#a high pitched scream. every ten minutes

[casiavium]

banished to the lower level exhibition again today 😔

[sweetfushi]

Hi there!! I would like to request akaashi, iwa, and kenma x reader when he caught reader simping about him to her friends eventhough they haven’t date yet..

🏕anon

HE CATCHES YOU TALKING ABOUT HIM.

fluff | keiji akaashi, hajime iwaizumi, kozume kenma x reader, mentions of a breakdown but nothing happens | word count. 1.9k ◦ notes. my first named nonnie :o

KEIJI AKAASHI.

“I’ve only ever seen him in two places; in class and in the school gym. I’ve never actually interacted with him in either one,” you admit sheepishly to your friends, who are giggling and smacking you in excitement.

“No stop! We’ve talked to him before because we know Bokuto, he’s actually super sweet! He’d totally like you if he doesn’t already– if you just talk to him!”

You practically swoon at the idea, your squeals alongside the similarly high-pitched noises of your friends reverberating through the school’s backfield. Initially you had gathered after class to have snacks and talk after school, but that turned into intense fangirling and wingwoman-ing.

“He’s so cute I could just- agh,” you whine, rubbing your palms on your eyes as you pout at the near certainty of never being able to be with him. He’s so out of your league; playing for the school’s volleyball team, being friends with one of the most popular guys in school, having the calm demeanour that practically every girl looks for in a man. If he wasn’t seeing someone already, you likely still wouldn’t be in his list of romantic options.

Alongside the aforementioned and your lack of spatial awareness, you’re entirely oblivious to the person approaching the bench you’re sitting on, until one of your friends has to grab your face to make you stop talking - stop talking about the very person who’s now observing you curiously. You don’t take the hint until you hear Akaashi clear his throat from behind you and bend down to pick up the volleyball that landed by your feet.

“Sorry about that.”

“O-Oh,” is all he receives from you in response, to which he smiles kindly. A smile that has you inches away from bursting into tears about how much you miss someone who isn’t yours.

He eyes you once more before jogging back to the corner in which he and Bokuto appeared to be practising, your eyes following him as he did so and observing his every jog and step.

Following that interaction, your group falls silent for a few seconds, until you slam your head onto the bench table and let a muffled scream rip from your throat - enough to express your humiliation but also keep it among your friends, unlike your previous conversation.

“Kill me, I can’t ever look that man in the eyes again. Do it now, quick and painless while I’m not ripping my hair out.”

One of your friends snorts out a laugh and smacks the top of your head. “Girl, as if you could ever look that man in the eyes. Don’t worry about it, he was smiling.”

At that, your head snaps up and you launch yourself across the bench until your face is centimetres away from your friend’s. “Was he really? Don’t lie to me, I didn’t see him smiling.”

She shakes her head. “That’s because you were too busy wallowing in your self-pity and staring at us to realise. He walked off like he got the biggest birthday present of his life.”

And as told, Akaashi had jogged back to Bokuto with a massive grin, rather uncharacteristic of the man who typically - at most - cracked an amused smile. Thus, when Bokuto sees him coming back with such an expression, the ball becomes the last of his concerns. He leans over to observe Akaashi closely, humming curiously.

“Did something happen?”

“Ah, nothing really. Don’t worry about it.”

“Akaashi.”

“Bokuto.”

The owl-like man groans and snatches the ball in mock frustration, to which Akaashi chuckles and gently pats him on the back. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to inform anyone that he’d started grinning at the mere sound of you giggling about the prospect of interacting with him.

HAJIME IWAIZUMI.

For the past ten minutes, you and your friends had entered a routine of squealing about the prospect of being Iwaizumi’s lover and shushing each other when the excitement became too loud. Eventually, it reached a point where the latter was no longer done - no one was supervising the volume of your swooning and dreaming.

“He’s so dreamy,” you sigh, resting your right cheek on your right fist.

“And jacked, I mean he could probably pick you up easily,” one of your friends comments, waggling her eyebrows and laughing at the drastic change of colour in your face.

You’ve interacted with Iwaizumi a few times, enough to classify him as a friend, but not enough that you’d expect to see him frequently or even anticipate him thinking about you. In actuality, the man doesn’t go a day without you crossing his mind, to the point where he starts questioning where the hell he developed his interest for you from. That’s not to say you’re not an intriguing person, just that he hadn’t had a serious conversation with you that wasn’t interrupted by something - whether that was the both of you needing to head to class or Oikawa yelling his name.

“I’m telling you, I’m getting taller, you asshat,” Iwaizumi grumbles to a very tired and sluggish Oikawa.

“And I’m telling you I don’t care whether that’s true or not as long as you’re still a reliable spiker.”

Iwaizumi smacks the top of his head with a passion so strong it would seem as though the two were words away from killing each other.

The two continue to walk through the school’s lengthy corridors until they approach the gym’s open doors. A message was sent out to the Seijoh team group chat, following which all that came as responses were thumbs up reactions to the message. At least they weren’t ignoring it.

As the two men walk into the gym and toss their bags in a corner, Oikawa can hear chatter and laughter from people other than him and Iwa, sufficient enough to distract him from the impending practice match. After greeting the others and agreeing on a rotation for the game, Iwaizumi’s ears perk up at the sound of his name. He knows it doesn’t come from his lot since they’re too busy stretching to care, so he’s fairly certain it’s coming from the group of girls he can see in the gym’s far other side - the spot reserved for basketball. His interest is only truly piqued when he notices your familiar face.

Though, he can’t just walk over there and question you.

Matsukawa has his hands on the ball, tossing it into the air and catching it. He’s not really paying attention to what Oikawa is babbling about behind him, so Iwaizumi seizes the opportunity and politely asks for the ball from him. Once Matsukawa hands it over with a heavy sigh prior, Iwaizumi practically launches it to the other side of the gym.

“Oikawa, you absolute trash,” Iwaizumi grumbles with faux annoyance before jogging over to get the ball, providing him with enough of a chance to get within your close proximity and overhear your conversation.

“Iwa’s so hot. I need him as mine so so bad. I die every time he talks to me.”

“That is highly concerning,” Iwaizumi intercepts into the conversation after retrieving the ball, to which you scream and slap your hands over your mouth as if you were caught leaking confidential information (which isn’t too far from the truth).

Your friends are gaping and avoiding eye contact with both you and Iwa in an attempt to appear apathetic to the whole situation, something they fail at tremendously.

“T-That was not about you,” you sputter.

Iwaizumi raises a brow and feigns consideration, though he doesn’t say anything to point out the fact that there is no other Iwaizumi in the school, let alone one that talks to you. “I’d hope not. Wouldn’t want you dead now, hm?”

And that’s all he says before flashing you a knowing smile and heading back to his group.

KOZUME KENMA.

The bell above the door jingles as you step into Ukai’s shop. You wave at him as he lights a cigarette and dusts his hands off on his apron. Other than a sweet treat, you’re not sure what else you want and it certainly doesn’t help that you’re a group call with your friends. As usual, you grab your favourite sweet before starting to survey the shop’s contents; from bread to ramen to buns. All the while, you catch sight of Ukai scrolling uninterestedly on his phone.

“I know he’s quiet but trust me, I’ve seen how he is with Kuroo and he’s just reserved,” you retort to your friends as they question your interest in Kenma. “Shut up, I know you guys have all met and talked to him, you know how he is,” you laugh. They all have chemistry together and always tell you about how depressed the blond looks in class.

“Heeey, boss. Heard you’ve taken’ on Karasuno. We’re headed over there now and I wanted to give ya’ my condolences,'' you hear Kuroo tell Ukai, followed by a loud exhale from the latter. Where there’s Kuroo, there’s usually Kenma, so you instantly tense up and feel self-conscious about your appearance and the way you carry yourself.

“If this game is a waste of my time you’re buying dinner,” Kenma finally grumbles.

You feel your heart pound faster and a squeal bubble in your throat. It’s ironic that his tone is that of disinterest yet you’re so very interested in the smoothness of it.

“Guys, he’s here right now,” you whisper into the mic of your earphones.

“No way!”

“Is Kuroo with him? Tell him I said hi!”

“Just your luck, huh?”

You try to tune their comments out in an attempt to steady your breathing before they turn to the aisle you’re in and catch you having a near-breakdown. You’ve never really talked to Kenma one-on-one, Kuroo has always been there. Not that you have anything against the charismatic captain - and it’s not as if you have the courage to talk to Kenma alone. That was slightly juxtaposing in that little to no courage is required to talk to someone who’s of little words.

You finally catch sight of him getting what appears to be his usual, considering how fast he locates the items and tosses them into the basket Kuroo is holding. You continue to walk down the aisle you’re in, in search of a new drink to try.

“Guys, Kenma likes the same pie I do. We’re so meant to be together,” you giggle into the mic, to which your friends sigh and verbally reprimand you for your delusional theories.

“Excuse me.”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice behind you, but move out the way. Kenma grabs one of the drinks he’s eyeing and surveys it in his hand. When he glances at you, his eyes widen to attention. “Hey, it’s you.”

Smiling awkwardly, you nod. “Yeah.”

“Were you just talking about me? I heard my name.”

“Huh,” you say dumbfoundedly, before acknowledging the fact that Kenma had just heard you giggle about your mutual taste for apple pies. “Oh, u-uh, I just noticed that we like the same pies.”

He nods, convinced that you were simply talking to yourself and not giggling to your friends about how in love you are with him. “Have you tried this drink? I don’t know if it’s good,” he asks you.

You’re still a bit dumbfounded by the whole situation and he notices, which is why he waves a hand in your face and calls your name. All you register is that Kuroo now approaches behind him and snickers knowingly at your expression.

“Oh, blondie, you’re so oblivious.”

“Huh? To what?”

“Exactly.”

sweetfushi © do not modify, repost, translate, copy or use my post. all that is included in this post, aside from the photos, fictional characters and universes, belong to sweetfushi (zee).

[nyrandrea]

Restless

Summary: As your sleepless nights start to catch up with you, you turn to a certain vampire who might just be able to help.

Also available to read here on A03!

Word Count - 2.7k

Enjoy!

xxx

Sleep had always been something of an illusion to you. 

Each night, as the world succumbed to slumber, you lay in your bedroll, with eyes wide open, gazing at the twinkling stars of the endless night sky. It was as if the world had pressed pause, leaving you to confront the shadows of your own thoughts. Your insomnia was a relentless adversary, a cruel warden that held you captive in the prison of wakefulness. 

The nights stretched on endlessly, and as the hours ticked by, your exhaustion grew more profound.  

Your mind raced with thoughts, a relentless carousel of worries, hopes, and regrets. You would toss and turn, your body tangled in the sheets, seeking elusive comfort. Come morning, the birds seemed to mock you, a constant reminder of the passage of time that slipped away while you lay wide awake.

By the time everyone else was up and refreshed from a good night’s sleep, you were still lying flat on your back, your bloodshot eyes stinging as you stared up at the pale morning sky. 

“Darling, it’s time to get up,” Astarion said, standing above you with hands on hips, his expression somewhat bemused. “Honestly, you’re so lazy, just like Gale.” 

He muttered that last part, glaring towards the wizard’s tent as a rumbling snore emanated from it and echoed throughout the camp. The vampire suddenly smirked, and you rolled your head to follow his gaze, only to see Karlach sneaking towards the tent with her hands out, ready to pounce. 

The snoring was cut short with a high-pitched scream, followed by a roar of laughter, and a lot of cursing on Gale’s part. 

“Good, at least that’s one of you up,” Astarion said, turning back towards you. “Now, are you going to follow suit? Or am I going to have to stoop to Karlach’s tactics? Brash as they are.” 

“Hey! My tactics are quite refined, thank you very much,” Karlach rebuked, stabbing a thumb in Gale’s direction, the poor man stumbling to find his cloak. “Got him up, didn’t I?” 

“That you did, darling.” 

“I’m up,” you muttered hoarsely, wincing as you slowly pushed yourself up off the ground, your body feeling about a hundred years old. “I’m up.” 

“Oh dear,” Astarion grimaced. “Looks like someone didn’t get their beauty sleep last night, hm?” 

His tone was light but there was an almost... concerned note to it, as if he was prodding. You felt a pang in your chest; he only spoke the truth; your eyes, once bright and expressive, now bore the heavy bags and dark circles of sleep deprivation. Your skin had dulled and paled considerably over the past few weeks, and your hair was dishevelled and unkempt.  

You almost certainly looked as bad as you felt. 

Part of you wanted to blame the group: Astarion for nearly sucking you dry of your blood, Karlach for being so damn loud all the time, Gale for making demands of you every ten minutes, Lae’zel for very nearly causing fights everywhere she went with her brashness, Shadowheart for her condescending demeanour and Wyll for craving validation from you every time you had a chat with him. The only sane person here seemed to be Halsin, and even he was starting to grate on your nerves for just looking so damn well-rested and perky.

The other part of you wanted to cry, to apologise for being such a failure and run away into the woods to never be seen or heard from again and just succumb to whatever fate the mind-flayer parasite had in store for you. 

Instead, you forced a smile, and lied.  

“Just had a nightmare, is all.” 

“Hm,” Astarion hummed, a simmering concern etched into the lines of his face. In that moment you felt a soft push in your mind, and the tadpole behind your eye squirmed as if responding to something. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken emotions, a palpable tension that seemed to hang between you both.  

It was only when you winced that the vampire averted his gaze, and the unseen force retreated from your mind. 

“Terribly sorry,” Astarion said as you rubbed your head. “It would seem that my worm wanted to talk with yours; perhaps it was... concerned. Ooh, do you think that they’re best friends?” 

“I doubt it,” you muttered, a little annoyed at his giddiness. “Maybe tell yours to mind its own business next time.” 

“Of course, apologies again,” he said with that smooth voice and puppy-dog eyes of his, it was enough to make your irritation melt away. “But should a nightmare ever arise in that darling head of yours again, just know that you can seek me out.” 

You blinked, a little surprised at the open invitation. You couldn’t quite tell if it was genuine; it was always hard to tell with him. The only times you had ever been intimate was whenever he sought you out for a bit of casual fun. He seemed confused as to why you never wanted to initiate, but you tried to explain that while you enjoyed your time together, you never wanted to invade his privacy as you respected that camp time was everyone’s chance for a bit of peace and were entitled to such.  

This only seemed to confuse him further. 

Still, this had to be a big step for him, to ask you to his tent -his sanctuary- and you didn’t want to seem ungrateful. 

“I-I will,” you stutter. “Thank you.” 

“Anytime, my dear,” Astarion smiled. “Now, shall we see what chaos today brings for us? It’s been far too long since we’ve had to kill anyone.” 

You bumped his shoulder playfully. “We killed that group of bandits only yesterday.” 

He returned the gesture with a sly smirk. “Exactly.” 

During the day, you continued your journey with a fragile facade of normalcy, sipping on coffee like it was the elixir of life, desperately trying to stay awake. Your interactions with others were tinged with a weary detachment, as if you were viewing the world through a foggy pane of glass.  

Emotions played hide-and-seek within your very soul. Frustration lurked just beneath the surface, ready to erupt at the slightest provocation. An innocent quip or question would trigger an unexpected wellspring of tears, followed by nervous laughter, leaving everyone in the group perplexed. You merely brushed it off as the tadpole messing with your head, but even that raised a few eyebrows as nobody else was acting up—it was a good thing you were persuasive. 

You tried to avoid battles wherever and whenever you could, opting to take the longer roads or attempting to sweet-talk your way out of a sticky situation. However, some fights were unavoidable, and this was when your sleep deprivation was really put on show for everyone to see; your movements were sluggish, enemies were able to get more hits on you and you had to be helped back up to your feet on more than one occasion.  

The others insisted on setting up camp a little earlier than usual so you could rest and, despite your trying to tell them that you were fine and wanted to keep going because these tadpoles weren’t going to remove themselves anytime soon, they wouldn’t take no for an answer.  

So, here you were again, on your back, staring up at the stars. Another night of having an existential crisis while everyone else slumbered on peacefully. Rinse and repeat. 

You had tried everything to conquer your insomnia. Experimented with herbal teas, soothing music, you had even consulted a sleep specialist back in Baldur’s Gate who prescribed a cocktail of medications. But the battle persisted, night after night. 

Sitting up and rubbing your dry, stinging eyes, you decided to try something else. 

As you crept through the camp, you were careful not to wake anyone else up as you approached Astarion’s tent, tentatively peeking in through the flap before reprimanding yourself; even though he had invited you, boundaries were important, you couldn’t just go barging in. So, you gently knocked on one of the wooden beams that supported the tent. 

“Astarion...?” You softly whispered, waiting for a response. 

Only silence followed. 

You knocked again, wincing slightly at the louder noise you made. For a moment you thought about abandoning this whole silly idea and going back to staring into space for the next eight hours, but desperation made you persistent. 

Mercifully, you heard a faint shuffle come from inside the tent. 

“Come in,” Astarion’s husky, muffled voice answered. 

Nervously, you slipped inside, and a wave of warmth immediately washed over your face as you were greeted with the sight of a bare-chested Astarion sitting cross-legged on his bedroll. You were grateful he at least had pants on, otherwise you would have been out of there like a shot. 

A mischievous smile spread across his face as he watched you squirm uncomfortably. “Whatever is the matter, darling?” His lips formed a perfect pout. “Come to ask me for a little cuddle to chase the bad dreams away?” 

Your nostrils flared as you glowered down at him while he smirked smugly back up, because of course he would tease you about something like this. You should have known that he wasn’t going to take you seriously. 

“Forget it,” you said, making a sharp turn to re-open the tent flap. “I-I never should have come here, I’ll just... leave you be.”  

You missed the flash of panic on his face as he quickly got to his knees to reach out and grab your wrist before you could make it out.  

“Wait!” He said, stopping you in your tracks. “I’m sorry, come back in, please?” 

You slowly turned your head. 

“I promise not to tease you.” 

Begrudgingly, you allowed him to take your hand and escort you back inside, guiding you to sit down beside him on the floor. 

“You’re having trouble sleeping again, I presume?” 

Nodding your head, you squeezed the bridge of your nose and sighed, trying to swallow down the overwhelming urge to break down in front of him and cry in pure frustration.  

“I... I’ve been struggling with insomnia for a while now.” 

Astarion scoffed. “Well now, that’s a revelation.” 

You had half a mind to slap him. 

“Sorry,” he said, holding up his hands in a placating manner. “No teasing, of course, but come on darling, it was pretty obvious from the start.” 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, your gaze cast downward, wondering why you even came here in the first place if he was just going to insult you. 

“You’re still beautiful,” he said, softly caressing your jaw to angle your face towards him. “Very beautiful indeed.” 

Your heart thumped wildly as the tip of your nose brushed his, and you would have crumpled into his well-tuned act of seduction if it were not for one burning question suddenly on your mind. 

“How do you do it?"

“I- do what?”  

“Elves don’t sleep, right?” You said, blinking curiously. “How do you... not sleep?” 

“We uh... meditate, darling. Wait, how do you not know this?” he asked, pulling back with his eyebrow raised. “You must have seen me doing it at some stage or another.” 

“...I always just thought you pretended to sleep,” you hummed in thought. “Now that I think about it, the way you lay down was always kind of strange looking.” 

He snorted a laugh at your brutal honesty, and feeling a jab of guilt, you tried to back-track on your word vomit. 

“Sorry! Um… no offence?” 

"None taken, darling,” he said, waving a nonchalant hand. “I can see why my eloquent poses would look strange to you, but for elves, meditation is a common practice. Helps us to… calm down; be in the moment, as it were.” 

A comfortable silence fell between you.

“Could you show me?”  

Astarion gave you a questionable look. “You want me to show you how to meditate?” 

You nod vigorously and cross your legs with your arms resting on your knees to show that you’re serious. It takes you a moment to figure out which fingers were supposed to touch together but you get there eventually.  

With a bemused smile, the vampire shrugs. “Alright, I've had stranger requests.” 

You wanted to question that but put a pin in it for another time. 

"Are you ready?" Astarion asked. You nod, your heart fluttering with both anticipation and trust. “Now, clear your head.” 

You give him a dry look. 

He rolls his eyes back. “Yes, admittedly a little hard, what with the little residents living up there but just... trust me, alright? Close your eyes.” 

You complied, and Astarion began to guide you, his words soft and rhythmic, like a gentle lullaby. "Breathe in deeply," he said, his own breath aligning with yours. "Feel the air fill your lungs, expanding your chest, and exhale slowly, try to let go of any tension." 

You followed his instructions, your breath matching his like a perfectly choreographed dance. With each inhale and exhale, you felt a growing sense of calm washing over. 

"Thoughts may arise, like passing clouds," Astarion murmured. "Acknowledge them but let them drift away. Return your focus to your breath.” 

You found yourself navigating the currents of your thoughts with newfound ease, like a sailor guiding a boat through calm waters. The more you let go, the more profound your sense of inner stillness grew. You felt the weight of your worries begin to dissolve. The burdens of your leadership, of the mind-flayer tadpoles and the problems that came with it seemed to retreat into the distance, leaving you with a newfound clarity. 

"Good," Astarion whispered. "Now, focus on your body. Notice any tension, any discomfort. Let it go with each breath. Feel your body becoming lighter, more at ease." 

Minutes passed like hours, and the tent seemed to fill with an ethereal stillness. You and Astarion remained connected through your breath, it was as if time itself had become irrelevant, and you were both suspended in a moment of pure existence. 

You could feel the tension in your shoulders and neck melting away. It was as if the cares of the world were simply slipping through your fingers. 

Slipping... 

Slipping...  

“...Darling? Are you-? Oh.” 

Astarion’s eyes widen, and he winces a little when your head falls into his shoulder. He catches you gently by the arms, so you don’t slip and go face-first into his lap; it was a delicious thought but for another time, when you were conscious and ready.  

But right now, he isn’t quite sure what to do with you. He certainly knows he can’t hold you like this all night; it would be uncomfortable for both of you. His eyebrows crease as he frowns while he tries to slowly lower you to the ground. 

To absolutely no avail; unconsciously you end up pulling him in closer. 

“Oh, for Gods's sake,” the vampire huffs incredulously. “What am I, some sort of glorified teddy bear?” 

Half-asleep and still nestled into Astarion’s chest, you mumble something incoherent in response, your breath warm against his skin. You snuggle even closer, your head burrowing into the crook of his neck. 

For a moment, Astarion felt a flicker of irritation, his desire for a good night's rest warring with his affection for you. He yearned to stretch out, to find the perfect position that would allow him the bliss of undisturbed meditation. But as he looked down at the peaceful expression on your face, all traces of weariness and anxiety erased, he just couldn't bring himself to disturb you. 

Reluctantly, he wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer still. He could feel the gentle rise and fall of your breath, the slow, rhythmic cadence of sleep. The warmth of your body against his own gradually seeped through the cracks in his defences, and his irritation gave way to an overwhelming tenderness. 

In that moment, he realised that the inconvenience of being your living pillow was a small price to pay for the privilege of holding you close, of being the one you sought comfort in. As you drifted further into slumber, Astarion closed his eyes and surrendered to the serenity of the night, the gentle weight of your devotion for each other enveloping you both, anchoring him in the moment and reminding him of the beauty in life's simple, sweet sacrifices. 

xxx 

Yyyyyeah I know this one has the same beats as 'Everything's Fine' but what can I say? I'm a sucker for begrudgingly soft Astarion ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Let me know what y'all think!

Links to my other Astarion works

'Everything's Fine'

Request - Astarion kills everyone in his path to get to you

[wileys-russo]

please can you write a little fic about Leah’s beanie in her most recent insta post, like her gf thinking she looks cute and making her post a pic or taking the piss out of Leah for posting a pic in the beanie x

garden gnome II l.williamson

"god its fucking freezing!" you shivered, subbed off with ten minutes to go as your body finally cooled down from all the running, the brisk london air sharp as needles as the wind blew on and you collapsed onto the subs bench.

"thank you less." you sighed in relief as alessia handed you your puffer, the blonde sending you a smile as the two of you leaned into one another a little more to stay warm, lia joining in on your other side.

all three of you jumped to your feet buzzing with new energy as the whistle finally blew announcing your victory. "steffyyy!" you cheered loudly, jumping on the older girls back who stumbled but let out a laugh as you kissed her cheek and hopped down.

"if you play like that with jet lag we're sending you back to melbourne for the week." you teased as she hugged you properly. "puddin points are best cooked under pressure." caitlin flung an arm over your shoulder with a grin as she and steph high fived.

you were flanked by lotte, vic and alessia as you did your thank you lap, clapping to the fans as you caught your girlfriends eye in the stands, clapping up at her making her roll her eyes with a smile as she chatted away to ellie who gave you a wave.

"lovesick much." alessia teased, bumping her shoulder into yours as vic echoed her word making you stick your tongue out at them. "look at her all bundled up and in her little beanie, she's so cute i just wanna go and give her a cuddle." you sighed still looking up at her.

"oi! jealous much?" you pushed vic who gagged at your words, the force of your push sending her tumbling onto her bum as she glared up at you. "run." alessia patted your shoulder as you took off, a string of angry dutch following you as the two of you raced in laps around the pitch until she caught you and punched you sharply in the arm, the team all called in for a huddle.

"hello gorgeous." a pair of arms tightly wound round you from behind as you settled happily into the extra warmth, tilting your head back and smiling up at the older blonde. she stayed holding onto you as you all bunched up for the post match talk, her hands only moving to clap loudly as jonas finished up talking.

"mum wants to see you." leah mumbled with a kiss to your cheek, nodding for you follow her as you both made your way into the fast clearing stands. "amanda!" you grinned as the woman pulled you into a tight hug. "love you played brilliantly! even if leah wouldn't shut up with her personal coaching the entire match." she rolled her eyes as leah protested the accusation.

"oh i've no doubt once we're home i'll get the full debrief on everything i could have done better. gaffa williamson loves to come out after a win!" you teased, leah pinching your sides with a stern look as you only smiled, pecking her lips.

"try raising her, every single little thing gets feedback even if you don't ask for it. for someone who can't cook god she just loves to critisise everyone else who can!" amanda added on with a dramatic sigh.

"yeah i bought the wrong brand of ham the other week. should have heard how she moaned about it for days!" "used to yell directions at me and scream for me to go faster when i drove her to training every week, as if i didn't drive her there every week."

"right fuck off what is it pick on leah day! i'm injured here thanks how bout a bit of sympathy?" your girlfriend huffed, crossing her arms with a scowl. "oh sorry baby i forgot how sensitive you are. is everyone being mean to you?" you continued to tease, pinching her cheeks in your hands as amanda watched on fondly.

"you look so cute in your beanie lee lee, my little garden gnome." you cooed mockingly, smooshing her face in your hands as her eyes burned into you with a murderous glare. "gnome-o and juliet eh?" amanda grinned making you high five her with a cheer.

"mum! god don't fucking don't encourage her she's relentless." leah groaned, pulling you into a headlock as you smacked her stomach through the three layers she was bundled in. "you love it." she let you up and pulled you into a tight hug, her arms curled around your neck and resting on your shoulders as the two of you chatted with her mum for a bit.

"oh i need a photo before i go! to mark the win." amanda was about to leave as she perked up, pulling out her phone as she tucked herself in beside you, leahs chin resting on the top of your head as the three of you smiled happily and amanda took a few selfies.

"beautiful. i'll see you both round for dinner yeah?" she reminded firmly as you nodded. "yeah we'll be round after five mum, i'll pick grandma up on the way." leah confirmed as amanda beamed, hugging you both goodbye as the three of you descended from the stands.

you and leah hung around for another half hour chatting with your team mates, cuddled into one another the entire time as you battled the ongoing teasing from your team mates, both claiming you were just keeping one another warm.

"what are you doing now?" leah sighed as you both made her way toward her car and you dropped her hand, pulling out your phone and ordering her to pose.

"capturing the memory. i'm gonna start a little garden gnome scrapbook of all your beanie pictures, this ones disappointingly not as pointy as normal but you still look adorable." you beamed snapping a few photos of her as you reached her car, the back lot where the players parked basically almost empty.

"leah!" you laughed as she huffed and yanked off her beanie, hair tied back into a low and loose bun as she pulled her hood up and advanced on you. "hi baby." you grinned as she pushed you against the side of her car, smile tugging at her lips as her arms caged you in.

"lee!" you laughed again as she tugged her beanie down over your head, covering your eyes and attacking your face with kisses as she held the material down on your head and you struggled to push her away.

"whose the little garden gnome now?" leah sung out, flipping up the edge of the beanie so your eyes were free to meet hers, the blonde giving you a dazzlingly bright smile. "still you, you've got the pointy cone head not me." you shrugged, tapping on the top of her head as her mouth formed a small o of offence.

"what am i going to do with you?" leah tutted, shaking her head with a sigh. "kiss me and never stop." you whispered, hands grabbing the sides of her hood and pulling her mouth to meet yours. though before anything got carried away she gently intertwined your hands and pulled away.

"oh just you wait till we get home cheeky girl."

[fourmoony]

𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 (𝟐)

james potter x f!reader

fluff. 1.4k

Summary: James, Sirius, and Remus are bested by Hope.

part 1 - part 3 - part 4 - masterlist

...

James is standing in the middle of the chaos surrounding your living room.

You’re just short of thirty seconds through the front door – the majority of which you spent kicking off your shoes and setting them on the shoe rack – and already, you miss the inside of the potion’s lab. You’ve been there all day, daydreaming about being at home. But now. Now, you wish you’d stayed behind with Lily. She’s high maintenance, sure. She’s bossy and full on about it because she’s currently heading the Order’s potion’s labs all over the country – she’s stressed. But Lily Evans is nowhere near as high maintenance as your boyfriend and his friends.

This, you should have known.

Remus and Sirius are bickering loudly over the sound of Hope’s high-pitched screaming. Remus is holding Hope, arms outstretched and a concerned look on his face, like he’s hesitant to have her near her in her current state. He looks panicked. Sirius is trying to strong arm your daughter into a nappy, but she’s kicking her legs so violently that you know he has no hope. He mutters something at Remus, but his voice is cheery and soothing – you suppose in attempt to keep Hope from getting any more violent. Remus huffs and tries lifting your screaming baby up, then down, as if bouncing her. She only cries more.

There are crumpled nappies scattered across the floor and a small bag of what you assume is used wipes – you’re thankful that at least those have been disposed of in a clean way. The fire is roaring, covered by the grate, and the room is far too warm – even for the middle of January. There are bright coloured toys on every surface and a kid’s broom taking up space on the single armchair nearest the kitchen. There’re half drunken milk bottles on the coffee table and half a jar of mashed potato and gravy puree, the spoon of which is sitting on a coaster, still covered in mush.

James’ eyes snap up the minute he nears your shaky intake of breath, and everything stops. His hands are full of a mix of crumpled nappies and baby toys, and his eyes are wide. His hair is messier than usual, a clear sign that he’s been running his hands through it in a fit of stress.

“Hey,” James breathes.

Remus and Sirius have frozen like children with their hands caught in the cookie jar. You bypass your boyfriend, eyes narrowed at Remus, who turns from Sirius and thrusts Hope toward you. You take her and immediately, she quiets. You hold her to your chest, hand gently rubbing the back of her head. Remus and Sirius physically release, both letting out a deep breath. James closes his eyes, enjoys the silence for a moment.

“James, pick up the nappies. Outside bin,” You point at James, and he springs into action, nodding enthusiastically, “Remus, toys in the box,” You point to the pink box Sirius made Hope that rests to the right of the fireplace, “Sirius, wash the bottles, and bin the puree.”

The three men spring into action around you while you mentally thank Lily for being so bossy and rubbing off on you. Hope is making quiet noises against your collar bone, and you melt. She’s ten months now, crawling and babbling non-stop It’s been challenging, balancing your work in the potion’s lab with James’ order missions whilst still being able to spend time with Hope together. James is absolutely positive she’s defying nature and biology and growing too fast. But you don’t mind. You’re in constant awe of your daughter and all the milestones she makes. You’d never admit it, but you cried the first time she crawled.

“Hey, sweet girl.” You mumble, lips pressed to Hope’s head.

Her hair is growing fast and dark. There’s enough to put in pigtails, now. She doesn’t have any in today. Simply because James cannot comprehend the idea of a hair tie. Hope tilts her head, bright blue eyes no longer filled with tears, but with wonder. It’s been seven months of being her mum, and your breath still hitches every time she looks at you with that babied wonderment, with that unwavering love and trust. She’s so beautiful, a gift you wonder every day what you ever did to deserve.

“She’s been a moody little witch, today,” Remus comments, launching crinkle books and teddy bears into the pink trunk as he walks around the room.

“She’s teething, I think.” You tell him.

You shift hope in your arms and reach for her nappy bag that’s been abandoned by the doorway into the living room. She wriggles a little when you set her down onto the changing table under the window – the changing table James has said he’ll take upstairs a million times and never has – but settles when you start to hum softly. With a clean nappy and a fresh set of pyjamas, Hope is a different baby. She’s calm and quiet, pliant in your arms when you lift her again to cradle her. Her eyes blink slowly, tiny lips pouted.

James and Sirius return at the same time, the latter wiping down a fresh bottle with a tea towel, collecting any spillage. He turns it over, dropping a bit on his wrist before passing it over, “Perfect temperature.”

“Thanks,” You sit on the suite – now void of any and all toys – and hold the bottle to Hope’s lips.

She takes it greedily and you smile. James presses a kiss to your head before taking a seat beside you both. His hand rests on your thigh, his attention taken by your little girl. Sirius takes a seat on the floor in front of you both, a gentle finger running up and down the bottom of Hope’s foot. She wriggles, gives his hand a little kick and he laughs. Sirius has been obsessed with Hope since the minute he saw her. He’s the best uncle. He spoils Hope beyond belief and loves her as fiercely as you and James do.

Remus required a little convincing. He loves Hope. It’s obvious in the way he reads to her, in the soft voice he uses when he talks to her. But he’s hesitant. Sirius reckons it’s because he’s scared of hurting her with his heavy hands and lanky limbs. You know he never could. He’s sitting across the room, twirling the toy broom in his hands while he sits in the armchair.

“You better not have put her on that broom, Sirius.” You warn the boy at your feet.

He makes grabby hands for Hope now that she’s settled, and you pass her over gently before relaxing against James. Sirius stands slowly, carefully, and makes his way over to Remus, sitting down at his feet instead. They enter their own world, softly cooing at Hope and watching her as she drinks the milk. Remus runs a gentle hand over the top of her head, and another hand across Sirius’ shoulders. You smile.

“Today was hard,” James speaks quietly, fingers playing with yours on your lap.

“I can tell.” You tease.

James huffs a laugh, “I swear it wasn’t even that bad until like, twenty minutes before you got home.”

You know very well James would have tried to keep the house as tidy and calm as possible for as long as possible. He’s a good dad. He’s got a good touch with Hope. She settles with him every time. But he also gets overwhelmed easily.

You eye Sirius and Remus. They’re so calm. So, content.

“I hope they have this, one day.” You whisper, eyes looking up at James.

He’s as beautiful as the day you met him. But he’s older now. There’s stubble on his jaw, a result of his busy schedule. His eyes are a honey hazel that makes you melt, and he turns to look at you with so much love and adoration that you can’t do anything but lean forward and kiss him. His answer is delayed by the wide smile he gives you. But it comes with a faraway look that you assume is a yearning for Sirius and Remus to have everything they could ever dream of.

His fingertips brush up your arm, his warmth encompasses you. You feel content, willing to forget how horrible the world outside your home is.

“I hope so, too, baby.” He mumbles, lips pressed to the crown of your head.

Sirius laughs when Remus flinches because Hope grabs his index finger and hangs on for dear life. They share a smile a second later, and Sirius rests his head on Remus knee, both of them staring down at the beautiful little girl in Sirius’ arms.

“Love you.” You tell James.

He squeezes you, “Love you, too.”

[juniper-sunny]

The Art in the Heart* - Chapter 14

A long-awaited confrontation brings back unwanted reminders of the past…

Happy Ending AU | Silco x Reader | Young!Silco | F!Reader | No [Y/N] | Slow Burn | Romance | Smut | Fluff | Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Fix-It || SFW | TW: Stalking | WC: 4.0k

beta reader: @silcoitus

ao3 || Masterlist || Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13

───────────────── ●◉◎◈◎◉● ─────────────────

For as long as you can remember, the Undercity has been covered from top to bottom in graffiti, oozing and dripping bright colors everywhere. The strong, artificially fresh smells of paint and aerosols are just as prevalent as the smoke and fog, weaving their way through the Lanes, heavy and thick enough to grab with your fist.

Most painters take it upon themselves to learn some form of martial arts; it’s a useful skill to have if they want to encroach on someone else’s territory. After all, most artists aren’t going to give up good real estate without a fight. You’ve gotten into scuffles before in your youth, protecting your art from being vandalized by an older boy who backed off only when you bit deep into his wrist, drawing crimson blood richer than any artificially created color.

You don’t miss that aspect of your childhood at all.

One alternative is to climb or crawl somewhere remote and difficult to reach. The challenge in these instances is to successfully navigate Zaun’s crumbling infrastructure without falling to your death. Cracked ledges, shabby roofs, dislodged pipes, and shoddy scaffolding could all fall to pieces with the lightest of touches.

After securing a good spot, you can’t even dedicate your full attention to whatever you’re working on. After all, your back is exposed and you still have to stand guard over your supplies. Your fellow Zaunites are nothing if not bold enough to try stealing your property from right under your nose.

You purposefully ignore all your hard-won wisdom as you stroll leisurely into a dead-end alleyway, whistling loudly as you drop your bag of painting supplies with a loud thud. You kick an empty beer bottle out of the way, and it clatters noisily against the ground. The crumbling brick wall is dusty but sturdy, the stone rough and bumpy under your fingertips as you sweep your hand across it. You pull out your sketchbook and flip through it dramatically. The crisp snapping of the pages echoes loudly through the air.

Every instinct in your body is screaming at you to stop being so obvious. To drop everything and run away as fast as you can.

But you can’t. Because you’re not going to be the victim tonight.

Tonight, you’re the bait.

It takes every ounce of your willpower to stay rooted in the alleyway. Every second that drags on is torture, the longest ten minutes of your life where electric panic fries every nerve in your spine. As if being stuck in a dead end with only one exit wasn’t bad enough, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as a stinging, unbearable pain stabs at your temples. Your skin prickles as if it were desperate to escape as well.

You lean over your bag and pull out a spray paint can with trembling hands. Gripping it tightly for dear life.

Your heartbeat is thumping so loud in your ears that you almost miss it:

A quiet, low shuffling, at the other end of the alley.

You force yourself to keep looking forward. To not turn towards them even as hesitant footsteps approach you.

They’re slow, at first.

Picking up speed, growing louder and louder as they rush towards you.

Something sharp and pointy glints brightly out of the corner of your eye—

High-pitched yelling breaks out on your left. It’s much more juvenile sounding than you anticipated, but it sounds just like the children at the orphanage when they’re playing during recess, if their playtime involved ripping each other’s hair out by the fistful. Something metallic clatters to the ground, and you finally turn to look at them properly.

Silco has a little girl pinned down, his knee on her back as he ties her wrists with rope. Her feet flail wildly in the air, kicking up clouds of dirt. He manhandles her roughly before picking her up with ease as if she weighed nothing. She’s reminiscent of a stray cat as she swears at Silco, hissing and writhing furiously to no avail. An old but highly polished knife lies on the ground underneath her feet.

Cold fury burns in Silco’s eyes as he mutters to her, his teeth bared and eyebrows furrowed at the girl as he strides towards you. His words are too low for you to hear, but she responds with a vitriolic string of curses that he doesn’t flinch at. He drops her unceremoniously at your feet.

“OWW!!” the girl yells as her chin collides with the hard ground.

You frown at Silco. “What happened to not hurting them?”

“It’s no less than they deserve,” he says dismissively.

You sigh but bite your tongue, not wanting to argue with him in front of a stranger. Cautiously, you lower yourself inch by inch into a crouch, scooting closer to the child as you set your paint can down.

She scrambles to sit upright, glaring at you.

Silco’s shoulders stiffen as he steps closer, hovering behind her ominously. He makes a point to pick up the fallen knife and tuck it into his own belt, resting his hand on the hilt. Ready to unsheathe it at a moment’s notice.

But he doesn’t try to keep you away from her. Just like you made him promise earlier.

“Hi there,” you say gently. “What’s your name?”

She spits angrily at your feet.

Silco raises a booted foot, ready to kick her over. You raise a placating hand, scrutinizing the kid.

It’s always hard to tell with Sumpsnipes, but she looks barely older than Vi, just approaching the cusp of teenagerhood. She’s lean but not emaciated, with a halo of soft, curly gray hair above emerald-green eyes. Her blazing, angry eyes are smudged with dirt, but not dark circles of sleeplessness or stress. When you glance at her clothes, they don’t have any holes, patches, or loose stitches. In fact, they look clean and fresh, maybe even brand new.

You furrow your brow, thinking hard. Whoever this kid is, she’s living better than the average gutter rat.

Slowly, you settle on your knees and reach for your bag. Her eyes track your hands as you pull out a tin lunchbox and a flask.

“Have you eaten today?” you ask. You unscrew the flask and hold it out to her.

She doesn’t answer, but her eyes widen with surprise. Then she turns from you forcefully even as her stomach rumbles loudly.

“It’s not poisoned,” you promise her. You take a sip first, making sure that she’s watching. 

When you hold the canteen out to her again, she inches forward warily, licking her lips. She opens her mouth wide, and you carefully tilt your flask, making sure not to pour too much water too fast. You ignore Silco as he folds his arms in disapproval.

The girl smacks her lips as you put your half-empty canteen back in your bag. Her eyes dart to your lunchbox as you open it to pull out a sandwich wrapped with paper. You peel the wrapping off carefully, revealing an overstuffed sandwich with grainy bread slices, large lettuce leaves, juicy tomato discs, a deep yellow square of cheese, and peppered cuts of dark pink meat.

“We’re going to untie you so you can eat this,” you say calmly. You grab your lunchbox and close it with your free hand, placing it in front of the girl to act as a makeshift plate. Carefully, you place the food on the container, as if you were a waiter presenting a gourmet dessert. “You can leave after you’re done, but I’d like to talk to you, if that’s okay.”

Her eyes flick down to the food, then back up at you, studying your face carefully. She nods just once, still stoic and ornery.

You nod at Silco. He frowns, displeased, but still leans down to untie the child. The girl snatches the sandwich as soon as her wrists are freed. She snarfs it down messily, crumbs flying everywhere as she chews with an open mouth.

“If I had known your pursuer was a wild Poro, I would have brought proper wrangling equipment,” Silco snorts.

“Slow down, or you’ll choke,” you warn the girl.

She glares at you, but then starts hacking and coughing. You quickly grab your flask again and open it, holding it out to her.

“Slow sips,” you instruct her.

She swipes the canteen from you. She closes her eyes as she glugs, a trickle of water spilling over her chin. You sit patiently as she returns her attention to the sandwich. The girl starts chewing much more carefully this time. When you offer her a napkin, she takes it without reservation. Her eyes are no longer hostile, but curious now, wide with wonder as she wipes her mouth.

You tell her your name and hold out your hand. She doesn’t take it, but hands the canteen back to you.

“What’s your name?” you ask again as you put the flask away.

“…Leksy,” she grunts out.

“Hi, Leksy,” you say as warmly as you can, trying to stay calm. The months of resentment for your stalker are slowly dissolving, replaced by a nagging inquisitiveness. The stalker’s youth goes a long way towards making you less scared of her. Besides, she reminds you too much of every other unruly kid you’ve taken care of at the orphanage. More often than not, they just need a safe place and a helping hand.

This kid might just be another one of those orphans. 

“Do you have parents?” you ask.

Leksy nods before licking her fingers clean.

“Where are they?”

“Dad’s at work,” the little girl says. She crumples up the napkin and tosses it over her shoulder. It misses Silco’s leg by inches.  

“Is it just the two of you?”

“No. Mom’s at home.”  

“Why don’t we walk you home? You’ll be safer with us,” you offer. You don’t have to look at Silco to know that he’s rolling his eyes.

“I can’t,” she says curtly.

“Why not?”

She glances away again, eyes downcast with shame. “I’ll get in trouble.”

You glance at Silco, worried. His expression is impassive as he stares down his nose at her.

“Is there someone at home hurting you?” you ask quietly.

Leksy shakes her head vigorously, her hair bouncing everywhere.

“What’s wrong, then?”

The girl looks down, mumbling, “Mom said to leave you alone.”

Confused, you look up at Silco, wondering if he heard Leksy’s answer. He raises an eyebrow, sharing in your bewilderment.

You ask her, “Did she tell you to take pictures of me?”

“No.” Leksy’s eyes bore into a small rock on the ground.

“Who’s your mom?”

“She’s actually my stepmom,” Leksy clarifies, still avoiding your gaze.

“What’s her name?” you ask patiently.

“…Nyle,” the girl finally mutters.

You sit there, stunned into silence as your heart seizes. Your hands clench into fists involuntarily. Anger seeps through your veins as the memories of everything Nyle did to you come rushing back.

Some of your fury must be leaking into your face as Leksy scoots away from you, eyes wide, looking truly afraid for the first time that night. Silco says your name in worry as he steps around the girl to reach out for you.

“I’m okay,” you say automatically, flat and mechanical. You ignore Silco’s hand and get to your feet unsteadily, almost stumbling to the ground again. Still seeing red when you turn around and close your eyes, trying to take deep, calming breaths.

Unreasonable as it is, a part of you still feels guilty for letting Nyle down. Guilty for being inadequate and incompetent. Guilty for not living up to her expectations. And regret for things turning out the way they did. Regret that you lost her because you still miss her so much. All coiling together with a desire for revenge, to hurt her as badly as she hurt you. Twisted up against a strange happiness for her, happy that she found new people to love who seemingly love her back. Only to crash against a fury that she found happiness at all. That she had the audacity to move on and leave you behind.

Silco’s voice calls out your name again, echoing faintly as if he were far away. But his hand lands on your shoulder, bringing you back down to earth.

You jerk your head as if you could physically dislodge your feelings from your body.

“I’m okay,” you say again, letting out a deep breath. It’s a smaller lie this time, as you feel better just looking at the man standing next to you. His brow is pinched with concern.

You might not have Nyle anymore, but you have Silco now.

And you know which companion is superior.

You take Silco’s other hand and squeeze it reassuringly before turning to Leksy. “What did she tell you about me?”

“She said you work for Pilties. You must be rich, right?” Leksy asks, her fear forgotten as her eyes shine with eagerness.

So there it is: the real reason why this little girl has been stalking you. The same thing that tore you and Nyle apart is what brought Leksy into your life. You hold back a snort at the irony.

“Your dad works, right? Doesn’t he have money?” you counter Leksy’s question with your own.

“We need more money,” she says, agitated. “Mom can’t work anymore. She got hurt.”

“What happened?”

“She fucked up her wrist.”

As if the maelstrom of emotions in your stomach wasn’t overwhelming enough, that part of you that still cares for Nyle is now worried about her. If her injury is severe enough to affect her livelihood, then she’s suffering in more ways than one. But another part of you crows with delight at her getting what she deserves.

Silco turns to tower menacingly over the little girl, uncaring of how she leans away from him. “So you’re a cutpurse looking to make up for your mother’s lost income. You should have chosen better.”

The girl glares back at him in defiance. You can’t help but admire her spirit.

“Did Nyle ask you to do this?” you ask, heart breaking a little at your own question, a shallow but piercing stab into your sternum. Even if Nyle had told Leksy to leave you alone, you still need clarification on her part in all this, to find out if she has something more insidious planned for you.

And, of all things, hope takes root in your chest, a creeping tendril worming its way through your ribs to your heart. Hope born from the optimistic—or more likely, naïve and misguided—part of you that still clutches onto the fragments of your shattered friendship with Nyle. A nostalgia for memories of better times that weren’t ruined beyond repair. The belief that one day, the two of you might be able to pick up where you left off.

“No,” Leksy answers. “She grounded me when she found out.”

A revelation. You wonder if Nyle is trying to prevent Leksy from making the same mistake that she did, feeling entitled to money that isn’t hers. Maybe your former friend is trying to repent in her own way.

As you mull over Leksy’s words, Silco glowers at her.

“And yet, here you are,” he snarls. “Too greedy to understand that you should have kept your hands to yourself.”

“I’m hungry!” shouts Leksy. “We need money!”

She flinches again when Silco reaches for the rope. He grabs one end and whips it forcefully against the ground, a harsh slap on stone.

“Run home, little Sumpsnipe,” he rasps through bared teeth, a low whisper of violence like a promise made to keep a secret. “And tell your mother—”

Silco cuts himself off when you gently but firmly take hold of his wrist. Reminding him silently of his promise that he’d let you take care of this. He tears his gaze away from the girl to lock onto you, his boiling rage still simmering as you look at him with determination.

You crouch down again next to Leksy. Her eyes are wary as she scoots away, afraid you might lash out at her, too.

She flinches as you raise your hand.

But you bring it down slowly, patting her tenderly on the head. Her hair is soft and bouncy, and you fight off the temptation to poke your finger through the corkscrew curls and play with them.

Whatever Nyle’s faults are, it’s clear she cares for Leksy very much. And your former friend seems to be a great parent, if she’s inspired Leksy to take such drastic measures. When you remember how Nyle let herself go hungry to feed you, it’s easy to imagine her doing the same for this little girl.

And you knew what you needed to do for Leksy as soon as you first laid eyes on her.

It doesn’t matter who her parents are.

“I get it,” you say softly. “You just want some food, right? Maybe feed your mom and dad, too?”

Leksy nods energetically. “When Mom got hurt, her boss let her take a break… but her wrist got worse and she got fired…”

“It’s going to be okay,” you reassure her. You turn around and kneel next to your bag, pulling out your leather coin purse. Silco grinds his teeth, imploding with disapproval as you place it on the ground in front of the kid.

“That’s for you. If you take the elevators up to Lower Piltover, go to Janna’s Embrace. You and your parents can get food there,” you tell Leksy. “And… tell your mom… that she can eat as much as she wants.”

The Sumpsnipe’s eyes narrow with suspicion. She swipes the money and turns away from you. Her eyes widen with relief, not greed, when she opens the purse, the gold reflecting brightly in her eyes.

You topple backwards as Leksy throws herself forcefully at you, her small hands clinging around your neck in a tight hug. Your butt collides painfully with the hard ground, but the child’s muffled thanks warms your heart.

“Are you sure you don’t need us to walk you home?” you ask.

She nods excitedly. The joy on her face turns to spite when she turns to Silco. Quick as a flash, she kicks him in the shin and yanks her knife out of his belt when he doubles over, swearing.

As his knees collide with the ground, Leksy dashes away, yelling over her shoulder. “Your girlfriend deserves better!!”

You quickly get to your feet, reaching out to take Silco’s shoulders even as you try your best not to laugh. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he spits out through gritted teeth, rubbing his shin with one hand. He takes your wrist gently to stop you from rummaging in your bag for your first-aid kit. “I should ask the same of you.”

“I’m—” you start, but panic surges in your chest.

If Nyle is going with her family to the Embrace, that means you might see her there. And you’re not sure if you’re ready to face her.

But at least you don’t have to face her alone.

When Silco stands to his fullest height, you hug him, burying your face in his chest. His arms immediately wrap around you as your eyes well with tears. So overwhelmed that you crumple into him for support, the full force of your emotions battering you.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “Let it out.”

You shake your head, wiping your tears on his vest as a giddy laugh rises out of you like bubbles in a fizzy drink. So exhilarated at finally being able to put this whole ordeal behind you. It’s almost funny that such a small child gave you such a hard time for so long. 

But now, a weight has fallen off your shoulders. You feel so light you wouldn’t be surprised if you started floating off the ground. All of it is too much to contain as you keep giggling. 

Concerned, Silco lets go of you to hold your face in his hands.  

“Silco… thank you,” you say breathlessly before he can speak. When he cups your cheek, you lean into his hand, taking deep breaths to settle your nerves. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

You’re not just talking about needing his help with wrangling the little girl. His companionship and support helped you put an end to this once and for all. Seeing him stand up fearlessly to Piltover’s countless injustices inspires you every day; if he can fight back against a colossus, then surely you can confront one individual.

His love for Zaun is so similar to your own. It reminds you of the most important thing of all:

That nobody in the Undercity deserves to go hungry.

“That was all you, my lovely,” he murmurs. Silco’s eyes dart between yours as he studies your face. “You were too kind to the child. She needed to be taught a lesson.”

“Leksy’s just a kid,” you say, frowning.

“All our enemies were children once. The only way to defeat them is to stop at nothing,” he says grimly. But his arms fall to your sides, holding you tenderly in a loose embrace.

“She’s not my enemy,” you say with a chuckle. “You’re just mad that she’s faster than you.”

“…Perhaps,” he admits reluctantly. “But I will never forgive her for what she put you through.”

“She’s just a hungry little girl. There are hundreds of them like her down here,” you point out. “Hell, I used to be one, too. Can you honestly tell me you wouldn’t have done the same in her shoes?”

“Of course not—”

“Really? Even if we didn’t know each other?” You pull back from him, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Pretend that the only thing you know about me is that I’m rich. What about then?”

“No riches in the world could compare to the joy of having you by my side,” he answers without dropping a beat.

“Yeah, yeah, I know I’m great,” you laugh at the smoothness of his delivery. “But that’s not an answer.”

He sighs and pulls you into his chest, hugging you tight. Not out of concern, this time, but to comfort you. The musk of his cologne and cigarette smoke fills your nostrils as you plant a kiss underneath his collarbone.

“You may be right,” he grumbles. “What about the mother?”

“What about her?”

“Is she your enemy?” he asks quietly.

“I—I don’t know… I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive her…” you admit. There’s too much to untangle, and you’re not quite ready to start. “Does that make me a bad person?”

“Not at all. You have every right to keep her at arm’s length,” Silco answers immediately. “Your offer of charity is more than she deserves.”

“It was the right thing to do,” you murmur. You nuzzle into him, his heartbeat a soothing metronome in your ear.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers proudly.

Your heart stutters at his words and you can’t help but blush. Still, you bite your lip, fisting his shirt as your frustration rises to the surface again.

“So… I’m ‘your girl’, now?” you ask, trying to keep your voice as neutral as possible.

Silco stiffens, his arms tensing around you. He pulls away slowly, stepping backwards to look at you. His expression is stoic, but a tiny notch between his eyebrows betrays his hurt. You rub your arms as you keenly feel the loss of his embrace.

“Am I wrong to hope you feel the same way?” he asks in a low, flat voice.

“No!” you answer immediately. “But…”

It hurts you to hear Silco speak with that tone. You’ve always tried your best to be a safe space for him to express himself, to listen with empathy and compassion whenever he told you about his fears and insecurities. Not to mention the countless times you’ve patched him up, whether it’s wrapping his bloody knuckles or holding ice to his bruises.

But you’ve never been the one to hurt his feelings before.

And you almost hate yourself for it.

You take another deep breath, forcing yourself to slow down and choose your words carefully. “Silco… I can never thank you enough for all your help today, and these past few months… but…

“We need to talk.” 

───────────────── ●◉◎◈◎◉● ─────────────────

If you liked this fic, please reblog and/or leave a comment! My inbox is also open to requests for both sketches and drabbles, or just to chat. Feel free to say hi :3c

Chapter 15

[geevesthevieve]

Deleted scene/alternate opening from "Back to Back" ch. 2

The times when his brain betrayed him by flinging him back into that hell begotten warehouse were always at the worst possible moments.  

It started with him removing his helmet, which was also horrid timing. The filters had a nasty habit of clogging if not regularly cleaned out, which caused the thing to overheat. He’d been sweating as the stuffy air practically had him choking for the past ten minutes. So he’d taken the first opportunity he could and unfastened it, tucked it under his arm, and took clear, blessed breaths… Or as clear as one could at an old, musty factory left to decay with the useless ‘Keep Out’ signs doing nothing for the homeless and the addicts just trying to stay out of the cold or get their fix in peace. Clearing them out while they’d been doing a sweep for the latest wannabe supervillain’s traps that she’d left around this side of town had taken way too long and now Jason just really wanted a cigarette.

Then he heard the beeping. 

Maybe it was the tone or maybe it was how it started soft and got louder and faster with each tick. But Jason’s heart-rate followed suit, ratcheting up.

His vision darkened around the edges and the crumbling plaster and chipped stone became desiccated wood where he was barely managing to drag his mangled body across the floor, his shattered bones shifting as they scraped along the warped, splintered surface. Every fiber of him screamed. His mouth filled with the coppery tang of blood, shaping around nonsensical words that had probably been some pointless desperate plea to anyone that might be around to find him. 

The only reply he got was the ever increasing beeps.

“Hood! Get down!”

Louder and louder, high pitched, grating down on his ears. More insistent like it wasn't the only thing pulsating through Jason at that very moment…well, there was always the laughter. The maniacal laughter and the thud of metal against his ribs. 

It was going to stop soon and then the burning would envelop him. Blisters would form and burst in a matter of milliseconds. His eyes would melt and the world would go dark, but the lightless fire would continue to devour him. It would be fast, but it would take eons. 

“Jason!”

Then he’d be gone again.

Something hard slammed into his side, knocking him behind a pillar, right as the last beep sounded, and the blue and black figure that had shoved him to the ground blew past him as the bomb exploded.

It was bright and hot just like before, and then there was nothing.

Nothing.

Then… 

Ringing.

Piercing ringing replaced everything else, rattling against his skull, making him tremble. Jason blinked hard and coughed as more dust and smoke filled his lungs. He waved his arms in front of him and rammed his elbow into something hard, sending a tingling shockwave through it. He cursed, but his tongue tasted like chalk and dirt. He also was aware that he hadn’t even heard his voice when he’d spoken. 

Pushing past the raucous coughs, and spatting out the powdery taste in his mouth, he managed to somewhat settle the hard thrumming battering against his chest. The constant chiming continued going strong against his eardrums. He clapped his hands over the sides of his head and waited until other sounds started to wash the ringing further back. Then he opened his eyes again, letting them adjust to the new darkness. He squinted around for his helmet, but it was nowhere within his current view. There were only fallen columns and the crushed rusted machinery from whatever had used to be assembled here. 

Jason slowly eased himself up, dodging around the cracked pillar he’d been sheltered by, and gasped as a sharp pain shot up through his abdomen, along with a harsh creaking from his ribcage. His clanging head pounded, and the air hit an open wound at his scalp. He brushed his fingers along it and stared blankly at his bloodied hand when he brought it back around.  

He’d just had to take his helmet off.

Blinking hard, he again tried to do a scan for it in the rubble. It had his comms in it. He hated the little earpieces that went directly in his ear, but he was regretting not having one as a back-up. He needed to let the others know what had happened. Most of the bats were on the other side of the city. It had just been him and—

An icy wave poured down Jason’s back.

“Oh, shit.” He stumbled. He wasn’t sure if it was over some debris or just from his still spinning head. He just managed to catch himself on an overturned conveyor-belt—or what once might have been a conveyor-belt. He barely took the moment to clear the lingering vertigo that had his stomach flipping over too. Bracing himself on his elbows, his eyes raked over the landfill of a factory with much more fervor, the cold flooding through his veins with the force of a burst dam. “Dick!” He yelled out into the dark—screwing protocol. 

There was no reply.

Jason's heart thudded loud again, warring against the remnant ringing. There was enough awareness in him to recall his brother slamming into him. Dick might have actually been speaking to him before that, probably shouting at him to move or something before he’d jumped into action. A blur of the Nightwing suit being flung away seared across Jason’s mind’s eye.

“Dammit.” His chest rose and fell too rapidly. “Dammit!” Shoving himself off the conveyor-belt, he staggered over in the direction he thought he’d seen Dick fly.

---------------------------------

---This is just what the title says. It's from my fic "Back to Back". This was initially how I'd started the second chapter, but I realized it wasn't paralleling the first chapter like it was supposed to. So I scrapped most of it an kept some of the pieces. It's not much different. I just sort of skip this part and summarize it in the actual fic 😁 But I was going through a few things, while working on a few other new fics (I really hope to be able to post soon) and found this. So... figured I'd post it for fun!---

[xoxodeardiary]

Heart stopper

Angst no comfort

Not proof read

Everything went wrong so horrifically wrong, everything else horribly wrong, felt wrong the air that had been pushed into your lungs replacing the air that had been knocked out of you when you realized you’d been ambushed and the comms had been intercepted and he couldn’t hear you. How you heart was so erratic you’d bet it had to rock it’s self and count to ten to calm down after everything had settled. All the air that passed thought shallowly after you’d made your choice. Bold

Now here you were aching and screaming at the top of your lungs at the man you’d die for at any minute it didn’t matter. “fucking answer me” you said calmly trying to soothe your aching arm and heart. This felt like when you had did somthing bad and you thought someone knew and you were just waiting for the shoe to drop the anxiety you felt at the bottom of your heart and to the tops of your soul and being in every form it could possibly take.

Silence. It was infuriating “fucking answer me now” you screamed your sweet voice now high pitched and bare utterly agnostic on the eyes of everyone. Good you wanted him to suffer as you heart is…

“Luv’ m’trying to help” Simon bowed his head scared not from a physical threat or anything like that, scared of your tone you’d never spoken to anyone like that before not when you were barking orders at subordinates and not when interacting with the enemy for information. He’d much rather those voices than this. “Then fucking answer me then! Are you in love with Her”.

Bitter

“Love m’sorry” he tried to plead with you it felt like a firefighter trying to talk someone down from a cliff after the ink dried on all there notes stamped and in route. “Yes or no” you sour voice asked eyes narrowed and soppy. Hoping a quick nod would free him a swift yes of the head stepping forward trying to touch you. Bluntly stepping back chest rising and falling hard.

“Why? And don’t give me no bullshit about how you can’t help who you fall in love with that’s bullshit!” How could he love her she’d done nothing toe arm his love she wasn’t there for him how you were.

“She- she what huh what the hell did she do to deserve that?” You interrupted her was taking too long and it was pissing you off like he had a long list of reasons he was considering. “Please I don’t want to hurt you” he pleaded he never begged like this. “Mission failed bitch what is it huh” you needed a reason and he was stuck.

“She wasn’t there for you, she wasn’t the one who stood by you through the last ten months, the night terrors the ptsd. You didn’t fuck and make love to her for seven months straight sleeping next to her, waking up with her breakfast all that shit.” Did you mean nothing to him did all of that mean nothing.

“I would die for you I just took a fucking bullet for you, not because I had to but because I love you that’s not nothing there aren’t many people who would do that for love.” You had just jumped in front of a bullet to save him to make sure he didn’t die in the face of the enemy.

The coms had been jammed and there were more and more people approaching him, in a stupid act of love you raced over to his aid to see him down but fighting as well as fading into death. Fighting for him, beside him ready to give your life to save or die with him once the gun smoke cleared and you drug his limp body on one good leg and shoulder to the evac site shedding tear after tear for him praying to a god you were sure had domed you years ago. Pleading with him not to fade away in your arms an “I love you” on the top of your tongue when he asks for her.

“it’s everything” he whispered hearing how your heart broke right in front of him love gone like he had almost been.

“I hate you Simon”

[annefolklore]

WAIT WAIT WAITTTT. BESTFRIEND!ETHANLANDRY X READER BUT HE GETS HER PREGO AND HE LIVES AND BEGS TO BE FORGIVEN🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽I BEG

yes its me. the one who wants more, but my birthdays in 2 hours tho (may10) SCREAMING

“Please”

Pairing: Bsf!Ethan Landry x Reader

Warnings: Possible spoilers from Scream 6, use of Y/N, D/N is for daughter’s name

Synopsis: Ethan and you were friends with benefits until he reveals his true identity. Even after all this, he survives and begs to be apart of the baby and your life

It’s been a year.

A year since you last saw his face. A year since everything crumbled apart around you.

It all happened so fast but so slowly at the same time. One moment you guys were in his bed making out and a second later, you were in the shrine while Ghostface was taking off his mask to reveal curly brown hair.

You didn’t want to believe it at first, thinking it was all a nightmare because why would your bestfriend with benefits be behind all this mess? He looked at Tara and Sam first and when his eyes laid on your face, his cruel expression softened for a few seconds like he was apologetic before getting back to his cruel self…But it all looked fake.

At this moment, you wanted to cry. Bawl your eyes out as you asked yourself a single question.

“Did he wanted to add these benefits only to take advantage of me before killing me?”

This question haunts you day and night ever since discovering who was behind the mask-

A high pitched cry interrupted your thoughts and you sighed as you stood up from the couch.

After you had rocked her in your arms for what seemed like an eternity with her cries echoing in your ears, she had finally found again some sleep, but still kept her in your arms.

At one point, the doorbell rang throughout the appartement.

You quickly walked toward the door. It was probably Chad, Sam or Tara

“Hi-" you begin but the greeting die in your throat as you immediately recognize who was at the door.

That wasn’t Chad, Sam or Tara…no it was an undead.

He haven’t changed much except for his hair that got a bit longer and his gaze wasn’t as innocent as it pretended to be before. Now it was dry without an ounce of joy…until he laid eyes on your daughter

Our daughter.

Did he noticed how much she looked like him? She has the same tuft of curly hair, same eyes, nose and the same smile that could make anyone’a heart melt.

“Good evening Y/N” he greets you and tried to make a soft smile.

It’s like you snapped out of my trance and everything that happened twirled inside your head. Anika, Quinn, Gale, the core 4. Every memories came back like a tsunami of thoughts.

“Stay back” you muttered as I walked backwards.

Your hold on D/N increased a bit and he noticed the way your hold her even closer to you. His eyes were filled with an apologetic and ashamed look.

Ashamed of himself.

“Please just listen to me” he begs as he takes a step toward you.

You didn’t stop walking backwards as my head was making the “no” side over and over again until your calves touched the couch.

This couldn’t be real right? This couldn’t be happening right now.

“I know I fucked up and you have every reason to hate me…but please just listen to what I have to say” he says again with a pleading look in his eyes.

He hesitated. You couldn’t risk D/N safety around someone like him, but curiosity got the better of you. Telling the core 4 about his return would be a mistake too, because they’ll kill him and you’ll never know what he wanted

So you made the safest option and you let him enter your appartement. It was like letting the wolf enter the lamb’s home.

Your index pointed the couch and he sat down as you demanded him to. Meanwhile, you went to your daughter’s bedroom to put her in her sleeping self in the crib.

If his intentions were still wicked, at least she wouldn’t be in the same room and you prayed he wouldn’t hurt her after killing you.

“You have ten minutes” you acknowledged him and sat at the opposite side of the couch.

“Thank you”

Ethan found the need to say that before beginning anything. You made a small nod and he began talking.

“First of all, I want you to know that I never wanted to do all that-" but you interrupted him.

“But you still did it Ethan! You lied and-" this time he interrupted you

“Please let me speak” he said as he sighed. “I did all this so my dad could actually find me interesting. Ever since I was a child it was always Richie, the perfect son. The one who got all of my dad’s attention after my mother died. If it wasn’t him that was being praised, it was Quinn. She’s the first daughter and the oldest twin. Quinn has always been a daddy’s-little-girl and she became the favourite child after our brother’s death.”

He explain. Ethan took a deep breath before continuing.

“But what about Ethan Bailey? I was only the youngest, the baby of the family that nobody acknowledged. After Richie died, Wayne started treat me like Richie and I enjoyed the sudden attention…until he asked me to be a Ghostface. I hesitated a long time, but accepted because I thought that if maybe I did like Richie he would love me more”

You were speechless as he spilled all this at you.

“But you came along and we began our benefits relationship- and oh you don’t know how much I hated myself at this time-" but you interrupted him again

“This doesn’t explain how you survived and found me”

He almost chuckled at your eager of answers, but this wasn’t something to laugh at.

“The tv only hit my head, but it didn’t damage anything, it only made me black out for a few” he explained “Fortunately, I woke up the same moment cops showed up and I successfully slipped through their fingers”

He hesitated before continued his story. “Now you’re gonna find me weird” he sigh

“I already find you weird, just say what you were about to” you say

“I found where you lived because I looked for you and the core 4” he spited out

“You stalked us” You say more as a statement than a question.

“No I looked for you, I didn’t stalk you…and if I didn’t I would’ve never found out that we have a daughter”

Ethan chose not to say that he followed you almost everyday to know that got where you needed to be safely.

A silent went in between both of you. You couldn’t believe what you were doing. Ghostface was right in front of you and you were having a cordial conversation with him. What would the others think?

“Can I ask you a question?” you breath out.

Ever since he got here, the question has been burning your tongue. He nodded and you asked it in a small voice “Did you agree to level up our friendship only to take advantage of me?”

He frowned at your sentence. He never imagined once that you would feel like that

“Y/N of course not. I’m not some kind of monster…”

“But I still don’t know if I can trust you Ethan…after everything”

Ethan pursed his lips together and looked at the ground. “Please, I will do whatever it takes”

“I don’t know…” you whispered and stood up as you sigh and he stand up too.

He made small steps toward you and when you didn’t pushed him away, he took your much smaller hands in his with a pleading look. “Please Y/N, you’re the only one I knew wouldn’t kill me if I shewed up”

“How do you know I won’t kill you” you say, attempting to scare him but it didn’t work one bit. You knew damn well you weren’t going to kill him.

“Please, I promise to never do anything stupid again” he pleads as he looked into your eyes.

His gaze was full of sorrow and regret while yours were uncertain. Ethan noticed how tense you were and did the first thing that came to his mind.

His knees soon touched the ground and he began the beg even more. “Please Y/N, I cannot live knowing you hate me. I accept the core 4, but please not you. You’re my best friend and I love you so much”

His voice was cracking as he spoke and his hands that were still holding you began to shake. “I even started therapy and I could get a psychologist too if that would make you happy and feel safe around me”

Tears blurs your sights as you listened to his promises. Maybe you should give him a chance after all…

“I’m so sorry for everything” his sentence full of his teary voice as he cried. “I won’t ever do something bad again. I’ll make you happy everyday Y/N and if you allowed me too I would make our daughter happy”

Your appartement was filled with his pleading and his cry and after all, the wolf was revealed to be as soft as a lamb.

———-

I hope you liked what I wrote for your request and happy birthday @scqr6m ! This was really long to write and I tried posting it yesterday for your birthday but because of school I couldn’t 😭And also you can choose the daughter’s name since I did this for your birthday.

This is unfortunately a one time thing, because I don’t want people to lie about their birthdays so I write them something. I did this for her because it was my first serious request so yeah

I hope you guys liked it and English isn’t my first language but I tried my best to make it make sense.

[hearted-anon]

Cosy evenings with Hyung

Words:1,035 Note: part 2 to 'clingy bread, happy ferret'. Requested by : @hearts444innie Taglist: @reginald-stay09 @itzsana-kiddingmenow @hetashi-takashimaya @soap143 @jungwon-is-the-one @minnielvrr T/w: rough tickling Lee: Jeongin Ler: Channie

"Ah- Jeongin you're crushing me here! I know you miss me but…" Chan sighed, feeling the fox wrap his arms around the elder's arm so tightly he could feel the blood circulation being cut off. Despite managing to quite literally pry the vocalist off him, he instead decided to cling onto his leg like a dog, rubbing his cheek against the bare skin of his thigh. Squealing at the feeling, the leader pulled at his leg desperately, an interested Hyunibini duo watching on with growing smiles on their faces, quickly being replaced when Hyunjin began to chase the elder around the apartment with a threat for punishment.

"C'mon, let's… go- ugh!" Every time Chan found a way to deter the younger from attaching to him like an octopus, he always found another way to ruin that plan, and this time it was sticking to his chest like a cat that found its favourite cat tree. Succumbing to the fact he had to go back to dorms like this, he at least tried to make himself comfortable with a groan, a hand under Jeongin's legs and another opening the door to their cosy apartment, surprisingly spotless from the fact he left the youngest home for quite some time. But then again, he had snuck himself all the way to snuggle with Hyunjin, which the Aussie internally found so incredibly cute.

"Alright, now you stay there, I'll make dinner. If I even see you take one step towards me, you're getting it," Chan warns sternly, with no malice behind it however, instead having a wide dimpled smile. He knew Jeongin would've tried something either way, having slept for so long gave him enough energy to bounce around their dorm at least ten times. Just as he expected, it hadn't even reached two minutes with the Aussie reaching in for some spaghetti before his eyes locked onto the fox, who was hidden not so discreetly behind a kitchen counter, brown strands of hair peeking up to stare at him.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he didn't even bother with punishing the vocalist, hearing the loud screams and high-pitched cackles for mercy next door was already enough to put him in a bad mood to wreck Jeongin, but he knew better than to scare him off like that. After all, who didn't enjoy having a clingy Jeongin by your side? Having sniffed out the smell of bacon and Carbonara sauce, the younger sped over as if a pet to their favourite treat, mouthwatering and staring at the leader with the biggest puppy eyes he could muster.

Many, many grunts and carrying the maknae back to the couch later, Chan felt victorious! He had managed to make a good-looking dinner without burning down the kitchen with Jeongin's constant bothering by his side and even adding on a side of dumplings. To say they devoured it at the speed of light was an understatement, now both of them staring down the last piece of the savoury treat. Although Chan had originally intended to hand the last piece to the younger out of instinct, he decided to take a different route, untouching of the treat.

"How about you have it Hyung?" Damn it, now he felt guilty just staring at the fox as he pushed the plate towards him, denying it and pushing it right back at him.

"No, you have it, I'm full." Chan declared, pouting when Jeongin denied it yet again, not wanting to even lift his chopsticks towards the treat. Puffing his cheeks up, he pounced onto the vocalist, fingers wiggling against his sides without mercy.

"Nohoho! I-I dohon't wahant it!" The younger squealed, pawing at the elder's hands to no avail on the carpeted floor, only able to thrash in a futile attempt to escape. No matter how many times he protested, the leader could tell the maknae was indeed still hungry but couldn't even enjoy his meal without humility in his way. Oh, was Chan going to ensure he was the most spoilt baby ever to exist.

"You do, and you know what liars get? They get punished." Chan sternly nags, shoving his fingers into the younger's armpits, drilling right into the center. Poor Jeongin screamed at the top of his lungs, cackling as the sensations felt as if they were frying his body, clamping his arms in an attempt to protect himself; it came to no one's surprise that it obviously didn't do anything to help him.

"HYUNG- AHA- PLEHEHEASE!" The maknae somehow manages through wheezes of air, Chan smiling endearingly down at him. He really was too ticklish for his own good, seeing how they barely had made it to two minutes before his fists were pounding on the carpet, his entire neck flushed red and his legs quivering after making a failed attempt to dig a hole in the floor with his heels.

"Are you going to eat finish the dumpling there? Hm? No pushing it to me, no saying you're full because I know you aren't, no whining?" Chan coos, clicking his tongue in contemplation if he was being too harsh, not letting Jeongin whine was like a death sentence in their dorm apartment. Despite this, the vocalist nodded rapidly, tears of mirth welling up in his eyes the moment the five-minute mark in. With a sound of adoration, the leader let up, kneading his cheeks while praising him for letting his humility be put aside for once. Although Jeongin already looked like a real-life tomato, he somehow managed to become even redder at the praise, a faux frown pasted on his face as he pushed the leader away.

Safe to say, Jeongin did in fact finish his dinner with his cheeks full of dumplings, Chan having 'accidentally' made ten extra hearing the younger's stomach so much as to vibrate. But as he cleaned up the dining table, he felt as if hawk eyes were watching, staring at the hyperactive maknae that was glaring in his soul. With a giggle of endearment, he gently folded the cloth away, chasing down the fox all over again while squeaks and giggles echoed down the halls.

It always was fun spending your evenings with Hyung, right?

[itsclydebitches]

ok ok ok but imagine trent's daughter, Phoebe and Henry, on a playdate or exploring stadium together? Like how have these kiddos not become friends??

YOU'RE SO RIGHT, ANON.

Headcanon time:

During a weekend training Henry is visiting again, Roy's sister is sick so he's justifying the Best Uncle award Phoebe gave him last year (it's very glittery), and Trent's babysitter unexpectedly bailed. So they all trail into work with kids that day and Rebecca is like, "Excuse me this is not a fucking daycare."

She says this while giving them all a kiss.

Pheobe: "That's a bad word, Ms. Welton, you owe me a pound."

Henry and Phoebe immediately race outside to play with the team but Trent's daughter, who is both younger and has never played football before, is just the shiest little bean about joining in. Trent, expert in anxious parenting, is prepared to run damage control with her favorite coloring books but Ted holds him back and within ten minutes Phoebe is showing her the ropes while Henry is Very Seriously working to tie her hair back for her.

Henry: "Excuse me, Mr. Independent sir, but can I borrow another hair-tie?"

Trent: "... how do you know my name?"

Trent, internally: Wait. Mr. Independent isn't my name??

Trent, with shorter hair than in Season 2: "Never mind that. How do you know I have hair-ties?"

Henry, answering both questions: "Daddy."

[Trent.exe has stopped working]

Rebecca, shouting across the pitch: "Give her pigtails, Henry! There you go!"

So the crimmlet learns some football and Trent, after recovering from his Omg Ted Talks About Me to His Son panic almost sorta kinda cries about it. By this point the himbos are absolutely in love with the trio and would die for them, no hesitation. (Dani actually says this, which is mildly alarming for the kids). After some super secret techniques are shared -- Phoebe: "This is how you kick the ball into someone's face. Uncle Ted loves it!" -- they all decide that they should probably get some actual training done. Besides, Henry just brought up the West Ham game he went to and... uh...

Yeah. Best to scoot them on out of there. Unconditional love doesn't trump hatred of West Ham, unfortunately.

The stadium houses a team of pro athletes and a massive staff of sleep-deprived professionals, meaning that there's plenty of food to go around for lunch. Ted (childhood personified) and Trent (a domestic mess post-divorce) are both happy to let the kids pig out on snacks. A growled "Fuck that" from Roy sends them off to the kitchen downstairs.

Do stadiums have kitchens? No idea. Probably not. This one does!

Trent, carryout aficionado: "So... does anyone know how to cook?"

Roy: "Do I fucking look like I have time to cook?"

Trent: "This was your idea."

Roy: "Shut up."

Ted: "Hmm. I'm afraid I'm more of a baking man myself."

The kids have been sitting at the counter, heads ping-ponging back and forth as they watch their three guardians fail the basic task of feeding them. Luckily for their faith in adults, it's about this moment that the crimmlet remembers that this is Ted.

Biscuit Ted.

Did you know that Trent Crimm used to be in a band? A metal band? That for six months in college he rebelled in the only way he knew how - artistically - and screamed everything he was keeping bottled up inside until he learned to purge himself through vicious prose instead?

His daughter inherited his lungs.

A six-year-old's high-pitched screaming + the reverberation of a primarily metal space = Significant Pain. Ted's, "Holy moly, Ms. Banshee!" is barely audible and Roy just nopes out of the situation without a shred of guilt. Phoebe and Henry -- immune to loud noises in the way only children can be -- exchange a A Look over the top of the crimmlet's head. Because she's screaming for the biscuits Ted gives her every week.

Henry hasn't had his Dad's cookies in six months.

Phoebe hasn't had them at all.

Now the screaming is joined by Very Indignant Yelling.

Trent: "Ted just make them some fucking biscuits."

Ted: "Right because that's healthier than the vending machines!?"

But one sugary meal is worth saving their eardrums, so.

There's an immediate change in tune when Ted asks who's gonna help him lick the bowl. Instant peace. Baking with three kids is messy, to put it mildly, and Ted isn't entirely sure how flour got into Trent's hair, but it definitely has more white streaks in it than it did this morning. Without thinking, he reaches up to smooth some of the flour away, fingers dragging gently through a lock and brushing his cheek in the process.

[Trent.exe has stopped working x2]

Crimmlet, tugging his pantleg with little flour handprints: "Daddy can the biscuit man stay forever?"

Trent, voice strangled: "... sure, honey."

Higgins pops in to find an absolute disaster of a kitchen and the normally unruffled Trent with cheeks the color of maraschino cherries (what's that about?). After getting caught up on events -- what they're willing to admit to, anyway -- he gently informs them that he could have fixed the kids a meal not made out of sugar and butter. Ah well. Too late now.

Higgins: "Also, Ted, shouldn't you be coaching the boys?"

Ted: "I'm sure Beard has it well in hand."

[Hard cut to the team seated semi-circle around Beard. He's lecturing on the drugs they can take without tanking their careers. Many are taking notes.]

The one good thing about a sugar high is that the crash comes right afterwards. Pheobe managed to get the crimmlet on her shoulders and the three of them raced off to explore the stadium, burning with short-term energy. Trent is mildly concerned about them sneaking out, but Ted reassures him that there's security at every exit. You know, to keep any... uh...

Trent: Press out?

Ted: Not all the press.

Trent: Oh, so I'm an exception am I?

Higgins, still standing there, forgotten, thinking about the book Trent is writing and how yes, he's literally an exception??

Ted: Trent Crimm you are not only an exception, you are exceptional.

[Trent.exe has stopped working x3]

Higgins, internally: OHHHHHHHHH

Later, there is a brief moment of panic when they can't find the kids -- Roy: "Don't worry. I once lost Phoebe and she turned up in my neighbor's bathtub with a new haircut." Ted: "Huh. That there's a story for another time." -- but Will ushers them quietly into the storeroom where they're piled like puppies on a bed of clean laundry, fast asleep. Ted snaps a picture and immediately sends it to the Richmond group chat. The himbos all come running to see the wholesomeness for themselves.

Will, whispering: They're so cute!! ... wait, now I need to do the laundry again :(((

Dani: No. Do not. Their beautiful, sleepy essence will help us win games.

Will: ... weird, but alright.

Henry's getting a little big for this now, but Ted manages to lift him bridle style and gently presses a kiss into his hair. Trent tenderly picks his little girl up, hand cradling her curls.

Roy slings Phoebe over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She doesn't stir.

Rebecca sternly tells them that they're never to do this again, but also if she doesn't see the trio soon they'll regret it. Here's the ten pounds I owe Phoebe. Also there had better be some biscuits left, Ted.

Henry only wakes when they're back at the apartment, Beard flipping through nature documentaries while Ted kicks his legs up into his lap. Henry squeezes between the two of them.

Ted: "You have fun today, kiddo?"

Henry: "Uh huh."

Ted: "Hey, what's Trent's daughter's name anyway?"

Henry: "Oh... I never asked."

Beard tuts. "Why you wanna know so bad?"

Ted: "I just figure I should know his kid's name before I ask him out."

[Trent, twelve miles West, suddenly and without any warning getting hit with an absolute fuckton of feelings]:

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

While he is walking in the forest, skeleton gets kidnapped by a mama bear who now considers him her baby and refuses to let him go, attacking everyone getting near him. What will skeleton do to escape?

Undertale Sans - Bold to you to assume he wants to escape. He's having the time of his life, cuddling in the bear's arms, and it's the best nap spot he has ever found. No way in hell he's moving out of here, that's his new house. He's too comfy to move.

Undertale Papyrus - He's quite terrified and tries to not freak out, even eating raw fish to make sure the very huge bear doesn't eat him instead. He called Undyne while Mama bear went to hunt, refusing to leave to not hurt the bear's feelings anyway. He didn't expect Undyne to come to fistfight the bear, but somehow, it worked. Papyrus felt bad for Mama Bear and came back a few days after to give her some fish lol.

Underswap Sans - That's the first time he can ride a bear and the bear is actually willing to carry him. He's never getting down again, and he runs away with the bear, laughing like a gremlin, forcing everyone in town to run after him. It's the best day of his life.

Underswap Papyrus - He keeps fainting every ten minutes or so. It's too much for his brain. He's terrified, and every time he passes out, he hopes it's a nightmare, but it's not, and it makes him pass out again. He just wants to go home, he's begging the bear. He misses his TV, and his video games, and he swears he will never leave his room ever again. He's getting rescued by vet services who accidentally shoot him with a hypodermic needle while trying to drug the bear... Well, at least, he wakes up after a good night of sleep.

Underfell Sans - He bites the bear, trying to get free. Mama Bear takes that as his kid being rebellious, pins him on the floor and sits on him lol. Red is screeching angrily, trying to get free, but the bear is heavy and he can't do anything. He only remembers after three hours of struggle that actually, he can just teleport away. The next day, the bear is waiting in his garden. Red wants to cry.

Underfell Papyrus - He refuses to call for help because he prefers to die than be rescued by Undyne in this humiliating position. He tried to fight, but the bear is not having it and keeps blocking his attacks, somehow. So he gave up, just sitting in a corner, stuck. That's quite sad. Edge will be found three days later by the police, who don't understand why he didn't call them. Edge refused to answer to that lol. If someone mentioned what happened, he will fight.

Horrortale Sans - Oh well. He's behaving like a bear himself so it was doomed to happen. Though the caver is not very comfortable so Oak picks up the bear and brings it home to sleep in his room. He's so confused when Willow high-pitch screams to get the bear out of the house. He can't put it out, it adopted him??? He doesn't want to hurt the bear's feelings. That's clearly his bear now.

Horrortale Papyrus - How did that even happen, he's twice as big as the bear??? Willow is stuck against the bear, who holds him really tight so he doesn't leave. Except his back is starting to hurt, and there are all these chores at home he had to stop... Please? He needs to get home? He asks the bear if he can go now. The bear accepts only after he scratches her ears for an entire hour.

Swapfell Sans - It's humiliating. He called the police, but the police didn't know what to do so they evacuated the bear and him to the nearest zoo. Now he's a national attraction, everyone wants to see and interview the stupid skeleton who can't escape the bear enclosure. He needs a shower so bad. It's the worst few days of his life.

Swapfell Papyrus - He speaks bear now. He learned it while he was getting kidnapped. He can't wait to talk bear to Nox to makes him believe he's now possessed by a demon and watch him freak out. Other than that, he's pretty chill. He's kinda happy the bear likes him, it's making him feel special for once.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He's horrified every time that filthy animal touches him with its filthy hands. He's cringing hard and he wants to get home to burn his clothes. He smells like a bear, and he wants to die. Why would the bear kidnap him if it refused to fight? He's not a plushie, he's the fearless general of the royal guard! Show him some respect already! He manages to flee after a few days, but he feels like he can never get rid of the bear smell. He's that close to burning his house.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - I mean, that could be worse. Sure, it's scary, but it's like a giant teddy bear and he's so happy he can cuddle it? He doesn't really want this moment to stop actually. He's comfortable, far from civilisation and Mama Bear feeds him, so... Maybe he was a bear all along and never knew it? He's for sure one now.

[rat-typewriter]

hi! i hole you’re doing good! when you get the chance can you do high school aged baseball player bill de brought x fem reader who plays softball headcannons? thank you!

Notes: Girlie im so sorry this has been in my inbox for like a year,,, but better late than never right???? also im not american so i have no clue what a softball is so this is based off of ten minutes on wikipedia

BaseballPlayer!Bill Denbrough with a SoftballPlayer!S/O

alrighty,,, so first off your school only has one pitch - so Bill first sees you while getting ready for practice and your team is finishing up training

Honestly he spots you straight away - not necessarily because you're any better than the rest of the girls, but because of how you cheer your teammates on any time they make a good hit

He finds it so endearing, seeing someone so openly kind and genuinely excited for their friends

Not to mention he thinks you're probably the prettiest girl hes ever seen but whatever

But he's s u p e r awkward so wouldn't actually work up the courage to talk to you for a couple of months

BUT THEN

it's late afternoon in May; he's waiting with his team for practice and your team is finishing up again

you manage to hit the ball into the chainlink fence and it jams into one of the gaps

now,,, your team has a strict "whoever touched the ball last has to go find it" policy (which has left you digging through bushes of brambles on many occasions) so there you were, half on tip-toe and half straight up CLIMBING the fence to try and reach the stupid ball

you could hear your friends laughing across the pitch and (although you loved them to pieces) you definitely shot them a few death glares

One time you turn and stick your toungue out at them, playfully shouting for them to fuck off

and when you turn back, you nearly jump out of your skin

lo and behold on the other side of the fence is the CUTEST boy you've ever seen, reaching up and pushing the ball back through

and when he looks at you with those blue eyes

asafsghadssdhj

let's just say you don't catch the ball when he knocks it out

you stare at him and you can feel blood rushing to your face

internally you're screaming at yourself to stop gawking at him like a weirdo and SAY SOMETHING

if the fence wasn't between the two of you, the space between you would have been too small to be socially acceptable

honestly you're both so awkward you probably would have just stood there forever, but sooner or later his team would notice him with a girl

"Shit, Bill's got game!"

the entire group of boys suddenly broke out into laughs, jeers and whistles

needless to say Bill was mortified

mind you,,, your friends were no better

every time you saw him after that, they would all start giggling and nudging you like maniacs

don't get me wrong, you love your friends to pieces,,,, but you could have killed them all

you occasionally bumped into Bill a few times after that: around school, sometimes in town - but your first proper conversation was while sitting on the grass outside school

Your team was practicing, but you were in trouble with the coach for flunking a maths exam - so she was making you sit out to study for this session

you stared at you maths textbook - lets be real, not really thinking about anything - when he came over

"M-maths, huh?" he asked, craning his neck to read your notebook

"Yeah," you smiled. "Gotta say though, it's just not adding up."

why in the world did you say that

seriously

worst joke ever (not me slandering a joke i literally just wrote down smh)

But it was the first time you had managed to make him properly laugh

he grinned and your soul more-or-less left your body

you chatted for a while after that, him helping with a few questions

but mostly just messing around and laughing

it was only when your coach shouted to you that practice had ended twenty-five minutes ago that you suddenly snapped back to reality

"Oh shit," you gasped, stumbling to your feet; shoving the book into your bag. "I gotta get home"

He stood with you, helping to pick up your pens and papers

"Sorry!" he smiled sheepishly (oh god that smile) "I didn't mean to make you late."

"It's not your fault." you grinned

Suddenly you realised, didn't he have practice now? the baseball team always came on after softball ended

you asked him where his team were and his face suddenly reddened and he admitted that there was no baseball practice that day

"Oh I get it," you teased. "You came all the way out here just for me?"

he didn't reply, instead laughing and looking away

oh.

OH.

"wait, seriously?"

he swallowed and grinnef again. "m-maybe."

"Well," You paused. "We should do this again some time."

And that is how you got your first date with Bill denbrough

((You went cycling))

[reigningqueenofwords]

That Kiss

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader

Part 7 of Welcome to the Family

It felt like you were choking as you gasped for air. Reaching in your pocket, you pulled out a lighter and panicked. You were in a coffin. Automatically, you screamed for help. Or, tried to. Pushing against the lid, dirt came down on you, taking what little air you had. You were forced to dig your way out, into the sunlight. Sunlight that you hadn’t seen in what seemed like forever.

Looking around you, every tree was lying on the ground. Not from anything man made, either. You picked a direction and started walking. There was one thing on your mind- find your boys. There was no telling what your death had done to Dean. Or Sam. There was no telling if Dean went back to his old habits, or worse.

You had no idea how long you walked in the sweltering sun, but eventually, you found a gas station. You broke in when no one answered, finding water, and food- eating as you piled everything in a bag. You had checked your stomach, flashes of your last moments hitting you. There was no evidence that it ever happened. There was something new, however. An odd burn looking hand print on your shoulder.

A high pitched nose pierced your ears, making you feel like your head was exploding. The windows and glass shattered as you hit the floor. This was like nothing you had ever felt before. And, just as fast as it hit, it was over.

The first place you went, knowing that he could help you hunt them down, was to Bobby’s. He’d be able to get you to them, to Dean, in much less time than it would take me. His face of pure shock, with a hint of anger. Not that you blamed him. Being a smart ass, you said the first thing that came to mind. “Surprise.” You smirked.

Next thing you knew, there was a knife aimed at you, and then you were fighting. You had to get him to stop, to listen. You were clutching the arms of a chair, rambling off anything about him that you knew that would get him to pause, and to think about this.

After all the tests, you were catching up like you’d simply been away. Hearing that the boys weren’t hunting together, you furrowed your brows. Why were they hunting alone? What the hell happened when you died?

Bobby helped you track down Sam first, him being closest. The two of you left that same afternoon.

Standing in front of a dark door with a cheesy looking heart on it, you were surprised to see a pretty brunette open the door. Okay. She was hot. A hot brunette. She asked where the pizza was and you raised an eyebrow.  “I think we got the wrong room.” You smiled.

“Hey is that–” Everyone looked towards where Sam’s voice was coming from. Your chest felt tight at the sight of him.

There was a long pause before anyone said a word. “Heya, Sammy.” The words felt foreign but right. Just like with Bobby, the moment you walked in, there was a knife aimed at you. There was a commotion, but when you come back from hell, that tends to happen. Bobby had him in quite the hold, letting him know that it was really you. That he’d done this song and dance before.

As that sunk in, realization washed over Sammy’s face. He pulled you into a hug, which you returned in kind, your hands gripping the back of his shirt.

Bobby drove his truck, while you and Sam were in the Impala on the way to get Dean. Your thumb kept brushing over where your wedding band had been. After about ten minutes on the road, Sam couldn’t stand it anymore. “Did you mean what you said?” He asked, glancing at you. “That night?”

You swallowed, giving him a small smile as you nodded. “I did, still do, to be honest.” Looking back through the windshield, you bit your lip. “Did you?”

He licked his lips, smirking for a moment. “Yeah, I did.” He told you. “That kiss has been playing on my mind over and over.” Sam admitted.

“So, what happens now? I mean…I love Dean. I married Dean.” The guilt hit you. “Did you tell him?”

Sam shook his head, reaching over and taking your hand. “No, I didn’t. As for what happens, why don’t we just wing it?”

You glanced at your hands, fingers laced together, before your eyes shot to his face, seeing his profile. “Are you serious?” Your voice was almost a whisper, despite the fact that it was only the two of you in the car.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve spent the last 4 months thinking about that night over and over. We watched you get ripped to shreds because of me.” Sam glanced at you. “Not just anyone would be willing to do that for someone else.”

Nothing more was said on your part, simply looking out the window, not taking your hand from his for the rest of the ride.

Sam and Bobby stood in front of you, hiding you from view of Dean’s motel room door. The last thing they wanted was Dean attacking you, knowing that he would regret it. “Sam? Bobby?” Came the voice of your husband, and you were nearly in tears at the sound. “What are you doing here?”

A smile graced Sam’s face. “We brought someone for you.” He told him.

Dean furrowed his brow. “What? I don’t need anyone, Sammy, I hit the bar when I need to relieve some tension, and I move on.”

They parted, letting you be seen. “I’m home.” You told him.

Tagging: @callsign-ember

[shiningwonderland]

Camus (All Star) Memorial

Translator: Mimi (Twitter: _mimisaurora)

Memorial 9 - Forcibly Recruited

“He will be… coming through here soon.”

I checked the time using my pocket watch as I hid myself behind one of the building walls. 

I thought over the information I had already verified many times once again. 

My target's name was Shining Saotome. 

His real name, age, and most other details remained unknown.

Her Majesty the Queen had assigned me the mission of finding the man who visited the Silk Palace nearly ten years ago.

And to confirm that he and Mitsuo Saotome are the same person.

As soon as it is established that Shining was indeed Mitsuo, a new order would be given to me by Her Majesty.

However…

I initially believed this would be an easy assignment, but the target's profile had been thoroughly redacted.

It was said that a person was taken out for even trying to know that name.

“You are not a native of our country, and yet you hide your name…”

Saotome supposedly made a living singing, dancing, and acting a fool.

For what reason would such a man, who is not of noble birth, hide his name?

“Now the only way forward is to approach him personally.”

I was going to pose as a fan and attempt to get his attention, expecting him to emerge soon from the building in front of me.

That was my plan. 

The setup was that a foreigner has come all the way to Japan to meet Shining Saotome. 

I knew that "idols" are not to easily dismiss those who claim to be fans.

I checked my outfit once again. 

A plain T-shirt and jeans.

While reluctant, I dressed myself as an ordinary citizen would in this country.

This should not raise any suspicions.

The way I speak to him should be polite.

People in this country use different words depending on the context, which made things tricky.

I had only learned Japanese just before I came to Japan, so it was still rusty in some places, but it shouldn't have negatively impacted the mission.

“Your Majesty… I swear to get you the information you wish to see.”

Her Majesty often wore a miserable face, but she always looked so happy when talking about Saotome.

Although she never shared why, I supposed he was someone very important to her.

“... No matter what.”

That’s when there was a sudden commotion coming from the area where Saotome was scheduled to exit the building from. 

All I could hear was a chorus of high-pitched screaming.

“What….?”

I had not anticipated this. 

I quickly surveyed the scene and quickly assessed the situation. 

Sure enough, Saotome appeared from inside the building.

The problem being…

It was not only Saotome, but also other idols from the agency with him.

“Kyah!! Ryuya!”

“Ringo-chan’s here too! Look this way!”

A foolish crowd of people swarmed around Saotome and his colleagues, shrieking and yelling.

“...What a pain.”

This will prevent me from approaching the target.

“You lot… get out of the way.”

“The hell. You shut your trap!”

“Wha… You animal.”

I gripped one of the women by the shoulder, but as she turned to look back, I was dealt a blow with an elbow to the side of my abdomen.

I stopped breathing for a second and fell to my knees.

“Guh… How dare you attack me…”

I thought about giving her a rude surprise right then and there, but the woman in question disappeared into the crowd, squealing and giggling. 

I quickly reminded myself that this was not the time to get involved with someone so insignificant.

The enthusiasm resembled that of a festival. What was there to get so excited about when anyone could watch any number of "idols" on TV?

“Grr… What to do…”

Hundreds of "fans" have Saotome and his group surrounded so closely they can't even be seen from here.

So what shall I do? Retreat from here for now…?

However, Saotome's schedule also remains a mystery.

He even often takes last-minute unscheduled activities, as if on the lookout for any attempts on his life.

If I miss out now, who knows when the next opportunity will arise to approach the target.

“Fine. Until I overcome every obstacle.”

I am not one to back down from something like this. 

But I would also prefer not to try to fight through this crowd of fools.

So in this case.... I will go up. 

I ran my eyes over to the building beside me. 

There was a fire escape on the side facing this way.

I wasted no time in ascending the stairs. 

I jumped up with the momentum of putting my hand on the handrail. 

The building was not very tall, so after repeating the process a few times, I soon reached the rooftop. 

If I leaped over to the next building, Saotome and his crew would be directly below me.

“It doesn't matter how far you go to keep yourself surrounded, it's futile if you keep your top open... Saotome.”

I leap forward and free-fall to land directly behind my target.

My sudden appearance startles and elicits a different kind of scream from the people around us.

“EH!? W-What’s going on!?”

“Someone dropped down…!?”

“Pardon me, Miss.”

I shut her up by turning around and offering her a smile.

Once I'd caught my breath and straightened my disheveled hair, I turned to my target once again.

“Good afternoon.”

The idols standing next to him stood there dumbfounded.

Why are those bastards looking at me like that?

The only one who didn't seem to be fazed in the slightest was Saotome.

As expected of the man whom Her Majesty cared about.

“You’re Saotome-san, right?”

I spoke with a smile, and the tall man by Saotome's side interrupted me by stepping forward.

“Wait… Who the hell are you? What business do you have with the president?”

He held a fierce gaze. I was sure that this man was an idol, but he probably doubled as a bodyguard as well. 

I replied with a smile, maintaining my distance from him.

“I’m terribly sorry. I would like to talk, not to you, but to Saotome-san. That's Mitsuo Saotome-san, correct?”

I called him out and sought his response.

Well, how do you respond?

“What~? I’m Shining Saotome. Maybe you've got the wrong guy?”

Saotome twisted his head around quizzically.

He showed not the slightest indication he was upset. 

I knew he was no ordinary person.

“But…”

Saotome nagged his thick finger at me as I was about to go on the offense. 

“It’s impolite to ask for a name without providing yours first? Understand, BOY?”

“Calling me a boy… is rude.”

I recognize I am young, but I am still an established earl.

It is disgraceful to a nobleman to be underestimated as a young man.

“Are you not a boy? Then who exactly are you?”

“Hmph.”

I adopted a formal demeanor and announced with dignity.

“If you ask, I shall answer. I am Earl Camus, valiant and proud sword of the Silk Palace!”

Then, surprisingly, there was commotion in the background.

“What’s this? A drama?”

“An impromptu performance in a place like this?”

“Huh? Is this guy a foreign talent?”

“Ah, he’s super cool!”

The crowd of fools began to squeal once again.

…What’s so entertaining about this?

Saotome continued to maintain a nonchalant attitude and shrugged his shoulders.

“OH. So you’re an Earl. It is an absolute honor, however, speaking to me without an appointment first is a no-no.”

He cheerfully but mercilessly announced and turned his back on me.

Great.

“Is that so…. But I am a big fan of yours, and have traveled all the way from my homeland just to meet you….”

I slumped my shoulders and as he was about to walk away, watched as his back tensed.

Heh… all according to plan.

The foolish people who surround us would be grateful for such an opportunity. 

In the presence of so many people, it would be impossible to neglect me now.

“Hm? A fan…?”

Saotome turned around and lifted up his dark-tinted sunglasses.

“Hmmmmmmm.”

He brings his face close to mine, sizing me up.

“W-What…”

I momentarily flinched and his lips parted in a grin.

“Or… what you’re trying to say is… you want to be an idol like me!”

…Huh?

“A huge fan of mine is going out of his way to become my protege…. I'm impressed!”

Saotome's huge hands gripped mine.

“Wow! How wonderful! The Shining Agency’s first foreign talent! I welcome you with open arms!”

The woman next to Saotome bounced happily, and the crowd around began to make a fuss again.

“Hold on. What’s going on?”

“He just showed up and volunteered to be his apprentice.”

“His drive is amazing! Such a beautiful guy would do well in Japan, don't you think?”

“I’ll be his first fan!”

“N-No! Absolutely not!”

“Nice timing! The age of globalization is upon us! I was just thinking that our office could use new talent from outside of Japan!

“I don't give a damn about your affairs!”

“Hmmmmm. But you’re already here.”

A broad smile broke out on Saotome's face.

I had such a bad feeling about it that it sent chills down my spine. 

For me to be so afraid…

“YOU, can you sing?”

“O-Of course… There's nothing I can't do.”

“Yes, good, that is very nice!! You should also grow your hair out! And wear a suit too!”

Saotome, despite my being upset, kept going on and on.

“I cannot, however, serve anyone but Her Majesty the Queen…”

I had no idea at the time that Her Majesty would be so supportive of my joining the agency.

“....Sigh.”

I let out a heavy sigh unbecoming of a nobleman, looked up from my open book, and scanned the backstage area.

From then on...

I thought that Her Majesty would obviously disapprove of this.

However, after being ordered to join the agency and look for information on Saotome, it was impossible for me to disobey

In the end, I ended up becoming the first foreign idol to be affiliated with the Shining Agency.

And… a few years passed.

I discovered Saotome's true identity, including a memento belonging to Her Majesty, and acquired most of the information I needed.

My duty has now changed to that of security service.

The directive has changed, but I am still part of the agency. 

But ...

When looking around, one is left wondering if this is really an idol agency.

They were all a colorful assortment of entertainers. 

There was a person who dressed themselves as a woman, a fried chicken guy, a man pretending to be a rocker and someone who I was sure wasn’t even human…

I sighed, ripped open the bundle of stick sugars with my hands and quietly poured them into my coffee cup.

“Am I… the only sane one here?”

…Why are they all staring at me at once?

[keneestorytimelibrary]

The Yard (Short Horror Story)

“I wish I didn’t pick up that fucker’s call.” I said out loud, as I flashed my torch towards the dark alley between the stack of shipping containers. There must’ve been at least hundreds stacked on top of each other, creating tall walls and an endless maze. I was supposed to have off today, but the guy who had this shift decided to quit at the last minute. There were rumors that other security guards have been seeing strange figures, and some have been attacked. Whoever quit last minute, must’ve seen something or been attacked. 

And now the rumors were playing with my head. Everytime I turned around, I would think I saw something creeping at me from the shadows. After starting ten minutes of my shift, I was just about ready to call my boss and quit. The other new guy was working the other side of the yard, and there was so much distance between us, that if something happened, we would not be able to hear it. 

I turned another corner, and I thought I saw another shadow. I let out a loud scream; if any of the other guys heard my high pitch scream, they would make fun of me for months. I was psyching myself out; every turn I made, I thought I saw a shadow figure. I needed to take a break, or else I was going to give myself a heart attack.

“Hey Bob, I need a cigarette break.” I said very quickly over the radio.

“Heard! Take one for me too!” I guess the night was pretty rough on him too.

I pulled out my stash of Marlboros, and grabbed the first one I saw. I lit it up, and took a heavy drag. If this was just the first ten minutes of my shift, then I will go through this new pack within a few hours.

“Hey Joe, I think I saw two figures over on the North end of the yard. But everytime I check, they are nowhere.” Bob said over the radio. The static was getting worse the further out Bob went.

“I thought I saw something too, but I think it’s just those stories they tell us getting the best of our minds.” I responded. “They should get dogs…”

And why didn’t they? They expected two men to guard this large yard with no additional help? What was this company hiding?

“Hey, stupid question.” I started. “When you applied to this job, did they tell you what the shipping containers were for?” 

The static on the radio was getting worse, and I had a hard time gathering what he had said, or if he even heard me. 

“...mon…big…he-” was all I heard, before static completely took over. It sounded like he was too far out. 

I continued smoking, enjoying the calm feeling it was bringing me. “They told me that it was not my concern when I asked. All they needed to know was if I could do my job, no questions asked.” The whole thing was weird, but I was desperate for money. I lost my wife, my home, and had to move far away. This was the only job that's hiring at a decent wage. And after everything that I had lost, I was ok with not asking any questions.”

I didn’t hear back from Bob, and after finishing my cigarette, I decided I was calm enough to go back to work. I went back to the South end of the yard, and continued my shift. After about twenty minutes, I heard the radio go off. 

The voice sounded like Bob, but there was something off. It was almost as if he was resisting the urge to laugh, holding back as much as possible. “This place belongs to the government.” Bob said, sounding more off the more he spoke. “They use this area as a holding spot for their failed “experiments”.” 

I was shocked; how did Bob know so much? I had so many questions… “What experiments were the government doing?” 

Bob’s laughter was obnoxiously loud. “Bad…very bad experiments. The kind where people played God, and created obscene, horrific, monstrous things. The kind where if the world knew what they were doing, even the Devil himself would be shocked.”

Bob’s voice was becoming alarmingly strange, distorted and angrier the more he spoke. “This place!” he laughed, “This place is like a trash bin for every monster they’ve created, and they’ve hired you foolish, fucking dumbasses to keep an eye on us! ON US! So many of you have died because we got hungry during the night!” 

My heart stopped; I felt something punch my stomach, draining all of the air from my lungs. “What…what do you mean by us…?” I asked, barely coming out as a whisper.

His voice was now completely changed. It was darker, and his voice nearly boomed through the radio. “Turn around.”