#PRETEND THAT I REMEMBERED TO COLOR THE BASKET OK?

[doodledrawsthings]

🎃 soss oc of your choice!

oc in a halloween costume here's Bug

[taetaespeaches]

“I find you absolutely fascinating.”

namjoon x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 2.2K

a/n: Lovelies! Namjoon and Daisy/reader are being cute and soft and in love again :(( I mean at this point you probably know the drill. These two are about to take a big step and thinking back on how they started... they deserve this! I hope you all enjoy, and thank you for reading! :))

Strolling through the museum halls, you found it quite difficult to focus on the masterpieces surrounding you as you watched Namjoon stand in front of a colorful contemporary painting. Inspecting the piece, he leaned closer to it, his gaze bouncing from feature to feature within the work.

Nodding to himself, he put his pen to his notebook, jotting down a thought. You couldn’t help but grin at the way he absorbed knowledge, every piece of art intriguing him and inspiring him. It was something you truly loved about him.

Looking up from the paper, he slowly dragged his eyes from the piece to you, his orbs meeting yours as he noticed your smile. A bashful grin overtook his features, his dimples appearing as he stepped closer to you.

“Are you amused?” He asked, you nodding.

“Always by you,” you beamed. “I find you absolutely fascinating,” you confessed, amping up the cheesy tone of your voice to emphasize your playful teasing, though the words were genuine.

Shaking his head as he let out a breathy chuckle, he draped his arm around your lower back. Pushing his lips to your forehead, he snickered against your skin.

“Are you ready to go?” He asked, just before leaving a sweet peck to your temple.

“If you are,” you told him, Namjoon nodding his head. As he started leading you down the hall toward the exit, you halted, the man looking at you curiously. “Dimples, what do you think of this one?” You pointed to a painting, Namjoon’s head darting to the piece.

Humming in thought, he squinted at the painting. “I like the palette,” he nodded. “The colors are cool in tone, it’s interesting,” he continued, his eyes drifting back to you as you stared at the piece intently, feigning a serious expression. A smirk curved up on Namjoon’s lips as he watched you pretend to critique the piece. “What are you doing?” He chuckled, you fighting to hold back your grin.

“It’s phallic, is it not?” You asked, Namjoon’s eyes widening as he cocked his head, looking back to the painting.

“What?” He asked in shock. “Is it?” He questioned further, holding back a laugh.

“Yeah,” you held your hand out, dragging your finger in the air to draw the shape you were seeing. “Like that, see?” You asked, turning your head toward Namjoon.

“Fucking hell,” he chuckled, squeezing his eyes shut as he lowered his head, trying to hide his amusement.

“Jot that down,” you nodded to his journal with a smirk, Namjoon taking a deep breath as you began walking away from him. As you left down the hall, your boyfriend watched you go, shaking his head in utter amusement and fondness, a massive dimply smile spread across his face.

Crowds of people surrounded you as you walked down the busy Seoul sidewalk, your hand intertwined with Namjoon’s. After about thirty minutes of walking, and finding yourselves at Olympic Park, Namjoon bumped his shoulder against yours. “Are you hungry?” he asked, looking to your face to see you smirk.

“Starving,” you giggled, Namjoon chuckling as he nodded.

“Good, come with me, babe,” he said mysteriously as you led you further into the park, your confusion growing.

“Are we getting something delivered?” You asked him, the man simply smiling.

“Something like that,” he said, giving you no further hints, you huffing though you couldn’t hold back your grin.

You walked for a few more minute, watching other couples stroll the park, people play with their dogs, parents as they watched their kids run around, until your eyes landed on a couple across the field who looked quite familiar.

“Wait is that Jin?” You asked your boyfriend, pointing at the recognizable man and his fiancé.

“Ah,” Namjoon simply said, changing the direction of his walking to get to his friend. “I almost walked right past you guys,” your boyfriend called out to them, Jin lifting his arms into the air.

“I thought you already did, you took forever,” Jin complained, you looking between the three people completely lost.

“What is going on?” You asked, just before giving the girl a hug, not missing the way she randomly held your face between your hands as she beamed at you, though you chose to ignore it for the time being as you simply giggled at her. Namjoon smiled shyly at you just as you followed his gaze to the picnic setup in the field and slowly realized what was happening. “Wait is this for us?” You asked in surprise. “A picnic?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon chuckled. “These two set it up for us. And cooked everything,” he explained, you looking to the couple with widened eyes.

“Oh my god, guys, that’s so sweet, thank you,” you expressed your gratitude, Jin brushing you off with a wave of his hand.

“It’s all Namjoon’s idea, he just needed some help with the execution,” Jin explained as your lips spread into a warm smile, your eyes glued to Namjoon as he ducked his head slightly, the man bashful under the attention.

The couple didn’t stay long, leaving you and Namjoon to enjoy your picnic alone, however your friend kept looking back at you both as she walked away with Jin.

“They were acting weird, don’t you think?” You pointed out to Namjoon as you both sat on the cute little picnic blanket.

“I don’t know, they seemed about normal,” Namjoon countered as he opened Jin’s old picnic basket.

“No seriously, look, she keeps looking back at us,” you nodded to the couple, your boyfriend looking after them with a small chuckle.

“She’s always strange though, is that really any different to how she normally acts?” He reminded you of your friend’s sometimes weird behaviors. Giggling, you nodded.

“Ok, kind of true,” you confirmed. “And I’m letting you dissing my friend’s eccentricity slide for now since you planned this adorable picnic” you teasingly added as you watched Namjoon lift a bottle of champagne from the basket. “Ooh, fancy,” you smirked, Namjoon’s dimples on display as he dug further inside the basket, setting different food containers onto the blanket. “Jesus, it’s a feast.”

“You said you were starving,” he pointed out, you giggling as you reached forward and opened a container of fruit. Bringing a berry to your lips, you watched the man as he uncorked the bottle of champagne. His face was full of concentration as he twisted the metal cage that held the cork in place. Dropping the wire on the blanket, he pushed up on the cork, both of you flinching at the sound of the pop, the cork being sent a few feet away and landing in the grass. “Oh, shit,” Namjoon mumbled as he set the bottle down, nearly knocking it over as he hurried after the cork, you having to catch it before it spilled all over your picnic set up.

Chuckling to yourself, you looked toward the man as he adorably made his way back, holding the object out toward you with a goofy grin on his face. There were several moments, nearly constant actually, where you looked at Namjoon and remembered all over again just why you wanted to spend your life with him. And as he sat back down, less than gracefully, dropping the cork on the blanket proudly, you found yourself in yet another one of those moments. What a blessing it would be to spend forever with this man.

As you enjoyed the meal your good friends put together for you, all you could think about was how unbelievably lucky you were in this lifetime to have found Namjoon. And how privileged you were to be on the receiving end of his love, along with his forgiveness. The man could have given up on you early on in your relationship, leaving you behind when you gave him nothing but insecurity and inconsistency. But he stayed by your side, showing you the care and patience that you’d never been given before him. He was a treasure, and he was yours.

The sun was setting over the city, casting Namjoon in a heavenly golden glow. Staring at him fondly, you wondered if he understood how beautiful he was; how beautiful you found him to be.

“You’re gorgeous,” he suddenly interrupted your thoughts, your jaw dropping slightly as he stole the compliment you were just about to give him.

“I was just thinking the same thing about you,” you grinned, Namjoon letting out a breathy chuckle. “You really are gorgeous, Dimples,” you appreciated him sincerely. “I never tire of looking at you, or talking to you, sitting with you in silence,” you shared, Namjoon’s eyes softening as he stared at your face. “You really are the most fascinating thing I’ve ever come across,” you whispered.

Namjoon’s adam’s apple bobbed against his throat as he swallowed nervously, a warm smile overtaking his features. “I have something for you,” he announced, digging inside his bag. Watching him curiously, your eyes fell upon the envelope he pulled out. Presenting it to you bashfully, you beamed.

“What’s this?” You asked as you took it, reading your name that was written across the front of the envelope. Carefully, you opened it, pulling out a folded piece of paper. You weren’t sure what the contents of the letter would be, but you had a feeling this was going to be a major moment for you and Namjoon. Opening it carefully and slowly, your eyes scanned the words across the page, mostly scribblings with crossed out words. But the first sentence told you exactly what you were looking at.

Etched in hangul were the words person and love. And below that, You make live to a love, was written in English.

Your heart raced as you realized this was the draft he started with when writing his song Trivia: Love.

Other single lines were scratched across the page such as, What if I go? If I go, would you be sad? And You’re my person, my desire, my pride, my love, my one and only love.

You could feel tears pricking your eyes as you read over the paper, the sentiment of the lyrics hitting you all over again; the love and vulnerability and purpose he revealed on the page, all feelings you caused him. The word destiny was written with an arrow pointing to, we’re meant to be. Do you feel the same?

At the bottom of the page, he abandoned single lyric ideas where he instead decided to write his thoughts plainly.

“This is love. I know it is, I just feel it. I’ve never truly known it before, but this is it. Like how the moon rises after the sun. You give meaning to my memories. Will you make memories with me forever?”

Lowering the paper to your lap, you looked across the picnic blanket to find your boyfriend holding a ring between his fingers, his eyes soft and large as he stared at you nervously. “Will you make memories with me forever?” He asked you, your breath leaving your lungs as the love you felt for the man rushed through your frame.

You couldn’t even form words as you began nodding, smiles overtaking both of your faces as you stood on your knees. Namjoon mimicked your actions as he met you in the middle, your mouths crashing into a needy kiss. Ignoring the other park goers, you and Namjoon were lost on cloud nine together.

Trailing kisses across your face, he wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you against his frame as he held you close. “I’ve wanted to marry for years,” he chuckled against your hair, you smiling against his neck in response. “I wrote this song knowing I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“I’ve known for years too,” you assured him. “You’re incredible, you know that?” You asked him, chuckling as you pulled away from him to look at his stunning face. His eyes held your gaze for a moment before they landed on your hand, his fingers grasping your hand as he slid the ring into place.

“Here’s to a lifetime of being forever fascinated by each other,” he said cheesily with a massive dimply grin.

“A lifetime,” you beamed. “That sounds perfect.”

Staring at each other for a moment, Namjoon broke the moment first by lunging forward, pushing you to the ground as he positioned himself above you. Kissing you softly, your hands brushed over the sides of his face.

“I almost put the ring in your champagne glass but I was afraid you’d swallow it,” he giggled adorably, your finger tracing over the dimple in his cheeks before dragging over his smiling lips.

“Now that would have been a story,” you teased as Namjoon kissed the tip of your finger. “Thank you, Joon,” you said suddenly, his eyes widening in question. “For believing in us even when I couldn’t.”

Smiling softly, he shook his head at you as if he shouldn’t be thanked for such a silly easy thing to do. But instead of speaking against your gratitude, he chose to gently press his lips to yours. Because it didn’t matter how you started your relationship or who believed in what. You were there, and you were in love. And he knew you both would be loving each other for as long as you both lived in this lifetime, and even into the next.

[slythergirlimagines]

Worth Your Time- Jack Shephard x Reader

Summary: Reader and Jack are friends with benefits, but when reader gets hurt it could change their relationship. (GIF not mine!) Masterlist

Warnings: injuries and some mentions of sex, also dead relatives and abusive ex mentioned   

Words: 3,189

Requested: Yes! @flowercrowns-goodvibes thank you so much for requesting something about Lost. My love for this show and for Jack is endless:) I hope you enjoy it!

Worth Your Time

The first time you slept with Jack Shephard, you were both drunk. Hurley and Charlie had found some vodka in an old bunker. Everyone had craved the distraction the alcohol provided and a party had broken out in result.

After your fair share of drinks, you had stepped away and gone to stare at the ocean. Jack had found you there, drunk and depressed. You had opened up to each other, you about the abusive relationship you were running from, and Jack about his father. You weren’t really sure how it happened, but one minute you were talking and the next you were having sex.

You had never really talked about it after it happened. It was only a few days later that you had a nightmare and sought out Jack. After that, you began seeking comfort in each other, and of course some other things. It wasn’t all physical though.

You and Jack talked about anything and everything. You connected, and you understood each other. You had realized too late into your relationship that you were developing feelings for him, and you couldn’t tell him. If you told him, then everything would get weird and he wouldn’t want you anymore. The voice in your head definitely belonged to your ex, but it was right. Jack was too important to lose.

Currently, you are enjoying the day. Sometimes on beautiful days like this, you like to pretend that you’re on vacation. You close your eyes and let the breeze blow through your hair, and you let yourself pretend for just a little bit that you have no problems. It helps to forget reality sometimes, especially when your reality is being stranded on an island where everything seems to go wrong.

Today the waves are sparkling and the sun is high in the sky. Charlie and Hurley are still trying to fish, even though they’ve never caught anything. Sun is off tending her garden, and Kate and Sawyer are flitting about doing who knows what. Claire wades into the water, rocking baby Aaron back and forth. None of these people are who you want to see. You’re looking for Jack.

You see him exiting the make shift medical tent, and you quickly jog over to him.

“Jack!” You call to him. When he sees you, his face breaks out into a huge grin and your heart flutters in your chest. He’s just a friend you remind yourself. A very hot friend that you sometimes have sex with.

“Y/n!” He calls back, mimicking your enthusiasm.

“Hey!” You say, finally catching up to him. “I have something to ask you.”

“Oh yeah?” He says, plucking some fruit from the breakfast pile, and taking a bite.

“Sun and I are going on a hike this afternoon. She’s needs help finding some seeds for the garden, and I was wondering if there’s anything you need medically?”

Jack looks up at the clouds, and makes a face.

“Are you sure you guys want to go today? It might rain.” You roll your eyes at his concern.

“Don’t worry, Jack. We’re big girls, I think we can handle it!” You wink. It feels natural to flirt with him like this.

“Alright, alright. I just can’t help it.” He says. His voice drops a little at the end, and it sends shivers down your spine. His brown eyes turn hungry, and he lets them rake over you.

It’s been a few days since you’ve been together, and you’ve missed him. His eyes tell you that he’s missed you too, even if his mouth won’t say it.

When he finishes looking you up and down, he catches your half-lidded gaze and smiles.

“Come back to me in one piece.” He leans in, whispering in your ear. “I’ll make it worth your time.” His pupils are dilated when he pulls back and he smirks at you, licking his lips.

Jack Shephard can be down right predatory when he wants to be. You shiver, and smile back at him.

“You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You let yourself linger in the moment, and then you remind him of your original question. “So do you need anything?”

Jack looks sheepish, and rubs the back of his neck as he answers. “No, sorry I forgot the question.”

“I have that effect on people.” You flirt.

“That you do.” Jack looks up at the sky and then back at you. “You better go before I lose all semblance of self control.”

“If this is you controlled I can’t wait to see you wild.” You smirk again and then back up slowly. “See you later doc.”

You leave him there, practically panting, and hurry back to Sun.

————————————————-

The hike goes well. Sun manages to find a majority of the seeds she needs with little problem. You’re on your way back when you notice a patch of familiar looking plant stalks.

“Sun!” You call.

She turns around and raises an eyebrow in your direction.

“I’m going to stay behind for a little bit, I’ll catch up!” You say.

“I don’t know....” Sun says, glancing up at the darkening sky.

“I’ll be fine!” You say. “This is literally going to take like five minutes!”

Convinced, Sun nods and continues on her way.

“Be careful!” She throws over her shoulder.

You promise her you will, and then turn your attention back to the stalks.

When you were younger, your mother was very into natural remedies. She grew a lot of her own plants and herbs to aid in the healing process. Ginger was always one of her favorites. The root helped calm aches and pains, and it would be the perfect gift for Jack. You may not have medicine on this island, but you could use what was around you.

Quickly, you get to work pulling the roots of the ground. It’s hard work, and it takes you a lot longer to fill up your basket than you had hoped. By the time you’re finished, your hands are bleeding and the sky is nearly pitch black.

You stumble quickly onto the path, and start walking as quickly as you can. Maybe you’ll be able to get close to the beach before the downpour starts. You aren’t half as lucky as you wish you were though, because it only takes a minute for the rain to begin.

It’s a thick blanket of water, and there are no breaks in between downpours. The rain pounds against your body, soaking through your clothes in seconds. It also makes it impossible to see where you’re going.

Your boots start getting stuck in the mud, and before you know it, you’re slipping and sliding around. Everything is distorted through the water and you start panicking. Are you even going the right way?

The water starts gathering and rushing downhill like a fast moving stream. It’s impossible for you to keep your balance, and you fall, bashing your leg against the side of a rock. You feel it slice through your skin, and the pain is consuming.

The water keeps pushing you with its current, banging you against objects in the path. Finally, your head bangs against something hard and the world goes dark.

————————————————-

“Dude!” You hear a voice yell. Your head pounds, and you lift a shaky hand to feel around. There’s a tender spot when you touch it, and you quickly drop your hand.

“Dude, I think I found her!” Hurley says. His shouts increase the pounding in your head, and you go limp with the pain.

“Where is she?” You hear Charlie’s heavy accent.

Flashlight beams illuminate your face, and you listen as they start to panic.

“Oh my god. She’s dead, Hurley look at her.” Charlie says.

“Dude, I think I’m going to hurl.” Hurley says, gagging.

“Hurley, get a grip! Listen to me. Who’s going to tell Jack? He’s going to lose it mate! He’ll go absolutely bonkers.” Charlie says.

Hearing Jack’s name rouses something in you, and you have enough energy to groan his name. You want Jack. He’ll make you feel better and take all this pain away. Over the pounding of your head, you hadn’t even been able to think about the searing pain in your leg.

“Jack?” You ask again.

“She’s alive!” Charlie shouts and you listen as he and Hurley celebrate.

“Dude we’ve gotta get Jack, what if it’s not ok to move her?” Hurley asks.

“Ok ok good point. You stay here and I’ll go get him. They shouldn’t be too far away.” Charlie says, and you hear him run off.

“It’s ok, y/n.” Hurley says. “I’m here, and Jack’s going to be here real soon. He’s worried sick about you.”

Jack was worried about you? You smile, and it’s painful, but you also feel a lot better. Jack will be there soon and he’s worried. Your Jack.

The pain is slowly increasing, and you feel like maybe you could sleep a little longer before Jack gets there. I mean you wouldn’t be missing anything.

“Y/n??” You hear a voice call, and it’s Jack. You’d know his deep voice anywhere.

“Jack.” You groan.

You hear the snapping of branches as someone runs to you. Large, warm hands start checking over your body. Jack’s hands. You’d know them anywhere too.

“What happened?” He asks, and you can hear how wrecked his voice is. You’ve never heard him so worried before. Usually when he checks on patients he has a forced calm to him, but now he sounds desperate and pained.

“Rain.” You mutter helpfully. “Cut leg.” You wince as his hand finds the wound.

“Head hurts.” You mumble. You’re tired again. This whole ordeal has honestly worn you out, and Jack was here now. Everything would be ok, because he would take care of you.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep on me.” He commands. “Don’t you dare.”

“Ok, Jack.” You say, but everything is already getting hazy and unfocused. “Love you.” You smile. Colors dance under your eyelids, and you let them sweep you off into the dark again.

———————————————-

In your dream, your mother stands before you. She’s wearing the same familiar blue sweater and jeans that you remember.

“Mom?” You ask, tears in your eyes.

She smiles at you, and her eyes crinkle into lines at the corners. Her eyes sparkle as she looks at you. She envelops you into a hug, and you realize she still smells the same. She’s only been gone for two years now, but it feels like it’s been an eternity since you’ve seen her.

“Oh y/n.” She says, and softly lets your hair as you cry into her shoulder. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too.” You choke out, tears making your voice thick.

“You’ve been so brave, y/n. What you’ve been through... you’ve been so strong.” She smiles at you softly, and squeezes you.

Her words bring back memories. The island, the plane, leaving your ex, meeting Jack. Jack.

“Yes,” your mother says. “Jack is a lovely man. Every mother wants her daughter to bring home a doctor.” She teases.

“Am I dead?” You ask, suddenly fearful that you’ve left him.

Your mother looks at you softly. She shakes her head.

“Not yet. You can still pull through. Your doctor is giving death one hell of a fight. He’s not giving up on you anytime soon.” She smiles.

Of course he wouldn’t. Tears spring to your eyes as you think about Jack fighting for you, not giving up on you. You can’t leave him. You don’t want to leave him.

“Mom?” You ask. “I don’t want to die. Not yet.”

She pulls you into a hug, and laughs wetly. “Then you won’t.” She says.

“I love you.” You tell her. “I miss you everyday.”

“I love you too.” She says. Then she presses a kiss to your forehead, and everything dissolves.

————————————————-

You’re awake, but you don’t open your eyes. Pain makes your limbs heavy and your brain sluggish as you try to make sense of everything. You finally crack one eye, and groan against the painfully bright light.

“Y/n?” Jack says, hope colors his tone.

“Jack?” You ask. You reach out your arm trying to find him, when he catches your hand. You feel him cradle it between his palms, and he places a lingering kiss to it.

“Oh my god.” He says, and you can tell from the emotion in his voice that he’s crying.

You pry your eyes open again, this time determined to keep them open. You blink several times, before your eyes adjust and you’re able to focus.

Jack stares at you, eyes glassy with tears cradling your hand to the side of his face. His brown eyes are warm, and he’s smiling in relief.

“Hi.” You tell him shyly. You can’t comprehend why he’s so emotional about you. Jack has taken devastating loses on this island, and you still haven’t seen him look as torn up as he does now.

“Hi.” He says back, and it feels like it means everything. Your heart stutters against the intensity of his gaze.

“What happened.” He asks you, softly. He lets one of his hands trace the side of your face, and then starts stroking your hair out of your eyes.

“I saw some ginger root, and I remembered my mother using ginger to help with aches and pains. I thought it could come in handy, but it took me longer to harvest it than I thought. I couldn’t out run the rain.” You say. It’s a little embarrassing, to admit it. You know how stupid it sounds in retrospect.

Jack shakes his head at you.

“Should’ve known.” He says, but he smiles instead of reprimands you. You know it’s probably only because he’s so relieved that he isn’t yelling at you.

“What can I say.” You mutter, leaning back into the cot. You can tell you’re in the Med tent.

“Are Charlie and Hurley ok?” You ask suddenly. Your memories are a blur, but you can remember their panicked voices.

Jack laughs a little, and you smile in response, glad to know he is ok enough to laugh.

“Yes. They thought you were dead.” He says, and then all the humor leaves his face. You regret ever bringing it up as you watch him debate with himself.

“I thought I was going to lose you.” He says. He has the same look on his face that he had when he told you the “angel hair pasta” story.

“Your leg was sliced up really bad. Deep too. I had no way of knowing how much blood you lost.” He says, eyes haunted. “Then your head wound. God, I had no way of knowing how bad that was, or if you had other internal injuries. Then you passed out on me, and you’ve been out ever since.”

“I’m sorry.” You say, and you realize that you’re crying. Jack’s pain has become yours and you’re so mad at yourself that you scared him so badly.

“No!” He says, and hurriedly wipes your tears away. “Don’t cry! It’s not your fault.”

“But it is. I was so stupid.”

Jack just shakes his head and continues brushing back you hair. He’s being so gentle with you, and it’s such a stark contrast from some of your wilder nights. The thought brings a blush to your cheeks.

“I had to bathe you.” Jack says out of nowhere, and he looks awkward as tells you. Like he’s asking for some sort of forgiveness. “I had to clean the wound, and you were unconscious and I didn’t trust anybody else...”

You start laughing and you can’t help yourself. He just looks so sweet asking you to forgive him for helping you.

“Jack, it’s not like it isn’t anything you haven’t seen before.” You say, and your voice lowers a bit.

The air is suddenly charged with electricity as you two lock eyes. Your heart starts beating quickly again, and you wonder if Jack can tell.

“You told me you loved me.” He whispers.

Your blush, horrified. If you could, you would go back in time and finish the job the rain started.

“Jack, I’m so sorry.” You say. You knew you’d find a way to mess this up eventually. You couldn’t bear to lose him now.

“Did you mean it?” He asks. You search his face for any sign of disgust, but he only looks curious. You can’t lie to him, and you find that somewhere deep down you don’t want to.

“Yes.” You say. “But I was never going to say anything, I never meant to make it weird or-”

“Y/n.” Jack says, and he gives you a glowing look. He looks so happy, and your heart thumps painfully against your ribs.

“I love you too.” He says quietly. “I’m sorry it took all of this for me to admit it to you. I- well it was never just sex for me either, you know. It was always about you.”

“Me too.” You whisper quietly. Then you start laughing again. This time jack joins in, and the two of you laugh for a long time.

Jack looks at you like you’re his world, and then he kisses you gently. It is a much sweeter kiss than any you’ve ever shared with him, and it makes your whole body feel fuzzy and light.

Jack pulls away and you whine at the loss of contact.

“Jack!” You cry. He looks positively boyish like this. Young and happy.

“You’re injured.” He teases. “What kind of doctor would I be if I didn’t force you to heal properly.”

“You’re such a tease!” You pout.

He kisses you again, and laughs.

“You love me.” He sings.

“I do.” You can’t stop saying it enough. You pat the space behind you in the cot and give him your widest eyes. “Come join me?” Jack rolls his eyes, but comes to join you in the cot.

He takes care to wrap himself gently around you without disturbing your injuries. Content, you sink into the warmth of his embrace.

“You know, technically I did come back in one piece. And you told me you’d make it worth my while....” you trail off, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

“Not. Until. You’re. Healed!” He throws a hand up into the air. “I swear you’re going to kill me.” He says shaking his head.

Smiling, you think about your mother and the fact that you had almost died. It may be cheesy, but it was certainly true. Any second with Jack was more than worth your time.

A/n: I hope you enjoyed reading this! I write for a lot of fandoms and my requests are open if there’s something you want to read. You can find all my other work under the tag slythergirlimagines!

[btsslowburnfic]

BTS Reacts: Visiting the Pumpkin Patch/Apple Orchard-Hyung Line

It’s Fall AF where I live. I don’t know if these are a thing in the rest of the world, but here in Midwest USA I’ve already been to two apple orchards and a pumpkin patch. Happy Fluffy Friday ^_^

-Jin- You were so excited. Chuseok had just ended and Jin still had 2 days off. You decided it was time to usher in the new season with a trip to the Apple Orchard. “Why don’t we just go to the grocery store and buy apples?” your boyfriend jokingly complained as the two of you drove out into the country. “It’s not the same! It’s about the experience.” you adjust your sunglasses as the car winds down a curvy road. “The experience of picking apples? Isn’t this just them getting free labor?” You roll your eyes. “Whatever. This place also has a concession stand, animals, and a giant slide and zipline.” Suddenly you have his interest. “Oh? Really?” “Yep. So much more than just picking apples.” you say as the car turns down the first dirt road to the orchard. It’s a weekday so it isn't too busy. You mask up and pay the nominal admission fee. “Oh my God, Jin LOOK THEY HAVE ALPACAS” you squeal as you rush over to the petting zoo area. Jin jogs over behind you, “Just like RJ. These must be his brothers, AJ and MJ.” You laugh as you dig through your bag for a coin. “And look,” you gesture to the machine with food in it, “We can feed them!!!!!” You twist your coin in and little pellets fall out the bottom. You walk over to the fence and place your palm flat for the animals to come over and eat. “So cool. I’ve never seen a real alpaca up close.” you marvel at their size as they head over. Jin snaps a picture of you feeding them and then has you take a picture of him with them to post on Weverse later. “I can’t believe there��s not an RJ in the car,” Jin laments his missed photo opportunity while posing with AJ and MJ.   “Perfect. Triplets.” you joke and hand him his phone back. “Alright, let’s wash our hands and pick some apples!” Jin groans, “They have bags of apples in the gift shop that someone else already picked.” “Oh my God are you still whining about apple picking?” you playfully shove him. “Fine. Let’s wash our hands and then do the zipline and then pick apples.” you amend your statement. He kisses your forehead. “Much better.”   The two of you scrub the alpaca saliva off and head up the hay stairs to the zipline. “Look how big the orchard is!” you exclaim from the top of the hay bales. Jin slowly walks up behind you. “Yeah and think. People already probably picked all the apples up front, we’d have to walk all the way over there,” he gestures unnecessarily with his long arms towards the back of the orchard, “just to find them.” “We CAME here to PICK APPLES,” you grit your teeth and try to look annoyed since at this point you knew he was just teasing you. He gets strapped into the zipline. “I’m just saying, it seems like a lot of work.” You roll your eyes at him, “Hey Jin, baby?” “What?”  he turns back from getting ready to slide down the cable and smiles at you. “I just think you look cute.” you answer and lean over to kiss him. And then shove him down the zipline. “Byyeeeeeeee!” you yell and wave as you hear him shrieking. The attendant looks at you quizzically. “He’s fine. He’s fine.” you assure them as they get you strapped in. You  jump off the platform and through the air. When you arrive at the other side you see Jin pouting which makes you start to laugh. You turn in your zipline gear and walk over to him. “What’s the matter, pretty pouty man?” you put your arms around him. “You shoved me down a zipline.” he whines. “Ahahaha I did.” You lean back to look at him, amused that he’s trying really hard to keep pouting. “It was so mean.” “It was. I am terrible. Can you ever forgive me?” you place your hands on his chest and look up at him. “Only if you don’t make me pick apples.” he says with a straight face. You scowl at him and pull away. You hear his trademark laugh following you down the hill.

-RM/Namjoon- “Pumpkin patch. Pumpkin patch. Pumpkin patch!” you start chanting as you walk over to your husband on the couch. “Is that what today is?” he pulls you down next to him and you snuggle into his side. “Joonie,” you whine, “you said if the weather was nice we would go.” “I’m just teasing baby, here,” he shows you on his phone where he’s been researching the ratings of the pumpkin patches in town. You loved how much research he always put into everything. “I’m so excited. I haven’t been to one in years.” you smile. “Did you pick one?” “Yep, and I charged the fancy camera so we can get some nice pictures today as well.” “You are the best!” you lean over and kiss him on the cheek. “Let me grab some boots out of the closet and then I’ll be ready to go.” You are surprised that one of the highest rated ones is only a few minutes outside the city. You drive the short distance and arrive at a beautiful farm sprinkled in red, yellow, and orange leaves. “Oh my God, this is beautiful.” you say as you exit the driver’s side. Namjoon already has the camera out and shoots some photos of the barn and trees. “I’m so glad you brought the camera,” you say as you nervously watch him handle the thousands-of-dollars camera. “But make sure you use the wrist or neck strap.” “Are you saying you don’t trust me to hold an expensive item without breaking it?” he pretends to act shocked. You smile and walk over. “I would never say that,” you place the strap around his wrist and laugh as you look up at him. “Never.” He laughs. “I totally would have. Or left it sitting somewhere. Thanks for talking me into taking today off.”  He takes you by the hand as the two of you head down to the farmhouse. e There is a small general store full of breads, james, hay bales, and scarecrows. Much fall. So knickknack. You walk over to the counter where a farmer is sorting produce, “Excuse me sir, which way to the pumpkin patch?” “Head out the back of the barn. You can either ride the wagon back there or walk.” The two of you exit the barn and find yourself in the middle of a group of about fifty small children and their chaperones. “Oh.” Namjoon says, his eyes involuntarily going wide. “It must be a school trip. That’s ok. We can walk back there, I think they’re waiting for the wagon.” The two of you ease your way through the tiny mob and start walking down the gravel. “Alright. We have to beat that wagon before the field has 50 fewer pumpkins,” you say as you pump your arms and channel your inner speed walker. “And get some pictures without random children in them,” he adds. By the time the two of you walk the Kilometer to the patch you two are slightly out of breath. “Alright. Let’s find the perfect pumpkin.” you say as you survey the patch. The two of you wander the fields scouting out the perfect size and color pumpkin. Namjoon takes some photos of the field and you. “Ok, time to trade,” you say, gesturing to the camera. “I don’t know.” he suddenly acts shy. “Oh come on, you have to. You’re wearing your plaid shirt, it’s like you purposefully dressed to be a pumpkin patch model.” you grin as you take the camera from him. You snap some photos of him and the rural landscape.  You hear the throttle of the tractor and a bunch of kid voices getting closer so the two of you each grab a pumpkin and start walking back to the farmhouse. The wagon of children all wave excitedly and point at the two of you and your pumpkins. Namjoon laughs and waves back with his free hand. “Did you have a good time?” he asks as the two of you enter the general store. “I did. I felt a little rushed because of the kids but that’s ok. It looks like they’re having fun.” You smile. “You’ll be such a great parent someday,” he smiles as he leans over to kiss you.

-Suga/Yoongi- “More coffee.” Yoongi’s gravely morning voice requests after you remind him it’s apple orchard day. He had gotten out of bed and was now doing a great impression of a rock as he sat at the kitchen table with his face in his hands. “Honey, they have cider at the orchard.” “Cider doesn’t have caffeine,” he responds. “Coffee.” You run your fingers through his hair and smile  “Fine, fine.” you walk over to the Nespresso and make a cup of coffee for him. You take the mug over and slide onto his lap. “I’d be careful if you want to make it to the apple orchard.” he growls into your ear and squeezes your waist. “Yoongi,” you giggle and stand up. “There’s time for that after the apple orchard.” you wink and walk over to your purse. “We need to leave here in 45 minutes.” “Why? Are we on a schedule?” “A little bit. We’re meeting up with Tae and Jimin.” “Oh yeah? Cool.” he monotonously responds as he continues to wake up more and more with each sip. -- It’s a beautiful fall day with a light breeze blowing and the sun shining. It’s perfect for what you have planned. The ride up was nice but quiet. You were super nervous about how the afternoon was going to go. "Are Tae and Jimin here yet?" Yoongi asks as he pulls into the parking lot. You check your messages. "Yep. They're already out in the orchard and say we should head out to meet them." you exit the car and wait for yoongi. The two of you hold hands as you look for the best way to get into the orchard. You weave in and out of the apple trees looking for your friends. “It’s so beautiful today.” he says quietly. “It really is. Do you remember the last time we came here?” He smiles, “Oh yep. I remember. Speaking of, do you have your epi-pen with you?” “Of course,” you pat your purse. Eventually you find where Tae and Jimin had set up. “What’s all this?” Yoongi gestured to the blanket and basket sitting in the clearing. “Tae and Jimin set this up, they went to the car and said to have a seat and wait for them.” “Are you sure this is their stuff?” he mumbles. “Yep. They sent me a picture,” you flash it to him. “Let’s go find them.” he starts to pull you the other direction. “No. We should really stay and wait for them. I don’t want to get lost.” you say as you head over to the large hounds tooth blanket and have a seat. “Since when are you worried about being lost? We wandered the streets of Dublin for hours.” “I just want to make sure we don’t miss our friends. Come sit with me,” you pat the  spot on the blanket carefully. Yoongi looks toward the entrance one more time and then gives in, coming over to sit next to you. You check your phone one more time. Satisfied, you slip it into your purse. You stiffen as a bee flies over to the blanket. “Aish, I got it.” He pulls his sleeve over his hand and swats it away. “If I see another one, we’re getting up and moving. Actually, an apple orchard was a terrible idea to come to with your allergy.” “I know, I know. I thought about that too but I wanted to come here today. I remember the last time we were here.” “Yeah, I thought you were going to die.” Yoongi says, trying to sound casual, but you can detect the slight shake in his voice. You shrug and take him by the hand, “But I didn’t. And that’s the day I knew that you were the one for me.” You lean over and kiss him gently on the lips. “You stayed calm and helped me inject myself and then took me to the hospital and stayed even though I kept begging you to just leave while delirious and crying.” He smiles shyly, “Yeah, it was what, like our second or third date? I called Namjoon to cancel going to practice and he yelled at me for even being out on a date and then I hung up on him.” “What? You never told me that before,” you exclaim. You had no idea you’d caused any drama. “I didn’t want to worry you.” he replies, gently pushing your hair behind your ear. “Well, that’s why I wanted to come back here today,” you begin as you grab a small box out of your purse. “I knew on that day that you would do anything to protect me and just how much you care about me even though it was so early in our relationship. I don’t deserve you, but if you’ll have me, I’d like to make forever official with you,” you open the box and present him with a small black band. “Are you proposing to me?” he asks quietly. “I’m trying to. Am I doing a bad job?” you ask nervously, suddenly worried he’s going to say ‘no.’ He smiles and takes the band out and looks at it.  “No. I’m just surprised. And happy.” he puts it on. “So….is that a yes?” you ask nervously. He looks up at you with wet eyes. “Of course.” he leans over and the two of you kiss, it slowly turns into a make-out session until you hear someone clear their throat. You pull away smiling and look over at Taehyung and Jimin. “They’re actually here?” he says surprised. “Congratulations!” Jimin yells and attacks Yoongi with a hug. “Did you get any pictures?” you ask Tae. “Oh yeah. Lots of them,” he smiles at you. “You did a great job planning this.” “You were all in on this!?” Yoongi exclaims, throwing Jimin off of him. “Yep! I wanted Taehyung to take pictures and Jimin wanted to join as well.” “Aish, I’m lucky to have such great friends,” he leans over and quietly in your ear, “and such a wonderful fiance.”

-JHope/Hoseok- Your boyfriend is sitting on the couch dragging his feet about going out today, "It's not a haunted corn maze, right?" Hoseok asks you for the 50th time with a disgusted look on his face. You let out a sigh and put your hands on his shoulders. "No babe it's just a normal corn maze where we wander around and try to get to the other side." "... I don't know." "I think you are emotionally scarred from Run BTS," you say as you press a kiss to the top of his head and move to sit next to him.  "We don't have to do the corn maze if you don't want to.”  You take his hand in yours. “Let's just go and pet the pumpkins. If we decide to do something else while we're there that's fine too." "OK sounds good. I saved some cool carvings on my phone," he pulls it out to show you a few intricate designs he's saved. "ooo very cool. We'll need at least 2 big pumpkins and a few medium. Are you ready?" you ask as you put your bag over your shoulder. He grabs a cap and follows you out the door. ------ The pumpkin patch is just outside the city and is famous for its corn maze. This year it is in the shape of an underwater scene with fish, whales, and dolphins. You point out the picture at the entrance to Hobi emphasizing the “family friendly” parts of the poster. “I’m not saying we have to. I’m just showing you what it looks like.” you emphasize as the two of you walk over to the barn area. There are chickens and horses lazily wandering around the yard. “Have you ever been to a farm before?” he asks you as you take photos of the animals. “No. Is it obvious?” you laugh. “I’ve seen horses before but not just like wandering around with chickens and stuff.” “You’re cold,” he states rather than asks. “Here,” he takes off his sweatshirt and hands it to you. “Now you’ll be cold.” you say as you put on the still-warm sweatshirt. You not-so-secretly loved taking your boyfriend’s hoodies. “I’m fine. Besides, if we walk through that giant maze I’m sure we’ll work up a sweat. And the sun is coming out.” he smiles at you. He just radiates happiness, it’s one of the things you love about him. “You’ll try the corn maze? Really?” you turn and face him, wrapping your now-warm body around him. “Yes, I’ll try it.” he kisses you on the tip of your nose. “I read and it says they have emergency exits if we need to leave.” You laugh, “Well hopefully we won’t have to use them, but it’s nice to have the option.” The two of you wander over to the sign marked “Entrance” and take a few pictures for posterity and then begin wandering around. You hit several dead ends and Hoseok flinches a few times turing around corners. “Babe are you still worried there are zombies in here?” you ask, trying not to laugh because you know even though it’s silly, he’s scared. “..No. Just making sure we don’t run into people. Alive or otherwise.” You laugh. “Hey, here’s one of the emergency exits, “you gesture to a sign above the dead end the two of you have just walked into. “No. Not yet. We’re not giving up.” his voice sounds determined. “We’re going to conquer this corn maze. Or at least try for another 30 minutes, I’m getting hungry.” he grins as you two double back. You set a timer on your phone but when it goes off the two of you have a feeling you are getting close to the exit because you have moved pretty far along the treeline. You had the wherewithal to take a photo of the maze back at the Pumpkin Patch entrance so you know the exit is on the North side of the maze. “I think this is it!” he yells excitedly, pulling you by the hand and breaking out into a run.  You turn one last corner and the two of you emerge victorious. He takes your hands and raises them above your head in true champion fashion.  You take a picture of your sweaty happy smiles in front of the exit sign. “I knew we could do it!” you exclaim and lean over to kiss him.  “Hey Hobi,” you say, catching your breath still. “Yeah?” “Let’s just eat food and get pumpkins from the farm store. I don’t want to hike to the back of the farm to the pumpkin patch.” “Oh thank God,” he says, “I thought I was going to have to beg you not to.”  he laughs. “Seriously. I want one of everything from the concession stand.” you say as the two of you walk back towards the farmhouse. “Ahaha me too. I love you.” “I love you too.”

[a-dreaming-artist]

A Witches Spell Chapter 4

Chapter 1                 Chapter 2              Chapter 3            Chapter 4

The boy wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep, but at some point he did. He was still sitting at his desk, the book underneath his head still open. The little bit of light that peeked through his blinds hurt his eyes, it took a moment to adjust to the light. Standing up he stretched slightly and walked to his small kitchen, making his way to the basket on his counter. Removing the small cloth on top revealed the sweets the blonde had brought him yesterday, still warm like they were just pulled out of the oven.Tamaki knew he should have been using his magic for better uses but the ability to keep food warm was one he loved. Grabbing a sweet roll he took a bite and made his way back to his desk, reviewing all the notes he had taken last night. 

‘It’s not good enough’

A little voice whispered inside Tamaki’s head, making him squeeze his eyes shut. He just wasn’t as good as his mother. He knew he wasn't. The little voice wouldn’t let him forget this fact. Tamaki let out a long sigh and closed the large book of spells and potions. After finishing the sweet roll, he rested his head on the desk wishing to just go back to bed for another hour. He needed to keep working though. His mother's work couldn’t be for nothing. 

‘Tamaki, baby, it’ll be ok’

A woman's voice broke the silence of the little house, it was so soft and sweet. Tamaki looked up and over to the kitchen, seeing a woman stirring what seemed to be a pot of soup. Walking to the kitchen Tamaki stood next to the woman, causing her to look over at him.

‘It’s just a slight fever, you’ll feel better in no time I promise’ 

Tears began to form in the boy's eyes at the sight of the woman's smile, it was so full of love. It made him feel safe.

“M… mom…” Tamaki reached forward and touched his mother's hand, flinching when it simply fazed through hers. This wasn’t real. Just a memory. Just his mind playing tricks.

‘Yes, baby?’ 

“I can’t… I can’t do it…” the tears began to fall, “I’m not- I’m not as strong as you and-“ he couldn’t even finish his words, he just let out a choked sob and buried his face into his hands. The house was only filled with the sounds of sobs and hiccups, reminding Tamaki how alone he was. 

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

Two hours.

Tamaki spent two hours crying, two hours wasted on nothing. Finally getting off the kitchen floor the boy took shakey steps back to his desk, sitting down in the chair. He felt so tired, so weak, but he couldn’t waste anymore time. Picking up his pen Tamaki looked at the sheets of paper scattered across the desk, some were covered in small notes while others had large black spots of ink from the boy scribbling out notes. He was working on an antidote, trying to figure out how to stop this awful disease. His mother was so close, she almost had it. 

But…

Tamaki shook his head, removing the thought quickly. It’ll only make him break down again. He didn’t know the name of the wizard who spread this curse, but he remembers his face clearly. The motive was unclear, it made no sense. Why kill an entire town for seemingly no reason? Letting out a sigh of frustration, Tamaki grabbed the mortar and pestle. Looking at one of his notes he threw in two peony flowers, often known for their healing powers, along with marjoram. He used the pestle to crush the three ingredients, reading over the papers while he did so.

Mumbling a regeneration spell onto the mixture Tamaki set the mortar to the side. The regeneration spell wasn’t strong, only meant for small cuts, but with the help of the mixture it could become more powerful. He reached for a glass bottle, filled with purple colored water, pouring some into the mixture.

This is the farthest Tamaki has ever gotten. This mixture alone could cure a small cold, but not even close to something like the current issue. He’s mixed almost everything possible, at least for what was in his house, and nothing has worked. However, he had something new, yesterday he saw purple mushrooms growing by one of his traps. They’re uncommon, only growing every 15 years. Ripping a piece of the mushroom off he put it in the weak potion. Crushing and mixing it together, Tamaki grabbed a diseased potato. The curse has three ways of infecting its victims, food, contact with those already infected, or rare cases are from the air. So he always tested on bad food. Using a pipette to absorb some of the potion Tamaki dropped the liquid onto the potato, watching how it reacted.

Tamaki’s stomach dropped at the sight. The potato turned black, shriveling up almost instantly. It killed it. Tamaki wasn’t moving forward, he was moving backwards.

“Damnit!!”

He slammed his fist on the desk, causing everything to shake. Including the toxic potion, making it spin towards the edge of the desk and fall down. The glass bottle shattered, spilling the liquid and sending broken glass everywhere. Tamaki flinched at the sound, not bothering to look down at the damage he caused. He grabbed a broom and washcloth, cleaning up the mess. Tears began to burn his eyes again, making cleaning a difficult task complete.

“Stop it” he wiped the tears away, “I said stop it. Don’t- don’t be weak” there was a shake in his voice, he was holding back a sob. Tamaki dropped the washcloth, knowing he couldn’t finish this during his emotional episode. 

He was so weak.

He was so exhausted.

He was so

Lonely.

Tamaki felt his body begin to shake, letting the tears fall freely now. He wasn’t sure how much time was passing, but he didn’t even care. He just wanted to sleep. 

The tears stopped eventually, he wasn’t sure how long it had been, and Tamaki continued to clean pretending the emotional episode didn’t even happen. Throwing the poisoned washcloth away, he cleaned up the glass finally and threw it away as well. He stood in the center of the cottage for a moment, staring down at the floor. Tamaki began to zone out, jumping at the sound of a knock on his door.

“Tamaki? It's me, Mirio!”

[ruby-rainy]

3

He was home before her, sitting on the couch on his phone. He hadn't yet changed out of his work clothes, but his tie was loosened, his blazer hung over the back of the chair. She came home, a normal day, but still glad it was Friday after a long week. She hung up her coat, set her purse on the table. She brought him a glass of water, and flopped next to him on the couch. She breathed in his scent. He kissed her forehead and smoothed her hair back. "Thank you, darling. Go in the bedroom and wait for Daddy." She wondered what kind of night he had planned. Sometimes nothing happened, but telling her to go in the bedroom was pre-cursor to Daddy diaper time. She went and sat on the edge of the bed. He came in a few minutes later, with his blazer, and hung it up in the closet. She watched, saying nothing, just wondering if Daddy was feeling strict or loving tonight. His tone was ambiguous. He took off his tie and hung it up, but didn't change out of his work clothes. He stepped over to her and traced his finger up her stomach and over her titty. He began to open her blouse, exposing her cleavage. He lifted her shirt up over her head. He began to ask her about her day. "Did you get your report finalized for Monday?" He pushed her back on the bed and undid her pants zipper. "Yes." "Yes, what?" he corrected. "Yes, Daddy, I did." She raised her hips for him to slide her pants and underwear off. "I finished it and I am waiting on a review from another department." He stepped over to the drawer and pulled out a diaper and a diaper booster insert. "That's good, I like to hear that my little one is a hard worker," he said as he unfolded the diaper and busied himself situating the insert at the crotch. "Up." She lifted her hips up once more, and lowered them when she felt him slide the diaper under her. She spread her legs open and the backing crinkled a little as she adjusted. Daddy rubbed alongside her inner thighs, inspecting. "You will have to shave again soon for Daddy. You know Daddy likes your pussy smooth." "I'm sorry Daddy," she apologized. "I will." "It's ok for now sweetheart. I just want to make sure you remember like a good girl. I know you're my good girl." He was pulling the front of the diaper up over her and eye-measuring the tapes. He ran his hand from the back to the front of her crotch, to make sure the boost insert was lined up correctly. "You know, you might need two of these inserts today, baby. What do you think?" "No Daddy! I only need one! Please not two." She sounded a bit whiny. "Well that is ultimately my decision, but I suppose we'll just do one and see how it goes." He agreed, while taping the diaper into place. Her legs were still spread and he rubbed the front of her diaper and gave it a few quick pats. He pulled a short nightgown out and motioned for her to sit up. The familiar puffy cotton pressed against her vulva and she sat up and lifted her arms. Daddy slid the nightgown over her head and spent a few extra seconds adjusting it and caressing across her titties. He patted the front of her diaper again, tweaked her titty, and booped her on the nose. She laughed. He kissed her forehead and wait for what she would say next, "Thank you for taking care of me, Daddy." She hadn't wanted to be in diapers at first, and was especially resistant to thanking him for it, so he was pleased she was thanking him without any prompting. This was the moment she watched for after they had their evening diaper routine. If Daddy changed out of his work clothes and into basketball shorts, she was in for a loving night. If Daddy stayed in his work clothes, he was feeling stricter. Apparently, this evening, Daddy was feeling strict. He pulled her off the bed and brought her by hand to the kitchen. He stood her facing the corner of the table. Knowing this routine, she automatically spread her legs a bit further than shoulder width apart. He put one hand on the corner of the table, and placed her other hand on top of it. She looked up at him wondering how long he'd want her to be in position. He set her there and went over to the cabinet. She watched as he opened it, pretended to reach for one of the small cups she used, but then changed to a larger, tall glass. He filled it with water and placed it in front of her. She was to finish the water before she could do anything else. This was a power play on Daddy's part. When he first put her in diapers, she would just hold it. He knew he needed to make her fully submit to his role in charge, so he made her drink water to ensure the diaper would be needed. She would also put on yoga pants to try to hide the diaper he put her in, so he bought her a few short cotton nightgowns. Not babyish, bit not sexy negligee either. The standing position was so she couldn't try to hide by sitting down. When he first started making her stand this pose, she would quickly gulp down the water so she could be done. He decided that was not enough time in submissive position so he set the kitchen timer. Today it was for 10 minutes. She had to stay for 10 minutes or finish the water, whichever was longer. She could only pick up her hands to drink from the glass. If he was feeling really strict, sometimes he made her just use a straw. It was harder to drink fast with a straw. Sometimes he moved her legs farther apart. Sometimes he'd tease her to make sure she stayed in position, coming over to rub her hair or her diapered backside. If she moved from the submissive position, the timer would restart. There had been lots of trial and error as she was learning these rules, but was now generally cooperative. She looked at her Daddy in his button down work shirt and dress pants. His watch encircled his big wrist, she watched as he flipped through the mail and went and sat on the couch. He glanced up and not-so-subtly hinted, "Aren't you thirsty?" She obediently took a large sip of water. He didn't mind how she entertained herself during submissive position, as long as she fulfilled the time and drank her water. Today she was in a good mood, because she was humming a bit and swaying her butt. His phone rang, and he answered it. He leaned back on the couch, looking over at her while he talked. "Naw, I can't tonight man. I'm bushed from this week." He reached forward and grabbed her diaper from behind, daring her to turn around. "Well I'm definitely up for it, how about meeting at The Top Hat for the game on Monday. I hear your team is going to lose coming up. So much for your bet," he laughed. He finished making plans and hung up. The timer was down to less than 2 minutes. "How's that water," he asked giving her a light swat on the behind. "Nice and cold Daddy," she finished it, and waited out the remaining time. When the chimes sounded, she obediently turned around. "Thank you for teaching me how to submit to you, Daddy. I love you." "I love you too," he pulled her over onto his lap. The cuddled and he turned on the evening news after flipping through a couple channels. She was suspicious, since Daddy was still in his work clothes. Usually she could cuddle and color and play her video games when Daddy had changed out of his work clothes. She usually got tasks to do if he stayed in his work clothes. She didn't have to wait long. "Tonight I want you to clean your nursery," he said, holding up his hand to silence the protest. "There are several things that I have let slide and you know it." The one-bedroom apartment they lived in did not have an actual nursery. She guiltily thought of the doll clothes and markers all over the floor in the hall alcove, which they referred to as her 'nursery,' since it's where all of her things were stored. It was easy to close off the alcove if people came over, hiding their Daddy Dom/ little girl dynamic. She got up and went down to the nursery, and started putting things away, only getting sidetracked a little to play now and then. Daddy could hear this, but he ignored her playing and instead watched TV. She was breaking the rules only a little bit, and there was always a threat of 5 minutes in submissive pose if it got to be too much. When she finished putting away everything in the nursery, she went back to Daddy and crawled into his lap. He said, "I have a special project for you tonight. You've been so responsible lately, I think I want to allow you to do another task." She was intrigued by this, because it meant something different than submissive pose. "I want you to get all your dirty clothes from the hamper and put them in the laundry basket. I want you to do your laundry." Her eyebrows raised in surprise. Obviously she knew how to do laundry and often did it for Daddy, but when she was in Little mode, she was too small for chore like that. This was a change. She got up and started pulling on her jeans. As she was yanking it up over the diaper, Daddy appeared in the doorway. "What are you doing?" "Laundry, like you told me," she said. "I didn't say you could get dressed. I said you would do laundry." She reluctantly pulled the jeans back off and started to fill the laundry basket. Daddy went back and sat down. She continued and sorted the clothes to wash. She slipped her jeans back on when the basket was full and went to the cupboard to get the laundry detergent. The apartment's shared laundry room was on the second floor, near the gym and the main door. Daddy came around the corner. "I already reminded you I didn't tell you to get dressed." She was confused, "But you told me to do the laundry," gesturing towards the basket. "Exactly." She realized that he had meant for her to go to the laundry room in just her nightgown and diaper and her face crumpled. "But Daddyyyyy, no!" Daddy had already thought it through, as the laundry room was generally empty on Friday nights. It was very unlikely that anyone would see her the whole time. "You can hurry and go and come back, or, you can stand her and pout; either way this is what I'm telling you to do." She jumped up and down like she was going to throw a tantrum, "Why are you such a mean Daddy!" He turned her by the shoulders, back to the bedroom, where she slid off the jeans for the second time. "I'm not being Little right now, Daddy. I don’t want to go out wearing only this!" He put the laundry basket back in her arms and gave her 5 quarters for the machine. He walked over and opened the front door. She peered around the corner to see if anyone was in the hallway. It was silent. He softly pushed her into the hallway. She ducked back around him back inside. He turned around with a warning look. "I need my shoes! He knew it was an excuse, but he relented. Her prolonging going into the hall dressed like that only increased his excitement, which he hid from her. The idea of her being forced into the hallway and facing potential humiliation was very arousing. So was knowing she would do what he says. He pressed her up against the wall, and reached down, his lips nipping the top of her cleavage in the nightgown. His left hand pinned her hand above her head, and his right hand reached down and grabbed her diaper. He lightly shook it left and right, enjoying her anxiety and pleading look. "Now stop the phony delays," he said fiercely. "I will be watching. GO." She stepped into the hallway, realizing that it was unlikely that she'd see any neighbors. She tried to walk slowly so her diaper wouldn't crinkle. Daddy stepped into the hallway behind her as she was walking. "Walk normal," he commanded. He watched her walk away down the hall. She looked normal from behind, no one could tell anything - if they didn't know to look. He shut the door and locked it, for his own amusement. He went back and sat on the couch. She continued down the hallway, pausing before entering the stairwell to see if she could hear anyone coming. It seemed safe, so she took the stairs. She would have to pass the main entrance of the apartment, the gym, the mail room, the pool, and several more apartments before the laundry room. She felt like a spy, trying to be so quiet. She could hear some machines from the gym that were in use. She tried to angle the laundry basket as she passed the gym. She saw 3 different people in there, two guys, and a girl on the treadmill. She scowled in jealousy, knowing the other girl didn't have a daddy to make her wear a diaper! None of them paid her any attention as she passed by. In the laundry room, she fed the coins into the washer and started the load. As she was bending down, another person walked by the laundry room, heading towards the front door. Her heart raced, even though he didn't look her direction or even seem notice her. She set the laundry basket on top of the washer and realized she'd have to make the trek back without the protection of a full laundry basket. She stepped into the hallway, hoping that the guy was no longer in the hall. She passed the front door, no one. As she was nearing the gym, the treadmill girl stepped out. She was wearing leggings, a sports bra and had her hair in a ponytail. She tensed, fearing that the other girl would recognize the outline and sound of her diaper. Fortunately, the girl had on earphones, and turned the other direction out of the laundry room. The girl got a few steps, and stopped short and whipped around and started walking towards her. Terrified, she slowed and tried to think of an excuse. But the girl turned back into the gym, so she kept walking. She got a few feet past the gym, when she heard the girl come back into the hallway. She peeped back and saw she was now carrying a water bottle. She was on her phone, not really paying attention, but still only 10 feet or so behind. Her diaper would be obvious! The girl would laugh at her! Tell all the neighbors! Her heart sunk as the girl walked behind her, knowing that this embarrassing secret would get out. Not knowing what else to do, she kept walking. The girl turned down another hallway and disappeared. Back at the apartment, she grabbed the doorknob and found it locked. Frantic, she rapped at the door, "The door's locked!" knowing Daddy was getting a kick out of it. Daddy had been waiting right on the other side of the door, she heard the lock turn. A man came around the corner at the far end of the hall just as Daddy opened the door and she raced inside. "That wasn't so bad, was it? I bet you didn't see one person." She told him that she saw 5 people, and he felt a little remorse. She told him about the treadmill girl and he momentarily imagined the treadmill girl pushing her against the wall to shame her in front of the whole apartment complex. He enjoyed this thought. "Well, maybe you won't see any when you go back to start the dryer. You didn't wet yourself did you?" Joking that her fear would cause incontinence. Her stomach knotted at the idea of the ordeal for a second time. "No, I didn't" she was indignant. While she was gone, Daddy had set out her markers and color books at the kitchen table for her. He had stopped at Kroger on the way home. "I got you a surprise," he announced as she sat at the table. He walked over to the freezer and got out a box of ice cream. "I love ice cream!" She bounced a little in her chair. "Yes but that isn't the surprise," he got out the blender. "Daddy's going to make you a milkshake!" He started assembling the ingredients. After he blended it, he got out the Reddiwhip and made a curly-q on top, before setting it in front of her. She beamed. "Thank you Daddy!" He let her color, keeping an eye on the clock for the washer, while she colored. When the time got closer, Daddy got up and grabbed some coins. "I'll change the washer, Sweetie," he said, as she colored and enjoyed her milkshake. She was relieved Daddy was going down to the laundry, saving her the embarrassment. When he came back, he said, "Well I didn't see anyone!" referencing her nervousness, and she pouted a little at the injustice since he hadn't been trying to avoid anyone. When the dryer was finishing, Daddy let her know she would be resuming the laundry duty to retrieve from the machine. "I put the basket on top of it, you just have to pull everything out." Her confidence strengthened by the fact Daddy hadn't seen anyone, she stepped into the hall. "Don't lock the door this time!" she cried out. She could feel the nightgown swish against her plastic diaper. The water and milkshake were beginning to take their toll on her bladder. She didn't like using the diaper in front of Daddy, even though Daddy said little girls don't need to be embarrassed in front of their daddies. Daddies diaper their little girls to remind them who is the boss and to remove any pride. He encouraged her to tell him when she would pee, but knowing her reluctance, he didn't press the issue. She decided she would use her diaper in the laundry room. No one would be there and she wouldn't have to think of a way to hide it from Daddy, like going down the hall and hiding in her nursery to wet her diaper, even though that little ruse was entirely transparent. In the laundry room, she walked over to the basket on the machine. She opened the dryer door and stood behind it, legs slightly apart, slowly emptying her bladder. She would wait until she was done before pulling out the clothes. As the pee was flowing into her diaper, a shadow passed in the hallway and a man came into the laundry, room, carrying a basket. She froze, with the door open and basket on top of the machine. The man glanced at her, probably wondering why she was just standing there motionless, and walked over to a machine. She fiddled with the basket, not sure what to do. If she bent over, her diaper might leak, and the man might see it if her nightgown rode up. If she squatted down, he would see the white crescent on her crotch. She settled on kneeling down, which was tricky since she was still peeing. She cursed herself, wishing she had waited until she got back and done her nursery room trick instead, no matter how pathetic. She pulled the basket down in front of her and started pulling the clothes out of the dryer. She glanced down, seeing the wetness indicator on her diaper had disappeared. The diaper insert was a good call on Daddy's part. She reached under her crotch and adjusted the diaper, cradling it against her forearm with her hand on her butt. The man left the room, and she straightened back up, now with a wet diaper and empty bladder. The good thing about a wet diaper is that they don't crinkle as much as dry ones. It was also a bit more cumbersome to walk. She carried the laundry basket back, and thankfully Daddy didn't lock the door again. She brought the basket and folded all the laundry and put it away, and resumed her seat at the table. Daddy waited a little while, and called over, "Didn't see anyone, did you? See, you were safe!" She looked down without saying anything and Daddy knew she was feeling embarrassed. "Come over here," he said to her. "What happened? Did you see anyone?" "Yes, Daddy." "Did they see you?" he asked, pulling her hand and positioning her in front of him. "Yes Daddy." "And what happened?" Now he was concerned. As much as he liked the idea of her embarrassment, he didn't actually want their secret to be exposed. Suddenly the whole story came tumbling out. "It happened when I was using my diaper!" She hated admitting peeing in her diaper. "I was standing by the machine and a man came in!" "What did you do? Did you stop?" "No," she was shaky. "I kept going in my diaper." As she recounted the whole story about deliberating how to bend down to hide her diaper, Daddy started getting turned on at her embarrassment. He relished that she had did as he told, even though she hadn't wanted to. She did what he said, even when he was wrong and she was right. "Did the man come over and touch your diaper?" He knew the question was ridiculous, but asked so she could see that it COULD have been worse. "No!! He didn't see it. I don't think." "But you wet it and stood there in front of him? Did you say anything?" "I didn't say anything because you told me not to talk to strangers Daddy, and I stopped wetting then. He got his laundry and I got mine. I waited until he left to go." Daddy lifted up her nightgown. "Ah, see? Maybe I should have given you two inserts!" He cupped her diaper where the wetness indicator had been. He was extremely turned on, not having planned for this situation. She was actually telling him that she wet, and how she had been humiliated. He usually planned for every variation in a scene, which is what made him a good Daddy. She could see Daddy's cock through his work dress pants. He was a large man and had a cock to match. Daddy placed her hand on it, aroused, and said, "See how proud Daddy is of you?" However, she was embarrassed still, that she told him about her diaper and someone saw her using it. He kissed her titties and let go of her hand. "You can go color again, my little one." She returned to the table, starting a new page in her princess coloring book. She knew this story would turn him on, but she did not feel aroused, just embarrassed. Daddy leaned back on the couch and went over the situation again in his mind. The erotic excitement was getting to him. He pictured how the fear must have shown in her face when the man walked into the room. He imagined the scorn if the stranger had known there was a saturated diaper hidden under that thin nightgown. He surged with arousal, feeling his balls tighten. He ached to blow his load. She was coloring when she heard Daddy undoing his belt buckle. She looked over her shoulder to see him unzipping. His boner was sideways in his boxers. "Get over here." She pushed her chair back from the table and ran over, hearing the urgency in his voice. She pulled his pants down to his knees. He pulled her down, between his knees and pointed her face at his dick. "Daddy needs his dick sucked. Now." "Yes, Daddy." She pulled his boner out of his boxers and began gripping it in her small hands. Daddy leaned his head back and spread his legs a little more. She took the head in her mouth, feeling its warmth on her tongue. The belt buckle pressed into the side of her diaper and she hoped the latch wouldn't tear at the plastic. She tried to move it but Daddy began lightly thrusting against her mouth. That in itself turned her on. Her diaper pressed against his leg, which she knew would make him even more crazy. Her tongue moved all over his dick, she moved her head up and down on the shaft. Her hands cupped his balls and gave them a slight tug. His fingers felt for her nipples and he strained forward to touch them as she sucked. "Oh god baby, my cock needed this. Daddy's cock needs to feel good and you're doing such a good job." She massaged his shaft and looked up at him. His eyes were closed and mouth was open. She could smell his aftershave. His dress shirt was pushed up, exposing his belly a bit. His arousal became her own. She wanted to climb on top of him and feel his hardness inside of her. She stood up and started pulling at the tapes on her diaper to settle herself over onto his cock. He opened his eyes and looked up at her, "What the hell do you think you're doing?" "I... I just wanted your cock in me," she stammered, her vulva tingling. She put her hands on her diaper tapes and looked scared. "I did not grant you any permission to 1, stop sucking, 2, take your diaper off, and 3, heed any arousal you might feel. The last thing I remember telling you was that Daddy needed his dick sucked. Did you hear me grant permission?" "No..." "No, WHAT" he corrected. "No, Daddy. I did that without permission." "What happens to little girls who do things without permission?" "They get spankings," she mumbled. His dick was softening, flopped over on its side. "Get in the bedroom and assume position. I am very angry that I was interrupted when I needed to come. Especially by such a greedy, horny brat!" She ran into the bedroom, worried. Daddy was already in a strict mood and she had been greedy. She had also whined when he suggested two diaper inserts, protested when he told her to clean the nursery, dawdled when he assigned the laundry, and tried to hide wetting her diaper from him. If only she hadn't been so turned on by his dick. If she could just get that desire under control she wouldn't get into these predicaments. She stood at the foot of the bed and placed her hands on the mattress. Daddy came in behind her, taking his pants and boxers off, but leaving on his dress shirt. He ignored her position and sat on the bed. He pulled her over his knee, saying, "Why am I spanking you?" "I disobeyed my Daddy," she admitted. "You've been pressing your luck all evening. I changed you into your diaper. I made you a vanilla milkshake. I let you do a new grown up chore. I take care of you because you're too little to yourself. And this is how you behave? Tell me every way you have been bratty since you came home." "I didn't want you to put two diaper inserts." His large hand came down across the back of her thighs. No way would he let that diaper protect her from his punishment. He ran his other hand through her hair, pulling her head back. "Correct. Two smacks for that, one for each insert. What else?" "I didn't shave as close as you like." Smack! "I didn't want to clean my nursery." Smack! “I played with my toys when I was cleaning the nursery.” Smack! “I tried to wear jeans and hide my diaper.” Smack! "I tried to avoid doing laundry." Smack! “I called you a mean daddy.” Smack! "I didn't tell you I wet my diaper." Though she knew this was not a requirement to tell him, but saying so might assuage Daddy's anger. Smack! Daddy was growing hard again as he smacked her thighs. "I tried taking my diaper off without asking." Smack! "I stopped sucking without permission." Smack! "I interrupted your come when you needed your dick sucked." Smack! "I was greedy and tried to put your cock inside me without asking." Smack! "See, when bratty little girls do things like this Daddy must spank them. These are all Daddy's rules and displeasing Daddy results in punishments." He turned her around and pulled her up into his lap, holding her legs across his arms, and her head on his shoulder. "I love my little one and I set these rules because I know what's best for you. Of course you want Daddy's cock inside you, but you're too little to always get what you want. Because I know what's best, your body is mine to use when I need to get off. I don't like you making me have to spank my sweet little girl, I wish you wouldn't be so bratty and just obey Daddy. Then I wouldn't be forced to do this. You know Daddy loves you. Who loves you?" "Daddy does," she murmured, snuggling into his shoulder. He caressed the back of her thighs, which were red and tender from punishment. His hand ran across her left thigh, diaper, and right thigh. He smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead. "Daddy loves me and he can use me when he needs to come." "That's my girl. See, if you had not done those bratty things, you might get to feel Daddy's dick pounding your tiny pussy. But because of your greed, that's not an option for you tonight." She looked up at him, with tears welling in her eyes, more upset over this than the spankings. "Don't you want me anymore?" "Of course Daddy wants you. That's why I'll let you suck on my dick to make up for the way you behaved. If I didn't want you, do you think I'd let you do that? Now, tell Daddy again about what happened in the laundry room." He stood her up and spread her short legs a bit, groping her wet diaper. She started the story again, hoping to make Daddy feel better so she spelled out every bit of shame she felt. "I was wetting my diaper when someone come in the laundry room. I didn't want to hold it anymore. I thought I could be sneaky and wet without you knowing. My vagina tingled and I was scared he might see. He might see the outline of the diaper through my nightgown or hear the crinkle of plastic. He would know I was just Daddy's little fucktoy if he did. I was afraid of being found out that I'm not really an adult even though I have titties and look grown. He might find out I'm learning to obey my Daddy and that's why he makes me wear diapers. I do what my daddy says even if I don’t want to." By now Daddy was rock hard again. He loved knowing this beautiful woman would willingly become his little girl. That she would humiliate herself for his approval and love. He loved being in charge of her and training her to his will. It turned him on to know that she trusted him enough to do all these things. He nodded and she got back between his legs again, resuming hungrily sucking on the head. He pulled her nightgown up over her head and threw it on the bed. Now she was naked except for her diaper. Daddy was still in his dress shirt and she felt very exposed and vulnerable. She could taste pre-cum and was thrilled Daddy was happy again. "Oh that's right little one. You can be greedy by sucking my dick, I won't spank you for that. Daddy needs to come. Daddy needs to use you to feel good." She could tell he was getting closer to shooting his load. She was getting aroused again, anticipating the hot load against the back of her throat. Daddy groaned as she glided her mouth up and down on his cock. He was pulsing and running his fingers through her hair. Suddenly he put his hand on her forehead and prevented her from his cock. He threw her face down, bent over the bed. He put his hand on her diaper to keep her from moving away and slammed his boner up against the crotch of her diaper. She felt his hot breath in her ear. "Ah, see? You thought you'd get my come, didn't you?" He pinned her to the bed, dominating her physically, knowing she was in subspace. "If you weren't so bratty maybe you could." She felt his wet dick sliding between her thighs, rubbing against the plastic. She wanted to feel it against her pussy lips so badly. She arched her back against Daddy's hand which was still forcing her down. With his other hand, he was pumping his cock without her, jacking it hard. Without her mouth, without her hands, without her pussy, without her help. She felt so aroused and so useless and unwanted at the same time. "Please," she begged, frantic he would come before she could take part in it. "Please!" "Oh baby, don't you worry. I'll give it to you," he muttered with each pump. "I'll - give - it - to - you!" And suddenly she heard the splatter of his come all over the back of her diaper. She didn't get to help, didn't get to taste it, didn't even get to feel it when he came. All she got was the sound of it. Daddy got up and threw some kleenexes down on her. "Clean off your diaper, because I'm not changing you until tomorrow." He walked out of the room as she laid there, a fucktoy that wasn't even fucked. She ached to get off too, feeling Daddy's breath in her ear and boner along her thighs put her into dizzying subspace. Her diaper was a little saggy from being handled so much and wet. She regretted rejecting the second diaper insert. Her nightgown lay on the bed, rumpled from his domination. She was grateful Daddy came, especially since he had been so strict tonight.

[gvf-imagine]

Greta Van Fleet Preferences

HOW YOU MEET

——————————

Danny:

How you meet

“Ill be out here when you're ready to show me” your friend calls , knocking on your dressing room door. You give a simple “ok” as a reply and begin to undress. You're going to a wedding this weekend and your friend is helping you find something to wear, she found her dress weeks ago, you struggled in the fashion department. 

Your eyes fell on the dress your friend had picked out for you. It was a very gentle pink color and came down to your mid thigh, it was tight not flowy which was far from your normal attire. It looked nice enough but the price tag frightened you. You pulled it off the hanger and shimmied into it. Honestly, you thought you looked great, perhaps you should step outside your comfort zone more often when it came to clothing. The dress hugged your curves , which made you feel insecure but it's a wedding so no one will be looking at you, all eyes on the bride, hopefully. You fix your hair and pose for yourself, it was comfortable, surprisingly.  Ok time to show her. 

“So what do you think of this one? I kinda like it!” you say as you swing the changing room door open, your gaze looking down at the dress. 

“Yeah you look great” a man's voice responds, your heart jumps and you lift your head quickly. Your face burns red as your friend is nowhere in sight. In her place is a tall dark haired man casually looking through some belts. Your shoulders drop as you curse yourself. Idiot. 

“Oh i'm sorry! My friend said she'd be waiting out here for me” you reply with a smile, trying to pretend like you didnt feel like throwing yourself off a bridge. The man chuckles “oh yeah she left , said there was a cute guy that walked by” he answered looking towards the front of the store. God that is just like her, chasing after some dude. 

“It really does look nice on you” the man says again. You smile and look down at yourself “you think so? I usually don't wear this sort of thing, but i'm going to a wedding”  you explain with a chuckle. He nods, his eyes have not left you. 

“Yeah you look awesome, I think you should get it” he speaks reassuringly. 

“Holy fuck!” you exclaim then quickly cover your mouth, you didn't mean to be that loud. The man laughs and steps closer to you as you look at the price tag hanging from the hem of the dress. 

“This fuckin thing is 400$?! Jesus christ , I could make my own dress for 50$” you joke. Your shoulders sink, you really wanted this dress. The man laughs loudly.

“You're funny,” he chimes. He looks at your face, painted with disappointment. 

“Hey I could - I could buy it for you” he offers. You look at him in awe. 

“Its…….400 dollars….Why would you do that for me? You dont have to do that its just a stupid dress im sure I can find a cheaper one” You respond waving his idea away with your hand. 

“It's ok , I can afford it, I want you to have it” he insists. You don't know what to say , you just look at him. 

“On one condition though” he adds with a smile. 

“Yeah what?” you ask. 

“You have to take me as your date” he says shyly

———————————————————————

Jake:

Ok just breathe, you're fine , everythings fine. You tell yourself as your heart pounds in your chest. You were at an amusement park and about to go on the biggest roller coaster they had due to a dare from your friends, who were watching safely from the ground. Some random man is sitting in the seat beside you as two people had to share a cart. He didn't seem nervous and you wished you could be as relaxed as him. 

“Hey are you alright?” he asks , as if he knew you were thinking about him. 

“Oh um yeah im-im ok” you lied your mouth going dry. He smiles at you and watches you for a moment. 

“Are you though? Cuz your leg is shaking pretty vigorously there” he points out, his eyes falling to your body. You hadn't even noticed you were bouncing your leg anxiously. 

You stop.

“I'm sorry , I'm just a bit nervous I suppose, I'm kind of scared of roller coasters” you explain with a sheepish smile. 

“Kinda weird to go on the biggest one here then right?” he responds you chuckle at his remark. 

“Yeah my friends dared me, they are down there” you say pointing in their direction. He looks down and sees a small group of people looking up at you. The wind blew and you looked up at the clouds in search of comfort and solace. 

“Well My Name is Jake, and i've been on this ride a million times, you're going to be ok” He says with a reassuring tone of voice. He could sense how scared you actually were even though you tried your hardest to shrug it off. 

“Thanks Jake…..that helps. I’m (y/n) by the way its nice to meet you.” you reply smiling, feeling slightly better. Jake was a good distraction, he was gorgeous, chestnut brown hair that fell to his broad shoulders. Enticing eyes that made you wanna know more about him and his voice was sweet and soothing. You couldn't help but wonder what he thought about you. The feeling of the ride jolting under you ripped you from your daydream like state. 

“Oh fuck” you mutter , feeling your heart rate rise again. Jake smiles and grabs your hand gently. 

“It's gonna be ok” he smiles

———————————————————————

Sam:

Finally it was time to go to study hall, your last class of the day. You used this class to get your assignments from the day done. You headed to your desk but something catches your eye on your way. You look down at another student , you wracked your brain trying to remember his name. He was reading one of your all time favorite books, which surprised you , most people hadn’t even heard of the book before. You had to say something.

“Hey! I love that book” you say with a smile. The guy looks up at you with an equally excited facial expression.

“Oh yeah , it’s a great book, this is like the third time I’ve read it” he replies. You laugh, and nod.

“Yeah it’s such an awesome book, I’ve never met another person that likes it” you say.

“Sorry what was your name again?” You add.

“I’m Sam” he smiles.

“I’m (y/n)” you introduce , you both look in each other’s eyes and appreciate that moment. His eyes glinted with interest making you blush.

“Uh well maybe we could get together some time and talk about the book” he says stuttering slightly, moving his hair from his face gracefully, you watched it as it fell to his sides like a curtain.

“That would be awesome, here I’ll give you my number” you say quickly fishing for a piece of paper from your back pack. You jot your number down in neat hand writing and handed it to him. He looked so happy, he thanks you as he takes the paper.

“Alright class sit down” the teacher announces as she enters the room. You look to her and then back down to Sam before gesturing towards your seat, Sam nods and winks at you before you take your seat.

———————————————————————-

Josh:

Your eyes scanned the shelves looking for Almond flour, you were going to try your hand at making home made macarons. You loved to bake , you did it whenever you had free time and you never made the same thing twice. You smile when your eyes land on the last bag of almond flour , you happily pluck it from the shelf until you see the ridiculous price tag. Why is healthy shit so expensive? You shook your head at the thought and made your way down the aisle. You looked up seconds before a man was about to bump into you, neither of you saw each other.

“Oh sorry” you say taking a step to your right , you laugh as he takes a step to his left thus getting in your way again.

“Oops” he chimes stepping to the other side the same time as you.

“I’ll go left you go right” you giggle , he thinks to himself , eyes looking up to the ceiling before taking a step in the wrong direction.

“No your other right” you laugh. He smiles “sorry” he says palming his forehead.

“No worries” you reply stepping around him.

“Oh hey!” He calls a second later.

“I think you dropped this” he adds holding out a package of frosting bags.

“Oh thanks” you smile grabbing them from him, his eyes fall to your basket of items.

“Oh thanks” you smile grabbing them from him, his eyes fall to your basket of items. You tuck your hair behind your ears and look down at your basket as well.

“Uh well I like to bake yeah - I- I don’t know if I would go as far as to say I’m a baker” you chuckle.

“Do you bake a lot?” He asks simply.

You nod.

“Well that sounds like a baker to me” he smiles with a curt nod.

“Yeah good point , you got me there” you reply , you could feel your cheeks warming , you were blushing but you weren’t sure why.

“Are you a baker as well?” You ask.

“Oh no I should not be allowed near an oven” he jokes “I’m just lost, you wouldn’t happen to know where the Oreos are would you?” He asks gesturing towards the store.

“Oh yeah they’re in Aisle 12” you chime pointing in the general direction.

“Cool thanks” he smiles.

“Ya know I actually have an event coming up for a friend, I don’t know if maybe you’d wanna bake a cake for him? It’s for his birthday , we’re having a surprise party ” he explains somewhat haphazardly.

“I’d pay you” he adds.

Sold.

“Sure I’d love to!-“ you begin.

“Ok cool, so should we like exchange info?” He asks , his pointer finger gesturing from him to you.

“Yeah that’s a good idea , that way we can over specific details like size and flavor of the cake” you nod as he pulls his phone out. You recite your number to him and his eyes flicker up to you

“What’s your name?” He asks softly.

“Oh sorry! I’m (y/n)” you answer.

“(Y/n) cool ,I’m Josh” he smiles.

Josh.

Later you’re in your apartment, the delicate scent of raspberry macarons fills the air as they cool on your counter.

Your phone beeps in your pocket and you slip it out.

“Hey it’s Josh from the baking aisle, there is no event. I think you’re super pretty...and that’s why I wanted your number but I wasn’t sure how to ask. I hope you aren’t mad , I just didn’t know how to ask” You read the message and smile, and honestly you were kind of relived he was fibbing. Catering events made you nervous.

“Thanks Josh! Of course I’m not mad, I totally understand being nervous about stuff like that” you reply.

“Oh good, if I ever do need a cake you’ll be the first person I ask” he texts back , you smile.

“Ya know I actually just took some macarons out of the oven, wanna come over and be my taste tester?” You send back. Your heart warms at the thought of making a new friend , and a cute one at that.

[hailing-stars]

febuwhump day 3: living nightmare

read on ao3 

jan’s a living nightmare

The lake house living room was covered in yarn. There were unfurled rolls of every color, nestled in baskets, surrounding the armchair Tony sat in. There were stacks of knitted sweaters sitting on the coffee table, on the space on the couch next to Pepper, and under the window. Morgan laid on the hard wood floor, belly down, coloring, but also nestled in a sea of hand knitted socks.

Peter dropped his overnight bag on the floor to announce his arrival, but none of the Starks gave him any attention. Pepper focused on her work, Morgan on her coloring, and more strangely, Tony on the pair of knitting needles in his hands.

“Um,” said Peter. “What’s going on? Why does it look like a craft sweatshop in here?”

“Daddy’s practicing his knitting,” answered Morgan. She kept her eyes on her picture, but at least she had the decency to answer him.

“I’m not practicing,” said Tony, his hands working the knitting needles quickly and effectively. Peter had to admit the stitches looked pretty skillful. “I’m perfecting. My sweaters already ions better than Jan’s, anything else is just an added bonus.”

Peter wandered further into the living room, sort of hesitant, sort of afraid. “Um, who’s Jan?”

“Peter,” said Pepper, releasing a long, weary sigh. “Please don’t ask.”

“Daddy says that Jan’s a bitch.”

“Uh, no, honey, remember dad said she’s a witch,” said Tony, cutting in quick, with a tremble in his voice as his eyes momentarily darted away from his knitting and over to Pepper.

Morgan’s hand stopped moving across her coloring sheet, and she sat up, her eyes widening with understanding. “Oh yeaaaah.” She looked at Pepper. “He said witch.”

“For god’s sake, Tony, this is why the other moms don’t like you.”

“The other moms love me. It’s just Jan.”

The name was said with so much disdain Peter might have thought he was talking about Thanos or the other Peter, not some women with a middle-aged sounding name.

“Okay, I’m lost,” said Peter. He plopped down on the floor next to Morgan. “Somebody fill me in.”

It was a tale Peter didn’t fully know if he understood and had started with Tony being desperately bored during the day. So bored, Pepper had gotten fed up with him trying to interfere at SI and told him he should join the PTA for Morgan’s kindergarten class.

“That was the biggest mistake of my life,” said Pepper, before Tony went on with the story.

He described the PTA as a nice group of parents headed by the monster Jan, who took an instant disliking to him. Her transgressions included telling Tony the wrong time for meetings, suggesting Morgan was a bad influence on the children, and other petty things. He ended with a transgression Peter couldn’t disagree with.

“She called me old enough to be Morgan’s grandfather,” Tony told them.

“Mr. Stark…” said Peter. “I don’t know how to break this to you, but you are pretty old.”

Tony growled and one knitting needle slipped off the other.

“Retirement’s been really weird for you, huh?”

“Guess this just means I’ll give the sweater I made you to someone else,” he said, regaining his control over the knitting needles and refocusing on his stitches.  

“What?” asked Peter. He scrambled up off the floor and looked around. Tony pointed to a stack of sweaters folded neatly in the corner of the room.

“You made one for me?” asked Peter, pulling the red and blue sweater off the top of the stack and holding it up. There was a black spider stitched on the front.

“You don’t have to we –“

“Are you kidding? This is awesome!” Peter had already pulled the sweater over his head. “It’s like having a grandma!”

“My husband,” said Pepper. “The iron grandma.”

Peter straightened his new favorite sweater over his chest. It was the warmest hug, but there was something missing.

“… Mr. Stark,” said Peter. “You think you could knit me some matching socks?”

“No.”

Peter felt his excitement melt away. “Oh, ok – “

“But I can teach you how to knit your own.”

“Yes!”

Peter spent the rest of the evening learning how to knit, being told by Tony that the knitting needles were neither weapons nor toys and enjoying every minute of it.

*

The next time Peter visited the lake house he’d thought he and Mr. Stark were going to be in the garage, working out a few suit upgrades, but instead, as soon as he shut the front door behind him, he was shouted at to join Mr. Stark in the kitchen.

He ditched his overnight bag in the foyer and braced himself as he wandered off towards the kitchen. Something weird was probably going on. Retirement seemed to drive Mr. Stark insane, and once he walked through the archway and into the kitchen, Peter was sure he was right.

It had been transformed from the last time Peter saw it. Instead of looking like a nice family kitchen, it looked a lot like the set on one of those baking competition shows he and May watched together after dinner.

Mr. Stark had a pink stripy apron tied around his waist, a hairnet on his head, and a wooden spoon stuck behind his ear.

“Mr. Stark what’s going on…?”

The smell hit him as he walked further in the kitchen, the most amazing smell. It propelled his legs to walk over to the counter where a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies sat on one of the many cooling racks. He stretched out his arm, his hand hovered over the biggest cookie, only for Tony to slap it away with a spatula.

“Hey!” said Peter, waving his hand around. “That hurt.”

“It did not.”

“Well it burned at least.”

“Don’t be a baby,” Tony told him. “And it serves you right.”

Peter muttered under his breath and surveyed the kitchen once more.  “Does Pepper know what you’ve done to her kitchen?”

“She does. She’s not thrilled, but she doesn’t have a say. I kicked her out.”

“What?” It didn’t sound right. Peter tried to picture a world in which Mr. Stark had the authority to kick Pepper out of any room.  

“She refused to wear a hairnet,” Mr. Stark went on. “Speaking of – “

A hairnet flew at Peter and he caught it. “My hair’s not even that long!”

“Tell it to someone who cares,” snipped Tony. “I’ll be damned if Jan finds a hair in one of my cookies.”

“Not Jan again,” said Peter, with a groan.

Mr. Stark was keeping him up to date on his battle with Jan through text message and phone calls. He didn’t understand what their deal was, why the two of them hated each other so damn much.

“She’s a menace, Pete,” said Mr. Stark. He waved the spatula at him. “She’s a living nightmare.”

Peter rolled his eyes and put the hairnet over his head, deciding to humor the old man. “So what’s the mission?”

“Tonight,” said Mr. Stark. “We’re making cookies. We’re making ten times the amount of cookies Jan will make, and not only that, they will sell better than hers at the school bake sale.”

Peter nodded and got to work. He let Mr. Stark order him around the kitchen, let him tell him he was stirring too hard or not hard enough or he took a batch out just a couple of seconds too soon and now they had to throw them all away. By the end of the night, they were both covered in sugar and flour, apron included, and Peter was exhausted.

“Mr. Starrrkk,” croaked Peter, half his body leaned up against the kitchen counter. “Can I please have a cookie now?”

“I suppose you’ve earned it.”

Peter didn’t move, but just a few short seconds later, Mr. Stark was putting a plate with three cookies and a glass of milk on the counter in front of him. He sat straight up and shoved one into his mouth.

“So, what do you think? Are we gonna outsell Jan?”

Peter nodded. “She doesn’t even stand a chance.”

*

A few weeks after Mr. Stark’s victory at the elementary school bake sell fundraiser, Peter sat in Morgan’s school auditorium between Pepper and Happy and watched his little sister in the play. He watched Mr. Stark, too. His mentor had wrestled the one adult role away from Jan’s clutches and proudly performed along-side his daughter.

He wore a large yellow dress, what Peter could only guess was a bra stuffed with toilet paper and a grey wig. If he hadn’t become Iron Man, thought Peter, he might have a nice career as an actor.

He was expressive and funny, and most of all, the kids adored him. They were all so caught up with his act, it was though they were all just playing pretend among themselves, and not for an audience.

There was just one hang up, with a black-haired kid forgot their lines, but luckily, Morgan knew them. She whispered them into their ear.

After the play ended, Peter stood with Mr. Stark out in the hallway, waiting for Morgan to say goodbye to her friends.

She walked into the hallway to join them just as Mr. Stark started to adjust his fake boobs, muttering something about finally understanding why Pepper complained so much about bras being uncomfortable.

“There she is!” said Mr. Stark, once he saw Morgan. “The star of the play! Morguna, I’m gonna need your autograph right now before you become too famous and busy to deal with your dear old pops.”

Morgan laughed. “I’ll never be too busy for you.”

“Oh really? Can I get that in writing? I think I’m gonna need it when you turn into a teenage monster like your brother.”

“Pete isn’t a monster,” said Morgan. “He’s too polite.”

A terrible, spine curling sound of heels clicking against the floor invaded their private, family moment. Peter turned and saw Mr. Stark’s archenemies Jan dragging her child, Peter recognized him as the boy who’d forgotten his lines, down the school hallway.

“Did I raise an idiot?” she asked him, in a low tone.

“Mom – “

“No,” she cut him off. “I don’t want to hear it. When we get home, you’re memorizing those lines or you can say goodbye your PlayStation goodbye.”

“But mom,” he whined. “What’s the point? The play’s over.”

She stopped, bent down, and yanked him forward. “The point is next time there’s a play you won’t forget you’re lines, will you?”

He didn’t answer her, but it was the smart move. It wasn’t asked in a tone that was meant to be answered.

They watched Jan and her son leave the hall in complete silence. Peter only felt comfortable talking once he was sure they were gone.

“Mr. Stark,” he said. “I understand now why we hate Jan.”

Mr. Stark simply nodded.

“I think you were right the first time, dad,” said Morgan. “Jan’s a bitch.”

No one corrected her.

*

It was a petty thing, Peter knew, what they were doing. He knew it was petty when he fake called in sick to school, knew it was even more so petty when Mr. Stark had lied to Pepper about where they were going when they climbed into the car and raced off to the rec center for bingo day.

They stormed into the building pumped with adrenaline, ready to beat Jan at her favorite pastime, bingo.

Mr. Stark had a plan. He’d buy as many cards as they would allow him to, which turned out be way too many cards. Peter watched as Mr. Stark lined them up on the fold-up table they claimed.

“I don’t know,” said Peter, scratching his head. “Are you sure we can keep up with all these?”

“Pete, we’re geniuses,” said Mr. Stark. “Of course we can.”

A breeze blew in from the open window, causing the cards to blow off the table and scatter all around on the floor. Peter was on the ground, collecting them, when he felt a dark presence hover from above. He stood, the bingo cards in hand, and came face to face with the Jan.

She looked Peter up and down and a made a tsk-tsk noise, before directing her glare to Mr. Stark. “I didn’t know you played bingo, Tony.”

“I don’t really. Thought I’d give it a shot.”

“And at my rec center? What are the odds?”

Mr. Stark smirked. “I can understand why you’d be intimidated, since both my sweaters and my cookies sold better than yours. Wouldn’t want to lose to me a third time and all that.”

Jan laughed and it was equally terrible as the sound of nails sliding against a chalkboard. “Oh, you won’t beat me a bingo, but I’m sure you’ll try your best with that metal claw of yours, bless your heart.”

“You can’t talk to Mr. Stark that way,” said Peter, taking a step forward.

“Down boy,” said he, putting a hand on his shoulder and pulling him backwards, just as Jan’s shoes clicked against the floor and she walked over to her table. “We’ll let our game speak for itself.”

“Okay,” said Peter, nodding his head, until he realized that didn’t make any sense. “You’re aware that bingo is a game of chance, right?”

“Maybe, but we have dozens of cards and twice the amount of eyes. Odds are favorable.” He sat down while Peter lined the cards back up on the table. “Get your head in the game. Keep your eyes sharp and your marker ready.”

Peter nodded as he sat down. The two of them uncapped their bingo markers at the same time and wore faces that suggested they took this just as seriously as they did every other Avenger’s mission.

It was petty, Peter knew, as he kept his eyes peeled and slammed his marker down on the squares that were called out. It was petty, but petty was all they had, the only shot they could take at Jan.

Not even Spider-Man and Iron Man couldn’t protect a child from their emotionally abusive parent, but they could beat them at bingo.

And that’s exactly what they did.

It was Peter who ended up screeching bingo at the top of his lungs. His eyes shifted to Jan right after he did and saw her delightfully defeated face. It was better than the fifty-dollar gift card to Olive Garden he got for winning, a gift card Mr. Stark let him keep for himself.

Their spirits were high they walked back into the lake house, only to come crashing down when Pepper greeted them at the door.

“Did you two happen to go play bingo today?” she asked.

“Um,” said Peter. He pulled the gift card out of his pocket and offered it to her. “Do you like Olive Garden?”

Pepper let out an exasperated sigh. “Really, Tony? Aiden called Morgan and said he can’t come to her birthday party unless her mean dad apologizes to his mom.”

“Apologize?!?” asked Peter, his voice going high. “That’s an outrage! We didn’t do anything besides win! She’s the one disrespecting Mr. Stark!”

Mr. Stark only chuckled and pulled his phone from his pocket. “I got her number in my phone, I’ll give her a call.”

“WHAT?”

“Relax, Pete,” said Mr. Stark, walking away, with the phone pressed to his ear. “It isn’t for her. It’s for Morgan, and Aiden. God knows he should see what a loving home feels like.”

Peter watched Mr. Stark disappear into another room, disappear to apologize to the devil herself. Apologize for doing nothing, except winning. The unfairness of it out ate away at Peter, though it was soon replaced by some clarity, by an awareness about how lucky he really was.

Mr. Stark was his grandma and his grandpa and his dad, the same way May had to both his mom and his dad once Ben died.

He was lucky in that he was surrounded by great people, that he never lacked love, even if he was missing two parents and an uncle. That he still had people to teach him what was truly important, and sometimes, that you had to apologize to the devil.

[eilonwiiy]

Bookends ; a Witchlands AU

Chapter 5

Iseult is distracted from her encounter with Aeduan by a distressing phone call from home. Meanwhile, Owl leads Aeduan to the best coffee in Veñaza City. The only problem is the girl behind the counter doesn’t like him very much...

Summary: Iseult det Midenzi never expected to go to a top university, so when her mother falls ill and she is forced to drop out to make ends meet, life has never seemed so unfair. But when she starts working at the local library and is unexpectedly assigned in the Children’s Room, a certain monosyllabic man and his thrice-damned demon child start showing up and Iseult begins to wonder if the threads of fate have a plan for her after all.

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4

Ships: Iseult/Aeduan, Safi/Merik, and more… stay tuned!

Tags: modern AU, college setting, family, friendship, humor, fluff, slow-burn, romance, eventual smut

Read on AO3: here

Tag list: (please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @lseultdetmidenzi @twilightlegacy13

*   .   *   .   *   .   *   .

Aeduan.

Iseult rolled the name over in her mind. When she’d heard someone approaching the Children’s Room, she never expected it to be him. She’d nearly forgotten about the bizarre interaction she’d seen him have with Evrane. Now, after seeing him up close, he was about the last person she ever would have imagined running into in the Children’s Room.

He was young. Couldn’t be more than a few years older than her. He kept his dark hair cut short and well-groomed. Skin almost as pale as hers outlined the hard angles of his face, clean-shaven and cutting a striking look. Despite his casual choice of wardrobe, he looked immaculate in dark fitted jeans, lace strapped books, and a worn burgundy leather jacket over a grey t-shirt haphazardly tucked into his jeans. It was only when he’d approached her desk was she able to fully appreciate the blue of his eyes. Where Safi’s were plundered from the depths of the sea, Aeduan’s were cut from ice. Yet, Iseult felt none of the chill.

And of course, there in his left ear was the peculiar opal earring. Iseult would hardly forget it.

Nor could she forget the look in the child’s eyes as he carried her out of the room. She’d never seen anything like it. Not from a child. They burned with a loathing uncharacteristic for a girl her age. There was something very unsettling about her.

Owl, that’s what Aeduan had called her. Another strange name. Maybe it ran in the family. If they were family, that is. They certainly seemed close. And who could she possibly be if she wasn’t his daughter? He was so young. Maybe she was his sister?

Iseult hadn’t actually overheard much from his conversation with Evrane. She was curious, but eavesdropping on a stranger was one thing. Eavesdropping on Evrane was another. Safi would have egged her on, just as she had the other day. But Evrane’s business was Evrane’s business and Iseult would never want to intrude. Instead, she’d distracted herself with trying to translate the storm of emotions she was feeling in a word document. She felt a little pathetic for it, but if she wasn’t able to talk to Safi, she’d have to settle for the responseless desktop.

Now that she was alone though…

Iseult looked down at the phone tucked away in her lap. She picked it up and saw there were several new notifications on the lock screen. Her heart stuttered at the name at the top.

Leopold.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Iseult still hadn’t called him. Or texted him. Or done anything that would demonstrate that she had some basic awareness of his existence.

Iseult swiped open the message and braced for the worst.

It was a picture of a cat.

Iseult blinked at it. Her heart relaxed, but after bottling up all her uncertainty surrounding Leopold for a week, it was a very small consolation. All she felt was… sad.

Why had she been avoiding him for so long? It wasn’t fair to him, and more than that, it wasn’t like her to be so careless. What was wrong with her? If she truly believed the drink he’d ordered her meant nothing, then there was nothing to be anxious about...

Unless...

Licking her lips, she typed a short response.

Iseult – 10:48 AM >> :) >> Sorry I’ve been MIA. I started working in the Children’s Room today…

OK. It was done. Granted, it was a pretty uninspired attempt at an explanation, but she had at least taken the plunge - that alone was helping to alleviate her anxiety. It was out of her hands now.

She was just about to exit out of the conversation to check her other missed messages when she was interrupted by an almost immediate response from Leopold.

Leopold – 10:49 AM >> It’s ok… for a second I thought you AND Safi were freezing me out. It’s cold enough out there - winter doesn’t need any help from you two. Not until I get my fur coat back from the dry cleaners, that is. >> Really? How’s that going?

For the first time all morning, Iseult smiled. His charm was infectious even in text. She hadn’t realized how much she missed him. And that ridiculous coat.

Still grinning, she swiped out of their message thread. She’d save that for her walk home. Something to look forward to.

The next message was a text from Ryber thanking her again for ordering the books she needed. After typing a quick reply, Iseult clicked the red exclamation point indicating a missed call.

It was from Alma.

Iseult’s smile instantly fell away. Everything inside her went quiet. She stared at the name for a long time.

If something had happened, if her mom was in trouble, Alma would have left a message. But even so…

Iseult swiveled out of her chair, walked over to Hilga’s office, and without a moment’s hesitation, knocked on the door. A gentle “Come in” answered her and Iseult opened door and poked her head in.

“Sorry to bother you, Hilga, but I just noticed a missed call from my mom’s friend. Would you mind if I give her a quick call back? It’s probably nothing, but-”

Hilga smiled in understanding and Iseult wondered if Evrane had told her about her family situation. “Go, go. You’re overdue for your break anyway.”

“Thanks Hilga. It’ll only take a minute.”

Hilga waved her off, rising from her desk and bustling around it to meet Iseult at the door. “Take all the time you need. How’s everything been out here? Did I miss any fireworks?” she added with a hint of humor.

Iseult was already halfway across the room, one arm in her coat sleeve, when the little black cat on the cover of the picture book Aeduan wanted to check out caught Iseult’s eye. Even though she was in a hurry to call Alma, she paused at its shelf and picked it up.

“No,” she said, shaking her head absently. “You haven’t missed anything at all.”

*   .   *   .   *   .   *   .

Despite Owl in his arms, Aeduan was feeling lighter and lighter with every step he took. He was glad to be away from the library, though the distance was giving him the space to fully go over his conversation with Evrane.

His apartment wasn’t particularly close to the library, but he found that he needed the walk and was glad that he decided not to take the car. Like Owl, the car - a used Honda civic - was a new addition to his life. He couldn’t exactly attach a basket to his motorcycle and expect Owl to sit in it whenever they needed to go somewhere. And since he didn’t have his squad car anymore, well… it was an adjustment.

Yes, that’s what he’d call with agreement with Evrane, Aeduan thought to himself, kicking a chunk of snow on the sidewalk out of his path. Another adjustment. He’d handled every new thing that had come his way so far. He could handle this.

Of course, a car never fought back. Evrane was a different story.

Owl fidgeted in Aeduan’s arms. He held her closer; her fuzzy winter hat brushed up against his cheek.

“What would you like to do when we get home?” he asked her. “It’s almost 12 so we should probably have some lunch. What do you think? Strawberry or grape jelly?”

“Blueberry,” Owl replied.

“We don’t have Blueberry jelly,” said Aeduan, pretending that she wasn’t referring to that thrice-damned cat, or worse, about to cycle back to the Halloween book and rethink having a meltdown. A pale face curtained with black hair came to mind, and Aeduan’s dark brows pinched together. All that fuss just to get a library card. Ridiculous.

Now that they were out of the library and away from Evrane, Owl’s voice rang loud and clear. “Blueberry.”

Aeduan repressed a sigh. Time to change tactics. “I doubt Blueberry would like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. It wouldn’t be good for his stomach. Remember when you ate too much chocolate and you were very, very sick afterward? It would be like that.”

This time Owl started tapping on his shoulder and, sounding a bit more fretful, insisted, “Blueberry.”

Aeduan halted his steps and twisted Owl in his arms so that he could see her face. His patience was already worn to the breaking point from the morning, and suddenly, it felt like his life depended on Owl not bursting into tears. “Owl, I’m sorry, I don’t-”

But Owl wasn’t paying attention to him. Her eyes were fixed somewhere behind him. Confused, Aeduan turned around to see what it was that had caught her interest.

On the sidewalk outside one of the storefronts was a chalkboard sign. Drawn on it in colorful chalk was a cartoon of a blueberry and lemon in a passionate embrace saying, “You’re my main squeeze!” Underneath it written in big bubble letters was an announcement: “Today’s pastry special: Blueberry Lemon Muffins!”

Aeduan’s head turned back to Owl. “Is that what you want? A muffin?”

Owl nodded emphatically and the comically oversized pom pom on top her head nodded along with her with the gesture. For the first time all day a small smile broke across Aeduan’s face.

“That,” he said, bopping her on the nose with his finger, “I can get you.”

Owl made a noise close to a squeal and curled herself back in on Aeduan’s chest. Excited. She was excited.

Triumph reigned over Aeduan as he walked them back to the coffee shop. He’d done it. He’d figured out what she was trying to say. Without Evrane’s help. The day was far from over, but as far as Aeduan was concerned, him and Owl had earned themselves a long afternoon nap when they got home, and possibly, nothing else.

A bell jangled overhead as he swung open the door and stepped into the coffee shop. Such an overly cutesy name like Jitters normally would have turned him off, but he had no problem buying an overpriced muffin if it meant keeping Owl happy.

It certainly wasn’t Starbucks. It had the kind of incohesive bullshit style of decorating that gave Aeduan a headache. None of the furniture matched. It was as if the owner hit every yard sale he could find, shelled out thirty bucks for what he no doubt thought were priceless treasures, and regurgitated all of it into the compact space. Aeduan eyed the shabby green couch sitting by the working fireplace distastefully; he could have sworn he’d seen something just like it out on a sidewalk recently.

Owl reached up to touch the bells hanging from the door, jostling Aeduan from his private thoughts and he realized that he was just standing in the doorway staring. He made his way over to the counter and the floorboards creaked under his boots. No one was at the register so he set Owl down by the pastry display and crouched next to her so they could look at the selection together.

“There’s the blueberry lemon muffin,” Aeduan said, pointing to a full tray of yellow-golden muffins so moist they were practically glistening. His stomach gave a hungry growl. When was the last time he ate? Did he have breakfast that morning? He vaguely remembered picking off a couple of Owl’s leftover Cheerios.

“Why don’t we pick out a few? Then we can have some for breakfast this week.”

Owl’s face pressed up against the glass was confirmation enough that this was a sound plan. He stood up, leaving her to salivate while he ordered.

Soft music filtered from a dingy radio next to the row of coffee machines. Aeduan looked around the near empty cafe. He didn’t see anyone that looked like they worked there - though, if the mismatched furniture was any indication, this probably wasn’t the type of place that forced their workers into uniforms.

Not seeing much of a choice, Aeduan knocked on the counter and called out, “Hello? Does anyone work here?”

There was a scuffle of movement, and a moment later, a tousled blonde head poked out from behind a sheet of fabric acting as a door off to the right of the counter. She looked surprised by his presence at the counter, which would have confused Aeduan, had it not been for the frown of displeasure it morphed into a second after. She made no move to come out from behind the curtain and continued to eye him suspiciously.

Aeduan cleared his throat.

“I’d like to order.”

“Alright,” the girl replied slowly, finally leaving her hiding spot and approaching the counter. “What do you want?”

Some better customer service, that’s what.

“Muffins,” Aeduan grunted. “Two blueberry lemon, a cranberry, a pumpkin, two chocolate chip-” Aeduan stopped and eyed the girl sharply. “Aren’t you going to write this down?”

Her eyes fluttered impatiently. “Don’t need to. Continue.”

But Aeduan didn’t continue. He stared at her, and for the longest time, that’s all he did. Just like he would any low-life perp.

That’s what he’d been known for back in his days at the Academy. Intimidation. Sure, he was formidable with a gun and anyone stupid enough to challenge him to hand-to-hand combat learned quite violently that Aeduan was the top of their class for reasons that had nothing to do with his father being the commissioner. But it was his presence, his overall being, that set him apart from everyone else. His sargent once chuckled after Aeduan had busted a long-time drug dealer in his first year that the perp in question had called him inhuman.

It wouldn’t be long before the barista cracked. Aeduan had yet to meet anyone who could stand to look him directly for more than a couple seconds - criminal or not.

Sure enough, the girl lifted her chin, her only act of defiance as she pulled a pad of paper from her apron pocket and plucked a pen from a chipped mug next to the register. With a mild expression, she clicked it’s retractable head and rested the tip on top of the pad, waiting.

Aeduan started from the beginning. “Two blueberry lemon muffins, a cranberry, a pumpkin, two chocolate chip, a corn, an apple cinnamon, and a black coffee to-go.”

“Size?” the girl prompted, not looking up while she wrote.

“Large.”

She jotted down his answer and was just about to turn around and get started when he caught her eye. He cocked his head to the side.

There was no misunderstanding his intent, and for a second, she looked like she was about to argue, but like a suspect resigning them to arrest, obediently rotated to face him and looked down at her notepad.

Aeduan smirked.

Just like a perp. They’re all the same.

Her speech was robotic and forced: “Two blueberry lemon muffins, a cranberry, a pumpkin, two chocolate chip, a corn, an apple cinnamon, and one large black coffee to-go.”

Aeduan tucked his amusement away just as the girl finished and looked up at him. He didn’t say anything, but nodded his approval for her to get on with the order.

Well. If there had been any mystery as to why she didn’t like him before, there certainly wasn’t one now.

It was with bitter satisfaction that Aeduan watched her scramble to collect the muffins he ordered. He couldn’t care less whether or not she liked him. She was a complete stranger. A barista. Certainly not worth the effort. But that didn’t stop the familiar sting of being treated less than human he’d encountered under worse circumstances than now.

When the muffins were boxed and the lid was closed upon the coffee cup, the girl rang up the items on the register. “That will be $18.72.”

Aeduan dug his wallet out of his back pocket and handed her a twenty. She punched a couple keys on the register, scooped out the change and handed it to him without looking at him.

As Aeduan tucked his wallet in his back pocket, it occurred to him that he wouldn’t be able to carry Owl with the muffins and coffee. “Can I have a bag for that?” he asked pointing to the pastry box.

This was a catastrophic inconvenience judging the eye roll the girl wasn’t quite able to hide as she ducked down beneath the counter and pulled out a paper bag. She placed the box into the bag. “There, how’s that?” she asked in such a falsely concerned tone that Aeduan almost said something he most definitely would not have done her the courtesy of hiding its true intent from.

Instead, Aeduan only grunted a confirmation. He could be passive aggressive too. If she didn’t want to talk to him, then he wouldn’t burden her with speech.

“Fabulous,” she heaved, and without another word, she spun around and escaped behind the curtain with a dramatic flourish.

Aeduan gave the tapestry a withering look before turning to Owl. She had moved on from the muffins and was now inspecting a row of decorated cupcakes.

“All set,” Aeduan announced. Better to put an end to this excursion before she got any ideas. Owl tore her gaze away for the cakes to look at Aeduan, slightly dazed. Then her eyes dropped to the big bag hanging from the crook of his elbow. Her face lit up and she quickly scurried onto her feet and climbed into Aeduan’s waiting arms.

Aeduan hefted Owl up, trying to make his hold on her comfortable as he could for himself with the addition of the bag on his arm. Once he felt like everything and everyone was secure, he reached for the cup of coffee on the counter with his free hand.

The bell tinkled goodbye to them as they left the shop. Snow had started to fall, harmless little flakes that disappeared the moment they touched the wet pavement. Hopefully it wouldn’t get worse before they got home. Aeduan paused outside the store to blow across the open hole in the cover of his coffee and took a tentative sip. Owl tried to catch snowflakes as he mulled over its taste, then he grudgingly took another, more generous, drink. He would have loved nothing more than to have hated it, just to get in one more shot at the barista, but hell-gates. It was good.

*   .   *   .   *   .   *   .

 The one problem with the library was that there were very few places to have a private conversation. While phone calls in the library were frowned upon for obvious reasons, the staff room didn’t offer much privacy either, as the kitchen where most people took their lunches was connected to the offices. So Iseult resolved to take her phone call out in the cold on the stone steps of the library. It had started to snow and Iseult wiped off the wetness on her phone screen. She’d been standing there for several minutes, mustering up the courage to call Alma back, and there was already a starscape of snowflakes on Iseult’s wool coat.

The universe was really letting her have it today. Bad enough that her morning had gone just as disastrously as she predicted: one angry man and a child she wouldn’t be surprised had already summoned a hex to curse her with. Now, this.

Iseult pressed the call button and lifted the phone to her ear. After a couple rings, Alma’s voice sang sweetly in her ear.

“Iseult,” she answered, sounding perfectly pleasant. “You got my call.”

“Yes,” Iseult responded stiffly. “Sorry I didn’t pick up. I’m at work. Is-is everything alright?”

“Oh, everything’s fine!” Alma chirped, and even though that was good news, Iseult still felt uneasy. If nothing was wrong, then something else was up, and that was never good.

“Ok… does my mom need anything?”

“No, not really.” And then, Alma, who was always so composed and never stumbled over her words like Iseult did, flustered a little. “But well, I was thinking - hoping - that you’d like to come visit sometime. It’s been awhile since we’ve seen you...”

Alma trailed off, leaving Iseult to grapple with her conscious in the uncomfortable silence. She kicked her heel into the stone step.

That hadn’t exactly been an accident - her not visiting. Saldonica was far, and since Safi’s car was about as trustworthy as Chiseled Cheater, Iseult took the long train ride to get there. It was a convenient excuse to have on hand, what with it being a whole day affair, and a costly one at that.

Iseult must have taken too long to respond because Alma started talking again.

“I know it’s hard with you working all the time, of course,” she said. The understanding in her voice was so genuine that it made Iseult hate her a little more. “But Gretchya’s had some really good days in the last few weeks, and I just thought it’d be good for both of you to spend some time with each other. I know she’d love to see you.”

Iseult nearly laughed at that last part. Of course, this was all coming from Alma. Gretchya hadn’t asked for Iseult at all. She would have been stupid to have thought that to begin with.

Gretchya didn’t need Iseult for anything. Except for her money. Aside from that, she got everything she needed from the neat little package that was Alma. Before she became her caretaker, she had been more of a daughter to her than Iseult ever was. She was everything Iseult wasn’t. Every facet of her being was sewn together with a steady needle. Sharp in its precision and effortless in its design. There were no bumps to smooth out. No runs, no frays. Alma was flawlessly put together. Perfect.

“I- will try,” Iseult croaked.

“Of course,” Alma’s melodic voice flowed through the speaker, so at odds with Iseult’s. Then, she laughed lightly, “Scruff misses you too.”

If it had been anyone but Alma, Iseult would have thought she was trying to manipulate her into visiting. But Alma was above such tactics. Scruffs, her childhood dog, was the one thing she did miss in Saldonica. She’d give just about anything to see him. Before Safi came along, he had been the closest thing to a best friend she’d ever had. In fact, he’d been her only friend. The thought of Alma giving him all of his belly rubs and ear scratches caused Iseult’s heart to clench painfully.

“I’ll let Gretchya know that you’re going to look over your work schedule and get back to us, ok?” said Alma. She sounded happy.

Iseult nodded even though Alma couldn’t see it. “Ok.”

“Is there anything else you want me to tell your mom? How’s work?”

“Work is fine.” Iseult paused. Then, said, “I got offered a position in the Children’s Room. I just started today.”

A surprised gasp followed. “That’s wonderful, Iseult!” Alma exclaimed. “Gretchya will be thrilled.”

Doubt it. “Yeah. Listen, Alma, I should go. My break is almost over and I don’t want to be late getting back, it being my first day and all.”

“Oh yes, of course,” Alma hastened to agree. She sighed happily as though they had just shared the most splendid conversation together. “Well, let us know when a good time to visit is. We’ll be here. Take care, Iseult.”

“Right. You too.” And not knowing what else to say, Iseult hung up.

There were still a few minutes left in her break, so Iseult stood on the steps of the library, watching the snow coming down more steadily than it had before. Across the rooftops and the city horizon, grey clouds hung ominously, the promise of a storm in the air. Iseult tipped her head back so that all she could see was the white abyss of the sky. For a moment, it felt like she was suspended in the air. Nothing else existing. All there was was stasis.

Stasis in your fingertips and in your toes.

Iseult blinked, open-mouthed, against the snow falling into her eyes. Ice melted on her cheeks, running rivers down her jaw.

After, when she marched up the steps, she wiped them away.

She was Iseult det Midenzi, daughter of Gretchya det Midenzi, and she did not cry.

[thefirstcourtesan]

Fireworks (Nate/MC) [July Challenge Day 4]

Tagging @wughhumans @gennesaret @desiree-0816 @choicesarehard @kinda-iconic @choicesjulychallenge @tephy24 @dcbbw @endless-vall

Fireworks By Misha

Disclaimer- Not mine. Author’s Notes- I actually really love Sunkissed so far and I feel myself relating to the MC and I also think Nate is adorable. I ended up inspired to write for them because I think they have so much potential. This is for day four of the Choices July Challenge: Independence Day. My MC’s name is Amber Parker. Pairing- Nate/MC Summary- Nate and Amber enjoy the 4th of July Fireworks and create some of their own. Rating- PG-13

“So they are doing fireworks on the beach tonight,” Mom commented as we finished up our dinner, which had been BBQ by the beach, “I remember how much you both love fireworks.”

“I already have plans,” Alexis and I said in unison and then stopped and looked at each other.

I smirked, “Sai?”

Alexis flushed. “No! I met some girls who are here on vacation and they invited me to watch with them. But I bet your plans are with the hot lifeguard.”

“They are,” I admitted and then shot a guilty look at mom. I had lured her here for family time, it didn’t seem to bail on her for some guy I had just met, “but it’s no big deal,  you can join us, Mom.”

“I wouldn’t dream of intruding,” she assured me, “I can watch from the porch with a glass of iced tea and a book.” 

“I don’t even know these girls,” Alexis said suddenly, “I’d much rather watch you with, Mom. Remember when I was little and we would play a game of guessing color would appear next?”

I shot Alexis a grateful smile, making a mental note to do something nice for her as a thank you. Besides, it would be nice for her and Mom to spend some time alone bonding, so guilt assuaged, I grabbed my bag from the house and headed down to the beach to meet Aubrey.

The lifeguard station was closed for the day, of course, and for once he wasn't wearing his uniform. Instead, he was wearing a pair of cargo shorts and nothing else. My eyes lingered on his bare chest, remembering what it had felt like to run my hands over it.

“Hey Parker,” he greeted and my eyes met his, blushing a bit at the knowing smirk on his face, the one that told me he knew exactly where my mind had just been, “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” I told him, wondering if this counted as a date? Was it a first date or did our other encounters count? I mean, we’d already gotten pretty close and personal, but this felt different.

“There is no one I’d rather share this with,” he assured me, he motioned down the beach, “I thought we’d go to my favorite spot, it’s a little more private but still has a great view.”

“Sound amazing,” I told him honestly.

He leaned down and picked up a basket I hadn’t even realized was there.

“I packed a couple things,” Nate explained, noticing where my gaze had landed. 

Ok, this was definitely a date then.

We walked along the beach, making easy conversation until Nate stopped. I looked around, we had walked a decent distance down the beach, away from the crowds, to a beautiful little cove.

“We’ll be able to see everything here,” Nate assured me, taking a blanket out of the basket. He also pulled out a bottle of wine and two glasses, as well as some containers of fruit and cheese. 

“You think of everything,” I commented, taking a seat on the blanket. 

“A lifeguard has to be prepared,” he said with a smile as he sat down beside me. He poured us each a glass of wine. “Happy July 4th.”

“Thank you,” I said, taking a sip, “and thank you for taking me here.” I looked around. “This must be the most beautiful view in Turtle Bay.”

“It is,” Nate told me, but I noticed his eyes were on me not the beach. I blushed. Somehow Nate had the ability to make me feel like a teenager, instead of almost 25.

“How was your day?” I asked after a moment, “I bet the beach was packed.”

“It was,” Nate admitted, “I actually had help today though.”

I pretended to gasp. “So you aren’t superhuman?”

“Only some of the time,” he laughed, “The guy who had the job before me still lives in town and he fills in sometimes, but he has another job now, so I don’t call on him very often, but holidays tend to be too much for one person. What about you, what did you do?”

“Hung out with Mom and Alexis,” I told him, “we made our traditional berry cake that we make every 4th. It was really nice.” 

“Are they getting along better?” Nate asked me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me in closer to him. 

I leaned my head against his shoulder, noting how strong he was and how comforting his arm felt. “They are. They are actually watching the fireworks together tonight.”

“You didn’t want to watch with them?” Nate asked, gazing into my eyes.

“No,” I told him, “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here.”

Nate didn’t respond, at least not with words, he just pulled me closer, his lips covering mine. I kissed him back eagerly, our wine glasses discarded as we fell backward onto the blanket wrapped in each other’s arms. Hands and lips trailing over each other’s body. 

I don’t know how long we were like that, totally lost in each other, but suddenly there was a large boom and a burst of color. The fireworks. We pulled apart reluctantly.

“We should watch the fireworks,” Nate said, his breathing labored, “that’s why we came here.”

I nodded, not sure I trusted my voice. We both sat up and Nate pulled me onto his lap, his arms wrapped around me as we watched the colorful blasts fill the sky, but my mind kept going back to a different kind of fireworks, the kind we created together. But we had a whole summer ahead of us and for now, this was perfect.

End

[queencamellia]

Summary:

They’ve made it to the other side. Bustling malls, beautiful parks, towering skyscrapers — with Norman and Ray by her side, it’s all that Emma’s ever dreamed about and more.

“Emma,” Ray says urgently, catching her sleeve when Norman wanders away to grab them ice cream.

“I know,” she replies, still smiling. It’s a lie, yes, but it’s a beautiful one.

Unformatted version under the cut! Bless @selephi​ for her comics that introduced me to this fandom and inspired me to write this (and push through until the end lol). Incorporated several theories!

Emma wakes up to the sound of birds chirping. It’s still a foreign sound, but she enjoys it, nonetheless: their chirps merge together to form a chaotic yet beautiful melody. She throws off the silk covers of the bed, rushing to the windowsill and soaking in the liberating feeling of safety and contentment that morning brings.

This is the beauty of nature that so many of the books back at the orphanage had described.

Though the day has just dawned, some of her neighbors are already bustling about. Down below, Emma can spot an old woman hobble down to the marketplace, baskets of woven trinkets in tow. A few apartments down, she can see a middle-aged man water the begonias growing on his patio flower box. In the distance, she can even see the large skyscrapers where many of the adults work. “Business” is a new concept to her, but it’s not unwelcomed.

An air of tranquility settles over the neighborhood, one that Emma knows won’t be broken by demons like that world.

She tilts her head and oh, huh, strange—it feels oddly quiet waking up to no children running amok or monsters to face.

You have to get used to it, Emma, she reminds herself, and with a firm nod, Emma backs away from the window and moves towards the drawers. After rummaging about the new clothes—all provided by one alive James Ratri—she finally decides on a white sundress.

(Which, in retrospect, is strange: after all they’ve gone through in the same old white clothing, Emma’s gravitated towards clothing of soft pastels that suit her age and remind her that she’s worth more than just “livestock” waiting to be slaughtered.)

Emma can’t exactly remember why she’s hurrying so much through her daily morning routine, but all makes sense once she hurries down the stairs, whips open the door, and faces a beaming Norman.

“Norman, it’s been forever!” she exclaims, her grin growing broader.

Her friend looks different, better without the fate of the world weighing on his shoulders. Though his smile is a bit hesitant, it’s genuine, nonetheless, and she’ll take it. With one last glance at the interior of the tiny house—and Emma briefly wonders why she feels the need to soak in all the details, to remember the peace and security which wrapped around her so easily in the safe confines of her bedroom—she crosses the threshold and gives him a half-hug.

“I brought flowers,” Norman explains, holding out the small bouquet to her. “You always said you wanted to see a rose garden, so I brought the closest thing I could find.”

Roses are out of season right now, Emma remembers Ray saying when she asked him about the “pretty red flowers of love” that she wanted to give to everyone. No doubt, the bouquet had been expensive. (It had taken her awhile to get used to the concept of “money” in the way that the materialistic human world used it, but Emma’s always been a quick learner. Quicker than the others, anyways.)

(She’s also always been a quick observer, which is why Emma is able to note the almost eerie way Norman examines her expression as she takes the bouquet from him and gives it a sniff.)

Emma never wanted to lie to Norman, but something in her (some primal instinct that has still yet to leave her from their times before) tells her not to show her discomfort.

“They smell so nice!” she enthuses. “We should bring them to the others.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Norman says, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. “I thought that today, we could have an ‘us’ day.”

“An ‘us’ day?” she quotes.

“Just you and me,” Norman clarifies, giving her a shy and almost nervous look. “It hasn’t been that way in awhile, right?”

Immediately, Emma’s wariness melts away. This is just Norman, for pete’s sake, not somebody that she has to look out for. Besides, when’s the last time that she spent some quality time with her friend? Between his drive to lead the humans to revolt and her focus on taking care of the children, they’ve had hardly any time to themselves. She’s been lonely. Alone.

(No, no she hasn’t. A presence, somebody’s figure briefly flashes in her mind, but the memory is smothered by Norman’s enthralling smile.)

Emma nudges him, bouquet of flowers still in hand. “Lead the way, then!”

They stroll down the cobblestone path. If Emma had been thinking harder, she would’ve realized that the path is free of any distractions children. Nonetheless, she’s too busy basking in the warmth of the sun and Norman’s steady presence. With him by her side, she feels invincible: nobody can strike her down with Norman guarding her.

She spots a bookstore and suddenly reaches forward to tug on Norman’s sleeve. “Hey, hey, Norman, why don’t we go inside?”

He turns and stares at the shop for a second before giving her a surprised look. “I didn’t know you enjoyed reading that much, Emma.”

There are many things she can say to that; for one, Emma’s always had a penchant for fairy tales and stories of fantastical adventures. But more so, she found back in the shelter that reading was a good way to immerse herself in a different world and free herself from her troubles. Though it’s certainly not her favorite pastime, she doesn’t mind spending a day inside as much as she used to.

Instead of saying such, though, Emma puffs out her chest. “I might’ve not been as smart as you, but I still could keep up with your scores! Besides, everyone had to read and research a lot to make sure our shelter—”

Emma pauses.

“Well? Go on.”

She laughs nervously.

Inwardly, her mind is racing. Why had she forgotten so easily about her best friend?

“No, it’s just that...well, I thought that Ray would probably enjoy this place a lot. We should invite him!”

Norman smiles at her, grabs her hand with a nonchalance that she never knew he possessed, then resumes walking. She rolls her eyes, but quickens her pace to keep up to him. They leave the bookstore behind, continuing along their path. “You’re always thinking about others, Emma.”

“You need to think about yourself more,” she says without a second thought, and Norman stills, as if her words have struck him both motionless and silent. Emma stops too, though a confused expression mars her features.

“Do I?” he muses.

She nods assuredly. “You need to help yourself first, or else how are you supposed to help others?”

“Does that mean…” And here, his eyes slide to meet hers. “...I can be selfish?”

The creeping sense of discomfort suddenly comes roaring back at full force. Emma had honed her instincts in that world, and they’ve never guided her wrong before. But she pushes against the instinct to run away because she won’t abandon her friend (not again, not after Yuugo), especially not Norman of all people.

Still, Emma suddenly becomes hyper aware of the fact that he’s still gripping onto her hands. Her throat suddenly feels dry, and though Emma scrambles for words—any words, lies or truth—she’s unable to find anything.

“Emma?”

“Norman…”

Her eyes suddenly catch on something shiny and Emma tugs on his sleeve, pulling him along. “Look, they’re so pretty!” she gushes, pressing against the antique shop window to get a better view. The objects in question, a beautiful display of shimmering crystals, catch the light wondrously, the light reflecting in multicolored fragments.

The tense atmosphere dissolves and suddenly they’re just “Emma and Norman” again. He laughs behind her. It’s a wonderful sound that simultaneously warms her chest and lowers her guard. This is just Norman.

She doesn’t have to put up a front around him. This is Norman, the boy who always sided with her and helped her through her troubles back at the orphanage. This is Norman, one of her closest childhood friends and closest confidants. This is Norman, the boy who once proposed exterminating…

...her mind is buzzing.

“Why don’t we go inside?” Norman offers, heading towards the door before she can reply. She follows him into the shop, eyes rounded as she takes in the brass trinkets and crystal statues. Norman disappears briefly behind a shelf of glass masks and Emma has to hurry to catch up to him.

When she turns the corner, she’s met with the sight of Norman examining an antique watch. It’s a beautiful copper color, but it doesn’t appear like something that’d suit his complexion. Emma, having grown more tactful in the past few years, bites her tongue and instead chooses to observe the rest of the store.

They’ve stumbled upon the clock section of the store, evidently. A grandfather clock towers over her, grand and old. A cuckoo clock springs to life to Emma’s right, startling her and nearly causing her to bump into the shelf. It’s almost eerie, in a way, but it’s also strangely comforting.

With an air of forced casualness, Emma steps closer and peers over his shoulder. “Are you gonna buy that?”

“Maybe.” Norman hums contemplatively.

Her eyebrows crease in confusion. “But it doesn’t work.”

His gaze, fixated on the watch, finally turns to her. “I’ll fix it later,” he promises. “Just give me a moment and I’ll pay for it. Is there anything that catches your eye?”

Emma turns back towards the window display of crystals, but she spots something even better than them. “Look, Norman, it’s Ray!”

“Wha—”

She throws him a beam, then hurries to the door. Over her shoulder, she calls, “I’ll wait for you outside, okay? I have to make sure he doesn’t wander off before we can catch up to him.”

Ray’s strolling along the sidewalk at his usual languid pace, his head tilted towards the sky. He’s wearing the same expression he often adopts when he’s deep in thought; when she calls out to him, his head immediately turns to scrutinize her.

“Hey, Ray! Wait up!”

“Emma,” he greets shortly. Over the years, she’s learned to read him well. There’s a puzzled glint in his eyes; something about Ray’s demeanor almost seems wary, but after a few seconds of examining her, he relaxes minisculely. “Why are you here?”

“Norman,” she answers simply, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly.

“No, but why are you here?” he insists, stepping closer.

And, once again, she nods. “Norman,” she answers, and then gestures to the white-haired boy quickly exiting the shop. Ray stews behind her, falling silent as the other boy approaches.

“That was quick,” Emma addresses him, her mind racing with thoughts. Realization dawns upon her, but she pushes aside the revelation in favor of beaming at him.

(Don’t think about it not yet just a little longer please I don’t want this to end pleasepleaseplease—)

“I didn’t want you two leaving me behind,” Norman replies, handing her a bag. “I bought you this.”

“Oh,” Emma says quietly, staring at the mesmerizing crystal. “Thanks, Norman.”

“Ray,” Norman greets. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

Ray meets his gaze levelly. “Something drew me here.”

“Hm, is that so? Lucky us.”

“Why don’t we walk around together since Ray’s here?” Emma suggests, quick to cut through the heavy, oppressive atmosphere. She may not always keep up with the genius duo, but she’s grown enough to sense the underlying tension.

“Great idea, Emma!” Norman exclaims, clapping his hands. “Why don’t we head to the park?”

Emma shoots a look at Ray, and luckily, he understands.

“...the park?” Ray repeats, scrunching his nose. It’s the first normal thing he’s said to either of them. “Why?”

“We’re kids, right? We’re allowed to act frivolously every once in awhile. Besides...it’ll just be like old times. We can play tag together.”

“I dunno,” Emma says, glancing at her dress. “My clothes aren’t really the best for running.”

“No, they’re not,” Ray agrees.

“They look nice, though,” Norman adds, shooting Ray a mock-stern glare. “You look pretty in white, Emma.”

“Ray looks pretty in white,” Emma corrects, and to her satisfaction, the raven-haired boy scowls at her. Had it been a few years ago, Emma would’ve thought that he was pissed off at her. But now, after years together, she just grins. The way his eyebrows crease and lips purse belies his embarrassment.

Folding his arms over his chest, Ray says, “I doubt you two came here to discuss fashion. What were you planning to do?”

Though the question seems superficially aimed towards both of them, Emma senses that the question was actually directed towards Norman.

“If not the park, then why don’t we grab some snacks together?” Norman suggests.

Emma notices that he evades Ray’s question, but doesn’t point it out. Neither does Ray, though his eyes sharpen.

“I didn’t bring any money,” Ray says only half-apologetically, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Emma squawks with horror, glancing at her dress and realizing that it has no pockets. She must’ve forgotten her wallet back at the apartment. “Neither did I! Ah, man, and I wanted to try ice cream, too...”

“I can buy some for us,” Norman concedes with a sigh. “Wait here, okay? I’ll be right back.”

She moves to follow him, intent on picking a delicious flavor, but something holds her back.

“Emma,” Ray says urgently, catching her sleeve when Norman wanders away to grab them ice cream.

A weight settles over her shoulders.

“I know,” she replies, still smiling. It’s a lie, yes, but it’s a beautiful one. Would it be selfish for her to pretend for a little longer?

Ray studies her expression, then crosses the distance between them and squeezes her shoulder in an awkwardly comforting way. “I get it,” he murmurs, his voice heavy. Her shoulders shake, but not one tear falls.

He squeezes his eyes shut, then reopens them and meets her eyes, repeating softly, “I get it.”

Deep, sorrowful understanding runs between them. Then, deceptively tranquil silence reigns, seeming to stretch for an eternity as they reach a nonverbal agreement.

She inhales, soaking in the scent of spices from the marketplace and sensation of the cool breeze rushing past her hair. Her mind carefully imprints this (fake) memory into her mind: perhaps, one day, it can become reality.

“Sorry to keep you waiting!”

Emma accepts her ice cream with exaggerated awe. “Wow, strawberry! It’s so pink.”

Ray’s less enthusiastic. “Thanks, Norman,” he says simply, any grief previously in his expression disappearing under their childhood friend’s scrutiny.

They settle on a sidewalk bench, Ray to her right and Norman to her left, and nothing’s ever felt more perfect.

The ice cream is cold and sweet; Emma wonders if this is how ice cream actually tastes, or if it’s just a reconstruction from what little they know about the delicacy. She consumes it quickly, and though her lips feel cold afterwards, she welcomes the foreign sensation.

“Emma?” Ray probes, seeing the subtle change in her expression.

“My lips are cold,” she explains, giggling. And, to her satisfaction, his lips quirk upwards to mirror her smile. “Say...Ray, Norman…”

“Mm?”

Emma purses her lips, tilting her head upwards and staring at the sky, just like Ray had minutes before. “We’ll always be together, right?”

There’s a pause, then Norman responds with a resolute nod. “Right.”

Ray doesn’t answer her question at all.

She’s unsure of which response she likes better.

“Emma,” Ray says.

“I know.”

Norman watches their seemingly nonsensical, taciturn exchange silently.

Can we just...stay like this? Just for a little more.

Emma’s selfish, through and through. Though she’s aware of the abnormalities in the dream-like world she’s in, she doesn’t want to let go quite yet. Ray understands, and accordingly falls silent. She’s unsure about Norman’s reaction, though; it’s gotten harder and harder to read him. He’s changed. Or, perhaps, she’s the one who’s changed.

She contemplates that notion for a few moments.

It’s undeniable that Emma would change through the passage of time, but her innocent and carefree self seems like a lifetime ago rather than just two years ago. It feels like a distant dream—a beautiful, idyllic childhood long since past. Even with Ray and Norman’s familiar presences by her side, everything feels different.

And maybe, “different” doesn’t mean bad. Granted, Emma and her friends had to grow out of their childhoods much too quickly, but she doesn’t mind being this new “Emma” either. It’s still her, at the core, just...changed. Grown. A bit more jaded, but still the same.

He who moves first...

Emma recalls the nights of chess that feel so long ago and wills her mind to remember this moment—this beautiful, peaceful moment of warmth and them, together, safe.

“...you know, we should go see Phil soon,” she comments.

Norman shifts almost uneasily. Ray’s lips curl upwards into an approving smirk. “We should.”

They exchange glances.

Ray makes the next move. “Say, Norman...have you given up the idea of exterminating demons?”

“Why are you talking about that?” Norman laughs. “It’s been ages since I’ve thought about that world.”

“How long has it been, anyways?” Emma wonders, tapping her finger against her chin. “I don’t remember.”

Norman hums thoughtfully. “Well, we’re here now, and that’s what matters. Right?”

Emma’s ready to answer in the same vague fashion, but Ray beats her to it with a direct attack: “Wrong.”

“Hm?”

Ray drops all pretenses and stands up, looming over the more petite boy. It’s funny; even now, Emma can’t see Norman as a bad guy. He’s just Norman. Just misguided. Surely.

Ray’s voice draws her out of her thoughts. “You can’t turn back time, Norman.”

Norman stands up as well, drawing to his full height as he asks lowly, “Who says I want to?”

Emma laughs nervously, holding up her hands in a placating gesture. “H-hey, you two...let’s calm down a little, okay?”

Her effort goes unnoticed. Ray narrows his eyes. “What are you planning, Norman? Where are we?”

“Don’t you see the stores right before your eyes?”

He grits his teeth, fists clenching and trembling. “Norman. Where are we?”

Norman smiles. “A place where you two will be safe.”

Emma’s face crumples as she staggers to her feet to join them in their standoff. “Don’t lie to us, Norman,” she pleads, and it’s almost eerie how calm the shorter male is.

“I haven’t lied to you. Not once.”

Emma feels the same roaring anger she felt when she first learned of Ray’s treachery and willing sacrifice of their siblings. It threatens to consume her, but staring at Norman’s face and remembering the memories they’ve shared together helps ebb the tide, just a bit.

Grabbing Norman’s hands, she gives him a brittle (almost threatening) smile. “You haven’t answered us, either.”

Norman stares at her blankly for a moment, almost dazed. He resembles Adam. Then, gently, he squeezes her hands. The action sends a shiver down her spine.

“I’m doing my best to build us a future, Emma,” Norman says, his voice suddenly sounding very distant. “And I know that you two would get in the way.”

Ray starts, but Norman shoots him a knowing smile. “I’ve always been two steps ahead of you,” he reminds the raven-haired male, and suddenly Ray looks just as vulnerable and lost as he had back in the orphanage. Emma shoots him a look of concern, but her attention is refocused on Norman once he draws away.

“Norman?”

“I’m very sorry,” Norman says, and to his credit, he does seem apologetic.

Emma’s seized by a sense of panic. “Norman, what are you doing?”

Norman tilts his head towards the sky. “Do you know where I came from, Emma?”

“You came from Grace Field House, just like all of us.”

“But where did I come from?” Norman insists. “I would sometimes think about that back in those days, you know. Who were my parents? Who was my mother? If things were different, would I have lived a happy life with them? But once we learned the truth...I started wondering more. And at the Lambda farm, I finally got my answers.”

“You found your mother?” Ray asks, and by the look on his face, he’s as blindsided as Emma is.

Norman smiles. It’s a very pretty smile.

Emma resists the urge to shiver.

“Adam was the first,” he says. “Fitting, I suppose. He was a failure, but his physical strength was a strange benefit that they couldn’t manage to reproduce afterwards, not even for me.”

Emma, to her own surprise, is able to read between the lines before Ray can.

“Clones?” she asks, and it takes all of her will not to take a step backwards (because this is Norman, even if he may be a clone). “Why?”

“No, Emma,” Norman chides.

There’s a cold, calculative edge to him that she’s rarely seen directed towards her. It’s always been a part of him, this apathetic and scary Norman, but he’s always had some semblance of warmth in his eyes. Now, though, Emma’s unable to find anything but cool, chilling resolve.

“What you should be asking is...of whom?”

The wind picks up, sending the autumn leaves fluttering in a mass of scarlet and gold.

“Minerva,” Ray says flatly. “You’re a clone of William Minerva, or rather, James Ratri.”

Norman’s lips curl upwards. “You’ve always been quick, Ray.”

“I try.” The sarcasm in his voice would’ve made Emma laugh had it been any other moment.

“But,” Norman continues, and suddenly everything grows silent.

Emma watches, mesmerized, as one of the falling leaves freezes in mid-air, its vivid crimson shade bleeding out until all that is left is a monochromatic grey.

Time has frozen. The world has stopped moving. And though there seems to be nothing binding her down, Emma finds herself unable to move nor speak.

Norman gives them one last bright smile. Then, his features cool. “You’re not quick enough.”

“What have you done to us? What are you going to do?” Ray demands. Emma would’ve thought that it was a distraction tactic—Ray often does those sort of ploys—but the tremble in his voice belies his confusion. This is different from anything they’ve ever experienced.

For the first time, Norman gives them an answer.

“I’ve put you two to rest for a bit,” he says. “You see, they decided to enhance my abilities a little more while I was at the farm. I wasn’t very durable before, but with the new blood that runs through my veins, I’ve learned a surprisingly large new set of skills.”

“You’re a demon,” Emma whispers.

“Of a sort,” Norman agrees. “I am the perfect monstrosity, don’t you realize? I stand as the single largest threat to the Ratri family and the demons alike.”

Ray takes over, sensing Emma’s disconcerted thoughts. “What’s your goal? What do you want?”

“It’s simple.” He flexes his hand experimentally. “I will destroy all of those monsters until I’m the only monster left.”

“What are you planning? Why are you keeping us here, then?”

Norman’s tone saddens, but his expression remains placid. “You may not agree with my methods.”

“Norman—”

“Sometimes, you have to sacrifice things for the greater good.”

It’s a perversion of his advice from years ago. Emma remembers their late night chess games and can do nothing but stare as Norman backs away.

“I’ll be back soon,” Norman promises. “I’ll purge our world of any evil. Then, we can make this world a reality.”

He literally disappears right before her eyes, his figure dissolving away into nothingness. One tentative swipe at where he once stood reveals there’s nothing but thin air. Emma’s breath catches in her throat and abruptly, she stumbles and plops back onto the bench, feeling strangely weightless.

“Was he always like that, Ray?” she asks desperately, because it shakes her to her core that Emma can see traces of her childhood friend in the strange being (not a monster, she doesn’t think that she can ever view something with Norman’s face as a monster) standing among them moments ago.

Ray’s stare is piercing.

“I think,” he says slowly, after a few more seconds of contemplation. “Well, that was Norman, no doubt about it. But they’ve twisted him, Emma. There isn’t one person who doesn’t have an ugly side to them, but whatever the people at the farm did to him...changed him.”

“We have to get him back.”

“We have to get ourselves back first,” Ray corrects, clenching his fist. “This isn’t a place, and I doubt we’re here physically. We haven’t encountered every demon, so it isn’t possible to assume that they can have abilities that affect the mind. You’ve felt it too, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” Emma confirms. Something about Ray’s composure pulls her together and anchors her; she can think, now. “I kept thinking that some things were weird, but I didn’t think much about it.”

“We don’t know how much he’s affecting our minds right now, but it can’t be everything, or we wouldn’t be talking about this,” Ray reasons. “It’s more likely that he can just plant suggestions in our mind, or maybe push us in a certain direction.”

Emma scowls, kicking at the dirt. “But why did he put us here?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Ray tilts his head towards the sky again, squinting. “I told Gilda and Oliver that if anything happened to us within the next few days, she should be wary around Norman.”

“You suspected something would happen.”

“Norman’s been different,” Ray explains simply. “And I always take precautions. I didn’t expect for something like this to happen, though...”

Her eyes trail upwards. “So is this a dream, then?”

“I’m not sure. If so, then is there a way our minds can be linked? Assuming that you’re not a figment of my imagination, of course…”

“...I have an idea.”

He turns to face her, eyes probing but undoubtedly trusting. “How can I help?”

And it strikes Emma then that if Norman is her guard, her knight, her safety net...then Ray is her equal, her trusted confidant, her partner.

And as such, Emma doesn’t hesitate to reach over and pinch Ray’s cheek as hard as she can. The boy flinches and jumps back, nursing his cheek and demanding, “What are you doing, Emma?”

She beams, unperturbed by his animosity. “It hurts, right?”

“...it does. But that doesn’t prove anything.”

“Do you remember Minerva’s story about the butcher and the sheep?” Emma persists.

Ray pauses, undoubtedly recalling the tales they once loved (still love). Emma knows all of the stories by heart, and she has no doubt that Ray—the boy who had always spent his days seated under a tree with a book in hand—knows them better than her.

It’s one of the more eerie tales in Minerva’s book. A herd of sheep are led to believe that a mysterious shepherd is leading them to graze in a pasture, only to realize that the pasture is actually a slaughterhouse. They escape narrowly by feigning innocence and biding their time to find to exit.

The story may not have been referring to Norman specifically, but Emma’s sure that it must signify something about the demon world.

Ray must’ve come to the same conclusion that she did, for he gives her a curt nod before glancing up at the sky one last time. “Let’s explore,” he suggests, gesturing towards the direction she and Norman came from.

Emma nods, her resolve hardening. “Right.”

Though they’re both on their guard as they walk through the still bustling town, Emma can’t help but admire the color and detail of each shop. It looks similar to Goldy Pond, only it’s not a death trap.

“Or is it?” she wonders briefly in her mind, but Emma really doesn’t want to believe that Norman would send them off to their deaths with a remorseless smile.

She’s scanning the town for abnormalities but can’t find anything, and it’s starting to make her panic. What is Norman going to do? If he wages war with the demons, how many of her family members will die? Though Ray had once been the one making calculative sacrifices for the greater good, Emma doesn’t doubt that Norman would sacrifice others for his goal.

Even if they get out, how can she stop him? Will he listen to her? She still doesn’t know everything Norman and his underlings are capable of, and Emma doesn’t want to fight him. But what other solution is there? Besides, is she even in the right to demand that they establish peace with the demons?

“Emma.”

“Yeah?”

Ray gives her his signature half-smile, half-smirk and chides, “Believe in yourself a little more, yeah? We’ve been in worse situations before. Just because this is new doesn’t mean we won’t figure things out. We’ll pull through.”

And it’s just so, so funny because once upon a time, Emma had been the one who could see through Ray and cheer him up.

“It’s like our roles are reversed,” she laughs, and though she doesn’t elaborate, Ray gets it.

“Well, someone has to say it,” he replies, scowling. He’s embarrassed. “And I’m just extrapolating from our patterns so far. We’ve always made it through impossible situations, and that streak is not going to stop here.”

His words hearten her, and Emma shares a grin with him.

I can do this. We can do this.

Think...think...what have I seen that can help?

“I saw skyscrapers,” she says. “In the distance, I mean, over in the other direction.”

“...what?” Ray deadpans. “This is a small town. Skyscrapers should only be in large cities.”

She blinks, but doesn’t doubt Ray’s words. “Huh, really?”

“So this world is limited to whatever Norman knows,” Ray mutters, adopting his usual thinking position. “Let’s head there, then.”

They quickly switch directions, and Emma leads the charge, skipping along the sidewalk with a levity she shouldn’t really possess considering the circumstances. Eventually, the smaller stores grow scarce and they begin passing by taller and bigger buildings. Selecting one of the skyscrapers, Emma skids to a stop once she reaches the entrance.

She can’t help but stop to stare at her reflection in the glass door.

The girl reflected in the glass looks small and dainty in her pretty white sundress. She doesn’t look like Emma, not really, because Emma may be petite but she is a warrior.

She is a survivor.

“We need to hurry, Emma,” Ray interrupts her thoughts, pulling the door by its shiny metal handle and hustling her inside. His urgency is like a cold shower: she shakes off her contemplation and focuses on the matter at hand.

Oliver. Gilda. Don. Violet. All of her family.

There are people out there possibly counting on them.

“This way,” Ray says, glancing at a sign. Emma has to increase the length of her strides to keep up with his rapid pace. “I don’t trust the elevators. Let’s use the stairs.”

She nods firmly. “Got it.”

They throw open the door to the staircase—supposedly, there are sixty flights of stairs, according to the sign next to it. Emma hopes that they won’t have to climb all of them, but nonetheless, she doesn’t hesitate to follow Ray up the stairs.

They trudge higher and higher with little more than slightly labored breathing. This is nothing compared to their trek to Goldy Pond, after all, and there aren’t any immediate dangers impeding them, either. Emma’s lost count of how many flights they’ve climbed when suddenly Ray slams into something invisible and nearly tumbles down the stairs.

“Ray!” she squeaks, grabbing him by the scruff at the nick of time and pulling him to his feet. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Ray grins victoriously, bearing his teeth. “We finally reached it. You noticed it too, didn’t you, Emma?”

She nods, approaching the empty space where Ray had fallen cautiously. She probes the invisible wall above her head experimentally. It feels solid, but that’s about it: she can’t see it nor feel its texture. “So this is the ceiling?”

Ray joins her, examining the invisible space warily. “I guess so. We’ll need a way to break it.”

“It probably depends on the material, but we’re probably not strong enough to break it,” Emma comments thoughtfully.

Ray hurries to the side door that leads to one of the skyscraper’s floors. She follows him, and they enter a room full of cubicles yet devoid of people. It feels empty and weird. “I doubt it’s metal, though. I was keeping inventory of everything about Norman’s place.”

“What about this?” she suggests, holding up a floor lamp that feels suspiciously light in her hands.

He takes it from her and tests its weight against the invisible ceiling experimentally. “Perfect. Step back.”

“Wait.” Emma strides to the window and tries to memorize the view of the mismatched city skyline. She stares at it for a long moment, then rejoins Ray at the stairs. Her gaze is steel. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Ray nods, then darts forward and throws all his weight into slamming the floor lamp into the invisible ceiling. She sees a crack of drywall, and suddenly the illusion of the skyscraper is fading away. Ray tries again, this time hammering at the fissure in the ceiling, and his blow rings true.

Reality shatters.

The bright and brilliant colors of Norman’s carefully crafted, fake world fade away. Emma inhales a breathful of dust and begins coughing, clutching her throat as they’re enveloped by a cloud of dust and pieces of drywall rain down upon them. Her hands grasp air, grabbing around confusedly until they finally catch on fabric and relief floods her chest.

She can't see anything, but when Ray tugs on her hand and pulls her forward, she follows without hesitation. They take several steps before Ray stops abruptly and she nearly runs him over.

Slowly, thankfully, the cloud of dust subsides and her sight, blurry as it is, returns.

She and Ray are dusted in white from head to toe, but they’re undoubtedly in the same outfits they had worn in the illusory world, confirming Emma’s suspicions. Their perception was fooled and their minds duped. Norman couldn’t create a world: he could only shape one.

Ray’s holding a metal pipe instead of a floor lamp, now. It’s one of many metal pipes packed in tidy bundles and stacked on the elevated platform she and Ray standing on. They’re in some sort of large warehouse, and breaking the ceiling was enough of a shock to break the illusion.

Emma’s registering all of this as she continues coughing, but as time slowly trickles by, her coughs subside.

Ray gives her an approving nod, squeezing her hand. “Ready to go?”

She grimaces, snatching a metal pipe from the bundle. It’s nothing like her bow and arrow, but it’s better than nothing at all. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The steps creak under their weight.

As they hurry down the stairs—were there really only that many in the illusion?—she can’t help but blurt out, “I really wanted that world to be true, you know.”

“I know.” Ray glances at her. “Me too. But the die has been cast, Emma, and we’ve got to work with what we have.”

“Yeah…”

He reads her easily. “...what?”

“...we’re going to have to confront Norman, Ray. This isn’t just some...some nameless demon. This is Norman.”

They reach the bottom of the stares and make a beeline for the doors. Ray pauses, presses his ear against the door, and hesitantly pries it open. Usually, they’d be more cautious about such matters, but they have no time to waste and Emma sorely doubts that an extra twenty minutes of reconnaissance will help.

Besides, if someone had been here, they would’ve already barged in once they figure out that we broke out, she reasons.

“I know it’s Norman,” Ray says, and he clenches his fist. “So that’s why we have to think even harder to outsmart him. That guy...from what he was saying, it doesn’t sound like he’s working with the Ratri family nor the demons.”

“What if we can’t stop him?”

He locks eyes with her.

“We will.”

She takes strength in his words.

“We will,” she repeats.

[felixthekoala]

Kroojin Wedding!

ahhh the first of the nine muses to wed, I’m so proud :’)

@hey-hey-chan ily <333

(this is just a fun thing we were joking about that I decided to do bc I love weddings and I love the nine muses)

The Proposal:

Okay so Kris and Woojin were vacationing in Iceland over their anniversary

And Woojin took her to this frozen lake at night to see the aurora

Kris was like “It’s so beautiful.  I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life”

and Woojin was like “I have”

(looking at her obvs)

and then he dropped to his knee and did the whole thing 

ya know “I love you, you’re the light of my life, I want to spend the rest of my life with you” and all that jazz

and Kris was kinda speechless for a second

and then she said “yea ily2″

(obviously)

and poof they were engaged!!

The Ring:

Okay now onto the actual wedding...

Season: Winter

Ceremony: In an atrium of a luxurious hotel in Alaska

Favorite Couple Photo: in the snow outside the hotel

The Reception: In the ballroom of the hotel

Color Scheme: Navy & Silver

Song: Halo ~ Beyonce

Special Drink: Winter White Cosmo (cranberry vodka, Cointreau, lime juice & syrup, white cranberry juice)

Hair: Up-do (see photo above)

Cake: Layers of dark chocolate champagne & country spice

The Wedding Party:

The bridesmaids ( @doublekn0t @s0ftminho @straycuties @scene-stealers @realstraykids @hwangs @hyyunjinn and myself) wear these sleeveless navy blue dresses 

and the groomsmen (Chan, Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin) all wear gray suits with navy ties.

(it’s a lovely wedding party and hey everyone’s together isn’t that perfect XD)

The Menu:

Before we move on to all the interesting events, I gotta show y’all Woojin in his tux...

Okay now onto the fun stuff...

okay so the wedding ceremony itself was not super dramatic

like nothing went wrong bc nobody would mess with these fluffy bears

like the flower girl went the wrong way and Chan ended up with a basket on his head

but he and his date (Em ofc) just laughed it off and he helped the flower girl by throwing all the petals that were on him back onto the aisle

and ofc the typical Kris enters and Woojin smiles so brightly when he sees her

like “am I actually lucky enough to marry this beautiful girl”

and they exchange their vows and its beautiful

and they kiss and Jeungmin and Jeonglin pretend to be grossed out bc we’re fetuses

and Chan’s crying 

and Em’s judging Chan for crying

And Minho’s just like “yea get it Woojin!!”

and Cici just lowkey scoots away from her dork of a bf

and Changbin's trying to hide his tears

but astrella hugs him and starts crying with him

and Hyunjin’s snapping a million photos with Maria helping him

tbh he’d probs rope her into using his polaroid camera to get some artsy polaroid as well as his professional-grade photos

and haz and felix are lowkey playing footsie the entire time

and then Jicolle are trying not to laugh bc they managed to get away with coloring a small strip of Woojin’s hair neon pink when he fell asleep

okay onto the reception

so everyone’s like eating and all that and it’s super cute like woojin’s feeding Kris

and then Changbin turns to Astrella and is like “why can’t we do that?”

and she shoves an entire loaf of bread in his face

and everyone’s laughing at Changstrella and joking around and Em and Chan are making sure the chillings only drink a little alcohol (except we all know how Em would actually be *ahem*)

so Chan would probs have to subtly switch Em over to mocktails

im kidding guys Em doesn’t have a drinking problem em pls don’t kill me lol

But yea everyone would just be having a blast and cooing over the newlyweds

Minho wouldn’t stop making honeymoon jokes

Cici would tell him he’d be sleeping on the couch that night if he doesn’t stop

tbh I’m probably just stuffing my face the entire time

who am I kidding I’d be so enveloped with Jeongin like I couldn’t stop paying attention to him

except ofc to be a supportive friend to ma girl Kris who just got hitched

so after dinner the music starts so ofc Hyunia is the first to go out there and bust some moves

and soon after comes Minci who starts grinding (cici I warned you i’d make him grind in this lmao sorry but also its funny so I dont regret it XD)

Hazlix are just dabbing and doing the shoot dance until Chem drag them from the dance floor and force some chamomile tea into them

where tf they got chamomile tea idek, tbh chan probs brought a bunch of teabags for that purpose

wow I've officially turned chan into a british grandma ok

aNYway, pretty soon everyone is on the dance floor

except Jeonglin bc I refuse to dance

until the cupid shuffle comes on

then everyone (and I mean EVERYONE) is on the dance floor dancing along and Jisung and Nicolle are so hyped they go ham on the cupid shuffle

and end up causing a human domino effect

and the entire dance floor is on the ground

and they are too

but from laughing too hard

time for chem to give them a time out

so then Kroojin’s song comes on 

(halo ofc, remember the info about the wedding from like a decade ago?)

and everyone parts and stands to watch as Kris and Woojin dance along to it, beaming at each other with so much love in their eyes

oof im soft

soon other peeps join in

even Jeungmin join in being all touchy-feely for one song, and they’re like cuddling up together until Chan whips out a ruler and shoves it between them

sorry this is turning into such a crack fic oml

but yea everyone is slow dancing and it’s all nice and sweet

and Minci is lowkey making out while dancing

I’m so sorry Cici I’m making you guys so wild lmao

so the song ends and the party gets crunk again

(And I go back to my seat and shove my face with chocolate mousse

and Jeongin’s never had chocolate mousse so I’m taunting him with mine

until he finally tricks me into giving him some

sorry I just gotta add Jeongin in here more bc I love him sm

so by the time the cake’s arrived everyone’s danced up an appetite

and Hazlix just stuff their faces with cake

and Jicolle teams up with Hazlix to steal the leftover wedding cake

(don’t ask me how but they pull it off)

and manage to frame Jeungmin

so Chem is furious at Jeungmin for the rest of the night

and Kroojin is clueless bc they’re just so in love

nobody get’s blackout drunk bc Chem is there to be moms (is that foreshadowing I see for the Chem wedding where they’re too busy/distracted to monitor the chillings??? O.o)

nahhhh it couldn’t be 

so anyway the night ends too soon

bc Kroojin’s gotta hop on a plane to

SWITZERLAND!!

for skiing on the swiss alps and cuddling together by the fire with hot cocoa

and ofc they bring teddy bears

wow this was thick but if you’ve stuck it through this far first of all im impressed and secondly wtf are you doing with your life

jkjk ily for reading all of this tbh it was actually really fun!  I love weddings too much lmao I got carried away while doing this it was originally gonna be like a short bulleted list about the fun stuff that went down with the nine muses and skiz during the reception but pinterest sucked me in

anyway that’s all for tonight!  get hyped for the next wedding coming soon!

(hopefully)

[theshippigconnoisseur]

Chapter 2: Winds are a Blowinʻ

During that same morning, the anxious mug had been avoiding his Grandpa the entire time. Trying to converse simple talk such as yes, no, maybe, and ok’s whenever he did his chores.

“Mugman, can you gather the vegetables from the-“

“Already on it!” The heated mug said in haste.

Even the chores inside the house was becoming even more difficult. “Grandson, I believe there is a leak in the-“

“On it!” He scurries away in a flash.

Just doing chores got the mug all hyped up, which kind of freaked him out a little. It was like he was a bit lighter, more energized than he had before. Well whatever it is, he used it to his advantage to avoid any confrontation with his grandfather whether it was raking the leaves, watering the plants, feeding the farm animals, and etc. Anything he could get his hands on.

God he couldn’t look at him in the eye without steaming up. To a mug, or any dish for the matter, tend to show physical emotions through their body, to the cup family it was steaming up to indicate an assortment of emotions; rage, happiness, arousal, etc. He couldn’t keep himself from burning up like a steaming kettle….. Kettle… He thought dozily while raking the leaves from the back yard….. It had been getting harder throughout the day to focus when all he could think about was his grandpa’s di-

“GAAAAAAAH!!!” Shouting at nothing, hands on his head and freaking out like a maniac. “What the hell Mugman!! Whatever you’re thinking it has to stop!! This is your grandpa for god’s sake!!” He reminded himself.

“Soooooooo, got yourself into a lovers’ quarrel eh?” The mug shot out from his emotional outburst and turned towards the owner of that voice.

“Oh *sigh* it’s you…” Mugman heaved a relaxed sigh. It was psyhcarrot coming up for some water and O2 as usual.

“Ya ain’t gon’ solve anythin’ if ya keep to ya self.” He said leaning against a tree with a cig in hand.

“Easy for you to say, you plants don’t care who you produce with.” He sighed in defeat. “Let alone producing asexually.”

“Hmmm, True but I ain’t the one complaining.” He puffed out some smoke

“That’s not the point…” The distressed mug sat down on a trunk near the smoking carrot.

“Then what is Mug boy?” another Puff

“This is a relative I’m having conflicts about… You know you wanna forget about it but… your heart just won’t stop beating whenever you look at em’….*sigh* ya get what I’m saying?” He knew he shouldn’t expose who this “relative” is because of the uncertainty. But plants, including vegetables, don’t even care if they “do it” or not. At least they can have sex with their relatives…. Lucky….

The orange carrot just looked over the gloomy mug, he was really sincere about it too… Throwing down the remaining particles of his Cigar, an orange hand wrapped around the upset mug in a brotherly way. “Ya know Mug, ever since you and ya brother saved me and my veggie boys from our contracts, we’ve been grateful for that… So let ol Psych give ya a helping’ hand…”

Mugman looked up at the telekinetic vegetable. “I don’t know P.C. It’s just been difficult…. I don’t want to do something that I know it’s going to make difficult and not to mention, unexpected, changes. I just don’t know what to do…”

“Well…. For starters, ya gotta stop fearing the deep ends of the unknown and just take a dive right in. Explore the open waters, and ya might even like it. Besides, how are ya gonna know if this is something ya really want? Have ya ever been with another being before?”

“….No…” He shamefully said

“Man….really are a virgin ain’t ya?” He joked.

“Shut up” He playfully pushed him aside. They both shared a long good laugh. Psyhcarrot was one of Mugman’s closest investors. After saving him and his crew, he had been forever thankful. And in exchange, theyʻd given him a garden to produce fresh food for the cup family. The Veggie crew took care of the produce while the enthusiastic mug took care of the garden. Watering, Raking, Weeding, etc. Always something to look forward too when you see the food coming in full bloom. Seeing a beautiful variety of colors always put the mug boy at ease. Soon after, the passionate mug made a business out of the gardening. Selling fruits and vegetables to the marketplace which gave a little extra side money for the cup family. So getting some advice from another source was comforting.

“But still Muggie, As a friend, I really don’t care what ya do because as long as ya happy with the decisions that ya make… In this day and age now’s a time ta get experimental…. But my only concern is ya brother. Does he know?”

A groan emitted from the now even more depressed mug. “My brother would FREAK... If he finds out what I did or how I feel I don’t know what he’ll do or what he’ll say!!!”

“By who, pray tell, says ya can’t feel a certain way? Ya how old Mug boy?”

“….27?” he flatly stated.

“That’s basically an adult. Ya have every right to feel how ya want to feel! Ya don’t have to tell him everything. You are ya own cup”

He does have a point, Mugman stated slowly coming into realization.

“And ya brother? Does he ever tell ya what he does for a livin’?”

“No?”

“Exactly! He’s living his life the way he wants, and here ya are huffin’ and moanin’ like a little seedlin’. Grow a pair of cloves for once.” He chuckled while patting the now fully calm mugs back.

“Your right P.C.… I never thought about it….Thanks” He felt a sense of relief that someone actually cares about his wellbeing.

“No Problem…..We’ll I gotta get back underground. Too much sunlight can shrivel this carrot to a crisp.” The carrot got up from the tree.

“If ya have any problems, just send me a hoot and holler and I’ll be comin, and don’t worry about the next harvest this year. I’ll take care of it. You need to relax that brain of yours Mug Head.” He finally stated and disappeared into the ground.

“Hehe Thanks” he whispered…. “I think I’m gonna take it easy today…” He stretched and put away his gardening tools in a nearby shack.

Feel like takin a swim at the pond today, he internally thought. Even the thought of a good swim will ease his heated body. He walked a couple ways towards a bunch of trees that covered the hidden scenery. As he emerged from the other side of the bushes, he overlooked the glistening pool of clear water. Just at the right angle, the light illuminated the pond made the entire forestry look like a dream.

The sight never gets old, he sighed.

Since he didn’t want to soak his clothes. He took his time to strip any article of clothing that will prevent him from treading through the water. Now fully naked he took a big step in the pool enjoying the cool feeling touching his nerves and making its way up his heated form. A sudden jump came from the mug and he was submerged into the murky depths. Coming up for air he gave a sigh of satisfaction. “Aaaaaahh that hits the stop.” Taking in a few long strokes across the pool. He felt all satisfied. This hot steamed boy was now back to his jolly old self again. He totally forgot about everything that happened this morning. After swimming for about an hour, he climbed out of the pool all refreshed.

“I wonder what gran-“He froze. His usual line that he says to himself whenever it was dinner time. His face flushed again. Oh god I’m gonna have to face him again, his face full of dread. Reminiscing back to this morning.

“My boy, did you have a good swim?”…………….

….. Oh…. Dear….GOD!!!! The mug slowly turned toward the voice in fear.

His grandfather was there in the bushes, carrying what looks like a picnic basket.

“G-g-g-g-g-grandpa?!” He jumped hastily to his pile of clothing only to grab a shirt to cover himself.

“W-w-w-w-what are you doing here?!”

“I haven’t seen you all day I thought about having a picnic dinner with my hard working grandson.” Oh god, this was embarrassing. The mug boy turned flushed red.

There he was… in all his glory standing in front of his grandfather. How the hell was this old kettle keeping it calm and collected?

“U-um you didn’t have to come out to see me….. I was just about to head into the house.”

“Well… I’m here now. I brought the food anyway so we can just eat out here. Might as well right?”

“R-right...” He grabbed the remaining of his clothing and got dressed behind a large tree. Who knew how long his grandpa was standing there watching, furthermore it made his heart beat even faster just thinking about what his grandfather was thinking about. Deep breaths Mugman, Deep breaths.

When he walked out from behind the tree, his grandfather was already setting up the blanket next to the pond. The Mug boy, getting out of his trance, decided to lend a helping hand to his old relative. “Oh, Thank You.” He smiled.

After setting everything up, they both sat in silence enjoying the scenery and the food that came with it. “The food is delicious as always grandpa.” Mugman declared, enjoying the vegetable soup that his grandfather prepared. “It was nothing my boy, your grandma showed me how to cook. She knew I wouldn’t survive on just my inventions so she taught me how to prepare meals.” He chuckled. “I was glad that I learned from her or else you would’ve suffered from my bad cooking.” They both laughed. It was just like old times.

Grandpa always shared stories about his youth. Getting a chance to be a part of his inner circle made him sigh in relief. This was a beautiful bonding moment between the two. He knew he couldn’t just let it go. He enjoyed his company…. He may even be in lo-

“I remember when you and your brother were just youngin’s when you came to this pond.” A chuckle emitted from him “You were so scared to jump in thinking that you were going to get chased by a shark.” He took a sip of tea from his glass.

How could he ever forget? That was when Cuphead dragged him into the pool and pretended to be a shark. He knew that he didn’t know how to swim just yet until his grandfather jumped in and saved him from his “imminent demise.” He remembered those strong arms holding him in place. He remembered the warm, gentle embrace that kept him safe and protected from the outside world. Looking back at the pond that he was once so afraid of, made his eyes glitter in awe. He knew this was a very memorable occasion between the two. Still, in awe did his eyes started to well up. Lightly frosted tears slowly trickled down his cheeks. It was so long ago and why was he feeling this way right now? Did he remember how his grandpa was always there for him?

A hand wiped a tear away from his face. “What’s wrong?” The mug looked toward his grandfather, concern all over his face. “I-it’s nothing.”

“Come now, you can tell your old man.” The old kettle pats his back in comfort.

“I guess I have no other choice huh?” He chuckled wiping a tear from his other eye.

“It’s just…” He fumbled with his words. “I actually… missed having your arms around me…. W-when I was a child…” His cheeks started to show a tint of red. “I’ve kind of missed being a child and getting your attention… Now that I’m an adult I can’t receive that same treatment.” He spoke in truth. It has been awhile since he ever gotten a loving hug from him. Maybe it was just masculinity that molded him to be an adult.

“Mugman…” The elderly kettle patted his back “No matter how old you get, you should already know that my love is unconditional. If you wanted a hug from me you can always just ask. You don’t have to be afraid of me. You will and forever will be my grandson” Those words shot like cupid’s arrow through his heart.

He began to fumble with his words. “T-then is it ok to receive a h-hug from y-you now?” And with that, he felt those strong, loving arms wrap around his muscular form. A very shocked mug began to turn red. He was in his arms, those same and loving arms that he remembered from so long ago. But the warmth wasn’t the only thing, he was able to hear his grandfather’s heartbeat. It was beating fast.

Two hearts beating in rhythm due to the close contact. “It has been awhile my boy…” He softly heard a gulp. Was the elder kettle getting nervous? He wondered but snuggled deeper into his grandfather’s shirt. Taking in his scent, his body movement, everything. He felt like he could stay there for hours.

This lasted for about a good five minutes until the mug boy felt the warmth dissipate. He suddenly felt a tension and looked up to his only source of warmth. “It’s getting late my boy, we better clean this up and retire to our abode.” He smiled.

“y-yeah, ok” And with that, they began to pack everything up and returned to the windmill.

They’ve noticed a light emitted from the house, as they took a curious step into the corridor they noticed Cuphead unwrapping some boxes.

“Hey Mugs! Gramps! Where have ya been! I just got home early and I wanted to celebrate!” He carried two heavy bottles of what seems to be alcohol.

“Um what’s the occasion?” The mug boy asked. He put down the picnic basket next to the coat rack.

“What I can’t drink with my family? I just got a big pay today and I thought we should drink in merriment to my BIG RAISE!” He set down a couple of shot glasses.

Both the mug and kettle looked over at each other. “I guess one drink wouldn’t hurt right?”

The elder kettle grinned, “I wouldn’t mind one drink, it has been awhile since this ol kettle had a 40” (40 – Slang word for alcohol in the 40s’)

“Then let’s have a TOAST!” Shouted the cup boy.

End

[awakendreamersworld]

Here’s chapter 2! Maria

"Whoa!" Yelled a young siren as she was riding a dolphin through the neighborhood, obviously she didn't have control of it and just riding it like it was a rodeo. She was a 15 year old brunette girl bright amethyst eyes, small round nose, a U-shaped chin, flat cheeks and was wearing a ripped blue pageant dress. She had fins on her back like a shark, elbows and even on the sides of her tail, her tail looked like a triton but the edges were curved out and she had a small stinger right in the center. As she was trying to take control of the dolphin, the dolphin was going out of control, destroying baskets, crashing into homes, almost running into other murines, Maria was apologizing, saying "Excuse me!" or "MOVE OUT OF THE WAY!" then.... "MARIA!" Yelled her mother, Firtha, and with that yell the rampaging dolphin stopped and Maria fell off landing in the sea sand. "Hi Mama!" Said Maria with a smile trying to play off the fact that she's in trouble.... again. "Maria, where in the seven seas did you get a dolphin!?" Asked Firtha in a serious and worried tone as she shooed the dolphin away while escorting her daughter back to their home, "I, uh... well..." Maria stuttered "Maria." Firtha said sternly "You went above the depth again, didn't you?" Firtha asked, "No...?" Maria said hoping her mother wouldn't continue, but her mother is always clever and always knew. Firtha sighed, "Maria, how many times do I have to tell you? It's against the rules to go above our depth, above the sea level and above the ocean. You don't know the kinds of dangers that's up there!" Firtha warned Maria, "But Mama! I've been above the depth plenty of times! There's nothing dangerous up there!" Maria said, "And what about the sharks, hm? You don't know when one might see you and attack you! And just because you haven't seen anything dangerous yet doesn't mean there ISN'T anything dangerous up there cause there is!" Firtha said trying to explain to her daughter.

"But the 'danger' is all the way down here!" Maria argued,

"Like I said, 'that doesn't mean there isn't any up there!'" Firtha argued back,

"And exactly how far have you swam above our Abyssopelagic!?" Firtha questioned Maria

".... Above our Abyssopelagic zone." Maria said giving in

"How above, Maria?" Firtha said with another stern look

Maria sighed, "Up to the Bathypelagic Zone and almost to the Mesopelagic...? Heh..." Maria chuckled in a 'I'm so in trouble' kind of way.

"What!? You swam that far up there!? Maria, do you have any idea how many predators could've seen you!? Giant squids, octopuses, Sea Monsters, SHARKS!" Firtha yelled

"But Mama...!" Maria pleaded

"Maria! You must promise me you will NEVER swim that far above our depth again, do you understand!?" Firtha said

Maria didn't want to, but she could see the worry and fear in her mother's eyes so she sighed and said, "Yes Mama..."

Fitha kissed Maria on the head, "You know I'm only trying to protect you right? You've seen my soldiers go out there and come back with wounds only to become scars. Very, very bad and deep scars..." Firtha said,

"Yes Mama..." Maria said looking down.

Firtha looked at her daughter, lifted her head and smiled, "You know your a very brave and strong siren, right?"

"Yes Mama" Maria said,

"I just want you to be more careful, especially going above our ocean depths. The ocean may be our home, but its filled with all sort of monsters and colossal beasts!-"

"Like the Sea Emperor?" Maria asked,

"Exactly, remember the Reaper Leviathans that come here once?" Firtha reminded Maria,

"Yeah?" Maria said

"That's why we remain down here with the emperor, she protects us and we protect her." Firtha smiled and put her hand on Maria's cheek "And she doesn't have that long to live so... we need to be prepared and ready for anything." Maria nodded and Firtha Kissed her on the head and sent her to bed to get ready for school in the morning. The next day Firtha got her crab shell armor prepared for the day and went to wake up Maria for her first day of soldier training school. "Maria, sweetie, its time for school, get up!" She said trying to shake her sleeping daughter up, "Ugh... Mama... its too early!" Maria complained "Exactly! We soldiers always have to be prepared early, plus your gonna meet some new friends!" Firtha said trying to excite her sleepy daughter. Maria sighed and got up and got dressed wearing her ripped up backless blue pageant dress and put a sea star in her hair and swam with her mother to her school. Once there, Firtha had to leave Maria for her duties, "Your not coming with me?" Maria said a bit nervous "Don't be scared, Maria. It'll be okay, I promise!" Firtha said trying to calm Maria, "Okay..." Maria said and her mother gave her a kiss on the cheek goodbye and left. Maria swam towards the rest of the class of girls and boys almost her age, younger and older, staring at the director waiting for him to give directions. "Hello, students! My name is Mr. Powell and I will be teaching you how to be our homes new protectors! But first, we have a new student who's here to join us today!" Mr. Powell said pointing to Maria to come up in front of the class and introduce herself. He was tall, had a mustache and wore big round glasses, he had a bald round head and a round belly as if he was pregnant. Maria was nervous, but went up anyways to introduce herself,

"Uhh... Hi, my name is Maria Rose." Maria said,

And the class all in unison said, "Hello, Maria!" and so did the teacher, "Hello. Maria! And welcome to our training school! Why don't you tell us about yourself? Any other family members you have that you would like to share to the class?" Mr. Powell Said,

"Um, well, there's my mother! Her name's Firtha and she's the guardian protector of the Sea Emperor and our home!" Maria said.

The class was in shock and started whispering to one another. "Wow, really!? What's she like? Is she really strong and able to take out sharks!?" Said one siren, "Did she actually kill that one shark through the eye the other day!?" Said another,

"All right! All Right! Settle down students!" Mr. Powell shouted and everyone silenced. "Well, Your mother sure is special, kiddo!" He said,

"Yeah, she sure is!" Maria said laughing,

"Okay, Everyone! Follow me!" Mr. Powell said and everyone started following him to a field with puppet sharks, they looked kind of real but with stitches and missing body parts, like they were zombies, they also had fake spears and armor, and fake bow and arrows.

"Okay class! Today we're gonna learn how to save a siren in trouble! Grab your spears and bows and arrows!" He said and everyone grabbed what they needed. "Okay class! I need a volunteer to be the Murine in danger, and one to be the defender! Emily! You be the Murine in danger!" Mr. Powell said. A young Murine came up and stood next to the teacher, she looked like she was Maria's age, and her hair was in a ponytail with bangs in front of her forehead and wore a jellyfish dress, she had two different eye colors though, one amethyst and one sapphire blue. That was weird, Maria had never seen a siren with different color eyes before, maybe she has an eye infection? "Now, I need a volunteer to be the protector!" Mr. Powell said, the started going "Oh! Me me me!" raising their hands, "Ok, ok! How about... Maria! Your new here so why don't we see what you got, hmm?" Mr. Powell said with a smile "Um, Ok?" Maria said nervously, and shyly went up and grabbed a fake weapon then went back next to the teacher and Emily, "Ok, now Emily, I'm going to grab one of these fake sharks and what I need you to do is lay on the ground and act scared and Maria will come and rescue you while attacking the shark, okay?" "Ok..." She said and went the ground putting her hand up in pretend fear while Mr. Powell started moving the fake shark. "Ok Maria, Now what I want you to do is to attack and destroy the shark puppet, don't worry, we have extras." He said, "Okay..." Maria said nervously, she remembers how her mother attacks and defends herself so she guessed that she'll use those to her advantage. The teacher then started to control the shark puppet making it look like it was going to attack with its mouth wide open with teeth getting ready to bite into Emily's flesh, Maria then dashed in front of the puppet shark and raised her spear then brought it down through its head where it came back out through the bottom of its jaw. "Wow! Excellent job, Maria!" Mr. Powell said cheerfully, Maria smiled and helped Emily up "You okay?" Maria asked "Yeah, I'm fine" Emily said with a small smile. The other students crowded around Maria cheering for her and chanting her name "Okay kiddos! Break time, go on and play!" The class cheered and rushed to the playground.

While everyone was heading towards the playground area, Emily stopped Maria to properly introduced herself, "Hi Maria! I know we've already met but I want to introduce myself better than back there, My name is Emily Stein!" She said sticking her hand out for Maria to shake, "Uh, hey Emily, are these three your other friends?" Maria asked as she pointed out the other three girls behind Emily. "Yes they are! This is Bianca Willow, Stacy lin and Alice Wimble! We've been friends since little fish school." Emily said introducing Maria to more friends. They all went and sat at a bench and talked, mostly about Maria's mother and how their big fans of her,

"Hey Emily." Maria said

"Hm?" Said Emily

"How do you have different color eyes? That's pretty cool!" Maria said amazed and interested, "Oh, um... I'm a hybrid" Emily said.

"What!? Really? Of what!?" Maria asked

"My dad is a Murine like us, but my mother is a Dorm Siren... We visit her sometimes so-" Emily began but was interrupted by Maria's excitement

"SO YOU GET TO GO ACROSS KINGDOMS!? ABOVE OUR DEPTHS!?" Maria shouted in excitement. This really was amazing to her! She thought that with Emily's help she might get to journey more across the ocean and some new things!

"Uhh, yeah?" Emily said

"This is amazing! When do you visit her? Can I come?" Maria asked just overjoyed

"Uhh, after the defender trials. I'd say sure but, what about your mother? I heard she can be very serious." Emily said with worry

"Don't worry about my mom! I'm sure she'll say yes!" Maria said overconfidently

When school was over, Maria went back home and told her mother about her new friends and asked if she could join one of their trips across the ocean. "No." Firtha said, "WHAT!? But-!" Maria began "Sweetie, I'm happy you've found new friends but you can't just jump into another's trip without taking precaution!" Firtha said with worry, "But I'm asking for you permission like I'm supposed to right?" Maria said hoping her mom would still agree "Yes, and I said 'no,' no means no, Maria." Firtha said, "UGH!" Maria angrily sighed and crossed her arms. Firtha sighed, "Maria, dear, I would love for you to see the entire ocean, even the surface! But its too dangerous, Mio Cara!" \\Italian meaning: My love/Darling// Firtha said trying to lift Maria's head to face her "Besides, we have the defender trials coming up so I'm pretty sure the trip would just be cancelled." She said trying to get Maria to understand "What's the defender trials?" Maria asked, "Well, since the Emperor's time is coming soon, she's set up a task for the chosen sirens to do in order for them to hatch her young, then her young will be the new Emperors to protect us and-" "Wait, the Sea Emperor is dying!?" Maria yelled, "Yes, she is, but her children will go through a portal to grow up and learn, but its a time portal! For them, it'll give them all the time they need and when their done they'll come back and stand in their mother's throne and it'll be their turn to defend us!" Firtha carried on hoping it would make her daughter change her mind about the dangerous trip "And how long will it take for us when they come back?" Maria asked "About a few minutes, but for now we need to be careful and prepared." Firtha said kissing her daughter on the forehead and sending her to bed.

Maria sighed, she couldn't help but think about how fun her friend's trip is going to be without her, so she came up with an idea. 'After all, Emily DID say that her trip would start AFTER the trials!' Maria thought.

Chapters: Chapter 1

[onyxiana-is-obsessed]

Happy Birthday, Sho | Shouto Todoroki x Reader

AN: Ok, I posted this on his birthday but on my Wattpad instead, so I’m technically not late! Length: 1.9k words Pronouns used: She/her

Tags: @beththedemonhunter​ @sweetlikepeppermints​ @pandoraandink​

Summary: It’s Todoroki’s birthday and you are determined to give him a gift and confess, but how can you? You barely talk to him. You can still give him a gift though.

Full Name: (y/f/n) Quirk: (y/q) Age: 15

(f/n) entered the common room, where most of class 1-A was gathered. She shuffled closer to them, making them look up at her in horror.

"Oh! Damn it (l/n), we thought you were Todoroki." Mina whined, making the girl shrug.

"What's going on?" She asked, walking towards the huddle and sitting down on the floor next to Tokoyami and Kaminari.

"It's Todoroki's birthday, and we're just thinking about what to get him!" Midoriya commented making the girl smile and nod.

"Oh, I didn't know. What do you have in mind so far?" Ok, that was a lie. Of course, (f/n) knew when his birthday was, she was practically in love with him. She couldn't let anyone else know though, so she kept it to herself. No one, not even her best friend, (class 1-a girl that's your bff), knew. On top of that, (f/n) always tried to keep her distance from Todoroki, so no one would find out.

So far, it was working perfectly. No one suspected a thing. But that was another problem, there was no way Todoroki liked her back. The two kept their relationship strictly formal. Meaning, they didn't hang out, they barely talked outside of school, and if they did, it was always related to school or training. That didn't stop (f/n)'s heart from soaring every time the two talked.

Now, (f/n) already had a present prepared for Todoroki. She found it about two weeks ago and kept it well hidden in her room. The only problem was, now was the day to give it to him. She wondered whether she should leave it outside of his dorm or give it to him in person. Maybe lie and say someone wanted to give it to him and then hand it to him? She would become so nervous just thinking about it.

"What do you plan on getting him, (l/n)?" Hagakure asked, making everyone look at the (h/c) haired girl.

"Oh, I'm not sure. I didn't even know it was his birthday today." (f/n) answered sheepishly. She was a good liar, thank goodness for that. Sure, quite a few girls would agree and say Todoroki was quite attractive and he was strong, also the son of the number 1 hero! But that's why (f/n) kept her distance. He was... too good for her. His father was a hero, he was destined to be a hero, he was rich, attractive, powerful... he was miles out of her league. Yet here she was, crushing on him.

"Maybe we should all go to the mall to look for something!"

"You guys can go, I already have something." Momo smiled, with a couple agreeing with her.

"Should we throw a party?" Kaminari asked.

"Oh! That's a great idea, dude!" Kirishima answered.

"W-wait! Does he even like parties?" Midoriya asked, raising his hands to calm down the group that was starting to get excited. "He seems pretty reserved, so a party wouldn't be the best idea."

"Why don't we just get him a cake? No need for a big celebration but still a celebration!" Uraraka smiled. That was the idea. Everyone had a job to do, minus a few students who didn't want to. Uraraka and Midoriya were getting the cake, Mineta, Kaminari, and Sero were getting snacks, Hagakure, Jiro, Momo, and Mina were going to set up decorations, and everyone else was free to go buy their presents if they already didn't have one.

With the exception of Aoyama and Kirishima, who were tasked with taking Todoroki for a "walk", keeping him distracted for the day at least.

(f/n) smiled a little as she watched her friends plan. It would still end up turning into a big celebration, but... maybe he'll like it.

~**~

(f/n) pretended to go to the mall so she could find the gift she already purchased. This just let her walk around the mall until she could come to a decision about how she was going to give Todoroki her gift. Since she was too shy, she decided to leave it at his door. During the little party, she could slip away, find her gift, and place it at his door. No need to leave her name on it or anything.

During her little walk, she'd gotten a text from Midoriya telling her everything was ready and that since she was still out, to go get Todoroki. She was told to meet up with Aoyama and Kirishima at the park, which was nearby.

Once she did, the four walked around for a few minutes, before (f/n) suggested they go back to the dorms to get something to eat. A rather weak excuse, but it worked nonetheless.

The group walked into the common room, making Todoroki freeze as he saw everyone standing there. The room was lined with streamers, there was a banner in the back, balloons, and whatnot.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TODOROKI!" They exclaimed. His shock slowly melted into a small smile.

"Y-you all remembered?"

"Of course! Come! Look at your cake!" Mina cheered, making the others nod with excitement. He slowly approached, with Kirishima, Aoyama, and (f/n) following.

"Thank you, everyone. This... is wonderful."

Thus, began the "small" celebration. Todoroki's gifts were piled up on the table, he had the choice of opening them in his dorm or right there. He chose to open them all in his dorm, which is where (f/n) was volunteered to help carry all of this presents back with him. She nodded, trying to hide her panic. Her gift... was just sitting at his door. HE'D SEE IT WITH HER!

She had to physically tell herself to calm down. When they'd go up there, she'd just pretend like it wasn't hers.

The party was actually fun. The class watched a few movies, they had a little dance party, they even played some board games, and everyone enjoyed the cake and snacks. This was the only time (f/n) and Todoroki got to talk to each other, without school being the topic.

"How are you liking your party, birthday boy?" (f/n) asked, approaching the male.

"It's fun. I'm having a lot of fun. Thank you, all of you." (f/n) shrugged and responded with a smile.

"Eh, it was mostly their idea. I think they did a great job." She was a mystery to Todoroki. He knew there was more to this girl than her kind and nonchalant attitude. (f/n) was the one person, he just couldn't figure out.

The thing was, Todoroki liked her. Of course, at first, it was mostly because of her looks. It didn't go much further than that, because he never got the chance to get to know the girl. She would usually keep her private things... well private, and only talking about school with him. He noted, every single conversation of theirs was always related to school or training. At first, he thought it was just a silly little crush, but he was wrong. Dead wrong.

Sure, their conversations weren't deep, not in the slightest, but he liked this surface attitude he saw. (F/n) was a nice girl, always willing to talk with someone, a good shoulder to lean on, and a very talented hero-in-training.

Todoroki knew some of (f/n)'s favorites from the time they spent in class and then in their dorm life. For example, her favorite color was (f/c), her favorite movie was (f/m), her favorite song (or at least one she really liked because she would always sing it) was (f/s), but that was it.

That didn't stop his heart from still wanting her.

So this was the perfect chance, they were partially alone, they were talking about something other than school, and well...

He blew it.

Not in the sense where he offended her, he just couldn't do it. Sure, Todoroki liked her (yeah, it's more than like but whatever), but with the way she acted towards him, that didn't mean she liked him. (f/n) kept her distance for a reason, so there was no way he was just going to come onto her, when she was clearly not interested.

~**~

The party was over, everyone had a great time and they were cleaning up. Although they wanted to leave it for the next day, they knew Aizawa would have their heads. Once cleaned up, both Todoroki and (f/n) were given a basket, where the two collected his gifts and carried it to his dorm.

"You know, they said they didn't want a big celebration," (f/n) giggled, recalling Uraraka's words. "Seems like they changed their minds."

"I loved it, it was probably the best birthday, no doubt," Todoroki responded as they approached his door. Here it was, (f/n) needed to pretend! "What's that?"

"Oh, it looks like someone left you a present here." (f/n) picked it up and placed it in her basket. "Maybe they were too shy, in case you chose to open it downstairs?"

"Maybe." Todoroki opened his door and both of them walked in. (f/n) placed her basket down and looked at Todoroki.

"Good night. I'm glad you enjoyed the party." He nodded with a smile.

"Thank you, again." With that, (f/n) left, frowning at herself for being so weak and not telling him the truth.

~**~

Todoroki slowly went through the gifts, loving every single one. Even Bakugou got him one, which was beyond surprising. His hand finally reached for the last one, the one that sat on his door.

His hand gently slid over the (small/average/large) box, his fingers tangling themselves with the pretty (f/c) bow. What could it be?

He slowly unwrapped it, a smile gracing his features when he saw what it was. It was (insert a present you got for him). Along with it, was a note. He picked it up, his eyes reading each and every single word.

It was a love letter, it was a confession!

And he knew exactly who it was. He recognized that handwriting anywhere. It was the way some of her letters curled, the way they connected, they were special. (f/n)... she was in love with him?

Todoroki stood up, dashing out of his room and sprinting to (f/n)'s dorm. She felt the same way... she felt the same way for him.

Damn! She was good at hiding it, because even someone like him couldn't tell. He was pretty observant and he still couldn't tell she liked him.

He finally reached her dorm, taking a moment to catch his breath before he knocked on the door. He heard some shuffling before the door opened to reveal the beautiful girl.

"Hey, Tod-" Before she could finish, he'd leaned in and captured her lips with his own. Only then did panic set in, what if... what if he got the note wrong?! What if it was someone else and he'd just kissed someone WITHOUT PERMISSION?! Todoroki felt (f/n) tense, sending his anxiety flying through the roof. Which was then followed by his heart when she melted against him, returning the kiss.

The two pulled apart, cheeks red, and partially out of breath. Their gazes met and they smiled at each other.

"Thank you, for the best birthday gift, (f/n)."

"Happy birthday, Shoto."

[mintyvan]

roadtrip

This is going to be a multi-chaptered fic based on a few prompts I’ve received:

“one where Van helps you pick a college even though he isn't going?”

“im english but ive always wanted to go on a roadtrip in the states like in the movies. could you write van driving you around on a roadtrip one summer?”

“could you write van with a girl who he’s broken up with before but still loves but the girl is trying to get revenge on him but ends up falling in love with him again”

Note: I was inspired to have a go at third person point of view because of @vanfic‘s writing style - go check her out! She’s amazing! 

I hope this satisfies everyone’s desire for some good old fashioned roadtrip fun.

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PART ONE of SEVEN

It's evening when she and Van load the car.

She doesn't ask why. Most people leave in the morning, because it makes sense, because they’re awake then and the world is new and waiting in the horizon. He says he's slept all day but she rather thinks it's because he likes driving at sunset, in the evening cool.

It is June on the east coast.... small insects slapping the windshield in the indigo twilight, the thin, chilly air flowing over her arm as it hangs out the open window, dancing, curving over the airwaves.

She throws her two duffel bags in the trunk, standing there in the pale gloom, framed by the brilliant dark blue sky, arms and legs at all angles tracing her silhouette in black. Her hair has grown dark and long, messy, and the summer sun has brought the first freckles onto her face. Van hauls one last duffel into the backseat which she recognizes as the CDs, stands back, rubs his hands and looks at her.

"Ready?"

"One minute."

She runs towards the porch where the still form of her mother is standing, holding a tea mug, with big, watery eyes and thin lips. Her face is uncertain and yet resigned, worried. The girl hugs the older woman, whispering to her earnestly, reassuring, comforting. They hang on tight to each other, as though they know after this things will be different. The move to the states was the first sign that their lives were about to change.

"So, write me a postcard from each college, ok? And none of that Tom Green road trip stuff," says the older woman. She nods.

She runs towards the car without looking back, slamming the heavy, rusty door. She looks at her mother through the window, very serious, very pale, hopeful, scared.

They wave as the gravel spits behind the car, raising up a cloud of dust which lingers after they're gone, and to the woman on the porch, it looks like a ghost.

They are floating down the highway in the darkening evening light, mauves and aquas and navy blue surrounding them like a painting full of living shadows. The forests line the highway, the old trees of this new, mysterious land that the world discovered and which became a flawed utopia. The car is racing down the winding gray line which takes them further and further into the night.

She props her feet up on the dashboard, moving her toes to the beat which the air snatches and carries out the windows. Her hair sticks to her lips and snakes around her throat, floating around her head as though she were underwater. Her strange brown eyes glisten darkly like the evening above her cheeks. The air around them is warm, but begins to chill after a while, and she wraps one of his old ratty sweaters around her shoulders and studies her long, knobby legs as they stretch out before her, toes pressed against the windshield. She pretends Van is a random boy, looking at him sideways, letting her imagination wander.

The boy is her age, pale and Irish looking, with thick, sandy hair and a mouth permanently dimpled by too many laughs. He has cheekbones and a good body, and he knows this is his advantage; he is aware that he is capable of many things, and he's good with his hands. For these reasons he believes his future to be as secure as it will be uncertain and ever changing. Sometimes he looks at the girl beside him as though he cannot believe she is really there, cautiously, like a person who is used to having all that is good taken away. Out of fear and respect, he does not take his shirt off as he drives.

They are grungy, careless, clean, for now anyway. She picks at the fringe of her cutoff shorts and nestles into the ratty sweater, flipping radio stations as it becomes deep night outside. At midnight she is hungry.

"When did you eat last?" he asks, cautiously. He still doesn’t know if she knows how he feels.

"If you knew me well you would know that doesn’t matter," she replies, offended at his parental inquiry.

"I don't think I do." They both know this is true. It rests between them like a silent creature sitting in the backseat, waiting to bare its teeth.

"Satisfy my curiosity," he sighs.

"I ate a little while ago. Are we stopping?"

He pulls into a roadside exit. They drive slowly down a small street, and stop at a flickering neon sign that says Blue Pl te Spec al.

"Very local color,” he joked.

"Synonymous with health sanctioned,” she said, tone stern.

"Mmm." He opens the door for her, and she is inwardly surprised but is too well-bred to show it.

It is an average greasy spoon, small, with bad music, and cracked red vinyl booths which scratch her bare legs. There is the shine of dull metal, worn countertops, and the smell of frying in the air along with cigarette smoke. She scrunches up her nose as he inhales deeply and this means something to her.

A thick woman with panty hose, socks and sneakers sporting a checkered apron comes over to their table. Her blonde hair has almost black roots, and her mouth is lined sharply in mauve, then frosted over. She looks as tired as the makeup creeping into her wrinkles. She snaps her gum loudly.

"What'll it be to drink?"

They look at each other.

"Tea."

Snap, snap. Scribble.

"And eats?"

They quickly look at the menu, and stall a little.

"Burger and chips," she says calmly. “Ah - fries.”

"Grilled cheese. And uh, onion rings. You know what? Never mind, I'll take the tuna melt," Van says.

The waitress cocks an eyebrow. "Uh, hello, Three to Tango."

"Make that grilled cheese again," he quickly backtracks.

The waitress gives him a dirty look, scratching out and scribbling again. Snap, snap.

"That all, you Brits?"

"Cherry pie," she adds, unfolding her utensils and scrupulously examining them for stains under the low hanging lamp.

A very irritated snap, snap, and another look. They watch her heavy rear depart.

She blows on the knife, and then quickly rubs it with a napkin, holding it up to the light again.

"I'll be surprised if we don't find human matter in our food. Maybe a big old hair. Maybe they save tapeworms for people like us," Van comments, a small smile on his lips as she sighs and puts her silverware down.

"It's part of the adventure."

"Food poisoning?" he laughs.

"The risk, oh doubter you. Where's your joie de vivre? You're supposed to be the Clyde to my Bonnie, the Thelma to my Louise. This is like that movie where the college kids go on a road trip, without us exactly hating each other."

"That movie was terrible. I can definitely do without having a guy sexually assault me,” Van says, biting into his grilled cheese, not realizing how insensitive he sounded. She knew how he could get sometimes. “But I bet I'd be good at that convenience store robbin’ thing."

"Yeah I bet," she snorts. "You can be the Anson to my Britney. But then I'd have to hate myself."

"So would I. But if we were to follow the movie, we should have sex first."

He notices her silence and red blush, and decides to be more careful in the future.

"Sorry."

"What for?" She quickly retorts. Silence. She takes a quick breath and starts talking quickly to fill up the space. "Are you vegetarian? You ordered grilled cheese, and I didn't know, so I didn't want to offend you, you know, be the bloody cow killer eating it right in front of you like a carnivorous, voracious beast...thing...."

He let her quick, embarrassed change in subject slide, amused by her rambling.

"No. But Helga there wasn't looking too friendly, and cheese is safer. This kind of place I never order meat if the waitress is pissed at me."

"What worldly wisdom."

"That's me, the debonaire blue collar Joe GQ. Should I ask how their wine selection is here?" Van clinked his fork against his tea mug, making a shrill noise bound to irritate the waitress further. Mischievous.

She played along. "I think your choices are Bud Light, Natty Light, Miller, and some of that stuff Billy Bubba brewed in his backyard last week."

The rest of the food arrived, thin, grease-spotted paper lining the baskets, a chip in her ceramic plate. She looks at her burger dubiously.

"Where's your joie de vivre?" he sneers.

Bravely, she picks it up with both hands and takes a big bite, smiling a wobbly smile as she chews fast. She swallows and smiles proudly.

"I think there's a fingernail in it," he says gravely, and points.

She’s deathly scared and stares at her burger in horrified fascination, but the blood rushes back to her cheeks as she hears him chuckle.

"Very funny, asshole."

Pushing her burger aside, she stuffs fries into her mouth.

"Whoa there, remember to breathe," Van grins, biting an onion ring.

She makes a face at him and keeps chewing. Her borrowed sweater has slipped off one shoulder, the lamplight casting small shadows into the hollows of her neck. His eyes are fixed on her, thoughtful. She bugs out her eyeballs at him sarcastically, and he realizes he's staring and quickly looks away.

"Have you never seen someone eat before?" she says, downright hostile.

"You eat like a prisoner of war set loose in a buffet."

"And you eat like Larry."

"Now that was not nice," he frowns, inspecting his sandwich. "I have not opened the sandwich and written my name on the cheese with little pepper dots."

She pours on ketchup obstinately.

They finish, picking at crumbs on the cherry pie, and Van wonders how long they can go before their history will all come out into the open, filling the air with poison and setting them both aflame. He absently thinks about how he will explain himself, and if she will understand.

"You can have the last piece," she smiles, mellow, pushing the plate towards him.

Van toys with it. "I wonder if you'll still say that when the shit hits the fan."

She stiffens, but does not respond, and suddenly he knows she was thinking the same thing as he was.

They stare at each other nervously.

"Check," interrupts a loud voice, and breaks the spell. Grateful, they mutter, and take the paper from the waitress, who rolls her eyes and departs.

They are on the road again, driving, changing places, stopping at four in the morning.

"Take this exit," she commands sleepily.

They find themselves in a small residential town full of matching suburbs and fast food restaurants; taking care to write down the roads, they wander into a quiet little neighborhood and park under a big oak, turning off the lights.

"What are we doing?" she mumbles, opening her eyes.

"Saving money."

"Okay, not a good idea. I don't know if you ever heard that story about the guy with the hook and the girl and guy in the car and how he comes up and opens your door. This isn't Elm Street is it? Cause if you don't like nightmares-"

"Get in the back."

She is too tired to complain further.

"I hope the hook guy kills you first so I can at least watch before I die and be satisfied," she says, and promptly falls asleep, breathing heavily.

Van stretches out on the bench seat in the front, locking the doors with his long fingers, and that is how they are found in the morning when the little girl in the pink dress taps on the windshield.

They pull out of the neighborhood, tires screeching, Van cackling, leaving a very surprised little girl on her lawn staring.

She awkwardly crawls into the front seat, and he unashamedly checks out her legs as she does so. She is warm, mellow, half-awake and shivering from the cool morning air. She tucks her legs under herself and drops back the front seat, ignoring the seat belt. Her lips have a secret smile on them, small and hidden, as though she is having a dirty dream. He smirks, thinking this to himself.

They are driving fast in the early morning, blinding sunlight high above them, air warming fast; she wakes up and grabs a book, and insists on stopping in another town that has a Wal-Mart.

"What the hell for?" he counters.

"Because."

"Natalie Portman had a baby in one,” he announced.

"Ok, now the valid reason. And I hope you know she didn't really have a baby. It was just a movie. We can't eat out every meal; we'll run out of money quick. We stop, get a jar of peanut butter, some bread, baby wipes, microwaveable pizzas, a pack of diapers, you know," she says lightly.

"No, I really don't. First, thawed pizza is about as edible as the seat you are sitting on."

"Wrap it up in tinfoil and stick it under the hood while we drive."

"I'm assuming this works with burritos, baked potatoes, filet mignon, maybe a souffle....." he trails off. She continues.

"Baby wipes for cleaning. I did bring toilet paper."

"Good, then we don't need the diapers now."

"Ugh, Van, the diapers are for bathing. You soak one in water and then use it to wash your whole self off. None of that nasty sponge bacteria. You get a big pack cheap."

"The amazing Y/N and her lists," he grins, forgetting his annoyance. "We could stick one on the radiator too if it starts leaking."

"Yeah! Or use one to clean the windshield!"

"Or strap one on you so we won't have to stop for restroom breaks until we hit Maryland!"

"You're pushing it, Van," she scowls.

"You're the diaper enthusiast."

They stop in front of the Wal-Mart and park. The sun has grown glaring hot, reflecting off the gray cement. When they enter the dark lobby, he sees the strange grin on her face at the hilarity of their list of items. She looks over at a stand of fruit and groans before the words even come out of his mouth.

"Van, get away from the bananas." He’s shocked, but knows they’ll go bad easily in the hot car.

"Fine."

They wander around, reveling in the cool air conditioning; they pile stuff onto her mom’s credit card, not thinking too logically. They are enjoying this too much, this random impulse spending. He buys a pack of undershirts, she gets a headband with bunny ears on it, they throw in a nerf football, a pair of cheap flip flops, a glittery sequined thong which she keeps throwing out and he keeps throwing back in. He momentarily strays to grab some Doritos, and when he returns to the frozen food aisle, he is momentarily struck still.

She is pressed against an open door, clouds of freezing steam floating out around her, turning her cheeks pink; strands of damp hair stick to her neck and shoulders. Her eyes are closed, breathing in the chilly air, her shoulder fogging up the glass, and she's rubbing a packet of frozen french fries on the back of her neck.

"Y/N."

She quickly looks up, caught, quickly throwing back the french fries, letting the door fall shut.

"What the hell were you doing?"

"Just.....chillin'...."

They both groan. She can't help giggling at her own corniness.

"I can't let you out of my sight for a minute and you're getting intimate with some french fries?" he quipped.

"Ok, it's really hot out there. I was sweating in the car."

"Get a cooler," he commands, turning the cart around.

"What?"

"A cooler. We'll get a bag of ice and use it in the car. I drove like that ‘cross country last summer when we had that fuckin’ heat wave, remember? Hate that all our buildings are insulated to keep heat in."

She looks at him, horrified.

"Are you saying the air conditioning’s broken in your car?"

"Not saying no," he said as he walked faster, trying to steer the cart away from her as she picked up speed in nervousness.

"God!"

"Are you allergic to hot air?"

"I'm allergic to you!" she snaps, and stomps down the aisle, peevishly throwing in a carton of ice cream.

He's a little surprised at her outburst, but not angry. He can understand. Things will be this way until they really talk about what has happened, and he knows it will not be easy. But they are both here right now, pretending everything is fine.

They stand next to each other in line silently.

"Will it make you feel better if I throw out the glitter thong?"

"Yes."

The first fight is resolved, and as a peace offering, she throws some mint Lifesavers in the cart. He knows this is potentially very meaningful. You don't need mint Lifesavers if you're around someone you hate. You can just let them suffer from your dragon breath. But she put them in the cart; it means she is no longer irritated. This is how he establishes that self-sacrifice is a good method of keeping her happy, and then he knows he should have done this last fall, when all the bad things happened.

They drive across New York, stop at Columbia University, and Maryland, then Washington for a night to see Georgetown U. They are walking in the evening, because she wanted to buy something pretty, and he wanted to see the house where the Exorcist was filmed. Later, they sit on the edge of the Reflecting Pool under the purple night sky, shaded by the orange streetlights. They eat Indian food in take-out containers, danging their feet and talking about things that flow into each other smoothly like seconds flow into time.

"Nothing fabulous so far."

"Dunno why you're looking. You've already sold your soul to Yale," he mutters into his curry.

"Oh c'mon. My mom is leaving for her two weeks of honeymoon with Jeff. You��re on a trip in a completely new country as my friend helping me decide what college to go to. We have nothing to do. Pretext is the vocab word for the day."

"Kind of a dastardly situation, love. What the hell were we supposed to do back home?"

"Nothing. By the way, we should have bought some plug in Glade. We'll smell like Indian food for a few days." She shrugs, watching the lights shimmering darkly in the reflecting pool. The shadows flicker on their faces in the warm night air, thick with city sound, streetlight, and the salty smell of the Potomac.

"It shouldn't matter if we never fall in love with each other," she says thoughtfully, sending a sort of queer stab through him.

"Yeah."

The wind ruffles her hair, drawing it in lines above her eyes, painting it in streaks glinting below her eyes. Small, white teeth peep from between her chapped lips; she is smiling.

"What are you smiling  for?" he asks, strangely sad.

"Nothing. It's just a beautiful night and we're getting along and I....just feel nice. This is nice."

It is then that Van realizes it will be a long time before she forgives him, because it is her turn to torture him now, her turn to make him hurt as he had hurt her.

She leans back, grinning, and he smiles sadly.

"Yeah, this is nice."

So they drive this way: all windows down, bag of ice between them on the floor. The wind flings their hair everywhere, they put ice down their shirts, they eat it, rub it over themselves while they drive to keep reasonably cool. They are damp, minimally clad, overheated. He has given up on the shirt; she does not seem to be offended, only jealous. They have a larger collection of bugs on their grill than the Smithsonian. The backseat floor is littered with junk food wrappers, soda cans, diapers they have filled with ice and used as neck-rests, and half a million empty coffee cups. The ash-tray is brimming, discarded dirty clothes have made a pile behind Van's seat and the windshield is covered with her toe-prints.

He points this out to her, and she shrugs.

"It's part of the roadtrip magic."

"It's disgusting. Something's starting to smell," he says pointedly.

"Maybe it's you."

"Very mature, babe. Maybe it's that half a peanut butter jelly sandwich you dropped between the seats two days ago."

"Maybe."

"I suggest it's time for a rest station stop." He asks her to look at the map they’ve brought along. They were intent on conserving phone battery for emergencies.

"Ooh, can I buy one of those Virginia Is For Lovers mugs?"

He ignores her hidden stab that goes deeper than she knows.

"You can buy whatever. When we run out of money, you'll be the one who has to dance on tables just to get enough gas to get to the next county."

"Only if you can sing me the entire Wyclef's Strippers Anthem," she scowls, scratching her neck.

"Sorry. But remember, it don't make her a ho, no."

"I am not dancing for money."

"Neither am I."

"So.......what are we gonna do? Sell our hair? Donate a kidney or some blood? Wash dishes for a few days?"

"Rest station stop."

They pull over, and he puts the trash in the garbage, the dirty clothes in a bag and empties out the ashes. He stocks up on some cigarettes while she eats a popsicle that turns her lips blue as she washes the windshield. Her legs are getting a few shades darker, her shorts are getting rattier, her black tank top sticks to her ribs while her arms vigorously scrub the windshield. She's cracking out of her mold, like a damp butterfly struggling to open her wings, hair fluttering in the humid breeze. She's a little more brash than the innocent girl he'd found almost two years ago.....a little more conscious of her own power.

Every twitch of her toes moves a muscle in her thigh that he finds starts a pulse in him; every yawn and stretch shows a sharp hip-bone in the low, loose waist of her shorts or an innocent strip of cotton. Every time she sleeps her mouth falls slightly open. Yet she never acknowledges it. Sometimes she makes him physically uncomfortable, but never seems to notice his tense, thin, drawn lips or clenched fingers. He struggles just not to touch the freckles on her shoulder while she sleeps; to stare straight ahead is supreme control.

// Part 2 is here! //