#and he's so startled that he nearly drops his cup of tea

[felinecyan]

Wide Awake

[Shoto Todoroki x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When you take the couch due to your inability to sleep, unfortunately, you get the scare of your life.

WC: 1737

Category: Fluff, Slight Comfort

Finally finished the fic 😴 I apologize it took me so long 🙏

『••✎••』

You couldn’t remember when you found your eyes closing or when you had dozed off. With your favorite blanket and pillow in hand, you had moved to the sofa down in the common room from your room and set up camp for the night. You couldn’t remember why, either. All you knew was that you were exhausted, and it was easier to fall asleep downstairs without the light that poured in through the hallway.

As you laid on the couch, you found yourself somewhere between being asleep and awake. The world was quiet. It was late. And everyone had long since gone to sleep for the night. Even Kaminari, who had a hard time winding down after dark, had passed out before you. The silence was peaceful and the darkness was calming. The world seemed frozen and at ease.

Your mind was, too, finally, after racing all day. A million different thoughts had been bouncing around in your head like a ping-pong ball. They had been loud, distracting, and almost made you feel sick. But they had quieted now. You could barely even remember what you had been thinking about. Your body was heavy, relaxed, and finally, ready to drift off into a deep sleep.

So you did. You fell back asleep as your body relaxed.

But then, an odd feeling washed over you. A chill ran up your spine. Goosebumps prickled over your arms. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Your heart rate picked up slightly.

Something was wrong.

Your eyes cracked open slowly, and you blinked as you peered around the dark common room. No one was there—at least, not that you could see. Your heart was beating a bit faster. What was going on? Was it just the exhaustion that was making you anxious?

It was probably just the exhaustion, you decided. After all, the world was quiet. Everyone was sleeping. There was no reason for you to be on edge. You were just tired. That had to be it.

Closing your eyes again, you rolled over to face the back of the sofa. But as you did, the feeling only grew stronger. Your heart was pounding against your ribs.

Something was definitely wrong.

This time, when your eyes opened, they stayed open. Not because sleep had left you but because a set of mismatched eyes had suddenly appeared right in front of your own. You screamed at the sudden intrusion and shot backward, but you didn't get far. You had forgotten that the arm of the sofa was behind you. So, instead, you simply fell back against it with a gasp and scrambled back to where you had been, clutching your chest and breathing heavily.

For a moment, nothing happened. Your wide eyes remained locked with those mismatched ones, staring at you with nothing more than curiosity. A single brow rose. A moment passed, and then another. But then, those eyes broke from yours. A voice sounded low and soft.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

You nearly choked. "S-Shoto?! Wha… What the hell are you doing?! Why are you staring at me while I sleep?!" You had recognized the boy's voice almost immediately, even with how soft and hushed it was. It wasn't hard to do. He wasn't exactly the most talkative person.

Your eyes were finally adjusting to the darkness, and you could make out the bowl of soba and the steaming cup of tea in both his hands.

"Contemplating if I should’ve woken you or not," he answered as he stood. "I almost sat on you."

You could only stare at him as he placed the tea and noodles on the coffee table next to your book. The panic and adrenaline were starting to wear off, and your heartbeat was beginning to slow. "What are you even doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep. Decided to eat."

"You couldn't sleep, so you’re eating soba at… What time is it, anyway?"

"A quarter past 3."

Your jaw dropped. "A quarter pa—" You were cut off by a yawn, which forced your jaw shut again. Shaking your head, you ran a hand over your face and looked up at him. "Well, are you done?"

Shoto's brow rose again, confused. "With the soba?"

"What…? No." The amount of sass in your voice was a testament to how exhausted you really were. "With sleep. Attempting to, at least."

The boy shrugged. "Not really. I usually don't fall asleep until after 4. Why? Are you going back to sleep?"

You gave a sigh. "Well, yeah. I was trying to."

"Should’ve tried your actual bed then." He took a sip of his tea, eyeing you as he did. "I’m surprised Tokoyami didn't wake you."

You blinked. "Tokoyami?"

Shoto nodded. "He’s always reading in the dark down here. I don’t think he’s slept since the Liberation War. Hawks’ injuries must’ve really hit him hard."

That was right… you remembered seeing him more and more often downstairs as the days had passed. It was rare to ever see him upstairs anymore. It was just something you had gotten used to. "I should probably check on him."

"Probably."

Another yawn pulled at your lips, and you couldn't help but smile a little. "If he's up, can I get some of that tea?"

"If you want." Shoto turned to sip his tea again, eyes drifting from yours. But when he turned back to look at you, his eyes were wide, and his expression was filled with disbelief. "Wait, you fell asleep here?"

You were already snuggled back up under your blankets. "Uh, yeah? Did you already forget why I screamed in your face?"

He paused, his face unreadable. "I don’t remember you being an insomniac. Are you unwell? Shall I bring some medicine for you?"

"What? No, I'm not sick."

"It’s rare for someone who is well to sleep on the couch."

You sighed. "You just said you don’t go to sleep until later."

"But you don’t come down here at all."

"Because it's not normal for people to hang out downstairs at this time!"

"Tokoyami does."

"Yeah, and you said that's because you told—" You were interrupted by a yawn and shook your head. "Never mind. You're impossible."

"Me? Impossible?" Shoto's brow rose yet again, and he almost sounded amused. "You're the one who's choosing the sofa over your bed."

"I didn't choose the sofa; it chose me."

"Is it a sentient being?"

Sometimes, you couldn’t tell if he was serious or not.

"No, Sho. I just— I couldn’t sleep in my room. And I don’t know why." You sighed and rubbed your temples, the frustration from earlier that day beginning to resurface. "There was a lot on my mind, and I couldn’t shut it off, but it was fine. And then I fell asleep, and I felt better, but then I woke up and—"

"And what?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. I don’t think I can go back to my room tonight."

The two of you fell silent, his mismatched eyes peering into yours. There was something about the way he looked at you. It wasn’t a glare or a scowl, but it wasn’t a smile or a smirk either. It was just him watching you.

Then again, that’s all he ever did. He didn't say much. He didn't smile often. He was quiet. But, if you were being honest, that was probably what you liked about him. He didn't judge. He just listened.

Finally, he spoke. "I know the feeling…" His voice was soft, his gaze distant. "I used to sleep on the floor because I thought I didn’t deserve a bed. I grew out of that, but every now and then, the thought still comes back."

You blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah," Shoto responded. "But my room isn't really home. The dorm is. This is. So when I feel like that, I come down here."

"…Is that why you’re down here now?"

"No. I just wanted soba."

His bluntness made you laugh. You shook your head and smiled. "I forgot you're always hungry."

"Not always."

"Always. It's 3 AM, Sho."

"Yes, and?"

"And? You don't think it's a little weird to eat soba at 3 AM?"

"Weird? You were sleeping down here. That's weirder."

"Hey! I—!" You were cut off by yet another yawn, and you could only look at him as it faded away. "I can't argue right now."

"I'll win anyway," Shoto stated matter-of-factly. "Go back to sleep."

"You can't just tell me to go back to sleep. It's not that easy."

"Sure it is. Close your eyes. Count sheep. Pretend you're dying. Anything works."

"Roki, that's the worst advice I've ever heard."

"And yet, it's still better than any advice Kaminari or Sero would give."

Damn. Tired or not, he still kept it real.

"I’ll wake you up before Aizawa gets here."

"He checks on us? Since when?"

He shrugged. "Certain days. Since that time when Midoriya and Bakugo snuck out to fight, he likes to make sure no one else is trying to do that."

"Oh. He wouldn’t be mad, though, if I was just down here."

"Him being concerned is worse than him being mad."

"I don’t think that’s…" You were cut off by another yawn, and when you opened your eyes, you saw him staring at you. His expression was blank, but his gaze was intense. "Okay, okay. Fine. I'll try. Just don’t watch me sleep again, or I will throw a pillow at your face."

"I wasn’t— okay."

"Okay, you will stop?"

"Okay."

"Good."

You laid back down and rolled over, facing the back of the couch again. You could hear Shoto shuffle a bit and the clink of his chopsticks, but everything was quiet once again. Closing your eyes, you pulled the blanket closer to you. You had to admit, you were a bit more at ease than before.

"If it helps," Shoto's voice suddenly said, "Goodnight."

A smile tugged at your lips, and you shook your head. "Night, Roki."

As you drifted off to sleep, finally, without any worries or intruding thoughts, your smile didn't leave your face. You had expected it to, and yet it didn't.

Aizawa also never came to check on you or the students. You realized this because Ochaco was waking you up in a panic, yelling something about being late for class.

It was a chaotic morning, but at least you were well-rested.

[sugusearrings]

( ' safe & sound ' )

just close your eyes, the sun is going down you'll be alright no one can hurt you now come morning light you and i'll be safe and sound.

— summary: captain levi ackerman the strongest warrior alive is struggling to adjust after the war. but you (fem!reader) are there to remind him he deserves peace. — genre: fluff but tiny bit of angst. — playing: safe & sound by taylor swift — note(s): so aot just ended and i'm still in denial it's really over. my boy eren did nothing wrong but i understand, 80% is kind of a lot BUT HE WAS A CHILD WAR WEAPON. anyways, post war. SPOLIERS AHEAD JUST A FAIR WARNING OKAY. levi ackerman and reader have a slight age gape ( reader is 25 and levi is in his mid thirties). mentions of brief sex. mentions of scars and death. maybe some spelling errors i missed but i tried ~ levi may be grumpy and mean but he's a total softie to the reader. — word count: 2k

He inhaled sharply as his upper body sat up from his sleep. He could feel the cold sweat formed on his the side of his head rolling down. His chest rose up and down with each inhale he took. He ran his hand over his face. He glanced down at his hands. His two missing fingers always reminded him what happened almost five years ago now. The rumbling ending. Everyone is trying to rebuild a normal life. He never really knew what a normal life was. His life was all about fighting and survival and now it was over. What was Levi made for now?

He quickly reached over for his cane leaning against the nightstand.

Levi was determined not to be stuck to that damn chair, he did whatever exercise he could without putting too much on his body. There were some days he had to be wheeled around. But using the cane on the daily was happening often. He didn’t want to be helpless or dependent on anyone. He was never like that so why start now?

He made his way out of the bedroom and walked into the small hallway that normally took two minutes to pass but it felt entirely. He was on alert, adrenaline pumping through his veins already. How could he protect now? He felt so useless. Once the greatest warrior to this. At first it was hard accepting this new reality of his. All he wanted to do was sink more into the dark and isolate himself.

If he was gone, would anyone notice? Would anyone care? Those he loved and cared for were long gone leaving him alone. He never knew loneliness would become his true enemy.

He held his breath accepting his fate as he walked into the kitchen. His dull gray eye widen seeing you standing there already pouring some tea in one of his favorite cups. He nearly dropped his cane.

“Name…”

“Captain Levi?” You looked up at him a bit startled he was awake. He let out a heavy exhale.

“After all this time, you still callin’ me that?” He rolled his eye then shook his head. “Give me a break.” You giggled quietly with a light blush appearing on your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, it’s just an old habit I guess.”

“What are you doing up?” He asked you completely ignoring what you said.

“I figured you would want some tea when you would wake up.” You replied walking over to grab another cup from the cabinet. Levi could feel his ears beginning to burn. He cleared his throat.

“You…know?” You turned around to see the flustered older man. You tilted your head slightly to the side and was baffled. He thought he could hide his nightmares from you. His nightmares of the past.

“Of course I do.”

Your warm smile still made his heart throb the same way it did when you two met.

He found you the most annoying thing ever. You were too optimistic for his liking and you were very emotional. You were immature and very impulsive. But he adored that about you. You weren’t scared to stand up for what you believe in, even against him. When he was your captain and you were just a cadet on his squad. You two saw things from different perspectives but he respected that. He wasn’t sure if he ever told you he did.

“I’m sorry I woke you.” He made his way over to the nearest chair at the table. He pulled it out so he could sit. You took the cup full of tea and walked over to place it in front of him.

“It’s okay, Levi. Your nightmares don’t always wake me,” you placed your hand over his, “I have my own too, y’know?” You gave him a gentle squeeze.

The guilt sunk deep in Levi’s chest. How could he not think about you having your own trauma for what you both went through. Losing people you love, being injured and almost close to death several times. You had many scars to prove it. Especially the one on your neck reaching to the top of your chest. It was easier to hide but doesn’t mean it wasn’t a constant reminder when you would change outfits, shower, even during intimate times.

“I’m a horrible husband aren’t I, name?” He sighed deeply, reaching to grab his cup the same way he always has. You smiled remembering the time you made fun of the way he held his glass to your other comrades. It was all laughter until Levi was behind you the whole time. When you turned around looking white as a ghost seeing Levi glaring down at you. You screamed loudly then he made you clean his office and room from top to bottom.

“A little bit.” You teased him playfully. You grinned when your husband glared at you. “I’m kidding, Levi. How are you a bad husband?”

“My wife has fucking nightmares next to me and here I am sleeping.” He snapped. You bit your bottom lip and lowered your eyes. “But I even breathe a certain way, she knows if there’s something wrong with me.” He went on becoming more aggravated with himself.

“You’re being hard on yourself again.”

“You’re not denying it.” He countered. You sighed deeply.

“Levi…I have nightmares, yes. But you help me just by being there next to me.” You gave him another squeeze. Before he could say some smart ass remark you cut him off. “You remind me of what’s happening now. I can’t forget the past...I can never forget. But waking up next you eases it and makes it better to deal with.” Levi remained silent.

He couldn’t believe someone like you could ever love someone like him. To this day he would be in disbelief. You were so warm and he was so cold. But here you are sharing a life with him.

“You make it sound so easy.” He mumbled lowly.

“I know when you have nightmares when you hold onto me tight.” You admitted. His eye widened looking over at you. You smiled shyly looking away. You were trying to hide the dark blush on your cheeks but he would always see it. You couldn’t hide it from him.

He could remember the first time he made you blush. It was the first time he saw you with your hair down. When he complemented you ( in his own way that didn’t sound too mean ), you blushed. His heart fluttered how perfect you looked with your cheeks flushed.

“You woke up because I wasn’t in bed this time…” You spoke snapping him out of his own thoughts.

“I thought in a marriage there was no such thing as secrets.” He joked dryly.

You laughed covering your mouth with your hand. He noticed some faint scars on your hand. He remembered that scar. He remembers all the scars on every inch of your body. He would kiss them gently some nights making your breathing hitch. He would kiss the scar on your neck the most. He felt that needed the most attention. The day he almost lost you for good.

You were fighting alongside him against Zeke for the first time.

That’s when Levi realizes his feelings for you.

He stood by your side whenever he can, waiting for you to recover. He would even read out loud to you. When you woke up a few days later, you asked him to re-read the sentence he just read because you couldn’t hear him.

What nearly broke him when he thought you drank the wine with the spinal fluid.

Thankfully you didn’t but he confessed his feelings for you the same night. Yes, it was inappropriate for a caption to be with his cadet but he didn’t care about his title or yours in that moment. Levi just needed you to know in case something happened. He was ready to hear your rejection but when you confessed your own feelings for him, he was relieved.

That’s when Zeke did the explosion, Levi had enough time to push you off the wagon leaving him to suffer the injuries alone. He doesn’t regret it. He’ll do it all over again.

“Is this how you pictured how things would be after?” You asked him gently. Levi closed his eyes for a brief moment before opening them. His dull gray eyes staring into yours.

“Yes and no.”

“That’s not a fair answer, Captain Levi.”

“Name.”

“Sorry.” You held your hands up in defense. He sighed softly.

“Yes, I pictured this after the rumbling. Marrying you, having a normal life with you. Just being with you in peace. What I didn’t expect was to be like this.” He glanced down at his hand again that bandaged up from the fingers he lost from that explosion. “I wasn’t much of a looker then but god look at me now.” He let out a sad chuckle. You frowned, feeling your heart aching. Was he serious right now? You thought Levi was the most handsome man you ever met. You were drawn to his dark gray hues. During the day they would glisten.

“Levi, don’t think that. You’re still handsome to me and always will be.”

“Don’t feed me that shit, name.” Levi scoffed. His stubbornness was still the same as before. You sighed and rested your chin on your hand letting him ramble on his negativity. “Probably see me as a pity case.”

“If that’s so, why do we still make love four times a week?” You questioned. When you looked over to your husband who was silent but red in the face. You felt your lips curl up into a smirk. “Cat got your tongue, captain Levi? Oh I’m sorry, I forgot to mention how we fuck multiple times. All night if I don’t tap out.” You purred in a tone you knew was his weakness. Levi shifted a bit in his seat then brought his left hand to clear his throat.

“Shut it you brat.”

You simply smiled at your victory.

“I love you, Levi. I don’t know why you can’t accept that.”

“You deserve better.”

“So do you.” You replied back. Levi glared at you once again.

“How can you say that shit?”

“Because you’re saying it so why not?” You shrugged then got up to pour yourself that tea you swore it was cold by now. Levi’s eye scanned down to your body how it hid underneath his white shirt. When you would lift to reach something it exposed some of your bare flesh underneath. He held his breath for a moment.

“I just…hope this is what you want.” His voice spoke. You didn’t turn around. Your eyes glanced down at your cup you were holding. Your ring finger was empty but the silver band stood on your nightstand with your glass of water that was empty now. Levi would always bring you a glass of water before bed.

“I want to spend my life with you, Levi. We’re at peace now. You’re at peace. You deserved this. You risked your life so many times. Everyday it’s a struggle for you to live with what happened. But we can do it together, just trust me?”

You turned with glossy eyes staring back over to him. He used his strength to stand up on his own for a moment. Then he made his way over to you. Once he was close enough, he placed his hand on your cheek just studying your face.

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings…I’m just scared to lose you.” He confessed not trying to make eye contact with you. You placed your hand on his cheek and stroked it with your thumb. You stroked over the scars left behind by the stitches on his face you did for him. “I don’t know what I would do if I ever lost you.”

“I survived to live a life with you, Levi.”

You whispered then leaned forward to place your lips against his. His arm wrapped around your waist to bring you closer to his body. His lips moved against yours passionately. He pushed his body against yours causing your lower back to press against the counter. You let out a shaky breath when he broke the kiss then started to kiss along your neck. His fingers trailed down to the buttons on your shirt. Just when you were going to close your eyes and enjoy his lips sucking on your skin you were interrupted.

“Mommy? Daddy?”

You both pulled away at the same time to see a groggy toddler with messy dark hair all over the place. He hugged his stuffed bear tightly with his other arm.

“Hi baby.” You greeted him softly making. Levi straighten your shirt making sure the buttons were still in tact.

“What are you doing up, hm?” Levi asked him. The toddler frowned with his gray eyes half open.

“I wanna sleep with you and mama.” He made grabby hands towards him. He shook his head.

“Sorry kid, you have to go sleep in your bed like a big boy.” Your son sniffed and his big gray eyes began to water. Of course you were a sucker but you didn’t expect for Levi to be the one who caved in. “Tsk. Fine. Just for tonight.” Levi grabbed his cane and began to walk back into your bedroom. The little boy’s eyes beamed, making you giggle quietly. You brought the two cups to the sink thinking you were in the clear.

“Clean those damn cups.” Levi’s voice echoed from the bedroom.

You sucked your teeth with an eye roll.

“I’ll clean them in the morning.” You entered the bedroom seeing Levi already in bed. He leaned over to bring his son into bed. He snuggled up against his father, sighing happily feeling his warmth. You went over to your side on the bed to lay next to your son.

Levi always spoke about not wanting children. You didn’t have a clear answer if you wanted them or not. Some days you did but bringing them in a world like this wasn’t fair either. But finding out you were pregnant on your wedding day was a surprise. It meant you were pregnant during the fight that stopped the rumbling.

It was a miracle the child growing inside of you survived. But he’s a fighter like his father.

Asher Levi Ackerman.

A fortunate blessing for you both.

You leaned against the headboard stroking Asher’s hair as his eyes began to close.

“He looks just like you.” You whispered to Levi as you moved some of Asher’s dark hair out of his face. He smiled a bit.

“You think so?”

“Everyone says it. He looks nothing like me.”

“But he acts like you. A brat.”

You reached over to shove him playfully. It made him chuckle.

“Sleep, name. We have a long day at the shop tomorrow.”

“Fuck me.” You mumbled under your breath with a groan.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

Levi laid down and closed his eyes hearing you giggle quietly before drifting back to sleep. You laid down staring at your son and husband cuddling with one another. You could tell Levi’s nightmare was over for the night. You soon drifted into a deep slumber.

And yes, you did forget to wash the teacups in the sink

But Levi washed them before opening the tea shop for the day but he did remember to scold you about it.

[marcsburnerphone]

Bars and broken hearts

Simon Riley x F!reader 

Summary: The 141 minus john goes out for drinks and when johnny decides to throw simon a spontaneous bachelor surprise it goes left quickly.

Warnings: angst, betrayal, infidelity?, guilt, heartbreak, not a happy ending, alcohol consumption, lmk if I’m missing anything.

—-----------------

“Well I think you should go.” you say to your fiance who's currently trying to back out of plans he promised to attend with his mates, again.

“Why can't you just beg me to stay isn’t that what you’re are supposed to do.” he says in a whine although with a gruff voice like his only you could pick up on the slight change.

“And hear Johnny complain in my ear the next time I see him cause you’re never out of the house, yeah no thanks.” you say while stirring honey into your cup of tea. You can practically feel the holes his eyes are burning into your skull.

“You know they are always up to no good when we go out.” he says in a condescending tone.

“I trust you.” he has never given you a reason not to.

“You should they’d never let anything come between us, they love you more than me.” he says while slowly approaching you from the back planting a firm kiss to your cheek.

“So you’ll be attending then?” you say gleefully.

“Yeah, just this once though, gives me leeway to say no next time.” you laugh softly, simon and his thought out plans to get out of leaving home.

“I'll drop you off, don't look too good.” you say turning around, he gives you a strong kiss on the lips, tangling his large hand into your hair as his other hand squeezes gently at your ass groaning roughly as he hikes your thigh onto his waist.

“Yeah, nice try.” you say pushing him away reluctantly.

“Sure you don’t want me to stay?” You do want him to stay.

“I’m sure.” he groans, walking off into your shared bedroom carelessly pulling a black shirt and pants off a hanger, nearly snapping them.

You laugh to yourself taking a seat onto the couch as he noticeably makes his steps extra heavy on his way to the bathroom. You patiently wait for him, swiping mindlessly through social media.

“Right, I'm ready.” his voice slightly startles you and he quickly softens his attitude.

“If you would’ve kissed me looking like this i might’ve just kept you in.” you sigh into his mouth pulling him down for a kiss.

“Later I arrive, the later I leave, let's go.” you drive him to a pub not too far from your home. His hand squeezes at your thigh the whole way there until you arrive.

“I'll see you in a bit, I love you.” the corner of his mask lifts slightly.

“Better not be late for me doll, I love you more by the way.” he says while shutting the door waving you off.

—----------

“Aww where’s the lass?” Johnny questions still mostly sober.

“At home she said she’ll join next time.” Simon lies, you hate babysitting three 200 pound plus men after a long night.

“Tell her I promise to not empty my stomach in her car next time, I swear it.” soap says while ordering a round of shots.

“Like she’d believe that after the past TWO times.” Johnny looks remorseful as Gaz laughs then gags remembering what it was like to sit in the backseat with him.

“I feel like we're going to get into some trouble tonight.” Johnny says while downing his third shot early into the night. “When is a night with you not trouble?” gaz says to the two men smiling widely.

“When is a night with me not fun you mean.” Johnny says with a devilish smirk.

“Chaos you mean?.” Simon quips.

“All of those sound like a good time to me.” Johnny says while waving down the bartender again.

—------

“You’ll be approaching married life soon.” Johnny says with slightly slurred speech.

“Indeed I will.” It makes a tipsy drunk Simon smile as he lifts the bottom of his mask to take a swig of the whiskey in his glass.

“Think you’ll be having little ones running around soon?” gaz asks, he could see the big scary ghost with a daughter or two. Simon smoothens his mask before talking.

“Maybe, me and miss talk about it sometimes but nothing ever too serious, she’d make a great mum though.” The boys love just how in love he is with you.

“Will you name one of em after me?” Johnny asks.

“Funny joke mate.” They all laugh.

“Lass we’ll take another round.” heads snap towards him.

“Johnny!” Both simon gaz exclaim their nearly 8 shots in each and a couple of other drinks the result of tonight's starting to sound like alcohol poisoning.

“What’s wrong with a little fun once in a while.”

—---------

“I miss my wife.” Simon says, eyes glossed over and a severe need to taste your mouth. 

“Will we be throwing you a bachelor party?” Simon scoffs.

“This is my bachelor party, enjoy it.” Johnny groans at his awfully boring best lad.

“I have to take a piss be back.” Johnny says, excusing himself. Gaz and simon give each other a look knowing full well he went to the mens room less than ten minutes ago.

“What’s that about?” Gaz asks.

“Don't know but ima text the missus to come save me.” Simon says whipping out his phone instantly happier by the picture of you on his lock screen.

After sending you a quick text he agrees to one more round as Johnny rejoins, what he doesn't notice is as he tossed his head back Johnny slipped his phone into the back pockets of his jeans mistaking it for his own.

“Why do you look like that?” Gaz questions the mischievous smirk on Johnny's face.

“No reason.” 

“Oh no johnny what’d you do.'' They follow his eyeline as a woman, definitely a hooker walk from the hall where the bathrooms are definitely heading towards them. 

“Hey boys.” she says, running a hand down Simon's chest.

—----------

You’ve tried simons phone nearly six times now and nearly circled this block three times to let him know you’re here. You call once more groaning loudly as the voicemail starts once again. You search the busy street for parking, getting lucky as a car pulls out from the front of the pub.

You step out into the chilly london air not caring to pay for parking this shouldn't be long anyways. It's busier than you’d ever seen it, you wrap your arms tightly around yourself considering you're in thin pajamas, Simon emits too much heat to sleep in anything else.

Finding your way to the bar knowing where they usually sit you keep your eyes peeled for him excited to get him home and finish what he started earlier. That's until you see him. You see her first actually, snaking her hands around the back of his clothed head where yours were merely hours ago. His eyes are pointed towards her breast as she puts on quite the show, grinding slowly on his lap, flicking her tongue out onto his cloth covered ear. Simon’s hazed eyes are seeing you, like a dual reality that goes back and forth between a random woman and the woman he loves. Words are unable to leave your mouth so you stand there in utter horror until reality catches up to you.

“Simon.” your voice comes out in a whisper as the three men's heads turn towards you. The woman who looked like she’d been having a good time on Simon's lap also looks towards you, then the ring on your finger. The three of them had never become sober so fast in their lives.

“Oh god.” you feel sick, turning around quickly and bee lining for the door as your eyes tunnel vision.

“Get off me.” Simon says awfully harshly as Gaz looks disappointed towards johnny.

He’s after you in seconds, strides long and quick. You're at an arm's length when he tries to pull you back but misses by a thread. Times moving in slow motion for the both of you and this pub has never been so large.

“Wait, I swear that wasn't what it looked like.” His deep and loud voice causes the other patrons to look your way. Gaz and Johnny are steps behind him as he rushes as quickly as he can.

When the outside hits you, so do the tears. Your hand grips weakly at the spot of your shirt above your heart. It feels like the wind has been knocked from you and the world is crumbling around you. 

“Love i swear-” you turn around quickly slapping him across the face. It stuns you but not him; he simply looks back towards you.

“Deserved that.” 

“Lass it was a dumb joke i thought id-” 

“You were supposed to have my back, you guys are like my brothers, is this how it is everytime you come out?” a sob racks through you as they all visibly watch your heart break.

“It's not like that.” Simon tries to calmly explain.

“I'm leaving.” you say slowly walking backwards towards your car getting in quickly and locking the doors before your fiance can try the handle.

“Love, just listen to me i didn't know what was going on.” he shouts through the window as you start pulling out and speeding off as soon as possible.

“I’ll fucking kill you.” he yells to johnny.

“I don't know what I was thinking.” he admits as his drunk actions hit his sober self.

“You need to get a ride home now.” gaz says walking into the street to hail down an overly expensive taxi.

Simon gets in it immediately telling the man your address and slipping him a few extra hundred for speed. His breath is rapid matching the racing pace of his heart. The two other men watch as he leaves.

“You’re so fucked mate.” Gaz says to an already guilty looking johnny.

—--------------------

Simon nearly tears off the door handle as he exits the car almost two homes ahead and runs there instead. He’s fumbling keys until he realizes you’ve left the door unlocked. Instantly he's searching for you, panicked and in a hurry to soothe your aching heart.

He goes to reach for your shut bedroom door only to realize it's locked. He knocks rapidly once then twice.

“Love let me explain. I swear it's not what it looked like.” he leans his head against the door as you silently cry on the other side.

“Don’t do this to yourself.” wrong choice of words but he meant well.

Before he knows it you're throwing the door open.

“To myself!” you yell as loudly as you can, shoving your hands into his solid chest.

“That's not what I meant.” he says, removing the mask.

“We’re engaged Simon, we were going to get married in a few months.” you cry turning around trying to slam the door on him.

“Were ? No, let me explain.” he says, catching it with the toe of his boot.

“I don't want to hear it, go tell it to whoever that woman was.” you’re infuriating he wants to scream but he knows all hell would break loose had he caught you in the same position.

“Johnny had hired her, I had no idea.” he gets out as quickly as possible.

“And you let her dance and lick on you and hold you the way I hold you.” the disgust on your face as you look at him cuts deeper than any knife.

“I was drunk.” he even thinks that sounds disgusting.

“Cheap fucking excuse.” you say going into your closet grabbing all your clothes and throwing it onto the bed.

“What’re you doing?” it's hushed and laced with panic.

“Leaving.” 

“Like hell you are.” he says quickly, fighting to pull what's in your hands out of them. You’re unwilling to give up at first, grip tighter than ever but he would always win. You fall to the ground and let go. Crying from hurt and frustration. He drops to his knees to meet you on the floor.

He scoops you into his chest as closely as possible, it hurts that you don’t clutch onto him like you normally would. You Are stiff in his arms so visibly uncomfortable. He wants to cry too, he knew he shouldn’t have gone out there's no need when your heart is at home.

“Let go of me.” you say weakly.

“Lets talk.” he says, loosening his grip on you watching as you scurry backwards.

“Nothing you say can make this better.” you admit leaning your head against the wall behind you.

“It wasn't my idea or choice, my love I was wasted.”

“I was waiting outside for you, calling over and over again but you were just too busy being entertained by another woman, how fucking dare you.” you say quietly but firmly.

“I know I fucked up but we cant throw this away just cause one mishap.” he says trying to inch closer to you.

“I would’ve never done that to you.” you say as tears stream smoothly down your reddened cheeks.

“I know.” how does one forgive an action like this he wonders.

“Please get out.” you say through stuttered breaths.

“Love-” 

“Simon, get out or I'll leave.” He rises to his feet in an instance beginning to very slowly make his ways towards the door.

“Hey simon.” you say and his name sounds so rare on your tongue since you've met him he's always been riley or love.

“Yeah.” he says, approaching you crouching down slightly. You reach out, grabbing his hand and placing something into his palm before closing it.

Simon slowly opens his hands fearing what he already knows is there and utterly cringes inside when he sees your ring.

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

excited but ready for a little criticism, be easy on me I'm barley getting familiar with the character.

Hope you guys thoroughly enjoyed mwah!

[shadowdaddies]

Heyyyy I feel like we’re besties at this point😭 could I request, yet again, an Azriel story. Maybe one where they’re best friends and they get into a serious argument and maybe it ends with a confession and the bond snaps into place but one of them panics and leaves. And ends up having a panic attack while the other one is super worried and is searching for them. When they find them they calm them down and have some cute fluff with like “look at me” or “breathe with Me” something cute idk and then it ends with smut of them finally being mated and it’s all sweet and stuff. (Maybe with some wing play because holy- that’s hot) THANK YOUUUU

hey bestie! love this request, it's been a hectic week to say the least so I'm catching up on requests but I've been so excited about this one. Love your prompts, hope you love this story as much as I do💜

Laid Bare

Azriel x Reader

Warnings: this is angst, fluff, and eventually smut below the cut, wing play, shadow play, p in v sex, minors dni

You followed Azriel through the door to the House of Wind, slamming it behind you as you yelled at him. The two of you never raised your voices at each other, but your emotions got the better of you as you held back tears, shaking with anger and fear for your mate. 

You had known that Azriel was your mate for a long time now, but you knew that he had so much he needed to work through, and you’d decided it would be better to be there for him as a friend while he worked through his trauma, without the added complication of the mating bond. 

Tonight, however, you had hit your limit with Azriel’s refusal to accept help and love from others. It wasn’t only you - Azriel had always kept even his brothers at an arm’s length, only opening up to Cass and Rhys when he deemed it necessary. While others were willing to accept his distance, the bond pulled you closer to him, and day-by-day your love and desire to be there for him grew. 

Azriel stopped in the kitchen, sipping on tea in his faux-stoic manner that drove you crazy as you stormed over to him. “What the Hel, Az? You put yourself in so much danger, so much unnecessary hurt, and for what? You think you’re a burden to people by letting them be there for you, but it’s a burden.... it really hurts me, Azriel, when you won’t let me be there for you. I love you, all I want to do for the rest of my life is love you, and I just wish you would let me.” 

The words poured out before you even realized what you were saying, tears streaming down your face as you dared to make eye contact with Azriel. The moment those hazel eyes locked with yours, Azriel dropped the cup from which he’d been drinking, his steely expression shattering into one of shock, and you knew what had happened. The mating bond snapped for him - at the worst time, when you were yelling at him over something that now felt so trivial. 

You began sobbing so hard you were shaking, hyperventilating as you began to panic. Before Azriel could say anything else, you winnowed away. You appeared on the outskirts of Velaris - a quiet place where the mountains met the sea - and vomited everything from your system. You heaved for breath, trying to ground yourself in your surroundings. You went to a nearby brook, splashing water on your face and cleansing your mouth with the fresh water. 

The sun had nearly set at this point, and you leaned against a tree as you took in the various shades of the sky, the bright Night Court stars already visible at dusk. Mind reeling with how to address the situation with Azriel, you didn’t hear him approach.

You startled at first, watching him carefully as he sat down to lean against the tree beside you. It was no surprise that he would know where to find you. Azriel let out a long sigh, staring down at his hands folded in his lap. “How long have you known about the bond?” he asked quietly. Chewing your lip, you murmured back, “Some time now, almost a year.” He nodded, taking a moment before he said anything.

He at last turned to you, taking one of your hands in his as he gave it a squeeze, as though he was finding his own strength through that touch. “You were right. Everything you said back there... I’ve always felt like a burden if I were to show weakness or ask for help. But you are always there for me, even when I don’t know what I need, you do.”

Azriel pulled you into his lap at this point, you straddling his hips as he wiped his thumb across your cheek, observing you as he confessed, “I love you, too, by the way. I have for a long time. If there’s anyone I trust, that I feel I can open up to, it’s you. I am damaged, and it will take time, but I want to love you, and be loved by you, if you’ll have me.”

You smiled, turning your face to kiss Azriel’s palm, holding it against your face. “Azriel, I have waited my entire life for you, and I would wait one hundred more lifetimes for you. We will grow and learn how to love and be loved together. That’s what this is.” At that, Azriel pulled you in, your lips barely brushing each other as he looked to you for consent. You smiled, throwing yourself into him as you kissed him how you’d been longing to for so long.

Azriel squeezed your backside, causing you to gasp so he could slip his tongue in your mouth. You ground against him, drawing a groan while you ran your hands through his inky black hair, tugging at the strands. When he thrust his tongue into your mouth next, you sucked on it, earning a surprised gasp and a groan from him as he gripped your hips, grinding his own against you.

You mewled at the contact, desperate for more from him. You pulled back, gasping as you opened your mouth to tell Azriel you needed more, only for him to say so first. A thought occurred to you as you noticed his desperation, and you leaned back, studying Azriel as you ran a finger down his chest. With as much confidence as you could muster, you tilted your head, giving Azriel a mischievous smile as you proposed your deal. “I’ll give you more tonight, Azriel, if you let me take care of you. I want to make love to you, how I’ve been waiting to for so long now.” 

At your words, Azriel’s cheeks blushed in that way that you loved as he nodded. You leaned forward, giving him a chaste kiss as you promised in a whisper, “we’ll take this slow - nothing you are uncomfortable with.” With that, you began removing his shirt, guiding him to lay down in the grass as you admired his body in what was now bright moonlight. You removed your own dress, now bare above him, feeling no shyness or shame in your body as your mate gazed at you in awe, running his hands along your sides, palming your breasts as he toyed with your nipples.

You let out a high-pitched moan at the contact, writhing against his touch as you struggled to maintain dominance in the situation. You forced yourself to look down at Azriel, feeling how your own appearance must mirror his own, pupils blown out, cheeks flushed, hair wild as you ravished each other under the stars. You leaned down, rolling your naked body against Azriel’s bare chest as you kissed down his neck to his collarbone, moving one hand to the side for support. 

Your finger accidentally touched the edge of his wing, causing Azriel to let out a hiss as he bucked wildly up into you. Immediately pulling back, you frantically searching Azriel’s face for discomfort. “I’m so sorry, Az. I didn’t mean to touch your wing without permission. Please tell me I didn’t hurt you.” 

To your surprise, Azriel laughed. It was a loud, joyous laugh like bells, louder than you’d ever heard from him. He looked up at you with a beautiful, full smile as he shook his head and grabbed your hand, guiding it back to his wing. You looked at him questioningly, “are you sure you are okay with this? You want me to touch your wings?” Azriel nodded, kissing your palm before guiding it back to his wing. “Yes, I want you. Only you. All of you.”

Your heart melted at his words, eyes never leaving his as you experimentally traced your fingers lightly across the veins of his wing, watching as he groaned and panted beneath you at your touch. “Fuck,” Az finally huffed out, “if you keep doing that, I’m going to finish in my pants.” You smirked, taking that as your cue to pull away, kissing down his chest and stomach, giving extra attention to each scar as you worshipped Azriel.

You were working your way down to the waistband of his pants when Azriel gracefully flipped you over, laid on your back against the grass with your hair splayed out. The two of you simply admired each other for a moment, memorizing the feeling of an intimacy you’d never felt before. You helped Azriel remove his pants, eager to have him inside of you, fully one with your mate.

He leaned down, kissing you sweetly as he pushed into you, your eyes rolling and back arching as he entered you, his large size a stretch for you. Azriel kissed all over your face and neck as he settled inside of you, only moving once you had given him permission. Every thrust hit a perfect spot within you, the sex like nothing you had felt before - it was apparent, Azriel was made for you, and you for him. 

You could sense that you were nearing your high, stomach tightening as you attempted to mumble to Az that you were close. He understood, licking his thumb before bringing it down to your clit, rubbing circles in tandem with shadows that appeared around your nipples. The sudden stimulation sent you barreling over the edge with a scream, Azriel following closely behind. 

He hung his head, resting his nose in your neck as the two of you caught your breath. After several moments, Azriel collapsed into the grass beside you, pulling you into his side as the two of you watched the night sky, laid bare to each other in every sense.

[arvandus]

A Cup of Affection (Part 1)

Pairing: Barbatos x f!reader

Content warnings: cisfem!reader; short-coded reader (or tall Barbatos, you pick!); reader's hair is able to be tucked behind the ear/brushed aside, but no further description provided; a lil’ steamy toward the end but no actual smut (that’ll be in part 2 *evil laugh*); reader loves sweets/sweet drinks; not proofread (watch me edit spelling/grammar errors later after this has been reblogged....)

**MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT FOLLOW OR INTERACT**

(divider credit goes to @benkeibear)

It was the worst thing he could have ever heard uttered from your lips.

“I think I’d actually prefer coffee today, if that’s okay.”

Barbatos stared at you dumfounded as if you’d grown a second head.  You flustered under his gaze, your fingers fidgeting and eyes dropping.

“I mean, if it’s not too much trouble,” you stuttered.  Your next words came out in a rush.  “Don’t get me wrong, I love your tea! It’s just... I used to drink it all the time back home, and I’m feel a little nostalgic for it.”

Ah, you were so cute when you got flustered... Barbatos could feel his resolve fracture just the slightest, and he tightened his mental control, like sealing a crack in a teacup.

Diavolo laughed.  “There’s no need to worry.  Barbatos’s coffee is just as divine as his tea. I’m sure it’ll be no trouble at all.  Besides, he just went to the market yesterday and restocked the kitchens.  Isn’t that right?”

Diavolo looked at him expectantly, innocence in his eyes, and yet Barbatos knew better.  The corners of Barbatos’s mouth quirked just the slightest in stiff acknowledgement as he made mental notes to increase the young lord’s workload for the next day or two....

“Yes, young master.  Although, had I known the coffee would be offered to guests, I would have purchased more of a selection.”

“I’m sure whatever you have is fine, Barbatos. I’m not very picky...” you reply encouragingly with a warm smile.

Barbatos stared at you for a moment and returned the expression with more warmth than he’d given the young prince.  “You’re very gracious, Y/N.”

Diavolo clapped his hands together excitedly.  “Lovely!  With all of this talk of coffee, I believe I’d like one as well. It’s been some time since I’ve enjoyed a cup.” 

How quickly one’s control over a situation can shift...

The butler bowed low.  “Of course, my lord.  I will prepare it immediately.” He straightened his stiff spine and stared at you, although he kept his gaze at the space between your eyes so as not to give away the heat he’d undoubtedly feel when looking directly into your dark pupils.  “Is it safe to assume you enjoy your coffee like you enjoy your tea?”

You giggled, the sound of it making Barbatos’s skin tingle.  “You mean more sugar and cream than coffee? Yes, please.”

Great. Just great.

Barbatos’s smile remained firm, yet he could feel its fakeness in the way the muscles at the corner of his mouth cramped. He hoped you couldn’t see it.

With a bow he retreated. As soon as he was out of your line of sight, his mask vanished, transforming from smile to frown.

You wanted coffee.

There was only one, large, glaring problem.  The only coffee in the entire castle was Hell Coffee. 

It was Diavolo’s favorite, his enjoyment of the acidic, bitter taste a constant, warm reminder of Barbatos’s fatherly affection. He only requested it when he required reassurance after a particularly difficult day, when Barbatos’s honest feedback and praise on a job well done weren’t enough.  Barbatos had no need for any other type of coffee, especially since he himself was renowned for his teas and cakes.  No one ever, in their right mind, would request coffee when offered Barbatos’s tea.

With each step, the calm butler began to lose more and more of his composure until he nearly slammed the door open upon his entry to the kitchen.

The three Little Ds in the room startled at his entrance. One stirred a large, steaming stock pot, one washed the dishes, and the other was chopping vegetables.

Little D Two, who stirred the pot, saluted him.  “Hi, boss!”

Barbatos glared. “Out.”

The Little Ds wasted no time in rushing through the door. But before Number Two could make it, Barbatos’s sharp tone caught him.

“Not you, Number Two.  You stay.”

Number Two began to visibly shake, his small hand scratching at his head.  “A-Are you sure, boss? You look like you wanna be alone...”

Barbatos did not have to repeat himself; instead, he pinned the Little D with a stern look.

The Little D began to return to the center of the kitchen where Barbatos stood.

“Close the door,” Barbatos ordered. Little D obeyed and then returned to his side.

Barbatos put his hands on the kitchen island and stared down at its wooden, weathered surface.

“She wants coffee,” he muttered.

“What was that boss? I couldn’t hear ya...” Number Two replied, inching closer.

“I said she wants coffee.” Barbatos repeated as he looked up, his brow furrowed in frustration.

“Who does?” Number Two asked.

Barbatos clenched his jaw for a moment before averting his gaze and answering.  “Solomon’s apprentice.”

He’d hoped referring to you by your title would ease the wildness of his pulse, give him the much-needed distance between his head and his heart.

It did not.

Number Two perked up. “Well, that’s no big deal! We have coffee, don’t we?” He began shuffling through the cupboards. “Where is it, where is it. Ah, here it is!” He held it up in victory and placed it in front of Barbatos.

Barbatos glared daggers at it.

Why would anyone ever invent such a thing, anyway?

Hell indeed...

“We can’t use this,” he muttered.

��What?? Sure we can! It’s Hell Coffee, we make it all the-Ohhh.”

Number Two grew very still and Barbatos’s jaw clenched.

The silence stretched an uncomfortable length of time as Number Two fidgeted.  Finally, he drifted in front of the butler, hovering above the busy countertop.

“So, you, uhhh-”

“Shut up,” Barbatos ordered through clenched teeth.  “Not another word.”

But Number Two didn’t know the meaning of the word. “I mean,” he continued, “it can’t be that bad, right?? Some people like it bitter...”

“Well she doesn’t. You do recall how she takes her tea, do you not?”

Two fidgeted some more, his nervousness worsening. “Ah, right. Good point. But how bitter can it get, really?”

“I’d prefer not to find out,” Barbatos replied.  “No, this will not do. There must be another way.”

“Can’t we just drown it out with cream and sugar?” Number Two asked as he began rummaging through the fridge.

“The purpose of Hell Coffee is to communicate fondness, Number Two.  The magic of that cannot be undone so easily.”

‘There wouldn’t be enough sugar and cream in the entire Devildom to drown out that bitterness...’ Barbatos thought.

Panic curled his fingers into fists, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.  Time was wasting. He had to return to you soon or you and the young master begin to grow suspicious.

But then, Barbatos had an idea.  “Tell me, Number Two.  What are your feelings towards the apprentice?”

“Huh? My feelings? I mean, she’s nice and she helps me out once in a while...” The Little D answered distractedly as he continued to rummage through ingredients.

“Perfect,” Barbatos replied. “You will make it, then.”

There was a loud thump as Number Two hit his head on the inside of the fridge.  He popped out, his little black hand lifting his hat to rub a sore spot. “Me?!”

“Yes.”

“I can’t make Hell Coffee!”

“Why not?”

“I’ve never done it before!”

“It’s not difficult.”

“But what if it comes out awful? I don’t even think Hell Coffee is supposed to work on Little Ds!”

“All the better reason for you to be the one to make it. Come now. Diavolo requested a cup as well. I shall make the first, and then I will guide you through the steps so you may make the second.”

----

Diavolo talked, but you were having difficulty focusing on his words as you felt the minutes tick by.

Perhaps you’d made a mistake...

In all honesty, you weren’t sure what to expect. All you knew was that Hell Coffee was the only coffee available in the castle, a little nugget of knowledge that Lucifer had given to you when he’d told the story of Diavolo attempting to make him the coffee himself.

As soon as you learned that little tidbit of info, your mind immediately went to Barbatos. Sweet, handsome Barbatos.  Barbatos who’s presence made your skin hum, who’s soft smile and deep chuckle made your gut twist in the most lovely way.  Barbatos who’s eyes seemed to read you like a book every time you looked into them, and yet gave away nothing short of amusement in return.

He was such a tea enthusiast that you’d never questioned the lack of coffee on his elegant and detailed menu. But now the thought of Barbatos making you Hell Coffee wouldn’t leave your mind.

After all, how else were you supposed to find out how he felt about you? Ask him?  Like a normal person?? Definitely not; the very idea was laughable.  You’d rather take his rejection through small sips of coffee rather than hear the words uttered from his mouth.

Because that’s what you were certain would happen. The acidity would be mild, the beverage more sugar than coffee. It wasn’t like the royal butler harbored any feelings for you, right? Sure, there was respect and friendship, but that was it.

So then why.... why were you so nervous? Why did hope flutter in your chest like a trapped bird?

Silly.

Anxiety twisted deep in your stomach, crushing your appetite and making your small desserts taste like ash.

But a moment later, he appeared, an ornate silver tray in his steady gloved hands, with two delicate teacups of steaming dark liquid.  He set the tray down and began to prepare them to yours and Diavolo’s liking. The close proximity made the delicious scent tickle your nose, and you inhaled and let out a happy sigh.

Barbatos was unmoved, his eyes kept to the teacups as he handed Diavolo his beverage first, and then yours.

Diavolo thanked him with a happy smile and took the first sip and winced.  “Ah, as bitter as ever Barbatos.  Glad to know you haven’t tired of me yet.”

“An impossibility, young master,” he replied smoothly.

You watched the exchange as you carefully brought the beverage to your lips and sipped.

Your heart sank instantly, the sweet tang clinging to your tongue.  It crushed your hope, silenced the unspoken confessions and washed them away to a place where they’d be left to slowly die.

“And how do you like yours?” Barbatos inquired, his neutral smile hiding any emotions worth noticing.

Or, as you’d just now discovered, where none lurked.

He respected you it seemed, had some basic level of fondness since the coffee still tasted of coffee, of course.  But it lacked the sharp, bitter bite that you’d hoped for, the one you’d experienced whenever one of the brothers made you coffee at the house.

You forced a small smile even as you felt your disappointment coalesce in your throat like a stone.  “It’s delicious. Thank you, Barbatos.”

Barbatos gave a polite nod and his posture eased ever so slightly. His satisfaction of your reaction to your bland, sugary cup only drove the painful truth home further, a nail into your heart.

Barbatos didn’t love you.

----

Diavolo stared at the empty teacups in thought as Barbatos began clearing the table.  “She seemed... disappointed, didn’t she?”

Barbatos glanced at him and then averted his eyes.  “Did she?”

“She certainly left quickly enough after the coffee.”

“I’m sure she simply has many errands to run,” Barbatos replied.  “The brothers and Solomon keep her nearly as busy as me.”

Diavolo stared at him for a long moment, then let out a gentle hum.

Barbatos graced his unspoken need for further attention with a lengthy side-eye.  “Yes, young master?”

Diavolo’s mouth quirked up slightly at the corner.  “Nothing... I just... I was certain that her cup would have been more bitter.”

Barbatos straightened up, the tray of now used dishes in his hand, his own mouth quirking up in return.  “I’m sorry to disappoint.”

Diavolor raised a challenging eyebrow at him.  “You do know I can tell when someone is lying to me, Barbatos.  Even you.”

Barbatos’s smirk vanished as quickly as it came, his walls up instantly.  “I have not forgotten, my lord. As such, perhaps you should cease pursuing this topic.”

“Have it your way...” Diavolo muttered.

Barbatos bowed. “If you’ll excuse me...”

He turned towards the castle, his eyes downcast on the half-drank cup of coffee you’d left behind.  As he began to walk back, Diavolo’s quiet voice followed him.

“You’re making a mistake.”

----

Diavolo’s words lingered in Barbatos’s mind following him into the next day, and the day after that.  It haunted him endlessly, making its appearance at the most inopportune times.  While balancing the budget, monitoring Lord Diavolo’s progress on his pile of paperwork, while running errands... he was far too busy to be so, so.... distracted.

Barbatos whole-heartedly disagreed with the young prince’s assessment.  In fact, in all honesty, Barbatos hardly ever made any mistakes at all, at least not anymore. He was far too careful for such reckless behavior.  Which was why Barbatos had a million and one reasons not to confess his feelings to you.  Between Devildom politics, his duties, and your mortality just to name a few, the cons far outweighed the pros... or so he tried to tell himself.

Even so, he couldn’t deny how you watched him when you thought he wasn’t looking, or the way your smile brightened in his presence... or the way you always managed to find a reason to cross paths with him at least a couple times a week...

Barbatos shook his head to himself.  No.  Best not to go there...

And yet...

‘You’re making a mistake.’

----

The truth of those words didn’t fully solidify until he ran into you at the market a couple of weeks later. Barbatos had already noticed how he seemed to be crossing paths with you less than usual. He already suspected you were avoiding him, putting distance between your heart and him.  He’d accepted it, a consequence of his own choices.

That is, until he saw the look in your eyes; the way you couldn’t quite hide the hurt fast enough behind your smile, the way your lips curled in artificial joy at seeing him.  Your words were brief and cordial, but he could tell you were eager to disentangle from his presence.

He’d watched your retreating back with his breath lodged like spikes in his lungs, the longing to grab your wrist and pull you back to him making his fingers twitch.

Barbatos had hoped that preventing an impromptu confession with cursed coffee would have allowed him to keep you at arm’s length, to keep his affections for you separate from yours.

But this felt less like separation and every bit like entanglement.  You weren’t just drifting farther away from him like two separate objects with nothing but empty space between. It felt more like ripping, a tearing of intertangled roots. It was painful and left an ache in his chest where your presence had made a home.

Perhaps the young lord was right....

----

Even so, Barbatos was as stubborn as he was prideful.  He filled himself with distractions to ease the pain, waiting for time to work its magic and ease the empty longing for both of you.

Another two weeks passed before Diavolo took matters into his own hands.

The prince entered the kitchen to see every single surface filled with extravagant desserts and warm breads. Little D’s were at every counter and stove, while Barbatos stood at the island in the center with a piping bag in his hand, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Are we having a celebration?” Diavolo asked jovially.

“No, young master,” Barbatos replied.

“Then what is the reason for the feast?”

“I have been making modifications to my recipes to perfect my menu.”

“You mean the menu you’ve already perfected three times this week?”  Diavolo crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.  “This wouldn’t have anything to do with one particular sorcerer’s apprentice, would it?”

Barbatos’s hand flexed on the piping bag and a large glob shot out onto the cake he was decorating.  He glanced briefly at Diavolo.  “Of course not.”

“Then I’m guessing that it’s just a coincidence that you’ve chosen her favorite color as your decorating inspiration....”

Barbatos blanched and his eyes looked up from his work to take in the state of the kitchen.

Damn it, he was right... cupcakes, cakes, tarts, danishes, marbled bread, muffins... everything he’d made was somehow tied back to you.  Colors, flavors, textures... it was as if he’d gotten lost in his thoughts and his hands had written out apologies in the form of desserts rather than letters.

“Perhaps we should talk about this...” Diavolo suggested.  His amber eyes took in the exhausted Little D’s.  “Okay, break time everyone!”

A roar of cheers erupted throughout the kitchen, and a swarm of dark little bodies vacated the space in record time.

“Young master, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t override my authority within the kitchen,” Barbatos chided as he eyed all of the unfinished work.

“My dear friend, work them any harder, and they’ll all go on strike, and then where will we be?”  Diavolo closed the door behind him and made himself comfortable against the island, a pastry in his hand.  Barbatos returned to piping the decoration onto the cake that was nearly complete.  “You should talk to her, Barbatos.”

Barbatos froze and finally let out a heavy sigh in defeat as he set the piping bag down. He braced his hands against the weathered edge of the counter. “I cannot.”

“Why not?”

“It is not so simple.”

“Isn’t it?”

Barbatos chuckled.  “I sometimes envy your youthful, reckless optimism...”

“You’ve been sulking ever since that day with the hell coffee.”

Barbatos scoffed and straightened his spine in reproach. “I do not sulk.”

“Like a teenager with a broken heart ,” Diavolo pressed with an arrogant tilt of his chin and mischief in his smile.

Barbatos narrowed his eyes.  “If you have enough time to watch me so closely, then perhaps you can explain to me why you’re still so behind on your work.”

“Maybe I’m too distracted watching you clean the castle top to bottom and baking enough sweets to satiate even Beel’s bottomless gut.”

His words got under the butler’s skin and so he started straightening up the space, gathering crumbs of dough and flour into piles, wiping up blotches of icing from the wood grain.  “It is work that must be done my lord, nothing more nothing less.” Then he muttered, “A teenager? Really? You do realize I’m far older than you.”

“Yes, and how many of those years have you been alone?”

“I am not alone, young master. I have you, I have the Little Ds...”

“You know what I mean. When was the last time you fell in love?”

Barbatos froze, his vision blurring. He blinked and it refocused.

Yes... how long had it been?

“Look,” Diavolo said, “all I’m saying is that perhaps this is one area that you’re a little bit... rusty in.”

Barbatos was silent for a long moment, before giving a soft sigh and turning to lean against the counter the same as Diavolo.  “My lack of a love life isn’t the issue.  I can’t afford to jeopardize your position as prince by allowing myself to become emotionally involved with a human. And not just any human, but Solomon’s apprentice.  Many demons still haven’t forgotten how he’d singlehandedly opposed the Devildom centuries ago. I am your most trusted confidant, and as such I must err on the side of caution in all of my dealings.”

Diavolo’s eyes widened.  “Is that why you’ve been doing this?”

“I am your butler first and foremost, young master. You will always be my top priority.”

Diavolo blew air out of his cheeks and leaned his head back to stare at the intricate ceiling.  “I see. I appreciate the concern, friend. However, I believe, in this instance, it’s important that you put a little more faith in me to be able to keep the nobles in line.  Regardless of their opinions, I am the law of this land, and my position is final. Besides, she’s already intricately tied up in Devildom affairs considering she has pacts with all of the brothers.”

“All the more reason to be cautious,” Barbatos replied.

“Screw that,” Diavolo scoffed.

Barbatos gasped.  “My lord!”

“After all you’ve done for me, what kind of a prince would I be if I let the fear of the masses take away your chance at happiness?” Diavolo said firmly.  “You deserve to be happy too, Barbatos.  Now please, for the love of my father, get out of this damn kitchen and go apologize to her.”

Barbatos stared at the prince with wide eyes, before bowing low. “Yes, young master.”

Before Barbatos crossed the threshold, Diavolo called out with a chuckle in his voice. “You should ask her for coffee when you get there...”

Barbatos gave a soft laugh.  He had a feeling he wouldn’t have to.

----

For all of the inspiration and reassurance Diavolo had provided, Barbatos could feel his resolve slip more and more the closer he got to the front door of the House of Lamentation.

Would you turn him away? Run away to your room and allow the brothers to host him instead?  What if you weren’t even home? What if you were with Solomon?

A sharp stab of jealousy reared its head and he forced it back down.

That certainly wouldn’t do him any good, now would it?

He walked up the steps and rang the doorbell as he held his breath.

A silent prayer of gratitude and dread echoed through his mind as you answered the door. You froze when you saw him, eyes wide, your breath caught in your chest.

“Barbatos,” you said dumbly.  “What are you doing here?”

You clamped your mouth shut as you realized how rude you sounded, and all Barbatos could think about was how cute you were...

“I...” he started, and then froze.  He couldn’t say the real reason for his arrival, not on the doorstep where anyone could hear.  “I came to inspect the House of Lamentation for any infestations.”

Your shoulder slumped slightly in disappointment.  “Oh. Okay, come in.”

He bowed graciously.  “Thank you.”

As he stepped into the large foyer, you fidgeted nervously.  He stared the gesture and fought the blush that threatened to creep across his pale cheeks.  “Where are the brothers?” he asked.

“They aren’t here right now. Diavolo called them to a student council meeting.”

Barbatos’s eyes widened.  “Oh. I see...”

He wasn’t sure whether he should thank him or punish him...

He stared down at you as his heart pounded wildly.  “So you are by yourself then?”

“For a little bit,” you replied with a small smile.  “I must admit the quiet is nice once in a while...”

Barbatos’s own lips curled gently.  “Then I promise I’ll be brief.”

“W-would you like some tea?” you asked expectantly.

Barbatos hesitated, Diavolo’s words once again coming alive in his mind.

Ask her for coffee.

But Barbatos forced the suggestion aside.

“Yes, tea would be lovely.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back.  Make yourself comfortable.” You retreated toward the kitchen, and Barbatos sat in a nearby chair.

----

Tea, tea, tea.....

You opened the cannister that sat on the counter and stared at it with wide eyes and an open mouth.

Empty.

No, that can’t be right... you always had tea.

With your brow furrowed, you rummaged through the lower pantry.

Nothing. Not a single tea bag.

No, no, no....

Dread started from your toes and crept up like invisible fingers brushing against sensitive skin.

You had hoped to make this as painless as possible; give Barbatos his tea, allow him to do his inspection, and then send him on his way.  But already things were going awry.

You hummed to yourself with a furrowed brow as you dug out any and all drink options.  Water, milk, juice, soda... none of those seemed suitable for Barbatos.

You went back to the cupboards, moving items around as you searched.  Your hand wrapped around a familiar bag and you pulled it out with trepidation.

 Coffee.

You stared at the bag of Hell Coffee with narrowed eyes as if it was the reason for the lack of tea within the kitchen.

No.  Absolutely fucking not. You’d already made that mistake once before and you’d regretted it ever since.

Panic filled your veins and you fought back the burning sensation in your eyes.

There had to be something....

Your eyes spotted the upper cabinet that was so often out of your reach. It often housed excess demonus when Lucifer’s own cabinets were full in his office.

Maybe... just maybe....

Who knows, maybe Lucifer had received some tea as a gift from Barbatos and put it up with the rest of the demonus?

You grabbed the stool that had become your best friend within the Devildom-sized kitchen and stepped up.

----

Barbatos sat and fiddled with his clothing, adjusting the uniform repeatedly. It felt awfully tight today, the house feeling particularly warm.

The minutes ticked by, time stretched, and Barbatos grew more and more restless. He checked the time.  The tall grandfather clock chimed its gong.

Finally, Barbatos got tired of waiting.  Perhaps you’d run out the back door, leaving him alone in the house...

He chuckled to himself.  You would never....

He stood up and made his way to the kitchen.  When he pushed through the double doors, he froze as he stared at the sight before him.

The kitchen was chaos, cupboards open and various contents spread out on the counter.

And you, you were on a stool, precariously balanced, as the upper half of your body vanished inside a high cabinet.

“No, no, this can’t be happening...” you muttered, unaware of Barbatos’s presence. He could hear the anxiety laced in your tone, the tension tight around your vocal chords. You were desperately searching for something.

It was almost comical, watching you stand on your tippy-toes, and it’d been so long since Barbatos saw you up close, that he paused to cherish the view. His eyes followed the curves and lines of your body, his lips slightly parted.

That is, until you started to wobble...

You could feel the balance shift, felt the scrape of the wood beneath your feet give way to nothing.

That split second of panic, of knowing you were falling, was interrupted by strong hands and lean arms wrapping around your waist, catching your weight against a firm, tall body.

The impact of your body against Barbatos’s forced his own back against the closed lower cupboard, but he held firm, keeping your feet from touching the floor. Your arms were around his neck instantly, survival instinct forcing you against him as if he were a tree.

Time felt frozen for a moment as your heart pounded with adrenaline.

You knew immediately who’d caught you. After all, there was only one other person in the house with you.

Not to mention you could smell the scent of sugar clinging to his uniform, could smell the tea on his breath as his own heart pounded beneath yours.

You were torn between embarrassment and desire, your eyes closed as you clung to him.  But then you remembered the hell coffee from weeks ago, recalled that neutral smile he’d worn when you drank it, and your heart broke all over again.

Slowly you loosened your hold around his neck and pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes.

“I... thank you.”

His green eyes stared back, his skin flushed, although you were sure it was due to the haste in which he had to have moved to catch you. Barbatos held you for a moment longer than he needed to before slowly setting you down on unsteady legs.

“You’re welcome,” he replied.  Then his eyes looked up past your head at the kitchen behind you.  “Might I inquire as to what’s happening?”

You opened your mouth hoping to find a believable lie there, but there was none.  Only simple truth came forth, clumsy and blunt.  “We don’t have any tea.”

“Oh...” Barbatos looked down at you.  “So you’ve decided to reorganize your kitchen.”

The emotion pounding in your chest finally gained enough strength to work their way up your throat and brim your eyes with tears.

“I... I only have coffee. And, and water, and juice, and soda, and...”

Barbatos watched the panic overtake you and he took your hand in his, his thumb gently rubbing across the back of your hand.

“Coffee will be fine.”

What he had hoped would assuage your fear only seemed to heighten it, causing the tears to finally break loose, running wet tracks down your cheeks. You refused to look at him, instead focusing on the details of his uniform.

“B-but... I only have Hell Coffee....”

Realization dawned on Barbatos’s face, and then his expression softened.  “I see... then let us make some.”

He began to step to the side to go around you but you clutched his hand tightly, halting his retreat.  “No, you don’t understand. It’s...” Barbatos waited patiently as you found your words. Finally, your voice came through soft and timid.  “It’s going to be too bitter.”

A soft smile spread across his lips.  “I think in this case I am willing to make an exception.”

Confusion furrowed your brow as he led you over to the counter with your fingers intertwined.  “I... I don’t understand.... I thought...”

“Y/N, I have a confession to make... and an apology as well.”

A few minutes later and the sound of laughter is filling the kitchen with the scent of coffee in rich in the air.

“So you really bullied Number Two into making it??” you laughed.

Barbatos gave you a reproachful look.  “Bullying is a strong term, Y/N... but yes, I suppose I did.”

“Well now I know how Two feels about me, I guess...”

“And you know how I feel about you, too,” Barbatos replied with a small smile.

“Wellll,” you hummed, “Yes, but...” you stared at the two cups of fresh coffee sitting in front of each of you. “I still want to try it...”

It was Barbatos’s suggestion to make each other’s cup, to assuage any lingering doubts.

“Then let us proceed,” he replied.

With your eyes locked you both picked up your cups and took a tentative sip.

Sharp, deep bitterness greeted your tongue and your face soured.  Barbatos’s cup seemed to be no better, as he attempted to stifle a cough.

“Oh...” he mustered.  “Oh goodness, that’s...”

“Truly awful,” you replied with a chuckle.  “In the best way, of course.”

“It really is, isn’t it?” he laughed.  He took another sip and you watched in amusement as his winced.

You sipped yours again as well, and forced it down with your eyes squeezed shut.

“Do... do we have to finish the whole thing?” you asked.

“It’s customary to do so... not finishing it implies you’re unwilling to fully accept the other person’s affections.”

You frowned into your cup with a pout.  “Silly Devildom customs...” you forced another sip.  “Blegh.”

Barbatos grinned, his cheeks warm as he watched you.  “Perhaps, however...” he said, “we can call a truce.”

“Don’t toy with my emotions, Barbatos,” you teased.

His expression sobered from one of amusement to calm affection.  “I promise, never again.”

Your skin felt hot and you averted your eyes down into your cup.  His hand came forward, and you felt him tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I am truly sorry for deceiving you,” he said softly.  “It was a poor decision and one I’ll always regret.”

Your gaze returned to lock with his, and suddenly you’re keenly aware of his close proximity and of the emptiness of the large house.

Barbatos’s hand lingered gently on your jawline, his fingers tucked behind your ear.  His eyes flickered to your lips before returning to your eyes again.

Then he closed the distance and kissed you, his lips soft and tender against yours.  You melted into it, melted into him, your fingers twining into the jacket of his uniform.

He pulled away slightly and you stared at each other. Then he kissed you again, his lips firmer, more confident.  His hand went from your jaw to your waist, pulling you close against him as your arms wound around his neck.  The desire written into his touch, his lips, emboldened you to open your mouth slightly and swipe your tongue against his lips.  Barbatos’s lips curled into a smirk against yours, a deep chuckle vibrating in his chest. He acquiesced to your silent plea and opened his mouth, his tongue meeting yours.

Your body awakened at the warmth and taste of him, the acrid coffee still sharp on his tongue.  You pressed yourself harder against him, and his body pivoted until you were pinned between himself and the counter, your coffee cups long since forgotten and growing cold while your body grew hotter.

Finally, Barbatos broke the kiss, his forehead pressed against yours as his hands tightened on your hips.  “You’re going to make me behave improperly if you continue to torture me so.”

He was taller than you, much taller; you barely came up to his shoulder.  It made the buckle of his belt press against your stomach.

And below that...

Heat pooled in your core, desire heavy in your gaze.

“Oh no, not improper,” you teased, your hands on his hips in return as you looked up at him with pleading eyes.

Barbatos chuckled as he cupped your cheek. “What a troublemaker... however,” - he forced his body to separate from yours - “I would like to perhaps court you before repurposing your kitchen.”

You pouted your lip in disappointment, and Barbatos stared at the gesture with flushed cheeks.  His thumb came up and brushed against your protruding lower lip.  “Don’t do that,” he chided.

You grinned and playfully nibbled at his thumb, trapping it between your teeth.  His eyes darkened. He leaned in to kiss you again, but your words halted his approach just as his lips started to brush yours.

“How about dessert?” you asked against his mouth.  “Our coffee was so bitter, we deserve something sweet.”

Barbatos froze and gave a frustrated chuckle.  “Is this how it’s going to be from now on?”

You grinned.  “Maybe...”

“Hmm,” he hummed. Then he leaned closer to you until his lips brushed your ear.  “Sounds like fun...”

Your legs felt like jelly, your heart pounding so fiercely you were sure it was going to jump from your chest into his.

But then Barbatos pulled away, putting distance between you. “Fortunately for you, I happen to have a wide variety of desserts waiting in the kitchen at the castle. So,” he extended his hand to and bowed, “if you’ll accompany me...”

You smiled and took his hand. “I’d be happy to.”

“Wonderful. Let us take a shortcut.”

Barbatos opened a doorway out of thin air, and with your hand linked with his, guided you through.

Part 2 (link coming soon!)

[writinghotchner]

i need more girl dad aaron before i lose it.

you and me both, babeyyy.

--

hotch x fem!reader sfw, no explicit material

you come home from work to see aaron and your 4 year old daughter having a tea party :')

you step inside your house, shrugging off your coat and toeing off your shoes. your immediately hit with your little girls infectious giggles and your husbands low voice. without even knowing what's going on in the playroom, you huff out a laugh to yourself as you make your way through the living room and down the hall to where your family is. you lean against the door frame watching their shenanigans.

aaron his basically crouched down on a toddler sized pink chair with an equally as small toddler table in between the two. he has a pink and purple tiara sitting on top of his head and your daughter has somehow wrangled a pink tutu around his waist. she is opposite him, sitting comfortably in a chair fit for her size.

"is this how i drink it?" aaron asks the little girl, holding his tea cup upside down trying to sip from the solid bottom of the cup. she is absolutely in fits over this gig. "no daddy!" she tells him through gasps of laughter. "like this!" she holds her cup right side up and takes a sip of imaginary tea - with her pink out, of course - to show him how its supposed to be held.

"oh, right, how silly of me." he turns the cup over. "so like this?" he asks, but this time he has the handle to his lips and his big fingers holding the cup by its side. the little girl erupts into breathless laughter again, nearly falling out of her chair.

"daddy!" she yells incredulously, trying to be stern through her laughter. she gets up and walks over to him and takes the cup out of his hand, turning it around the right way and puts it back into his hands. "like this!"

"okay, thank you so much for showing me how to hold it correctly." he smiles, taking a sip of air.

"you're very welcome." the little girl says back, both of them using their serious voices.

"should we be using fancy british voices for our fancy tea party?" he asks her using a vaguely bad british accent.

she tries to answer him back, copying the way he sounds but she can't and it makes her fall into a fit of giggles all over again.

"i can't do it!" she yells in hysterics.

"well why not!" aaron asks her, still using the accent.

"because i'm four!"

"oh well goodness me!" aaron says back in mock surprise. "this whole time i thought you were an old lady."

the little girl's mouth drops. "I'M NOT OLD! I'M 4!"

"4 could be considered old to some people." he tells her, back in his normal voice, and very seriously.

"who?!"

"2 year olds, probably."

"DADDY!" the little girl shrieks, her fits of giggles once again taking over her body.

"what...is going on in here!" you finally announce your presence and both of them look over at you startled - giving the same expression which makes you laugh out loud.

"mommy!" your daughter yells, flying off the chair and into your open arms.

"hi, baby. are you having a good tea time with daddy?"

she nods her head furiously and then leaves your arms to clamor into aaron's lap. you laugh again and follow her, leaning over to kiss your husband on the lips and then take a seat in the extra chair next to him.

your daughter hands you a little tea cup and you hold it upside down and raise it to your lips. "like this right?"

both of them erupt in laughter so infectious it makes you join in right along with them.

[chimchiri]

Poll Adventure: Rarijack Dinner

Index | [prev] - Part 06 - [next] Special thanks to @babydarkstar for putting out the lovely writing! <3

Previous Poll:

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

A tall, willowy woman sits crouched on her knees, tending to a fruiting garden with her back to AJ. Her long pink hair is tied up in a thoughtless knot, though the green ribbon holding it together makes it elegant. A basket sits beside her, half-full with newly harvested veggies, flowers, mushrooms, and greens. As she works, the tune she hums floats across the yard, accompanied by birdsong that chirps along, and the occasional chatter from a chipmunk joining in.

As usual, Fluttershy is surrounded by a sundry of critters. Today there are butterflies flitting around her shoulders, beetles dancing at her knees, a wild doe that rests beside her with its long legs tucked under its body, a tortoise that munches on the kale from her basket, and a roundup of squirrels chattering away as they help her find ripe cherry tomatoes. And of course, Angel—the mischievous bunny that can get away with nearly anything, because he’s Fluttershy’s darling boy. For now, he sits directly behind her, scratching idly at his neck with his hind leg. Bodyguard duty.

A tiny, bright blue flash approaches Flutters and hovers in the air beside her, a delicate flower in tow. Flutters looks over to the proffered gift, removes a glove and holds out her hand out to let the hummingbird drop the flower into her palm. She places it in her hair before letting the bird land on her finger.

“Thank you, Hummingway,” she chimes, bringing the microscopic bird up to nuzzle at her cheek with a soft laugh.

For a moment, AJ can only watch in awe. Fluttershy’s uncanny ability to commune with nature never gets old. A grin breaks out on her face. She’s glad she decided to stop here first; she can feel her stress melting away.

“Fluttershy,” AJ calls from the pathway leading to Fluttershy’s front door, and the woman in the garden yelps, shoulders tensing in a defensive pose. Applejack cringes as Flutters turns to face her, eyes wide.

“Oh—goodness,” she says, a hand to her chest, “Applejack, you startled me.”

“Sorry—sorry,” AJ says with a sheepish smile, stepping over to grab the basket and offering Flutters a hand.

Fluttershy stands, brushing the grass and dirt from her pants and tucking her gloves into a pocket before bending down to scoop Angel up into her arms, bidding farewell to the other critters retreating from their garden duties—the ones that didn’t flee when Applejack broke their peaceful moment.

“Well, it’s good to see you, AJ,” Flutters says in that soft voice of hers, reaching a hand out for the basket in AJ’s hand. But the farmer gives a little shake of her head, insisting she carry it as they step out of the garden patch and over to the cobblestone pathway.

“Um, you really don’t have to carry it for me…but thank you,” she says, stroking at one of Angel’s fuzzy ears, to busy her anxious hands, “Come in, I was going to make tea.”

So AJ follows Fluttershy into her charming little bungalow, locked in a staring contest with Angel, who looks at her over Fluttershy’s shoulder like he would maim AJ if he had sharper teeth. Setting the harvest basket on a bench by the door, AJ watches the timid woman put a kettle on to boil and then putter about the open floor plan of the downstairs as she fusses with putting her veggies in the sink and tidying whatever she deems out of place. As they wait for the water to boil, they make idle small talk—the weather’s been nice, Twilight (yes, Twilight) is planning a surprise party for Pinkie Pie, how are the horses?

Once Fluttershy pours tea into cups on a tray and leads them to the den, she takes a timid sip before looking to AJ. “It’s always nice to see you, Applejack. Did you need me to help with something? Is Winona doing okay?” A look of panic flashes across her face and her eyes go wide. “She didn’t get into the horse feed again, did she? Oh dear…I told her only to eat her own food….”

Her brows pull up in concern as she meets AJ’s gaze, who shakes her head with a chuckle. “No, Winona’s alright—she loves the new food”—(“Oh, thank goodness…”)—“I’m actually…I’m here because I had a favor to ask.”

Applejack rubs the back of her neck. Shit, she’s nervous. Thinking about consulting her friends is one thing, but actually doing it is something else entirely.

“Oh?”

AJ grabs her tiny teacup from the tray and blows on the tea, unable to look at Fluttershy. “Uh, yeah—I, uh. I’m goin’ on a date. And I need some advice.”

“A date!” exclaims Flutters, louder than her usual delicate tone as she flashes a grin, her soft blue eyes glittering. “That’s wonderful.”

AJ can feel her ears turning ten shades of pink. “Heh, thanks. I’m stuck on a few things but I think you can help me out.”

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

Tag List: @mrrrpmeow @babydarkstar @butwerebothmares @chaosdraconequus @chrysaliswife @gaywombat @mulan-but-gay @jubjub05 @dan-chan-rn @sanybaby @horserepository @justletmesnarkandbark @colourswirlcannibal

[silverhallow]

A Little drabble for @benedictscorner based on her Headcanon from Twitter:

Snapped

“No seriously watch…” Colin smirked to his eldest brother who was looking incredulously between Colin and Benedict.

Anthony rolled his eyes but turned his concentration to Benedict who was sketching his two Nephews sitting on the rug in their mothers drawing room.

“Eloise was telling me that Sophie…”

*crack*

Benedict cursed himself silently, as hearing the name of his sisters new ladies maid, the woman who completely consumed his thoughts, his dreams, his every being, caused his hands to tighten in an effort to control his other bodily urges and it was the 8th time this week he’d snapped the charcoal he was using. At this rate the man in the shop was going to think him an amature.

“Huh…” Anthony said his brow raised “i see what you mean” he said gesturing to Colin with his tea cup.

“I told you”

“told him what?” Benedict asked his brain finally tuning into their conversation

“That whenever Sophie’s name is mentioned you seem to snap your charcoal, or drop your drink” Colin said with a knowing smirk

“That’s not true” Benedict lied as he turned his face to hide the blush he knew was forming, and cursing that he could feel the heat spreading to his ears.

“I actually believe it might be” Anthony said “Kate told me you spilt your brandy down you last evening when the maid walked passed…”

“And Penelope told me that Eloise has seen you snapping many a charcoal this last week…” Colin smirked

Benedict hated how astute his sisters in law were, how nosy their own sisters were. “Coincidences” he lied again as he coughed and decided to reach for his tea.

But as he went to take a sip, there was a knock on the door and as it opened Sophie’s dark blonde curls appeared around the door and Benedict instantly dropped his hot tea all over his lap and let out a curse.

“Oh, I am so sorry I didn’t mean to startle you… Lady Bridgerton and Mrs Bridgerton sent me to see if Edmund and Thomas wished to join them for biscuits” Sophie said rushing over to assist.

Benedict very quickly brushed her off, he didn’t need her hands on him, or near him as he knew he’d end up frustrated and hard and his brothers were already laughing, Colin had nearly fallen off his chair in an effort to keep his hysterics quiet.

“I am fine” Benedict croaked, “I…”

Anthony finally decided to take pity on his brother “boys go with Miss Beckett. Amma and Mama will be waiting with fresh biscuits”

Both young boys took Sophie’s hand and once she was out of the room with the boys Anthony turned on his brother “she’s our sister's ladies maid Benedict… learn to control it. I’d hate to have to let her go because you can’t keep it in your breeches and you will be the one to explain to Eloise and hyacinth why she’s gone…”

Benedict just groaned. He really did need to learn to control this, not only for his sanity but for his art… it was costing him a fortune in new charcoals… but right now…

He needed new breeches.

[frogmanfae]

Anthony Lockwood x GN! Reader- You Too? (FLUFF with a little bit of angst)

Summary: Anthony can't sleep at night. You can't sleep at night. Most of the time you avoid running into each other, but one fateful night of tears in the basement leads to an awkward bedroom experience.

A/n: this one is quite a bit longer than my other ones, about 4,000 words. I think it came out pretty well. Please don't make this dirty, I beg of you. It really is just awkwardness that happens to occur in a bed it isn't anything spicy.

Reader pov

There are nights where I can't bear to be in my room. I'm not sure why. Perhaps I need a break from such mundane consistency. I just need to see something other than those walls.

On these nights, I usually make myself some tea and go to the basement. I'd much rather sit in the library, but Lockwood is in there most nights. Nobody ever comes down to the basement. I'm alone with only my thoughts and my tea.

I don't quite understand why my room has this effect on me sometimes. When my parents died, my room was my safe haven. My refuge. My sanctuary. So now that I'm in a new environment, it makes little sense to me that it can feel more like solitary confinement. It makes even less sense that I'm soothed by the concrete and dust of the basement.

Tonight is one of those nights. It's probably three in the morning as I sit on the floor leaned against the wall, sipping my tea. I'm a listener, like Lucy (though not nearly as powerful) so a moment of silence is rare, but extremely calming. To use my power and hear nothing is bliss.

I've only about half way finished my tea when someone comes down the stairs, clearly laser focused on something. We're in the middle of a big case, so that's probably it. I had expected it to be George doing some late research or maybe Lucy to see if she can listen to any of the sources down here and get a lead.

To my surprise, it's the other one.

I watch silently as Lockwood pulls out several files and spreads them out on a table. He seems extra stiff, like something is really bothering him. He grumbles something in frustration before collecting the files and putting them back in the cabinet.

He walks over to my wall and sits down a couple feet away. From what I can tell, he hasn't noticed me.

I'm right here, isn't your talent supposed to be sight?

I simply continue sipping on my tea, remaining quiet and looking forward to not disturb him, though he really is an idiot if he doesn't know I'm here.

I thought for a moment that he actually did see me, but he needed space and realized I needed the same so he just didn't acknowledge it. I was certain on this until I heard him crying.

I look over at him. He's still wearing dress pants and his button up and tie. He's still got on his dress shoes. However, his hair was a mess and his hands were currently tangled in the back locks, only making it worse. His face was buried in his knees. I swear I heard a tear drop on to the floor. He was quietly sobbing, clearly trying to not alert anyone but still in pain. Emotional pain, anyhow.

I debate what I should do for a moment. I don't want to startle him, and honestly he seems like he needs this. I decide to just keep drinking my tea and not look at him. I'll let him get it all out before I make my presence known.

It lasts longer than I thought. Perhaps ten minutes? I'm not the best with comprehending passage of time but that seems right enough. Regardless of the details, it was a long time to sit here holding my breath and listening to his suffering.

Finally, he sniffs and wipes his eyes. I'm still looking straight ahead holding my cup, only seeing him out of my peripheral vision. He runs his hands back and forth over his hair a few times. I close my eyes.

"JESUS FUCKI-"

I snap my head towards Lockwood. He's now on his back with his legs closest to me, propped up on one arm and looking at me as if I'm a ghost. I can properly see his face now. His dark circles seem more prominent than usual and his eyes are red and puffy. His nose is red. His cheeks are discolored. He looks abnormally pale. His lashes have been thickened and darkened by his tears. It was truly a sight.

"HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN HERE?"

"I was here before you."

"AND YOU DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING? YOU SAW ALL OF THAT?"

"Shhh you'll wake up the others, we both know how lightly George sleeps while we're in the midst of a case. Anyhow, you seemed like you needed it. I didn't want to interrupt. It's not like I watched you."

"But... You saw it all. You heard everything!"

"Lockwood, I hope you realize I think no less of you."

"What?"

"I- oh gosh you can't be comfortable like that. Sit up, why don't you?" He hesitantly pushes himself up and leans against the wall again. "I'm worried about you."

"Theres no need to be-"

"Bullshit. You can't keep concealing your emotions like this. It's okay to be overwhelmed or stressed or overall upset for any reason. You always act like everything is wonderful but it's not. I don't know if it ever has been."

He looks down. "(Y/n)... It's not that easy-"

"I never said anything about it being easy. Of course it's hard. I can't even imagine how you feel owning an agency so young, having all that pressure on your shoulders. It's terrifying to be vulnerable."

"Is that why you're in the basement in the early hours of the morning, drinking herbal tea?"

I hum. "I just couldn't sleep, and I like herbal tea."

"Now who's bullshitting?" The corners of his mouth tug up in a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You much prefer green. Herbal simply calms you down. You only ever drink herbal tea when you're upset."

"How..."

"I notice things, (y/n). Lots of things. Don't think I don't hear the kettle during the midnight hours at least three times a week. The peculiar thing is I never hear anyone go back up the stairs and whenever I go into the kitchen, it's empty."

I look down. How'd he make this about me so quickly?

"Tell me, (y/n), do you spend your nights in the basement often?"

"... No. Only when I can't sleep."

"So... Often." He nods. "Why don't you stay in the library? It's much more inviting."

"I don't want to bother you. That's where you are most nights."

"You could never bother me."

"Stop, you were the one crying a few moments ago, this isn't about me."

He sighs. "It was worth a shot."

"Now, what's bothering you?"

"Uh... Nothing, really."

"Lockwood."

"It's just the case, that's all."

"That's a lie and we both know it."

He let's out a noise of exasperation. "Fine, you really want to know? It's my parents."

"Your parents?" I ask softly as I scoot closer to him.

He nods. "They died when I was six years old. You really have no idea what it's like to have such a great life until suddenly you don't and it all gets ripped away from you without warning and nobody will take you in so you have to fend for yourself before your age even reaches double digits."

"Actually... I think I can relate more than you realize."

"How can you possibly relate?" He almost sounds angry. I don't blame him, I never told him my story. I kept it to myself even after living with other people all this time. I moved here with a purpose, to start new. Therefore, my past never happened according to anyone else. I was another person then. I've left all of that behind, taking only the nightmares and memories with me.

"My parents were murdered when I was eight." I look straight ahead. "Nobody really wants to adopt a kid who's just began to really get strong in their talent for hearing brutal murders and death. It freaks adults out. So I was on my own until I found you guys."

His expression softens. "(Y/n), I'm so sorry, I... Wait, you were fourteen when you applied. That's six years."

"It was hard but I managed. The whole ghost hunting agent thing isn't so bad. Once you've been forced to watch your parents get nothing short of quartered right in front of your sensitive, innocent eyes, you can watch anyone else get ghost touched no big deal."

"I'm sorry, quartered?" His eyes are wide.

"Yeah, are you familiar with the French Revolution?"

"I'm familiar enough to hope you were talking about a different type of quartering."

I shook my head. "It was intense. I still think of it every time I close my eyes."

"I can't even imagine..."

"I didn't tell you this for you to feel sorry for me. I only wanted you to know I'll understand. You aren't as alone as you believe."

He nods slowly. "I see... Thank you... For sharing, I mean."

"Of course. So now that you know I can at least sort of understand what you're feeling, what's going on with you?"

He sighs. "I don't know... Sometimes I just..."

"Miss them?"

"... Yeah." He nods. "Yeah I miss them a lot. I miss them all the time but sometimes when I think about it it's not so bad, it's let me do what I've done, accomplish all of this. Other times..."

"It's mentally suffocating."

"Mentally suffocating... Yeah that's a good word for it. Like it's put a sheet over your brain to prevent it from getting oxygen, but you can still physically breathe with your lungs for the most part."

I nod. "Yeah, it's frightening. George has a book on it he was telling me about some time."

"George knows you feel like this sometimes?"

"No, but we often discuss our readings, trade books, recommend authors or titles... Things of the sort. I haven't told anyone about my past. Except you of course."

"Well aren't I special," he flashes one of his signature Lockwood smiles.

I roll my eyes. "Don't let it get to your head, your ego is already so inflated I fear it might burst."

"Oh haha you love my charisma."

"Is that what we're calling it?" I smile at him.

He laughs. Not his public press laugh, but a true, genuine laugh. One that I've never heard from him before. It makes me feel a little bit warmer with emotion.

"You know, most nights I stay awake in the library simply because I can't stand the solitude of my room."

"What?"

"I know, it's silly-"

"No, not at all! I come down here for the same reason!"

"You do?" He raises his eyebrows, sounding surprised. "I thought you just worried over cases or, well now I thought you thought about your past but-"

"No, it's like..." I think for a moment, trying to figure out how to put it into words. "Like the silence is too loud and the space is too big for just me, even though my bed hardly fits properly."

"Exactly! Like I don't have anything to focus on except for the sensory deprivation and my anxieties."

"Yes! Oh my goodness I can't believe you get it!"

"I thought I was the only one!" He laughs again, different this time. It sounds almost relieved. "Say... Maybe we could help each other out."

I raise an eyebrow. "Help each other out? How so?"

"Well, feel free to decline if you want and we'll never speak of this proposal again, but perhaps we could try spending the night in the same room."

"But..." I get that warm feeling again, more intense this time. "Each room only has one bed..."

"Yes well..." Despite the horrid lighting of the basement, I could faintly see a light pink tint spanning across his nose and blotching on other, seemingly random, spots on his face. "Like I said I understand if you decline and if that is your choice we can pretend I never said anything... However... I feel it may be beneficial to the both of us to have a... companion in the lonely, deafeningly silent hours of the night. If it works, splendid we can finally get some proper sleep. If it doesn't, we each return to our respective seperate rooms and carry on as if nothing ever happened."

"..." I nod slowly. "Okay."

"Ah- really?" He turns to face me more. "In all honesty I thought you would detest the idea."

"Do you still want-"

"Yes! I mean," he clears his throat, "uh... Yeah, the offer still stands."

"Perfect."

"Well then." He stands up and offers me his hand. "Shall we?"

"Oh you mean like right now! Alright then." I take his hand and he pulls me up. He chuckles and leads me to his room.

"I uh... I'll go take this cup back to the kitchen and let you get changed and what not."

"Oh- right." He pushes back some of his hair. "I'll only be a minute or two."

"Okay, I'll be waiting for whenever you're ready."

He smiles at me as he steps back into his room and closes the door. I swiftly make my way to the kitchen and set my cup in the sink, resolving to wash it in the morning, and return in under a minute.

I wait outside for only about thirty seconds longer before Lockwood opens the door again.

"Sorry I took so long."

"Long? Lockwood that was- wait."

"What? Is something the matter?" He takes his hand off of the door handle and peeks his head out around the corner.

"No, just... You're wearing a shirt."

"Oh, well..." He stepped aside, inviting me in, and closed the door behind me "Yes in fact I am. What about it?"

"Lockwood you've never worn a shirt to bed in all the time I've been here. It's like an unspoken principle in the house; you don't wear shirts to bed and George doesn't wear trousers."

"I didn't realize it was such a disruption of order-"

"Well- that's not what I'm saying." I sigh. I've always struggled with putting things into the right words. "Obviously it's fine if you wear a shirt to bed, I just... I'm just wondering why all of a sudden?"

"Well... I don't know. I suppose I thought you may be a bit uncomfortable sharing a bed with me when I've no shirt on." He looked down, those pink splotches returning to his face. "After all, this is only an arrangement of convenience and practicality. It's not like were... uh... going out... or anything..."

"Ah, right..." I can feel myself getting flustered. "Well... I don't mind, really. The whole point is to feel more comfortable going to sleep so if you feel more comfortable with no shirt on, honestly it doesn't make any difference to me."

"... Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, really." I smile reassuringly. "Whatever makes you fall asleep best."

He hesitates. "Well, if you're absolutely positive-"

"Lockwood, I promise you."

He hums lowly. "Alright then. But if you change your mind just tell me and I'll put it back on straight away, I swear-"

"Lockwood!"

"Alright, okay! If you're sure-"

"I'm sure."

He holds his hands up in mock surrender, a smile gracing his face. It isn't one of his signature smiles, it's real, quite boyish actually. He seems so young. Sometimes I forget how young we really are, but then again, all youth since The Problem has forgotten how young they really are.

I try my best to appear to be disinterested and looking away as he removes his shirt and folds it, neatly placing it in the bottom right drawer of his dresser. Of course, I watch the whole thing unfold. I'm only trying to appear as if I'm not.

"Alright, well..." He awkwardly rubs his arm. I've never seen him seem so nervous before. "I suppose now is when we uh... get into bed, then..."

"Yes it does seem like that happens now..." I slowly nod.

"Well uhm... After you." He gestures toward the bed.

"Oh no, please, it's your bed, you go ahead first." I wave my hands.

"No no I insist. You're my... guest? Is that the appropriate term for this? What do we call this?" He lets out a breathy chuckle. "Sorry, I'm a bit..."

"Nervous?"

"To say the least."

We both laugh a little bit. There really was no need for it to be so nerve wrecking. We had already agreed that if it doesn't go well we pretend nothing happened. Nobody needs to know.

"Here, why don't we just both get in at the same time?" I offer.

"Yes! Yes, that sounds like a good idea." He goes to the side of the bed opposite of me.

It's still extremely tense as the both of us climb in under the covers. There's plenty of space in between us. I'm nearly hanging off the edge, no doubt Lockwood is as well.

Fuck it.

I move onto the bed more so I'm a comfortable ways on. "Lockwood?"

"Yes?"

"Can I be frank for a moment?"

"Well I think I'd prefer you to stay (y/n) but I suppose whatever makes you happy-"

"Oh shut up." He laughs one of those real laughs again. I nearly melt.

"What would you like to talk about?"

I take a deep breath, admittedly, his joke (however stupid) managed to cut some of the tension. "This isn't going to work unless we get over ourselves and actually share the bed. Like real sharing."

He pauses. "You're right. The question is, how far are we going?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... Well..." He huffs. "If we're being frank-"

"I prefer Anthony, but I suppose-"

"Oh shut up, it really isn't funny." Despite his words, he was smiling again. "I see your point now."

"Well, what is it you were going to say, Frank?"

"Please don't." He laughs, making me smile more.

"I'm listening."

He inhales deeply. "Well, how far are we going as in... Are we simply laying next to one another and trying to go to sleep or... to be blunt, are we spooning?"

I nearly chocked on my own saliva. Blunt was certainly one way to say it.

"Well... Whatever makes you comfortable. Honestly I think it would work best if we... Uh... Did the latter, but I don't want to make you-"

"I was actually hoping you'd say that-"

He sighs, sounding almost... Relieved?"

"Really?"

"Yes, I-" he rolls over, bringing us from being over a foot apart to our noses now almost touching. "Goodness you are much closer than I thought-"

"Sorry, I-" I start to move back, but he puts his hand on my waist, gently stopping me.

"No no I uh... Well if we're going to uh... You know, uhm, we're going to have to be close anyway so..."

"Right, yeah..."

He softly pulls me closer using his hand that still rests on my waist. I move towards him until my hands are pressed to his chest and our legs are touching under the covers. His face is splotchy red again, the most intense I've ever seen it, though I can't imagine how flustered I must appear.

"Uhm... May I?" He starts to wrap his leg around mine.

"Ah..." I nod, unable to trust my voice.

And so now we lay here, about two seconds away from being puddles of awkwardness and mild embarrassment. He's warm. Very warm. It's kind of nice being this close to him.

I've always found him attractive since the moment I saw him. He is, objectively, a good looking guy.

Then I got to know him a little bit. He and I would often bicker and pester one another, some times seemingly more serious than others, but for the most part it was all in jest. Making jabs at each other is just what we do.

I think I fell for him more and more over my time here, but tonight I saw a new side of him. A side that really pushed me over the edge of having a bit of a crush on him to trying to stop myself from kissing him at any given moment.

"(Y/n)? Are you alright?" He brings a hand up to my forehead. "You're awful warm and you look... Distressed."

"Anthony?"

His gaze softened. I don't think anyone has called him that in... well who knows how long? Too long. "Yes? Is something the matter?"

"No I just..." I make eye contact with him, effectively rendering myself speechless.

He inches closer. "Are you sure? This is quite the... intimate position... I wouldn't want to make you..."

By this time, our noses are back to almost touching, but even closer than before. He tilts his head just enough to avoid colliding them.

"Make me what? Uncomfortable?" I glance down at his lips, quickly looking back to his eyes to avoid suspicion. "Anthony, you could never-"

He kisses me.

Holy shit.

Anthony Lockwood is kissing me.

I'm in Anthony Lockwood's bed.

I'm kissing Anthony Lockwood!

"I'm sorry-" he pulls back. "Oh no... I shouldn't have done that... Shit... Oh shit I'm so sorry-"

I kiss him again. "Shut up, will you? I just had a life altering moment here and I'm trying to enjoy it."

"You- you liked it?"

"Of course I did. Anthony, I've liked you since... Well I suppose there wasn't a single moment I could pick out but-"

"I love it when you call me that."

I smile. "Call you what? Anthony? Well that is your name."

"It hasn't been used in years. Not by itself, anyhow. It sounds nice coming from your lips."

"I like your lips." It takes a moment to register what I just said. "Wait, I didn't mean-"

"You like kissing me~" He teases me, putting on his Lockwood Smile.

"Oh shut up!" I put my head on his chest to hide my face. "Of course I do..."

"Well... You know what I would like more than just kissing you?" He carefully lifts my head up with two fingers under my chin.

"Hm?"

He hesitates for a moment. "I'd like to be your boyfriend."

"What? Really?"

"If you'll have me, that is-"

"Of course I'll have you, you prick!" I lightly punch his chest. "Do you know how long I've wanted to tell you that?"

He shakes his head. "I can't say I do."

"Well there wasn't a specific time but I think I started to think about it more and more around the time we were working the Brentic case."

"The B- (y/n) that was at least a year and a half ago."

"I'm well aware."

"... Huh."

"What?"

"I think I've known since the Dalkins case."

"Lockwood, that was long before the Brentic case-"

"It seems my charm worked then."

"Oh shut up! Go to sleep!"

He laughs a bit. "So... Are we...?"

"... I think we are..."

"Wonderful! Splendid! Perfect! Grand! Fanta-"

I laugh. "Anthony shut up!"

He goes quiet, but the smile remains on his face. "Do we tell the others?"

"... Nah. It's funnier if we just let them figure it out. But we don't necessarily have to hide it either."

He nods. "It'll take all my self control to not shout it from the rooftops."

"Oh hush." I roll my eyes, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach. "Get some sleep, lover boy. You clearly need it."

He kisses me once more, shorter this time, before closing his eyes and pulling me closer to his chest. He falls asleep surprisingly quickly, his breaths going even and his mouth falling slightly agape in no time at all.

I watch him for a moment. Once again, he really shows his age for only a second. I push some of his hair away from his face and place a kiss on his forehead, causing him to stir just a bit.

Before I know it, my eyelids feel heavy. It becomes increasingly harder to keep them open, to stay awake. Soon enough, I'm drifting into sleep with pleasant dreams to greet me and Lockwood by my side.

How lucky am I?

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

it’s okay to be happy, even after everything p2

pair: Fred Weasley x reader requested by anonymous

whenever you have the time.. it’s ok to be happy, even after everything pt 2 🤨🤨 😌 I'd eat it up

masterlist | navigation | p1 | p3

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Y/N hummed as she rearranged the display of Extendable Ears, a cheerful tune that seemed to fill the entire shop with a little more light. George was working the till, joking with a group of Hogwarts students who had come in for a bit of fun, and Fred… well, Fred was somewhere in the back, probably going over the inventory or paperwork.

Y/N’s fingers tapped the rhythm of her song on the wooden counter as she finished her task, glancing around to see if any customers needed help. It was a quiet afternoon, a bit of a lull after the morning rush. She smiled to herself, thinking of the moment Fred had smiled at her a couple of days ago. It was just a small smile, barely there, but it had meant the world to her. It was progress.

She wasn’t about to let it end there. She wanted more than a smile. She wanted a laugh. And she had an idea.

Y/N made her way to the back room, pausing in the doorway to watch Fred. He was at his desk again, hunched over the ledger with that serious expression that had become his default. His quill scratched quietly on the parchment, his brow furrowed in concentration. He didn’t notice her at first, too absorbed in his work.

A mischievous grin spread across her face. She tiptoed closer, careful not to make a sound. Fred was so lost in his numbers that he didn’t hear her approach. Perfect, she thought.

She reached into her pocket, pulling out a small bag of trick sweets they’d gotten as a sample from one of their suppliers. She’d tasted one earlier and nearly spit it out when her tongue turned bright blue and started to feel fuzzy. They’d definitely have to tweak the recipe before selling them, but that was exactly why she had pocketed a few. For moments like this.

She slipped one of the sweets into her hand, creeping up behind Fred until she was right behind him. He still didn’t notice her. Biting back a giggle, Y/N leaned forward and dropped the sweet into his tea.

Fred startled, jerking back and knocking over the inkwell on his desk. Ink splattered across the ledger, and Fred whipped around, his eyes wide and angry.

“Y/N!” he snapped, standing up and nearly knocking her over. “What are you—?”

But Y/N had already grabbed his cup, lifting it to his lips before he could protest. “Just drink!” she said, trying to keep her voice from breaking into a laugh.

Fred narrowed his eyes at her, his jaw set in that stubborn way she’d come to recognize. “Why?” he asked, suspicion lacing his voice.

“Just trust me,” Y/N said, smiling up at him. “You trust me, don’t you?”

Fred hesitated, his gaze flicking from her to the cup in her hand. Finally, with a sigh, he reached out and took it. Y/N could barely contain her excitement as he raised the cup to his lips and took a sip.

For a moment, nothing happened. Fred set the cup down and opened his mouth to say something, probably to scold her, but then his eyes widened. He clapped a hand to his mouth, and Y/N watched as his tongue turned bright blue, just like hers had.

She couldn’t hold it in anymore. Y/N burst out laughing, the sound filling the small room. “You should see your face!” she managed to say between giggles. “You look like a smurf!”

Fred looked at her, his expression caught between annoyance and something else. His hand dropped from his mouth, and he stared at her for a long moment. Y/N’s laughter slowly died down as she noticed the way he was looking at her, the intensity in his eyes. For a second, she worried she’d gone too far, that maybe she’d pushed him past his limit.

But then, something miraculous happened.Fred’s lips twitched. The corners of his mouth lifted, and he let out a small, reluctant chuckle. It was quiet, almost like he hadn’t meant to let it slip out. But it was there, a real laugh, and it made Y/N’s heart soar.

“Did you just… did you just laugh?” she asked, her voice full of awe.

Fred shook his head, as if denying it, but his smile stayed in place. “No,” he said, but there was a lightness to his voice that hadn’t been there in a long time. “I didn’t.”

Y/N grinned, stepping closer to him. “Yes, you did,” she insisted. “I heard it. You laughed.”

Fred’s smile widened just a little, and he rolled his eyes. “Alright, maybe I did,” he admitted. “But only because you look ridiculous when you’re so pleased with yourself.”

Y/N beamed up at him, her own heart feeling lighter than it had in ages. “I don’t care why you laughed,” she said, her voice softening. “I just care that you did. I’ve missed that sound, Fred.”

Fred’s eyes met hers, and for a moment, they just stood there, the laughter still lingering in the air between them. Slowly, Fred reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from Y/N’s face.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice sincere.

Y/N’s smile softened. “Anytime,” she replied. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Fred’s hand lingered on her cheek, his touch gentle. “I’m glad,” he said, and there was something in his eyes that made Y/N’s heart flutter.

Maybe, just maybe, there was hope after all. As Fred’s smile grew a little more, Y/N knew that she’d do everything she could to keep that hope alive. To keep Fred smiling, and maybe one day, to hear his laughter fill the shop again.

It was a promise she intended to keep.

[professional-benaddict]

@vaguekiwi says jump so i ask how high and here i am!!!💗💗💗

part three to «Don’t Ever Change» on AO3. it will be uploaded there asap🥰🥰

——— written by grace ———

"Stephen..."

"Tony."

"Babe, seriously."

"I'm being serious."

"No you're not."

"Babe!"

"Babe!"

Tony scowled at his husband and crossed his arms, letting the ER bill flutter to the kitchen counter.

"He's in the hospital, Tony. What the hell do you expect us to do?"

"You could at least show some concern!" Tony hissed, rearranging the stack of papers on the kitchen counter so they were in order by date.

"We owe over twenty—"

"I know how much we owe, babe."

"Then why don't you act like it? Or go to bat with the fucking insurance company - I don't care it blood clots in Littles are rare events, that's precisely why we have insurance."

"That's not how the insurance company sees it. The contract we have with them says -"

"I know what it fucking says, Stephen. Give it a rest. Tony collapsed into one of the stools at the kitchen counter, staring helplessly at the bills he'd arranged.

Tony looked uncertainly at Stephen, "what if we switched him over to my insurance?"

Stephen poured two cups of tea and brought one over to Tony. "What does your insurance say about blood clots in Littles?"

"Fuck — I don't know. But if one more person says force majeure to me l'm gonna lose it."

Stephen smiled and leaned down to kiss Tony on the top of the head, "we'll figure out the bills, babe. We always do."

——— written by me ———

Peter has never spent this long by himself in the hospital. Sure, he has had a few stays the last year, but he has never spent more than an hour alone.

Telling time isn’t easy for a Little, but it feels like a long time now. Peter has watched half a dozen episodes of Pokemon, and the Netflix app is telling him he has two more episodes to go before the next season.

A nurse comes in, startling Peter. The boy jumps visibly, and the nurse apologises gently.

“Hey there. You’re all alone?”

Peter doesn’t dare nod, just blinks.

“Do you want me to call your CGs?”

But, before Peter can respond, the door opens again and Stephen comes in. He is dressed in scrubs, but Peter doesn’t notice right away. He is just very glad to see his Daddy.

“Daddy!”

“Hi, sorry, it took so long. Papa and I had to fix some things at home.” Stephen says, coming over to kiss and hug Peter.

Truth be told, Peter is a bit mad he was left alone for so long, but most of all he is happy to get kisses and hugs. Daddy cups his cheeks, kissing his forehead and nose.

“Where’s Papa?”

“He’s coming too. I came first since I’m starting my shift soon.”

That makes Peter pause. He shakes his head so that Stephen lets go of his cheeks. Daddy came just to work? And not be with him?

Stephen can tell Peter is not happy to hear that he will be working, and it tears at his heart in the worst way possible. But, it cannot be helped. And, actually, in the long run, an extra ER evening shift is exactly what will help them financially in the long run.

But, Stephen doesn’t get into it. That is a long and complicated conversation to have with a Little.

“Uhm- sorry, did you come to do his vitals or?” Stephen asks, turning to the nurse still in the room.

“Oh! Yeah- I did. I was here earlier too, so I think Peter remembers me.”

“Marissa…?” Peter says quietly, beaming when the nurse nods.

“Yeah! That’s me. I’ll do the same checks as last time. Is that all right?”

Peter flickers his eyes to his Daddy, but Daddy is busy looking at his phone. It makes the Little even more angry.

“Yeah… it’s okay.” Peter replies to Marissa.

“All right, baby.” Stephen says, pocketing his phone while Marissa gets gloves. “I have to go now, but Papa is on his way so he will be here soon and spend the night. Okay? I might not be able to drop by, but I’ll come after my shift. You might be asleep then.”

Stephen leans down to kiss Peter again. The boy doesn’t feel nearly as loved as he did when Daddy first came. He doesn’t lean into the touch, but just lets Daddy do it. Much like he lets Marissa check his vitals again.

“Bye, baby! See you soon!”

“Bye…”

[ccghastly]

hello i absolutely love your sleeping headcanons they're so cuuute!!! may i request some sleeping headcanons for javier? i know he's been mentioned a bit but i would love to know more he's my precious meow meow 💕

Javier and Sleep

A fourth installment of Headcanons 

I’m impossibly happy that you folks are enjoying these!

Howdy Anon! 💝

I really don't know if I've the best grasp on Javier's character, so you're really challenging me on this one, but I'll still try my best!! 

Hope you like it!

One of the few members of camp that actually has a nighttime routine

Washing his face, cleaning his teeth, changing out of his day clothes so his bedroll stays tidy, etc.

Some nights he likes to treat himself to a cup of this herbal tea that Hosea’s got him hooked on, but he’s always worried about running through it too fast. At the rate he’d like to drink it, he'd be begging more off of Hosea every three days, and that's an embarrassing enough thought to keep a lid on his budding addiction.

(Please note that Hosea restocks him every two weeks or so, and absolutely would not mind doing so more often. Would probably be very flattered that Javier likes it that much, but alas, we must leave Javier his pride)

Javier hates it when people wearing their day clothes sit or lay on his bedroll, it makes him feel uncomfortable and unclean everytime he then has to use his bedroll, until he can find the time to go through the bother of cleaning it. 

And yes he cleans it himself. He has a nice bedroll, and he’s seen what the Ladies are used to having to do to get the other men’s bedrolls clean. He's not risking it. 

Javier really only gets overly hot or cold if the weather is being problematic, he typically sleeps fine no matter how hot it is, but when it gets too cold he starts getting a little desperate.

How can anyone expect him to sleep while his teeth are chattering so hard he’s going to have less teeth than uncle come morning.

Discovering that Arthur is a snoring furnace was a glorious day.

The first time it happened was genuinely an accident. Javier and Arthur had been ironing out the issues on a few plans in Arthur's tent and only when Abigail shooed Jack into Arthur’s tent for bedtime did they realize how late it had gotten, and Arthur invited Javier to just stay the night instead of slogging back through the snow for his own bedroll.

That perfect night of finally getting to be warm awoke a horribly greedy beast within Javier. He was thenceforth determined to sleep in proximity to Arthur until either it stopped snowing or he dropped dead. Fully willing to lie, cheat, swindle, beg, and kill to ensure it.

He shared a roof and a mattress with innumerable cousins when he was younger and still finds the sounds of others snoozing nearby to be very soothing.

Is also used to fighting for the blankets and has an undefeated claw grip on any and every blanket he can get his unconscious little fingers around. Be very wary of getting any blanket too close to a sleepy Javier, 9/10 chance you will lose it.

Pretty easy to wake, but be warned that you will not get a single coherent sentence until he’s had the time to properly wake himself up. (he honestly might be speaking Spanish, but no one can really tell with how mumbled and slurred it is.)

Likes chewing mint leaves to get the taste of morning breath out of his mouth.

Very cuddly while he's groggy.

Charles has been startled so many times by a sleepy Javier just flopping onto him.

Javier draping over his back while he’s sat drinking his coffee, Javier using him as a leaning post while he’s stood watching the sun kiss the horizon, Javier dropping his face into Charles' belly to hide while Charles was laid dozing. 

The amount of times that Javier nearly got shanked before Charles got used to him is a truly alarming number.

Nowadays Charles is very used to Javier's tactile inclinations, and he quite likes getting to spend this quiet time with the other man. Finds it a bit adorable tbh. 

Javier is only blearily aware of these occurrences, but he’s very grateful for Charles’ unjudging indulgence of his peculiarities. He likes to do Charles simple favors and give him little trinkets as thanks.

(Wow, this got way longer than I thought it would)

Links to the rest of this series ↓

Arthur and Sleep

John and Sleep

Charles and Sleep

[fancyfeathers]

Society of Protection (Yandere Bungo Stray Dogs x reader x original characters) (normalized yandere au)

Chapter Two,

Broken and Bandaged

Prologue and oc intro

Chapter one

Before parting Gaston gave you his address, his apartment was about two blocks away. So in the morning you got showered and dressed but skipped breakfast as to get something with Gaston. You made your way into the busy streets of Yokohama, the crowd buzzing around you. The walk to to Gaston’s apartment building was quick but it took you to the edge of one of the finer areas in town. You now stood in front of the apartment building Gaston lives in, and looking at it you were able to process that the building is off in itself, something you would find in a country like Austria or France, fine architecture, and engravings like an angel made them. The building took your breath away, but you gathered yourself and made your way inside. Gaston lives on the top floor, one of the penthouse like apartments here, there being 5 others, the building may not be long but it was big and that was for sure.

Gaston lived in the second apartment on the fifth floor, 502 was the door number. You knocked and you suddenly heard the sputtering of footsteps and paper and a few off notes hit on the piano. Then you heard a startled voice behind the door. “One moment!”

Yes that was Gaston, you thought, laughing to yourself. The door swung open after a moment and you see a very flushed Gaston. He was not wearing a fine suit like the night prior but a white button up shirt, blue vest, black slacks, and brown leather loader. His hair is ruffled up and glasses pushed up into his messy hair. “Sorry about that, just… unpacking, yes that’s right. Please come in, I can make some tea before we go.”

He steps aside for you to step in and you might have guessed it but now you know. Gaston Leroux is rich. The room looked like a mix between a ballroom, with a piano in the center of the room and nice hardwood flooring beneath your feet, and a library with the twenty five foot tall book cases covering ever wall, the book cases were a bit empty at the moment with boxes scattered across the room in stack and full of books and other nicknacks. He closes the door behind you and walked over to the piano that had a tea set on top of it. “I’m so sorry about the mess, my maid and I were unpacking last night after I got back home and just got distracted. I had to leave most of my collection back in Paris to I’m afraid I don’t have much to share.” 

“It’s fine…” You were star stuck as you look around at the beautiful room around you. Gaston doesn’t notice your wonder as he poured the hot tea from the pot into two cups. Your mind wonders where Gaston works to be able to afford a place like this. “How the hell did you afford this, I thought you worked as a composer?”

He chuckled as he walked over to you and handed you a fine metal tea cup and saucer to you. “I do, I do, I work as a composer for the Paris Opera House, a rather respectable job for someone like us. But this building is actually owned and designed by a good friend of mine, Victor Hugo. He lives three doors down actually.”

“Your friend designed this building?!” You were in shock and nearly dropped your teacup. How impressive was Gaston? Did he have an ability as a cherry on top? He nodded and guided you over to the couch, a fine velvet couch. “You’re more impressive than I thought.”

“Why thank you, it took me a lot to get were I am today. I just followed my dreams.” He says before taking a sip of the tea and when he sets it down on his saucer it doesn’t even make the smallest clink. “It’s black tea, with a bit of milk. Sorry I couldn’t prepare what you liked, my maid had this prepared before she left for groceries.”

“It’s fine, the tea is… nice.” Something about his words stuck a cord within you. Following dreams, something you always wanted to do but your status in life held you back. His expression changed and he said his tea cup down as he looks at you with a questioning eye.

“Are you alright, (Name)? Food for thought?” His voice was gentle, kind, compassionate. Something about it hit you just right… like a warm blanket, and you cracked.

“I just wish I could follow mine… my dreams that is. You know how hard it is, I just want you have a peaceful life.” You set your tea cup down as the words came out and your words and voice trembled. Gaston set his tea cup down and took your hands and squeezes them. His expression is kind but almost stern in a way.

“You can, you can, you just cannot let them get to you, (Name). They may run this society we call life but they do not own us .” His words are passionate and almost filling for lack of a better word. Then without a thought, you lunge forward and hug him, still shaken up, but Gaston is warm and you can smell the scent of peppermint, like the ones old woman would have. It’s comforting. Startled, but he still hugs back, giving a gentle squeeze. He held you for a moment before releasing and resting his hands on your shoulders and giving another squeeze. “How about we go to breakfast like we promised?”

“That sounds wonderful, Gaston.”

—————————

You left his apartment, if you can call it that, and made your way to one of your favorite cafes, Cafe Uzumaki, it was under a detective agency you think. Gaston held the door open for you as you stepped inside and he followed. Gaston hummed and tucked his hands in his pockets as he took it all in. “I like this place, reminds me of home.”

“Paris? I’ve always wanted to go.” You commented as you lead him to a booth along the wall with stained glass windows. He sat down across from you and  gazed out the window a small smile on his face. You followed his gaze and you saw that he was gazing at a bed of flowers. “City of love they say, not so sure of that anymore.”

“Love, jealousy, hatred, burst out around us in harrowing cries. It is we who should be able to have control over those emotions for they are ours, ours to feel, ours to live, and ours to give.” His voice sounds distance almost as if he’s speaking from a million miles away. “The city didn’t earn that name for nothing, it just needs… to find itself again.”

At that time the waitress came up to your table, she was a dainty looking woman, a dress similar to that or a European maid, and her hair done up in a tight bun. “Good to see you again (Name), it’s been awhile, the usual I’m guessing?”

“Yes, the usual.” 

She glanced over at Gaston whose gaze is still fixated on on the flowers outside. “For your friend?”

“The same.” You answered. She nodded and ran off behind the counter to give the barista the order. You watched the barista make your drinks and prepare your sweet treat for breakfast, both you and Gaston looking in opposite directions. Suddenly you feel his fingers intertwine with yours across the table. You quickly glance over at him and his face turns to you and he mouths.

“Just play along. Please.”

At that moment the cafe door swung open and stepping in we’re two men, a blond with a notebook and a brunette with bandages wrapped around his arms and neck. You recognized them as members of the Armed Detective Agency, not celebrities but recognizable in this neighborhood and it seems Gaston recognized them as well. They sat down at the bar, near the barista who was preparing your order, it see,ed like they weren’t paying you attention but then you saw the brunette’s head turning and-

“Mon ange, do you remember that trip to Perros-Guirec? To visit my father’s grave?” Gaston turned to you, clearly noticing the slight movement from the man at the counter. Gaston’s words ran in your mind, play along. You have done this before with your other friends while out, what’s another time? You had to respond and quickly.

“Y-yes, yes!” You snapped yourself out of your thoughts and looked at Gaston with a fake look in your eyes, a pretend love. “Two years ago, during the summer, right?”

Gaston hummed in response and side eyes the man as he slowly glanced over his shoulder at the two of you. Gaston’s eyes quickly looked back at you and nodded with a loving smile. “Yes, we went to that one pâtisserie, that had the best macarons, the messy ones.”

You forced a laugh and nodded. “Yes, I remember, you bit into one and strawberry filling went everywhere, all over your shirt and face!”

“And you had to spend hours getting it out of my hair!”

“We’ll it’s not my fault you’re so-“

“Now you two are just exaggerating, you two can relax, it’s not like I bite.” A voice interrupts the two of you, the bandaged brunette. He spun around on his stool to face the two of you. He wore a clear smirk on his face that sent chills down your spines. “I know for a fact that you have never been to France because for the last four years you have been working at that same flower shop on the corner, five days a week for every week since you started, you wouldn’t of had the time to travel to France, let alone to Perros-Guirec.”

Gaston’s smile fell and he was about to say something before the blond piped in. “That’s enough, Dazai, leave them alone. It’s too early for this anyway.”

The brunette, Dazai sighed and turned around in his chair and started talking to the blond man, you were to dazed to listen in, but Gaston wasn’t, he kept an ear on them as your drinks and snacks came. The table was silent as you two ate and drank.

You glanced down at your watch  as you finished up and saw you were running a tad behind schedule, you looked over at Gaston, who was still sipping his drink. “Gaston, I have to go, my shift starts in half an hour, I’ll just pay-“

“No need, I can handle it, go ahead (Name). I’ll see you around.” Gaston gestured his head to the door and you quickly got up and ran off to make it to work on time. Gaston meanwhile just sat there, finishing his drink. The blond from the detective agency had left at this point, leaving only him and Dazai together. Gaston stood up from his seat, leaving his empty cup behind along with payment, much more than what was needed but it wasn’t a big deal to him, and went up to the counter and sat next to Dazai. The two sat in silence for a long moment before Gaston spoke up. “I may not know exactly what game you are playing, but I know who you are, Osamu Dazai.”

Dazai raised an eyebrow to Gaston who sat next to him but never looked at him. “That’s something considering I have no idea who you ar-“

“Gaston Leroux. Not that you’ll find anything you want to know about me.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because I know how to keep my secrets hidden which is much more than you can say. One hundred and thirty eight counts of conspiracy to murder, three hundred and twelve counts of extortion, and six hundred and twenty five counts of assorted fraud. To say the least, I do my research. The board is set and the game is on.”

“And so it is, and so it is.”

[bleucaesura]

STOLITZØ - ELEVEN

While Loona stormed around the apartment, tearing drawers open, rifling through papers, and swearing, Octavia was in the tiny kitchen boiling water for tea. Stolas stood awkwardly rooted in place where he’d come through the portal.

He felt unsure of how Blitzø would feel to find out that he had been in his home. Especially when Blitzø hadn’t been there himself.

I’m here out of worry. Anyone would do the same. It’s not weird…. It’s NOT weird.

Stolas allowed himself a peek around the room. He noticed the photos on the walls.

He almost forgot he wasn’t alone until Loona slammed her bedroom door - as indicated by the “do not enter” and “Loona’s Room” signs on the door - and started screaming at someone on the other end of the phone. Stolas hazarded a guess it was Blitzø’s colleague Moxxie.

Octavia handed her father a “Boss B*tch” mug with hot tea inside.

“Loona says Blitzø had a hard childhood”

Stolas was startled and looked down at Octavia.

“What do you mean?”

“I asked about the pictures because I was curious too.” Octavia gestured to the photos. “Why he’s scribbled out of every image.”

Stolas’s heart clenched. He looked back to the photos on the walls.

Why would anyone want to destroy his beautiful face like this?

Stolas didn’t notice Octavia watching him closely.

“Loona hasn’t told me much. But I guess he had a sh*tty dad and lost his mother when he was a teen.”

Stolas felt his heart break for Blitzø. He desperately wished he could hug him at that moment.

“He’s the one who took himself out of all the pictures”

Stolas nearly spilt his tea.

“What? Who did?”

“He did.” Octavia pointed at Blitzø’s blacked out face next to Loona’s in a frame.

Stolas stared at his daughter in horror.

“Bli… Blitzø defaced himself in all these photos?” Stolas stammered.

Octavia nodded.

But why?

Stolas didn’t have time to wonder before Loona came thundering out of her room

“Can you portal us to I.M.P? Mox and Millie will meet us there.”

“Yes. Of course”

“I just gotta grab some sh*t and we’ll go.” Loona stormed off.

“Dad?”

“Yes Via?”

“I hope he’s ok.”

“Me too sweetheart. Me too”

“Here” Loona tossed a cellphone at Stolas. “When we find the sh*thead he may need ANOTHER phone, so here’s one of his backups. It might also be helpful in finding him.”

Stolas looked at Loona confused.

“Go through it?” She and Octavia looked at each other as if they were silently saying “I mean DUH!” between the two of them.

Stolas turned a bright shade of red and started to bluster “I couldn’t possibly! That would be such a violation of his privacy!”

“Come on, Dad!” Octavia snatched the phone out of his hands and started swiping through it. “Get over it already.”

Stolas squawked in horror and tried to grab the phone back from Octavia. But this quickly turned into a very fun game of keep-away until Stolas was face down in the carpet, legs in the air and out of breath.

“Dad?”

“Mmf?” Stolas mumbled from the floor as he fumbled to get himself upright again.

“You really should look at this”

Octavia handed Stolas the phone. She pointed at the photos app. Stolas saw there were very few photos inside, maybe only two dozen or so. He was surprised.

Stolas opened the app. And then he almost dropped the phone.

Octavia cupped Stolas’s hands as he held the phone, making sure he had a proper grip on it before letting go. He smiled at her through tearful eyes and thanked her.

Stolas looked at the first photo in Blitzø’s album. The first photo of so few photos. And Blitzø had even favourited it…

It was a selfie of the two of them in bed. Stolas was fast asleep curled around Blitzø and Blitzø had taken a photo of them without Stolas’s knowledge. But what made this the best photo Stolas had ever seen of Blitzø, was Blitzø’s smile. Small, drowsy and genuine… A smile he’d never seen on Blitzø before. Stolas’s heart was doing crazy flips inside his chest.

I didn’t know he could make this sort of face around me. Is… Is it BECAUSE of me?…

“You see it now?” Loona asked. Arms crossed, eyebrow cocked and lips pursed.

“I.. I uh” Stolas was flustered. “I’m sorry… But, see what?… Exactly…?”

“The f*ck?…” Loona looked at Octavia. “How the f*ck are you so smart and your dad is such an oblivious dumba**?”

Loona immediately turned heel to face Stolas and threw up her hands after realizing what she’d said. “Ah… Ha! Yikes… Yeah… All due respect and all that Your Majesty.”

“Loona. Dear. Call me Stolas, please.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “And I'm pretty sure I can be an oblivious dumba**, can’t I Via?”

“Keep me out of this, please!” Octavia called from the kitchen.

“Well. Enough of this. Do you have what you need Loona, dear?”

She nodded.

“You're ready, Via?”

“Yup”

Stolas clapped his hands together and opened them wide to reveal a portal.

“Ladies first”

*****

[squidknees]

Borrowing

(A short thing about an umbrella and Hiro's memory issues. 872 words.)

You have a visitor, the apartment intercom app chirps at Hiro.

Startled, he nearly drops the phone into his lap. How long has it been since he last heard that ringtone? He swipes it away and flips open his to-do list for the day; only after scanning it thoroughly does he allow himself a small puzzled frown. The late afternoon light is still shining through his windows, so it's not too implausible that someone would want to visit him... But who could it be? Door-to-door salesmen? Surely they wouldn't buzz his apartment number specifically...

The app chirps again; they're impatient, whoever they are. Well, why not? He hits Accept Call - and lights up as a fuzzy image of Ichika streams itself to his phone. "Ms. Ichika! Hi! I didn't know you knew where I lived!"

The image shifts and gives a staticky sigh. "You told me. Three days ago."

"Did I? I guess that makes sense. Hey, did you see the news earlier? They did a special on the Defense Division, and--"

"My umbrella," she cuts in. "Do you still have it?"

He blinks. "Why would I... ohhhh."

It had been three days ago, now that she mentioned it. He'd neglected to bring an umbrella to work since the weather report showed a solid 90% clear skies for once. Ichika had been kind enough to remind him to plan for the remaining 10%, and he'd still managed to forget about the whole thing the moment he stepped into his apartment. "Sorry, sorry! Um, it should be around here somewhere... Anyway, come on up! I can make tea!"

"I don't have time for that," Ichika scoffs. "You'd better have found it by the time I get up there."

She scowls when she arrives to hot green tea and no umbrella. Still, she can only hover in his doorway, watching him dig through his drawers, for so long before she relents. And by the time he finds it crammed between two books on a shelf, she's ready to admit that she's wasted enough time that a cup or two wouldn't make any difference anyway.

He grins at her across his little kitchen table. What a wonderful day.

-----

The next time, she speaks as soon as the call goes through. "My umbrella. You forgot again?"

"Oh, I guess I did." He gives her an apologetic nod through the little phone camera. "Man, I really need to write this stuff down."

"Mhm. Find it faster this time." Click.

He doesn't manage to. "It's just kinda hard," he explains as he plunges an arm between the couch cushions, "to take notes on stuff when you're also holding up an umbrella, you know? Especially when it's storming hard. Maybe you should just stop lending it to me."

Ichika, having just leapt up from the couch, is too busy pretending to be unruffled to pay much attention to his words. "And let you catch a cold - and drag the whole team down? Yeah, right."

He's always known that she cares about him, of course, but it's still nice to hear it again. Ichika gives him a dubious look, but he smiles on regardless.

-----

"I told you to write it down before I gave you the umbrella," was Ichika's greeting the third time around. "How did you manage to mess that up?"

Still, she steps through the door and heads for the kitchen as soon as he's out of the way, which is very encouraging. He closes the door and hurries after her. "Yeah, I checked after you called, and it looks like I wrote it in yesterday's entry somehow? Like, the day before you lent it to me. So I just didn't see it when I checked it in the morning. Won't happen again! Well, hopefully."

"...Right," Ichika says doubtfully.

He reaches down into a low drawer so he can duck his face out of the way. She's always so reluctant to ask when it comes to his memory disorder... She means well, but he can't help but feel a little put out by it. He doesn't mind chatting about the memory stuff, really. Most of the time, at least.

Time to change the subject before this awkward silence can get going. "Since you're here, could you go over the mist-flaring tutorial with me again? I know Ms. Misaki explained it, but I kinda don't get what she's saying like half of the time..."

"Her explanations are perfectly clear." He can hear the bristling in her voice, even facing away from her. Oh, Ichika. "But I suppose a refresher wouldn't hurt either of us. The key is to focus in the right way..."

-----

Ichika sips her tea as she watches Hiro poke underneath his TV stand with his broom. "How is it that you manage to lose the thing in a different weird spot every single time? That can't be related to your memory issues, can it?"

"Oh, well, you know." She can't see his face from this angle, so he allows himself a sly little smile. That reminds him, actually - his list of plausible hiding places is running a bit low. He'd have to dig around for a few more soon. "I'm just a messy guy, I guess."

[simslegacy5083]

NSB (Straud Legacy) Gen 9 Ep 32: Beau's Burger

Beau left the nightclub after his fight with Luigi cursing under his breath. Who would have guessed that plumhole was so strong!? Now his wrist complained bitterly whenever he bent it at any angle, and Beau couldn’t afford problems like that, in multiple ways for multiple reasons.

He hadn’t had a chance to grab a bite to eat at the club and now he was starving on top of everything else. Considering his nearly empty fridge at home he turned towards the first burger joint he saw. Greasy fast food wouldn’t fix his hand, but it beat scrounging up scraps back at his place.

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

He arrived and spun out of his costume, with its tight gloves that were pinching his swollen wrist. Heading up to the register he ordered his favorite deluxe burger combo from the pretty cashier. He even added a mint chocolate milkshake, figuring he could hold it against his forearm to numb the pain.

When he heard “Order Up!” Beau eagerly grabbed his tray only to almost spill his shake when he had to drop it back down on the counter. His injured wrist had felt like it was ripping in half when he used it. He let loose with a string of forbidden words, startling the other sim.

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

He started to ask her to bag his meal up so he could carry it home one handed and suffer in private, but she surprised him by grabbing the tray herself.

She called over her shoulder: “Taking my break, be back in 15” as she strode around the counter to the foggy eyed Beau. He could only give her a weak thankful smile as she led the way to a table by the window saying, “This is my favorite spot, it’s got a can’t miss view of the laundromat”.

He sat down where she placed his tray and took a bite of his burger, looking up with surprise as she slid in across from him. “Thank you…?” he said as he squinted at her name badge. “Breanne”, she replied, “and you’re welcome. Waving at his arm she continued “if you don’t mind me asking, what happened here?”

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

Beau grumbled, gingerly making a fist and releasing it, wincing at the pain. “An old enemy heard me tell his friend that I didn’t like their stupid Star Wars costume. His Highness took exception to my honesty and picked a fight. He got lucky and I got hurt. Happy Spooky Day to me I guess.”

Breanne nodded along, tucking a stray strand of hair back into her cap and looking up at him from under her bangs as she replied: “Sounds like you picked the wrong Jedi to tussle with. I admit Star Wars isn’t my cup of tea either, but sometimes you gotta let the fans have their day.”

He swallowed his impulse to correct her about Luigi’s costume along with a gulp of his shake. Her statement was true where it mattered. If he was honest, he’d mostly been looking for an excuse to put the boot to his royal pain in the ass, but unfortunately, he’d been the one that had gotten his butt kicked.

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

Beau’s tablemate was exactly his type, and he suddenly realized that he might salvage something out of the evening after all. He turned the focus of the conversation by asking after her own preference for Spooky Day attire.

She lit up, giving an oddly fascinating explanation of her candle making side hustle and her wish to make a giant, scented and glowing, costume some year. They spent the next few minutes happily chatting about their hobbies and interests. Learning he was on the University E-Sports team she glanced down again at his aching wrist. “So, you’re headed to the clinic to patch up your mousing hand as soon as you finish our fine cuisine”?

Beau laughed bitterly. “I wish. Sadly, I’m not really rolling in simoleons.” He went on to say he’d be fine, he just needed some ice, a good night’s sleep, and worst case he knew his dad had a wrist brace lying around the house somewhere. As he said the words, he silently hoped they were true.

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

She frowned at that but didn’t comment. Rising instead she said “Welp, break times over for me, back to the grind! Good luck with everything kid”.

Before she could walk away Beau forced himself to push past his anxiety and take a chance on being rejected. He blurted out “Hey, can I get your number? Take you out somewhere with an even better view of the laundromat?”

Breanne made his whole week by pointing back at him with a smile as she said “come back tomorrow with a wrist brace, and its yours”. He didn’t know why she’d been so nice, but she was right. Barring a miracle, he’d need his dad’s brace (and painkillers…) to get through his next e-sports practice!

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

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here