#and since i talked about them surprisingly much

[spaceyaemonds]

pairing: dr. jack abbot x reader

sum.: a quiet afternoon with dr. abbot.

warnings: age gap (jack is late 40s, reader is 23), unplanned pregnancy, jack is divorced, not a widower and mentions of his ex wife, it is mention that reader and her mom talk often. please let me know if i missed anything. minors DNI.

note: more of a filler chapter(i’ll consider this 6.5 instead of 7 LOL)!!! just a little look inside them, and we will definitely be seeing more soon!!! jack and reader will meet each others moms next chapter!! also, thinking about doing more drabbles set in this universe, like the proposal, is there anything specific you guys want to see?? unedited. and as always, any feedback is extremely appreciated, it helps keep me motivated. especially reblogs/comments/asks!

wc: 960ish

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Over the past eight weeks, you’ve just about changed Jack Abbot’s entire life.

He goes to a farmers market on Saturday’s, brunch on Sunday’s with your friends, actually eats decent meals and gets a good night's rest at least three nights a week.

Also, he’d never admit it outloud to anyone, but he’s pretty invested in Vanderpump Rules.

Currently, he’s got your feet in his lap while he reads a medical journal, one hand massaging your ankle. Every once in a while, he glances up at you to watch as you knit what he thinks is supposed to be a sweater.

Ever since finding out the gender of the baby almost a month ago, you’d been determined to at least make something for the baby to wear. You got good at knitting surprisingly quickly, and so far have made three hats, two pairs of socks, and started a blanket.

You’ve got your bottom lip tightly tucked into your teeth as you concentrate on the yarn in your hands, and before he can stop himself, he’s reaching over and gently thumbing it out from between your teeth.

Finally, he thinks to himself when you’re wide eyes meet his.

You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself.” He gestures to your swelling bottom lip as you lick it.

“Sorry,” You let out a small giggle, “I didn’t even notice.”

He nods, hand going back to your ankle, “I figured.”

As he starts reading again, you take the time to watch him, head cocking to the side as you smile.

This hasn’t been so bad.

Sure, it’s been an interesting and difficult situation for both of you. But you like to believe that it could be worse.

He could’ve just not cared. Ignored you and went on with his life. Or pressured you into an abortion you didn’t want.

He could’ve done what he could to just take the baby the second she’s here.

But he really surprised you. He’s been so supportive and so good to you. It’s shocking, in all honesty.

You both feel a lot of guilt, though.

You think you’ve stuck him with you. That he’s only here out of obligation.

He thinks he’s ruined your life.

You work through it all, somehow. You talk him off his ledge more than he talks you off of yours, but you can tell when it’s eating at him more than he can with you.

Or so you think.

Jack likes to think he knows you pretty well despite the timeline of things.

He spends as much time as he can with you. Soaking up every moment of something he didn’t even think he ever wanted. Holds your hair back when you get sick. Rubs your back and feet when you ache. Tries some of the most interesting food combinations he’s ever heard of, some of which are better than others.

Fucks you when you’re insatiable and want him more than anything.

He isn’t quite sure it’s love yet, but he knows it’s on its way there.

He’s loved before. Hell he loved someone enough to marry her, but couldn’t love her enough to give her what you’re giving him.

Another source of guilt for him- one that he’s completely bared to you.

You didn’t know what to say, when he told you about what ate at him most. Why he couldn’t figure out what brought on the need, the desire, to do this with you, but he couldn’t even bring himself to try with her.

You just listen, rub his back, and whisper in his ear that some things just happened for a reason.

He appreciates you and the the way you just let him talk. Or just let him sit with you in silence. Whatever he needs, you somehow manage to give him.

One of the more recent favorites of his is when you take a bath. He can sit up against the cabinets under the vanity with a beer in his hand while you sit and talk about your day, things you want to do for the baby, or just read.

Life is more peaceful with you than he thinks it ever has been.

He glances back over at you, and sees the look in your eyes.

A look he knows all too well will result in him doing something he doesn’t exactly want to do.

“Spit it out, honey.”

You smile at the sound of his voice when he calls you honey.

“I was talking to my mom yesterday,” You trail off as he closes the journal he’s been reading and turns his body all toward you.

“Well?”

Jack knew your mom knew the basics, much like his own family did. How you got pregnant. How you met him. His age.

He knew that the last one had her concerned. Extremely.

The two of you talk most days, and she always gets distant when asking about the baby. Something about it makes him slightly uneasy.

“She’s coming to Pittsburgh next week. Wants us all to get together,” You look down, fidgeting with your fingers, “wants to meet you.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, making unease crawl up your chest.

It was a bad idea to bring it up.

“How do you feel about that?”

He sounds calm and collected, surprising you yet again.

“I mean, you are the father of her grandchild.”

You finally look back up at him, eyes meeting.

He sighs, shaky, “Is that all I am?”

You tilt your head to the side, “You tell me.”

It’s quiet for another beat before he shakes his head as he brings one of his palms to cradle your jaw.

“It’s only fair if you have to meet my mom, too.”

You laugh, nodding lightly before kissing his palm.

“Yeah, I can do that.”

He lets out a huff as he kisses the side of your head, “It’s a deal, then.”

[that-sudsy]

Johnny had a way of turning even the simplest moments into something unforgettable. Ever since the two of you started dating, he made it his mission to cherish every second together—especially after time spent apart. He didn’t just say he adored you; he showed it in a thousand little ways. A lingering kiss on your forehead before leaving the room. A whispered compliment as he passed by, just because he couldn’t keep the thought to himself. Dinner dates that lasted for hours, tangled in conversation and laughter. Late-night movies that turned into even later-night cuddles, his fingers tracing idle patterns along your skin as you talked about everything and nothing.

But his favorite ritual of all? Showering together.

It had started on a night soaked in rain and spontaneity. The two of you had been caught in a downpour, clothes clinging to your skin, hair dripping—but instead of rushing for cover, Johnny had pulled you beneath a flickering streetlight and swayed with you right there on the sidewalk. He wasn’t much of a dancer, all clumsy steps and exaggerated dips that made you laugh, but that was the magic of him. He turned ordinary moments into something electric.

That same night, he’d drawn you into the shower, warm water chasing away the chill, and what should have been just a way to get clean became something far more intimate. Something yours.

Present Day

"Come on, you know you want to,"* Johnny murmured, that familiar mischief glinting in his eyes as he tugged you toward the bathroom. His fingers laced with yours, warm and insistent, pulling a laugh from your lips.

"Alright, alright, you big puppy," you teased, letting him guide you. "Can’t you take a shower alone for once?"

He feigned offense, pressing a hand to his chest. "And miss out on this?"* His voice dropped, rough and playful as he leaned in, breath tickling your ear. "Nah. It’s too quiet without you. Too lonely."

You gave him a look, and he grinned,

"Oh, don’t give me that," he said, though his gaze flickered over you in a way that betrayed his thoughts. "It’s not just because I like seeing you naked—though, let’s be honest, that’s a perk." His thumb brushed your hip, sending a shiver down your spine. "I just… wanna take care of you. Wash your hair. Make you feel good."

How could you say no to that?

The water cascaded over you both, steam curling in the air like a lover’s embrace. Johnny’s hands were surprisingly tender as he worked shampoo into your hair, fingers massaging your scalp in slow, deliberate circles. You sighed, leaning into his touch as he lathered the strands, sculpting them into a playful mohawk.

When he stepped back, his smile was soft, almost reverent. "Look," he whispered, nodding toward the fogged-up mirror.

There, etched into the condensation, were two little mohawks—one for him, one for you.

"See?" His voice was warm, thick with affection as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "We match."

Your laughter filled the small space, bright and unguarded, and you reached out to wipe the mirror clean—only for him to catch your wrist, turning you gently in his arms.

"Mm, not yet," he murmured, lips brushing yours. "Let me enjoy the view a little longer."

Then, with a playful nip at your bottom lip, he reached for the soap.

"Now, c’mere," he said, voice rough with promise. "Let me return the favor."

His hands glided over your skin, slick with soap, kneading the tension from your muscles as he worked his way down your back. Every touch was worship, every press of his fingers a silent I love you.

And when you turned to face him, his grin was all boyish charm, all Johnny.

"Yeah," he breathed, pulling you close under the spray. "This is exactly where I wanna be. and I love you"

I think Johnny would always want to shower together, not just because he wanted to see you naked

But he also wants to wash your hair and make mohawk with it

Then, he would point at the fogged up mirror and said "we're matching" or something like that

[towasdandelion]

Hotarubi, Obscuary and Jabberwock ghouls when you confess to them

Haku feels so relieved! You finally caught on and understood he wasn't flirty just because? A miracle! Honestly he's so ready to make you his it's almost funny. If you haven't noticed, that guy has had a thing for you since day one. So yeah. Will definitely want to see you as soon as possible so you can... make out already talk about your situation and possibly start dating.

Subaru is too sweet and doesn't really want to get his hopes up even if he does like you more than a friend already. He definitely didn't see that coming and feels a little lost. He's happy of course but... What now? What does he do? What if this ends up ruining your friendship? After thinking for a moment he decides to ask you to meet so you can talk about everything going on. Expect a shy blushy Subaru.

Zenji was hoping for such an outcome in the future, but he never wanted to force it, rather just decided to wait and see how the situation develops. He feels so happy he gets a sudden burst of inspiration. But he can't write yet. Not until he gets a chance to ask. You might have been first with the confession, but he's definitely taking the initiative to ask you to be his girlfriend.

Rui, oh Rui! Like Haku he was so ready to make you his and was constantly trying to make you see that he's not playing around. Well, someone decided not to notice his efforts. (How cruel) until this very moment. Now you confessed to him, and he couldn't be happier. In his head he's already planning hundreds of cute dates he's going to take you on. The fact that you're not really together just yet doesn't seem to bother him much but can you blame him? He's way too excited.

Ed is way too cocky I swear. You want to back away? No can do I'm afraid. You're basically his the moment you confess to sorry I don't make the rules. Was he waiting for this moment to happen? Maybe. He feels satisfied that he did succeed in making you fall for him after all, though he is a bit surprised given the fact how hard you were resisting his charms before. Believe it or not he's suddenly not feeling so lazy anymore... He's eager and ready to see you right this moment.

Lyca is a bit oblivious, but at the same time very straightforward and it makes a very... Interesting combination. You like him? Yeah he likes you too, so? Oh, it's more than a friend... Well, then you two should just date right? Isn't it how it works? At least that's what Subaru told him (he forgot some details here and there but not like it's that important to him) so he's going to ask you here and now. The decision is yours to make hehe.

Towa is a bit sad cause he definitely thought you love him already. I mean he was always so sweet and affectionate with you, so only natural to think that's just his nature, right? Well, wrong. He's only like that with you. The sadness is short lived though. You love him and that's all that matters! He won't waste time and will come and meet you wherever you are just to ask you officially to be his.

Haru catches on very quickly, almost surprisingly given how busy he can get. In his free time he always did make sure to spend it with you, throwing in some hints here and there and it seemed now that it worked out! Here you were, confessing to him. With three words you made his day just like that. He can't wait to be finished with his work so be can come see you and make sure you really want to be his.

Ren is freaking out. Like really bad. His crush literally just confessed to him. Keep it calm, keep it cool. He was fighting that 'weird' (love) feeling that just wouldn't go away and with your sudden confession it felt like a new wave of feelings came crashing on him. Just what is he supposed to do? He really needs to sit down and have a moment of honesty with himself. He doesn't want to reject you after all... But how does he go about making you his girlfriend? It's all so awkward to him.

[hunhoonie]

ᦾ FLOWER BOY ! ୨୧

⭑ in which jaeyun buys a bouquet every weekend .ᐟ sjy x fem!reader ʬʬ word count: 0.9k

"a bouquet of peonies, am i right?" you spoke with a cheeky smile, as you caught sight of the already well known face.

it had been months now since sim jaeyun first setted foot in the little flower shop your family runned. you didn't know much about him, besides his usual order of a simple bouquet of yellow peonies.

"you got me there" he lightly chuckled, resting his arms on the counter. his gaze fixated his attention on you the second tyour eyes drifted elsewhere, looking for his order.

"you know, you must have one really lucky girl..." you kept talking under your breath as your hands wrapped the flowers on the decorative paper; delicate, yet efficiently. unbeknownst to you, jake silently admired your movements.

"do you buy flowers for her everyday or just whenever is my shift in the shop?" you looked up at him for a second, teasingly rising an eyebrow.

he quickly snapped back into his senses, trying to not make his infatuation too obvious "sorry, what did you just said? i didn't get much sleep tonight"

"nothing, i was just being silly. anyway, here's your order" you changed the subject, handing the arrangement to him "hope the receiver loves them"

⤿ ☽ ｡ㅈ ⋆

the days passed by, adscribed to your routine. it was already friday afternoon and, surprisingly, you were down behind the counter of the familiar shop.

your usual schedule was working only during the weekends, but your mother was attending one of your little brother's football matches and you just couldn't say no right to his sparkling eyes. so right now you were distracted, inmersed in your phone, when the little bell of the door make the announcement of a new customer coming in.

"welcome!" you said before rising your head, just for your vision to met with jaeyun's "oh, it's you!"

he took a moment to walk towards the counter, bewilded at the sight of you there. sure, that was technically your property, but he was pretty sure he had overheard a phonecall with your friend a couple of weeks ago saying you never work on week days "hi!" he tried to play it cool. keyword: tried, because you didn't fail to notice his rosy cheeks and nervous voice.

in reality, and as jongseong and sunghoon never failed to remind him when he rambled about the flower girl, jaeyun was kind of a loser. however, to your eyes he was a breath-taking, well-mannered, thoughful man that always made you wonder how in the world did the mysterious girl managed to get that cute of a boyfriend.

"picking up your usual?" you asked with a soft smile. jake felt his heart twitching.

"erm... not really. i ordered a different one today" he rubbed his nape, awkwardly.

"oh, so what it is?" you asked curious.

"tulips. white and red ones"

"that's actually a really great choice, i love tulips" you made a little chit-chat while you search for said arrangement "do you know white tulips symbolice-"

"new begginings and fresh starts" jaeyun spoke, cutting your dialogue "and red ones mean true love and passion"

your eyes connected as you both just stood there, the only thing keeping you apart being the less than two feet wide wooden countertop.

"didn't know you were into flower symbology" you cracked a smile, still holding the eye contact.

"to be honest, i'm not. just made my research because it is a gift for... someone special" he explained, his gaze still pierced to you as you proceed with your work, wrapping the flowers.

"your girlfriend really is a lucky girl" you repeat the same words of nearly a week ago. just this time they were louder. not just for him to hear, but also to get them into your own head. he had a girlfriend.

jaeyun blinked, snapping out of his own thoughts "excuse me, my what did you said?"

the entire situation felt like a deja vù. except this time he indeed understood every single word.

"here you have your flowers" you handed the bouquet, avoiding his gaze. jake felt dizzy, not knowing what to do, extending his own arms to grab the flowers. conveniently, he placed his hands just right over yours.

"you take them" he said, a shy grin growing on him as he tried to maintain eye contact.

"... what?" the breathe left your body as his eyes kept pinning on yours. you wanted to ask so much more but just the single word manage to pass through

"you heard me" he continued, his smile only increasing as his ears shaded to pink "they were for you anyway"

"for me?" your mind spinned at dangerous pace as you could feel the heat creepign into your cheeks.

"this is not unwrapping the way i planned but... fuck" he runned a hand through his hair, making you even more dizzy at the sight, if that was even possible.

"i'm aware we don't really know each other that much, but you keep coming back to my mind and i honestly don't know what to do. my friends keep making fun of me for being so delusional and damn- my apartment cannot keep so many flowers! i tried gifting them to my mother, but after a while she started rejecting them too and...

"sim jaeyun" you cut him off, as you surrounded the countertop and meet him on the other side "would you go out with me?" your arms raised, offering him the same bouquet he had gifted just seconds ago.

with a deep breath and a dumb smile, he picked the arrengement up "nothing would make me happier"

@ hunhoonie 2025 ⤿ check out my archive ¡ ⋆

[alucards-boots]

Heyyy

Since requests are open, here's something I've been thinking about for a while:

At the end of Castlevania (2017-2021), we see Dracula and Lisa are alive. Imagine that while they were travelling (for a longe while, because they wanted to give Alucard space and time to process everything) Alucard and reader (who just so happens to be immortal, though not a vampire (up for you to decide what she is)) got married. Some time later, Dracula and Lisa came to reunite with their son and met his wife (a scholar, like them, humanities oriented, orchestra composer too, perhaps?).

I just love to imagine their interaction, I think Dracula and reader would get along so well😭

Sorry if it is too much or too detailed, please don't feel pressured to indulge my delirious impulses lol‼️ Also, just wanted to say that you are such a good writer, you have an incredible way with words! Thank you for sharing your work with us, I love to read it every time, Gods bless you🫶🫶

Hello dearest! I’d love to indulge in your delirious fantasies! In fact, its no pressure at all! Aha i do hope i have a way with words, thank you my sweet, may the gods bless you too far more! 💝

Dracula’s heart nearly dropped out of nostalgia at the sight of his castle, lisa gasped at the sight of wandering villagers, some houses near, her baby boy did her justice..

Dracula felt nervous, his voice stammering slightly. “Perhaps— perhaps its best if we go at night.. i would not like to intervene.”

“Well, we are intervening by meeting him..”

It took a while to convince her, she eventually relented, deciding to wait until night.

Around the night.. it wasnt so.. well, expected.

As lisa and dracula stepped into the castle— how? Well, this is dracula’s castle.

There came rushing feet with weapons before they took a pause.

“Adrian!..” lisa exclaimed before trailing off at the sound of the sword clinking to the floor and a loud thud.

You quickly rushed to your husband..

Who fainted.

The two rushed forward as well, catching their son, who fainted in shock, your heart is pounding, despite the situation, thats harmless, you’re still worried about your husband.

“W— who are you?”

“I’m his wife! Who—“ you paused at your sentences, taking in their features, it clicked..

On the other hand, the other two, were in shock.

“We’ll talk about this later! My husband fainted!”

You gently dapped a clean cloth, letting the cloth absorb the sweat on his forehead as he sat, conflicted— confused??— ecstatic???..

“Theyre at the main hall, love..”

“I—..i— i don’t understand..”

Your lips met his temple, sending a gentle calmness through him, his hand automatically held yours.

“Saint germain must have done something.. all we know, this time, its the side of magic than science on the coin.”

He nodded with a soft hum.. still in shock but enough to gather himself.

“I.. dont know what to say..”

“You guys dont have to.. just seeing each other is enough for a conversation to last a millennia, so come..”

He hesitated before slowly getting up, your arm wrapped around his, a sign of reassurance, which helped him relax slightly.

As the two of you stepped into the main hall’s threshold, all of your eyes met, alucard wanted to faint again, his feet moving one step back before your hand placed on his lower back, encouraging him to move, and he did.

Now he is stood infront of his parents, his father..surprisingly the one with glossy eyes, he felt nervous with his father after what had happened.. but eventually you stepped back, giving them time with your hands clasped together.

Your gaze softened at the sight of them hugging snd crying, near they fell to the floor, but some caught themselves.

You heard them murmur shakily some questions, crying statements which you wanted to gold your husband but you stood still, respecting their privacy.

Lisa’s eyes darted at you before questioning her son ‘is this your wife?..’, to which alucard nodded frantically, stumbling up to his feet to take you with him.

You felt like their circle was also gonna make you cry, but you only wanted to cry because your husband found his parents after crying all night in your arms, murmuring ‘mama’s and his father’s.

But you held your guard, wanting to keep a good impression as you kneeled back down with them, it felt like the little circle alucard has always talked about.

Lisa was the first to hug you, you hugged her back, your hands gently brushing off the dirt in her clothes, she noted that.

You shook hands with Dracula, nodding to him in respect, he didnt expect that but he felt like him again..

“Please.. let me take you three to have some tea..” you offered, your husband holding your hand, kissing it while you chuckle softly, you assisted the other’s up.

Under the table, alucard’s trembling hands held yours, you held his with both of your hands, one of yours caressing his wrist to his palm, the one you always do to soothe him, it always worked.

You did not look human, dracula noted after a while of processing.

They finished general topics of catching up, especially lisa asking about how you two met, now then after lisa’s happy rambling about grandchildren, Dracula noted in a low tone but not dangerous, more so curious.

“You arent human, are you?..”

“No, sir.”

“What are you then?..”

You took a deep breath,

“I’m merely a star, i’m forged by not stardusts but stars.”

Dracula’s eyes widen in fascination, so did lisa.

“So, a cosmic being?”

You chuckled and shook your head, “i am one of the stars.. is all.”

For a bit, alucard’s palms loosened after the death grip, signaling relaxation, you always knew how to word things and calm things down, perhaps its a part of your star-like aura?

“Interesting.. while being here, i’ve seen you with books, are you a doctor or somewhat?..”

“I’m a polymath.”

His eyes widened, “a polymath?” Almost as if he spoke of interest, finding someone in common with him, not expecting it to be alucard’s wife.

You grinned slightly, a bit nervous. “Yes..”

He chuckled a breathless laugh. “Its been awhile since i’ve finally met another polymath..”

You exhaled a relaxed sigh. “I hope i do you best, sir.”

“Please, call me vlad.”

You blinked in surprise, not knowing you quickly gained that much privilege, but maybe you being a polymath, and Alucard’s wife was a bonus.

You watched Alucard walk with his mother, smiling at the sight.

“You know.. the talk with him was very long.. i missed him.”

You turned to your side, noticing dracula holding a book, his eyes glued to the sight of his family.

“Well.. i understand how guilt can sometimes influence conversations, but he seemed far relieved to know his family is back than the past, you know.”

point 1.

He shrugged, closing the book before sliding it back to the other spine’s, aligning them well.

“This is new to me.. i, too, was confused on what happened, but now i know, i suppose.”

You nodded, you turned to him, speaking in a voice everyone would find elegant.

“This is your chance to reunite with your son the way you and him intended, he may be nervous, but deep down, he missed you, ever so deeply.”

his gaze softened before turning his gaze back to the aligned bookshelves, trying to find anything— any mistakes to fix and reslide the books, anything.

“How.. do you know that, then, y/n?”

“he cried at the spot he once killed you on.. that burned carpet..” you trailed off, your heart aching but his father needed to know. “I was the one who insisted to fetch your ring, to hand it back to you, it stayed there for so long, the childhood room was untouched.”

It was a moment of silence before his hand met your shoulder, the ring you fetched glinted on the moonlight and torches.

“I know you will do well for my son.”

you looked up at him, in reverence, then nodded.

“I certainly hope i do, vlad..

or doctor vlad? Mr. Vlad?—“

“Er— vlad would be nice.”

[ask-mtt-blog]

Can we get more of your headcanons, pleaseeee? :3

Since you didn’t specify what typa headcanons you wanted, I decided on Errormare headcanons 😈😈

Error

-the praise kink is heavy with this one

-I’m joking (I’m not) but he likes any sort of ego stroke possible. Dude likes nightmare because nightmare will spend all day complimenting him

-often pacified with praise when angry

-Deeply enjoys nightmare’s pet names

-doesn’t know what to think about Nightmare’s gang, honestly. Abominations

-does not yet live in the castle much to NM’s chagrin

-yes he had the Mpreg baby and it lives witb NM or something idk

-has a thing for blue but would never dream of betraying NM

-lowkey kinda agrees with Dream but would never tell NM that

-he is more powerful than nightmare lmfaooooo

-is surprisingly a very good cook, NM fucking loves his food and always rewards him with many souls

-wants to make a doll of NM but he stuffs the dolls with SOULS of duplicates and there is only one NM

-massive trigger finger but NM is into it

-he has like 70 billion kids but NM will take care of them if it means rizzing up their dad

-also takes care of select afterdeath kids but geno has most of them and even some of the errorink kids too

-Spends most of his time swinging (I’m not projecting shut up) and NM will sometimes use Their tendrils to hold Error and gently sway him

-still kinda iffy with physical touch but NM’s negativity is more like an object to him than anything

-mothers the MTT hard. Killer breaks a vase and gets grounded for a week

-NM thinks it’s funny and plays along. killer comes to Their office like “whens my next mission” and NM is like “young man your mother said you’re grounded now go to your room”

-doesnt talk much unless he’s angry, but NM can understand him even through all the glitches and that is super flattering to him

-the mpreg was in fact the result of say gex. Thank you for the 12 asks in my inbox asking if that was the case.

NIGHTMARE

-also loves pet names. Their favorite nicknames for Error are “Pet,” “Darling,” and “my Queen.” They are very cringe. Point and laugh at the cringe loser

-speaks like a Shakespearean character when not in asks to impress Error with Their incredible knowledge

-knows Error could destroy Them at any moment. Highkey into it

-has a heavy disdain for Blue, though They don’t know why exactly

-often feels jealous of ink for having so many kids with Error despite knowing the children were born of hate and not love

-does not curse as a rule, thinks of it as crude and unbecoming of someone of Their status. They notably don’t seem to remember this rule when Error storms into Their office screaming swears about Ink

-allows Themselves petty revenge if anyone dares to so much as irritate Their beloved queen

-Has no peanor and also no coin slot but does have tentacles. You can guess how that goes

-Wants Error to move into Their castle SO BAD

-Tries to be cool and nonchalant but They’re a fucking loser

-considers themselves the King of Worlds, with Error as their Queen

-genuinely believes all of the praise they spout about Error

-very very very jealous lover

[fallthelong]

Drabble AU: Sylus, Xavier x You

Prompt: His reaction when hearing from someone that you want to break up with him because you are mad at him (prank)

Notes:

- I am an ESL and not writing much lately so pardon me for any bad writing or grammatical errors

- it is my own view of them, so they might be OOC for others

- that is all, hope you will enjoy ❤️🥰

SYLUS

After persuading Luke and Kiera to be your messenger, you settled down comfortably in your sofa with a book in your hands and a mug on the table ready for your act. Hours passed, you heard stable and slow footsteps which was normally unnoticeable as if their owner wanted to pass the announcement that he was coming. You inhaled deeply and quietly, putting the book over your face and passively sensing his figures getting closer and closer.

“Well, look who’s here?”, Sylus’s tone contained amusement and fondness.

Not waiting for your response, he continued, “Isn’t this the new boss of my employees?” with a slow tone along side with his usual signature smirk, even though you didn’t see it, you could feel it.

You controlled your emotion, and proceeded with an indifferent reply, “huh, what are you saying? I don’t understand anything”

He huffed and gave a little chuckle which you always enjoyed. “Oh, really? Then I guess I have to find out the culprit who managed to make my most reliable and loyal subordinates follow their order and pass such false rumors”. As he was speaking, he closed the distance. You could feel he had his strong and long arms behind the you, on the sofa. His shadow loomed over you as he leaned down.

You couldn’t help but look up, matching his tender and interested gaze, as always, “Which rumors?”. You couldn’t resist grinning a bit when those words slipped out of your lips. The act was on the verge of falling apart.

The headlight was covered by his tall figure as he sat down on the arm rest, fully had you in his zone. Eyebrows raising a bit, his words overloaded with interest: “Rumors … like my sweetie was mad at me and demanded a separation”.

You could feel the corner of your lips raise a bit, but you pretended to be taken aback, “Oh god, I could never do that. Your initial reaction was to suspect me. Bad move, Sylus, now I am mad for real”.

“My apology, sweetie. I should have believed you more than my intuition about the cheekiness on your face ever since I walked in and the sound of your giggles down the hall this afternoon when I saw you with the twins”, he talked calmly and apologetically but the expression was full of knowing. You opened your eyes wide as you hadn’t noticed his presence at that moment. As things got exposed, you wondered if this prank got too much.

Using the book as the cover, you left the sad eyes only to his vision, “I was bored and you were busy so… are you mad?”, hopefully you didn’t cross any lines.

Surprisingly, he lifted you up and had you sit on his laps, completely in his embrace. “I was any near that feeling, darling. If I had known my kitten wants my attention, I would’ve waited the twins to break the news”. He placed his lips on your forehead and you could feel his hand gently brush through your hair.

“Since you got my full attention now, should I make it up for you on all the efforts you have made?”

You smiled happily as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

You quietly pouted and added: “… the twins were hard to talk through… my throat was dry after…”

“I know, I know. Let’s find something to soothe my sweetie’s lovely throat then”.

XAVIER

Tara sent a message saying that mission accomplished, which meant she had told him about it. You nervously waited for his arrival, half anticipating for what was coming.

A beep noise as the keycode successfully accepted. The clack of the door echoed through the space, the footsteps followed next.

Xavier walked in with a confused expression combining a bit of sadness. He walked in and sat down next to you, “You know, Tana told me something today which I am shock and in a huge confusion”.

You held back laughter and lifted up your head from the phone screen to face him. “What is it?”, trying your best to sound nonchalant about it.

“She said that you are upset at me about something and ….”, he seemed flustered and struggled to put things into words, “you wanted to… break up with me”.

When those words were finally out, he took a big and clear inhale as if it was something really difficult for him to say. “Is it true?”. He didn’t wait for you to reply, with his eyes on your face observing every single of your expression in case he didn’t miss any changes.

You suddenly felt very guilty as it supposed to be a harmless joke to get a reaction out of him. Based on his reaction, he must have thought about this the whole way to home and maybe, throughout his mission. As the silence went on, you kinda lost in your thought for a moment since you felt bad about this.

He couldn’t wait any longer, reached out to your hand and asked: “Did I do something to make you mad? Let’s talk about it”. Even though the words filled with sadness, he sounded calm reflecting the seriousness in him to solve this problem peacefully and at once.

You were awoken from the thoughts by his action. Quickly holding his hands back tightly and squeezing them, you rushed out the truth, “No no, it is not like that. It was a dare Tara got from the Truth or Dare game we played in break time”.

Upon hearing that, his dark blue eyes were wide open and full of surprise. After that, his brows furrowed with the feeling of confusion and possibly anger which you felt too flustered to figure out. Your hands were shaking when noticing the change in his emotion. “I- I am sorry. I thought it would be fun when they suggested but I didn’t know it would hurt you badly like this. I - have no words, I am truly sorry”.

You lowered your eyes as you were too afraid to look at him, feeling like being watched by the light of truth and judgement. As a lover, you had made such a bad prank, allowing the love of your life in pain while you were in the state of enjoying that. What were you thinking?

You could feel your tears rearing up, before it got running out. You instinctively withdrew your hand from his to quickly wipe your eyes, but the movement was stopped. When looking up, you fell into a tight hug. His hand on the back of your head and his chin on the top of your hair, “Don’t cry. I am not mad at you. I simply felt upset at myself not knowing that I make you sad and why”.

You mumbled against his white shirt as he pressed your head on his shoulder, “No, you never make me sad. It was my fault. I-“

Xavier didn’t let you finish your self accusation, “Shhh, it is okay”. His hug was a bit loose as he released a bit to hold you by the shoulders and looked straight info your teary eyes.

“I understand now. Stop blaming yourself, alright?”

You nodded as his finger brushed through the corner of your eyes, he gently kissed your lips.

“And I meant what I said, tell me if you are upset with me. I don’t want to lose you over things I am not aware of”

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked into his eyes.

“Now, since we come to the agreement, I think I need to receive some compensation after what I have been feeling”, his lips quirked up, eyes full of cheekiness.

[ponyboyspepsi]

Steve Headcanons: (views of the gang)

I feel like Steve would relate to Johnny a lot in the home life sense because they’re both from bad homes. Sure they probably don’t hang out as much as him and Dallas or him and Pony but they could’ve probably had good conversations especially about their parents and what home is like. Also I feel like Steve would talk about cars to Johnny, and Johnny would actually be pretty interested to know about it. He also seen him as a little brother often wanting to get him out of his home life.

Steve Dosent hate ponyboy, yes he sees him as a tag along a lot and pokes fun at him but he would actually not like HATE him. He often wonders and is interested about pony but would never admit it because he knows Pony Doesn’t like him. But he sees him in sorta an older brother and annoying little sibling sort a view. He sometimes sees Pony reading and wonders what the books about. Besides him bullying Pony once in a while he can have an actual conversation with him, but pony’s usually never too interested in talking to Steve that much which he understands.

He sees Pepsi cola as his bestest friend of course that’s obvious. But sometimes he compares himself to soda since they’re complete opposites. It’s never affected their friendship but sometimes makes him a bit sad. He loves soda though and they both have matching bracelets in their rooms they made for eachother when they were younger. They don’t wear them so they look more tuff but kept them.

He sees Two-Bit like a good friend also. He thinks he’s funny sometimes and they yap about Mickey and cars to each other. But also sometimes Two-Bit is a surprisingly good comforter seeing as how he Dosent like serious situations it’s hard to believe. They drink together often and mess with girls, also often stealing together when they’re out.

He likes Darry a lot, he sees him as an older brother figure or like a father figure sorta since he feeds him, and lends him a place to stay. He sees all of the Curtis brothers as siblings or very good friends. Darry usually has late night talks with him if they’re both up at the Curtis house late. Darry also cares for him and buys him stuff if he needs it. He sometimes imagines where he’d be if Darry never was there to help him out.

He’s good friends with Dallas they’re really good friends. After he died Steve was really affected and became very depressed in a way. Him and Dallas always cracked jokes or got into trouble when they were together. He has a lot of memories that he looks back on with Dallas that make him laugh.

[maudie-duan]

Series Summary: Harry has been fighting to keep his relationship with Olivia afloat for nearly two years. At what point do you choose to either endure or let the strain of the world defeat his ambitious hopes of a lasting relationship? Or will a single night and a fleeting encounter be enough to change the projection of Harry’s path? Maybe our ‘Mystery Girl,’ Shiloh, will just happen to be in the right place at the right time. 

Word Count: 5.2K

Warning: SLOW-BURNER, Strong Language, Major Angst, Eventual Smut, Emotional.

H: I know you said you were busy, but is there any chance we could see each other before the premiere? Surprisingly, my schedule is wide open.

S: I’m sorry, but I really can’t. I’m filming today and have a meeting with some sponsors tomorrow…plus a team meeting with my team to go over the details for the next month. I’m super booked. I’m already tired.

H: That’s quite a list. Figured it would be a stretch, but I had to ask.

H: I’m dying to see you, if we’re sticking with honesty. I know I’ve told you already.

Shiloh didn’t get back to me until later that night. I must have caught her right before a live because thirty minutes later, I was watching her and Florence live on Instagram, wondering if she would ever ask me to be on the show or if that would spark too much chatter.

I’m not sure how I would handle myself. I kept re-reading the message I sent, wondering if it was too forward and needy for her already, but I couldn’t help myself. We’ve only really been able to text since we started talking, Shiloh giving me her nights, long phone calls into the late hours. Giving me time, I know she'll be hurting for later once her day catches up, so I can’t really complain. Whether we’re texting or talking on the phone, she’s found a way to have me there with her.

“Is it boring listening to us edit?” Shiloh speaks up. She has me on speaker phone while she and her friends edit videos. This is the second night in a row, but I’m happy to do it, to listen to her thoughts: every idea, every comment, the suggestions she takes from her team. She’s all hands on deck, and it’s so refreshing. She has complete control of her image, and it’s impressive, motivating, and at times, I even find myself taking mental notes.

“I’m not bored, I promise, I’m taking this opportunity to send out some emails myself,” I tell her, the smile on my face stretching when her laugh fills the line.

“Well, look at us, being worker bees…” Then she laughs again, “I think we’re almost done, if you don’t mind hanging tight?”

“I have no other obligations but to lie in bed and talk to you. Although it is getting close to my bedtime…” Another laugh sounds, but it’s not hers. It must be her friend Annie, the super fan, and I laugh to myself, wondering what it must feel like to be her friend in this situation—a situation so random that even I don’t know how it happened.

“I’m sorry, old man…are you going on a run in the morning?” She asked, with a casual sarcasm that seemed to drip from her mouth, something I’ve witnessed from watching her videos, but she’s quick on her feet, and sometimes even I can’t keep up.

“I was thinking about it…what’s your address, and I’ll run by your house.” I poke.

“Yeah, right, sir, like I would give you my address that easily.”

“It was worth a try…” I tell her, “You’d probably be sleeping anyway…”

“I do cherish my sleep…” and then she shifts back into work mode: “What if we cut six minutes here…and then if we absolutely have to, I can refilm the last three minutes?” That outro was weird even for me…”

“I really like what Kevin said about the intro. I think we should stick to that idea for sure.” She tells them, “And when I was looking at the calendar, it looks like we could actually mark off—”

She sighs, “Damn…these six days…wait…do we really think six days in NYC?”

I sit up then, pressing the phone into my ear harder. “I think I want to cancel this. I kind of want to stay here for a bit. We’ve been on the go for a while now.”

“I’d be down to cancel if that’s what you want?” Annie tells her, “We could fit another interview in here instead—”

Shiloh interrupts, excitement spilling from her tone, “Oh my gosh! I forgot to tell you who freaking reached out to me.”

“Who?” Annie asks, and I stay quiet even though I’m curious myself.

“Billie!”

“No way, dude, shut up!”

“No, I kid you not. I had to like check the profile like six times.” She laughs, “I messaged her back and was like girl…of all the people to slide into my DM’s…”

They both share a laugh, but I’m dying to see her face, see the excitement, memorize the way I know the smile would reach her eyes, witness it firsthand. I want to be the person making her this excited, and now I’m dying to know what she thinks of me, of us, dying to know if she wants the same things.

Is it insane to want forever already? Because there’s never been a person I’ve felt this drawn to, the others were mere place holders; they had to have been. “As in Billie Eilish?” I ask, just to soothe my own curiosity.

“Yes, Harry! There are no other Billies in my world.” And then Annie speaks up, “That’s her wife.”

“Her wife?” I repeat.

“Yeah, that's my baby. I would marry her in a heartbeat...Well...actually only if Kristen Stewart didn’t ask me first.” She says.

“Hmm…” I hum, mulling over this new bit of information, “So, then I don’t stand a chance, huh?

And this draws a giggle from both ladies, then Kevin lets out a loud groan, “Bro, you’re the only option in this household, don’t worry…trust me.”

“Oh my god, Kevin…” Then there’s a shuffle on the line, and when Shiloh talks, this time her voice is the only one I hear.

“Alright, guys, I’m calling it a night.” She huffs, “I’ll be in my room…”

I laugh, my tone rasping through the mouthpiece of the phone, “I'm the only option in the household?”

She scoffs, “Don’t let that go to your head. I have options, trust me.” I know she’s joking, but there’s a serious undertone. She, in fact, has many options, but I want to be the only one.

I let the phone go silent, and the sound of a door closing behind her is prominent, and for some reason, I’m finding myself sulking in her comment, even though I know it wasn’t meant to harm.

“Harry…” Shiloh speaks, cutting through the silence, “Are you still there?”

“Yeah,” I breathe, a knot forming in my throat.

“Tell me what you’re thinking?” she asks, and her voice echoes, “Sorry, I’m putting you on speaker phone. I need to get ready for bed.”

“I'm thinking we should FaceTime while you're getting ready?” I joke.

“Ha. Ha—maybe after I change…” she tells me, and I can hear the smile in her tone, and all I can do is picture her getting undressed.

"You know all you have to do is pull up the pictures from our photoshoot, and you would have all the images you want." She pokes, "Alex sent me every single picture."

"Wait, what?" I force out, nearly choking on the words with a new sense of excitement coursing through me.

"Did you not ask for them?" She questions.

"No..."

"Hmmm..." she hums, and now I'm in my head, reeling over the idea of having every SINGLE picture.

She was quiet for a moment, and then the sound of running water pulls me from my thoughts. “I’m going to brush my teeth real quick. I’m sorry, it might be loud.” Her voice reverberates around the bathroom, but then she switches us to FaceTime, and my entire body surges with a whole new energy- a new curiosity itching at my brain.

This is the third night in a row that she’s taken me to bed with her, walking me through each of her routines. The first time I watched her, I couldn’t believe it was happening. It felt like my very own personal live. Her casual demeanor as calm, as if she was filming for her channel.

The night seemed to bring on a whole new persona for us both, dreamlike, the two of us able to let our guards down. Each conversation seemed to flow without effort, the phone a vessel as she seemed to float into my world. She was no longer a daydream, but a real person on the other end of my screen; it was the closest we had been since that night I called her and made a fool of myself.

But I think we’re finally past that.

There’s so much I’ve already learned about her. Stuff that hasn’t made it to the screen trust me, I’ve seen everything I could get my hands on, and yes, I’ve told her—she said she’s done the same, except she's had the upper hand because my whole life is practically out there for the entire world to unpack.

And she’s not wrong.

Every new detail that seems worthy of remembering, I’ve listed in my notes app. I don’t want to forget a single thing, big or small, I want her to know I’m in this a hundred percent—it’s scary, but I don’t want to push it. Everything feels fragile, a delicate balance, and I don’t want to tip the scales before I ever get a real chance.

“I’m so tired…” she whispers, pulling the blanket up to her chin. She looks cozy, peaceful, on the verge of falling asleep, but I’m not ready to let her go.

“Don’t fall asleep, yet Shi…” I tell her, my voice low.

Her green eyes are trained on me, the side of her face buried into her pillow, “It sounds really sweet when you call me that…”

“Do you like it?” I ask.

“I like it a lot, or maybe it’s your accent…I don’t know. I like your voice; it makes me tired,” she says, her eyes flitting shut, a soft smile playing on her lips.

I let out a quiet laugh. “It makes you tired?” I question.

“Yeah…” she breathes, and she doesn’t open her eyes. " Like it’s cozy…” A smile stretches across her face then, and just as it’s almost at full mass, her eyes flutter open.

“I could listen to it all night.” She adds.

“You can listen to it anytime you want,” I tell her.

And this keeps the smile on her face, “We finally get to see each other tomorrow,” Shiloh says.

“I know…crazy, right?”

“Are you nervous?” She asks.

“I don’t know…maybe a little, are you?”

“Yes, what if I’m not the same in person…” she says with a shy, breathy laugh.

“We’ve technically already met in person, twice, kind of…”

“Twice?” She repeats

“Once at the Gucci show and the photoshoot,” I explain, knowing the Gucci show doesn’t count, but it counts for me.

“Harry, to be honest, I was trying to avoid you at that Gucci show.”

And this is news to me—I told her that I was drawn to her, but we never really got into the details of it, just that it was a mutual thing. Now I’m curious. “Avoiding me?” I ask.

“Yeah, you felt–” Then Shiloh laughs again, covering her eyes, as a huge grin stretches across her face, “I don’t know. If I tell you, will you promise you won’t think I’m weird?

My heart picks up at this, a thousand questions already circling in my mind. What if she didn’t feel it, the draw, what if this had all been entirely one-sided, the depth in which I’ve felt her, longed for her since the moment I saw her, because that’s what it was, longing.

And when she uncovers her eyes, her smile drops, and she smooths her lips together, the mood shifting in a single breath. “Harry…” she says her tone low.

“That night…I was really nervous, and you like kind of became my lifeline. I don’t know how to explain it. Like if I felt myself freaking out, I would find you in the room…well actually, you were kind of in my line of sight the whole time. It was crazy, but I would look at you, and something just felt right, I don’t know…I know that sounds crazy, but I just felt it...” She finishes, and my heart is fucking soaring, and as I take in her face, I see tears welling in her eyes.

“It’s not crazy…I promise, does this upset you?” I whisper, my throat tightening, but I feel it too, the unexplainable emotions that have seemed to follow us, circle us like vultures, haunt our every thought, because it's evident that she feels it too, and it’s everything

“I don’t know…” She chokes out, then the first tear is running down her cheek, leaving a glossy trail, and it’s breaking my heart because I want so badly to reach out and touch her, to have been able to wipe away any tears that I’ve brought her, because even if she hasn’t told me, I know I’ve already hurt her; and the pain of that has been like crawling through the desert, praying for rain.

“I’m scared,” she tells me.

These are the moments he seems to take over my mind.

Always when I least expect it.

One moment, my mind is swirling with the madness at hand, my life, my task, everything that is entirely mine, and suddenly, I'm thinking about those green eyes, his smile–and then the next thing I know, I'm spiraling through memories we haven't even made, imagining him in moments that don't even exist, dreaming of how his hand might feel against the small of my back guiding me through a crowd, or the sound of his laughter in the early morning, rough with sleep, but honest and raw. The way his name might taste on my tongue in the heat of a moment I'm too scared to initiate. What are we when the phone no longer serves as our lifeline?

It's terrifying how quick my mind is to race ahead, building our future from tiny details, while mindlessly conjuring a life around a person I barely even know. And yet I can't stop the flood, this rush of wanting that sweeps me from one thought to the next like I'm caught in a current too strong to fight, because there's no resisting, because the moment I fight is the moment the current takes me under--to a place where I'm fighting for the past, fighting for the old me, but she doesn't exsist anymore.

And I keep telling myself to be careful. I keep telling myself that fantasy rarely survives reality, and maybe this is just another daydream I'm trying to breathe into life, another moment of wanting something so bad that I begin to shape it into something that isn't real–these are the moments I want to pull back, to protect myself, but now I'm thinking it's too late, because I think I've been falling since before I even uttered his name from my lips, and now I'm just waiting for the impact, for the storm overhead.

“Okay, I think we’re set,” Kevin confirms, handing me the mic. My makeup artist is touching up my lipstick, right before we go live for Vogue, and it feels like pure fucking chaos, but all I can do is grin and bear it.

“Shiloh, make sure you’re on your mark…okay, now shift right, okay, just like that. I think you should hold the mic in your left hand, it looks better on the screen—”

Annie is in “go mode,” and thank God she’s such a powerhouse because she has been my saving grace in these big moments. Not a single thing seems to shake her, and every time I look at her, I try to embody her energy because she is my rock in this moment.

“Okay, give us a quick intro before we roll, the countdown begins now, in 5…4…3…2…1…and NOW—!”

Then we were off to the races, and in no time I was slipping into my filming persona like a glove that fit perfectly–people coming and going, jokes being made, all smiles, all the while wondering when I would see Harry.

"My darling, Shiloh," Florence coos as she approaches, "It's crazy...It's like we've just done this..."

“Floooo! Oh my god, I’m obsessed with your look, I kid you not! Tell us what you’re wearing…” and just as she’s about to answer, Harry’s name is being shouted, tossed around in the background over and over, and Florence turns to look.

“I guess our star has finally made it,” She laughs out, her tone laced with sarcasm, and I can’t help but laugh.

“You may not get a decent interview with all that noise…of course no hate Vogue…” she says, turning to the camera, but she’s right, the fucking crowd is roaring, even though the real star of the movie is standing next to me, and that's when it hits me that Harry will be standing before me in just minutes.

“Oh my gosh, Shiloh, let’s not talk about my dress, lets talk about yours, holy fuck…wait am I allowed to say that?”

“You are now,” I laugh out, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“Oh my gosh, can I just say, you have to be the most gorgeous person here tonight, like I cannot, get over this dress, is it glued to your body, like I’m so obsessed.” Then her hand is moving to my waist taking in the dress.

“That’s so sweet, but really, who are YOU wearing, it’s freaking stunning my friend. Black is so classic, but it’s perfect on you.”

"Darling, it's Louis Vuitton...Oh no...I think I'm being called...I'm sorry to cut our interview short, love, I'll see you tonight, yeah?" She rushes, reaching in for a hug, and when I look over her shoulder, Harry was approaching faster than I imagined.

And that was the moment the panic set in.

Like standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down, wondering how you got here in the first place, and my heart slams against my ribs like it's trying to escape, my body already reacting, trying to reach him before I could, yet instead of fighting, a piece of me wanted to surrender. There was an interviewer between us, but it might as well have been an ocean for all I cared, because the thought of him nearing was terrifying, but God, I wanted to dive into every aspect of him.

I could feel the mic in my hand beginning to slip, and I wondered if the camera was picking up on my shaky fingers. How could time both stretch and contract at the same time? How could the world spin and stop on its axis in the flash of a heartbeat? There he was, standing only a few feet away, and I was next–and he would be mine for a few minutes.

The closer he got, the more the noise of the premiere seemed to fade into a distant hum, as an eager pulse raced under my skin, blood rushing to my ears, my heart pounding so hard that I could feel it in my throat. It was all happening so quickly, a whirlwind of thoughts crashing over me while I talked at the camera, me playing my part. Still, my mind was only on him, the moment playing out like a fucking fever dream–the haze of his presence was pulling me under. I have no control, because it's him, he's my person, and I know with every fiber of my being that I have to have him in my life, that I could not go another moment without him.

It was that fucking gravitational pull that seemed to break all the rules the moment our worlds collided. The feeling was surreal as my mind tried to fill the gaps, the gaps of time when he was merely a collection of memories pieced together–Fragments of conversations, glances stolen from across the room, the cadence of his voice, now a script written across my bones, and this is terrifying, my whole body tremebling, and I risk a glance at Annie who gives me a slight nod–and I know I need to pull it together.

When my eyes dart back to Harry, his eyes find mine across that impossibly short distance. Something thrums between us humming over my flesh, like my body is trying to recall all those late-night conversations, all those whispered confessions over FaceTime—they suddenly feel like nothing compared to his actual presence, and the air that floods my lungs is thick, growing heavy, making it harder to breathe, crushing me as if the universe itself was trying to condense every memory into this single moment.

Because I swear I rehearsed this meeting a thousand times in my head, trying to think of the perfect lines, standing in front of the mirror practicing a casual smile, one that wouldn't give me away, but now my mind is blank, wiped clean by the reality of him. This was Harry, actually Harry, not just a voice through my phone or a face on my screen, and his smile—dammit, that smile—there it is, curving slowly, private like it's just for me, like we don't have thousands of eyes on us right now, like the world hasn't been waiting for this very moment.

And then he closes the space between us, two heartbeats of time becoming one. And then I remember I have to speak, have to somehow function like a normal human being when everything inside me is pure, fucking chaos.

"Hi," I whisper into the mic, dazed in a giddy fit of panic, and I can feel the muscles in my cheeks stretching.

Then he's smiling, matching my energy, because I can tell he's just as taken, but he had already warned me this morning that he knew he wouldn't have any control, and when I hand him his mic, our fingers brush, making my whole body tingle. Then my eyes dart to the fucking ground like an idiot, giving myself away entirely because I cannot stop smiling to save my life, and then I look into the camera, to seal the deal, and I kid you not Annie snaps her fingers and I have to reel it in.

"Hi," is all he says, and we share a glance, a tiny sliver of time that is ours. It is both terrifying and exhilarating, and I wonder if this is the closest to magic I'll ever get because the man has me under a spell, and I am bound to him.

"Your dress is extraordinary. You look stunning. That's all the crowd could talk about back there, and honestly, I couldn't agree more." He gushes, and I definitely blush. I can feel the heat rushing to my face.

"You don't look half bad yourself, are you wearing Gucci?" As Harry looks down to peek at his suit, he rubs a hand down his torso, and my eyes snag on his ring-clad fingers.

"Yes, yes, Gucci has so kindly taken care of me this evening..." He confirms, but I just figured out my next angle, so I take it.

"Okay, so I've only ever heard about the rings, but it's different seeing them in person. Can we get a little view for the camera?"

Then, I spread my fingers out in front of me to urge him to do the same, and he does, switching hands with his microphone to give us a view of each hand. When my eyes sweep to my own hand, my fingers are trembling, and I have to stretch them, each finger splaying wide. Then my eyes flick to his for the briefest second, and suddenly, there's a sense of relief that washes over me.

Looking back on that red carpet interview now, I realize I was the one who hard-launched us before we even had a chance to figure it out, but that's for another day, because I wasn't even thinking, I was just doing it, grabbing her outstretched hand on full display for the world. Her perfect, delicate hand shaking before me, making my heart drop to my stomach. I wanted to take the pressure off the moment–I wanted to touch her and let her know that it was okay, that it was just us, just me and her, nobody else.

"I didn't realize you were a ring, girly," I laughed, taking her hand in mine, and it wasn't true, I knew this about her, after all I had seen every image of her I could ever find, now cataloged in my mind like a flipbook, moving through my minds eye every time her name is mentioned. I had seen every ring that had been on her finger on screen, but there was only one that I ever wanted to call mine, and in that split second, it changed our whole reality.

"I love this one..." I tell her, swiping my finger down the smooth stone of her ring. The one from the photoshoot, the one that caught my eye before, the one that had me in a daze, the one that reminded me of a bumblebee perched on her finger–a constant thought buzzing around my ear every time I saw it.

She seemed to never take it off, always on her index finger like an extension of her flesh–she had become the honey bee of my world, her presence dripping like honey before me, so close I could taste the sweet scent of her perfume, like wildflowers with a hint of vanilla, warm like basking in the glow of the sun.

"It's my favorite ring," she says, her voice distant as we both gaze down at the ring between my fingers, ready to wiggle it off.

Then the interview becomes a blur of motions as soon as I say, "I'll trade you?"

And when she peers up at me, a slow smile spreads on her face, and it's like the crowd, the cameras, all the noise dissolves into white noise, and I'm sinking, a peculiar kind of drowning–willingly letting myself float into her essence, the very being of her existence, moving between my fingers like water through a slow moving stream. It was like nothing I could explain; it was everything all at once. It was only her real and solid after existing for so long as pixels on a screen, only a lush voice in my ear.

I knew I had to keep my composure, and we played out our bit accordingly, each moment carefully constructed, holding a sense of calm for the public even though we both knew what was happening beneath the surface. "Pick any ring..." I nudge her, holding out my hand, and her eyes flit over each one.

And with each second that passed, that careful composure threatened to crack, my practiced smile nearly coming undone. Every second was me fighting the urge to reach out to her, to collapse the space between us, that paper-thin veil crafted to keep us both in check. "Okay, so you're like serious—Harry Styles is offering me a ring y'all–" she joked, playing up the camera.

She saved us both that day, her professionalism unwavering, even though I could see it in her eyes, "I like the teddy bears in this one," she tells me, pointing to my Grateful Dead ring.

"Take it...it's yours..." I push ahead of myself, and she laughs, but my heart is racing out of control, and I know I'm giving myself away, completely–my want a desperate need aching inside me.

Then she slides the stone ring off her finger and looks up at me, and I'm holding my breath as she smooths the smile from her red-painted lips. "This is the first piece of jewelry I've ever bought myself," she explains, biting her lower lip.

"I promise to take care of it...which ring did you choose?" I ask, calmer this time, knowing that she's going to do it, give me a tiny piece of her to take with me, and I know it will be the only thing that will get me through this night, keep me sane when the distance has to stretch between us again.

As we both peer down, the world around us falls away. It's like time seems to stretch into something tangible between us, a charge building as the possibilities hum at the tips of our fingers so close that they're almost touching—a tender moment that's ours and ours alone as Shiloh's eyes trace each ring on my hand, and then my eyes flick to her face, watching as she smoothes those perfect lips together.

"That's time, guys!" Someone shouts out, but it's faint. When Shiloh's eyes meet mine, there's a moment of understanding, unspoken and clear—suddenly, this is just jewelry; it's about the sense of belonging we both seem to crave. It's a reminder that even when the cameras stop rolling and we have to return to our separate lives, something will stay with her, with me.

Another tether, a reason to come back.

For a breath, neither of us moves, caught in this fragile moment, aware of every camera documenting this sacred exchange, but suddenly unable to muster the will to care. How strange that such an intimate gesture could happen under the harsh glare of a spotlight, the world watching, speculating, already hungry for whatever narrative they were going to spin from these seconds.

Yet in that moment I didn't give a single fuck.

"Harry—Shiloh--" Annie's voice cuts through, professional but gentle. "We need to keep moving."

Then Shiloh taps the silver band of dancing bears on my finger, and I slip it off with a smile, pushing it onto her finger. All the while, Shiloh's eyes never leave my face, and when I glance up, she's smiling.

"That's time, guys!" Someone shouts again, roaring the world back in motion around us, and I nod, my eyes locked on Shiloh's face as something unfinished lingers between us.

When I reach out an empty hand, she drops her ring in my palm. "I'll take care of it," I promise her, leaning in to whisper in her ear, "Until later..." I finish trying to move past her, and ever so slightly, she tugs on the sleeve of my jacket, and this time, when I meet her eyes again, her face is only inches away, and as I move away, her eyes never leave mine.

She doesn't say a word, just stares back at me, her big green eyes glazed over with a look of wonderment, a dazed smile playing at her lips, and I wink, pushing the mic into her hand, right before I turn away.

And when glance back over my shoulder, Olivia is filling the empty space in front of Shiloh, and my heart drops. 

A/N: Man, the slow burn almost feels worth it. Now the ball is rolling, friends! Can't wait! Tag List is always open for future updates. Let me know in the comments! So sorry for the crazy long delay on this one guys, but we're back, for good, seeing this one through, so please put your faith in me and jump back in. It will be fun I promise!!

LET'S TALK ABOUT IT: FINALLY they've come face to face! it could only go up from here, right?

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Tag List: @howling-wolf97 @sassamanda77 @babegoalsreads @palmettogal508 @indierockgirrl @lizsogolden @sexymfharriet @pologoonies @amateurduck

All Chapters Here <-

[sysig]

*chanting* Second pet, second pet, second pet! (Patreon)

[wolfwarrior142]

hii um this may sound totally weird but i was just wondering, and you totally dont have to answer if you're not comfortable, but was it really hard to do the schooling to become a nurse? did you have to do any residency the way doctors do? did you have to do a lot of hard chemistry classes in school?

im just a college student who's trying to switch majors and i just needed some advice and i keep seeing that you're a licensed nurse and you can totally shut me up now.

again dont answer if you're not comfortable, no worries!

Hello! Oh it's totally fine to ask! Nothing wrong with it at all. I'm no expert on this and may not give the most helpful or concise answer, but I will try my best. And you're more than welcome to also message me to ask more about it, I'm happy to say what I know (and imma post this so other people who may be curious can read it too).

I'll be totally honest. Nursing school is worth kt for those who are interested in the field, but it is also extremely taxing to most people. Depending on your school, you will take 1-2 years of prerequisits, then 2-4 years depending on if the school has an associates or bachelor program. If the school has only an associates program, you will most likely need to complete 2 years beyond that school to earn your bachelor's. Most hospitals prefer or even require RNs to have a bachelor's degree, so unless you work at facility that's desperate for staff or don't want as broad of job options, you'll need the bachelor's. So that's 4 years in actual nursing school, plus 1-2 years of prerequisits if you don't already have some done.

For what prereqs you'll need, that depends on your school. Chemistry was by far one of the hardest prereqs I took, and statistics suuuucks. I'm usually decent with math, but stats has SO much word problems that it's just as much deciphering written problems as it is math. Its very confusing, and the teacher I took it with was new so she didn't have the best grasp on explaining stuff yet. Definitely recommend finding someone to work with in that class cuz you may need the extra brainpower to figure shit out.

Anatomy and Physiology really depends on where you go. Some places have great teachers for it, some have decent ones, some have teachers that make you wonder if the teacher only got their degree so they could torture and shit on students (I had the latter. Our teacher's average class grade was a C. When she started, most people failed the class. And she was proud that her students had such low grades. She made it seem like it was out fault, despite the fact that basically everyone had shit grades in her class. I'm pretty sure I somehow passed with a low B and I hated that class).

That's only some of the prereqs, there are many more and they depend on the school. Thankfully a lot of schools are good about transferring credits between institutions, so if you took the class at a different places the credit should still be mostly good.

Now for the actual program. Do objective research on what nursing school is actually like, preferably from people who have actually done it. Look at multiple sources. Ask students at the place you'd take it at if possible. Get an idea of what it's like. Then think on it for a while and decide if you're willing to deal with that.

Nursing school is tough. It kicks your ass. It changes you as a person, both by making you more nurse-oriented and just as a person in general. It is very worth it, but it is also very intense and taxing for most people. If you are truly hesitant on if you want to pursue it, don't. At least not for right now. I'm serious. Nursing school takes a ton of work, and if your heart isn't in it you may have an extremely hard time passing. Or may not pass at all. And if you are any kind of neurodivergent, you'll likely have an even harder time. Trust me, I know.

Most nursing teachers are nice or at least chill. Some are mean. Some are absolute assholes. Doesn't mean they won't be beneficial, but they may make things harder for you. If they offer to help, then take em up on that offer when needed. There's a lot of things that take a lot of practice and studying to understand, and if theyre willing to help explain shit, that can make it easier. Besides, we were taught early on that being curious and asking questions and vital for nursing. You'll ALWAYS be learning new things, no matter how long you've been a nurse. And while you're in school, teachers who are willing to help you when needed are lifesavers. But be prepared that most of em will not help a ton as they do not want to hold your hand.

Find friends to study/work on stuff with. Figure out your learning style (hearing, reading, writing, hands on, a combo, etc). Develop a studying technique, and be prepared that you may need to alter it. Be prepared to spend most of your days engrossed in reading stuff for classes, as otherwise you're not gonna learn enough and you'll struggle. However, youtube videos from credible sources can really help.

The tests are brutal. They're different than most tests. There's literally a whole textbook made to help you figure out how to properly understand and answer NCLEX questions for a reason. There's a whole damn process on how to answer NCLEX questions. There have been many times where while answering questions at work for training (questions that are given to Medical Assistants (MA) as well as nurses), my MA coworkers will be confused by the question and why there's multiple right answers. And I just laugh and say "Oh I can immediately tell from the style of this question that it was written by an RN in NCLEX style. I'm so sorry." Questions on nursing tests are a whole other breed of questions, and that's because they help your brain think through things in a way that is beneficial when dealing with real pts. Which is useful, but also a pain in the ass.

You will HAVE to get used to understanding the process of stuff rather than just memorizing a single answer. Rarely are questions just about remembering a simple answer. They're mostly about understanding a process of how something works, and using that knowledge in the context of the question to answer it. If that makes sense. Like I said, nursing school rewires your brain. And when it actually works and you realize you're able to think about stuff and process it in that way, it is SO rewarding.

There's a lot. Nursing school is intense. Like I said, if you're truly hesitant and have strong doubts, don't commit to it for now. You have to be truly determined to give nursing school your best shot to start it, because if you're hesitant then you're mentally not gonna be as prepared as you should be to complete it. You still can, but it'll be difficult as shit and there's a solid chance you may not be able to.

I HIGHLY recommend getting a job in healthcare first if you don't have much experience with as a healthcare professional and are hesitant on if you want to do it or not. You can earn your CNA license, or go a step above and earn your MA license. Then work in a setting where you get to utilize that license. Then if you do decide to advance to get a nursing degree, you'll have a major leg up as you'll have medical knowledge and experience that will be very beneficial. Besides, many programs require students to earn a CNA license first, so you'll probably have to anyway.

There is nothing at all wrong with waiting a few years to get into nursing school. Tbh, a lot of my classmates were in their mid to late 20s or older and they seemed to have an easier time than us younger people did. They had their head on their shoulders better. They had an easier time focusing in school it seemed. Plenty of my classmates were also my age or younger and also did very well, but it really seems that being a bit older helps for a lot of people in nursing school. And the more prior medical experience they had, the easier it was for them.

I will fully admit that I didn't complete Registered Nursing school. There were multiple things that made me withdraw when I did. But I completed enough to obtain my Licensed Practical Nurse license (in my RN program, it's the first full year and first quarter of second year, as what is taught there is essentially equivalent to what an LPN class it). So I didn't finish yet, but I'm still making use of what I did learn. And after a few years, I plan to complete an LPN to RN bridge course. Currently I'm working as an LPN in a clinic to help build my knowledge in prep of that, and because my LPN license is still extremely useful and shows that I did at least something. Doesn't stop the absolutely raging imposter syndrome, but at least I am still a nurse and have something to show for what I did complete of nursing school (I withdraw close to the end of 2nd quarter of 2nd year, so after almost 5 quarters in. Just 1 quarter shy of a full RN license, which sucks, but I was struggling SO bad).

Do research. A lot of it. Look into what nursing school is like and what is required at the school you want to go to for it/at the school you're currently at. Nursing school is not for the faint of heart and it is not an easy degree. Some schools are a TON easier, but those schools tend to also not teach their students as well and produce people who have a harder time passing the NCLEX as a result. My program was very tough to get into, with hundreds of students applying each year and only 150 being chosen. And they grilled us HARD. But the harder programs tend to also produce more knowledgeable nurses. Hell, I passed my PN-NCLEX first try after only having to complete half the test before the computer program determined I didn't need to do anymore because of the score I already had (there's an algorithm that runs during the test that gives you harder or easier questions depending on if you get them right or wrong, respectively, and eventually it ends the test early if it determines that you've answered enough that you'd either pass/fail the rest of the test if you were to finish it. If that makes sense. It's super cool). And I hardly studied before the test because I was a nervous wreck (thankfully you can take it multiple times with not penalty except cost, which is SO comforting). And I like to think that the way my program taught us helped me have an easier time passing. Compared to some other people I know, who completed their whole nursing program from other schools and had to take the RN-NCLEX multiple times before they could pass it. The programs that are easier to get into are also easier to complete, which is SO nice, but they'll also probably leave you less prepared for the standardized state NCLEX test and nursing in general.

Still absolutely nothing wrong with completing an easier program, tho. You can only learn so much in nursing school and you leave it with only a basic knowledge of nursing in general. They cram a LOT into your brain and make you drink it from a fire hose, but there's SO much about nursing that is learned after you graduate. And you'll always be learning. ALWAYS. So the program you choose is only a starting point. Just your choice which one you go for.

I'm sorry, that's a lot. Nursing is a LOT. There's a reason why one of the phrases I adopted and used a TON in nursing school was, "It'll be worth it in the end, but god at what cost." (Also started and still frequently use "It's better to be safe than sorry.") It was tough, and I'm not super looking forward to when I complete my RN degree. But for those who are determined enough, it is so, so worth it. Its impossible to know what it'll be like until you're there, but just know it takes a lot of determination and accepting that it'll kick your ass. Your life will be Nursing School Only while in the program. You will leave a changed person. But if you're willing to do it, especially after doing some of your own research into it, I highly recommend it. It kicked my ass but I don't regret it for a second, and I definitely want to complete my RN at some point.

I'm driven to help people and have always wanted to do something in a medical field (animal or human), and nursing is one of the main ways I saw myself doing that. And even with my LPN license, I'm still in a position to help people. I have helped some people and always strive to do so when possible. I have no regrets. And despite how hard it is, I highly recommend at least considering it if it speaks to you as well. It is not a light, easy decision, but it's a worth-while one if you choose it and set your mind to it.

[aceteling]

kinda wanna come out to the rest of my irl friends in june

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Yakuza

When your brother gets himself deep into debt, one yakuza is surprisingly willing to help you get him out. Word Count: 4.3k

When your brother asks you to visit him in Tokyo, something about his voice makes your big sister instincts buzz.

He's great at putting on a show, but there's a twinge of nervousness to him that you've seldom heard before.

You spend your first week in the city with your hackles raised, trying and failing to figure out what he's hiding from you. And you might never have figured it out.

But then he showed up.

Yandere! Yakuza who kicks open your brother's door at three in the morning, a cigarette in one hand and a baseball bat in the other.

You scramble out of bed, convinced you're about to be murdered. And it's only your brother's hand hastily slapped over your mouth that keeps you from screaming bloody murder.

"Relax, I know these guys."

Despite his words, your brother doesn't look relaxed at all. His eyes dart around the room and he balls his fists into his jeans. It's a habit he hasn't broken since childhood and before you know it, you're stepping between him and a dangerously scarred yakuza.

Your Japanese is beyond rudimentary and your course didn't exactly cover how to have conversations with members of an organised crime family, but you tilt your chin back and try to keep your voice steady.

"Naze anata ga koko ni iru no ka? [why are you here?]"

Yandere! Yakuza who shamelessly leers at your tiny summer pyjamas. He pulls at his cigarette and when he speaks, his English is heavy with an accent.

"Came to collect what he owes us."

Of all the possible answers he could have given you, that was one you don't expect in the slightest. You turn to your brother and the way he avoids your eyes is answer enough. God, how could he be so stupid? Didn't you teach him better?

Yandere! Yakuza who came prepared to smash furniture and rough up a stubborn debtor suddenly finds himself at the mercy of your glare. You're at least a foot or two shorter than him and somehow it feels like he's the one being overpowered.

"How much does he owe?"

"Sis really I can-"

Yandere! Yakuza who scoffs and names a number much, much larger than you expected. It takes every ounce of will power not to scream at your brother right then and there. How could he get himself into such a mess? He's barely been here more than six months!

Yandere! Yakuza who watches the emotions flicker across your face and has to admire the way you fight them back. The only sign of your fear is a slight tremble in your hand.

"How much do you need tonight?"

The amount he names is just about everything you have in savings. You bite your lip. One look at him tells you everything you need to know. This isn't some small time crook. The pin on his suit jacket is clear as day, even to a foreigner like you.

You pull your coat over your pyjamas and grab your handbag.

"Let's go then."

When you step out into the hall, you're met with two other Yakuza. How didn't you notice them?

You meet their eyes, trying your absolute hardest to seem unruffled. Predators get violent when they sense fear, right? So don't like them catch that smell on you, no matter how fast your heart is racing.

The night air nips at your skin as you head to the nearest ATM.

"Sis it isn't that bad, I swear -"

"We'll talk about it later, ok?"

Yandere! Yakuza who walks close behind you. You can catch the smell of his cologne - something woody and pleasantly sharp.

When you slip your card into the ATM, he leans against the wall next to you and pulls out another cigarette. He watches you while he lights it, the flame throwing his cheekbones into sharp relief.

"You got a boyfriend?"

You're genuinely surprised. Your relationship status isn't exactly on your list of things dangerous criminals should be concerned about.

"No. I don't."

He let's the smoke curl up between his teeth.

"Good. Pretty girl like you shouldn't bother with relationships."

"Why not?"

The ATM spits out your cash before he can answer.

He doesn't take the money immediately. Instead, he let's his eyes roam down your body, like he can still see what's underneath your bulky coat.

"You're never gonna pay it off at this rate."

"You're offering me advice? Didn't think that was part of your job."

"Sōde wa arimasen [it isn't]. But what kind of man would I be if I didn't help you out?"

He digs in his inner pocket and you catch a glimpse of the gun holstered under his jacket.

He pulls out a business card and scribbles something at the back of it.

"He hasn't told you, but we've got his passport. He can't leave until he's settled what he owes."

You suck in a sharp breath at that. How much worse could this situation get?

He holds out the card. "Come work for us and maybe we can work out a better deal, yeah?"

You scoff. "Does that deal involve selling my organs?"

He smiles a little at that. "Īe - no. It's easy work. Come by tomorrow and see for yourself."

You look down at the card and the hand offering it. His tattoos peak out of his sleeve, blue-black and twisting in patterns you can't recognise. Better to not offend a gangster, right?

You take the card.

"Iiko [good girl]."

He turns to go, his baseball bat slung over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow hanī [honey]."

He's barely out of sight before you're grabbing your brother's ear and dragging him back to the apartment.

You spend the rest of the night talking to - or more accurately, interrogating - your brother.

"Gambling? What the hell where you thinking?"

"I was drunk, okay?"

You hiss and rub at your temples. And the worst part? The yakuza was right. You can't pay it off. Not without a very well paying job.

His card glares at you from the kitchen table. An easy job, huh?

The address on the card leads you to a hostess club in the middle of the Red Light District.

He isn't going to kidnap you in the middle of the day in the middle of the city, right? Slightly comforted, you make your way into the club.

It's cool and dark, lit by colorful lamps more than anything. You show the card to the bartender and a few minutes later your yakuza is sitting across from you and ordering you both drinks.

Yandere! Yakuza who wears a suit in the slouched, lazy way of a school delinquent. Shirt unbuttoned so you can see the edge his tattoos and the gold chain gleaming at his neck.

He gestures at the bar and the room around you, his cigarette hanging lazily between his fingers. "The Family owns this place. And my kyodai manages it."

He studies you while he smokes, eyes dipping to your chest and lingering. "You can work as a hostess here. Make good money and we'll take a cut of it to pay off what your brother owes."

You take a sip of your drink to avoid answering him. The sake leaves a tingle on your lips.

"But I'm not exactly fluent in Japanese. How am I supposed to entertain customers?"

He grins wolfishly at you. "Just wear something tight and you won't have to talk at all."

"Perv," you mutter into your drink.

On the surface, you can't see anything wrong with his offer. It makes perfect sense - the club gets a new girl they barely have to pay and your brother's creditors don't need to keep tracking him down.

But he's a yakuza and you'd be a fool to trust him.

"Fine. I'll work here, try my hardest to learn Japanese and sell drinks."

You hold his gaze. "But I'm gone the second I think you're being shady. Got it?"

Yandere! Yakuza who smiles like he's won the lottery. "Wakatta [got it]."

When you show up later that evening, he's your first customer. He orders you a bottle of champagne and keeps topping up your glass without ever touching his own.

A few drinks in you manage to finally loosen up enough to hold a conversation. He asks you endless questions - about your childhood, your hobbies, the movies you've been watching.

But in return, he dodges any question you throw at him. "Don't ask about my family." "My childhood was boring. You don't want to hear about it." "Hobbies? Does puss-"

"No."

"Then no."

He's surprisingly fun to talk to. And when he gets a call and has to leave you, there's a pang of disappointment that you can't quite mask.

He grins and flicks your forehead. "Don't miss me too much."

When you pick up the bill, you realise he left you a hefty tip. You stare at it and then at his retreating back. Just what is his angle?

Yandere! Yakuza who's back the next day and the one after that. He sprawls in the booth like a spoiled prince, his arms thrown across the headrest and his legs spread.

"Let me teach you Japanese."

You perk up. A native teacher would be so much easier to learn from compared to the dense textbooks you've tried using.

"Repeat after me. Onegaishimasu. It means 'please'."

You try and imitate his intonation. He walks you through a few more common phrases with moderate success.

"Need to work on your accent, but that was decent. Ready to try something longer? Anata wa totemo hansamudesu ne [I think you're very handsome]."

"Anato wa...wa totemo hansam... hansamudesu ne."

He smirks at you over the rim of his glass. He seems immensely pleased.

"What does it mean?"

"Just another way to... greet someone. Kinda tricky though, so you should just use it on me."

He spends the rest of the day explaining kanji and grammar. You take notes on the back of a receipt and promise to rewrite them when you get home.

Your shift is practically over when he finally stands to leave.

"Say goodbye like I taught you."

"Anata wa totemo hansamudesu ne."

He grins at you again, his voice a bit sweeter when he replies. "Anata mo totemo kireidesu ne [you're pretty too]."

You tilt your head, struggling to understand. You don't recognise the phrase, but he's gone before you can ask what it means.

Yandere! Yakuza who requests you almost everyday. Until the house mother snaps at him to give it a rest, there are other clients who want to talk to you.

He scoffs and throws back his drink, Adam's apple bobbing like he's swallowing down his anger too.

"If they want to talk to her so bad, they should get here earlier. Watashitachiha kono basho o shoyū shite imasu [we own this place]. So go and get me my girl."

When you finally make it to his table, he's back to being all smiles. The only person who notices his jealousy is the house mother and she's far too busy to mention it.

"My head is killing me. Give me a massage please?"

He flops down into your lap before you can say no.

You sigh and run your fingers through his hair, trying to remember where the pressure points are.

Yandere! Yakuza who practically purrs at your touch. When you lift a hand away to take a sip of your water, he barely waits for you to swallow before he's dragging it back.

There's something very strange about having a deadly gangster in your lap. With his eyes closed, you can almost forget just how much he scared you when you first met. Can forget how he still scares you.

He opens his eyes and catches you studying him. He reaches up and catches your hand as you draw away from him. His touch is gentle, softer than you would expect from looking at him.

"Go on a date with me."

You aren't sure if it's an offer or a command. There's something so intimate about the way he looks at you, the club lights carving hollows into his cheeks, eyes dark and sweet.

And God help you, he's so close. Only the thin fabric of your stockings between his skin and yours.

"Okay."

His lips quirk into a half smile, boyishly handsome.

"Good. You'll like it."

By the next evening, you're already regretting your decision. What kind of idiot goes on a date with a yakuza? You blame the alcohol and the closeness of his body and your stupid, stupid hormones for getting you into this.

But when he picks you up, you find yourself smiling. He actually knocks on the apartment door this time and you open it with the full intention of teasing him.

"My brother's landlord-"

Your words die in your throat. You always knew he was handsome but the man waiting for you takes your breath away.

His hair is slicked away from his face and a sparkling cross dangles from one ear. His lazy suits are gone, replaced with a suit that's pressed and tailored. Hell, even his shirt is buttoned up properly.

He looks good. Dangerously good.

He takes you in, eyes lingering at your curves. You swallow and try not to blush. You do your hair and makeup everyday for the club and he's seen you in this dress before, but he looks at you like it's all new to him, like he wants to drink in every inch of you.

You somehow manage to find your voice and it has none of its usual bite. "You look good. Really good."

He smoothes a hand over his hair self consciously. "Arigatō. Shall we go?"

He offers you his arm and you take it, your heart thundering. He opens the car door for you and helps you in like a proper gentleman. You catch a whiff of his cologne - the same woodsy scent from the night you met.

He takes you to a skyscraper restaurant and sits down right next to the window. The city is a sparkling sprawl at your feet.

"I didn't think you'd be into a place like this," you say.

"What? You think I don't got class?" He grins and points his fork at you, "I've got the best damn taste in this whole city."

"Explains why you asked me out then."

"Obviously." He leans forward. "Only the best for my girl, yeah?"

"I'm your girl? Since when?"

"Since..." He makes a show of checking his watch. "Since the night I met you. You just didn't know it yet."

Ah, now that's one way to make a girl fall for you. And despite your better sense, you feel yourself falling.

You can still taste the lingering sweetness of dessert when he walks you back to his car. His leans against the car door and loops his arms around your waist.

"You had fun tonight?"

"Yes. More than I expected honestly."

He pulls you closer to him, softly enough that you can step back at any point. You don't.

"Gonna give me a kiss to say thank you? It's a very important part of our culture."

You clasp your hands together behind his neck.

"You liar."

He grins that boyish half smile of his. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

He doesn't feel like a gangster or a creditor or a customer. In that moment he feels like just a man - someone strong and handsome that you desperately want to kiss.

Your gaze flickers down to his lips and then back to his eyes. You pull gently at his neck and his head dips lower. You stay like that for a moment, lips almost touching. Too nervous to make the final move.

His hands move to cradle your waist and he closes the gap between you.

You pull him closer, your hands slipping from his neck to his jaw. His stubble scrapes your palm and makes your whole body tingle. He tastes of wine and sugar.

When you finally pull away, you draw your thumb across his lower lip. His eyes are half lidded and when he moves, it's with a sluggish reluctance. Like he doesn't want to let go of you.

He keeps one hand on your waist and draws out a stack of cash with the other. When he speaks, his voice is husky.

"How much for tonight?"

"What?"

His draws his hand up your waist to rest against your sternum. Like he wants to dig his hand into your heart.

"How much to take you home?"

A bucket of cold water would have been less shocking. You pull away from him, your mind racing.

God, why are you such an idiot? Of course he only wants to fuck you. He's just a thug, what did you expect?

And worse, you feel like a small part of your heart is breaking. Why be so sweet to you, why go out of his way to spend time with you, if all he wants is a one night stand?

"Are you serious?"

"Obviously. How much do you charge?"

You act without thinking and slap him right across his face.

The sound of it is terribly sharp in the open quite of the parking lot. It leaves your palm stinging. You freeze, terrified of what you've just done.

He doesn't move, his head turned to the side from the force of your slap. Slowly, he touches his fingers to his cheek. His expression is unreadable.

Oh, you're so dead. You just hit a yakuza. A guy who probably breaks faces everyday, who has who knows how many felonies to his name.

Your first instinct is to apologise, say you weren't thinking and that you're so so sorry. You lift your chin and squash down that part of you.

"I'm not for sale."

The quiet stretches out, tense and dangerous. He turns away and opens the car door for you. He doesn't meet your eyes.

"I understand now. Gomen'nasai [I'm sorry]."

The drive home is terribly quiet. You keep expecting him to lash out - hit you or humiliate you for daring to slap him like that.

He doesn't. He just keeps eyes on the road.

When you reach your building, he follows you to the door and rests his hand on the frame above your head. You can feel him behind you, close enough for his breath to tickle the back of your neck.

"I can't buy you."

"No."

"But I want you."

You pull in a shuddering breath. "Earn it."

You shut the door without turning back.

He doesn't show up at the club for the next week. At first you're on edge - what if he gets you fired? Or worse, does something to your brother?

But your boss doesn't mention anything and your brother keeps coming home in one piece. Slowly, you relax. Tell yourself that he's done with you now that you won't give him what he wants. You try and ignore the way it hurts.

When he does finally show up, he's dangerously tipsy. He yanks you out of your booth in the middle of a date and leaves the house mother to bow and apologise to the customer.

You try not to make a scene as he pulls you along behind him. But you look about desperately for any of the other yakuza. Where the hell are they when you need them?

Finally, he drops you in a booth in the corner of the club and collapses across from you. His hair is messier than you've ever seen it and there's a feverish wildness in the way he looks at you.

"Fine. I'm here. Let me earn your love."

You rub your arm and scowl at him. "Your idea of winning me over is to leave a huge bruise on my arm?"

He runs his hands through his hair. "Hell, I don't know. I've never had to win a girl over before."

"Yeah right. I've seen the girls you go out with. There's no shortage of women in your life."

He looks you in the eye. "Bought and paid for." He gestures at the table and at you. "Not like this. Not like you."

That gives you pause. It makes sense. Gangsters don't exactly have the time to go on Sunday morning brunch dates or meet the family.

"So why not just pay someone else?"

You don't say it out loud but the rest of your question is clear. Why me?

"I...I don't want to. Setsumei suru no wa totemo muzukashīdesu [It's so hard to explain]. But I don't want anyone else."

A confession from a yakuza was not at all on your list on fun and lighthearted tourist activities. You're not entirely sure how to deal with it.

Your sense is screaming at you to be smart. And when is dating a criminal ever smart? You're supposed to get yourself and your brother away from the underworld, not get roped deeper in. And what happens if you want to break up? When has a man with a gun and too many scars ever taken a heartbreak well?

And yet...

You want him. Stupidly, against all sense, you want to be with him. He's dangerous. He probably only wants to fuck you. He has too much power over your life. He might never let you leave him.

And still you want him.

You take a deep breath. "Come over tonight and I'll cook you something. And if my cooking doesn't change your mind then... then we can talk about it."

He smiles at you and the wild look in his eye seems to finally dim.

"Anata ga watashi o oidasou to shite mo dekinakatta [Baby, you couldn't get rid of me if you tried]."

You weren't lying when you said you were a terrible cook. When he finally arrives, the rice is somehow both burnt and slightly undercooked and your curry is severely under-salted.

You scrunch your nose when you take a bite. "This is awful."

"You cooked it." He takes another bite. "And I hate to say it, but I've had worse."

You push your bowl away and mutter, "I didn't think rice could be so complicated. I followed the instructions and everything."

He takes another bite. "I can make decent rice. And udon."

"So between the two of us, there's only one good cook? Shameful."

He adds some salt to his bowl. "Neither of us ever has the time to cook anyway, so I don't know why you're surprised."

You shake your head and watch him. He's halfway through your abysmal culinary concoction and somehow not green in the face.

"You never talk about yourself," you tell him.

He avoids your eyes. "I'm not that interesting."

"But I am?"

"Yes." There's a quiet fierceness to his answer that makes your heart stutter.

"Tell me a secret about yourself."

It's his turn to study you. "A secret."

"That's what I said."

He considers you for a long moment before reaching up and undoing his shirt buttons. He turns his back to you and let's his shirt fall away.

You gasp. His tattoo covers his entire back. It's every bit as intricate as you suspected - there's lotus flowers between his shoulder blades and a spider inked below his ribcage.

But it's the snake that takes up most of the space. It curls and unwinds across his back, every scale painstakingly inked. It's hissing mouth rests on his shoulder blade, opposite his heart.

He flinches when you touch him, but doesn't ask you to stop. You run your fingertips up his back, tracing the snakes coiling body.

"It's incredible."

He doesn't answer you. Eventually your fingers come to rest on his neck.

He reaches back and takes hold of your wrist. He draws it forward and tilts his head to press a kiss against your pulse. You wonder if he can feel the way your heart jumps when he touches you.

"Do you want to know the real secret? I go home at night and lie awake thinking about you."

You lean forward and rest your forehead against his bare back. "What do you think about?"

He inhales sharply. "Your voice... your lips... your body."

You laugh a little and your warm breath on his skin makes him shiver. "You're shameless."

"Mattaku hajishirazuna [totally shameless]."

You tilt his head towards you and kiss his cheek.

You can feel him smile against your lips. When you pull away, he turns to you and cups your jaw.

Your Japanese has gotten better, but you don't understand what he whispers before he kisses you.

"Watashi Kazu anata ni koiwoshiteiru, soshite watashi wa tomaranai [I'm falling in love with you and I can't stop]."

He presses his lips against yours, so much hungrier this time. His hand slips from your cheek to the nape of your neck to pull you closer to him.

"My girl, my pretty girl. Hanaretakute mo hanare rarenakatta [I couldn't let you go even if I wanted to]."

He presses hot kisses against your throat. His grip on your neck almost painfully tight.

"Hitsuyōniōjite, anata no kyōdai ni wa nan-nen mo shakkin o showa seru koto ni narudeshou [gonna keep your brother in debt for years if I have to]."

The rest of his sentence is little more than a growl. "Nanrakano hōhō de anata ni watashi o aishite morau tsumoridesu [gonna make you love me back one way or another]."

The one downside of courting a yakuza is not understanding everything he says. But maybe it's safer that way.

[readwritealldayallnight]

The men working on his crew today are too loud, too boisterous, too young, too content to stand around blabbering, taking the piss instead of doing their actual jobs

Getting into construction work following retirement from the SAS wasn’t exactly the idyllic image of sipping a daiquiri on the beach that his thick stack of discharge papers had painted in his head

But it kept his hands occupied and his mind busy, his daily stressors having shifted from cleaning blood out of his gear and patching broken bones every other day, to instead complaining about the rising price of lumber and pulling splinters out on occasion

Trading in his AR for a nail gun, swapping his tac vest for a tool belt, even turning in his skull mask for a hard hat, was surprisingly an easier adjustment than he’d predicted, the long hours and physical work meant he was too exhausted by the time he got home to spend much time doing anything other than preparing for the next day, a never ending cycle that kept him from being still for too long

It might have been some time since Simon Riley was on a battlefield, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still play the hero every once in a while

He’s stood at the top of a ladder, wiping the sweat off his brow as his other hand pats agains this tool belt, searching for the one tool he’s certain he forgot to bring up with him

“Pass me the claw head hammer will y-” Simon cuts himself off from asking the lad stood below him, when he notices he’s only talking to himself. Squinting through the glare of the afternoon sun shining in his eyes, he glances around the job site until he spots most of his crew gathered near the front gates

He rolls his eyes to himself as he begins making his way back down to solid ground, having spotted what had the men so distracted : a pretty bird stood on the other side of the fence

Simon can admit to himself, even he likes to partake in the occasional bird watching, he is just a man at the end of the day, but not when there’s work to be done, and they’re already more than a week behind on this job

“Alright you tossers, back to it!” He shouts to be heard over the group of men, a chorus of groans and grumbles echoing out before they’re slowly dispersing

“Ach, we were jus’ helpin ‘er out, sir!” A man who sounds like he’s been smoking all his life croaks out as he walks by

“Here, miss. He’s the one that might be able to give you an answer.” One of the younger men on the crew says, pointing a gloved hand in Simon’s direction

He follows the younger man’s gaze, expecting to find another curious bystander peeking at the work, perhaps a nosy neighbour who wants to know why such a mess is being made, hell maybe even one of the hens from the nearby college stopping by for a quick flirt

He’s prepared to offer a professional nod, maybe even a begrudging ‘Alright?’ if it appeases them, before he’ll be excusing himself back to the job, uninterested in getting home any later tonight than he already has to just to entertain some stranger

But of course, he doesn’t end up doing so, does he? Not when his hand comes up to block out the sun, his gaze peering through the chain link fence, and it’s you that his eyes land on

You, with your wide eyes fighting to appear confident, though the controlled panic running through them is clear to see from where Simon stands a few feet away from you

Your body tense as you push a small pram in place back and forth, back and forth, your attention jumping between the men and whoever must be tucked up under a pile of blankets in the stroller, presumably also the reason for your enticingly large cleavage, he allows himself think for a split second before averting his gaze

Simon sends the younger man away with a quick jut of his chin, before he’s taking a careful step towards you

“Wha’ can I help you with?” He tries in vain to mask the usual harshness in his tone, but with such a quick switch in his emotions it doesn’t come out sounding quite how he’d hoped, yet you don’t flinch away from him either

“I know-” you let out a frustrated breath, readjusting your grip on the pram’s handle as you steady yourself, locking eyes with his once again with a new vigour behind them this time around. “I know this is so silly of me, and I’m sure you’ve had lots of people botherin’ you, so uh, sorry for bein’ one of ‘em, but here I am.”

You let out a small chuckle to yourself, more self deprecating than anything else, but Simon finds himself offering the slightest bit of a smile in return, if only to ease your nerves

“Anyways, I can imagine you’re probably not allowed to tell but, uh, people have been saying this might be a daycare you’re building here.”

He knew what your question was going to be long before you’d opened your pretty mouth- everyone and their mother had been asking about the project

Limited childcare in the area meant that as soon as the first whispers of a new daycare being built had started to spread, parents and even parents to be had been poking their noses before shovels had even hit the ground

Opening his mouth to give you the same answer he’d given everyone before you, Simon finds the words dying on his tongue as the unmistakable sound of an upset baby comes from the pram, and a very small baby at that

“Shh, shh darling. It’s okay, baby. You’re alright, shh.” He can’t find it in himself not to step closer until he’s practically got his nose poking through the fence to get nearer to you both, eyes glued to the way your lips formed the sweet soothing words, peering towards the increasingly squirming bundle tucked away in the pram

“Tha’s a tiny one.” Simon practically whispers to himself, though he knows you’ve heard him when your eyes glance up to meet his. “Can’t be very old.” He remembers how small his nephew had been when he’d been born, and recognized that distinct newborn cry instantly.

“Just turned eight weeks.” You answer with a ghost of a proud smile dancing across your lips quickly as you gaze at your bundle of joy, a tidbit of information you would expect a new parent would be all too happy to talk about, though the elation quickly disappears from your face. “Unfortunately my job is uh, I have to go back to work soon, I’ve just really been needing to find a spot for her somewhere.”

“Have you told your boss to sod off?” He asks, biceps bulging as he crosses his arms and leans a shoulder against the fence. He doesn’t like that. Doesn’t like the idea of a pretty little bird being all worked up and stressed about finding her new little baby bird somewhere to stay because her job is trying to force her to come back so soon

He also recognizes the fact that he doesn’t know you, that you’ve been a stranger to him up until about 60 seconds ago, and that he shouldn’t go involving himself in things that don’t regard him, but there’s something about this, something about you, that has him asking more questions that he should

Simon hardly realizes the corners of his mouth trying to smile along when you let out a small chuckle at his question, before your answer has him set back into his usual scowl. “No, I wish it were that simple.” you try to laugh again, though the sound doesn’t quite reach your eyes as you push some hair out of your eyes, Simon’s fingers twitching at his side

“No, they’re not forcing me to come back, it’s more of a- I need to work again. Money doesn’t exactly make itself, and it’s just me and her so…” you trail off, offering a meek shrug before you avert your gaze from his and go to fiddle with the baby blankets. “There- there just aren’t any daycare spots anywhere, and the waiting lists are months if not years long. And she and I just don’t pass through this neighbourhood often, so I’m worried that once that sign goes up announcing this is a daycare, that the spots are going to be taken up before I even have a chance to-”

“S’alrigh, s’alright.” Simon interrupts your rambling, a hand raised slightly in the air as though you were a spooked animal he hoped to calm. having heard everything he needed to hear. You look up at him with such sincerity in your eyes, he can tell you would do anything for that baby, that you likely aren’t above begging and pleading at this point, alone with a baby and short on options, he knows what he’ll do. Had pretty much made up his mind soon as he saw you, but now he’s decided.

“Just you and her, you said?” He asks quietly, absentmindedly nodding along with you when you confirm his question. “Well, I mean, I can tell ye that yes, this is meant to be a daycare ‘ere.” He speaks hesitantly, watching as the hope builds in your eyes at his words. He brings a sweaty palm up to rub the back of his neck as he breaks the news to you.

“But I couldn’t tell ye anythin’ about who we’re buildin’ for, love.” He continues, the term of endearment slipping past his lips unconsciously. “They just give us the blueprints and we do our part. Don’t know nothin’ ‘bout what or who’s takin ownership.” He watches that same sliver of hope that had started to grow quickly be snuffed out as you take in what he means.

“Oh. Well, I guess it makes sense.” You reply, evidently disappointed but too kind to push, too used to the recent defeats to expect anything else. “Thank you anyways, really. I appreciate you-”

“I’ll find out.” Simon says quickly, preventing you from bidding him whatever goodbye you were about to give him, keeping you here just a little longer.

“W-what?”

“I’ll find out. Who we’re building for. I’ll find you a name.”

“I- I- I don’t even- you really don’t have to do that!”

“Doesn’t matter what I have to do. I want to. So I will.”

He watches your face carefully now, seeing how you glance up at him with a different sort of apprehension in your gaze, almost like you’re truly taking him in for the first time, discovering something you weren’t expecting to find in him.

“Well, thank you. Truly.” You tell him, a smile so genuine gracing your lips that Simon finds himself choosing to smile back at you. The moment doesn’t last long however, when the baby starts to fuss again, your attention being drawn back to her. “I know baby, I know. I’ve got to feed you soon.”

Simon can’t help the deep blush that creeps up his neck and across his cheeks, unsure if it’s the way he enjoyed hearing you say ‘I know baby, I know’ a little too much or the idea of his own lips helping to ease that heavy ache in your swollen breasts that has him momentarily flustered.

“Maybe I could-” he clears his throat, pointedly avoiding looking at your chest and maintaining eye contact instead. “Maybe I could get your number or email or somethin’, to get back to you that is.”

“Oh! Yes of course! Here,” you say, digging through your pockets until you fish out a wadded up receipt. Simon pulls the pencil that’d been resting over his ear down and gently slips it through the fence over to you, watching with rapt attention as you bring the tip to the paper and write down what might be the most important numbers Simon ever learns. “There’s my number.”

He takes the pencil back from you and carefully accepts the paper you hand him, looking down at the name and smiley face you’ve left as well, whispering your name to himself before meeting your eyes once more. Before he can change his mind, Simon is tearing off the end of the receipt that’s still blank, and begins writing down his own name and number on it.

“If I don’t get back to you by the end of the week, you use tha’ to knock some sense into me, alrigh’?” He asks, slipping you the paper. He knows there isn’t a chance in hell he would forget about reaching out to you, about following through on this, but again, there’s something about you he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Thank you, Simon.” You answer, reading the name off the note he’s just given you, a small chill running down his spine at the sound of his name leaving your lips, the way you say it like it’s a name worth knowing. “Seriously, I can’t even tell you wha-”

The both of you can’t help but chuckle together when the baby’s cries cut you off again, you offering a sheepish smile in apology along with a small shrug of ‘what can you do?’.

“I’ll let you go, someone needs you more.”

“Well, we’re both very grateful to you, Simon.”

He stands there longer than he really should, watching the two of you walk off until you’re out of sight. The note you slipped him though? Well, that he holds onto until he’s clocking out, and maybe on the drive home as well, and maybe it’s the first thing to ever be hung up on his fridge in his flat, that little smiley face reminding him why a little bird watching isn’t so bad after all

I dunno ladies is this something???

Edit : you all decided this was something so here’s part 2

[liketolaugh-writes]

I've been playing with a no-one-knows AU where Danny has been married to Jason for years but hasn't told him his secret. Jason knows that Danny isn't human, but hasn't pressed because Danny is so terrified when he approaches the topic. The Batfamily do not know.

Presently, the GIW are in Gotham and closing in, and the Box Ghost has come to Danny seeking help.

----

“You’re a ghost,” Jason said gently, pulling one of Danny’s hands away from his face to wrap it in his own. Danny let him. “Aren’t you?”

Danny’s breath hitched again.

Surprisingly, the Box Ghost looked almost as horrified as Danny.

“What? NO! I, the BOX GHOST, would not out Danny Fenton to his human family! For he is as human as I once was!” He flailed his arms in blatant panic. “There is nothing to reveal, for Danny Fenton is most certainly NOT a ghost!”

“What’s wrong with Danny being a ghost?” Box Lunch wanted to know, tilting her head up to peer up at her father in confusion. “Is it a secret?”

“BOX LUNCH!” the Box Ghost wailed, every inch a mortified parent.

“Yes, it was, or your father would not be so blatantly lying about it,” Damian told her, taking pity on the child ghost.

“Oh!” Box Lunch nodded seriously. “Danny isn’t a ghost!”

Danny let out a slightly hysterical laugh, and then started to cry, gasping quietly with tears pouring down his face, hunched down to hide from them. He didn’t pull his hand out of Jason’s.

“It is no longer a secret here, as it has become apparent,” Damian elaborated.

Box Lunch scrunched up her nose. “Oh.”

“Ghosts are not bad,” Cass said softly, “if ghosts are Danny.”

“Danny.” Jason scooted closer and pulled Danny against him, and Danny let him, pressing into him without unwinding at all. “Danny, I already knew. I’ve known for years.” Danny tilted his head up to give him an incredulous look, and Jason grinned at him. “You’re not good at hiding it, stardust. Your freckles glow when you’re excited and your eyes flash green when you’re frustrated. You walk through closed doors when you’re sleepy and things fall through your hands when people startle you. I’ve known you aren’t human since we moved in together.”

“…Oh,” Danny murmured, guilt and relief and wonder swirling together in his still-wet eyes.

“Phantom!” the Box Ghost scolded. Jason took note of the sudden change in address. “You are the worst secret keeper ever!”

“Shut up, Boxy,” Danny snapped. He pulled away from Jason and wiped his eyes, sniffling. Their hands stayed locked together. “We, we need to hide you and bitty-bite b-before we talk about this any more. I wasn’t joking about the Guys in White.”

The Box Ghost flapped his arms dismissively. “They will not find us! They are looking for YOU, and their instruments will not be prepared for such subtle spirits as Box Lunch and I!”

“They are looking for me while I am hiding,” Danny said, soft but barbed. He wiped his face again and turned around to better face the other ghost, glaring sharply. “Something I am well known to be very good at. Far better at than you.”

The Box Ghost went so pale he was almost translucent.

“You don’t look like a ghost at all,” Tim said, studying Danny. “Your skin is pink, you don’t glow… most of the time, no pointed ears or fangs. Your eyes are normal.” His eyes narrowed. “Is this… not your natural appearance?”

Danny flinched. “I… I…” He swallowed, staring at nothing, and then forced his attention back onto the Box Ghost. “Your base signatures are pretty low. If you stop using your powers and suppress your auras as much as you can, you can probably bring them low enough to hide.”

No answers would be forthcoming for now, Jason understood. He signaled sharply to Bruce and Tim, the most likely to try to interrupt. Wait. Time-sensitive, finish operation before proceeding.

Bruce didn’t look pleased, but he nodded sharply. Tim just watched, thoughtful eyes fixed on Danny. Damian was scowling, Dick frowning faintly, but Cass’ curiosity looked borderline idle. Jason watched Danny interact with the other ghost with a healthy blend of interest and concern, and tried not to wonder if Tim was right.

“Box Lunch, do you know how to land?” Danny asked. It seemed like a silly question until Box Lunch wrinkled her nose and cocked her head.

“Land?” she asked, audibly uncertain. For that matter, her father looked vaguely baffled too. “Like… with my feet? On the floor?”

Danny managed a smile and nodded. Box Lunch eyed the floor, then drifted down to hover at floor level. “Like this?”

“Not exactly,” Danny said, sounding more fond than anything. He slid off the bar stool and knelt down in front of Box Lunch. Jason couldn’t look away; he’d been deprived of any open knowledge of Danny’s nonhuman side for so long that his curiosity was damn near insatiable now. And Danny teaching a kid of his species? That was doing things to Jason. Good things. “Close your eyes.” Box Lunch did. “Feel the energy in the air. Do you feel gravity? Do you sense how it pulls things down?” She nodded uncertainly. “Hold onto that feeling. Let it hold onto you. Do you feel it?” Nod. “Good. Now- let go of the sky.”

The instructions didn’t make a lick of sense to Jason, but Box Lunch dropped right out of the air and landed on her feet. Her eyes flew open, and she pinwheeled dramatically until Danny caught her.

“Ahh!” she squealed, looking dismayed. “I’m heavy!”

Danny chuckled. “No, bitty-bite, you’re still light as a feather.” He picked Box Lunch up and held her out in front of him, smiling. She squealed again, kicking her feet, her eyes bright with delight. “Good job. Do you think you can hold that?”

“Um, sure,” she mumbled, not looking at all sure.

The Box Ghost landed on the floor with a grunt - Jason suspected that he’d been listening to Danny’s instructions too. He held out his arms for Box Lunch, and Danny handed her over willingly.

“Now what?” the Box Ghost asked tentatively, staring at the floor like it would eat him. Yeah, Jason could definitely believe that he’d never landed before either.

“Now, you listen to me,” Danny said seriously. He reached out and grabbed Box Ghost’s arm, demanding his attention, and forced eye contact. From the Box Ghost’s wide eyes, this behavior was as new to him as it was to Jason. But then Danny continued, speaking as firmly as if he were willing his words into existence. “You are not a ghost. You are not a ghost.” Understanding flickered across the Box Ghost’s face, and he screwed his eyes shut. His glow started to dim. “You are solid. You are heavy. You are warm. You are made of flesh, blood, and bone. You are not a ghost. You are not a ghost. You are human.”

The Box Ghost’s glow receded and disappeared. Except for his blue skin, he almost looked human now. He opened his eyes uncertainly, and Danny gave him a weary smile and a nod, letting go of his arm and leaning back.

“But what about Box Lunch?” the Box Ghost asked anxiously, looking down at Box Lunch. She’d squeezed her eyes shut to try and follow Danny’s instructions, but didn’t seem to be meeting with the same success.

Danny sighed. “I’m not sure how to explain it to her,” he admitted, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair as he looked at the little girl with worry. She opened her eyes and gave him an anxious look, and Danny gave her a small smile. “It’s not your fault, bitty-bite. It’s just… you’ve always been a ghost, so you don’t have your dad’s memories of what it felt like to be human.”

Box Lunch stomped her feet. “I can pretend!”

“Then pretend,” Danny said seriously. “It doesn’t have to be perfect. Just do your best.”

“Wehh!” Box Lunch flailed her arms, brow furrowed in concentration. “I am human! My body is super solid and I crash into things a lot! And I run around on the ground and eat human food! Fear me!”

It was so cute that Jason muffled a laugh, and he wasn’t the only one. Box Lunch ran a circle around the floor, then crashed into a wall on purpose and bounced off, giggling. Even Bruce’s hard expression softened into a fond look.

“That should keep you off the sensors,” Danny said to the Box Ghost, voice low. Something about his eyes looked exhausted. “Just make sure Box Lunch maintains it. Maybe keep playing human with her.”

The Box Ghost nodded uncertainly. “Thank you, Phantom,” he said quietly. “I know that we can count on you.”

[hyperfixiation-station]

Behind Enemy Lines Pt.1

CW: Torture, Canon-typical violence, talk of derealization, disassociation Summary: You were a friendly medic, captured years ago and held prisoner, forced to do do the bidding of your captors. Years later, a man by the name of Ghost is dragged in and changes the trajectory of your life. A/N: I had severe ADHD, and i am unmedicated rn, and it makes it really hard to work on things unless I get the hyperfocused drive for it, so I'm sorry I'm so bad at making the other parts to my fics. Know that I will never abandon them. it just might take me a while. idea part 2

You fought back, at first. Way back when you first got captured, taken from your base camp and dragged through miles and miles of harsh terrain, blindfolded and bound. A medic you were, yes. But your team had trained you with the best of them. You spent the whole time trying to escape, kicking and screaming until they bound your legs and gagged you. You spent the first month of captivity refusing to talk to them, hissing and spitting and pretending their punches didn’t hurt. But it didn't take you long to realize it was better to cooperate, or to at least be civil. Civility got you less broken bones, less pain, more rations, more sleep. Cooperation didn’t come till later, when you finally realized your team wasn't coming for youthey were dead but you didn't know that.

Surprisingly, the whole mouth-getting-sewn-shut didn't happen till a couple years in... they were torturing someone, a man who said he had kids and a wife at home, whose only wish was that they left something recognizable of him so they could get some closure. You begged them to stop. Begged them to stop when his wounds became too numerous to count, too much for you to handle. Begged because you started to care for him as he told you about his son and daughter, how they want him home for Christmas(You didn't have the heart to tell him Christmas was 6 days ago) Told them that he would die no matter what you did if they continued. Well, they didn't stop, and he did die... and you found yourself ringing in the new year by being strapped to a table.

“We warned you to stop talking with him.” They said as they clamped the metal shut over your forehead and chin, holding you in place. “We told you to not get attached, but since you can’t seem to do it on your own, we’ll help you.” The feeding tube came 2 weeks later, shoved up your nose when they realized you were starving...they couldn't lose their favorite medic of course.

You stopped paying attention to the passage of time after that, spent most of your days drifting in and out of reality, moving through the motions with a practiced ease. And it would have remained that way, if it wasn’t for a man in a skull mask with a team- a family- looking for him. 

Your first introduction to him ended up with you getting a broken nose. Per usual, you were shoved into the cell, medical kit in hand, ready to fix up whatever damage your captors had done the their poor prisoner.

The mask he had been wearing when you saw him dragged in was gone, and he had a gash that went all the way through his cheek that would need stitching up. You pull out your equipment, moving slowly towards his bleeding face. 

he headbutted you the moment you got close enough for him to reach, and the crunch of bone and the gush of warm blood followed, not that you noticed. You were still in that dreamlike state, not quite tether to reality in the way you should be. You barely noticed when they tranqued him, and the only reason you didn't finish his stitches is because you passed out too(it’s hard to breathe through a bloody, broken nose)

The next time you approach more carefully, but he’s no trouble. Mostly because they left him completely strapped to the table this time. Today was a rare day, a time when you  could actually feel your feet on the ground rather than just see them. You feel bad as you wipe him down, your eyes flicking over the myriad of scars on his body. What’s one more you think to yourself as you get to work stitching a stab wound to his thigh. Just barely missed the artery here…that could have been bad news. Okay tie it off and- there we go. I think the only other thing that need to- oh, is he…talking to me? I should probably pay attention to that.

“-here?” His voice is gravely, though you suppose yours would be too after being tortured. He stares at you expectantly, and you shrug. You don’t know what he said, and even if you did, you couldn’t answer. You just move to his wrist, snapping the bone back in place. He inhales sharply, but doesn’t make an actual sound, which surprises you. But you don’t dwell on it, wrapping a bandage around his arm and moving to exit the room. 

“Y’ no’ g’nna lemme off?” His voice sounds, “they said y’ would.” You spin around, staring at him. You're not stupid. And even if your…bosses had said that, you still wouldn’t do it. Being trapped in a room with a man who is at least a foot taller than you and looks like he could kill a man with his glare? No thank you. 

You take a step back, heading towards the door. The man lets out a sound you would barely qualify as a laugh. “Sm’rt then.” He says to himself, “No’ gonna be that easy.” 

The next time you go in, you can't help but wonder what they want from this man. By now they usually would have killed him off. Oh well, not your job to wonder. You clean him up, splinting the fingers they had broke when he talks to you again.

"why don't y' let me die?" He says, voice just as gravely as before, "Put me outa m' misery?" You don't respond, just keep taping his hand. IT's something you ad asked yourself, right at the beginning. It would be kinder for you to just let your patients die. But you couldn't do it. Partially because you were punished anytime someone died before your captors wanted them to, but also because you were a medic. YOu were there to heal. You couldn't stomach letting someone die by your hand.

"Answer me!" The man snarls, bringing you back to the present, "For god's sake y' never talk, fuckin' mute." You don't respond, of course. Just finish your task and leave him to his thoughts.

He’s angrier after that time, you’ve noticed. The few times you're actually present, he’s fighting you. Usually not with words, but he bucks and doesn’t hold still. He’s tried to grab your medical supplies countless times, and one time you actually had to be pulled out because he jerked his arm while you were stitching him and somehow managed to drive the needle into your own hand. The few times he does actually yell at you, you’re usually not paying attention. You can catch words like “Dishonorable”  and “Disgraceful”. You aren’t entirely sure of the context of the words, but you can guess. You’ve treated enough prisoners who think that you are the world's worst human being, a blight to the medical field, to guess what he's trying to tell you. 

It's funny though, this man so full of hate. Because, for the first time in goodness knows how long, your feet are on the ground, and your head is level. Something about this man, his angry, uncrushed demeanor, even after weeks of torture, stirs emotion in you that you can’t quite identify. And maybe you should be grateful, thankful your head is on right, but you're not. You so desperately want to go back to that place of apathy and detachment, where your emotions weren’t so strong, were the pains of mishealed bones and poorly healed scars didn’t plague your waking moments. 

Or maybe it wasn’t the man- The Ghost, as you found out he was called. Maybe it was the fact that something in the air had changed. The air was electric, charged with tension so thick you could feel it even alone in your cot. They were watching you, you could tell. Could feel their eyes tracking your movements in a way they hadn’t since first giving you freedom to move around. 

You're not sure why. It’s not like you have anyone to go home to. You were an only child, and your parents had died long before you reached 18. All you had was your team, a team that had seemingly abandoned you. So why would you leave? There was nowhere to go. And yet they watched you. Was it because you were becoming more aware, more grounded then you had been in a long while? Was it the man, Ghost, who had them on edge? 

The answer came two days later. You were in Ghost's cell again, desperately packing gauze into a gaping hole on his side. You don’t know what had happened, but for the first time in years you were dragged from your cell, your captors muttering under their breath in a language you still didn’t understand as they thrust you into his cell. Blood was everywhere. Your best guess was that Ghost had been struggling and an instrument had slipped and gouged out a hole in his side. So here you are, packing gauze into the wound as you try to figure out what to do to keep him alive with your rudimentary supplies. 

You pack another piece of gauze in just as the door goes flying open. Men, dressed in black, wearing the same mask Ghost was, come bursting in. 

“Get back!” The one in the front yells at you, gun pointed in your face. You shake your head, hands pressed against Ghost’s wound. 

“Now!” You make a protesting noise, trying to gesture with your chin. The man looks down, eyes widening. 

“Aw shit- are you the medic?” You nod almost desperately. The man looks at you again, staring at your hands. They are shaking, pressed against the wound as you try to keep Ghost from bleeding out. 

“Fix him.” The man snaps. You shake your head and look up at the man, trying to communicate that you need more supplies. 

“Use your words.” The man gabs the gun at you, indicating he wants you to get on with it. You stomp your foot, shaking your head again. 

“What, what's that supposed..…you can’t speak, can you?” You nod, glad he finally got it. The man groans, lowering his gun.

“You’re coming with us, but you make one wrong move, and I mean one, I will put a bullet through your brain before you can even speak. Got it?” He gestures to the other two men with him, and together you lift Ghost up, carrying him out to safety.

A/N- anyways, here's part one. Sorry if it disappoints anyone

tags, sorry if i missed any:

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