#and they’ve called me non stop for days until I picked up

[batwynn]

Extra big shout out to my selfish aunt today for still not managing any of my dead grandfather’s affairs—even when she was given power of attorney and access to his account info specifically to do that for him—so that I’m getting debt collectors calling for all his overdue accounts almost two fucking years later. And I’m the lucky winner for this prize because my number happened to be on file from when I helped him set all his accounts up when I was living and taking care of him fulltime and being abused and treated like shit by him. 👍

Yes, I know she only agreed to it so she could slurp up any money she could from him while he was dying. No, I had no real expectations for her to do anything that benefits anyone else. I still thought maybe this time the work needed for this (like two phone calls and maybe an email of his death certificate) were simple and easy enough for her to manage for her own father, who she loves to go on and on about caring about and for when she did exactly jack shit for him. But I guess now that he’s gone, she can only trot out his corpse when she needs a show of sympathy when her attention meter gets too low. Why put in any effort now, when she couldn’t be bothered while he was alive, I guess.

Love being haunted by my shitty family in weird, ridiculous ways.

[hannahluvsbillie]

the only one

casual part 3.

(but can be read as a one shot)

part one

✫ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ~ you thought billie had moved on, seeing her post like it was nothing, she was fine. maybe it was just casual to her.

★ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ~ billie eilish x reader

★ 𝐜𝐰! ~ mentions of panic attack, angst, nightmares (?)

ᡣ𐭩 a/n ~ hi! thank you all sm for waiting for part 3!! this one has a little time-skip, i’m thinking maybe 1-2 months since casual part 2. let me know if you like it, hopefully it lived up to your expectations 🥺

it’s been a few months since that last meet up billie and you had. the one where she belittled you and your feelings.

you blocked her the morning after, it wasn’t easy blocking her. someone you fell in love with, but you realized that it was one sided the day she told you it was just causal.

maybe you wanted her to spill her feelings on how she loved you, and didn’t just want you for a quick hook up to relive some steam. but deep down you knew that’d never be the case.

to say you’ve been doing good is a lie, you’ve been.. okay. dating felt pointless as of now, you knew your heart would always belong to billie, even if you two weren’t serious, it didn’t mean you loved her any less.

billie on the other hand, looked like she was doing great. i mean- it wasn’t like you’ve checked up on her, you were non contact. but on her instagram she looked like she was doing great. she’s on tour, her album is still doing good, she has good friends. it was bittersweet to see her now, it still made you cry some nights.

you were laying in your bed, staring up at the ceiling. you had just woke up from your sleep, a dream waking you up. the dream was a recurring one you’ve gotten for the past few months since you ended it with billie.

the dream went something like this: you were in bed and when you turned over, you see billie, sleeping peacefully. you just observe her for however long until your brain wakes you up.

it never went father then that, it was just a constant reminder of her. maybe that’s why you couldn’t get over her.

suddenly your phone starts ringing, waking you from your daze. you shake your head a little and roll over, grabbing your phone off of the nightstand and rubbing your eyes to see who’s calling.

who would call you at 3 am?

you read the number, you don’t recognize it. it’s your area code, but that’s all you recognize. god- they’ve called you 12 times.

you just decide to pick up, hoping they’d stop after that.

“hel-“ you clear your throat, trying to make it sound like you weren’t just asleep. “hello?” you say weakly.

“y/n?” the other person says.

your heart drops, how could you not recognize that voice? the voice that used to sing praises to you, who used to speak to you in the softest voice, the voice you fell in love with.

“billie? what the fuck?” you say, blinking repeatedly. you blocked her, how was she calling you? you pinch yourself once to make sure you aren’t still dreaming, only to be met with pain. okay, so this was real.

“i know im sorry- i just- i really need you right now, i have no one else to call and i don’t know what to do.” billie speaks, immediately apologizing. you can already tell she was in the middle of a

panic attack. her voice cracking when she speaks. you feel that same pang in your chest hearing her like that.

you take a deep breath, running a hand through your hair. “okay- bills- billie, calm down. breathe for a minute” you say. you regret answering, it just made everything come back.

you hear her take a breathe and go silent for a moment, before speaking again. “i’m really sorry- i know you blocked me and we aren’t supposed to be talking, but i just- i dont know what to do. you’re the only one that knows how to deal with me when im like- when im like this.” she speaks softly, her voice still shaky.

you go silent for a second, zoning out looking at the floor. inviting her over would be horrible for you, ruining all of the progress you’ve made. but fuck, you can’t just leave her alone, you can’t help but care about her.

“okay- fuck, do you want to come-“

“yeah.”

“okay.”

your eyes widen when she speaks. that was quick. as soon as she says yes you hang up, putting your phone down. what did you just do?

a few minutes later you’re pacing though the kitchen, waiting for the doorbell to ring. the gravity of what you just did sinks in, you shouldn’t of offered.

but as soon as the doorbell rings and you rush over to open the door- maybe a bit too quickly, and you see a disheveled billie, all of it disappears. god you just wanted to protect her from everything.

her hair sticks to her forehead, the same hair that you used to play with, her eyes were red and looked up at you with so

much guilt. it’s obvious she feels horrible

about coming here. maybe she wasn’t as good as it seemed on her instagram. it looks like she’s back in that place she was in when you first met her.

“oh, baby…” you coo, gently putting a hand on her shoulder and leading her inside. when you close the door and look back at her, she looks like a lost puppy, her eyes still swollen.

“i’m- sorry-“ billie chokes out, starting to cry again. you immediately pull her into a hug, gently cradling her head in your hand, the other hand gently rubbing her back.

“it’s okay billie.” you say, gently kissing her head.

you felt so many things, you let her into your house even when she broke your heart, you truely could never deny her, especially when she’s crying in your arms like this.

you’re fucked now.

[searenbound]

Can I request an heifer reader that has two newborn sons? (It can be fluff if you want!)

She was moved from her old farm because hers was abusive and with that she grew more aggressive, if anyone or any of the cows/bulls she will nip them hard or kicks them and with that bakugo starts to have a liking to them and is willing to wait for her to warm up to him and will father her two calf’s?

(If not you can ignore this plus I love your stories!!)

Only because I miss Bakubull, but fun fact! Only young cows who haven’t had a calf yet are called heifers. Just fluff for now but if anyone wants to give me a reason to make a smutty little sequel I wouldn’t be opposed

Warnings: swearing, mentions of past abuse, hybrid au, hybrids being kept as live stock, fem reader with she/her pronouns, written with plus size reader in mind, single mom! reader technically a cliffhanger ending

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x reader

“My boys aren’t going anywhere with you!” she had snorted and snuffed at some pushy bull her first day there. Nipping and snapping when he tried to push her anyways in some sort of asinine attempt to show her he was no threat, because obviously a frightened young mother with her background is gone accept some assholes ‘help’ with her calves when he’s stupidly grabbing for them with insistence that he could help.

Like something like that doesn’t potentially lead to something awful happening to those calves. Like she hasn’t been through traumatic shit at her last farm that made her apprehensive to trust anyone but herself and her newborns.

Not the other cows who cooed at the sight of the new babes and offered help with the feedings, and certainly not any bull who’s motivates where unclear and very well could be an attempt to gain a new cow to breed instead of genuine care.

Bakugou found himself watching in silent wonder and slight disgust as they all crowded it her like they weren’t told how they needed to be careful and patient with her. It was beyond him how he, a bull who was the picture perfect example of his title, had internalized this when the ‘non-problem’ cattle hadn’t.

He would have stopped it himself by intervening, but before he could even stand to move, she was kicking up dirt as a warning before charging the larger bull for not taking her seriously. Her horns just nubs in comparison to his and her stature much smaller, but she held her own and proved appoint.

And maybe that’s what sparked his interest? Maybe it was the gentle way she regarded her boys? The little hint of joy in her eyes which she goes a particularly enjoyable treat that hinted at what she was like before the trauma?

Or maybe it was the fact she was a touch like himself not too long ago, scared and confused and covering it up with aggression to create a sense of superiority and strength so no one touched her or those calves.

Whatever it was it had him in a vicious little vice grip.

“You know, those idiots are wrong for how they’ve gouged about it, but they have a point”.

“And how the hell do you know that huh? How do I even know if you’re any different?”

He shrugged at that, watching her boys playing with the ring toys their handlers gave them, she didn’t have any reaction to trust him like she said but he was determined to prove her wrong.

“It’s been what? Four? Five months? None of us have done anything wrong yet”.

“Doesn’t mean you won’t, last place was good until it wasn’t too”.

“Well you didn’t have me there did you? I’ll killed anyone before they lay a finger on those calves or you”.

She snorted at that. He’s hung around them and kept other’s from bothering her and the boys, an attempt to win her over to breed her then throw her aside to be picked on by the other buzzards that called themselves cattle. He was self serving like any other bull, she was sure.

“Stop thinking I’m like the rest, you have that written all over your face princess” he huffed cutting her off before a word passed her parted lips. “Don’t fuckin’ care how long it takes, I’ll prove I’m better than them. Promise I’ll take care of those boys if you let me, take good care of you too”.

And maybe it was that soft little gleam, more of a glimmering spark, in his carmine eyes, but she wanted him to. It didn’t seem so bad an idea to let him father her boys, maybe even give her some of his own if he were so lucky. A thought that flustered her greatly when it ran through her head.

[th3-0bjectivist]

Dear listener, this week I feel compelled to bring Tumblr a little slice of music from the Silversun Pickups, who, despite my best and most concentrated efforts to despise their sound, have managed to become endearing to my nearly non-existent heart. Regardless of my sincerest attempts to stop listening to them over a decade or so, this group is SO GOOD at what they do I just cannot manage to quit revisiting their catalog without a semi-religious consistency after being hooked by their intoxicating post-punk sound, and the complete experience that they have to offer. In terms of atmosphere, overall personal resonance, and contextual vibe… I keep returning to this band almost exclusively for their ability to manipulate my gloomy heartstrings like a melancholy violinist on a well-tuned violin. Smash play just above for Lazy Eye from their 2006 debut album, Carnavas, and if you want more, scroll on down.

True story: I tried to hate this band for about two years after I had discovered them (2015 or so). Looking back; I was immature, brash, a little punkass bitch. Also, true story, I have personally determined that hating them is impossible, especially after the emotional ride they have managed to provide for me in my limited time on planet Earth. I have realized that this dialect of rock music just isn’t for me, and still come back for more. They’ve got a lead male singer (Brian Aubert) whose voice registers as feminine to my ears and an overall sound that I would plainly describe as sonic. As of writing this musical recommendation, color me humble… their music is rabid and fervid with beautiful lyrical poetry, genuine passion for their craft, and a unique ability to bring me to the points of my knees just by being sincere and making songs about universal moments. This is a rare musical gem that I enjoy adoring, despite the nature of the force that formed it. The name of the group is derived singularly from the fact that the members early-on in their career picked up their alcohol from a store called Silversun Liquor… making it a Silversun pickup. Further, this group originally had not one, but two romantically involved couples in the lineup. When both couples broke up around the same time, and two members left subsequently, it nearly destroyed any future collaborative work… until around 2006 when they established their permanent lineup and released their first album which went gold by industry standards. I do honestly enjoy their earliest works more so than their later ones, as they had a knack for making me listen to shoegaze without actually wanting to open a vein in the process. Later on, they let their badass lady bassist, Nikki Monninger, take the lead vocal reins and they’ve even rubbed shoulders with industry titans like Butch Vig and Alan Moulder on the production end. Further on in their production cycle (2015-2022) their albums take on a newer, more mainstream sound that still feels groovy but also seems somewhat overproduced to me… as is the nature of getting in bed with music industry big wigs. But hey, that’s no sleight coming from me! I’ve got my headphones on right now and even their overproduced recent stuff is markedly better than approximately 91. 9999% of modern music. I just prefer their earlier stuff, which is why I will dovetail this post with There’s No Secrets This Year from their 2009 album Swoon!

This is a musical group I enjoy very much in spite of the type of music they make. Outside of a few bands here and there, I don’t even think I really like listening to rock music that much at all these days. SP makes my chest feel like it’s full of glitter and silly string, all while causing my head to bob up-and-down uncontrollably at the same time. Great job SP: your tunes actually make me feel something, unlike the rest of these indie/alt rock jabronis. Image source: https://www.livenation.co.uk/artist-silversun-pickups-2426

[life-with-my-three]

I think in the almost 5 years I’ve had a child at school, I may have only had one sent home with an injury once, maybe twice! This week both boys have injured themselves at school, badly enough to warrant getting sent home.

Tuesday, Fletch and narrowly missed colliding with another child on the playground. In avoiding them though he has fallen over and bumped his forehead rather hard. It almost instantly came up with a bump and bruising. He was extremely distressed, his teacher rang me and I went and picked him up.

Both Aaron and I were worried this would be the catalyst for setting up a dialogue for Fletcher that “school is bad”. I voiced this concern to his teacher the next day, and she said that was her big anxiety too. He came home the day of the injury though and said “I hope I can still go to school tomorrow”. Who is this kid?! Like seriously, it’s like we have a different child to the previous 6 months of school! It’s amazing, but wow!!

He has had a few periods at school the last 2 days where he does this little *fake* cry and says he wants to go home, his teacher has reported, but they’ve distracted him and got him engaged again in whatever. Which is what he needs. Not the screaming and the teacher immediately ringing me, or letting him sit on an iPad in a tent in the corner of the room to keep him calm, which is what previous school was doing. I LOVE his new teacher and teacher aides!

I got a call from Riley’s school yesterday. He had slipped over on the stairs at recess (ironically on the non slip strips on the stairs) whacked his knee and couldn’t stand. When we got there his knee had already swollen, which meant a hospital trip for X-rays.

I must have been a sight. They’ve got the carparks at the hospital closed at the moment which is making parking mayhem. I legit piggybacked my 10 year old son 2 blocks to the hospital. I’m not even pretending to be any kind of fit. I had men who would have at least been in their 70s stopping me and asking if I needed help.😂

The preliminary rays showed no major breaks, but they think there’s a very real possibility of a hairline fracture, which will take a couple of days to get results. So I’ve got Riley home today resting until the results come in. He can put a lot more weight on his leg today, so I think the swelling/bruising may *just* be soft tissue damage and hopefully no breaks.

[foreigndistance]

6 Years of Mirishita Anniversary Rankings. (event log/memorials & retrospective)

Ah yes, the yearly Million Live! Theater Days anniversary event. You pick a girl to grind event points for, try to reach the top 1000, and the rest is history. Or maybe you just want to gather all 52 event cards with that new sparkling outfit so you don’t have to dump a ton of rocks just to collect all of them.

Since 2019, I’ve chosen to partake in the yearly battleground of trying to gain as much points as possible. The more popular the idol (or if they are in the key visual), the more painful your ranking experience would be. Or you could just go for Ami, Mami, and/or Ayumu with mostly dumping auto live tickets.

I was only getting into IM@S when the game’s 1st Anniversary dropped, but only started Million Live! Theater Days (Mirishita) after the event happened, so there was no 1st Anniversary event memorial. Hearing stuff about several people that actually got admitted into the hospital and one EmilyP running on bonito stock was wild.

For the game’s 7th anniversary, I’ve decided to compile and release the memorial messages posted onto the Million Live! Discord server, written after getting the event results from the 2nd up to 7th Anniversaries.

2nd Anniversary: UNI-ON@IR!!!! (2019)

Rank: #4352 (Kotoha) & #1717 (Iku)

I knew the anniversary event was going to be crazy... and I was right. While my ranking wasn't as high as the others (due to real life circumstances, school, and Internet issues on the last few days), I did all I could... until I ran out of tokens on the last hour and had to get more of these. Oh, what a mistake I've made. I've done all I can for Kotoha and Iku (mostly the former)… I'll redeem myself next year~

Looking back at the 2nd Anniversary event feels weird. I was a noob at event ranking back there, my highest ranking was reaching around the Top 30,000 players during the “Datte Anata wa Princess” event. It was back during a time where I didn’t take intense event ranking very seriously back there (and also when I had a social life outside of mobile games).

I will say though, the free pulls gave me Kotoha and Iku’s most recent SSRs (at the time) at least. They’ve become my tantou idols within ML! by then… whatever the definition of a “tantou” was to me before I rediscovered and became S.E.M’s producer at the end of 2019.

3rd Anniversary: CHALLENGE FOR GLOW-RY D@YS!!! (2020)

Rank: #1189 (Kotoha) & #907 (Iku)

as a kotohaP and an ikuP and a s.e.mP who had to rank somewhere else right before anniv started, that was the worst 21 days of nonstop tiering i've ever done. it was the hardest [mirishita] event i've ever done after nearly 2 years of playing. this year, i dared to tier for two despite one of them having the highest t1 borders of the event until 18 hours of refresh kicked me in the butt and borders proved to be too high. i did manage to redeem myself from last year's failure though. i don't know if i'll ever tier again for kotoha next year… or if parade d'amour will be a mess like how this event was, but i've done my best for my tantous and i think that's enough. otsu, everyone.

Part of the original “14 days of non-stop event grinding” phase I had back in 2020. I was just trying to get top 1000 for Jiro’s wedding event SR in LIVE ON ST@GE! (RIP), and right as the event ended, there I went for trying to dual rank for both of my tantous—only for me to get top 1000 for Iku but failing to do the same with Kotoha. I wanted to do both but uh… I messed up with the refresh timing back there on the last day. (Let’s not get started with the bugs that occurred during that event.)

It was my first time trying to properly do duo idols for this event, so it was quite challenging. It was also through this event where I first started properly called myself an IkuP.

4th Anniversary: Reach 4 the Dre@m! (2021)

Rank: #95 (Iku)

[3rd anniversary] was the hardest [mirishita] event i've ever done after nearly 2 years of playing. - me, nearly a year ago why the hell does this game keep pushing me to my limits? this was the hardest event i've ever tiered in over 2 years of me sticking around the theater. here it is, the event that forced me to drain all my stamina drinks and memorial items, awaken all of my remaining cards, and use up more than half of my memory piece stash. 4th anniv can finally join in the ranks of my other mobage in the "events that drained (nearly) all of my resources" gang. lately i've been having mixed feelings over the game itself and its recent updates, but Harmony 4 You! ended up being my 2nd favorite anniv song (i'm still sentimental towards UNION!! tho) and i consider it to be the best part of this anniversary. that, along with the limited auto live passes and increased cap for normal ones, those were a life-saver. events like this are crazy every time but tiering this year was a blast, tbh. not gonna lie, being an ikuP is an interesting experience. i became quite emotional two hours after the event ended, seeing what is possibly the highest feat i can go for my tantou. i try to go hard with my main tantous as much as i can but running with iku was genuinely fun and enjoyable. i don't i wanna try this stunt ever again but that was fun. at this point i can say that i genuinely consider her as my top idol in the theater. so... now what? i'm not sure if i'll be sticking around the theater as much as i used to, given the current circumstances (and an upcoming game to look forward to). hopefully the anime and mts will bring in new amazing songs that keeps me staying for a little longer. maybe one day i'll reach t1 in more events with my tantous in them once more. congrats to those who tiered, regardless if they made it or not. see you soon, twinkle rhythm. お疲れ様でした、プロデューサー！！

I pressed too many buttons and there came my first top 100 in an event. I made a whole Twitter thread documenting my journey through this. It was a lot of fun, but also a lot of work—even when my tantou’s event ranking borders are in the lowest quarter of the cast’s.

I may have overslept a bit on the last day, with my rank almost dropping below T100. Glad I still managed to pull that one off despite several things.

5th Anniversary: Watashi-tachi no R@inbow! (2022)

Rank: #136 (Iku)

"What happened to you retiring?" Nothing shows how stubborn I am with this damn franchise and especially towards the branch that fully brought me into hell more than tiering in the yearly anniversary event. The past year has been somewhat of a mixed bag, with several highs and multiple lows throughout. If anything, I would’ve actually retired as I hinted/said in the past, but in truth I ended up coming back to this stupid game for one reason or another. Or maybe because I care for my daughter(s) too much to fully leave. I did get some of my highest accomplishments (most recently, t1 for Kotoha just a month before this). So, yeah. I realized how much I give too many shits between my 765 tantous, especially Iku. I hope your knives are ready, I guess. To Iku, to Kotoha, to TIntMe!, to Haruka and Chihaya, thanks for the bullshit you’ve brought me into for the past few years. Otsukare y’all. (P.S. I want to try doing a t100 Iku + t1000 Kotoha stunt next year, but who knows really.)

Months before that event, I said that I was about to retire from Mirishita for a while after Iku’s last ranking PST. I had started drifting away from Mirishita because I wasn’t satisfied with what happened in its 4th year. I’m personally glad things are (mostly) okay within the ML! sphere nowadays.

Clearly, I did not fully retire due to various events I’m still waiting for. The memorial for that year says it all.

Event ranking thread for this one goes here.

6th Anniversary: R@ise a Good Sign! (2023)

Rank: #621 (Chizuru & Iku)

"I want to try doing a t100 Iku + t1000 Kotoha stunt next year, but who knows really." (me, last year) big fucking sike. a more melancholic reflection this year, but honestly i don't know how to process things properly since that day... my anger towards a certain company (after shooting down my main branch) has made me throw out all my mirishita event plans for the rest of the year, made me fall off both mirishita (and shinymas) for a while, and went out a revenge arc somewhere in another production for the sake of my tantou units. semi-related, but i became a chizuruP back in january (months before everything fell apart). i didn't tier for any of her events before that so uh... yeah. between this and a night pool party coming up, dunno what is it with me and wanting to "prove" myself as a producer. me tiering this anniv was essentially me fucking around and finding out what to do with all these event auto-passes, event stamina drinks, and a slacc event happening in the other side. i currently deal with three grown ex-teachers and two drunk ladies with top tier seiyuu outside of the franchise. it only took me a couple weeks to accept that chizuru could actually end up as tantou since seeing her seiyuu's collier de perles performance during ml 9th... and i sincerely regret that i didn't become her producer sooner. before everything else started falling apart. i don't know how many more events i have left until i can call myself "retired" from the game instead of the "semi-retired" status i've had for a while now. there's at least two more events i want to rank in, and i don't think i can fully retire until i got closure on that part.

even if i were to visit the theater less than ever before, i'll still consider myself as iku, kotoha, and chizuru's producer. as always, congrats on the 6th anniversary.

on a less melancholic note, i find it funny how i got 315k and 283k pts (certain numbers for certain branches) and somehow got the same exact rank LOL my last-minute tiering got me trying to aim for 315k pts for chizuru, but not 283k for iku. enjoy the clown compilation (from yours truly) from before the event:

Last year’s resolution clearly didn’t go well. Easily the most melancholic among my memorial messages because a Certain Small Indie Company (TM) decided to shut down three IM@S games within the same year, leaving a branch where one of 765Pro’s rivals would start a new life elsewhere without a game.

Reopening old wounds aside, I didn’t initially plan on tiering the anniversary event again until I started casually dumping tickets and tokens onto Chizuru—a tantou I had spent less time with compared to my two legacy ML! girls. I didn’t realize that there were custom unit titles for Mirishita anniversary events now too, so I wasn’t even able to grab the second title due to insufficient event points. I still think it was funny how I snagged the title for both idols and got the exact same points rank for them.

With this event though, it gave me a bit of confidence that I can potentially do a successful dual T1000 run for two idols. Which leads me into...

7th Anniversary: 7D@ys Smile!! (2024)

Rank: #254 (Kotoha) & #478 (Iku)

If anyone ever asked who my top 5 overall IM@S idols were four years ago, you’d get a slightly different answer. Looking at my idol sorter results between the FIVE STAR branches at the start of this year though, guess who was 6th and 7th? Yeah.

Last year’s run (along with watching the ML! server Ps do their own multiple T1000 runs over the years) gave me the confidence to potentially pull off a dual T1000 myself. With a better mindset compared to last year, I tried to pull off my 5th Anniversary resolution again with Kotoha and Iku—while there was no T100 (due to lack of resources and college), I managed to pull it off my biggest revenge from previous Anniversary events.

Started grinding for Kotoha in the first half, then added Iku during the second. Grinded for tokens so hard to try getting Kotoha to 1,000,000 points and Iku to 315,000 points that I have accidentally overkilled my token count to ~284,000 tokens by Day 9. Ended up spending the last 4 days of the event burning my tokens until I reached the points park because clearly I didn’t want to grind anymore in the last several hours. The last 6 hours had me chilling (while procrastinating on my assignments again).

I couldn’t decide what funny numbers as a target at first, all I knew was who to rank for. Then I remembered that this event would end right before SideM’s 9th STAGE this weekend, leading into the branch’s 10th Anniversary a few days later. Going from Million Live’s 10th anniversary → SideM’s 10th anniversary will be fun to see.

So I put into work added an additional 31,500 points beyond Kotoha’s original target, ended things off with ~81k unburned tokens on hand and:

Kotoha: 1,031,500 pts (10th anniversary & obligatory 315)

Iku: 315,765 pts (315Pro & 765Pro)

Not much melancholy from me this time, and a lot of things happened over the years. Kotoha and Iku are still in my overall IM@S top 10, and I really just can’t trade my time with them for anything else.

I give these two thanks for everything, as my first “true” tantou idols. (Now where’s my HELLO, YOUR ANGEL♪ and Give Me Metaphor events?)

———

And that’s all the Mirishita anniversary event memorials! Each had its own silly little memory surrounding it, but at the end: I tried my best for my silly little idols.

(Also please make sure to take care of yourself while ranking I’m begging you—)

[subrosai]

◟✧⡀ ( dean fujioka. non binary. they / them. ) … there’s a figure off in the distance, do you see it? wait is that … JUNICHIRO WATANABE ? how long have they been standing there? if that’s really them, i believe they’re FORTY-THREE.  do i know them?  no,  but i hear they’re INQUISITIVE and CALCULATIVE, but also DETACHED  and ELUSIVE. i do know that they’ve been in the city for THIRTY-FIVE YEARS. it’s crazy that they’re just standing there … shouldn’t they be working at OWNER as a  STOKER'S CRYPT? maybe they’re off today, i couldn’t tell you. hope they get moving soon. i’m starting to feel like SHINIGAMI FROM JAPANESE MYTHOLOGY is peering over at me … 

STATS

character name: junichiro watanabe / nicknames: jun ( reserved to a tight circle of friends ) / place of birth: ██, ███ / birthday: january 4th / sexuality: biromantic demisexual / gender identity: non-binary ( they or him ) / zodiac: capricorn / mbti: istj / occupation: owner of stoker's crypt / languages: japanese, english, spanish, chinese / moral alignment: chaotic neutral / love language: acts of service / rift level: legendary / powers:  necromancy ( impermanent, brief ), death sense, intangibility ( momentarily ) / how long ago did the mythos manifest: twenty-four years ago / main goal: to uncover the mystery of the town, gather information & power of regarding the those in high positions / gang / group name + position: jekyll & hide investigations, the brain

BIOGRAPHY

( blood, death, death imagery, necromancy, blasphemy cw )

you are only a child when you meet death. you remember that day far too well. you return from high school, only a week left until it's done and you will be graduating, the plans all made for where to go to college, what to study. instead, you open the door, and meet a crime scene. when you think back on that night, you can swear you saw a pair of eyes watching you from the window. then, the red and blue lights of police cars reflect against the glass, and you choose not to remember much of the rest. life changes much too quickly, and while you are technically an adult now, your next of kin, your grandfather who lives in penson convinces you to come to live with him. fallen into a vast emptiness, you find it impossible to say no. you study in penson, and you grow up in penson. the mist intrigues you, and it's only a year later that the same pair of eyes start appearing in the corner of your vision. here, and there, and there again. while you are walking at night to your house, when you are locking up your grandfather's library, when you are crouched in a convenience store trying to pick pasta, and a shadow disappears quicker than you can look up. you believe you officially meet your match when you stand in front of a gravestone. old age, they say, yet you can swear you saw those very same pair of eyes in the window when your grandfather took his last breath. you stand in the rain, eyes glued to yet another gravestone when the rain suddenly stops. there's the smell of tobacco, accompanied by the sound of steps by your side. r.s. he calls himself. and it's the start of your new life. fate brings you together to mourn on the same day, and that's when you learn more about jekyll & hyde. it's everything you could want and more. solving mysteries, digging into secrets of anyone and everyone. it gives you a purpose to discover more about the mist, to understand the rifts all around you. at first, you don't realize you are already one of them, until one fated night in a back alley, you are crouching over someone, trying to keep the blood in their body. r.s. is by your side again, leaning against a wall, smoking more of those goddamn cigars. the person dies slowly under your hands before the ambulances can arrive. you see the light in their eyes leave — and when you remove your hands and touch them again to take their pulse, they gasp back into life. it only takes around five more minutes before they are dead again. necromancy, albeit brief, seems to be very useful in your line of work. in the dark, you can swear r.s. grinning down at you, and another pair of eyes from the end of the alley vanishing away. it never takes properly, you can never figure out why. sometimes it's longer than fifteen minutes, and sometimes it's only a few. it can be challenging to calm someone down enough from their death to get the answers you need, but you get enough practice through the years. rest of your powers come slowly, the second is intangibility, and it manifests at a night not one of your best. a case that went wrong, no answers received from a decaying body. you swear you see those pair of eyes again, and you run after them with everything you have. it's then that you briefly run through a pole and feel nothing at all. intangibility seems to only work when you are in a heightened state of emotion, which does not come too useful every day. more years pass as you climb up the ranks, and become the underboss under r.s.. your last and final power does not come until you realize the anxiety at the bottom of your stomach is something else when it is your mentor that's finally taken away from you. his last words are for you to take his mantle, and that's what you do.

it's when you are looking down at yet another gravestone that you realize what it was. that sometimes you can feel death coming. it's not necessarily reliable, but it gives you some sort of power over not knowing at all. it's also ironic, how you have it now, after everyone that you have lost. you have been the leader for around five years now, the brain behind the operations, the one who calls the shots. you bring the organizations higher and aim for the stars. hoping to reach more information about the mist, the rifts, and the occasional secrets you cannot stay away from. power is everything in this world, and you intend to have it all.

[voldemorts-tap-shoes]

Sneaking in one last microfic for the @cruelsummer-ficfest ! Thanks for another great fest 💕

Lavender Haze

The bar is quiet tonight, which is exactly how Draco prefers it. Even when it’s full, Half-Breeds isn’t like the raucous pubs of Diagon Alley or the posh clubs Blaise and Pansy like to drag him to. The primarily non-human clientele are just there for a cold pint and to get away from the world. Outcasts, like him. No one is there to make friends, or to pick up a one night stand; they all want to be left alone, and that suits Draco just fine. Besides, most anyone he might know from his Death Eater days—the ones he heard about this place from in the first place—is in Azkaban.

He polishes off his firewhiskey and motions for another as someone plops onto the stool beside him. “Draco Malfoy at a creature bar, I never thought I’d see the day.”

So much for his solitude. Lavender Brown is the cheeriest person in here, though her once sickly-sweet voice has lost some of the brightness of youth. Of course, it’s not youth they’ve lost at all, both of them far too young for all the horrors they’ve seen. It’s innocence.

He gives her a stiff nod of acknowledgement as the bartender sets a fresh glass in front of him and then looks to Lavender. “Wolfsbane, please,” she chirps. Draco starts, and she chuckles as the bartender walks off again. “It’s a cocktail. Although they do brew the potion here, too. For those who can’t get it elsewhere.”

“How does he know which one you want?”

“It’s not the full moon, silly. And Simon knows I don’t need the potion.”

“Oh.” He’d heard, of course, that she had been attacked by Greyback during the Battle of Hogwarts, but he didn’t know the extent of the damage. They weren’t what anyone would call friends, and he had hardly kept up with anyone in the months since the war ended.

“You don’t ever say too much, do you?” Lavender has one eyebrow quirked at him, her head tilted to the side like a confused puppy. Even under the scars that dominate the left side of her face and neck, she’s quite pretty for a Gryffindor. No, he’s not supposed to think like that anymore, although changing his mindset has been quite an effort. His fellow Slytherins couldn’t care less, but Draco saw from the inside out how rotten their side was. It’s not something he wants to define him anymore.

“Not much to say,” Draco replies, hoping his quipped tone will convey his desire to be alone. But Lavender tosses her handbag onto the bar top, settling in.

“Everyone that comes to this place has a history, things they’re not proud of. I know you do, too. There’s no judgment here. So if you have something you want to get off your chest, you can talk to me.”

She twirls the straw around in her fizzy little drink, not looking at him, and Draco waits for her to say more, to push him. When she doesn’t, he finds the words spilling out of him anyway.

“No one cares,” he mutters. “No one cares that we lost the war, that we shouldn’t have been fighting it to begin with. They’re all just glad it’s over and moved onto the next thing like nothing ever happened.”

“But you care.”

“Yeah.” Draco chuckles darkly. “Fuck me, not sure why. I was as horrible to the other side as anyone.” He’s hit with a pang of guilt, though he can’t say he ever did anything to Lavender in particular. But Weasley, her friends…

“People change,” she says with a shrug. “All this shit is new to me, too.” She waves her hand around the bar. “The werewolf scene, I mean.”

“But you’re not…?”

“No, I won’t ever transform. Doesn’t stop people being weird about it.”

Lavender absently traces one of the scars on her neck, and Draco’s eyes follow the angry red mark until it disappears under the neckline of her top. He finds himself wondering for a moment what else is under there and then shakes his head. Maybe he’s had one firewhiskey too many tonight.

“I’m sorry,” Draco says. He’s not quite sure why he’s apologizing—it’s not like he bit her, but he still feels partially responsible for her fate. “That you have to deal with this.”

She shrugs again. “It will get better. For you, too.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’ll be damned if I give a damn what people say about me.” Her glossy lips twist up into a smile, and as he sees the fire in her eyes, Draco realizes for the first time that they might have something in common. “Just take it one day at a time. You’ll get there.”

She starts to slide off her stool, but Draco puts a hand on her arm to stop her, surprising them both. He’s even more surprised when she doesn’t pull away. “You can stay,” he blurts. “If you want.”

Relief settles in as she gives him a little nod and shifts back into her seat. Though Lavender is the last person he would have thought to confide in when she walked in, he feels like she actually sees him as a person. Not Draco the Death Eater, not Lucius’s son…just Draco.

It’s not a feeling he wants to let go of just yet. He wants to stay in this hazy little bubble of friendship that’s formed between him and Lavender. Fortunately for him, she seems to want to stay there too.

[flowerfan2]

Chapter 10 - coda to episode 3.10, in which Ted and Trent have a talk about Roy... and Jamie.  

Read on A03 here; read from the beginning here.

----

“So, I wanted to run something by you,” Ted says, as he examines a head of lettuce.  They’re in the market, picking up food in a valiant attempt to actually cook for a change.  Trent’s game, although he’s also famished, which is not a great combination.

“Rethinking the menu already?” Trent asks.  “What happened to ‘let’s go wild, Julia Child?’”

Ted smiles and hip checks him.  “I love hearing you quote my words back at me.  But no, this is a non-gustatory non sequitur, nothing to do with dinner.  It’s about Roy.”

“Oh?”

“Apparently it’s Uncle’s Day soon, and Phoebe needs my advice.”

Trent stops in front of the display of canned tomato products and waits until Ted puts down the marinara sauce and looks at him.  “I didn’t understand any of that.  What is Uncle’s Day, and who is Phoebe?”

Ted holds out the jar of sauce for Trent’s approval – Trent doesn’t care much one way or the other about which one they get as long as he doesn’t have to chop any tomatoes himself– and nods.  “That’s fair,” Ted says.  “I’ll start from the beginning.”

“Good idea.”

Ted frowns at him.  “You’re hungry, aren’t you?   You get grouchy when you’re hungry.  I shoulda waited until after we ate to talk to you about this.”  

“Too late for that.  But I wouldn’t object if we moved this process along.  I’ll get the pasta and some bread, you get the chicken, and I’ll meet you up front.”

They part to finish their shopping, and Trent forgets completely about Ted’s question until they are walking back to Ted’s place.

“So you know Roy has a niece,” Ted says, pulling Trent away from thoughts of the delicious garlic bread he’s planning on making to go with their chicken cacciatore.

“Would that be Phoebe?”

“The only and only.  And Phoebe and her family have some very, well, <i>unique</i> holidays that they celebrate.”

Trent is beginning to catch on.  “One of which is, apparently, Uncle’s Day?”

“Yes!  So Dr. O’Sullivan called me-”

“Wait, who is Dr. O’Sullivan, and why did he call you?”

“Dr. Marina O’Sullivan is Phoebe’s mom, and <i>she</i> called me about Uncle’s Day.”  Ted swings a plastic bag of groceries at Trent.  “Wait one gosh darn second, are you pulling my leg?  You’re the journalist here, are you’re telling me you don’t know every family member of every Richmond player and coach?  I would have thought you’d have us all charted out, name, rank and serial number.  Maybe a pie graph.”

“Never put it past a journalist to ask a question they already know the answer to.  Sometimes you get the best information that way.”

“Smarty-pants.”

“Although I am still wondering how you know Phoebe’s mom.”

“Oh, Marina and I are old pals.  Ever since she patched up Dr. Sharon after her bicycle accident.  She actually thought we were together – wooo - hooo, that did not amuse Dr. Sharon, no it did not.  You’d love Marina – she’s got the best costume closet this side of the West End, great for role play of all sorts.”  Ted waggles his eyebrows at Trent and Trent can’t help but snort out a laugh.

“Do I need to be worried?”  Trent asks, and it’s Ted’s turn to laugh.

“Oh no, she’s not my type.  And I think Roy would have a conniption if I was interested in his sister <i>that</i> way.  Not that it’s any of his business who his sister dates…”

“No, of course not.”  Trent nods in agreement.  They’ve arrived at Ted’s flat, and he takes some of the bags out of Ted’s hands so Ted can open the door.  They go upstairs and set the groceries down, both of them ignoring the dinner making process in favor of pouring themselves some wine and making themselves comfortable on the couch.  It turns out that Trent isn’t so hungry that he’s going to turn down a chance for some gossip and getting tipsy with Ted.

“So, you were saying about Roy?” Trent prompts.

“Right!  Anyway, Marina called, and she said that Phoebe wants to invite Roy’s best friend to Roy’s Uncle’s Day party.  As a surprise.”

“Okay, that’s sweet.  So why did she call you?”

Ted smirks.  “Because Phoebe is convinced that Roy’s best friend is none other than he with the talented foot, our golden boy Jamie Tartt, and Marina needed his contact info.”

Trent nods solemnly.  “That sounds about right.”

“Trent, come on.  I know you were on the outside – still independent, as it were – back when I first joined the team, but Jamie and Roy were famous foes.  Arch enemies.  They hated each other.  Things have improved, sure, but I wouldn’t call them best friends.”

Trent finishes his glass of wine, and pours himself another, topping up Ted’s as well.  He brushes a kiss across Ted’s lips as he leans close, which earns him an eyelash flutter.  “Regardless, I’ve had a front row seat to their interactions this season, and I don’t think there’s anyone on the team Roy is closer to than Jamie.”

Ted studies him, and Trent warms under his gaze.  “You really think so?  I mean, I’ve been tickled pinker than Keeley’s favorite pom pom pen about how much our Jamie has come out of his shell lately.  He’s kinda awesome these days.  But Roy’s best friend?”

Trent clears his throat and begins to list off all of the evidence, starting with the one-on-one personal coaching Roy and Jamie have been doing for months.  By the time he gets to the pair’s overnight cycling adventure and windmill viewing in Amsterdam, Ted’s mouth is hanging open.

“All night??  They spent the whole night together, touring a romantic foreign city until the sun came up like characters in a rom-com?”

“Jamie even taught Roy how to ride a bike in the process.”  Trent waves his glass to emphasize his point.  “Surely, you believe me now.”

“Well I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.”

Trent bites down on a grin, but he can’t help it.  “I thought you said the uncle party was for Roy.”

[unknownjpegs]

earthquake

“Benji,” when the call connects, saying his name gives Xavier an immediate dopamine rush, an excited warm blossom in his chest as he smiles at the phone. He shakes it and goes, “Ahhh, earthquake, oh my God, Benji, save me!” Then sets it down on the kitchen counter and leans forward with his arms folded in front of that little digital window to his boyfriend. “Just kidding, I’m trying to make pasta.”

“You remember to turn the stove on?”

“Oh fuck, hold on.”

Xavier swivels swiftly behind, turning the knob up high, sheepish with his smile when he peeks over his shoulder. The little vision of Benji on the phone screen is smiling, clearly laying on something—a couch maybe, at his mother’s. He looks comfortable and relaxed and Xavier feels the same way every single time he sees him—like he wants to lean through the phone and grab a kiss somehow. He swallows that thought and looks at the water in the pot before turning back to his phone.

“At your moms?” He asks as he leans back over the counter. Xavier’s necklace swings a little so he tucks it back into his shirt. He’d been fiddling with it idly, waiting for the facetime call to pick up—no idea why every time it makes him a little nervous. Giddy, with excitement. They call like this a lot. More than a lot, sometimes nightly. But every time, he leans against something, yanking on that necklace and staring at their names, linked together in a circle as the call waits to pick up.

“For a bit, yeah. Then to Saha’s till—”

Benji’s smile slips softer, his eyes wandering away, like he’s looking at someone in the room. As he lays, he tucks an arm up behind his head, which almost makes Xavier groan. Because at the angle Benji has his phone, he can see the swell of that brown bicep, the vein in it. The urge to kiss grows stronger, grows teeth, because of how bad he misses the smell of him, the feel of that skin under his palm and those strong drummers arms around him.

“Till you’re up here, yeah?” Suddenly the phone is moving, the image pixelating and blurring until Benji’s sister comes into focus. In so many ways, they could almost be twins, that’s how beautiful she is. Xavier smiles and lifts a hand in a little bit of a wave. There’s rarer people on Earth he likes more than this woman, even if they’ve only met through this form of communication.

“Twelve days,” Xavier says, tucking his hand under his chin. “But whose counting?”

“Benji is. Constantly, non stop.”

“M’not.” Benji’s voice takes on that sullen little brother sound to it and makes Saha grin into the camera, knowing and smug. She captures him in a bit of conversation for a moment until there’s a loud sigh that interrupts and the phone blurs again. He can hear Benji making a bit of a grunt, the sound hitting his chest or stomach before Xavier is getting vertigo. It’s moving again—Benji’s standing and traveling around the house.

Xavier could watch, from this angle up at him as he does, all fucking day if he could.

—

“Uh,” Xavier stands over the pot, the spatula he’d been using to stir the pasta poking into the congealed mess. “I think I did this wrong.”

“Lemme see.”

He tilts the phone over the pot and for a second, Benji is quiet before there’s a soft snorting sound. It, of all things, oddly makes Xavier’s chest ache. He remembers feeling that soft snort against his chest, telling a bad joke. He turns the phone back to himself, sheepish and almost apologetic as he takes the pot off the burner and onto a cool one, turning the stove off.

“I’ll cook for you, Xavier, when you get here.”

—

Benji comes with him to the bodega down the street. The call doesn’t disconnect even once, phone tucked into his pocket, wireless headphones in. Mostly, he listens to Benji talk to Saha then—listens to the cadence of their conversation less than what they’re actually saying. Hears the high notes of affection in either of their voices, the way they banter back and forth and tease. Her shocked and loud exasperations with him when Benji is being Benji.

The call stays connected on the walk home and the elevator lift up to his apartment and then inside. Stays connected when Xavier eats his sloppy, messy sandwich and Benji prods at him for the smear of sauce across his mouth. Stays connected through the shower, when Xavier props Benji up on the counter (gives him that classic, you’re gonna watch me, right? smile) and Benji has to step outside his mothers home entirely for that part. His turn for a walk.

The call just stays connected. No reason to hang up. They do this, frequently—fit each other into the others day, somehow, like this.

—

Xavier wakes up the way he always does—one giant jolt of his entire body, sitting up straight and suddenly aware. Then he groans, long and hard with a hand to his ribs as he slowly settles back into the bed. His blankets have become a tangled mess around his long body, one leg dangling off the bed and nearly touching the floor. He rubs a hand over his face, trying to find his phone blindly on the bedside table.

Until he remembers he’d sat it on the bed with him. He fishes for it more gently then, because he doesn’t want to accidentally touch that little end button that he knows is still there. Because, when he does find it, the call is still, miraculously connected. Benji must also be asleep, because the phones mostly black with a little peek of what might be sunlight coming in through a window. Five hours ahead—and Xavier’s phone reads three AM.

Xavier listens, though, because the phone is close enough that he can hear Benji’s soft, sleepy breathing. A reminder pops up on his phone that he nearly swears at, swiping up as if the notification will somehow bother the sleeping man on his phone. It’s a note that says REMINDER: PASSPORT PHOTO and that makes Xavier swear loud enough that somehow it reaches the UK and wakes Benji up.

“Hn,” is a soft sound and then a muffled one over the phone as a palm seems to grasp at it. “Hmp.” Another soft sound that makes Xavier’s whole chest crack open and briefly he puts the phone down, because if Benji holds his up to his sleepy looking face he might not be able to handle that. His eyes scan around his disorganized room; hockey gear shoved in the corner, a TV mounted absolutely incorrectly to the wall with a game console stacked haphazardly next to it, his dresser and the weird collection of plastic ducks.

“Xavier?” the rough hoarse tired voice from the phone makes him jump a little when he picks it up. Finally tilts it so he can look at Benji in all that morning beauty—there is sunlight. It’s watery and gray and splashes over him; hair all out of sorts because he sleeps weirdly tucked up and moves occasionally so that one side of his head flattens and the rest is a messy tangle. Eyes blinking, a fist rubbing at one as he yawns a little. “S’three AM there?”

“Oh, devil hours,” Xavier says in a spooky voice to cover how much it’ll waver because looking at Benji sometimes is enough for him. Kind of makes it worse that Benji laughs in that barely awake, tired way and he can see him get more comfortable in bed as he does. Xavier clears his throat a little. “I have to get my passport photo taken today.”

“Should probably sleep then, yeah?”

“But you’re awake now.” Benji laughs again, hand sliding over his face, head shaking. Xavier’s thumb unconsciously brushes over the phone display.

“S’vacation for me, Xavier. Off tour. I’ll be asleep again in thirty.”

“In eleven days, we can sleep in together.” Benji’s hand falls from his face, looks directly into the phone in a way that makes Xavier’s whole body shiver. “If I remember to get my passport photo taken today.” Benji’s hooded, you wont be sleeping much face cracks into a smile and a laugh as he brushes a hand back through all those long black curls.

For a while, Benji indulges Xavier (they talk about Saha’s job and yoga and if Xavier could try it out while he’s there and they talk about home cooked meals and if Benji’s mother will like Xavier, no that she will like Xavier and what he’ll get for breakfast and—), even though he’s clearly falling back asleep himself. Every blink becomes a micronap before he goes, no I’m awake and adjusts a little more on the bed. Another reminder pops down, but his eyes cant focus on the, REMINDER: ASK TESS TO WATER CACTUS (CACTUS NEEDS WATER?). The cactus survives, miraculously in his kitchen.

Then eventually, he does fall asleep and Benji this time, gets to listen to those soft, boyish snores until the call, unfortunately does disconnect.

[phantomrose96]

Old Wounds

Danny’s secret is not a secret anymore.

The lines between Fenton and Phantom have long since blurred. And it’s a common occurrence for news reporters to trip over their tongue when flagging him down, mid-transformation, for a post-fight interview. “Phanton.” “Fentom.” So often that, to most now, he is just Danny.

When Danny wants upgrades to his gear, he comes to his mother. When Danny learns a quirky new element of Ghost Zone lore, he brings it to his father. When the Amity Park Ghost Alarm is raised, he’s first on the scene with the Fenton RV right on his non-corporeal heels.

When he’s injured, Danny comes only to his friends and sister.

Jazz notices the pattern. How it is only her, or only Sam, or only Tucker who receives the late-night knock at the window glass, with her brother on the other side, corny sheepish smile on display and arm or leg or shoulder held up in explanation.

Jazz notices how hushed Danny remains, day or night, when he comes to her for first aid. How he speaks in that same hesitant muted tone as he did when all of this was still a secret. How he quiets himself in the way injured prey animals do.

Jazz doesn’t feel it’s her place to ask. Not yet, at least. Eventually. But not yet.

The window is open. Honeysuckle-sweet gusts of late-spring air swirl through Jazz’s room and tease away the sheen of sweat that has collected on her brow. She cannot wipe it away herself, not with both hands meticulously occupied in tweezering out the singed fabric from her brother’s arm.

Danny winces, and hisses, and Jazz frees another thread from its embedded hold in Danny’s burn wound.

“It’s kind of like… summer vacation when we were kids and we’d get splinters visiting Aunt Alicia’s lake house,” Jazz remarks with another careful tug. “…If we can call it a lake house.”

“Lake shed,” Danny replies, grinning through the sweat shining on his pale face. “And I think every part of that dock was an OSHA violation.” He laughs through another wince.

“Dad was the king of tweezers. I think he got out every splinter that dock ever gave me.” Jazz pauses. “I wonder why that was. Think it’s the needlepoint?”

“It’s definitely the needlepoint,” Danny agrees.

Jazz hesitates on the question lingering behind her tongue. Just a little too long. Just a little too obviously.

“What?” Danny asks.

Jazz’s hand falters. She puts the tweezers down. “Danny, I will always always be happy to help you like this. Same goes for Sam, same goes for Tucker, I know. I’m positive. But I wonder why… not Mom or Dad?” Jazz eyes the tweezers, glinting in the moonlight. “I’m just… I’m thinking how much cleaner this might be if you got Dad to do it. And Mom’s got like, wilderness survival level first aid expertise. I can’t help thinking I’m hurting you more by it being… me, you know?”

Danny looks at her, and looks past her a moment. His grin slips a fraction into discomfort as his eyes leave hers. “Maybe I just like the excuse to invade your room.”

“Danny…” Jazz waits until he looks at her again. “Are you afraid they’ll make you stop if they realize you’re getting injured?”

Danny lets out a puff of air from behind his lips. “No, never. I mean, maybe if I got really really injured they’d say something. But just getting a little roughed up? I think it’s about on par with a kid coming home from football practice with a few scrapes, at least, in their eyes. They get more banged up than me these days. I’m not worried.”

Jazz reaches for the bottle of disinfectant. She unscrews the cap to a biting alcohol smell. “…So will you tell me why?”

“Why what?”

“Why you won’t ever go to them with injuries? Ever?”

Cotton swab, pure silver under the moonlight. Jazz douses it gently, a muted glug-glug from the bottle.

“…I’m that obvious about it, huh?”

“You’re obvious about most things. This’ll be cold.” Jazz applies the swab to the open wound, and Danny hisses in turn.

“Yeah. Cold. And stingy. Cold and stingy.” After a few seconds, the tension eases out of Danny’s body. He droops a little, shoulders slumped, and Jazz pulls the cotton swab away.

“Are you ashamed of your injuries?”

“No.”

“Are you worried Mom and Dad’ll make them worse?”

“Nah. You said it yourself, those two are weird, unconventional medical experts.”

“Then why not?”

A beat of silence follows. A moment of trepidation. Awash in moonlight, Danny looks up at her, and the glow in his green eyes has a life of its own. “I don’t want them to see the injuries that have already healed.”

“Why would that be a problem?” Jazz looks again. Danny’s suit covers most everything, save now for the one sleeve that’s been rolled back. She sees what she already knew was there – what isn’t obvious to the eye not searching – threads of white ridges, puckers of skin, a faded rashy texture of what had once been an ectoblast burn. Old injuries. Long healed. Faded and fading further. “Those are all healed now. Just some scars, right…?”

Danny hesitates.

“I don’t want them to figure out how many of those scars they caused.”

A gust of wind steals the antiseptic smell from the room. Jazz sits with the silence. She thinks, and she processes.

“Oh…”

Danny straightens. “They kind of… live in this world where hunting ghosts is all fun and games, you know? Like it’s a sport, like they can just get into go-mode and jump into the fun. I don’t think they’ve figured out yet that they can—could—did …cause damage.”

Danny adjusts himself on Jazz’s bed, one leg pulled up, body angled to face her directly. He doesn’t let his eye contact wander now. “They both apologized. Definitely. Like that definitely happened, back at the start of this. But it was kind of like ‘We must’ve given you so much trouble Danny! How’d you come home every day and not bite our heads off over that?’ Like. Again. Like it’s a game. Like they’d been knocking my chess pieces over for a year and not—”

Danny falters. He raises his uninjured arm and tucks the hair away from his face. “And I don’t… want it to click for them. What I have right now with Mom and Dad is so nice… It’s so much better than I even imagined. I want it to stay like this. Forever, if possible.”

“Danny…”

“And even that actually—maybe I’m actually wrong about that. Completely wrong. About their reaction, I mean. It’s possible maybe they’d see everything and just go,” Danny deepens his voice, “‘Wow! We did a number on you, huh? Man Danny I don’t know how you didn’t just smack us over the breakfast table every morning.’ you know? Like that. Like this was all just always a game. And they—and I-- …I like how relaxed ghost hunting is with them. I actually like that it feels like a game. I don’t ever want to go back to feeling how scared and afraid and unsafe and hurt I was that first year. ...But I’m afraid of how it would feel to know that maybe they’d see that, look at it all, everything they did and the scars like the actual proof and it—if it wouldn't ever be real to them. If they'd never get that it was like that. If they still wouldn’t realize—you know? That they—if they—I don’t uh…” Danny drops his eyes, and he shrinks in on himself. “I don’t know how to explain it…”

“No I—Danny I know what you’re saying. Don’t worry. Danny, I—”

“Either answer. Any answer. I don’t want to know… I don’t actually want to know.” Danny angles himself away again, feet dropped over the side of Jazz’s bed, staring down at the hands in his lap. “If it would horrify them, then I’d be ruining all the good things I have with them right now. And if it wouldn’t horrify them—” Danny falls quiet. The breeze has stilled. The room is colder now. “…then I think I just don’t ever want to know.”

Jazz nods, and nods harder.

“I get it. I get it. That’s a good enough answer for me, Danny, I promise. I’m your first aid person, okay? I won’t ask again. Thanks for… thanks for telling me, Danny.”

"Can always trust you to bring up the difficult conversations huh? Of course that's always been your thing. Talking to you is--well I'd say it's like pulling teeth, but maybe it's more like pulling ecto-demolished hazmat suit fabric out of a burn wound."

Danny offers a sheepish grin - it's an olive branch, a request to lighten the mood. Jazz meets it with her own small grin that does not touch her eyes.

"Yeah yeah, I'm your older sister. It's my job to be a pain. Now sit still, I need to be more of a pain if we're gonna de-hazmat suit your injury."

She picks the tweezers back up. The silence rings with an echo in her head now. Jazz focuses her attention back on her task, and she finds something she was wrong about before:

There is nothing faded about the scars that web up and down her little brother’s arm. They are stark streaks of lightning, glowing silver under the moonlight. And Jazz wonders how many others—how many that flaked away and melded back with healthy skin—how many of those might still be living, lingering, a permanent part of her little brother, buried well beneath the surface…

[phoenixyfriend]

Commander Buir

Follow-up to this post. Not in any particular order, just spitballing ideas, with contributions from several friends on discord.

Like presumably it takes long enough for them all to meet up again that Anakin and Cody do, in fact, end up treating each other like family, just so I can have that good good "well, guess I'm Dad now" energy. Shmi isn't entirely sure what's going on but she's not a slave anymore and her kid seems to like this rando mando, so.

Anakin gets to have a mom and two dads, though one of the dads is arguably younger than him.

Also when they all meet up again and Cody explains the "General Skywalker got shrunk" thing, there are three reactions: (General) Obi-Wan: Oh, Anakin. Obi-Wan: [gestures to take him, ends up with an armful of clingy padatoddler] Anakin: You can't blame this on me, Obi. Obi-Wan, a little teary, because babies cause emotions: Of course I can, you absurd human being. ------ Rex: That's... my general. Anakin: I am, Captain. Rex: Cool cool cool I'm gonna go stand where I can't, uh, break you. Anakin: I'm not THAT fragile! ------ Ahsoka: [gasp] Skyguy is SKYKID! Anakin: Padawan, this is-- Ahsoka, grabbing him and cuddling: Oh my goodness you're adorable this is the best day ever. Anakin: This is humiliating, Snips, put me down. Ahsoka: Never.

Anakin hates being a toddler because of the lack of independence but Cody keeps picking him up when he's cranky and just holding him until he falls asleep and that's... nice.......

- The brain limitations aren't quite as bad as the situation with Sokanth and Ylliben in the other AU, but - Even if his brain is mostly adjusted he’s still got a tiny body with different needs that he’s not used to. Like, he needs to sleep more but he’s got more energy than usual when he’s awake and it’s all weird.

Cody carrying around toddler Anakin like "God you give me ulcers but you're adorable, you little shit."

Inconveniently tiny body aside, Anakin has a pretty great time in this au. His family are all together and safe and within reach. His wife isn't around, but toddler brain means he doesn't have the Romance Drive, so that's not as bad as it could be It could be significantly worse.

@atagotiak asked: Does Anakin get annoyed about being called cute? - To which I say, He bites the first few times but Shmi tells him that's Naughty so he stops. - Babies are cute so you packbond with them before they’re annoying, Anakin is cute as a self defense mechanism - He’s extra annoying so he needs to be extra cute

You know how you need to keep an eye on toddlers so they don't, like, fall down the stairs or put something toxic in their mouth? - They need to keep an eye on Anakin specifically so he doesn't rewire the ship they're in while they're in hyperspace. - He has less self control on account of being smol. He still has all the mechanical knowledge! Just less comprehension of y’know, consequences.

Anakin, with a sippy cup: This is demeaning. Ahsoka: Your hands don't work great enough to avoid accidents yet. Anakin: It's still embarrassing.

General Kenobi can't just kill Maul, not when Maul is baby right now (sixteen, which is baby enough) so he just. Kinda. Kidnaps a baby Sith. (It's fine. He's fine.)

General Kenobi (not to be confused with Padawan Kenobi) decides to declare Maul his new padawan because someone has to deal with this teenager, and Plo already claimed the rest of Ahsoka's training. And Anakin's three, so.

"What do we do with Maul?" "Eh, I can handle him. I dealt with teenage Anakin getting arrested for illegal pod-racing twice a month, I can work with this."

Maul bites, but only slightly more often than Anakin, it's fine

Ahsoka definitely bullies Maul whenever possible

Consider: Rex holding very still because Anakin wanted to be tall, so he climbed Rex. Being unexpectedly climbed is better than being unexpectedly yeeted. It's still extremely nerve-wracking. - Cody is perfectly capable of running around with a backpacking toddler General, but Rex freezes like a statue. - Ahsoka finds this hilarious

You know how little kids like to be thrown around and swung in circles and stuff like that? This must get even more ridiculous with force users. Can throw a child real high and catch them safely. - Rex panics whenever Ahsoka throws her chibified Master

Literally everyone except Rex loves being yeeted. Even Maul can appreciate a good tactical yeet no shut up he's not having fun this is TRAINING - Rex is Suffering - Cody, a very Tired Dad, deserves to mock his vod'ika a little, as stress relief - Rex, a certified Little Brother, shoves Cody off something tall. Jokes on him, Cody thinks freefall is fun too.

Tia asked: So the people who didn’t exist yet got flung bodily back in time and Anakin did the mental time travel. Why did Obi-Wan not become Padawan Kenobi? (I mean “because I want it that way” is def a good enough answer I’m just wondering if there’s any reason.) - Which, well, it really was mostly "I want to" but here's two options, both of which come down to Blame Daughter and Father. 1. They figured a responsible adult Jedi Master was needed to convince people. 2. Nobody was supposed to get de-aged but Daughter figured they needed to make Anakin less liable to kill things for a few years. - Also IDK the Force God-Manifestations also took away any risk of rapid aging and early death from the clones because uhhhhhhhhhhh I said so

Rex and Ahsoka are fumbling their way through a relationship where ages are just really confusing and awkward, so they're keeping it to just kisses and cuddles for a bit.

Cody is so tired he doesn't even realize anyone's hitting on him until it's been three years of co-parenting with Shmi and his General. - Somehow Anakin knows Cody is in a relationship before Cody does. Cody has never been so embarrassed. - How did he manage to be less observant than Skywalker? -- it was sabotage; all his brain cells were taken up in managing said Skywalker -- Because Skywalker was up at three in the morning whacking a training droid with a stick so he didn't have the energy for Relationships

Also Shmi's come-ons are super subtle, while the General's are... well, Cody's gotten very used to ignoring anything ambiguous on that end because fraternization rules, and also because Obi-Wan flirts a lot with everyone. So.

Please imagine Cody and General Kenobi walking around with Anakin tucked into a toddler sling while they do whatever work they've ended up with at the Temple. - Yes, Cody is helping the Jedi figure out the best plan of attack to take down this slave ring because his grasp on tactics is phenomenal and he knows how to deploy people at greatest efficiency, but also he's got a nosy toddler on his hip who keeps offering his own insane-but-competent ideas. - General Kenobi ends up with a Council Seat just on account of, like, being the kind of person he is. As often as not, he's got Anakin tucked into his robes, chewing on the ear of a stuffed tooka or something.

IDK what Shmi's doing but apparently Legends had it that some of the administrative and support positions in the Temple were held by non-Jedi civilians? So probably something like that.

GENERAL KENOBI LECTURING PADAWAN MAUL WHILE ANAKIN'S BALANCED ON HIS HIP AND GLARING AT MAUL FOR STEALING HIS DAD

General Kenobi: Ahsoka's babysitting. Anakin: I'm her master, I don't need babysitting, this is-- General Kenobi: Fine, then you need supervision, so that you don't blow up a training salle again. Anakin: And you think Ahsoka would stop me? General Kenobi, eye twitching: Fine, I'm leaving you with Plo.

Even if he’s mentally an adult Anakin always needs supervision Look at canon! Anakin was left without supervision for like two days and he became a Sith

Quinlan gets distracted by how attractive General Kenobi is and tells Obi-Wan "dude, you're gonna be so hot once you can get rid of the stupid haircut" and Obi-Wan pushes him into the nearest pond.

They end up with this weird "Uncle Jango" situation (uncle to Anakin, via weird brotherhood-ish to Cody) because Rex and Cody are just like "Uhhhhhhhhh yeah okay" about him eventually, and Jango just like. Drops by. Trying to Earn Affection Of Blood Kin by bringing weird gifts for them and their (ugh) Jedi.

"Okay, Rex'ika, I stopped by Shili--" "What?" "--and apparently this is a delicacy there, so just... your girlfriend will like it." "She's not my girlfriend." "..." "Okay, I can't call her my girlfriend. Jedi have rules about that sort of thing, and--" "This will make your Jedi happy, probably. Just take it, kid."

Baby Anakin got his arm back but for some inexplicable reason still has The Eye Scar. He matches Buir.

[our-death-means-flag]

{ Just A Bunch of Ideas }

You might have noticed the section I left in my master list for longer fics. I have a few ideas, here they are, let me know if any of them really catch your interest!

I’m probably gonna write all of them at some point. But you can help me pick the order! :D

BlackBonnet x Reader (possibly becomes Steadyhands x Reader), post-season 1, exploring the unhealthy sides of their relationship

Ed and reader we’re sort of together pre canon (they are very in love but they’re not really official) they end up pulling Stede into their relationship and making it official but then the end of the season still happens

Both Ed and Reader are struggling with Stede leaving them behind. Reader is handling it better than Ed (outwardly).

Of course the whole canon Kraken thing happens with Reader going along with it. They do their level best to keep everyone safe while that happens (including rescuing Lucius) but Reader is still doing just as bad as Ed.

Focuses on Reader and Ed, Ed and Izzy, Reader and Izzy and exploring how they are all kinda fucked up (Reader is kind of a mediator so the Ed and Izzy stuff is mildly better than canon but not by much). I find the unhealthy relationships in this show really compelling and I want to focus on them.

Eventually Stede comes back (possibly Izzy realizes that he Fucked Up™ and gets him) and they have to try and put everything back together.

Steadyhands x Reader, modern AU (kinda), time travel, shenanigans, Established Steadyhands, Based on a dream

Ed, Izzy and Stede are not having the greatest day. After being separated from their ship during a very strange storm, they find themselves completely lost. Luckily they stumble on a ship with a friendly stranger willing to help them out! :D Though it’s undoubtedly the weirdest ship they’ve ever seen. It’s made of some kind of strange material with no visible sails or oars and the stranger manning it is all alone. Said stranger is just as bizarre, dressed in strange clothes and not making any sense. Why would they want a “phone” to “call someone”? What’s a “phone”? What’s a “GPS”?

Meanwhile, Modern!Reader is incredibly confused when a trio of strangely dressed men in a tiny dinghy show up in the middle of the ocean. You have no idea how they got out here or what to do. Especially since they seem so baffled by regular topics. Did they get hurt somehow? A concussion? What year is it? Wait what?!?

Basically just modern!reader showing our boys some cool things in the present while you try to find a way to get them back home.

Steadyhands & adopted child!reader; this fandom needs more platonic/parental fics. Established Steadyhands

Reader, desperate to escape a terrible situation, stows away on the Revenge. You manage to stay hidden for a few days but then Stede finds you. You’re more than ready to fight to defend yourself or offer to work non-stop to be allowed to stay. Instead you’re invited into the captains’ cabin for a nice meal.

You’re stunned by the kindness of the crew and (despite your best efforts) end up getting very attached to them all, especially the strange captains and the protective first mate who all but adopt you.

Unfortunately, running from the past is a tricky thing, both for you and your new parents…

Izzy x Reader to Steadyhands x Reader; you don’t know what you have until it’s gone, jealousy 

Stede and Ed are happily in love and Izzy is having a bad time. The Revenge gets damaged during a raid and they have to stop for repairs. Stede declares an impromptu vacation and Izzy is basically forced to come along.

Then he runs into Reader, an old friend who he hasn’t seen in ages (and who Ed doesn’t know). You two immediately reconnect and spend the entire time together first as friends then as lovers.

Initially Ed is glad that Izzy isn’t just sulking, but the longer he watches the two of you spend time together, laugh together (when was the last time he saw Izzy laugh?), dance, spar, and sing (you somehow managed to convince izzy to sing with you), the more jealous he becomes.

Eventually they have to leave and Ed is kind of glad to leave you behind. But you offer to tag along with them. Stede accepts, glad that Izzy’s been less trouble with you around. 

Ed tries to figure out how to deal with his jealousy (and his weird feelings for you on top of that). Stede tries to ignore how much he likes this side of Izzy and also you. Izzy tries to let himself have nice things and wrestles with feeling like he’s betraying Ed for being around you and how much less annoying bonnet is when he's not laser focused on Ed. And reader tries to figure out what the fuck is going on with these three charming handsome idiots.

[seijorhi]

Unprofessional

as promised, the MSBY manager AU 💕 

MSBY Black Jackals x female reader

TW non-con, smut, gang-bang, nsfw(ish)

You second guess yourself, now that the Captain’s right here in front of you, fidgeting in your seat like a little kid sent to the principal’s office.

In all fairness, you were the one to ask him to come in early, figuring that it’d be easier to say what you needed to before everyone else arrived, rather than having it eat away at you while you waited for practice to end.

Yet under the scrutiny of his dark eyes, you wonder whether you should have just let it slide. At least for a few more weeks. Taking a formal complaint to the higher ups was a step too far, and you hadn’t wanted to bother the coaches this close to the start of the season for something so… trivial. Meian seemed like the better choice. He’d listen to you and be able to help; you trust the Captain and you know the team does, too. If he told them to back off, they would, you’re almost positive. But now that he’s here, there’s this nagging feeling of-

A hand touches your shoulder, and you flinch at the sudden contact, jerking back to the present. 

“Hey,” he says, a slight frown marring his features. “Whatever it is, you can talk to me - don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been a little out of it lately.”

There’s nothing but concern in his eyes - no judgement, or irritation, and something inside of you eases just a fraction. This is Meian, right from the moment you signed onto the team - granted, only a few months ago - he’s done his utmost to make sure you’ve felt welcomed and part of the team.

You take a breath, offering him a small, tight smile. “I-it’s um, some of the guys- well a few, I guess…” your fingers twist in your lap, and Meian squeezes your shoulder lightly in response. 

“Miya hitting on you, right? Getting a little outta hand?” he surmises. 

And for a split second, you’re surprised. But really maybe you shouldn’t be. Miya’s the one who’s overt about it, drawling stupid, cheesy pickup lines whenever you walk in, slinging an arm around your side and dragging you close, all the winks and the innuendos about as subtle as a tank.

Of course Meian noticed, but that’s just how Atsumu is. He doesn’t bother trying to hide it because nobody but you seems to mind. And maybe, if that’s all that it was, you’d be able to grin and bear it, but it’s not. 

“Yes and… no.”

His brows draw together. “No?”

Taking another deep breath, you begin to tell him everything. Miya’s incessant flirting, all the hugs and touches that fell just the wrong side of what you considered professional. They’re a tactile team, with one notable exception, and you understand that, but the way Bokuto, Hinata and Miya feel comfortable just grabbing you and dragging you around, interrupting you in the middle of whatever task you’re doing to make you pay attention to them is a little alarming. 

And then there was the incident last week, when Inunaki had caught you smiling at your phone during their cooldown and called you on it, which drew the attention of the rest of the team - only to have Bokuto snatch it out of your hands and start reading through your messages. Of course, Meian was there for that, putting a stop to it only when the wing-spiker had started reading them aloud, much to your mortification.

But he hadn’t been there two afternoons later, when an old friend of yours had swung by to pick you up and you’d had to deal with half the team glaring daggers at him over your shoulder like a pack of overprotective mother hens.

Even Sakusa, who usually kept his nose out of the others’ nonsense, stood off to the side with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, glowering at your friend until you both disappeared from sight.

The texts that blew up your phone in the hours that followed crossed so many lines, it honestly scared you a little. 

Meian doesn’t say a word as you talk, the words flowing easier the more you tell him. It’s not that anything they’re doing is wrong per se. They’re not hurting you, and you think that aside from Miya, the team’s attitude is coming from a good place - some protective, irritating big brother kind of thing. 

There’s nothing wrong with it, except the fact that you don’t want any part of it. You’re a professional and this is a job - a new one, an important one. If you ever want anybody to take your dreams of coaching a pro team seriously you cannot have so much as a whisper of anything less than absolute professionalism. God forbid, if rumours start spreading that you were sleeping with somebody on the team you can pretty much kiss your dreams goodbye. 

At the end of it, Meian’s chin is resting on his fist, faint dissatisfaction pinching at his face, and for a moment, you’re worried that he’s about to chew you out for wasting his time - you know he’s stressed with the start of the season only days away - but he only sighs, leaning back in his seat and shaking his head.

“Thank you for telling me, I’ll talk to them.”

And it’s like this huge weight just falls off your shoulders and suddenly you can breathe easy. “Thanks, really,” you tell him, and the smile on your face is genuine this time.

“Anytime.”

—

You don’t know when he finds the time to pull them all aside, but the next morning when you walk into the gym and Bokuto catches sight of you, golden eyes widening in delight, he starts to bound towards you-

“Bokuto.”

-and stops mid-stride, face falling like a kicked puppy. His shoulders slump, glancing over his shoulder at the Captain, watching the both of you through narrowed eyes.

He doesn’t say another word to the wing-spiker, turning back around to continue his conversation with Adriah - something about tightening up their blocks before the game against the Adlers - and despite the fact you can see half the team’s attention drawn towards you both, none of them say a word either. 

It’s strange, compared to the last few weeks, it’s suddenly like you’re a ghost. They thank you when you pass them their towels and bottles, and for once Hinata sits still when you help him tape up his ankle, though his eyes still follow your every movement with unnerving focus.

They’re polite and respectful, but unless you’re directly addressing them or they need something, it’s like you don’t exist. 

Even Atsumu manages to keep his comments to himself when it comes time for the team to stretch out, though judging from the scowl on his face whenever he glances towards the Captain, he’s not particularly thrilled about it. 

There’s one more day before game day, and they’ve got bigger things to worry about, but for you it’s like you can suddenly breathe easy. You don’t have to tiptoe around your own discomfort, you can just do your job and help them. It’s not that you hate them, not even Atsumu - though he does grate on your nerves at times - you just can’t afford to let them fuck this up for you.

They’re your team, and you’ll help them and you’ll stand on the sidelines and cheer and support them until you’re red in the face. You’ll celebrate with them and commiserate if they lose, but there has to be a line. 

And maybe finally they’re realising that.

Meian sends you home while the others head off to the showers with a clap on your shoulder. “Go home. Today’s been long enough, and you need your rest. We’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

You don’t fight him on it, already feeling the exhaustion creeping through your body. 

But after months in this job, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to find that by the time you’ve had a quick catch-up with the coaches about tomorrow’s training, changed and gathered up your things, you find yourself falling into step with Sakusa, freshly showered and also on his way out. 

Dark eyes find yours, but he doesn’t say a word - at least until the two of you reach the big double doors at the gym’s entrance. “Do you need a lift home?”

It’s rare of him to offer, but you suppose that it’s later than you’d normally leave, the sun already disappearing beneath the horizon. Nevertheless, you shake your head, “No, it’s only a ten minute walk, I’ll be okay,” you say. And almost as an afterthought you smile and add, “Thank you, though.”

He regards you silently for a moment, but simply shrugs his shoulders, “Fine.”

Sakusa turns to leave, heading off to the carpark when a sudden thought strikes you, and before you can think better of it, you call out to him, “Your lineshots were incredible today, by the way. You played well. And please don’t forget we’ve got an early start tomorrow!”

It’s a pointless statement, on both counts. Sakusa doesn’t crave praise the way some of his teammates do, and you can imagine how little it means coming from you of all people. He’s also the most punctual, usually the first in, preferring to get stretched and warmed up before the rest of the team arrived. But the change in plans was kind of last minute and a reminder never hurts.

Sakusa pauses mid-stride, glancing back at you once more over his shoulder. “I know,” he says, and maybe it’s a trick of the light, but you swear there’s something different in his eyes as he stares back at you. Not angry per se, but… you can’t quite put a finger on it. It’s odd, you think, out of character for the usually aloof spiker. “Captain told us.”

—

It’s still dark when you arrive at the gym, and the lights are all off, not a soul in sight. That in itself doesn’t strike you as odd though, checking your phone you see that there’s still twenty or so minutes until you were all supposed to meet, but you would have thought that the coaches at least would’ve been here, or Sakusa maybe, if not Meian.

“Mornin’ princess,” a familiar voice drawls, and you jump a little at the sudden weight of his arm draping over your shoulders.

Atsumu’s smile is far too wide and upbeat considering it’s only a little after six in the morning. You’re used to a dead-stare, don’t-talk-to-me-until-I’ve-had-caffeine Atsumu, and it’s almost startling enough to make you forget the arm he has around you.

Either that, or you’re just bewildered that he’s actually arrived early for once in his life.

“You’re awfully chipper,” you mutter, trying to shove his arm off of you as you walk in tandem towards the gym. It’s a pointless endeavour - he replaces it a moment later, tugging you closer. “And early. Do you normally do this the day before the season starts, or can we expect to see you bright and early every morning for training?”

The corner of his lip quirks into a lazy smirk, and Atsumu laughs, “Nah, I’m actually late. All the others are already here.”

You’re halfway through fishing for the keys when he just pushes the door open, and you falter. “Wait- they’re here already?” you glance inside, and the lights are all still off and there’s not a soul in sight, but- “I thought Meian said we were meeting at 6:30.”

There’s something in the way that his smirk widens that’s almost unsettling, but he’s already pushing you forward, flicking on the lights as you pass.

“Oh, he did.”

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion, but it’s too early and you’re too tired to try and decipher Atsumu’s cryptic bullshit. He already has you on edge with how close he’s got you - you can feel the heat radiating from his body, the familiar scent of his cologne invading your nose. “Fine, whatever. Just- just put your stuff away, grab the others if they’re here and I’ll see you on the court in a few minutes.”

You try to shrug off his arm, but his grip only tightens, “Nope,” he says, firmly steering the both of you in the direction of the locker room.

“Miya,” you start, squeezing your eyes shut. You can already feel the beginnings of a headache taking root in your skull, but Atsumu just chuckles lightly, patting your shoulder. 

“Relax, wouldja? Jeeze, yer so tense!” 

With no other sound but the eerie echoing of your footsteps across the linoleum floors, his laugh is too loud, too grating. It sets you on edge, and you have to bite back a scowl of your own and remind yourself that you only have to put up with him a little longer - just until Meian gets here. Unperturbed by your silent irritation, Atsumu continues, “We know how hard you’ve been working lately. We came in early to say thank you, y’know, for everythin’ ya do for us.”

And for one split second, regret fills you, snuffing out the spark of irritation simmering through your veins. Here you are, seconds away from slapping the setter when he is - for the first time in his life - actually trying to do something nice for you. You sigh quietly, smoothing your expression over as he slows down and pulls you to a stop.

He lets you slide out from under his arm, your back to the locker room door, moving so that he’s standing directly in front of you. You open your mouth to speak, an apology on the tip of your tongue, but once again, Atsumu beats you to it. “Yer the best manager we’ve ever had.” He takes your hand in his, twining long fingers with yours and steps closer.

Too close.

“Atsu-”

“We really do care about you - love ya, even -  which is why it kinda felt like a kick in the balls when the Cap came and told us ya wanted some space. Said we were bein’ too ‘overbearing’ and ‘inappropriate’, just cause we want ya nice and close.” Dark eyes harden, “It hurt us, baby. You gotta realise that.”

The grip he has on your hand is painfully tight, but you don’t have a moment to focus on that. Not as Atsumu sweeps forward to close the distance between the two of you, his lips crashing against yours. Hungry. Demanding. A tongue snaking between your lips, melding with your own.

His arm snakes behind you to open the door, and for a moment you’re stumbling backwards into the dark-

Only it’s not dark, not as the blinding fluorescent lights flicker on around you, and you’re not stumbling, not as you collide with a warm, muscular chest and strong arms find your middle to steady you. 

“You took too long,” Bokuto whines, and you’re yanked from Atsumu’s hold and spun, barely having a second to register the gleaming golden eyes before he’s dragging you into a needy kiss of his own.

Dizzy, lightheaded, your heart thumping erratically, you can’t think straight as his hot, wet mouth moves against yours. Greedy fingers grope and squeeze at your body - utterly frozen in shock, pliant under his touch. 

“Aw, quit yer whining, Bokkun,” the blonde growls as Bokuto finally pulls back enough to grant you a few precious gulps of air, gazing at you with a kind of love sick adoration that makes your stomach clench. 

A scoff sounds behind Bokuto, “A bit rich, coming from you, Miya. The two of you just are as bad as each other.”

It’s then that you realise the three of you aren’t alone. Wide eyed, on the edge of hyperventilating, you glance over your shoulder to find two pairs of eyes watching; russet eyes blown wide, enraptured, and swirling black depths, narrowed and glaring over at the blonde. 

Hinata and Sakusa.

It doesn’t feel real. Even with everything they’ve done so far, their possessive behaviour, their smothering affection - even the kisses, it feels like a fever dream. 

Even as Atsumu’s fingers are tugging your jacket off and Bokuto drags you forward, you can’t bring yourself to accept it, to properly fight back against it.

(Not that it would make a difference. They’re professional athletes, and there’s four of them against one of you.)

When your eyes fill with tears, Hinata’s there to brush them away, smiling down at you as he shrugs his own shirt off. “Don’t cry, angel. We’re gonna make you feel amazing, just wait!”

His words don’t fill you with ease. They can’t, not when he has that manic excitement bleeding through his expression - the same one you know he gets when he’s lost in the game, flying across the court like the laws of physics don’t apply to him. 

Hands are on you everywhere, teasing and exploring, too many to keep track of. Your clothes are pulled off, tossed aside and discarded without a second thought, and theirs follow suit. Fingers are tweaking your nipples and palming at your breasts, smoothing over the curve of your ass and trailing between your legs to play with your clit. 

“So fuckin’ pretty, ain’tcha? Our pretty girl, gonna be such a good little cockwhore for us.”

There’s lips against yours, at your neck, trailing down the column of your throat with a pleased hum. And between the kisses, you think that you’re crying, pleading for them to stop and let you go, but nobody listens as you’re manhandled onto one of the benches.

Your legs refuse to obey you, trembling as you try to kick out and wriggle away, only for rough hands to find your hips and drag you back. “C’mon, baby. Be good for us, you’ve already made us wait so long.”

Somebody smacks your ass and you jolt, crying out, only for a hand to soothe over the welt, another squeezing at your hip in a mockery of reassurance. “Don’t make us have to hurt ya, sweetheart.”

It’s easier, you think, to just close your eyes tight and pray that any second now, you’ll wake up in your bed to the blaring of your alarm. But the moment they flutter shut, teeth digging into your bottom lip as fingers dig into your thighs, warm breath ghosting across your sex, a low voice whispers in your ear, “Look at me.”

And you have no choice but to obey, forcing your eyes open to find Sakusa standing to your side, stroking his cock. It’s pretty, you distantly think, and you suppose that it suits him. Well groomed, long but not terribly thick with a slight curve, flushed pink at the tip and glistening with the pre-cum beading at his slit. His other hand comes to rest on your cheek, cupping it with a gentleness that feels out of place, considering the hunger burning in the black depths of his irises. 

He doesn’t say another word as he coaxes your mouth open and guides your head forward to take his cock into your mouth, but the low moan that escapes him as your lips wrap around his length makes you shiver. 

Sakusa isn’t gentle as he fucks your mouth, his thumb stroking your cheek as fresh tears well, but it’s hard to focus on that alone when Hinata’s face disappears between your legs, his tongue laving at your cunt, eager for a taste of you.

It doesn’t take long for the other two to join, and you’re manoeuvred between them, forced to sit on Bokuto’s lap, his thick cock stretching you out while Hinata sits between your legs, diligently slurping at your folds, sucking at your clit, one fist wrapped around his own length, lazily pumping it. Sakusa continues to use your mouth to get himself off, uttering backhanded praise between instructions, hissing in pleasure when he hits the back of your throat and you choke around him, while Atsumu has one hand playing with your tits, the other gripping yours, forcing you to jerk him off. 

It’s too much for your brain to take. 

Your sobs and whimpers, already muffled thanks to the cock in your mouth, are lost to the symphony of grunts and moans, lewd squelching and the sound of skin slapping against skin. There’s too many hands touching you, too much pain fused with unwanted pleasure, overwhelming you as heat and panic and terror build up inside of you, and it feels like there’s an inferno burning beneath your skin, and you can’t breathe and you just want it all to stop, you want to wake up, and-

Suddenly, the door to the locker room snaps open, and all five of you freeze in place as the Captain stops dead in his tracks and eyes the scene before him. 

There’s no possible way for Meian to misconstrue it, not with everything you told him. Not with your face flushed and teary, your eyes glazed over and all but broken from the sick, twisted debasement his teammates have subjected you to. You’re naked, your body littered in love-bites and bruises, spread out before him like a feast.

And still, your eyes meet his, silently pleading for him to say something and stop this.

Meian takes a single step forward and a muffled whine leaves your lips as the cock inside of you twitches insistently. Sakusa draws his hips back, pulling himself free from your mouth, and despite the burn in the back of your throat, you swallow and try to speak.

“Please.” It’s little more than a squeak, hoarse and choked, but it doesn’t seem to make a difference. 

The Captain barely acknowledges that you’ve spoken at all, his attention fixated instead on your body; the way your pussy’s clenching around the base of Bokuto’s length, the tremor of your thighs under Hinata’s rough hands, the way your tits rise and fall with every quickened breath, your lips, swollen and beautifully fucked, glistening with spit before finally, those dark eyes meet yours once more.

And slowly, a grin breaks across his face. “You’d better hurry it up, the others aren’t too far off.”

[fics-n-stuff]

A Nice Christmas

Thanks to @gayhistorynerd for the prompt, see here (I kind of deviated from it a little maybe a lot but the story still stemmed from this prompt)

Pairing: Wilhelm × Simon

Summary: Wilhelm may have denied being in the sex tape, but that doesn't mean that the world has forgotten. The Christmas break proves to be difficult for both Simon and Wilhelm, one suffering from ongoing harassment and the other feeling completely isolated, and they find that they can't help but be drawn back to each other.

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: This took me so long to write because I got writer's block right after I started it. This doesn't have a super happy ending because I wanted to try and keep it pretty realistic, but it is pretty sweet and wholesome.

Taglist: @probablyprocrastinatingrightnow @rika90 @angelwilhelm

Wilhelm had never felt more alone than he did being home for Christmas break. He spent as much time as was physically possible holed up in his bedroom, not wanting to see or talk to anyone, especially not his mother. He hadn’t turned his phone on for three days, he had bitten his nails down to the nailbeds and he hardly had any appetite. The ache in his chest was constant and unyielding.

He lay in the dark most of the time, his curtains closed throughout the day and only sometimes opened at night to let the moonlight in. Besides that, he didn’t have much idea of how time was passing.

He did know that it was Christmas eve though. And it must be the morning because nobody had come to drag him out of his bedroom to join the celebrations. A cursory peek around the curtain confirmed that, as Wilhelm saw that the sun hadn’t even fully risen yet.

A deep breath settled the stone in his stomach, and he reached for his phone with a shaky hand.

When the device turned on it immediately started going crazy with notifications, and Wilhelm felt his heart rate increase with every buzz.

5 messages from August

Ignore.

10 messages from Mamma

Ignore.

2 missed calls from Felice

Wilhelm paused in swiping away the notifications. Felice had called him twice and sent him three messages. He clicked on the message notification, sitting back against the wall and holding in a breath without realising it.

Felice: Hey Wille, how are you feeling being home?

Felice: I just wanted to check in but I can’t get a hold of you, I hope you’re doing alright

Felice: You probably don’t want to talk but you can call or text me whenever you do

Wilhelm sighed. Of all the people that he thought that he could depend on, Felice was the only one that he still had. He swallowed the lump in his throat and called her back.

It rang for a while before she answered, and he’d almost decided to hang up the call when it stopped ringing.

“Wille, good morning.” Felice greeted, cheerful but clearly tired. “Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah, merry Christmas Felice.” Wilhelm replied feebly. His voice was hoarse from disuse.

“Are you alright? Do you want to talk about something?”

“Uhm, I- I don’t know, I just... I don’t know.” He stuttered, wrapping his free arm around himself.

“Okay, well, what are your plans for today?”

“I’m not sure, I haven’t really been talking to anyone. What, uh, what are your plans?”

“Oh, you know, just the usual. We’ll watch Kalle Anka's Jul and play some games before dinner, then we’ll open presents.” She explained. The tinny sound of her voice through the phone was actually quite calming.

“What about for the rest of the break?”

“Um, I’m going to New York to see Maddie for New Year, so that’ll be fun. And I’m going back to Bjärstad on Boxing Day to see Sara. I’m gonna stay there just for one night.”

“So you’ve been talking to Sara a lot then?” Wilhelm questioned, moving to bite at his almost non-existent nails.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Has she said anything about Simon? Do you know if he’s alright?” His words came out more rushed than he had intended. Clearly, he was more eager for some sort of information on Simon than he had thought.

“Um, she hasn’t said much but I think he’s pretty okay.” Felice replied, but it was followed by a small sigh that let Wilhelm know that there was more to the story. “Sara says that things have mostly gone back to normal, but Simon goes out a lot less and she’s had to make her Instagram private. I think they’ve had a few people show up at their house.”

Wilhelm swallowed hard, a feeling of guilt crawling under his skin. Simon’s Instagram account had been private ever since the video had been leaked, so it seemed that now people had found Sara’s too. They had attention on them that they had never signed up for, and Wilhelm knew that it was his fault and he felt terrible for that.

“Okay.” He replied shakily. There was a short silence before Felice spoke again.

“How are you, Wilhelm? Really?” She asked.

“Lonely.” He answered. “Listen, I have to go. I need to take a shower before someone comes demanding that I take part in the Christmas celebrations.”

“Alright well, call me back whenever, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Bye, Felice.”

“Bye, Wille. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

Wilhelm ran a hand over his face, letting out a groan of frustration and sadness. Why couldn’t he just be a normal kid?

He stared down at his phone in his lap, gnawing at the nail of his right thumb in contemplation. With a shaking breath and trembling fingers, he picked it back up, opened his conversation with Simon and typed a short message. He dropped his phone in mild panic as soon as he hit send, and rubbed his hand over his chest as he took a deep, steadying breath.

+ + +

“Simon, wake up. Rosh and Ayub will be here soon.” Sara’s voice stirred Simon from his sleep and he rolled over to look at her. She was already dressed.

“What time is it?” He asked with a yawn.

“Nine o’clock. Get up and come help with breakfast.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m getting up.”

Sara rolled her eyes and left the room, and Simon reached out to his bedside table blindly until his hand landed on his phone. He squinted at the screen as he sat up, faltering when he saw the notification on the screen.

Wilhelm: Merry Christmas Simon

He felt his heart race as he stared at the screen, only snapping out of it when he heard Sara shouting at him from downstairs. He blinked, dropped his phone and set about getting dressed.

Every Christmas eve since they were ten, Simon, Sara, Rosh and Ayub would have breakfast together and then go for a long walk. It was tradition for them at this point, but Simon found himself unable to feel excited for it this year. It was all well and good to pretend like life was going on as normal, but it was hard not to feel uncomfortable when people stared at him everywhere he went.

Rosh and Ayub arrived just as he and Sara were finishing up making breakfast, and they exchanged Christmas well-wishes as they sat down to eat.

“You’re being real quiet over there, Simme. You alright?” Ayub asked after a while, and Simon realised that he’d been completely zoned out.

“Sorry, just thinking.”

“About Wilhelm?” Sara questioned. Simon pushed a bite of food into his mouth and shrugged.

“You have to move on, Simon.” Rosh said. “I know you care about him but he’s not worth all the trouble that he comes with.”

“I know. That’s why I ended things.” He replied. “It still sucks though.”

“You’ll get over him eventually.” Sara told him, putting a comforting hand on his for a few seconds before going back to her food. Simon smiled slightly.

He didn’t tell them about the text.

Despite all of that, he was in high spirits when they set out for their walk, happily joking and laughing with his friends, and they made it half an hour before he heard the first comment.

“That’s the guy from the sex tape.” Muttered a girl to her friend as they passed, and Simon felt the smile fall from his face.

“Just ignore them.” Sara told him, wrapping an arm around one of his. He nodded, but it had gotten to him. For the rest of their walk from that point, Simon felt like every person that they passed was looking at him and judging him.

They walked both Rosh and Ayub back to their houses before heading back to theirs just a bit past noon. They had almost gotten home when they were approached by a group of teenagers probably slightly younger than them.

“Are you the guy from that viral sex tape?” One of the boys asked unabashedly, the group coming right up in front of Simon and Sara and blocking their path.

“Uh, I don’t want to talk about that.” Simon replied stiffly, still trying to be polite.

“Oh my god, it is him!” A girl exclaimed.

“Was it actually the crown prince in the video?” Another chimed. Simon felt lightheaded.

“He already said that it wasn’t.” He deflected, trying to sidestep the group.

“Yeah, but there’s a lot of people that don’t actually believe him.” The girl laughed; actually laughed, as if this hadn’t been an earth shattering event for Simon.

“If it wasn’t Prince Wilhelm then who was it in the video?” A boy asked, and that was when Simon spotted the phone filming him and his stomach dropped.

“I’m not discussing my sex life with a bunch of strangers.” He scoffed in disbelief, shouldering his way past the group with Sara close behind him. “Please leave me alone.”

“You could just tell us if it was actually the prince or not.” One of them pressed, the group now following after Simon. “If it wasn’t him then you don’t have anything to hide.”

“Oh my god, did the royal family pay you off? Did they make you sign an NDA!?”

“Were you, like, boyfriends? Or was it just a hookup?”

Simon kept walking, keeping his head down and not answering any of the questions being hurled at him. He could sense that Sara was just as tense beside him. The group followed them for a full block before Simon finally lost his cool and came to a dead stop, turning to face them.

“I’m not going to answer your questions. The fact that you’re following me is not going to make me answer your questions. I’ve had my privacy majorly invaded once already and now you’re invading it again. I’m trying to enjoy Christmas with my sister and you’re chasing me with a camera, I’m sick of people harassing me.” He fumed, making sure to meet the eye of every one of them at some point. “Whatever you choose to believe is not my problem. It doesn’t matter whether you think that the crown prince is telling the truth or you choose to make up some type of theory, I deserve my privacy.”

He didn’t wait for any type of response before he turned around and walked away, thankful to find that they weren’t going to follow him anymore.

“You handled that well.” Sara said quietly once they had turned the next corner. Simon didn’t reply.

When they got home, he went straight upstairs without a word. He slammed his bedroom door shut and buried his face in his pillow, unable to hold the tears back any longer.

By that same evening, the video was viral.

+ + +

I bet that girl was right and the royal family made him sign an NDA

If he didn’t want people to think it was the prince he would have just said that it wasn’t so either the prince was lying or this guy is seeking attention

He’s literally a kid why can’t people just leave him alone??

I don’t care if it was the prince in the tape or not, this guy is hot

The way he said that people are making up theories makes me think that it actually wasn’t the prince in the video

I feel bad for this guy, getting followed around like that must suck

Wilhelm scrolled through the captions and comments on the seemingly endless posts of the video of Simon, feeling like somebody had a vice grip on his heart.

The first time he saw the video had been right after Christmas Eve dinner. He’d had a full blown panic attack and locked himself in the bathroom for half an hour. When he came out, his mother had tried to talk to him about the politics of the situation and he had immediately retreated into his bedroom once again. He missed Erik desperately.

He hadn’t been able to sleep, he'd only gotten about three hours of broken, fitful sleep all night, and now he couldn’t pry himself away from his phone. He knew that it was bad for him, he knew that it was making him feel terrible, but he wanted to know what people were saying.

He had been hesitant to text Simon, especially since he hadn’t received a reply to the merry Christmas text that he had sent in the morning, but in the end he mustered the courage to reach out. He had asked how Simon was doing and apologised for getting him into this situation. He wasn’t surprised when no answer came.

Christmas day was proving to be probably the worst day of Christmas break for Wilhelm. His chest felt like it was bursting open and like it was an empty chasm at the same time. He didn’t eat breakfast or lunch, he didn’t respond to the knocks that came at his door. He felt like he was trapped in a glass box and someone was shaking it.

Wilhelm didn’t know how long he had been scrolling through multiple different social media platforms when his phone buzzed in his hand and an incoming call appeared on the screen. He faltered, sitting up and almost dropping his phone, when he saw that it was Simon. He ran a nervous hand through his hair as he raised the phone to his ear.

��Simon?” He croaked.

“Hi, Wilhelm.” The reply came through the phone, and Wilhelm felt his shoulders relax at the sound of Simon’s voice.

“Hi. H-how are you.” He fumbled, and Simon sighed on the other end.

“I’m okay, I guess. As okay as I can be after... well, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry for putting you in this situation.”

“This wasn’t your fault, Wille.” Simon muttered. “I just wish things were different.”

“Why, um... why did you call?” Wilhelm asked. There was a short stretch of silence that rung in his ears before Simon answered.

“I just wanted to hear your voice, I guess.” He confessed, and Wilhelm couldn’t help the soft smile that pulled at his lips. “Honestly, I was kind of surprised that you didn’t delete my number or something.”

“Why would I have done that?”

“I don’t know, I guess I just thought that you weren’t supposed to have any ties with me since you said that it wasn’t you in the video.” Wilhelm winced at that.

“It's not like my contacts list is available to the public.” He replied, trying to keep his tone light. “I’m not gonna let that kind of thing get in my head again.”

“Is your mum mad?” Simon asked, and now it was Wilhelm’s turn to sigh.

“I’m not sure, I kind of shut myself in my room so that I wouldn’t have to deal with her.” He answered tiredly. “How is your family?”

“Uh, shaken. Sara’s off in her own world with her sketchbooks and mamá can’t go for more than an hour without checking on us both, but we’re handling it.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise.”

There was a silence again. Wilhelm ran his hand across his leg, back and forth in a soothing motion, not sure what he should say but not wanting the conversation to finish. In the end, Simon spoke first.

“Did you mean it, what you said before you left for the break?” He asked softly.

“Yeah, I did.” Wilhelm answered without hesitation. “I know it wasn’t a good time to say it, and you probably didn’t want to hear it, but I just had to say it out loud. At least once.”

Silence again. Wilhelm heard Simon sigh, and pursed his lips nervously.

“I miss you.” Simon said.

“I miss you too.” Wilhelm replied with a nervous yet relieved chuckle. “I miss you a lot.”

Another pause.

“Where do we go from here, Wille?” Simon whispered.

“I don’t know.” Wilhelm mumbled. “But I... I want to fix this. Or at least just try to fix it. You don’t deserve to be harassed like this, and it’s my fault and I feel terrible.”

“It’s not your fault.” Simon reassured with a sigh. “It was everything else. We still didn’t do anything wrong, and that includes you.”

“No, I did. I promised we would be in this together and I broke that promise.”

“I understand why you did it. And I’m not mad at you. Honestly, having thought about it, you probably made the best decision for my sake too. I mean, I’m getting harassed enough as it is already. I can’t imagine what it would be like if you had told the truth.”

“I’m still sorry anyway.” Wilhelm said softly, and Simon chuckled. “So, um, Felice told me she was visiting Bjärstad tomorrow.”

“Yeah, her and Sara have gotten close. It’s nice, you know, that Sara’s made friends. And Felice is cool.”

“Yeah, she’s great.”

There was silence again, and Wilhelm bit at his nails thinking that Simon was done with the conversation.

“Are you alright, Wille?” Simon asked after a while. “I know this is your first Christmas without Erik, and I guess things with your mum might be a little... well, I just hope you’re okay.”

Wilhelm swallowed. He could lie, pretend he was fine and wave away Simon’s concerns, but he knew the lie probably wouldn’t hold up. Or he could tell the truth and admit how painfully lonely he was, how much he hated being home because the palace felt empty without Erik and how much he longed to be with Simon with every fibre of his being.

“I’m coping.” He sighed, settling for a middle ground of vagueness. “It’s lonely here. The ceilings feel too high.”

“Have you had stuff to do?”

“No, not really. I haven’t really been in the mood for Christmas, but I guess none of us are particularly festive this year anyway.”

“Would you - I mean, if you would even be allowed to, but maybe if you could – would you want to come down here for a day?” Simon asked, and Wilhelm could just picture him fidgeting nervously as he stumbled over his words. The image brought a smile to his face.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” He answered softly. “I’ll try and convince my parents.”

+ + +

Going to Simon’s house had been an absolute no go with his parents. “Just too risky” his mother had said. However, with enough persistence, he managed to wear them down to a compromise.

That was how he ended up in a car on his way back to Hillerska the day after Boxing Day. While Simon’s house had been absolutely off the table, it would be easy enough to get back to Hillerska without being seen. The only people who were there during the break were security and the people who came to take care of the horses.

He had been worried at first that the inconvenience of it would make Simon not want to bother, but when he texted to ask if it was okay he had been met with a quick agreement.

A security guard unlocked the door for him when they arrived, sworn to secrecy of course, and he headed up to his room to wait. He didn’t realise he was biting his nails until there was a knock at the door and he was knocked out of his anxious thoughts.

The door opened slowly, and Wilhelm felt like all of the air was knocked out of his body when he saw Simon step inside, dressed in his beloved purple hoodie under the coat that he took off and draped over the back of a chair that was within reach. The door clicked shut behind him, and silence hung in the air.

“Hey.” Simon greeted finally, and Wilhelm took a deep breath as if he was just remembering how to breathe at all.

“Hey.” He echoed. “How are you?”

“Better.” Simon nodded. “Did you get into a fight with your parents?”

“Yeah, kinda.” Wilhelm muttered. “It’s fine though.”

Simon crossed the room and took a seat beside Wilhelm on the edge of the bed, a good few inches of space between them. It felt like miles.

“You look tired.” Simon commented.

“I’ve been having a hard time sleeping.” Wilhelm replied weakly, eyes downcast, fidgeting with his hands. “I get that way sometimes. It’s fine.”

“Is it?”

He looked over to find Simon watching him, and he practically crumbled under his gaze. He took a very unsteady breath and shook his head.

“No, it sucks.” He mumbled. His hand drifted back up to his mouth and he gnawed on the nail of his thumb nervously.

“Wille, you’re bleeding.” Simon said, gently grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand away from his mouth. Wilhelm looked down at his thumb and saw a bit of blood pooling in the side of the nailbed, becoming aware of the taste of it on his tongue.

“Oh, I didn’t notice.”

“How much have you been biting your nails?” Simon questioned, pulling Wilhelm’s hand towards him to get a look at them. Every nail was jagged and uneven, bitten down to stubs. The skin around them had been bitten at too.

“I don’t know, I do it without realising.” Wilhelm shrugged. “Probably a lot.” He resisted the urge to curl his fingers around Simon’s hand and blinked back the tears that threatened to fall.

“You shouldn’t have to bottle everything in, you’re destroying yourself.” Simon murmured.

“I don’t have anyone to talk to.” Wilhelm’s voice broke halfway through his sentence, a single tear managing to fight its way from his eye. “I used to be able to talk to Erik about at least some of it but now he’s gone and I don’t have anyone, and sometimes it feels like the ground is falling out from under me and I just don’t know what to do.”

He didn’t notice that he was hyperventilating until Simon pulled him into his arms. Wilhelm’s chest was tight, rising and falling rapidly against Simon’s body. Simon's arms were wrapped around him tightly, and Wilhelm was suddenly overwhelmed with how much he had been craving a hug as his hands grasped at the back of Simon’s hoodie and he hid his face in the crook of Simon’s neck.

Wilhelm had always been told not to cry. Ever since he was a child, whenever he began to cry he was told to stop. The seed had planted itself in him when he was very young, but the fear of letting himself cry didn’t truly grow until he once saw an article in a tabloid. He was barely eleven and he had fallen and hurt himself at an event. He had hardly cried, just a few tears and red cheeks, but the tabloid had had plenty to say about it. He hadn’t let himself properly cry since, except for when Erik died. Even then, he had waited until he was completely alone before he let his weakness show. But now, with Simon, he felt an overwhelming need to let his tears fall.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered into Simon’s shoulder. He could feel the tears coming out of his eyes but they weren’t falling down his face, instead absorbing into the fabric of Simon’s hoodie.

“It’s okay.” Simon soothed, a hand moving up to stroke over the Wilhelm’s hair.

“I never wanted any of this. I never wanted to be a prince.”

“I know.”

“I just wanted to feel normal. Just for once.” Wilhelm said through his tears. “You made me feel normal.”

Simon furrowed his eyebrows, sympathetic. He loosened his hold on Wilhelm and leaned back, sliding the hand that was on the back of Wilhelm’s head forward to rest against his cheek.

“You made me feel normal too.” He replied softly. “At school I was a social outcast because I’m not rich, and at home I have to take care of my mom and Sara. When I was with you, I didn’t feel like I had to take care of anyone or watch where I was stepping. Well, except that one night.” Wilhelm huffed a slight laugh at the comment, lifting a hand to wipe the tears off of his cheeks. “I’ve never seen you cry before.” Simon commented.

“I’m not supposed to.” Wilhelm replied with an awkward chuckle, his head tipping forward in embarrassment. Simon sighed through his nose and lightly touched his forehead to Wilhelm’s.

“You have to cry sometimes, Wille. Everyone cries.”

“I’m not supposed to be everyone.”

“Okay, but sometimes you need to stop worrying about what you’re supposed to be.” Simon told him. “I know you know that.”

Wilhelm took a deep breath. This close to Simon’s face, he could feel his breathing too. He wanted to kiss him, but he didn’t know if that would be okay. He nodded slightly, covering Simon’s hand on his cheek with his own.

“Yeah.” He breathed.

When Simon leaned forward and connected their lips Wilhelm responded automatically, though it took his brain a few seconds to catch up. Once his brain did catch up, his hand took hold of the back of Simon’s neck and pulled him impossibly closer, holding onto this moment like it was his last. Maybe it would be the last time he got to kiss Simon; he couldn’t know. He hoped it wouldn’t be.

“Thanks for coming to see me.” Simon said when they broke apart.

“Thanks for wanting to see me at all.” Wilhelm replied. “I really missed you.”

Simon hummed, a faint smile playing at his lips. He watched Wilhelm for a few moments before kicking off his shoes.

“Come here.” He said, shuffling over the bed towards the wall. Wilhelm followed suit and allowed himself to be guided down to a lying position, Simon’s chest against his back and arm around his waist. “You need to sleep.”

“It’s the middle of the day.” Wilhelm protested, weak as the protest may have been.

“People have naps all the time, and you know that you need it.” Simon said firmly, adjusting the pillow under his head with his free arm and finding Wilhelm's hand to hold in the other. “It doesn’t have to be for long, okay?”

“Okay.” Wilhelm nodded, feeling suddenly very relaxed. He took a deep breath settling into the comfort and warmth of Simon’s body around his as his eyes fell shut. “This is nice.” He mumbled after a while.

“Yeah.” Simon agreed softly. “Go to sleep, Wille.”

It wasn’t long until he felt Wilhelm’s breathing change, signifying that he had fallen asleep. He smiled, fondly but with an edge of sadness to it, and pressed a light kiss to Wilhelm’s shoulder before closing his own eyes. They would deal with the rest of the world when they woke up.

[theroomofreq]

can you give me muggle jily recs pleaaseeee <3 :D

HOW MANY HIGH-QUALITY MUGGLE JILY FICS ARE THERE?? TOO MANY TO COUNT. *cracks knuckles* BUT I am here for the challenge. Jily AUs are my JAM.

Again, shoutout to our amazing @jilyarchive friends who tag every wonderful muggle jily au they come across. here is the link that will take you to their tags page. You'll find links to specific tropes and AUs :')

I've searched through my own AO3 bookmarks and history tabs, and I present to you 28 jily muggle fics that I LOVE. I am THRILLED thinking about all the good things in store for those that read these wonderful stories. This list took me ages to make because I went through and reread most of these brilliant fics. Happy reading !! xx

properly improper by @lizardcookie

“Marry me,” Mr. Potter repeats, closing the distance between them by striding back up towards the sofa, only to stop and crouch to one knee right there at her feet, looking up at her. Burning. “Pick me,” he elaborates. “Pick me, choose me, love me instead.”

- this fic is the reason why I comment the way that I do (spoiler it's because it's amazing)

The Wedding Ring by @mppmaraudergirl

What is undeniably worse than attending your sister's wedding looking as desolate and forgotten as a wilted houseplant? Drunkenly ringing your ex-boyfriend and asking him to be your date.

- SOBS UNCONTROLLABLY AT THE PERFECTION

Oh my god, they were ROOMMATES by @magic-girl-in-a-muggle-world

Silly one-shot, Muggle AU with Fem!Jily as pining roommates and Marlene as their matchmaker.

- the fic that brought me back to jily and inspired my deep obsession of fem!jily

Swipe Right, Swing Left by @downn-in-flames

The unspoken rule of using dating apps in D.C. is that you always start with where you work.

James Potter, it seems, never picked up on that one.

- giddy just thinking about this gem

'Tis the Damn Season by @petalstofish

It doesn't feel like Christmas for Lily Evans, not after losing her parents to COVID before the Holiday season. She anticipates spending Christmas all alone until a boy from her past shows up and offers her a mutually benefiting deal that has her calling him 'babe' just for the weekend. 'Tis the damn season, after all.

- cries in respect for lyrical writing

Watch Me Unwind by @maraudersftw

Lily Evans hates her job, hates the bigoted customers she has to serve as a bartender at the richest club in the city. But the one person who makes bearing all of it worth it has someone else in his arms tonight. (Rated: M)

- obsessed with the way the plot jumps around the time line in this

oil be there for you by @abby10fanfic

Texting/Social Media AU: Lily and James haven't spoken for 2 years. But that's all about to change thanks to Peter and his involvement in an essential oil pyramid scheme. Featuring boss babes, toxin-free lifestyles, binding contracts, and a very oily journey.

- YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE HOW FAB THIS IS

a matchmaking mission by @downn-in-flames

James Potter has a mission: get Sirius Black and Remus Lupin to finally admit that they both fancy the pants off each other by Valentine's Day.

His partner in crime? Lily Evans, Remus' flatmate, who he also happens to be slightly in love with

- DOUBLE the amount of pining idiots in love :")

about time by @jilyss

'sure, yeah, I can accompany you to that black tie event for your work tonight. wait. why are we on a red carpet?'

- this is my emotional comfort fic, your honor

whiskey business by @elanev91

Sirius Black has a (bad?) habit of picking up hobbies that take over his and James' flat -- this most recent one? Homemade vodka that James now has to try and peddle to everyone in the building.

- hysterical! must read!

Fashion Disaster by @maraudersftw

James Potter is roped into an awful dare by his best-mate, which involves him wearing atrocious pieces of clothing for all days until Christmas as dictated by Sirius. If this wasn't terrible enough, he now has to contend with his maddening crush on the beautiful saleswoman at the clothing store.

- classic hijinks that I live for

it wasn't a pity invite by @elanev91

Part of the December "Winter Tropes" Jily challenge. Prompt: my family invites you to join our holiday meal as an obvious setup and omG i’m so sorry

- awkward Christmas date that owns my heart

spice and honey by @clare-with-no-i

tagging along with her food reporter sister to profile James Potter, London's hottest young chef, is not how Lily Evans pictured her Monday going - especially if he's anything like Petunia’s described.

needless to say, she's in for a whirlwind at Chez Maraudeur.

- I'm one re-read away from printing this out and putting it on my bookshelf.

Waffle Wars by @elanev91

There's only one waffle maker in the dining hall and it literally always breaks. So, naturally, the only reasonable course of action is to meticulously map out when it's working and, ultimately, do a heist.

- the witty narration in this fic can not be matched

You Can Hear It In The Silence by @alrightginger

Lily is non-verbal and deaf in a world where the things your soulmate says about you end up written on your skin. She has known about her soulmate since she was seven, but knows they don't have a clue she exists and possibly never will.

- exquisite, cue me sobbing forever

out the window by @displayheartcode

A new family moves to Ottery St Catchpole.

- everything I could ever want in a fic, forever in my mind rent free

The Christmas Guest by @thegodmachine

An Evans Family Christmas: Petunia is bringing her fiancé and Lily is bringing her…Friend…

- petunia pov that gives me WINGS

Football, Calculus, and Cappuccinos by @moonawrites

At eighteen years old, James Potter has a lot going on. He's a rising star navigating the politics of professional football, the pitfalls of sudden fame, the fallout from choosing his dream over his father's company... and a serious crush on the red headed new barista at his favourite coffee shop.

- I'm still working my way through this fic, but trust me when I say its a GEM

if u like pina coladas by @zephyrcove

Lily is desperate for a date to Petunia's wedding, James has been pining, and their friends meddle ;)

- explain to me how characters can be so perfect via texting fics?

Shelf Awareness by @ghostofbambifanfiction

It's too far out of her way and she's wasting so much money, but Lily can't help but return to the bookstore every weekend, where her passion for good literature has, perhaps, been unexpectedly reignited by the messy-haired, pun-making, rather handsome bloke who works there.

- you absolutely must know that I binge read this and then immediately REREAD it

How to win a witch in 10 days by @adenei

“She’s going to find some unsuspecting wizard, get him to fall for her, and then do all the things that turn men away to get him to break things off! Won’t it be the best way to see what witches do that drives men crazy?” But what happens when the man in question is a blast from Lily Evans's past? A Jily Magical AU based on the romantic comedy "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days."

- fic based off of a rom com? YES PLZ :’)

The Fight Before Christmas by @ghostofbambifanfiction

The heartwarming Christmas tale of Lily Evans and James Potter - two plucky kids who hated one other, until the day they really, really didn't.

- complete sucker for this one

All This Time by @thejilyship

James and Lily grew up next door to one another. Their bedroom windows giving them glimpses into the others life, and also offering prime opportunities to argue with each other over every little thing. They never figured out how to be friends when they were kids, but now that they've graduated from college and are home for the summer, they have a second chance to get things right.

- one of my favvvv tropes

Let Me Love You by @thejilyship

With only a month until she's set to take the throne of Gryffindor, Lily is informed that she'll have to get married or choose to give up her throne. She never thought she'd have to even entertain the idea of an arranged marriage. Enter, James Potter.

- cries in princess diares AU

The Fabulous Baker Brothers by @frustratedpoetwrites

Lily walks a different route home from work and stumbles upon a cute little Bakery with an even cuter baker in the window.

- yes yes yes to embarrassed pining.

Marigold Mornings by @mppmaraudergirl

This is a fun game she thinks, as she removes her hand from his side and reaches up to run it down his chest.  He catches her hand in his own, takes a step forward so that her nose nearly brushes against his shirt. She can feel the heat radiating off of him—or maybe it’s from her. He licks his lips and her eyes are drawn to the motion.  She knows it is a bad idea, absolutely knows it.

- incredible storytelling featuring dynamic characters :') a favvv

Welcome to Pettyville by@women-inthe-sequel @alrightginger

When Lily Evans accidentally sends a text to the wrong number, she isn’t expecting to find the right person behind it. She can’t stop talking to Prongs. The only thing is, Prongs can’t stop talking about the girl in his class. What could go wrong, other than the number?

- LOVE SQUARE ANYONE

The Kiss a Stranger Project by @alrightginger

“What’s your name, then?” she asks, realizing they haven’t even properly introduced themselves yet. She nervously crosses her arms.

You shouldn’t kiss a guy without knowing his name first.

Right?

- THIS ONE WILL LIVE IN MY MIND FOREVER