#Your face looks like a turnip. Get away from me.

[promptsbytaurie]

prompt #142

"Woah, you speak French?! Say something!!"

"Ton visage ressemble à un navet. Éloigne-toi de moi."

"Oh, that sounds so romantic!"

[oceaneyesinla]

Umemiya just lends himself so beautifully to my style of making characters all soft and squishy.

Umemiya x F!Reader

Divider by @/cafekitsune

You've got open access to every part of Furin High, thanks to being best friends with the leader. You wander the corridors uninterrupted, greeting everyone you pass with a wave and a smile. At this point, you're an honorary member of Bofurin; spending one too many nights patching up the various injuries they all sustain while protecting the town and giving them a scolding every time.

There's only one place you can't seem to get anywhere near, and that's the little plastic greenhouse at the very end of the rooftop, past all of Ume's planters full of vegetables. You're up on the rooftop all the time; helping Ume with his plants, hoping your heart eyes aren't too obvious as you watch him ramble about the ideal fertilizer mix for his tomatoes. You hang out with the others up there too - gossiping with Tsubaki while you paint each other's nails, or convincing the boys to spar with you. It's a little cruel, but it's so funny when one of them underestimates you, or tries to go easy on you because you're a girl - only to get their ass handed to them.

That one little greenhouse, though, is locked down tighter than a bank vault. The boys have got a sixth sense for when you might be straying even a little too close for their liking. Some of them are more ... subtle in their distraction techniques than others. Kiryu and Suo especially have perfected the art of luring you away - engaging you in conversation so artfully that it's only an hour later that you realise you got a little too close to the greenhouse.

Sakura and Sugishita have never been within a mile of the concept of subtlety, but their efforts are so earnest you allow them to tug you away with muttered excuses of needing you elsewhere.

It seems to be some mutual agreement between every single member of Furin, and you have to admire their single-minded determination. You're not even mad; you figure Ume will tell you what's in there at some point. It's probably some kind of special turnip, or a new variety of lettuce that he's heard is particularly good for barbeques.

*************

Ume <3 16:43: Meet me on the rooftop at 20:00 Ume <3 16:43: I'll walk you home after, don't worry

It's adorable that he still feels the need to clarify that, as if he ever does anything different. It's a routine, one you cherish. You hang out at the school or at Cafe Pothos, or at a local restaurant, then once you're done, he walks you back to your house; waiting patiently at the end of the path until you shut the front door behind you.

If you spend an hour and a half trying to decide on an outfit, that's between you and your mirror. You decide on something comfortable but cute; after all, you have no idea what Ume's planning. Some little part of you is hoping for something romantic, but you try to push it down - you've been friends with Ume for years, and he's never once treated you as anything other than a trusted friend.

The rooftop door pushes open with a familiar creak, and you stifle a laugh when Ume flinches, turning to you with wide eyes as if he wasn't waiting for someone to open the door.

You're surprised when his eyes trail over your outfit, and even more surprised when a pretty red flush paints across his cheeks. He looks more flustered than you've ever seen him, and for his sake, you choose not to mention it.

"Why did you want to meet me, Ume?"

He steps closer, seemingly recovered from his little fright even though that blush remains on his cheeks. He leans in and you hold your breath as his lips brush against the skin of your cheek. His smile as he pulls away is nothing short of gorgeous, and you can feel heat rising in your face as you stare up at him.

"You look beautiful." His boyish grin remains in place as he takes your hand, giving it a little squeeze as he leads you, "I've got something I want to show you."

You can practically see his tail wagging as you walk across the rooftop, and you already know where he's taking you. You can't help but tease him, "I finally get to see what's in the mystery greenhouse, huh?"

The look he shoots you is adorable; like a kid caught with their hand in a cookie jar, and you can't stop the giggle that escapes you, "Everyone here has been keeping me away from that thing for weeks, Hajime. I thought Sugishita-kun was going to carry me away from it."

Ume lets out a laugh of his own, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, "I guess they figured out what I was planning."

You tug on his hand, soft smile slipping onto your face as you meet his eye and speak in a low voice, not wanting to disturb the atmosphere building between you, "Come on. I want to see."

When you stand in front of the greenhouse, small but well-constructed, he gestures for you to push aside the plastic flap over the door. You do so, and what greets you has tears welling in your eyes.

Your favourite flower. You remember lamenting to Ume, once, about the difficulty in cultivating the delicate yet beautiful plant, and the love you had for its rich colour and pretty leaves. Now it was right in front of you, and your best friend grew it just for you.

He's shuffling by your side when you turn to him, looking more nervous than he has all night, and your voice is a little rough when you speak, "You grew my favourite flower."

"I did."

"This must have taken so much effort."

"It was worth it to see you smile." His smile is stunning and lovesick and you can see your own heart eyes reflected right back at you and suddenly, you're struck with the realisation that maybe you haven't been pining alone all this time.

His hand comes up to cradle your cheek and in a whisper, he asks, "Can I kiss you?"

Your voice fails you, so you nod instead, letting your eyes flutter closed as he leans in, pressing his lips to yours. They're a little chapped, but you don't care. His other hand moves to rest on your waist, and yours cling to the fabric of his shirt. The kiss is short, but you still feel breathless when you pull apart; awestruck and overflowing with love.

He's staring down at you like you hung every star in the sky, and he looks just as giddy as you feel. He leans down to kiss your forehead, hands resting securely on your waist, "Does this mean you'll be my girlfriend?"

"Yeah, I'll be your girlfriend, Hajime."

His laughter is relieved as he rests his forehead against yours, "It would have been awkward if you said no after all that."

"You really put in all that effort just for me?" Your voice is soft, meant only for the space between the two of you.

"There's no just if it's you." You're not sure he even realises the impact his words are having; speaking as casually as he ever does as if he's not speaking love into the world with every word, "Plus, I've been trying to think of a way to ask you out for months. I wanted it to be perfect."

This man - you know you'll find new ways to fall in love with him every day, "It is perfect. I love you, Hajime."

Your murmured confession makes his breath hitch, and when you meet his eyes, they're sparkling like the stars in the night sky enveloping you both. He meets your proclamation with one of his own, hushed and adoring. He leans in to kiss you again, and you know that this is love.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 23

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: what up my slutty butties!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You help Leslie bring out the plates. You set one before Mr. Laufeyson as Leslie puts one down before an empty chair. You can hear your dad muttering at his puzzle. Your boss is unfazed as he smugly sits waiting.

"Offer him something to drink while I get your father," Leslie lowers her voice, turning her back to your guest, "I know you didn't have a mother around but have some common courtesy."

You flinch, injured by her unnecessary remark. Sometimes she says things that sting, just like your father. You suppose that's why they get along so well. She sidesteps you and enters the front room, announcing her presence gaily as she calls your father's name.

"Mr. Laufeyson," you face him sheepishly, "would you like something to drink?"

"I suppose you haven't any cabernet," he snorts. You clamp your lip tightly in humiliation. "I am driving so I suppose it wouldn't matter, you have water, yes? It will suffice."

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson," you answer and spin away, fleeing to the kitchen behind the shield of the simple task.

You take a glass from the cupboard, checking to make sure it's clear and clean, and fill it from the filtered jug in the fridge. You return to the dining room as Leslie helps your father in. He bats her hand off his arm and grunts as he drops into an empty chair across from Mr. Laufeyson. You put the water in front of your boss and peek over at your dad.

"Dad, do you want something--"

"No," he barks as he snatches his fork, poking at the seasoned turnip, "what is this shit?" He sniffs, "smells like garbage."

You sit and balance at the edge of your chair, not paying any mind to the food before you.

"Charlies, don't be rude," Leslie claims a seat of her own, "Loki's mother was so kind to send this over to us."

"I don't know her," your father growls.

"Can't complain for free food, can we?" Leslie girds gently and sends a smile to Laufeyson, "it's been a tough day for him. The humidity really bothers him."

"Would you be quiet?" Your father snaps, "I can speak for myself and I'm just damn fi--"

Your father breaks out into another storm of coughs. He hits the table and braces it, his fork clattering as he struggles to catch his breath. Mr. Laufeyson sits placidly, picking up his knife and fork, and cutting into the pork loin.

"My, you do sound rather terrible," he says as he pokes a morsel of meat in the air on the tines. 

"He'll be fine, he just needs to catch his breath," Leslie assures.

"Mm, have you thought of an air purifier? It might do this place some good?" Laufeyson suggests with a curl of his lip, biting into the pork.

"Mr. Fucking Fancy Pants," your dad slaps his own chest as he finds his voice, "what do you know? You ain't some doctor walking in here telling me how to breathe."

"I have several degrees so I could claim the title, I suppose," Laufeyson taunts, "I always thought it a bit pompous, however."

"Ah, go off and buy another set of tits," your father snarls.

"You are such a loving father, aren't you?" Laufeyson goads.

"Good enough to know yours never smacked you hard enough," your dad retorts.

Silence. You look at Leslie as she peers between the men, a frigid smile frozen on her face. You bat your lashes as you teeter and grip the table.

Your dad takes his fork again and scoops up a soft chunk of turnip. He puts it in his mouth, making a face as he tastes it then gags and spits it out. It flies across the table onto Laufeyson's plate. Your brows rise as Leslie's expression mirrors your shock.

"Tastes like garbage too. That mother of yours must be just as much a disappointment to your father as you," your dad chortles at his own insult, hacking into another fit.

Mr. Laufeyson sets his fork down. He sighs and slides his plate away. He stares down your father as he sets his back straight.

"As much as you are to your daughter, I'm sure."

"Mr. Laufeyson," you squeak.

"Get--" your father coughs and chokes, fighting to get to his feet, his stomach hitting the table and rattling the dishes, "the fuck--" cough -- "out of my house."

"Is that what you call this place?" Laufeyson remains seated, glancing around derisively.

Leslie gasps, "sir, now you are too much, we welcomed you in--"

"I wasn't aware your job included nursing his bruised ego," Laufeyson shoots in her direction, "don't remind me of etiquette. I brought you all more than the scraps you have in the back of that dingy fridge. Of course, you wouldn't have the taste or sense to know good food."

"I said GET OUT!" Your father hollers so hard he sways, his voice scratching at its peak.

"Dad," you stand up, "Mr. Laufeyson, please, you need to go--"

"Take your own advice," he stands and scoffs in your father's direction.

"Stop, please, he's my dad--"

"Oh yes, I've heard it before," Laufeyson sneers, "and I heard you beg him just the same before he--"

"No!" You exclaim, "no, leave. Now. Please--"

"You needn't convince me further," Mr. Laufeyson strides around the table, "Chuck," he stops next to your father as he puffs, grasping the chair for support, "try not to choke on your own vitriol."

He pats your dad arm, causing him to recoil and fall onto the chair. Leslie rushes over to him as you stand dumbfounded. You hoped the day wouldn't get worse and yet, you can't say you didn't expect it. Even so, it hits you like a car at full speed and knocks the wind out of you. You don't know what to do.

"Have a good night," Mr. Laufeyson says at the door, "however pleasant it could ever be in a rat-infested hole like this." He looks at you, "thank you for this lovely dinner."

He turns and struts out. You shake your head as adrenaline courses through you, burning around your lungs and hammering in your chest. You look over at your father as he continues to cough violently.

"Dad..." you try to go to him.

"Haven't you done enough?" Leslie snaps as she lashes you with a glare. You wince and stumble back.

"I didn't--"

"He's right about you, isn't he?" She snarls, "you're just an ungrateful brat."

"No--"

"Go!" Your father forces through his choking gasp, "you little bitch!"

Your lip trembles as the room spins. You twirl away without a second thought, horrified and humiliated. You run out into the hallway and barrel up the stairs, sobbing by the time you get to the top step. Mr. Laufeyson has ruined everything. Your job, your family, and your entire life.

You thought you had nothing before, how wrong you were.

✨

 You cry yourself to sleep, just like many nights before. Your head swirls with rippled visions of angry eyes and shadowy figures. You drown in the thick unconscious, nearly suffocated with terror as you're paralysed against the virulent nightmares.

You wake only as a crash splinters your sleep. You sit up, heaving for air as you see a dark figure eerily similar to the one in your dreams. You blink until you can, the light of the hallway glowing in the limn your father's portly figure.

He drags out the next drawer from your dresser and dumps it over the pile mounded on the floor. He staggers as he drops the plywood and kicks it aside. He leans on the handle of his oxygen tank as you reach for your lamp.

"Dad? What are you--"

He struggles to reach for the bottle by his feet. He lifts it and wobbles as he untwists the cap. He overturns the bottle of bleach onto the heap of clothes, kicking them around as the stringent chemical spills out. You watch as he ruins the layers of new clothing and cry out as you bounce to the foot of the bed.

"What are you doing!?" You shriek.

"Whore's clothes," he tosses the bottle on top, "you... bring your pimp in here like the slut you are--"

"Dad," you whimper but have no words. He's not so far off after all. You look down at the clothes and the pale stains of the bleach patching across the fabric, "dad, I'm sorry. I tried-- I was only--"

"I don't care," he grits, "I'm done with you. You been..." he takes a deep breath, clasping his chest, "mooching off me for thirty years. You sucked the life outta me--" he gasps again, "look what you done to me," he tugs at the tube that trails down his chest, "this is your fault. You killed me just like you did your mother."

"No, no, no," you touch your cheeks as they burns and your tears fall free, "please, don't say that."

It's another nightmare. It has to be. You're still sleeping. This can't be real.

"Dad," you stand and reach for him, "don't be mad--"

He hits you. Not hard, he can't. He's too weak. You flinch and back away, cowering as you cradle your head. He looks around, his head bobbling and grabs the hardcover book from atop your dresser.

He nears you as you shrink down, stunned into helplessnness. He grips the book with both hands and swings it at you. The first strikes doesn't wake you. It's real. 

He hits you, over and over, the sharp corner jabbing into your cheek and chin, then the side thumping across your shoulder and against your side. He keeps on until he can't.

He drops the book and coughs, bending over as he slips to one knee. You watch him, tears streaming into your hands as you babble like a child. 

"Daddy," you murmur.

"You get out or I'll call... the goddamn... police," he braces the oxygen tank and forces himself up. "This isn't your home no more." He limps and drags the tank to the door, "it never was.”

✨

You don't know what to do. You can barely stop crying long enough to think. The heavy bags weigh down your steps as you wander mindlessly to the corner and stop, the reality of the moment crashing down like thunder.

You drop the duffle bag and sit on it, letting your work bag hit the pavement by your feet. The sun has barely come up as you sit in the dim hue of dawn. Where do you go?

You feel yourself sinking. Your lungs are reading to shrivel and your head is going to cave in. You're lost. You have no home, you have no father, you have nothing... well, you still have a job.

You cry a little longer, until you hear the first sign of life from across the street. You get up as a man comes of a house. He doesn't notice you as you hitch up your work bag and grab the duffle from the sidewalk. You just need somewhere for a night or two. Let dad cool off and you'll apologise. It will be okay.

You walk down to the main road and catch the first bus. You have no direction, no destination. You get off as you see the marquee of the Holiday Inn. You've never stayed in a hotel, hopefully they have room for you. It seems like no one does.

You shuffle inside, tired and worn out. There's a woman behind the front desk, sitting on a chair so you can only see the top of your head. You hobble over under the weigh of your bags and wait for her to notice you. When she doesn't, you tap the bell on the counter.

"Eh?" She stands up, almost tipping over, "sorry," she yawns, "didn't hear you come in."

"Mm," you hum and chew your lips, "that's okay. Erm..."

"Do you have a reservation? Bit early... or late, to be checking in."

"No, uh, I don't," you lower your eyes, "do you have anything available?"

"Sure we do," she answers chipperly. You look at her name tag; Mindy. "I got a few singles clean and ready."

"Okay, that's good," you answer, "how much?"

"Hundred and twenty for tonight. Credit on file or three hundred cash deposit."

"Oh," you try not show your surprise, "okay, I er, think I have enough but I don't have a credit card."

"Now worries, there's an ATM," she points across the lobby.

"Thank, can I leave my bags here for a second?"

"Sure, sweetie," she turns to the computer and clicks around.

You cross to the machine and dig out your debit card. You slide it into the slot and push the firm metal buttons. Your stomach plummets as you punch in the custom amount for withdrawal. You were saving that for the mortgage and Leslie. You hit Yes and the machine whirs, spitting out a stack of bills and a receipt.

You return to the counter and hand it over. Mindy asks for your name and phone number. You give her your info, growing more weary by the moment.

"Here are your keys," she hands over a tiny paper folio, "checkout is 11am tomorrow."

"Thanks."

"Wifi info is in there, along with information about breakfast. Coffee in the room and a kettle. Oh, and microwave."

You thank her one last time and collect your bags once more. You go to the elevator and check the folio for your room number. You hit floor six and wait for the box to rise. You step off, following the wall plaques to the matching door. It's yours, just for a little bit.

You swipe the card several times before it unlocks, struggling to make it register. You push your duffle inside with your feet and put your work bag beside it as the door shuts on its own. The room is small, the walls are pasted in faded wallpapers and the bed is made with sheets that remind you of another decade.

You put the keys on the table against the wall and drag yourself to the bed. You don't really have any time to nap, you just need to get off your feet for a little.

Your restlessness doesn't let you sit long. You wear some of your old clothes, of the few pieces you salvaged from the ruin. You check yourself in the mirror. You don't bother with the makeup. Mr. Laufeyson will be disappointed either way. Besides, you shouldn't care so much what he thinks. You're just his house manager after all. You're there to do a job.

If only believing it would make it true.

You find a route that goes towards his neighbourhood. It lets you off a few blocks away and you take your time. You almost don't have a choice as your body is achy from your father's attach, new bruises rising tenderly to the surface.

You're early despite the fractured night. As you pass the cafe, you slow and glance through the window. Just one more quiet moment before you face the inevitable.

You push inside and see the same woman as last time. You give the same order as you doubt she even recognises you. She hovers her finger over the touch screen of her till, "we have a special, a rose tea latte, if you're interested."

"Oh?" You scrunch up your lips, you've never been good at saying no. "Sure, I'll try that."

You got the change to pay and frown. You shouldn't be spending what's left on a tea. You should be smarter. Maybe if you were, you wouldn't be such a loser.

You sit and stare at the pink foam. You don't know if you can do this but what other choice do you have? You could just disappear but for how long? You'll run out of money. As hard as it was to get this job, you don't think a new one would be any easier when you have one reference. A reference who you don't expect a shining review from.

You sip carefully. It's delicious. You drop your forehead into your hand as hot tears brim your eyes. You fight to constrain them, nearly quaking with the effort. Your eyes are swollen enough as it is.

You continue to drink, keeping your head down, and finish before you resign yourself to fate. To face Mr. Laufeyson. You can do this, not because you're strong, but because you have to.

[blackcherryvelvet0909]

Lifeguard Required (Divus x GN!Reader)

Content Warning: Mentions of alcohol (none present)

Note: Reader is an adult staff member, implied to be a teacher/professor or teacher's assistant

“You know, sometimes I wonder if teaching was a mistake.” Divus took another long swig of his drink. Thankfully, it was non-alcoholic. “If this keeps up, I’ll be getting gray hairs soon.”

“I think you’d look good with them,” you said with a smile. “You will have the silver fox thing going for you.” 

Divus let out a short chuckle as he adjusted himself in his seat, leg now crossed over his knee. “Well, thank you for the effort to make me feel better.” 

“No problem,” you smirked as you brought your soda to your lips, “but I meant what I said.” 

As though to stray from the conversation of aging, Divus changed the subject. “You know, when I was a student myself, I became a lifeguard part-time during the summer months.” 

“Really now?” You raised an eyebrow at the vision of a young Divus decked out in red swim trunks, a whistle around his neck and a red float under his arm. “Why’s that? Strapped for cash?” 

“Not necessarily,” he said. “While the extra money was a plus, it was mainly to build up my resume. It wasn’t the most…remarkable thing back then. It was experience enough while I pursued my interest in fashion.” 

“Do you have any pictures of you from back then?” You leaned over your chair as you raised your eyebrows in interest. “I require evidence to believe your story - and I’m curious as to how you looked back then.” 

“I looked not too different than I do now.” He picked his drink up again. “I age like a fine wine~” 

“Mhm,” you hummed, which was then followed by a teasing remark. “A strong one, to be sure, but a little dry from all the stress and age.” You ended that statement with a sip of your soda for effect. 

A smirk to match crossed Divus’s lips as he watched you sip your drink. He looked like he was going to say something else - then a loud scream caused you both to flinch. You whipped your heads in the direction of the scream just in time to see Idia Shroud get tossed into the pool by Leona Kingscholar. A loud splash resounded throughout the area, followed by droplets of water raining down from the impact. Divus quickly placed his glass on the small table between you two before he bolted up from his chair. He looked almost ready to sprint forward and dive in after him - but he relaxed the moment Idia’s head burst out from the water. He gasped for air, hands coming up to wipe dark blue strands of hair from his face. 

“What the hell?!” Idia coughed as he yelled. His yellow eyes glared daggers into Leona; if his hair was still alight, you figured it’d be burning red. 

“So, you do have hair under that burning turnip.” Leona chuckled as he smirked in Idia’s direction, completely unbothered. “Mystery solved.” 

Before either could get out another word, Divus’s boomed out in anger. “Bad dog! Kingscholar, come here, now!”

“Hm?” Leona tilted his head in the professor’s direction. While he appeared unphased, his tail twitched in irritation. “We were just foolin’ around, professor Crewel.” His smirked appeared again as he grinned and gestured to Idia. “Shroud is completely unharmed, as you can see. Do you really think I would hurt him?” 

The sweet talk and charm wouldn’t work, you knew that. Still, Leona always gave Divus a hard time; you doubt the lion would listen to him much. Then, from the other side of the pool, Trein appeared. Though he did not yell, his voice was stern and level, as though scolding a child. “Kingscholar, come with me. It seems that, once more, we need to have a chat about your poolside etiquette.” 

You were unsure why Leona didn’t pick a fight with Trein, nor why he complied with his demands with little more than a grunt of annoyance. You saw that annoyance, that irritation, as Leona’s ears flattened against his head, snarling under his breath as he turned and headed away with the professor. Was there some sort of begrudging respect the young man had for the elder? Perhaps…you did hear once from Crowley how Trein beat Leona in a duel during the student’s freshman year. Ever since that day, when Leona lost his own challenge, he hadn’t been too much of a problem for that teacher in particular. You’d have to ask Divus if he knew anything of that incident later.

For now, you watched as Divus helped Idia out from the pool. The poor boy was soaked to the bone, black hoodie weighing him down. You quickly ran and grabbed a towel for him; once you retrieved the biggest you could find, you draped it around his shoulders. Idia didn’t say much in thanks, but he shot you the smallest of smiles as his show of gratitude. Divus placed a gentle hand on Idia’s back as he began him back inside, whispering words of comfort you could scarcely hear. Before they got too far, Divus looked over his shoulder at you and asked, “Can you handle things until I return?”

You nodded and gave him a small smile of your own. “Of course.”

Divus gave you one of his own before he led Idia away. That poor boy…no wonder he often stayed in his room. You glanced in the direction that Trein and Leona had disappeared, the two no doubt having a thorough discussion somewhere just out of sight. The other students present had gone back to what they’d been doing before their fun was disturbed. You sighed, thankful no one was hurt, but tired all the same. As you sat back in your chair and took another sip of your soda, a part of you wished it was spiked - just a little. 

***

A long sigh combined with an exhausted groan escaped Divus’s lips as he returned. Though he elegantly sat down in his chair, his posture was anything but. His head lolled back as he slumped in his seat, his hand coming to run through his hair and slick it back from his forehead. His tropical button-up - one of many designs of his for the season - was now unbuttoned and slightly damp at the back. He looked more casual than usual, for sure, yet also far more exhausted than before. You wished you could tell him it’d soon be over, but that would be a lie. The trip had another week to go, and then it was back to the classrooms. 

You offered Divus his drink, which he took with a slight nod of his head. You’d never seen him chug something so fast. A chuckled as he finally opened his eyes and looked at the night sky as though it were the cause of his strife. “I think you’re ready for bed,” you said with a small laugh. 

“I’m ready for a vacation,” he grumbled. 

“But we’re on a vacation?” 

“If this is a vacation for you, I dread what you do on the daily.” Divus set his now empty glass on the table as he continued. “This is work with a tropical backdrop; I need one away from children.”

“I think we all do,” you giggled. “A weekend getaway for the staff sounds lovely.” 

Divus seemed to scoff as he said, “You assume half the staff are not the children I speak of?” 

Now that made you laugh. The alchemy professor certainly had a point; a certain headmage and coach were maddeningly unhelpful for most of this trip. What would they do if you, Divus, Mozus, and Sam took off for a weekend or more? You honestly dreaded the possibilities. “That is very true,” you uttered as your laugh faded. “We can’t take them anywhere, can we?”

While you gave no context as to whether it was the students or Crowley and Vargas you were referring to, Divus didn’t seem to care. Either answer would be correct, in his mind. He nodded with a small ‘mhm’ as a few loose strands of white and black hair fell over his forehead. “Like untrained dogs, they don’t know how to behave.” He glanced over at two certain first years as he uttered, “Some more than others.” 

“Well, at least summer break is just a month away.” You sympathized with the small groan Divus let out at the reminder of how much time was left before then. “When that time comes, I’m sure we’ll all be thankful for the rest.”

“If that rest is too good, I just might quit,” Divus joked. There was some truth to that suggestion, however. Again, you didn’t blame him. Divus rested his chin on his knuckles as he turned his gaze on you. “What do you plan to do for the break?” 

“Mmn, I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I’ll probably just relax at home, watch movies, maybe order takeout - stuff like that.” 

“No plans whatsoever?” 

“Bold of you to assume those aren’t my plans.” 

Divus let out a small ‘hmph’ as he smiled. He simply looked at you for a few seconds, as though deep in thought. You grew a tad nervous, a little shy, under that gray gaze; you mildly shrunk in your own chair as you eyed him. “What?” 

“Oh, just thinking,” he replied. He certainly seemed to be plotting something, you thought. He straightened his posture as he spoke again, “What is your opinion on upscale restaurants?” 

“Like the ones you have to dress up for?” He nodded. “Um…I’ve never been to one before,” you chuckled under your breath, “can’t afford it with my meager salary. So, I can’t say I really have an opinion on them.” 

“I see.” Those cunning eyes scanned you from head to toe. A chill ran up your back under his intense gaze; you felt like grabbing your towel and hiding underneath. Before you could ask what he was doing, he said, “I think you’d look quite fetching in red.” 

“Uh…t-thank you?” Though a blush threatened to creep on your cheeks, you barely noticed in your confusion. “Where’d that come from?” 

“Again, I am just contemplating.” 

“Contemplating what?” 

“On exactly where I should take you for dinner.” 

If this were a cartoon, you’d have been knocked out of your chair by that statement. Your soda was left completely forgotten on the table beside you as you leaned against the armrest of your chair. “I-I’m sorry, what?” 

Divus seemed to find your reply amusing for the way he tittered. “Don’t tell me that’s how you respond to every advance you receive?” 

“I’ve…never received an advance.” You couldn’t help but answer honestly; I mean, what else could you reply with? Your head swum with so many questions that you could barely think of anything else. 

“Truly?” You noticed Divus’s smile had now stretched into a charming smirk. “It’s good to know I do not have any competition.” 

“Competition for what?” You didn’t mean for your voice to rise in pitch like that. Thankfully, no one other than Divus seemed to notice. 

“So, even you, a fellow trainer of pups, are blind to such simple things.” A chuckle rumbled in his throat and rib cage before he spoke again with a wiggle of his fingers. “Come closer.” With no reason to object, you complied. Divus leaned a little closer to your face, voice a volume above a whisper as he explained himself. “On the day summer break begins, and we’re relieved of our duties, I am going to take you to a celebratory dinner. You do not need to fret about your choice of clothing - I will provide it. All you need to do is let me pick you up, drive you there, and, hopefully, enjoy the food and company.” 

“This…isn’t with Trein or the other staff, is it?” you asked, nearly at a loss for words. 

Divus chuckled again. “No, pup, it isn’t.” His fingertip tapped the underside of your chin. “Do you understand?” 

Your nod was shaky, along with your words. “Y-Yes, I do.” 

“Good dog~” He pulled away from you in that instance. “I look forward to it.” 

He stood from his seat and took his glass. He then grabbed your can of soda, shook it a little, then placed it back on the table. “Your can is near empty.” He held up his glass as he offered, “Would you like a drink?” 

Somehow, you managed to regain your composure. “Yes, I would, thank you.” 

“Preference?” 

A smile tugged at your lips as he met his eye. “I trust your judgement.” 

Divus seemed to take that as more than just picking your drink. Though his smile held its usual charm, you could spy a certain softness creep into those silver gray eyes. He gave a small nod, “I’ll be back shortly.” 

With that, he turned and walked away. Even when he left, you couldn’t help but keep smiling. Even when a certain housewarden got into an argument with a certain twin, you wore that smile through your whole mediation of the situation. You loved your job, you really did…but summer break couldn’t come soon enough. Who knows - maybe a certain lifeguard might come to your aide.

[sweetfire01]

It's a little shorter than I planned, but it was in my draft for too long and I wanted to post it, so I cut it the end. You'll read more in the next chapter. 👀

Baby dove pt.3 (Daddy!Howl)

It took you a while to calm down. Calcifer retreated to the back of the fireplace and you were grateful for the silence. You didn't know if there was anything else you should know, but surely you didn't want to now. Apparently, the only option available was what the demon said: waiting for Howl to get tired and hoping that it happens soon. The ringing of the doorbell startled you and you jumped up in fear, only to breathe a sigh of relief when you saw Markl, alone. You cursed yourself for getting so anxious just from the ringing of a bell, but you still didn't feel like facing that guy. You composed yourself and welcomed Markl, helping him carry in the groceries. You only got a fleeting glimpse of the city starting to light up for the evening before the youngest closed the door behind him, unaware of your problems.

Howl originally told you that he was the only one allowed to cook since the demon didn't like being used by anyone other than him. At first, like everything that happened to you these days, you didn't think about it too much. Now you wonder if it wasn't actually some form of infantilization towards you: you're too young to know how to cook, you could burn or cut yourself… In fact, now that you thought about it longer, he had never let you cook, if not sometimes "helping him pass the ingredients". Not wanting to get angry for the umpteenth time that day, you looked at what you placed on the table: delicious-looking fruit and vegetables, an already gutted cod and a new bottle of oil. "Howl asked me to buy some fish." Markl said with a rather disgusted expression, taking a stool and approaching the table. "It was the last thing I took. I didn't want to keep that smelly thing around all the time." Moving it away from him, he grabbed the cutting board and a knife. He held a turnip in his hand for a few seconds before starting to cut it, still pouting. "I hope at least these cover the disgusting taste." You wondered if Howl saw you the same way you saw Markl. A sulking child complaining about food he doesn't like while standing on a stool because the table is too high for him. You thought that at least the wizard didn't have to see you so short. Then you remembered that this kid at least could go out freely and be more useful than you in the kitchen. You started looking for a knife to help him as you listened to him complain about how he didn't want to eat fish for dinner. The implications of this hit you. "Wait. We don't…have leftovers right?" "No, the soup for lunch is all gone. Unfortunately." Yeah. Unfortunately. Having no leftovers meant he would be back earlier than usual to cook. You had hoped that you would be able to go to bed and pretend to be asleep when he returned. Now you were hoping that he would have some accident and wouldn't be able to make it home for a few more hours. You started to open the cabinet after you only found spoons and forks in the cutlery tray. The castle was cleaner since you arrived, but still very messy. You spotted a cutlery handle sticking out from behind the pile of plates, only to realize it was another fork. "Hey Markl, where are all the knives?" It was your only chance to do something useful in the kitchen, you weren't going to waste it. "Aren't they in the cutlery tray? I got this from there." "No, not even in the drawers." "In the sink? Howl was cutting some herbs for potions when I left. Maybe he left onethere." You checked but, apart from a cup and a bowl, there was nothing else. You looked through the shelves above but couldn't spot a single one. It didn't help that they were higher than your head. You wouldn't ask Markl to lend you the stool. The library? Nothing. You huffed in annoyance. "They are not here." Oh, if this was one of his tricks… "Well, you know how he is, he always leaves things lying around. When he comes back we'll ask him. Is there anything else missing to set the table?" You took 3 glasses scattered around, placing them on one side of the still clear table.

Then you pulled 3 plates out of the cabinet… and saw it. Behind the pile was a knife sticking out of a cup. A butter knife, sure, but still a knife. You grabbed it and triumphantly returned to the table, next to him. There were still some vegetables and you got ready to cut a carrot. Too bad the knife didn't cut. It simply rubbed on its surface. You tried using more force but the blade wasn't sharp enough. "Um, isn't that a butter knife?" Markl must have noticed your struggle with that damn carrot. "Yeah, I'm trying to cut it anyway." You snorted. You were almost tempted to break it in half. With bare hands. The boy took on a confused expression "Do you know that the butter knife…is used to spread butter? Have you never used it?" Oh god. Not him too. Not him too who treats you like a fool. “I know what a butter knife is for, thanks.” You gritted your teeth as you brought your attention back to that orange thing. You started cutting - no, rubbing - that fucking knife on that fucking carrot again. "But-" "I can do it." You cut him off. He shook his head, sighing "Come on, pass it to me, I'll take care of it." "No." "C'mon-" "No. I'll do it." "Now I understand why Howl never lets you help us in the kitchen." "What?!" You dropped the knife on the table and the moment you turned to look at him, he stole your vegetable. "Yeah, you'd probably just screw up." He stuck his tongue out at you before quickly cutting it off. That little…Now you were really getting offended. "That's not true! I'm capable of helping, you know?" “Yes, cutting vegetables with a butter knife.” "It's not my fault, there weren't any others." "But you can't use that!" "I wanted to try!" "Sure, next time you'll try it with a fork?" "Stop teasing me!" "You're the one doing stupid things." "It is not true!" "Yes." "No!" “Shall we talk about when you went out the other day and got lost? "What?!" You honestly didn't expect him to bring that topic up. But you couldn't accept that a brat younger than you was still putting you down. "There were just a lot of people, that's all. And then I bet you'd get lost too. In fact, you'd end up crushed because of how short you are." Now it was your turn to stick your tongue out at him and tease him. "Actually I left before you and returned safely. Oh, and I didn't need anyone to take me home." Or maybe not. Dammit. Losing an argument to a child about you not being a stupid child. "Well, I…I…I didn't need Howl!" You slammed your palms on the table and Markl flinched at your outburst. He looked at you with wide eyes as you continued to squeal. "I don't need him or you! Nobody!" He continued to stare at you in fear, shaking his head, but you didn't care anymore. "I want to get out of here! I've had enough!" "And where would you go?" You froze, two large hands resting on your shoulders, pulling you towards his chest. Markl wasn't looking at you. Slowly raising your head, you met Howl's smiling face.

[blueariel3-blog]

Together

Pairing: Poly!Dragonott x Reader

Summary: Draco is tasked with finishing the vanishing cabinet, but it's tearing him apart. You and Theo make a plan to help him.

You skipped down the hallway, your hand safely enclosed in Theo’s rather large one. Pansy made a joke about Trelawany’s outfit ahead of you and the group of Slytherins laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls and sending some second years running. You nodded along and smiled, pretending as if you heard the joke and thought it was funny as you focused on getting to the great hall. 

The smell of fresh roast and gravy hit your nose and you sighed as you happily took your seat. Theo sat next to you, helped you fix your plate, and poured you a drink, smiling as he did so. You brushed a tender kiss across his cheek in thanks. There were several minutes of silent eating and chattering before you realized Draco wasn’t at the table and likely wasn’t coming. 

You gently placed a hand on Theo’s knee and gave a small squeeze. He gave you a quiet look of understanding and gestured for you to finish your meal. You did so quietly, nodding along to the conversation and trying not to let fear and worry consume you and ruin your appetite. 

When dinner was almost over, you made your way around to the kitchens to find the elves. They all greeted you warmly as you passed through, rich smells filling your nose and washing some of your nerves away. You stopped at the counter in front of the head elf and gently laid your hands on the counter. 

“Could I have a plate to go? Please?” It wasn’t unusual for you to often ask the elves for a plate to take, and you gathered they knew why. 

“Of course, dear.” The elderly elf climbed down from her stool and you watched her toddle around the kitchen to collect the food. In a magically extended box, they shoved a double heaping of roast and gravy, rice, carrots, turnips, pumpkin pastries, and cheesecake. She set the box on the counter and patted it, handing her a small extended pitcher of pumpkin juice. 

“Thank you,” you whispered quietly. The elf placed her withered hand on your cheek gently and nodded, motioning for you to get going. You gently took the box and pitcher and pushed open the kitchen doors with your elbow, meeting Theo right outside. 

“I’m worried about him,” you said as he took the box from you. You both started down the corridors, keeping track of the moving staircases in order to get to the room of requirement. You passed Snape in the hallway who nodded his head and continued on his way. 

“I am too. Maybe he’ll let us help today.” He sighed as he stepped in front of the blank wall, waiting on you to step beside him. You gave him a sharp look. 

“I doubt it. Show me the room of requirement.” 

The stones began to chip away until a door appeared. Theo turned the handle and sighed. A blast of warm air hit you in the face and you sighed, shrugging your robes off as you weaved through the stacks of lost and forgotten objects. A clattering sound to your right had you sharply turning and coming to stand behind a head of platinum hair. 

You placed a hand on his shoulder as you braced for an outburst. He turned to face both of you, dark circles around his eyes. You could see how tired he was and how stress had taken a toll on his body, but you had lost that fight more times than you cared to admit. 

Theo placed the box on the table beside you and stepped towards you both, placing a hand on Draco’s other shoulder. He sagged into both of your touches before pulling away and rubbing a tired hand through his hair, the movement slow and sluggish. He dropped onto the worn quilted couch you and Theo spent much of your time on while watching him. 

“You didn’t have to bring me anything,” he mumbled. He was a very closed-off person despite sharing a relationship with both of you and refused to accept help. You gently lowered yourself to the floor and sat against his legs as Theo took the open seat next to him. 

“We know we didn’t have to, but we wanted to. Don’t want you to be alone,” You whispered. Despite knowing no one else occupied the room and you could talk as loud as you wanted, you always kept your voice quiet around your boys. 

“Thanks,” he sighed. 

Theo gently patted his thigh and motioned for him to turn his body, laying his head down in Theo’s lap. He stroked the blond and stringy hair away from his pale face, scratching gently at his scalp. The hand that dangled over the edge allowed for you to reach out and grasp his cold fingers in yours. 

“How much have you gotten done?” Theo was always hesitant to ask but knew it was a conversation that needed to be had. 

“Almost done, just need a few more days.” Theo exchanged a look with you and shook his head. He had been saying that for weeks. 

“Why don’t you eat and rest a little while? Theo and I will wake you up in a few hours.” 

“Can’t. Need to finish the cabinet.” His words slurred together and his eyes dropped as he struggled to stay awake. You brushed a tender kiss to his fingers and gently massaged the pressure point on his wrist, the dark mark almost touching it.

You sat there for a few minutes as you both waited for Draco to drift to sleep. When quiet snoring filled the room, you pried his hand out of yours and pulled up from the floor. You silently cast a charm to extend the couch to a bed big enough to fit the three of you and placed a silencing charm around the posters. 

You helped Theo move his body and tug off his robes to make him more comfortable. He wore his white button-down and boxers when you were both done, curled under the silk green sheets and resting comfortably. 

“Want me to help,” Theo whispered. You shook your head and bent to place a kiss on his forehead. 

“No, stay with him. You both need some sleep.” Your lips hovered near his brow, pressing another kiss before standing upright and moving to the cabinet a few feet away. 

You cast another silencing charm around you and opened the creaking door only to find a dead bird inside. You sighed and banished the creature, shutting the door again to think. 

An hour later, you heard Theo’s snores join in with Draco’s. You turned to see Draco laying behind Theo, an arm wrapped around his waist as he buried his head in the curly chocolate locks. You smiled and turned back to the furniture. 

In the next hour, you managed to accomplish a few things. You altered the spells along the outside and inside of the cabinet to cushion the entrance and exit of whoever stepped inside. You also added a muffling spell to keep the sound contained and fixed the squeaky hinges that plagued Draco’s nightmares. 

It was another 3 hours and lots of charms and transfigurations before you decided to step inside. You knew if either of the boys saw you in the cabinet they would combust, but they were both happily sleeping. You took a deep breath and carefully shut the door behind you, trusting your spell work to be thorough enough to protect your life. 

With a deep breath, you muttered the charm and braced your hands against the walls. There was a light humming and a quick flash of light before the furniture eased back into its quiet nature. You carefully cracked open the door and were met with a room quite different than the one you had just left. A large smile appeared on your face. 

You cast a diagnostic and checked for injuries to make sure you weren’t looking over anything in your desperation for the cabinet to work. When you were sure you were fine, you closed the door once more and uttered the charm again. The same quiet rumbling and flash of light consumed you before it went still again. 

On the other side of this door were your two boyfriends wrapped in one another arms and snoring. You grinned, hardly containing your squeal, and jumped out of the cabinet. Another diagnostic confirmed you were not injured. 

You peeled off your uniform and transformed your dress shirt into a long t-shirt and slipped into bed behind Draco. The clock on the opposite wall read 4:55 am and you silently groaned as you set the alarm for 7 sharp. A few lost hours of sleep would be worth it for his well-being. 

You slipped a hand around Draco’s abdomen and lightly kissed his head, nuzzling in deep to the comforting scent of apples and chestnut. 

A few hours later, the sharp ringing of an alarm woke you from your sleep. You all three groaned as you moved around the bed, disentangling limbs. Draco suddenly shot from the bed and almost tripped on his trousers before stumbling to the cabinet. 

“I wasn’t supposed to sleep! I have to finish this cabinet in time!” He pulled at the roots of his hair and you shot up from the bed, coming to grasp his hands and prevent him from hurting himself further. 

“Draco, baby, I fixed the cabinet.” It was as if he was in his own world and couldn’t hear you. 

“He’s going to kill me if I don’t get this done! I’ll have to skip classes again to make up for it,” He mumbled to himself. Theo joined you two and pulled Draco into his side who tried to push him away. 

“Draco! Listen to her!” 

Theo shoved his shoulders and turned him around to watch you. Draco lifted his eyebrows as if surprised to find you there and reached out a hand. 

“Darling, I’m sorry. I have to finish the cabinet. Let Theo take you to get ready and I’ll try to get you for lunch.” 

“Draco I fixed the cabinet.” His hand stilled mid-air and he blinked at you. 

“That’s not funny.” He narrowed his eyes. You huffed and stomped towards the cabinet, pulling the door open and then sealing yourself inside. You heard Draco yelling from the other side. 

“NO! Theo, let me go! She’s going to die!” There was a brief sound of struggling and then silence. 

You opened the door to find a different room and sighed, closing it once again. When you opened the door a second time, both boys stood with their mouths hanging open as you stepped out. 

“Now, no more worrying. It’s fixed. You will go to class and eat with us and sleep in our bed and you will not spend another moment worrying about this wretched furniture. Either of you.” You gave them both a pointed look. 

“How did you…why?” Draco sounded astonished and his eyes began to glass over. You placed a hand on each side of his head and kissed him gently before resting your foreheads together. 

“It was tearing you apart and I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to do something. It’s fixed now and you don’t have to worry about it for a while.” You placed another kiss on his forehead, then the tip of his nose, then each cheek, and finally another one on his lips. 

“Thank you. Both of you. I don’t know what I would do without you.” He extended a hand behind him for Theo who gladly took it and joined the embrace. The dark-haired wizard placed a kiss on both of your heads. 

“Now that that’s sorted, let's all go shower, together. Then we can eat, together. And then go to class, together. And when the day is done we’ll all take a nap, together.” You smiled and hummed, leaning into his side. 

“That sounds lovely. I’ve missed both of you.” Draco gave each of you a short kiss and tugged on your hands, leading you to the pile of clothes on the floor beside the bed. 

You each helped one another dress slowly, sharing small smiles and giggles. It wasn’t long before the three of you walked quietly through the halls together to the bathroom, desperate to be in each other's arms again. 

[katieaki]

My ✨ post-apocalyptic Lesbian Cowgirl Mailman choose-your-own adventure✨ has just updated! Read it here for free on my Patreon and vote in the poll! There is a summary of the first part, here, the second part, here, and the third part, here. They have everything you need to know about Lou, her requited-but-complicated love, the religious assassin who just beat the tar out of her, the worst person she's ever met, and the ill-advised journey she is on! There is also now a discord where Pony Express readers from all across god's green internet can gather, here! Lou really flexes her incredible acting skills in this one. I guarantee you'll be impressed. We also get some teen content, if only just a little. Close readers who've also read my other work may also be rewarded with an accent-related detail that says something about another irritable country dyke in my lineup.

Read the update for free on my patreon & vote on what happens next! Excerpt below the cut.

“Are you from like, Travertine, Devil’s Elbow, Cloverleaf way?” Artie asked, gesturing with three fingers to indicate the cluster of towns. They were barely towns, really, more like loosely grouped homes, farms, and rural industry that were large enough to each have their own shrine, pantry, schoolhouses, and Pony Express stations, but not much more.

“Yeah,” Lou said, surprised into letting the ‘curse’ talk lie. “How did you know?”

“Your accent,” she said.

“I don’t have an accent,” Lou said. She involuntarily covered her mouth with her hand. “Y’all have accents.”

“Wait, don’t tell me which one. Let me guess,” Artie said, excited. She pushed her hair out of her face and thought hard for a moment. “Okay. What does a bird lay?”

“An egg?” Lou said.

“‘Aig’,” Artie repeated.

“That’s— that's not what I sound like,” Lou protested.

Artie ignored her and continued. “The feeling when you wanna go to sleep?”

“Sleepy,” Lou said. She knew what Artie was trying to get her to say, but she didn’t want to play along anymore. Artie was having too much fun with it and Lou was beginning to feel cross-grained.

“Come on,” Artie said, looking over the top of her new, cursed sunglasses at her.

“Tired,” Lou said, begrudgingly.

“‘Tarred,’” Artie repeated. 

“Okay, stop making fun of me,” Lou said. “I get it. I’m country as a turnip green.”

“I’m not making fun. I’m investigating,” she said. “Besides, I like it. Your accent. And I like turnip greens.”

Lou didn’t say anything, just lifted her hat, smoothed her sweaty hair back, and put it back on her head. They were quiet for a while and Lou hoped Artie had decided not to pursue the question any further.

“The thing you write with? The ink one?” Artie said finally, with a little smile.

Lou heaved a heavy sigh and glared at her. She just smiled back, looking at her with those huge, dark eyes. “Pen,” she said, finally.

“‘Pin’,” Artie repeated, visibly delighted that Lou was still playing along. “Cloverleaf?”

Lou’s eyebrows raised involuntarily. How did she know that? “You had a one in three chance,” Lou huffed.

Artie leaned back with a big grin. Lou instinctively looked away from her teeth. “Anyway, don’t be embarrassed about being a country girl. Johnny Knives is inaka, too.”

“How did you know?” Lou asked.

“About you? I don’t know. I’ve been all over the place and I like hearing people talk. And my dad is from near Travertine,” Artie said. “I guess, me too, but. It’s complicated. Anyway, you got a stronger accent than her. So it was easy. I feel like the pin-pen thing is so Cloverleaf. Oh, and how you say golly like that all the time. ‘Gol-lee’. Very Cloverleafian.”

[worlds-worst-ships]

After somewhat popular demand... here is an absolutely obscene fanfiction I wrote in 2021. This will either go down great, or horribly.

*BEEP**BEEP**BEEP**BEEP*

How exciting. My alarm clock, once again, is going off right next to my head. Using my genius level ingenuity, I put four alarm clocks on my bedside table, all of which have a different unique design to them, forcing me to wake up and sort through each one until I turn the offending alarm clock off. I have my boyfriend set them for me, and this time he seems to have gone with the clock that has Hannah Montana's face plastered all over it. How very empowering. While still dazed, I groggily picked it up and knuckleballed it against the wall, obliterating it into a thousand pieces, as a real man would. 

"I'm sorry Hannah, but as empowering to me as you are, you've got nothing on Bo Peep from Toy Story."

"Babe, I swear to god, if you destroy another alarm clock, my wife's boyfriend is gonna kill me... he only gives me five dollars of allowance a month, I theoretically can't keep replacing your alarm clocks" said a softy, nasally voice from behind me.  

Of course... how could I forget? My boyfriend Ben was asleep right next to me. I felt bad. I knew he was always replacing the countless alarm clocks that I destroyed, but eventually, Chad was going to catch on and send him to his room with no dinner and no Fortnite for a week. Such a cruel man... A cruel, chiseled, strong, gorgeous unit of a man. Chad, Ben's wife's boyfriend... God, I wish I could leave Ben for him, but Chad would absolutely pop my skull like a grape between his mighty pectorals. I am not worthy. Thus, I turned to Ben and asked: 

"Today is the day. Are you ready?"

"Yeah.. yeah, I am" he replied, a confident look sweeping over his face. 

"Whats the name of the place you're getting it done again?" I asked

"Uhhh... Claire's, I think? I mean, I saw on a conservative Facebook page that thats where people usually go to get the surgery. The guy had a MAGA hat and a beer in his profile picture, and he works at a junk yard, so he must know what he's talking about" said Ben, climbing out of bed and putting on his spray-on jeans. "Hurry up and get dressed, we have to leave in an hour."

Yeah... today was the day that Ben would get his top surgery. I was so proud of him for getting one step closer to completing his transition. I know that Chad would just flick him in the chest, break all of his ribs instantly, and tell him to get back to raising his Chad-babies while he ate metal and drank beer, but I was going to support him all the way through. In the least gay way possible... I love him. Chad, not Ben. I actually hate Ben. He's so annoying, never just saying what he thinks, always saying "hypothetically" and dumb shit like that before everything. What an annoying little prick. If I didn't get views from his fans, I'd dump him straight away and stop agreeing with everything he says. 

"Alright, alright" I said, flicking through my side of the closet, looking for the best possible outfit to suit the situation. Hmmm... the closet.... it looks very comfy in there. I'd love to climb in and stay there forever to hide from my support group, but that would be the easy way out. So, after a minute or so, I chose the cutest floral blouse, some jean shorts that really hugged my glutes, some platform boots and a floppy brimmed straw hat adorned with fake flowers. I thought about using real flowers, but thats way too girly, which is offensive to my masculinity. 

After a breakfast of lucky charms, raw eggs and a whole turnip, Ben called us an Uber and we got ready to set off for Claire's. 

"Steven... I'm scared." Said Ben, tightly squeezing my hand. 

"Hey, hey, hey... whats the worst that could happen?" I said, forcing a confident smile. "It'll be fine! I'm here with you!" 

"You just ate a whole raw turnip five minutes ago Steven, I, in theory, highly doubt I can rely on you in the worst case theoretical scenario" said Ben in a snarky tone.

I nearly picked Ben up and Rikishi'd him through the front porch for that little comment, but then I remembered who the top was in this relationship... Chad. I'd be in big, big trouble if Ben came home with a porch wrapped around his neck. Either way, the Uber, who was interestingly named Guiseppe, arrived to pick us up.

"MAMA MIA!!! Look at the glutes on that thing!! My Grandma has made PIZZA DOUGH thats not as thick as that!!!" Guiseppe yelled, slapping his thigh and starting a small fire in the front seat, gesturing to me and saying "Come bay-bee, put it out for me"

I was extremely confused. Guiseppe was an extremely... "forward" man. I certainly didn't want to put a fire out with my dump truck of a batty crease, but at the same time, I desperately wanted to go off on him for harassing me and go on a tangent about how men deserve better than to be treated like this by Italian taxi drivers every day. But then I realised that I'm full of shit, and that I know I'm not actually a victim because this has never actually happened to me, and I climbed in the trunk instead with Ben tightly squeezed under my armpit. Then we felt the car start moving. 

"Steven... Why are we in the trunk?" asked Ben. 

"Well, thats because it's pointless trying to make myself a victim since I'm really not that bothered by it and we're not on camera anyways, and if the fire burns my booty, how will I ever please Chad?" I replied

"How will you... what?" Ben inquired in a serious tone

"Oh, uh, nothing, babe" I said, blushing as the thought of Chad running a rocket on my hips and confining me to a wheelchair forever. 

"Oh, fair enough." said Ben, letting out one of the loudest burps I've ever heard in my life. Then something hit me. 

Do I smell... turnips? Has that little pixie shit been eating my turnips?!

In a rage, I flung open the trunk, grabbed Ben by the head, and yelled an order at Guiseppe. 

"DO SOME DONUTS!! DO SOME DONUTS!!" 

And Guiseppe did so. As we spun around, I shoved Ben's face into the road below, grinding his entire upper body down to nothing. It looked like someone smeared tomato puree all over the concrete. Ben was reduced to an ass and a pair of legs. Sorta like this. 

"Hows that for top surgery, you turnip-stealing fuck?" I yelled at Ben's now burnt behind, spitting into what remained of his spinal cord. 

Then, as if on cue, Ben's remains bubbled and expanded, and he reformed into his original shape, and looked me in the eyes as if he'd just woken up. 

"What happened?" he asked. 

"What the-"

I was amazed. I'd just turned Ben into pizza sauce and he just grew back like a zit during high school. 

"I think my brain got destroyed, so I lost some of my memory. What happened?" He asked, scratching his new head. "Oh I should mention, I have Resident Evil powers, since this is an ideal world, and the creator wanted to add in a hilarious moment where you turned the freeway into a bloody pizza by grinding someone down to nothing. Is that what happened?"

Regaining my senses, I said "No, I just farted and you passed out from it. See? you can smell the turnips."

"Oh, ok, cool." said Ben, nestling back into my armpit. "do you think you have regenerative powers too? You should get top surgery right after me and find out. Although I heard they're a one-time thing, so be careful."

Unwilling to find out, I stayed silent for the remainder of the journey until we felt the car come to a violent halt. Turns out Guiseppe decided to drive his car through the doors to the mall, and park right outside Claire's. 

"Finally!" we both said in unison, stepping out of the trunk. 

"You know, if you want to pay me, you could always let me get a lick of that dough ball behind, big boy" said Guiseppe. 

"No, I think I'm just going to leave and never talk to you again" I said, flipping Guiseppe off like a bad boy. I should really film a 'why do good girls like bad guys' TikTok after that one.

In the chaos of the crash, it would seem that all but one of a group of protestors were reduced to paste under the car. The one remaining, a soccer mom looking woman with a scowl on her face, stood up, dusted herself off, and looked at us in disgust.

"You'd better not be going in there" she hissed, pointing at Claire's. "you know they operate on kids in there, right? You know they mutilate kids? You know they manipulate young girls into getting their bodies ruined forever??" 

I walked over to the door, gestured to a 'no kids allowed' sign and said "Bitch, please. Show me some proof". 

"Whatever. I'm still right. Have a nice day. I'm nice really, even though I'm not. Trust me." she said, rolling her eyes and turning away with no proof to give. "You guys are just... I dunno, sexist or something, I really don't feel like putting actual effort into finding an appropriate buzz word to call you."

Then what she did next will haunt me for the rest of my days. 

She knelt down and... picked up her picket sign. But... how?!

She's a woman... how could she be so strong?? That power... in a woman's body... anything heavier than a cooking pot should be impossible!!!

"Who... who are you?? Who the heck are you???" I yelled

"Arielle. Ally to trans people, and supporter of having their healthcare rights taken, supporter of groups that hate them, and supporter of authors who write uninformed bullshit books on them, as well as long-time transphobe. I love trans people! I just show no respect for them and block people who call me out unless they have followers. I'm so nice! Wanna try my apple crumble? Don't worry, saying I support them immediately erases anything bad I've said or done to them. Jeez, isn't the existence of Bon Ninary people so sexist? I'm only saying that because I feel personally attacked that female-bodied people anywhere are becoming trans rather than dating me, because I'm entitled to that, but yknow. Hmmm, I wonder why so many people hate me... Oh well. I'm a genius. I'm gonna go cry into a frozen microwave meal for one now."

While I wasn't surprised that a woman had just said something stupid and oxymoronic, being as I love looking down on them, I was surprised at her insane power. I... I had to fight her. 

But then I remembered that I'm not on camera, realised I don't actually think like that, and walked into Claire's. Jeez, I really need to grow up. 

The room we were in was... strange. There were way too many cameras. I mean, of course everywhere has cameras, but this many? There were even some on the floor aiming upwards... lucky I didn't wear my favourite skirt! That would be extremely gay and stupid and probably lower my strength stat by a few hundred points. 

We walked past the ear piercing section, and straight through the black curtain at the back to the surgical department. 

Ben's hand clasped mine even tighter, as if to say "daddy, I'm scared". But I know he wouldn't be stupid enough to show me any fear, unless he wants to be evaporated into nothing but an ass and some legs again. Stupid boy. Be a real man. Pathetic. 

Once we entered the lobby, things just got stranger. There were even more cameras, and the windows almost seemed... fake. Nonetheless, we approached the front desk where a rather snooty looking young man was sitting watching a lacrosse game on his phone. I almost wanted to tell him to stop pouting and flexing, but I felt like he was on the cusp of a meltdown if I offered him any sort of criticism. We stood there awkwardly for a moment in the silence of the lobby, where only the three of us and a man hidden behind a newspaper were sat, until Ben broke the silence.

"Um... excuse me?" he stammered

"Holy shit, you're fat and ugly" said the receptionist, looking up from his phone. "Why do you look like your wife has a boyfriend who treats you like a son? You look so stupid. Jeez. Probably a trender."

Blown away from his rudeness, I grabbed him by the collar and stood up, dangling him like a saveloy on a fishing hook. I looked him dead in the eyes, and spoke from the heart. 

"Listen here you antagonistic little cretin, if you ever talk to my boyfriend like that again, I'm going to fold you into a paper cup and drink from you on my podcast where I talk about things I don't understand, got it, you soggy onion boy?"

Seeing that I wasn't a 13 year old non binary kid on TikTok, or someone with half the testosterone he has, he backed down with nothing to say like a rat retreating into a hole. That was... way easier than I thought. Looking at his name tag as I dropped him into the waste paper basket by his desk, I saw his name was Kalvin. 

"So, uh... I have an appointment" said Ben. 

Kalvin pressed three buttons on his keyboard, and then reached under his desk and dumped what looked like a crate of milk bottles in front of us. 

"Um... what?" I said, puzzled. 

"There you go" Kalvin said, his eyes flicking back and forth from the security camera above his desk. 

"Explain, you wet flannel" I demanded 

"Oh, do you want me to actually organise a boxing match with you that I will totally train for and turn up to?" he spat back at me.

"Listen, Mr Inferiority Complex, I'm not a tween non binary TikTok user with no fight experience and less than a third of your testosterone, you're not gonna lay a finger on me you fucking pathetic clown cunt, even if there was someone who would actually take you seriously enough to organise a fight sports event for a sack of shit like you, you wouldn't even train properly for it you baton-wielding prick, so stick to your little games of lacrosse where you get ten times the protective gear you do in boxing anyways and explain why you've just put this in front of me before I fucking wrap the front door around your skull, alright you soft little sugarplum fairy wannabe tough guy dickhead?" I said, while menacingly flexing my muscles under my floral blouse.  

"Its testosterone" said Kalvin, on the verge of tears after being stood up to by someone his own size. 

While I was baffled that anyone actually found a sensitive little softie like me intimidating, now I was even more confused.

"But I didn't come here for testosterone, I came here for top surgery" said Ben. 

Kalvin leaned in, beckoned us closer, and whispered to us:

"Listen... I know this makes no sense. Literally no clinic anywhere gives out cross-sex hormones this fast. But thats not what *they* believe, and if *they* see me making realistic choices when dealing with trans clients, they'll stab me" he whispered in a shaky voice.

"You are beyond useless. Why are you even doing this?" Said Ben.

"Look, I get it, I'm trans too, I know I'm full of shit. But what matters is that *they* think I'm normal." he replied.

"Who's 'they'?" I asked

But before I could press him further, Kalvin backed off and said loudly "Anyways... since you're a girl, we can't give you the surgery. You girl. Stupid, weak, pathetic girl who listens to people on the internet. But we're libtards, so we're gonna give you the surgery anyways, because we like blending children!" he obnoxiously yelled, winking at the nearest camera.  

"Oh, Kalvin..." said a nearby voice in an Italian accent. "You know there are laws preventing people from getting hormones within 24 hours. You know that nobody is stealing your resources. And you know that gender expression and gender identity are different things. I thought law students were supposed to be smart."

We all turned around to see the man with the newspaper stand up, only to realize it was...Guiseppe? 

Mama mia! What a plot twist!

"G-Guiseppe??" Kalvin gasped. "But... I thought you were dead!"

"Oh Kalvin, sending a few angsty teens over to spam in my comments may be enough to defeat a child, but I'm Guiseppe. I'm not even supposed to be here." 

Then he turned around and left, after slapping Kalvin with his newspaper and starting small fires in each and every chair in the room. 

"Arriverderci, bitch" Said Guiseppe, flipping us all off and walking straight through the glass door, leaving a trail of blood down the street as he tossed bricks of cheese at the police officers chasing him. 

After that weird little episode, Kalvin ushered us down a corridor and into another room where a nurse put Ben into a hospital gown, which offended me because I wanted her to touch me instead, and then told us to wait. 

Then the doctor came in. And hooooooly smokes... Chad who??

"Hello there, I'm perfectly normal doctor Blaire and I believe I'm performing a top surgery later today? " She said in a voice that turned my legs to jelly. 

There was something about this woman... something that just made me obsessed with her. Something that just made me want to grab her and stuff her in my tighty-whities. I just couldn't get over how hot I found her. 

"Uh, yes, thats right, on me." Said Ben. 

"Nervous? You fucking should be, you she-girl" responded the doctor

She just misgendered my boyfriend right in front of me, but I didn't care. I was pitching a tent like my shorts were a homeless colony just from looking at her. But... why? She looks like literally every popular girl that struggled to stay popular after graduation. Like, I could scrape a carbon copy of her off the streets of LA. Why do I find her so attractive??

"But yeah, anyways, don't worry, I totally care about you, you're gonna be fine. I'm trans too, so I definitely understand the struggle." she said with a definitely not fake smile. 

Then it hit me. Trans. That was it. Thats why I was feeling such a desperate urge to squeeze one out then and there right in front of her. All over her definitely not disingenuous face. 

She walked out of the room, and I finally took a breath. Then, ten or so minutes later, the nurse came back wheeled Ben into the operating theater. 

The walls were very clearly made of cardboard, and the doctor's desk was shoddily thrown together. Thats when I noticed... there was a picture with her and a man on the desk. 

"Hey, I know him!" I said. "Isn't he a member of the KKK? You seem pretty cosy with him. I mean, nothing he does really effects me, so in order to appeal to people in the same boat, I can't say anything about him, but thats a very nice picture!"

"Oh, yeah, totally" said doctor Blaire, adjusting one of the sixteen security cameras in the room. Seriously, what is with those cameras? 

"Now, Ben..." she said, walking over to Ben, who was looking like a stupid little fucking sardine in his hospital gown. "Do you want the regular top surgery, or the really good conservative top surgery?" 

"Conservative...top...surgery?" said Ben, raising his shitty eyebrows. Bitch needs some work done, fr fr. 

"Oh, yes. Its really really good. I promise. Its just as good as the regular one." 

She seemed to be shaking and stammering, so I spoke up. 

"Okay, this is weird. Like, seriously weird. Why are there so many cameras? Why is your office made of cardboard?" 

"Ah-ah!" She said, moving closer to us. Then from under her doctor coat, she pulled out... a gun?!?

"You want the conservative top surgery, riiiight?" she said, doing that stupid fucking fake smirk she does. But make no mistake, I'm a chaser, I give zero fucks. 

"Y...yes!" squealed Ben. 

"Thats right. At least I can tell who the top is here." she said, gleefully. 

"Its me" said Ben

"Oh, right, yeah, sure" said Blaire. 

Thats when I noticed... the poster on her wall that I previously thought said 'live, laugh, love' actually said 'If he ain't aryan, I ain't marryin''. And in the desk drawer... was that... a confederate flag?? And a badge that says "I'm latina and proud"??? This bitch is CRAAAZY!!

Before I could call her out, she grabbed both me and Ben, pulled us close, and spoke as if she was terrified of something. 

"Listen... I'm here to sell you out. Yeah. I'm trans. But thats some scary shit. I need to get as cosy as possible with the far right so that when they kill trans people, at lease I MIGHT survive. Yeah, I'm a sellout, yeah, I'm a coward, and yeah they will most likely hurt me anyways, but I don't care. I'll be their token invite. I'll lick their boots. They taste great. I love it. The attention feels great. I've lied, cheated and betrayed my people to save myself, but so what? Terfs are very supportive when you're on their good side. So sit there like a good little twink and fucking enjoy the surgery."

Quick as a flash, she glided over to a nearby cupboard and pulled out... a lawnmower?? 

"ALRIGHT! THIS IS A PERFECTLY NORMAL SCHEDULED TOP SURGERY THAT WE DEFINITELY DO TO CHILDREN! LOOK!"

And then the machine descended onto Ben's chest. 

"IN THEORYYYYYYYYYYY-" Ben screamed, as he was blended like a milkshake in a diner. After a few seconds, the surgery was over. all that was left of Ben was a perfectly presented bowl of spaghetti bolognese. 

"Wow, for once in his life, he actually looks kinda delicious..." I muttered

"YOU SEE? THIS IS WHAT THEY DO TO CHILDREN! YOU WERE RIGHT!! LOOK!! I'M NORMAL!!! I'M ON YOUR SIDE!! THE ONLY WAY TO SAVE THESE PEOPLE IS TO TAKE AWAY THEIR HEALTHCARE RIGHTS!!!" screamed Blaire, into one of the cameras. 

Thats when it happened. 

The walls... they collapsed. Revealing a huge audience of thousands and thousands of people. All of them, screaming like animals. MAGA hats, confederate flags, and inbreeding as far as the eye could see. There was so much stupidity in front of me that I forgot my own name. Sven? Sven Coward? Sven Chaser? Ah fuck it, who cares, I'm just a hilarious embodiment of a venomous content genre anyways. My boyfriend is a dinner. I'm surrounded by idiots. Life is good. 

"Do you see? I'm just like you! Please don't hurt me! I'm one of the normal ones! Please, use me as your scapegoat!" the doctor continued to screech. 

But her cries were in vain. The mob of zombies were upon her in seconds, devouring her while ensuring to use proper cutlery, because they might be transphobic, but at least they use a knife and fork. 

And that was it. That was what happened. What the hell was that? 

[captain-lessship]

The Cobains Pt. 1

A/n: Here’s a fun water drinking game (We all need to stay hydrated) take a sip every time I use the word ‘soft’ in this.

You had the life of your dreams. 

You were simply finishing up the dishes when you heard a familiar thud. Your cat, Turnip, popped his head out From around the corner of the kitchen doorway.

“Is it who we think it is?” You asked the animal you treated like your own kid. The door rattled like someone was unlocking it, “I think it is!”  

You quickly dried your hands off and picked Turnip up, holding him as if he were a swaddled baby. Just as you left the kitchen and went into the hallway just as he walked in.

A smile came to your face. It was Kurt. He’d been away for a tour and was fun back. 

“Hey honey!” He called, not realizing you were standing right there. When he looked up and saw you; all exhaustion left him.

He loved you. All of you. Your smile, your eyes, your mannerisms and your heart. You were a good person who made other people strive to be better. 

When you two first met, he was drawn to you. 

It was at an album party for Nirvana and you tagged along with your friends who were part of the production team and because you offered to help clean up after, which was a complicated endeavor. Especially after someone threw ranch in a food fight. 

He was stealing glances at you, trying to figure out if he knew you. Being a shy person at heart, he didn’t want to come up to you immediately. But Dave, who he was holding a conversation with, noticed.

“Ya know, if she catches you staring at her, she’ll think you’re a of creep.” He said, taking a sip of his beer.

“Yeah, it is kinda weird.” His attention went fully back to Dave, continuing with his conversation. 

Then a tap on his shoulder broke his attention again, he looked to see you. 

“Hi! I just noticed you were looking at me and like, I do that too, I don’t think I know you personally but you seem nice.” 

“Uh, yeah I don’t think we know each other but we could get to know each other?” He said, a smile coming to his face.

Dave just smiled and rolled his eyes as he walked away and left the two of you.

You loved him. All of him. His oceanic blue eyes, his calm demeanor and his gentle voice. He was a calming presence, instantly melting your worries away with a single step into your vicinity. He eased your heart.

You had a habit of taking on too much. A certain instance came to mind: it had been a few months into your relationship and Kurt had stayed over and fell asleep on the couch, which you took as a opportunity to do some of the stuff you had overburdened yourself with:

Help your friend move, been bribed into a different shift and we’re going to night classes at a college you worked hard to get into. 

You were exhausted as you were sitting on table, surrounded by papers. You didn’t hear Kurt get up from the couch and walk to the kitchen.

“Uhh, what’re you doing?” He asked, confused and half asleep.

“Wishing I had a clone.” 

He simply walked to the kitchen table and looked at the papers, “Well, do you want some help? I am not a clone but I can read and have hands.” He joked, doing jazz hands. 

A bright smile came to your face, “Hi!” You exclaimed, “Look who also came to say hi!” You held Turnip out to him.

“Hey buddy,” He took the cat from you, “Aren’t you in a lovey mood?” 

“Where’s your stuff? I probably need to do two loads of laundry cause there’s my clothes too.” 

He softly smiled, “You haven’t even given me a kiss and you’re trying to escape to the laundry room?” He joked.

You rolled your eyes as you walked up to him and placed a soft kiss to his cheek. “I guess it’s in the car.” 

Kurt gently put Turnip down, “Yeah, I will go get my stuff in a bit. Can we just, ya know, relax for a while?” 

Just one look at his tired eye and you knew what he wanted to do. You smiled as you took his hand and walked him through the house to the  back porch where there was a bench swing. You sat  on the far right side and he promptly laid down, resting his head on your thigh.

You carded your fingers through his hair, slightly twirling parts of it. The swing gently swung, almost putting the extremely overworked man to sleep.

“I love you, honey.”

“I love you too.” You said, gently closing your own eyes. 

“You know, this is the life.”

“Hm?” 

He lifted himself up to look at you, “Sitting on the porch with a beautiful woman, just existing.” 

You took this as an opportunity to scoot closer to his side and lay your head on his shoulder. “There’s only one thing that’s make it better.”

“What?”

“Ocean waves.”

He laughed, which you felt like a low rumble, “You’re still in Hawaii, aren’t you?”

“It was the best vacation ever.” You justified.

“We had to leave your precious baby alone.” He joked.

“People hire babysitters for their kids, why can’t we hire one for our precious Turnip Von Cobanius?” 

“Because he isn’t our kid.”

You feigned an offended gasp, “Kurt! How dare you denounce your son?”

“No son of mine is going to be forced to wear bow ties by his mom.” 

“It was for Christmas.” You said, “And he looked precious.”

“God, I’d hate to see what’d you dress up an actual baby in.”

You paused, “Kurt. You’ve been talking about a baby an awful lot.” 

He looked at you, “Oh, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just figured that, well, since you never said you didn’t want one, we could maybe talk about it but if you don’t want to, we don’t have to.” 

You thought. You had always wanted a kid in your life and there was no one else you rather have one with. “Are we ready for one? That’s the real question.” 

There was a lot of logic in that thought. Unless you weee both at the peak of readiness, you rather not bring a child into the world.

“Financially? Yeah. Health wise? Sort of, I’d have to stop smoking or smoke less and we’d just have to take care of ourselves a little bit better.”

You had given up smoking due to the stains it was making on your fingers and having developed chronic sinus issues. “I think we’d be good parents.”

“Yeah,” he was deep in thought, “I think I want a kid.” 

“Boy or girl?” You asked. 

“Girl.”

“What’d we name her?”

“I don’t know, definitely not something like Elizabeth or Sara.”

“I like Elizabeth though.”

He scoffed, “It’s too basic.” 

“That’s what makes it beautiful.” You said, looking at the distant clouds. “It is a boy, I want to name him Peter Vincent.”

He scowled and then began repeating it for a moment, then the realization hit him, “No. No matter how much I love you,” you sat up and looked him in the eye, which he promptly yet gently held you by the face, “Our child is not having the same initials as a type of pipe.” 

A fit of laughter spring from you, “Come on! It’d be great.” You pulled your face from his hands, opting to hold one instead. 

“It’s a no. And we reserve the rights to veto names that we absolutely despise.”

“Alright Mr. Cobain,” you huffed, “What would you name your son?”

He thought, “Well, Mrs. Cobain, I would name him Erin. E-R-I-N.”

“Middle name?”

“Daniel.”

You thought, “I like Erin but not Daniel.”

“Erin Vincent.”

“I was kidding about the Vincent thing, darling.” You thought, “What about Graham?”

“Erin Graham? Wait wait, now hear me out,” he seemed as if he had a genius idea, “We do that thing where we wait a few weeks after and let their personalities show, then we pick a name based on that.”

You rolled your eyes, a amuse smile on your face , “Sure, our weeks old baby is already going to have his or her personality planned out.”

“Its a good idea and you know it.” 

It was later that night as you watched Kurt in the reflection in the mirror. You knew the man was close to tumbling over with how sleepy he stumbled around.

“Kurt, come to bed already.” You said, try to entrance and coerce him to your shared bed. 

He looked your way, “Coming, Honey. I just need to wash my hands and turn the light off.”

Ever so truthful, after he did that, you felt the weight of him fall into the bed. The heavy sigh he let out let you know exactly how tired your poor lover was. You rolled over, a soft smile on your face.  You gently moved your hand up and down his back, rubbing it. 

He let out soft, happy sighs at this, “Thank you, baby.” He whispered.

“Mhm, you’d do it for me.” You acknowledged. 

“Might put me to sleep.”

“That’s the point, darling.” You whispered, not what to disrupt the growing lull you were putting him in. 

Soft snores eased your worry of disrupting his trance.

[awritingcaitlin]

💥Find the Word Tag Game

@sentfromwolves tagged me for the words Crack, Creak, Crunch, Crave, and Click.

Tagging: @turnips-creates, @runeseaks, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @circa-specturgia, and @juls-writes

Your words are: dread, night, energy, hope, trap

I'll do snippets from Siege under the cut, since it's the first WIP I found that had all the words. (Crave is apparently not one I use often??)

💤CRAVE(D)

It was the most dreadful fog. Rinnie would wake up for what seemed like microseconds before drifting back into a terrible abyss of nothing. She thought about how nice it was to sleep and her body craved it.

She fought it. She wasn’t supposed to be sleeping.

When she was at last able to throw it off, she heard the Priestess swear something. Rinnie elbowed the man carrying her in the temple and they both dropped to the ground. He tried to subdue her, but she shimmied away quicker. She noted exactly how close they were to the edge of the docks. She fearfully realized she was trapped.

There was a gunshot. Rinnie covered her head, already on the ground.

The shot wasn’t meant for her anyway.

.

🌕CRUNCH

Perhaps it was only the night, but the place seemed so temporary. The oldness of the buildings inside the Wall was not present here. Everything was made of wood, brick, and cheap metals. It smelled of fish and sewer. If it were daytime, Rinnie supposed she could imagine the place bustling with workers—fishermen, traders, merchants, the like.

But right now, everything was so lonely and empty.

She came across a water bucket sitting against a building. There was enough light from the moons to provide Rinnie the ability to see her reflection. Her face was bruised and scratched. Her nose was crooked, and her eyes both blackened. The sea had washed the blood away. Also her hair was significantly shorter in spots, like it had been burned off.

Gritting her teeth, she reached up and braced her nose between her fingertips, then wrenched. With a crunch, her nose went back to where it was supposed to be. Rinnie gasped in pain, despite having known it was coming.

She put her face in her hands and willed the bones to re-fuse and the blood vessels to do likewise. It was hard, not being able to see the work. But she could feel, more or less, what needed to be done.

.

🌊CRACK(ING)

“Sheesh, we don’t get tomorrow off, do we?” Rinnie asked, wiping sweat from her brow.

“I can give everyone stamina shots!” Mica exclaimed, sounding excited by the prospect.

“No thanks, Mica,” Riela said flatly. “I’d rather get my energy the normal way.”

“I find a good morning swim wakes me right up,” Killian said, cracking his knuckles.

“Hmm,” Rinnie mused. “I might just join you.”  The thought of swimming was invigorating on its own.

.

💼CLICK(ED)

“We’d made a good life here,” Thea said. “Hopefully we can come back soon.”

“It wouldn’t be the first home we’ve left.”

Thea shrugged. “I know. But I can dream a little.”

Behind her, her trunk clicked shut. Cael stood up straighter. Thea closed her eyes and straightened her own spine as well. It was time to move.

“Let’s ward the house,” she said.

.

🏫CREAK(ED)

Still, he couldn’t help but think about traps. He’d grown up as an academic, not a hunter. But many of his friends had grown up that way and a phrase they liked to use kept popping into his mind: driving prey.

Killian led the squads to the center of the school complex. They stuck to the walls, not wanting to expose themselves in the open courtyard. The swings on the swing set creaked eerily in between the sounds of gunfire. It became unfortunately clear the maps on the wall had been drawn to be easy to look at, not to scale. If they’d been to scale, they’d’ve reached the stairs sooner.

The crack of a rifle bullet as it struck the wall less than an inch from Adler’s nose and peppered his face with plaster flakes reminded him that no plan, no matter how well or hastily conceived, ever survived contact with the enemy. Adler’s body threw itself backwards of its own accord and out of the line of fire of a Nid who’d fired at point-blank range with a sniper rifle.

The Nids already had control over the courtyard.

“We can’t turn back,” Killian said. “They’ll have us surrounded.”

[cerealmonster15]

The Comfort of Familiarity  [JamiAzu] [Book 6 Spoilers]

[Ao3 Link]

Wordcount: 2,872

Summary: The night of their return from the S.T.Y.X. facility, Jamil and Azul spend some time together. 

Jamil: Hey. Are you still awake?

Azul: Oh, my. Isn't it rather late in the night to be calling on a favor?

Jamil: Ugh, I can’t believe you still have the energy to be so annoying after everything that’s happened the past few days. Nevermind.

Azul: Now, now, no need to be shy.

Azul: Really, though, do you need something? It’s not exactly every day you text me unprompted, and at such an odd hour at that.

Jamil: Don’t get used to it. I just need someone to test my cooking.

Azul: …Cooking? At 2:30 in the morning?

Jamil: I can do it myself if you don’t want to.

Azul: I never said that. I’ll see you soon.

Azul lightly tapped on the kitchen door to announce his arrival as he entered the room and leaned against the doorframe. “Hey there.”

Jamil kept his eyes focused on the carrot he was slicing. “Hey yourself.” 

His hair was no longer wrapped up in its usual braids, but instead pulled back in a loose, low bun in an attempt to keep his hair from falling into the food. Nevertheless, a few strands had already come loose, dangling beside his face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen your hair in anything other than your signature half-braided ponytail.” Azul remarked.

“I didn’t exactly feel like going through the whole routine again just to hang out in the kitchen.” Jamil answered simply.

“Well, it’s still a nice look on you.” Azul said, stepping into the kitchen. “Now, what could be so pressing that it would have you up in such a place at this hour? I imagine that the ever diligent Jamil Viper would have normally gone to bed at a much more reasonable time. Couldn’t you sleep?” 

“I passed out the moment Kalim finally left me alone when we got back to the dorm earlier. But, then…” Jamil paused his carrot slicing for a moment, staring idly at the cutting board.

Azul nodded, filling in the blanks himself. “Then you found yourself lying awake in the middle of the night with nothing but thoughts of the past few days to keep you company?” 

Jamil glanced up, meeting Azul’s eye only for a second, before abruptly moving to add the carrots into the pot, and then grabbing the nearest next vegetable - a turnip, it seemed - and began cutting that one. “...You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

Azul smiled a more genuine and gentle smile than he normally offered his classmate during their time together. “Well, I was taken away by Charon robots, too, you know.” He said with a slight laugh.

Jamil just barely allowed the ghost of a smile to cross his face.

Azul looked around the room. “I didn’t expect you’d still be in the preparation stage when you texted.” 

There were  vegetables strewn about the countertops, and a huge, boiling pot on the stove.  Various spice canisters were out on the counter, some still with their caps off. Azul felt his hands begin to fidget by his sides as he stood in the quiet room.

“What are you cooking?” He asked, when Jamil hadn’t said anything.

“Soup.” Jamil kept chopping.

“...I can see that. What kind of soup?” 

“Just… Soup? I don’t know, I didn’t really think about it. Whatever I can find, I guess.” 

Chop chop chop.

Azul seated himself across the counter from Jamil. “That’s quite unlike you, going into something without planning first. Not exactly in the spirit of Scarabia, hm?”

“Whatever. Nothing wrong with using up leftovers.”

Chop chop chop.

“Of course not…” Azul watched Jamil’s face closely, his brow furrowing to match Jamil’s. 

Chop chop chop.

Jamil said nothing, eyes focused on the vegetables like his life depended on it.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Azul asked, rolling up his sleeves and moving to stand beside Jamil.

Chop chop…

That caused Jamil to pause mid-slice. “...What’s the catch?” he asked, lifting his gaze from his cutting board to narrow his eyes at Azul, who only chuckled.

“So quick to suspect ulterior motives of me! Perhaps I simply wish to earn my portion of your wonderful soup.” Azul picked up a knife and another cutting board. “Besides, I don’t particularly enjoy standing around with idle hands. Especially not when my dear classmate is working so hard.”

Jamil wordlessly rolled his eyes and placed a few potatoes in front of Azul. “Whatever. You can cut those.”

Azul did as he was told, slicing away for a few quiet moments… But only a few. The silence simply hung too heavily in the air for his liking. 

“Why, might I ask, are you cooking so late into the night?”

“You already asked me that.” Jamil’s gaze was back to its laser focus on his vegetables.

Chop chop chop.

“No, I mean, why are you cooking right now? Are there not better ways to pass the time?”

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you.” Jamil’s pace with the knife quickened as he spoke. “I just like cooking. It keeps my mind and my hands busy.”

Chop chop chop.

Azul nodded thoughtfully. He sliced his potatoes at a slower, yet even pace. Sure, he could absolutely understand the aversion to laying around with nothing to do when you had a mind full of way too many things to worry about… but then why did Jamil call on Azul? It’s not like Jamil was particularly known for his enjoyment of socializing, and cooking in and of itself was a demanding enough task to keep oneself busy when alone…

“Yes, I understand that part.” Azul said after another moment of silence. “But, perhaps you’d like to share your troubles? The heaviest burdens are those carried alone, after all.”

Jamil shook his head. “There’s nothing to talk about. It’s like you said: I couldn’t get back to sleep.”

Chop chop chop.

Azul did not relent. “Of course. But you were kept up by your own thoughts, yes? So why not confide in-“

“AGH!”

Azul jumped, his sentence cut off by the sound of a knife clattering onto the counter and Jamil jumping back with a hiss, clutching at his hand.

It also wasn’t like Jamil to slip up in the kitchen. Not from something as simple as talking to one person in an otherwise quiet room. 

Azul quickly put down his own knife and potato, turning to assess the situation.

Jamil said nothing, moving silently to the sink to run his finger under the water.

“Jamil…” Azul lifted his hand towards Jamil’s shoulder, before hesitating and dropping it back to his side. “What’s going on with you?”

“I’m FINE.” Jamil snapped, his hair tie slipping from where it had just barely held his hair in place as he jerked his head away to avert his gaze from Azul. His posture was tense and his facial expression was strained. He turned on the faucet and held his hand underneath as he stared at the water pouring from the spout, eyes intense and focused. His newly freed hair fell to the sides of his face and hung loose.

After a few long seconds of silence, Jamil switched the water off and grabbed a towel. As he dabbed at his hand, Jamil knelt down to open the storage under the sink. He grabbed a box of bandages, but his hands were shaking, and he ended up dropping it as he went to stand, spilling them on the floor.

“Ugh, shit-” he muttered.

“Here, allow me,” Azul said softly, as he knelt down beside Jamil to gather the bandages and place them back in the box. He took one out, unwrapped it, and gently reached to take Jamil’s injured hand in his, putting the bandage in place.

“...Thanks.” Jamil mumbled, then stood and immediately moved back to his knife to wash it off and resume chopping.

Azul put a hand on Jamil’s shoulder, as he reached with the other to switch off the stove.

Jamil jumped slightly at the contact, but said nothing.

“Come on,” Azul moved his free hand to Jamil’s, and  slowly slid the knife out of his hand.

There was slight instinctive resistance from Jamil, but ultimately the knife slid from his grasp and was placed carefully on the counter, only to be replaced in Jamil’s hand by Azul's own as he took hold and pulled Jamil out of the kitchen.

They walked quietly, the chill of the air feeling more apparent in the halls of Scarabia now that they were away from the heat of the kitchen. Their path, dimly lit by the light of the moon and the stars through the open walls of the dorm, led them towards the common area. Pillows and blankets were strewn about, showing signs of recent use in the previous nights.

“Kalim was probably out here with some others while we were gone…” Jamil mumbled, taking a seat on the floor. “That’s one of his favorite pillows.”

Azul followed suit, sitting across from Jamil. He eyed the pillow, and then chuckled. Reaching over, he picked up a pair of neatly folded gloves and a stray teal sock. “It seems Jade and Floyd kept Kalim company while we were away.”

“Ugh,” Jamil brought a knee to his chest, choosing to lay his head there instead of on any of the stray pillows. “It sounds like they had fun teasing Kalim with the whole ‘oh, but what if they’re dead?’   nonsense they were on about when we got back. I’m surprised Kalim could put up with two people as stressful as them for an extended period of time.”

“It’s certainly no easy feat,” Azul agreed, the somewhat tired expression on his face seeming to reflect the subject matter more than the current time of night. “Really, I still can’t tell if Jade and Floyd were truly not even the slightest bit worried, or if they simply masked any fear they might’ve had scarily well.”

Jamil couldn’t argue with the fact that probably no one outside of Jade and Floyd themselves would ever know the true answer to that.

“Still,” Azul continued. “Kalim doesn't seem to be one so easily fazed by the twins’ antics, emergency or not… I suppose that there’s a certain air of comfort that comes along with their familiar oddities, after all.”

Jamil was quiet again as he thought about Azul’s words… As well as his own choices in terms of coping with the madness that had befallen them that week. Was he really sitting here at 3AM with Azul Ashengrotto of all people? Not only willingly, but by Jamil’s specific request?

Perhaps the S.T.Y.X. tests had some lingering side effects on his psychological well being that could be the cause of such erratic behavior in Jamil tonight. After all, under normal circumstances, Jamil usually wanted nothing more than to stay out of Azul’s line of sight. Being seen by Azul meant being spoken to by Azul, and being spoken to by Azul was probably on Jamil’s top ten list of Most Irritating Circumstances To Be Trapped In.

And yet, tonight Jamil found himself seeking out that very same annoying presence… On purpose.

The two fell into a comfortable silence. Jamil idly picked at his sweatshirt, and Azul stared up at the stars that dotted the sky. Both equally focused on their private trains of thought. Both stealing silent and secretive glances at the other as their eyes wandered as much as their minds. 

  “...It’s late,” Azul said quietly after a while, breaking the silence once again. Slowly, perhaps somewhat reluctantly, he shifted his posture from the comfortable relaxed state and started to rise. “I won’t keep you all night. You really should try to get some more res-“

Azul was cut off by the feeling of Jamil’s hand suddenly gripping his arm, preventing him from standing. 

Azul looked at Jamil, blinking in silent confusion. 

Jamil held his grip on Azul’s arm, a slight tremor in his hands. He stared down at the ground with his brows furrowed and a frown on his face. 

“...Azul,” Jamil whispered, avoiding eye contact as his eyes remained focused downward. “I can’t believe I’m asking you of all people, but…” he sighed. “I… can you just… will you stay?” He asked, the request itself barely audible with how quiet his voice had fallen with every word.

“Stay…?” Azul repeated, voice also quiet. “You mean, out here, with you? Tonight?”

“...Yeah,” Jamil decided that after having been through hell and back in the span of just a few days, he simply had no more energy to be guarded or vague as a defense mechanism. He needed something straightforward. Something secure. 

Something familiar.

“I just… I can’t be alone right now,” Jamil continued in a hushed tone. “I know Kalim would get up in an instant if I asked him, but…”

“But he wouldn’t exactly understand what you’re feeling,” Azul concluded, sitting back down.

“Right...” Jamil’s grip on Azul’s arm relaxed slightly, but he hadn’t let go yet. “…I’m guessing you’ll want something in return, though, right? Nothing with you ever comes free, after all.” 

Azul lightly chuckled, patting Jamil’s hand. “It’s just as it was with the soup, my  dear friend.”

“Hey-"

“We’re having a mutually beneficial bonding session, are we not? I’d be a fool to turn down such a rare opportunity to spend extra time with my ever elusive classmate. Why, just think of the possible secrets I could uncover in a sleep-deprived state,” he teased, hoping his attempt to lighten the mood might aid in easing some of the anxiety that clouded Jamil’s mind..

Jamil groaned in annoyance as he finally let go of Azul’s arm. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

Azul only smiled, and the two of them gathered up some of the abandoned pillows and blankets that Kalim and the twins had left behind. Normally an abandoned mess like this would be seen as an annoyance to clean up, but it certainly made arranging an impromptu emergency sleepover all the easier.

They bid each other a good night as they lay down to sleep, the night growing quiet once more with only the sounds of their own breathing and the occasional breeze blowing through the room. Jamil felt himself growing drowsier, his grip on his chosen pillow relaxing as the minutes ticked by. Perhaps he would even drift off to sleep at a more reasonable rate, now that-

“I thought about you,” Azul’s soft voice once again broke the silence, a more vulnerable tone painting his words as he spoke within the darkness of the night. 

“...What?” Jamil whispered back, wondering if he had heard Azul clearly, or if his mind was simply playing tricks on him as he was falling asleep.

“I thought about you,” Azul repeated, “back at S.T.Y.X. When Riddle and I had to wait for the Thunder Spear to charge the first time, I simply couldn’t bring myself to even try to sleep. It’s not in an octopus’ nature to relax in such a stressful situation, after all… And my mind kept wandering back to you. I couldn’t help but  wonder where you were, what you were doing, if you were safe…”

Azul’s voice grew quieter as he trailed off back into silence.

“...It’s funny,” Jamil said after a long, quiet moment. “I also wasn’t about to risk going to sleep when Leona and I first took our Thunder Spear to charge, either.” Jamil turned onto his side, facing where Azul lay next to him. “And maybe… I was even thinking about you, too.”

Azul’s breathing stilled for a moment, and his body slowly turned over so he could meet Jamil’s gaze in the shadows.

“...Were you?” Azul asked, voice barely audible. “Truly?”

Jamil was quiet again. He gave no audible response, but chose instead to shift his body closer to Azul until he was only inches away from curling up against Azul’s chest.

Azul hesitated. Was this a test? A trap? An… invitation? He certainly didn’t want to misinterpret the situation and risk upsetting Jamil and driving him away, but he also didn’t want the absence of action to be taken as rejection, ethier. 

Proceeding with caution seemed to be the logical way to maneuver this situation. He gingerly reached a hand out, resting it atop Jamill’s arm… and when Jamil didn’t flinch or pull away, he gradually slid his arm further… and further… until his arm was fully draped over Jamil’s side and covered his back. Azul could feel his own heart hammering in his chest as he took the next step of wrapping both arms completely around Jamil and pulling him into his embrace.

This was all it took, as whatever shred of denial or pride that Jamil might have had left in him seemed to crumble away. Jamil reached his arms around Azul’s middle and buried his face against his chest, seeming to finally, truly relax in the comforting feeling of Azul’s arms surrounding him. 

There was a sigh of relief, and neither Azul nor Jamil were sure which one of them it came from.

And the rest of the night fell, once again, into a comfortable silence.

[greenhikingboots]

The WIP tag game got me in the mood for writing, so I decided to finish the one that was closest to done. I previously had this in my docs as "Little Drabble." It's now called "Real." First part below the cut + a link to AO3 for the rest.

“And this… this my boyfriend Jon.” Jon’s eyes are on Sansa as she says these words, and yet he struggles to believe he’s heard them correctly. After spending the morning painting her bedroom and piecing together a new bed frame, they’re in line to order lunch at Turnip’s Cafe. Some sandy haired guy is facing away from the cash register and towards them instead. He turned around upon recognizing Sansa’s voice — she’d said something about what she wanted to order — and their conversation took off from there. Sandy Hair is all bright smiles and flattering words, and Jon assumed, at first, that he’s one of Sansa’s former classmates from Winterfell, an old friend with a long buried, nearly forgotten crush. Or maybe Jon’s projecting his own experience onto this stranger. But with Sansa’s lie lingering in the air, he has to question all assumptions. Because if Sandy Hair is from Winterfell, why wouldn’t Sansa say, “This is Jon. He was a couple years ahead of us in school.” Or, “Remember my older brother Robb? This is his best friend.” Or — well, honestly, anything other than what she actually said. And this… this my boyfriend Jon. Boyfriend? No, not even close. Jon and Sansa see a lot more of each other now that she’s graduated college and moved back home, but he’s never so much as called her just to talk or slipped his arm around her shoulder. Things just aren’t like that between them. So why say it? Why lie to this guy? And who the hell is he, anyway? “We finally had the talk,” Sansa says. Her voice is a pitch too high, too unnatural as she adds, “It’s official now. Still getting used to the labels, though, I guess. Boyfriend and girlfriend.” She makes a weird noise, almost like a squeal, and it finally hits Jon that his face must have revealed his surprise. That’s why Sansa’s making up an excuse, piling on the lies — and expecting him to play along as she does so. Well, alright then, Jon can do that. He is nothing if not committed to pleasing the Starks, especially Sansa as of late. He slips an arm around her shoulder — highly aware that it’s the first time — then extends his free hand to officially meet the guy ahead of them in line. “Sorry, I was staring at the menu board. Didn’t catch your name before,” he says. “Harry,” says Sandy Hair Harry, shaking Jon’s hand at the same time. “Sansa and I met at the Vale.” They dated in the Vale. As Sansa’s brother’s friend, Jon knows this. But as Sansa’s pretend boyfriend, should he? He isn’t sure so he tries not to keep his face indifferent. Easy enough given that he’s suddenly preoccupied with wondering what Harry’s doing in Winterfell. It's not exactly a tourist destination. “Some friends and I are doing a thru-hike at the Wolfswood this week,” Harry explains, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, towards his friends already placing their orders. Sansa perks up. “Jon’s done that hike a million times,” she says. She leans into his chest, and he wonders if she’s getting further into character or just trying to subtly thank him for playing along. “Any tips for Harry?” she asks. Jon shrugs. The hiking trail in question is deceivingly difficult, but he’s not interested in prolonging their conversation with Harry. No, he wants Harry gone so he can start peppering Sansa with questions. Why are you lying? Why do you want Harry to think you’re seeing someone? Didn’t you break up with him? Wasn’t it pretty drama free? “No tips at all?” Harry asks. “Just the usual stuff,” Jon replies. “Pack an extra pair of socks. Drink before you’re thirsty. That sort of thing.” Harry doesn't look all that satisfied, but he nods anyway. It’s almost his turn to order so he tells Sansa how great it was to run into her, then tells Jon how nice it was to meet him. Finally, he turns away. Sansa whispers in Jon’s ear immediately. “Don’t let go yet.” Jon doesn’t. Instead, he pulls Sansa closer and looks at her expectantly. If she can whisper those short instructions, maybe she can whisper some answers to unanswered questions. “Not yet,” she says quietly. [Read the rest here.]

[rosesnvines]

The Legend of the Blackberry Sword - Part 1

@inklings-challenge so, this story takes place on two worlds, it starts on Alixandria and the majority of it is on Havorest. The Christian theme kinda doesn't come into play until the final act, which is in part 2, so, I assume that works? Anyways, enjoy this lovely artwork I commissioned (Autumn Adventures is the name of the set of, well, adventures these characters have on Havorest), and I hope you like part 1!

(Some words to know: kisiae are pumpkin nymphs/fairies, lampades are lantern nymphs, meliades are apple nymphs, spunkies are a short and stocky humanoid race with glowing eyes. From the picture below, Gasper Gold and the Forsters are humans while Jackie Little is a kisia.)

“Come on Greg, let’s go!” Bert whispered, trying to usher his younger brother out the door. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Greg whispered in reply as he shouldered his backpack. He grabbed his jacket off his bed and followed Bert out of their room. Bert slowly and quietly closed the door. The two glanced down the darkened hall at their parents’ door. No light could be seen through the tiny sliver at the base of the door, nor could a sound be heard. The brothers shared a look before tiptoeing down the stairs. They made their way to the front door without any noise. So far so good. Bert turned to Greg and let out a soft huff. Greg merely nodded. Bert gave a curt nod and grasped the front door's handle. He pulled, and it refused to budge. He let out a soft gasp and pulled again. It still would not budge. Greg began to giggle. 

"Greg!” Bert hissed. 

“The deadbolt,” whispered Greg as he pointed. 

Bert blinked and turned back to the door. Sure enough, the deadbolt was locked. Letting out a frustrated huff, Bert slowly unlocked it. There was a soft clang as the deadbolt released its grip on the door. The boys winced and waited. No sound came from up the stairs. Bert proceeded to open the door again, this time with success. Greg tiptoed past him, and Bert followed, closing the door softly behind him. The two ventured into the woods back of their house, keeping to a path they knew well, one that seemed to vanish behind them. 

Before long they were standing in front of an old, gnarled tree. Bert grabbed a piece of bark at the base of it and pulled it away from the tree, revealing a large, gaping hole. Greg dropped to his knees and crawled in. Bert followed, carefully pushing the bark back into place. They crawled through the tree and came out the other side. They straightened up, and took a breath. 

Greg stretched. “Wow, how do those taller guys do it?” 

“I guess they can squeeze in anywhere,” said Bert with a shudder. “I’m just glad they got the portal moved here so they can’t get to our house again.” 

Greg pouted. “But now it’s a longer walk to get to Pottsville.” 

“That’s why we’re here,” came a voice from behind a tree. 

“Your own personal linkboys!” Two Spunkie boys no older than Bert stepped out from behind two trees with glowing turnips on sticks and huge grins on their faces. 

Bert gave them a deadpan face. “Oh hi Freddie, hi Lenny.” 

Greg gave them a very enthusiastic wave. “Hi Lenny, hi Freddie! Did we keep you waiting long?” 

Freddie scoffed. “With your brother, I’m surprised you got here as soon as you did.” 

“Hey!” 

Greg giggled. “He did have trouble with the deadbolt.” 

“Greg!” 

The two Spunkies laughed. 

“Why am I not surprised?” quipped Freddie. 

“Well don’t just stand there, come on!” Lenny waved them on. “The festival’s going to start soon and the others have already arrived!” 

“All of them?” asked Bert. 

“Yes, all of them, even the Torresses,” said Freddie. 

Bert brightened. “The Torresses are here?” 

“Oh yes, the Torresses are here.” Freddie smirked and a mischievous glint appeared in his eye. “And last I heard, Jason Falkner wanted to dance with Sara Torres all … night … long …” 

Bert let out a yelp and dashed down the lane. “Well come on, let’s go!” 

“It always amazes me how you always know what to say to get him to move,” quipped Lenny. 

Freddie grinned. “What can I say? It’s one of my many talents.” Lenny laughed, and the two and Greg took off after Bert. They caught up with him, and with Freddie and Kenny leading the way with their turnip torches, got to Pottsville in a matter of minutes. 

"Whoa!" The brothers exclaimed upon following the Spunkies past the village. A giant fairground had been set up, complete with rides and stalls. There were loads of boys and men dressed up as knights, while women wore medieval gowns. Turnip lamps lined the fairground, providing the much needed light in addition to the glow from the harvest moon. Strange animals walked beside their masters, but the brothers knew them all by now. One such animal, a repean, or the glowing turnip bird, flew around their heads once before flying off over the fairgrounds.

Greg took a long sniff. "I smell popcorn!" 

Bert took a sniff. "And funnel cakes!" 

Lenny waved his hand. "Well, let's go get you in your costumes before we go eating! It's early enough that there's still plenty to go around." The brothers followed them to a mid-sized, red-and-white striped tent just on the outskirts of the fairgrounds. People were mostly coming out of the tent, decked out in medieval outfits. 

"Bert! Greg! There you are! Was wondering when you were going to get here." Bert's twin, Betty,  approached them from the side of another tent. She had already changed into a blue dress, with her hair pulled up into a fashionable bun. A few ringlets fell loosely around her face. 

"Bert was trying to open the door before unlocking the deadbolt," said Greg between snickers. 

Bert groaned and rolled his eyes. "Greg!" He then pointed at the backpack. "That's the real reason." 

"What?" Greg unzipped it. A frog poked his head out. "I couldn't leave Jeremiah!" 

“And you should not have to,” came a woman’s voice. A tall, elegant Kisia, a pumpkin nymph, joined their group. She leaned over and petted the frog. “After all, if it hadn’t been for him, we might not have had a Michaelmas faire. He’s just as invited as you are to all our events.” 

Greg grinned. “Thanks Mrs. Fields!”  

A head popped out of the tent. “I thought I heard your voices.” The teen turned back into the tent. “Mom! Bert and Greg are here!” 

“Well get them in here! The faire’s about to start and they’re not in their costumes yet!” 

The teen turned back to them with a grin. “You heard Mom, get in here!” 

“Coming, Aunt Caroline!” Bert shouted before grabbing Greg’s arm and pulling him into the tent. Freddie and Lenny dashed in after them.

A few minutes later, they emerged all dressed up in medieval garb. Greg even had a medieval bag that Jeremiah was comfortably sitting in. Aunt Caroline also stepped out, and handed each child a bag. Greg immediately opened his bag to see bills shaped like leaves and coins shaped like acorns. 

“There should be enough to get you through the night, but if you need any more, come see me, or any of your aunts and uncles. We should be able to get you some more.” 

Greg pouted. “I wish mom and dad could have come.” 

Aunt Caroline placed her arm around his shoulders and gave him a hug. “I know, they wish they could be here too. But there’s always next year. Plus, your baby brother will be old enough to join us then, and we’ll all have a great time.” 

Greg grinned. “Yeah, can’t wait!” 

“Wonderful. Now run along and enjoy the fair. But be sure to head to the big tent in an hour! The play starts then!” 

“Will do!” The children waved as they dashed off. 

"Where to first?" Bert asked Freddie. 

Freddie grinned. "You'll see. We hit it up first every year, it's a tradition Gaspar started." The group weaved their way through the crowd, Freddie in the lead. They passed stall after stall of mouth-watering goodies. 

Greg giggled and pointed at one. "That one says Trick or Treat and Tea!" 

"Aw, that's cute!" Betty exclaimed. 

"We'll come back to them, don't worry. They're another yearly tradition." 

"But isn't trick-or-treat for Halloween?" Bert asked. 

Freddie shrugged. "I mean, yeah, but they got to be so popular that they just stayed open all year round." He shot them a grin over his shoulder. "Besides, this is Havorest, the autumn planet. We could technically go trick-or-treating for all the holidays." 

Greg jumped in the air. "Yeah! Free candy for all the holidays!" 

"Greg, we get free candy for all the holidays," said Bert. "We just don't go trick-or-treating." 

Greg pouted. "But trick-or-treating is more fun!" 

Betty chuckled. "Yes, but that has always been a Halloween tradition." 

"Well, it should be a tradition for all holidays!" 

Freddie chuckled as he slowed to a stop in front of a stall. The aroma of fresh baked bread got caught in the chilly, autumn wind while the  sign overhead advertised the name “Hollowed Bread”. "Spoken like a true Havorester." 

"And a true Havorester is never late!" Another Spunkie lad around Freddie’s and Lenny’s age stepped to the front of the stall, his arms crossed. 

“You can thank Bert and Greg for that,” quipped Lenny. 

“Hey, we were just wanting to make sure we didn’t wake our parents and baby brother!” said Bert as he crossed his own arms and let out a huff. 

“Then you should have left earlier.” 

“Oh knock it off, Charlie, it’s only a few minutes.” The lanky teen laying at the foot of the sunset colored maple, Gaspar Gold by name, lifted his straw hat just a bit, an odd accessory with his medieval garb. “If it was two hours, yeah, get upset, but a  few minutes?” The teen scoffed. “You have got to give people a break. The bread is still fresh, and there’s still plenty to go around.” He jumped to his feet. “But now that you are here, why are we waiting? Let’s get some dragon bread!” Gaspar led the group to the stall and they perused the different kinds of dragon bread. There were the small dragon croissants, the regular dragon loaves, the serpentine-like dragon baguettes, dragon head biscuits and scones that had apple slices for teeth and craisins for eyes, treasure box bagels that had an assortment of fruit clustered in the middle, and sword-shaped breadsticks with a blackberry at the ends. They each opted for a dragon croissant, a dragon head biscuit, and a sword breadstick, with blackberry syrup drizzled over all of them. Each was given little bowls of butter and blackberry jam on the side. 

Gaspar bit into the biscuit. "Mm, oh yes, Michaelmas has officially begun!"

Betty laughed. “Oh man, know what you mean! It doesn’t seem like it’s Christmas if I don’t smell that fresh pine and sugar cookies!” 

Freddie clicked his tongue. “This is Havorest, autumn holiday talk only, Betty.” 

“Yeah, Betty,” quipped Greg between chewing mouthfuls of bread. 

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Alright, then it doesn’t seem like Halloween without that lovely pumpkin scent or that delicious aroma of apple cider.” 

Gaspar grinned. “That’s more like it.” He placed his arm around her shoulder. “And now that we have our dragon bread, it’s time to get into the rest of the traditions of Michaelmas.” He glanced around at the group. “Who’s ready to hit the games?” 

“Me!” chorused the boys. 

“Do you think we should hit Dragon Fight first, or wait until after the Michaelmas play?” Lenny asked. 

Gaspar rubbed his chin in thought before glancing at the Forster siblings. “How well do you know the story of St. Michael?”

 Bert shrugged. “That when Satan rebelled against God, St. Michael took up the lead in fighting him on God’s behalf.” 

"He defeated Satan and sent him down to Hell," said Betty.

“And that a third of the angels went with Satan and became demons,” said Greg with a frown. 

Gaspar gave a slow nod. "Right, but, do you know about the Blackberry Sword?" 

The siblings blinked. “The Blackberry Sword?” 

“If that’s a part of the St. Michael legend, I’ve certainly never heard of it,” quipped Bert. 

“Is that why there’s a blackberry on the sword bread?” asked Greg as he picked up the bread to look at it and the blackberry on the end. 

Gaspar nodded. “Yup, but I won’t  say anything else until after you’ve seen the play.” He turned to Freddie. “I guess that means Dragon Fight after the play.” 

Freddie shrugged. “It’s alright with me, as long as we play it once today.” 

“Another Michaelmas tradition?” asked Betty. 

Gaspar grinned. “Naturally, and now we can head to all the games and rides we want to until the play starts.” 

“Not necessarily,” remarked Charlie as he glanced at his watch. “We have about an hour before we need to head to the big tent.” 

“Ah well, we’ll show them as much as we can.” 

“Oh Gaspar, didn’t you say there would be hayrides?” said Betty.

“Aw, but I wanna go turnip carving,” said Lenny. 

“Nah, let’s go play some of the games,” said Freddie. 

“Personally I would like to see the jousting,” remarked Bert. 

“And the knights!” exclaimed Greg. 

Gaspar tapped his chin. “Well, how about you guys head to the jousting area, the turnip carving and several of the games are close by. I’ll take Betty on a hayride and we’ll meet you at the big pavilion in an hour.” 

"Great!" chorused the boys before taking off. 

Gaspar turned to Betty and bowed. "Shall we make our way to the best hayride this side of Golding, my lady?" 

Betty curtsied. "Yes, my good sir, let's!" Gaspar held out his arm, she took it, and with the two balancing their plates, walked to the hayrides. 

Everyone was having so much fun that the hour flew by very quickly. Gaspar and Betty were the first to head in the direction of the pavilion. When they arrived, a girl no taller than their waists was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and feet tapping. 

"How did I guess she's why you're late?" 

"Oh come on, Jackie, I'm not that late, maybe a minute. I'll head to the back and start on my portion of the play." 

"Oh, Gaspar, you should have told me you were helping with the play! I would have kept an eye on the time!" 

Gaspar shook his head. "I wanted to keep an eye on it myself. I need to get better at it." 

Jackie placed her hands on her hips and huffed. “Well, you are getting better at it, but you’re still late, so get in there!” 

Gaspar let loose an infectious laugh. “I’m coming, Jackie! Don’t lose your top!” He turned to Betty with a grin. “I’ll see you after the play. Can;t wait to see what you think of it.” 

“Then get in here and get started!” 

Gaspar rolled his eyes. “Did I not just say to not lose your top? I’m coming!” He walked into the building and Jackie slammed the door behind  him. 

Betty let out a huff and made her way to the front of the pavilion and found a seat. Only a few people had begun filing in, so the pavilion was mostly empty. She reached into her pockets and pulled out two books. The first one was the first book in the Anna Woods mystery series, Secret of the Ghost Tree, and the other was a Gothic story, Ravenmist Manor. She glanced at the summary on the back of the book.

“Three orphans live in the shadow of Ravenmist Manor, a grand, castle-like estate that has its fair share of spooks and secrets. One specter takes a particular interest in the three, and as they grow up, the mysteries of her past intertwine with the mysteries of their future.” 

“Hmm, interesting,” she muttered to herself. 

“What is?” She jumped a little before glancing up. Her brothers had walked up to her. 

She showed them the book. “According to Mrs. Crane, this is a Havorester classic.” 

Bert clicked his tongue. "Go figure. Any books for me or Greg?" 

Betty shrugged as she pocketed the books. "Not that I noticed, but Mrs. Crane was trying to sell these books first before pulling out any others. Maybe by the time the play is over, she might have a few you and Greg might enjoy." 

"Hopefully one is about frogs!" 

Bert rolled his eyes and turned to their little brother. "I don't think they would have many books on frogs, if any. Frogs aren't exactly a fall animal." 

"But there might be one. Mr. Crane told me that frogs can stay out longer than most other cold-blooded animals, but they all have to be in hibernation by winter." 

Betty shot him a smile. "We can look, but you might want to think of a different theme, just in case." 

Greg gave her a very serious nod. "Right." 

“Say, where’s Gaspar?” Bert asked, glancing around the room. 

“Oh, he’s in the play,” remarked Freddie as he tossed popcorn in his mouth. 

“He’s in the play?” the siblings chorused. 

Lenny peeked around Freddie’s frame and bobbed his head. “Oh yeah, he’s in the play. We don’t know which part he got, he wanted that to be a surprise.” 

Betty turned to the stage with a smile. “I’m sure he’ll do well.” 

“Hey, don’t eat all the popcorn before the play even starts!” blurted Bert as he tried to snatch the bowl away from Freddie. 

“This is my popcorn, I can eat it whenever I want. Go get your own!” quipped Freddie as he tightened his grip on it and pulled it away. 

"Yeah, Bert, I want some popcorn!" Greg said. 

Bert groaned. "Fine." He turned to his sister. "You want some too?" 

Betty stood up. "Yeah, and I'll come with you." She looked at Greg. "Now make sure no one takes our seats, and I'll get you a big bowl of popcorn." 

"Yes!" Greg quickly got up and sat in Betty's seat. "Make sure it's loaded with butter and cheese!" 

Betty grinned. "You got it!" The two went off in search of the popcorn. They found it not far from the pavilion’s front doors. They placed their orders and paid. “I wonder which part Gaspar got?” wondered Betty as they waited. 

Bert shrugged. “According to Charlie, there are only three roles in the play; Saint Michael, Satan, and the narrator, who also plays God.” His face broke out in a toothy grin. “It would just be his luck to play as God too.” 

Betty pursed her lips. “Though he would rather have the role of Saint Michael.”

Bert scoffed. “Who wouldn’t. But I am curious about this whole blackberry sword bit. How does it all tie in?” 

Betty shrugged. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” They had to wait a couple more minutes for their popcorn, but as soon as it was ready, they grabbed the three bowls and made their way back into the pavilion. 

The pavilion was filling up now, people were wandering about, looking for seats. As promised, Greg had kept their seats reserved. And as Betty promised, she had gotten him popcorn loaded with butter and cheese. 

Greg licked his lips. "Yum!" He grabbed the bowl and popped a couple pieces in his mouth.

Betty gasped. "Greg! Did you wash your hands after handling your frog?" 

Greg popped another in his mouth as he nodded. 

“He had to use the bathroom before we came, and I made sure he did,” stated Bert as he sat in his chair. 

“Attention, attention please. Quiet please!” The hall went silent at the sound of the booming voice as all eyes turned to the stage. A leaf-eared meliade stood in front of the curtain. “Everyone get to your seats, we shall be starting the play in five minutes. Thank you.” He stepped behind the curtain. Everyone who was standing rushed to their seats. 

The Forsters glanced around in bewilderment. 

“Wh-what’s going on?” asked Bert. 

“You’ll see,” quipped Freddie with a grin. “And don’t worry, it’s part of the play.” 

“It only lasts a couple of minutes until the narrator's done,” blurted Charlie. Freddie whacked him. “Ow! What was that for?” 

“Don’t tell them!” 

“It’s not like I spoiled the whole thing! Besides, they need to know that they need to be absolutely quiet for the beginning!” 

“Why?” the Forsters asked in unison. 

Freddie elbowed Charlie for good measure and said, “You’ll see.” 

A moment later, the pavilion went dark, pitch dark. Several people gasped while others hushed them, and all was silent. The Forsters jumped in surprise when the booming voice from earlier broke the stillness. 

"In the beginning there was only God. But He desired to create many things, and out of love, He did. But he had to start somewhere, and what a start it was. Let there be light!" 

The lights burst back into life, nearly blinding everyone. 

"Whoa," whispered Greg, eyes wide. The meliade grinned and winked at him before continuing with the narration. 

“God created the universe in six days. But within those six days, he created angels. One angel, called Lucifer at the time, found great favor with God and was given grace, beauty, wisdom, and command over the others. But then, for one reason or another, it’s never revealed, Lucifer gets the idea that he should be the one running things, not God. He starts talking to the other angels, trying to get as many of them as possible on his side. But most did not agree with his way of thinking, and one angel in particular voiced his disappointment in Lucifer’s desire for control." The curtains parted behind the meliade, revealing a sky blue backdrop and fluffy clouds floating on string. 

"Lucifer, stop! This is ridiculous!" A teen walked on stage wearing a red and black suit with golden accents and wings. Gaspar Gold followed him on the stage, also wearing golden wings, his signature straw hat absent from his golden head. A few people gasped, Freddie and a few others let up a short cheer before quickly being hushed. "I would call what you're doing treason!" 

The teen in red waved his hand dismissively. "And what would you know of this matter? You're nothing but a mere archangel!"

"I warn you, Lucifer, if you try anything, I will see to it personally that you are kicked out of Heaven!" 

The Lucifer character scoffed. "You, kick me out of Heaven? Ha! Not only are you a mere archangel, but you were not given command of all the angels. I was! Now enough of this! If you've made up your mind on the matter, then leave!" He walked off stage. 

"No, wait! Lucifer! Lucifer!" Gaspar followed him off the stage, and the curtains closed. 

"The angels, once united by love and duty towards God, were split into two factions. What's worse was, angels were created with a hierarchy, and Lucifer was close to the top. It threw them into disarray. But that one angel rallied the good angels around him and fought Lucifer and his army. Soon they had chased them out of Heaven and to Earth." The meliade stepped to the side as the curtains opened again. The Lucifer character let out a snarl as he stepped on the stage, sword drawn. Gaspar, as Michael, stepped on after him, sword raised. The Lucifer character turned and charged him, their swords ringing as they met in the middle. The swords met again and again, the fight getting fiercer and faster with each blow. 

Freddie let out a gasp as his eyes widened. "They're, they're using real swords!" he whispered harshly.

Betty turned to them with wide eyes. "You-you mean they usually used fake swords?" Freddie nodded.

"I bet that's why they got Gaspar and Bobby, they're the best swordsmen in town!" Lenny blurted. 

Bert's mouth twitched. "And Bobby makes a rather intimidating Lucifer," he mumbled. 

"And Gaspar makes a handsome Michael," said Betty.

"He's kind of intimidating too," muttered Charlie. 

“Good, Bobby Bones can’t be the only intimidating guy in the town,” muttered Bert before plopping another kernel in his  mouth. The group stopped talking as the battle between Gaspar and Bobby intensified, the two moving across the entire stage, swords ringing.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

God the Bounty Hunter with lyrics from Think by Kaleida:

Think of me, I'll never break your heart Think of me, you're always in the dark I am your light, your light, your light Think of me, you're never in the dark

Playing Games With My Heart

Side-drabble for God Mode

Warning: dark undertones.

"Do you have turnips?" He asks.

You look up from the counter with a 'huh'. You still just think of him as a stranger. God, what a strange name, but suiting. He's managed to take over your whole life in a matter of days.

"I'm making grilled cheese--"

He waves his switch at you and you nod. You go back to buttering bread.

"No, I can't make a dime on them. I stopped buying."

"How much are they going for in your village?"

"I don't know, I'd have to check," you narrow your eyes. He's obsessive, not just about the game.

"Oh," he puts the game down, the bubbly music flowing from the speakers.

"Sorry, I just wanna get lunch done then..."

He's quiet. You notice that about him. His steps don't make a sound. Sometimes he's there and you don't even realise. He rounds the counter and stands behind you, hands framing your waist as he bends to rest his chin on your shoulder.

He doesn't say a word as you go about your work. You're a busy body these days. Doing anything to keep yourself distracted. To keep him away but just like now, it doesn't always work.

He wraps his arms around you as you set down the knife and bread. You can't work with him almost on top of you. Besides, your appetite isn't really there. It's been rather elusive since you found the front door locked and impenetrable.

"I'm going away," he says.

You nod but don't think too much of those words. Too afraid to ask what they mean. Or to repeat the question that made him so angry before. Can you go home?

"Where?"

He chuckles.

"Sweet pea," he cooes in his way. The way that warns be quiet. "I won't be away long, but I'll be around."

You frown. What does that mean? He'll be away but around. How confusing like everything else about him. The plucking of the electronic music continues to rise from the small speakers and you stare at the colourful screen where his character stands staring out.

"Will you miss me?" He nuzzles into your neck.

You go rigid. You know what he wants to hear but can't bring yourself to say it. You won't miss him. Even if you are trapped here. He's suffocating. You can't even get enough time to make a damn sandwich. Pardon your French.

"Sweet pea?"

You dip your chin down and sniffle. These bouts come and often the only thing that makes them go is him. He'll get mad and drag you out to face his wrath. His love, he'll call it afterward.

"Don't be like this," he whispers as his hand creeps up to your throat.

"Yes," you croak, "I'll miss you. A lot."

"I know, sweet pea," he hums, his voice catching for just a moment, "I'll miss you, too."

[awlimagines]

Day Eight - Marlin/Matthew

The cold always soured his mood. It hadn’t always been like this. Matthew used to be a more upbeat person. He settled nicely between Kris Kringle and Ebenezer Scrooge on his Starry Night cheer. Then he collapsed at the company party and discovered his declining health. Matthew had always thought it was a lack of sleep as he pushed to advance his career. Instead, all his hard work over the years destroyed his health. His big sister Vesta settled him into the farm he tried so hard to escape, and his interest in Starry Night grew to dislike. 

“Doesn’t it sound like fun?” you enthusiastically asked after explaining ugly sweaters to him. 

“No. If you have time to focus on such things, you should work to improve your crop quality instead.” 

“Oh, okay. Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll go work on that.” 

Your crestfallen look made Matthew regret his words. His self-disgust grew as Matthew let you travel further from sight without saying anything. He swiftly kicked a rock in frustration from the path as you passed the bridge back to your farm. Why was it always easier for him to snap than comfort? He angrily shoved his hands into his pockets and stomped back to the house. The door snapped shut more sharply than he intended, gaining curious glances from Vesta and Cecilia. 

“Did you invite Y/N over for Starry Night?” Cecilia smiled. 

“Of course! And Takakura, the more the merrier,” Vesta boomed in response. 

“What’s so great about ugly sweaters? People in the city always talked about them,” Matthew muttered, interrupting their plans for Starry Night. 

“Well, because they’re cute, right? And it’s not often you get a chance to make something that’s supposed to be ugly. So, it’s fun!”

“Ha! You’re both missing the point!” Vesta beamed. “It’s the community, doing something together with the people you like.” 

Matthew spent the night thinking of Vesta’s words as her snores filled the silence. Did you want to spend time with him? Is that why you looked so upset? Matthew was grateful to see snow in the morning for the first time since he moved to the valley. Even if he tried to work, Vesta would ensure he remained indoors today. As Vesta and Ceci tended the fields, Matthew dug through his chest. The cloth options were mainly scraps left over from previous projects. Nothing in there would make anything decent, but the goal was to make something ugly. 

He spent the last week and a half splitting his time between the fields and sweaters. Pushing you away on Van’s previous visit had been the hardest. You had looked desperate to spend time together, but as much as he missed you, he needed the time to finish the last touches. Matthew barely resisted the urge to watch you from the windows when Ceci explained he was sick and couldn’t come out. Now, as he stood at your door holding the mess of fabrics, he worried it was too late. Maybe you were sick of his mood swings. Maybe you had made new plans for Starry Night Eve to avoid him. You were always close with the others in town. 

“Matthew? I was just on my way over. You didn’t need to pick me up,” surprise laced your voice as the house’s light flooded over the man on your doorstep. “Wait, what are you wearing?” 

The tips of his ears grew red as a chuckle entered your voice. His ugly sweater was a hodge-podge of styles with a carrot wearing a Santa hat in the center. Matthew swallowed his embarrassment to thrust a sweater at you, “Here, I made this one for you.”

You earnestly yanked the clothing from his hands, your door swinging shut in his face. Before Matthew could decide if this was a good or bad sign, you had opened the door. You now wore a sweater as mismatched as his own. A proud turnip with a bright red nose and antlers stood in its center.

“I don’t think you could look ugly in anything.” 

“Thanks, I love it,” you blushed, lacing your hand with his to head to Vesta’s farm.

[zukkaart]

Uhh… can I get a number #19 with Zukka… side of beefy strong Zuko please ? 😗 (Sokka deserves to be hold💯)

Anything for you my love

Couple #1: Zukka Prompt #19: “Please put me down”

TW: violence

For the prompt game!

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

Zuko’s 22nd birthday, everyone is having a hard time relaxing due to more frequent assassination attempts

"My metalbenders will be posted at every door, no one will get to him Snoozles don't worry," Toph reassured Sokka. Sprawled across his bed in full armor Sokka could tell that she was becoming increasingly exasperated with his endless questions.

"I trust you Toph I do. It's just that there have been so many attempts that aside from you guys I don't know who to trust. Their information had been so good that it makes me wonder if there's a mole inside the palace," Toph righted herself and placed a firm hand on Sokka's shoulder, causing him to huff about her messing up the tension in his braid to which she paid no mind.

"Your boyfriend is in good hands," "He's not my-!" Toph simply bent a strip of metal around his mouth to silence him. "Yet. I'm having the doors reinforced as we speak- just for the night since there will be so many people, but you need to remember it's mostly dusty old diplomats. I hardly think I'd have an issue taking one of them down, even if they do have an informant," She removed the metal which left light indents on his skin.

"Good" He sighed. Sokka spun on his heel to face her and dusted off his formal tunic. "How do I look?"

"Very funny Snoozles," She simply flicked him on the forehead and exited the room with an amused grin pulling at the corners of her mouth.

A moment after the door shut Sokka began reassuring himself of what she said. "He'll be fine, Toph can handle it. Get through the boring ceremony, dance a little, then quietly tell Zuko you're dizzy and need some air, he'll sweep you away to the turtle duck pond so you can ask him out. Foolproof plan, absolutely no room for error. "

Or so he thought ~~~ "If I have to hear 'Agni protect the Fire Lord' one more time I think I'll kill him myself," Katara mused lightly as they made their way to the food tables. Sokka didn't laugh, he was too busy scanning every corner of the room and death-glaring anyone who walked up to Zuko.

"Hey," Katara snapped him out of his frenzy, "He's fine, just relax. Let him do his Fire Lord thing then pull your little stunt. I'll sleep much better at night knowing I'll no longer have to hear you pine over him in the morning" "I do not-" "Shh! He's coming," Sokka turned and there he was, as radiant and royal as always. Sokka thought he'd look good in a turnip-potato sack but in his ornate ceremony robes he was just exquisite. Most of the gaang complained as the ceremony dragged on earlier, but the Water Tribe boy thought he could stare at him until Yue herself took him to the spirit world.

"Sokka, Katara, I'm so glad you two could come," Zuko smiled that easy smile which made Sokka feel like an elk-caribou left to roast too long. "Of course!" Katara responded, elbowing him sharply in the side. It was only then that Sokka realized he had only been staring, "Anytime! I love the food here!" Sokka responded sheerfully

"Oh I know," Zuko met his eyes. Sokka wished he wouldn't do that so much, it was too distracting when he was already on edge for what he had planned. "I have an extra stash of fire flakes in the kitchen with your name on it," Zuko winked, Sokka grinned.

"You're the best Zuko," "I try," "Hey Katara, don't you even think of stealing my-" He turned to engage his sister in the conversation but she was nowhere to be found, "huh" He said, mostly to himself. Just then, the band began to play. Zuko perked up, abandoning his glass of fire whiskey to a servant walking by.

"May I have this dance ambassador Sokka?" He bowed his head slightly and held out his hand, "It is only appropriate," "Well, who am I to reject the Fire Lord, especially on his birthday," So Sokka let Zuko lead him out in to the throng of people. They didn't dance long-nor did they dance with any intimacy, but a pair of young ladies soon swept them apart. It wasn't long before the older nobles began to take their leave, there was no reports of anything from Toph. (he of course had been checking frequently) Sokka decided to strike while the iron was hot.

He strode towards Zuko, making sure to stumble just slightly, but he knew Zuko would notice. Because Zuko always noticed.

"Sokka?" The young lord caught his arm firmly, he stood only a couple inches taller, but every time they were close- it still made Sokka's heart race. "I'm sorry I don't mean to interrupt," He said that just to be polite, Zuko actually hadn't been talking to anyone, "I'm feeling dizzy, I think I need some air," "Let me help you," Sokka nodded, letting his eyes dart around the room once more. No commotion, everything was fine. Good. There were no guards where the pond was, but Sokka could keep him safe.

It didn't take long for them to reach the pond, aside from assuring the guard by the outside door that they'd be perfectly fine. After all- it was the only entrance and the walls around the courtyard were very high. Zuko "helped" him on to the bend by the water. They sat in silence for a while, just watching the sleeping turtle ducks float along the calm water. Well, it's now or never

"Zuko, I have something to ask you," "Are you feeling better?" They spoke- and then laughed- at the same time, "I'm sorry," Zuko said with a smile, "What did you want to ask me?"

Sokka straightened up slightly and took a deep breath, Zuko shot him a worried expression. He was sure he didn't mean to, but Zuko's eyes were always too expressive for his own good. At least to Sokka they were. Sokka tried not to think about the fact that, that particular skill probably came from watching his eyes so much, but he just couldn't help it. They were beautiful, and captivating....and he's just staring again.

"Okay, well you know how we've been friends for a long time?" He took one of Zuko's hands in his own "Yeah..." Their knees were now touching, almost fully facing each other, "Well- you see- we've been through a lot together, more than most friends have, and I think you're really smart and talented and amazing and I really hope this doesn't make things awkward between us if you say no because I-" "Sokka!" Zuko interrupted him with a chuckle. Man, people have been interrupting him a lot today. "Whatever it is, it's okay, just ask."

Sokka took a slow deep breath "Zuko would you-" "Look out!" Before Sokka could finish his sentence he was slammed to the ground, air knocked from his lungs. He rolled on to his side and attempted to push himself up- gasping for air,

"What the- Zuko!" His vision cleared in just enough time to see Zuko being held back by three large men, but only held back- which was weird. Usually assassins just went in for the kill. Whatever their reason- Sokka was grateful. He lunged to his feet, ready to get Zuko free with his bare hands when he heard the unmistakable sound of an arrow flying through the air. No

He started to sprint towards Zuko, but barely made it a couple feet before a sharp pain ripped its way through his torso, forcing him to the ground once again. He gasped, shaking from the shock.

"What-" He looked down only to see an arrow head sticking out about three inches to the right of his navel. Nothing vital. Good.

He looked back to Zuko, through the haze of shock his terrified look grounded him immediately. This wasn't an attempt on the Fire Lord's life, it was an attempt on his.

"Sokka! No!" Zuko's voice ripped its way to the forefront of his thoughts. Blood had soaked its way through both sides of his tunic now, and was showing no signs of stopping. Shit. Maybe that arrow hadn't hit anything vital, but if he didn't get to a healer- the blood loss could be just as deadly. Maybe I'll just nap here. The stars are beautiful... and I'm so tired ~~~ No. No, nononono this can not be happening. Zuko frantically thought. The three men were still restraining him but that was the least of his worries as he watched the blood on Sokka's clothes grow darker and darker. The man who fired the arrow jumped down from the tree with a wicked grin on his face. He strode over to the motionless man and nudged him lightly with the tip of his boot.

"Don't you touch him!" Zuko yelled, writhing in their firm grasp. He felt his fire creeping its way to the surface. He was in such shock before but Sokka was in danger, and he would do anything to save him.

Without another thought flames erupted from anywhere he could chanel it. His hands, his feet, his mouth. His whole body and the bodies of his captors were almost instantly engulfed in flame. They dropped him and screamed. Jumping in to the pond to escape the white-hot burning. The man standing next to Sokka had the good sense to look scared.

He began to draw his bow, but before he could- Zuko let his fire reach out and turn it to ash. Next thing he knew his hand was around the man's throat, lifting him off the ground, his fire burning all the while. He only stopped when he could smell burning flesh. His man hurt Sokka, his Sokka, he deserved to wander the fog of lost souls forever, and Zuko was determined to send him there immediately.

"Zuko," A soft voice came from the ground at his feet, and all at one he was back in his body. He threw the man to the ground and the assassin landed in a heap with a black handprint like a necklace- unmoving. Zuko paid him no mind as he dropped to his knees beside Sokka.

"Sokka? Sokka can you hear me?" He only received a weak groan in response. That was good enough for him. "Sokka, love, I have to get rid of the ends of the arrow or I won't be able to move you okay?"

Zuko knew better than to remove an impaled object for risk of bleeding out, but he still couldn't transport Sokka like this. So he planned on burning the arrow on both ends until it was short enough so he could move. Turns out- he didn't have to.

"Sokka! Oh my gosh Sokka!" A familiar voice came from behind Zuko. He whirled around and lit his hands defensively, but found on Katara. "Katara, I'm so glad you're here, can you help him?" In her panic she still examined him as well as she would any other time. "Yes, but we've got to get his arrow out," "I can do that," Without hesitation Zuko turned the arrow head to ash, as well as as much of the shaft as possible. Sokka was unconscious again, "Hold him, and I'll pull it out,"

Katara nodded. He yanked the arrow out in one smooth motion. Sokka screamed, "I'm sorry love, I'm so so sorry," Zuko smoothed his hair as Katara set to work. The pain that contorted Sokka's face soon waned. The wound stitched back together nicely, but he had still lost a lot of blood. At least he's conscious now. Zuko thought to himself.

"Let's get him inside," Katara said gently, Zuko nodded in agreement.

He scooped Sokka up as quickly and gently as possible. Sokka groaned. Him and Katara walked back in to the palace side by side, she kept healing water on him the whole way which was making Sokka more coherent by the second.

"I'll call for a stretcher," "No," Zuko countered "I've got him," "All the way to his room? Are you sure? It's on the other side of the palace." "I'm sure. This is my fault, I shouldn't have brought him out there, and I should have been paying more attention," The Fire Lord felt tears well in his eyes as he stared down at Sokka who seemed to be asleep with his head upon his chest.

Katara truly seemed like she wanted to protest but Zuko turned down the hall before she could get another word out.

He had to admit that it was a very long walk to Sokka's room from the courtyard, but he would not let him down- not again.

"Zuko?" Sokka blinked his eyes finally. Peering up at him. "Shh it's okay, we're about halfway to your room. Katara healed you up, you're going to be just fine," That seemed to snap him fully back in to reality. His eyes opened wide, terrified.

"Katara? What? What happened?" Sokka peered down at his still blood- soaked tunic. He yanked it up to see the thick straight scar forming on his torso. Then it seemed to all come back to him at once.

"Uhh, Zuko?" "Yes?" Zuko smiled down at him gently, He's going to be okay "Did you uhm... Kill that guy?" Zuko's face suddenly steeled.

"I thought they killed you...." His voice trailed off, tinged with shame. "I lost my temper," They continued down the hall in silence, Sokka still held protectively in to Zuko's chest. His blood was soaking in to Zuko's ornate ceremony robes. They both seemed to notice it at the same moment. Zuko didn't care, but Sokka...

"Please put me down," "Not a chance," "But your robes," "Don't care, besides- we're here" And they were, Zuko pushed the door open with his foot. He then set Sokka gently down on the bed. "Wait here, I'll get you something warm to wear,"

It only took Zuko a few moments of rummaging to find Sokka comfortable clothes. He was about to hand then over when a mischievous thought graced him. Sokka reached for them but he stepped back.

"What are you doing?" "What were you going to ask me?" Sokka's face blanched, "Nothing important, give me my clothes Zuko." He demanded "If it wasn't important then tell me, and I'll give you your clothes,"

Sokka huffed, pondering his proposition for a moment. Then hung his head in defeat. He could of course have just gotten up and taken them, he was almost fully healed after all- but he was still dizzy from the blood loss, and figured it'd come out sooner or later.

"I was going to ask- Yue spare me," He pinched the bridge of his nose, "I was going to ask if you would consider possibly- maybe- going out with me?"

Zuko's pale skin flushed almost the same shade as his robes. "You mean like... on a date?" "You're right it's stupid I'm sorry I don't know what I was thinking it's probably the blood loss, why would you ever-"

"Yes," Zuko cut him off (again) resolutely "Yes?" Sokka eyed him, skeptical of which part of everything he just said Zuko was agreeing to. Zuko placed the clothes on his lap, and brought Sokka's hand to his mouth. He placed a gentle, reverent kiss upon it.

"I would be honored to go out with you Sokka,"

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Okay this is hella long buttttt I couldn’t help myself

I hope you love it xoxo