#and i almost threw up because they tasted like rotten food

[hel-phoenyx]

Domhildr belongs to @soupedepates, Meili to @azeler, Oli to @thal-ent and Kaizarz, Skuld and Valentina to @corneille-but-not-the-author

After the whole Sylphe trainwreck, Kaizarz didn't wanna leave us out of is field of vision.

Maybe he is afraid that if we get out of his sight for just a moment we'll disappear. Or maybe that we were so terrified that we would plan something against him the moment he's not here. I really can't blame him for either way of thinking.

The whole point is that we're in the cabin of the captain. It may have been Valentina's, once, but now it's Kaizarz's. Proof in the bed, big enough to fit us all in there, well, except when Kaizarz is on it.

To be fair, I take my own share of place in it. That's why I asked Oli and Domi to help me bring pillows. Something comfortable for us to sleep in.

We're all reunited in the cabin, and silence is heavy, only broken by the deafening noises of the sea. Before falling asleep, Domhildr threw in the occasional joke, sometimes asking us is we want to play a game, but we're all too tired for that. The only one that, I believe, would have said yes is Valentina, and she's recovering from her wound.

She's not the only one. Her and Meili are fast asleep, Meili because he's disabled again and needs to recover, and her because maintaining herself alive for an entire day takes a lot of energy.

Oli, too, is asleep, curled around Domhildr with their wings shaking in her sleep. Both of them. They're back to normal, it feels better now that I have the Oli and Domi I know in front of me, but we are all so tired.

I'm glad we can be tired together.

Needless to say the only ones not asleep are Skuld and me. I don't know about Kaizarz, he has his back turned on us since a long time, hand in Meili's hair like our friend would crumble if he removed it.

She's lying down on my chest and I'm sat on pillows, waiting for sleep. That, of course, won't come to me.

"Hey, Skuld," I say softly to her so I dont wake up the others. "Remind me of our next stop ?"

"Shabbatai-QIanfu," she answers without looking up.

Right. The biggest country of the Paper continent, and the first one that really threw itself in the civil war. Our relationships were at most cold before the assassination. I wonder how things have changed since then.

I look at Kaizarz still back turned on me. He does not move, and a fool would think he's sleeping.

That's why I don't say anything else.

Skuld, too, must be aware of the situation. Also, talking about someone as he was not here while the someone is listening is incredibly rude. That must be why she doesn't raise her concerns, either.

In place, I just smile.

"That's good. I've heard good things about the food, and when we went to the Tournament the emperor's guard cooked us some specialties, when it was time to eat. Impatient to taste them again."

"Did they ? I don't remember. Sad you didn't save a portion for me."

"You were sick, you little shit. And a certain king was around you all the time. That would have been an awkward situation."

She laughs, lowers her voice so I'm the only one who hears it.

"As awkward as kissing my forehead after the estnothi drinking contest while he was right next to us ?"

Thank Ocean for her whispering because I did not want Kaizarz to hear that.

"We were both drunk, I answer with the same level of voice. "And he was, too. I won't remind him he kissed Oli, he says he doesn't remember, but that certainly was more daring than a forehead kiss."

"Huh. Next time I will climb you even harder then."

By all of Harkyr rotten scales that little- I am now redder than ever, and certainly did not want the image. Luckily the waves covered her voice. because not only I did NOT want Kaizarz to hear that, but also the others. And neither does she, since she's talking in a breath. So low I almost didn't hear it.

Please gods make that no one hears my heartbeat going faster.

"Suddenly I wanna get drunk just to forget I've even heard that. Hope the Shabbatai alcohol is good."

She laughs.

"Oh, Tyr, poor choice of place to get drunk. Alcohol in Shabbatai has a... Connotation."

"And how, pray tell, do you know that, lady sheltered ?"

"Visions on the past and the present on the city before falling ill. I'm using all opportunities I can to learn, you know."

Of course. And welp, there goes my plans to get hammered on rice booze, I suppose. I needed to let go anyway. Or I'll just drink my sorrows in peace inside my own cabin, if nobody discovers my stash of alcohol.

I really hope no one is snooping around because that's also where I hide the, well, raunchy kind of books.

The conversation must have tired Skuld, since she's yawning on my chest. Not the best place to sleep, but it's not like we have a lot more place, and pillows. I guess it's time to fall asleep, too.

"Good night, Skuld."

"No nightmares to you too, Tyr."

Little shit. Well, she is right, I haven't had a good night of sleep in ages. I scoot over, trying to lay down without crushing anywone, a difficult task there is ; but finally, I manage to find a comfortable position, and Skuld is no longer laying on me, only next to me with her head on my chest.

She is falling asleep quite fast. Last few days must have been tiring. Good for her.

As for me, sleep is not coming. So I lift my head towards the ceiling, then looks around me. Meili is still asleep, Valentina is snoring, Oli and Domhildr are moving around in their sleep. I think Domhildr is sleeptalking. She's saying something about honey and bees.

I turn around a bit more and my eyes cross Kaizarz's.

He was not asleep. As I thought. His hand is still in Meili's hair, but now he turned around. Probably expected me to have fallen asleep, since I see him move a little, startled ; not quick enough for me to miss the look of unfathomable pain on his face.

He threw me the same back then. When I learnt about Skuld's pregnancy and it became apparent I would be the only one she'd let help.

I do not ask where that comes from.

I do not say anything about my own aching heart.

I'm sorry, you know.

I'd much rather see her happy with you.

I say nothing.

Only thing I can give him is a guilty, pained look.

It's Kaizarz that first opens his mouth.

"... Still not asleep, Tyr ?"

"I'm an insomniac. You should know."

"How do you manage with so little sleep is a mystery."

"Look who's talking."

He has a laugh. Not very sincere, but a laugh anyway.

"Still stronger than you. Can go on for days."

I roll my eyes. Smile a little.

"Gods, do you still pass the doors with a head that inflated ?"

"Well, complicated when doors aren't my size, you know-"

I throw him back a lighthearted teasing look. Well, try to, anyway.

"Right. Born to boast, are you. Well, you certainly have every right to, your Majesty."

"Someone wants to get put in their place ?"

"In that situation, that would certainly be complicated. And kingly authority won't be enough, just to inform you. I've never done well with orders."

He laughs. Well, even if I am sure to get another beatdown tomorrow with a taste of "oh gods he's on top of me AGAIN and I can't function properly in that situation", that's a victory for me.

"Wouldn't have you any other way."

I snicker.

"You're having a weird taste in subjects, Kaizarz the Liberator."

"But good taste in friends."

He's smiling. Weakly, hardly, a wobbling smile that hides a whole breakdown, but a smile anyways.

"Go to sleep, Tyr. I'm watching over tonight."

****

The sung is rising when I regain consciousness, lying down on the pillows in Kaizarz's room. But something is weird, tho. Even with that kind of sunlight, I shouldn't feel that hot-

Ah.

Well, it appears I have been sandwiched in my sleep.

Skuld is still on my side. her arm is around me. That is normal. That's how she was the night before.

But now Oli is curled up on my other side and Domhildr apparently climbed on my chest during her sleep. Even Meili moved to lean on me. In fact, the only one I can't feel the presence of is Valentina.

Because guess who has his hands on my hair, fast asleep right next to my head ?

There you have it. His Majesty in person.

Is my hair that attractive to you ?

Now my hairdo is all messed up. Even more than after the whole walk-in-forest thing. Great.

I love those idiots, but by gods they're clingy.

...

Ha.

Look who's talking.

I pull all those I can closer. Close my eyes again. Can't get up in that situation, so let's just make the most of it.

[conchilious]

Incorrect use of an Easy Bake Oven

(Cross posted from Ao3; I'm neither good at writing or writing bsd characters, so sorry if they're a little ooc :((, Also Also, I wrote this instead of sleeping because I couldn't just sleep this idea away, so uh, yeah, enjoy :3)

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Dumpster diving. Chuuya personally couldn't stand it, Mostly the smells and often times the sight of the trash was just God awful. But what's something he hated more than dumpster diving? Osamu Dazai. Otherwise known as the shitty mackerel that he'd personally would like to throw off a bridge.

Yet here he was, leaning against a dumpster, all while Dazai decided he'd go dumpster diving in hopes that someone threw something that would kill him. The thought of that made his eyes roll, but he went anyways to make sure he doesn't actually end up dying.

*

The sound of clinking bottles and paper being shoved could be heard, yet the stench of what Chuuya assumed to be alcohol and rotten food could be smelt, making his stomach wrench in a not so good way. With Dazai's coat being half hazardly left on the dirty concrete of the alleyway.

"Hey blockhead, When are you gonna get out of there? It smells awful over there." Chuuya says, grimacing at the smell, holding back the urge to gag.

"Hmm…I dunno" Dazai says in his typical tone, it made Chuuya want to punch the hell out of him. "Maybe we'll find some goodies in here~!" He says, poking his head out of the dumpster to grin deviously at Chuuya, only to be met by a scoff.

"You're disgusting, you know that? I swear I can see the filth on your disgusting face." He says, covering his nose, Dazai laughs as a result.

"Wimp. Real Men know how to get dirty!" He says a little too confidently for Chuuya's taste as he practically dives back into the trash. Chuuya could feel his eye twitch as he groans in annoyance, he could just leave, but he wouldn't, a little part of him was curious to see if Dazai would find anything worth nabbing.

*

After about a good 10 minutes went by, Chuuya could here a gasp from within the dumpster. "Now THIS is a gem!" Dazai says as he pops back up with a roughed up, yet unopened box.

Chuuya raises a brow. "Uhm, what the heck is it?" He asks, clearly not as stoked about said box as Dazai is. Dazai hops out of the Dumpster, holding the box like it was the greatest treasure known to mankind.

"It's one of the greatest inventions ever created." He says, holding the box up, Chuuya was expecting something a little more… majestic? No, maybe more interesting. He gives an unamused stare, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. "…An easy bake oven..? Isn't that a toys for little girls?" He asks, clearly uninterested in it. Dazai gives an overdramatic gasp, feigning offense.

"What? No way! Don't tell me you've never had a sweet delectable treat made by an easy bake oven!" He says, holding the box to his chest, his smirk widening.

"We can head back to my place to test this bad boy out if you want." He says confidently, almost like it was a honor for him to suggest it. Chuuya raises a brow in mock offense.

"You mean your shitty shipping container that has no air circulation whatsoever? Yeah no thanks." He crossed his arms, watching as Dazai set his free hand over his chest, feigning sadness.

"Ouch, you wound me, Chibi.." he says in a dramatized sad tone, his shoulders dropping a little. "As if your messy apartment that you definitely haven't cleaned is any better?" He says, smirking.

Chuuya scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Atleast I have a window." He says as he huffs in annoyance. "And besides how do we even know it'll still work or if the ingredients that usually come with it aren't y'know, expired? Or covered in maggots?" He says, raising a brow. Dazai gives a shit-eating grin. "That's the fun part, we're gonna find out." His grin widens.

Chuuya sighs, shaking his head, knowing fully well that this was going to go awfully.

*

As soon as they got to Chuuya's apartment, Dazai made a beeline for the main room, not even bothering to take his shoes off, which usually would annoy Chuuya, but he can't really be talking when his apartment is a mess.

Dazai practically rips the box apart, taking out the easy bake oven with excitement plastered on his face, Chuuya doesn't think he's seen the boy so excited about something so small. He says down across from Dazai, the easy bake oven in between the two. With Dazai looking over the instructions.

"So…how do we get this thing to work?" Chuuya asks as he picks up one to the ingredient packets, looking for an expiration date of any kind. Dazai shrugs. "I think it needs batteries..?" Chuuya looks up at him, raising a brow. "What do you mean 'I think'? I thought this junk worked like a damn toaster!" He says, sounding almost dumbfounded as he went back to inspecting the several accessories that came with the oven.

Dazai looks at the instructions page, looking it over again. "These instructions are in a different language-" he says, looking at it like it was a stray dog on the street. Chuuya looks back up at Dazai, his eye twitching as he took the instructions and simply swapped the sides. "Turn the page. You were reading the English instructions you dimwit." He says in annoyance. Dazai lets out a little 'oh' as he went back to reading the instructions.

Eventually, after scrounging around Chuuya's apartment, they found some batteries. "Do you think there will work?" Chuuya questions, raising a brow as he watches Dazai practically shove the batteries in, not even bothering to screw the battery cover up all the way. "Of course it will, when have I ever been wrong?" He says confidently. "A lot of things actually." Chuuya says deadpanned. Dazai lets out a 'tch' sound. "My condolences then, because I think you're very much incorrect." He says with a giggle and a grin. Chuuya scoffs, watching Dazai plug the oven in.

"Okay so now what? Do we just do normal baking shit orrr…?" Chuuya asks looking down that the ingredient packets. "Because these aren't good, infact they're expired by a month." Dazai shrugs. "Let's us 'em anyways." Which was immediately met with a "Hell no." From Chuuya. "What? Why not?" He asks, sounded offended. "Because I want to try some to, without ingesting something that's definitely a biohazard." He says sarcastically.

"Well myyyy bad, I assumed you didn't want to try any, I did drag it out the trash after all." Dazai says, crossing his arms in a sassy manner. Chuuya scoffs. "Well I'm curious, you talk about this shitty oven like it's some sort of godsend." Chuuya says, pointing at the oven while giving an unamused stare at Dazai. "That's cause it is!" He says, patting the oven. "Right, whatever you say, Dazai." Dazai says as he makes a mocking hand motion, pretending it's Chuuya talking as he makes a poor excuse for a poker face, acting as if he isn't sitting in front of the person he's mocking. "You know I can see you doing that, stupid." He says, his eye twitching. Dazai smirks. "I know." He says smugly. He was definitely messing with Chuuya on purpose, and it was working.

"I'm going to throw this stupid oven at you, shithead." Chuuya threatens. "No you won't." Dazai says, He knew Dazai wasn't bluffing, but he assumed that wouldn't actually throw the oven itself, maybe a pillow or whatever was in his arms reach. "Yes I will." Chuuya says, eyeing the oven. "Prove it. Do it you won't, you wimp-" Dazai says as Chuuya immediately chucks the oven at him, obviously not hard enough to do actual damage, but enough to make him fall backwards.

"Rude ass." Dazai says, staying on his back and holding his forehead. Staring at the ceiling. "I said I was gonna do it." Chuuya said, crossing his arms. "Fair enough." He says in defeat. Chuuya smirks. "Are you sorry for doubting me?" He says smugly, staring down at Dazai. Dazai hums for a moment, setting his free hand on his chin. "Hm…nope" he says smugly back with a smirk. "Moron." Chuuya says deadpanned. "Asshole" Dazai replies back.

Dazai sat up, holding the oven. "I think you broke it" he says, frowning slightly. "Whoops." Chuuya says sarcastically. "You don't mean that." Dazai says looking up at Chuuya. "Yeah, that's kinda the point, idiot."

*

The rest of the day was spent trying to make a very much broken easy bake oven to work, though they ended up throwing it off a bridge into the lake to see how big of a splash it could make, seeing as it had no use anymore thanks to a certain someone.

[bakubros-boo-thang]

Matchmaker Mommy✨

Pairing: Akaashi x (gn)Reader

Wordcount: 2k

Trigger-warning: none, reader being afraid to date maybe

Summary: When your boss jokes about setting you up with her son, you don’t take it seriously, until so-said son shows up to work a shift with you…

A/n: to be honest this is trash, based on one shift where my coworker kept telling me to go out with her son… didn’t really have the heart to tell her that I only simp over 2D men🤷🏽‍♀️ also the fact that I’m scared to date and not really having a obvious reason for that fear… so this one doesn’t have a real plot, except for reader being an asshole and some fluff to make-up for that. Also an apology to Akaashi for confusing him with Iwaizumi all the time🤭

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

“You know, my son is still single….” Mrs. Akaashi smiled at you. The two of you were working in the small convenience store she owned. You had just poured your heart out about your dating past and how you were okay with just being by yourself for now, but in her ears, it sounded like an offer. “ So you would set your son up with a random employee?” You couldn’t help but laugh at her, not taking this thing seriously. In the few months you had worked here, the shifts with Mrs. Akaashi were the ones you looked forward to most. She was almost like a mother to you. As you guys decided to end the day with some tea, you sat down. “No, thanks; I don’t like raisins in my cookies.” You responded as Mrs. Akaashi offered you one.

“You know my son feels the same...” She let out with a big smirk. “I think we’re a match made in heaven then.” You responded while rolling your eyes. ‘’There’s only one way to find out, Y/n.’’ She smiled, and with that, the two of you went back to your regular conversations. Ever since you started working here, the two of you had always spent a lot of time together, and the shifts you shared were always the ones you looked forward to most. This was the first time she sounded serious about the matchmaker thing, though, but since she would be going on a trip the next day, you were sure this was the last of it.

When you arrive at work the following day, you notice that the door is unlocked. It didn’t make any sense since you were the only employee with a spare key, and you were supposed to be by yourself this morning. As you entered the small break room, you noticed a bag already resting on your usual spot, and slowly you realized that one of your colleagues probably had their schedule mistaken and used the emergency key. You got rid of your bag and just as you were about to head in the store you heard: ‘’Oh you’re here. My name is Keji Akaashi; I suppose today’s going to be a busy day….’’ He scratched his head as he said it and obviously tried to avoid your eyes again. Was this a coincidence, or was this his mom being a matchmaker? Still, you shook his hand as you introduced yourself. ‘’Nice to meet you Akaashi, my name is Y/n L/n. Most Monday mornings aren’t busy, to be honest, but this means we can do so much more today!’’ You tried to sound excited, but it didn’t work because it became clearer that he probably knew why he was here, and it made things all the more awkward. ‘’You can call me Keji. What do you want me to do?’’ He responded. It was weird, having to play boss over someone that probably grew up in the store, but since you didn’t want to go into the reason he was here and the fact that he was asking you what he could do, the only option was to boss him around. ‘’If you can start stocking the cold storages, I will start stocking the fresh vegetables, all right ?’’ You asked, and as he nodded his head, he went straight to business. This was a perfect way to avoid him since you worked on different sides of the small store. Not only did you already know who he was, the few times you had seen him passing by, but you had also realized how hot he looked. That and the fact that his mom always talked about him made this whole ordeal even worse. As you put your headphones on, you started checking the veggies that came in this morning, ensuring there were no rotten parts between the batches. As you were checking the spring onions, you felt a light tap on your shoulder. You couldn’t help but let out a yelp as you took your headphones off. ‘’What’s wrong?’’ You asked Akaashi. ‘’I’m finished with the cold storage.’’ “Already?’’ You let out, not being able to hide the confusion on your face. ‘’Yeah.’’ He shrugged. This was getting more and more awkward by the second.

‘’I will check it, maybe you can open the store since we open in 10 minutes.’’ You said as you headed for the shelves. As you checked them, you realized that he had just put everything in without checking the dates. Causing that the newer stuff was in the front and the older stuff in the back. ‘’Akaashi? Can you come here for a second?’’ You asked, and as he approached you, you couldn’t help but sound annoyed. ‘’Have you helped out here before?’’ ‘’I used to help when I was in middle school, but then I got into volleyball, and I didn’t have any time to help out here. Also, the reason why I’m never around these days.’’ He said sheepishly. You knew he played volleyball; Mrs. Akaashi always gushed about it to you. ‘’Okay, that explains a lot. Can you make sure the stuff in these storages is stocked according to date, so the stuff that came in today ends up in the back and the older stuff in the front?’’ He nodded his head as you continued: ‘’And after that, you can go home.’’ “You sure?’’ And he looked slightly disappointed while he said it. ‘’I’m sure I always work alone on Mondays, don’t worry about it.’’ And with that, you went back to work. When Akaashi left, you threw a ‘’Goodbye’’ his way, and that was it.

The day went by slowly. The weather was cold and probably the reason there weren’t that many customers. You had all the time in the world, and that made it worse because it meant you had all the time to overthink. You had sounded so annoyed to him, and it wasn’t his fault at all. It wasn’t even Mrs. Akaashi’s fault; she probably thought that she was helping you out. All that time also made you think about the reason you acted like that. After an hour of digging into your dating history, you realized that you were afraid of just interacting with someone because you didn’t want any expectations. At the end of your shift, you were determined to apologize to Akaashi, even if it meant telling him why you were acting this way. As you headed towards the breakroom, you already noticed the smell of Mrs. Akaashi’s dumplings, and when you entered, that was what faced you; that and a nervous-looking Akaashi.

‘’What are you doing here?’’ You said before giving yourself a mental scolding for sounding like a total asshole once again. ‘’I’m sorry for messing up this morning, and my mom always tells me you love her dumplings, so I made them myself; not sure if they taste the same, though. Hope you enjoy them.’’ He said as he grabbed his bag. ‘’Wait, Akaashi, why don’t we share? I should apologize to you as well, but let’s eat first.’’ And with that, the two of you ended up crammed in the little breakroom enjoying the dumplings together. As you finished, you started looking at the guy in front of you. He looked good; there was no denying that; he had the same friendly eyes as his mom, and he had only been nice to you. Still, you didn’t know much about him outside of his volleyball career. ‘’Akaashi, this was delicious. You take after your mom!’’ You tried to make conversation. ‘’Thank you, Y/n! My mom talks a lot about you; you care about her, don’t you?’’ He asked, still in the middle of his meal. You shrugged, knowing that you couldn’t avoid the topic anymore. ‘’Yeah, I adore Mrs. Akaashi. It’s been a blast working here, and I always look forward to our shifts together, but….’’ You couldn’t help it, you were nervous, and there was no food on your plate. Nothing to buy you some time. ‘’What is it? You can tell me; I won’t tell my mom….’’ And he looked so sincere as he said it that you had to apologize on the spot. ‘’I want to apologize to you, Akaashi. I was such an asshole to you this morning, and you didn’t deserve it at all.’’ Before you knew it, his hand was on your shoulder. ‘’Y/n, you don’t have to apologize. It was clear I wasn’t that much help on such a quiet day.’’ You brushed his hand off your shoulder as you continued. ‘’No, you deserve an apology. I wasn’t an asshole because you suck at stocking shelves….’’ He let out a ‘’Autch’’ as you continued. ‘’I was an asshole because I felt like your mom was trying to set us up, and it made me feel awkward….’’ You were avoiding his gaze as you spat out the last words. When you finally looked up, his face had turned red, and he was avoiding your eyes. ‘’She kinda did….’’

You could feel your eyes widen as you looked at him. ‘’I feel awkward saying this, but since I’m busy with volleyball 24/7, I don’t have time outside of that, and I think my mom feels like she needs to be my eyes. She does have a good eye, though.’’ You couldn’t help but give him a tiny smile. ‘’So what did you know about this situation? Because all I knew was that you were single, played volleyball, and disliked raisins in your cookies.’’ You responded. ‘’Well, she asked me to show up this morning, and I showed up because I’ve seen you before, and I think you look cute, and my mom thinks very highly of you. Honestly, I couldn’t pass up the chance to get to know you… Even if it was only for an hour before you kicked me out.’’ He was laughing out loud now. ‘’It’s awkward when your boss wants to set you up with her son! Especially if he’s cute!’’ You had just exposed yourself. ‘’Well yeah, I’ve seen you passing by too, Akaashi, and the fact that you were nice enough to bring me good food after I was such an asshole. I guess your mom was right; you’re indeed such a good boy.’’ The last part was somewhat mocking, and the both of you were getting comfortable with each other as you laughed aloud. ‘’Let’s close the store.’’ You said as you started putting the dishes in the tiny dishwasher.

‘’I will walk you home, Y/n, and please call me Keji from now on.’’ You couldn’t help but feel flustered since he was staring at you as he said it. The two of you had started the 10-minute walk to your house as you responded. ‘’Alright, Keji, but this wasn’t a date.’’ Still not wanting to let Mrs. Akaashi win this little thing, even though you knew she already had. ‘’Don’t worry, this isn’t a date.’’ He stated after a few minutes before he stopped walking. ‘’Keji, what’s wrong?’’ You asked. ‘’But I want it to be one….’’ He whispered. And he looked so kind, so hopeful and made you so eager to get to know him better, that you walked up to him and gave him a small peck on his cheek before whispering: ‘’Then take me on one.’’ And as soon as you entered your apartment, you did a happy dance.

Akaashi, on the other hand, realized he had forgotten to ask for your number. Oh well, he was lucky that his mom was such a matchmaker…

[bakugohoex]

Can I request Bakugo’s s/o having a major sweet tooth, like for some reason every time he thinks he got rid of her candy he just finds a handful in her pocket

“you bought more, didn’t you”

pairing: katsuki bakugo x female reader

cw: fluff, language

word count: 1100+

a/n: i dont even know what this is, it is so stupidly funny because it doesnt even make sense, like what the fuck, bruh but i know we all had a faze where toast would just become amazing and avidly eat it 24/7

summary:  in which your sweet tooth becomes the bane of bakugo’s life, finding out you house even more sweets in your pockets, his only way to finally get you stop seems to be a bit more different than his initial plan

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

Lollipops were definitely your go to sweets, you loved sucking on them and the different flavours you had each day brought joy to your mouth. It was easier to suck on them then bite your nails when you became anxious, so you always kept a lollypop with you.

Of course you told Bakugo about it, your reasonings being evident and he had been fine with it, not really caring and as long as you had something to help your anxiety then he was fine with it.

That’s what he thought it had been, until he found the wrappers, the containers filled with different sweets, from the sour worms to the gumdrops. 

He seriously could feel his heart ache at the mountains of containers you had, he seriously had to take a double take thinking he’d walked into Charlie and the Chocolate factory.

Surprisingly, there was no chocolate, but the sweets littered your new dorm, your bin filled with wrappers. 

That's when he knew he had to sort this problem out, he couldn't watch you eat anymore knowing how much you had already eaten. 

He got scary not gonna lie, shouting at the side effects off excessive sugar, made a presentation of just rotting teeth, he made you watch the whole thing with his stupid laser pen as he went around the rotted teeth.

It was gross as fuck, very traumatic.

He helped you a lot to cut down on the sugar with your sweets, wanting you to try and get down to one lollypop a day and that was it. 

He tried, but you’d end up buying some more, hell knows where you got the money from.

Threatens you but in the end, it gets to you after he finds the wrappers again and confesses how he just wants the best for you.

You ask for a substitute and this man brings you the worst substitute ever. 

It’s when he leaves something that it seems your excessive sugar intake may have finally gone down.

Bakugo had been left waiting outside your dorm as you wore your UA uniform, he never understood how you could wake up so late. But he didn’t question it seeing you walk out happily, your mouth sucking a sweet to calm you down. You had described it like marijuana but without the consequences of it, which he glared at you for saying. Even then your avid sweet tooth had become an insane problem, you may have cut down on the sweets, but you always seemed to get your hands on some. 

���Want to try?” You popped the lollypop out from your mouth, your saliva sticking to the purple sweet. Bakugo would regret agreeing knowing having a sugar rush in the morning was not the best bet but if it stopped you from eating it all he’d take it. 

He nodded, watching as you put the sweet in his mouth, the white stick being the only thing visible as he sucked on the grape flavouring, still being able to taste your spit mixed in with it. 

Walking into class hand in hand, he kept the lollypop in his mouth watching you leave without a trace of sweets on you. You seemed calmer as he watched you sit beside him, well that's until he saw your stuffed pockets. Aizawa had been running late and everybody began conversing with each other, “you bought more, didn’t you.” He mutters stuffing his hand in your grey blazer to find small hard sweets inside the pocket. “Y/n, really, even after my presentation.”

“I just love them so much.” You pouted grabbing them and stuffing them in your pocket. 

“Fuck Y/n, please can you calm down with your sugar intake, I don’t want you to die or get rotten teeth.” He threw the lollypop into the bin, just missing Mineta who had bent over to sharpen his pencil. “I want you to be healthy.”

“I am healthy, I just love it so much.” 

He gave a glare turning to face you properly, you put your head to side watching his cold red eyes warm at your features. “Just find something else to help you instead, you can't live off sweet things forever.”

“You find me something else and then I'll give it up.” You muttered, popping a hard candy in your mouth just as Aizawa walked in. 

Bakugo thought for a while, throughout the whole day event, thinking of foods he knew you liked. Of course having a sweet tooth wasn't a bad thing but you needed a balance to not have type 2 diabetes when you grow old. He continued to think until he found the basic things on google as replacements, by the end of the day, he had sought out what was needed and called you into the kitchen. 

“Fruit.” He pushed the bananas and apples into your arms, you gave a confused look taking an apple and biting into it. “I read it’s good or whatever.”

“You read?” You mock.

He glares back at you, “shut up, idiot.” He grabs your hand with the bitten apple and stuffs it back into your face. “Eat it all.”

He seemed content with what he had done, pushing the 3 apples and 2 bananas onto you, not even letting you get a word in. He goes to put some bread in the toaster, hungry after a long day and keeping an eye on your fruits, watching as you just stared at it as if it was some unknown thing. 

“Oi Bakugo, help move this.” Kirishima shouts from the common area.

Bakugo gives a scowl before staring at you, “eat.” You mutter profanity before taking another bite, watching as the man leaves for Kirishima. The sound of the toaster finally letting the toast out, even the smell of toast almost became intoxicating, how could you not refuse.

Going over to the two toasts you butter them and that's when it starts, toasting more as you went through the two toast with such ease. It seemed like hours since Bakugo left and with that you had already eaten 5 toasts going onto the sixth. 

“What the fuck?” Bakugo stares at the toast in your hand and the missing six slices, staring between you and the toaster. You take another bite, and he continues to give such a blank look, “fruit?”

“Toast?” You question back taking another bite, Bakugo comes up to you grabbing one of the fruits after you'd eaten all the bread and gives a glare. “I like bread now. 

“Of course you do baby.” He mutters ruffling your head as you continue to chew on the toast happily. He might hate how you’d gotten onto another food craving but at least you had variety and weren't going to die of a heart attack from it all. “You really are an idiot.”

“Shut up, want some?” You spoke like a child with only one bite left he opened his mouth, watching as you put the buttered toast in his mouth, your fingers graving against his lips as he was to just lick the butter off your fingers, a satisfied face that he had finally gotten to you.

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[whalesfallmoved]

soft descent

Wedding vows for the dead. Neither of you ever had a chance. 

chargestep. rated m. twisted memories and revenge and nightmares of all kinds and ricardo ortega, starring as sidestep’s poorly repressed self-doubt, in a manner of speaking. 

or, sidestep sees nothing clearly, and her head has never been a pleasant place to be.

warnings: implications of suicide, slight body horror, violence, injury. hurt, without comfort, because of course. 

ao3 link.

——

“Oof, that’s going to leave a mark.”

You’re standing next to the window in the dark the sun blistering overhead and the glass shattered underfoot. He’s looking down. You’re looking at him. It’s always been like that. When you look down you’ll see— no. You’re not going to look down. You’re going to look at him.

“It didn’t feel great.”

He smiles and it’s broken, one hand on the windowsill, one hand on his gut where Catastrofiend’s goodbye kiss drips slowly, wetly, a splash of violence against the cobalt blue skinsuit, Ranger-proud. You want to say you should get that looked at but it wouldn’t do any good, he’s already gotten blood all over the carpet. 

Soft laugh and when he licks his lips you can see a hint of red, waiting to get coughed up, waiting to get expelled, the body killing itself to save itself—you remember the way it stuck between your fingers, the delirium—beg, the monster-thing demanded, and he laughed then too.

You look down at your hands. The way they curl up, clinging to air.

Are you bleeding? You must be. 

“Yeah, I know all about that.” 

“No,” you shake your head and your spine pops, “you don’t.”

“What, are we comparing jumps now?” 

“Are we?” wouldn’t that be something. He never talked about this before, why start now? Trying to get you to forgive him? You won’t.

“It was a longer drop.”

“And there were people there to help you.”

“Depends on your definition of help.” Head jerk to the side, beckoning you to look, look down, look at them, look at you. “Technically, they helped you too.”

Bite down, taste blood and bile. Have you started choking yet down there? You remember the way it sluiced up your throat, the way you could feel the crack and splinter of your ribcage. His brows furrow a little and maybe he feels bad. You hope so. You hope it’s twisting him up inside. 

“Wish they’d helped me to the morgue.”

Exhale, ragged and wet and torn. 

“Yeah, those contracts are a bitch, huh? Nothing like a blood debt.”

“What, you want me to feel bad for you?” You taunt, vision hazy bones aching— pulse in your ribs, they must have picked you up by now, isn’t that nice. He’s still looking down, waiting for something to happen. “Poor Ricardo. The US government branded on his ass till the day he dies. Join the fucking club.”

“Hey—” he hisses, flashing his eyes to you finally, “you could pretend to sympathize.”

“I’m so sorry you have posters and trading cards and get invited to award ceremonies and—”

“Oh, I knew I have trading cards, but how did you know I have trading cards,” a wink, sly, charming and wrong, like a bone splitting the skin. “Collecting them, aren’t you?”

“You wish.”

You want to throw up. His neck is bruised. 

He sighs, knocks his fist against the window. You both flinch. “They’re gonna keep you going till you’ve got nothing left to give, you know.”

And this time it’s your turn to laugh, bitter and cruel and serrated. You want to twist the knife in his gut you want to rake your nails down his skin, it’s the least- it’s the least you can do, god you are so angry you shake, but you’ve always been good at staying still. Hold your breath, don’t scream, fuck that hurts, and now he’s looking at you full on. “I’m already out. No thanks to you.”

Maybe he sees the way your hands are starting to twitch. The smile softens and you want to kiss-bite-punch it bruise blue to match his stupid fucking suit. 

“Are you?”

Are.

You?

I am.

Am I?

A snake in your throat curling up ready to snap bite. Your lips twist, scene hazy at the edges, and when you get your hands around his neck (oh those are the bruises, they look like your hands) you’ll both be sorry—“fuck off.”

Magic words.

Ortega shrugs, pushes the window open like it doesn’t matter, like it didn’t matter, like he can just do that; he always had to make it about himself, can’t even leave you your death, can’t even leave you your place at the window. 

You want to shove him away from it.

You want to shove him through it. 

“If you insist.”

Close your eyes.

One.

Two.

Three.

—

Dr. Mortum does not smile, not until Angel flashes her a wicked grin and a bag of cash and a promise of more where that came from if— if— if—

She flips through the schematics, eyes brightening—the loose design, the necessities, the ideas—oh, you are going to do such great things together. 

“It can be done, I assure you.”

“Excellent. My employer wants nothing but the best.”

— 

The sound of waves takes the edge off the thump of a corpse hitting the ground, but you aren’t ready for it—you aren’t ready for the scent of rotting meat, rancid and cloying under the Los Diablos sun.

You open your eyes and when you look down, a dead girl is mangled, half gone. You think— she almost looks like your target. 

Huh.

“That’s a bad idea, you know.”

Voice soft prying you know it and you groan, twist, turn, the sand uneven and blood-splattered. 

He’s got that loose hold, hip jutted on a rock arms crossed, too casual for the teething gore surrounding them. Suit torn and eaten at, blood drip-drip-dripping down his arm where the skin is all gone, you keep waiting for them to crawl through the sand and eat you both alive. Maybe you won’t save him this time. 

“Which one?” You ask, and when you look down you’re in the old suit, fitted like an infected wound. You yank at the collar, touch your cheek, your face— you’d covered your face here, hadn’t you? Yes. 

He smiles. Shakes his head. 

He hadn’t let them touch you, even when you collapsed, even when they wanted to help. 

Not that it matters. None of it matters anymore.

“So you do care about my opinion?” 

“No,” you murmur, choking down a gag—dead meat, food for the nanovores, food for the flies, “but that’s never stopped you before.”

“True,” he winks, running through the motions; what you remember, what you want to forget. Oh god you want to forget. You want to peel back this body and dig into the marrow and pull, pull, pull until the memories unravel in streams of violent orange. 

He pushes off the rock, kicks his long legs out and walks too easily for a man that almost got eaten alive five minutes ago. “Walk with me?” He asks the way you don’t ask, you order, and throws his wounded arm over your shoulder, locking you hip to hip, no way out. 

You sink under the weight, slotted to his side like a mismatched puzzle piece. Nothing about you fits, disjointed, dislocated. You’ve been shaped wrong for a long time now. They didn’t put all the parts back right. A doll unstitched and gutted for parts, but they didn’t— did they recycle you? Just medical waste and scars.

“You take me to the nicest places,” you say because it’s the only thing you can say when the sky looks like God wrapped his big meaty fist around it so tightly till it swelled and pinkened. 

Black clouds on the skyline. Here they come. Don’t they know how strong you are now? How many webs you can weave? You crack your knuckles and almost smile.

Then you see: Tía Elena crosses herself in the background. She shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe. Why haven’t they evacuated all the civilians?

“Well, you never let me take you anywhere else,” he huffs, ignoring his mother as they walk on by, and that’s not— that’s not right? 

It— no. You don’t want to be here. You can’t do that to him, not even now. 

— 

Fuck that’s good you’re invincible. The reckoning day is coming and when it does you’ll watch out for this one, you’ll remember her, how it felt to sit in her skin and move under it, but she can’t stop you. None of them can stop you now.

You smile and it’s sharp and cruel and silver. You almost almost almost want him to show up but the victory wouldn’t be quite as sweet, and you don’t really want to take a lightning bolt to the chest. Even if it wouldn’t slow you down, it’d still fucking hurt. 

But it doesn’t matter. When you drive your foot into the golden boy’s chest you can feel his ribs crack a little bit and that’s even better. You’ll be riding the high of that for weeks after this. He’s a kicked puppy and you want— you want to kick him again, but there’s no time for that, no time for anything. 

You wonder if Steel recognizes the grin right before you drop her like a body bag.

—

Gasp—jump spin dodge—near miss, fuck—Ortega laughed at the start but he’s not laughing anymore, smoke on the air, electricity crackling over his skin. 

Fire off at its head one two, one miss, one hit. Head jerks, twists.

The thing-beast groans— don’t look at me i’m not here don’t look— “yOu...” guttural ugly it sees you, it sees you.

Run run run don’t touch me— “Noa!” He shouts and you stop drop and roll just in time for a blade to swing down, headsman’s axe, grazing the suit but not quite touching. Space where your body was empty, and it howls rage-snap.

“Mother— fucker!”

This. This you remember.

You remember the way its mind shucked the skin off your bones, all slick-blood drip drip drip. Gory, wrong, wound over wire, dirty fingernails scraping on the myelin, eating eating down down down— you remember: if you let it in it’ll kill you, cut your throat on its twisty edge thoughts as quick as a knife in hand. 

You remember the images in your head— its plans, its ideas, the ways it was going to ply and split him down the middle like a rotten fruit. You couldn’t look at him for weeks. Almost. He was almost.

Almost.

Blink and the scene changes, and backup’s arrived, and you’re holding onto him, your mind pressed up against ITS just enough to make you both disappear. You threw up again and again afterward, but you still couldn’t forget, oil-slick. 

not here we’re not here don’tlookatus

Then: you covered the wound with your own hands. 

Now: you tilt your head to the side, pet his hair. It still doesn’t hurt as bad as the final impact, hitting the ground, or what came next. Suck it up. 

“I told you,” he slurs, eyes half-mast, must be hazy from the blood loss. The human body can only take so much, even with the cutting edge mods. “I know all about that.”

“You don’t know anything. You don’t know anything at all.”

Hand over wound, you push down and he groans. You might as well save him again. You still haven’t had that showdown, and you’re gunning for a win. A dozen to one then, but you’ve gotten better, faster, smarter, your body catching up with your thoughts, and he doesn’t think at all. Doesn’t even matter if he did, you wouldn’t be able to hear it. 

“C’mon, Noa,” that’s not your name, that’s the name he gave you—your name is a mouthful, he’d grinned and you’d rolled your eyes and flushed, but now it sticks like a stove burn—numbers and names and Noa, Noa, no one else has ever gotten close enough to name you— fuck you. “Throw me a bone here.”

“No.”

“Fine.” he gasps, chokes, but the words still spill loose, “but you can’t hate me for what you didn’t tell me.” He says, sounding so fucking reasonable while he’s bleeding out on your lap, and now you definitely have to save him, now you definitely have to make sure he lives, just so you can level him for that alone. Just wait, a feeling builds up in your chest, his day is coming and it’s coming fast.

“Don’t tell me what I can’t hate you for.” You want to snarl, a fighting dog, a dog fit for the ring, but it comes out weak, threadbare, and you hate the way your hands shake, the way your throat hardens up and each word is estranged from your mouth.

“At least give me a chance to prove you wrong.”

“Why?” Is that your voice? Small and weak, a child learning to make a fist, thumb tucked in. But you were never a child. You were never small.

“You know me,” he punches out a laugh and it breaks like a sob, “I love a challenge.”

“This isn’t a challenge, Ricardo. There’s just nothing left.”

—

He.

“November?”

He is.

“I thought you were dead—”

Older. Different. That feels wrong, wrong. He should be the same he can’t have changed that much. Fuck that moustache is ridiculous. He looks so heavy with grief, or is that just you, reflected back? A labyrinth of static. 

It’s all blurry and too much, not enough, but maybe— for a moment— for a moment everything shatters, fingers under a suture, and maybe— it’s just a flash of his eyes, real and in front of you and not blurred by a late night show or security footage fight you only watched to make sure he still leads with his left sucker punch with his right and maybe— 

“Are you still a telepath?”

You say yes and feel like a fool and you tell him a dash of the truth and you feel like a wound and you can’t hate me for what you didn’t tell me.

Your hands are shaking. You make a fist. 

He wants— he wants something.

A raw crack down your spine and you smile and it feels wrong. Maybe it looks wrong. He won’t stop watching you like you’ll disappear if he blinks more than once, if he looks away, and maybe you will. Maybe you’re just ash and graveyard dirt held together with sutures and wire. 

You want to crawl through the floor to someplace small and dark and cold where no one will ever find you again.

You tell him just enough, just enough to keep on hating him. 

It’ll be easier that way.

—

Rewind.

“That’s a bad idea, you know.” He cackles as you thrust out a punch—miss—and dodge his return, feet sliding on the mat. You can’t believe you let him talk you into this, a friendly spar on Ranger soil.

“Which one?” Thrust dodge lock your ankle around his own, slipping up letting you get close like that, rookie mistake— twist of your hip— throw! and the satisfying slap of skin on the mat, his skin, his body hitting the ground, but he holds hard and pulls you down with him (if you go i go) and you land— oof! breathless and grinning and on top, finally, finally.

Fingers lock and you shift, thighs on either side, pin him down, his emitters humming biting pinching but you got him, and you aren’t letting go. A shiver skip-dances down your spine, static-charged.

“I win,” you growl, a winner’s grin biting into your cheeks, free and loose (where’s your mask?)

He squeezes your hand, sends a low-grade jolt up your palms sharp, just to see what you’ll do, jellyfish stings, and you squeeze back harder, lean down till you can feel his breath hot on your lips. You never got this close before, he’s so solid beneath you.

Ricardo, grinning back, a halo of black curls fanned out, sticking to his brow all slick with sweat, “what is that, a dozen to one?”

“Shut up,” he can’t take this from you, not yet, “don’t be a sore loser.”

“Actually, I’m enjoying myself quite a bit right now. I should let you win more often.”

“Fuck you,” but it tears out a laugh far too sweet for your mouth. You feel segmented and gentle, like a scorpion smashed on a rock left out to rot in the sun. Maybe he’ll take you home, run his fingers through your matted hair and not mind the stingers or the venom. You weren’t made for a laughter light like this, and if there was ever a time you could be it’s long gone now, but you still want him to touch you, a want like a scar healed wrong.

“Buy me dinner first— ah!” You let go just to crack your palm against the top of his head, anything to wipe that smug edge off, and— “okay, fine, I’ll buy dinner,” but this time when your hand comes down he catches it, brings it to his lips, soft on your palm— oh god, oh god it hurts. 

“And then what?” You dare, you gasp, you’ve never been that bold—couldn’t afford boldness, always a coward at heart and that’s how he always won, but for a moment you let your fingers curl along his cheekbone. His eyes slide closed, kissing still—dart of tongue, tracing the line of your palm. How long is my life? How many children will I have? What do the cracks in the skin say? Maybe his mouth can divine something human in the shape of your hand, even if the lines there aren’t really yours, just a thing they gave you to play pretend.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, still not giving you his gaze, a pained crush to his brow, “you did ask me to take you somewhere nice.”

“Did I?”

“Don’t you remember?” 

“Liar. I never asked you to do anything.”

He smiles right on your skin, like a knife sliding under your gut—girl/deer, splayed out on the slaughterhouse floor of his kindness. The world hazes at the edges, curling up set aflame. 

Somewhere nice. Too bad it can’t last. 

Finally. Finally he looks at you. Sees you. How long has it been since someone hasn’t stared through?

“No, you didn’t. I wish you would have.”

—

Choking hard gasp and the phone screams or maybe you do. Your teeth throb.

The room is heavy dark save for the corners of curtained sunlight peeking through, the air scented thickly of cheap candles and candy wrappers. The sheets are sweat-slick and you can smell your own skin, the rawness of sleep on it. Musky. Unsterilized. 

The fabric sticks and itches. Fingers under the hem, you toss the sweater aside, hear it thump damply against a wall.

Breathe. Hand to chest and yes, that’s your heart, rocking in your rib cage, slowing down. You breathe with in—ten—tion. 

One. 

Two. 

Three.

Okay, you’re okay. You can do this. You can still do this.

—

“I don’t want to do this here.”

He holds out a plate of food, tilts his head to the side, the corners of his mouth twitching up. Pushes the plate into your hands, and you take it—just hold out something to someone and nine times out of ten they’ll take it without thinking, asking only after they’ve agreed to carry the burden.  

Silly you, you never had a choice. 

His apartment is soft and safe around the edges, and your heart gets sticky in your chest. You think maybe those are your books on his shelf, the ones you lost after—

“What’s wrong with here?” He shrugs, brushing past toward the table, beckoning you to follow with a grin and a nudge.

“I like it here.” You answer honestly, for once, and he beams, a light bright enough to burn.

“I know.”

“So why are you ruining it?”

“Ruining it?” Hurt. Smile gone.

“Take me somewhere else. Anywhere else.” Somewhere cruel and sharp as a scalpel to the throat. Psychopather or Overlord or the dilapidated construction ruin you jumped out of at the second story and broke your wrist because you made a deal— you agreed to a dare— race you to the bottom down the stairs— if you lose you have to answer my questions— and god, you didn’t want to answer anything, anything at all, and he’d screamed your name, cursed you out, told you don’t be an idiot what if you broke your neck and flinched when you snapped I was just following your lead. 

“I can’t,” he shakes his head and you have to sit down, set the plate on the table before you drop it, wouldn’t want to break the fine china. Did his mother give him this? You think so; he’d taken such care, stacking each plate freshly hand washed before putting them away.

“Liar.”

“Not this time,” a loaded smile, a loaded gun, his fork twirls around on his plate. Shadow of a wrist and a vague gesture to the seams of the scenery. “This is all you. Your shape. What you made. I’m just along for the ride.”

“Then I’m not staying.”

Shrug again. Why won’t he do anything else? A looped tape, a slight glitch. Something’s wrong.

You’re wrong, maybe.

“Not even for dinner?”

You stand up. Pace. There are plans— things to be done— finishing touches— you can’t stay here. You can’t. 

“What do you want, Noa?” He asks, so softly, so gently, it would be kinder if he killed you there, but you know he won’t; it’ll take a lot more than bad table manners to push him to that, but maybe you can do it. Maybe you can get him a little ruthless, even more desperate. You’ve seen it before, in flashes, coiling green under his skin. Won’t it be funny if he breaks before you do? No blood on your hands, not yet. What a record. Fitting, almost. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Are you hungry?”

“Why?”

“Hard to work on an empty stomach,” he shrugs again, fuck, stop doing that. Bare feet silent on the carpet and you find yourself back at the table, back in the chair, sitting across from him and there’s nowhere to go—

Blink.

Sterile antiseptic white walls and doctors— in your apartment— your neighbor? Yes, that’s your neighbor he accused you of staring once, the fuck are you lookin’ at? And you weren’t staring, at least not like that, but it took a soft nudge of don’t look at me for him to go all the same. Strange. You didn’t think a doctor would live here. It’s a bad side of town, but it’s good for sidestepping. 

You think: I am going to wake up now.

Wait. No. You say this out loud. It comes through with the wet ache of drowning. 

No. Wait. Your words roll back down your throat—you didn’t say it. You didn’t say anything at all. You never have. 

All the words roll in but they’re not yours you’re fit to burst. 

It must be nice being able to speak. 

Not here.

Maybe that’s what it is to be human. 

Get real, you think because you stick your fingers in a few skulls and cut your teeth on some gray matter while someone thinks about love you know what being human is? 

I could. I could know.

They gave you a tongue and mouth and lips but you can’t kiss and you can’t make words, you can only patch together the syntax, call it real, call it human—but when you speak it’s always going to be with someone else’s voice, strangled out.

The walls are whiter now and the lights slice your skin like a hot knife through butter. It isn’t a cliff but a door you’ve already walked through and the ocean inside the warehouse inside the apartment is now a table with handcuffs. His table. Her table. You jerk your wrists and the metal clanks hard and fuck no not here not here please take me back i’m sorry i want to go back—

(he’s coming to get you)

(he wouldn’t leave you here)

(no time for the dramatics ricardo just get the door let’s blow this popsicle stand)

She smiles at you from across that metal table (wait) and tells you that you are never going to die (stop) because to die you have to be alive (i am i am i?) and you should know better by now we are going to do such great things together (please)

aren’t we, 

aren’t we, 

aren’t we.

aren’t i?

wake up now- i want to— please. 

—

You’re alone in the dark, the armor fits perfectly, and that’s all that matters.

(when you become a casualty revoked from the grave get ready a revenant coming back to eat them alive oh oh oh just you wait) 

You think you’ll keep the name.

(sidestep and charge reunited again you can see the headlines now and fuck you can’t wait to see the look on his face you were always a pair maybe he’ll stop you wouldn’t that be something)

You don’t sleep.

— 

He doesn’t stop you. 

—

“Noa?”

“Yes?”

“You are... fine, right?”

 “What are you talking about?”

“You’d tell me if something was wrong?”

“Of course I would.”

—

Your dreams are filmy, cracked wombs of (not not not) memories and gummy tissue. Press on it too hard and it moves back just the same but with a muscle deep ache. At least you know it’s a dream this time, and when you go up the stairs and find him there, you don’t hiss or spit or curse. You’ve done enough of that. He’ll carry the scars to prove it.

He’s looking out the window. He’s looking at you.

No, he’s looking at you. You flinch and you don’t know why.

“Really? Even here?”

“What?”

“Take the mask off at least. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen your pretty face.”

You reach up and your fingers find hard armor, not supple skinsuit. When you look back his face is different, older, not the poster-ready Marshal but aged, aching, and you ache with it, bone-deep. 

You’re so tired. You wonder if he is too.

The helmet comes off. Drops with a thump. 

You go to the window. After all, there’s nowhere else left, and he asked so nicely.

“What do we do now?” You ask, so softly. Still can’t look outside. Still don’t want to see what he sees. Better to watch him watch you. Now that you’re on the other side of things, you prefer it when you’re the one doing the bleeding—what a thing.

“I don’t know,” a laugh a sob or something in between, he crosses his arms and turns away, turns toward you. “Did you ever figure out what you want?”

“Yeah.”

You blink and he’s himself again, younger, more angular, a grin fit for the big screen on his handsome, handsome face. It’s easier to talk to him like this, the way you remember, the way it should be. Time didn’t move while you were gone, and you’re the only one still snapped in half.

A pause. Are you smiling now? It must be a sad little thing though, because his eyes soften up and a frown mars his forehead.

“I want to watch you grow old.” 

“What, so you can keep on teasing me? That never stopped you before.”

“Shut up, I’m not done yet.” you whisper, stepping forward, stepping up to the cliff’s edge.

“I want to watch you grow old,” reaching for his hand, and he lets you have them both, cradled so carefully—and your gloves are black and armored and insulated, but not the most protected part of your body. Could he kill you with a surge? Maybe. “And I want to watch you die in a bed. Your bed.”

“A little morbid,” he murmurs but you’ve got to keep going, you’ve got to get it out, because once it’s out you’ll never have to look at it again. “But I guess that tracks.”

Turn over his hands, you thumb at his emitters. Hint of a spark, and you laugh and now it’s sob, now it’s a wound. You won’t look at him. “I want to watch the arthritis take your hands and I want to take you away from this fucking city and we’ll both be so bored out of our minds, we’ll start inventing problems just to fix them.”

“Careful, Noa,” hands turn over, running up your armored wrists, grasping at your forearms. “That almost sounds like a happy ending.”

Wedding vows for the dead. Neither of you ever had a chance. You don’t have one now.

“And we can’t have that.”

You look up. The sun’s on his face now, turning his eyes a shade of deep whiskey, and that’s how you want to remember him; alive under the sun, smile lines just forming, his nose a bit crooked from getting punched one too many times. You’ll be on the ground in a moment.

“No,” he agrees, grasping at your elbows now, pulling you close, and you cling to his in turn. “We can’t.” Flash and grin, and there he is, just like you remember. Challenging, challenger. No chance, and neither of you know when to quit. “Want to up the stakes a bit?” 

“Always.”

You let go first. Of course. You turn to the window. You open it. 

“Whoever falls fastest wins.”

“And what do I get when I win?” When, not if.

“A quick and painless death.”

“Fuck,” you breathe. “That’s a hell of a thing. How do I know you won’t cheat?”

“You don’t,” he winks, steps back, head tilt toward the window. Mirrored. You’ve got one hand on the windowsill and one hand curled around your gut, where he sunk that barb between the plates before you cracked his skull on the ground before all of Los Diablos. “You never do. Isn’t that part of the fun?”

You take your place at the window, you set your shoulders, look down. What’s he been looking at all this time? 

Long way down, and you wait to see her; you, in soft skinsuit, teal and black and bloody and broken, but she isn’t there.

Just an ambulance, an end repeating itself.

“Person who falls the fastest, huh?”

“And hits the ground hardest.”

You climb up, clench your jaw. 

It always ends like this. 

“You’re on.”

[lauraschaos]

i wanted to share something that, although it hasn't been my biggest concern this year, has somewhat bothered me, and i don't have anyone close who does or could really understand this having never had it.

so i got covid in february 2021 (i am writing this in december 2021), although i became a clean freak and rarely left the home (from which i also developped stupid behaviours and dermatitis from washing my hands like a maniac). happily, very mild case, only 2 days of light fever and just a bit of a runny nose and sore throat.

what got me instead was anosmia (lack of smell) and ageusia (lack of taste), at about the 5th(?) day since i began the previously mentioned symptoms. happily, i got my sense of taste back after only a few days, i remember the first tasting thing i ate, a hot meatball soup with the best aroma i ever felt.

but despite regaining my sense of taste so easily and seeing my mom or hearing from others that had covid that they regained their sense of smell at about 1-2 weeks after the infection (even if at less intensity/accuracy), i had anosmia for 2 to 3 months.

it was weird. we don't prioritize smell as one of the most important senses and for good reason, but you still feel so disconnected and like you don't have the same level of awareness. i remember using rubbing alcohol for disinfection and nothing. i had garlic in front of me, or lemons, or coffee, and i couldn't even get a hint. i got dizzy cleaning the bathroom with strong substances because i couldn't get any hint from the strength of the smell.

as i said, this lasted for about 2-3 months. i was getting frustrated. but, completely at random (bc i haven't followed the subject up until then) i got a video on insta of someone who complained of the same persistent anosmia. they have heard that ginger shots helped and tried it and it worked for them as well. i placed an order for a big bottle of ginger concentrate, drank a shot of it, burning my throat and stomach in the process (it is SO acidic), and ran to spray some perfume on my wrist. AND I SMELLED IT! i felt something! it was indeed only a generic, sweet smell, like pure sugar, but it was my first smell. but it faded in a few minutes, and in an hour i couldn't smell a thing again. i tried the ginger trick 2 or 3 more times the next days and tested again with some perfumes. but it was fading fast after drinking the shot.

since one day i ordered from a new place. onion omelette. and weirdly, i got a first veeeery vague whiff of food (yes, this general, i couldn't place it at all) without having drank the ginger shot. the taste was AWFUL. i almost called them to complain about their awful cooking and rotten food. other than that, other foods that i ate that week were tasting about the same. i only discovered that it wasn't the omelette's fault until i ordered a pizza that i had gotten often before covid, and that also had onions. and i gagged. it was fine tasting until i encountered onions.

and i linked the info. with the first vague smells that were coming to me, my taste was becoming distorted as it has never been.

one of the first clear smells i got was the smell of cigarettes. someone smoking passed me and i stopped and exclaimed, happily, that i can sense it. and it smelled indeed like cig smoke.

except for that, everything smelled rotten. it was like i smelled spoiled food in the trash, and only maybe i could sense soooome of the smell i was meaning to sense, like it was at the bottom of the trash. some foods also began tasting weirder, mainly onions and garlic having the worst taste and smell. i also couldn't stand eggs, i almost threw it up the only time i tried it again. chicken meat also tasted a bit off to me, but it was acceptable.

the second general smell i got was the generic sweet smell i got from my perfume with the ginger shot. all perfume, deodorant, shampoo smelled like sugar. sometimes almost too sweet, but way better than the trash smell from almost anything else.

and i still had loads of things that didn't smell at all (rubbing alcohol for example).

this lack of smells triggered something else in my brain. i started to miss loads of smells but not only miss them; i got, for fractions of a second, a certain smell in my head. it was so clear, not just the idea of it, it was there. only it was in my head... but it was nice. through these ghost smells i went to some many places or times from my memory that i had forgotten and they became so much more complex than when i only saw or heard them.

the other thing, that i saw in many people, was the way my own scent smelled to me. my skin smelled gross. even if i sweated a little, i could feel it so much stronger than i would've had before. and it smelled unbelievably gross. i smelled like a bag of onions. if i would cycle for an hour, i would gag at my own scent. i felt so self-concious when being with my boyfriend, because to myself i smelled like the dirtiest onion farmer after a hard day's work. i would constantly ask him if i smelled and if i should shower or apply more perfume, and he assured me i didn't smell, but to me my skin smelled so differently and more apparent.

after a few good weeks of this, i got to a second stage (i began to categorize the time periods by baseline smells and accuracy). i started to get more smells. the trash smell subdued. so did my own weird smell. i could feel some scents clearer (finally, rubbing alchohol, but it isn't the same, it just smells of generic alcohol with weird hints of banana for some reason). but more of my taste was affected in a bad way, and my baseline smell shifted... from trash.. to (sorry for being explicit) a poo smell mixed with acidic and pungent rotten nuts.

i used to love coffee but now, it smells the same as shit. it also tastes awful, the same acidic rotten taste. i preferred not being able to smell/taste it like it was before. the same weird shit smell comes from filing my nails. the smell of that nail powder coming off smells like shit or like burning hair/skin.

i also got a new generic smell, like eucalyptus, from certain perfumes (the ones that don't smell purely sweet). it almost smells manly, i can't differentiate my boyfriend's perfume from mine.

chocolate became weird in smell and taste as well. my shampoo smells a bit like damp clothes forgotten in a closet for a year or like a wet dog so i hate to smell my hair when sleeping the first night after washing it. clothing detergent has this same moldy smell. peppers taste horrible. my own breath smells like sewer sometimes. cold cuts smell and taste more pronounced and worse. yogurt and cheese always taste like they have gone bad. popcorn is like gross burnt butter. even bread and similar doughs taste like they got a bit burnt... cigarette smoke, that was one of my first smells and that was perfectly accurate, now also smells like shit and coffee.

for the good changes: onions and garlic however have gotten better, i even go for them now because they smell closer to what they should. i got some scented candles and the fruity ones smell... fruity. i can't quite place the exact fruit, but it smells different from the pure sugar smell. also baking banana bread (which became a hobby) or honey have a sweet bake smell, different from the others. i even smelled parizer (a kind of very processed ham) once and it weirdly smelled better, like aftershave.

i think i am now shifting to a third stage, because i notice some very discreet changes in taste and smell, but nothing's clear. somehow, i feel like some smells/tastes i got back half-decently are now becoming slightly worse.

also, from what i saw, for most it made them eat less and lose weight. i got the reverse of that. i started eating more, because i ate mainly for the textures and sweets were some of the tastes that stayed generally the same so i would eat sweets for whole meals sometimes.

i intend to write again about my progress and experience because i also feel that reading and comparing with others helps me feel understood (or amuses me to see similar weirdnesses in others). maybe also make lists with specific things that are more relevant and what they smell/taste like.

i advise people with long-term anosmia to try the ginger shot trick, it maybe works for you too. it helps to check that you can indeed still smell stuff.

[rhysismydaddy]

Dirty Daydreams (Nessian Fluff)

Cassian groaned against her neck, the sound snapping something deep inside of her. She reached up to pull his head up, needing to see him. Golden eyes, the eyes she loved so much, met hers and she smiled up at him. 

Calloused hands gripped her hips, pushing into her and making her back arch-

Nesta’s eyes shot open, gulping down air and almost falling out of the bed as she violently tore herself from the dream. She threw a pillow at the wall in frustration, barely resisting the urge to scream her head off. 

That damn bastard was really trying to get himself killed. 

She shut her eyes, but images of his tan skin, wide smile, and sinful lips kept badgering her, so she threw the covers back and stormed across the room to lock her door. 

Then she glanced at the open window. 

After locking it--and giving the night sky a foul gesture for good measure--she crawled back into bed and sighed, begging the gods for just one good night sleep.

Just one.

Ever since he’d arrived in the House of Wind four days ago, Cassian had been plaguing her dreams. And daydreams. 

She knew what he was doing.

Rhysand had told her certain people could get into your mind, and apparently Cassian was one of those people. The prick thought it was funny to use whatever demonic skills he possessed to send dirty images to her brain at all points during the day and night. 

Seriously. 

Yesterday they’d been ignoring each other in the library when she’d imagined throwing her book down, going to where he’d sat at the desk, and kissing him senseless. 

The day before that, she’d been absolutely convinced she was in bed with him, watching the morning sunlight dance across his chest. Not listening to him talk about the army’s preparations for winter. 

It was driving her absolutely insane, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of asking him to stop. She would never let him know he’d gotten under her skin.

So far, she thought she’d remained perfectly unbothered, even though she had homicidal thoughts every time he asked if she was okay, voice teasing and knowing. 

Just one night, she pleaded. 

Nesta closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to imagine steel gates around her mind. Steel strong enough to keep even the most resilient winged beasts out. 

The next morning, Nesta cursed those damn gates. 

Apparently, there was a hole in them or something because Cassian had wormed his way into her mind enough to torment her all night long. 

She’d awoken at dawn, body aching with lust, ready to light him on fire. 

Nesta threw on a dressing gown and stomped down to breakfast, trying to school her face into neutrality despite the violence coursing through her blood. 

It didn’t matter, because as soon as she walked into the dining room, Cassian’s head snapped up, nostrils flaring as he took in her scent. 

Damn. 

She’d forgotten about that.

“Sexy dreams, Nesta?”

I’m going to stab him with a knife. 

She sat across from him at the table and grabbed a piece of bacon off his plate. “Nope.”

His curly hair fell in his face as he tilted his head to the side. “Interesting. You smell nice.” 

Make that a rusty knife. 

“Well, as usual, you smell like a rotten fish. I don’t know how I ever put up with it.” 

Cassian smiled like he always did when she insulted him, as if he knew it was all a lie. “You’re in a wonderful mood today.”

Nesta just rolled her eyes and scooped some fruit onto her plate. 

She was stabbing a piece of melon, watching him somehow shove more food in his fat mouth than anyone she’d ever seen, when she thought about how easy it would be to crawl across the table into his lap.

She’d press her mouth to his, pull his hair, drive him crazy like he did her. Cassian would give her that bright smile she loved, happy he’d finally won their little game, and wrap his arms around her, mouth finding its way to her neck-

A thud sounded through the room as Nesta’s head fell back against her chair. 

Cassian laughed. “What in the world were you thinking about over there?”

“That’s it!” she yelled, not able to keep her cool any longer. “You are so fucking annoying! Get out of my head!”

She slammed her fist down into the table, making all the plates shake. 

His dark eyebrows pinched together in fake confusion. “What?”

“Get out of my head! Stop sending me these delusional, disgusting thoughts, or I’m going to gut you, I swear-”

“Wait, wait, wait. What? You think I’m...” Realization spread over his face, and his eyes lit up as he smiled happily. “Nesta, baby, I’m not a Daemati. Rhys and Feyre are the only ones I know.”

Everything inside her came crashing to a halt. Her rage turned towards confusion, mind and body not wanting to accept what she’d just heard. 

What?

He wasn’t... he couldn’t... what? 

Her face caught fire as a blush worked its way over her entire body, and Nesta dug her fingers into her thighs as a horrible, repugnant understanding formed. No one had been messing with her. 

Except herself. 

Every single dream and thought she’d had... they’d been hers. 

“So what, exactly, were you daydreaming about?” Cassian asked, smile so bright, so satisfied it almost blinded her. 

Nesta finally gave in to her impulses and shot out of her chair so fast it flipped over. She didn’t care, though; she was already half-way out of the room. 

She had to get away from him. She was many things, but she’d never allow herself to break down in front of him. 

She sprinted down the hallway to her room, humiliation pushing at her to go faster, faster, faster. 

A dark shape over her head caught her attention, then Cassian was slamming to a landing in front of her, wings spread wide to block the entire hallway. “Stop running from me.” 

Sliding to a halt in her silk slippers, she realized she’d never be able to outrun him. 

Stupid, stupid wings.

Nesta looked for any other way out of this conversation, attention snagging on the open window. 

If she could just-

“You try to jump out of that window, Nesta, and I swear I’ll wring your pretty little neck.”

She rolled her eyes, trying not to look like that’s exactly what she’d been planning. 

“Now. Tell me what you’ve been dreaming about.”

Nope. Never. “Window it is, then.”

He growled at her, and she had to repress a laugh. 

The smile fell off her face as he just crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. Waiting. 

“Why does it matter, Cassian?”

He looked at her incredulously, beautiful eyes holding a mixture of anger, happiness, frustration, and an emotion she didn’t want to consider. 

“Why does it matter?” he shouted at her, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I swear, Nesta, you’re so dense sometimes. It matters because I’ve been trying to get you to fall in love with me for almost a year, and you’re finally letting it happen. Now what the hell were the dreams like?”

She should respond, should do something besides gape at him, jaw swinging in the breeze. 

He’d been trying to... he... “You love me?” 

Her voice was so small and quiet, but he heard her perfectly. 

Hands on his hips, he rolled his eyes and said, “I tell you I love you at least once a day, dumbass.” 

True, but- “That’s different. You’re always teasing me.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I never tease you about that. But stop trying to change the subject, Nesta. Tell me about the dreams.”

A dog with a bone. 

“Um.” Her face was a thousand degrees of embarrassment as she gave in and said, “They aren’t all sex dreams, so don’t even start. Sometimes we just dance, or go on dates, or wake up together, or kiss- stop looking at me like that!”

“Like what?” he asked, biting a lip to keep the smile at bay. 

“Like a kid of Yuelemas.” She pushed against his shoulder and stomped by him. “This doesn’t change anything. Just because my brain’s demented doesn’t mean things are different between us. I still hate you.”

They both knew it was a lie. 

Cassian, prick he was, called her on it. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

She was almost to her room, the blessed solitary confinement mere feet away.

“I can prove that you don’t.”

Nesta snorted, unable to help it. “Cassian, you’re so full of shit. You cannot possibly-”

He grabbed her wrist and turned her back around, and before she could so much as blink, he was kissing her. 

Nesta stood, unmoving, as her brain tried desperately to catch up.

All her dreams, all her fantasies, couldn’t compare to this. Nothing could. 

Cassian’s lips were soft and persistent against hers, hands rough as they grabbed her waist and pulled her against him. 

He whispered her name, and she finally snapped back into her body and realized what was happening. 

She pushed out the thoughts of doubt and embarrassment and nervousness and just did what she wanted for once. 

Her arms wound around his neck, and she pulled herself up closer to him, kissing him deeper. His tongue slid into her mouth, and she lost her mind at how he tasted.

Caramel, salt, wind, Cassian. 

He tugged on her lip with his teeth, smiled, and pulled back. 

“See? You don’t hate me, baby,” he laughed, pressing kisses to her forehead, temple, cheek, chin, everywhere. 

She’d never seen him this happy. Never felt this amount of joy in herself, either. 

Laughter bubbled out of her. “Okay. Fine. I don’t hate you.”

“You love me.”

He was a cocky bastard, wasn’t he? But... she thought back on all the times he’d been there for her, putting up with her when no one else wanted to. 

All the dreams she’d had of them just being together came crashing together, and she realized she wanted that. Wanted that life with him. 

Nesta pulled on his hair to stop the assault of kisses, looking into his eyes. “Yeah. I do.”

Cassian picked her up and spun her around, both of them laughing like maniacs. “And it only took a year of flying all the way up here to bug you.”

Once she was set back on her feet, she leaned into him, trying to memorize the feel of his body against hers. “Take me on a date tonight.”

“It’ll be just like your dream,” he smirked, kissing the tip of her nose. “Dancing and drinking and good food.”

She knew where he was going, but she didn’t even care as he teased, “Then whatever you dreamed about that had you smelling like that this morning.”

“You’re a presumptuous little asshole. I don’t think I’ll sleep with you. Ever.” 

A finger on her chin brought her face up to his. “Liar,” he whispered, their lips not an inch apart. 

“Maybe.”

“Say it again,” he murmured onto her jaw, fingers moving to play in her hair.

Nesta rolled her eyes, cupped his face with her hands, and finally told him the words she’d repressed since she first saw him. “I love you, Cassian.”

______________________________________________________________

Ending’s cheesy as shit, sorry. Not really. 

@musicmaam @b00kworm @bamchickawowow @aesthetics-11 @a-bit-of-a-cactus 

[eirist]

A Taste of Summer II

A TASTE OF SUMMER

One-shot #: 4

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible. One shot.

Rating: T

Note: I did say I planned to finish the prompts from the ZoNami Week 2020 at zonamievents in Tumblr. This is Day 4: Lemons and Oranges. It took a long time since it’s been hectic in work these past months, I can only manage drabbles. I have a lot of work-in-progress stories waiting for me to finish them. Anyway, enjoy my better late than never one-shot.

Summary: The moment he stepped inside it, the fruits’ fragrances wafted towards him, surrounding him. Sweet. Citrusy.

The island was idyllic… quiet even. It feels like they were the only ones who are currently there.

Which turns out to be the case.

According to Robin—and the documents she unearthed from the enormous library of the island’s dazzling villa—it was once owned by a rich couple.

It was their own private paradise but they abandoned the place for a reason most could guess… they realized how susceptible they are—living on an island which was smack right into the path of sailing pirates.

What a waste. He wasn’t a fan of summer islands but Zoro had to admit, even he was awestruck with how divine the place is.

It was utterly exquisite and amazing.

The previous owners were fools to let such a gem go. It was the perfect getaway island. 

And all of his crewmates think so too. As they are spending another day docked there—exploring, relaxing and just taking everything in.

Heaven knows how the Straw Hats need a break from all that fighting.

Zoro left the others dilly-dallying in the villa’s patio overlooking the great view of the sea and the stone port with the Thousand Sunny docked beside it, bobbing idly above the blue water.

He strode towards a random direction despite protests from Usopp and the stupid cook that he will definitely get lost.

Damn them! He does not get lost. How many times do they have to go over this?!

Nami had done an ocular from the crow’s nest right after they had anchored. The island wasn’t that big, you can actually circle it in a day and a half.

How will he get lost in that? Idiots!

He grumpily trudged forward, following the graveled path that was leading away from the villa. He can hear Luffy's shouts of glee as Sanji announced a barbecue soiree some time later. 

Zoro shook his head. As much as the dumb cook hates to admit it, he'd been spoiling everyone rotten in this vacation of sorts... 

Not that he’s complaining. There is food. There is sake. He wasn't an ungrateful bastard after all.

The balmy breeze from the ocean swept across him, bringing in the salty smell of the sea. That, coupled with the warm temperature and the soothing rhythm of the waves crashing on the shore was enough to make him dozy.

Yawning widely, he decided to just look for a good place to nap instead of exploring the area like he initially meant to do. 

He'll do it later. Or tomorrow... as it seems like everyone was still willing to stay for one more day. 

The path he was following veered towards the left. He hesitated for a moment, his body unconsciously steering towards the opposite direction—one without a paved trail and bordered with thick foliage no one can pass through. 

He grunted and contemplated whether or not he would cut and make his own way... but he didn't want anyone nagging him about how not to destroy everything in front you.

Especially one loud-mouthed, orange-haired navigator. 

He doubts if he'd be able to take on her yapping from the way he was reacting to her as of late.

Running a hand through his hair exasperatedly, he sighed and did a double take. He didn’t realize that he was now near the villa’s wide back patio.

There were stone steps leading down to a garden below filled with trees and plants blooming with different summer fruits and flowers. A paved walkway snaked across the expanse of the area leading to a tunnel-shaped trellis with lemon and orange trees growing on them, providing shade to anyone who would dare walk into it. The branches were intertwined above, the fruits hanging like dozens of prized crystals on a chandelier—their alternating colors of orange and yellow among the green leaves were pleasing to look at.

Zoro grinned and made his way towards it. Would you look at that? He found a perfect place to nap.

The moment he stepped inside it, the fruits’ fragrances wafted towards him, surrounding him. 

Sweet. Citrusy.

Just like Nami.

He made a tch-ing sound. He was thinking about her. Again. 

Seems like he's been doing it a lot recently. A lot.

He couldn't understand it at first. It was all so foreign to him.

It had taken Zoro sometime before he figured out what was really happening. And it took an even longer period before he finally acknowledged it. 

When they finally faced each other after their two years separation... everything just came crashing down on him. 

She had greeted him with the warmest smile on her face as they ran into each other—both intending to take a break from the celebration party held at Fish-Man Island.  

In that moment... he just got lost in her. 

And Zoro didn't know if it was the same with her. Or if that is even possible with her. 

But he can clearly see now that it is. 

And that threw him off because he was honestly not expecting it. 

He scratched the back of his head in frustration. All this thinking is really making his head ache. Especially after the recent events where they both seem to find themselves in that specific moment before a kiss happens. 

Should it? 

Fate seems to be pointing to the fact that it should, given how the two of them always end up in the same situation every time they are near each other. 

He wasn't a firm believer of signs and such, but given the circumstances… it seems like it was really inevitable. 

And it's not like he didn't want to kiss her. He absolutely wants to. Even more now after the whole water gun spectacle and how their lips were so close… almost grazing each other’s right after they had resurfaced from the ocean with their eyes locked on each other’s.

They were interrupted by the idiot cook yelling threats and throwing one of the water guns at his head. 

Nami had moved away from him almost immediately. And the look she gave him had his curiosity piqued. 

It was the same one he saw on her face while they were hiding behind the makeshift shelter in the midst of the water gun battle—a cross between understanding and acceptance.

The slight thud of a fruit dropping near him broke his thoughts. He stared at the orange globe as it rolled a few centimeters away, surprised that it didn't explode from the height of the fall. 

He picked it up, toying with it for a moment, enjoying the firmness of it in his hand. He ran his thumb across its smooth surface. His lips quirked up. He always secretly enjoyed the fact that her hair was the same shade as this orange and her beloved mikans. 

Damn it to hell he's turning to that aho cook now.

He casually threw the fruit up in the air and caught it. He decided to throw those thoughts aside as well for now and enjoy this little snack before settling down for a nap. 

He proceeded to peel it and then did a double take again. 

He didn't notice it before, but the citrus tunnel was leading to another area. 

Zoro moved towards the end of it to check. His eyebrows rose and he marveled at the wide orchard of lemon and orange trees before him. It was smartly hidden from the view that you cannot see it from the villa, giving it a kind of a secret place ambiance.

A smile appeared on his face again as he took in the perfectly lined trees before him. There was an odd feeling of satisfaction at their alignment, at the interchanging colors of their fruits, their stark contrast against the swaying green leaves.

"Zoro?"

He dropped the orange he was holding.  

Damn he should have known the chances of running into her are high.

Really, really high.

He turned towards the direction of her voice. Nami was standing between the rows of orange and lemon trees, with one hand on her hips as she regarded him. 

“Are you my back-up?”

Zoro paused for a moment and cocked an eyebrow at her when he couldn't figure out what she meant by that. “Your what?”

Nami blew at her bangs in exaggerated exasperation. “I mean, are you here to help me?” She asked again, nudging one basket filled with fruits with her feet.

Zoro's eye hovered at the containers near her legs.

She's fruit-picking? Voluntarily??? 

But Nami had them for that. She can easily order every—and any—one of them to do it for her. 

Especially him or that stupid love cook.

Pigs must be flying somewhere on this island.

"What is that?" He definitely and dumbly had to ask that.

"Uh fruits?" Nami raised an eyebrow at him. "Specifically lemons and oranges... shall I introduce you to them? Feels like you still haven't made acquaintances of each other."

"Very funny witch," he growled. "And no I'm not your back-up."

A frown marred her features. "Then why are you here? Usopp didn't send you? I specifically ask him to send someone to help me!"

Zoro gave her an unamused look. "Like he can order me around."

"Hmm true but…" She tapped a finger to her cheek, pondering. Then she waved her hand dismissively. "Well since you are here, I guess I'll have to make use of you somehow."

"No thanks. I need to nap now."

She gaped at him. "Seriously Zoro? Are you a kid? How many naps do you need per day?!"

He just shrugged. Sure, they may be on the verge of acting on the attraction that they had for each other and kiss somehow in the near future...

But damn if he will obey her just like that. 

He wasn't ero-cook after all. 

"Tell you what, I'll just go and tell your stupid cook to help you out."

"But you’re already here..." Nami pointed out, her tone turning a bit whiny. "Besides you will just get lost and never make it to Sanji-kun or back to me!"

"Oi!"

“Just help me out Zoro.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t carry them by myself!”

“Just drag them or something. I’m not your pack-mule.”

“What’s the use of those stupid arms you tone every day? For display only?!” Nami hissed at him.

Zoro threw her a smirk, fighting the urge to flex just to irritate her more. “Yes.”

“Zoro!”

"It's your damn fault for trying to do this by yourself," the green-haired man grunted. Honestly, why didn't she ask him or anyone else in their crew to accompany her?

But him… especially. 

Damn that dumbass cook is contagious!

Maybe she needed to be alone with her thoughts as well just like you. A tiny, eety, beety voice that sounded a lot like Chopper reminded him. 

Nami stared at him surprised. "You mean, I should've asked you to come with me earlier?"

That snapped him into attention as his ears turned red. "That's not what I meant!"

"But you said I should've asked you," she repeated.

“I didn’t say anything like that!”

The navigator pouted. “Well I’m pretty sure you were insinuating that.”

“Temee…”

"Anyway, you were napping. Thought it'd be better not to wake you up."

There was never a time in their lives that she was this considerate of him. Regardless of how deep he was sleeping, Nami will most definitely wake him up just to order him to do something. 

Her mischievous smile had his guard up. 

Cheeky witch!

“I’m heading back,” he grumbled. “I’ll go tell your idiot prince that you need help.”

“Zoro!”

He ignored her screech and turned away from her.

The less time he spends with her... the better. It lowers the chance of them finally kissing until it blows over and they completely forgot it even have a chance to occur.

Because honestly, he doesn't know what to do after it. Or what will happen after it. 

That is something he still doesn't know the answer as of yet. 

“Why you…” Nami seethed as he started walking away. He was really grating every single nerve in her body with his no-nonsense attitude, even after everything that happened these past weeks.  

She grabbed a lemon from the basket and threw it at him. Hard. Channeling all the bottled up frustrations in her on that action.

"Take that you idiot!”

It hit him on the back, putting a stop to his stride.

Nami seized another fruit and threw it again… this time hitting the stupid, lazy man on his head.

Zoro growled lowly when he saw the yellow fruits bounced down the ground after hitting him.

“Nami!” He shouted, pivoting sharply towards her…

…and promptly got hit on the side of his face, this time with an overripe orange.

The fruit splattered on contact, its juices dripping down his face and neck.

His jaw clenched as his eyes settled on a cheekily smiling Nami who had another fruit in her hand, throwing it up on the air and catching it.

And he knows, damn he knows this is her payback for ignoring her request and for his stunt a few days ago…

…and for hesitating to kiss her and acknowledging what was between them... all rolled into one.

She moved swiftly and threw the orange in her hand again.

This time he effortlessly caught it, before a sneer appeared on his face.

He crushed the fruit in his grip and threw it back at her.

Nami yelped as she tried to get away in time, but the fruit remains still caught her and splattered on her chest and face. In a split second, he had another fruit in his grasp, crushing and throwing it at her again.

She squealed when she saw him broke into a run, heading towards her looking like he was going to tackle her down the ground.

She immediately turned, but not before throwing two random fruits at him and ran, dodging the trees that lined the orchard as fast as her feet will take her. She randomly changed directions, running towards the left then switching to the right…

Knowing Zoro’s ability to get lost in a straight line, she’d be able to throw him off the chase.

Her lungs were burning, her breaths coming out in gasps. Her hair whipped wildly behind her as the ribbon she had tied on loosened and was blown away by the wind.

She should feel threatened, afraid somehow. She doesn’t know what Zoro has in store for her once he caught her.

But she was laughing.

She circled a random tree, trying to catch her breath. Carefully she peered back at the direction where she came from. The swordsman was nowhere to be seen.

It was all so crazy. Crazy yet fun. She ran a hand through her now tousled locks. The ribbon she had on earlier must’ve fallen away when she dashed along the orchard.

Oh she will make him pay for this of course. This is his fault anyway. He was the one who started chasing her.

The smell of the fruits filled her nose. She pouted a bit at the stickiness of the juices clinging in her skin and sundress. Yet, the scents brought comfort to her and she let herself relax for a moment. Zoro was probably on the other side of the orchard, given how he always ends up on the opposite of where he’s supposed to go.

Trust him to really get lost in a straight line.

It was silent now, except for her heavy breaths and the sound of the sea. The wind started to pick up from the ocean, blowing lightly along the expanse of the citrus orchard. Citrusy scent filled the air, reminding her of that it is summer.

The breeze tousled her long, orange curls and she closed her eyes as it blew stronger.

Almost immediately it stopped. At the same time a shadow loomed over her, blocking the sun and the wind as well.

“Found ya.”

Her eyes flew open in surprise. Zoro was now in front of her, grinning roguishly. She honestly thought she lost him in the maze of orange and lemon trees with all the twist and turns that she made.

On instinct, she automatically moved to ran away again. But Zoro caged her in his arms preventing her escape.

“Oh no you don’t.”

She squealed in protest when his hands—still sticky from the fruits—held her by the arms.

Nami tilted her head and laughed. There were remnants of the lemons and oranges she threw at him earlier sticking on his face and shirt.

Still chortling, she reached out to wipe them off his face. He did the same for her, plucking some bits and pieces from her hair.

They were standing so close to each other now—a sticky mess with their breaths heaving and intermingling with each other’s.

Her hands found themselves resting flat on his chest while his had slid down to both of her elbows.

They were looking at each other, painfully aware that they are in that instant before a kiss again, waiting on who is brave enough to make the first move.

It was Nami who broke the moment first.

“Ok. Ok. I give up!” She snickered and grinned at the sheer childishness of what they had just done.

They were supposedly ruthless pirates, weren’t they?

“I’m charging you for all these Zoro.”

Zoro chuckled and released her. “How about I lug your baskets back as you want then we’ll just call it quits.”

“No.”

“Damn woman!”

“Oh no, no,” Nami shook her head as she forced herself to she step away from him. “You ruined a sundress, cost me a hair ribbon and I’m not even touching the fact that you threw fruits at me and chased me all throughout this orchard.”

“Oi! You were the one who did the throwing first!” The green-haired man retorted.

“Dame.” She poked a finger to his chest.

“Fine!” He said grouchily. But to her astonishment, he smiled at her. “Let’s head back.”

Nami nodded. “Yeah. I need a bath. I’ve been here for hours. Plus I feel sticky. No thanks to you.”

Zoro just threw her a smirk.

She followed him along the rows of citrus trees. It seems like now is still not the right time for them. There was still that hesitation… an uncertainty that lingers on the air between them, mostly from Zoro’s part.

And Nami had decided that she wouldn’t make the first move. She would wait for him. Because when he does… that means he is finally ready to deal with what’s between them and everything that comes with it.

For now she’ll just bask in these little, special moments with him.

The wind blew around them again, the citrus’ scents drifting up in the air once more. She was quite amazed that he was able to make his way back to where they had left the baskets of lemons and oranges.

Zoro was about to grab one, then he stopped.

Nami stared at him with a curious gaze. “Is there a problem?”

He looked back at her. With a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, he shook his head. He had this expression on his face that clearly indicates he just realized something.

Taking a step closer to her, he watched her warm brown eyes widened in a mixture of surprise and excitement. 

"Zoro?"

The swords will dull if you do the opposite of what you really feel. 

Of course. He really is an idiot.

He bent down, finally claiming her lips with his. His arms went around her to pull her close so he could savor the feeling, the moment, the reality that he finally came to terms with what he really needed to do and what he wanted to do. 

She sighed softly and he felt the smile tugged at the corners of her lips as her own arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to her and deepening their kiss. 

The essences of the fruits had found their way to her lips at their antics earlier. He savored the taste on her—the sweetness of the oranges, the tanginess of the lemons...

It was summer on her lips. 

And he was now addicted to it. 

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Graduation surprise; BoRhap cast x reader

*Author’s note*

Hey ya’ll well I promised this fic when I posted the Queen prom fic so here it is. Now I know it’s not as long as the last one is but I felt like this didn’t need to be super long. Also as another special little fact for ya’ll I was gonna make this a Queen fic as well but then I decided to change it to a BoRhap CAST fic since I hadn’t done one of just them in awhile. 

So to all seniors whether HS or college, the class of 2020 CONGRATULATIONS I know it’s not what you hoped it would be but still try to find celebration in this pandemic, you all achieved probably the greatest milestones in your life. So stay safe, stay healthy, stay sane, and be happy :) Lot’s of love from me my darlings!

Taglist:

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@plethora-of-things​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@ixchel-9275​

@simonedk​

@queensdivas​

@platawnic​

@queendeakyy​

@geek-and-proud​

@kairosfreddie​

_______________________________________________________________

Goddamn this year! Just when we think the new decade would be worth our wild, now we’ve got all this shit going on! First there was the threat of WW3, then the next month we’re dealing with wildfires in Australia, and finally to top it off why not add a global pandemic?!

The Coronavirus has literally been all over the news for months, and the fact that our government knew about it since late last year and didn’t warn us about it!? Then when they told us to be on lockdown, everyone starts hording toilet paper, hand sanitizer, and food that no one can buy said items for weeks on end.

But of course my main problem is the fact that I, along with so many other kids and adults around the world can’t participate in their own graduation ceremony.  As a college student, I was just longing to finally participate in my final graduation ceremony ever.  This was supposed to be my final chapter in school life and now because of this damn virus, that’s gone.

I mean yeah my diploma will be coming in the mail but I wanted my family to all be there to see me reach the end of my school life before I finally begin a new chapter.  Plus my cousin’s friends said that they would come and see me and I’ve missed seeing those guys, I hadn’t seen them all since the Bohemian Rhapsody premiere.

I sat there in my old room of my house (cause since the University closed down back in March, all students had to leave the college campus and go home so that way we could reduce the spread of the virus. So I ended up moving back in with my parents) just finishing up my final paper for class.

That’s when my Zoom video chat blew up with my cousin’s profile pic.  I grinned and clicked on the answer button and soon enough my cousin’s face took over my screen.

“Hey poppet.”

“Hey Gwil, how you holding up?” he let out a sigh.

“As best as I can. Though I should be asking you that, you are the one really dealing with this whole Coronavirus adjustment than I am. How’d you do on your classes?”

“For those that have said online classes are easier, they’re dirty rotten liars and completely incompetent.” He softly chuckled. “But thankfully I finished my last exam paper and submitted it just now.”

“Your dad look over it for you? Cause I know you’re a terrible editor.”

“Oi not all the time. Just when I’m lazy.” He hummed as he raised his brow at me. “But yes I did have dad review it for me. Cause before we got to submit the rough draft and my professor said I needed more analysis to my quotes on why I quoted that specific source. God I don’t know why I took that class to begin with?”

“Because you’re a criminology nut and you have been since you turned 16. God and I thought my horror movie tastes were bad.”

“Hey it’s good to be aware of shit like that!”

“Language missy!”

“Okay Cap.” I teased.  He gave me his stern look which made me laugh as I fell to my side on the bed. “Oh by the way I saw that little dating app video you did.”

“And what did you think?”

“I liked it. Kinda makes me wish an app like that did exist in real life.”

“You not just pulling my leg on this?”

“No. Honest and swear to god you had me moved by your performance. Well next to you being Brian May of course.” He grinned. “I swear I still can’t get over when I first saw you in the full hair and makeup, I literally almost had a freakin panic attack.”

“And the fact that Brian was also there to witness that.”

“Oh god don’t even go there!” I groaned as I hid my face in embarrassment.

“So—now that you’re all done with school, what’s next for you?”

“Well any plans I had are put on hold till this whole crisis goes away. And I really thought 2020 was gonna be my year. This sucks!”

“I know poppet, I know. But believe me that it’s not just you whose affected by this. Everyone in the whole world is suffering exactly the same way you are.” I sighed solemnly.

“I know. I mean I should be feeling for you and the guys right now, I mean all of you are out of work till further notice. And all the restaurants that I love going to. Did you know that the little ice cream parlor you and I used to go to when we were kids shut down?”

“No!”

“Yeah, the owner couldn’t keep up the payments because hardly anyone was ordering from them anymore, even with online delivery. So she closed it down.”

“Damn, that sucks. I really loved going to that place with you. That was always our special little time together without the grownups around.” I nodded remembering all the fun times we had together in that little shop.

It was then someone suddenly popped into our conversation.  The extra person now on my screen was none other than Joe Mazzello.

“Hey Gwil, mini-Lee!”

“Hello Joe.” Answered Gwil.

“Hey Joe been a long time.”

“How you two holding up?” he asked us.

“As best as we can, how about you? I’ve seen those Youtube videos you’ve been doing on your page.” Gwil said.

“You know those were jokes, especially that last one. I just wanted to get a laugh out of everyone, or have them hate me.”

“No one could hate you Joey.” I said with a smile.

“Aww thanks mini-Lee. How’s classes been?” I let out a groan as I once again flopped on my bed which made Joe laugh.

“I am just thankful that this is all over. At first I thought online classes would be easy but one of my professors was technology challenged. Another one would sometimes forget to do a lesson, and then of course blackboard could barely operate long enough for me to submit an assignment which caused some of them to be late.”

“Well like you said it’s over now.” Joe assured me.

“Oh hey I saw that Jurassic Park livestream you did.”

“Oh did you? How come I didn’t see you submit a question or just say hello? I’ve seen your Youtube page so I know your username by heart.”

“Cause I may or may not have also been working on a project. But chose the livestream over the project.”

“Nice going Joe, you’ve turned my cousin into a procrastinator.” Gwil complained.

“Hey at least she has Jurassic Park unlike you Gwilym Lee! Serious shame on you for not owning it! This is why mini-Lee is the coolest out of the two of you.” I snarked out a mock laugh as I stuck my tongue out.

“Ganging up against me okay I see how it is you two.”

“Oh come now cousin dear, we’re just messing around.”

“Messing around? If we’re messing with Gwil then I want a part of it.” Soon another picture came up and there lying on his side was Ben Hardy.

“Benjamin!” Joe screamed joyously.

“Hi Ben.” I sung out.

“Hey (y/n).” he waved at me with a wink. “Now going back to teasing Gwilym.”

“You guys are officially gonna be blocked right after this.” My cousin groaned.  We all laughed when I told him.

“Again cousin, we’re teasing you. So Ben, what brings you here?”

“What can’t I pop in and say hello?” I giggled.

“I see nothing wrong with it. Oh hey get this; I finally got around to watching 6 Underground.”

“And what did you think of it?”

“The first 10 minutes were insane! And truthfully I never really understood Michael Bay films, but this one—definitely my favorite. I loved it Ben, really.”

“Well thank you (n/n). Thank you.”

“Never did I think I needed to see both you and Ryan Reynolds on screen together….”

“Whoa okay easy there (n/n)!” Joe interrupted me.

“Oi you get your mind out of the gutters! And you say it’s the fans that make what you say to the extreme.” I scowled him.

“Trust me, I’ve known him for over 10 years and he still doesn’t grow up.” Another voice stated and soon two more familiar faces popped up on screen, stuck in quarantine together in LA were Rami and Lucy. And then a split second later another face came on the screen, it was none other than Alan Leech.

“Hey, Rami, Lu-lu, Alan!” I cheered.

“Hey (y/n)!” the three of them said as they waved.

“God I feel like I’m getting spoiled, got the entire BoRhap family together for the first time in like—forever.”

“It’s crazy.” Alan said.

“Definitely.” Agreed Rami.

“Maybe when this whole thing blows over we should all get together some time in New York.” Offered Joe.

“I’m down with it.” Ben said.

“Me too.” Lucy agreed with a nod.

“Yeah, (n/n), Ben and I could fly out together.” Said Gwil.

“I’m down with that. Now that I’m done with school, I can do what I want now.”

“So guys now that we’re all here shall we begin?” Lucy said.

“Begin what? Gwil what’s going on?” I asked.

“Well (n/n), when this whole quarantine shutdown and school cancellations started affecting the class of 2020 we all felt bad that you couldn’t graduate the way you hoped you would.” Gwil said before Joe continued.

“So Gwil called all of us up via the Whatsapp chat, as well as our daily zoom calls. To gather us all together on your ‘last day’ of college.”

“To celebrate your own Virtual college graduation party!” Rami cheered.  At that point everyone either threw confetti, blew on graduation blowers, or holding up signs that said CONGRATS 2020 GRADUATE!!!

I covered my mouth with my hands speechless and tried to hold back the tears.

“Ohh you guys.”

“Since you couldn’t have a college graduation party, we figure we’d bring the party to you. See not even this pandemic can stop us from celebrating our Mini-Lee’s ultimate milestone.” Ben said as he set down his congrats sign.

“And also expect some gifts within the next few weeks, depending on how the mailing services do with overseas gifts.” Alan said.

“Aww thanks you guys, you didn’t have to.”

“We know, but we wanted to. Let us spoil you even through this pandemic.” Said Joe.

“Thanks guys, this—really means a lot to me.” I wiped a hidden tear that strayed down the corner of my eye.  They all awed at me that’s when Gwil lifted up a small graduation cake.

“I know, I know this’ll be ridiculous but just humor me will yah?” I smiled and nodded.  He lit up the 2020 candles and held it just high enough for me to see the top part of the candles.

“CONGRATS (Y/N) LEE! CLASS OF 2020!!!” everyone proclaimed at once which made me smile and I blew out towards the screen.  Gwil then blew out the candles for me as everyone else cheered and clapped.

“Thanks so much you guys. Really, you have no idea how much this means to me.”

“We’re happy to do it (y/n). If it makes your day a little bit brighter in these dark times.” Rami said.

“It did Rami, it really did.”

“Well hope we can make this even better cause I’ve also got a part 2 to this little surprise. But in order for that to happen, everyone else has got to go otherwise you won’t really be able to see it as clearly.” Gwil said.

“Aww man.” I whined.

“No worries mini-Lee, your cousin added you to our BoRhap Whatsapp chat and I’ll send you a link to our zoom channel if you ever wanna chat with us again.” Joe said with a wink.

“Thanks Joe. And thanks everyone take care and stay safe.” They all waved and bid me goodbye with waves or blowing kisses at me and one by one they signed off till it was once again just Gwil and I.

All I could see across his bearded face was that cheeky grin he does whenever he’s trying to hide something.

“What are you grinning about?”

“Just the fact that I’ll be the best cousin once you see part 2 of your special surprise.”

“What did you do?”

“If I told you it won’t be a surprise now would it? Now let’s see, god I hope they get it.” He muttered the last part to himself. It took a few minutes till finally another screen popped up and standing there in his room was Adam Lambert.  I fangirled in my seat and covered my mouth trying to contain my squeals.

“Hey girlfriend!” he greeted with a wave.

“Adam oh my god!”

“How’s it going?”

“It’s been going. Finally submitted my last paper. So I’m officially done with school forever.”

“Yaas Queen!” he snapped. “So how’s it feel to be a college graduate?”

“Well it’d be better if we weren’t in the middle of a pandemic.”

“Understandable, but hey you’ve worked hard for this so be proud of yourself no matter what’s going on in the world right now.” I nodded with a shrug. “And to celebrate your graduation, your cousin whipped up another little surprise for you.”

“Oh my god Gwil you didn’t!” I gasped.  He merely raised a brow at me cheekily as he bit his lip back from a smile.

“Hey guys you there?!” Adam called out and soon enough two more screens came on and the picture revealed to be both Brian May and Roger Taylor.  Brian sitting on his couch while Roger looked to be in his basement with his drumkit.

At this point, I had lost my shit.  I was fangirling to the max at this rate but tried to calm down.

“Hi (y/n), congratulations of graduating.” Brian greeted me.

“Major achievement there love. Congrats.” Roger added.

“Oh my god…..Gwil this is—how……”

“I knew you’d love it (n/n). Plus I knew this would cheer you up after our last conversation we had last week. You really needed some cheering up.”

“So guys are we ready to do this?” asked Adam.

“I’m ready to go if you both are.” Said Brian as he took his Red Special and set it on his lap and Roger twirled his drumstick.

“(Y/n), this is for you love. Hopefully when this whole mess is over, you can finally go out there and reach your dream job. Till then we hope you enjoy this.” Roger said.

It was then both Roger and Brian began playing the tune for ‘we are the champions’ but as Adam began singing the song, it turns out that they were actually singing their new song, ‘You are the champions’ dedicated to the first responders worldwide.

But now they were playing it in my honor as a college graduate.  As they continued to play the song, I allowed the tears to flow down my face as I laced my hand over my heart.

God—never did I think that through this pandemic would I be happy.  From having to never see any of my friends I made in college again, to not having my whole family come to the house to celebrate, or going out to party with some of my friends.  But this—right here and now, my cousin made it all up to me all the way from London.

At this point, I knew that I was officially the luckiest person in the world.  All thanks to my favorite cousin, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

[thewritingstar]

When the Night is Still Young

Pairing: Brute x Princess 

Fandom: The Powerpuff Girls

notes: Did I write this because @sxnalien art and couldn’t stop thinking about how good it was? absolutely Plus this ship needs more love and I shall serve. Enjoy :)  

tag list: @shellielyzabeth @over-under-through1 (if you want to be on my tag list I have a post about that.)

---

The wind was light and fair as it rolled through Townsville. It was one of those nights that nothing happened. No monster attacks or a bank being robbed. Rare but peaceful. Unless you were a part of the Morebucks household. No every night was pure bliss as the richest girl in the city and probably the entire country, waltzed towards her room ready to turn in for the night.

Her glass of milk was set on her nightstand that was embezzled with pure gold and hefty sapphires as the handles. She was one of high class and taste so anything under $500 would not cut it. Even the mountain of pillows that laid on her king size bed had more worth than most of the salaries of the kids on the far side of town. Big, flashy, rich. Her taste couldn’t be matched.

She grabbed her novel and slipped into bed where the finest silk sheets of a deep purple hue laid. Even at age 24, she was just as many remembered. Spoiled, chunning, spoiled, rude, spoiled, hot, spoiled, manipulative and of course spoiled rotten.

But when Daddy Morebucks had more money than most, what else were you to expect? In fact her taste proved in every aspect of her life.The food she ate was organic and came from the best chefs around. The clothes were designer and handbags imported from overseas. Her jewels had rare value and she loved nothing more than to show off her money. Even the people she dated were a part of her social level.

She flipped the page of her book as her lamp, that came from Paris and was crafted from stained glass, gave a soft glow. It was quiet and the estate had turned in for the night. The only thing she heard was the soft tapping of the wind.

And then the shuffle of the balcony door lock.

“You’re late.” Princess said as another page was turned. A grumbled came from the window as it closed.

“You’re lucky I'm even here.”

The book was taken out of her hands and she looked up to see the pair of greens eyes. Black eyeliner was caked around them, bringing out the rich color that glowed under the soft light of the lamp.

“Still dressing like a street rat I suppose.” Princess smirked and a dark chuckle came from the other girl.

“You act like you don’t like the chains and spikes. Sugar Plum.” Brute winked as she flashed a grin that showcased her slightly sharpened canines.

Princess pressed her lips together as her cheeks puffed out into a pout knowing she was right. But nonetheless her eyes traveled down. For someone who only wore Louis Vuitton and Gucci, she found out that her soft spot was black crop tops, leather jackets and a spiked collar that made her shiver every time it was worn around Brute's neck.

“Maybe I do. Get over it.” Princess spat as Brute leaned until her nose bumped hers.

“You’re such a little brat ya know?” She said as she took her lips into a bruising kiss.

--

If you would have told Princess that she would one day end up underneath the notorious green powerpunk. She would have laughed and thrown a gold bar at your face. She had only dated men whose wallets were almost as big as hers and just as snotty. Yet not once did she ever feel something more than physical attraction, even then it was slim.

She wanted high class and someone who could stand their own next to her. No one had ever come close to it. The relationships would turn to dust in a matter of months and deep down she wanted to have someone there who appreciated her for more than money, she was human after all.

And that's when she met Brute. One of the galas she had attended was coming to the end and she had decided that the world had seen enough of her for the night. Since it was one of the smaller events, Princess took her own car. Sometimes the limos were too stuffy and she preferred to drive the night with the windows down and her own tune humming.

“Damn these heels.” She groaned as the elevator to the parking garage was now out of order. She pushed open the stairwell and wished she had her jetpack to soar her through the sky. The click of her black stilettos echoed as she climbed the stairs.

The top of the parking garage came into view as she opened the last door and clicked her phone to make sure that whoever didn’t fix that damn elevator would be fired or seriously hurt. The luxury convertible with her signature license plate was on the other side and sometimes she wondered why she did this to herself.

Huffing, she continued in her tall heels not noticing the door behind her opening. In those mere seconds of her pulling out her eyes, she felt an arm wrap around her waist. She let out a yelp before throwing her elbow back and twisting the arm not caring about the snap that came with it. She turned before sending her foot in between the legs of the man who dared to touch her.

“Get the fuck off of me!” She growled before shoving the tip of her heel down next to his face, missing him by a hair.

Her eyes glared down at the man now weeping on the ground. His hands were raised in a shudder as he tried to regain his breath from being thrown to the ground and kicked in the balls. Quickly she leaned down and took a picture of his id before tossing it at his face and spraying him with pepper spray for good measure.

She ignored his scream as she walked away and texted the picture to her personal body guards. “Fucking scum bags.”

Her head was now sprouting a headache and all she wanted to do was get home and be surrounded by her riches. Princess narrowed her eyes as she came closer to her car and noticed a figure leaning against it. Smoke blowing from their lips as the cigarette sat between their fingers.

“Unless you are going to pay for those scratches, beat it!” She spat and pointed her finger.

The cigarette was dropped to the ground with an immature flip and black combat boots came down on it like a bug. The light gave out as she looked up with a dark chuckle, the last of the smoke dissipating into the air and Princess felt the shiver in her spine as she noticed the sinister grin coming from the other woman.

“This little thing?” The woman, she assumed was around her age, trailed her finger along the hood. “I’ve seen better.”

The red head rolled her eyes and looked her up and down. “What do you want Brute?”

Brute tilted her head like a dog getting offered a walk. “Ahh so the queen knows who i am.” She pushed off the car and threw a hand in her pocket. “I’m flattered.”

“It’s not like you keep a low profile. Everyone knows who the Punks are.” She spat. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I am going to leave.” She tried to take a step but Brute blocked her path.

“The night is still young Sugar Plum.” Brute raised her eyebrow and Princess suddenly felt so small against those green eyes.

“Why would I want to spend my valuable time with you?” She asked.

Brute chuckled and shrugged. “Not too sure babe. But I did just watch you kick and spray that poor sucker over there and now I'm intrigued.”

Maybe Princess didn’t notice the blush creeping up on her cheeks but she pushed all thoughts away and scoffed. “He’s a creep and I don’t have time for nonsense. Goodnight.” She pushed past and clicked her car door open.

“Yay know. I wish I were in town to see the old Princess.” Brute said and she paused.

“Old Princess?”

“Yep.” Brute popped the P. “The infamous Princess Morebucks. Doesn’t take shit from anyone and does what she wants. So sad that we are so young and yet you parade around like daddys little golden medal, making sure to please everyone with an image you don’t want to keep.”

“It’s called running a business.” Princess said quickly yet she hated that the other woman was right.

“No need to get defensive, I’m just saying that I thought you were much more wild. Afterall you were a super villain but maybe you’ve been humbled down to a spoiled brat whose only reckless behavior is staying up till one.” Brute smirked before turning on her heel. “See ya later Sugar Plum.”

Brute began to walk. The metal chain belt made a slight rattling as she inched closer and closer towards the stairwell. Princess stood as she looked at her steering wheel then back at the punk. Something inside of her wanted to just drive away, feel the freedom that she used to as a teenager.

She got into the car, seatbelt clashing loudly as if all sound had been turned off around her. Her hands gripped the wheel and her eyes glanced towards the sky where the moon was hardly up.

The engine roared to life and she pulled out of the parking space making her way towards the exit.

“Get in.” She said and the punk turned around with a devious grin. A shutter went through her spine as the door opened and the seat filled in with Brute.

“Alright Sugar Plum, lets see that wild side.” And soon the parking lot was filled with dust as rubber burned through the city's streets.

--

You could hear the music blasting from the street as the pair walked up to the door.

“A club?” Brute asked yet she was impressed with the location.

It was located on the far side of town. The crime rate here had skyrocketed over the years and if you wanted to find a drug paradise, check between the cracks of the sidewalks.

Princess led her to the door. Her ID didn’t need to be checked as they passed the long line and were ushered in quickly. The dim lights only held a sea of bodies grinding against one another while cheap booze flowed in their veins.

The music was terrible and the smell might have been worse but she grabbed the punk's hand and led her to the dance floor without a care in the world. Their hips swayed and soon they had a drink in their hands.

The red head let the alcohol flood her system and soon the music wasn’t as bad as before. She kept her eyes focused on those dazzling greens. She hated the color beforehand. Thought that it was trashy unless it was a crisp hundred bill. But now even with the blazing light, she could see the flecks of the hue taking shape in her iris and wanted to explore it further.

“I never would have pegged you as a club person.” Brute said in her ear as the Princess pressed her back to her chest.

“It's the only place no one cares who you are.” She said as her hand made its way to Brutes cheeks and pulled her into a kiss.

Maybe she let the world of her father's business consume her before her life had even started. Maybe Brute was right. She was Princess Motherfucking Morebucks. The same girl who used to build rockets and lasers just to destoy the puffs and now she was wasting what should be her reckless party years, doing things she would be doing for the rest of her life.

Brute's hands traveled down until she spun the red head around and kissed her again. Princess’s hands wandered to her neck as she tugged slightly at the spiked collar with a large metal loop.

“There's that wild side.” Brute said against her lips as she pulled her impossible closer while the music played. “I like it.”

Princess couldn’t tell what was driving her insane. The third shot of vodka or the way her lips felt like molten lava, a tingling sensation she had never had before but she was craving it like no other. All her past relationships came into her mind.

Man after man, not one could even bring Princess the satsiaction to even smile. They had all been the one thing she hated most, boring. Fake smiles, only there for her last name and to climb the ranks, that all she was. She was a bank vault that many wanted to access and she had begun to just give up the code, but not anymore. She didn’t want boring and she certainly wouldn’t be that.

Brute was far from it. Piercings and tattoos covered her arm, something her father would disaprove of greatly, and yet she didn’t have a care in the world as she just let the music play on.

--

Princess kissed her back, enjoying the way the metal lip pieces felt against her lips. It was electrifying and freeing as Brute kissed her neck. She had been captivated by the punk. The way she doted on her like no man had before. She originally thought she was only here for the money, a big fear she kept to herself but although Brute loved cash, she enjoyed the presence of the spoiled girl more.

“I got you something.” Brute whispered in her ear. A shock wave of pleasure jolted through Princess' heart as Brute reached into her pocket and pulled out a velvet box. “I know how much you love chain babes.”

Princess took the box and opened it. It was a silver chain necklace with a small crown charm.

“But I also know that it's not your thing, so I thought something that would remind you of your royal status would do.” She joked but Princess stared at the small necklace with wide eyes.

It was simple and small, yet she felt tears threaten to spill. Her entire life she had been showered with elegant gifts and priceless treasures. She was accustomed to receiving fine things, because it was expected. Sometimes it was underwhelming to constantly get things that never had an emotional value.

She took the necklace out of the wrapping and put it on. The cool metal graced her skin and she felt her cheeks heat up at the sweet gift. She looked up at Brute who had a soft expression, something she wore rarely.

Princess set the box aside and placed her hand against Brute’s cheek.

“It's not diamonds but it will do.” She playfully teased before kissing Brute.

She felt Brute groan against her lips and soon she was laying on top of her.

“You’re still spoiled as ever.” Brute glared as she ran her fingers through the curly ginger locks. “But I still like it.” She winked “Reminds me of when I first saw you beat up that dude.”

“That was two years ago.” Princess blew on her bangs.

Brutes hand lightly slapped her ass making the redhead bury her face in her neck. “Yeah but it was hot.”

Princess hummed. “Whatever. Thank you by the way.” She said the last part quickly.

“Ooooo did I just hear the queen thank me?” Brute laughed and her hands were then held above her head pressing into the sheets. She looked through hooded eyes up at the redhead pinning her from above.

“I’m not repeating myself.” Princess batted her eyelashes.  “Now, let's go for a ride.”

“Really? At two a.m?” Brute smirked.

Princess practically jumped off her bed before walking to her closet and changing quickly. She reappeared wearing a short black dress and her own pair of combat boots. 

Brute sat up with a smirk and gave a low whistle. 

“The nights still young babe.” She said before grabbing Brutes hands and leading out the door to her private garage. Soon her car roared to life and the windows were rolled down as the drove off into the night. 

--

I hope you enjoyed :) 

shout out to my lovely betas: Lisa, Aves and Cilla :) 

[thewritewolf]

In Due Time Chapter 21: Fireworks

Marinette and Adrien get ready for Alya’s New Year’s Party

@marichatmay

Enjoy!

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Read on Ao3

“Hey, listen up, everybody!” Plagg yelled as he entered the room in front of Adrien. “The kid is going to a party! And no,” the kwami quickly added as a few others tried to ask questions all at once, “it’s not one that rotten ol’ Gabe is making him go to!”

Adrien entered the living room to cheers and applause from all the kwamis under his care. The only thing stopping him from rolling his eyes were his own nerves. Soon, many of them were zooming and swirling around him as he walked through the room, checking and double checking his attire.

“What’s the matter, bucko?” Stompp said, a frown gracing her face. “I’d thought you’d be chompin’ at the bit to go wild outside your papa’s watch.”

“I am, but…” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “The only one I’ve actually hung out with in person has been Marinette. And most of the time, that wasn’t Adrien exactly.”

“Kid, it’s just a mask. I don’t see what the big deal is. Plus,” Plagg said with a teasing grin, “I know you’re looking forward to seeing Tikki’s kid today. Hm…?”

Adrien gently pushed Plagg aside when he leaned close into his face, but Adrien refused to meet his eye. The cat kwami snickered as he floated away. Adrien might like Marinette, but he had no idea if she felt the same way or if he could even afford the luxury of having a girlfriend right now. Necessity had forced romance out of his life a long time ago.

“Besides Marinette,” Adrien said, trying to get back on topic, “I don’t know anyone there. I’m meeting all these people for the first time!” He put a comb through his hair for the third time that night. “What if I just end up lurking next to the food table and being a downer to the rest of them?”

“I’m confused,” Mullo said, scrunching up their nose. “Haven’t you been talking with them using the aether for a while?”

“The device he usssesss is called the internet, Mullo,” Sass corrected gently. “Not the aether.”

“Still. Does the Guardian not already know these other humans?”

“I mean… yes, I suppose,” Adrien conceded. “But-”

“Not buts, kid,” Plagg said definitively. “You’re going to go out there and have a great time instead of slacking here with these guys. Do you understand me?”

“Oooh, the time for another year has already come?” Orikko clucked happily, dancing in midair. “I’m so happy to hear I haven’t missed it!”

“Don’t worry, Orikko, I set an alarm to let you know when midnight hits,” Adrien said as he scratched beside the rooster kwami’s beak.

“Speaking of not worrying, that same thing but to you, kid.” Plagg was tugging at his sleeve. “C’mon, let’s go. Sass has got it handled here.”

Adrien glanced at the snake kwami, who nodded. “Pleassse enjoy yourssself, Massster.”

“Trust yourself!” Mullo said, floating up to Adrien’s face height. “I am sure they will love you just as much as we do!”

“See?” Plagg motioned a paw toward Mullo. “Now come on, I don’t want you to sit here until you give yourself cold feet. And I’m not about to let you pass up the opportunity to hang out with people born in the same geological era as you!”

“You’re right.” Adrien took a deep breath and let himself get a little excited. “Come on, Plagg, let’s go.”

“‘Course I’m right,” Plagg muttered as he flew into Adrien’s coat pocket. “When am I ever not right?”

The sun had already set by the time Adrien had gotten into his car, but there was still plenty of time before the main event of the night. It was a long drive to the part of Paris where Alya lived, long enough to let Adrien think about how time had changed him. Eight years ago he would’ve jumped at the chance to go to a party and make friends.

But having one thing after another ripped out from underneath him had changed his perspective. Being stopped from going to public school. The many parties thrown by coworkers his father had prevented him from seeing. Not to mention all the stuff he’d been forced to bail on because of an akuma attack. Isolation thanks to his family and his duties had done well to keep him from having friends.

But tonight… maybe tonight would be different. The old embers of optimism burned bright inside him, despite what the years had done to extinguish them.

He found a place to park his car and walked up to the apartment. His hands were stuffed into his pockets to ward off the chill and he was still lost in his thoughts by the time he arrived at the front door. His hand touched the door knob at the same time as someone else.

Startled, he looked to see who he had bumped into only to get lost in big, blue eyes.

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

“Marinette, I promise you look fine,” Tikki said patiently as her chosen ran a brush through her hair nervously. Tikki smirked. “I’m sure Adrien will love what you’re wearing.”

Marinette fumbled her brush, dropping it. “Don’t just say that!”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not getting dressed up just for him!”

“Oh?” Tikki said innocently. Far too innocently. “Are you expecting Chat Noir to make an appearance too?”

A blush spread across Marinette’s face as she groaned. “Don’t even joke about that. I don’t know what I’d do if both Adrien and Chat Noir were both at the party.”

“I wouldn’t be too worried about that if I were you,” Tikki said with a knowing smile. She floated off of the desk where she was sitting and toward Marinette. “You know, this might be a good chance to spend some quality time with Adrien, if that’s what you want.”

“To be honest? I don’t know what exactly I want.” Marinette sighed and sat down, smoothing her skirt as she did so. “It’s been a while since I’ve felt this way about someone, so to have it happen with two people almost at the same time…”

“Did you not have any crushes growing up? I’ve heard that’s pretty common for young humans.”

“I mean, some I guess. Definitely nothing that I’ve acted on. And before you ask, yes I have dated. But never anything serious.”

“But you want something serious with one of them?”

“Yes? Maybe? I don’t know,” Marinette said, burying her face in her hands and groaning. “I don’t like to rush into things, but… I haven’t felt a connection like this before.” She waved her hands around. “And now I’ve got two of them!”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out! I’ve had a lot of chosen, but never one as clever as you.” Tikki landed on Marinette’s shoulder. “Why don’t you tell me about your friend’s party? To help get your mind off it.”

“Well…” Marinette said, calming down now that she was switching tracks in her mind. She grabbed her purse, which Tikki rushed into. “Alya got a taste for throwing parties back in university, so they’ve gotten pretty big sometimes. Like the Halloween one where I met Chat - she was selling tickets to that through the Cat Chat.”

Marinette left her apartment, closing the door behind her. She didn’t live that far from Alya’s place, one of many reasons she lived here in the first place. A few minutes of walking and she’d be there.

Tikki frowned. “Are there going to be a lot of people at this one too?”

“No, no,” Marinette said, waving her hand dismissively. “The New Year’s party is usually pretty small. There are usually about ten of us, mostly her and Nino’s friends. It’s nice.”

“So what do you do there?”

Marinette shrugged. “Same thing most people do at parties, I guess. Play games, drink, dance, talk. Although New Year’s is a little special because her apartment has a great view of the fireworks show the city does.”

“Wow! That does sound fun!”

“Right? Anyway, I’m also pretty nervous because Adrien said he’d try to make it. Nino and Alya have been dying to meet him, but…”

“But?”

“Well, they tend to worry too much about me. Which makes me worried that they’ll scare him away by trying to get us together.” She entered the building through the backway, a little shortcut she’d learned over the past couple years.

“Hm…” Tikki hummed, a ghost of a smile at her lips. “That’s definitely a dilemma. Be a shame if they got the two of you to really hit it off with each other.”

“Tikki,” Marinette whined as the door to Alya’s apartment came into view.

“I’m just teasing, Marinette. But still, it wouldn’t be too bad, right?”

Before Marinette could respond, her hand touched the doorknob at the same time someone else’s did. She jumped and was about to apologize when she looked up into bright green eyes.

Both of them stood staring at each other for much longer than Marinette would care to admit. This was the first time they’d seen one another since when they had first met at the fashion show, even if they’d talked plenty of times online.

Eventually, Adrien rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Hey-”

Naturally he was cut off when the door flew open, Alya standing on the other side. Now, Marinette had known her friend long enough to notice the tell-tale signs of being tipsy and right now Alya checked off all those boxes. Clearly either Marinette and Adrien were the last ones to arrive, or Alya had gotten a head start on the night’s festivities.

That likely contributed to how Alya grabbed them both by the arms and practically dragged them inside, although Marinette wouldn’t put it past her to do that even stone cold sober.

“Come on you two, stop standing outside the door like a couple of weirdos,” she said, laughing. She turned her head toward another part of the apartment and raised her voice. “Hey, babe! Your buddy is here! Come on and meet him!”

Nino poked his head from around the corner, where Marinette knew their living room and therefore game consoles were, and saw his face split into a grin when he spotted Adrien.

“DUDE!” He rushed forward and gently punched Adrien’s arm. “I can’t believe I finally get to meet you! Come on, let me show ya around my crib. It might not be what you’re used to, but me casa es tu casa!”

Nino chuckled and threw an arm around a confused Adrien’s shoulders. Adrien glanced back at her and gave her a slightly worried smile and a wave before he disappeared.

“So,” Alya said, dragging Marinette’s attention back to her. She was looking awfully focused despite the handful of drinks Marinette knew she must have already had. “Let’s talk about you and blondie, hm?

Marinette groaned. It was going to be a long party.

[awrldalone]

17th May 2021, 10.47am

I feel like a spinning top. Going round and round, moving everywhere, dizzy like when you spin on yourself and the world begins to shift.

Saturday was full. Mass was peaceful when I could turn off my brain and neglect the alarms that screamed “hypocrisy” at every word. I discovered Pope Francis changed some of the words to the Padre Nostro, and I wonder why he focused on that rather than actual problems within the church.

Afterwards, we had lunch. My aunt - I had not seen her in a little over a year – said I am too skinny. While I was eating. I have always been told I am too fat, obese, overweight, disgusting. Every family function has been a reminder that I need to lose weight, and now that I have, I’m still not good enough.

Besides, I hate it when people acknowledge my body, or the fact that I am eating. It was fish. A lot of fish. Very tasty, might I add, but my favourite part was the cake.

We got home at around 6pm. I changed, made iced tea and risked to stain my white jeans - they used to be my father’s, but I got them fitted to my waist – and finally I left the house. My little cousin came over, since I was headed to Venice. Yesterday it was C.’s birthday, so she invited a few people at her house, to sleep over (but not to celebrate, since she does not want to recognise that she is of age now.)

On the way, I bought a roll of film. A few days ago, I tried taking out the already-shot film but my camera did not roll it up like it should have. It all got exposed to light. Rendered unusable. Undevelopable. It was sad.

I also bought a cake. An overpriced, over-sweet chocolate mousse. I’m not into that kind of stuff, I’d rather eat something lighter, brighter, fruitier. It almost fell on the ground while I was carrying it. It was cold on my lap, on the bus. 

I went to a café-bar near my school, we often go there to study, but in recent times we’ve also got a spritz or two, and I found everyone sitting near the canal. I was late, but I had already told them, so they were already done with whatever they were eating and drinking. 

C.’s house is near the Hospital, I have learnt the way now, despite the fact Venice always feels similar, every little street blends with the other and it is easy to get lost, or not remember where to go even if the destination is known.

We had fun. Some vodka, a soap-tasting Japanese gin with “delicate layers of yuzu lemon, sake, and a hint of cherry blossom flavour”. I hope no one remembers what was said, because I know that what I said are things I ought to have kept to myself. Things I usually never open up about.

There comes a point in the night when you get the urge to smoke. I’m not a smoker, but the idea of a grey cloud and a cigarette seem a thousand times more appealing when you’re drunk. So we went on the tiny balcony where C.’s mother growths flowers, and we smoked and talked about smoke, and feelings. There also comes a point in the night when talking in a foreign language comes natural. French, English, tous les deux. Slurred Italian words, and a bit of dialect. 

I told C. I cut. She told me she does too. I told her to stop. She told me she won’t. I told her I won’t either. I burnt my hand in three places, tiny red spots still linger like bug bites. That girl who kissed me last summer told me she finds me attractive. She said she likes the veins of my arms and I feel like an asshole writing this. 

I almost passed out with my cheek on the toilet seat, trying to purge but unable to think completely straight, more because of how sleepy I was. I threw my body on the bed.

Sunday I woke up okay. Dehydrated, rotten inside, but okay. 

We planned to study Philosophy. Locke, Hume, Kant. So we went out for breakfast, I tried eating a French Toast but it was too sweet. It looked pretty, sometimes I eat food because of its color colorful (for example, red berries; I like reds and greens). 

I could focus on the words of the book, but Cl. and Ca. were revising out loud, which was distracting. I drunk an americano, it tasted very bad, and I started listening to music. I need to get to know new people. I probably was still a little bit drunk, everything was still in my system. 

At two pm I got up from my chair, the wind was getting colder and I wanted to go home. I said goodbye, they said they were going to leave with me, so we walked. Cl. was not feeling her best because she got vaccinated recently, since she’s diabetic. Thinking about vaccines angers me. A British friend of mine always has to rub in the fact he is fully vaccinated, that he does not need to wear masks in school anymore, and all that shit. It makes me feel black with envy.

At home I studied too. I made myself tea, it tastes like the rose perfume my grandma used to use, in a good way. When my sister and my father left, my mother came into my room to talk to me.

And my heart dropped. Shattered. All the pieces scattered on the floor. She said my sister cried, yesterday night, while I was away. Dangerous shards that can cut flesh. She said it’s because I like boys. She said my older cousin told my younger cousin about a stupid TikTok I made, where I joked about liking men, and my younger cousin told my sister. And she cried. 

Was she ashamed? How can a ten-year-old be so crude? Wrong inside? It still hurts that she would feel that way. 

After dinner, I talked to her. I am grown, old enough to face anything. I asked her about it and I explained that I have nothing to be sorry about, nothing to be scared of, nothing to be ashamed of, and so does she not.

I think everything is okay now, but it still hurts. Broken glass stuck to my feet. I would have told my sister, eventually, I just did not want it to be like this. If my cousins step foot into this house again, I might get violent. 

-c.

[bang-and-a-blintz]

Through the Darkness

CHAPTER THREE - RUDA DE SÂNGE

Fandom: Dracula (2020)  

Relationship: Dracula/Roxana(OFC)  

Rating: Mature  

Warnings: None  

Word Count: 3,114

There was an awkward pause that suspended the room in time. Roxana’s brain was running in overdrive and her nerves were completely shot, but she managed to convince her lungs to return to function and smiled. “My name is Roxana von Hels and welcome to Sanguine.”

Dracula couldn’t believe his eyes. Another Van Helsing? The resemblance was unmistakable and suddenly the image of Zoe’s corpse lying in the morning sun flashed in his mind. However, this woman before him was very much alive. Her cherubic features and rosy cheeks were a vast difference from the pale, waifish complexions of the nun and scientist. The lack of sunshine in both Eastern Europe and England probably attributed to that, but even so, this Roxana had a certain glow that was unlike the others. 

He barely caught her words as she continued on about the dishes placed in front of him and his dinner companions. Not that he cared, because it wasn’t like he was actually going to eat any of it. Dracula didn’t even spare a glance at the food, for the sight before him was too delicious and he wasn’t going to miss a single moment.

As she spoke, he could still hear her heart hammering away inside her chest and his lips quirked, it seemed that she knew exactly who he was. Very curious. A million questions flooded his mind and he was ravenous for answers. 

After everything that happened with Agatha and Zoe, he shouldn’t be surprised to find another descendent of that incessant lineage. Was he doomed to run in circles with these women again and again for all of eternity? 

“Now, I hope you all enjoy, my colleague and I will be preparing the other courses in the kitchen. Should you need anything, Angeline will be happy to assist. Bon appétit!” Roxana clapped her hands and made to turn when Dracula’s deep voice stopped her short.

“Um, pardon me, Miss von Hels, might I have a word-?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Balaur, but this is New Orleans,” She cut him off smoothly with a smile, not knowing what gave her a sudden bout of courage but she was going to roll with it, “And dinner precedes conversation. Please enjoy.”

A breath of a laugh escaped Dracula as his head tilted slightly, the words all too familiar to him and before he could speak again, she turned and fled. The mayor, his wife, and the attorney all chuckled boisterously, digging into their meals and sloppily clinking their glasses of wine, the dark red splashing all over. 

Smiling to himself, Dracula knew she couldn’t hide from him forever and he didn’t mind practicing a little patience. After all, the pawn had finally crossed the board and turned into another queen; the game was afoot.

“So, who is Agatha?” Ah yes, he might have forgotten about the woman next to him.

——

“Who the fuck was that?” Al exploded as soon as the two were out of hearing range, but Roxana could not be bothered with her friend at the moment. Her fingers dug into her hair and nearly ripped handfuls out as she tugged on the strands helplessly. 

This couldn’t be happening. It shouldn’t. But she had known that someday it might. Her grandmother always warned her that he would find her, but Roxana had been skeptical after hearing those folk tales all her life. It’s not like she actually believed any of the bayou voodoo hoopla! Who in their right mind would?

But she could still hear her grandmother’s voice telling her, “Someday when you’re grown, my sweet baby girl, that dirty rotten heathen will find you just like he found your ancestors. He will come in the night. He will try to steal your blood and your soul, but you must never ever give in, you hear me? That nasty vampire ain’t never going to get my grandbaby, no sir, Dracula better steer clear.”

The tales were one thing, as a child growing up around cajun folklore stories, something as laughable as a vampire was just that. A joke. Albeit a pretty fucked up joke, if Roxana was being perfectly honest with herself. But of course, to her misfortune, those myths became reality when two men in suits from the Harker Foundation came knocking on her door. 

As a precaution, they wanted to inform the youngest Van Helsing after certain recent events that involved her not-so-distant relative. They showed her footage of the night he emerged from the ocean outside of London, they showed her the footage of him at the foundation, they showed her photos of his victims strung across London, and they showed her just one image of what looked like herself sprawled out on a table in a pool of blood and a gaping hole in her neck. The last photo was Zoe Van Helsing, as Roxana came to learn, and she was left for the Foundation to find after Dracula vanished. She was very much dead.

All of a sudden it was very, very real. Vampires existed. Supernatural creatures wandered the world and feasted on humans to survive. The world was abruptly tilted and Roxana did not know what to do with this information. Neurons fired far more rapidly than her brain could keep up and she battled the urge to vomit all over their fancy suits.

They assured her that Dracula had no idea who she was or where she lived, that the whole debriefing was purely preliminary, but if she did come in contact with him then she should contact them immediately. They gave her a business card and walked back out of her life. 

As if they hadn’t ripped the metaphorical rug from right under her feet and then just fucked off leaving her with nothing but a small, disappointing rectangle to fight these newfound demons. 

Hands grabbing her shoulders and giving her an almost violent shake brought her back to Earth and she realized where she was. His eyes were nearly bugging out of his head, “Yo what is your problem right now? You look like someone told you they was bout to set a scorpion loose in your snatch, girl, you freaking me the fuck out!”

“Sorry, I’m sorry, shit.” Roxana sighed and went over to the bar to pull the bottle of Jameson off the shelf. “It’s nothing, I’m fine, just let’s forget about it and finish this dinner.”

He gaped in disbelief as she threw back a shot and walked back to the grill like nothing happened, “Nothing?! Yeah, okay, and I’m Pope John Paul. First off, Mr. Dark and Stormy straight eye-fucking you back there should have been illegal. Secondly, I haven’t seen you take a shot of jamo in three years - you know why? Because we almost died that night you took me out to the levee and we chugged a bottle and you broke your foot and you vowed never to drink that devil’s juice ever again. That’s how I know you a lying ass hoe!”

She took a deep breath to calm herself and looked back over to her friend with a sincere expression, “Please, Al, let this one go. I cannot and will not explain to you why I acted that way in there and I really need you to just trust me on this.”

Al looked at her for a moment, gaging the severity in her gaze, he’d never seen her so shaken. He did trust her though and when he finally acquiesced, her shoulders sagged in relief. “Well, alright, fine. If you say so.”

“Thank you.” Roxana meant it. The less Al knew about the vampire sitting out in their dining room, the better.

——

Dracula’s gaze slid over to the beauty seated to his left, it lingered on the curve of her neck and he felt slightly disappointed to hear the lack of a pulse. He had easily changed the subject from his misstep of calling their host by the wrong name, to a discussion of the future, specifically their future. 

He had met Keres at a gala months before, she had lured him with her beauty and they both were pleasantly surprised when they each tried to take bites out of each other’s neck. This was a first for Dracula as he had never met anyone else like him; sure he had plenty of failed creations under his belt and he knew of all the unresting souls trapped in their tombs, but never had he seen someone who wasn’t…feral. But apparently, it was a thing. Who would’ve thought?

She was around two centuries old from a small village in Italy, Keres had told him, after years passed by and she had not aged, the townsfolk took to action and chased her away with the classic torches and pitchforks method. Eventually her travels took her to the new world, starting in Massachusetts and making her way down South after the witch hunts started getting a bit too tense for her tastes. Like Dracula, she found a certain comfort, so to speak, in the city of New Orleans…it was a circus and she loved being the star of the freak show. 

As it turned out, the supernatural scene in The Big Easy was actually quite lively and she spent years thoroughly integrating herself into the culture. Time passed on and she started an organization to maintain a sort of order amongst the undead, lest they drink their fill and wipe out the entire population. Rules were set in place and those who failed to comply faced the consequences. 

This was the topic of discussion for the evening. The mayor had a tedious relationship with the supernatural order and so he orchestrated this dinner party as a truce between kinds. He was trying desperately to maintain control of his city, but unfortunately he was unaware that it was no longer his. Keres just allowed him to maintain the illusion.

Dracula took a sip from the glass of blood before him. it was an appreciated effort from Keres to provide them both with a tangy forty-five businessman; quite the fitting vintage for this particular meeting. The attorney was discussing the necessities of making sure the bodies stay down, which was the vampires’ responsibility, and as a rebuttal, Dracula pointed out the nearness of the Mississippi River. 

“Now, Mr. Balaur,” The man in the periwinkle suit smiled like a sleaze, “We can’t have these…animated bodies start floating up in the gulf or elsewhere. This is the twenty-first century and everyone’s been tagged up and geo-located in some way. They can be tracked back here very easily.”

The Count gave a resigned sigh and waved a hand absently, “Fine, fine, the river will be for emergencies only.”

The lawyer sputtered on his drink and Mayor Kendell laughed nervously, not completely sure if Dracula was joking or not. “Good fun, yes, good fun. Now we can agree that the locals are strictly off-limits -”

Dracula couldn’t help his incredulous laugh and Keres shot him a dark look in warning, but he waved her off as well, “What would you have us do, hm? Kindly check their identification before we sink our teeth in, I mean honestly, who has the time for that? It’s ridiculous.”

The mayor’s wife surprisingly nodded along with him and when her husband side-eyed her, she shrugged, “He’s got a point, you know.”

Keres swiftly cut in, her tone left no room for arguments and her eyes leveled the nervous humans. “What we will agree on, Mayor Kendell, is the policy of consent-only or the pre-deposited blood from donors. I have already procured documents of concurrence from the hospitals after a few generous donations from my organization.  Any creature of the supernatural shall have to accept these terms to live in our city, if not they will face exile or the stake. Do we have an accord?” 

The mayor’s face turned almost purple as he struggled to formulate any sort of counterargument. Clearly, he had never been spoken to like that, much less by a woman. His wife sat back with a small smirk on her face and took another generous swig of her gin and tonic. Clearly, she was loving this, and strangely not at all perturbed by the conversation’s subject.

“If I may,” Dracula interjected, dragging his nail around the rim of his glass, “It has been brought to my attention that various members of your esteemed society, Mr. Mayor, have proclivities towards the, oh shall we say, younger generation.”

The tension in the room thickened. Keres’ perfectly-plucked brow rose slightly as this was news to her.

He put his hands up defensively, “Now, I could care less what dirty deeds you aristocrats get yourselves into, and trust me, I have quite the record on just how depraved you people really are. However,” The sound of his clap made the men jump in their seats, “I think that we can come to an agreement here. It would be such a shame if this information fell into the wrong hands, don’t you think?”

At that moment, the kitchen doors swung open again to reveal Roxana and Al carting in the rest of the meal. Dessert could not have come sooner, Dracula mused and downed the rest of his glass, his eyes once more trained only on her.

———

When they walked back in, Roxana was unsurprised to see the dish in front of Dracula hadn’t been touched, but what made her weary was the fact that the same could be said for the woman to his left. Well, that and their matching red-tinged glasses clearly did not have the same consistency as wine. 

“How is everything so far?” 

It was quiet for a beat until the mayor’s wife elbowed him in the side sharply and he coughed, “Very tasty, Miss von Hels, as always. Yes, yes, your filet was superb!”

She didn’t serve them a filet but she figured he was a little preoccupied with dining with vampires to pay attention anyways. Surely he knew what they were.

Still, Roxana smiled brightly, “I’m so pleased to hear, sir. For dessert we have our buttered, brown-sugar bananas flambeaux with a dark rum and a cinnamon vanilla ice cream to top it all off.”

Angeline swiftly gathered the dirty dishes, blushing when Dracula sent a wink her way and disappeared just as quickly back to the kitchens. A timid little thing, he thought detachedly, like a fawn running scared in the woods.

With a whoosh, flames erupted from the pan in Roxana’s hand and took his attention once again. Her brow furrowed, pinching her face in stern concentration as she skillfully flicked her wrist and the contents suspended in the air before snapping back into the pan. The fire rose higher for a moment longer and reflected back at her from the darkness of his eyes, before dissipating into smoke. 

The mayor’s wife ooh’d and aah’d and clapped happily at the performance; four empty glasses were spread out in front of her on the table as a testimony for her belligerence. “Encore!”

Al dished everything out and returned the cart to the back, leaving Roxana so he could begin breaking down the kitchen. No one, except the drunk woman, touched their dessert. Instead, the mayor cleared his throat and looked over to Dracula, “I will agree to your terms, on the condition that we must have a summit dinner with the rest of the order. To break bread, so to speak.”

Roxana’s brow scrunched up again, but this time in confusion. What on Earth were they talking about? The elder vampire smiled almost whimsically at her disorientation. 

Keres noticed how Dracula could not take his eyes off the chef, he seemed to not be able to focus on anything else in the room when she was present, and it was quite intriguing. “That sounds wonderful, Mr. Kendell, might I suggest using the same venue. This is, after all, such a quaint establishment.”

“Wait. What, now?”

“And I would like Mr. Balaur to oversee this event.” Keres nodded decisively and drank the last sip left in her glass, giving Roxana look that said I dare you to oppose.

Dracula grinned devilishly, “I would be delighted!”

“It is settled then. Mr. Kendell, if you’d like to coordinate your guest list with him, please do so when you are ready, and we shall reconvene at a later date. If that is all, I will take my leave.” Her no-nonsense voice left absolutely zero room for discussion and Keres elegantly strutted out of the building. The mayor looked green. He was next to shuffle out the door with his stumbling and giggling wife in tow. The attorney downed the rest of his whiskey and avoided his eyes, making for the exit as well.

“And then there were two.” Dracula’s tone was playful and his eyes were alight with mischief as he poured another glass for himself and licked his lips. He relished the way her heartbeat picked right back up again.

“Look,” Roxana began, giving him a stern look that just tickled him, “I know there are things we need to talk about…but first I need to send my employees home and clean up. I refuse to let them be caught up in whatever this is and I will not have a dirty kitchen.”

In the blink of an eye, he was right up in her personal space and had his hand around her neck. The man towered over her and tilted her head up to look directly into his dark eyes, “And why should I wait?”

He felt her gulp underneath his palm and his teeth habitually elongated, her heart thundered viciously within her chest as she tried desperately to control her breathing.

“Because you’re just as curious as I am, Count Dracula,” she placed her hand on his wrist, “And if you wanted to kill me, you would have done so already.”

 “Perhaps I enjoy playing with my food first.” There was a beat and then he sighed, releasing her. She took a step back immediately and he bent his head towards her, not letting her put too much distance between them. “Don’t take too long, Roxana, we have much to discuss.”

taglist:

@moony691​ @vissidarte213​ @festering-queen​

[blancheludis]

Tagging: @tokky231

Fandom: Marvel, Avengers Characters: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers, James Rhodes, Pepper Potts, Bruce Barton, Steve Rogers Chapters: 30/?, Words: 166.584

Summary: Tony meets his soulmate under the worst possible circumstances. It is not just a kidnapping gone wrong. It turns out Steve and his gang picked him on purpose and they want some personal revenge. If only he had managed to say the words written on his soulmate’s arm before they threw him back out into the streets.

—

They have a table in the back of the restaurant where fewer people can watch them. With everything that is happening at Stark Industries, the press is hounding Tony more than ever. If he had not thought that a public setting would help Steve and him relax, he would not have ventured out of the tower at all. Being in an open space where someone could be listening in does wonders to one’s countenance, and while Tony does not think they are going to start an outright argument during dinner, it is better to be prepared.

Also, Rhodey would not have stopped hovering had they stayed in the penthouse. He might have even found an excuse to call Pepper up, and then they would not have had an opportunity to talk at all.

Tony knows the owner of the restaurant. They should be safe here. The rest is up to them. That does not make him any less nervous.

The first moment of confusion happened right in front of the restaurant when they both tried to let the other go through the door first. That just worsened the awkward tension between them.

Now they are seated, neither of them ordered any alcohol to go with dinner, and are waiting for their food while working through a conversation.

Steve is talking about some exhibition at the MoMA, which Tony finds interesting right up to the point where he realizes that, at some point during this entire mess of Tony’s life falling apart, Steve took the time to go to a museum. It might have been before they snatched Tony off the street, of course. He is not petty enough to ask, but it does leave a bitter taste in his mouth while he listens.

On unspoken agreement, they have decided to leave all discussion about their future for later, at least until after the main course. Tony is already not very hungry, but the food here deserves some consideration at least.

“Why didn’t you become an artist?” Tony asks when Steve begins to trail off, obviously fishing for something else to say. Up until now, Tony has not made it easy on him. Keeping a conversation alive when one party mostly just listens passively is always hard.

And Tony wants to make to most of this evening. He has Bruce and Thor’s story in his head, who first got to know each other before they made any kind of decision. Playing the long game might be a bit too much for him, but that does not mean he needs to brush Steve off either.

“I tried,” Steve says, a hint of red creeping up his neck that Tony sees even in the dim restaurant lights. “Turns out nobody wants to give an artist without a degree any work that’s enough to pay the bills. And I didn’t have the money for college.”

He looks as if he expects Tony to laugh at him. Money has never been a problem for Tony. People have described him as over-indulgent and wasteful. He has too many fast cars. Every house of his that he has spent longer than a week in has a state-of-the-art lab. He always looks meticulous when stepping out the door. And he used to throw the wildest parties, no expenses spared.

The thing is, Tony needs money to fund his projects, and life is so much easier when he does not have to count bills. He likes to think that he could do without all those zeroes in his bank account. But he never had to try, so he can hardly offer his perspective on Steve’s situation.

“So you enlisted to get the Army help with tuition?” Tony asks, careful to keep his tone neutral.

He does not think less of Steve because he did not grow up with money – he has real reasons for the distrust between them - but he realizes that any reaction of his could be seen as unfavourable.

Steve hums in response and picks at his pasta. “Didn’t work out too well.”

“Why?”

It looks like Steve would prefer to change the topic, but this is important. At some point, he decided to stop being an artist and found a mob instead. If they want to go anywhere from here, Tony needs to know whether Steve has just been waiting for an opportunity to abandon the boring day-life as an artist – or anything else really that does not involve crime. In his opinion, people do not just go from painting pictures to chasing criminals instead.

“I started college,” Steve says but trails off, staring at his plate until he drags his eyes up. His lips twist into something too bitter to be a smile. “Bucky did not do well after we came home from our last tour.”

The way Tony sees it, Barnes is not doing so well now either, but he wisely does not say that out loud. He does not need to start another argument right now.

“So you gave up your chance to study art for him,” Tony says, nods his understanding. If needed, he would do a lot more than that for Rhodey. If Rhodey had not been so adamant that Stark Industries is Tony’s, Tony might have never followed Obadiah’s call back.

“Yes,” Steve answers simply and waits. He must see the thoughts racing in Tony’s face.

And Tony, fork hovering in the air over his plate, looks at Steve. “Just like you betrayed your alleged morals when you let him and Barton beat me up in the hopes of him getting some peace of mind back.”

This time, Steve hesitates for a moment, his expression utterly defeated, but he does not deny it. “Yes.”

Tony exhales slowly. He is not sure he is allowed to be upset when Steve is being honest with him. “Did he at least feel better?” Tony asks with some urgency, unsure why it is important. That does not make his ribs heal faster or softens his memories. “Before he knew I wasn’t the one he wanted?”

They both know the answer. It is written all over Steve’s face, just like Tony could read it in the crooked letters of Barnes’ postcard.

“No.”

It does not feel like a relief but a knot loosens in Tony’s chest. He will not ask about Barton since he is sure the answer will not be in his favour.

“Great,” he sighs, resolutely tucking his fork back into his food. “Glad we could clear that up.”

Across from him, Steve does not move but keeps watching him with that careful expression, almost waiting for judgement.

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Steve says, sounding dejected in a way that just spikes Tony’s irritation.

“That’s not where I was going with that,” he says, more harshly than intended.

Apologies will not get them anywhere. They are already beyond words, and Steve’s face says it all. Looking back, the sheer panic and fear that Tony felt through the bond in the warehouse told their own story too. This is not just about being sorry and making up for their mistakes anymore. Somehow, they have gotten invested in each other. The mere thought is scary.

“I still am,” Steve says and, this time, Tony just accepts it with a nod of his head.

They both have a cluster of one-sided information about each other, painting them as villains. It will not be easy to pick out the good parts in between all of that. To see the person beneath all of that.

For a few minutes, they eat in silence, while Tony is second-guessing his reason for being here. He sneaks in glances at Steve and pretends not to notice when Steve does the same. Going out with someone has not felt this awkward in years. Usually, he knows very well what he wants and what the other person wants from him. With Steve, he is at a complete loss. It is not even a battle between head and heart anymore. His feelings are all over the place and he cannot begin to make sense of them.

“Your USB drive,” Steve speaks up when the silence becomes too much. “There were a lot of great ideas on there. A lot of things that weren’t weapons either. Why didn’t you pursue them?”

“Because my board of directors said no.” Tony laughs, still bitter about the fact that Obadiah held his entire life in hands with no intention of giving him any leeway. “My name might be on the side of the building but I can’t just make all the decisions on my own.”

His problems from before appear insignificant compared to the mess of dealing with his godfather. How often has he heard the word no and countless of reasons why his ideas were not feasible? He knew he could have done it and made them all richer in the process as well as doing something good for the world. If only he had not listened to Obadiah.

“You shut down the weapon manufacturing,” Steve remarks, appearing genuinely curious about why he could do that but not market one of the many projects he has already planned out.

Tony takes a bite of his food and chews it slowly, giving himself some time to answer. “And that’s a giant clusterfuck we’re not even close yet to figuring out,” he finally says. He managed to anger just about every investor and contractor they have, which makes rising up out of their own ashes unsurprisingly difficult. “Not without firing people, which I absolutely refuse to do. They’re not at fault that Obie abused the company as his personal piggy bank.”

Right now, his board is just interested in saving their own hides. Now that Obadiah is gone, Tony will have to watch them closely anyway. Everybody who knew what was happening or even aided with the dealing will have to go. Without Pepper, Stark Industries would already be nothing more than a rotten wreck, completely unsalvageable.

“But why go into weapon design in the first place?” Steve asks, still without accusation, although Tony feels like there should be some. All of this could have been avoided if Tony was not such a pushover. “You studied robotic engineering, right?”

How careless his MIT time had been, how happy. At least until Howard died and Tony went completely off the rails.

“Amongst other things, yes,” he answers, keeping his tone even. “My Dad never approved. After he died, I wasn’t going to touch the company at all. Obie got me back into the fold.” He shrugs as if the mere mention of his godfather has him not wanting to curl up and hide from the world – and to check his hands for the blood he washed off but will never be able to unsee. “At that point, it was easier to just do what he thought best. I didn’t want to lose anybody else.”

More than that, he did not care. Stark Industries still was mostly his father’s company then. Obadiah first asked for a few designs, then for some appearances where the press could see them. He did not just come out and ask Tony to come back but pulled him slowly back in until Tony was so entangled with the company again that there was nothing else to do but make it official.

In one way or another, Tony has always allowed himself to be a pawn of other people. He is done with that. Done with letting anyone else decide where he is going and what he is doing.

Silence engulfs them as they finish their meals. Sooner than Tony would like, his plate is empty. With exaggerated care, he puts down his cutlery and takes a sip of water. Only when he is done does he look up at Steve.

Compared to the past weeks, the bond has calmed down. It is vibrating with worry, but nothing so loud that he cannot concentrate on his own thoughts. Making sense of those thoughts is a completely different problem, however. Every time their eyes meet, it gets worse.

“What’s going on, Tony?” Steve asks, his expression tighter than it has been all evening.

And Tony gulps around the sudden tightness in his throat. He wants to look away but he owes it to Steve to not hide from this. “I’m not sure this is going to work.”

He watches Steve’s eyes narrow in confusion before they are blown wide. “What?” he asks, voice raspy. “Us?” Then he shrugs, bashful more than dejected. “I didn’t think it was an option.”

That is not the complete truth. Tony knows that even without the bond flashing warnings at him. Steve wants more. As it appears, he has at least learned to recognize reality for what it is, though.

“It’s not. Not like this. But you –” Tony interrupts himself, searching for the right words. He did not ask Steve here just to put him down but to find out what is best for them. “You’re not a completely bad guy. And I thought the intensity of the soul bond would lessen, but –” He trails off, certain that Steve is as aware as he is of the constant burning of their arms and twisting of their emotions.

“It doesn’t. I thought that was just me,” Steve says, nodding as he glances down at his arm. Almost as an afterthought, he adds, “There is medication for that.”

The words wash over Tony like a bucket of ice water has been upended over his head. It appears like Steve has been one step ahead of him all this time, already looking for ways out. He is sure that should not make him feel as irritated as it does.

“I’m not going to take drugs because my tattoo is tingling.” Tony snaps. The medication has side effects, which is partly wanted because rejecting one’s soulmate is not the natural course of things. He cannot afford to take anything that slows down his thinking.

A much smaller part of Tony is also aware that, all of a sudden, Steve is so willing to give up. It would make things easier on the both of them if they did not fight each other, but all this time Steve refused to leave and now he wants to take the easy way out?

“It’s more than that, though. At least to me,” Steve says, putting his hand over where Tony’s words sit on his arm. “Perhaps it needs more time.”

Of course, it is more than tingling. It is an invasion of their thoughts and emotions. It is a pull towards another person they do not really know, who might not good for them.

“Perhaps,” Tony echoes tonelessly. Bruce told him the sensation would fade. They can deal with this for a few months, surely.

His tone must have been off enough for Steve to perk up, watching him with new interest. Almost as if he knows that Tony is not as glad for that simple solution to get rid of Steve as he pretends to be.

“But?” he asks, waiting patiently for Tony to get his footing.

Tony should just shrug it off and tell Steve there are no buts. That might be better for everybody involved. He does not like giving up, though. At some point over the past weeks, he has gone from being afraid of Steve to seeing him as an ally to clinging to him when he was emotionally vulnerable. Things are not as simple anymore as saying that Steve wronged him and now they are doomed forever.

“You helped me with Obie,” Tony says slowly, measuring each of the words. “You saved my life.”

He stops speaking abruptly when he notices that Steve’s face has closed off completely.

“So you asked me to dinner because you think you owe me?” Steve asks, sounding offended. He is leaning slightly away from Tony as if he needs to distance himself from the very idea.

Within a span of seconds, everything has gone wrong again. Tony should have kept his mouth shut and agreed that the pills would solve their problem just fine. Instead, they are facing off again, and he has somehow offended Steve by trying to say his opinion of him has changed.

“No,” Tony replies dryly, not bothering to hide the bitterness in his tone. “Ask anyone, I’m the selfish type.”

Steve winces but it is too late. “You’re not –” he tries to say, but Tony shakes his head.

He does not even know anymore what they are doing here. Are they trying to work something out how they can stay in each other’s lives? Or are they looking for the best way out?

“Stop that,” he says, colder than he intended. “You don’t know me. I don’t know you. That’s the thing. All we know is the negative things.”

The weapons and the kidnapping and the stubbornness. Neither of them will come out of this smelling like roses.

“I know –”

“Let me make my point,” Tony snaps, cutting Steve off again. “You’re not responsible for Barnes and Barton beating me up. Yes, they might not have done it if you hadn’t given your okay, but it’s equally likely that they would have. Just later. Also, then I might have never found out about Stane selling my weapons.” He takes a shuddering breath, trying to sort through his thoughts. “I’m not saying I’m okay with what happened. You’re still a mob boss, and I’m not going to let you drag me into that, but maybe we should –”

“No,” Steve says suddenly and Tony falls silent immediately, caught off guard by the vehemence in Steve’s voice. “I can’t give up the Avengers.”

Tony’s expression tightens, even while he exhales with some relief. This is it then. His solution served to him on a silver platter.

He is not afraid of the Avengers anymore, although he would not want to be left alone with Barton. They are efficient and they may have done some good in the world. He has just learned that good intentions do not weigh out bad results. For years, Tony has built weapons, and while he knew they were used to hurt and kill people, he was convinced he was doing it for the good of his country, his people. Instead, they had just taken lives on all sides. Good or bad do not matter in that equation.

He does not see much of a difference where the Avengers are concerned. They have made themselves into weapons and they have hurt innocents just like Tony did. Perhaps just as unwittingly but it happened. If they are not going to change anything, if Steve is not even willing to take a step back and think about what happened, they are done.

“That makes it really easy then,” Tony says, slipping into a formal tone. Years of practice allow him to hide his feelings, although he is certain the burning through the soul bond betray that he is upset. “Thank you for meeting me. I wish you a good life.”

He is already in the process of getting up when Steve reaches out to him. His hand falls short of actually touching Tony, but it makes him stay where he is anyway. He is not going to ignore the plea written all over Steve’s face. Not while he is yearning for another kind of resolution of this himself.

“Tony.” Steve’s lips form Tony’s name with more care than he is used to, like it is something precious. “You can’t make me choose.”

The Avengers as they are now is not something Tony can allow into his life. Not while he is still caught in this mess.

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Tony says, although he just wanted Steve to consider changing things. “I know you think you’re fighting the good fight, that it doesn’t matter that you’re hurting people as long as they’re the bad guys, whatever that means. But it’s not okay. You’re no better than them.”

He takes no satisfaction when Steve flinches, looking at him with wide eyes.

“That’s not true.”

That denial just there is why they will have a problem with each other. Tony might not be responsible for what Obadiah did, but he feels like it. He feels responsible for every misplaced bullet, every wound, every death. Steve, on the other hand, is too practised at pushing all blame away and marching forward no matter what happens.

“Tell me, Steve,” Tony says, leaning forward. He wants to get this over with. “You have a Stark gun, right? Yet, no gun is registered in your name. Where did you get it? Did you steal it? Did you buy it on the black market, meaning you aided the very shady business you hated me for?” He shakes his head, openly showing his disappointment. “Your morality doesn’t add up. You’re not even in the grey area anymore, you’re just changing what’s right and what’s wrong based on what you currently need.”

His arm is burning, and Tony is not even sure anymore whether that comes from Steve or whether his own anger is taking over. It was ridiculous to think that they could just sit down and talk things through. That they could come to some kind of solution in one evening, talking about art and ignoring the bigger issues looming over them.

Steve is staring down at the table, biting his lip so hard that Tony expects to see blood any second now. When it becomes obvious that he is not going to say anything, Tony clears his throat and waits until Steve looks up.

“I don’t think you’re a bad guy, Steve,” he says, making his voice as gentle as he dares without making it seem like he is taking back what he said before. "But I’m not going to be your friend, much less anything more while you’re running a mob.”

A noise breaks out of Steve that is half laughter and half frustrated groan. He looks more alive than he did during the entirety of dinner, although in a non-flattering way.

“So what,” Steve asks, the words as clear as they are ugly, “you want me to abandon my friends on the off chance that you’ll stick around?”

That is the crux, Tony can admit that. He knows he will not start anything with Steve while he goes around doing his shady business. At the same time, he is not sure he can guarantee more even if Steve agreed to change. Everything is messed up and tangled inside his head. More than anything, they need to get to know each other, but that is not going to happen while Steve is someone Tony does not want to know.

“You don’t have to stop being friends,” Tony argues, knowing how uncompromising he sounds. “I would obviously prefer if the Avengers got some official, legal work, but you’re my soulmate, not any of them.”

He sees they are getting nowhere, not while they are both upset and lost.

“I don’t –” Steve tries to say, but Tony cuts him off.

“Go home, Steve,” he says, softening his expression and tone. “I don’t expect you to make a decision right here, but those are my terms. If you want me in your life, in whatever capacity we’d manage with time, you can’t have the Avengers in tow.”

Looking at Steve, he does not see any admission there, anything but the chaos of grief and howling sense of injustice echoed by the bond.

“I know what my answer will be,” Steve says, voice as tight as his face, withdrawing further from Tony with every breath.

Tony smiles. He can see that this throws Steve, but he simply nods. “Well, at least you’re dedicated.”

That is not a consolation. He knows the Avengers are important to Steve. He knows what he is asking.

He gets to his feet and reaches for a jacket, letting his eyes roam over Steve again. This might be the last opportunity he has.

“Tony –” Steve tries but trails off, sounding helpless even while he is unwilling to concede his point.

“Good night, Steve,” Tony says, wondering whether the tightness in his chest comes from the bond or whether that rejection is real. “You have my number if something important comes up.”

He is not even sure what he means with that. Is he going to wait for Steve to change his mind? Does he offer his assistance if Steve is ever in danger?

His thoughts are going too fast, fighting against the panicked current of emotions filtering through the bond, to make sense of it. With a last look at Steve, taking in his dejection and the way his shoulders slump, Tony leaves. Head held high and steps measured, he walks out of the restaurant, pushing some bills into a clueless waiter’s hands. All the way to the door, he can feel Steve’s eyes in his back, like a weight settling on him.

It is impossible to say whether he has just made the right decision. Cutting Steve out of his life is certainly not a bad thing, considering their history. He left him a backdoor, though. More than that, really.

It is perhaps unfair to ask Steve to give up the team he built without making concessions that things will work out with Tony if he does. Especially after said team saved his life. That is the best he can do, however. He sees the mistakes he made and he is striving to do better. Is it not his right to ask Steve to do the same?

[cinning-at-midnight]

Lust, Trust, Ashes and Dust (Finale)

~~~Part Three~~~

The next time I woke, it was morning. The sun had risen but not for long; its rays were still hidden behind the trees beyond the palace walls. I rolled over, wrapping myself in a blanket. From behind me, I heard a chuckle. 

"Good morning," Byron said, smiling at me. I looked at him and cleared my dry throat. "'Morning." His palm cupped my cheek, and I leaned into it. "I can't wait to wake up to this every day," I admitted. 

He looked at the wall across from the bed and I immediately wished I could have taken my words back. "Byron," I said, "I'm sorry." I took his hand in both of mine, "You know I don't love Louis-- I will leave him, but think of the politics--" Byron held up his free hand, gesturing for me to stop. "I know," he responded. "I just hope that we have a beautiful bond between our nations growing inside of your womb as we speak." 

I blushed slightly, "I don't think it happens quite like that." Byron wrapped me in his arms and pressed me to his chest, "I don't know-- I have a feeling your womb has never had the pleasure of meeting pure grade Wagner sperm." I laughed and pushed against his chest, but his grip was firm and I dug my face in his rib cage to stifle the sound. 

Just then, a knock was at the door. "M'lady, King Byron?" It was Nico, coming to see if we needed breakfast. "Come in," Byron replied, tucking me into the blanket on top of him. When Nico entered, he averted his eyes from the lovers snuggled on the bed. 

"It's all right, Nico," Byron said. "We're covered up." As he said that, I got a naughty idea. Beneath the covers, I reached for the top seam of Byron's boxers and began stroking his member slowly. Without a word, Byron opened his legs slightly wider for ease of access. Then, Nico took our breakfast order.

"So, that's a coffee with light creamer for Byron, a creamer with light coffee for M'lady," Nico said, with a little laugh. "Eggs, toast and jam, and a side of bacon for each of you?" By this time, Byron was keeping a tight lid on his facial features as his hard dick was being teased by my fingers. "Yes, that's right," I replied, kindly. "Thank you, Nico." 

Nico left Byron and I so that our food could be made. Once he had gone, I submerged myself under the covers. "Why, King Byron!" I gasped, "You're really so excited this morning?" He uncovered my head, revealing my devilish grin. "You rotten vixen," he scolded me with a twinkle in his eye. 

With expertise, I lapped at his cock in all of his most sensitive areas. Repeatedly, I looked up at him in the eye so he could see how much I loved sucking his dick. Byron moved my fallen hairs behind my ear, and watched me in awe. 

When he thought I was nearly ready to finish him off, I sunk down lower so that I could tease him with his balls. Byron bit his inner cheek as I carefully licked and sucked on his balls. Again, I looked up at him, and saw that he was fully enjoying the view. Behind me, my ass was raised high into the air. Before me, my breasts were resting below his ball sack, giving him a n ideal view of my cleavage. 

"God damn you, temptress." He threw his head back and covered his eyes with his forearm. I giggled at his sweet torment. "Byron," I called his attention to me sweetly. He looked at me, with a glazed expression. "You promised that I would taste you," I reminded him. "Will you give me a taste?" 

Byron groaned, unable to vocalize his need to orgasm. I pouted, "Louis cums for me." That lit a spark in Byron's eye, and an unseen force of anger spread briefly across his face. I watched as he quickly grabbed my hair, and began fucking my mouth with his dick. 

It took a second, but I caught onto his rhythm and took over so that I was once again in charge. Byron kept a grip on my hair, "Oh yeah, take it all, Baby." I moaned with my mouth full of cock, as heat rose within me. "Suck me like you'd never suck Howard." My lips and tongue moved furiously, savoring every solid inch. 

"I'm almost there, Baby." Byron told me, taking the lead again by fucking my mouth. I kept my tongue flat, ready to accept his sperm. He came and it splattered across my lips, in my mouth, and in my cleavage. I began licking his cum from my lips, and enjoyed the taste of Byron on my tongue. He watched me, and leaned forward for a big, sloppy French kiss.  

"Take that back to Duke Howard," he said with a saucy wink. "Ask him how he likes the taste of a real king." I smacked the back of Byron's hand. "You know I can't do that." He sighed and rested his hand on my stomach, and pressed his lips against it. "You hear that? Mommy isn't being very nice." Byron said, smiling a wide, gorgeous smile. 

"We'll see about that, Daddy." I said, unsure that we had conceived an heir this particular visit. "Oh, but we will," Byron replied. "And if we're lucky, they'll look just like you." 

~~~ Epilogue~~~

One year later, Byron and I were playing with our young infant daughter, Emma. She looked every bit like her father, already. We spent much of our time split between Wysteria and Stein, but today we were seated in the gardens at Wysteria's palace. 

"Your Highnesses," Nico said, as he greeted us. "Hey, Nico." I responded, watching Byron hold Emma in the corner of my eye. "What a sight this is," the butler noted. I smiled at him, "What sight might that be?" 

Nico gestured like he was taking a photo with his fingers. "Princess Emma, the offspring of two strong rulers from Wysteria and Stein." He went on, "Since your divorce from Duke Howard, you and Byron both have spent time in both kingdoms, giving each your equal attention." Nico bowed to me, "It is truly humbling, and so I thank you, M'lady." 

I stood up and placed my hand on Nico's shoulder, "It's because of Byron that I have the strength to do all that I can for both Wysteria and Stein." He looked at me as I continued, "It is because of you that I have Byron at my side, and that we now have Emma." I turned back to my family and willed my tears not to fall. 

"It's all you, Nico." I said, and curtseyed to my friend. At that instant, Byron called me over to join he and Emma looking at the clouds. I waved at him and rushed to his side, where I pointed out all of the lovely things the world had to offer her. 

Fin. 

[ma-lemons]

chocolate 🍫

Ruby loved the taste of chocolate. It was rich in flavor and she could even taste it on her lips hours after she had eaten it. It tasted like warm hugs. It tasted like bliss. Like happiness.

She was unaccustomed to making things by herself, as her dad or her sister always did the cooking. Ruby was very, very bad at cooking. But she was craving chocolate chip cookies and no one was around to bake them.

No one, except, Oscar. Oscar had been distant these days, and Ruby was often afraid that he was planning to run away again. He liked to hide in his room and told Ruby often that he wasn’t hungry. Ruby would feel bad and sneak him one or two cookies Yang had made underneath his door. When she had peeked undneath the door the next morning, she was alarmed when she spotted the cookies right where she had left them.

She wanted to talk to the boy. She really did. She didn’t have anyone to talk to these days. Her team and JNR still treated her like a kid even though she was almost an adult. They were all barely adults, yet liked to treat Ruby like a baby. Despite them supposedly realizing that Ruby was just as capable as them, in the end, she was still a kid. The only person they babied more than Ruby was Oscar.

Ruby pitied the farm boy and only wished for him to heal from whatever was ailing him. Today, she decided. Today, she would get Oscar to talk.

She opened up Nora’s “secret” snack cabinet and took a few pieces of chocolate from it. Nora wouldn’t mind, as long as Ruby bought her more later. Ruby pocketed it and carefully headed upstairs. She stopped at the boy’s door and gave it a knock.

There was no reply.

“Oscar? Oscar, it’s me Ruby.”

Ruby heard a creak. And then silence. She knocked again, harder. “Oscar, it’s me. Open up!”

The door never opened. Ruby was getting impatient, now. She was worried Oscar was hurt. She had tried giving him space, but she was concerned that something was going on behind those doors.

“Oscar! Oscar!”

There was once again no reply. Ruby’s stomach was bubbling and something was telling her that Oscar was in big trouble. She backed up, and prepared herself, before using her speed semblance to barrel into the door. It didn’t hurt as much as she though it would, and the white door splintered to many pieces across the carpet. Yikes. Hopefully the farm boy wasn’t in the way of the splinters.

Ruby stopped herself and took in the sight in front of her. Wooden pieces lay around the room. It smelled of rotten food and she wondered if he still had leftovers from a few nights ago.

What really surprised her, however, was how Oscar was curled up on the ground, his face slick with sweat. He wore his green pajamas yet he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. Dark circles were visible around his eyes. Ruby rushed to his side, wrapping her arms around his torso.

“Oscar, speak to me! What happened?” she asked panickedly. The boy was trembling, she could feel it. Ruby knew what to do in these situations. Well. Maybe she did. Usually she would recommend milk but it seemed that Oscar needed more than that. He needed a doctor. But how fast could she get there? Even with her semblance, she had no idea where a doctor could be, and she could only explode into petals ever so often. She rested Oscar’s head on the ground and stood up. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

She rushed downstairs, scrambling to the kitchen. She opened up cabinets and threw everything to the floor in hopes she could find some medicine. But there was nothing. She found a jar of honey and a lemon.

“Damn this,” she growled, frustrated. Taking a bowl, she squeezed the lemon into the bowl before spooning in some honey. She heard that lemon and honey were good for a sore throat. However, something told Ruby that Oscar had more than a sore throat. She mixed it together before grabbing a rag and soaking it in cool water. Oscar needed her. Back upstairs she went.

She reached him again, and he seemed even worse. He was unresponsive and his shaking wasn’t any better. She rested the cool rag on his forehead and tried to sit him up.

“Oscar... I’m going to feed you some honey. Is that okay?”

His head rolled to the side and she could only assume that was a yes. She took a spoonful of the mixture and shoved it into his mouth. It dribbled out. The thick mixture made its way down his chin and the huntress had to clean it up with the rag.

“Come on Oscar, I need you to swallow! Please!” she begged. Where was her sister when she needed her? Her uncle? Her friends? Maria? They all went shopping for groceries and ammo, and Ruby was left behind because Oscar had refused to respond when they asked him if he wanted to go. They would know what to do. They would know what to do because they were...

“Adults.”

Ruby was wrong. She was just a stupid kid who thought she could do anything. She was dumb and naïve and now her friend could die at any moment. Oscar could die and all she was doing was force-feeding him honey. If he didn’t get professional help, something might happen.

She left the bowl on the floor and stood up. She pulled Oscar by the arms and hauled him up before putting him on her back. He was a small kid, but he still weighed a lot on her back. She attempted to get downstairs and out the door before she got weary. She trudged down a dirt path, hoping she would get to a town square soon.

Evenatually, she had to resort to dragging Oscar because he was getting too heavy. He started moaning and she wasn’t sure if he was getting warmer, or she was. It was worse dragging him, because he started to moan more, probably because he was in pain.

“Ruby... help me... it hurts Ruby... it hurts,” he groaned. His breaths were and it become difficult for Ruby to carry him. She carefully dropped him on the autumn leaves and sat down next to him.

“Ruby, Ruby... Ruby...” the boy moaned. Ruby was getting panicked and was sure that she needed Yang. Now. She whipped out her scroll and dialed Yang. Once. Twice. Three times. After the third time, she started to cry. Small tears fell down her cheeks, staining them until her whole face was wet. She cradled the boy’s head in her arms and whispered a prayer to the gods that he would be okay.

“Please, please be okay,” she whispered, pushing a little of his hair back. His forehead was slick with sweat, which made Ruby wipe it with her sleeve. She wished in that moment that she was fast enough and smart enough to find a doctor.

“Oscar, I’m sorry,” she murmured.

Suddenly, a guitar riff played. Ruby quickly snatched the scroll up and pressed answer.

“Hello?” she asked, heart in her chest. She didn’t even know who had called her.

“Rubes?” Yang asked.

Ruby’s tears began to fall again. A smile graced her face as she spilled out what had happened.

“Yang, please hurry. I don’t know how long Oscar has.”

After she had hung up she pulled Oscar up and wrapped her arms around his body. She was so grateful her sister had picked up. Her heart felt relieved. He was going to be okay.

—————————————————————————-

Hospitals were always noisy. Sounds from crying babies, alarms, screaming people. Ruby didn’t quite like it. She had only been in a hospital once in her life, and that’s when Qrow had alcohol poisoning and the nearest place was some fancy hospital.

Ruby was waiting outside with Maria, Qrow, Yang, Blake, Weiss, Jaune, Nora and Ren. Nora was clearly panicked, as she saw Oscar as family. Ren was comforting her, and Jaune was silent and stoic. He refused to talk to anyone, and Ruby couldn’t bring herself to ask him why.

She was full of jitters and wanted nothing but to be next to Oscar, making sure he was okay. The doctor had said earlier he was in stable condition, but she wanted to see for herself. So far, Qrow was the only one who was allowed to see him.

Her foot tapped nervously on the linoleum floor and her sister was resting her hand on hers, trying to ease her worries.

“He’ll be okay, Ruby. You did nothing wrong. You couldn’t have used your Semblance for a long time. You didn’t even know where to go. It’s not your fault,” Yang murmured to her.

That’s the problem. I didn’t know where to go. But you did. But Ruby dared not share that with her sister. As much as she liked to rely on others... she always felt like she wasn’t doing enough, that she could be better. She always felt so out of place, even where she felt most comfortable, on the battlefield. Sure, she would swing Crescent Rose with vigor, and fight with all her best, but she couldn’t help but feel that she could have done more for them. When she saw her teammates down or when she saw Qrow getting struck by Tyrian, she wished she had done something beforehand.

“—go now!” her uncle’s voice echoed. Ruby shook herself out of her thoughts and reached Qrow’s eyes.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, kiddo, I know you’re a bit tired. You can go see him now.”

Not more than a second later, Ruby was in the room, seated at Oscar’s side. He was attached to this thing—what they called an IV, and he wore a blue hospital gown. He looked better, the color returning to his face.

“Oscar!” she cried out in glee. She was so glad he was okay. “I’m so, so sorry—“

“Ruby, don’t worry about it. It wasn’t your fault. I should’ve been eating. I... Isaw you pass cookies and meals to me. I would take them and look at them and then I just put them away.”

Ruby knew Jaune moved out of the room he shared with Oscar and resided on the couch out of anger.

“Why?”

Oscar took a deep breath. “Maybe its best if Oz explains.” A green light engulfed his body.

“Professor?” Ruby asked timidly.

“Yes, Ruby. I... Oscar’s having a hard time.”

“What?”

The professor—Oscar sighed. “You know eventually every host I take merges their soul with mine? Well, Oscar has been putting up quite a fight. That’s why he’s lost his appetite and is so weak. He’s trying to keep control of his body.” The professor sounded so ashamed when he admitted that. Ruby, however, was in shock. Poor Oscar was suffering because he wanted to have control of his own body. And Ozpin wouldn’t let him.

But what could Ruby do? They needed to finish this mission, and they needed Ozpin, whether they wanted him or not. They also needed Oscar. She couldn’t tell Ozpin to let Oscar keep his body because this whole soul thing was out of his control. Oscar would keep fighting, she knew he would, until his very last breath....

“Damn the gods,” Ruby cursed, tears brimming in her eyes. She was so frustrated, so tired of losing. She just wanted to win, to win at something.

She just wanted to be strong enough to keep everyone she cared about safe.

“I-I’m sorry, Miss Rose...” Ozpin murmured. She could hear hints of Oscar’s voice which meant Oscar was trying to regain control again. Ozpin couldn’t even control Oscar for long anymore. How long did the boy have until he was completely gone?

“Ruby?” Oscar asked. Ruby choked back a sob, running her hand through her hair. She stood up and reached down for Oscar, giving him the best hug she could without injuring him.

“Oscar, I’m so sorry you have to go through this.”

Silence. The two stayed in their hug for a while until Ruby heard Oscar’s stomach growl. It was a furious and hollow sound and it made her giggled. She let go of him and wiped her tears. “You want me to call a nurse for you?”

He shook his head. “I had this gross porridge this morning. The doctor said I just need to eat some liquid stuff until I can handle solid stuff. I’m really craving chocolate right now, for some strange reason.” He laughed, a refreshing and comforying sound.

Chocolate?

“Oh yeah!” She reached into her pocket and held out the crumpled chocolate. It was a bit soft, and probably not safe to eat, but the two didn’t care. Ruby watched as Oscar eagerly bit into his piece before biting into hers.

She finished hers and smiled a little at the sight of Oscar enjoying his chocolate.

“Is there something on my face?” he asked, catching her smile. Ruby shook her head and laughed. “No, no. I’m just glad to see you eating. I was really worried about you Oscar. I felt so horrible when I couldn’t get help for you.” She heard her own voice breaking again.

“Ruby, don’t cry. I’m... I’m alright. I’m going to keep fighting. I do want to save the world... but I want my body back in the end. I won’t let myself be another one of Oz’s hosts.” He took her hands in his and looked into her eyes. “That’s a promise.”

Oscar nodded, affirming his stance. Last time he was so weak that he couldn’t even eat.

“I do realize Oz needs my body, so I’m more than willing to share so I don’t end up here again. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let him take over. I’ll do what needs to be done, if that means we win in the end.”

Ruby nodded. “You’re right. You’ll be the last of these hosts. Somehow, we’re gonna defeat Salem, and everything is going to be okay.”

Ruby sat back, feeling a sense of okayness. They were going to be fine.

“And Ruby?”

“Hm?”

“You’re one of the greatest people I’ve ever met. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself when you got such an amazing family, always watching your back. Don’t feel like you have to do everything yourself. You did what you can, which is more than a lot of people can say. You’re amazing, Ruby.”

Amazing.

“Thanks, Oscar. You’re pretty swell yourself.”

They had a little time to themselves until María and Nora insisted on seeing the boy. Ruby settled back with a huge grin on her face as the two fawned over him.

Ruby felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Yang by her side, Blake and Weiss coming after her.

“You did good, Ruby. That’s the happiest I’ve seen him in days.”

“You really think I did enough?” Ruby asked. Weiss rolled her eyes. “You dolt, stop trying to compare yourself to others. You’re... just good as yourself.” A blush spread on Weiss’ face.

“That’s pretty sweet of you to say Ice Queen,” Yang laughed. Blake wrapped Ruby in a hug, and even Jaune and Ren got in it too.

“How are you going to forget me? I’m also concerned about the kid,” Uncle Qrow’s gruff voice exclaimed.

“Aww, Uncle Qrow!” Ruby attacked her uncle in a tight hug. She was a bit surprised when he hugged her back.

She met Oscar’s eyes after releasing herself from her hugs and he gave her a little smile, one that held a promise.

A while before everyone had to leave, Ruby stopped to say goodbye to Oscar.

“Hey, Ruby. Do you happen to have any more of that chocolate?” the young boy asked.

“Uh, no. I stole these from Nora.”

Oscar pouted, and Ruby giggled in response.

“Don’t worry, I’m quick. I’ll be able to get you some more when you come home. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Bye.”

When Ruby shut the door, she followed Yang to the lobby where they were going to go back to their cabin. Her uncle was going to stay with Oscar for the night. As she left the hospital grounds, she took the final piece of chocolate and shoved it in her mouth before anyone could look at her. Of course she wanted to give some to Oscar, but she had realized that she was craving something sweet (even though she had just eaten chocolate). She deserved this. Something small for doing her best.

———————————————————————

What the heck was this? This was supposed to be RoseGarden/dealing with Oscar’s possible anxiety but it turned into them eating chocolate and staring at each other for minutes on end instead. ??? alright then