#This feels like a very Hange thing to think about

[iamyouknow-yours]

This reminds me of the work my OT had me do.

There are 5 types of energy that you use doing stuff - physical, cognitive, emotional, social, and sensory. Some activities use more than one type.

And 7 types of rest/rejuvenation - physical, cognitive, emotional, social, sensory, spiritual, and creative. Some types of rest use another type of energy. You don't need all of these every day but it's good to keep in mind you need these sometimes. Often I default to just doing physical rest and then I'm like why am I feeling down and low energy and sad?

Here are some ideas of the types of things I do to rest myself in different ways:

Physical - lying down, doing yoga, exercising, sleep, going for a walk, sitting outside (in the sun or at night and looking at the stars), dancing, eating food I enjoy

Cognitive - doing something mindless eg unpacking the dishwasher, rewatching/rereading something I love, lying down without doing anything, watching something mindless and non-academic and not related to current events

Emotional - journalling, therapy, talking to friends, meditating, spending time with animals, reading/watching fluff that is just happy and not emotional or in the opposite vein reading/watching something that makes me cry

Social - being with friends/people I love, being alone, journalling, being around different types of friends eg very close friends and also people I like who I haven't seen in a while, hanging out in a bigger group and one on one with people

Sensory - sensory input I like eg having a bath or a perfume I like or white noise or my fan so being cool or music I like, time without sensory input eg quiet time or dark time

Spiritual - can obvs be religious but for me it's time in nature and time with community. Time doing acts of kindness. Meditating. It's about connection and a sense of community and purpose. If your job is fulfilling it could meet this need.

Creative - make stuff! Art or bake or craft or write. Or if I'm really low energy, thinking about or planning creative stuff fulfills this need a bit too eg Pinteresting.

i know we're all sick of self-care being a marketing tactic now, but i don't think a lot of us have any other concept of self-care beyond what companies have tried to sell us, so i thought i'd share my favorite self-care hand out

brought to you by how mad i just got at a Target ad

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Part 19

Summary: Wanda plans a proposal.

Wanda Maximoff x F!R

It’s hard to believe what you’re hearing.

“I’m sorry, just one more time. I want to make sure I’m getting this right” you plead, trying really hard not to scream.

“I cut my finger in a broken glass” the man explains, calmly. And then he adds the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard. “I cauterized it with a lighter”

Of course! Why would anyone go to the ER when they can just burn their skin off.

“Right. So… let’s try to not do that when medical care is nearby. I’ll apply a bandage and give you a cream”

You work in silence, until he speaks again.

“While I’m here, could I get circumcised?”

With a sigh, you stand up, asking Bucky to finish off for you. Tale as old as time, people thinking that the ER is open for anyone with a strange mole or pain that is not life threatening.

Your phone rings and your shoulders relax immediately.

“Hey, love”

“Hi. Boy, you sound tired” Wanda says, surprised that you’re so defeated after a few hours into your shift. You rarely complain.

“I’ve had the weirdest day, that’s all. People testing my patience, putting nail glue instead of eyedrops”

“Yikes”

“Guys asking if we perform circumcisions”

“Gross. But do you?” she jokes and you laugh.

“Dear God, no. As a lesbian, I’d rather not deal with that area unless it’s truly an emergency”

“Mmhm, and yet you’re so good when you’re wearing the strap” she teases, making you crash against the vending machine. Fortunately, the force knocks a bag of chips and you smile, picking it up.

“Number one, tease. You still owe me over that lap dance. And two, wanna go out tomorrow?”

Wanda’s entire demeanor changes after that, and it’s really hard not to get worried. She’s been like this ever since you mentioned Sokovia.

“I have a lot of work to finish, you know the book release is soon, plus Wendy…”

“Yeah, no. I get it. That’s fine. Maybe I can take the kids out to give you some peace and quiet”

“You know what, my mom loves bowling. Why don’t you all go?”

“Sure” you say, agreeing to anything Wanda suggests. “Alright, I’m getting paged. Hope it’s an actual emergency this time”

“I hope so too” Wanda says, smiling,

“Love you” you say, a bit worried she won’t say it back, but she does and there’s nothing different about the way she replies, adding a soft “my love” before hanging up.

So, maybe it’s all in your head.

Right?

—

Wanda hates lying to you.

The thing is, she still has to figure out a way to propose. It’s technically not hard to get everything ready without you noticing, considering your shifts can take more than a day. If she only knew exactly what to do.

She’s looking around her studio, thinking about the things you like. Her eyes eventually settle on a copy of her latest book. Thankfully, Laura never had the dedication changed, so she could still give it to you.

Or, she could give you a special copy with something entirely different.

As her mind begins to come up with a plan, Wanda smiles to herself.

Finally, she knows where to start.

—

It feels weird to have the entire Maximoff gang, minus your beautiful, stunning, out of this world girlfriend.

Darcy would call you a simp if she could hear all your thoughts.

But you miss Wanda and even if you knew she wasn’t joining you tonight, you’re still following her like a lost puppy.

“You’re absolutely sure?” you say, your hands around her waist.

“Yes, detka. I’m sorry. But we’re going to the wedding tomorrow and that’s going to be fun, right? You’ll have me all to yourself”

“Ok” you sigh dramatically, sinking your face in the crook of her neck. “I just miss you”

“Me too. If I’m not too tired we could watch an episode of The Golden Girls when you’re all back” she promises and you squeeze her waist, kissing behind her ear.

“Maybe I can persuade you with my very charming personality…” you place another kiss in her neck, sucking lightly on the skin. “Or with my very skilled fingers”

Wanda moans your name, melting in your arms and you are about to call victory when her mother opens up the door, shouting that it’s time to leave.

“I may have left out a very important piece of information” Wanda stops you before you go out to the foyer to meet her mother. “She gets very competitive…”

“So that’s where you got it from”

“Hey!”

But Wanda can’t continue the argument as Ekaterina walks in, handing you what looks like bowling uniforms. You’re surprised to see it has your name embroidered, and the Maximoff name on the back.

“How did you get this made so soon?”

“I know a guy” she replies cryptically, and you gulp.

Will she scream at you when she sees you know nothing about bowling?

“Come on, we’re going to be late, girls!”

“Oh, I’m staying. I have work to do” Wanda explains, lowering her voice when her mother gives her a stern look.

“Then the teams will be incomplete!”

“I don’t have to play” you jump, hoping that this can be your out.

“You have hands?”

“Y-yes”

“Then you play. Let’s go. Pietro’s meeting us there”

Billy and Tommy are excited as they follow their grandmother out, and you stall in the kitchen.

“You sure you don’t need someone to clean your brushes? Sharpen your pencils?”

“Detka, go” she says, laughing.

“I’m scared” you whine pathetically. She kisses you, her lips moving against yours. It’s so good it makes you forget the reason for your little meltdown.

“I’ll see you later”

—

Pietro is already waiting for you, knowing that his mother loves to jump right into the game. He’s set two bowling allies, and you split into teams.

You’re pleasantly surprised to see Bucky approaching you.

“Pietro promised me a beer if I joined so you could complete the teams”

Everyone takes a couple of shots to practice and you try to follow their movements. Bucky notices how lost you are, offering his guidance here and there. Your shots are not particularly powerful and the ball leans towards the gutter more often than not.

The point system is beyond your comprehension so you can only nod and cheer when Bucky completes a strike.

Beyond that, the doctor in you is looking at everything in the space (heavy objects, lots of movement, oily floors) and considering the possible injuries.

This is why, when Billy walks past the lane line, you go after him, afraid that he’ll fall. But you’re the only one on your ass as he lets go of the ball a second later, smiling.

“Y/N! That’s not how you play!” Ekaterina admonishes, and you sigh, crawling back to them.

“I’m going to get us more food”

Bucky is right behind you, chuckling as the woman keeps her winning streak.

“Is she a pro?”

“Seems to me” you say, ordering more fries and another soda for you. “Hey, can I ask you about Darcy? Do you have something against her or…”

“I like her”

“See, I told her she was just imagining things and… wait. Like her how?” you realise he’s looking away, a soft blush tinging his cheeks. Your hand flies to his arm and you jump around excited. “You have a crush on Darcy”

“I don’t”

“Nu-uh. You do. Why didn’t you tell me? Or better yet, her”

“I don’t know what to say when she’s around. I mean, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I don’t speak a lot and she does”

“Right” you nod your head. Truthfully, Bucky is different than the guys Darcy dates (in the best possible way) and it’s been a while. “Well, do you want a wingwoman?”

“Not really” he says, almost looking mortified. “It’s better if she thinks we’re enemies, honestly”

“Sure” you nod, pretending you’ll let the subject go. Bucky’s too naive, though, if he believes you won’t do anything about it.

For a bit, you watch the kids play in silence, while Pietro chats with a woman, obviously flirting while he pretends to correct her posture. Ekaterina, unaware that he’s flirting, comes over and scolds him on his bad technique.

Bucky and you laugh as he comes back to her side, and she forces him to do a couple of exercises.

When you get your orders of fries, you walk back to the group, smirking at him.

“Mama’s boy got cockblocked” you whisper.

“Hey, сука!”

“Pietro!” Ekaterina turns to glare at him, and you poke your tongue out as he gets an earful for the second time in the night.

This is a lot more fun than bowling.

—

Best part of coming back is that the kids are pretty tired, so they head straight to their room. When you go check on them, they’re both fast asleep, and Sparky pushes the door open a bit wider so he can jump on Billy’s bed.

“Better that than you sleeping with my girl” you say, closing the door.

You think it’s strange that Wanda hasn’t shown up to greet you, so you walk up to her study, knocking once. After the second time, you worry and open the door just a tiny bit.

“Wands? You ok in there?”

“Oh, hey! You scared me!” you notice she’s wearing your headphones, and you smile, opening the door wider.

“We just got back, the kids are asleep already”

You try to step inside but Wanda’s quick on her feet, standing right in front of you.

“Good to hear that. Was Mom good? Didn’t yell at you too much?”

“Nah, she was fine. Pietro got the short end of the stick. What you working on?” you smile, trying to get a look at her sketches.

“Nothing. Are you tired?”

“Not really. I could sit around while you keep working if you haven’t finished yet…” you say, approaching the table. One more step, and the surprise will be ruined. So, Wanda does the only thing that comes to mind.

“Why don’t you fuck me, then?”

That makes you turn.

“Say that again”

“If you’re not too tired, why don’t you fuck me?” Wanda smiles, amused at how easy it was to get your attention.

“Well, I definitely can do that” you walk back to her, carrying her bridal style. “Since you asked so nicely”

—

The big day is finally here.

One of the brides is not.

Or so Darcy says when you walk into the venue, hours before the ceremony. You’re wearing jeans and a t-shirt, looking as people finish decorating and setting up everything.

Your friend shows up, wearing one of those radio earpieces.

“Nice one, Britney”

“Bitch” she snaps, but then closes her eyes, breathing in and out. “I need you to go get Carol”

“Sure, is she in the dressing room?”

“No. She is at the hospital. Working”

“What? The wedding’s in four hours, she should be getting her hair and makeup done” you look at your phone, thinkig maybe there was an emergency and you had to be at work too.

“Just bring her, please. Abduct her if necessary” Darcy changes into the earpiece, shouting. “No, I requested mauve. Mauve!”

You wished Darcy had told you to get Carol before you even got here. Now you’ll have to drive all the way back to the city, as the wedding is happening at a small inn close to the mountains.

Racing against time, you walk in to ask around for her.

“She’s in OR 3” one of the nurses tells you, with a loaded look. “Doing a carpal thunnel decompression”

“Thanks”

You scrub in as fast as you can, pushing the door to the OR. Everyone stares at you, clearly on edge over Carol’s presence. She’s acting like it’s just another day, and like she’s not two hours behind on Darcy’s very detailed, strict schedule.

“Hey, bride to be” you greet, hoping she stops what she’s doing. With a sigh, you stand up next to her, smiling. “Are you excited?”

“Nope, it’s just another day”

“Well, I call bullshit”

One of the nurses laughs and the rest of the surgical team visibly relaxes.

“You’re getting married today. We still need to do your hair and makeup and a shower wouldn’t hurt either”

“Hey!”

“As maid of honor it is my duty to tell it like it is. Now, let someone else close up, and let’s go”

“I was supposed to do an arthroscopy after this”

“Darcy’s waiting in the car” you lie, knowing fear will be the only driving force to make Carol change her mind.

Sure enough, her eyes widen and she gives instructions to the rest of the team. When she’s washing her hands and scrubbing out, you join her, smiling.

“You ok?”

“I… it’s all so real. For months, we were planning and picking cake and decorations but it’s happening today and it feels like… a part of me is excited, another part of me is scared. Like really, truly terrified. And I don’t know what to make of it”

“It means you have something to lose” you say softly. “But a lot more to gain. It’s gonna be fine. You’ll forget all about it when you see Maria, I promise”

Finally, you get her to leave the hospital. A couple of people wave as you walk back to the parking lot, some of them saying they’ll see you at the party. Carol rolls her eyes when she realises you lied about Darcy, but you just shrug your shoulders.

“I guess I deserve it for being difficult”

“Yeah, you do” you laugh, driving back.

Of course, Darcy ushers you to the room to get hair and makeup, glaring at Carol and asking you to not leave her alone.

“I feel guilty for making Darcy help with everything” Carol says, and you let out a laugh. “What?”

“Did you actually ask her to do anything? She loves bossing everyone around. Should be taking Fury’s job at this point”

“Why are you still here? Makeup, go, go!” Darcy appears behind you a second later, making you yelp.

“Tyrant”

“Lazy ass”

Of course you do as she says, mainly out of fear.

Wanda arrives a little early, checking in as you had decided to stay at the inn instead of driving back home when the party was over.

“Finally, someone who understands the importance of punctuality!” Darcy says as she runs into your girlfriend. “I barely finished and I have to get my makeup and hair done”

“Would you like some help?”

“It’s fine, I’m low maintenance” Darcy declines, but Wanda’s not having it.

“I actually have something I want to ask you… so we could talk while I help”

“Mmm, I do love an efficient approach. Come on then” Darcy says, ushering Wanda into her own room.

She’s wearing a low cut burgundy dress that displays her very generous assets.

“Eyes are up here, Maximoff” Darcy jokes when Wanda’s stare travels a bit lower.

“Right. Let’s begin”

Wanda tells Darcy everything. How she found the ring, but decided to keep it to herself instead of putting pressure on you.

Your casual mentions of a wedding, the trip to Sokovia.

“Finally, she told you. She was terrified you’d be mad” Darcy comments.

“Well, that’s when I realised. Maybe it’s my turn to take the lead. Ask her to marry me” Wanda says, and she can see Darcy’s a bit shocked.

“Interesting. So why do you want to talk to me?”

Wanda smiles, telling her the proposal idea she came up with it. It’s simple, it’s unique, but she has a feeling that it’s something you’ll love.

“Honestly, Wanda? You could get down on one knee while she’s in the toilet and she’d be giddy about it” Darcy says, making Wanda laugh. “But I do think it’s cute and she’ll never ever shut up about it. Was that all?” she says after Wanda stays silent.

The woman sits in front of your friend, checking her makeup one last time, and with a sigh, asks the final question.

“I need your blessing”

“What am I? The Pope?”

“Darcy!”

“The lesbian godmother. First Carol and Maria with their wedding planning and now you…” she rambles, clearly amused.

“Darcy!” Wanda interrupts her, trying to keep it serious. “We both know her mother is the worst person. She���s starting to connect with her siblings. You’re her real family. The one person who’s stood by her through everything. So, it would mean the world to me, to at least know you’ll think of me as worthy of Y/N”

Darcy leans back, eyeing Wanda up and down. It’s hard not to feel intimidated, but the woman holds her ground, staring back.

“Fine, the Lord be with you or whatever it is you want me to say”

“Thank you” Wanda hugs her, excited.

“If you hurt her…”

“I know” Wanda says.

“As long as we agree. Now, let’s get out and see who’s already here so they can get seated”

Wanda helps out as much as she can with incoming guests, showing them where they can grab some refreshments while the ceremony begins.

She’s so focused that she misses an arm around her waist, until she hears your voice, happy as always when you greet her.

“Hey, love”

“Detka, hi…” she turns, but whatever she was about to say next is forgotten when she takes in your beautiful appearance.

Unlike most of the time, your hair is flowing down your shoulders and back in waves, framing your face perfectly. You’re not wearing a lot of makeup, but it’s enough to make your beautiful eyes stand out in contrast to the pink dress you’re wearing.

Don’t even get Wanda started on the dress. There’s a slit on the side that shows your leg everytime you take a step.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear a dress”

“Not my style, but I’ll take one for the bride” you joke, adjusting the straps. “Heels too, I’m in agony”

“You look stunning” Wanda says, unable to look away.

The way you blush makes her bite her lip.

“Thank you, baby. Though I can’t wait to take it off”

You mean you’re eager to go back to wearing comfortable clothes, but Wanda’s eyes darken.

“Yeah, I can’t wait either” she says with a playful look, which makes you blush again.

“Hey, quit flirting and get on your spot. Music is about to start” Darcy says, nudging you at the begining of the aisle.

“Damn, Lewis, you’re taking the girls for a walk” you point at her rack, and she flips you off.

“Sorry, I'm late!” someone says behind you and you turn at the familiar voice.

“Belova!”

“Hey, you!” she pulls you for a hug that is much too strong for someone so little. “Missed ya”

“Missed you too. Go, find your seat before Darcy goes insane” you point at Kate, who’s looking around, impatient.

You’re supposed to walk down the aisle with Carol’s older brother, and he joins you a second later, bossed around by Darcy.

“She’s a firecracker” he comments. You nod, standing still and waiting for the music to begin. He leans forward, smiling. “I hear weddings are a great place to meet people”

“Really? I wouldn’t know. I met my girlfriend when I crossed the street to check on her son” you joke, sparing him from taking the flirting any further.

“Right”

“Maybe a lesbian wedding isn’t going to be for you, mate. Well, the firecracker over there is definitely straight, but I’m trying to set her up with someone else”

“Shall we?” we offers his arm, and you accept it with a nod.

Both brides look stunning, and though it’s a very short ceremony, everyone’s crying or at the very least, moved by their vows.

Wanda can’t keep her eyes from you, though. She can’t help but imagine you in a white dress, probably sneaking a very corny joke as you promise to love her for the rest of your lives.

It isn’t long before the drinks start to pour, the food served and the brides take their place at a special table, chatting and laughing.

By the time they have their first dance as a married couple, you’re at the edge of the dance floor, clapping when some fireworks and confetti are set off. The light glow reflects in your eyes and once again, Wanda is enthralled by the view.

Which is why, when more people begin to dance, she approaches you, offering her hand.

“A dance, m’lady?”

“Why, I couldn’t possibly say no” you smile, allowing her to lead.

“Have I mentioned you look beautiful, detka?”

“Yes, but I don’t mind hearing it again” you blush, your hands going around her waist. “Now, I don’t mean to ruin the moment, but have you given any thought to that trip to Sokovia?”

“Well, I… I’m not sure yet” Wanda lies, but almost gives in when she catches the disappointment in your face. But if she tells you the answer, it will ruin the surprise. Instead, she does something that will surely distract you.

Bumping her nose against yours, Wanda leans forward to kiss you. You smile against her lips, pulling her closer. The both of you are so caught up in your own little world that you don’t notice the bouquet that is flying in the air and crashes against your heads.

“Aww” Wanda laughs.

“What the fuck?” you turn around, noticing everyone’s clapping as Wanda takes it in her hands, admiring the flowers.

“Looks like we have two future brides” Carol says, smiling as she waves at you. “Now move so Maria can toss her flowers”

“Wait! I need to get Darcy! Be right back”

To your surprise, she’s still wearing her earpiece, arguing with catering about things no one really cares about.

“Hey. You’re not enjoying the party” you say, trying to take the earpiece away from her.

“I’m working”

“You’re a surgeon, not a party planner. And I don’t see anyone needing a limb removed, or anything of the sort. Come on” you take her hand, leading her to a table. You tap on Bucky’s shoulder, and he pales when he sees Darcy right behind you.

“Please tell me you didn’t”

“Darcy, why don’t you and Bucky dance?” you cut him off, smiling innocently.

“Pass” Darcy says, but you shove her right into his arms, stealing her earpiece. “Hey!”

But you walk away before she can chase you, going back to Wanda. She waves the bouquet and you accept it. Your girlfriend has taken it as a sign to set a date for her plan.

“Hey, there’s a private party for the book release next Friday. Are you free to go?”

“Absolutely, anything for you, my love” you pull her close, kissing the tip of her nose.

You keep talking and drinking, catching up with Yelena and you also notice that Darcy is still dancing with Bucky. They’re actually talking, and you hope that Darcy can at least let go of the idea that they are enemies.

Most people leave to drive back to the city, but you hang around until Carol and Maria are ready to leave for their very short honeymoon in Cabo.

“Wear lots of sunscreen and drink margaritas” you say goodbye to them. “And don’t think about work. We’ll be just fine”

“Oh, trust me, our phones will be off” Maria says, smiling as you hug her. “Thanks for everything. Have you seen Darcy? We want to say goodbye to her”

“She’s… huh” you turn around, looking as she’s chatting with Bucky in the bar. “Busy, I guess?”

“Someone just lost five dollars” Carol makes fun of Maria.

“I won’t pay until we settle that other one”

“What other one?” you ask, curious.

“If your wedding will be the next one we attend” Carol laughs.

“Well… yeah, no comment. Come on, leave before you miss your flight”

Luckily, you have a room at the inn because you absolutely don’t feel like driving back to the city.

“Did you hear from your mom? Are the kids doing ok?” you ask Wanda, sittig on the bed and removing your shoes with a sigh. “I am never wearing heels again”

“Yes, detka. Relax, everything’s fine” she says, coming back to the room wearing a bathroom robe that looks beyond comfy.

“Help me with the zipper, please?” you say, pushing your hair out of the way. She pulls the zipper down, releasing you from the fabric until the dress is pooling at your feet.

“Not so fast” she says, hands around your waist.

You laugh when she kisses the spot between your neck and shoulder, tickling the skin.

“Had fun?” you sigh, melting in her arms.

“Yes. I drew us a bath, come on”

When you’re finally in the bathtub, Wanda goes in, relaxing against your front.

“I like weddings” she says suddenly, and you chuckle.

“Yeah? Were you dreaming about your wedding when you were little?”

“Oh, I used to do this ceremony with my teddy bear. He was real handsome. We got married a couple of times” Wanda says, smiling at the memory.

“Guess I’ll have to fight Mr. Bear to set the record straight” you mumble, struggling to keep your eyes open. Between Wanda’s warmth, the water and the candles she lit, you could pass out any minute now.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Did you ever think about your wedding? As a kid, I mean”

“Not really. My parents weren’t married, so I guess I only thought that people had kids. Learning what being married meant came later. But I like it. As a concept, I mean. Having someone to be your partner, through everything… it doesn’t sound bad”

“Right” Wanda agrees, smiling as she imagines what the future holds for you two.

“Surgeons are terrible spouses, though” you warn her, which makes her laugh.

“I don’t believe that. Not from you, at least”

“Mmm, time will tell” you yawn, making Wanda turn. “Sorry. Just tired”

“Come on. Let’s get to bed”

Just as Wanda thought, you’re asleep the minute you settle in bed. As she watches you dream peacefully, her heart beats faster at the prospect of the future.

She can’t wait to propose.

[strayingawayy]

where love lives...

...the one where you finally understand what home is to you

life is strange when you don’t really know where home lies. some say home is the house they grew up in, where the walls learned the shape of their laughter, where they cried into pillows that remembered everything. some say it’s the garden where they ran barefoot with their dog until one day, their parents told them, gently, that the dog had gone to a place we'd all one day call home. some say home is the house they built for themselves, where they will grow old, where they will rest until they become the flowers themselves, one with the earth.

but when you stood in the middle of city traffic, horns blaring, the sky smudged with the weight of another endless day, you knew that wasn’t the home you wanted to go to. it was only wednesday, and what a long fucking week it had been. everyone was desperate to go home. but not you. not to the apartment where silence pressed in from every corner, where you’d stand under scalding water until your skin burned red, trying to feel something. not to the kitchen table where dry toast sat on a plate, where you sat across from nothing at all.

no. you wanted to go home. you wanted him.

the dial tone rang, longer and longer as your chest got heavier, when suddenly,

“sweetheart, angel, baby, my love, my life.” greeted his voice from the other end.

his voice, rich and warm, spilling over you like sunlight through half drawn curtains. you closed your eyes, the edges of your exhaustion softening through the sound of his love alone.

your breath shuddered. for a moment, you didn’t trust yourself to speak.

“hyune?” you whispered, finally.

“yes, my beloved.”

you swallowed hard, your other hand coming up to clutch the phone as if it were the only thing tethering you to the world.

“can i come home?” you whispered.

hyunjin didn’t hesitate.

“sweetheart,” he said, soft as the first stroke of paint against paper, “there’s a big canvas in the painting room. if i ever say no to that question, i want you to hit me with it.”

the corner of your mouth twitched. almost a smile, almost.

the cab ride passed in a blur, the city lights streaking past like watercolours bleeding into each other. your head lolled against the window, breath fogging up the glass, but all you could think about was him. the weight of the day, the week, the exhaustion stitched into your very bones, it all pulled at you, made each step feel heavier as you climbed the stairs to his door.

when you pushed it open, warmth curled around you instantly. the scent of him. clean linen, faint traces of paint, something floral and soft, filled your lungs, untangling the knot in your chest. kkami trotted up to you, tail wagging, but you barely had the energy to bend down. your legs felt like strangers to your own body.

and finally, him.

you walked forward blindly, head hanging low, until you collided with the warmth of his chest. he caught you without a second thought, arms looping around you so tightly it felt like he was trying to pull you inside of him, like he could tuck you beneath his ribs and keep you safe there.

you melted into him. the exhaustion seeped out of you, replaced by something softer, something lighter. his hands smoothed over your back, fingertips ghosting over the fabric of your coat before slipping beneath it, pressing into the heat of your skin. you sighed into him, burying your face in his shoulder, breathing him in like he was the first breath of fresh air after being trapped in a windowless room.

his lips brushed against your hair, then your temple, then the apple of your cheek. slow, lingering kisses, like he was tracing you back to yourself. kisses that lingered onto your skin until new ones replaced them.

his hands cupped your cheeks then, thumbs stroking along your skin, and when you finally looked up at him, you found nothing but adoration waiting for you. his lips curled into the softest smile, eyes filled with something so tender, so impossibly full that it made your chest ache.

he kissed you then, slow and sweet, like a promise. and you knew it was. to always be here, your home.

when you pulled away, he leaned in again, chasing your lips, stealing another kiss, and another, until you were laughing softly against his mouth.

he pressed his forehead to yours, eyes slipping shut. “you’re home,” he murmured, voice thick with love, with warmth.

you nodded, pressing closer, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your own.

“i’m home.”

...

@astraystayyh my sweetheart, may you find home soon. and may your home be warm and filled with tenderness that fills you to the brim on days like these.

[silentiumdelirium]

Eddie’s heart racing and hands sweating when both Robin and Steve looked at him, now that they stopped screaming at eachother and remembered that he was with them in a room. The thing between Eddie and Steve was still very new so they hadn‘t really talked about what they were. Also Eddie had no idea when you should have THE TALK and just thought Steve would be the one to initiate it. Because Steve had definitely more expierence with realtionships than Eddie. Also more expierence with guys for that matter he had never been very secretive about it and now Eddie understands why. Wtf why havent they talked about that???

„Uhm steve but you do know that I‘m gay right?“ Eddie asks his voice sounding hoarse because of his dry mouth.

Steve looks at him completely bewiliderd. „What why did you not say something?“

Eddie almost laughs because this feels so surreal. „Well I thought I was pretty clear when I kissed you on the mouth with tongue!!!“ He screams and there are now tears in his eyes.

Steve just shrugs „Culd still be just a dude kiss u know?“ As if thats a totally normal thing to say.

„A dude kiss???“, Robin screams. „For fucks sake we really need to get that last jock braincell out of your head!!!“

Steve sighs und looks at them confused. „But how could I be gay? I mean I liked a lot of girls!“

Robin sounds like she wants to strangle him right and there while Eddie feels like he will pass out any second.

Finally Robin says: „Steve I know that but that still doesnt have to mean your straight maybe you just like both?“ She doesnt sound so sure either when Steve looks at her with big eyes.

„WHAT??? thats possible???“

Eddie cuts in because robin looks a bit lost herself:

„Yes Steve the word you‘re looking for is bisexual and I really dont wanna step into your sexuality crisis but I would like to know if you really like me or not because I for sure really like YOU so now I feel pretty dumb and obviously I don’t want to force you in a gay relationshio but I think then we have to stop with the kissing and sex stuff and just be friends again…“

„SEX STUFF???“, Robin just screams while Eddie rambles on.

„Eddie“, Steve stops his rambling and lays a hand on his shoulder. „Okay maybe I didn‘t really know what my sexuality is but I do know that I really like you and I like to kiss you very much and I love hanging out with you and falling asleep next to you and now that I think bout it this feels the same like when I had a crush on Nancy and I fucked that up real bad so I dont want to fuck this up with you okay?“

Eddie can now feel tears streaming down his face and he just gets out a sobbing „okay“ when Steve takes his face in both of his eyes and comes very close and whispers:

„Can I kiss you now? In like a very not straight way?“

Eddie sobs and grins: „fuck yeah!“

Their kiss is soft and salty full of both of their tears and Robin wants to scream at them but she can‘t because their so adroble. As soon as they let go of eachother, which takes a lifetime, Robin groans: „I can’t beliebe you had your first gay kiss when you were like twelve and now you even have your frist gay relationship and I havent even been kissed once ugh why I am friends with you!“ before she attacks steve and gives him a bone crushing hug.

Steve isn’t bisexual, he just engages in behaviors such as mutual masturbation and make out sessions with his male friends.

Steve discovers this is not normal when playing truth or dare and Robin asks who his first kiss was.

“Tommy.”

“Excuse me, what?”

“It’s Tommy?”

“You’re not straight?”

“Guys do that all the time, you don’t understand.”

“If you don’t like men, Steve, you don’t want to kiss them. Are you saying you have repeatedly engaged in homosexual behavior?”

“Uh”

“Have you kissed men or engaged in sexual behaviors with them?”

“I mean, what counts as sexual behavior?”

“It’s gay if you need clarification. I don’t need to know what happened, but you are not straight.”

“So, what have I been doing with Eddie?”

“WHAT THE- EDDIE?”

[traflawgar]

Hello!! Could I please request zoro head cannons. This is a fluff prompt. Basically after the straw hats liberate yet another country and have their celebration on the sunny, zoro snatches the reader and throws them over one shoulder while he has a barrel of booze on the other. Someone asks him “aren’t you going to eat” and he says something like “I got what I need” before going to the crows nest with his partner. I wonder how zoro would show his affection when liquored up and away from nosy eyes (sanji probably sets some food aside because it would be a cold day in hell before his crewmates go hungry)

alone with you

zoro x reader. FLUFF.

TAGS: alcohol, of course. zoro likes to pretend he's a tough bitch but he loves cuddles and kisses.

NOTES--I love zoro. I see him as the kind of dude to pretend he's super stoic in front of others, but once he's alone with his partner will be quite cuddly. for this request I went more on the properly headcanons direction, hope you like the result!

Zoro has been staring at you since everyone reunited at the ship. Sitting across from you, taking gulp after gulp of his sake, he’s not letting you ignore him. No matter how hard you try. You can’t even meet his gaze, afraid that the simmering fire in his eyes will reflect your own need to be alone with him.

And then everyone would find out that there’s something more going on between the two of you.

He does not have the same concern. That much becomes evident when he abruptly stands up and strides toward you. He ignores the crew’s complaints as he moves anything and anyone out of his way. Complaints that fall silent as confused and shocked eyes—and one pair of knowing ones—watch him carelessly pick you up and throw him over his shoulders.

Stunned silence hangs in the air, before wolf whistles and laughter break it unceremoniously. Your friends are not deterred by the groan you let out, nor by the murderous glare you throw their way. 

“Wait, dinner’s almost ready!” Sanji yells as he steps onto the deck, lured out of the kitchen by the chaos unfolding.

“Don’t care. Got everything I need here.” As if to emphasize his words, Zoro shifts the weight of the barrel he’s holding in one arm, and pats your ass with his free hand.

You think you hear Sanji complain and threaten to let you starve later, but that’s quickly pushed out of your mind as Zoro begins climbing up towards the crow’s nest. He’s completely oblivious to how dangerous it is, while all you can think about is the very precarious position you’re in.

A few torturous moments later, he sets you down on the floor and you finally open your eyes. “Finally we’re a–” he starts, but is quickly interrupted by your fists on his chest as you accuse him of nearly killing you.

Usually, Zoro would let you carry on with your antics and tease you once you get bored of them. Tonight, however, he’s feeling quite impatient. He’s been waiting for ages (a few minutes) to be alone with you while everyone else hogged your attention (spent time with you in a group setting). He was hoping to sneak away after dinner when everybody was too full of food and alcohol to notice—and he usually would’ve done just that. You know that, know tonight feels different for some reason, so you don’t really complain when he shuts you up with a kiss, hands holding your wrists to stop you.

You let him pull you to his favourite spot in the crow’s nest, follow suit as he plops down on the floor. He’s a lot more affectionate when he’s drunk, not holding himself back from what he actually wants.

His head is immediately on your shoulder, and whenever he’s not filling his cup with the barrel he brought, he’s nuzzling against you and muttering how warm you are. Every other minute he’ll look up at you with puppy eyes and –ask for– demand a kiss.

“I want a kiss,” he’ll mutter with a pout (which he later denies was a pout), and you think it’s the cutest thing to ever happen to you.

Eventually he gets you to sit between his legs, your back pressed snuggly against his chest. He wraps his arms around your body and pulls you impossibly closer. He all but wraps himself entirely around you, pressing lazy kisses on your back. His fingers trace shapes on your thighs, random things at first, but then you think he might be spelling something—he’s spelling “I love you” because no amount of booze can get him to say it out loud yet. So, for now, he’ll settle for spelling it on your skin and trusting you understand it.

You’ll stay like that until your stomach growls embarrassingly loud.

“Let’s see if the shitty cook made good on his threat.”

He did not, to nobody’s surprise. Regardless of how many times he threatens to do so, Sanji never lets you go hungry.

When the two of you get to the kitchen, there’s food waiting for you. You take the plates and sit on the deck, traces of the crew’s celebration all over the floor. You sit and look at the stars, and Zoro surprises you with an incredible amount of knowledge on stars and constellations.

(He read books about it just so he could tell you all these interesting facts about the night sky because he likes seeing the impressed look in your eyes whenever he does something cool.)

After eating, he’ll suggest going back to the crow’s nest just so you can keep cuddling and maybe, if all goes according to his plan, you’ll fall asleep like that—holding each other close, with your head on his chest and your legs intertwined.

[gojosconsort]

You're so good at the older bf! headcanons... how bout Mr. Should Kong? Much love x

OLDER BF!SHIU ♡ // HEADCANONS

⁀➷ CONTENT. you're shiu’s controversial younger girlfriend.

♡ PAIRING. afab!reader x older bf!shiu

♡ WARNINGS. mdni. added some x links. age gap, size difference, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), hair-pulling, spanking, public/semi-public sex, choking (with tie), degradation, praise kink, office sex, tummy bulge

♡ AUTHOR’S NOTE. AHHHHHH i love older men

OLDER BF!SHIU who first met you when you were some witness in a case he was stuck handling. he drove you home after, saying, “you’re safe now, dove, don’t sweat it.” slipped his card into your hand with a lazy, “call if you need me,” and peeled off—didn’t think much of it ‘til you called a week later.

OLDER BF!SHIU who showed up immediately when you called because he found you interesting (and pretty). then talking turned into kissing and next thing you know, he’s got you pinned on your couch, fucking you so deep your legs are jelly. left you sprawled out, panting, dripping with his cum while he lit a smoke.

OLDER BF!SHIU who loves eating you out very sloppy, sprawled on the bed, cig still smoldering in the ashtray, your thighs slung over his shoulders. he’s slurping you up, tongue digging in sloppy and wet, growling, “fuckin’ soak my face, princess,” ‘til you’re yanking his hair and dripping all over his chin.

OLDER BF!SHIU who won’t stop after you cum once. keeps his mouth or fingers on you, muttering, “one more, dove, i know your slutty little cunt’s got it,” ‘til you’re shaking and sobbing and he smirks, “there’s my fuckin’ girl,” loving how fucked-up you look.

OLDER BF!SHIU who towers over you with his broad shoulders, thick arms, and a cock so big it’s a struggle every time. loves pinning you down just to feel how tiny you are under him, smirking, “look at you—barely fit me in that little cunt.”

OLDER BF!SHIU who’s obsessed with the tummy bulge—every time he fucks you deep, he presses his hand right there, feeling himself move inside you. “fuck, look at that—my dick’s stretching you out,” he grunts, pounding harder just to see it push up, loving how you whimper about it being too much.

OLDER BF!SHIU who doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks about the age gap. he just smiles at nosy comments and slings an arm around you, “jealous i got her and you don’t?” later, he’s got you slammed against the wall, pounding you ‘til you’re screaming loud enough the whole damn block knows why you’re with him.

OLDER BF!SHIU who’s always got a cig hanging from his lips, catching you staring and smirking, “want a hit, huh?” grabs your chin, blows smoke into your mouth, then crashes his lips into yours, tongue shoving in hard, “you’re too fuckin’ young for this shit.”

OLDER BF!SHIU who loves showing you off, you in some skimpy little skirt, him in his suit. pulls you onto his lap at a dive bar, hand creeping up your thigh, muttering, “let ‘em stare, princess—they’re just mad they ain’t fuckin’ you.”

OLDER BF!SHIU who doesn’t care about kids but fuckin’ loves pumping you full. pins you down, growling, “gonna stuff you full, dove,” and unloads deep, and gets off on watching it spill out slow, “look at that—fuckin’ perfect, dripping with me.”

OLDER BF!SHIU who’s working late at the office when you get too loud—moaning like a slut while he’s got you bent over his desk. he rips his tie off, stuffs it in your mouth, and mutters, “shut the fuck up, dove—gonna get us caught,” then keeps fucking you raw, the muffled screams making him harder.

OLDER BF!SHIU who’s a lazy fuck but loves watching you work—lounges back on the couch or bed, cig between his lips, hands behind his head, “c’mon, dove, bounce on this dick.” loves how your tits jiggle while you ride him, smirking, “fuckin’ tire yourself out—i’m just here for the view.”

OLDER BF!SHIU who doesn’t bother with condoms half the time—slides in raw and rough, smirking, “shit feels better like this, yeah?” loves dumping his load deep, holding you still while he fills you, “gonna be leaking me all day, huh? nasty little thing.”

OLDER BF!SHIU who’s got that old-man stamina—fucks you hard and fast, flips you over, and keeps drilling ‘til you’re whining, “too much, shiu—fuck!” he just laughs, “tough shit, dove—you can handle it,” and pumps you full again, grinning as you collapse under him, a sweaty, cum-stuffed wreck.

OLDER BF!SHIU who grabs a fistful of your hair when he’s giving you backshots—yanks your head back while he’s slamming into you from behind, his other hand smacking your ass red. “take it, princess—fuckin’ love this tight little hole,” he growls, railing you ‘til the bed groans and your knees give out.

OLDER BF!SHIU who’s hunched over his desk, scribbling notes for his work, when you straddle his thigh, needy and whining. doesn’t even glance up, just smirks, “go on, dove, rub that needy pussy on me—i’m busy.” lets you soak his slacks ‘til he’s done, then grabs your hips, bends you over the desk, and yanks your panties down, “couldn’t wait, huh? needy little thing.”

————— ୨୧ —————

⁀➷ masterlist

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-six of “Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it” behind the cut. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Don’t get my boy excited right now, babe, he just woke up. We need to take care of him before we can let him get too riled-up again,” Tim tells Bernard mildly as he reaches over to ruffle Kon’s hair, and Kon nearly chokes on the bite of mango bar in his mouth. Fucking Christ, this bastard. “Clean him up, brush his hair, make sure he’s eaten something and gotten enough water.” 

“I am literally eating right now,” Kon reminds him, his face burning again even as he can’t help holding very, very still for the stupid hair-ruffling. Tim rubs his thumb in behind his ear and his face less “burns” and more “incinerates”. He also doesn’t look at him or acknowledge that he’s spoken. 

“Maybe we should just get him a bath, actually,” Tim muses consideringly. “He did get a little dirty when we were playing before.” 

Okay, maybe Kon should’ve saved the word “incinerate” for another minute or two. His bad.

“Oh my god, Tim,” Bernard says with a helpless–and kinda strangled–laugh. Kon is impressed it’s only kinda, frankly, because he isn’t actually sure he remembers how talking works right now? Like, just as a thing? Like maybe he just won’t do that again for a little while, if–

“Color, pet?” Tim asks, rubbing his thumb in behind his ear again. 

Never mind. 

“Green,” Kon answers immediately, because Tim’s asking, and can’t help feeling just–fucking relieved, maybe, that Tim still trusts him to be good for–this. Him. Whichever. That Tim took his word on it when he said he still wanted to, like–scene and all. “Like I am in my full Emerald City era right now, Krypto, we are not in Kansas anymore.” 

Tim snorts out a surprised little laugh, but still doesn’t look at him. Kon kinda wants to do something that’ll give him a reason to, except then– 

“Though the bathroom probably isn’t big enough if he gets too riled-up during that, admittedly,” Tim says to Bernard like he didn’t even notice Kon saying anything himself, and Kon immediately just wants to suck his fucking dick about it. Like, he has been spending a lot of time thinking about sucking Tim’s dick this weekend, yeah, but he is really thinking about it right now. Like–just something about how it feels to be sitting here with stuff Tim gave him to eat and drink–brought him to eat and drink, even, and picked out for him ‘cuz they were his favorites–and Tim’s hand in his hair and Tim looking at and talking to Bernard, but not him. 

Because, like–why would Tim need to talk to his boy if he didn’t feel like it? Kon’s not going anywhere no matter how much attention he does or doesn’t get. He doesn’t even wanna do that when he’s straight, for fuck’s sake; he already wants to hang out with Tim all the goddamn time as it is. So like, right now he definitely isn’t going anywhere. 

At least not ‘til Tim tells him to. 

“Like big enough for all three of us or big enough to actually play in?” Bernard asks. “Because I dunno about you, babe, but I believe in that Bat-ingenuity of yours. And, like, possibly the TTK, depending on whether or not any towel racks or shower bars or sinks or whatever might need reinforced for a minute or two in there.” 

“Might be more the shower wall that needs reinforced, but fair,” Tim muses consideringly. He scrapes his thumbnail in a little closer under Kon’s ear–a little tighter–and Kon definitely, definitely wants to suck his dick about this. Wants to do something for him without having to worry about being enough, for once, because he already knows Tim’ll tell him exactly how to be “enough” for him, and even if he still isn’t . . . well. Bernard’ll fix it, if he isn’t. 

So that’s a totally normal-dude thing to think about his best friend and said best friend’s boyfriend who he’s just met, for sure. Definitely, definitely normal-dude thoughts. 

Kon is way less concerned than usual with what the “normal” thing to do would be, though.

[marauder-misprint]

hello hello tis me again, the regulus fanatic. im not aware if you saw my message yet but i ADORED your regulus fic and so i’ve prepared another if you’d like

get this, regulus x (once again, im obsessed) whimsy slytherin reader where she’s touchy and affectionate towards everyone especially close friends and one day regulus finally works up the nerve to ask her iut and shes just like ‘sure😃’ thinkings its just a normal day and reggies just acting weird

cut to like a week later when regulus leans in for a kiss and readers all like ‘WHOA😲’ cue awkward conversation about how they’ve been dating fir a week then readers rushes to tell everyone because she’s been pining for him for YEARS

sorry if thats a lot and have a wonderful wonderful morning evening and night!

Hello again! I had so much fun writing this! ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎Still getting used to whimsy!reader so I hope it's okay that reader is highkey a yapper. They are both pining in this and just, augh! Fluff.

My turn to yap: I had a similar situation to this when I was younger. Fully convinced I was dating this guy for a few weeks before finding out that he had a girlfriend and he thought we were just "hanging out" despite going to very date-like places.

This story is nothing like my experience - Thank you for this very cute request ❤︎

Mr. 'Allergic to touching'

Regulus Black x Whimsical!reader

4k words

cw: fluff, pining,

Personal space isn’t a concept you’re familiar with. Well, it is but you like being in everyone’s, especially those you are close friends with. You’ll lean over the backs of chairs and couches as your friends sit in them, often reading or occasionally doing homework. You are always holding hands with your friends as you walk to class together. When you are relaxing somewhere, you are either draped over someone’s lap or pulling them into yours. That is just the edge of it too. You greet everyone with a hug, even if you are meeting them for the first time. It is just how you are. And you are blissfully unaware of how it bugs some people. 

Regulus, however, isn’t one of those people. Everyone expects him to be with his cold demeanor, how he snaps at first years for being too loud, and the fact that he doesn’t tolerate that amount of touching from anyone else. There is something about your touch that makes Regulus feel warm and content. That’s why he doesn’t mind it, but he won’t tell anyone that. Barty and Evan would call him ‘soft’ if they heard that. It would be even worse if they knew how Regulus fully feels about you; they know that he’s friends with you and tolerates your touches, but that’s all they know. 

Still, the idea of having your gentle touches and words of affection to himself makes Regulus smile. It’s a vice, he tells himself. He’s supposed to keep a plain expression, to be indifferent toward frivolities of his peers and their petty drama. You have a knack for breaking his resolve, especially when it’s lap you’ve laid down in or his chair you’re leaning over to see what page he’s on in his book. 

“Oi, Regulus, you coming?” Barty calls from across the common room. 

“Yes,” he replies dryly from where he is sitting near the fireplace.

Your friends are going to the library in an attempt to study and actually get something done. A group of third years playing exploding snap in the common room wasn’t allowing any of them to focus. Dorcas had been the one to angrily slam her hands into her book and swear at the younger students, and then you suggested the library. At least Dorcas would be able to study there. Regulus assumes that he’ll end up sitting across from you, or next to you, and he won’t be able to focus. 

Regulus follows behind the group. You’re in the middle holding hands with Pandora. You have a floral print tote bag slung over your shoulder that likely has Pandora’s things in it as well. Maybe he’d be the one holding your hand and carrying the bag one day… And now he’s smiling. 

“Excited to write that essay for Slughorn or something?” Barty asks, falling into step with Regulus. 

The smile disappears as quickly as it appeared. “Because essence of dittany uses is such an interesting topic,” he says sarcastically. 

“You’re the one who was smiling, mate. Something made you crack.” 

“Remembered something funny. Merlin forbid…” Regulus gives Barty a sideways glance, hoping that his answer would satiate him. 

Barty just flexes his eyebrows and adjusts his stride to match Evan’s. Regulus doesn’t mind that the rest of the walk is silent for him. The rest of his friends, including you, take part in livelier conversations, but Regulus is content just listening in. 

Just as he predicted, you sit down next to Regulus in the library. You place a hand on his arm.

“Could you help me with this Charms assignment? Unless you’re doing Potions with Junior?” you ask. 

He had already finished that assignment, but it is you asking. How could he say no to you?

“It’d be my pleasure. Have you started it?” 

You shake your head.

“Alright. That’s no problem. Let’s get the books you need.”

He stands up and you follow him into the shelves. You hum to yourself as he selects a few books. You like how easily he finds everything in the library and that he just knows which books you’ll need for the assignment. He doesn’t hold them out for you to carry. You see it as a polite gesture. Regulus is just nice like that. 

Back at the table, Dorcas is working earnestly on her homework. Evan, Barty and Pandora are having a hushed discussion that gets even quieter as you and Regulus retake your seats. Regulus starts flipping through the books to find the pages you’d need to reference. You watch him for a minute before realizing that you should be taking the assignment out. 

Once you look ready, Regulus moves one of the books right in front of you and explains which part of the assignment the passage relates to. Instinctively, you scoot your chair impossibly closer to his. Regulus tenses slightly; being so close to you will certainly make focusing on your assignment. He takes a deep breath to steady himself. You don’t notice. You’re too focused on trying to understand the point of a knitting charm. 

“But I can knit. I enjoy knitting. Why would I bother learning a charm to do it for me?” you ask in a defeated voice. 

“Well, what if I needed something knitted? I don’t know how to knit,” Regulus says in a fairly quiet voice, being that you are in the library. 

You tilt your head slightly and rest your chin on your hand. “I could knit it for you. I’m quite good. Remember that shirt I knitted for Cas’ girlfriend?” 

You casually leave out that you charged Dorcas for the shirt. You wouldn’t charge Regulus. If he needed something, you’d be more than willing to make it for him. 

“Then it’s for all the poor sods who don’t know the same wonderful people I do,” he says before realizing that he’s just called you wonderful. Outloud. To your face. 

His face burns in embarrassment.

“Oh, you’re so sweet!” you coo, hugging Regulus and being completely oblivious to the red shade of his face. Then you school your own emotions and turn back to your assignment. “Right, poor sods who are lonely and friendless.” 

Regulus puts all of his attention on the assignment. He needs to ignore the way his body still feels your warmth minutes after you let him go. 

“Right, ‘m bored. Kitchens?” Barty announces after some time. 

Pandora and Evan agree immediately and stand up. Dorcas waves them off, still working on her homework. The three don’t even wait for you or Regulus to respond. You both had your heads down, exchanging whispers about your assignment. Regulus is trying not to think about how close you are, and you’re grateful that Regulus is being so patient with you. 

After a while, Dorcas excuses herself and says she’ll see you back in the common room. It’s just you and Regulus now. You’ve almost finished your assignment. You’re tired of it, if you’re being honest. You would have given up a while ago if it was anyone else helping you, but it’s Regulus so you’re trying your best to stay focused. 

“And you’re done!” Regulus says with a small smile. “You did it.”

“Thanks to you,” you tell him. “I would’ve turned in a half-finished assignment.”

“Do you do that often?” 

You shrug. “When the assignment is stupid and pointless.”

Regulus chuckles softly as he stands up to put the books back. He wasn’t expecting you to follow him into the shelves but you did. You don’t say anything, rather humming to yourself again and watching Regulus. You like the way he carries himself and he’s just pretty in general so who wouldn’t want to watch him? Once your things are packed up from the table, you walk back to the common. In your usual fashion, you’re holding onto Regulus’ arm, which means you’ve unintentionally disabled his ability to think clearly.

“Sorry you didn’t get to work on your Potions essay,” you say.

“Don’t be. I wouldn’t have made much progress on it anyway.”

“You know, I find dittany to be quite pretty. Wish it grew naturally around here. My mum grows them at home, a large section of our garden actually. It’d actually be helpful if our dorms weren’t in the dungeons. Then I could grow it in our dorms. I’m sure Pandora agrees with me,” you ramble and you keep going. 

Regulus can’t help his smile as he listens to you. He fully meant what he told Barty earlier; he didn’t find dittany, nor its essence, all that interesting. Your appreciation for the plant? He’d be willing to write down every word that was coming out of your mouth. Before you start to descend down the final staircase before the common room, Regulus puts a hand on yours where it's holding onto his arm. His gut is telling him it’s now or never. 

“Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?” he asks, his voice steady but stomach flipping with nerves. 

“Of course! If the weather’s anything like last weekend, it’s going to be beautiful out. Although, I wouldn’t mind if it was a tad less windy.”

“It was windy last weekend, wasn’t it?”

“It was.” 

You give his arm a little squeeze before you head down the stairs and into the common room. Once in the common room though, you spot Pandora and Dorcas and rush over to them. Regulus doesn’t mind your sudden departure. The warmth of you on his arm not only lingers, but the fact that you agreed to go on a date with him? He could catch a snitch without his broom. His smile doesn’t falter as he strolls through the common room and disappears into his dorm. 

“Oi, you’re smiling again,” Barty says when Regulus sits down at his desk with the intent to work on that stupid Potions essay. 

“Smiling illegal now?” he deadpans. 

“No… but it’s weird when you do it. You’re not a smiler.” 

Regulus doesn’t answer, but he knows what Barty means. He can’t help it though. You agreed to go on a date with him.

---

You meet Regulus at breakfast on Saturday, dressed nicely and casually at the same time. Regulus outdressed you easily, but that was to be expected. Even his most casual outfits tended to be more formal and expensive. He is a Black, afterall. 

Regulus did eventually tell Barty about the date. After some teasing in their dorm, Regulus managed to convince him to not make a big deal about it. If it didn’t go well, Regulus didn’t want everyone knowing about it. He fully hopes it’ll go well, but given the chance it doesn’t, he wants to be able to move past it without any issues. 

You grab Regulus’ hand when you leave for Hogsmeade. Holding his hand rather than his arm makes Regulus’ heart pound in his chest – oh, the effects you have on him. 

“Do you need to go into Spintwitches? Didn’t you say you were running low on broom polish?” you ask.

Regulus stares at you for a moment before nodding. He barely remembers having said that sometime this week, before he even asked you out. He appreciates that you actually pay attention to what he says more than he can express.

“Okay, so we’ll go there and then, if you don’t mind, can we walk around Tomes and Scrolls? I’ve been talking to the owner about expanding his stock on Divination products and I want to see if he’s got anything in yet.”

“Erm, yeah. Anywhere you want to go, darling.” 

Even though you’re on a date and holding hands, Regulus’ face still heats up when he realizes he let a pet name slip. He silently thanks the fates that Barty and Evan didn’t “just happen” to tag along today; if they had heard him call you that, Regulus would never hear the end of it. While you notice him looking away from you, to hide the blush, you don’t think much of it. It’s just an odd quirk that he’s been doing around you more and more. 

Regulus tries to not take too much time in Spintwitches. He only ever uses one brand of polish, but since he’s buying it, he has to mentally debate if he needs more rags or a sharpener for his tail-twig clippers. He decides against both. The whole time in the store, you held onto his hand until he needed it to get out his money to pay. 

You swing his arm a little bit as you head to Tomes and Scrolls. As soon as you step into the shop, you pull Regulus toward a “New!” stand. Regulus feels apprehensive as he eyes the stand. It has more mainstream Divination books, but also ones that are more focused on crystal energies and aura readings. Regulus has to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from scoffing at a “Nargle Repellant Kit.” He is fairly certain that nargles don’t exist. You scan the whole stand, even dropping Regulus’ hand for the second time so you could crouch to see the lower items.

“This is brilliant!” you exclaim, pulling out a book with depictions of constellations and crystals on its cover. “Dora will be thrilled when I show her this!”

You almost make a comment about how you’re surprised that she didn’t come today. It’s rarely ever just you and Regulus. You like that it is, but the point still stands. It’s not common. 

You grab two more books and head to the register. When the owner tells you the cost, you go to grab your money, but before you can even open your coin purse, Regulus has placed the correct amount on the counter. 

“Oh, I could’ve gotten that,” you say, a bit shocked.

“It’s my treat.”

“Then thank you, kind sir.”

Regulus gives you a soft smile and takes the bagged books from the owner. It wasn’t your tote of school supplies, but it was close enough – Regulus would carry it until you returned to the common room. 

“Anywhere else you want to go or should we go for butterbeers?” Regulus asks. 

“Hmmm…” you hum, taking Regulus’ hand again and giving it a squeeze. “Butterbeers. And then Honeydukes before we go back to the castle. I will eat all my Bertie Beans in the Three Broomsticks if we stop at Honeydukes first.”

Regulus chuckles. “That I know. Nothing like butterbeer to wash down the delightful flavor of earwax.”

You giggle and squeeze his hand again. The Three Broomsticks is busy, which isn’t surprising in any way. You find a booth for the two of you and a small wave of guilt falls over you. It feels wrong to take up an entire booth with just two of you. You make a mental note to invite any of your friends over if you see them. 

“Tell me, how did you get Mr. Brown to order these books?” Regulus asks, patting the Tomes and Scrolls bag next to him.

“It was so difficult. But really, I think Dora and I just wore him down. You know, asking and asking for these type of books and telling him it’s vital to our education. Little bit of forgery…”

“Forgery?” Regulus repeats.

“Well, he wanted a note from Professor Dawntry saying that they were necessary, or beneficial at least. And do you think she’d write that? No. So… we took it upon ourselves to write it. It’s all thanks to Junior for forging her signature. I think that really sold it to Mr. Brown.”

Regulus smirks. “And what if he ever talks to Dawntry in person? Asks her about the books that she’s endorsed?” 

“I already purchased the books, silly,” you say with an affectionate eye roll. “You purchased the books technically. But what’s he going to do? Force me to return them?”

“I suppose business is business.”

“Exactly! And it’s not like I’m requesting books on the Dark Arts.”

Then you start to explain the more intricate details about this particular branch of Divination that you’re looking into and how the Hogwarts library only has so many books on it. You’ve even read the books on it that are in the Restricted Section with real notes from Professor Dawntry. 

“That’s where we got the signature for Junior to copy,” you say.

Regulus nods and you continue. He’s more than fascinated while listening to you ramble. He hopes his staring is more ‘attentive listener’ than ‘creepy stalker’ or ‘you have something on your face.’ 

You’re pleased that Regulus doesn’t look bored with you right now. You’ve talked about this subject in the past to a variety of people and most of them give you skeptical looks and try to change the subject. And then there are the few who look more bored than the average student in Professor Binns’ class. Regulus is just attentive and it fuels the butterflies in your stomach. 

After a few butterbeers, Regulus hands Madam Rosmerta a few galleons before you head over to Honeydukes.

“I can pay you back for that,” you say, once again reaching for your coin purse before Regulus puts his hand on your arm.

“Don’t. Told you, it’s my treat.”

“What? The whole day? Reg, you already got my books!”

“I invited you, darling. Today’s on me.” 

A faint blush dusts your cheeks. “Damn, you should invite me to Hogsmeade more often.”

That’s the plan, Regulus thinks. He feels it would’ve been too forward, too flirty to say out loud, but it is the plan. If today continues to go well, he plans on being your Hogsmeade date quite often and being your date to the Yule Ball and asking you to wear his extra jersey to quidditch games and being your study buddy and… He is getting ahead of himself. He needs to finish the first date strong before he can plan out the rest of your relationship. 

You don’t take long in Honeydukes. Both of you know exactly which sweets you want and where they are. Having stopped there every visit since you started going to Hogsmeade in third year, it’s a well rehearsed visit. Once more, Regulus pays for your things. You don’t protest at all this time, knowing that he’ll insist that it’s his treat. It’s a tad bizarre the longer you think about it; you don’t recall him paying for anyone else that often. Usually when the whole group goes to the Three Broomsticks, everyone throws a galleon or a few sickles on the table before you leave, based on how much each drinks or if someone ordered food. Your solution? Just don’t think about it. He’s being nice and you don’t complain when someone is being extra nice to you. Definitely not when it’s Regulus. 

On the way back to the castle, you tell Regulus about the games you used to play with cousins using Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. Some of the games you’ve played at Hogwarts through the years, but your cousins have their own rules and methods of telling the flavors apart. Regulus tells you about the Chocolate Eternals that Sirius would sneak him when they were younger.

“He’d have to remind me not to chew them every time. Mum’s only given me enough to get two so we each get one. They don’t melt. Make it last.” 

You give him a slightly pitiful look. “I guess sweets weren’t too common growing up?” 

“No. Mother believes they are for special occasions and even then, they are limited… Come to think of it, I’m not sure Mother actually gave Sirius the money for the chocolates. He probably nicked it from her purse.” 

Regulus chuckles at the idea and you’re glad the conversation returns to its previous light-hearted nature. Regulus is able to keep his unspoken promise to carry your things all the way back to the common room. 

“Thanks for everything, Reg,” you say, giving Regulus a hug before taking your things back to your dorm. 

Regulus smiles to himself as he heads back to his. He feels proud of himself. He had a great first date with you and you seemed to enjoy yourself. 

---

Regulus starts placing himself next to you as much as he can. Or, at least, that’s what it feels like. You’re not complaining by any means. It’s nice and you like it. It’s just different. But you do notice that he’s becoming more relaxed around you, more himself. There have even been a few times where it’s just the two of you and you fall into easy conversation. 

After dinner on Friday evening, you sit next to Regulus on the plush couch in the common room. He’s got out the Transfiguration textbook, clearly doing the assigned reading. You have no intention of doing so. Regulus becomes less stiff as you sit down. It’s a miniscule change but you notice it. You scooch closer to Regulus and he moves his arm around you, holding you closer into his side. 

Pandora and Barty, having witnessed this, exchange curious glances. Regulus had told Barty that the date went well and he just assumed you were on the same page, that you are now dating. You had told Pandora about Regulus buying and how sweet he was the entire time, followed with a desperate ‘Do you think he might like me?’ Both Pandora and Barty had never seen Regulus put his arm around someone like that and he definitely never pulled someone in closer to him. His apparent tolerance of touches applying to only you was one thing; this was a whole new level. 

“You smell good,” you mutter into his chest. 

“Hm, thank you,” Regulus says quietly. 

Then he musters all his courage and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. Your eyes go wide and you sit up, staring at him. Pandora and Barty have similar looks of surprise on their faces. Their quiet and previously boring evening in the common room just got interesting. 

“You… just… You kissed…” you stutter out.

You’re unable to actually finish your thought. You aren’t completely oblivious. You know that Regulus doesn’t give affection. 

“Erm, is that okay?” he asks, suddenly looking bashful and unsure of himself. 

“You don’t… You don’t… do that?” you say, sounding very, very unsure of what just happened. 

He wets his lips nervously. “I thought it’d be okay, with you, you know, since we’re dating?” 

You sit up even straighter. 

“We are?” you gasp. 

Regulus’ face burns bright red and out of the corner of your eye, you can see Barty trying not to fall out of his chair with suppressed laughter. 

“Since when?” you add. 

“Last week? I asked you on a date and it went well? At least, I thought it went well… I had a good time. Did you not?” 

You gasp louder and throw yourself at Regulus, burying him in a hug. 

“Merlin, I didn’t realize! No, it did go well!” You pull back from him with the widest grin he has ever seen. “You like me?” 

Regulus adjusts himself next to you, turning slightly to be more facing you. So apparently you weren’t on the same page about everything, but you seemed open to it.

“He doesn’t go around kissing everyone, sweetheart,” Barty chimes in, earning himself a glare from Regulus.

“Is that why you paid for everything? Because it was a date?” you ask Regulus.

He nods and you pull him into another hug. 

“So we’re dating,” you say.

“If that’s okay with you?” Regulus says, still sounding unsure of himself.

You pull back again and this time it’s you nodding. Then you get off the couch and practically jump onto Pandora’s lap.

“Did you hear, Dora? I’m dating Regulus!” you say happily. “Oh, I need to find Dorcas! She needs to know!”

And you are bounding away in search of your friend. You don’t hesitate to tell everyone that you pass that you’re dating Regulus Black, yes, the Regulus Black. You can’t help it – you’re just so excited that this yearslong crush has manifested into something real.

“About time too,” Pandora says once you’ve disappeared up the stairs toward the girls’ dormitories. “She’s been smitten with you for years.”

“I’d say you’re perfect for each other. Mr. ‘Allergic to touching’ and Ms. ‘Always touching,’” Barty adds. 

Regulus throws a pillow at Barty, which sends him into a cackling fit. Barty knows that Regulus must really like you to let him get away with that comment. After all, Regulus could’ve thrown his Transfiguration book at him. 

Tags: @navs-bhat

[skimmingmilk]

Pizza and a Pretty Solid Pep Talk

A/N: One shot fic based on TailsTube episode 11

His face burned as the hushed murmurs of students in the corridor whispered past his ears. Dozens of phone screens lit up in their hands and any eyes that weren’t preoccupied by their pocket pixels followed him on his exodus through Spagonia University’s hallowed halls of knowledge. A place he’d always felt safe to explore his ideas, where all questions and theories were welcomed and encouraged and never made to feel like… to feel…

Childish.

Stupid Orbot. Stupid Eggman for creating such stupid dumb bots time and time again. If only Tails had thought to have his tools on him, he’d have dismantled the pile of scrap in seconds and turned his overinflated head into a bowling ball.

He couldn’t even pretend all eyes weren’t actually on him, given that the Miles Electric 2.0’s massive external monitor was floating just behind him like a big, yellow version of his own scarlet letter, leaving no question what social faux pas he’d been branded with. Even if they didn’t watch TailsTube, news would make its way to the student body eventually. He had amassed enough of an audience over the months that surely talk of his most recent show was already trending on random people’s “For You” pages. Students would recognize their school or their professor and curiously click to see what it was all about.

The ornate, glass doors to the university swung open as Tails shoved his way through, frustration still simmering on a low heat as he barely kept himself from stomping down the stone steps like a child who hadn’t gotten his way. Even if, technically, that’s what he was.

“This has been very… cute.”

Embarrassing had been an understatement. Tails had been humiliated. He’d managed to keep his cool for his audience, used to embodying a certain persona for his livestreams that made him sound intelligent as well as relatable. A reliable source of information to combat the swathes of misinformation people like Eggman and other enemies of freedom who crawled out of the woodwork to sow panic and doubt in the minds and hearts of the masses. 

All of that would’ve been undone in seconds if he’d let his composure slip, and it nearly had. 

Cute.

Tails couldn’t think of anything more insulting than to be condescended to by a fellow scholar.

The intensity of his glare was enough to burn holes into his sneakers on his descent of shame. As he rounded the stone fountain set in the center of the steps, his downturned gaze caught sight of a familiar pair of shoes just at the edge of his field of vision. Tails stopped. His tails, which had been discreetly tucked around his legs, flicked themselves free instinctively. Whether out of irritation or elation was still up to the jury in his mind, but the moment Tails lifted his head, his surly expression softened.

Sonic sat perched on the edge of the fountain with a flat, cardboard box beside him. A lopsided sort of smile pulled at his muzzle as he watched him, waited for him. He wasn’t supposed to be in Spagonia today. He’d been hanging out with the Chaotix in Seaside City for the past couple of days. He’d even gone as far as to make a big fuss about Tails being in Spagonia, claiming he’d purposefully picked the setting for his first livestream on the road to be somewhere Sonic wasn’t close to just to spite him, despite having told him his plans when he first started organizing his itinerary and guest list weeks ago.

But Tails knew, even if Sonic wasn’t always around in-person for his shows, he never missed a single one. He was always the first comment in the chat, always claiming that title too, because no one was beating the fastest thing alive to his best buddy’s streams. This one wouldn’t have been any different, regardless of being in another timezone, on another continent.

“Was in the mood for some pizza,” Sonic volunteered as an answer to Tails’s unspoken and unnecessary question. He knew exactly why he was here.

He’d seen everything.

“Couldn’t get one in Seaside City?” Tails asked dryly, though his tone was a little too flat for their usual banter.

“Nah, they just can’t do it like Spagonia!” Sonic flipped open the lid of the box, revealing a fresh pizza piled high with soft discs of mozzarella, cherry tomatoes, mushrooms, arugula, and garlic; Tails’s toppings of choice. “Might’ve been feeling a bit nostalgic, too. This was Chip’s favorite place to get pizza.”

It might’ve been a ploy to tug at Tails’s heartstrings, but if Sonic had been watching the live stream, then he’d absolutely heard them discussing Dark and Light Gaia. He’d have seen Orbot’s cartoonish rendition of Sonic with Chip, their doodles surprisingly accurate for someone who hadn’t even been invented yet at the time of that particular adventure. Tails’s gaze drifted to Sonic’s wrist, the one Chip’s bracelet sometimes adorned, but it was hidden by the lid of the pizza box so he couldn’t tell if the token was there as a reminder as well. His brother wasn’t often the sentimental sort, but after the events of the Starfall Islands… he’d been a bit more…

Well, as he’d put it himself, nostalgic.

Tails didn’t fight it; he let Sonic’s not-so-subtle attempt at comforting him carry him to his big brother’s side. “It was the only place we took him to get pizza,” he replied, knocking his shoulder into Sonic’s as he settled on the fountain’s edge beside him.

Sonic nudged him back in playful retaliation, then grabbed a slice from the box and held it out to Tails. “Alright, smart guy. Even if we'd taken him to every pizza place on the planet, it'd still have been the first place he ever had pizza with us, which makes it pretty special in my book.”

“You really are feeling nostalgic, huh.” Tails took a small bite, watching as Sonic attempted to wrestle his own slice out without losing too many toppings. “You know what that means. You're getting old.”

“Pfft. Yeah, right. I'm as spry as a hedgehog half my age,” he boasted, kicking up one leg over the other as he took a huge bite.

“No cap, you just don’t have that rizz, fam.”

“Half of those aren’t even words. Stop speaking witch.” Sonic flicked Tails in the forehead, grinning when it got a laugh out of the kid. “You’re cringe, little bro.”

“What can I say? I learned from the best.” Tails stuck his tongue out at him.

“And yet somehow still severely lacking in the sense of humor department,” Sonic drawled, polishing off the rest of his pizza slice.

Tails glanced down at his own slice, but didn’t take another bite as he picked at one of the cherry tomatoes threatening to slide off the end. He was suddenly extra conscious of the sounds around them; the steady trickle of water as it flowed from the fountain into the shallow pool just behind them, the hum of distant car engines in the streets throughout the city, and constant clatter of footsteps on stone as pedestrians passed them up and down the stairs. Watching them when they walked by. Whispering.

Tails’s ears drooped, but even that couldn’t drown them out. “And the rolling with the punches department,” he murmured.

Sonic glanced over at him. “Nah, I’d say you’re pretty good at that.”

“And I’d say you’re pretty biased,” Tails huffed, then shrugged one shoulder self-consciously. “I dunno. Could’ve handled today better. I just let Orbot roll over me completely, which is pretty pathetic on my part considering he doesn’t even have wheels. Or treads.”

Sonic cast a glance at the giant yellow monitor still hovering nearby. “You were hosting your livestream and interviewing someone you really admired. A meeting of the minds, like you said. You didn’t show up here thinking you’d need to square up for a fight. He caught you off-guard on purpose, that was the whole point. His ‘revenge’ scheme, or whatever.”

“Yeah, and I let him,” Tails sighed, slumping forward. “You wouldn’t have let something like that slide.”

“No, but I’m not exactly known for my tact, am I?” Sonic’s smile turned rueful as he tapped his fist against Tails’s shoulder. “Don’t really care what people think of me either, which isn’t super helpful when it comes to building a rapport with ‘em. You know firsthand how many people I piss off on a regular basis, and half the time it’s not even on purpose! Something tells me that professor gal definitely would’ve been one of ‘em. I don’t think she’d have appreciated me trashing her office with busted up robot pieces.” 

Tails tried to imagine it, and the picture it painted wasn’t a pretty one. “Probably not.” 

“Ya kinda had your hands tied, partner. But you salvaged what you could. You didn’t completely burn a bridge with that professor, after all.”

“What are you talking about?” Tails’s brow furrowed as he stared at Sonic in sheer disbelief. “The interview was a complete disaster. There’s no salvaging any of that. She called me cute. You know what you call cute? Chao, babies, Cream’s tea parties, Knuckles when he understands a reference. You know what’s not supposed to be cute? Scientific discoveries. Cosmic theories. Bridging gaps in the timelines of our planet’s history. I look like a joke. A laughing stock to everyone in a field focused on the pursuit of knowledge. Tori—Professor Victoria—even made up a fake lecture so she could get out of the situation. I checked her class schedule ahead of planning the interview. She was clear for the next hour. But she knew spending even a second longer with me would’ve been a waste of her time.”

“At least she made up an excuse,” Sonic pointed out.

Tails bristled. “What do you mean ‘at least?’”

“If she really didn’t want anything to do with you, she probably would’ve just said so. The fact that she made something up means that, maybe, she didn’t want to burn a bridge with you either. Besides, didn’t she say you guys could continue your conversation another time? I’d like to think she wouldn’t make a point to say that just to be polite.”

Tails blinked, the creases in his forehead smoothing out as he considered the logic behind Sonic’s words. “She’s a professional. An educator. Not to mention an archaeologist and historian. There’s a certain level of decorum she has to adhere to in this line of work. And unyielding patience is practically a job requirement.”

“Then maybe she’ll have some of that patience on hand the next time the two of you cross paths.” Sonic’s eyes crinkled with his smile. “Because she’ll remember a sweet kid who didn't push or press his luck and respected her decision to back out of a conversation that got outta hand, even though he was totally in the right to call her out on it. And she’ll give that kid the second chance he deserves.”

It might’ve been more of Sonic’s bias on full display, but Tails had to admit it helped to hear. “You really think so?”

“You bet,” Sonic assured him, slinging an arm around Tails’s shoulder, the comfortable and familiar weight of his brother’s belief in him made it a bit easier to bear the burden of his own embarrassment and disappointment. “And if she doesn’t, then maybe she’s not the kinda mind worth meeting.”

“Yeah, I guess you have a point,” Tails agreed a little reluctantly.

“I have several, actually,” Sonic teased, gesturing towards his own quills.

Though it was absolutely a joke worth rolling his eyes at, Tails let him have that one since he brought him pizza and a pretty solid pep talk. “I was really looking forward to meeting her.”

Sonic’s cheeky grin eased up at the soft admission and the way Tails leaned against him for comfort. “I know, bud. I’m sorry it wasn’t everything you hoped it would be.” He rubbed his arm, then gave him a firm squeeze. “Wanna try and track down bolt brains before he goes crawling back to old egghead and take out some of that disappointment on him? Maybe turn his empty head into something that’s actually useful. Like a bowling ball.”

Tails snorted and his twin tails fluttered as his mood improved; they really were cut from the same cloth. “Nah. Let him think he’s won this round. I’ll get him back when he least expects it.”

“Atta boy,” Sonic praised, removing his arm so he could ruffle the fur atop his head instead. “Keep me posted. I’ll want popcorn and a front row seat.”

“You got it.” Tails held out his fist and bumped it against Sonic’s before reaching for another slice of pizza. “So you heading back to Seaside City after this?”

“Eh. Figured I came all this way, might as well do a little sightseeing.” Sonic nabbed a second slice for himself. “Whaddya say? Mind if I tag along for a bit?”

Tails shook his head, holding up his pizza like he would a glass for a cheers and Sonic met him halfway. “For a bit,” he agreed, his grin all teasing before his eyes lit up. “Oh, but first—Professor Pickle’s got open office hours in a few minutes. Want to stop by and say hi while we’re here?”

“Sounds good to me. It's been a while since I’ve checked in on the old prof.”

Sitting on the edge of the historic fountain, sharing a pizza between them, and equally recognizable on their own rights, Sonic and Tails might've attracted a few curious stares and been the subjects of hushed conversations. But they sloughed off Tails like cherry tomatoes off melted cheese, because what they thought of him didn't actually matter. Not when he had someone like Sonic in his corner. He knew what he'd experienced, what he was capable of. He knew his own merit.

Someday the world would see it, but for now, Sonic was more than enough.

He could always count on Sonic to see him.

---

A/N: I would’ve had this written faster, but we had a party at work earlier in the day so I was away from my desk for most of it and then I had tummy ache when I got home :( It shouldn’t be so hard to write with tummy ache.

Anyway, I just have one thing I’d like to say: Tails, babes, sweetheart, why is your floating monitor so huge. Honey, how do you take that on the road with you? Where do you pack it? That can’t possibly fit in the tornado, it’s like a 50” television.

The thought of it just floating around behind as he walks through Spagonia was just too funny for me, so I gave up on trying to logic the compatibility and portability of this stupid thing. I love it.

Also I based Tails’s favorite pizza toppings on some of the ingredients that can be found in his recipes in the Sonic Cookbook. I feel like he’d really like curry pizzas based on the spices in his chickpea recipe, but for a more traditional Spagonia pizza, I went with some of the veggies in his fish skewers recipe, as well as combinations I saw on the menu of an Italian restaurant I ate at while I was in France a few years ago, since Spagonia has both of those influences in its design, lol.

Lowkey, part of me also thinks Tails would enjoy a caper, olive, and anchovy pizza… like his recipes also have a salt and vinegar component to them that makes me think he’d be onboard with that xD Not so sure about Sonic though. He's an adventurous guy, but something makes me think he wouldn’t be super keen on that combo, so I played it safe with the cherry tomatoes and garlic. Both these boys love their tomatoes and garlic <3

[ferigrievous]

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI HCS ⋆˚࿔

says good morning at any time of day and sees nothing wrong with it

the kind of guy who pees with the bathroom lights off and door wide open.

completely unfazed by horror movies, but jumps a little when the toaster is finished

autistic. got diagnosed when he was like four and he thinks it doesnt affect his life but everyone else knows otherwise.

a quarter south east asian on his moms side, but he doesnt know where because they barely talk.

doesnt know how to pose for photos, even post timeskip, and stopped smiling in them for a while because a fan called it scary

doesnt understand sarcasm, and finds it odd that people think he’s being sarcastic often. he speaks the way he wants to be understood, and hates it when people find ulterior meanings

has a little bit of an ego, but its lowkey justified. people talk about him like he's the reincarnation of jesus, so its only natural he thinks that he's better than the average person. doesnt act like it on purpose though.

driest texter in the world like actually. dont even bother texting him at all.

never asks for help when he should, and is stubborn enough to go at it until it works

became self aware in his thirties but didnt end up changing because he doesnt feel the need to explain himself. the people he cares about understand him, and thats enough for him

has had the same breakfast every day for years. only thing he changes is the drink.

probably very particular about the way he does certain things, but not in a way that makes sense to other people, and will not explain it to anyone.

biggest pet peeve is wasting time

has absolutely no awareness of pop culture. he literally reads the ads on magazines this man does not know who beyonce is.

doesnt own anything he doesnt need to own, so his place post timeskip literally looks like he just moved in yesterday

but he also keeps everything anyone has ever given him, and is basically the only decoration

doesnt think of it as sentimentality, more of ‘if i throw this away im disrespecting the person who gave it to me

he doesnt even have a TV, and didnt have a dishwasher until he turned thirty 

very practical dresser. doesnt own anything just for ‘fashion’. very function over form

actually reads instruction manuals back to front

genuinely honest to god could not care about social norms. not even in a rebellious way, but in a ‘why would i put in that much effort to be misunderstood anyway’ way

never rewatches shows or movies. doesnt get the concept of it.

a very good listener, but only offers logical solutions

doesnt believe in luck.

never loses his temper, just gets really quiet and cold because he doesnt want to say something he doesnt mean.

always drives the exact speed limit. no more, no less, and if someone brings it up while riding with him, he’ll give them the nastiest side eye unintentionally

once won a raffle and tried to give the prize back because ‘someone else might need it more’

doesn’t correct people when they misunderstand him. they’ll figure it out or they won’t

has never once left a voicemail. if they don’t pick up, he just hangs up

when he’s done talking to someone, he just stops responding

actually a really good cook but eats like three meals because he just doesnt have time

has never once in his life misplaced a sock,

always remembers exactly where he parked, no matter which exit he comes out from

people assume he’s no fun, but he just has very specific definitions of fun

[ req ; @deardoelle ]

[daisyvisions]

Not Like the Rest - (j.cm)

➺ Pairing - fuckboy!Changmin x fem!reader

➺ Summary - For you, friends with benefits should never drag out this long. Use each other til one of you wants to call it quits. So why was Changmin still hanging around?

➺ Word Count - 1.2K

➺ Warnings - Smut (18+, minors DNI), friends with benefits, mixed feelings, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, overstimulation (?), aftercare, riding, slight angst (ish? idk), fluff, mentions of bad past relationships, hookups, etc., pet name (babe), let me know if I missed anything!

➺ Author’s note - yippie another one (even if I wanted this to be longer huhu 🥲) but it's been in the drafts long enough, finally letting this one out in the wild. this is my very late bday gift for Changmin's bday, story was originally an ask I had for a different fandom but decided why not write it myself? Proofread once, enjoy!

➺ Taglist: @deoboyznet @winterchimez @snowflakewhispers

Thinking about fuckboy!Changmin, who you’ve been hooking up with for the past couple of months.

To be honest, this was probably one of the longest and most steady friends with benefits agreement you’ve ever had in your life. Usually the others would drop you after the first month or so and ghost you. But not Changmin.

At first you thought he would be like the rest. Just a one time fuck or whatever the hell these guys go for, especially given his track record and all (or so you've heard through the grapevine). You’re used to it by know you think and maybe you should stop this vicious cycle.

But old habits die hard, especially when you’ve had a string of bad relationships that it made you too afraid of commitment. Too afraid of getting your heart broken time and time again.

That’s why you resorted into flings. At least if ever it ends, you’re not so attached right? Well that’s what you try to tell yourself so it hurts a little less.

But that’s why with Changmin, for some reason being with him leaves you with all these mixed feelings. Oh god especially when he does things that make your heart beat fast and the butterflies raging in your stomach?

Or how he makes that rope within your abdomen tighten each time? Like how he is right now as he grips your hips, helping you bounce on his length as you try to reach your high.

It almost seemed too good to be true, that’s why by the third month that past of whatever you wanna call this continued, you did your best to please him almost all the time both in and outside of the bedroom. You wanted to hold onto this one as long as you can, even if there have been moments where it made you tired, especially physically as you continue to bounce on him.

Riding wasn’t really your forte when it comes to sex positions. Though you enjoyed it a lot, it’s just that your knees and leg muscles would eventually give in. But of course you wouldn’t tell Changmin even if it made you drained out. You were worried you might turn him off because in past relationships you would get criticized for it (because they expected you to do all the work).

So as you try your best to ignore the growing ache in your knees and the burn in your thighs, Changmin could tell something was off. It wasn’t your movements slowing down or when you would try to pause in between but with the way you knitted your eyebrows together (and not the kind that’s done because of pleasure).

“Babe, you okay?” He huffs out as his hands continue to guide your hips up and down his throbbing member.

“I-it’s nothing.” You breathe out, trying not to feel the pain in your muscles. You suddenly yelp both out of surprise and pleasure as Changmin suddenly pushes your hips down and halts your movements, his entire cock sheathed inside you as the tip kisses that sweet spot deep within.

“Why’d you stop me?” You whine.

“We need to talk about something-” Changmin says with a serious tone. Was he finally going to break things off with you?

“About what?” You try to keep your composure, not letting your emotions get the best of you.

“You have this face every time you’re on top.” Changmin gets straight to the point. “What’s wrong?”

Oh… so your discomfort does show.

Out of embarrassment, you lean forward and quickly hide your face at the crook of his neck.

“Hey- you can tell me it’s alright.” The warmth of his hand caresses the back of your head.

“Please don’t make fun-” Your voice starts to quiver ever so slightly. “It’s not that I don’t like being on on top it’s more of…” You life your head to face him, you cheeks growing warm from feeling flustered.

“I get very tired from it easily. My legs are- they’re kind of weak. I’m- I’m sorry…”

At first, there’s an awkward silence that fills the room. Changmin’s eyes trying to search something within yours before his chuckle breaks the tension.

God, is he seriously laughing? He’s the first guy to ever laugh at you for this. You should've just kept your mouth shut. Now he thinks you’re a-

“Well why didn’t you say so babe? Hold on.”

“Huh? Oh!” You squeal as his arms wrap around your waist, plants his feet on the mattress and thrusts himself into you like a jack rabbit. As the sounds of skin slapping against one another progresses, you can’t help but let out a string of erotic moans as you bury your face into his neck once more (God how he wishes he could play your sounds on loop forever).

The pleasure was starting to overwhelm you that your vision starts to blur from the tears forming in your eyes. You’ve never been fucked like this before. You practically feel him everywhere. You don’t even realize you’ve already reached your high and now you’re squirting all over him, your cunt gripping his length like there’s no tomorrow.

You reach your second wave of high much faster than you anticipated, igniting something very primal within Changmin to just keep on thrusting up into you. His arms tighten around you suddenly as his release suddenly bursts within your walls, coating them in his hot load.

You suddenly have no energy to move after all that, so Changmin helps you lift your hips, releasing a pool of your mixed essences as lay on his chest for a moment.

For some reason after being honest with Changmin about how you were feeling, it was like you were seeing a totally new side of him. He was usually the type to give aftercare but something seemed different tonight, you just couldn't place your finger on it.

He made sure to prepare a warm bath, help you lather your hair, and made sure you were settled in before holding you in his arms, leaving you a warm goodnight kiss before he went to sleep.

You stayed up for a moment, replaying everything that has happened between you and Changmin from the moment you met. This was very different from your usual hookups, and it made you feel a lot of mixed emotions.

While he made you feel all these exciting things, you couldn’t help but feel scared about how this will turn out in the end. Maybe these are the early signs of him ending things? Will this be one of the final moments you'll ever have with him before you become strangers again?

You mentally shook the thoughts out of your head and decided to focus on what was right here in this moment, snuggling closer into his chest as you slowly drift into sleep.

But little did you know that Changmin’s feelings for you were already reciprocated, ever since you two met. It was only a matter of time til he took you out on a proper date and finally asked you to be his girlfriend.

[celestialgalaxyglow]

Batfam and Danny, Part 32

Wayne Manor, Damian's art studio.

Danny: Hey Damian.

Damian: Hi Danny.

Danny: Nice painting.

Damian: It's still not finished I still have to do some finishing touches on the shading.

Danny: Well it looks like a good representation of Jon. Hi by the way.

Jon: Hi Danny!

Danny: Is painting Jon while he's doing his homework functional? He's going to be moving a bit.

Damian: I wanted a bit of a challenge.

Jon: I told him I could stand still and model but Damian refused.

Damian: I didn't want you to fall behind on your homework.

Danny: Don't you have homework?

Damian: I did it during lunch at school.

Jon (sad): Damian always does his homework during lunch.

Damian: That doesn't mean I ignore you, we still talk. I just rather have free time to paint.

Jon: Nerd.

Damian: Excuse me? If anything you're the nerd.

Jon: Let's agree to this agree.

Damian: I can agree to that.

Jon: Hmm... Damian do you have a pencil sharpener?

Damian: Yes, it's in my desk in my room, top left drawer. You can go up and get it.

Jon (getting up and hugging Damian on his way out): Thanks bud, you're the best!

Damian (smiling): Anything for you Jon.

Jon flew out of the room. Danny looked down at Damian who had gone back to looking at his painting. Danny snapped his fingers.

Damian: What's this?

Danny: Anti-sound barrier. I want to ask you something and don't what any wondering hears.

Damian: Ok...

Danny: Damian do you like Jon?

Damian: I- yes he's my best friend.

Danny: No, do you like-like Jon? Just now let him hug you without asking and hugged him back while smiling, you never allow that. You also allowed him into your room without you there, you only allow Alfred to do that. And you let him talk to you while working on an assignment, you hate distractions. So I just want to know if you're just very comfortable around Jon or if I'm just reading too much into things.

Damian: ...I guess it'd be good to tell someone. He took a deep breath. Yes I do like Jon.

Danny: I see...

Damian: I'm not even sure how it happened. When we first meet, I found him annoying and wasn't a good friend. I've apologized to him for my initial behavior and he's forgiven me. Overall just told me not to think about it. Overtime we started hanging out more and more, and eventually I started seeing him as my best friend. But something changed a few months ago. We went on a mission together. The base we infiltrated was booby-trapped and we ended up getting separated. I ended up getting captured, stupid mistake on my part. As I was braking free from my constraints, Jon broke into the room and attacked the goons holding me hostage. He ended up sending all of them to the ICU. I had never seen Jon mad, or use his powers to such an extent before, I guess felt honored. It was after that that I started feeling both happier and strangely nervous whenever Jon was around, and also strangely sad when he wasn't. I also got this feeling to do anything I could to impress him. It was only recently that I figured out it was that I had developed feelings for him. And I don't know what to do.

Danny: Damian-

Damian: Let me finish. Since I was little I always admired both women and men. Guess part of that was because the League of Assassins doesn't care about what its members do on their off time, as long as it doesn't interfere with their duties, so my issue is not one of self, but rather what these new feelings could cause. If I do confess to Jon, he could reject me and ruin our friendship. And even if he does accept my feelings, we could separate later on. Then there's Tim and Kon, no matter what happens between me and Jon, it will impact their own relationship. He started to tear up. I just don't want to see anyone I care about get hurt due to my stupid feelings.

Danny hugged Damian.

Danny: Damian your feelings are not stupid. You can't help how you feel about Jon. True, this situation is very complicated, but I think you should go for it. From what I know about Jon, he won't just stop talking to you if he doesn't feel the same way, yes things might be awkward for a while, but you two will remain friends at the end. At the very least you can say you tried.

Damian (wiping his tears): Danny, that is the worst pep talk I have ever heard. But, I see your point, I just don't know how to go about it.

Danny: What about the gala we're due to attend in a few days. You got a plus one right? Invite Jon, and confess your feelings at the end of the night.

Damian: That sounds like a reasonable plan... I'll ask Jon to the gala, but I don't know if I'll ask him to more than best friends.

Danny: That's the spirit!

Danny broke the barrier.

Jon: I'm back!

Damian looked at Jon and then at Danny who nodded.

Damian: Jon I would like to ask you something.

Jon: What is it?

Damian: In a few days my family and I are going to a gala, and I have a plus one, I would like you to go with me.

Jon: Really!? Sure thing, I'll love to go!

Damian (smiling): Great. Do you own a tuxedo?

Jon: Nothing fancy enough for the kind of galas you go to.

Damian: You can have one of mine, we're the same height and have similar builds, it should fit you perfectly.

Jon: Thanks, I promise to take care of it.

Damian (proud): I'll show all of those lowlife Gotham elites how amazing my best friend.

Jon (smiling): Sounds like it'll be a fun night.

Damian (smiling): Yeah it will.

(Master Post)

[thewidowsledger]

Secrets Behind Our Dreams

Chapter 15: Dance For Me | 3.9k

© thewidowsledger - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Summary: You are a club dancer; a stripper. Natasha is a respected notorious mob boss. What would happen if your paths happened to cross one night? The only thing you knew about each other was your dreams, and neither of you knew what the other was.

Pairings: Mob Boss Natasha Romanoff x Stripper Female Reader

Tags | Warnings: Wanda x r (only for this chapter), angst, panic attacks, slapping, blood, dubcon (kissing), Wanda being an obsessive creep and getting on everyone's nerves

Author's Note: A veri beri rushed chapter, idkwtda...

Navigation | Masterlist | Series Masterlist

⧗

"So, how many gifts have you received now? I swear, every day there's something new. It's like Christmas over here."

Xialing turns to you, her voice softer now that you two have grown more comfortable with each other. She watches as you carefully unwrap another box, revealing yet another expensive dress. She rolls her eyes, taking a tiny box beside you and examining the contents.

"These are Clé de Peau Beauté…" she trails off seeing another yet girly stuff inside, "concealer, radiant corrector, cream brushes fu—what are you gonna do with all these?!" she asked unbelievably, if you didn't look at her with that kicked puppy pout face of yours she would've thrown that box across the room.

You know these are worth a fucking fortune since you cannot even pronounce the brands properly. Any other girl would be jumping for joy...but what good are heels, silk gowns, make ups, and lingerie sets against assault rifles and a room that never sheds you sunlight?

None.

You would actually appreciate it more if you were given a pen and a paper.

You carefully tuck the last dress back into its box, there is no use pretending these could ever matter more than being stuck in this place. You packed away those expensive gifts you had received and put it neatly in your own corner without any trace of excitement or greed along with the rest that you have been receiving the past few days you have been here.

"No girl here has received as many gifts as you have."

Maybe the princess thought that fact would make you feel better, but instead, it makes you feel more isolated. Like a target.

"Why me?" your whisper is barely audible, almost lost in the buzz of the room lights. Your lips quiver slightly, betraying the fear you're trying hard to hide, "W-why me?" You repeated defeatedly, your voice cracking as you sob lightly.

The princess didn't have an answer to that either.

You wrap your arms around yourself, trembling slightly. You don't want these gifts. No pretty clothes or fancy shoes—you want out…and to be back in Natasha's arms. And these gifts only made you feel like whoever has been sending them to you is expecting something in return. Like they're trying to soften you up for something worse.

"I'm scared."

The admission hangs in the air, raw and vulnerable. Xialing's expression softens immediately. She walks over to your bed and sits down beside you, her presence both comforting and hesitant.

"We all are. Scared, I mean. It's impossible not to be in a fucking place like this." She says with bitter understanding as she leans in closer, her shoulder brushing against yours. Xialing leans in conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. "Think about it. You've got the perfect weapons hiding in those pretty boxes of yours."

"H-huh?" You ask dumbfoundedly.

"We could take them by surprise, stab them using your heels." She chuckles, already imagining the scene.

"You're ridiculous," your laughter is soft and shaky at first, but it grows a bit more genuine as the tension in your shoulders begins to ease. "We're going to be okay," you say softly, almost like you're trying to convince yourself. You almost believe it, thanks to her unshakeable presence.

You wouldn't deny that her determined expression and confident demeanor always manage to reignite a spark of hope within you, even when you've given up on the situation. She's the one dragging you out of the bed every morning when you don't feel like moving at all, the one scolding you when you tried talking to other girls when it is strictly prohibited or after you glared at Agatha during dinner telling you it would have cost you your life. She is the one looking after you—picking after you. She's like a beacon of strength in the darkness, inspiring you to hold on…just a little longer.

"We're going to be okay."

⧗

Now, you are seated back at a long table again. Over time, you've grown accustomed to the touch of the plastic spoon and fork against your lips and skin. The food is always bland, carefully measured out to keep you thin and 'presentable' just as what Agatha demands. It feels like having silent meals with robots, each bite feels like a chore, performed without thought or enjoyment and knowing that a single stray word could earn you a day without food.

But you know that these robots are just as hopeless and frightened as you are.

"Stripper," You glance up from your plate as Agatha, the woman seated in the center, calls out to you.

It's the name she's only used a handful of times, always dripping with disdain and mockery. Like eating with these robots, you've grown used to it as well.

"Enjoying your gifts?"

You didn't know whether to answer or not. Whether it's a trick to make a word fall out of your mouth for her to get a punishment for you. Xialing once told you to only speak when spoken to but your mind flashes back to the girl from your row who had answered Agatha's question way back, you never saw her during lunch and dinner that day, you only got to see her in the morning, shuffling weakly with the guards almost dragging her withered body.

Your survival instincts started kicking in full force lately with your roommate igniting that little fire of hope within you and you can feel it right now. So, you chose to keep your head down, shoveling the tasteless food into your mouth like a good little robot.

"You've got some visitors later."

And there, your world paused. Your fork freezes before you can bring it to your mouth. Your eyes widen almost imperceptibly while still staring at your plate. Your mouth slightly agape, feeling a rush of adrenaline cause your heart to pound rapidly in your chest.

Your eyes started to water involuntarily in fear and confusion. You've been here too long to know what visitor could mean, but visitors?

"You're a big time stargirl."

And with that Agatha claps loudly, signaling the end of the mealtime. Before you can even finish your food, plates are being removed from the table and so are you. Rough hands yanked you up from your seat. Your hyperventilating starts uncontrollably as panic surges through you. The other girls remain frozen in their seats, their expressions blank—robotic. You can only look at Xialing, her eyes are filled with helpless anger and fear as she watches you struggle silently.

You thrash and kick feebly against the guards' grip, your body language the only form of resistance left in you. Your struggle is almost pathetic, letting out broken whines and sobs being grown accustomed to silence that even now, facing unknown danger, you don't scream or fight with words.

The guard's brutal grip squeezes your arm harder as he drags you forcibly down the hallway you've never been to. His fingers dig into your flesh with painful intensity, making you wince since you're still trying to fight back. Without warning, he throws open a heavy wooden door and shoves you inside, letting you stumble awkwardly.

Through your blurred, tear-filled eyes, you make out a figure sitting in the dim light of the room. As your sobs gradually quiet, you blink, trying to focus. It was the man from the club, his cold eyes fixed on you, a cruel smile tugging at his lips—the one Natasha beat to a pulp over when he tried forcing himself to you. He's sitting in a plush armchair, looking disgustingly the same as far as you can remember him, but the difference now is he's got some scar on his right cheek.

Probably from the punches Natasha threw his way that night.

"Well, well. That's 'er uncle." He chuckles, looking at the old man sitting behind him, who stares at you with cold, beady eyes.

You stand trembling in front of them, your clothes disheveled. The old man's beady eyes rake over you, taking in every detail of you, finally seeing you in person. The man from the club grins wider, enjoying your confused, exposed state.

"I see." The old man says, breaking the silence. "I didn't know Alexei's daughter would be into a cheap whore."

Cheap whore? That you understand, but who's Alexei's daughter?

You're confused, scared, and utterly lost as you watch the two men exchange glances and words. You feel like a small, helpless creature caught in the crossfire of two predators.

"Well, she's not reserved to anyone so that means I can…have her." The man from the club suggested hesitantly, then, all of a sudden the more he spoke the more his voice sends waves of recognition through you. You stiffen, your mind racing. You knew that voice, the same voice of the man who was with Penelope.

Your breath catches sharply in your throat. Memories flood back unbidden—being thrown at the dark room, the slap that made you kiss the ground, and that burning feeling in your skin.

That night your nightmare started.

"Someone got an eye on her already and I believe you being spoiled a lot, yea?"

You're too overwhelmed, still too confused and frightened to even begin to understand what the old man is asking now you're suddenly included in their conversation. Spoiled? Someone got their eye on you? The words swim in your head, making no sense.

Nothing makes sense at this point.

"I can beat whoever that is." The man from the club challenged, with a smirk that made you shiver.

"If you can beat that Maximoff twin, sure."

Before you can even attempt to process what they had just said, strong arms suddenly wrap around your waist and you're abruptly dragged out of the room. The sudden movement makes you stumble, your feet barely touching the ground as you're half-carried, half-dragged down towards the door of the room.

As you're being pulled away, you catch sight of the man from the club once more. His hand casually waves in your direction, that smug smile never left his lips.

"Nice to see you again."

You thought you're going to be brought back to your room but when you were led to another hallway you're not familiar with, you started thrashing against the guard's grip but it was once again, futile.

The door slams shut behind you, leaving you alone in the opulent room. Your eyes dart around nervously before settling on the king-sized bed and a table and two chairs that are solely placed inside. Without hesitation, you make your way to the farthest corner, hugging your body tightly, trying to make yourself as small as possible. Even a bed won't give you comfort right now.

As you sit there, hugging your knees to your chest, the dam breaks. Tears stream down your face, sobs wracking your body as you finally allow the overwhelming emotions to surface. You feel lost, scared, and completely alone, trapped in this strange room with no answers and no escape.

You wonder if Natasha is out there somewhere, searching to look for you. You were the last piece, she has protected you long enough for the Red Room not to find you—she's powerful.

Or

Maybe Natasha isn't looking for you. Maybe she did look for you but gave up one point or maybe she didn't, at all. Maybe she's moved on now and back to her business without you in her life.

Your sobs intensify at that thought, each one tearing through your chest as if ripping your heart apart.

Your brain feels foggy, unable to process the jumbled puzzle pieces of information you have. It's too much, yet not enough. Perhaps, in its own way, your brain is trying to protect you from the overwhelming reality of the situation. By refusing to process the information, it spares you from the harsh truth that's too much to bear. It's a defense mechanism, shielding you from the pain and fear that threatens to consume you.

Now, your mind races back with the questions again, each one more confusing than the last. Is the man from the club the reason why you're here? Did he get back at you? Who was that old man? Who is Alexei's daughter? And most importantly, why are you suddenly being thrown around this room like a pawn in some twisted game?

Well, you are actually a pawn and you are in a twisted game.

"Someone got an eye on her already and I believe you being spoiled a lot, yea?"

"If you can beat that Maximoff twin, sure."

The gifts. You're being spoiled with lavish gifts. And it was…it was from that Maximoff twin.

Before you can even begin to sort the horrifying realization, the sound of a key turning in the lock echoes through the room. The door swings open, revealing a tall, imposing figure standing in the doorway.

That Maximoff twin, Wanda.

Her eyes lock onto you immediately, a mixture of intensity and something else—something almost tender—flickering across her expression. She steps in slowly, carefully, like a predator approaching its prey.

You try to move, to escape the corner that has become your prison but it's already a dead end. Either way you are still trapped with this woman in this room.

Instead of closing in on you, Wanda surprises you by dragging a chair across the room. She sits down, legs spread, her eyes never leaving your tear-stained face. She's close enough to see you clearly, but far enough that you don't feel suffocated by her presence.

You try to shrink into yourself, pulling your knees to your chest and burying your face in your arms, as if you can disappear from her sight. Wanda watches you intently, her expression unreadable as she studies your desperate attempt to hide from her. But she lets you. She watches your shivering shoulders, hears your quiet sniffs—she knows you're crying. Instead of ripping you out of your protective shell, she gives you space, letting you hide like a wounded animal.

She liked it. That sight of you stirred a strange warmth in her chest. You're so small, fragile…

Completely at her mercy.

"Stand up," she suddenly orders.

At the sharp commanding tone, you flinch violently, curling into an even tighter ball.

"Please, detka? Stand up." She leans forward slightly, her elbows resting on her knees as she waits, holding her breath, hoping against hope that you'll obey.

You heard the change in her tone clearly now—the harsh lines softening. Slowly, hesitantly, you lift your head, your tear stained eyes meeting Wanda's. Your survival instincts kick in once again, whispering that you should obey her to avoid pain. You don't know what this woman can do but you know she's powerful enough to hurt you. You slowly uncurl your trembling body, pushing yourself up on shaky legs. You stand there, hunched over, arms wrapped around your middle protectively, eyes darting between Wanda and the floor.

Her eyes slowly rake over your body, taking in every trembling limb. She leans back slightly, her voice steady and calm as she speaks, "I heard you're a dancer." She pauses, letting the words hang in the air between you.

She's aware of the seedy clubs and the pole you wriggle around on nights. Yet, she calls you a dancer.

You're shocked at her words of choice. You're a stripper, someone who spreads your legs for cash. But Wanda, with her soft voice and gentle eyes, makes it sound like you're some kind of professional artist.

She watches with interest as your cheeks flush a deep red. She sees the way you fidget, suddenly self-conscious under her intense gaze. A small, satisfied smile plays on her lips as she realizes she's gotten a reaction out of you.

"Dance for me."

The fear is back in your eyes, the color draining from your flushed cheeks. You stumble back a step, wrapping your arms protectively around your midsection even more as if trying to make yourself smaller. Your breath hitches, and you look at Wanda with wide, terrified eyes, like a cornered animal. A breathy sob escapes you, making your small frame shake. You shake your head slightly, dark hair cascading over your shoulders and hiding your face.

"I'm waiting."

You shut your eyes close as you slowly start moving, your body remembering the choreography from countless strip club nights at Valkyrie's. Your arms lift gracefully over your head, your hips circle seductively. The absence of music makes the atmosphere even more eerie. There's no beat to guide you, no rhythm to follow—just the sound of your own sobs echoing through the room. Each movement feels awkward and exposed.

You're dancing out of fear, not desire.

As you continue dancing, your sobs mingling with the graceful movements of your body, Wanda leans back in her chair, drinking in the sight. Each tear that slides down your cheek, each shuddering breath that escapes your lips, seems to bring her a twisted pleasure. She bites her lower lip, a low groan rumbling in her throat. "That's it," she murmurs, her eyes dark with a hunger that has nothing to do with food.

Without warning, Wanda shoots up from her chair and grabs your wrists, stopping you and pulling you towards her with a force that catches you off guard. You're suddenly pulled onto her lap as she sits back down on the bed. Your eyes snap shut, a gasp escaping your lips.

"P-please…don't hurt me, please." You croaked, your voice almost failing you from not talking since the morning you're being dragged around.

She wipes your tears away with a gentleness that belies her previous actions. Her touch is surprisingly soft against your skin as she cleans the wet tracks from your cheeks. "I won't hurt you, not yet at least," she says, her voice almost tender as her eyes search yours.

As soon as you try to squirm away, her strong hands immediately tighten around your waist, holding you firmly in place. The gentleness in her voice hardens. "Not so fast, kotenok. Don't make me change my mind about hurting you now." She chuckles, "Did you like my little gifts? You're not wearing any of them." You're wearing a silk duster that Xialing lends you, it's enough to cover your body to your knees.

"I don't want your gifts!" You spat in her face before you could even think.

Without warning, her open palm connects with your cheek, the sound echoing through the room. You can taste the coppery tang of blood where her ring caught your lip. She slapped you hard enough to make your head snap to the side.

You let out a cry as you rub your cheek. Wanda curses under her breath, remembering the rule, the one that's been drilled into her by Agatha because she knows the sadist tendency of her—no one can hurt any of the girls. No one can leave marks on the girls, at least not yet. Not until the night the clients can finally own them, you included.

"Fuck, I'm sorry…" she started to murmur apologies, her voice softer again now, almost gentle and it's making you crazy. Her hands gripped your waists, pulling you closer. "I'm sorry, bunny. I didn't mean to hurt you," she whispers, her hot breath ghosting over your skin.

Before you can even process a thought, she grabbed your jaw and her tongue swirls around your lip, lapping up the blood that had gathered there. She sucks on your lower lip gently, pulling it into her mouth before releasing it with a soft pop. With a low growl, she kisses you again, this time with a fierceness that borders on desperation. Her lips mash against yours, her teeth scraping against your lip as she deepens the kiss. She kisses you breathless, ignoring your whimpers and cries as she consumes your mouth.

Her lips leave your mouth, kissing down your jaw, your neck. She suckles softly on your pulse point, making you shiver. Her hands slip down your back possessively.

"You smell so fucking good, fuck. You smell the same like the last time I saw you..."

"P-please no. I don't want this…"

She freezes instantly at your plea, her lips still pressed against your neck. She pulls back slowly, eyes glinting in the dim light as she searches your face. She watches you catch your breath, your chest heaving with sobs.

"You don't want this?"

You were scared if you said no and much worse if you said yes. But still, you managed to nod and her expression falters briefly when you did it. She taps your inner right leg with two fingers and surprisingly releases you. You scramble off her lap, wiping at your tears and trembling lips.

"I will accept that for now, but one thing you have to know is you'll be mine soon. And no is a word that cannot be spoken around me." She says as she stands, while you crawl your way to the corner.

"But I-I don't want you."

"Well, that is something that I will not accept."

⧗

As you're escorted out of the room, Agatha was there, her sharp eyes immediately falling on your bruised lip. She steps forward, gently grasping your chin and examining the damage with a heavy sigh. "What has she done now?" Agatha murmurs to herself before addressing the guard sternly. "Take her to her room."

Her face turns red with anger as she storms over to Wanda, sitting in front of her office table. "I specifically told you not to touch the girl! No marks! And she got a busted lip and God knows what else! What is wrong with you?"

Wanda shrugs nonchalantly, spreading her legs wider as she lounges back in the chair. "Who cares? She's gonna be mine soon so I can do whatever I want to her." She grins mischievously, running her tongue over her teeth.

"You forget, Wanda, you didn't ask the Red Room to have her taken for you. They took her by themselves so she's not reserved. Anyone can claim her, not just you. You're not the only one interested in that stripper!" Agatha's eyes narrow dangerously, a vein pulsing in her temple. "What did you do to her?"

"She was being a brat to me, so I slapped her a little."

"A little huh? That her lip is bleeding? You've got lots of money but your rings are fucking rusty. You're lucky Dreykov and Walker gotta see her first." Despite her being ruthless and strict, Agatha maintained a peculiar sense of strict care for the girls under her control. Even those tasked on taking, more like abducting the girls received stern warnings from her not to leave a single mark or bruise, arguing that the merchandise needs to look pristine.

"She was able to see Dreykov?" Wanda asks, genuinely curious that she didn't even realize the bashing comment of Agatha with her favorite rings.

Dreykov's been a ghost since Natasha, his own goddaughter, torched his empire—the Red Room. Natasha thought she did, but the business still operated and no one's seen the man himself in years.

"Yes, I think. Walker is the only one that has direct contact with Dreykov. And I think that stripper might have pulled off what half the underworld hasn't."

"She's a dancer." Out of everything Agatha just said, Wanda corrected her for calling you a stripper before she stood and made her way out of her office.

"Oh c'mon. She dances for money that's a fucking whore!" Agatha shouts for Wanda to hear.

"Didn't you pimp your own son for money too?" the redhead turns, her voice steady and so sure of her blunt accusation. A smug look creeping in her face that made Agatha shiver.

"F-fuck you, Maximoff!" Agatha's face turns an ugly shade of red, her eyes bulging as she shouts.

"No, thank you." She snickers, "And Agatha? Make sure I've got no competition with that girl on the bidding night."

Secret Behind Our Dreams: Masterlist

[writinginatree]

All the Blood that You Still Owe

Relationship(s): Xaden Riorson & sibling!reader

Summary: An unpleasant surprise awaits on Hedotis, and you react with far less composure than your brother.

Warnings: Spoilers for Onyx Storm (set during chapters 33/34), canon divergence, mommy issues, implied daddy issues, anger issues, self-worth issues, we got all the issues baby!, unresolved childhood trauma, meltdowns, self-harm tendencies if you squint, graphic description of blood and violence, violence against children, murder, dissociation, self-hatred, vaguely suicidal thoughts

Title from MCR's song "I Don't Love You", go listen for some extra angst!

Landing on the rocky shore near the capital of Hedotis, you immediately dislike the place. You can't pinpoint why — on the surface, it seems like a beautiful, peaceful place. Nonetheless there's something about it that makes you uneasy in a way none of the other isles did. It's not just the lack of magic, either; uncomfortable as that is, you're starting to get used to it.

Observing the city — Vidirys, Violet had said it's called — it seems wrong somehow, with all those identical houses. It feels like looking at the background of a painting someone didn't want to put much effort into, just copying the same view over and over to create the illusion of a real place. Creepy, somehow, despite the superficial serenity.

The rest of the squad are all gathered a little farther up the beach, but you hang back, reluctant to part from your dragon.

The contrast of Dioghal's blood-red scales against the pale landscape only amplifies the lack of color around her, and you can't help but think what easy targets you make like this. Not that it should matter — according to Vi's handy guidebook, the people of Hedotis are supposedly peaceful. That doesn't make them trustworthy in your eyes, though. You're naturally suspicious of people who remain neutral in any and all conflicts happening around them, and you'd be willing to bet they do have weapons, possibly aimed at you this very moment from some hidden spot.

With these things in mind, you tense when you notice the group of locals stepping onto the wooden walkway that connects this piece of beach with what looks to be a market just outside the city.

Though you can't see any weapons on them, and they're all dressed in light tunics and gowns entirely unfit for combat, you double-check that all of your own weapons are where they belong before you give Dioghal's leg another pat and hurry after your squad, who are already going toward the locals.

Xaden raises a brow at you when you fall into step beside him, a wordless scolding for falling behind. Guess he doesn't quite trust the purported peace, either.

You're glad you aren't the only one who finds the place a little unsettling, because it really shouldn't be. But try as you might, you cannot shake the unease. Even the welcoming committee — if that's what it is — doesn't sit right with you. They should be wary of armed strangers on dragons showing up on their shore, but the way they're strolling toward you looks perfectly relaxed and casual. Almost like your visit doesn't surprise them.

No, you definitely do not like this. But these people could have the answers you're looking for, so if this is a trap, you're just going to have to deal with it. To calm your nerves, you remind yourself that Dioghal will be watching over you from afar. She won't let anything happen to you.

As you draw near, you notice a tall woman in the group of Hedotians — or is it Hedotics? — You should ask Violet later, she'll know what they're called — who seems strangely familiar.

Your discomfort intensifies, but you force yourself to keep walking, staring at the pale wooden boards beneath your feet as your group reaches theirs and greetings are exchanged. When the man from the triumvirate — he introduced himself, but you were only half listening — beckons his wife forward you glance up, and your heart stops, only to double it's speed.

It's the familiar-looking woman, and up close, you know why she's so familiar.

"Xaden," she says. Then her gaze jumps to you, frozen in place half a step behind your brother and a little to the side.

You barely hear her saying your name over the rushing in your ears, only vaguely register Xaden acknowledging her as he pulls Violet closer to his side. On the inside you're seven again, abandoned, confused, and fucking furious.

But unlike back then, you're armed now.

The metallic sound of your sword coming out of its sheath draws everyone's attention, and Garrick grabs you around the waist before you can take more than a single step toward your so-called mother.

"Let me go," you demand in a low growl barely loud enough for those nearest to hear. You can't seem to get enough air to speak any louder.

Instead of letting you go, Garrick forces your sword-arm down and pins it to your side. Despite the endless hours of training you've put in, you're no match for his strength — you might as well still be that seven-year-old you were when your mother left, so effortlessly does he restrain you.

"Calm down," he has the audacity to whisper into your ear. "We have a mission, remember? Don't fuck this up because of her."

He's right, you know that. It's just hard to care when so suddenly being faced with the woman you've missed and hated for the last thirteen — no, almost fourteen — years. Years you've spent imagining seeing her again — at first, it had been a happy, tearful reunion you'd pictured, back when you couldn't fully believe she had left for good. You'd thought you would apologize for whatever you had done to drive her away and all would be well. Then, as you'd grown older and understood she really had abandoned you, you imagined her looking at you full of regret and apologies, begging for forgiveness you would deny her. Later still, after your father had died and you were left alone under the care of some Navarrian loyalist, soaking up the world's cruelty like a fine handkerchief dropped into a pool of blood, you started dreaming of revenge. Your mother, Navarrian leadership, everyone. In your dreams you made them all pay for the hurt they'd inflicted on you and your brother, knowing you'd never be able to do so in reality.

But now you're here, and so is Talia. It would be so easy. So gratifying to make her see what pain she caused you and give it back to her tenfold.

Garrick's words echo in your ears as you notice the rest of the squad watching you with varying degrees of confusion and disapproval. Don't fuck this up. No, you can't afford to ruin this mission the way you do everything else. You've got to keep your shit together. For Xaden's sake, if not for that of everyone else on the Continent.

With that thought, you force your muscles to relax, and let Garrick guide your sword back into its sheath. His hold on you eases, but he hovers right behind you, ready to grab you again should you make it necessary.

You won't. Won't disappoint your brother and friends, won't ruin the mission, won't make things more difficult for them. You just have to hold in this burning rage. You can do that, have been doing it all your life. Calm. You have to be calm. If Xaden manages not to throw a fit at the sight of your mother, surely you'll manage not to do so either. Be calm.

Forcing yourself to take slow, measured breaths (nice and calm, nice and calm, nice and calm) you look anywhere except at Talia.

Someone starts making excuses for you, claiming that in your exhausted state you had merely gotten startled by Talia's suddenly stepping forward and overreacted. You meant no harm, they say. You're perfectly safe to be around, they say. It won't happen again, they say. Lies, all of it.

But no. It mustn't happen again. You can't ruin the mission. Keep it together. You have to keep it together somehow.

The man from the triumvirate — your mother's new husband — who observed your outburst with cold disapproval looks like he doesn't believe a word, but doesn't withdraw his invitation, either.

You really, really don't want to go to his house, though.

"Garrick," you mumble, since he's still standing closest to you, "I want to leave."

This is how it always went when you got overwhelmed while stuck at some stupid event as kids; you'd tug on the sleeve of whichever of the boys was closest to you and he'd sneak you out while the other two distracted the adults that wanted to keep you there before eventually joining you. But this is not a boring ball or dinner party, and you are no longer a child. You are here on a mission, and there's too much at stake to just blow it off, you know that even as you ask to leave.

"We can't, not before we find out if they have some answers for us," Garrick whispers back. He rubs his hand up and down your arm, trying to soothe you. "I know it's hard, but just remember that we're doing this for Xaden."

He's right. Gods, you know he's right, but every second in your mother's presence feeds the hatred burning inside you. Soon it will consume you whole. You don't know how you're supposed to keep it in much longer, if you can keep it in.

But you have to try. For Xaden. For your brother's sake, you might manage. If he can look at Talia without bursting into tears or punching something, then so can you. But of course Xaden has always had much better self control than you, a different kind of anger. Where your own anger burns like a raging fire, demanding to be let out, Xaden's turns his veins to ice, freezing his voice and eyes, a mask of deadly quiet.

You're not even sure if he is angry at your mother, or just disappointed, sad, whatever. Your rage is more than enough for both of you, anyway.

Talia's husband clears his throat. "Shall we?"

"Of course," Aaric says, stepping forward to take control of the situation, since neither Xaden nor Violet make any move to reply. The sideways glance he gives you in doing so says to get your godsdamned shit together. "Thank you for the invitation."

"You don't have to come," Xaden mutters to you, hanging back while the group slowly starts toward the city. You can tell he's upset too, but unlike you, he keeps it all on the inside. If only you were capable of the same. "Stay with the dragons if you want."

As much as you want to do so, it feels wrong, like you're failing both Xaden and the whole squad. What's the point of being part of this quest if all you do is lag behind?

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. You can always still join us later, if you feel up to it."

Us. That means Xaden intends to go with them. Of course. He's more important to the mission, and if both of you stayed behind, the man from the triumvirate might take offense. You should care about that. He's important here, and that means his opinion could decide whether or not these people will help you. But all you can think about is that all this time, your mother has been here, with that man. Had she left specifically to be with him, or did they meet later? Does it even make a difference? No, you decide. You hate both of them either way. And no matter how much you tell yourself you should, you just can't go with them to their house, where you'd probably have to sit in a stiff reception room and make pleasant conversation while the anger continues to eat you alive. You can't.

"Go. It's fine," Xaden encourages again. Nothing is fine. Not to you, and certainly not to him, either, but he's good at pretending things are fine when they're not. "You can do a sweep of the area if Dioghal isn't too tired, see if you spot the irids."

"I doubt they're here."

They aren't; you feel that in your bones. Hedotis is not a place dragons would like. Or are you just biased because you don't like the place?

"Yeah, me too. But we have to make sure, and it'll give you something else to focus on."

"Okay. I'll see you later then."

Xaden nods and follows the others, catching up with Violet, who walkes at the back, waiting for him, in a few long strides.

For a moment you look after them, feeling like a failure. They're almost out of earshot already, so you could break down now, scream and cry like the turmoil inside you demands.

You don't. Instead you turn, walking back down the beach to where Dioghal waits.

You wish your brother could have remained behind with you. Or better yet, that you could all leave this whole fucking place already. Selfish reasons aside, you also don't like the thought of leaving Xaden to deal with your mother alone. Her absence was just as hard for him as for you. Harder, maybe. But he won't really be alone, he has Violet and Garrick to take care of him, so you suppose it's alright. It makes no matter, anyway. Wishes won't get you anywhere; that's a lesson you learned the hard way. Xaden will bury his feelings and fulfill his duty the way he always does, while you will fight the urge to cry and scream for as long as you can and eventually break down, the way you always do.

Dioghal lowers her head when you reach her, chuffing in a way that sounds vaguely worried.

You curse the lack of magic in this place, desperately missing the mental connection to your dragon. She watched the interaction, but you don't know if she was close enough to hear, to understand what exactly made you so upset.

"That— That woman," you explain out loud, almost choking on the words, "that was my mother."

Dioghal croons, a blast of steam parting your hair. Her head swivels around to look after the group with narrowed eyes, like she's contemplating to follow them and show Talia exactly what happens to people who upset Dioghal's rider — death, usually.

"Can we just fly, please? Xay asked that we look around for the irids while the others talk to the triumvirate."

Dioghal lets out a low growl, and for a moment, you think she'll ignore you and go after your mother. Unlike you, she doesn't have anyone to grab her and talk some sense into her. You almost want her to do it. That way, you'd get the revenge you've dreamed of for so long without being directly responsible for ruining the mission. But then Dioghal straightens, averting her piercing gaze, and you know she's decided to let Talia live for now.

That should be a good thing, but it doesn't feel like one.

As you scale Dioghal's leg and get seated, you picture her claws sinking into your mother's flesh, her strong jaws closing around her, the resulting spray of blood as red as her scales. There's so many ways she could go about killing her. Biting her head clean off or slowly ripping her limb from limb, snapping her in half or clawing her guts out. Burning her, like the traitor she is. She could stab her with the poisonous bulb of her tail, make it slow and painful.

Gods, what the fuck is wrong with you? It can't be normal to wish these things upon your own mother, no matter what she did to deserve it. She may have abandoned you, but the fact remains that she's your mother. You're pretty sure that's supposed to mean something to you, even now, so why doesn't it?

If Dioghal could talk to you here, she would tell you it doesn't matter, that this hatred doesn't mean you're broken somehow. She understands your overwhelming anger better than anyone else ever has. You're one and the same in that way, quick to lash out for the smallest reasons, unable to let go of the big reasons, no matter how much time passes. Sometimes you wonder if that's why she chose you, because you're as unforgiving as she is, with a temper to match her own. And other times, you wonder if this similarity might be a bad thing, if maybe you would have been better off with a more reasonable dragon — say, a green, like your cousin's — that would teach you control over your emotions, instead of encouraging you to act on your rage like Dioghal tends to do. She forgets that you're human, that unlike dragons, you're supposed to have morals, a conscience.

If Dioghal ever caught those thoughts, she would probably eat you alive for doubting her.

She leaps into the air, and you wish you could leave the feelings plaguing you behind just like the ground, quickly shrinking with distance, but it's never that simple.

You can blame the stinging in your eyes on the wind, having foregone your goggles in your hurry to get off the beach, but there's no denying the sob that works it's way up your throat. Another follows, and another, and now your cheeks are stained wet, and with your eyes closed, you can pretend you've flown into a cloud and that's where the wetness comes from, but you know that if you open them, you won't be in the clouds. It would make no sense to fly that high, not when you're supposed to survey the isle for signs of the irids.

Bending at the waist, you press your face against Dioghal's warm scales and try to pretend your distress away. When that doesn't work, you allow yourself another sob, two. You have to stop. Dioghal may understand your anger, but she doesn't have much patience for tears. You squeeze your eyes shut, gnawing at your lip until blood floods your mouth. It's a reassuring taste. The pain in your lip isn't enough to distract you from your emotional hurt, but it gives you the strength to push past it and straighten in the seat.

Far below you, Hedotis's capital sprawles into the distance in it's orderly rows of identical pale houses. You can't deny there's a sort of beauty to it, but the city does not look alive the way Aretia or even Basgiath's small village of Chantara do. This kind of orderliness isn't natural.

It's hard to wrap your head around the fact that this is where your mother must have come from, that your ancestors lived here — maybe not in this very city, but in one like it somewhere on this isle. These are your roots. Talia's home, that she abandoned you to return to.

You hate it.

For hours, you fly along the coast, steering clear of any human dwellings and searching for signs of dragons in the less populated spots. As expected, you find nothing.

Despite how hungry Dioghal must be, she shows no intention to land and find something to eat. You know it's your obvious distress that keeps her in the air; she's protective of you to a fault, like— You flinch at the thought. Like a doting mother. Your eyes burn. Your mother abandoned you, but at least you now have a dragon to play the role she didn't want. Not that you'd ever say that to Dioghal's face. She has a habit of waving that poison-dripping scorpiontail of hers in your face when you call her out on her overprotective behavior, and she would take even more offense to being called a mother hen, no matter how true it is.

Guilt nags at you for keeping her from her well-deserved meal. She has to be tired, too. The flight to Hedotis had taken all night, and thanks to your meltdown, Dioghal has been circling overhead for another four hours or so while the others rested and fed themselves. Without magic to give them strength, the dragons tire faster than they're used to.

"Maybe we should land," you yell over the wind. It's not just lonely being unable to talk through your mental link, but also terribly inconvenient. "I've calmed down now. Honest."

Her head swings around, golden eyes scrutinizing you in that way that makes you feel like she can see through you, straight to your soul. Apparently Dioghal is satisfied with what she sees, because she makes a turn for the northeastern shore, where you can make out Tairn and Sgaeyl's looming forms once you get closer, and slowly descends to land on a colorless beach near a colorless house.

Talia's colorless house, you realize, spotting Xaden and Violet on it's veranda. The distance is too big for you to hear them, but from the look of it, your brother is arguing with Sgaeyl. Amazing how he manages that even without being able to talk to her.

She roars something in his face, maybe Don't tell me what to do or Behave until I'm back, and turns, making a slightly friendlier sounding noise at Dioghal before flying off, Tairn and Andarna close behind her. Dioghal nudges you toward the house and turns to follow the small riot. You assume the sound must have been an invitation to eat together. Dragon relations are a mystery to you, but as far as you can tell, Dioghal is something like Sgaeyl's cool aunt.

Not wanting to go into or even near the house, you're contemplating whether you should just make yourself comfortable in the sand or maybe go for a swim, when you notice two dark-haired boys watching you. They hadn't been there when you'd scanned the area from the air, which means they must have come from inside the house, probably attracted by Sgaeyl's roar. That in turn raises the question of whose children these are. You don't want to think about it, but... It's your mother's house. Of course it's possible someone else lives there with her and her husband, maybe a widowed sister or something. Or maybe the kids belong to someone who works for them; you just have to look at the place to know they have a whole army of staff. And yet the most painful conclusion also is the most obvious, the most likely — if Talia has a new life with a new husband, why shouldn't she have new children, too?

The thought makes you feel like crying again, so you turn to stare out over the water and do your best to ignore the boys. You don't want to know who they are.

And yet, when you hear voices a moment later, you turn to look again. You blame it on the self-preservation instincts Basgiath has instilled in you, edging on paranoia. Even before that, you never liked having something happening behind your back, but now it positively makes your skin crawl to be facing away from potential danger. What you see doesn't seem very dangerous, though. The boys are still there, and a woman fusses over the pair of them — some kind of maid, judging from the look of her.

Maybe that is their mother. Or maybe it's her job to look after them. What do you care?

But you do. You trail them with your eyes as they start back toward the house. Just as you're about to lose interest and turn away, Talia rushes from the house, straight toward the boys.

Your throat constricts. No. You don't want them to be hers.

But as you watch on, it's obvious they are. You don't understand what they're saying, since it's all in Hedotic and you're almost out of earshot, anyway, but you don't have to. It's all over Talia's face, in her tone, in every gesture and touch she makes. So loving, so tender.

Your heart aches as you watch her run her hands over their hair like she'd done yours when you were little. When she'd still loved you. Or pretended like she did, anyway. You're not sure which it was, and it doesn't really make a difference. Those times are long gone.

Your shaking hands curl into fists as the hatred inside you grows, demanding an outlet.

Not enough that she abandoned you. No, she fucking replaced you. With these boys, who no doubt are nicer, better behaved, less prone to meltdowns. You'd always known you weren't good enough, too difficult to be considered worthy of her love.

Xaden spent years trying to convince you it hadn't been your fault she left. He and Dad loved you despite your faults, wasn't that proof enough that you weren't unlovable like you thought? Sometimes, you almost believed him. After all, your mother had abandoned not only you, but Xaden, too — flawless Xaden, who you'd always been aware was your parents' favorite, who always had to serve as your good example when you acted out. Not even he had been enough to make her stay, so you'd let him convince you that maybe the problem really wasn't you. Maybe there was something wrong with her. It was easy enough to pretend so; she was gone, and memories blurred with time.

But now here she is, playing the loving mother for these boys, so it must have been your fault after all.

You stalk closer, unsure what you'll do when you reach them. It won't be pretty, that's all you know. You feel like a predator advancing on its unsuspecting prey.

Just a handful of steps and you'll be right behind them, and they still haven't noticed you.

Mom. The word is on the tip of your tongue, but you can't get it out. It feels too wrong. She will always be your mother, there's nothing you can do about that, but she stopped being your mom the moment she disappeared into the night without so much as a goodbye.

You still remember how you'd woken up that morning, happy and unsuspecting. You remember Xaden, who'd been awake earlier than you, sitting over his untouched breakfast — chocolate cake, left over from his birthday the day before. You knew something was wrong then, and that it had to be serious. There wasn't much that could kill Xaden's appetite, especially when it came to cake. You remember how you hesitated, slowly walking to the table and sitting down, not sure you wanted to know. Finally, you gathered your courage and asked what had happened.

"Mom is gone," Xaden had responded glumly, shoving his untouched plate of cake to you and rising from the table.

"Gone?" you'd asked, briefly wondering if he meant gone as in dead. Adults sometimes talked that way, but you didn't think Xaden would. "Gone where?"

"Away."

Xaden had stomped off to his room — to cry, presumably — and you dug into the cake he'd spurned, vaguely angry with Talia for making your big brother so sad, but still thinking that surely she would come back after a few days at most.

Her absence hadn't sunken in for you right away the way it did for Xaden. You missed her, sure, and you were upset, yes, but that was mostly because Xaden was upset.

Your mother had always been there, so it made no sense to you that she shouldn't be anymore. That she should have abandoned you seemed as absurd as the idea of water not being wet, or fire being cold. Children and their parents belonged together, that had always been a simple fact to you. Therefore, it wasn't until a few weeks had gone by that you were able to believe that she wasn't coming back.

Then you started to wonder why, and it didn't take long to come to the conclusion that it must have been your fault somehow. It always was. When she was unhappy, or tired, or had a headache, when something broke or there were chocolate smudges on the window; it was always because you had thrown a tantrum or refused to go to bed, because you had been too loud, too clumsy and careless. In your parents' eyes, you could never do anything right. Talia especially had always seen right through all your attempts of being good, of being like Xaden, straight to your rotten core. For as long as you remember, you always felt that something was fundamentally wrong with you, and your mother knew it, too. She never said so, tried not to show it, but she must have felt it, or she wouldn't have left.

And it's true, there has to be something wrong with you. Otherwise, you wouldn't be slinking toward the wholesome little group like a wolf amongst sheep, mind racing with bloody scenarios. You should be happy to see her, not want to throttle her.

You're close now, a step or two more and you'd be close enough to reach out and touch your mother's back, should you want to. You still have no idea what you want to say or do when she notices you, if you'll even be able to get any words out or if the rage will take over like it did this morning.

You hesitate. It might be better to turn away now, before it's too late.

That's when one of the boys notices you, tapping his mother's — your mother's — arm and saying something in Hedotic, wide eyes on you.

You can only imagine what you must look like to these people, who have only ever known peace. The raised scar running along your collar bone that Dioghal gave you at Threshing is on full display with your flight jacket unbuttoned, the array of weapons strapped to your body glinting in the sunlight. You wonder if the boys have ever seen a blade before, kitchen knives aside. You don't think so. Not with the way Talia and the maid were fussing over them, like they're precious little treasures that need to be wrapped in silk and kept safe. So unlike you and Xaden, discarded to be forged into deadly weapons in the fire of war.

Talia turns, gasping in surprise to see it's you standing there, you, who she'd certainly noticed separating from the group that morning.

A tentative smile touches her lips. She takes a step toward you, hand raised as if to cup your cheek, but falters at your hard expression. Still smiling, but less so. She's nervous, probably struggling to see the pathetic child you were in the soldier before her.

"How nice that you could join us after all. Xaden's girlfriend said you wouldn't, that you had to monitor the area. I'm so glad—"

"I didn't," you cut her rambling short. It's only half a lie. Xaden sent you patrolling mainly to distract you, so it wasn't like you'd had to do it. "I just didn't want to see you."

You thank Dunne that the words come out just as coldly as you intended them to, despite the tears wanting break free again.

Your mother flinches, and the smile falls.

Good. How dare she talk like that, after being gone for almost two thirds of your life? Is she really that ignorant of what pain she caused you, or does she simply believe she's entitled to your forgiveness? Whichever it is, she'll know better soon.

"You abandoned me," you say before she can recover from the shock of your words, which should not have shocked her at all — wouldn't have, if she'd ever cared enough to truly know you. You've always held onto your grudges, clung to them, really. "Abandoned us. Does that mean nothing to you?"

You assume the whelps don't understand the common language — it's only common to the Continent, after all. A shame, really. You want them to know their mommy isn't as perfect and loving as they probably think, to know she's already left a pair of her children behind without looking back once and there's nothing stopping her from doing the same to them.

"Of course it does," Talia exclaims, "but you have to understand—"

"I don't have to understand shit!"

Dragons don't listen to sheep, that's what Dioghal would say.

"I didn't want to leave you behind, but I couldn't take you with me," Talia continues to defend herself. "Xaden was the heir, and you..."

You're the spare, that's what she's too cowardly to say. She should have thought about that sooner. Of course she couldn't take either of you from Tyrrendor, that would have defeated the point of your very existence. She knew her children would have to grow up in Aretia when she married your father. Was she planning to abandon you even then, years before you were born?

"I couldn't bring you!" she repeats.

The tear that runs down her cheek only make you angrier. What right does she have to cry?! It's your and Xaden's lives she ruined, while she was here playing house with her oh so lovely new family. It makes you want to turn the whole place to rubble. To climb onto Dioghal and torch it all, force Talia to watch her neat little house burn the way you'd had to watch Aretia burn. To take away the happiness she'd found while you were suffering.

"You could have stayed!" You meet Talia's eyes for the first and last time and repeat yourself more quietly, "You could have stayed."

Then, faster than Talia could ever hope to comprehend, you grab the younger boy by the shoulder, ripping him away from her and setting a dagger at his throat in the span of a second.

"No! Gaius!" she shrieks, color draining from her face. "Don't hurt him!"

Her fear is both gratifying and infuriating. If someone had done the same to you, would she have cared as much? You almost laugh at the thought. No, if it had been you in that boy's stead, she wouldn't have given a damn.

Talia pushes the other boy behind herself, hand clasped so tightly around his arm he winces in pain. She doesn't notice, gaze fixed on her youngest. At least you think he's her youngest. For all you know she could have more children hidden inside the house.

The maid shuffles backwards with tiny steps, as if you won't notice what she's doing that way. She's still well within knife-throwing range when she turns and makes a run for the house, but you let her go. It's not her you care about, and any help she might return with will come too late. The blade is already nicking the boy's skin; one wrong move from anyone and he'll be dead.

"Please," your mother cries, "let him go! We'll do anything you want. My husband is part of the triumvirate, he can give you whatever information you want, just don't hurt our boy!"

She thinks you're doing this for information? Things must've not gone well for the others so far, then, a realization that only adds fuel to the burning rage inside you. Doesn't she care at all what happens to you and Xaden, not even enough to put in a good word with her husband?

You shake your head, lips curling in disgust. Does she have no spine or dignity at all?

"The only thing I want is for you to suffer. And since you seem so attached to these boys, killing them will be a good start. You think I'm just taking this one hostage?" You laugh, the resulting sound harsh and ugly in a way that sounds foreign to your ears, not like you at all. "No. I'll make you watch me slit both their throats just for fun."

"They're children!"

"So were we!" you scream, voice breaking as you finally lose control of the tears you've been wrestling with for hours. "We were just children too when you decided you didn't want us anymore and fucked off without a word! You think that doesn't do anything to a child, being abandoned like that?!"

"You had your father!"

"Until we didn't," you bite out. "But that's not even the point! The point is that you pretended to love us while you had to put up with us, and then as soon as you could, you ran away behind our backs like the coward you are. Would it have killed you to tell us you were leaving, to give us a chance to say goodbye?!"

As you speak, you give the boy in your hands a shake, your dagger scraping his skin ever so slightly. He cries out for your mother, who is staring at the blade against his neck with such intense concentration you doubt she heard a single word you said. You don't know why you even bothered.

She says something to the boy in Hedotic — hopefully to calm him. She would have to be an even bigger fool than you thought to believe he could escape you.

"Please don't hurt him," she sobs again. "Do what you want to me, but let Gaius go!"

As if. Killing your mother is still on the table, but for now, watching her fear for her son's life is much more satisfying than the brief pleasure of putting a knife into her would be.

If only you could stop crying. Talia is not worth your tears, and you hate letting her see you cry, hate giving her that power over you. Crying in front of people has always felt humiliating, like a display of your lacking self-control. And crying in front of your mother now, after all the time that's gone by since she left, really ruins the picture of the cold-blooded soldier you want her to see. You want the thought of what the innocent child she left behind has become to haunt her — a futile hope, probably. If she cared, you wouldn't be in this situation.

Shouts from the direction of the house alert you that others have become aware of what's happening, but your eyes never stray from your mother's panicked form. For better or worse, she has your undivided attention.

You should do it now. Drag it out much longer, and whoever is coming from the house might manage to stop you. Peaceful place or not, they would be fools not to have some sort of security personnel. You could probably take them on, but that would mean letting the boys go, and that is not happening. They're the ticket to Talia's personal hell.

From the corner of your eye, you see Xaden approach. He moves carefully, the way you would around a corned animal, and stops a dragon's length away.

He calls your name, so softly you almost miss it, and cautions, "Don't do something you'll regret, baby."

"What difference does it make? She's always looked at me like I'm some sort of monster, so I might as well prove her right."

It's stupid to be acting like this, you know. It's Xaden who will turn into an actual monster if you don't find a way to cure him. You're not going to get any closer to doing that by throwing pointless tantrums about things no one can change. But you've never been good at regulating your emotions. Even when you were little, your anger always consumed you. You thought you'd gotten better — you'd had to. All the power that comes with being a rider is dangerous in the hands of someone with the emotional stability of a toddler, so you'd worked hard on learning better self-control. Using sparring sessions to work through your feelings, you now usually manage to avoid the violent outbursts you were prone to as a child. But there is no coping mechanism strong enough to save you from the sheer hatred for your mother that has festered inside you for almost fourteen years, the embers of the despaired rage from when she'd left reignited into the burning flames they'd been when the pain of her departure was still fresh. The moment you saw her, the rage overwhelmed you the way it always had.

"It's not about her," Xaden reasons. Can't he see you're beyond reasoning? "It's about how you will feel once you've calmed down."

"Better, that's how I'll feel!"

But even in your frenzy, the tiny part of you still capable of rational thought knows that's not true. Never once have you actually felt better after one of your outbursts. You always think you'll feel better after you let it out, but every time you're left drained and ashamed instead, picking up the pieces.

One time — you must have been about eleven — you'd broken Xaden's snow globe, which had been a gift from your mother, in a rage. You'd felt horrible afterwards, and not just because he refused to speak to you for more than a week. After that, you'd promised yourself you wouldn't lose control of yourself like that ever again. Keeping that promise had been impossible, but the memory almost makes you halt. It's never too late to change, right?

But then your gaze falls back onto your mother — the same mother who'd thrown you away like an old toy she no longer wanted, never looking back, never caring what became of you in the rebellion or the impending war, now so keen on protecting these boys — and the hatred wins out.

"What makes them worthy of the love she denied us?" you demand of Xaden, not really wanting an answer. If she ever loved you at all, she has long stopped doing so. If there is a reason for it, it doesn't matter. "Why does she get to be happy with a new family while we had to suffer and fight for our lives every day for years?"

Without waiting for a response, you turn your dagger so that instead of the edge of the blade being lined up with the boy's throat, it's the tip that presses against his fragile skin.

For a moment you stare at your mother and wonder how it has come to this. Her desperate pleas mix with the boys' crying and the frantic voices of your squad, fading into the background until all you can hear is the racing of your own heart.

Then the dagger pierces skin. You sink it in to the hilt and yank sideways, slitting his throat wide open in a move you've practiced hundreds of times on the mats of Basgiath's gym. Never would you have thought that this would be how you'd come to use it for real.

Talia wails, lurching forward, and you shove the body into her outstretched arms. A fountain of blood sprays over your hands and your mother.

She cradles the boy to her chest, crying and blubbering words you're too far gone too understand. Maybe it's Hedotic. She's focused entirely on the life you already took, and that's her mistake. She doesn't notice you sidestepping her to get to the other boy, who stands frozen in terror, until it's too late.

He screams in fear as you advance on him, lifting his arms in an attempt to fight you off, but of course he doesn't stand a chance. If he'd ran while you were killing his brother he might have made it into the house. As it is, they're about to be reunited.

Talia screams again, even louder than before. "Simeon!"

She gets to her feet just as you stab the boy straight into the heart. Through the haze of your own tears, you watch as she catches his falling body and sinks to the ground with him, wailing all the while.

There's a blur of movement, and then someone's arms are around you, pulling you back against a strong chest. He holds you tightly, like he expects you to resist, squeezing your arms against your ribcage in a way that would be painful if you weren't so detached from your own body. Someone else takes your bloodstained hand into their own, prying your fingers apart to take away your blade.

You let it all happen, numb to the world.

People are shouting, hectically buzzing around. None of it registers. Your vision blurs, not with tears this time, but simply going unfocused. You barely feel the hands turning you to face away from it all. Now that your anger has run it's course and is wearing off, there's nothing left in you but the deep underlying despair you've long gotten used to.

You vaguely realize it was Xaden holding you as he lets go, stepping to your side and wordlessly leading you toward the ocean, where the dragons are waiting. You hadn't even noticed them returning.

As you walk, your head starts to clear, and you slowly become aware of yourself and your surroundings again. The way the sand shifts under your boots with every step. Warm blood dripping from your fingers, the heavy smell of it mixing with that of the sea. Your brother's hand, strong and steady against your back.

You're glad he doesn't take it away, even when you reach the dragons. If he did, you might just crumble under the weight of what you have done.

You keep your eyes trained on the sand beneath your feet, not wanting to see the horrified looks on everyone's faces. There can be no doubt they are horrified, after what they just witnessed. Even you are disturbed by your own actions. The uncontrollable anger might have been an almost constant companion for most of your life, but never before had it driven you to kill someone.

In the heat of the moment, you'd only seen the boys as tools to hurt your mother, but now it sinks in that they'd been people of their own. Children. Innocent. It hadn't been their fault that Talia replaced you with them. Now they're gone, and you can't take it back. You're not sure you want to, and that scares you most of all.

You look back only once. When you do, Talia still kneels in the blood-soaked sand where you left her, sobbing over the bodies of her youngest sons. Part of you thinks you should have finished the job and killed her too, but another, crueler part buried deep inside you whispers it's just right this way. This way, she'll suffer far more, for far longer. Then, viciously, you wonder if that's true. It was so easy for her to replace you and Xaden with these boys, who's to say she won't replace them just as easily? She probably is not yet too old to get pregnant again. Well, let her. No matter what she does, she'll have to live with the memory of their deaths, of her own helplessness in the face of your righteous fury. You hope it haunts her till the end of her days.

When Xaden stops walking, you do, too. Some of the others are rushing back into the house to get their things, but Xaden doesn't leave your side. Taking your rucksack from you, he digs through it until he finds a towel, and leads you to the edge of the water to clean the worst of the blood off you. Neither of you speaks a word while he does so.

You just stand there, staring into space while the past hours replay in your mind over and over again. The bloodshed could have been avoided, you think numbly, if only you had stayed in the air a few minutes longer. If you hadn't landed just when Sgaeyl roared, the boys would have been safely inside the house, and you would've never even known about them.

Finally you drag your gaze up from the ground to look at your brother. You're not sure what you expect to see on his face — disappointment, anger, horror... some sort of negative reaction to the atrocity you just committed, certainly. But you find neither. Instead, he's gazing at you with affection and worry you do not deserve. The look he gives you is almost like he understands, like he might have done the same. But that's absurd. Xaden would never throw a fit like that, would never let his anger out on innocents. He's the sane one of you two, the responsible one. He never would have risked the mission— Oh gods, the mission!

"I'm sorry," you whimper. "I ruined everything."

He shrugs, like it's not a big deal. As though you broke a tea cup or maybe a window, not ruined international relations forever by murdering innocent children. "They weren't going to be much help anyway."

"What if they know something that could help us and now we'll never know? It'll be my fault if— if—"

...if Xaden fully succumbs to the dark, is what you mean, but can't say so when you're not sure who might hear. As the isle of wisdom, Hedotis is the most likely to know a cure, isn't it? But thanks to you, there's no way any of you will be welcome here again, no way of being given access to their collected knowledge.

Your brother shakes his head, brushing a tear off your cheek. "They don't have magic here, so it's unlikely they know anything that would help us. Even if they did, they didn't give the impression of wanting to share their knowledge, regardless of your behavior. And they don't have an army they could aid us with, either."

He's just saying that to make you feel better.

They don't need to have magic to have information about magic. And information is something the people of Hedotis surely hoard. Aaric, Violet and Xaden are good at this whole diplomacy thing. They would have managed to make some kind of bargain and learn something useful if you hadn't fucked everything up.

They should have left you at home, never let you near anything or anyone important. Your mother was right, you're nothing but trouble. It would've been better for everyone around you if you'd never been born.

"I didn't want to hurt anyone," you whisper. At least you don't think you did. You certainly hadn't wanted to want to hurt anyone, which basically comes down to the same thing... doesn't it? "I just— I was so mad at her, and— They were right there and all defenselessness and—"

"I know," Xaden soothes, running a hand over your hair. "I know, baby. You don't have to explain yourself. I'm not judging you."

"You should, though! I— I'm—"

By now you're crying too hard to continue speaking.

"Shh, it's alright. You're not a monster," he says, somehow guessing what it is you'd meant to say. "You're just upset."

You certainly are, but that doesn't excuse what you've done.

Despite what he might think, Xaden's lack of concern about the matter is far from reassuring. Not that you want him to be mad at you, but his complete disregard for the lives you took makes you wonder if maybe he's already lost more of his humanity than you knew. But no. Surely he's just pretending not to care to your benefit. How could he be a soulless venin when he's looking at you so gently, soothing you just like he had so often when you were children and your parents didn't have the patience to deal with you? Venin or not, he's still a better person than you have ever been.

"Mom was right," you say, and immediately cry harder. Now you've done it, now you've called her that after all. "She always knew something was wrong with me."

"Nonsense," Xaden starts, but you don't let him speak. Now that you've started talking, the words just keep pouring out.

"I shouldn't be like this. I shouldn't be so mad at her, because it was my own fault she left. She never would have left if it wasn't for me. You were perfect even as a child. All I ever did was throw tantrums and cry." You manage a self-depreciating laugh between sobs. "Still do, apparently. I can't even blame her for wanting to get away from me, I'm just sorry you had to suffer for it, too."

Xaden takes your face between both hands, forcing you to look at him, though it's hard to make out his expression through the tears blurring your vision.

Shaking you for emphasis, he says, "It was not your fault. We've been through that a thousand times after she left, baby. There is nothing wrong with you for being emotional."

Calling you emotional is a severe understatement. For as long as you can remember, you've always been too much. Too clingy, too loud, too easily overwhelmed, too quick to cry and rage. Needy and out of control, a disgrace to your family line. Xaden can say it's not true all he wants; you know it is. And now you're a murderer too, on top of all that.

"And for k-killing those kids? Is there nothing wrong with me for that, either?" you ask angrily.

Xaden sighs. "You made a mistake. It happens. If you didn't feel bad about it I'd worry something's wrong with you, but you clearly do. It's okay. We're all capable of bad things."

You don't know what to say to that, so you don't respond.

For a few minutes, Xaden simply lets you cry. He doesn't try to calm you, doesn't scold you for breaking down. He just holds you, providing an anchor in reality and making the occasional soothing sound.

Then, someone says something. You can't make out the words over the sound of your own sobs, but the voice sounds like Violet's, and there's a note of urgency to it that gets your attention. You feel Xaden nod, and then he takes your hands, gently removing them from the death grip you're clutching the back of his shirt with, and holds you at arms length so he can look you in the face.

"I'm sorry, baby, but I need you to calm down, now. At least enough to get on Diogahl and fly. I know you're upset, and you can cry all you want later, but we really need to go. Okay? Think you can do that for me?"

You nod, even though you're not at all sure you'll be able to mount your dragon, let alone keep your seat once you're in the air. You can barely breathe.

Maybe that's okay. Maybe it would be better for everyone if you lose your seat and plummet into the sea. At least then you wouldn't hurt anyone anymore, wouldn't destroy everything you touch, wouldn't constantly disappoint those you love. Maybe they'd be better off without you. Your mother definitely was — or would have been, if you hadn't come back into her life.

"Hey," your brother's gentle voice pierces through the mess of your thoughts. "Breathe, baby. It's okay. If you can't fly—"

"I can," you croak, wiping your face with your sleeve. More tears are still falling, but you manage to trap the sobs inside, at least.

A glance toward your mother's house shows what brought on the hurry to leave: guards are coming. You knew they had to have some, but there's no triumph in being right. Forcing a deep breath, you swing your rucksack onto your back and tighten the straps with shaking hands. Meltdown or no meltdown, you can fly. You have to. You refuse to be responsible for even more bloodshed.

"That's the spirit," Xaden praises, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. "Try not to think too much about what happened. Just remember there's more to you than that anger, and that I love you, even if Mom doesn't. You're not evil."

"Okay. I'll try." The guards are getting close; you really have to hurry now if you want to avoid them. "Love you too."

Xaden waits until you've made it up Dioghal's leg; only then does he run to Sgaeyl, taking his seat as the others climb into the air. You get away just in time, and with your brother's words in mind, you hold on tight and don't look back.

[esmedelacroix]

Nerd Alert

synopsis ! he’s an American football player by day and a passionate mathematician by night. She’s a well-rounded historian and writer who couldn’t evaluate a derivative to save her life. They lived in two different worlds but shared the same study room.

previous chapter | series masterlist

cw ! no use of y/n, y/n is _____, fluff, slow burn, college au, ooc sukuna, f!reader, child abuse/neglect, alcohol abuse,

fic radio ! idfc by blackbear

a/n : this one is a bit shorter. the next one is longer promise.

Sukuna lived multiple lives. In a weird way, he was so many different people depending on his environment. When acting in almost every scenario, you lose yourself.

Deep down. Under all the layers Sukuna had created to protect himself, He was a nerd at heart. He read comics in his room of Superheros fighting bad guys. It was what inspired him to workout and go to the gym. His favorite DC comic heros made him feel strong. Like he had a chance against the weird men that preyed on his mother or the ones that would try to go for him. His mom didn't give a rats ass about him. Then again she too deep into her high to realize the situation she was in.

Secretly playing Five Nights at Freddy's with his elementary school friend Nanami. He couldn't take the bullying he would receive in school if they knew he loved comics, playing weird video games, scary movies, and math. He already had enough problems whenever he looked into his bank account or went to his house.

When he started football, Sukuna found a sport he loved and could hide behind. Why be seen as weird when he could be liked by most people? Slowly, Sukuna became the kid who would agree when others said math was hard and then miraculously got an A. He became the kid who said he didn't study the night before when his dark eye bags indicated he did.

He even stopped hanging out with friends like Nanami because he wanted to hang out with his colored friends. Though he never wanted to seem like he cared for anything, he truly cared about his public image. He never wanted people to notice he was broke so he worked two jobs to afford clothes and an occasional haircut.

His heart dropped to his ass when he looked up from the essay you were helping him out with to see Toji wide-eyed and confused looking through the glass wall. He immediately burst into the room without your permission. "Dude, what are you doing here?" he questioned.

Sukuna froze. Nothing was coming out of his mouth. "We're studying. What are you doing here?" you echoed.

"I'm just doing some work. Deans are on my ass about getting my shit done to keep my scholarship."

In all the years that Toji had been friends with Toji, they did everything together. They rushed for their frat and got hazed together(Sukun ended up keeping the pink hair cus he 'lowkey fuck with it'). He opened up about his home situation and brought him to his place. Toji was the one who recommended he put his mother in rehab while he was away at college. after four years he was still mending their relationship.

He couldn't admit that he was good at school and cared about his grades. "Why don't you believe me? Ryomen's in three advanced math courses. He did all those problems on the board."

Sukuan stared directly at his laptop disassociating. he didn't know what to do or say. Here you were, very inconsiderately exposing him. "What d'you gotta say for yourself, bro?"

Sukuna looked up at Toji shocked to see him grinning widely. he visibly looked confused and Toji laughed. "I'm just playing with you I know you're smart as hell," Toji chuckled pulling out the chair across from the two of you.

"What?" he finally said.

"Dude, I'm your best friend. I suspected you were a nerd all the way in high school. You think I don't notice things? You have mad comics under your bed. You use a Nintendo too. If that's not enough proof I know you play Zelda on it when you think everyone's asleep. There was also that time I needed to use your laptop and I accidentally saw your report card," he explained.

You were impressed by how close he and Ryomen were. It completely surprised you that Ryomen was a full-blown nerd and not just some jock that was good at math and wore his prescription glasses when he forgot contacts.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked annoyingly.

"It was fun watching you try to act cool and hide it," Toji shrugged.

Sukuna let out a groan and sunk into his chair with his head in his hands. "I hate you," he mumbled

"Love you too bud," Toji smiled.

The three of you spent that evening studying. You and Sukuna yelled at Toji as he did his homework like helicopter parents who don't know how to parent.

The weekend finally arrived and you were in the football stadium with your friends cheering on the team. You were wearing some school merch and jeans. Your hair was in a messy bun matching Geto's as you took your seat with your arms full of snacks and drinks.

You put a bit more effort into your style and hair today. just for you to throw it into a messy bun and get ketchup everywhere.

During half-time, the team huddled and dispersed. Sukuna squeezed his after from his bottle while pouring some on his face and shaking his head to get it out of his hair. Droplets of sweat accompanied.

He looked around in the crowd and once his eyes met yours they stopped and his expression changed. It was unreadable but it changed. He scanned you and you waved. He didn't wave back he just stared and when his coach called him over he rejoined the group. You shrugged it off and continued to talk to your friends.

The second half of the game was phenomenal. everyone was connected. Sukuna was making amazing plays and the team was scoring so much that you had to sit down and take a breather for, how much cheering you were doing.

When the clock ran out, you and your friend shot out of your seats happy to see your team had one. All the guys high-fived. But Sukuna turned around looking directly at you making eye-contact facial expression still unreadable but soft around the edges.

You mouthed a 'congrats' to him you were sure if he caught before his team huddled around him.

"Don't think I didn't see the two of you eye fucking. Right in front of my salad, tsk tsk," Geto smiled looking ahead.

"Oh shut up," you rolled your eyes elbowing him.

"you like him~" he sang.

"As if."

You played things off cool, but the heat rising to your face and your bouncing leg told Geto everything he needed to know. You were crushing. Hard.

. . .

-> next part

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[irenespring]

I am at this scene right now in my rewatch and it is DESTROYING ME like it always does.

Because one of Kerry's defining motivations is searching for family. Wanting to belong, to fit in somewhere, and to be loved. And she tries this in a number of ways, including trying to find her birth parents, her numerous failed attempts at entry into the ER found family unit, arguably her whole ambition that gets mistaken for pure Machiavellianism (that is a Much longer story).

Here she is literally trying to hire a father figure. She says she loves Lawrence like a father. In her mind this is the best thing ever to happen. She's still suffering from a completely self-caused social backlash (one of very few) in that deal she made with Romano, and here she can do what she always thought she could do but has never worked before and never will again: use her power to get people to love her! Her deal with the devil was worth it because now she can hire her dad! He can work with her! And now she isn't alone! She has someone in the building! Who cares about her!

And he says so. That is a huge deal. He tells everyone who will listen how great he thinks Kerry is and he tells her all the time he thinks she's amazing. He tells her fun little stories of their time working together. He compliments her intelligence and her leadership, and he respects her policies (even the goofy badge idea). Some of that is just to cover when he forgets things and needs her to focus on other stuff, but even then he means it. After years of constant mockery and constant rejection. Mockery and rejection from the people Lawrence is now praising her to. You can practically feel how elated she is to have him there through the screen. She has someone to talk to, someone who is always happy to see her. She really is just so happy. It's everything she ever wanted, going back to when she first hired that PI. She found a parent.

And then it crumbles. And she fucking grabs at the vanishing particles, the way she insists that no, it isn't possible, he isn't sick, he doesn't have to leave, please, don't make him, she needs him, please. Then, because the writers hate her and me and human decency, there's the knife twist that she has to fire him and he storms out on her. She is forced to wreck this relationship just like she has wrecked all her other ER relationships.

ER is supposed to be a found family. It hasn't been for Kerry, until Lawrence. Now she behaves exactly like the loved ones of patients who are going to die. Telling their clearly dying family members about miracle cures, telling them to hang on just a little longer. She can't let go. Because she was happy. More than that, she doesn't want to be alone again.

The suicide element, just as Kerry is working herself up about clinical trials and hope is a brilliant piece of writing. It is also fascinating given that Kerry is someone who is (or at least will be, I will probably write much more on this when I get to s8e1 because holy shit) periodically suicidal. Also the fact that the end of Lawrence's speech is "nobody coming to see me." This is also hell for Kerry. She understands this.

So the "I'll come and see you" is 1) True. When Kerry finds the woman she thinks is her mother in the nursing home, she cares for her arguably too well, beyond the woman's wishes. She sits by her bed. Talks to her. Spends every moment she can with her. Despite all evidence that woman: doesn't know where she is, who she is, doesn't know Kerry is there. Kerry will show up no matter what. 2) in Kerry's mind, enough. One person made all the difference for her these past couple episodes. Just to have one person there is a game changer.

There's something horribly ominous in the way the last scene of the episode isn't this scene but Jeanie packing up. I think it's supposed to be ending on a happier note, but it drives home that Kerry also lost HER ONE OTHER REAL FRIEND THIS EPISODE. She is now very isolated. She'll be pretty much alone facing the paradigm shift of season 7 (for the aftereffects of that, see my comment on s8e1).

In conclusion: The show loves to torture Kerry Weaver because it thinks it is either funny, moral, or standard-trope-so-who-cares to torture the neurodivergent lesbian, but this was actually very well done so it gets a pass. The tragedy here is peak.