#after I talked to customer service and they said it couldn’t be recovered

[slut4thebroken]

Every once in a while I think about that one finished 10k word fic that I had in my drafts on wattpad that was randomly deleted and couldn’t be recovered :)

[eddieschains]

Smoke And Mirrors

Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7K

TW// 18+, slut shaming kinda, marijuana consumption, slight bondage, oral (m receiving), humping, let me know if i missed anything !!

You and Eddie rarely ever fought. And when you did, it was always resolved within an hour or so. This time was different. You knew you crossed a line as soon as you said it, but you weren’t sure how to apologize.

Honestly, you were usually pretty calm during your arguments. You never screamed at each other, and both of you made up soon after it was over. This time though, you weren’t sure how to recover.

It was the dumbest thing you’d ever fought over, and you’d fought over some stupid shit. You came into the auto shop to bring Eddie lunch, and saw a pretty blonde girl talking to him at the counter. The way she batted her eyelashes and flicked her hair over her shoulder was all too much for your jealousy to handle.

You kept it cool at the shop, not wanting to cause a disruption. But as soon as he walked through the apartment door, all hell broke loose. You know you shouldn’t have snapped at him the way you did, but your emotions couldn’t help themselves sometimes.

“Who was that girl?” You interrogate with your hands on your hips, and your head cocked to the side.

He hadn’t even taken his shoes off at the door before you started going in. “What girl?” He scoffs, hanging his coat on the rack.

“The girl. The one at the shop. Giving you those fuck me eyes.” You walk closer to him, wanting to see how his face reacted to your questions.

He sighs as he takes his shoes off and makes his way to the kitchen for an after work beer. “No one was giving me fuck me eyes, babe.”

“I fucking saw it!” You follow him into the kitchen, hovering over him wherever he moved. “Don’t act dumb with me, I know what I saw. And you didn’t seem to want to stop it either.”

“Just because a girl comes in the shop and tries to flirt her way into a deal doesn’t mean i’m gonna stop being nice. It’s called customer service.” He groans, making his way to the couch and turning on the TV, obviously trying to stop the argument from happening.

“Customer service.” You scoff, standing on the other end of the couch. “Yeah, sure looked like you were ready to service that fucking customer.”

He slams his beer on the coffee table and turns to look at you. “Can you fucking stop? I wasn’t flirting with her, I don’t want her. I want you. If she was flirting with me then that’s on her, not me.”

“I find that quite hard to believe coming from a man who used to throw his dick around for any girl who wanted the slightest deal on their drugs in school.” The second you said it, you regretted it. It was a sensitive topic that he didn’t like remembering. He told you about that part of his life in confidence, and here you were using it against him.

His face immediately dropped, you weren't sure if it was anger or sadness, but you knew either one wasn’t good. He stood up and started putting his shoes and coat on before grabbing his keys from the bowl by the door.

“Where are you going?” Your tone is a bit softer now, knowing you’re treading through deep water.

“M’leaving. If you want to sit here and berate me over something that didn’t even happen, then have at it. But I'm not gonna fucking take it.” He walks out, slamming the door behind him making you wince.

Once you hear his van speed off, you run your hands across your face, racking your brain around how you’d fix this. You sit in bed for about an hour, waiting for him to come back before you finally accept the fact that he’ll come back on his own once he calms down. Which you also knew could take a while.

You decide to take a shower and get ready for bed, not expecting him to come back any time soon. You’re able to calm your own anxiety down a bit as the hot water rushes over your body. Once you’re done with your shower, you spend a little extra time in there collecting your thoughts, thinking of ways to apologize once Eddie does return.

When you make your way into the bedroom, you’re met with Eddie sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the TV with a joint in his mouth. He doesn’t acknowledge your presence, even though you know he’s not high enough to not realize you’re standing right next to him.

“Didn’t hear you come in.” You state as you walk towards the dresser to fish out some pajamas.

“Been here for about 20 minutes. You were in the shower.” He responds, taking a hit off of his joint and keeping his eyes on the TV.

You grab some night clothes and place them on the bed, sighing as you walk over to him. “I’m sorry… I-I shouldn’t have said what I did. I know that was a low blow and- I’m just sorry.” Eddie stays silent, not giving you the time of day with even some eye contact. He just sits there and continues smoking and watching TV. “Can you at least look at me, please? I’m really sorry, I am. Just tell me how to make it up to you and- and I’ll do it.” Eddie finally looks up at you with little to no emotion behind his eyes. You try to read his thoughts, but there truly is nothing there to work with.

“Come here.” He says flatly, spreading his legs open as an invitation for you to stand between them. You make your way over, nudging yourself in between his thighs as you hold your towel up and look down at him. He takes the joint out of his mouth and presses it against yours. You open up slightly as he places it between your lips. “Turn around.”

You abide, turning around while still holding your towel up by your chest. He wraps his arms around your upper body, taking your wrists in his hands and pulling your arms down, allowing the towel to drop at your feet. You shudder as the cold air hits your body, causing goosebumps to appear along your skin.

He lets go of your wrists, letting your arms hang at your sides as you hear him play with the buckle of his belt. Your body tenses as you wonder what his next move will be. He shimmies the belt out of the loops and grabs your wrists again, pulling them together behind your back. He wraps the belt around them, tying it in place so you can’t move out of the restraint.

He places his hands on your hips and turns you to face him once again. “Now…” He starts as he pulls his shirt above his head, and lowers his pants slightly to reveal a smidge of his happy trail. “You’re gonna sit right here, and you’re gonna rub your little cunt along my stomach until you cum all over me.”

You look at him dumbfounded. Unsure as to what kind of satisfaction this would really bring either of you, but you still decide to do as he says. You straddle his lap, pulling yourself higher up so you’re sat on his lower stomach as you feel the thick hair of his happy trail brush against your clit, sending a shiver down your body. He takes the joint from your mouth and plops it back in his, taking a long hit before blowing it directly in your face. “Go on, then.”

You start to grind yourself into him, immediately understanding exactly why he wanted you to do this. The feeling of his coarse hair on his lower stomach gliding against your clit was way more satisfactory than you thought it would be. Eddie doesn’t react at all. Even with your growing arousal pouring around him, he makes no noise, and no movement. That is until you feel his hands come up to your hips, stilling them for a moment.

He moves down to the corner of the bed, facing the full length mirror perched against the wall. “I need to see how needy your pussy is for just my stomach.” You let out a breathy moan at his words before going back to pushing yourself up and down his little happy trail.

Eddie keeps his eyes on the mirror, watching your slick coat his skin as you glide around him, and the way you try to writhe out of the belt with every shift. He keeps one hand by his side, while the other continues to pull the joint in and out of his mouth. You speed up your movements, hoping to gain some sort of reaction out of him. But, it only results in a larger reaction from yourself.

Your breathing gets heavy with every brush against your clit, your moans get raspier and more frequent as you feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm. You know Eddie can feel it. He can always tell by the way your pussy pulses and throbs around him, exactly how it was right now.

“Eddie… I’m- I’m close.” You pant, only moving faster on top of him.

He takes a long drag, blowing it out above your head. “I said you were gonna keep going until you came all over me. So, cum.” He says completely emotionless. You bury your head in his chest, panting and moaning as you rock faster and harder into him, his thick hair creating just the right amount of friction against your sensitive bud.

“Fuck, Eddie… I’m gonna… fuck I’m gonna-” You can’t even finish your sentence before your legs begin to shake as your orgasm rushes over you. You fall into his chest as you paint his entire lower stomach in your slick.

“Good girl.” He coos, still not a lot of emotion in his tone. You keep your head buried in his chest as you try to catch your breath, before he brings his hand to your face. He grabs you by the jaw, moving your head so that you’re looking up at him. “Open up.” He taps your lips with his index finger as you open wide. He holds the joint in between his fingers, placing it in his mouth before inhaling a large amount of smoke and blowing it directly into yours.

He drags his thumb from your top lip to your bottom, making you close your mouth as he looks at you with a raised eyebrow. You look up at him, holding it in for a moment before blowing it out right into his face. He chuckles softly, the most emotion you’ve gotten out of him all night.

You start to slide off of him as you feel the growing bulge in his pants. You look up at him with a smirk, and he cocks his head to the side. “You got yourself into this mess, you’re gonna get yourself out of it. Get on your knees and put that fucking mouth to work.”

You nod, sliding down onto your knees in front of him. You try to move your hands to pull his pants down before you remember they’re tied behind you. “My hands are behind my back.”

“And they’re gonna stay like that.” He says sternly. He lifts his hips off the bed slightly, before pushing his jeans down with his boxers and allowing them to pool at his ankles. Your mouth salivates at the sheer image of his hard cock springing up to his stomach. “Well… It’s not gonna suck itself.”

You lick your lips and scoot closer to him, kissing the tip and kitten licking around it. He reaches down and squeezes your cheeks together, making your lips purse out. “Did I say I wanted you to tease me?” You look at him and shake your head. “I said suck it. So… suck.it.”

Your eyes glisten as you give him a look of agreement before he lets go of your face. You lick a hard stripe from the base to the tip to coat him in your saliva before taking him all in your mouth. You moan immediately as you're met with the taste of him, the small amount of precum leaking out of his tip and coating your tastebuds.

You look up at him as you begin to bob your head up and down, hoping to see him with his eyes closed and head thrown back like normal. But instead, he just stares as he lights up another joint, inhaling and blowing it out in your face as you take his cock as far as you can.

You try your best to keep your eyes on him, trying to gain some kind of reaction as you swivel your mouth around him every time you reach the tip again. Nothing. Usually, you’d be quite irritated by the fact that he hasn’t shown you the slightest amount of pleasure in all of this other than his hard cock, but honestly, it was kind of turning you on even more than normal.

Being tied up and used for his liking is only making your already dripping cunt grow wetter. You speed up your movements, taking him deeper with every stroke of your mouth until he hits the back of your throat, making you gag slightly.

“See how much better it is when your mouth is full of my cock and not bullshit accusations?” You hum around him, not wanting to risk a punishment of letting go. You breathe deep through your nose to allow you to keep going once you feel his cock start to throb inside of you.

Turning your eyes back to his, you see them twitch as he gets closer to reaching his own high. You smirk around him before deciding to go full on. You straighten your back so that you’re able to reach the top of him easier as you take him down your throat as fast and hard as possible, hollowing your cheeks at the same time to create a tighter space for him.

Your tits bounce up and down with every bob of your head, and you feel his legs start to stiffen. You think you hear a small moan escape from his mouth, so you look up at him through your eyelashes to see his mouth slightly agape as his left hand fists the sheets below him.

“Keep fucking going.” He growls through gritted teeth, placing the joint back in his mouth as he removes his gaze from you and places it on the mirror behind you. Your head is moving so fast that it’s making the bed bounce below him.

His legs spasm below your chest as he twitches in your mouth. You suck him a few more times, squeezing your cheeks around the shaft of his cock before the taste of his cum spills inside your mouth without warning. You keep sucking, wanting to milk him for everything he’s worth as you feel spurt after spurt coating the entirety of your tongue and throat. You swallow him down while he’s still in your mouth, making him twitch again before you keep sucking.

His legs begin to shake as he squirms underneath you, groaning profanities above you and fisting the sheets with both hands now, getting ash from the joint all over the bed. You snicker quietly as you watch him struggle to keep his composure, before he’s gripping you by the hair and pulling you off of him.

“Jesus, I said suck my dick not take my whole soul.” He chuckles breathlessly, brushing your hair out of your face, finally showing you some kind of affection.

“S’too good. Couldn’t help myself.” You smile, licking your lips of his taste.

“C’mere.” He places his hand around your jaw, softly this time as he pulls you up and kisses you with more of a sense of love than lust.

You hum softly into his mouth before pulling back. “I really am sorry, baby.”

“I know, sweetheart. It’s okay, I forgive you.” He smiles and places a peck to your forehead as he reaches behind you and unties the belt from your wrists. “This time…” He smirks with a smack to your ass.

[ghostbc-headcanons]

Personal headcanon:

Terzo has a whole ass kazoo collection he started when he was 18 years old and he never threw away a single one.

One’s broken? Oh well, some sisters and ghouls are gonna have to stay up all night helping him superglue it back together lest they deal with the actual hell that his him throwing a complete fit that could challenge the most spoiled rich white girls when they don’t get their way.

He does have boxes of ones he doesn’t openly display anymore but they’re all kept in those Christmas ornament dividers, wrapped up in styrofoam or bubble wrap, in a giant plastic box in a temperature controlled room.

That being said he does allow people to handle or even play some of his collection and regularly cleans them before and after use so all is sanitary and has made custom mini kazoos for Copia’ rats and will leave kazoos in primo’s garden and tape them to plants to make it look like they’re playing it.

His two favorite ones is a kazoo made completely out of actual fucking gold and no one knows how he got it made or where he got the gold or money but he did and the creation of that thing is a mystery, it doesn’t even make any real noise either. The second one is one he likes to call “The Kaiju” that is roughly slightly longer then his arm span and is so massive and heavy that another person usually has to hold it up just to play it and when that thing is blown (in the Abby especially) the sound is akin to a slightly quieter alpine horn

No one understood why or how he developed a fixation on kazoos but that being said it was a relief for the church, and especially nihil and primo, that he did develop a long-time interest in something since for a while he was going through a pretty bad teenage funk where he couldn’t decide what he wanted to do or focus on outside of mandatory schooling and various church services and it worried his dad and older brother since nihil isn’t really the best father and never really had that problem as a kid himself so he didn’t know what to do and primo tried to get him interested in soooo many things but he just couldn’t latch onto anything so to see his eyes sparkle when he talked about the history of kazoos or the possible practical use of them in classical music or something just as absolutely fucking insane made him indescribably happy.

I APPROVE OF THIS. as an autistic person i support terzo's kazoo collecting habits this is so nice and i'm literally in love with this concept

fucking MINI KAZOOS FOR COPIAS RATS AAAGGHHH (i will never recover from this /pos)

[enhyupn]

enhypen as characters inspired by animes ᯤ 

tagging @youreverydayzebra @ncityy04 @rheyom

ot7!enhypen x gn!reader, fluff, warnings: mentions of (jokingly) dying, swear words, reader’s in a maid outfit in jay’s one but no mentions of a certain gender, word count: 3.3k

a/n most of these aren’t the same as the animes mentioned but instead just inspired or loosely inspired by the plot! also some of these aren’t the same in word count and i apologise for that ]:

∷ heeseung — orange

heeseung as the new kid at school and he’s so pretty that everyone just. Stops in place and just stares at him as he introduces himself

funnily enough you already saw this coming, realising this was the same heeseung the letter you received that morning told you about

what was funnier was the fact that letter was coming from the future you

you didn’t believe it Then because like... it kinda sounds too stupid to be true

but then BOOM there heeseung is

your teacher makes him sit beside you and you’re just trying to wrap your head around how crazy all of this is

your letter even told you that he was going to sit beside you, why was all of this coming true????

you didn’t read on because you were in a rush to get to school but maybe if that letter warned you about how pretty he was, you wouldn’t of been that flustered when he started talking to you

“hey i’m heeseung!” “ummm yeah, i’m y/n... yeah”

when school ends you RACE home to get to that letter again

rest of heeseung + of the members under the cut!

your future self was gonna have a lot of explaining to do...

turns out the future you Let this same heeseung walk out of your life so now you have to fix this

“dear past me, i can’t believe i was this stupid to let him leave my life like this— how stupid am i??”

now you make it your mission to keep your barely started relationship not go rocky

and oh boy would that be a challenge for the years to come

not because heeseung’s a terrible bf, future you just gave terrible tips

everyday after that you and heeseung (like the letter said) turned into great friends

great friends as in friends that people think that are dating

soon that friendship became a relationship... and a very strong one to be honest

your letters were weirdly very accurate

a firework festival... how he confessed to you... all of it was in those letters

honestly you should scold them for letting heeseung get away!!

you secretly wanna tease them that YOU have heeseung by your side and they don’t but... you can’t really do that

you tell heeseung about the letters one day and he just. Stares at you in astonishment

because he also received letters on the same day you got them from future him too

turns out future you and heeseung both regret their decision

poor them but at least present you gets to kiss heeseung whenever you want 😇

not to spoil anything but heeseung didn’t end up walking out of your life <3 instead you two are now sickly in love

∷ jay — maid-sama

you work at a maid café mainly because you needed the money and honestly... it wasn’t even that bad of a job

i mean compared to your school president life — trying to keep teenage boys out of trouble — happily serving polite and friendly (most of the time) customers was definitely a steal

one boy in particular gave you a bit more trouble than the rest of them however

he wasn’t bad or anything, just... a serial heart breaker

jay park was always on your radar due to the fact so many people would go up to you asking you to tell him to be nicer with his rejections

he wasn’t complied to be nicer but 😍 what can you do

safe to say that you didn’t think you had the best relationship with him

you couldn’t understand him even more when you saw him prettily sitting at the tables at your work

may i add, with you in your very own maid outfit as well as a twitching eye

“y/n! looking great” “thanks m-ma-mas—” “your customer service is terrible”

and the fact he came every day after that day made you feel Terrified

and also a little excited to go to work but you’d never admit that!!!

having him stare at you while you cheerily wrote with ketchup on omelettes was... definitely not how you thought your relationship would be like

he would also make small talk too

and visit you after your shift!!! walking you home

now... his daily visits turned into genuine great conversations on the way home

you realised he wasn’t as bad as you made him out to be

he just had strong beliefs that he should only accept a confession if it’s from someone he loves

you didn’t know how... but now You Have Feelings For him.

and seeing him when smile at you every time you serve him at that little maid café... ARGGGG it drove you absolutely mad

the way he oozed out confidence... was sweet and quite literally the prettiest person you’ve ever seen... how could you not

and what other way to confess to him than at the very place your relationship blossomed at!

you wrote “i like you” with ketchup on fried rice for him... yeah

thankfully he was over the moon and Had to hold back kissing you in front of the customers

now you two were dating <3 with the help of a maid café

and that really only left you with one more question

“why did you start visiting this maid café in the first place?”

∷ jake — kimi no todoke

being the quiet student is never. a good thing

especially when you’re ostracised by your class because you never participate

you actually want to but you can’t build any confidence to do so��

you never caught the attention of anyone

well... besides a certain popular boy by the name of jake sim

oh boy was this gonna be a culture shock to the girls that have a crush on him

he noticed you on the first day of school when you asked him for directions to your classroom

he won’t ever forget it, the way you had a huge excited smile on his face as the cherry blossoms fell softly around you

he quotes, it looked like you came straight out of heaven because it looked like you had wings on you

he didn’t know how to get your attention though.

every time he tried to do so you wouldn’t even look at him and would just look down at your desk

it hurt him to see you so isolated

that’s when he had the bright idea to ask you if you wanted to walk with him home

bad idea (kinda), because you did accept but you didn’t know what to do the whole time because you’ve never walked home with someone before

it was bad enough that jake was absolutely Stunning. like blindingly attractive

you didn’t know what to say at all

well until you came across a small puppy making it’s way up to the two of you

they were so cute that you just squealed out of excitement

jake was so surprised to hear Something from you that he just instantly put on this huge genuine grin

“there’s no tag on them!” your upsetting tone sent jake into haywire

he literally watched you pet that dog with literal heart eyes he wasn’t even being sutble

he takes a picture of you and he Stupidly leaves the ringer on so you hear him and everything

he was so embarrassed about it

“did you just take a picture of me?” “y-yeah” “oh... is that what people do?”

you literally had no idea how to interact with people so you thought what he did was Normal

somehow this caused jake’s crush on you to develop Quick

especially when you grabbed his hand to pull you closer to the dog

his heart was beating so fast he didn’t know what to do

he is self proclaimed the biggest dog lover but for some reason... he wasn’t even looking at the dog, not even trying to play with it

he was just staring at you with his doting eyes as you smiled and giggled while playing with the dog

he wasn’t gonna confess yet though because he still has to develop your relationship

in true shoujo romance anime fashion, he was gonna confess twelve episodes (probably a year) later <3

∷ sunghoon — ao haru ride

no i definitely did not put sunghoon for ao haru ride because i have a huge crush on kou and sunghoon... /s

you and sunghoon were in the same elementary class because... fate

you had the biggest crush on him and even your mom knew him because he was a well known figure skater

but who didn’t have a crush on him was the real question

being the young confident elementary student you were, you always talked to him

forever talking to him to the point where you two were Actually really good friends

you thought you were on cloud9

but. turns out figure skating takes a lot more training than you had thought so

you literally cried Buckets and Buckets when you found out he had to train in like russia for an unsure amount of time

there was no way on contacting him too since you had no phone, no nothing

so he left. and you didn’t know what to do with yourself

ok flash forward noises

now you’re in high school! still... gripping onto that crush you have on sunghoon

but you think it’s fine since you are Functioning without him i guess

well until you bump into someone with a very familiar voice...

“watch where you’re going” talk about passive Aggressive 🤨

and when you look up because obviously you were gonna start yelling at him

well. You just froze in shock when you were faced with sunghoon’s raised eyebrow smirking at you

and what was the logical thing to do apparently?

cry. right in front of him.

he just froze as he watched you sob while everyone stared at him

he was trying to explain himself while at the same time Dragging you Away because he couldn’t let you just cry in the middle of the hallway

now you two were at the top of some stairway as you sniffled recovering from your endless crying

“why were you crying? “how could i not when you’re here?”

turns out that sunghoon Knew you were at the same school as him but wanted you to figure it out yourself

it took you almost six months. to figure out sunghoon was in your grade.

but what next? do you rekindle your friendship or...

“i’ve changed” okay maybe that answered your question

and before he could even explain himself he just... Got up and left????? for no reason

and that’s when tsundere sunghoon started to come into play.

you constantly tried talking to him but it would end up with the two of you bickering

you walked home the same way too

weirdly enough He was very nice to you sometimes

letting you place your head on his shoulder, lovingly smiling at you, being very Oddly romantic

he was giving you mixed signals.

and there came that old elementary school crush... gearing back up for a second round

“what are we?” now you decided being bold was the right thing to do

he just stared at you and shrugged.

now here comes the water works

you started crying uncontrollably Again but this time sunghoon looked really guilty and comforted you

he even hugged you. (Wow... Development)

he then explained to you that he Likes you (omg) but he’s scared that he might have to pack up and leave you again and he doesn’t want you to get too attached

and you’re like “we have each other’s numbers this time though?”

sunghoon’s just like Ohhhh

that’s how you started dating

and rekindled that elementary crush (successfully)

∷ sunoo — toilet-bound hanako-kun

being the bold and adventurous person you are. You decided to call onto your school’s very own ghost

because you had the biggest crush on this upperclassman you needed the support of a Spirit to help you

“ummmm hey... school spirit, i’m kinda in love with someone and i heard—” “hi” and then you fall onto the ground because something scares you

turns out the spirit’s name is sunoo and you just summoned him

it also turns out this spirit was kinda cute 😟

he had offered you something like a book — telling you if you follow all the rules — you’ll end up dating your crush

turns out it was just a middle school romance book you could of bought at dollar tree.

you were rightfully mad at him Since all you did was end up embarrassing yourself

somehow during your argument, your eyes caught a glimpse of something in his pocket

you took it. because you deserved it

and ATE IT when sunoo told you that it grants you any wish when consumed

you didn’t even need to listen to any of the disclaimers because it was already in your stomach

one things turns into another and now you’re a spiritually bound fish to sunoo.

turns out what you ate was mermaid scales and he needed to eat one too so you could turn human (he told you he can’t explain it because it’s a long story!)

you two are now bonded together (4lyfe 🥺🤞) and you aren’t that happy due to the fact he was always teasing you and playing around with you!!!!

you were now his human assistant.

you helped him with cleaning the toilets and he helped you by saving you from the supernatural

very well balanced relationship

you grew very fond of sunoo as time went on

even though you almost died a few times... he was always there to save you from whatever the spiritual world had to offer

i won’t spoil anything but... school spirit sunoo seemed to have a soft spot for you too 😇

you showed him your passion for art and everything like that

you tried to dodge questions about the... y’know... why he was a spirit

knowing that it would probably hurt him

plus he didn’t have all those things coming after him for nothing

falling in love with a ghost wasn’t what... you were expecting when you first joined your school

but i guess you had no choice since he was spiritually bound to you!

∷ jungwon — whisper of the heart

you loved the library dearly, you loved reading and writing— just books in general

your favourite place was a really big cosy library a few minutes away from your house

you had always borrowed more than three books every visit

and every time you would look at who borrowed the book, the same exact name would show up each book you borrowed

“yang jungwon... he seems to have good taste in books”

you would dreamily sigh thinking about what this jungwon looked like

later on in the week you were writing a story at the park— y’know, normal things

your friend called you out of the blue for some reason rushing for you to help them

out of panic you forgot your book on the bench and didn’t realise when you had finally finished helping out your friend

to your surprise there was already someone sitting on the bench

and Reading Your Very Own Story

you literally just run up to him and snatch it from his hands because you’re embarrassed!!!

what didn’t help was the fact that the first thing he did was Laugh in your face about it .

he called your story stupid!!! and critiqued it!!!!

you just bicker with him and complain to your friend about it later that night

the next day you thought that... maybe if you went to the library again you might spot this yang jungwon

so you make it your mission to get to the library

funnily enough your plan had failed in an instant when your eyes caught a cat that you just became curious about

you followed it because it just wouldn’t stop getting away from you

it also looked like it was taking you somewhere but 😦

after a tiring ten minutes of following this cat from hell and back. It brought you to this old antique shop

you instantly fell in love with the store and everything in it

you were so distracted by everything that you hadn’t realised someone was behind you

you could feel your eyes widen when you realised it was the same boy from the park

holding that same cat you were following too????

“why are you here?” his eyes literally started Squinting at you

he then proceeded to tell you about how his vocal lessons were nearby and more importantly that the cat was His

he asks you if you want to go visit where he does his lessons and Obviously being as curious as you were, you accepted

when he brought you there you could see his eyes instantly sparkle from just being there cute... kinda

he even started to sing for you and that’s when you thought that he wasn’t that bad

some of his teachers started to join in too and before you knew it, the sun was already gone and you’ve spent the whole time with some boy that you were supposed to hate

“jungwon, who’s your friend” your body Froze in shock when you heard that name

jungwon thought you were stupid for not knowing your name and now you realise you’ve been crushing on him this whole time

(i refuse to continue on more with this because it’ll be too long unless some of you want a oneshot of this 😍)

∷ ni-ki — haikyuu

being forced by your teacher to sign up to be some volleyball team’s manager was Not that fun to experience

but there you were, managing a volleyball practice of that very own team

thankfully, it was safe to say you had a good relationship with all of them

and an even Better relationship with a certain volleyball player

nishimura riki and you were practically glued to the hip

you were so incredibly thankful that he was the first one to speak to you when you first started becoming their manager

the rest of them were tall and scary but riki was just tall and friendly

he was so energetic and just So bright that you couldn’t help but look forward to seeing him every day you had practice

he would even teach you how to play volleyball

like he’d be like “isn’t this move so cool? let me teach you it!”

at this point you could be a professional volleyball player with the help of riki

you were overjoyed watching them win their final match to compete in the spring interhigh

you were also incredibly happy to know that riki scored the winning point

he couldn’t stop telling you about it and you just kept excitedly praising him and not to play favourites but you weren’t this excited when heeseung scored the previous winning point

even though you and your team were excited, you could feel how nervous they were when they entered the huge gymnasium

they were surrounded by all the best high school volleyball teams in the country

the very first team they went up against gave them a very Tough time

you remember sweating so hard when the scores were almost the same, the other team leading in that set

you decided that. Maybe you could help

“riki! you can do it” your shouting somehow caused riki to instantly become energised

everything was a blur up until your team had Won the match

and all because you gave riki some encouragement

he literally ran to you the second they had won and almost knocked you down

you didn’t wanna tell him that he was sweaty so you just let him carry on hugging you tightly

the rest of the team was like “why didn’t you cheer us on like you did with riki?”

and when you tried to explain your face just started heating up like crazy

so you ignored the subject.

riki just took it as he was your favourite

but what you didn’t want to tell them was the fact that you had a crush on him

as if it wasn’t obvious enough 😟

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Okay, so you said I could send an ask for headcanons about the childhoods of some specific merc(s)... I think I would really like to read your headcanons about Soldier’s and Engineer’s childhood :)

Thanks in advance and I hope your well.

Ooooh…I’ve been waiting for this! And thank you for being specific and not just saying “the rest of them.” Sometimes I get overwhelmed with nine specific mercs to write for. Your specifics are much appreciated.

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

Soldier:

Soldier doesn’t talk very much about his childhood - whether it’s because something happened or he just doesn’t remember it, no one can tell. It’s nowhere in his file, either…he refused to do anything except tell fantastic tales of a fictional youth.

However, in a rare streak of almost lucidity, he spouted off the entirety of his younger years, much to the team’s surprise. Usually, if anyone asked directly, he changed the subject.

But now he described everything in vivid detail. And, with a bit of research from Miss Pauling, everything fell into place.

Apparently he had been born in a small military town in Georgia. His father was overseas, leaving he and his mother alone in their small yellow house.

In order to make ends meet, his mother worked at a nearby factory, mostly leaving Soldier to fend for himself and the house.

“Can you be a big, strong soldier like daddy for me?”

Soldier would always agree, finding his own food, his own entertainment, and his own friends. No matter what happened, he never bothered his mom. If anything, his job was to protect her.

That’s why, when his stomach started hurting and his arms and legs ached, he said nothing about it.

When he forgot the chores he was supposed to do and even the names of his friends, he didn’t bring it up.

When he felt tired all the time and some days could barely get out of bed, he just chalked it up to laziness like his mother did.

It turns out the factory they were next to was polluting the water next to the house with dangerous amounts of lead, which soon overcame Soldier’s immune system of steel.

He could barely remember anything anymore, and he became more and more distraught every day. Sometimes he would forget where he was and run outside, then get lost in the woods, only coming back once he remembered where he was supposed to be.

Soldier began to wear one of his father’s old helmets after his mom commented on his red eyes and the dark circles around them. He didn’t want to worry her. Besides, it helped bring back a few memories if he ever got lost again.

Finally, it got to the point where he didn’t even remember his mother, or his promise to her. He began to wander farther and farther away from home.

One day, he didn’t come back at all.

Out in the world with not a single memory to his name, Soldier wandered far and wide. He usually slept in barns and old, abandoned houses, cut off from most people.

Occasionally, he would find a family that wanted to “raise him as their own,” only to turn him away after finding him too difficult to care for.

He had frequent nightmares, ate little due to his unresolved stomach issues, and could barely walk ten feet without forgetting where he was going.

If he accidentally wandered into the same house twice, he would be chased out with either a broom or a gun - usually the latter.

He became “the demon child” in some counties, and “g*psy kid” in others, due to his long, unkempt hair, hidden eyes, and odd habits.

It even got to the point where Soldier couldn’t sleep on anyone’s property because he would be actively fought off like a wolf or a bear.

His only pleasure was an old movie theater that, as he recovered from his lead poisoning, remembered the location of and frequently snuck into.

The only thing that played were romance movies - which, like many children, Soldier hated - and war movies, which he watched over and over again with starving eyes.

Because of these movies, a single memory from his mother’s house came to him. A woman, tall and muscular from hard labor, giving him a shiny badge to hold, asking him to be a strong soldier like his father.

And thus began his life-long dream of becoming a military officer.

He trained according to what he knew from the films…which was mostly running, doing jumping jacks, and occasionally rolling around in the mud.

This only served to distance him further from his fellow human beings, but he didn’t care. Soldier had a mission, and he was going to do it well.

But the biggest change was his hair.

He had started cutting it off with sharpened rocks, but he was always saving up coins he found for a “proper army cut.”

Finally, he had quite the collection in a dirty mason jar, and marched into the barber shop in his town to ask for a haircut.

The manager was appalled, and at first refused, but Soldier stood his ground.

“Civilian, I’ll have you know that by denying a soldier with a haircut, you are denying America one of its best fighters! I can’t curdle the enemy’s blood looking like a hippie!”

After a short yelling match that, of course, Soldier won, the manager decided it would be in his best interest to comply.

He walked out of that shop with no hair on his head, but a huge grin on his face. Next stop, the ranks.

Soldier went from draft office to draft office, applying for and being denied entrance to the army for his obvious lack of mental stability.

This is when the personal retelling ended, since Soldier became very upset by the memory of his recruitment failures, but Miss Pauling concluded that he just bounced from state to state until Mann Co. found him, quote, “sitting in an alleyway, eating army draft paperwork while sobbing uncontrollably.”

Engineer:

Engineer also never really talks about his childhood, but both Medic and Spy (Spy knows everything about everyone on the team) know that’s for a good reason.

He grew up in a trailer community near an almost ghost town in Texas.

His father was an abusive car mechanic with a mean streak a mile wide and a shop full of failed inventions. His mother wasn’t any better - she was bitter and reclusive, only really coming out of her room to pick a fight with her husband.

However, what Engie lacked in family, he more than made up for in friends.

He had a rag-tag, Rugrats-esque team of pals from all walks of life: Rhapsody, the daughter of a struggling porn star; Tom, the son of two farmers wiped out by blight; Cici, an adopted girl that could barely walk into her trailer without a black eye and a string of slurs; Quinn, the nervous child of a single mother that serves as guidance to the other kids; And Fred, who didn’t seem to have any family, but had become a greaser big brother to all of them.

Together, they explored the desert near the trailer park, pooled their resources to feed and support each other, and used their individual strengths to get through each day.

Engineer, whom everyone affectionately called “Big Dell,” snuck parts from his dad’s workshop for his own creations.

By the time he was twelve, he could make a small, running engine for the soapbox cars his friends frequently raced.

No toy, piece of clothing, glasses, or tool was out of his line of expertise.

One day, though, upon finding that some of his parts were missing, Engineer’s dad gave him a terrible beating that broke a few of his fingers and left a huge gash near his eye.

Since then, he refused to fix, make, or even touch a tool.

He wouldn’t tell anyone what happened, but they could make a pretty good guess, since they knew where the scraps and parts had come from.

The whole group was furious with Engineer’s dad - their Big Dell was funny, smart, and was more loving than every family member they had combined. Even Quinn was red in the face.

They wanted to break into his dad’s workshop and destroy all of his inventions, just to teach him a lesson, but they knew Engineer would take the fall for it.

Instead, they rummaged through trash cans, searched their toy chests, and looked under their trailers to find things Engineer could use.

They waited until his birthday to unveil the massive pile of supplies they had stowed away.

Engineer immediately dropped to his knees and began to cry, and everyone else dogpiled him for a huge hug.

As the creme de la creme, they gave him a pair of welding goggles - the same welding goggles he wears to this day, having modified them so they still fit his growing body.

With his healed fingers and renewed spirit, he made each of them a gift: a toy car for Rhapsody, a skull ring for Fred, a full set of candle wax crayons for Cici, a chewable necklace for Quinn so they wouldn’t chew on their collar, and a mini-planter for Tom.

But Engineer was given the greatest gift - confidence in his own abilities and that he can be and was appreciated for more than his services.

This gave him the drive to build bigger and better things, which his friends happily assisted in creating.

Engie’s best memories are with that motley crew of scrawny, beaten-up kids.

But, as he became a teenager, the abuse grew worse by the day.

He was often kept in his dad’s garage to fix cars in sweltering heat and with nothing to show for his work except threats of what would happen if a customer complained.

His mother finally grew bitter enough to pick on him, wondering aloud and pointedly if she had made a mistake by having him, then immediately contradict herself by wailing in his arms about how she’s the most awful mother in the world, and how she would be gone soon, and then nobody would have to deal with her anymore.

Engie grew more and more distant from his friends as they either moved out, ran away, or, in Rhapsody’s case, died.

He thought of just shutting the garage door and turning on a car a couple times, but he would always return to his memories of the hidden cave of goodies his friends had collected or the many inventions they had helped him build.

It just wasn’t worth it.

On a night when his depression and self-doubt was especially bad, he decided to build a personal invention for the first time in years - a small, robotic chicken made out of bent gears and empty oil cans.

He worked on it for a few weeks, but made the mistake of leaving it on a work table once it was finished.

Engie came to work the next morning with his dad ready to chew him out. But, before any finger could be lifted against his son, he was interrupted by a sweet older couple that was having their tires replaced.

“Now, Ethan, ain’t that just the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your life?”

“Hm?”

“That there chicken statue over there! It looks like it could very well get up and start peckin’ for worms, don’tcha think?”

Engie looked at the couple, then at his dad, then at his chicken. He slowly lifted it from the table and turned the key.

It started to slowly lean forward, then took a few steps on it’s long, spring-loaded legs. The neck went down, and the chicken’s rusty beak began to scrape at the pavement.

Now he had the husband’s attention.

“Didja build that yourself, son, or did your daddy help ya?”

Engineer looked at his dad for a split second before answering.

“My own sweat ‘n blood, sir. My daddy says I should stop wastin’ time on ugly thing-a-ma-jigs an’ put my hands to somethin’ worth doin’.”

The man smiled. “Well, this ‘ugly thing-a-ma-jig’ shows real skill. We could use somebody like you, once we train you up a bit.”

“Now hold on a damn - !” his father interjected, but was silenced with a cold stare.

“We’ll put ya through a state-of-the-art school, then put ya straight inta the work force. You can build whatever you like…and you’ll have a lot better materials than rusty tin. Whaddaya say, son?”

Engineer just nodded, and the man grabbed his hand and shook it.

“We’ll keep in touch.”

Engineer left that trailer park at age seventeen, leaving his fuming father and drunken mother behind.

He only stopped to visit Rhapsody’s grave before embarking on his new life.

There is still a stone plate with a message carved into it next to the headstone. If you brush off the leaves and dig out the moss, you can see Engie’s parting words:

“A friendship with you and the rest of the gang is the greatest thing I ever built. -Big Dell”

[animedaddymilkers]

Kinkmas 2020: Day 20

Prompt: Size Kink w/ Kisame

Genre: Smut/18+ || Tags: Size Kink, Comfort, Tummy Bulge, Cum-Flation, Fingering, Penetrative Sex || Characters: Kisame Hoshigaki, Female Reader || read it on ao3 here

"Hi, can I help you find any…anything?" your customer service voice chimed out, only stuttering over your words when you finally looked up and up and up and met the eyes of the customer in front of you.

Said customer was a hulk of a man, though the bluish tint to his skin had you questioning even that part. You were used to being generally small and short but the height of this man made you remember that all the more. Still, you had a job to do and kept the cheerful smile plastered onto your face. The man turned around and looked down at you rather amused, though you were relieved when his face broke out in a smile.

"Why yes, I need help finding some bandages and perhaps a new shirt," his voice boomed out, nearly sending you to your knees at the pure baritone nature of it.

Only now did you notice the tatters in his shirt and the gash covering his torso, "Oh, gosh, okay! H-Here just follow me!"

Clamoring about you collected medical equipment and grabbed his hand, leading him to the back of the shop after flipping the open sign to closed. You sat him down at your simple kitchen chair, which almost looked comical under his large form. But you didn't have time to ogle over the sight of him as he was still actively bleeding. Your hands prepped the supplies quickly and you were about to start fixing him up when his hands wrapped around yours, effectively stopping you.

"You don't need to do this, little dewdrop. I can do it myself."

Besides the affectionate nickname catching you off guard, you steeled your resolve and shook your head at him, "Please, let me do this! I don't see how you can stitch yourself up with your hands shaking so!"

He raised an eyebrow and looked to his hands holding yours. Sure enough, even while clasped around yours, his hands were shaking. Damn, the injury must be affecting him more than he thought. With a defeated sigh he let your hands go and leaned back into the chair, the wood ominously creaking beneath his weight. You sat on another chair in front of him and went to work, first, discarding him of the tattered shirt barely covering him. Still, to see his chest completely bare had your cheeks heating up. Your hands pressed against his abdomen to put pressure on the wound, intent to stop the blood. As you held your hands there the man in front of you rubbed his face.

"How did you get this injury?"

"Best not for you to ask questions, little one," so much for small talk.

"Can I at least have your name?"

The man seemed to think about it for a moment before answering, "Kisame. Yours?"

You gave him your name and reveled in the small smile he offered you after hearing it. After the introduction he seemed to relax slightly, allowing just a bit of small talk between you two. He told you he was injured in a fight, though he wouldn't go into too much detail and you wouldn't ask. The blood flow finally slowed and you took the cloth away, throwing it into a nearby bin. Then you set about cleaning the wound, frowning when Kisame tensed at the antiseptic that no doubt burned. Your other hand grabbed his and held it tight to support him through the pain. Briefly, you took in the sheer size difference of your hands, your own barely as big as his palm. After cleaning, you carefully bandaged the gash, paying mind to patch it up so it hopefully wouldn't rip open again.

"Thank you."

It was a simple statement, but it conveyed a tone of finality, that he was leaving and you turned from putting the supplies away, "You still need a shirt. And please, let me make you some food. It'll help you recover better."

Kisame should have turned down the offer, but you were hospitable and altogether unassuming. So, against the better judgment, he was trained with, he accepted your offer. Thankfully, you had a meal already on cooking since the morning and you dished out two bowls for the two of you. As you ate, it felt natural and easy to sit across from each other and chat. The conversation flowed from topics of your favorite colors, to what you thought about the fate of stray dogs. There was no rhyme or reason to what you talked about and that's what made it interesting. But, as Kisame finished his fourth bowl, you realized it was once again drawing to a close. You weren't sure why, maybe it was his attractive looks, but you didn't want to say goodbye to him. He offered to help do dishes and you actually accepted his help, if only to keep him around that much longer. Again, that only lasted for a handful of minutes until you were left shifting from foot to foot as both of you stood around in silence.

"You… You could always stay the night," you offered boldly before quickly adding, "To help you heal more, of course!"

His eyebrows raised before he nodded at your second part, "Of course, of course. You're right. It would help. I'll stay. Do you have an extra bed?"

Your face dropped slightly and you laughed a bit nervously, "Uhh, well, no, but you can have my bed! There's room enough for you."

"And enough for you too? Well, 'suppose even if not, you could always sleep on top of me, dewdrop," Kisame stated plainly before laughing at your sheepish reaction.

"I-I suppose," your cheeks heated up at the image of you curled up on his chest, another reaction that Kisame didn't miss.

He leaned down until he was eye level, grinning suavely, "I still need to repay you for patching me up, so name your price, and don't be shy about it."

You thought about it for a moment, knowing he wouldn't accept 'nothing' as an answer, "Kiss me."

"Damn, that's a pretty cheap price for a wrap job. But I guess I shouldn't complain. I'll gladly kiss you a million times over," with that, Kisame lifted you from the floor so your face was level with his.

Wrapping your legs around his torso, careful to mind his wound, you rested your hands on his broad shoulders. His smile was contagious and even as he leaned in for the kiss it was all a bit surreal. The soft lips against yours tasted, unlike anything you ever kissed before. Reminiscent of salt with a spearmint kick to it, almost like taffy. It was far from bad and when he went to pull away you found yourself following his mouth, keeping the contact. He exhaled in amusement against you but obeyed your wishes, kissing you again and again. His large hands supported your bottom, one hand easily covering an entire cheek as he held you close. The sheer size of the man had you wet from the second he walked into your store and now that he was kissing you in his arms you were a bit anxious to get the show on the road if you will.

You pulled away to peel your shirt off, white eyes taking in every inch of newly revealed skin. The shirt landed somewhere in the hallway as Kisame wandered through to what he deemed your bedroom. Not like it was hard to spot anyway, it was the only room that had a bed in the middle. Gingerly, he laid you down on the bed and snickered.

"You're definitely going to have to sleep on top of me," He grinned and kissed down your jaw to your neck.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," you responded in a breath, moaning at the way he sucked on your skin.

The sharp teeth so close to your jugular had your heart beating a bit faster. Though you were almost positive Kisame wouldn't hurt you, just knowing there was a possibility turned you on even more. He nipped slightly and you gasped at the feeling before letting out a moan. The reaction was exactly what he wanted and he took it as an invitation to do more to you, a hand placing itself between your legs and rubbing you through your pants. A grin spread across his face as he felt your wetness even through the material and went about undoing them, eager to see just how soaked you were. Once completely bare he slipped twin fingers down, damn you really were soaked. He pushed the thick digits inside, slowly working you open and making a comment about how he needed to stretch you.

Foolishly, you thought that just meant fingering you for a few minutes and then the main event, but you couldn't have been more wrong. Just when you thought you were going to get fucked, Kisame instead pushed a third, thick finger inside of you. You were already a moaning mess but he still pumped his fingers in and out, working you open even more. He curled his fingers just right and before long you were having your first orgasm of the night. Finally, he pulled all of his fingers out and began kicking your juices off. His fingers then hooked into his pants and boxers, pushing them down and off, leaving you gasping at the sight of what lay underneath.

Words were unfathomable as you took in the absolute fear-invoked of a cock he had. Truly, when people wrote about a cock able to split a person in two, there was a picture of him next to it. It made sense now as to why he went to such lengths to prep you and still you thought maybe he should go back to prepping you more. Yet you didn't voice any of those fears, the feeling of lust overtaking you and you decided you needed to try and take it right then and there. Kisame seemed to notice though and asked if you had any lube, pouring a copious amount onto his length before flipping you onto all fours. Like the horny bitch you currently were, you pressed your face down and wiggled your ass in the air slightly, begging him to fuck you already.

"You look so good like this, dewdrop. I'm going to fuck you so good. You're gonna look so sexy trying to take as much of my dick as you can."

His lewd words earned a moan from you and the tip of his cock nudged against your entrance. Slowly and carefully, he pushed inside of you, listening for any cues from you for him to stop, but when none came he went as far as your pussy would allow him to. For a moment, he stayed still, the sheer size of him spearing you had you moaning and gripping at the sheets nearly losing your mind. He barely got halfway in, but that was still impressive for your first time taking him. Inch by inch he pulled out until the tip was the only thing left inside of you before pushing back in, forcing you open again. You whined and wiggled your ass slightly, needing more movement from him, no matter how much it could potentially hurt.

Kisame groaned and obliged, pulling his hips out a bit quicker before thrusting back in. His heavy balls slapped against your clit, sending shivers down your spine. Where other lovers would lean down and kiss your shoulder, Kisame easily leaned over and caught your mouth in a kiss, not having to worry about stretching to reach at all. His large hands played with your tits, tugging on your nipples like they were toys. Though even with all the rippling pectorals and sheer body size, each of his touches were soft and playful. He pounded into you and you came at the sight of your stomach protruding with each thrust. The squeeze around him as you came was honestly a bit painful for him, but hey it's a good thing he got off on that. He helped you ride out your orgasm and then continued, almost literally, rearranging your guts.

"Fuck, dewdrop, this pussy feels so good wrapped around me, I could keep you like this forever."

Somewhere, your mind knew you only met this man today, but the overwhelming majority just didn't give a shit. He could keep you forever and it'd be a happy life. As long as it meant he'd fuck you like this, you'd be content. His hips seemed to only go faster, but with the amount of thigh muscle he was working with, it made sense. You came again when his balls hit against your clit particularly rough, sending your thighs shaking and you gripped the bedsheets desperately. Kisame groaned as you came again and his hands never stopped touching you, groping at every inch of your body.

Though it was only after your third orgasm did he start to falter himself. He grunted and gripped your shoulder a bit tighter than before, hips stuttering in their rhythm. But, he wasn't done yet and flipped you onto your back before picking the pace back up, fucking into you like a crazed animal. You weren't about to complain though and not like you could either, at this point you could barely form words longer than his name and various cusses. Kisame nipped along your collarbone, muffling his groans before he growled and shoved himself deep, covering your inner walls in white. It didn't stop there, his load felt like it kept coming and coming, the sheer feeling sending you into another orgasm. By the time he was finished your stomach had a barely yet still there bulge, thanks to the massive load he gave you. You babbled incoherent whines, whimpers, and moans and now this time, it was Kisame's turn to tend to you.

As he cleaned you up and, like promised, settled you on his chest, he grinned while rubbing your back, "Guess I should get stabbed more often."

hope you enjoyed! remember likes & reblogs help me reach more people! :D

[lupismaris]

Summertime, And The Livin’s Easy- a black sails fic prompt fill

this became incredibly long so instead of just posting it with the ask i’ve made it’s own post 

@themelonface​ asks- For the fic prompts (if you're still taking them), silverflint talking about children. Can be AU, can be set during or after canon. I just have a feeling Miranda never wanted any, Thomas was too wrapped up in the fight for equality to need anything more than cats, but maybe James would have wanted kids in another life.

HERE MY DARLING HAVE THE FIRST OF hopefully TWO PROMPT FILLS because i want to write a post canon ficlet for this ask as well. 

but for now have modern au silverflint (and hamilton at the end) and the discussion of children 💕

cw for mentions of child abuse and shitastic fathers!!! but theres nothing graphic mentioned or shown. 

***

It was the hazy space between what would have been brunch on a weekend and the corporate lunch time rush and the start of cocktail hour on every other day when half the bars in Brooklyn Heights hadn’t actually opened their doors yet and those that had were serving sandwiches and day drinking friendly cocktails.

 The Walrus was one of the latter.

Silver slid off his bar stool as the last member of the aforementioned lunch rush stepped out the door and leaned against the polished bar top with a bright grin. “How you holding up, honey?” Muldoon rolled his eyes. “Please, a corpse could make an aperol spritz.” “I doubt a corpse could make that many of them that quickly.” “Flattery might work on other men,” Muldoon said, as he always did, with a wag of his tattooed finger and a smile fighting to show on his face. “But it will not work on me.” “Are you sure? Cause you were pretty sexy with those martinis. Remind me why its always vodka?” “Your boyfriend has told you that a dozen times already, I know it for a fact, you shit.” “Okay but maybe I wanna hear you explain it. Again,” Silver said, propping his chin on his hands and putting on his best Cheshire smile, throwing in a slight batting of the lashes just for Muldoon’s sake. They played this game every time Silver wasted away a few hours at the bar, which he was starting to do more and more often. He’d joke with Flint that it was only out of boredom, but in truth, he felt safe there, nestled in the corner with his laptop or acting as an honorary member of the staff when they needed some help. He didn’t want to dwell too much on it, on why he felt so safe there or why after so many years he was once again feeling so painfully devoted to the same group of men who’d despite everything, seen him through hell. Muldoon sighed, his hands making quick work of filling the high powered steam dishwasher under the counter. He pushed it closed with his hip and looked up at Silver, finally cracking a smile. “Do you want to help me run bar for a bit, love? While it’s quiet?”

Silver was behind the bar before Muldoon could even consider changing his mind. He did pause to duck into the kitchen quickly, where the two line cooks- Randal and Dooley- were working on their mise en place and Vane was wedged into the alley doorway with a cigarette in his mouth, recovering from the lunch rush. His long hair was carefully tied up in a braided bun and covered in a bandanna, ears lined as always with half a dozen hoops a piece. “Why do you look like you just ate a canary?” Vane asked around his smoke. “No reason. Where’s the Captain?” Vane nodded to the walk in pantry where Flint was likely checking stock counts, “he’s in a mood again.” “When isn’t he? When he’s done tell him to come up to the bar I’ve got a surprise,” Silver said, still wearing that grin, and Vane laughed with a nod, going back to watching the alley behind the bar. “Alright come on you flirt-” Muldoon called, and Silver quickly washed his hands and snagged one of the spare aprons Hal kept behind the bar. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how to make a cocktail, he played bartender for house parties all the time. But there was something different about learning to do it properly, from Muldoon who clearly took great pride in it, and in a place that was quickly becoming a second home to him. An hour in, and several successful cocktails later, Muldoon allowed Silver to help him actually fill orders for the few customers they got, though it wasn’t many. Flint still had not resurfaced from the kitchen, and so Silver kept his focus on the recipes Muldoon had him run through- proper martinis and Manhattans, Mojitos and mules, mezcal margs and all the things you could do with the collection of Amaros and aperitifs behind the bar. The customers were students on their way home from morning classes, morning shifters heading home or stopping for some food before the evening shift at their second job started, regulars who stopped in for lunch because no one made a cuban quite as well as their kitchen did.   And then the door chimed and Silver looked up with his customary smile and greeting ready, waiting to see where the guests might seat themselves- the host wouldn’t be in till four when the official dinner service started- and found himself staring at, well, children. Six of them, all too young to be in a bar unsupervised even before happy hour but probably even too young to be wandering around Brooklyn by themselves as it was. The older two definitely had the hardened older sibling with “semi absent if not entirely absent parents” look around them, Silver knew that look far too well, though whether the four younger kids were siblings or just under their care he couldn’t be sure. All of them were wearing some variation of public school uniform which Silver recognized from the public school a few blocks away. “Hey Nicki,” Muldoon said with a wave, and one of the older kids with short messy dark hair and equally dark eyes waved back. Silver looked at Muldoon quickly with raised brows. “Do me a favor go find Flint, okay? Tell him the kids are up front.” Silver just nodded, watching as Nicki and the other older kid shepherded the younger kids into the big corner booth closest to the bar without being told to, and slipped into the kitchen. Vane was at the prep table, knife in hand and making quick work of a cut of meat. He didn’t look up when he heard the door swing open but tilted his head expectantly. “Flint?” Sliver asked. “Smoke break, should be about done. Said he was coming up to see you in a minute.” Silver threw open the back alley door and there was Flint, propped up against the wall with a beaten up paperback on his knee and a forgotten cigarette in his hand. He looked up at him with a frown. “Hey whats wrong? You set the bar on fire with a flaming mojito or something?” he said, wearing a rare teasing smile. “Not yet but theres like, half a kindergarten class upfront.” Flint blinked, looked at his watch, and swore, “shit they must’ve let out early cause of the heat.” “Darling, what in the hell are you talking about.” Flint stubbed out the cigarette and tossed it in the ashtray by the door, kissing the top of Silver’s head as he passed. “I’ll explain in a minute- Vane! Leave the dinner service I need you on the meal kits with me-” “Already started on them,” Vane said, waving the knife idly as he portioned the meat into rather exact ready to cook portions. Flint nodded and washed his hands. “Dooley wheres those sandwiches I told you to fix-” “Here boss.” “Silver,” Flint loaded up six plates of sandwiches onto two serving trays and passed the lighter of the two to Silver. “Take one of these out with me ‘kay?” Silver nodded and balanced the tray on his shoulder, following Flint out of the kitchen. The bar was still mostly empty, Muldoon hanging out at the corner of the bar closest to the kids, making them each a Shirley Temple and passing Nicki a pitcher of water for them to share. Normally, Silver would’ve made some smart ass remark about how apparently it was normally for a bunch of kids to just turn up at the bar for lunch but something about this felt different and something in the set of Flint’s shoulders told him to stay quiet. “Let me guess the AirCon crap out again?” Flint asked upon reaching the table. “Or did one of you sabotage it to get out early?” The younger kids all started talking at once, bursts of loud excitement at seeing Flint, and the food, all wanting to explain why they had been let out of school a little bit early that day. Nicki and the other older kid, Sola, helped distribute the plates of food with smiles and nods of thanks while Flint listened intently to the kids’ rambling and incoherent explanations.   Once the young-ins were distracted by the sandwiches, Nicki offered a more coherent explanation. “Yeah they said the AC’s gonna be out till tomorrow with the heat, so they’re closing school till Monday,” he said. “Three day weekend I guess, without the extra homework since the teachers didn’t have time to prepare for any.” “Nice. Gonna meet your friends at the bridge park tomorrow? You mentioned wanting to get your kick flips more polished.” Nicki shook his head, looking bitter about it. “Can’t, busted up my front bearings and wheels on a ride home last week, won’t be able to afford to fix it for a bit. S’fine though, got chores to do.” Flint nodded, leaning back against the bar with his arms lazily crossed over his middle. “Do me a solid and bring the board by tomorrow okay? I think one of my guys might have some spare parts they’re not using.” Silver felt something in him break a little at the way the boy’s face lit up at Flint’s words. Or maybe it was at the ease with which Flint handled the kids, the openness he showed them, listening to how their days had gone, if only in brief, listening to their problems, which to them seemed world ending- Sola’s internet was out for the weekend, so she’d be at the library doing homework on Friday and probably most of the weekend when she wasn’t helping at her aunt’s salon, the little ones would all be shuttled to various relatives until Monday until they went back to school and Sola and Nicki, or another of the older kids in their building would take charge of them again. One of the younger kids was staring at Silver, her sandwich half held to her mouth. Just staring, bright brown eyes fixed on him in that quizzical way that children possessed that always made Silver feel transparent. Flint noticed and followed her gaze with an amused grin, waving for Silver to come over to join them instead of hiding behind the bar with Muldoon.  Silver looked at him wide eyed for a moment, then at the kids, specifically the little girl who was staring him down like a gunslinger, and then back at Flint, who just reached for him. Damn the bastard, he knew that was all it ever took. Silver came over and let Flint pull him in under his arm, feeling like a bug under the microscope in a science class he never attended but had heard about from other people. “You have pretty hair,” the little girl said. She was missing her two front teeth and Silver wanted to melt. “Thank you. You have big eyes.” “Yeah. They see a lot,” She said nodding solemnly. Silver could feel Flint shifting with the effort it took not to laugh. “They’re a pretty color. They remind me of this stone called tiger’s eye,” Silver continued. He could see Nicki giving Flint a look, though he didn’t know what Flint was doing in response. The little girl tilted her head. “Whats that?” So Silver pulled out his phone and showed her, which lead to a short lesson in gemstones that mostly amounted to excited cries of “oh shiny” and “I’d steal that one” which did Silver’s heart good. “This is Silver, a friend of mine who just moved back to town. He’s helping out round here. So he and I are gonna go fix your take away bags,” Flint said, once the momentary fascination in gemstones had faded and the kids were once again fixed on their plates. “Sola, you and Nicki just let Muldoon know if you guys need anything, or stick your head in the kitchen and yell okay? We’ll hear you. C’mon Silver.” If Silver had hoped for an explanation, he didn’t get one. Once he and Flint crossed the threshold back into the kitchen there was work to be done- Randal and Dooley handled the orders brought to them from the waitstaff while Flint and Vane, with Silver doing whatever Flint told him to, made quick work of assembling meal kit after meal kit from dishes both on and off the bar’s menu. Everything was boxed up and taped shut, paired with pre-typed instructions on how to cook the meals and how many servings each would make, and tucked into sturdy double layered brown bags that would hopefully survive a trip across the neighborhood. As they were finishing twenty minutes later, Hal’s voice could be heard through the window behind the bar, which answered Silver’s most pressing question- did he know that Flint was just running a school cafeteria out of the bar? Apparently yes, and apparently the kids were just as excited, if not more so, to see “Uncle” Hal. Because of course they called him Uncle Hal, why wouldn’t they. God, Silver was going to have to book a fucking dentist appointment for all the tooth rot the sweetness of this was giving him. He helped Flint carry out the bags of food, Vane insisting the kids would be too scared of him while Flint argued that Vane was just scared of the kids, and Silver watched as Hal and Flint got the bags labeled for each child and into a push cart that Sola promised to bring back the next day when she passed on her way to her Aunt’s salon. He then did his very best not to pass away on the spot as each kid, even Nicki and Sola, hugged Hal goodbye. Flint had crouched down to say good by to the little ones, accepting their clumsy hugs, reminding them to be careful walking home, and asking them to recite the bar’s phone number for him just in case (though Silver was sure they probably had cellphones, even if they were elementary schoolers), before he stood and gave Nicki and Sola each a one armed hug and watched them shepherd the group outside again. “Only group today?” Hal asked and Silver thought his voice sounded a bit heavy. “So far. Powers out at their school though, likely a couple others’ll come by later. Want me to call around to the other bars and see if they’ve heard anything?” “Yeah call the food bank and the closest shelter too for me, see if we can’t drop off our end of night supply to them this weekend.” Later, several more hours of food prep and three more groups of wary looking kids who all seemed completely unafraid of Flint and his crew, plus a Thursday night dinner rush, and Silver finally got his explanation. He also thought he should have gotten the nobel prize for being able to keep his mouth shut for as long as he did. “So are we gonna talk about it?” Flint was sitting on the floor in front of him, half asleep already between his thighs, as Silver combed his hair. They had taken home food from the bar and shared a six pack between them on the deck, Thomas held up at a Client dinner where he was no doubt being wined and dined and bored to absolute tears. They had treated themselves then to a hot bath, with the jets, and were now just wasting time with the kind of nonsexual intimacy that Silver had learned he craved with Flint, waiting for Thomas to join them so they could all manage a good nights sleep. “Talk about what?” Flint asked, his voice a heady rumble. “The kids. And why they knew to just wander into a bar on a Thursday,” Silver said, keeping his voice gentle. He coated his hands in more product and worked it into the shaved sides and back of Flint’s head, massaging his scalp as he went. “Why you and Hal and the rest of the crew seemed completely unphased by it.” Flint hummed lowly, nearly a purr as he leaned into Silver’s touch. They’d settled into the bedroom Thomas and Flint shared, like they did most nights since it had the nicest adjoining bathroom and all the obnoxiously nice hair and skin care products. Silver sat in the old plush armchair, bundled up in a robe while Flint, naked and content to air dry, leaned into him, a picture of ginger hair, rich freckles, and well loved tattoos on a soft strong figure. If Silver hadn’t been so distracted by the day, he’d have been more appreciative. “S’not that big a deal. Lots of families round here with young kids, can’t keep an eye on them between working two or three jobs, haven’t got money for babysitters or relatives to watch ‘em, or enough to cover food for the week, especially when the public schools can’t feed em. You start to notice which kids it is, when they pass by, which schools they go to, which blocks.” “In Brooklyn Heights?” “They don’t live in this neighborhood, Silver, you know that, not all of Brooklyn has been gentrified to shit by the developers. Hell walk a few blocks east towards the tech school and you’ll find a lot of them. Or south towards Bayridge. Anyway, the groups you met today are all right from Downtown Brooklyn, they go to school nearby you’ve seen them.” “Yeah I just… I dunno, you see so much of the multi-million dollar condos I guess you forget thats not all theres is.” “Nicki lives with his mom, his dad walked out and she’s working two jobs to keep the one bedroom they share over on Jay street. He’s only thirteen but he tried getting a job with me washing dishes last summer, I turned him down, sent him home with some food for his trouble,” Flint continued. Silver smiled, he could picture the scrappy dark haired boy trying to square up with Flint, trying to convince him he was old enough to legally work. “Let me guess he wasn’t the first.” “Won’t be the last either. If they aren’t working for the family to earn some extra money or to cut back on hiring expenses they’re looking for shifts somewhere to pick up the slack. They’re losing out on being kids all because the rent keeps going up and there ain’t shit else to do about it other than leave. And a lot of them can’t even afford to do that.” There was a familiar grit to Flint’s voice, the old bitter salt that meant someone had touched a nerve. It scared other people, but Silver knew it just meant Flint was, for the moment, being vulnerable with him. “Were you Nicki once? Trying to bully your way into work?” Silver asked softly. He reached for the comb again and sectioned off a part of Flint’s hair to start working with. Flint was quiet a moment. “Yeah. Yeah worked the docks a bit as a boy, most kids did it to earn pocket money or to help out with the bills.” “Which was it for you?” “Granddad only had his pension. And he spent that on booze. So whatever I earned at the docks helping the fishermen, or from pickpocketing, that was what bought food. Kept the lights on, shit like that. I told you once, that I met Henessy that way, picking his pocket.” Silver laughed softly. “I do remember. You technically succeeded, didn’t you?” “Mm, he only caught me cause someone snitched. Broke that fuckers nose real good I’ll tell you.” They were quiet for a moment, Silver combing Flint’s hair with impossible care, working his fingers through any knots he found, before following with product and conditioner, Flint grew heavier and heavier against him, warm and soft and his. “So you and Hal decided to do something, the way you always do?” Silver asked. “Hm? Oh yeah- city isn’t doin’ much, food banks and schools are already over run, and when school holidays hit, they can barely keep up demand for kids who need free meals. So we got a few other bars involved, met with some schools and the food banks and sent out some notices and just- started feeding people. I mean thats why Hal wanted to open the bar you know? You feed people and you give them everything. You feed them and they’ll do the rest. So thats what we did. In a week or two when the schools are out for the summer we’ll have a couple trucks that’ll make deliveries, so the kids don’t have to come to the bar.” Silver hummed and kissed his temple. “You’re sweet.” “Am not.” “You’ll let me help, right? Prep the meals and stuff?” Flint tipped his head back to look up at him. “You want to?” “Yeah. This altruistic thing is new to me, as is the cooking for fun thing but… it matters, to you, any idiot can see that. And I want to be part of it.” Silver smiled and leaned down to kiss him best he could. He could feel Flint smiling into the upside down kiss. “You’re really good with them too, you know, which please don’t take this the wrong way, I did not expect,” he added when he pulled back. “What with the kids?” “Yeah.” “Oh no offense taken I have no idea how it happened. They just aren’t afraid of me for some reason. I fully expected them to be, mind. I used to think I had the kind of face that would make babies and small children cry but apparently they just, I dunno, think I’m alright.” “They trust you, thats a big deal for kids. Especially ones who have clearly been let down by other adults. I mean you also talk to them like they’re just tiny adults which probably helps.” “They’re gonna be adults one day, might as well treat them with dignity well before they realize they should be fighting for it, you know?” Silver smiled softly, “Sometimes I don’t think you realize how magnificent you are, you bastard.” Flint didn’t say anything, just blindly reached for Sliver’s hands so he could pull him closer. So silver set aside the comb and rested his chin on the top of Flint’s head, wrapping his arms around him and holding tight to his weathered, tattooed hands. “You were good with them too, once you stopped being scared of them,” Flint offered. “Kids scare me, I’ve never spent enough time around them to learn how to make them happy. They’re so easy to hurt, so easy to damage. And extremely durable, extremely resilient but… I dunno… Just never trusted myself and never had the opportunity to do more than amuse them for a few minutes at a time before vanishing into thin air like Santa Claus.” “Well, you’ll have plenty of practice at the bar. I still think you were good with them. Little Sylvie likes you at least.” “Not as much as they love you.” Silver thought a moment. “Hey…” “Hm?” “Have… Have you and Thomas ever talked about kids?” It was a heavy question, one that might have been too much too soon and a part of Silver wished he hadn’t asked it. But there had been such a softness in Flint’s face when he’d spoken to the children, a kindness and a focus in his attention that meant he’d put time and effort into his actions, into making sure what he was doing was what the kids needed in that moment. It wasn’t just an adult slumming it with the neighborhood kids cause he had nothing better to do, it was almost, dare Silver think it, Paternal in nature. Paternal and the dread Captain Flint being used in the same sentence had not been something Silver had ever considered as possible, and yet- And yet it was, and it had piqued the old curiosity. Flint was quiet again, though he didn’t pull away or let go of Silvers hands, so Silver trusted that he hadn’t upset him. Silver held him tightly, turning his head to rest his cheek on Flint’s hair and wait patiently for him to speak. “Its complicated, pup.” “You don’t have to tell me. I was just curious. I never thought of you as a dad until today but now I’m… I won’t lie a part of me is still thinking about it.” There was a soft shuddering sound and Silver felt Flint shift in his arms, curling tighter in on himself for a moment before trying to settle again. Silver held tight, pressing his face into his hair. It took another moment or two, and several deep breaths, but Flint eventually spoke. “Thomas and Miranda were expected to have children when they married,” he said lowly, “all wealthy families expect heirs. But Miranda didn’t want to go through pregnancy and Thomas wasn’t sure if he could sire so they found ways of putting it off and focusing on Thomas’ political career. Thomas… he wanted to save the world, I’m sure for a while he thought he couldn’t allow himself thoughts of a future until that was done.” Silver hummed. That did sound like Thomas. Even now, with the chip on his shoulder and the somewhat colder view of the world, he still seemed to think he could save it. Silver wasn’t about to point out that Flint still seemed to think the same way. “And after everything I dunno I guess it just took so much time to remember how to be living, breathing people again, that children were never part of the consideration,” Flint said with a shrug. There was a weight to his voice, an emptiness that had Silver frowning slightly in surprise. “How can you care for a child when you’ve only just come back to life? When you’ve only just found reason to stay alive? It- Any child we brought into our lives would have been at risk, back then for certain, though I’m not sure a child would be better off now and besides with how much we work its not like-” “James,” Silver said softly, lifting his head, “you’re rambling.” Flint went still in his arms, still as if waiting for the lash that he knew would never come, but waited for all the same. The readiness with which Flint expected violence broke something in Silver, just as much as it felt like a mirror, smudged and smoky and cracked with age. “Is this your way of saying you want to be a father, but the thought of it terrifies you?” Silver asked. “The things I’ve done,” Flint said in a rough voice, “The stains my hands have carried- I’d see them every time I held my child. That’s my fear, I think. That I’d see them, and that violence would stain them as well.” He paused. Silver held him, hiding his own face. It was easier, they had learned, to talk about such things like this, with Flint’s back to Silver, their faces just hidden enough to give the illusion of control. How many secrets had they shared like this? Silver was losing count. “I was raised by a drunken old sailor and a bastard of a navy man who brought nothing but ruin- what could I ever give a child, John?” Flint asked, his hands white knuckle tight on Silver’s, his eyes the deep green of the sea, ghostly and far away. “What could I give them but that same ruin?” And what could Silver say in the face of that? So he said nothing, just nodded and kissed Flints throat until the tension in his shoulders softened and Flint settled back against Silver’s body to rest, weary and still haunted, but at least no longer at knife point in his own home. Silver went back to brushing his hair, singing softly to him as he worked, until Thomas came home and they were able to find more pleasant ways to spend their evening than discussing the sins of one’s father. They didn’t talk about the possibility of children again, not for the whole of the summer. They helped the food banks and the neighborhood families as best they could through the summer, made sure whatever kids stopped by the bar or the kitchen door in the alley left with something to eat, on the house. Thomas made sure checks were written to the shelters and the food banks that needed them, that the families that needed childcare could get it free of charge. They got through the summer, and the conversation never arose again. Silver just kept the thought of Flint holding a bright eyed child that sometimes looked like Thomas’ kid, and sometimes looked like his own, locked away safely in his heart and didn’t examine it too closely. Then Idelle had her baby in August. In October they held a two month belated baby shower for her at The Walrus, so the crew could meet little Wesley Ira Featherstone and his father, bless him, could cry with his crew mates about how proud he was while Idelle had her first stiff drink in over a year. Rackham was there, of course, as the boy’s God father (Silver was delighted by the idea because Rackham was absolutely as terrified by the concept as he was as honored) and Wesley took to him as well as any two month old possibly could. But when it came to crying babies, Rackham didn’t know what to do, and Hal the God Father to all and obvious baby whisperer was back in the kitchen unable to assist. And so Thomas and Silver watched as Flint, who seemed to be acting without really thinking about what he was doing (outside of scolding Rackham who was himself on the verge of tears) scooped up the baby and promptly rocked him calm within moments. “How did you-” Rackham stared at him in shock. “If you didn’t fuckin panic all the time then he wouldn’a started crying,” Flint growled at him, which Wesley found hilarious, if the slew of gurgling giggles was anything to go by. Silver watched, feeling his face split into a ridiculous smile, as Flint refused to give the baby back to Rackham until he’d sobered up, and instead let Idelle tie a sling around his chest to tuck Wesley into, so he could still fix drinks and use his hands while keeping the baby safe. “Sure you don’t want me to take him back?” she asked, Max watching with an amused smile. “You’ll have plenty of him soon, I got ‘im. Just give Rackham a 101 on how to actually hold a baby.” Silver leaned into Thomas as they watched Flint from their seats at the bar, humming as Thomas’ arm went around him automatically, pulling him close into his side. He looked up, curious to see what Thomas thought of his husband suddenly so at home with a child. He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but whatever it was, it wasn’t what he saw. Thomas’s face had gone soft, from the crows feet around his eyes to the laughter lines around his mouth, which parted in the gentlest shape of awe Silver might have ever seen on the man, as if he’d realized something he’d never considered before. His shoulders were rounded, leaning forward against the bar, hand fidgeting against the polished bartop as if desperate to reach out for his husband. Silver could feel the arm he hand around his shoulder tensing with the need to act. They watched as Flint moved behind the bar, one hand resting where Wesley’s head was under the sling, rocking him gently as he fetched fresh beers for himself and for Hal. Silver was watching his face, watching the way his lips were moving, as if he were talking to the baby, but he was just too far away to hear what he was saying. “He’s singing,” came Thomas’ voice suddenly, almost lost to the noise of the bar. “What?” “He’s singing,” Thomas said again, nodding to his husband. “Padstow Farewell, he sings it to me sometimes when I have nightmares, I’d know the lyrics on his lips even in the grave.” Silver smiled softly. “He sang it to me when I was recovering from my leg. I didn’t know it could be a lullaby.” “Neither did I but…” “But now-” “Yeah.” Silver reached for Thomas’ other hand and kissed his knuckles, leaning into him further. Thomas held him impossibly tight, resting his cheek on his hair. There’d be more to talk about in the morning, tomorrow, the day after, next week, next month, next year. And there was a dizzying sense of joy in that, the same kind of joy that came from watching Flint carrying the future in his worn and weathered hands.

[writtenjewels]

Dance

Cullen glanced around the library looking for one particular face. He was hoping to see the man at the front desk but no such luck. Sighing, Cullen slid his book into the return bin and started going through the shelves. He did enjoy reading so these frequent visits to the library weren't entirely because of the handsome librarian. But he had to admit that he was much more eager to come by these days because of the man.

He turned the corner toward the next line of shelves and felt an excited thrill in his heart. Dorian, dark hair swept in an elegant style as always, was putting books away. He wore an outfit of blue and white today, which Cullen thought complemented his dark skin well. Dorian shifted to grab the next book and noticed Cullen. His mustache was perfectly styled too with just the hint of a curl.

“Finished your book already, Cullen?” he asked.

“Yes, I enjoyed it.” He was aware Dorian had learned his name as a show of good customer service, but it still thrilled him to hear it. Dorian's lips curled into a smile and he picked up a book from his cart.

“Here, you should read this one next. I've read it myself and found it wonderful.” Cullen took the volume with a muttered thanks. “You'll have to let me know what you think when you're finished.”

“I will.” Damn it all, why couldn't he have a more coherent conversation with this man? It was easy to talk when he was giving out orders or discussing strategy, but the idea of expressing romantic interest had him tongue-tied. Not wishing to stand there like a fool, Cullen turned on his heels and went to check out the book.

Naturally, his friends felt the need to tease him about it later.

“So did you finally talk to the handsome librarian?” Josephine wondered. “For more than five minutes?”

“No,” he was forced to admit. Varric let out a groan.

“You're hopeless, Curly. You've been pining over this guy for... what, a month now? Why don't you ask him out already, for Andraste's sake?” Cullen squirmed uneasily. He didn't know how he would go about doing that. Varric seemed to come to the same conclusion. “You know what you need? A night out. Friday, we're going out for some fun. No excuses.”

There was no point in arguing with Varric Tethras. And knowing the dwarf, his idea of “fun” was not going to line up with Cullen's. He contented himself with seeing Dorian again in the meantime. As they chatted about books, a thought came to him. If he could just ask Dorian out, he could avoid whatever “fun” Varric had in mind.

“Are you doing anything interesting this weekend?” he asked, hoping that came out as casual and friendly.

“Not particularly. I have to work my second job.” Cullen deflated a little at that. “I forgot to mention,” Dorian continued. “The library is going to be putting out a chess set for patrons. You said you liked playing, yes? Maybe you can help me break it in.”

“Play chess with you?” Cullen confirmed. Was Dorian flirting? Or was Cullen simply hoping, and this was all just the same friendliness as usual? Either way, it meant more time spent with the handsome librarian. “Yes, I'd enjoy that.” Dorian's face practically glowed in a responding smile.

Friday night found Cullen with Varric and Josephine about to enter a club. He was already regretting this before they even walked through the door. What he found inside had him nearly choking on his own tongue. There were half-naked men everywhere: walking around serving drinks, sitting on top of tables, dancing on a stage....

“Varric, is... is this a strip club?!” Cullen squeaked out.

“Yeah. I figure this was a good way to take your mind off your librarian.” Too stunned to speak, Cullen turned to Josephine hoping to get her support. But her face was alight in a grin. “It doesn't do anything for me,” the dwarf continued, “but you and Ruffles can go enjoy yourselves. I'm just here to foot the bill.”

When Cullen still couldn't speak, Varric herded him over to a table where the three of them took a seat. A waiter came by to get their drink orders. Cullen supposed that the tight shirt and short shorts could be considered a uniform, but it left little to the imagination.

“My friend here is a first-timer,” Varric informed the waiter, patting Cullen on the shoulder. “What would you recommend?” Cullen blushed as the waiter gave him a once-over.

“You have a good view of the stage. Sparkler is going on the pole in a few minutes. He's one of our best dancers.” Going on the pole...? Cullen gulped as he focused on the men sliding up and down metal poles, draping one leg around it and arching their backs. He dropped his eyes down to his lap. He was relieved that his arousal wasn't that noticeable.

There was no denying that this club hired attractive men. All varying sizes and shapes to appeal to different customers. Qunari, elves, humans, even some dwarfs. Josephine was hooting and clapping, loving all of this. Someone announced the next set of dancers and Varric nudged Cullen hard. He sighed, lifting his head again. He would indulge the dwarf a while longer before insisting they leave.

The one called Sparkler walked onto the stage and positioned himself at the pole nearest where Cullen and his friends were sitting. Cullen's mouth dropped, his heart gave a lurch in his chest, and he momentarily forgot how to breathe. That styled dark hair, the gently curled mustache, those sea-grey eyes... Cullen's whole body started buzzing. It was Dorian. The man was wearing form-fitting clothing that sparkled when he moved.

The music started and Dorian began to move along the pole. He slid his hands up its length until they stretched above his head and then he bent his back in an elegant arch. Straightening again, he sank down with legs parted until he was nearly sitting on the stage. Dorian rose up slowly, jutting his ass out as he did. Cullen gaped, spellbound. He was likely biased but he could see why Dorian was one of the best: he had a way of moving that displayed his body in a sensual, almost teasing way. Making the crowd hungry for more.

Off to one side a group of men were cheering and calling for Dorian to start stripping. Cullen glared at them. Dorian placed a hand on his chest and pretended to swoon. He winked at the group and ripped his shirt off in one tug, throwing it toward the delighted men. Now Dorian was bare from the waist up. Cullen was finding it more difficult to breathe. He'd seen half-naked men before-- hell, he'd seen a completely naked man before when that one recruit lost his armor. But seeing Dorian like this, beautiful and glistening under the stage lights, was quite a different matter.

It struck Cullen that he might not have reacted so strongly if he didn't know Dorian from the library. Superficially, yes, the man was just as attractive as every other employee in the club. But Cullen had heard his laugh, seen his smile, knew some of his interests. Seeing the friendly librarian like this only added a new layer to the man. Dorian was stretching himself on the pole again, displaying his body shamelessly. His head was tilted up, his lips parted as if caught in pleasure. Cullen felt a stir of desire inside him. He wanted to be the cause of that pleasure...

Dorian was gliding his body down the pole and Cullen followed the progress. The man's legs were spread wider and Cullen leaned forward. Keeping his back pressed against the pole, Dorian trailed his fingers down the planes of his chest and stomach. Cullen's breath hitched in excitement. Dorian's eyes slowly opened, his expression hooded and sultry for whichever man he happened to be focused on. And his eyes met Cullen's.

Cullen saw the moment when the persona of the wanton seducer dropped. Dorian's eyes went wide and his mouth opened again, in surprise this time. It was hard to tell with the body oil glistening on him, but he might have even been blushing. Dorian wet his lips and rested his hands on his knees. He ran them up the insides of his parted thighs, Cullen following the progression. His eyes darted back up to Dorian's face. The man's eyes were still locked on him and he was breathing heavily. Not, Cullen thought, from the exertion of his dance.

Cullen wet his own lips and swallowed. His eyes went back down to Dorian's spread legs. The man's fingers gripped onto his inner thighs and tugged. The trousers ripped off, revealing his legs and the small bit of cloth covering his crotch. Cullen nearly fell out of his chair. He managed to recover but he had to get a hand down and press against the straining bulge between his legs. Dorian noted that and shuddered a little. His mouth moved in a deliberate forming of Cullen's name, spreading his legs out even wider, throwing back his head and arching his body.

Thoughtlessly, Cullen rubbed the heel of his palm against his clothed erection. Some part of his mind was aware he was still in a club and other men were drooling over Dorian right now, but it was all background noise. All he could see was Dorian stretching, sliding up and down the pole, displaying his body for Cullen. He continued rubbing and Dorian's eyes kept centering on him with every dip and sway he took on the pole. The song ended far too soon. Dorian swept a bow, again lingering on Cullen, then turned to the group who had his shirt.

“Well,” Varric spoke up, reminding Cullen that he wasn't alone after all, “you seemed to like that one, Curly.”

“Yes,” Cullen agreed, clasping his hand tight over his rock-hard erection. “I suppose I did.”

[cpcoulter-official]

Recoil

Tap.

Tap tap.

taptaptaptaptaptaptaptap—

“Logan,” Derek growled, opening his eyes from where he was sitting. “Stop.”

With a frustrated huff, the blond boy rose to his feet, obviously restless as he began pacing. And to be honest, Derek was sick of it. The flight’s been delayed for a full two hours and Logan had begun getting impatient in the first fifteen, getting testy after twenty, and downright annoying in under an hour.

And all because Julian had gone and been a total idiot. But what would Derek and Logan know, right? Neither of them knew how Hollywood worked or what its reasons were, they just knew that they weren’t quite ready to give Julian up as another young sacrifice to their cinematic altars.

But Julian had gone off on a mission, he was determined to prove to his father that he could do this, that this was the role for him, and nothing, not even the threat of them being accused of nepotism, could stop him.

(“Hollywood is the last place on earth that oughto be pointing fingers when it comes nepotism,” Julian had said. “The place runs on it.”)

And it would’ve all been okay, had the role not been what it was, and had Julian not dropped contact during prep and filming, leaving them in the dark as to what had become of him. The role of a young chain-smoking junkie, the epitome of wasted youth, struggling to stay alive was no joke--and nothing that someone of Julian’s age should be doing.

Logan stood grimly, arms akimbo, as the flight finally arrived. In spite of himself, Derek also rose to his feet, a little anxious, scanning the disembarking passengers for any sign of their friend.

(Can you guys come get me at the airport when I land? the first text message from Julian in a long while had said, surprising the both of them. I need a ride back to school, I’m really tired out.

Logan snarled and didn’t look at all pleased, asking why Julian couldn’t just get a cab or a car service, but when the time came, he had been at the car before Derek was.)

What they had expected, maybe, was to get Julian, make note of his diminished appearance—as he always was following a long filming stint—say their “I told you so”s, snark and be snarked at back, and then take him back to the school. Life goes on, and at least he was back with them.

But when Julian appeared at the gate, towing a small rolling suitcase with him, Logan’s arms dropped as though even his icy countenance was no match for what he saw.

Diminished fell away from Derek’s vocabulary--that wasn’t enough for this. Julian was emaciated. When he said he was tired, they didn’t expect the bloodless face, pale lips, red-rimmed eyes with deep dark circles. He had lost weight dramatically, so much that his custom-tailored clothes now hung limply off him. He didn’t saunter forward as he usually did, he shuffled as though it was taking all his energy to tow his luggage and keep the pack on his back. And his glazed eyes blew past them without actually focusing on anything. He didn’t even see them.

At some point, Logan had left Derek’s side, heading straight for Julian, who only realized who was approaching when Logan was nearly right in front of him. The young actor gave him a ghastly half-smile. “Hi…”

Logan didn’t answer. On the way to the airport, Derek knew Logan had a million and one things to say--he had been livid, just as Derek was, about this whole thing--but now he didn’t say a word. Instead, he took the pack away from where it was dragging Julian’s shoulder down, and hooked it onto his own shoulders.

“The flight was late…” Julian murmured in a hushed, wrecked voice. Derek resisted grimacing at the smell of cigarette smoke that still clung to him. It appeared Julian noticed that, because he said, “Sorry about the...smell. Took two showers, but it wouldn’t come out yet. I think it’s in my clothes.”

“Stop talking right now,” Derek commanded, taking the suitcase from him, ushering him on. He found Julian’s sunglasses and put it on him. He can’t be seen like this. “Come on...let’s go.”

Logan still wouldn’t say a word. Even when Julian looked to him as though asking for confirmation of the command. All Logan did was keep his mouth in that grim line, green eyes blazing, as he helped take Julian out of the airport.

The car service was waiting, and as Derek set the suitcase into the trunk, Logan made to put the pack in the car. Julian suddenly grasped onto his sleeve. “Don’t,” he murmured. His eyes looked too big for his face with how thin he’d become. “...I don’t...it’s got the smell.”

Logan stared at him for a moment, not even brushing away the spidery fingers from his sleeve as he normally would, and then handed the pack to Derek. He wordlessly brought Julian into the car.

“Thanks,” Julian murmured, still in that subdued state. “...I can’t stand that smell anymore.”

Again, Logan did not respond. He had so much to say and Derek had heard nearly all of them, but he just wouldn’t say them. Maybe he was waiting for the right time, or maybe he just couldn’t.

The car ride back to Dalton was much the same. Logan sitting stiff and cold and so angry--Derek could see it in his eyes how mercilessly angry he was--as Julian slumped into his seat, staring at the scenes in the window passing by.

“Go on.”

Derek looked up when he heard Julian’s ruined voice. Julian kept staring out the window with those horrible too-big bloodshot eyes. “...go on, let it out. I know you guys are dying to.”

“You look like you’re dying.” Logan snarled through his teeth and god, he was so angry. It was finally leaking out. When Julian didn’t answer, Logan went on. “Have you even seen yourself?! What did you even do all of this for?! Proving what?! That you absolutely do not give a shit what happens to you just as long as you get what you want?!”

“What did you do to yourself, Jules?” Derek asked, trying to stem the flow of Logan’s rage before he stopped being so still and decided to implode altogether. “How did this get so bad?”

Julian only shook his head slightly, a limp rag doll of his formerly brilliant self. “It was the role. ...the smoking, ...just did what I had to do.”

“You didn’t have to anything,” Logan snapped.

“Had to prove I could do this. That I can deliver this.”

“Well congratu-fucking-lations, Jules.”

“Logan,” Derek finally glared at him. Logan’s hands were shaking and he was balling and releasing his fists like he was trying to keep himself from bursting. He turned his attention back to the actor. “Jules...how much weight have you lost? Have you been eating? And how many smokes did you have to go through.”

Julian didn’t answer immediately. His eyes glazed over again. After a few moments, he murmured, “...god I hate that smell...I can’t stand it anymore.”

Derek shook his head. Julian was practically delirious, there’s no talking to him right now. “You’re going to the Clinic wing the minute we get back to—”

“I want to go back to Stuart House,” Julian replied in a tone that suggested this wasn’t up for negotiation. “...I want to go back and...just sleep. When I get there you can...” he waved his hand limply. “You can yell all you want. I know you guys are going to. Let it out.”

Logan shook his head, completely furious, and added nothing more to the conversation.

It only took twenty minutes to get from the airport and back to Dalton Academy, but Julian somehow managed to fall asleep in that time after their conversation. Pulling up in front of Stuart House, Logan looked to Derek and said, “Go to the clinic wing. Ask Summers what we’re supposed to...do with him.”

Derek stepped out, a little doubtful, “What about you? What’ll you do? Look, maybe go easy on him a little, I think he knows what he’s done to himself—”

“He has no idea what he does to himself and he doesn’t care, that’s the problem,” Logan retorted. “When he’s set himself to something, he’ll manage it or die trying and one of these days, it will get him killed.”

“At least he’s here now,” Derek sighed as Logan reached in and pulled Julian out of the car with more care than he’d expected given his disposition. “He’ll be alright once he recovers.”

“This can’t happen again, D,” Logan told him as he slung Julian’s arm over his shoulder, the groggy actor waking up and still too slow to realize what was happening. “This can’t happen again, I don’t care how right he thinks he is.”

“Well, tell him that,” Derek nodded.

“I plan to.”

[flameo-firelord-hotman]

Idiot — Sokka x Fem!Reader

Genre: not sure...crack/fluff?

Warnings: none

Words: 2.1k

Summary: after spotting you in the marketplace, Sokka is head-over-heals for you and makes several foolish attempts to woo you.

A/N: I had to do it. This is yet another contribution to @fromthewatertribe’s 1k event! But this time I decided to write something a little silly with my boy Sokka. I used prompt #16: “you are like sunlight.” Enjoy :)

Masterlist

“Wow this marketplace is huge despite being such a small town,” Katara commented.

“Yeah, and it has so many cool things. Look at those pink lemons!” Aang exclaimed, pointing to one of the fruit stalls.

“And these Earth Kingdom hairpieces!” Katara added.

“And that bag over there!” Sokka said. Then, he saw you. “And her...” he said dreamily. Quickly, he approached your stall. Okay, be cool, Sokka. Be cool! he chanted in his mind.

You were organizing your products and making sure everything looked neat, when you heard someone cough to get your attention.

“Helloooo there!” Sokka greeted you in a lower sounding voice. He gave you a smug look and leaned his elbow on the countertop.

Ugh, not one of these guys again, you thought. It didn’t happen often, but it was still annoying when some customers would try to hit on you. Still, you had a job to do, so you put on your customer service smile and played nice. “Hi! How can I help you?”

“Well, I was just…inquiring what wares you were selling in this boutique here,” Sokka replied, still faking his voice.

Seriously?

Katara overheard her brother and stepped in to save you—and him—from an awkward conversation. “Pardon my idiot brother. He’s just interested in that bag over there,” she said, pointing to one of the bags on display. Sokka glared at her.

“Oh! Ahaha, sure thing. That bag is 10 silver pieces.”

“I’ll take it!” Sokka said enthusiastically. As he handed you the money, he tried to think of something clever to say to you. Come on, Sokka, think! Say something that’ll make her fall for you! When you handed him the bag, he got an idea.

With the bag in his hands, he admired it saying “this bag sure is fine, don’t you think?”

“It’s nice, yes,” you simply replied.

“So fine…just like yo—"

“Ugh, for crying out loud!” Katara suddenly groaned. She grabbed Sokka’s arm and dragged him away. “Quit hitting on her and let’s get going, will ya?” You chuckled as the siblings mocked and grumbled at each other while walking away.

“Why did you do that?” Sokka cried.

“Do what? Save you from embarrassing yourself?”

He scoffed, “if anything you embarrassed me!”

Katara groaned and pinched the bridge of her noise. She couldn’t believe how utterly stupid her brother was.

“She was totally into me!” Sokka continued, “didn’t you see the way she looked at me? We were connecting...and then you ruined it!”

“Or maybe she was looking at you, because you were being a complete weirdo.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Idiot,” Katara muttered.

“I know you are, but what am I?” Sokka jeered.

“Spirits, Sokka!” Katara cried, throwing her hands in the air.

The next day, the trio returned to the marketplace to do some more window shopping. Sokka snuck away from the group to talk to you again. He was determined to impress you and win his heart. As he approached your stall again, he devised a plan. Alright, here’s what you’re going to do, Sokka. You’re going to go up to her, introduce yourself, get her name, and then ask her out. Easy peasy!

Whistling as he walked, Sokka went up to your stall. “Oh heyyyy,” he said with a grin on his face.

“Hey,” you greeted. He leaned on the countertop just like he did yesterday. You noticed he was sporting the bag he had bought from you.

“I don’t know if you remember me, but—”

You giggled. “I do actually. You’re the silly guy who bought that bag from me yesterday,” you remarked, pointing to the bag.

“Yeah! Yeah...uh, the name’s Sokka. I’m from the Southern Water Tribe,” he said, extending his hand. You reluctantly shook it.

“I’m [y/n]. I live here.”

“That makes sense! Uh, you work here; therefore, you live here!” he commented awkwardly. He was trying to make conversation, but was clearly failing at it. You actually found it funny, not his comment, but the fact that he was making such a fool of himself again. None of the guys who hit on you were like this. You decided to play along purely for entertainment.

“Yes, that’s right. I’ve lived here all my life,” you said.

“Wow, that’s amazing!”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah! You know what else is amazing?”

“What?”

“You,” he said with a wink.

Okay, that was kind of smooth…but I’m not giving in just yet, you thought. “Why? Because I sell bags every day?” you playfully asked.

“Yeah!” Sokka immediately responded without thinking. Then, he dreadfully realized what you said. “Well, I mean, um…that is interesting, yes. But uh…” Sokka stuttered, trailing off. His plan wasn’t working out so well. You didn’t respond the way he expected you too. By now he should’ve asked you out, but now he was off track, and didn’t know how to recover.

“So, uh, are you here to buy something? Or…” you asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Shoot! I’m losing her. I need to think of something quick! He racked his brain, trying to come up with something witty or funny to say. “No, no...I’m, uh...um...” he scratched his head. Nothing came to mind. It was time to abort mission. “You know what? I forget. Bye!”

And he bolted. You kind of felt bad for him. That Water Tribe boy was trying his best to flirt with you. It was too bad he sucked at it. But at the same time, it was funny.

Sokka ran through the streets of Shí Zhèn. He needed a new plan, but he couldn’t think of anything. He needed help, but he couldn’t ask his sister for advice, because he knew Katara would tell him to leave you alone. That left only one other person: the 12-year-old, very inexperienced Avatar. I’m so screwed! he groaned. But he had no choice; he needed to find Aang.

At last, he spotted him at one of the marketplace stalls.

“Hey, Aang!” he shouted.

“Hi, Sokka! Check out this tiny sweater I found. I think it’s supposed to be for babies, but it fits Momo perfectly!” Aang smiled. He held up Momo to show off the little green sweater wrapped around Momo’s small body. Momo chirped happily.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fantastic,” Sokka quickly said, unimpressed. “Listen, you have no game, but you’re also a wise guy. I need your help.”

“Um, thanks, I guess? What’s up?” asked Aang.

Sokka sighed, lovestruck. “This girl at the marketplace...her name’s [y/n]. Everything about her is stunning: her face, her hair, her voice…so stunning that I keep making a fool of myself in front of her.”

“Aw, that’s so cute Sokka! Isn’t love a wonderful thing?”

“Uh-huh, yeah, so how do I impress her without being an idiot?” Sokka wanted to get straight to the point.

Aang thought for a moment. He had virtually no experience in the dating world. In fact, he was struggling with his own crush on Katara. “Well, the advice you once gave me was to not be too nice and act aloof, but—”

“That’s it! Thanks, Aang!” shouted Sokka as he ran off.

Sokka rushed back to your stall. When he got within sight of it, he slowed to a stroll. Then, he proceeded to walk past your stall multiple times while acting aloof. Every time he did, he would look at you from a safe distance to see if he caught your attention.

To him, it seemed you hadn’t noticed him. The truth was that his new tactic was so painfully obvious and cringey that you pretended not to see him.

Still determined, Sokka approached your stall and pretended to look at the bags on display. Well, if he’s going to play pretend, then I will too, you decided. And so, you put on that customer service smile again and acted oblivious to him.

“Welcome back,” you greeted him.

“Hi,” Sokka said curtly. He didn’t even look up at you.

This’ll be good, you thought. “What brings you here again?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Just looking, I guess,” he stated in a bored tone.

“Okay. Well, I see you’re looking at the wicker bag. That one’s pretty popular.” He merely grunted as a reply. You continued. “It’s made of rattan. Very durable, water resistant, easy to clean, and holds a lot. What do you think?”

“Meh, it seems alright.”

“Just alright? Is there anything specific you’re looking for?”

“Eh, nothing really.”

At this point, you were entertained enough. You were done playing around. “You’re funny, you know.”

“Huh?” Sokka was completely caught off guard.

“Yeah! Flirting with me, and then suddenly acting like you don’t have a care in the world. I think it’s funny.”

“Oh...” was all Sokka could say. I’ve screwed myself again, haven’t I? he worried.

You leaned on the countertop, getting closer to Sokka. “Want to know what else I think?”

“Uh...”

“I think you’re trying too hard. I don’t normally let guys hit on me, because they’re usually creepy about it, but you’re actually nice and funny. Instead of pretending to be someone you’re not, I think you should just be yourself when you ask me out.”

“Wow,” Sokka muttered in astonishment, “even when you call me idiot, it’s amazing.”

You burst out laughing. “See? You’re funny! And, yeah, I didn’t want to say that out loud, but...you read my mind.”

“Alright, I’m going to start over!” Sokka decided. Dramatically, he did a jump and spin, then threw his hands in the air and beamed as if he transformed into his true self.

“Hi there! My name’s Sokka,” he said with newfound confidence. “Has anyone ever told you that you are like sunlight?”

You threw your head back and laughed again. He gave you look of confusion.

“You’re so goofy!” you laughed, wiping tears from your eyes. “That’s really sweet though, keep going!” you begged him.

“Okay,” he chuckled, “well, I think you and me should hang out tonight. What do you think? We could walk through the streets, eat dinner, stargaze,” he said, hands waving in the air as he spoke.

You put your finger to your chin, pretending to deeply consider his offer. “Hmm, I don’t know, goofball,” you mumbled sarcastically, while dramatically rolling your eyes.

Sokka smirked knowingly. “Oh, come on, sunshine. You know you can’t resist silly Sokka!” he said playfully. To top it off, he scrunched up his sleeves and flex his arms. When he gave you a cheeky grin and bounced his eyebrows up and down, you cracked up once more.

“Pft, okay, goofball. You’ve won my heart. Meet me here at sunset!” you cheered.

“YES!” Sokka shouted before jumping in the air and clicking his heals victoriously. If he could do a backflip, he probably would’ve done one right then and there. “Uh, I mean...great! I’ll see you then,” he said, pointing finger guns at you as he backed away into the crowds.

Tired from wandering and shopping, Katara and Aang relaxed in their room at the local inn. Suddenly, the door was forcefully kicked opened.

“Guys, I did it!” Sokka announced as he leaped into the room. Katara and Aang stared at him wide-eyed like a startled deer-dog. Then, they glanced at each other, unsure of what he was talking about.

“Did what?” they both asked.

“I have a date with [y/n],” he sighed dreamily. If heart eyes were real, they would be popping up on his face.

“That’s great, Sokka! I’m so glad everything worked out for you,” Aang smiled.

At first, Katara felt out of the loop, then she realized who he must’ve been talking about. “Oh, don’t tell me you harassed and that poor girl again!” she facepalmed.

“Oh, no, no, we chatted for a bit. She thinks I’m hilarious!” Sokka exclaimed.

“She must’ve lied,” Katara concluded.

“Nuh-uh, she was cracking up at my jokes,” Sokka assured. “By the way, Aang, your advice sucked.”

“Actually, it was your own advice...which you gave to me,” Aang carefully explained.

“Well...ugh, whatever! It doesn’t matter anymore. I have a date tonight that I need to get ready for. Later, losers!”

After the door closed, Katara shook her head and sighed, “why is my brother like this?”

[pretchatta]

swoon june day 1: meet-cute

a kanera flower shop au

rating: general; kanan jarrus/hera syndulla; 3.1k words

---

“Morning,” Kanan called as the cantina door slid shut behind him. He didn’t wait for a response, making a beeline for the caf machine which sat behind the counter.

The dining area was empty, with the lights only flickering to life as he entered and the chairs stacked upside-down on the tables from the night before. The place was shabby but clean, and with what little of the late morning sun that made it through the windows glinting off the glassware behind the bar, it could even be described as respectable.

Kanan knew he was a few minutes late, but it was a mark of his respect for his employer that he hadn't pushed it later still by stopping to get caf on his way in. Now, however, he needed his caffeine fix before he could start getting the cantina ready for the lunchtime shift.

“There you are!” Okadiah called out as he emerged from the kitchen, a dish towel in one hand and a glass in the other. “Don’t bother taking your coat off, I need you to go back out and pick up the flowers.”

Kanan already had one hand on the command terminal of the caf machine, but he paused to look at the white-haired man. “Flowers?”

“It’s Father’s Day, lad, we’ve got to have flowers!” Okadiah said it like it was obvious. “Only a degenerate doesn't take their dad out for Father's Day, and if we want to attract people in here we've got to look the part!”

Kanan gave him a bemused look. In his opinion, there were several things wrong with that statement, but he stuck to the most pressing. “Where am I supposed to get flowers from?”

“From the shop you walk past twice a day.” He spoke slowly, as if to someone very dim. “It’s just around the corner, with the big green sign. I’ve already placed an order, and all you have to do is collect it.”

“...If I walk past it every day, I feel like I would have seen it.” Maybe it was the lack of caf, but none of this was making very much sense to him right now.

“It’s there,” Okadiah assured him. “Now go! You’ll be putting the fancy tablecloths out when you get back, and I won’t be opening late just because you dragged your feet.”

Kanan groaned and rolled his eyes at Okadiah. He allowed himself to be ushered back to the door he’d just entered through and with a final longing look at the caf machine, he departed.

He retraced his steps and around the corner, right where the old man had said it would be, was the flower shop. A hand-painted sign above the entrance of white lettering on a green background proclaimed it to be “Numa’s Blooms” in cursive aurabesh. As Kanan stepped through the automatic door, the first thing he noticed was the overwhelmingly floral scent to the air.

The second was the voice.

The inside of the shop was packed with every leaf and bloom imaginable, creating a gorgeous display that pleased the eyes and the nose alike. Behind the counter, just visible amongst the foliage, was a teal-skinned twi’lek woman who’s attention was directed towards the back of the shop. That was where the voice was coming from.

“...lilies, tulips, freesias, lisianthus, chrysanthemums, roses.” It was a woman’s voice, and it had an almost musical quality to it. “All here, but the roses are a slightly darker shade of blue than the rest.”

Kanan found himself peering through the foliage towards the source, hoping to catch a glimpse of the person whose face must surely look as divine as she sounded. The woman behind the counter – Numa herself, according to her name badge – glanced over to him as he entered.

“Just log it in our feedback, we can chase it later,” she called over her shoulder. Her voice sounded mundane in comparison, though it had a distinctly Rylothian accent.

“How can I help you?” she directed at Kanan. She seemed as tired as if she'd already worked a full day, even though it wasn't yet noon.

“Uh...” It took him a second to remember exactly what he’d come here for. “I’m here to pick up the order for The Asteroid Belt – or Okadiah Garson... He didn’t tell me what name it’s under.”

Numa raised one eyebrow at him before consulting the clipboard in her hand. “That’s the cantina around the corner, right? Yes, Okadiah booked a delivery slot with his order. It’ll be with you in about twenty minutes, my colleague’s preparing the hovertruck now and you’re first on the manifest.”

“Great,” he said in a flat voice. He could've been enjoying his morning caf right now, but the old man just had to send him on a wild nuna chase instead. Now he would have to wait until the tables were set up and the bar opened.

He trudged back to The Asteroid Belt, and the next twenty minutes were exactly as rushed as he'd predicted. The only saving grace was that Okadiah opened the bar for him, but given that he'd been late to start with, it didn't save much time.

When the dining area was ready, he eagerly ducked behind the counter to make himself his precious cup of caf.

“Did you do the tables in the back room too?” Okadiah yelled from the kitchen.

“No. We never use them!” Kanan called back.

“We’re going to be packed today, lad!”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s Father’s Day! Only a degenerate doesn’t take their dad out for Father’s Day!”

“All right, all right.” Kanan rolled his eyes, even though the old man couldn't see, and prepared to set the back room up in record time.

He heard a vehicle pulling up at the service entrance just as Okadiah shouted again.

“Scratch that, forget the back room, that should be our flowers!”

Kanan spun on his heels and made his way into the kitchen.

“Make sure there are some on every table,” Okadiah continued, “and if there are extras, put them by the windows and the front door. We want to make sure everyone wants to come here-”

“Since only a degenerate doesn’t take their dad out for Father’s Day,” Kanan finished with another roll of his eyes and a wry smile before opening the back door. His expression froze on his face as he took in who was outside.

The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

With the most disgusted look on her face.

---

Hera carefully steered the hovertruck into the narrow alley. It was a tight fit, but nothing she couldn’t handle, and she was certain the delivery instructions said that this was the place.

She fidgeted in her jacket. Numa had told her to wear it as it was part of her uniform, but after helping Gobi to load the truck and with the sun streaming through the windshield it was far too warm. She unzipped it, able to hold the truck steady with one hand as she did so.

A faded, peeling sign indicated the back entrance to The Asteroid Belt. Hera pulled the truck a little beyond the door – the alley was no wider up here, so she’d need to get the rear hatch of the truck next to the delivery point and then reverse back out again when she was done unloading.

Fortunately, there was just enough space for her to squeeze down the side to get there without brushing the alley wall too much. She opened up the truck and hefted the first bucket of flowers out.

“...only a degenerate doesn’t take their dad out for Father’s Day.” The voice was muffled, coming through the door to the cantina, but clear enough to her twi’lek ears. Her lips curled into a grimace of their own accord. She hated Father’s Day, and all of the pomp and obligation that came with it.

Before she could smooth her face back into something more appropriate for paying customers, the door opened. She found herself face-to-face with one of the cantina workers, a human man with an annoying half-smirk on his face. She guessed he’d been the one disparaging unwilling children of absent fathers like herself.

Still, he was a customer, and Numa would never forgive her if she lost the shop a reliable source of income like this cantina.

“Delivery from Numa’s Blooms,” she said brightly, pasting a fake smile on her face to match her best customer service voice.

The man simply stared at her.

“...You do want these flowers, right?”

“Yes! Right. Uh, just in here.” He gestured to an empty countertop just inside the door and stepped aside so that she could place the first bucket on it.

When she walked back to the truck without another word, he followed.

“Sorry about all this,” he said, waving a hand at the alley in general as he seemed to recover from whatever had tongue-tied him at the door. “Not the nicest of delivery locations, I know. But hey, you’re at the best bar in the district.” He shot her a smile that was clearly supposed to be winning.

“Right.” she said flatly. So he was going to be chatty. Great.

She couldn’t deal with both him and the heat, so she opted to remove her jacket completely and toss it into the back of the truck. As she grabbed the next bucket, he took another that was marked with the name of the cantina and continued talking.

“Guess you’re pretty busy today, huh? I know not everyone celebrates it, but there must be enough who do to give a shop like yours plenty of work.”

“Sure.”

And I know exactly what you think of those of us who try not to celebrate, she thought to herself. Did he not realise that Hera had heard what he said? Humans always forgot that twi’leks had better hearing than them; perhaps it was because they covered their ears. They set the buckets down and went back for more.

“Still, at least we have labour laws that mean we get the evening off!”

Yes, the enforced shorter working day meant to give employees time to spend with their families. Hera had begged Numa to let her work her normal shift, but the other woman refused to break the law, even if Hera was asking her for it. All she had been able to do was to find an odd job one of her customers needed; Hera didn’t have all of the details yet, but it was some kind of shuttle bus repair that would be unpaid. Hera was just grateful for the excuse to not see her father.

“I’m Kanan, by the way.”

He really wasn’t getting the hint. She set the final bucket down on the counter and turned to him.

“Well, Kanan, that’s the last of your delivery. I’ve got to get to my next drop, but you have a nice Father’s Day.”

She gave him another fake smile before ducking back out of the door to close the truck.

“You too!” He called as she slid back through the narrow gap to the driver’s door.

She climbed in and started the engine. Relief washed over her at finally being done, though it was tinged with apprehension – the rest of her shift was all too likely to be more of the same.

Look on the bright side, Hera, she thought to herself. At least you don’t have to talk to that Kanan guy again.

---

Kanan couldn’t help but admire the woman’s driving as she reversed her hovertruck back down the alley. It was barely wide enough for the truck, mere inches on either side, but she never once came close to scraping the walls. He didn’t know anyone who could drive with such precision and control.

He’d been ecstatic when she’d first shown up. Not only gorgeous, but also the owner of the voice he’d heard in the shop. He’d tried desperately to engage her in conversation, hoping to hear her speak more than single words. Unfortunately, she hadn’t seemed too enamoured with him. He wasn’t sure if she’d been having a rough day or if it was something about him (more likely her day, as his previous experience with women suggested it was not the latter) but she’d made it pretty clear she hadn’t been interested in talking. It was disappointing, but he’d taken the hint and stopped short of asking if she had a free evening in her near future.

Still, he would’ve liked to at least have gotten her name.

He shut the back door and turned to the buckets of flowers that now crowded this end of the kitchen. Fifteen minutes to go until they opened. He felt his shoulders sag at the thought of how much work was ahead of him, with no time for caf in sight.

He went to grab a bucket at random to start laying the flowers out, but something caught his eye. Snagged on one of the thicker stalks was a piece of clothing – a jacket, he realised, very like the one Numa had been wearing when he’d been in the shop this morning. In fact...

He picked it up and held it out in front of him. The delivery driver had taken hers off shortly after arriving and tossed it into the truck – it must have caught on the flowers and he hadn’t noticed it when he brought it in.

He brightened – maybe this would give him another chance to see her again. Even better, like Numa’s, it had a name badge pinned to the front.

HERA.

He didn’t find himself missing his morning caf again as he finished getting The Asteroid Belt ready to open. There was a spring in his step as he served the customers who came through the door, and Okadiah was right, there were a lot more than their usual intake.

The shift finally came to an end, and though Kanan was tired, he hadn’t lost the spark of energy that the thought of seeing Hera again had given him. As soon as the last customer was out of the door, he raced back to the kitchen to grab the jacket he’d left by the back door.

“Just got an errand to run, Oke, I’ll be back to close up in ten minutes!” he called, not waiting for an answer before rushing out.

Numa was behind the counter again back at the flower shop,

“Hey! Is Hera around?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Who’s asking?”

“It’s Kanan, from The Asteroid Belt. She left her jacket behind, I just wanted to give it back to her.”

“Kanan from The Asteroid Belt?” Numa repeated. “No, she’s not in, in fact she just left. But I’ll take her jacket and give it to her next time she has a shift.” Numa held out a hand, and her expression left no room for bargaining.

Kanan felt his face fall in disappointment. He’d hoped that by coming as soon as he could he’d catch her before she finished working, but apparently he hadn’t been fast enough. He passed the jacket over the counter.

“Thank you for returning it,” Numa said, clearly dismissing him. “Have a nice evening off.”

Kanan appreciated the sentiment, but he knew that his evening would be neither nice nor off. Okadiah had apparently finally found someone to repair his hoverbus, and Kanan had offered to stick around late to let whoever it was into the hangar where it was parked.

The bus was Okadiah’s latest idea to grow the cantina’s list of regulars; he wanted to use it to shuttle workers from the industrial estate on the other side of town to this district, where a good number of them lived. Conveniently, the bus would stop right outside of The Asteroid Belt. Kanan thought it was a pretty good idea, but only if the old man could actually get the bus to run.

He returned to the cantina to find Okadiah hadn’t even noticed he’d gone, and closed up without any problems. He couldn’t quite bring himself to throw out the flowers, so he refilled the buckets with fresh water and stood them along the bar as decorations.

Once the dining area was once again stacked and clean – there would be no dinner shift today – Kanan retrieved his day’s pay from Okadiah and headed to the hangar, leaving the proprietor to lock up.

Waiting outside the hangar door was the last person he’d expected to see.

“Hera?”

She didn’t seem surprised he knew her name. Her face was a mask as she watched him walk closer, her only acknowledgement of him a single raised eyebrow as he brought out Okadiah’s key card.

“I guess I’m here to fix your hoverbus,” she said with absolutely zero enthusiasm.

“I guess so,” he replied cautiously, unlocking the door. “You, uh, left your jacket behind earlier. I dropped it back with Numa.”

“I heard. So what happened to 'only a degenerate doesn’t take their dad out for Father’s Day'?"

He couldn’t resist the opening. "Perhaps I'm a degenerate," he said with a swagger and a wink. She gave him a flat look and turned away to walk through the door.

He followed her into the hangar, where the automatic lights slowly blinked on to reveal the old, battered, third-or-possibly-fourth-hand hoverbus.

"I also don't have a father," he said in a much softer voice. He wasn’t sure what had prompted him to share that, but the words were out now.

She stopped her inspection of the bus to turn to him.

"Oh - I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "Don't worry about it. It’s why I was free for this job tonight.”

She looked awkward, and something made him keep going.

“My parents died when I was a baby, so I don't even remember them. Okadiah’s the one who’s obsessed with that stuff, but I hadn’t had enough caf this morning to argue with him about it."

“So what you said–”

“Yeah, I don’t actually believe that.” He reached up to rub at his neck. “In fact, I kinda dread days like these. They just remind me of what I don’t have.”

“...I feel the same.” Her voice was quiet.

“Yeah?”

“I lost my mother when I was younger, and my father… Wasn’t his best after that. It was hard.”

Silence stretched between them for a moment, heavy and serious.

“Hey,” he offered lightheartedly. “Who needs parents when you’ve got a broken down hoverbus for entertainment?”

He felt a jolt of triumph as she gave him a small smile.

“Can’t complain about the company, either.”

“No?”

Her smile grew. “Well, the first impression was terrible. But given a second chance… You’re not bad.”

“‘Not bad’,” he repeated. “I’ll take that.”

She laughed, somehow an even more beautiful sound than her voice, and Kanan decided he’d do whatever he could to make her laugh like that again.

[sohotthateveryonedied]

Feels More Like a Memory

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Ric gulps down the rest of the beer and gestures to the bartender for another. Then he holds out his hand. “I’m Ric, by the way. With a C.”

“Wally. With a W.”

“That’s a tragedy.”

“And Ric isn’t?”

It’s not easy being a ghost. Ric isn’t dead. He has flesh, breath, motion, all signs of life. But Him? The person he apparently used to be but who might as well be a stranger told in someone else’s story? That person is dead, and Ric can’t help but feel like a murderer for pushing him out. He isn’t Dick Grayson. Not anymore. Ric slides into a bar stool, flagging down the bartender. “I’ll have a beer.” This place isn’t his favorite haunt in Blüdhaven, but they do serve good brews despite the lack of customers and general grossness. And, frankly, he’s not in the mood for company tonight. He’s been fielding calls all day from those people, the ones who knew him Before. The ones who foolishly call every few days as if expecting the ghost to answer in Ric’s place. Bruce. Barbara. Damian. Even some names that Ric doesn’t recognize but couldn’t care less about if he did. A Donna Troy. Jason Todd, even though Dick saw in some old files that he’s supposed to be long dead. Some kid named Tim. Ric doesn’t even pick up anymore when the calls come. It’s too exhausting playing defense, trying to remind these poor idiots that the Dick they knew is dead. Ric can’t keep pretending to have any part of himself that cares about these strangers, that keeps him straddling the line between past and future, or it will tear him in half. He’s had enough of the visits from “old friends” and family members he wouldn’t recognize from a Christmas card.

It’s a weeknight, so the bar is empty but for a few alcoholics and some guys playing pool in the back. Ric might even join them later, hustle a few rounds. The door to the bar opens, a dulled bell sounding to announce the newcomer. Ric doesn’t bother looking up. It’s not like he’ll recognize the new face—or any face, for that matter. The bartender brings over his beer. Ric thanks her and takes a sip. The stool next to him creaks. “I’ll have a Coke with three maraschino cherries, please. Thanks.” It’s a deep voice with a bit of a midwestern twang. From Missouri, maybe? The “please” is a clear indicator that he’s not from around here, nor does he go to bars a lot. Not this kind, anyway. Ric has tried and failed to turn that part off, the part that picks apart every detail in the world into quantifiable data. His memories may be gone, but whatever that crazy bat guy trained into him has stayed in his head as muscle memory. Ric couldn’t escape it if he tried. He drinks his beer, side-eyeing the guy. “Never met anyone who goes to a bar for a soda.” The guy doesn’t...he doesn’t flinch, exactly. But there’s the slightest of shivers that runs through his frame as if hearing Ric’s voice does something to him, even though he’s the one who sat next to Ric in the first place despite the plenty of empty stools around them. Maybe he’s lonely. Maybe he’s just a weirdo. Whatever this guy is, he recovers quickly. “You can’t exactly get a Coke with three cherries from your neighborhood grocer.” “You can if you make it at home.” The guy’s mouth quirks. “Then I’m here for the wonderful atmosphere.” Now that Dick is facing him, he can see that the guy has bright red hair that curls in front of his forehead, wind-blown like he spends his life riding on top of a bullet train. His eyes are green and practically every inch of visible skin is sprinkled with freckles. “If you’re looking for atmosphere, you’re sure as hell not going to find it here,” Ric says. “This place is the pits.” “Then how come you’re here?” Ric shrugs. “For the moldy buffalo wings and terrible service, of course.” The guy laughs and, for whatever reason, Ric gets the impression that it’s the first real laugh he’s had in a long time. The bartender serves up his soda, cherries and all. “I’ve got to be honest, Blüdhaven is even worse than I remember it. Ever since that bat guy disappeared, it’s like all I hear about Blüd now is how much the crime has escalated.” “Nightwing,” Ric corrects before he can stop himself. “His name was Nightwing.” “Right, Nightwing. What do you think happened to him?” He got shot in the head. Not that Ric can tell that to a complete stranger. Then again, he’s been meeting far too many “complete strangers” lately who turn out to be anything but. They try to worm their way into Ric’s life as if they know him, as if they have some kind of a claim on him. “Have we met before?” he asks. He tries to do it casually to cushion the blow of completely changing the subject, but it’s hard to remember what casual even is anymore. “You seem...familiar.” The guy plasters on a smile. “Just have one of those faces, I guess.” “Says every person who’s ever pretended not to know someone.” That gets another laugh. Maybe he’s just a happy guy? Definitely not from around here, then. “I’m from Central City, actually. Just here for the weekend. I was trying to track down an old friend.” “And did you find him?” The guy’s eyes dim, but he keeps up some of the smile, like he’s mourning a memory. “Nope. He skipped town pretty recently and has been missing since.” “Sorry to hear that.” The guy drinks his soda. “How about you? What keeps you in a place like Blüdhaven?” “Believe it or not, this is the only place I’ve been in so far that’s felt like home.” He’s already buzzing from the beer combined with the whiskey this morning and the vape he bummed off a couple guys earlier. Might as well go all in. “I got shot in the head a while ago and since then, I’ve been a clean slate.” He points to the scar on his scalp, but he doesn’t have to. A goddamn aircraft could see that thing from orbit. “It’s hard to figure out ‘home’ again when every place you go is filled with too many people who know and care about you, you know?” “You and I have very different definitions of ‘home’ then. The way I see it, home is wherever the people who love you are.” “You’d be surprised. It’s more like leeches, really. Or a landlord begging for rent even after you’ve moved out. It’s fucking exhausting.” He gulps down the rest of the beer and gestures to the bartender for another. Then he holds out his hand. “I’m Ric, by the way. With a C.” “Wally. With a W.” “That’s a tragedy.” “And Ric isn’t?” That makes Ric laugh. The weird part is that, at the heart of whatever this is, there’s something natural about laughing with this random person. Wally. It feels familiar, like this is someone important, as insane as that sounds. He blames it on the alcohol, but he could almost convince himself that this Wally guy is something vital he’s been missing. But Ric has seen the files Batman showed him while he was futilely trying to jog Ric’s memory. There was nothing about anyone named Wally in there, so he’s in the clear. “So,” Wally says, “amnesia, huh? And I thought I had problems.” “You have no idea. Weirdly enough, the amnesia part isn’t even the worst of it. I can deal with having no memories. The real problem is everyone else’s memories trying to force their way into mine. Everybody remembers me as somebody else, but they can’t understand that the man they knew is long gone. It’s pathetic.” “Can you blame them? If someone I loved forgot who he was, I’d want to bring him back too.” “Then you’ve never had to deal with lost memories before. Everyone talks about how amnesia can be a blessing in disguise, giving you a reset on life. But it’s more like being dropped in the middle of a sports game where you don’t know the rules or who your teammates are, and everyone’s waiting for you to just get with the program and kick the ball somewhere.” Wally bites a cherry off its stem. “What I wouldn’t give for that.” At Ric’s questioning look, he says, “I have two kids. Twins, Jai and Irey. They’re...they were incredible. They were the lights of my life. Then there was...something happened. I lost them both, and now all I have left of them are memories. But I swear to god, sometimes it feels like having the memories hurts a million times worse than losing them in the first place.” Well, shit. By the looks of him, Wally can’t be more than twenty-four, twenty-six years old. Losing two kids so young must be hell on earth. That Damian kid said stuff about how Dick was like a second father figure to him and how when Damian was dead, the greatest relief after coming back was that Dick wouldn’t have to mourn him anymore. But Ric doesn’t remember any of that. If he ever did lose Damian like he said, it means nothing to Ric now. Dick may have lost a child, but Ric didn’t. Wally swallows thickly, drinks his soda until his throat clears. “So trust me, I get wanting to forget. But if you want my advice, I say hold on to your family for as long as you can, even if you don’t want to. You never know how much time you’ll have with them.” Ric honestly doesn’t know what to say to that. “I’m...I’m sorry, man.” Wally clears his throat, forces a smile, but each one is dimmer than the last. “It’s fine. But you see why I don’t drink.” He doesn’t elaborate, but Ric gets the message: Because if I did start drinking, I would never stop. “I can’t even imagine losing someone like that,” Ric says, sipping his fresh glass of beer. “I know my parents are dead, but my memories are so messed up that I don’t remember much of it. And even though I can’t remember anything after that day, it still feels like it happened twenty years ago. I’ve never had to grieve anyone but myself.” “It helps to have people around you, for one thing. That friend I mentioned, the one who skipped town? We used to have a system that whenever one of us was having a bad day, we’d go down to that gay bar a few blocks from here and stay there until we forgot what we were upset about.” After a second, he asks, “You ever been there?” Ric resists the urge to grimace. “I’m straight, actually. That kind of stuff...it’s not really my thing.” Wally blinks at him. “You’re kidding.” “Excuse me?” “Nothing. That’s just...surprising.” “Okay?” This wouldn’t be the first time someone’s accused Ric of being queer. Just because he likes mesh shirts and the occasional crop top doesn’t mean he’s gay, okay? He’s as straight as an arrow. “No, that’s not—I mean...I don’t know what I mean.” Wally shakes his head. “It’s easy to forget that not everyone lives the same life you do, I guess.” Ric clinks his glass with Wally’s. “Cheers to that.” Ric can’t explain what about this conversation makes him feel more comfortable than he has in weeks. Maybe it’s the beer. Maybe it’s the human interaction with someone who isn’t another bar-hopping asshole or part of his old “family” trying to bring him back to a home that isn’t his. Ric has spent so long driving strangers to their destinations in his taxi, sleeping under a new roof every night, gambling his money away and drinking himself into oblivion as long as he can afford it. But here, with Wally, he feels settled. His head clears, and it’s such a foreign sensation that he stops for a moment just to let himself soak in it. “How long are you staying in Blüd, Walls?” He doesn’t mean to say the nickname, it just slips out of him like a bar of soap between slick hands. Wally doesn’t seem to mind. He even smiles, and Ric can’t help but wonder if the friend he was talking about used to call him that. “This is my last night, actually. I’m going to this mental health facility in Nebraska for a while to recharge. I just wanted to see my friend one last time before I left.” “I’m sorry you couldn’t find him.” “Yeah. Me too.” Wally downs the rest of his drink and stands, tossing a few bills on the counter. “I should probably head out. It was nice talking to you, Ric.” Ric shakes his hand again. “You too. Track me down if you ever find yourself in Blüd again. It’ll be nice seeing a familiar face for once.” “You got it.” Wally turns to go but stops at the door, one hand mid-twist on the knob. He looks back at Ric. “Don’t forget me again, okay?” He’s gone before Ric can answer, the door closing behind him. Ric was lying before, when he talked about the worst part of being an amnesiac. The worst part isn’t the missing twenty years, or the annoying family members, or the fact that he can name all fifty states but can’t remember whether he likes mustard or not. It isn’t any of those things. The worst part is knowing about the past that waits for him to sink back into it even though he can’t, no matter how hard he tries. It’s struggling with the fact that he has a whole family he doesn’t recognize but who loves him more than he’s ever seen a person be loved before. It’s seeing that love, witnessing the lengths they go to just to have their Dick back, but not being able to feel any of it because that isn’t his life. It’s not Ric’s love to have, and it never will be. Dick Grayson may be dead, but the love he earned is eternal. And that, right there? That’s what hurts the most.

[pinkprimrose05]

GX Month Day 7: Ojama Delta Thunder!!

@gxmonth

"That’s right! You know what today is! Today we celebrate The Chazz, the one and only Manjoume Thunder! Give sparky boi a hug!"

...I'm not giving Manjoume a hug. I...*cackles evilly* am gonna make him suffer as much as the actual Duel Links players do, maybe even more. And I'm not the least bit sorry, because hey, he gets something out of it in the end!

Manjoume Jun was not having a good day.

The Ojama Duelist grumbled to himself, kicking a non-existent pebble into the air as he made his way to the Duel Studio. The picturesque environment of Duel Links -too clean, too perfect- never ceased to amaze him and many others, but right now, he was too damn pissed to care about that.

After all, it's hard for one to appreciate the technology behind a game's setting when that same technology had just fucked up their entire collection of cards- And in the middle of a Duel no less!

The door slid open as he walked through, revealing rows upon rows of multicolored tables placed on either side of the massive ground floor that was the Deck Editor section, leaving a clear path to the spiraling staircase of clear blue glass that led to the Card Catalog and several other, more obscure sections. After all, the Deck Editor was the single most popular part of the Duel Studio, if the couple dozen Duelists buzzing around all day long were anything to go by.

Manjoume plopped down on a chair at the first empty table he could find, fishing out the single Deck box in his pocket and dropping it on the yellow, round surface. The twenty cards inside the box spilled out over the table (he had hundreds of those for fuck's sake!), and their owner groaned in frustration as he rifled through his completely reset Deck....Scratch that, it wasn't even his own Starter Deck. Battle Warrior? Flame Manipulator? What the hell?!

Briefly, he considered the benefits of marching up to Isono and demanding an explanation and solution to what happened, but that idea was shot down almost immediately. It's not like the guy would be of actual help; the last time someone asked about a bug in the game Isono had literally told them, quote unquote "Please ensure that no other house utilites are interrupting your connection, such as a microwave oven.", and while Manjoume was no tech expert, even he could tell how much of a half-assed excuse that was.

Stupid Duel Links and its stupid customer service-

"Manjo-kuuuuuuun!!"

Startled out of his thoughts, Manjoume only had enough time to gasp before a familiar blue blur put him in an unexpectedly tight headlock, already rambling at rapidfire speed straight in his ears.

"I'm so glad I could find you today!!" Kylie squealed "Had no idea I'd see you here, but that doesn't matter- do you wanna Duel?? I've been working on a new Deck and combos for days now and I can't wait to show you-" the second-year abruptly paused when she caught sight of the cards spread on the table, letting go of Manjoume in favor of taking a better look at them "Waaiiiit a minute, what's with those cards? They don't look like anything you normally play-"

"-It's Manjoume-san." He sharply interjected in a mix of annoyance and exasperation, shooting a glare at the oblivious blunette standing next to him as he massaged his neck "And yes, those aren't my cards. The game just randomly decided to reset my connection in the middle of a Rank-Up Duel of all things, yeet off all my Decks into nonexistence, and then gave me a shitty Starter in exchange, so now I'm stuck with almost zero gems and no way to recover my progress, which is just fucking splendid considering how close we are to the next KC Cup."

Manjoume sighed "Fuck this. Just, fuck this."

Truthfully, he wasn't as mad about the progress he lost as he was about losing his cards. It hadn't even been thirty minutes and, while he'd never admit it out loud, he already missed his trio of obnoxious Ojamas. They've been through thick and thin together, and it felt unnatural to have them just up and disappear like that. The last time they've been away from him wasn't exactly something he wanted to remember, and while the situation here was nowhere as severe as the Dark World, it still felt wrong for the air around him to be so quiet.

Kylie, who was uncharacteristically quiet as she listened to her 'friend' ranting about his current predicament, nodded along "So you...basically got your account reset?"

"No shit, Sherlock." Manjoume deadpanned in response. Kylie put a hand to her chin, humming thoughtfully with closed eyes, before suddenly slamming a hand on the table and nearly shocking him into falling off his chair.

"I GOT IT!" She exclaimed, snapping her fingers with a bright grin "This reset bug happened once to someone I know- I don't know if you remember Ruby from Heartland Academy, but anyway, she also lost all her progress a couple months ago after she got booted out of a Duel, and it turned out that her cards were just scattered all around the Duel World, so we went around asking everyone we could if they saw them, Dueled those who had some, and we got all her cards back in the end. It must be the same with yours, so let's get going and find them all!!"

Without warning, she grabbed the Legendary Duelists's hand, hauling him up and out of the Deck Editor before he could even get out a word. Manjoume gasped and spluttered along the way, trying to tell his companion to slow down a bit to no avail; as talking someone like Kylie out of anything was like trying to build a Deck around Cold Feet.

That didn't stop him from actually looking around and asking, though. If there was even the slightest chance of him finding his cards this way, then he'd be damned if he didn't at least try and go through with it. Compared to staking it out at the North Pole for a barely synergic mishmash of a Deck, to going down a haunted well in an empty forest for a bunch of 0-ATK monsters that were -figuratively and literally- bottom of the barrel, Dueling a couple chumps and scavenging for some lost cards was nothing, and he was ready to do so much more to get his partners back.

"See? I told you Aniki would come find us in the end!"

...I take back everything I said, Manjoume thought, cringing in disgust as Ojama Green and Black hugged each other and began prancing around him in circles, babbling and crying tears of joy while they were at it How could I ever miss this shitfest?

He just did, somehow. It hadn't taken too long to find the two Ojamas anyway; the sound of them banshee screeching weeping their asses off by the fountain was all he needed to know they were somewhere out there, and by some lucky miracle, their cards didn't get sprayed to oblivion with all the water by the time he came to retrieve them. As for his other cards, he and Kylie had stopped by the Shop, the Card Trader, the PvP Arena, the Gate and the Duel School, asking everyone they could about his cards, and beating the shit out of those who had some and refused to give them back

(Well, Manjoume was the one who did that, and only to Evan and Zachary, but that wasn't the point here, was it?)

By the time they decided to return to the Duel Studio for a small break, they'd gathered practically all of his key cards. He couldn't care less for the bunch of staples he lost -he'd just reroll the Selection Box or whatever-, so the only missing card that actually mattered, as much as it stung his ego to admit it...

...was Ojama Yellow. And after what happened with his brothers (and with Fairy Dragon, which he found resting on top of a very inconveniently high branch of a tree), Manjoume fully expected the third Ojama to be sleeping in the trash can or somewhere equally stupid. Because if he wasn't, he'd have found him before any other card by simply following the sound of high-pitched crying mixed with a lot of screaming and weird Ojama noises-

-A sudden rattling sound interrupted the noiret's thoughts for the second time that day, and when he stopped to locate its source, he let out a long, drawn-out sound between a sigh and a groan. Surely enough, the sound was coming from the trash can by the cliff, which was shaking wildly and practically begging to be opemed. Feeling a migraine coming up, Manjoume turned left, walked up to the can, and with some difficulty, pried the lid off.

"ANIKIIIII!!"

He instantly regretted it (he didn't) when the snot-faced creature that was Ojama Yellow exploded in his face, crying uncontrollably as he tried to hug Manjoume (keyword being 'tried'). His brothers all but sprang up from their cards, meeting him in a hug midair and effectively plucking him off his master for a bit as they all laughed and cried and did everything in between.

"Aww, look at how happy they are!" Kylie gushed, eyes almost sparkling. She lightly smacked Manjoume's back "You sure have a funny bunch of spirits, luckyyyy~"

Swatting away the Ojama trio and a pair of Catnipped Kitties before they tried sneaking up on him for a hug, Manjoume folded his arms and snorted in response "Yeah, sure."

But regardless, he found his lips quirking up in spite of himself. If it were me from three years ago, he mused I wouldn't have bothered with any of this in the first place.

But this wasn't the him from three years ago. This was the him of today, the Manjoume Thunder who'd gone through so much shit and learned from it to become a better Duelist, a better Duelist, and a better person. And while he had many people to thank for that, he also had to give credit for the monster spirits that followed him through all of the aforementioned shit, because as cringy, messy, bombastic and obnoxious as they might be, they were his partners, and he wouldn't give them up for anything in this world-

"WILL YOU FUCKING STOP THAT??!!"

-Unless they tried to hug him again. Pissed beyond reason, Manjoume chased after the quintet of Level 2's, ignoring Kylie's hysteric laughter and the surprised yelps from other Duelists as they dashed around the area in circles, all the noise merging into a cacophony of angry hollering and frightened squeaking, among other sounds.

In the end, some things never change....for better or for worse.

~~~~~~

Screw the actual Duel Links game for not including most of Manjoume's low-ATK monsters in his Starter/Lv 10 Deck (why tf is Catnipped Kitty a main Box card 4 years after his release?), and double screw them for splitting his Ojamas and Dragons into separate Decks.

I hate how his higher level Decks in the game completely disregard the former half of his cards; those are the ones that actually stuck with him in a meaningful way, not the Armed Dragons...they deserve some more recognition, so why not mix both archrtypes and slap in Ojamatch?

Also, yes, Standard Duelists actually exist here, so I decided to throw in my favorite GX girl AKA Kylie and have her interact a bit, and boy is she fun to write.

Headcanon: Kylie considers Manjoume (and everyone else, but especially him) her best friend because she basically has Yuuma's mentality of 'Anyone I Duel becomes an amigo!', and by sheer dumb luck, the two keep logging in at the same time and often get matched up in PvP Duels.

That's part of why she's so familiar with him (and also why she calls him Manjo-kun) and as you can see, Jun does not approve.

Aaaand this would be everything for Day 7! Expect to see me again...in a week from now. By Day 15 to be exact. In the meantime, if you’d like to follow my prompts for the month, I’m posting them all on ArchiveofOurOwn: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33473653/chapters/83489824

[wrenhyperfixates]

Of All the Places

Chapter 5

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: The arrival of someone from your life before Loki knew you throws his head into a tailspin. He finally has to come face to face with his emotions. Chapter Warnings: a lot of sarcasm, tiny bit of angst, and fluff A/N: Thanks to everyone who’s been reading and/or chatting to me. I love hearing your thoughts on this, and I hope you enjoy the latest installment :) Updates every Friday.

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiantfavs​ @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​

✥ Start at Beginning ✥ | ← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

The sun beat down on Loki as he handed the carefully packaged eggs to the customer he was helping. It was the first time since his arrival on the farm that you were participating in a local farmer’s market, and he was doing his best to assist despite his less than ideal people skills.

“Have a nice day,” you called after the man as he walked away. “I’ll tell you one thing about your life, Loki. There is absolutely no way you worked in customer service.”

“No, I suppose not,” he agreed with a chuckle.

“Speaking of, you haven’t remembered anything else, have you?”

“I have not, but if I do, I promise you will be the first to know.”

“Mama’s not entirely wrong about the missing person ad,” Ana chimed in, taking the jam jar Matt had just picked up out of his hands. “It couldn’t hurt. Though I can think of a few reasons why you might not want to do it.”

Loki looked away as his cheeks flushed. He was thankful you were already with another customer by the time Ana made a little heart in the air around your heads. It seemed that she had gotten the same crazy idea that John had that he had fallen for you. If only they knew he was a god, then certainly they wouldn’t have reached such an outlandish conclusion. At least, he supposed, they did not know the true reason he wanted to avoid putting his picture out there, for if they did, he was sure they’d never look at him the same way again. Why that should even matter to him was one question he had yet to answer.

“Well, perhaps when Papa finds that camera,” Loki lied.

“Mhm. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Are you leaving?” Matt asked, tugging on Loki’s pants. “I don’t want you to.”

“I know, small one. Do not worry, I am staying put for now,” Loki said as he bent down to the boy’s height.

“Yay! More play time!”

“Indeed,” Loki laughed.

In the past few days, Papa had declared him an official farmhand and offered him a salary for his help. The trickster god declined at first, insisting that the lodgings and hospitality he’d been given were far more than enough. But, in the battle of the wills, Papa came out victorious, and Loki accepted a modest salary. His position, however, was little more than a glorified babysitter, not that he particularly minded. Everyone still seemed too nervous he was going to fall over and die at any given minute to assign him many real tasks. He still collected the eggs daily, and was being taught to milk the cows, along with a few other simple tasks. In addition, he was taking some cooking lessons with Papa. His attempt at pancakes did not go too well, but you reassured him it was a great first try, something that made him beam with pride.

One thing he wasn’t particularly fond of, however, was getting up so early. Though you’d all told him it was fine if he wanted to sleep in while he was still recovering, he felt bad to take you up on the offer. He was, after all, fully healed whether you knew it or not. And if he was accepting pay, he should have to be up as early as anyone else. Still, a part of him longed for his beauty sleep.

“Well, fancy running into you here,” a deep, unfamiliar voice said.

“Denzel?” you asked in a mix of shock and surprise. “Is that you?”

“Sure is, darlin’. Long time no see.”

“Uh, yeah. When did you get back?”

“Just last night. I was hoping to see you here. And it seems I’ve forgotten my manners. Who’s this?” he asked, nodding his head at the God of Mischief.

“Loki,” he replied, reluctantly extending his hand for a shake. “Charmed, I am sure.”

“Yeah, right. Nice to meet you, too. I’m Denzel. You new around here?” he questioned, sizing up Loki.

The raven haired god wasn’t exactly sure what it was about this man, but he rubbed him the wrong way. There was nothing particularly malicious about him, but the look in his eye sparked something in Loki’s chest. In a sudden panicked thought, he wondered if this Denzel person had recognized him. If so, he’d have to make a quick getaway, teleportation the only option. He wondered for a split second if he could grab your hand and take you with him, but he knew that wouldn’t be fair to you. Then again, nothing about this particularly was.

“Yes. You see, I have tragically lost my memory, but I was lucky enough to be taken in by this kind family,” Loki said.

“Interesting. But you remember your name?”

“Oh yes, I remember simple, everyday things, such as my name or, say, how to use a seatbelt. Something so simple surely would stay in everyone’s mind,” he joked, shooting a look at you as a huge smile made its way onto your face. You hid your laugh at the inside joke behind a hand. “Very odd how that works, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Like I said, interesting. Anyway,” he changed the subject, turning to you, “I was hoping to talk. Do you think we could maybe take a quick walk?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Can you guys hold the fort down?”

“Of course, honey,” Ana said, giving your arm a quick squeeze. “Take your time.”

You were off before Loki had any time to protest, but he kept up a cool facade as the next customer walked up to the booth. Once he finished, he put his elbow on the table and, slumping down in defeat, rested his head in his hand.

“Who was that Denzel character, anyway?” he asked your sister as his nose involuntarily wrinkled in distaste.

“Listen, don’t tell them I told you this, but he’s their ex.”

“Well, what happened? Did he hurt them?” he further inquired, perking up at the new information.

“Distance, I guess. He was a great guy, really, but it just didn’t work out. He just finished studying to be a doctor, actually. So he might be back in town for good. But,” she added, noticing the disappointment etched onto Loki’s features, “that doesn’t mean they’re getting back together or anything. It’s been a while. I really do think they moved on.”

“Do you not have that saying here, though? Distance makes the heart grow fonder. Or something else equally ridiculous as that.”

“Well, yes, that is a saying. But not from here, as in Oklahoma here. It’s kinda well known.”

“I am aware. I just meant... Oh never mind!” he quit in exasperation, a mood Ana chalked up to Denzel’s sudden arrival.

Loki tried to use his height to his advantage and spot you in the crowd, but no such luck. You were too far gone, away with Denzel, your ex. Someone who, Loki had to admit, was very pretty and smart and charming. But certainly he—Loki of Asgard, God of Mischief and Lies, rightful heir to not one, but two thrones—was prettier than this mere mortal. And smarter than this insipid fool. And far more charming than this bumbling oaf. Right? Or was he truly just the cold, chaotic, horrific, monstrous villain so many thought he was? Though, really, why should any of it matter to him?

In that moment, the answer finally hit him. He could never acknowledge it, though. It would only lead to pain and heartache for all involved. Not to mention terrible danger for you. But, if he were to allow himself just one peaceful second of bliss, he could imagine he was not a god, not a fugitive, but just a simple man. Just someone who could be able to love you and provide for you without any complications from his past misdeeds. If he could allow that, then he would admit he had feelings for you. But he can’t so he won’t. He’d let his inner demons have their way and only ever admire you from afar, accepting your friendship for what it was and nothing more. Though, if you were to make the first move, then perhaps things would be different. That, however, was an entirely unlikely course of events.

“Loki? Are you oki doki?” Matt asked, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. “Maybe you need a cookie.”

“I am fine, little one,” he said, laughing despite himself. “Thank you very much for asking.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a cookie?”

“Well, I suppose it could not hurt. What do you say? Would you like one?”

“Yes, please!”

You and Denzel reappeared just then, and Loki was suddenly very desperate to escape. He took Matt’s hand in his and informed Ana where he was off to with the child. She gave Loki a grateful smile for indulging her son and sent them on their way with a few dollars to purchase the sweets.

On the way to the booth with the most heavenly smell, Loki’s thoughts overtook him once again. He recalled his plan from when he’d first arrived; lie low and heal and then be off to Asgard. Off to claim the throne which technically should have been his. Really, it was not entirely his fault that his brother had been banished when the king fell into Odinsleep. And it wasn’t like he caused that either. No, his “father” confessed he’d been lying to him to all his life and then left him to deal with it by himself. And he was next in line for the throne at the time, but apparently he shouldn’t have taken it. Obviously, it was all perfect logic from the brain of Odin once again. And, yes, he would admit he made some mistakes. That was the sign of a true leader. But he was doing the best he could with the hand he’d been dealt. And perhaps the most frustrating part was he was starting to realize he liked this simple town better than any of that. That he didn’t actually want to leave, after all.

One short wait in line later, Loki pulled himself from the dangerous rabbit hole that was his mind. He ordered two cookies, pumpkin chocolate chip for Matt and a butter pecan one for himself. Then, on a whim, he also ordered a cup of hot apple cider for both you and Ana. Nothing for Denzel, though. If the Norns were smiling on him today, that man would already be gone by the time he got back. Gone as in away from the stand or out of the state didn’t really matter to Loki. Either worked for him.  

“Surprise,” he whispered in your ear after sneaking up behind you. “Hot apple cider, on me.”

You graciously took the cup and passed one to Ana, too. Loki also offered you a piece of his cookie, which you gladly accepted. The brush of your fingers as he gave it to you had him shyly looking away. Ana took Matt off to the bathroom once he was done eating, leaving Loki alone with you for the first time that day.

“So, Denzel,” he nonchalantly started after you finished a transaction. “He seemed... Nice.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. He is.” You picked at a loose thread on your jacket as you figured out what else to say about him. “Ana told me that she let you know our history. He said he’s back now and strongly hinted at us getting back together, but I don’t know.”

“I see. Well, from what I hear, he’s an amazing guy, so you should go for it,” Loki dejectedly said, though he truly did want you to be happy. “If that is what you want, of course.”

“It’s not, though. At least, I don’t think it is. Don’t get me wrong, he is really great. But the spark’s just gone for me, you know?”

“I understand completely,” Loki replied, hope creeping into his heart. Even if you were not yet smitten with him, at least you were not still pining for your ex. “You are certainly under no obligation to be with him again.”

“Yeah, I know. I just feel bad.”

“Darling, look at me,” he said, taking your hand. “You should never feel bad about what, or rather who, you want or do not want. It is entirely up to you, no matter what anyone else says.”

The irony was not lost on Loki that he should be saying those words. Though, he had found it was a common theme among Midgardians to be good at giving advice but never apply it to yourself. So, if anything, he was just doing an impeccable job of blending in.

“Thanks, Loki. I needed that. Anyway, on a much lighter note, Matt really seems to love you. You’re great with kids.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Absolutely.”

He felt his cheeks go scarlet again, entirely too happy that you thought he was good with kids. For a brief moment, the idea of raising a child with you popped into his mind, but he shut it down before he tortured himself too much with something that could never be.

“Well, I thank you for the compliment, but if you do not mind, I need some fresh air for a second. Or space, I suppose,” he corrected, considering you were outside. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Ok. Talk to me if something’s bothering you?”

“Of course.”

He knew that was a lie, and he was sure that deep down you did, too. It was, in the grand scheme of things, a little white lie. It’s just that it felt like so much more than that. In some ways, he supposed it was.

As he walked out to the edge of the market, he thought he heard some thunder ominously booming in the distance. Or maybe that was just his imagination.

[x0401x]

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #3

Feel free to message me about possible corrections, and please consider supporting the creators by purchasing digital copies of the official releases: Novel || Manga || Fanbook. In case anyone is feeling generous: Ko-fi | PayPal. ( ╹◡╹)っ’･*

← Previous || Index || Next →

T/N: Okay, so, this is one of those chapters where the author makes mistakes in linguistics (but she’s trying, guys, she’s trying!). She writes “prasinon” as “prase” for some reason, and I took the liberty to fix it myself when translating.

Connecting Chrysoprase

Jewelry Etranger sat inconspicuously at Ginza 7-choume. The store owner, Richard, was the possessor of a beauty that you couldn’t think was from this world, but no matter how beautiful he was, once half a year had passed, you would get used to it. And as I got used to him, the questions also surfaced.

“Hey, Richard, don’t you have any favorite foods other than sweets? Do you eat ramen or anything like that?”

Mr. Richard Ranashinha de Vulpian looked at me with scrutinizing blue eyes. Sitting on the red sofa, he had been observing the contents of a large jewel box, holding them up over his head against the morning light shining in from the window.

“I find difficult to figure the aim of the question. Why ramen? I have had meals with you numerous times. I eat anything without likes or dislikes.”

“I know. It’s not like it’s limited to just ramen, but you don’t eat that kind of stuff much, do you?”

Like chives. Or garlic. Or grilled meat dripping with juices.

I knew that this didn’t suit his image. He was a man whose features seemed to have accidentally come out of a dream world. If he told me that he could live off eating department store sweets and pink roses, he could probably have me seriously convinced up to about 70%. That was exactly why I would feel like searching for a gap.

As I was about to ask if he understood this logic, Richard replied curtly with a clay doll-like face, “What ill intentions.”

That was true. I wasn’t some obsessive follower of an idol’s personal life or anything. Richard hit bull’s-eye with the deduction that I “probably ate ramen yesterday”. For some reason, things got awkward. I was in a position where it was better to retreat for a while. Time to change the subject.

“What stone is that? Looks like candy and it’s pretty cute.”

“A type of chalcedony. They are in the same category as crystals. In particular, this one with a milky apple-green color is called chrysoprase.

“Ah~...”

What Richard was pinching with his bare hands - because it was safer to touch it with bare skin rather than wearing gloves, he said, as it wouldn’t cause any damage - was a pale green, round stone. It had low transparency, was cut en cabochon and looked like an old-style candy.

“W-What was it again? The name. Chry...?”

“‘Chrysoprase’,” Richard repeated for me.

How many times had something like this happened? The stone’s name was in a Western language. Basically, all of them were in katakana. My ears did register it, but I couldn’t memorize it in one go at all. Richard was a helpful person, so there were times when he wrote down the names in romaji and explained them to me, but I honestly couldn’t keep up with him. There were countless stones in this world.

“Chryso... aah, no good. It’s hard to memorize.”

“‘Chrysoprase’. It is said to be a stone that helps to harmonize and integrate personalities. Medieval European literature also mentions it as a stone that Alexander the Great loved.”

Alexander the Great. A person I had learned about in high school. Even I knew that name. The fact that a stone adored by a warlord who had long passed away was still loved by people of the current times was thought-provoking. The range of the gemstone world was broad. But, well, leaving that as that.

“How d’you memorize stones’ names? It’s not like you’ve got some test to do like in a history class...”

“Do you think anyone would buy goods from a trader who cannot even say their names?”

“I don’t, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s hard. There’s lots of types and they sound like magic spells. Like ‘Sri Jayawardenepura Kotte’. It wouldn’t be weird if you felt like cheating without a care in the world. You got any trick for memorizing them?”

“My compliments to you for being able to pronounce the official name of Sri Lanka’s capital. But I cannot praise the part about carelessly deceiving people. Once your reputation falls to earth, it does not recover so easily. To begin with, your perception of business in general is too lax for someone enrolled in the Faculty of Economics. I know you have the aspiration, but if you do not pair it to practical abilities and skills, you will be running idle. Shouldn’t you try to improve these skills once again so that you can avoid unnecessary hardships in the future? Instead of obsessing over finding out something unexpected about the shopkeeper from your part-time job.”

The arguments were so spot-on that I was at a loss for words. Even so, still with a slightly exasperated face, Richard continued to speak. Most likely, it was his gentle side’s turn from here on out.

“Still, you are right, I do have a trick. If I were to use the capital as an example, ‘Sri Jayawardenepura Kotte’ had its original name ‘Kotte’ being embellished with the title of ‘President Jayawardene’s Sacred City’. When you know the origin of it, doesn’t this line-up of katakana letters that only appears in magic spells turn into meaningful words?”

“So it had that kind of meaning? I see...”

“Is this time to be impressed? Do the same and discover the relatedness of all kinds of matters in your daily life. If you direct your eyes to the depths of your history without sticking to the surface, I guarantee that your world will broaden much more richly.”

“Then what about the chrysoprase of just now?”

As I took a stab at arousing his enthusiasm, the volubly beautiful shop owner smiled gorgeously. I felt that this guy would stay in a good mood forever just as long as I gave him sweets and let him talk about gems. And I liked Richard’s face the most when he was in his best mood.

“This word is taken from the Greek language. It consists of two separate words, ‘chrysos’ and ‘prasinon’. The meaning of chrysos is ‘gold’. The bright golden that can be seen showing through within the green was associated with gold. Prasinon means...”

What happened? His enunciation suddenly got bad.

When I urged him to continue, Richard looked down at the stone in his hand with a dull look and sighed a little. “The meaning of prasinon... comes close to plants such as chives or green onions.”

“Ooh—!”

As I clapped my hands together with an “all paths lead to ramen”, Richard made a face like he had just woken up from a nightmare. What is it? Please laugh.

“In any case, the mental attitude of trying to master something is commendable. I pray that your efforts will bear fruit.”

“Thanks, thanks. Well, will you eat ramen after all?”

Mr. Richard, the jeweler, looked at me with an awfully sharp gaze. What was that face? His facial expression looked like the usual nuance that he was growing fond of my foolishness had increased to about 30%. Did he intend to poke fun on me?

“Yes, yes, I will.”

“What do you prefer? Like miso or soy sauce?”

“A large helping of green onions and garlic. And even then, it is good to grate raw garlic and put in it.”

“That’s a pretty hardcore taste for someone who works with close-contact service business.”

“Which is why this is not something I can eat whenever. I eat it carefully by myself when I do not have to meet anyone the next day.”

As my eyes widened, the beautiful storekeeper raised his chin arrogantly. Did he want to say that this didn’t suit his image or had it just unfolded anew?

“How was it, did you enjoy the so-called ‘gap’?”

“No, it’s not like that’s the main goal.”

“Hah?”

“I can’t invite anyone for a French cuisine restaurant or a high-class sweets store, but if it’s a ramen shop, there’s lots of them near my university. If you like, why don’t we go eat together next time? They’re mostly shops that seem better to drop by wearing a t-shirt rather than a suit, but I wanna try chatting with you while eating this kind of junky stuff every now and then.”

“For you to discover a new unexpected thing about me, you mean?”

“I just wanna get along with you better.”

For an instant, Richard’s facial expression strained hard. What was up? His face looked like he hadn’t known better and bit a sour pickled plum or something. As I furrowed my brows, his blue eyes narrowed, looking glum, while he closed the jewel box with a click and stood up.

“Ah, show me more. It wasn’t nearly enough—”

“The chrysoprase is said to have the power to put the balance of mind and body in order, as well as make it spring up comfortably. Perhaps because its fresh grass color is a reminder of spring. Isn’t this stone unnecessary for you, since you are always in a festive mood?”

“Why’re you angry?”

“I am not.”

“Shouldn’t you take a better look at the chrysoprase?”

“Thank you for the unnecessary meddling.”

Leaving me with things to say, Richard disappeared into the back room. Was it that bad to invite him to a ramen shop? It wasn’t a good idea to let him stay angry, so I voluntarily prepared two cups of royal milk tea in the kitchenette. Having come out into the reception room, Richard said nothing more than the expected as he drank a tea that had a little more sugar in it than usual.

After the customer of that morning had gone home, Richard showed me the chrysoprase once again. Upon a better look, I understood the meaning of that naming, which I couldn’t think of as anything more than a mystery at first. Didn’t the people of ancient times think that this was a plant born from gold? The uneven surface was smooth and wavy like an organic body. Chrysoprase. Gold and green onions. Even though there were several gems in this world, I would probably never forget the name of this one. If I ever got to eat ramen with Richard someday, I would definitely bring up this stone.

“Do you remember that talk?” I would ask.

[fandom-necromancer]

A matter of comfort

This was prompted by the amazing @iamsofternow ! I hope you enjoy! This story involves trans topics. As I’m not trans myself, please tell me if anything I wrote is wrong or could hurt someone! I will change/delete it!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warnings: implied body disphoria, trans character written by a non-trans author)

Nines was running just behind Gavin following the fugitive android. He cursed as he should have caught up to the criminal long ago, hadn’t it been for the fugitive’s companion who had nearly ripped his left leg from its socket as he had interfaced to induce stasis for later arrest. Like this, he could only keep up with his human partner that was blocking his sight remaining surprisingly on the optimal path to catch up even with the faster model. Right as they turned the corner though, Nines got a good view of their fugitive, who had turned in just the right way to pull out a pistol from his side. Although the supposed weapon was still masked behind his body, Nines had already pre-constructed the probability of the bullet hitting his partner. So, right when he exited his pre-construction software, he shouted: ‘Gavin! To the left! Now!’

The exact second, he shouted “now” the bang of the pistol being fired echoed through the air and Gavin jumped aside and out of the way. Nines realised three outcomes next: First of all: Gavin would survive. Secondly, the bullet would hit him instead, directly into his thirium pump, causing him to bleed out and overheat in mere seconds. And lastly: His momentary momentum was too high to break or redirect in his weakened and damaged state, causing him to run directly into the railing, tip over it and fall into Detroit River. That didn’t mean he tried to stop that outcome anyways, hoping for that few percent chance the universe would align to save him.

But in the end, it was futile, as he felt his body fall and saw the water rushing closer. All he could do was shutting down before the water would cause him to short-circuit and hope that someone would care enough to fish him out of the river.

-

‘Nines!’ Gavin had jumped to the side as soon as the android had said something and only started running again, as he registered Nines had been shot in his place. He watched as the android stumbled forwards, trying hard to halt before the railing, but even to the human it was obvious he wouldn’t make it with the way his left leg slipped under his weight. He had to watch as the android toppled over, desperately trying to reach for the vertical bars but hands grasping only air. And then he disappeared.

An agonisingly long moment later, Gavin found himself at the very same railing, leaning over and staring down at the splash that was the only evidence Nines hadn’t just simply disappeared into thin air. ‘Nines!’ Could androids swim? Was Nines light enough so it was even possible? Was he even waterproof? How severe had the wound been? Would he survive this? He was short of jumping himself, but held himself back, calling backup instead. He informed them of what had happened, that their fugitive had escaped and was armed. ‘I need a technician here. And… A diver probably. As soon as possible!’

About an hour later, Gavin stood at the side of a scene that could have been finny hadn’t it been his partner: A tow truck had parked at the edge of the pier and pulled up Nines’ motionless body with a wench. A team of technicians as well as a group of the experts that had worked on the sole prototype’s development had gathered around the truck and got to work immediately as soon as the android was lowered to the ground. Multiple cables were hooked up to his neck port while others carefully opened as many compartments manually as they could to let the water out. The partial reactivation half an hour later made Gavin hope for good news, but the technicians shook their heads.

‘What?! What is it?’ ‘He shut down before hitting the water, that’s good. His memory core is likely the best protected part of him, therefore it is still intact. The person you got to know is still there.’ ‘I hear a but coming’, Gavin sighed. ‘Yes. He won’t be able to use this body. The damage is too intense. He will need almost a full body replacement and as he is the only unit ever developed, we can’t just put him in a new one. We will have to contact people that have already resigned if they haven’t fled the city after the revolution. It will take a long time until we are finished rebuilding him.’

Gavin’s face fell. ‘How long are we talking here?’ ‘At least six months. Likely more if we don’t have all the blueprints readily available. Some of it was top-secret and some only Kamski’s AI had access to.’ ‘So effectively, Nines is dead for the next six months, possibly more?’ ‘We will try our best to come up with a solution.’

That was about all of an explanation Gavin got as the technicians carried Nines over to a van, laid him down in the transport area and drove off after leaving their contact details with Fowler, who had only just arrived at the scene. He stood there, answering his Captain’s questions once again and then returned to the precinct where he was supposed to carry on with his job. Because Nines was in repair and taken care of and he would recover eventually. Seemingly only Gavin sat there staring at the empty chair and worrying how the hell he was supposed to continue like this without his partner, a pain in the ass but still by now a person he considered a friend or at least acquaintance, missing for half a year.

-

When Nines stood in front of the station, he felt uncomfortable. Not only because of the attention his unannounced visit would likely cause, but also because of his body. His old clothes stretched in places it hadn’t before, his considerably weaker state compared to his old one was unsettling, and his perspective had changed too. He was looking at the world from a point far lower now. It was an overall weird feeling.

He entered the lobby and walked up to the reception, grimacing as he pulled out his badge and pass. ‘Hello. I’m Detective Nines, I’d like to talk to Fowler.’ He cringed at the high pitch in his voice he couldn’t modulate like he could do with his own. The android behind the counter frowned, so Nines extended his hand – so much smaller and more defined, almost sculpted – for an interface. Soon after, the receptionist smiled at him the next second and let him pass the security gate.

Nines directly marched towards the glass cube of Fowler’s office, ignoring the confused faces of his colleagues. He tried to walk with just as much confidence as he always had, but it was difficult now that he had everyone’s attention. The only reason he wasn’t stopped by any of them was that the receptionist obviously had let him pass and not activated any alarm yet. He sighed, entering the glass cube and waiting for Fowler to get off his phone call. What was nearly immediately happening.

‘Who are you? What are you doing here? Who let you in?’ ‘I’m Nines’, he declared, handing over his badge and service weapon. ‘I think I’ll have some explaining to do.’

-

Gavin had watched the foreign woman walk into the bullpen like it was nothing out of the ordinary. He exchanged glances with Chris and Tina, who both just shrugged and looked back to the reception. But as no one came running after her, they just collectively frowned and waited for what would happen next. At least the woman seemed to know exactly where to go and she headed directly for Fowler’s office. Maybe someone from the higher ups? But she was an android… Not to be racist, but most of them hadn’t yet made it so far up the ladder, even with the new regulations in place. He watched her enter the office and hand an object over, then the glass frosted over for privacy, leaving them wonder but soon getting back to their work.

‘Everyone!’ Gavin’s head lifted up from the paper he was working on to look towards the stairs in front of the glass cube. Fowler was standing next to the woman and Gavin froze. That could only mean… Had they replaced Nines already? He had only been gone for a week and a half. ‘This is Nines. Cyberlife found a way to transfer him into a new body, so he isn’t missing life for half a year. I expect you to treat him the same way you did before and help him to adapt the best he can. Now back to work.’

Gavin always prided himself to be unphased by almost everything. This though? This had his mouth gaping in surprise. And he wasn’t the only one. But of course, the woman – Nines – was approaching their desk already, and he forced himself to stand up and keep his face under control. ‘Nines?’ ‘Yes.’ Gavin had to look really intently to notice it, but the way the woman looked to the ground ashamed or maybe embarrassed had something entirely Nines to it. ‘Yes, it is me.’ ‘Holy shit, it’s nice to see you’re still alive’, Gavin sighed as even considering everything, this had been the most important thing. ‘What- How- They told me it would take over six months!’ ‘Yes, I was informed. My own body will indeed need more time to be repaired. About that time actually. But for the time being, they transferred me into this tracy model.’ ‘A tracy?’ ‘They are the only ones that are compatible with my programming.’ ‘Would have thought they’d put you in a RK800.’ ‘We have a similar architecture, yes. But only Tracies are able to freely download additional data and programs outside of their own… purpose and are the only android model aside from custom ones that allow intense modification. My personality isn’t that extensive, but my military programming is. Therefore, they put me into this body.’ ‘Well, it’s good to have you back’, Gavin stammered. ‘I… I don’t know if I’m so happy about it. Maybe just waiting those months would have been better. At least for me. I wouldn’t have noticed the time.’ ‘Then why didn’t you do that?’ Nines stepped from one foot to the other. ‘I don’t want to miss that much time. And I worried that… That being gone for so long would alter your view of me. Also, someone obviously has to look after your ass on missions like the last one.’ Gavin chuckled at that. ‘Yeah, thanks for that, I… I guess you saved my life.’

They kept standing there awkwardly, unsure what to say or if they should rather be quiet. It was Nines, who spoke up in the end: ‘Should we get back to work? Did you catch the fugitive?’ ‘Hmm? Yeah, sure.’ Both of them sat down and Gavin updated him on their cases, after which they both got back to work. But something kept Gavin looking back at Nines and it wasn’t him trying to adjust the chair to his new hight. ‘Hey, err… you said you don’t know if you are happy about being back… Is there a reason for that?’, he finally asked. Nines looked up. ‘Yes, actually… This might be dumb, I mean androids and genders don’t really make sense, but… I feel weird in this body. I guess it is a matter of adaption, but… If I could, I would love to have my own back. This is… highly uncomfortable.’ ‘Just because of the body or-‘ ‘Gavin, I’m a woman now. For at least the next six months. And I have never been a woman before. This is… alienating.’ Gavin swallowed. ‘I… first of all, others see you as a woman. That’s not necessarily the same as being one. Second-‘ ‘I don’t see a difference there’, Nines interrupted. ‘Okay, as someone to who this really matters: There is a difference. And as I was about to say, I might be able to help you.’ ‘And how’s that?’ Gavin grimaced, looking around to see if anyone heard them. It wasn’t something he considered a secret, but he still had only come out to his closest friends, mostly because it was personal. ‘Well, Nines I haven’t exactly always been considered male myself… Maybe I kinda get how you are feeling at the moment. Just saying I might be able to help you if you want that.’ ‘I…’ Nines looked at him and maybe it was the fact that this new body’s eyes were just as blue as his own, but Gavin could clearly see the surprise and relief on his face. ‘I would appreciate that.’

-

They met on neutral grounds the next weekend with the overall plan to get Nines something comfortable to wear and help him set a few things clear. As Gavin waited on the bench outside the mall, he was playing with his thumbs lost in thought. Yes, okay, he would admit he felt guilty about the whole ordeal. He knew far too well how it could feel being uncomfortable most of the time simply because of existing in a space with others that didn’t see you as you truly were. Being the cause of that was just… Nines had taken a bullet for him and now suffered the consequences. The least he could do now was help where he could and make these six months as comfortable as it could be for the android.

‘Hello, Gavin. So, what’s the plan?’ Gavin jerked up pulled from his thoughts and only then adjusted realising this wasn’t a random woman asking him, this was Nines. ‘Err… Hi. Yeah, err, I thought to get some clothes for you? But I don’t know what will help you. What bothers you the most?’ ‘I don’t really know’, Nines shrugged. ‘I’m just… bothered? What was the first thing you changed?’ Gavin cleared his throat, breaking eye contact. ‘I… Well, I changed pronouns. Told them I would like to be addressed as a he, not a she. Then I changed my name to fit my identity. But err… you don’t have to do that, you are seeing yourself as male, right?’ ‘I don’t see myself as anything, Gavin’, Nines disagreed. ‘I am a program running on hardware that is now considered female. So I guess, I would switch to female pronouns? It would cause less confusion and spare me the explanation every time I’m introduced.’ ‘Nines, this isn’t about what’s more comfortable for others but for you.’ ‘I’m more comfortable not talking to strangers about my personal life if we are on a case.’ ‘Okay’, Gavin said, lifting his arms in defeat. ‘It’s your decision. But by the way, you can also go by them or other pronouns. It’s not that uncommon and it would go with your personal perception.’ ‘I will be considered female’, Nines determined. ‘At least for the time I possess this body. I may think of adapting something else once I’m back in my body.’

‘Alright’, Gavin nodded. ‘Do you want to change your name, too?’ ‘My name will remain Nines. I like it and I see no reason to change it.’ ‘Nice’, Gavin commented. ‘Then let’s see if we can get you something to wear that’s not Cyberlife branded.’

-

The months had passed quicker than thought. After an initial adapting phase, work almost went back to normal. Gavin had went shopping with Nines, buying a bunch of clothes both baggy and tighter as Nines hadn’t been sure if she wanted to accentuate her body or hide it just yet. She did underline that she liked tighter clothes as they didn’t get in the way as much, but in the end, she seemed to settle mostly on hoodies that were some sort of a compromise of both.

During work Gavin noticed a few things neither of them could change or disregard: Nines was slower now. The Tracy body wasn’t built to withstand higher forces and overheated far too quickly in high demand tasks, limiting Nines to only slightly above human levels of speed and endurance. She wasn’t as durable either. Without armoured plates and reinforced hull segments, almost every hit to her meant repairs and replacement parts. Gavin learned quickly to keep watch of Nines and more than once catch a blow from some criminal directed at her if it meant she would be spared the trip to a technician – although she always scolded him for that. Reduced strength of her model compared to her former soldier unit also meant Gavin had to constantly remind her of it, much to Nines’ frustration.

By the time the fifth month started, almost everyone had adapted to Nines�� new self and the call from Cyberlife that her body was repaired was almost like a wake-up call. Gavin and Nines had grown closer during these few months. Gavin had helped her whenever she asked for it and the mutual need to look out for each other now had changed their dynamic quite a bit. Gavin considered Nines his best friend by now, maybe even more considering how intimately familiar they both had become. He had shared stories with her he had never told anyone else about and Nines had in turn been the first person, Gavin had met outside of the internet that shared his experience. How often they had just sat next to each other on a couch in either of their apartments, sharing their thoughts holding each other close. Each of them telling the others their personal worries to in turn be comforted. Sure, Gavin had known that one day Nines would get her body back and the way she smiled, honest and bright, he could only feel happiness himself. But again, there was that little voice in the back of his head that told him it all would change now. And he didn’t want it to.

-

He parked the car in front of the Cyberlife Tower, forcing a smile at Nines sitting next to him. She smile back at him, obviously more than excited to walk over, but hesitating. ‘Will you wait for me here?’ ‘Of course’, Gavin nodded fondly and patted her shoulder reassuringly. ‘See you in a bit.’ He watched her walk towards the entrance turning back to give him a little wave of her hand and then disappeared behind the doors. Gavin’s smile fell and he leaned back against the backrest. Why did this feel like goodbye? Nines would be the same person when she- when he? – came back outside. He was just worrying too much, surely.

But when two hours later, Nines emerged dressed in his tight black turtleneck and white custom-tailored leather jacket that looked just like her - his - uniform had without the Cyberlife logo, his heart sagged. He stepped out of the car regardless and stood there awkwardly, as Nines came closer, hugging him with a strength that hurt as he was spun around. ‘Ahh, phck, Nines, too much!’ ‘Sorry’, the far, far deeper voice chuckled and put him down. ‘Ah, it’s good to be back in my own body.’ ‘Heh, yeah…’, Gavin commented, rubbing his arms. ‘Guess so.’ ‘I can finally see everything again’, Nines marvelled and blinked before bending down to pick up a small pebble to throw it with a force as if he planned on sending it into orbit. ‘Oh, yes, I missed that. I can finally calculate everything I want to again. I can analyse samples again, I can switch to infra-red and night vision and I can scan-‘ Apparently, the android had tried everything while listing it and now frowned. ‘Gavin, are you alright?’

‘I am’, he hurried to reassure. ‘Just… You have your body back. Anything else changed?’ ‘Oh. I guess I would go by male pronouns again. Just to avoid confusion. And… I will likely change my wardrobe again, because I doubt any of the shoes will fit. But other than that… not really. Why?’ ‘Oh, nothing, just… Nah.’ Gavin opened the door and entered the car, just to escape the situation. Too bad Nines followed and sat down on the passenger side. Gavin went to turn the key in the ignition, but was stopped by a hand – too large, too powerful, far harder than before. ‘Gavin, please. We used to talk about these things, not swallow them. I… Nothing has changed. I promise. I’m still me. My body changed, but what is my body than a means to interact with the world? I am still the same.’

‘I just…’, Gavin began but stopped himself again. ‘Nines, I… Before all this happened. Before you saved my life I hardly knew you. We were work partners and you were pleasant company. But there wasn’t… We only really became friends when you changed. When you needed my help. Now that you have everything back, I… I’m worried you will just get back to business as usual.’ Nines seemed to think about all he had just heard, then turned around judging by the sound of his clothes. He remained silent though, so Gavin risked a glance over. Nines was staring at him directly, his eyes full of concern and maybe even fear. And yes, some things stayed the same. Nines was still looking at him the same way, with the same expression. ‘Gavin. It is true I needed your help, but you are a fool if you think I only kept you company because of that. I like you. I really do. And in those few months I realised what I feel for you is more than I ever felt for anyone. I may be back in my body and have less problems, but… Gavin, I still need you.’ ‘You do?’, Gavin asked sceptically. ‘Sure’, Nines grinned. ‘Who else can I sit around with in parks judging the people passing by. Who else can I gossip with about our co-workers? And who else can I talk to when I need someone to really listen? Gavin, when I say nothing changed, I mean it.’

Gavin still didn’t look convinced, so Nines took a different approach. ‘You once told me that it isn’t about what’s more comfortable for others but for yourself. I think you should understand, that just because you helped me, my need for help isn’t what makes me like you. You were there for me when I needed you most. Because of that I know you will be there for me always. And that makes me comfortable regardless of the body I am in. Do you understand?’ ‘Yes’, Gavin answered silently. ‘Yes, I do. Thank you.’ ‘I have to thank you’, Nines corrected. ‘But for now, I think we should celebrate this, shouldn’t we?’