to be mad, wants to yell at you both, wants to scream it from the top of his lungs. He wants to feel betrayed, wants to feel as if his heart is wrenching, but he can’t. Oddly, he’s more so impressed. It’s almost sickening the sense of pride that blooms in his chest. How could you have possibly managed to stay so tight lipped about this? And for this long?

Benedict had always known of Eloise’s capabilities to keep things to herself, as she is merely happy to know something everyone else doesn’t, relishing in that, but you? He thought you simply incapable of keeping secrets from him. You like to talk, love to tell him things, and even more, you enjoy hearing his opinion on matters of both monumental and little significance. Your conversations have always been full of give and take, a mix of playful banter and riveting intellectual debates, with a hint of London gossip thrown in there for good measure.

Looking back on it, you’ve always told each other everything, especially something as big as this. And this time, you hadn’t.

He’s having trouble wrapping his brain around it, but he’s not mad.

“I thought I knew everything there was to know about you my love.” Benedict’s voice finally cuts through the thick silence. He’s teasing and relaxed, no anger in his posture.

Relief floods you as a laugh falls from your lips. “I believe you were wrong, darling.”

“I suppose I was.” Benedict smiles, his eyes twinkling in utter adoration. He couldn’t be more in love with you if he tried.

And this confuses Colin profusely. Not that Benedict loves you, that much is easy to understand. But you had kept a secret from your husband for over six months, hidden something so life changing from him for so long, and the minute Benedict finds out, he’s teasing you, joking with you, as if nothing has happened. As if nothing is to change because of it.

“How can you be so alright with this?” Colin questions, turning to his brother in confusion.

“Because,” Benedict muses, “as you so eloquently put it brother, it was not her secret to tell.”

“And you think that makes it acceptable to keep secrets from the person one loves?”

“In certain circumstances, I do.” Benedict says, wisdom coursing through his tone. “Besides Colin, this was never about me or my relationship with my wife. As I see it, you are projecting.” Benedict is egging him on, daring him to bite.

And he does, “projecting?” Colin scoffs in disbelief.

“You love Penelope. That is why you are so hurt by this.” Blue gaze meets blue. Colin melts. He knows he’s right. “But sometimes, you must let past grievances die. And allow your instincts to take over.”

Colin nods, swallowing. He wants to forgive Penelope, and in his heart, he knows he already has. Tilting his head in bemusement, he challenges, “And what of your instincts brother?”

Benedict turns to you, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “My love for my wife,” he says, “is the greatest instinct I have.”

And in Benedict’s mind, truer words have never been spoken…

iv

you’re what?!

Daphne’s eyes watch you carefully. It’s a normal evening, as far as she’s aware, yet something seems off. Ever since you and Benedict got married, Daphne has insisted upon having you both for dinner at Clyvedon every couple of weeks. And so you’ve done just that, happy to spend time with her, Simon, and little Auggie.

But tonight, you appear far off, lost in thought. You’ve barely spoken, only adding little bits to the conversation when asked, and you’ve been incessantly fiddling with your hands.

The biggest indicator of your strange behaviour, was your refusal for a glass of wine. At first, it had completely gone over Daphne. You’ve never been one for alcohol, so she’s not surprised she missed it, but as she ponders herself, it makes her think.

When dinner is over, she scoops Auggie up in her arms, and with her free hand, she reaches for yours, leaving Simon and Benedict to whatever they had been discussing. It’s not unusual for her to whisk you off to their sitting room for some tea and a tad bit of gossiping, but Daphne’s abruptness leaves you a little concerned.

Shutting the door quietly, she moves to sit down on the couch, Auggie on her lap. She smiles, beckoning you over with loaded enthusiasm.

You sit down next to her, turning your body to face hers. “Is everything alright?”

“Quite.” She grins, beaming. She knows something, and you don’t like it. It leaves you tensing at her tone, hidden with several implications.

You wonder if she’s figured you out. It wouldn’t surprise you in the slightest, and though you’ve tried to hide it, Daphne’s a woman, and a smart woman at that. The clues would be all too obvious to her.

“You’re with child.” She says finally, confirming your suspicions. It’s not a question, it’s a statement, as if she could never be wrong about something like this.

All of a sudden, a wave of nausea passes over you, anxiety building in your stomach. You haven’t seen a doctor yet, but you’re fairly certain it’s true. “I haven’t had my monthly in over sixty days. And I’ve been feeling rather ill.” You say. “It’s either that, or something is terribly wrong.”

When you look back at her, the smile that has grown on her face is enormously giddy. It spreads from cheek to cheek, her eyes beaming with intensity. “Oh!” She claps her hands together in joy. “This is wonderful news.” Daphne gently spins Auggie around in her lap so he’s facing her. “Did you hear that Aug? Your second cousin.”

The word second makes you smile, thinking of Kate who’s far along with her first child, Auggie’s first cousin. For the past number of months, since he’d found out about her pregnancy, Anthony has been quite the worry wart. It’s hilarious really, for everyone but Kate, watching him hover. Because as much as everyone knows Anthony is a control freak, it is equally known how independent Kate is. She hates being told what she can and cannot do, while he, more than enjoys giving out orders. You know he’s doing it out of love, but for the life of him, the poor man cannot seem to take a hint.

You chuckle lightly in thought. It’s comforting to think about how close in age your children will be. You can only hope they’ll be great friends. And if they’re anything like their Bridgerton side of the family, hell hath no fury, you’re in for the ride of a lifetime.

“Where has your mind gone?” Daphne’s voice breaks in, tone inquisitive.

“To Anthony and Kate.” Your eyes meet hers with a soft smile.

“Ah.” She grins. “He’s become quite unbearable I hear.”

You agree, humming lightly in response. “Kate says he never leaves her side unless absolutely necessary. I suppose he’s simply worried for her, but it does seem a tad excessive.”

“A tad?” Daphne laughs. “If Simon had behaved half as crazed as Anthony when I was pregnant with Auggie, I believe I might have gone mad.”

“And I wouldn’t blame you.”

Your giggles fill the room, genuine happiness spreading throughout it. And in your distracted state, neither of you notice the door crack open, Benedict hovering gently on the other side. He means to knock, truly, but the sweet sounds of your laughter leave him dazed.

“Speaking of doting husbands,” Daphne collects herself, her brow raising in curiosity, “does Benedict know?”

And this is his cue to enter, he thinks, his own curiosity overtaking his want to continue eavesdropping.

Pushing the door open and stepping through the threshold, he doesn’t give you the chance to respond. “Do I know what?” He asks.

You freeze in your seat, eyes widening, anxiety spiking.

It’s crazy how in a matter of moments, your life can change so drastically. One second you’re a simple married woman who’s undeniably enamoured with her husband, and the next, impending motherhood is smacking you in the face. And it’s not that you’re not excited, because by god, you are, it’s just this irrational fear creeping in that maybe Benedict won’t be happy, that maybe he’s not ready to be a father, that has you reeling. You know it’s silly, stupid really, but it’s almost like this fear is primal, because as far as you’re concerned, it’s extremely difficult to shake.

In all honesty, you’re not quite sure when you decided to find your voice, nor are you sure of what you’ve actually said, because when you turn your gaze, catching Benedict’s, he’s looking at you in shock, like the air has been ripped from his lungs.

“You’re—” Benedict’s grip on reality feels quite thin, because he’s not certain he’s heard what he thinks he’s heard. “You—you’re…” He can’t bring himself to say it, too scared to get his hopes up in case he had been wrong.

You swallow, nerves bundling in your stomach as you wring your hands together. Your eyes dart, looking for anything but Benedict’s ocean like gaze, as you try to focus on your breathing. Slowly, you tell yourself, in and out. You hadn’t noticed when Daphne had left the room, so consumed by your thoughts that you can’t believe you’d missed it.

It doesn’t seem like Benedict’s noticed her absence either, and if he has, it appears that he doesn’t care much. He’s merely focused on you.

“Please tell me I’m not losing my sanity, and that I heard you correctly.” Benedict pleads, his voice cracking with hope. He so desperately wants it to be true. “Are you with child?”

You cannot find the words; none of them seem right. Instead, you nod, too overwhelmed to do anything else. Before you know it, Benedict is rushing forward, scooping you in his arms and wrapping you in his embrace. The first thing you remember hearing is his chortled laughter, and the sound of your heart beating in your ears.

Your eyes brim with tears. He’s happy, you think, and you couldn’t be more elated. Relief floods through you as you allow your body to collapse into him.

“A baby.” He whispers into your ear, his brain moving faster than he can process it.

“Our baby.” You smile.

From outside the door, Daphne and Simon stand leaning against the walls opposite each other, grins resting on their faces. As much as Simon likes to pretend he’s indifferent, his heart says otherwise, a feeling of warmth spreading across his chest. He’s always had a soft spot for children. Daphne knows just that.

Gleaning her husband’s happiness, she reaches for his hand. He pulls her gently to his side, his arm draping across her body, and she wraps herself around him.

She sighs in contentment. “I believe I recall telling (Y/n) that that would be her one day.” She pauses, thumb tracing circles over Simon’s palm. “Raising a Bridgerton baby.” She smiles at the memory. It hadn’t been long ago, merely a few months had passed since.

And she had been right of course, as Daphne Bridgerton so often was. A baby Benedict and (Y/n) Bridgerton; chuckling she thinks, she can only hope the little one takes after you…

+ i

domestic bliss

Whoever told you parenting was easy, that it comes naturally, as if it’s some kind of instinct you have, has never given birth to three boys in only a little under three years. Difficult doesn’t even begin to describe it.

Chaos runs your life, or at least that’s what it appears like to you. You’re sure your family would tell you otherwise, that you always look so calm and put together, but quite frankly, you haven’t felt like that since before your first child was born.

You wouldn’t give it up for the world, nor would Benedict, but you have to admit, it’s more than a little tiring pretty much all of the time.

“Can I hold the baby mama?” Your oldest son Charles’ voice breaks your moment of silence.

“Of course you can darling.” You smile, patting the spot beside you. “Why don’t you climb on the bed here, and I’ll place her in your arms.”

Charlie beams up at you, eyes twinkling in delight. He giggles as you place your daughter Violet down gently, resting her neck under the palm of his small hand so that he’s cradling her nicely. “She’s beautiful mama.” He says. For a seven year old, he’s mature for his age, and certainly your calmest child.

Your lips lift into a soft smile. Quiet moments like these are few and far between. “I like to think so.”

Before you can prepare yourself for it, your serene bubble is burst as you hear two little pairs of feet padding quickly into the bedroom, followed by your husband’s unimpressed stare. “Trouble, the pair of you.” He eyes your four year old twins Alexander and William.

“We wanted to see the baby.” Alex pouts.

“But papa said we had to wait.” Will finishes for him.

You let out a bright laugh, gaze turning to your husband. “I am guessing that waiting is something they could not do.”

Benedict grins sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. “They are Bridgerton’s after all.” He quips. “We’re not exactly known for our patience.”

“I suppose not.” You relent teasingly, beckoning the twins forward. You watch as they clumsily climb their way onto the bed, eager to get a look at their sister.

Violet, only days old, has been a surprisingly calm baby, taking after her oldest brother. And a nice change of pace at that.

You remember after the twins were born just how fussy they’d been. You’d practically gone delirious just trying to keep up with them, and you’ve been trying desperately to do so ever since, never quite gaining enough ground.

“Look, Charlie!” William coos from above, leaning over the baby. “She’s smiling at you.”

The interaction warms your heart, watching your boys excited about their little sister. Even though you know Violet is much too young to be smiling and it’s likely just gas, you’d never ruin their moment.

Alexander whines slightly, feeling left out of the bunch. “Let me see Will.”

As he goes to push his brother out of the way, Benedict holds his hand up in protest, releasing a cough to gain his children’s attention. “Wait your turn.” He jests, sending Alexander a coy smile.

Benedict makes his way to the other side of the bed, allowing Charlie to be cozily sandwiched between the two of you. You share a sweet smile, blue eyes meeting (e/c).

Charlie begins to wiggle his way to the centre of the bed, Violet still tucked carefully in his arms. He’s moving delicately, as if she might break in his grasp. You watch lovingly as the twins shuffle their way over, one sitting on each side of their older brother. They take turns leaning in and cooing at the baby, absolutely entranced with her.

This allows your husband to slide in closer to you, wrapping and arm around your shoulder lovingly.

Benedict sighs. “I must admit,” he begins tracing circles on your forearm with his thumb, “I did miss having a baby in our home.”

You chuckle. “Relish in it.” You advise. “This will be our last one.”

“Oh?” Benedict chides. “That is what every woman says before she’s right back having another. Besides,” he smirks. “You cannot resist me.”

“Mm,” you smile cheekily. “I will admit, it is difficult, but I am more than capable of withstanding your charm.”

“Forgive me Mrs. Bridgerton.” He leans over to place a kiss on your lips and you reciprocate immediately. It always amazes you that he can still manage to take your breath away after all these years. “If I have difficulty believing you.”

You part to the sound of a loud groan from in front of you. “Papa.” Charlie eyes his father. Your children don’t enjoy it when your affections for each other are demonstrated in front of them. “You promised.”

Benedict feigns confusion. “Did I?” He grins. “I suppose it must have slipped my mind.”

Retorting his earlier words, you say, “Perhaps it is you who cannot resist me.”

Benedict tilts his head, brow raised and eyes full of warmth. “Perhaps.”

Your banter is broken by the giggles of your children, both of your gazes turning to them. Admiring the beauty of it all, you allow your hand to find Benedict’s. You share a glance, smiling softly knowing exactly what the other is thinking.

Pride. This is what your love has created. This is how your love will live on. With a beautiful family, indeed.

|||||||||||||||||||||

tag(s): @acmbooksandfilm @musicallisto @sweetpainterflowercalzone @sanovr @ladyincognito99 @idli-dosa @nevillelongbottton @autumn-slaves @star-flecked-soul @theresaisreading

[gallusgalluss]

a real rough Queen Eggabell doodle for this au i just thought of this morning, where instead of Lizbert, Eggabell’s the queen of bugsnax

(more info about the AU below, there’s a lot of text so be warned)

Okay so in this AU everything’s mostly the same, except instead of Lizbert being the Queen Of Bugsnax, it’s Eggabell.

The Journalist (you) is still on the island for the same reason; to find out what bugsnax are/if they even exist and interview Elizabert Megafig. So everything’s going on normally (normal for bugsnax, at least) until you reach the Frosted Peak. 

Where you would normally meet Eggabell, Lizbert is there instead. And she’s just in an absolutely awful state. It looked as if she hadn’t slept in weeks, and sure as hell hasn’t been eating any snax. You quickly go up to her to interview her, which she does but isn’t able to answer all the questions clearly, so you’re left with more mystery.

You think the job is finally done, but then you remember that Liz has a partner you haven’t met yet. You ask her about Eggabell, but Liz is just… too depressed to even answer that. The Journalist feels like it’s best to just leave her alone for a while.

So after doing other stuff, you finally head back up to the mountain and find Lizbert staring at the stone grump statues. She’s crying. She’s talking to herself how distressed and sad she feels, about how she feels like she’s failed the expedition, how everyone lost their trust in her, and how she lost her partner to something that could’ve easily been avoided. There’s a short pause after that monologue, then she decides to actually try encouraging herself. She couldn’t just give up here, in the cold, snowy mountain, letting herself get weaker and weaker. Egg wouldn't have wanted that, she herself wouldn’t want that. 

Her doubts aren’t completely gone, but she knew she had to actually try to do something, anything, to attempt to find Eggabell again. And then she sees you and gets scared as fuck.

The rest of the stuff between this and the party is basically the same as ingame; except you’re helping Liz instead of Egg. Oh and Filbo also meets up with Liz again and is so so happy to see his best bud again. Bestie Squad almost completely reunited. 

Then the party happens yada yada ppl dance, gay ppl kiss, the earthquake hits and ruins everyone’s mood, same as ingame, Liz shows up, but there isn’t time to talk, it’s time to go to The Door.

So now it’s time to go to the Undersnax. Things happen, the gang’s separated, and then you finally meet the queen. It’s Eggabell! A very, very angry n stressed out lookin Eggabell. A personal theory I have is that “Snakmonsters” (or just any creature that has extreme snakifications) have this ability to actually speak to bugsnax; only in their mind tho, like a hivemind. Bugsnax themselves can’t speak, but they’re able to send these “brainwaves” to whatever being they’re trying to communicate to that’ll cause them to actually understand what they’re saying.

This is currently happening with Egg, it’s been happening ever since she fell into the Undersnax. Something like this would really affect her negatively, since ingame she’s shown to get easily overwhelmed by a lot of angry, yelling grumpuses. So having thousands of bug food parasites screaming in her mind is definitely not good, extremely overstimulating. The Journalist is actually the first one to see her and she doesn’t notice you at first, just there getting overwhelmed by all the bugsnax. It takes Filbo coming in to finally snap her out of it.

Her tone is real rough n serious, but she’s actually really glad to finally see someone familiar. The Journalist asks to interview her, and she begrudgingly accepts the offer. So like ingame she explains that bugsnax are actually parasites, they’re trying to destroy Snaxburg, and she’s the only one who can control them.

She just sorta went from “Wow I’m a burden on everyone, things are going wrong all because of me. Nothing bad would happen if I wasn’t here to mess everything up” to “Oh shit now I’m the one who has to keep this island together, I’m the leader now and I need to keep everyone safe or elses there will be nothing left.” 

In contrast to Lizbert’s “I’m a proud leader who’s keeping everyone safe! This place is going to help them all out with their problems and make them all happy again!” and “I failed my task to lead everyone, I’ve led everyone to danger and it’s my fault everything’s like this. Holding this island together is the one right thing I could possibly do now.” thought process.

K so now Lizbert appears, and Egg is the happiest she’s ever been in weeks. She missed her wife sooo much y’all… They’re all lovey-dovey, Egg talks about how she lost her eye failing down here, they’re both food dragons now, and they throw you out of the volcano and the rest of “Escape from Snaktooth” happens.

Everything goes out as planned, everyone either goes onto the plane-boat-balloon thing safely or some of them die, and you’re left to see Egg and Liz in the now destroyed town of Snaxburg.

That’s about it, I don’t have any ideas for the post-escape part of this AU yet. sooo thanks for reading if u did :]

[creamymilkk]

saw the Jewish s/o request and… had a brainwave…

im learning Hebrew and having some apps in Hebrew…

based on this, may i request hcs for child!Kyle learning Hebrew with his s/o? (female).

some ideas: conversations, notebooks, texting, having apps in the language

if you want to use Hebrew, feel free to use a translator. ik it may not be good but its okay

📑 ♡ “Learning Hebrew With Kyle” ♡ 📑

༉‧₊˚ #Kyle x reader

. ˚₊ ꒱ Pairing/Pairings: Kyle and Reader.

༉‧₊˚ -Format: HCS/HeadCanons.

× &﹕Summary: Just you and Kyle learning Hebrew.

×﹕♺ AUTHOR’S NOTE(S): I’m happy you enjoyed it, yeah I did use google translate. Since I don’t know Hebrew :’] and like I said if I wrote something wrong just tell me and I will rewrite<3 Enjoy lovely 💕

♡ Kyle would have wanted to learn Hebrew and didn’t know where to start, he talked about this to you in school.

♡ You would of course want to join in and learn Hebrew/help your boyfriend. When school was out. You two went to his house.

♡ But firstly you guys finish/help each other out in your guys homework. (Power couple<3)

♡ After finishing you guys homework, you guys googled some basic things to start. Such as “Hello” “שלום” “What’s your name?” “מה שמך?”, etc.

♡ It was hard to try to say it out loud, though after doing my research on how to start learning a whole new language.

♡ You two downloaded an app to help you guys learn Hebrew. So you guys can start doing it right because some things google translate isn’t always the best.

♡ (Says the one that is google translating EVERYTHING LMAO)

♡ Anyways, you two would write down everything and I mean everything. So you guys can’t forget anything and make it easier.

♡ You guys would test each other, when it says to say something out loud, you will help him and how to say each part. So he can pass the lev, thingy (imagine using Duolingo LMAO)

♡ He would do the same but be a bit more mean? Like trying to do this since he really wants to learn everything.

♡ It took a really long time, but something you two will talk about in Hebrew. Sometimes we correct each other if you guys say something wrong.

♡ and he would practice alone without you knowing so he can something sweet to you :’)

♡ Like calling you “Sweetie.” “מוֹתֶק” Which you didn’t know since you don’t know lot.

♡ You asked him what it meant and he did, it made your heart melt.

♡ also he would learn cuss words just to say to cartman >:) (He will 100% do that, you can’t change my mind) Cartman will be like “What the fuck are yiu talking about Jew?”

💌 - Goodbye Cutie<3

[kallikrein]

like fr introduce your moots as tokyo rev characters ♡

oooo this ask is nice. lemme just…

i’m just gonna do the ppl i interact with most times. since i’m kinda anxious to pop on anyone else’s notification, and have them confused as to why i called them my moot lmfksks.

@sugokawata — nahoya. NAHOYA. NAHOYA. why? she’ll smile at you, maybe laugh at your cringy jokes but behind that happy facade is a “i’m gonna k-word you with love and adoration, here have a punch as a symbol of my affection” objective /pos. love this tsundere mfer <3

@/schiros — kakucho, i guess. she’s loyal to her friends. but she’s also weak to them (i know, she’s such a simp). but she can also bite your haters off without any explanation, will probably throw her hands and feet at them for making you feel any ounce of insecurity. reiny = nanda mfers top dog lmfaokssk.

@inupibaldspot — this little minx is baji. no, i am not shipping them rn, but they are just so alike. eve has this witty humor that never fails to crack me up, even her ideas are so wild that i can easily kin her with our yakisoba-advocate-i’m-gonna-burn-a-car-if-i-get-hungry baji keisuke.

@haruchyio — you know what, i’m just gonna say it. mikey. she’s so loveable and charming. to the point where all you’re looking forward to is talking to her. her brainwaves are something else too, like she articulate thoughts far deeper than a normal person could (aka me). and she’s also mysterious at the same time. she’s amazing, i tell you.

@baji-san — idk why but key is izana. she’s this force to reckon with, intimidating. but it doesn’t change the fact that i look up to her bcos she’s so elegant in everything she does? like how is she so perfect? yeah, i’m her simp through and through <3

@satmitsuplanet — tachibana hinata. she’s so pure, so kind and everything nice. she gives off this protective sister kind of vibe. like she’ll help you through tough times, and would always be there to support you even if you don’t talk as often. she’s just so nice, please i’m tearing up.

@wwintersun — ah, zu is chifuyu. she’s so supportive! and i also look up to her godly writing. i haven’t read all of them (i should do that really bcos they are such a treat). she’s a blog that’s so refreshing when i see her on my dash. like idk how to say it. she’s just…chifuyu. so heartwarming and friendly ;-;

@lostinthe-jojos — draken. idk why but he easily comes to mind. it’s just itzel is dedicated and you can just click with them the first time you talk. they also scream badassery. like try to annoy them, and they won’t hesitate to put you in your place lmfksks /pos.

@kakuchew — chewy is also chifuyu. she’s this loving person, oozing of great ideas (especially her bd founders headcanons… chef’s kiss) that i just wanna give chewy the best. she deserves everything. if i can just hug her through the screen, i’ve probably done it.

@mochi-coffee — AAA MOCHI. I WANNA SAY WAKASA BCOS WE’RE SUCH WAKASA SIMPS. IT’S BASICALLY OUR PERSONALITY ATP LGMSKSK. for real tho, mochi is shinichiro lmfao help ;-; wait, let me explain: she’s just charismatic asf, and you can easily vibe with her? she’s this wonderful magnet of positive aura that you can’t help but revel in it? IDK. SHE’S JUST SHINICHIRO. LIKE SHE’LL DRAG YOU TO THE MOST GRUESOME BATTLEFIELD, BUT THE TWO OF YOU ARE STILL GIGGLING LIKE BABIES BCOS IDK, SHE’S HELLA FUN TO BE AROUND.

@sri-likes-to-read — sri be the takemichi to my life. a person who i feel like the same as me: a crybaby (blame our infp-ness), but we still try to see the bright side of situations, and then just sob about it later on. i’m not sure, but i already relate to sri on many levels even though we’re still getting to know each other. i love them already, they’re so nice. always indulging my waka brainrot ;-;

@roppongiperfume — can i just be naive and say, inupi? there’s something about psyche that’s mysterious yet comforting. i’m not certain, but i like it. it’s making me want to know more about her. also, tysm for matching me with shinichiro. it has never left my mind since you…matched me with him sksjsjajd.

@etheralyonn — i’ll introduce fi as hanma. she has this vibe that she likes thrills, excitement… maybe. pls correct me if i’m wrong! but she also has this undertone that she can keep you grounded. i wanna get to know her more, so i could elaborate properly lmfksks.

@sohya​ — AAAA MY BELOVED MITZI WHO GAVE ME AN INTENSE WAKA BRAINROT BCOS OF HER SELF-SHIP ART OF ME AND WAKA. i love it sm. it’s even my phone homescreen ksjdjsks. mitzi kinda screams ran? like she likes having fun and easy to be around, but she can also show dominance if you try to irritate her /pos. she’s a girl boss, me likes to think :D

@tounacasserole​ — touma is naoto. idk. they’re diligent, organized… much like naoto. but pls, let me know if i’m just assuming things lmfksks. i kinda see them as a younger sibling? one who i wanna tease for being better at most things than their older sister hahahaha. it’s out of affection, dw! ^^

i know i missed out a few ppl, but i’m not sure how to introduce them as tokrev characters since i haven’t been interacting with them that much. i’m so sorry ;-; 

[lovemeleo]

The Same Brainwaves

So it’s Valentine’s day... which means: NUNY’S FIRST VALENTINES! You know I had to write something for my boys sooo... LET’S GO! These characters and their amazing world belong to the always fantastic @lumosinlove

cw: mentions of food

________________________________

Having a significant other during Valentine’s Day was a completely new experience. Past Valentine’s were spent either alone or at the bar. Jackson never really looked forward to it before but this year. This year was different. 

This was his and Zhenya’s first Valentine’s day as a couple, and he wanted to make it special. So Jackson started his planning a month in advance.

Jackson knew he couldn’t cook so he started his preparation by asking around for a good Russian restaurant to order food from. Sergei recommended one to him, right outside of Gryffindor that made really good traditional Russian food. He probably ordered too much, but he wanted Zhenya to have a lot of options. Pelmeni, Pirozhki, Beef Stroganoff and so many more. They’d have enough leftovers to feed them for the rest of the week at the very least.

He set it up to have it delivered early on in the day. With Valentine’s Day being on a Sunday this year, they didn’t have practice or any games either. He always woke up before Zhenya, who tended to be a deep sleeper. 

After turning his alarm off before it could wake the other man, Jackson rolled towards his boyfriend, quietly watching him sleep for a couple minutes. He used to think it was creepy when other people talked about their significant others sleeping. Now though, he understands. Zhenya’s face was so soft, so calm when he slept. He didn’t snore, he did more of a soft snuffle. He slept on his side, facing Jackson most of the time with an arm wrapped around him. 

That was the hardest part of getting up this morning. Getting out of the bed without waking Zhenya. Jackson carefully tried to roll to the edge of the bed, but a large hand quickly pulled him back into the middle. He let out a soft sigh, pressing a kiss to his jaw before carefully maneuvering out of the larger man’s arms. Hopefully he’d stay asleep long enough for him to at least get everything set up.

Checking the time as he walked into the kitchen, Jackson clapped his hands together, “Alright, let’s get started.” He murmured to himself. It was around 10am and he was hoping to have at least an hour or two to set up. He had hid a bouquet of flowers under the sink for the center of the table, and some cutesy Valentine’s decorations. Looking over the various items, Jackson found himself getting nervous. Had he gone too far? Was this too much? 

Jackson wasn’t often seen as a romantic person, he didn’t see himself as it either. But he wanted to be. For Zhenya. He deserved the cutesy shit and the romance. He deserved the entire world and if that meant Jackson buying out Party City of all of their Valentine’s Day decorations, then that is what he was going to do. 

The food was delivered around an hour into his decorating. As soon as he received the text, Jackson quickly swung the door open before they could knock or ring the doorbell. The delivery person actually had to help him carry it to the kitchen. 

After thanking and tipping them profusely, Jackson started setting everything out on the counters and the tables. He finished the entire set-up around twelve, sitting at the table with a sigh of relief. He did it. When he bought everything, he was worried it would be too cheesy but it actually turned it pretty well. Not too over the top.

Jackson quickly went and cleaned himself up, fixing his hair and brushing his teeth before deciding it was time to wake Zhenya.

Crawling back into the bed, Jackson started pressing soft kisses over his boyfriend’s face, “Zhenya. Baby. Babe.” He mumbled against the soft skin of his jaw. He could feel his cheeks move up into a smile as he began to wake up.

“Котенок. Hello. I’m wake.” Zhenya grumbled, pulling Jackson to his chest.

Jackson gently traced over his face, a smile on his face that was only for Zhenya, “Morning, Zhenya. I have a surprise...when you decide to wake up.”

A brown eye peeked out at him, like freshly melted chocolate against the white pillowcase, “Surprise? For me?” He asked.

He let out a chuckle, giving Zhenya a gentle kiss, “Yeah, babe. For you. But you gotta get up.” Jackson said as he sat up, trying to pull Zhenya with him. 

Zhenya pulled him into his lap with a smile, his hair slightly ruffled, “What if I want you as my surprise? Good idea, yeah?” He murmured, large palms resting on narrow hips.

A flush spread across Jackson’s cheeks as he rested his arms on Zhenya’s shoulders, “Maybe later? My surprise first though. Please.” 

With a dramatic sigh, Zhenya nodded, “Alright. Your surprise first.” He agreed, tapping Jackson’s hip till he climbed off. Jackson couldn’t help but watch as he climbed out of bed, the blankets and sheets falling away to show strong legs and muscled back. If it wasn’t all set-up downstairs, he would pull Zhenya right back into the bed.

Zhenya pulled on a pair of joggers and a t-shirt before glancing back at Jackson, “Surprise now?” He said excitedly, reaching a hand out to his boyfriend.

Intertwining their fingers together, Jackson led the way downstairs. His heart pounded nervously in his chest as he pushed open the kitchen door, “Happy Valentine’s day, babe.” Jackson murmured, pulling him all the way into the room.

All of the planning, getting up early and setting up was so worth it to see the look of shock on Zhenya’s face. He was frozen in the doorway, his hand still clutching at Jackson’s as he looked around the room, “I-I.. You do this.. For me?” He whispered, eyes shining with unshed tears as he turned to Jackson.

Jackson squeezed his hand, a small smile spreading on his face, “I’d do anything for you, Zhenya.”

He barely finished the sentence before Zhenya pulled him in for a kiss, his hands gently caressing Jackson’s face, “Котенок. Thank you.” He mumbled into the kiss. No one had ever done this for him. Zhenya was never really with anyone for this long. Except for Jackson.

Pulling away, Jackson smiled, “C’mon, let’s eat, Zhenya. I got your favorites.” He grabbed plates out of the cabinet, handing one to his boyfriend, “I also ordered some that just sounded good.”

Zhenya wiped at his cheeks as he took the plate, “You got from good restaurant too.” He said with a smile, filling his plate.

“Yeah, I asked Sergei. I wanted to make sure I got the good stuff.” Jackson said, taking a little of everything. They both sat at the table, eating happily.

Jackson bit his lip as pulled out a small box from his pocket, “One last surprise.” He murmured, pushing the box across the table. 

Eyes widening, Zhenya looked up at Jackson, “No, Jackson. Too much. You give me so much already.” As he watched Zhenya take the box slowly, Jackson was already shaking his head.

“Never enough, Zhenya. Never.” 

Zhenya let out a shaky breath as he opened the box. Inside was a simple black leather bracelet, held together by a silver clasp. Picking it up with gentle fingers, he noticed the engraving. 

Понял тебя.

I got you.

The tears were already falling down Zhenya’s cheeks when he looked up to Jackson, who was smiling softly, eyes already wet with unshed tears, “I know we’re not out yet and it might be awhile before we can be. Which is fine! I just.. I just wanted you to know. I love you so much and you’re it for me. Always.”

Jackson didn’t know what response he was expecting. A kiss maybe? More tears? Zhenya did neither. He ran out of the room. He left. Jackson was frozen for a minute and was about to yell out for him when Zhenya ran back in, out of breath. A box clutched in his own hands.

“W-we’re on the same.. What is the word? Brainwaves?”

Jackson’s eyes never left the box, “Wavelength. The same wavelength.”

Quietly stepping forward, Zhenya handed him the box. Inside was a silver chain, similar to the ones that constantly hung from Zhenya’s neck. The charm had a triangle which Jackson recognized as the flag of Magnitogorsk, and on the back.

I got you.

They really were on the same brainwaves.

[wallwriterstuff]

Get It? ‘Cause Your Old? ||Felix Volturi x Reader||

Warnings: A bit of swearing, some mild angst and mentions of insecurity. 

Words: 2728

Summary: Felix is very touchy about his age, so how is the reader going to show him it really doesn’t matter to them?

Since meeting your mate you had gotten to know him rather well, quirks and all. Felix was a summer baby. He liked to swim in his spare time. He had degrees in graphic design, architectural design and electrical engineering, because (though he had learned since becoming immortal) he still found reading and writing quite difficult and preferred more creative subjects he could use his hands for. He loved the smell of lilacs, but hated the colour purple after coming across Barney the Dinosaur once in a shopping mall where the toy store had a character visit occurring. Your absolute favourite fact about your mate was his age however, and it was your favourite fact because you didn’t really know it.

“Are you kidding me? The Romans! Felix you’re not just old you’re ancient!”

“And you are obnoxious, shortness.”

Felix did not find this fact as amusing as you did.

You had begged and pleaded to figure out when his birthday was, determined to see if you could make one of those Happy Birthday banners where the number was replaced with question marks. He had refused to tell you with a knowing gleam in his eye, his expression stern. He’d found rather creative ways to shut you up. In fact, it had become a habit you realised, that every time you brought up the topic he found some way to silence you.

“I just don’t understand! I don’t want to do anything mean, I just want to make sure he has a good birthday! I mean, you lot never celebrate anything. Who do I have to kill to get some balloons around here?” You huffed, resting your elbows on your knees and dropping your chin into your hands. Since the Guard were away on a mission you had been left alone in the castle for the past three days, the secretaries too temporary for you to seek comfort in and the other vampires too aloof to consider human company any company at all. Santiago was the only exception to this rule, as he trained with Felix often and therefore ended up spending a lot of time with you as a by product of your presence in the training room. You never really saw anything per say since they moved so fast but occasionally, they slowed down to practice techniques and gave you a good view of the complex moves your mate could manage.

“You have to realise that we don’t really place the same value on birthdays as you do,” Santiago reminded you, “To some of us, we’ve had so many they’ve simply lost meaning, for others they are reminders of things we would like to forget.” Your brows furrowed. Who would want to forget their own birthday? Birthdays were so much fun! You spent them with friends and family eating good food and doing things you loved...

“You want to forget your own birthday?” you asked, the confusion evident in your voice. Santiago tilted his head.

“You forget most of us were born when your birth status dictated your lot in life. Some of us were born poor and we lost loved ones young, others of us were forced to marry young.” He pointed out. It was definitely food for thought. Felix had been born a really long time ago and you really had no gauge as to what life might have been like for him as a human; hell, you weren’t even sure Felix remembered what his life had been like. Santiago chuckled, clearly following your line of thought, and you couldn’t help but stick your tongue out at him.

When Felix returned to your side two days later you were quieter than usual. You couldn’t bring yourself to just forget about your conversation with Santiago. If Felix noticed he didn’t say anything but there was an increased amount of physical affection that let you know, in his own silent way, he wasn’t sure what was wrong with you but he wanted you to feel better. Simple things like a squeeze of your hand here and there or a tender brushing of a hand along your hair. It took you almost another week before you cracked.

“Why won’t you tell me your birthday?” you asked, curled into his side as you watched a movie together one evening. Felix tensed ever so slightly.

“Is that what you’ve been moping about the place for? Really?” he sounded both incredulous and exasperated, like he wished you’d drop the topic and couldn’t believe you hadn’t. Your tenacity was something he did want to admire but by god did you obsess over the most trivial things. Bobbing your head you sat up, frowning slightly.

“I was talking to Santiago about it and he said that maybe-“

“You shouldn’t have bothered speaking to any about it. It’s not worth wasting your time over.” Felix said firmly. You recoiled at that, not expecting his tone to be quite so sharp. Maybe Santiago was right and Felix didn’t enjoy remembering his birthday, but if that was the case all he needed to do was say! He didn’t need to get snappy about it. You sat up, turning your gaze away from Felix and towards the fire in the hearth.

“It’s my time, I’ll waste it how I like.” You muttered.

“I didn’t bargain to give you more time as a human for such trivial things, you wanted to finish your degree remember? I don’t see much work going towards that recently since your brain is so occupied by the unimportant.” Felix’s comment was almost snide, and you couldn’t help the hurt that ripped through you. You immediately scooted away from him, pushing up off of the sofa and moving to grab your bookbag. Felix sighed. “Now where are you going?” he asked.

“The library, I’ll sleep there to since I’m wasting so much time elsewhere.” You bit back.

“Now you’re being ridiculous,” Felix huffed, flitting to stand in front of you, “This isn’t something we need to argue about, let’s just – Y/N!” you pushed past him and made for the door, determined that he wouldn’t see the tears welling in your eyes. You knew he hadn’t meant to be so harsh, but his words had implied just how worthless your humanity was to him. You had thought there were perhaps things about your human self he enjoyed; he commented on your warmth when he held you often, and how quiet the room would be without your heartbeat. Was this really the only reason you were as you were? Your education was the only reason he cared about your humanity? You had hoped at least one of your qualities would take the top spot on the list of ‘Top 10 Things to Love About Y/N’!

Felix didn’t follow you, and you didn’t bother to return to your room either, your stubbornness winning out as you did exactly what you said you would. It was Alec who found you, curled up on your side on the sofa in front of the fire. It was the only thing keeping you warm considering you had forgotten a jacket or blanket of any kind but your pride wouldn’t let you go back for one.

“I’m almost certain Felix has a bed in his room that is more than suitable to sleep in.” Alec quipped. You scowled at him, irritated by your inability to get a proper nights rest and the fact Felix had just let you walk away from such a stupid argument. He’d not come to find you either, though you hadn’t exactly gone to find him either.

“We’re fighting.” You grumbled. Alec’s head tilted.

“About what exactly?” he asked.

“Stupid stuff.” You curled up tighter with a shiver. Alec snorted.

“So your resolution is to freeze in the library all night? Are humans selectively stupid?” he wondered.

“Not you to!” you complained, “There’s nothing wrong with being human!”

“Ah, and we get to the crux of the problem.” He chuckled, leafing through the books to decide which he wanted to read tonight. Your scowl only darkened. It was no secret that your humanity was not favoured among the residents of Volterra and you really couldn’t be bothered for another argument with the witch twin about the perks of remaining mortal.

“If you’re here you’re not in your room, right?” you asked. Alec faced you with the most dead-eyed stare you’d ever seen, and if you hadn’t known the boy any better you might have feared for your life in that moment.

“An astute observation, allow me to counter. If I return to my room and find you in it, I’ll show you exactly why it doesn’t pay to be human here.” He promised. You all but ran from the room, leaving your book bag behind as collateral damage, and Felix welcomed you back silently with nothing more than a nod. You ignored him in favour of getting ready for bed, grateful for the warm covers and completely unaware of the way the giant pressed a feather light kiss to your head as you slept with a mumbled apology his pride wouldn’t let you hear.  

It had been almost a month since the day you had met when you were hit by the brainwave that seemed to just…solve everything. It had been purely accidental. You had gone shopping, in need of some new socks, when you saw them. They were nothing spectacular, just plain black with some little green dinosaurs all over them, but the moment you had thought of what a funny little present they would be for your ancient-ass mate you had realised that they could be a birthday present.

Who said Felix needed to tell you his actual birthday? Your stupid fight a few days ago was still causing tension and it needed to be resolved; since the big dummy didn’t want to back down it seemed you (as loathe as you were to do so) would have to. You had everything you needed by the time you arrived back at the castle, completely forgetting what you had gone out for originally of course, and hurried back to your room to prepare your surprise for him. You had had helium balloons pumped up that said Happy Birthday on the side, but you crossed out the birth part and scribbled in sharpie beneath the printed message so the balloon read Happy Birthday we met instead. You had snagged an anniversary banner and some wrapping paper of course for his socks, including a card and some cake for yourself.

You just had to wait for your mate to finish his guard duty for the day.

With your slice of cake in hand, you had curled up on the sofa to eat it and watch some old reruns of your favourite sci-fi shows while you waited, not daring to look up and see his reaction when you finally heard the door open. There was a very long moment of silence where you dared not even swallow before he finally spoke.

“Happy day we met?” he questioned finally. He stood just in front of the door, his eyebrows raised and impressive arms folded. You merely nodded once and held out your present to him in silence. His eyes betrayed his surprise but he didn’t comment on it as he came to sit beside you. He went to open the envelope attached to the colourful paper and you reached out to stop him.

“Present first.” You insisted. Felix’s eyes rolled but he obeyed, tearing away the paper to reveal his dinosaur socks. There was a pregnant pause as he digested the meaning.

“Really?”

“Just open the damn card next.” You huffed. Neither you nor your mate were very good at speaking about how you felt, but writing…well that you could do. Felix took his time, and you knew better than to interrupt him since it took him so much effort to read simple things. You suspected he had never been taught as a human and was probably dyslexic, so when he turned and the Volturi tried to teach him to read he very much struggle; it was less learning and more remembering what words were supposed to look like, and since those words looked wrong reading was not his most favourite thing to do. The silence stretched and you wondered if perhaps you’d written too much in your card, but just as you were about to speak up Felix disappeared from your sight. Your jaw dropped, your eyes bugging slightly. What the hell did that mean? Was that an outright rejection? Did he still not get what you were trying to do?

“Y/N.” his voice was soft behind you, and you turned to find him down on one knee with a velvet box in hand. Your eyes widened and you scrambled to your feet with a dry mouth.

“Whoa whoa whoa Felix I know I just wrote the L word and all but a ring is-“

“Just open it you idiot.” He smiled slightly as you swallowed past the lump in your throat and hesitantly reached for the box. There was a beautiful silver band inside, very plain, but there was an infinity symbol intwined around it that was studded with tiny diamonds that glistened in the light the same way his skin did. Your eyes widened. It was gorgeous, and after the way you’d treated him it felt entirely undeserved.

“Felix…” you trailed off.

“I had it inscribed.” He told you. You very gently pulled the promise ring from its cushion and tilted it till you could see the word he’d had painstakingly etched into the metal.

Forever.

Felix stood till he was towering over you once more, his touch tender and soft as he carefully slid the ring on to your middle finger. His brows were somewhat furrowed, and he didn’t meet your eyes, but he didn’t let go of your hands either.

“Are you still mad at me?” you asked. Felix sighed.

“I was foolish to ever argue with you to being with, neither of us put forward our arguments clearly enough to see there was nothing to argue about.” he admitted, thumb stroking over your knuckles.

“I’m sorry for being so stubborn, I just wanted to celebrate you…you’re kind of cool so…” you stumbled over your words, blushing slightly. Felix chuckled, his free hand moving up to trace your blush with the backs of his knuckles. You leaned into his touch, understanding the gesture as a silent moment of appreciation for you. While he leaned in to kiss the top of your head, you gazed down adoringly at your ring.

“I shouldn’t have gotten so defensive, I should have told you outright. I really don’t know my birthday since we didn’t have calendars, but I lived as a slave. Every year I prayed to my Gods to deliver me from my servitude, and with every winter that passed I remained a slave.” Felix confessed quietly. You pulled him into a tight hug, burying your face in his chest. It was really no wonder Felix had gotten so defensive, they were not the best memories to have, fuzzy or not.

“I’m sorry,” You mumbled, “I don’t care how old you are, and I won’t bug you about your birthday anymore, I just…wanted you to know how much you meant to me.” His chuckle vibrated through your skull.

“There will be plenty of anniversaries for us to come, shortness. I never meant to hurt you by implying I didn’t care for your human self. There are many things about you I will miss when you turn, but the sooner you do the sooner I can start forever with you…patience has never been my strong suit.” He tilted your chin upward, red eyes boring into yours as his lips inched closer.

“Truce?” you whispered. He hummed in agreement, thoroughly distracted by the way he moulded his mouth to yours in a slow, sweet kiss. With forever at your fingertips you would find plenty of way to celebrate your mate, but for now you would carry on into this blissful little part of your promised forever, savouring the little ways you were learning to love the dinosaur that had decided out of all those he’d met over centuries of existence, you were the one he wanted to keep at his side.  

[nooneelsecomesclose17]

Daddy's first pride

This is probably terrible, if so I'm sorry. From the Ana'verse.

"Plain iced cupcakes with different flags or rainbow icing." Robert announced as Aaron walked in the door with Ana on his hip and Seb following, making a beeline for his toys, giving his Dad a half hearted wave, as usual too interested in playing than anything else.

"Is this a quiz or..." He sets Ana down on the floor having picked her up from Sarah. He just stares at his husband, surrounded by recipe books, tapping away on his laptop, Sara in her bouncy chair in front of him fast asleep.

"For Pride. I can't make my mind up. Which do you think would be better?"

"Can we go back to the beginning, because I feel like I've walked in halfway through the series."

"Charles came in the cafe today, he's organising Pride in the village and he asked me to get involved." Aaron hasn't seen Robert look so eager about anything for ages, not since he came out of prison and he smiles along with him. "He's asked all local businesses for sponsorship or to be involved. I'm doing refreshments and stuff."

"When is it?"

"Next month. He said he'd called at the yard but couldn't make you hear." He goes back to scrolling on his laptop. "What do you think of these?"

"Must've had the crusher going." He shakes his head and picks his way through the mess surrounding Robert before he can sit down, lifting Ana onto his lap. "I can't hear a thing with that going you know that. What am I looking at?"

"Cookies. Maybe Mum could ice them, you know, all the different flags?"

"Yeah, why not. You know I'm the wrong person to ask, all I care about is if they taste nice."

"Idiot." He leans over to kiss him, closing his laptop. "I've put tea in early because there's a meeting at the village hall at six."

"About?"

"Pride, Aaron! I'm on the committee so I have to be on time. So you'll have to do bath time and that. I'll be home before they go to bed."

"There's a committee?"

"Yes. It all has to be arranged. You can help if you want. Mum's already volunteered, and there's Matty, Ethan, Charles, Nicola and Vic, oh and your Gran." He couldn't help smiling because he'd not seen Robert this animated in ages even if he truly couldn't remember any conversation they'd had about any of this.

"I'm not one for meetings am I, but I can do heavy lifting and that." He hesitates, not wanting to dampen Robert's mood one bit.

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just...you've never really seemed interested in going to pride or 'owt." Robert looks down and he instantly feels bad. "Oi, it's not a criticism, I just wondered...you seem to be going at this hell for leather that's all. Did you want to go before or...?"

"Not really...I, nearly went once, in London. Chickened out at the last minute, worried someone from work might see me and just know which was daft I know, and when you and me got together, something always seemed to get in the way. I just thought...I know who I am now, and I'm happy. That's something to celebrate, isn't it?"

"Yeah, course. Be my first time too." He winks making Robert laugh. "Right, so, what else have you got planned?"

--------

"Robert!" It's only been a week and Aaron is wishing the days away so he can have his husband, and his house back. He's come home to a living room full of boxes.

"Oh, you're home. You're early."

"I thought I'd sack it off for the day and we could go to the pub for tea with the kids. I didn't expect to come home to...well this."

"Daddy look!" All of a sudden Seb emerges from behind the pile of boxes with what looks like a door curtain trailing behind him.

"Very nice mate. Robert what is all this."

"Ah...well..." Robert scratches his head as he untangles Seb from the decoration he's wrapped himelf in. "The thing is, I'm kinda in charge now."

"How come?"

"It was meant to be Andrea, although if you ask me she only agreed because she thinks it'll keep her in with Charles." Aaron nods, even though he really has no idea what he's talking about, but then Robert's always been more into village gossip than him. "Anyway she's cried off, I don't know, some kind of drama with Jamie again, and well Charles needed the help."

"And you agreed."

"He was stuck!"

Robert and Charles have struck up a kind of friendship since Robert came home, and Aaron knows that he's confided in him, stuff he doesn't want to tell Aaron, or things he needs to sort out before he does.

"Right, so basically the house is going to be a store room for the next fortnight?"

"No, I'm moving it all over to the village hall, but it needed checking, and Mum was going to help but then Ana wanted to go to the swings so she took her, and Sara."

"I'm helping!" Seb pipes up, with his head inside another box as Robert shook his head.

"Well how about you help me and Daddy move these boxes and then we can go and get some tea?"

"Chips?"

"If you get your head out of that box and stop spreading stuff everywhere then maybe."

--------

The next few weeks are a flurry of plans, of Robert having daily brainwaves or panics about one thing or another, and his phone is constantly lighting up with WhatsApp messages, but finally it's the evening before and he thinks Robert has calmed down. He's at one final committee meeting leaving Aaron in charge of the kids tea.

"You alright mate?" Seb's pushing his pasta around the plate rather than eating.

"Where's Daddy?"

"He's at his meeting, you know sorting things for tomorrow. He won't be long."

"What's Pride?" He says after pushing a few more bits of pasta around. He supposes he shouldn't be surprised Seb's asking, it's all they've spoken about for the last month or so after all.

"Well in some places it's like a big parade and it's full of colour and everyone's happy. Emmerdale's a bit small for a parade though ain't it, so it's just going to be like a big party with music and face paints and food and all sorts of things."

"Oh."

"What's up mate?"

"Oscar, at school, he said havin' two Daddies is weird." Aaron's never head of this Oscar, and he has to remind himself it wasn't the kids fault that he obviously hadn't been taught properly.

"Do you think it's weird?"

"No. You and Daddy both play with my trucks and take me on the swings."

"Exactly, some boys and girls have a Mummy and Daddy, like Eve, some have two Mummies like Moses and Johnny, and some like you, Ana and Sara have two Daddies. But all of you have fun, and everyone loves you, so it's not weird. Oscar maybe just doesn't understand hey?"

"But I had Mummy too." Aaron let out a breath, it'd been a good while since he'd mentioned Rebecca, other than saying goodnight to her photo every night. He wished Robert was here, he was always better at dealing with it than him.

"Yeah, well, Moses has a Daddy too doesn't he? A family can be made up of whoever, and still be the same as everyone elses. Do you understand?"

"I think so. And pride is like a party?"

"Yeah, celebrating the fact that people like me and Daddy can be together and stuff."

"But...why?"

"Because years ago we wouldn't have been allowed to get married or be together and some people still think we shouldn't."

"That's silly."

"Yes it is. Really silly."

"Can we go see Daddy?" Aaron smiles, and nods, happy that Seb's satisfied with his answer.

It's a bit of a struggle, managing the three of them, but eventually he gets Seb to push Sara in her chair, while he carries Ana, and they're heading towards the village. Suddenly Seb stops, mouth open and Aaron stops fiddling with Ana's cardigan to see what's wrong.

"Wow." Main Street is literally awash with colour and Seb's eyes are as wide as Christmas. "Look Daddy!"

"I am mate. Cool huh?" He can see Robert in the distance, with Charles and he nudges Seb to carry on walking, smile growing wider as they gets closer to his husband, seeing how happy he is.

"Daddy! Everything's pretty!" Seb all but abandons the buggy to run the last few metres to Robert who immediately picks him up and sits him on his shoulders.

"What do you think young man?" Charles asks him and Seb giggles. He likes Charles, had crazed them to be allowed to go to the after school club he'd set up in the village.

"I like the colours! Daddy said that Pride is cos he and Daddy are allowed to get married. Is that right?"

"Something like that yes. Do you remember we talked about it last week at after school club?"

"When we coloured in?"

"That's right. All of your drawings are hanging up in the church so maybe you can show your Daddies tomorrow."

"OK!"

"Come on chatterbox, let Charles get home."

"He's fine. I'll leave you to it. It looks really good Robert, you've done a great job getting everyone organised, especially last minute."

They take a slow walk home once Robert's done one last check of everything. Aaron's just happy to wait, happy to watch him. It's been a strange couple of years since he came out of prison, ups and downs along the way and he knows Robert's struggled with village events sometimes, feeling as though people are watching him, judging him. Seeing him taking such a delight in organising everything hopefully means he finally feels properly back at home.

"You ready?" Finally finished he kisses Aaron, Seb resting against his shoulder, suddenly tired. "It does look ok, right?"

"Yeah. Proper proud of you I am."

--------

"She's sleeping again." Aaron clicks off the light and slips into bed beside him, not getting any response from his husband. "You ok?"

"Hmm? Yeah. It's just..."

"What?"

"Charles asked me if I'd say something tomorrow."

"Ok, and...you don't want to? I'm sure he'd understand."

"No I do but...I don't know what to say."

"Just say whatever comes to mind. You don't have to make a big speech, just welcome everyone. He wouldn't have asked you if he didn't think you could."

"I just...it has to be perfect."

"Robert, it already is. Look at what you've done, the village looks amazin', and tomorrow is going to be brilliant and that's down to you."

"People helped."

"Yeah, but they wouldn't without you geeing them up. It's all set up now...you get to enjoy yourself."

"Mmm, love you, you know. I'm glad I didn't go that time in London, I'm glad my first pride is with you."

"Soppy git."

--------

"Right, I'm ready." He's barely set a foot on the bottom stair when Robert stops him.

"No."

"What do you mean no?"

"You are not wearing all black. I will suffer it the rest of the year, but not today."

"Why the hell not? Last I checked it was a free country and I can wear whatever I want."

"No Daddy. You has to wear colour! It's the rule." Aaron bends down to Seb who has his arms crossed, mimicking Robert.

"Oh is it? Well I heard that it's the rule to tickle little boys until they shouted me to stop!"

"No! Daddy, stop it! Daddy help me!"

"Seb's right." Aaron stops tickling his son to frown at his annoying husband. Robert's wearing a t-shirt with PRIDE emblazoned across the front in the colours of the bisexual flag and before he can ask what he considers colourful enough he's handing him a bag. "I got you this."

He glares at him a moment longer, pulling what looks like a t-shirt from the bag.

"I knew you wouldn't actually wear proper colour so I got it made up in black." The shirt has 'love wins' across the front made to look like rainbow paint splatters. "Will it do?"

"Fine." He sighs, but he's smiling.

"I, er, I also got these, for the kids." He hands him three more shirts each saying the same thing. "You like 'em?"

"Perfect. Right then, I'll get changed, you can sort them, and then finally we can go!"

Fifteen minutes they're off, Seb running ahead, while Aaron has Aaron on his shoulders, little hands clutching at his hair. Robert's behind them, stopping to adjust Sara's sunhat.

"Seb hang on mate." He stopped at the top of the drive until Robert catches him up.

"Oh my God."

Main Street was full of people, and Aaron couldn't wipe the smile from his face.

"Look what you did."

"Yeah." He sounds stunned.

In the crush, the lose each other after a little while, and it's not until he hears Charles announcing Robert's name that he knows where he is. Making his way to the stage that's been set up next to the church he stands to one side with Sara's pushchair, Ana still on his shoulders. He can see Seb at the side of the stage with Vic so he's happy to stay where he is.

"Um...I don't quite know what to say. When Charles talked about this, I don't think any of us expected quite so many people. Er, it took me a long time to accept who I was, that, um, that I'm bisexual, that it's ok...Fifteen years actually, and now I'm married to the most wonderful man in the world and we've got three kids, and I'm happy. It's been a hell of a journey but I'm truly happy. Anyway I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's ok to not know, to take your time, to go at your own speed...so, have a wonderful day everyone!"

Aaron can barely hear himself think at the cheer, the whistle as Robert steps off the stage, picking Seb up and kissing him as he goes.

It takes a while but eventually they find each other and he sees that Seb had convinced his Daddy to let him get his face painted, cheeks perfectly matching his t-shirt that proclaims 'my daddies love me' with both a pride flag and bisexual flag.

"Was it ok?" Robert asks as Aaron moves Ana so she's standing with Seb, holding onto his hand.

"Did you hear them? It was perfect." He kisses him before hugging him tight. "Love you so much."

"Love you too."

"Daddy I'm hungry! Can we get a cookie from Ganma now?"

He laughs into Robert's neck as the moment's broken. It didn't matter, the whole day has been perfect from start to finish.

[hesther-mcg]

rivals

request: @kyleewrites​: Oh you wanted a Bolin request?? How about rival probender to lovers go (u can choose earth, water, or fire idc)

request: i’m someone!!! can I request a bolin x reader one-shot? mayyybe an enemies to lovers kinda thing? I think that would be interesting👀🌻

pairing: bolin x reader 

warnings: explicit language

a/n: KYLEEEEEE 💞💞💞💞 thank u for kicking off the bolin train, we ALL appreciate it lol. i hope you like this, and that it makes you smile despite whatevers going on. 🌻 anon was on the same brainwave as you, this is for you too sunny anon. posting this at 4 am whoohoo! 

The door slammed open and you bounded in, throwing your head gear to the side roughly. Frustration rolled off of you in waves, and your teammates sensed it as soon as they caught up to you and entered the locker room. 

Too bad only one of them understood why you were so mad. 

“Damnit, (y/n)!” The earthbender on the team yelled as he yanked his own gear off. “What is wrong with you? We could have won this, we’ve been training nonstop!” 

“Hey, Peng, calm down...” your other teammate urged gently, his hand reaching out to pull Peng back. The earthbender jerked out of the hold, and whirrled around. 

“No, Nidik, I will not calm down!” He mimicked the waterbender. “We’re a good team; I know it, you know it, and (y/n) knows it. We work hard, and we do our best, but every time we go up against that fucking team we always lose! You don’t think that’s suspicious?” 

Silence followed his outburst. You stared at the wall, back straight as a board, Nidik’s lips were pursed as he was locked in a stare down with Peng, who’s breathing was ragged. 

“We had a lot on the line tonight,” Peng spoke again, much calmer this time, still looking at his waterbending friend. He sighed, and closed his eyes. “You need to tell me what’s going on, (y/n).” 

“I-” you hesitated. This was so stupid. He was so stupid. “That idiot earthbender on the Fire Ferrets...” you mumbled. You wouldn’t say you hated him, but the dislike you had for him lit your veins on fire whenever you so much as thought about him. 

“Bolin? What about him?” Peng questioned, finally turning to look at you. 

“Ugh,” you groaned, rubbing your forehead. “You know I don’t like him, but every time he looks at me I blank,” you sighed, lowering your head. You were frustrated with yourself; you didn’t like Bolin, you’d barely spoken to him and it had proven to be a less than exciting conversation, so why did he have this affect on you? 

“You’re kidding me, right?” Peng deadpanned, his face blank as he stared at you. 

“P, don’t be so mean,” Nidik chided from his corner of the room. 

“You have a crush on him, (y/n). We could have won the money to get new uniforms because ours are falling apart, and moved one step closer to the tournament, and we lost it because you have a crush on Bolin?” 

Your face grew hot; whether from anger, embarrassment, or guilt, you didn’t know. You were actually feeling all three as you stood from the bench and grabbed your bag. “Can we talk about this tomorrow?” You mumbled, and didn’t wait around for an answer as you darted out of the room. 

You headed to the bathrooms with racing thoughts. You were angry, at Bolin and yourself. You were embarrassed, because you were starting to think that maybe Peng was right. And you were guilty, for costing your team the match and the rewards you were in need of. 

And as you left the arena, the cold chill of the night air causing you to blow steam from your nostrils, warming yourself up from the inside, these same emotions stuck with you. Shock joined them as someone called out to you. “Hey! (y/n)!” 

You turned and scanned your surroundings, though it wasn’t easy to miss the boy with a wide grin and arms waving through the air. You sighed deeply. 

Bolin. 

Leave. Go home, you told yourself. And you so desperately wanted to, this boy was the cause of many negative emotions tonight and conversing with him didn’t exactly sound fun. But as he barreled towards you, and his green eyes became more visible, your feet stayed glued in place. 

“Shit,” you whispered as you realized you had waited too long, and it was too late to run. He was almost there, and your heart raced for reasons you weren’t ready to unpack yet. 

“Hey, (y/n)! That was a good match back there,” he complimented as he reached you, reaching a hand back to rub his neck. 

You hated how handsome he looked. Dummy. 

“Yeah, sure was...” you trailed off at the end, an awkward smile presenting itself on your face. You cursed yourself. 

“Uh, I was wondering if you wanted to maybe grab a bite to eat with me” he shyly questioned, but blushed a moment later. “A-and Mako and Korra, of course,” he chuckled nervously. 

You hated to say it, but you blanked for a few moments. No thoughts, no emotions, just the question the boy you were supposed to shoot fire at just hours earlier proposed. When your senses decided to quite their bullshit, you scrambled for anything to get out of it. 

But your stomach churned with everything that came to mind; coming up with an excuse felt wrong and made you and uncomfortable. But you at dinner with Bolin? Someone who looked very cute and punchable? 

“Yeah, I can’t tonight, sorry...” you apologized weakly, looking over your shoulder briefly, in the direction you needed to go to get home. “Uh, thanks, though.” 

“Oh,” the disappointment dripped the word. “That’s-that’s okay.” 

Your heart constricted in your chest, and you couldn’t breathe for a moment, and nothing made sense; so you turned away from him. “Maybe another time,” you offered lamely over your shoulder as you stepped away from him. 

“Yeah, sure,” he nodded, shoulders slumping. “I’d like that,” he said softly, and you stopped mid step. Thoughts raced through your mind, and your heart sped up in your chest. Your cheeks were flushed and your nose was becoming slightly runny from the cold, but you turned around and called out to him before you could convince yourself not to. 

“Actually,” you paused. Bolin had already started to walk away from you, his posture screaming ‘rejection’ and feet dragging on the ground, but he perked up at the sound of your voice. His head turned, and hope shined brightly on his face, and you cracked a smile. 

“Yeah?” He questioned, and you worked up the courage you needed to get your words out. There was no going back now. 

“Actually, I think I will go,” your eyes flitted from the ground, to the sky, to the building beside you, anywhere but his face. “If the offer still stands, that is,” your cheeks flushed. 

“Of course it does!” He exclaimed reaching forward to grab your hand and pull you along, heading towards his brother and the Avatar, and you wondered for a moment if this was the right choice.

But as you looked down at Bolin’s hand wrapped around yours, and up at his happy face, it wasn’t hard to lean towards yes. 

[out-of-jams]

Prompt List #1

ANGST

1.     “I can’t believe you.” 2.     “You said you’d never do it again!” 3.     “How many? How many times?” 4.     “You really, really shouldn’t be here.” 5.     “When you’d said you loved me, I knew I shouldn’t have believed it.” 6.     “I refuse to cry over you.” 7.     “When I look at you…And…And her, I can’t help but feel nothing but regret.” 8.     “You promised me you’d never leave!” 9.     “I wish things could be like they are in the movies, but I guess there are no such things as happy endings.” 10.  “I gave you everything; I won’t let you take this away too.” 11.  “Who said that’s what I wanted?” 12.  “Maybe you really are the monster everybody says you are.” 13.  “You’re too late. Like always, I guess.” 14.  “Never again, do you hear me? Never again!” 15.  “I never would have expected something like this from you.” 16.  “I don’t hate you. I guess I just hate myself for thinking you were someone else.”

FLUFF

1.     “Did you just­­ – did you just kiss me?” “…Yeah.” “…Do it again.” 2.     “Why do you keep blinking like that?” “I’m trying to take a snapshot of you with my brain, so I’ll never forget how beautiful you look.” 3.     “You’re so cheesy, I’m going to start calling you feta.” 4.     “Hey, can you give me directions? I think I just got lost in your eyes.” 5.     “I don’t know what I’d do without you here.” 6.     “Don’t worry, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” 7.     “I was just about to call you.” 8.     “We’re on the same brainwave like some next level soulmate shit.” 9.     “Don’t look at me like that.” 10.  “I hate cheesy, romantic things, but wow you really make me want to write a lame soliloquy or something.” 11.  “This was the best way I could figure out how to tell you.” 12.  “You’re the only person I’d ever share my pizza with.” 13.  “I may not be athletic, but if you asked me to jump, I’d ask how high and then grab a step ladder.” 14.  “Are you blushing right now? Oh, my God, you are!” 15.  “If I win, I get a kiss. If you win, I get a kiss.” 16.  “Just be with me, that’s all I ask.”

[chairismaticchair]

And Everything was Perfect

Happy Holidays @royal-arts! @sanderssidesgiftxchange

Summary: Roman flirts with all his roommates on a bet, but the tables turn when one of them actually flirt back.

Prinxiety, and some swears. Hope you enjoy! This was so fun to write!

Roman knew bets were stupid. He knew they were kind of like a dumb fraternity thing. Honestly, they were a dumb fraternity thing. However, as he stared across their dining room table, over to his lanky smirking purple haired roommate, he couldn’t stop the loud fast beating of his heart. Perhaps it was fear, and perhaps it was excitement, but watching Virgil Teo ponder over his fate made his heart pump like he had just run a marathon.

"Tell you what, Roman." Virgil had a big smirk on his face, and he cupped his chin with his hand. “You can flirt right? What with all your many, many dates?”

Roman felt that blow in his soul. Sure, he used to flirt tons in college, what with all the cute guys and girls there. But now, he hadn’t been on any dates for the longest time, let alone be able to flirt during said dates. “Fuck off.”

Virgil waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever. Anyways, my bet is for you to flirt with all our roommates. If you can fluster all of them by the end of the week, I’ll give you 10 bucks.”

“All of them?” Roman couldn’t hide his shock, despite his job as an actor.

Sipping his coffee mug, Virgil’s smug smirk widened. “Yep. All of them.” All Roman could do was flip Virgil off.

He smirked. “Aw, don’t give me attitude, Santos.”

“I’ll give you all the attitude I want, Teo.”

---

Roman wasn't particularly sure on where to start, or how to start. He had 3 roommates in total, including Virgil. Patton Charan was the bubbliest and probably the easiest to fluster. Logan Williams was colder and more studious, so he'd probably flirt with him afterwards.

So Roman ambushed Patton in the kitchen, Virgil quietly sitting at the dining table. They had decided that in order for this to be fair, Virgil would try his best to watch Roman's flirting attempts.

"Oh, hey Ro! I just finished baking these cookies. They're really hot though, so you probably have to wait a bit before eating." Patton smiled, large round wire rimmed glasses framing his bright brown eyes. He was wearing a light blue sweater, the reindeer in the middle staring up at Roman cheerfully.  

Where to start? Roman shoved his hands awkwardly into his sweatpants pockets, then, after a moment's hesitation, pulled them out again. His stomach was churning, and his palms had a thin layer of sweat on them. Think, think, think, what type of flirting would work on Patton? He likes puns, right? Maybe a pick up line would do the trick.

"Hey Patton, are you a kitten? Because you're pawsitively adorable." Roman leaned against the kitchen counter, and gave Patton finger guns.

Patton just looked amused. "I'm glad you think so, kiddo! You're pretty a-meow-zing yourself."

Shit. It didn't work. Roman shot a glance at Virgil, who had his head buried in a copy of some book about bands, probably his new hyperfixation, a bad attempt of hiding his soft snorts and giggles. Roman inwardly scoffed. As if he could flirt any better.

He tried again, picking up a cookie and taking a bite. It was, undeniably, a good cookie. "This tastes amazing, Patton. You should try it."

Roman held the bitten cookie in front of Patton's mouth, offering to him. Whether this would fluster Patton was hard to tell. He smiled, his pearly white teeth biting into the cookie without much hesitation.

"It does taste good!" Patton declared.

Urgh, Patton! He was supposed to be the easiest to fluster, but he seemed immune to all the techniques Roman threw at him. Okay. Calm down. He grabbed another cookie (they really were very delicious) and using his mouth, offered it to Patton. "Want a bite? " He asked, muffled by the cookie between his teeth. This felt incredibly awkward. Patton really was just a friend to him and he was pretty sure he had a thing for Logan.

Patton must have felt the same way. His eyes widened in surprise. Running a nervous hand through his curly black hair, he managed to sputter out a couple words, a blush spreading on his face. "I, er, what?"

Roman glanced over at Virgil, who shot him a thumbs up. He did it. He felt terribly uncomfortable, but nonetheless, he did it. "Sorry Patton, I don't know what came over me." He apologised profusely.

Patton laughed, his good nature and cheery attitude returning back as though nothing had happened. "It must have been the cookies," he joked.

"Yeah." Roman shot a glance at Virgil. "It must have been that."

--- The next target was Logan. He was sitting in the living room, legs crossed and a book in his hand. Roman was pretty sure how to flirt properly with Logan. The poor dude was probably touch starved or something. Roman certainly was.

Everyone in the house was single, surprisingly, despite them all being objectively very attractive in their own right. Patton had an air of innocence in front of his strong emotional maturity and, accompanied with his dark brown eyes that shined with cheer, it made him extremely cute. Logan was more of the sensible, silent sort, with mystery that surrounded him. Later revealing him not really giving a shit. And Virgil - well, Virgil was special. His purple hair, dark clothes and eyeliner made him an emo, he supposed. But the light in his eyes, the way he bounced when he talked about his latest hyperfixation, literally everything about him, made Virgil Teo by far the most attractive person, not just in the house, but in the world - no, universe.

Anyways, he was getting off track. Roman stood in front of Logan, and was unnoticed by him till he tapped him gently on the shoulder, and said, “Oh Logan, your eyes are absolutely enthralling in the light. And your smile, why, it brightens the room and casts a brilliant beam of happiness on everyone in the surrounding proximity. And your mere presence makes my heart sing and my mind weep, at the thought of us not being together.”

Logan ignored him.

Meanwhile, Virgil was about to pass out on the dining room table, the stupidity of the situation drowning him in laughter.

Roman sighed inwardly. Guess he had to flirt the nerdy way. “Logan, you must be the square root of negative 1, because there is no way you are real.”

No response.

Roman persevered, he memorised almost 50 of these. “Do you have 11 protons, because you’re sodium fine.”

A vague blush was visible on Logan’s face.

“You must be a red blood cell because you take the oxygen out of my lungs and bring it right to my heart.”

The blush seemed to spread, and Logan hid his face in his book.

“You must be the acid to my litmus paper because every time I meet you I turn bright red.” The pickup lines were incredibly dumb, but they seemed to work. Turns out being prepared does pay off. Watching Logan embarrassedly flip Roman off was somehow the pinnacle of his existence.

--- “Hey Virgil.” Roman had a good grasp on what Virgil liked and disliked, and what kind of flirting would probably work on him. After all, he did say to flirt with all his roommates. He slid into Virgil’s room and shot him a charming smile. At least, he hoped it was charming.

“Yeah? Are you here to collect your winnings?” Virgil was typing furiously on his keyboard. “Can’t help you now, man. I have a sudden brainwave for the next chapter in my novel.” The clickity clack of his mechanical keyboard washed over Roman and surrounded him, and he suddenly realised his palms were sweaty. He continued on, regardless.

“I don’t want my winnings, at least not now.” Roman tapped Virgil’s shoulder and when he turned to look at him, he used a finger to lightly push up Virgil’s chin so that he was looking at Roman. Virgil’s eyes widened a little, but he didn’t flinch. “Because, you know … I haven’t flirted with all my roommates.”

He leaned in, close enough that his nose would have brushed against Virgil’s if he was an inch closer. Virgil’s warm breath, blew gently across his face and Roman had to try his hardest not to blush as he gazed at his dark brown eyes. He gave Virgil a small smile, one that succeeded in pinkening Virgil’s cheeks. “You look really good in black and purple.” Still smiling, he watched as the light pink darkened into a bright red. Roman could hear his heart pounding in his chest, pure adrenaline rushing through his veins.

“Absolutely ador-” Roman stopped his comment mid sentence, distracted by the sudden smirk that seemed to grow on his face, lighting it up with an air of mischief that he had constantly seen before. However, the seemingly familiar look felt different. It was the look Virgil gave whenever Roman had just been a victim of one of Virgil’s latest sarcastic quips, or one of Virgil’s dares he had too much pride to reject. But, it felt - it felt flirtatious. Suddenly, it was as if Virgil did a swift roundhouse kick at Roman, and now he was lying flat on the floor, vulnerable.

Virgil stood up and Roman was reminded how tall Virgil was, at 179cm. His hair was a dark purple, and the sparkling eyes underneath it managed to trigger a shocking red to decorate Roman's face. "You can't fluster me that easily, Princey. Try harder."

There were many, many butterflies in his stomach, and all of them decided this was the perfect time to fly around rapidly. "I ... I …" Roman couldn't find anything he could say. Virgil's presence, flirtatious, had him spluttering and blushing, all his smoothness lost.

He found himself against Virgil's bedroom wall, Virgil himself head cocked to the side and a smirk on his face. How had Roman never noticed how hot he was, with his beautiful almond eyes and the gentle curve of a smile dancing on his lips. They looked so so…

Kissable.

"Kiss me?" Roman said suddenly, and he could see Virgil's eyes widen in surprise. A wave of pink washed over his face and he laughed.

"Of course, Princey." And suddenly, Virgil was kissing Roman and Roman was kissing Virgil. One hand behind Virgil's neck and another in his fluffy purple hair. He was intoxicated by the faint strawberry scent that must have been from Virgil's body soap, and the coarseness from his chapped lips, and everything else and more, all of the tiny details that managed to form his handsome Virgil. He was only truly realizing this now, as Virgil wrapped his arms around his waist.

Memories, old and new, all the way from their highschool days to now, managed to stream towards Roman simultaneously from where they once lay forgotten. Virgil was shooting middle fingers while yelling at his highschool bullies. Virgil was laughing and jumping up and down in joy, happiness glowing from his face, from when he found out they were going to the same college. Virgil was sleeping, head collapsed over textbooks and lecture notes. Virgil was graduating, side by side with Roman. Virgil was amazing.

And Roman loved Virgil.

--- Months past, and in those eventful months, Logan and Patton moved out together and it was just Roman and Virgil left. They started having movie nights, and with both their busy schedules, it was nice to just take a break and relax with their partner.

One night, as Roman sat next to Virgil on the couch, a big bowl of popcorn on the coffee table in front of them, a question suddenly popped into his head.

"Hey, Virgil." He started, popping popcorn into his mouth.

Virgil had his eyes on the screen, but he tore them away and looked over at him. "Yeah?"

"You know that bet you made that ended up in us making out?"

Smirking, Virgil leaned closer. "What about it? You want to recreate it or something?"

Pink dusted Roman's cheeks. "Er, not yet. But, did you bet me to flirt with all our roommates on purpose?"

"I-" It was Virgil's turn to blush. "Maybe?"

"Huh." Roman looked thoughtful, and then pouted. "So I wasn't being clever for flirting with you?"

Virgil smirked. "Pretty much."

"You could have just asked." He laughed.

"Well," Virgil teased, "could you kiss me now?"

Roman did. And everything was perfect.

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Alive Again Part 4

Harry Potter AU 

Link to Part 3 

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: M

________

“Sit down. I want to know what you have to say before I go buy myself a world’s best uncle mug.”

Sirius smirked as Regulus rolled his eyes. He wasn't excited about dealing with Sirius' arrogant attitude but knew that there would be no safer place to be. Sirius wouldn't anything happen to his newfound family.

“That particular detail has yet to be determined.”

Regulus said almost emotionlessly. Sirius and Remus exchanged a shrug. This looked like Regulus Black sitting in front of them and acted like him too. Sirius had hoped that Regulus would show some form of emotion after not speaking to each other for several years.

“I bet you 10 galleons that I will have that little girl in love with me in less than a week.”

Regulus finally smiled.

“She’s two. The two of you are on the same brainwave.”

Remus shook his head and decided to step in.

“Okay, it's clearly evident that the two of you still have some unresolved anger issues…”

Sirius shook his head.

“No, we don’t. This is how we talk to each other. I’m nice and Regulus is the sassy control freak.”

“He’s not wrong.”

Regulus commented. Remus gave up and went to sit down on the couch.

“We would really like to know what is going on.”

Remus said in a defeated tone. Sirius nodded.

“Moony is right! I have spent the past three years grieving over you. I deserve five minutes of explanation. I want to start off by asking why the hell you thought that joining the death eaters was such a good idea? Are you...were you mad? We grew up in the same house...we saw what nutters those lot are!”

Regulus had a feeling that the conversation was going to go that way and he was prepared for it.

“Yes, we did grow up in the same haunted house. If you will shut up and let me get a word in, maybe what I did will make sense.”

Sirius blinked a few times before sitting down beside Remus as Regulus told him everything that had happened over the past few years. Had it not been for Remus sitting beside him, Sirius would have most likely sobbed like a baby over everything that left his little brother’s mouth. None of this was anything that Sirius wanted to hear. Maybe it was the big brother in him but Sirius hated hearing the pain that Regulus had gone through.

“So you’re telling me that you made the sassiest fuck you to Voldemort because he made Kreacher suffer?”

Regulus nodded. He knew that Sirius never understood Regulus’ kindness toward the house elf.

“Partially. I had also been looking for a way to start dealing with those Horcruxes and provided a pathway.”

Sirius sat back. This was a lot of information to take in at one time.

“I’ve spent the past three years thinking that you chickened out and some other lowlife killed you. Now, I feel like a total asshole because of the truth. Why did you have to do it though? You could have told me or someone at the order...why did it have to be you?”

Regulus shrugged.

“Because I wasn’t going to let you die over something that I figured out. I needed to deal with this. I wasn’t endangering someone else’s life.”

Sirius was out of his chair.

“But you're my brother!”

Sirius snapped. Regulus nodded. He was remaining calm while Sirius was the one losing his shit.

“Yes, and you are my brother. I had to keep my family safe.”

Sirius wanted nothing more than to start shaking Regulus until he saw his point.

“What about Y/n and Astaria? They have had to go without you.”

“Y/n understands.”

Regulus said calmly. He wasn’t going to tell Sirius that you didn’t know about everything. You only knew about what Regulus wanted you to know about.

“I didn’t even know the two of you married.”

Sirius commented. He wasn’t surprised that he didn’t get an invitation but it would have been nice to know that his little brother and childhood friend had taken the next steps in building a life together in addition to the fact that he was an uncle. Sirius would have been spoiling Astaria from the moment the child was born, had he been made aware.

You could have been a lot happier with Sirius and Remus for company versus Walburga and the rest of the cult.

“It happened after graduation.”

Regulus said. Sirius scooted to the edge of the couch.

“I knew that it was going to happen. I had known that since the two of you were 4. The two of you were always playing wedding. It was the cutest damn thing that I had ever seen in my life.”

Regulus glanced down at his wedding ring before shrugging. Neither of you were ready to get married when Walburga decided that it was time. Maybe you were the one that was ready and Regulus was just along for the ride?

“I personally would have preferred waiting for a few years but mother insisted otherwise. You know how she is. I had other things to deal with first. Mother couldn’t stand the thought of either of us possibly falling in love with someone else. I had just figured out Voldemort’s secret when Y/n found out that she was pregnant...I was stuck then. We were both too young then. In ways, we are still too young for that kind of commitment.”

Sirius winced the moment that he realized that you were standing in the doorway and had heard everything that Regulus just said. You quickly turned and went back into the kitchen without a word.

“I shouldn’t say stuck. Y/n has always made me happy. It was just regrettable that she had to go through everything alone.”

Sirius was silent for a moment.

“You may want to go see Y/n.”

Regulus frowned. He clearly had no idea that you had been listening at the door.

“Why?”

Sirius pointed to the kitchen.

“She just heard what you said...the first part.”

(meanwhile)

You had sat back down at the table. It was taking all that you had not to burst into angry tears. Had it not been for Astaria, you probably would have. From the day that you married Regulus, you had always wondered if he really wanted to marry you. Now you had your answer. The happy marriage that you were under the assumption that you had was not so happy after all.

Has he always been unhappy?

You couldn’t help but begin to question everything when it came to Regulus. The night before he had seemed thrilled to have you in his arms.

He was about to get laid...of course, he was happy.

The negative voice replied.

Maybe Regulus was right? Maybe the two of you were too young at 18 years old to marry...

“I like this ice cream, mummy.”

Astaria said, cheerfully. The little girl’s chatter pulled you from your dark thoughts as Regulus stepped into the kitchen with Sirius behind him.

You didn’t meet your husband’s gaze. Had you looked up, you would have seen the apologetic expression in his eyes. Regulus didn’t mean it the way that everything had come out.

At the moment, you were thankful that Astaria had chocolate fudge all over her face and hands.

“I think you are going to need this.”

Sirius said as he handed you a wet towel. You nodded.

“Thank you. Someone is a little messy.”

“No, I’m not.”

Astaria shrieked as you cleaned the remains of the chocolate ice cream from her pudgy face. The look that you received from the toddler screamed “I’m Regulus Black’s daughter.”

“Y/n, I need to talk to you.”

Regulus said, softly as his hand wrapped around yours. You politely pulled your hand away before gently picking Astaria up.

“I don’t have time. She is late for her naptime.”

Remus motioned to the doorway.

“There is a guest room upstairs. It's the second door to the right.”

You said a polite thank you before walking past Regulus without a word...

_______

@fairywriter-oracle

@amelie-black

@swinginsoulbailiffrascal

@velveteencurls

@sunles

@brokencasbutt67-writer

@authoressskr

@fandom-trash-worth-it

@summer-novak

@hankypranky

@li0nh34rt

@tas898

@marichromatic

@maggioli-m

@stuckinsaudi1

@knight-of-gleefulness

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts

@emiwrites3reads

@untoldshortsofthefandoms

@shitfaceddaniel

@realgaytrash

@wontlookaway

@mycuddlycorner

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Ch 5- Bread Cat Power Pack

Co Written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Summary: Jake and Stella patch up their friendship, but Evan isn’t particularly happy about it.

 Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson.

A/N:  We KNOW this is a slow burn but we promise things are going to heat up soon!!!

TLAYLI Masterlist  // Main Masterlist 

Stella stood at the trunk of the CIA issued Sedan, grimacing. It was the middle of January, cold and snowy, and she had a few bags of shopping to get back into her apartment. She was trying to figure out if she could make it upstairs with all of it at once, to prevent having to come back down, but was failing to see how it was possible.

“Needs some help?” a familiar voice asked and she turned to see Jake coming towards her, still in his uniform, his heavy boots leaving prints in the light, powdery dusting of fresh snow.

She smiled “Yeah, actually. You can grab a couple of these, save me coming back down.”

Jake looked in the trunk and scoffed “You stocking for winter, Stel?” he asked as he grabbed three of the bags.

She snorted “I literally have nothing in my cupboards.” She picked up the remaining two, locked the car and followed him to the main doors of the Condo building. “I’ve not really been here over the last two weeks so…” “I guess you’ve been spending time at your boyfriend’s huh?” Jake asked, his voice neutral as Stella managed to open the door.

“His name is Evan.” She rolled her eyes “And yeah, you could say that.”

Jake remained quiet as they strode to the elevator. Stella called it down and once the doors pinged open, they stepped inside and Jake placed the bags he was carrying down at his feet.

“So, I haven’t seen you since New Year.” Stella looked at him “How’s stuff going? You and Britney good?” “Yeah, erm, about that…” Jake cleared his throat a little as he selected their floor.

As the doors shut, Stella turned to look at him, frowning “Is there something wrong or…”

“That depends on who you ask.” Jake mused “If you ask her then yeah.  She’ll probably tell you I’m a…what were her exact words? Oh right, a fucking asshole”

“What did you do?” Stella sighed and Jake grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I dumped her.”

Stella raised her eyebrows “Well speaking from experience, I can kinda see why she might be a little upset.”

Jake looked at her for a moment, deciding whether or not to respond to her little dig but in the end he didn’t get chance as the elevator stopped and opened on their floor. Jake picked up his bags and followed her across to her apartment. She set the bags she was carrying down, grabbed her key and the door swung open. Jake stepped in after her, nudging the door shut with his foot and instantly that familiar smell of vanilla, fresh laundry and the light tones of her perfume hit his senses. He hadn’t been in here for months. They made their way through to the little kitchen and she flipped on the lights, Jake dropping the bags onto the side.

“So are you ok about the pair of you being over or…” Stella turned to face him and Jake wrinkled his nose.

“Well, I wasn’t that into her. I mean, she was just…” he stopped and shrugged a little “I’m all right, yeah.”

Stella snorted, shaking her head “Wow.”

“Had to be honest with her.”

At that Stella couldn’t help the scoff that escaped her throat “That’s a first”

“Wow, that’s the second dig in the last 2 minutes.” Jake arched an eyebrow and Stella inwardly cursed herself. He’d done nothing to deserve either of the shots she’d taken, especially after he was being nothing but helpful

“Sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“Was it?” he asked.

There was a moment’s pause before they both spoke at the same time.

“Look, Jake, I don’t wanna…”

“I miss you Stel…you know, us hanging out.

The last bit of Jake’s sentence was added hastily and Stella took a deep breath.

“You’ve been a jerk to me recently, JJ”

“I know I fucked it all up.” He continued pleading his case “But I love you Stel, as friends, ya know?”

She studied him for a moment, and Jake held his breath before her eyes softened, the way they always did when she was coming round, and he exhaled slowly.

“Guess I miss you too.” She said quietly.

At her words Jake’s face split into a grin. “You guess or…”

“Don’t push it.”

He laughed, and on a roll he decided to see how far he could edge his luck. “I don’t suppose you’re free tonight, maybe grab a pizza, I got beer.”

Stella felt her face fall “Sorry JJ, Ev’s coming over.” and as she spoke she realised she actually was sorry. For a split second she considered calling Ev and cancelling, which in itself confused her. Why was she even thinking that? And then she realised, it was because she missed Jake. Despite everything, they’d been through too much for her not to care for him.

Jake nodded, “Okay, well, maybe another night?”

Stella blinked, she’d been expecting some sarcastic quip about Evan but none had come, which surprised her a little. That said, she smiled and nodded “Yeah I’d like that.”

Jake nodded “Right, I’ll err…let you unpack all that then and see you later I guess.”

“Yeah, great. Oh, and thanks.” She smiled “For helping me.”

“Well, you know me, I’m not one to leave a damsel in distress.” He winked. “I’ll see myself out.”

He made his way out of the apartment, closing her door behind him, taking a deep breath as he headed over the landing. Despite the setback about the pizza and beer, he felt good. The air was clearer, it was good progress, easy easy catch a monkey and all that.

He fished in his pocket for his keys and just as he was opening his door he heard hers open behind him.

“Look, I got a little while.” Stella spoke “I was gonna bake some cookies, you wanna help?”

Jensen allowed himself a grin before he turned to face her “You miss me already?”

“Don’t push it asswipe.” She shot back and he laughed.

“Gonna make extra dough so I can eat it?”

She rolled her eyes “Yes, dur.”

“Ok, gimme ten to change and I’ll come over.”

“Use your key.” She nodded, before she pulled her head back in her apartment and shut the door.

Jensen gave a little fist pump of victory as he stepped inside his hallway, smirking to himself “Operation Petunia is a go…”

**** After a quick shower, Jensen changed into a pair of grey sweats, a plain navy blue t-shirt and headed over the hall in his socks. As instructed, he let himself in and walked through to the kitchen, the sound of the radio growing louder as he went. He stopped in the doorway and watched as Stella stood with her back to him, dressed in a pair of leggings and an oversized white- slouchy vest top with a tighter cami underneath, rifling in a cupboard. He felt a sudden, nostalgic pang for the times she used to dress casually like that around their student quarters or back at home when they were slobbed in front of the TV at her Ma’s or his Parents. With a little breath, he coughed and she turned to face him, smiling before she nodded to the fridge.

“Make yourself useful and grab us a coupla’ beers will ya?”

He saluted her and she gave a snort as he headed to the fridge and pulled it open, giving a groan as he spotted the Sam Adams. Grabbing two, he popped the tops before he handed her one. She thanked him and continued pulling the ingredients she needed out of the cupboards, the pair of them falling into an easy, but still careful conversation. Stella cursed as she mumbled something about her digital scales running out of batteries and then retrieved the old faithful analogue ones.

“Why is it, when you need something, that’s always the time it’s gonna end up nor working?” she grumbled, setting the dial to zero carefully.

“One of life’s many mysteries Stel.” Jake said wisely as she began to measure the flour out. “Along with why cats always fall on their feet, snidey little bastards.”

Stella snorted, “Or why buttered bread always lands butter down when you drop it? Although I think there’s a scientific explanation to that.”

“There is.” Jake nodded, taking a drink from his beer “When the bread falls out of your hand, it does so at an angle, see, by nature of it having slipped from its previous position, and it rotates.” Jensen twisted his hand in the air to demonstrate his point “Given that it’s normally dropped from a hand or a table, which is like two feet or so, there’s enough time for the toast to rotate about one-half of a turn and thus it lands upside down relative to its original position and oh my God, I’ve just had a brainwave!” he trailed off, grinning

Stella looked at him, her mouth dropping open “What, hang on, back up!”

“No, listen. I just said a cat always lands on its feet right?”

Yeah.” Stella looked at him.

“And you said that bread with butter always falls butter side down?”

Stella’s eyes squinted in confusion. “Jake, what the fuck are you…”

“Just hear me out.” he looked at her as he placed his beer bottle on the side behind him. “If…” both his hands flew up, pointers extended, the bottom of his t-shirt riding up slightly as he did so “If you fastened bread with butter to a cat’s back, then the Cat will keep turning and never fall on the ground.”

Stella blinked and simply looked at him, the way she always did when he was being utterly ridiculous.

“And then, if I attached the bread cat to a generator…” he grinned and held his hands out by his sides, palms open facing upwards “Infinite energy.”

There was a pause before Stella bust out laughing.

“That is the dumbest thing I ever heard!” she shook her head “And that’s saying something coming from you!”

“You won’t be laughing when I’m a millionaire.” Jensen said sagely. “Bread Cat Power Pack, copyright Jacob Calvin Jensen.”

“The only way you’ll ever become a millionaire is if they give you a dollar every time someone laughs at your stupid, shit ideas.” She shook her head, her hands falling to her hips.

“Laugh all you want Stelly, but I’m planning on buying a yellow hummer with the profits.”

Stella paused. That was the first time he’d called her Stelly in…well, she couldn’t actually remember. But it felt nice. This whole scenario felt nice in fact, the pair of them, just hanging out. Just like old times, before it all went to shit.

She smiled “What is it with you and hummers?”

“I just like them.”

“They’re vile, JJ.”

“No, they aren’t. They’re classy.” He picked his beer back up.

“Classy.” Stella snorted and Jake pointed his bottle towards her.

“You never could appreciate the finer things in life.” he sighed dramatically.

“Considering I appreciated you for years that’s a dumbass thing to say.” she arched an eyebrow at him

“Aww you sayin’ I’m a finer thing, Stel?” he teased and she rolled her eyes, ignoring him.

“Why yellow?”

“Why not?” he popped a shoulder at her question before he grinned “It matches my sunny disposition.”

At that Stella gave another snort “God, Jake!”

Jensen simply grinned back and Stella watched him for a second, noticing how relaxed he seemed. Every time she’d seen him over the past month or so he’d been tense. But today, gone was the unusual sulky demeanour he’d embodied recently and he wasn’t snapping or being mean. He was simply being Jake. The Jake she adored.

“Hey, Stel?” Jake asked, dragging her from her thoughts. “Reckon we can make these cookies in the shape of Hummers?”

“Do you have a Hummer shaped cookie cutter?” she asked, turning her attention back to the job in hand, tossing the ingredients into the mixing bowl.

“No.” Jensen wrinkled his nose “Why would I have one of those?”

“Then that’s your answer.”

“Buzz kill.” He muttered, fighting to keep the smirk of his face as he knew exactly what effect those words would have on her. She hated it when he insinuated she was no fun.

“Buzz kill?” she turned to look at him.

“Yup.”

“Fuck you.” She retorted, and Jake gave a splutter as a handful of flour hit him straight in the face, going right up his nostrils and into his mouth.

He blinked, looked at Stella before he shook his head "Oh, Stel, it's on..." he smirked before he moved towards her and she gave a shriek as he easily manhandled her out of the way and grabbed the flour she was trying to move out of his reach. The kitchen filled with yells and laughter as handful after handful went flying around into faces, hair, just about any visible body part and suddenly they were jerked from their little flour war when a clearing of a throat could be heard. Both of them turned to see Evan standing in the kitchen door, a bouquet of bright flowers in one hand and a bottle of something in the other.

"How the fuck did you get in?” Jensen blurted out before he could stop himself and Stella punched him on the arm “Ow, Stell, shit!”

“Don’t be rude.” She glared at him.

“For your information,” Evan stated as he walked into the kitchen “, not that it’s any of your business, but Stel gave me the spare key.”

“Huh.” Jake looked at him before he grinned “I got one of those too.”

Evan looked at him, his eyes squinted slightly “Good for you.”

“Yeah, it is!” Jake continued, the grin still stood on his face.

The two men remained staring at one another, Jake covered head to toe in flour as Stella gave a little groan but before she could tell the pair of them to behave, Evan spoke.

“What’s all this mess?” he asked, nodding to the flour all over the room.

“Oh, we had a mission where we seized over Forty kilos of cocaine.” Jake spoke, his voice deadly serious “I thought I'd bring it round for a good time.”

At that point Stella gave a snort of laughter, nudging Jake hard on the arm, the pair of them giggling again before she spotted the look on Evan’s face. His features were completely serious and there was a flash of anger in his eyes. So she coughed and shook her head.

“I was trying to bake some cookies and Jakey was helping me, sort of.” She shrugged “He’s more of a pain in the ass than a help, mind.”

She didn’t miss the way Evan cringed when she called Jensen ‘Jakey’ but before she could say anything Jensen grumbled.

“Rude.”

“Well you are. You're a monumental pain in the ass” Stella rolled her eyes.

“Yeah but you love me Stel” Jake winked and Stella arched an eyebrow, folding her arms in cloud of flour.

“Jury's out”

“You know…” Evan spoke, his tone sarcastic as he set the bottle he was carrying on the kitchen side “..if i'm interrupting something I can leave.”

“Easy man! But yeah-“ Jensen flashed his trademark grin “You just interrupted us.”

Stella slapped him round the back of the head. “No, you didn’t.”

“Stop hitting me!” Jensen rubbed the place where her palm had connected.

“Well stop being a jerk!”

He turned to face her and sarcastic quip he had prepared died as he saw that she was no longer grinning at him.

“Shouldn’t you go and get cleaned?” Evan spoke and Jake looked at him, wrinkling his nose.

“I kinda like being dirty.”

Stella groaned again as she wiped her face and hands free from flour and then nodded to the bouquet Evan had in his hands “Are they for me?”

“No, I bought them for Jensen.” He dead panned with a roll of his eyes, before his handsome face split into a grin. “Course they're for you baby.”

Jensen watched as Stella smiled broadly and he took in the bunch of brightly coloured gerberas and roses, frowning a little. And then, once more he just couldn’t help but stir the pot at little bit more.

“Oh man. She hasn’t told you about her favourites, hasn’t she?” he nodded to the flowers. Evan frowned and Stella wheeled round to glare at Jake.

“Seriously Jake, shut up.”

“You should have brought her petunias.” Jensen sighed, his hands on his hips as she shook his head with the manner of a father disappointed at his child.

“Yeah, see you're talking but all I'm hearing is noise.” Evan rolled his eyes as Stella reached for the bouquet.

“I’ll put them in a vase. Thanks baby, they’re gorgeous” she beamed at him.

Jake couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the smug look on Evan’s face, most likely cos she just called him baby in front of him. But seriously, what kind of dick boyfriend doesn’t know what his girl’s favourite flowers are?

Evan then picked up the bottle he'd set on the side with a flourish and spun it so the label was facing Stella "I also saw this at one of the stalls at the market and it made me think of you."

Stella looked at him, not understanding for a moment, before she read the label and her eyes opened wide.

“Pumpkin spiced gin…oh my god!” she laughed, taking it from him.

Evan grinned “Now you can make alcoholic lattes.”

“Or just drink it neat over ice.” She smiled at him “I bet this tastes amazing.”

At that Evan smirked and when he spoke again his voice dropped an octave “Probably not as good as you but we’ll give it a go.”

At that Stella flushed and Jake gave an audible groan and then immediately wished he hadn’t as he’d given the dickhead everything he wanted. Evan turned to him with a maddeningly smug look on his face “Still here Jensen? Thought you were going.”

“You wish.” Jake mumbled, but thankfully neither of them heard him as Stella was studying the bottle label to try and hide her embarrassment. He took a deep breath, he knew he had to be careful not to make Stella pissed at him again. So, in a rare self-aware moment, he cleared his throat and spoke a little louder “Well as riveting as chatting with you is, Ev, you're right. I got stuff to do, you know, places to go, people to see..."

“Yeah, sure you do.” Evan replied flippantly “Tell Britney I said hi.”

“Ev, don’t.” Stella shook her head and Evan frowned, turning to her.

“What, I’m not…”

“It’s ok Stelly, he didn't know.” Jensen hid the little smile that was threatening to creep onto his lips at the flinch Evan had made when he used Stella’s old nickname and he gave a shrug. “We broke up.”

“You broke up?” Evan repeated, his face blank. “I’m sorry man.”

“Don’t be.” Jake waved a hand. “Actually it was me who broke it off.”

“Well, still, you must be a little bit...upset, I suppose?”

“Nope.” Jake shook his head “What's got 2 thumbs and is free, single and ready to mingle?” he jerked his thumbs at himself. “This guy"

With that he pat Evan on his shoulder “See ya later.” and he made his way out of Stella’s apartment, closing door behind him. Once it was shoot he paused and took a deep breath.

Fuck that guy.

Up until him turning up they’d been having a great time, simply messing around in the kitchen like they used to. Mind you, it had been a good afternoon, the pair of them were back on even terms, so all in all…yeah, Jensen felt buoyed. With a little spring in his step he headed over the hall back to his apartment and straight to the fridge for a beer. As he popped the lid his phone pinged with a message from Pooch. He, Cougs and Roque were heading out for a few beers and Jake’s presence was apparently “not required but welcome.” Jensen smiled, he was in a good mood so, yeah, drinks!

He showered again to get rid of the flour, changed into a pair of jeans and a casual black sweater before he shrugged on his warm SuperDry coat and headed back out. As he passed Stella’s door on the way to the elevator he could hear her raised voice and instantly he felt his skin prickle. His Jakey Sense as Stella had jokingly dubbed it was tingling. He paused and moved closed to the doors and could hear her and Evan were arguing.

He shouldn’t listen, he knew that, but they were being so loud it was impossible not to. Plus, when all’s said and done he was also a nosey bastard.

“For fucks sake, Ev! You've been fine for the last twenty minutes, why are you brining this up now?”

“All I said was I wish you'd told me about the flowers! I've bought you bouquets before and you never mentioned petunias.”

Jake smirked a little as Stella groaned.

“It’s really not that big a deal!”

“Well apparently it is according to Jensen!” Evan shot back.

“So that's what this is about. It isn't the flowers at all is it? It's Jake” Stella responded, her voice agitated and Jake could completely picture her stood there, arms folded, glaring up at him. He’d seen it often enough himself.

“And what if it is?” Evan’s voice was equally as loud.

“Oh for fucks sake...he's my friend, my best friend.”

“And your EX, Stella!”

“Carry on this way and you will be as well!” Stella shot back and at that Jake felt his smirk grow even wider.  

“Way to go Stel…” he mumbled to himself.

“What do you mean?” Evan’s voice was louder still “You hang out with your ex and I’m the problem?”

“No, the problem is you being all pissy about something that isn't really a big issue. Jake and I...” Stella sighed, “We have history, a lot of history. Even before we dated we were friends and it's been so shit recently when we haven't been talking and...” her voice was gathering in speed and Jensen could tell she was starting to get upset. He had heard it and seen it a thousand times before.

“And why do you think that is, Stel?” Evan’s voice was now quiet, but the tone was cold and threatening, and Jensen took a deep breath. He didn’t like the way this was going. “Come on, you can’t be that oblivious.” Stella didn’t reply, and Evan continued “See, you know I'm right. You were on bad terms because he was a jealous asshole, you said it yourself with the way he behaved when we had our first date in the coffee shop. And everyone knows he was only dating that Britney bint to try and piss you off. Even your own sister said that.”

Jensen could feel himself getting hot with anger at the way the bastard was using Rey against Stella, despite the fact Evan was completely right. As much as Jensen had denied it at the time, that was totally why he ended up with Brit. Call it a rebound, a stubborn attempt to prove to himself he didn’t need Stella, whatever. The core of it was always down to her.

“Huh, he aint actually as stupid as he looks.” Jensen muttered to himself.

“He wasn’t jealous.” Stella responded, her voice quiet “How could he be when he dumped me? Twice.”

At that Jensen bowed her head, the hurt in her voice was evident.

“Who knows what goes through his head or why he did that, I've no idea, but if you think he's over you then you're mistaken. And I don’t like it, Stella, not one bit.” Evan took a deep breath “I think you should stay away from him.”

Jensen felt his mouth drop open a little and he blinked, had he seriously just told her that? He waited with baited breath for Stella’s reply, which came a second or so later, in a tone he knew only too well, she’d had enough.

“You know what, I’m not in the mood for going out tonight.”

“Okay, well, let’s stay in then.” Evan’s tone suddenly flipped to the doting boyfriend again and Jensen frowned once more. This guy was unreal. “I can cook us something”

“Dumb bastard, take the hint.” Jensen grumbled as Stella audibly sighed. He could picture her, running her hand through her hair, pressing the heel of her palm to the space between her eyes.

“I need to get cleaned up and then sort out this mess.” She replied “I think it’s better if you go home.”

“Seriously?” Evan spoke with disbelief “You’re actually telling me to go?”

“Yeah.”

There was a pause “Fine.” Evan responded “I’ll leave you to it. You and Jensen can finish whatever it was you were doing.”

“We were making cookies.”

“Whatever, Stella. If you’re more interested in defending him than having dinner with me then, that’s you’re call.”

And then Jensen realised he needed to disappear before Evan came out and found him. He hastily made his way back to his apartment, and had just gotten inside when Stella’s door was wrenched open. So as not to attract attention to himself with the sound of the lock clicking, Jensen didn’t quite close his fully and stayed waiting for Evan to disappear. To Jensen’s horror he paused, looking directly at his door, before he looked back at Stella’s and then made his way to the elevator. After what seemed like an age it arrived and he stepped into it, the door pinging shut behind him.

Jensen felt bad, he really did. He hadn’t wanted Stella to be upset. But more over he felt uneasy. The way Evan had spoken to her, and directed the blame straight back onto her and then told her to stay away from him was  manipulative, controlling almost.

And he didn’t like it one bit.

****

“Jensen, what’s with you man?” Roque asked, placing his empty bottle on the table. “You’re being uncharacteristically non-annoying tonight.”

Jensen rolled his eyes, “Nothing, I’m fine.”

He felt Pooch’s eyes on him and purposely ignored him, looking around the bar at anything and everything. His eyes fell momentarily on a table of girls some four or so down from theirs one of them bore a fleeting resemblance to Stella actually and he hastily looked away, glancing down at his beer. He necked the rest and set the empty bottle down.

“My round.” Pooch nodded as he stood up, his hand falling onto Jensen’s shoulder “Give me a hand man?”

“Sure.” Jake stood up and followed him to the bar, passing the table of girls as they went.

“The brunette is giving you the eye.” Pooch nudged him. Jensen looked at him.

“What?”

“Okay, out with it.” Pooch demanded as they reached the bar “What’s wrong Jensen, and don’t tell me everything is fine coz I know you, and you’re not being you. You’ve been positively pleasant all evening and now when some chick is giving you the eye you don’t even notice?”

Jensen sighed, “I’m just a bit worried about Stel, man”

“Arty?” Pooch frowned, “What’s wrong with her? Is she ok? I though Evan was coming over to hers tonight?”

“He did. They had an argument, he left.” Jensen shrugged.

“They had an argum-wait? How do you know? Did she tell you? Coz I thought you weren’t on particularly good terms.”

“We sorted stuff out.” Jensen shook his head

“You were listening weren’t you?” Pooch rolled his eyes.

“That’s not the point.” Jensen shook his head and Pooch groaned having been given all the confirmation he needed “The point is what he said. And how he said it. He was angry, Pooch.”

“Everyone gets angry when they argue.”

“Yeah but he…I dunno, I don’t trust him.”

“Oh come on Jensen. Stop it. Enough with that shit. Stel is with him and she’s happy, face it.”

“He told her that he thinks she should stay away from me.” Jensen looked at Pooch. “Does that not strike you as, well, controlling?”

Pooch looked at Jensen and could see on his face that he was genuinely concerned.

“Ok, start from the top.” Pooch instructed, so Jensen did, explaining and Pooch took a deep breath “So now you’re worried he could be manipulating her?”

“I'm worried he’s not everything he’s cracked up to be.” Jensen replied after a short pause “And that she could end up hurt. And I don’t mean merely emotionally.”

“Woah, man that’s…that’s a big leap.” Pooch looked at him, before he turned to the bar tender and ordered their round, before looking back at him. “From being a little narky and, ok, possibly maybe slightly overbearing to being a fuckin’ woman beater.”

“Maybe.” Jensen sighed, “But isn’t it always the one’s you don’t expect to do it that do?”

At that Pooch was forced to accept Jensen made a good point and he bit his lip, cocking his head to once side. “Ok, suppose you heard right and the guy’s dodgy so to speak. What you wanna do about it?”

“I suppose I could do some digging.” Jensen mused “See if I can find any of his old girlfriends out there, see what they have to say.”

“Oh god, I don’t think I like where this is going.” Pooch groaned.

Jensen sighed, “I honestly have no idea Pooch. My gut was to tell Stella that I was concerned but knowing her she'll just accuse me of being a dick and it would just make it look like he was right about me.”

“Which he is.” Pooch snorted “You are jealous.”

“Yeah, well that's maybe but I'm being serious here Pooch. I don't trust the guy, and if she ends up hurt when I could have done something to stop it I'll never forgive myself.”

Pooch bit the inside of his cheek as he looked at Jensen, he could see the worry etched into every line on his friend’s face. With a loud sigh he shook his head, “Listen man, whatever you want to do I have your back. Wanna go all CSI on the guy? Then count me in. But do you and the rest of us for that matter a favour and admit to your feelings for her once and for all and do something about it or leave her be.”

Jensen snorted “You been talking to Clay, Pooch?”

“What? No.” Pooch handed over his card to pay for the round. “Why would you think that?”

“He just said something similar at New Years. That's all.” Jensen took a deep breath “This would never have happened if I hadn't been such an asshole.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Not helping Pooch.”

“Listen man, we don’t need to talk to one another to see you have strong feelings for her. We all know that and we all have been putting up with your stupid ass decisions.”

“Still not helping Pooch.”

“Ok Jensen.” Pooch shrugged, taking his card back off the man behind the bar with a thanks. “You could always try actually talking to him? You never know, he might be genuinely-“

“Are you nuts? The guy hates me!” Jensen practically exploded “And suppose I am right, which I may not be, I know, it happens occasionally.” He shrugged as Pooch rolled his eyes “Not only do I tip him off I’m onto him, he’ll rush to tell Stel as soon as I turn my back. Make it seem I’m harassing him.”

“So instead you wanna track his old girlfriend’s down and go poking into his past?”

Jake flashed his signature grin.

“Coz thats not harassing him. At all.” Pooch rolled his eyes.

“It’s not if he doesn’t know I’m harassing him.” Jake shrugged and Pooch let out an exasperated moan of a laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I already told you Jensen. Whatever you want man. Just...oh, I dunno, try not to fuck it up with your usual chaotic dumbassery.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Jensen shrugged as he picked up 2 of the bottles from the bar.

“Sure you don’t.”

******

Two more beers later and Jensen called it a night and headed home, he wasn’t in the mood all things considered. Kicking off his sneakers he plopped down on the couch and reached for the remote, flipping through the channels. But it was no good, he couldn’t concentrate. His mind was working overtime as he was trying to figure out what exactly he was going to do. It was frustrating, because normally he’d just talk to Stella, they never had secrets but this was completely out of the question, and that frustrated the fuck out of him.

His rambling thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door. Frowning, because that meant that either someone had gotten into the building or it was a resident, he stood up and made his way over to the door. He pulled it open and gave a little blink as he saw Stella stood there in a large, oversized sweater, leggings and thick socks, her hair pulled on top of her head in a messy bun, a batch of cookies in her hands.

“Oh, hey Stel.” He said, surprise evident in his voice “Come on in.”

She smiled as she stepped into his flat. “I thought you’d be out all night because Pooch said you were all out for drinks this evening. But I heard you come in so I came to bring you some cookies. After all you helped me with them, well, sort of.”

“Thanks Sel.” He smiled, genuinely as he took them from her “You want a drink or…”

“No, I’m good thanks.”

“Ok, well, go through, be with you in a second. I’ll just put these bad boys away.”

She nodded and turned, heading towards the lounge as Jensen made his way quickly into the kitchen and deposited the cookies in the tin, grabbing one as he did so. God they tasted just as good as they always did. He grabbed the empty container and headed into the lounge where Stella was sat on the couch and she smiled as he handed it to her.

“You ok?” he asked and she looked at him, nodding but Jensen could tell she wasn’t so he decided to call her out, see if she’d open up to him.

“You know, I've known you too long. You can't lie to me.”

She sighed.

“What’s bothering you, Stel?” he pressed as he sat next to her keeping a respectful distance of one seat cushion between them.

“Me and Ev, we err...had an argument before. Kind of a big one”

“How big?” Jensen asked, all the time knowing he had to play it cool or she would know he overheard.

“I… “ she fiddled with the sleeves of her sweater a little before she snorted “I sent him home big”

“Can I ask what you argued about? I mean if you sent him home it must have been pretty serious.”

Stella looked at him, clearly debating whether or not to tell him and then she sighed “He wanted to go out, I didn't. It spiralled from there.”

Jake took a deep breath as Stella looked at him having just told him a barefaced lie. What killed him the most was he knew she was doing it to spare his feelings, and he didn’t think he’d ever wanted to kiss her more. But he couldn’t, so instead he gave her a small nod and what he hoped was a sympathetic smile.

“Look, I'm sorry if any of it was my fault. And I'm sure you'll sort it out.”

“Yeah, I guess. In any case thanks for listening.”

Jake laughed “That it, we done?”

“Not much else to tell you. We fought, and maybe I overreacted to something he said. It’s just...” she studied his face and Jensen got the impression she was searching for some indication Evan was right about him being jealous. He fought so hard not to give her any, and in the end she shrugged “It doesn’t matter, it’s no big deal.”

“Big enough to make you upset though.”

“Well, it’s the first argument we’ve had.”

“Well you can drown your sorrows in pumpkin flavoured gin.” Jensen sniffed and at that she grimaced.

“Between you and me, I tried it before. It’s fucking awful.”

Jake laughed, “Then I guess Evan was right and you do taste better.”

“Jake!” Stella scoffed, slapping his arm.

“What? It was a compliment!”

“You're gross”

“Yeah but…”he smirked “…made you smile”

“Yeah, you do.” She looked at him, “I mean did. You know, just then…”

“I know.”

Stella gave him another soft smile “Thanks again, I should…” she gestured to the door with her head and Jake nodded.

“Walk you home?”

“I live across the hall.” She scoffed as she stood up

“Yeah but…” Jensen breathed in through his teeth as he also rose from his seat “Some dodgy people in this building Stel”

“Yeah, you're one of em.”

“Hey, you could be attacked by Mrs. Hunter’s Cat. You know it went for my ankle yesterday?” He looked at her seriously. “Like I said, snide little bastards. Cats are not to be trusted.”

“Alright then badass, you better see me safe across the hall.” She chuckled.

Jake followed her to the door where she turned and he wrapped his arms around her, giving her a soft hug. Pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of her head he stepped back and looked at her.

“You know where I am if you need me, don’t you?”

She nodded “Thanks. Night Jakey.”

“Night Stel.”

He watched her cross the hall, and when she walked inside she gave him a last smile before she shut the door.

Jensen exhaled loudly, before he turned and headed back into his own apartment, the door clicking behind him.

*****

Jensen didn’t sleep particularly well that night. His worries and concerns about Stella kept running through his mind and at six am he gave up, hauling himself out of bed for a run. On his way back he stopped by the bakery on the corner of the street to grab himself a croissant and a coffee and headed back to the condo, munching his breakfast. As he walked across the parking lot he spotted Evan’s car was parked outside the main door, the man himself sat inside, waiting.

And then all logic flew from Jensen’s mind. Fuck treading softly.

He stalked over and round to the passenger side, yanking it open and sinking into the seat besides Evan as the man looked at him, arching an eyebrow.

“S’up Agent E.” he smiled at him, taking another bite of his croissant. “You waiting for Stel?”

“Why else would I be here?”

Jensen shrugged “Maybe you like parking lots.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m waiting for Stella.”

“Why not just use your spare key?” Jensen asked, taking a loud slurp of his coffee before he looked at Evan. “Wait, more to the point, why are you not up there? Did you not stay?” The nerve in Evan’s jaw twitched and Jensen grinned. “You guys aint had a fight have you?” When the agent didn’t reply Jake took a bite of his croissant. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“What do you want, Jensen?” Evan looked at him, his features dark and Jake knew the time for joking was done. He took a deep breath and shrugged.

“Honestly? For you to fuck off.”

“Oh I bet you do.” Evan narrowed his eyes, his voice low and Jensen snorted.

“Not much of a bet, I just admitted it but whatever.”

“Well unlucky for you I’m not going anywhere.”

“For now.” Jensen shrugged “She’ll see through you at some point.”

“Face it Jensen, you fucked up.” Evan shook his head “Now I’m warning you, stay away from her, and me, and leave us alone.”

Jensen took a deep breath. “Ok, I was trying to be polite but I’ll get straight to the point.”

“Please do.” Evan’s voice was loaded with sarcasm.

“I don’t like you, and I don’t trust you.” Jensen stated and Evan gave a huge guffaw of laughter, Jensen merely shook his head “Yeah, you might laugh but I swear to God you hurt her and I will fucking kill you slowly and painfully.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?” Evan asked.

“Yes.” Jensen said simply “You forget, I’m a lethal trained killing machine.” He shrugged “And then there’s Clay, and Roque, and Pooch and Cougs…you kick one of us, we all shout ouch, you get my drift.”

He saw a flicker of something that might have been concern on Evan’s faced but no sooner had he spotted it, it was gone and the Agent simply swallowed and fixed Jensen with a glare.

“What makes you so sure I’m going to hurt her?”

“Because when I mentioned it before, instead of protesting that you wouldn’t, you simply turned it back to being about you.” Jensen shrugged “Now if someone had said that to me, I’d be doing everything I could to try and convince them they were wrong.”

“I don’t have to justify myself to you.” Evan snorted, shaking his head.

“No, you don’t” Jake shrugged “But you will answer to me if you do hurt her, like I said, I’m watching you shithead.”

“You know, when Stella hears you’ve been threatening me…”

“We both know you’re not going to tell her.” Jake shook his head “I mean you’ve already argued once. And I’d lay odds on that being about me. So, are you really gonna push it again when you’re hanging on by a thread? Don’t think so buddy.”

He took another obnoxiously loud slurp of his coffee and there was a pause before Evan exploded. “Ok, I’ve had enough of this, get out of my fucking car!”

“Gladly.” Jensen nodded, scrunching up the wrapper his croissant had been in. He tossed it into the foot-well and looked at it for a second before he shrugged “This car is full of garbage anyway.” And with that he climbed out headed inside, not bothering to look back.