#and whenever i tried to have somebody serve a meal; one of the others would immediately appear to whisk the serving plate away

[fingertipsmp3]

I genuinely get too nervous when something goes wrong in the sims. I need to do a really chaotic challenge to get out of my comfort zone

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

With the last breath

Word count: 1577

Warnings: depression, suicide attempt

Part II

At first, I'm sorry for my English. It isn't my native language, so there are mistakes and maybe it wouldn't give sense. Writing this was a real challenge and it showed me my (language) limits😅

For the first actual fanfiction I post here I'd say it's quite dark. I wrote it after fight with husband as kind of distraction. Well, it served its purpose.

Declaration: I write just for fun✌️

One day you were on a way to deliver some documents to Rhysand. He sent a request to the library to look for certain information he urgently needed and when everything he asked for was collected, Clotho asked you to deliver it to him. As the only person who from time to time didn't mind to go out, you had a good relationship him and knew all of the members of the inner circle. You often worked with them and helped them as you knew the library so well as the back of your hand.

Entering the River House you headed to his office. Clotho had sent him a notice of your visit early in the morning, so you knew where to look for him. As you approached the office door you could hear his voice and the voices of two other males. He was there together with his brothers standing around the table with maps and papers on it and discussing something important. You didn't want to disturb them, so you silently walked through the open door and set the documents on a small table right next to the door. Spymaster's eyes met yours for a second as he was the only one facing the door and he noticed the movement. Finding out it's you, as usually, he lost interest and returned to whatever they were looking at together. Rhys noticed his eyes went up and he also turned to you with a big, kind smile.

„Is that the information I asked for?“

„Yeah, it should be all. I checked it several times to make sure,“ you whispered silently, but he heard you.

„Would you mind to stay for lunch since you've come this far? It would be just three of us, Feyre and Elain,“ Rhys invited you.

Your eyes hastily darted to Azriel. His jaw slightly tightened, but you didn't miss that small move. „I'm afraid I need to return back..“ you tried to smile little.

„Are you already going back? Don't you need escort?“ Cassian turned to you too, offering help.

He and Rhys were kind to you and seemed to be happy to see you whenever you met them. Rhys always asked you to join a meal with his family and sometimes you'd accept it. On the other hand, Spymaster has never bothered to treat you with more than a short look or few casual phrases at the best. Even though he didn't seem to be really fond of you, he tended to sit next to you on a sofa or hold a seat for you next to him at the table. But it was a long time ago. Maybe he noticed you eyeing him with interest and that was the reason his behaviour changed over the years from 'I can tolerate you' to 'such a nuisance'. He personally didn't do nor say anything bad to you. But you could feel it from him somehow. You hadn't much of magic in your blood, but you was able to read any subtle signs and understand how people around you feel. That's the reason you stopped accepting invitations and tried to cross his path as little as possible. In the moments like this it was impossible to avoid meeting him and he seemed to be fine with it, paying you minimum attention. But as soon as somebody asked you to join them for a meal or evening, you could feel a slight discomfort from him. You tried to brush it away, but still it hurt.

When you met him for the first time you were afraid of him. As you got to know inner circle better, you learnt there's actually nothing scary about him and that deep down he is a very kind person. His silent, calm and caring nature appealed to you and before you noticed you fell in love with him. You couldn't help it even though you knew you don't have any chance. Masking it as best as you could, you decided to suffer in silence. You knew about his feeling toward Mor and when Archeron sisters entered your lives you noticed his shift of interest to Elain too. You weren't ugly, but there was no way you could compete with such beauties as the two of them. And you were well aware of that. That's why you've never tried to approach him and talk to him properly and after feeling a kind of discomfort from him in your presence, you tried to keep your distance and avoid him.

You excused yourself as fast as you could and turned around to leave. When you were sure that Rhys and Cass turned back to the table, you allowed yourself a single glance to him over your shoulder. His features were relaxed. He was so painfully beautiful that tears welled up in your eyes and the painful hole in your chest got little bigger.

After meeting him you needed some time to calm down and bury those feelings back so deep that nobody could notice them. You were walking around the city till you were sure you regained your peace. And just then you decided to head back to the library.

When you were climbing up the stairs you heard some muffled voices. You've never spied on other people, but this time you couldn't resist it and peaked to the hall to see who could it be. And there you saw them. Azriel stood with his back against the wall, Elain standing on her tiptoes with arms around his neck leaning into him. They started to kiss, slowly at first, but soon enough their passion took over. You couldn't stand it. Tears stinging your eyes once again, you left as silently as possible. When you were far from them and they couldn't hear you anymore, you run to your room as fast as you could. Closing the door you slid down to the ground unable to stifle your sobs. Knowing he has a thing for somebody else wasn't as painful as to actually see them together. It utterly broke your heart leaving you unable to breathe properly. Your life was pretty simple, you didn't have much. Your love for that male and a little faith you held were basically all you had left and the scene you witnessed totally crushed it all.

It took you hours until you calmed down enough to be able to stand up. You opened the door. You didn't know where to go, but you couldn't stand to be here anymore. Your legs took over the control, marching on their own. Suddenly you found yourself on one of the balconies heavily leaning on the railing. You slightly leaned over the edge looking down. The balcony was so high it made you nauseous. You pulled back to the safety. Spending most of the time in the library you've never gave much thoughts to heights at which you lived. You just occasionally had chance to stop and look out the window. Carefully you sat up on the railing back facing outwards. You tried to take deep breaths to calm down, to get through the pain and the shock. You tilted your head back watching floating clouds. As child you spent hours lying in the grass and watching clouds. It used to be so relaxing, but now you felt nothing, except emptiness. There was a bird flying high above you. You sighed. How beautiful it would be if you could fly. You'd took off flying far from this place, far from these people, far from him. What it must be like to feel so free and weightless. If you lean back little more, you could find out. It would be so nice to fly down, to never have to feel anything anymore. You knew you should be scared to even think about such things, but instead you felt numb.

 The bird was getting bigger as it flew closer. You closed eyes and leaned back more and more. Suddenly you felt so light, flying like that bird. Small smile formed on your lips and you stretched out arms like wings.

Azriel was flying back to the House of Wind when he noticed somebody leaning dangerously on the edge of railing on one of the highest balconies. It was strange, but he was tired so at first he didn't pay much attention to it. He looked away just for a moment and the person disappeared. His throat tightened. He immediately plunged headlong down, but he wasn't fast enough. The person was only few meters away from a certain death. He had to winnow. Stepping into shadows he reappeared few foots bellow the person stretching out arms to catch... HER! There was no doubt. It was Y/N. What happened? Why would she do something so horrible? What if he tries to catch her, but she slips through his hands and dies? He'd never been so scared in his entire life. If something were to happen to her, he'd never forgive himself. All sounds of the world disappeared, he could hear only own heart racing in his chest. It took just mere seconds, but it seemed to take forever. The moment her body collided with his, the time had stopped. He squeezed his eyes, muscles tensing, wings spreading to stop their fall.

When he finally dared to open his eyes, there she was safe in his arms, pressed to his chest. He breathed a sigh of relief.

[sunkissedpages]

instead of you [part fourteen]

pairing: [best friend’s brother] tom holland x college!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption

word count: 2.6k

series masterlist

“Just that you’re not technically a chef yet,” Tom explained defensively. “You’re not certified.”

“A chef doesn’t need a piece of paper to call themselves a chef,” Leo countered. “Anyone can be a chef. But don’t tell the WAC I said that.”

“Yeah, Tom haven’t you ever seen Ratatouille?” you teased.

“Great movie,” Leo added. “Sam, great job on your dough,” he reiterated.

Sam stuck his tongue out at his brother across the table who rolled his eyes in response as Leo picked up his ball of dough and rolled it in his hands.

“Tom, yours is still a little tough. Keep working on it.”

He nodded and took his dough back to continue kneading it. You noticed his jaw clenched subtly in frustration, but he didn’t say anything else. You watched as he rolled the pasta dough with a little more force, maybe a little too much.

Leo checked yours next and gave you similar feedback to Tom’s, even though Sam had helped you with yours. You didn’t want to think about what kind of feedback you would have gotten on your own.

Your dough was still flaking apart when you went back to working on it, and you tried desperately to hold it together with little success. Sam had left your side to help his mom so you were on your own.

At least Tom was also struggling. You felt a little better knowing he was miserable too.

You were starting to sweat with effort, you were so out of shape that even cooking had you catching your breath. You had thought this was going to be fun, but instead you were having flashbacks to high school P.E. class.

Leo made his way down the rest of the table and checked everyone else’s dough before circling back to you and Tom. He took over for Tom and instructed Sam to finish kneading yours so that he could move on with the lesson. It was embarrassing to be singled out, but Sam assured you it wasn’t your fault. He wasn’t making much progress with yours either.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with yours,” Sam whispered to you.

“I probably did it wrong,” you hissed back.

“I watched you do it, you did it the same way as everyone else.”

“Then why is it being like this?”

“Sometimes food has a mind of its own,” Leo interjected, making you realize the entire class had been listening to you and Sam’s back and forth. “This is good enough, though. We can set it aside with the other balls of dough to let them rest while we make the fillings.”

You and Tom set your sad pasta balls on the counter with the others before moving to the sink to rinse your hands.

“I think they’ll still taste good,” Tom said thoughtfully as he offered the bottle of soap to you and pumped some into your hands.

“I hope so.”

“It’s pasta, it’s almost impossible to fuck it up.”

“Yet somehow we still managed to.”

“Some would say it’s talent,” he said and shrugged.

You bumped his shoulder with your own as you fought over the water stream. You managed to stick your hands in first and Tom put his above yours only for you to shove them away.

“Hey!”

“You’re completely ruining the purpose of washing my hands!”

“I have soap on my hands, you have soap on your hands, what's the issue?”

“And you’re washing off your germs and they’re going on my hands now!”

“Fine, fine, I’ll wait my turn,” he seceded and let you finish washing your hands before he rinsed off his own.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Making the fillings for the pasta was a much simpler process than making the dough. All you had to do was mix certain ingredients together. It didn’t matter what order you added them, if you whisked fast or slow, the only important thing was that everything made it into the bowl one way or another.

You worked in pairs for this step. Sam mixed together the pesto filling while you did the parmesan-truffle one.

“This is different than the pesto I make,” he said, looking at the mixture in his bowl.

You frowned. “But I like your pesto.”

“It’ll still be good, baby,” he assured you with a kiss to the forehead. “Don’t worry.”

When the fillings were done it was time to revisit the balls of dough and roll them into pasta. Sam explained it to you like rolling Play-Doh, but it was far more difficult in your opinion. Play-Doh was nowhere near as stubborn as this. The pasta dough somehow retained tension, and would bounce back every time you tried to stretch it.

Sam ended up having to help you and Tom because both of you were starting at a disadvantage with your fucked up dough.

“I never want to hear you say I have it easier than you ever again,” Sam warned as he folded your strands of dough into raviolis.

The class had moved on to the final step, shaping and filling the noodles, but you had already tapped out. Sam was done with his portion before you had even finished one so he had taken over for you.

“I’m sorry for saying that,” you said, remembering all the times you had teased him for stressing out over his ‘soufflé final’ or ‘crepe labs’. “I would much rather be writing a paper right now.”

He shrugged. “Everyone has their strengths.”

“I’m starting to think that Ratatouille movie was bullshit,” you groaned.

“How ironic,” Tom snorted across from you.

He was really starting to get on your nerves. But you let his comment go, not allowing your temper to get the better of you. He was still Sam’s family, even if they had a... complicated relationship.

When the class finally settled in the dining room of the restaurant to eat you were sweaty, sore, and exhausted. You could feel your skin sticking to the leather seat, and you felt severely underdressed. Back in the kitchen you hadn’t been so self-conscious. But now you couldn’t stop thinking about your appearance.

The atmosphere was much more sophisticated. The lights were dim, and soft music played in the background. All of the other guests were following an unspoken black-tie dress code while the fifteen of you were still wearing your disposable aprons, only now they were covered in flour and egg yolk.

And to make it worse-

“Smile!”

Nikki held up her phone and motioned for you and Sam to scoot your chairs closer together. You took a deep breath and complied, leaning your head against your fake boyfriend’s and managing a grin. You really didn’t want this moment to be immortalized, but you didn’t want to be difficult either.

The camera flashed once, then again. Sam wrapped a hand around your waist and pulled your body against his, pressing a kiss to your cheek for another picture. You scrunched up your face as the flash went off, the tickle of his breath against your skin and the feather-light touch of his lips making you squeeze your eyes shut.

“That’s a good one!” Nikki complimented, even though you were sure it wasn’t as flattering as she was making it out to be.

The pasta was served with a glass of red wine for everyone. Sam was right, the pesto was different from his, but it was still good. It was no match for his recipe, but the handmade pasta did give it a few bonus points. You were sure you hadn’t gotten any of the noodles you made because all of the ones on your plate were perfect. It didn’t feel fair that you got to enjoy somebody else’s hard work while they got your shitty excuse of a ravioli.

But as the wine dwindled from your glass the negative thoughts began to ebb away too. Your muscles, though still sore, relaxed slightly and you rested your head on Sam’s shoulder as everyone else finished their meals around you. The conversation carried on without your contribution. Your social battery had died hours ago, but you were content to listen to the Hollands chat with other students at the table.

You weren’t a huge fan of wine, but the one served with dinner was palatable, and to be honest you weren’t one to turn down complimentary alcohol anyway. It tasted more expensive than anything you had ever drank, like the equivalent of velvet on your tongue. You finished your glass and the rest of Harry’s.

-

The next few days in Florence passed in a similar fashion. You ate a lot of carbs, drank a lot of alcohol and let the business of the itinerary overwhelm you. It was getting tiring, living in an act. Trailing along behind the Hollands like a dog, worn on Sam’s arm like an accessory.

You had known what you were getting into, and you were trying your best to enjoy the experiences- because who the fuck knows when you’ll ever get to go on such a nice vacation again, but pretending to be in love with your best friend was a harder feat than you had thought.

It felt like being in a school play. Every move and phrase had to be intentional. You tread the lines of your relationship with rehearsed expertise. And you had to watch what you said, because everyone’s eyes were on you. At least that’s what it felt like.

Sam’s parents were easy. They fully bought into your lie, seeing what they wanted to. They usually left you to your own devices, too. His brothers were the ones who needed convincing. Not even Harry, though. Tom was the problem. Tom was always the problem.

You were in Rome now, walking back to the hotel from the Colosseum. Sam had his arm slung around your shoulders and was talking his twin brother’s ear off about the Gladiators and inaccuracies in films about Ancient Rome.

You didn’t think you’d seen him this excited the entire trip. It was cute, the way he talked with his hands and looked off into the distance whenever he was really engaged in something. Harry was also cute. He was trying his best to keep up with Sam, nodding his head at all the right points, asking questions when there was a pause in conversation.

“Yeah, gladiators fucking unionized,” Sam explained. “They put their lives on the line all the time, ya know? Might as well get benefits.”

“If I was a gladiator I’d join their union,” you said, adding to the conversation for the first time in a while.

“There were women gladiators too, babe! You totally could’ve been one.”

You laughed. “You remember my season on the intramural dodgeball team? I wouldn’t last a day. But I appreciate the thought, Sammy.”

You had dinner in the restaurant attached to the hotel lobby. Nikki passed around her Canon for everyone to look through the pictures from the day while a bottle of limoncello was passed around the table.

You’d scarfed down your pasta and passed on dessert in favor of another shot of limoncello. Rookie mistake.

In the past the sugary drink had always tasted like cough syrup to you, but this batch tasted like straight-up lemonade. You were tipsy, bordering on drunk, but nowhere near blacked. Nikki and Dom turned in around shot three, leaving the tab open for the four of you. Sam went upstairs next, having gone too hard too fast on the limoncello (he was on shot five when his parents went back to their room).

Then it was just You, Harry, and Tom. You told Sam you’d join him in a bit after the pianist played a couple more songs. In all honesty, the music reminded you of Sam. Back at school you could always find Sam in the music hall if he wasn’t in the culinary building. You’d always hear him playing as soon as you walked through the double doors. You could always tell it was him at the keys by the way the playing sounded. He was self-taught, but still a genius in your mind. He didn’t need any formal training to make beautiful music, and that’s what you loved about it.

When he moved out of the dorms and into an apartment he bought a keyboard, and you’d spend nights together in his room illegally pirating sheet music for him to learn new songs. He’d play whatever you requested, and if he didn’t know how to play it he’d teach himself.

The pianist in the restaurant played with a little more expertise. The notes sounded refined, perfected. Sam always told you that perfect music was restrained music, that real music had flaws, that a song should sound a little different every time it was played.

After an encore of Beethoven the man at the piano stood from his bench and took a bow, passing his hat around the room to collect tips. Tom dropped a bill into the hat and you did as well, handing it back to the man afterwards. He dumped the contents of the hat into a briefcase and closed the lid of the piano, thanking everyone in the audience for their donations.

“Well, I think I’m going to head up now,” Harry said, yawning for emphasis. “We still have to get up at the ass crack of dawn even though we’ll all probably be hungover.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tom said cockily, then turned to you. “One more shot?”

The bottle of limoncello was almost empty anyway. Might as well finish it off, it’d be a shame to let it go to waste, right?

“Hit me.”

“God, you’re both going to be so fucked tomorrow,” Harry groaned.

“We’ll be fine,” Tom insisted, rolling his eyes at his younger brother.

“Good night, Harry,” you sang, waving at him as he walked off.

“Yeah whatever.”

Tom wasted no time pouring you both a shot of what was left of the limoncello. The restaurant was beginning to clear out so he worked fast, filling the glasses up to the marked line. You both took one and clinked them together before throwing them back.

You winced at the burning sensation in the back of your throat and put the glass back on the table, searching for something to chase the shot with. Your eyes fell to Tom, lingering on his cheeks, his lips, both pink from the alcohol or something else. You flicked your gaze down to his neck, his collarbone that was peeking out from the neckline of his shirt. You thought about how it would feel to kiss him there, to run your tongue over a love bite you’d given him.

You forced your gaze back to his eyes, hoping he hadn’t caught you staring. You had to act uninterested, you couldn’t let on to- but he was staring back. His eyes were intense, and almost impossible to read in the darkness of the room. You knew you should look away, knew you had to keep up appearances, but you couldn’t.

Later you’d blame it on the alcohol, but in that moment you knew the limoncello wasn’t what was making your head spin, or your what was making your vision cloudy.

You were about to leave the table, about to rush to the elevator and back to Sam but then suddenly Tom was kissing you. He cradled your head in his hand and tilted your chin up to meet his lips. It wasn’t desperate or messy like most drunk kisses were. Instead, it was delicate. You swore you could feel every line of his lips against yours, feel his heartbeat through his hands on your cheek.

It was only for a second, not enough time for you to react or reciprocate and then he was pulling away, eyes wide with panic.

“Please don’t tell Sam.”

logging off before i get yelled at but lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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[wri0thesley]

Hey Nat, I'm kinda blaming you for my budding infatuation with Nanami and I was wondering if I may request Nanami and his s/o having their first kiss? It doesn't have to be long but I'm just feeling soft and with the way you write him it sounds like a treat once this reserved, professional man finally allows himself to give in

oh anon i am so... so very soft.... you cannot blame me for the nanami desire. he is simply irresistible. 

date night - nanami x reader (3k)

you’re nervous about your first date with nanami.

warnings: none. fluffy, soft. neutral reader, some mentions of food and alcohol.

You cannot help but be nervous about tonight.

Your friends have made fun of you, talking about your hot date – Gojo thumping you on the back, Shoko looking at you with her tired eyes but a smirk on her face. Neither of them really get it, you don’t think – to them, Nanami is their former junior who is just a little too serious for his own good. A gloomy, stoic presence who they trust implicitly due to the good head on his shoulders, but who they do not really see as ‘a potential romantic match’. They know that you’ve been harbouring a crush on the former salaryman for months, and they’ve already tried to warn you off him.

“He can be so boring,” Gojo had said, swinging an arm around your shoulders. “Let me set you up with someone instead!”

Your face had heated up at the idea that Gojo didn’t trust you to make your own romantic decisions, but he was already halfway through listing the name of every eligible bachelor he knew (and a few who he said ‘weren’t eligible, but they probably could be, for you!’). You’d been able to do nothing but listen politely as you’d walked with him to his classroom, occasionally gathering strange looks from the students that were milling around in the corridors.

“Think about it!” He’d cried to you as he’d stepped into his bare classroom (you hardly ever see him doing any actual classwork in there; mainly, you see him lying on top of desks and making fun of his students) and greeted the three first years waiting for him. “You don’t wanna be stuck ironing Nanami’s socks for the rest of your life!”

You hope his students don’t hear him, as you decide to go for a walk outside to clear your head.

You and Nanami have been dancing around the idea of maybe possibly being something more than friends for weeks. You’ve felt it, in the brush of his hand against yours, the way that his eyes seem to soften and his tiredness seems to lift when you’re near him. You’ve felt it, as you’ve passed him a cup of coffee and he’s relished the warmth emanating from the cup. In the soft way he speaks to you.

You’ve felt it when he’s held your hand as the two of you have walked together, not saying anything. In his scarf wrapped around your neck, smelling like him.

What you haven’t done, is go on a date.

And perhaps this isn’t a date the way you’d once have dreamed about it. You’re going over to Nanami’s place; he’s going to cook a meal for you, the two of you are going to catch up after he’s been gone on a mission for almost a week -  the two of you are going to watch a foreign film he’s been able to get hold of, that you’ve been saving to watch with one another. You’re going to perhaps have a glass of wine together, or two--

You kind of do want to be stuck ironing Nanami’s socks for the rest of your life.

It sounds so silly when you say it aloud! You haven’t even kissed him, just brushed fingers and held hands and saved each other’s lives whilst on exorcisms together. But whenever you close your eyes and imagine your future, Nanami is always there, right beside you.

You breathe in deeply. You have to ignore what Gojo and Shoko and everyone have been saying. They’ve known Nanami for longer than you – they were his upperclassmen, after all, and you suppose it’s traditional to make fun of and quash your younger classmates a little. You just need to think about what you want, and what Nanami himself may want. Plucking uselessly at your clothes, nerves fizzing in your stomach, you elect to ignore the anxiety gnawing at you until you’re at least outside of Nanami’s front door.

Then, you tell yourself, then, I’ll allow myself to panic a little bit. Seeing Nanami’s calm, handsome face always calms me down. The minute he answers the door, I’ll forget that I was even nervous, and everything will be just as it should.

It doesn’t stop you worrying, as you get dressed and try and fluff your hair and rearrange all of your accessories whilst you get ready. It’s just an evening at his house, you try and keep telling yourself. He’s not expecting me to show up like a runway model, he’d probably hate that anyway--

Still. Having a crush on somebody is never easy, and Nanami can be so utterly unreadable at times, that you get dressed and undressed twice more before you settle on something in between casual and formal; that looks like you’ve made an effort, without looking like you agonised for hours to figure out what the level of effort should be. You’re clutching a bottle of wine and standing outside of his door three minutes early, wondering if he’s the kind of man who gets annoyed if you are there too early.

The door swings open, and Nanami is there, leaning on the door frame. He’s breathtakingly handsome, in casual clothes – an expensive looking sweater in soft grey that gives just a peek at the column of his throat, cuffed jeans. You’ve never seen him look so . . . relaxed. And the fact that he’s looking at you, his lips barely tilting, his tired eyes just a little turned up at the corners.

“You look nice,” he tells you, and you thank God that you went with this outfit. You hold out the bottle of wine for him, and his smile breaks wider as he looks at it. “You didn’t need to bring me anything, you know. I’m happy to be the provider this evening.”

“It’s-- it’s polite!” You insist, and Nanami steps aside to allow you into his house. He’s very proper, and you’d wanted to impress him �� you think the young lady who had served you in the specialist store you’d anxiously entered had sensed your worry, and had been very kind as she’d picked something for you she was certain you’d like.

“You made a good choice,” he tells you, as he invites you into his hallway and you gratefully pull off your shoes. “This one looks fine--”

“I didn’t really choose it,” you admit. “I let the experts do it.”

He laughs, the sound like an early spring morning. You don’t think anybody else hears him laugh like that, and the comfort that the two of you share makes you feel soft and warm.

“Even more admirable, then,” he says. “Most people we know would just barrel in guns blazing and insist they knew the right way to do things.”

You both share a secretive smile, your cheeks warming. You can feel tension draining out of you the longer you spend in Nanami’s company. Something about him just sets you at ease.

When you’d first met him, you’d been frightened of him. He seemed so gloomy and intense, so utterly focussed on his goals – when you had tried to speak to him, he had brushed you off with short one word answers and you’d caught him looking at you when your back was turned as if he was waiting for you to slip up.

But as time had worn on . . . as time had worn on, Nanami’s edges had softened. You’d realised that he was willing to talk, when the participant had proved themselves to be worth talking to. He’d told you once, shrugging, that most jujutsu sorcerers just tended to be . . . odd.

“Not you, though,” he’d said, and your heart had leapt in your chest. “Well. You’re not odd in any way that isn’t charming.”

He’s not usually the kind of man who heaps praise on other people; that little compliment, you had carried with you like a flame in your heart. The first time he had held your hand, he hadn’t said anything. The first time he had walked you home, and met you for coffee in a morning a half hour before you were due to be at the scene of an exorcism; Nanami Kento shows that he cares about you in a hundred different little ways that aren’t as simple as telling you it out and out. You admire that about him. You’re so used to putting your foot in your mouth.

“Come sit at the table,” he says, and you follow him obediently. His house is tastefully decorated, somewhere between modern and traditional; he has shelves of books everywhere, and that makes you smile. You’ve heard him say, sighing; “When I’m done with all this, I’ll finally have time to get around to reading them.” The shelf in the very corner of the dining area is the only one that looks well-thumbed; even from here, you can see that it’s where he keeps his recipe books.

“I hope you’ll like it,” you settle into the chair that he pulls out for you. He moves into the kitchen with purpose, grabbing serving dishes and utensils and juggling them with a precision that makes you admire him all the more. “I’m very glad you were on time. It’s the kind of dish that needs to be eaten at the exact right moment.”

He whips the cover off the main dish.

You knew that Nanami was a foodie. His instagram is full of pictures of various places and treats he’s eaten – with a particular focus on adorable baked goods, especially bread, that had made you feel warm inside when you’d noticed. Still, the spread that he’s laid out before you would not look out of place in the most high-class of restaurants; the kind that you’d never had the money to afford to eat in, and you’d have been afraid of showing yourself up at the tables of. You stare at it, mesmerised; the vegetables, so bright and colourful and steaming, lovingly presented – the glaze of the meats, the bowls full of side-dishes that you can’t quite recognise.

There’s an anxiety in his face when he looks at you.

“Sorry,” he says, quietly. “I think I probably over-estimated. And over-compensated, I suppose, for not taking you out to a restaurant--”

“No,” you say, quickly. “It looks delicious. I’m glad you invited me. It’s just . . . a lot.”

“Yes,” his eyes rove over the table. “There are only two of us.”

“It’ll make good left-overs,” you suggest, and he brightens.

“That should have been my line,” he tells you as he retrieves the wine you’d brought. You can see that there was already a bottle chilling in a bucket by the table, but Nanami’s face is affectionate as he pops the cork and pours some into the wine glass by your plate. “I’m supposed to be the responsible one.”

“Sorry for stealing your thunder,” you take a sip of the wine.

“Just as long as you don’t make a habit of it.”

The food really is delicious. You could easily have had seconds, or even thirds – on an ordinary day. A day in which your stomach isn’t churning from how alone the two of you are. There’s a buzz in the air that isn’t quite tension; more, it’s a promise that there’s more yet to come. You and Nanami laugh over dinner, the conversation surprisingly easy when the knot in your insides is so tight. He talks about his old job, and you talk about your own adventures before you’d ended up in Tokyo – he smiles, and laughs, more than you’ve ever seen him do.

He seems so much more at home here. That’s silly, considering it is his home – but somehow, there’d always been an image of Nanami in your head as serious and unforgiving with his tie very tight and his suits perfectly pressed even when he was relaxing in his own rooms.

That image is quickly wiped away, by the way he looks as he rolls up the sleeves of his sweater to take the dishes away.

“Let me help you wash up,” you try and say, but he waves you away.

“I’ll leave them for after you’ve gone,” he says. “I’m not going to ask a guest to do that. Or maybe I’ll even be bold; leave them for in the morning.” His smile makes you feel weak at the knees, this time – a spot of pink high on those sharp cheekbones. Is he blushing, or has his face gone rosy from the wine?

The two of you migrate into the living room. His television is large, but not ostentatiously so; a row of DVDs are neatly in the cabinet beneath it, mainly drama films, period films and some foreign prestige box sets. The movie the two of you have been talking about is one of those – a Danish film about an ageing detective who takes on one last case. You had originally planned to see it together, when it made it to Tokyo cinemas; but one thing had lead to another, and before you could both get the schedules to work out it had gone.

He places the DVD into the player and you can’t help but stare at him; how the soft material of the sweater clings to his broad shoulders, how the jeans seem to emphasise his ass – he’s always in slacks, you’ve never really had the chance to ogle it before, but seeing it in front of you now you suddenly understand why he keeps it covered. Who knows what riots it might incite, if it were just out and about for anyone to see?

“You’re staring,” Nanami turns his head slightly, catching your eye. Heat rushes to your face – but he keeps your eyes pinned with his own for a moment, before deliberately dragging them down the length of you, sat on the sofa. You feel hot and warm and bothered by the way he smiles afterwards, as if he is saying that he likes what he’s seeing too. “You don’t need to be sneaky about it. I don’t mind.”

You swallow, your throat suddenly going very dry. Nanami moves across the room, sitting on the sofa beside you. Heat seems to be radiating off of him; there’s a comfort in having him next to you.

“You look uncomfortable,” he says, five minutes into the movie. He leans back, an arm coming to rest on the back of the sofa behind you. “You can lean on me, you know. I don’t mind.”

He looks inviting. His head is tipped to one side as he meets your eyes; there’s no challenge in his. Just a softness. A quiet affection. Perhaps a touch of nervousness – of trepidation, that you’ll refuse the offer. You hesitantly sidle closer, leaning your head against his side. His scent wraps around you; freshly cleaned laundry, peppermint, coffee, spices, some of the wine from earlier--

You fair go dizzy at it all, but not as dizzy as you go when the arm on the back of the sofa wraps around you, his fingers resting on your shoulder. How are you supposed to concentrate on anything, with him so close to you? With everything about him making you feel like you’re on a roller-coaster climbing upwards and upwards, hurtling towards the inevitable?

You try – oh, you really do try – to keep your eyes on the film and the subtitles scrolling across the bottom of the television. But the aged detective is not half as interesting as Nanami; as the way he focusses on the screen, as his face bathed in the light. As his hand, as it gently starts to stroke over your shoulder, as if he’s barely aware he’s doing it. As his tongue, as it darts out to nervously lick at his lips.

“You’re staring at me,” he says, and you flinch that he’s noticed. His head turns, pinning you with the full force of his gaze. “Are you not enjoying it? We can turn it off?”

How do you answer that?

The real answer: ‘I’m not enjoying it because I can’t concentrate on anything other than you, and how badly I want to be brave enough to kiss you’, feels too bare and bold. You bite your lip.

Nanami leans in closer to you, so close that you can see the flush on his cheeks. The slightly ruffled hairs falling over his forehead. You can count his eyelashes, almost--

“I’m not sure what’s going on either,” he admits, softly. “And I can speak Danish.”

The arm not around your shoulders moves, resting on your waist. You can barely breathe. He’s so close to you; so gorgeous, in the light. All of that former salaryman indifference seems to have gone; he’s not cold any longer, but boiling hot. You’ve been watching it slowly strip away from him since you met him, you think, but tonight might be the first time he’s been Kento Nanami with no pretension.

Nervous about his food, even though he knows he’s an excellent cook. Blushing as he realises you’re checking him out. Almost trembling, as his hand slides up and he cups your cheek like you’re made of porcelain and he’s afraid he might drop and shatter you at any moment. You blink up at him, honey-slow, so dazed by his touch and his presence you can barely make sense of what’s happening.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Nanami says, as a warning. Even now, he seems to think you might pull away. But you cannot, you do not; you just press yourself closer into him, your voice coming out very soft and small as you whisper;

“Please do.”

He does not need to be asked twice. His lips are so soft against yours. The wine clings to them, intoxicating and heady. The hand on your cheek tips your face further up, so he can keep his mouth pressed against you so sweetly. You pull back, your heart pounding.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” he’s saying, almost immediately, nervous that you have changed your mind – but all you do is free your arms, so you can wrap them about his neck and pull him in closer, to devour him the way you’ve wanted to for months.

The movie plays on, forgotten.

[rawbins-undertale-blog]

This is a slight TW question, so feel no obligation to answer:

How would horrortale Sans react to an S/O with an eating disorder?

TW for eating disorder(s) (nearly only ARFID is spoken about, anorexia is mentioned)

If I missed any tags you think I should've included, please tell me.

This may sound a bit strange, but I’ve actually been wanting to write something for this, specifically because I suffer from an eating disorder. I’m not comfortable writing anything with an eating disorder (or any disorder in general) I personally don’t have, mostly because I don’t have the time to give it the proper research it deserves, so I’ll be writing about a lesser known eating disorder, that being ARFID. Let me explain it so people who don’t know what it is will, uh, know what it is lol

ARFID - also commonly called “Selective Eating Disorder�� - stands for Avoidant/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder. A lot of people with it are characterised as being “picky eaters”, but it goes to a point where it’s seriously unhealthy and crosses a line that makes it into something more serious. It has to do with sensory processing issues, rather than self-image issues (though self-image issues could also play a part in it I'm pretty sure, but it’s not the main “motivation”). Most people with ARFID actually wish they could go up in weight, but can’t because they can’t make themselves eat. I, for one, desperately wish I could just eat like a normal person, both because it’s very… not convenient to only have around 20 or less meals I can eat (and that list is slimming down as I grow tired of my safe foods*) and also I’m skinny enough to match Papyrus in looks, which isn’t very confidence-inspiring when you’re supposed to be a human and not a sentient magical skeleton, believe it or not. Whereas a person without ARFID could eat most things, including things they don’t really enjoy eating, somebody with ARFID might not be physically able to. For example, I literally throw up food that I don’t like (and I’ve gagged while eating food I do like due to seeing somebody eat something I don’t like and/or just smelling other food nearby). When I'm to try a new food, I have on more than one occasion gotten anxiety attacks. That’s how bad it can be.

*a "safe food" is food you know you can eat without panicking/throwing up/getting triggered in one way or another

I’ll be basing these HCs off of myself, so keep that in mind. You’re free to point out misinformation (and I, in fact, encourage you to point it out if I somehow got something wrong) but I ask that you stay respectful and don’t make fun of this. I doubt it would happen, but this topic means a lot to me and is really serious. So yeah please don’t be rude or invalidate people. Anyways onto the headcanons (which aren’t in the usual format, sorry if that bothers you)

Dusk (HT Sans) wouldn’t really understand. He’s able to eat pretty much anything (not like he had much of a choice for a while) and food is important… But he’ll try to understand. Especially because he can accommodate you. He’ll be fine eating the same meals, however “boring” they are, over and over because like I said: not a picky eater. Any food is good in his book. So long as you’re not restricting him and his food intake and so long as you aren’t dying from starvation and/or malnutrition, you’re free to do whatever.

It does annoy him when you go to social gatherings and you can’t eat the food because it’s not one of your safe foods. He’s not going to let you just starve yourself when there’s perfectly fine food just waiting for you. Not gonna lie, he’s pretty insensitive the first time this happens. Basically, he’ll pull you over when he notices you’re not eating anything and try to convince you to eat. Starts out really gentle and encouraging, but when you don’t budge he becomes increasingly agitated and insistent until he hisses that you’re making a fuss over nothing. Needless to say, you aren’t thrilled and it starts a pretty serious argument that probably ends with you either leaving, starting to cry or blowing up at him. He feels bad when it’s all said and done and apologises, because he realises after some thought that he wasn’t being helpful and he decided to do more research again. Even if he forgot it all like he did the first time he tried researching ARFID, it would have been worth a shot. After that, he’ll instead pack food with him for you whenever you go somewhere. It doesn’t matter if it’s “socially acceptable”, because like I said, you’re not starving if he’s got something to do with it.

He’ll also, after coming around to realise the best he can do to help you isn’t trying to push you out of your comfort zone forcefully, try to make sure there’s always at least one of your safe foods available. Don’t get me wrong though, he’ll still encourage you to expand on your list of safe foods. He’s got memory issues so he sometimes forgets, which he feels really bad about, but he has multiple alarms set to make sure you eat properly for the most part. (He’s got an alarm for nearly every minute of the day and he has his calendar full of things as mundane as “make sure s/o eats” and “do laundry”, by the way.) I have a tendency to skip lunch because I simply don’t like food, but he’d put a stop to that lol

To summarize, the whole thing with you having an ED starts off with the two of you having a rocky start before Dusk comes around to be really good at handling it.

Anyways sorry if you meant an ED like anorexia. I know most people write about things like that, but like I said: I’m not really up for writing things that I have to pour hours of research into to make sure I portray it respectfully and accurately because I don’t have that time or patience. (Or attention span, tbh.) Also, I literally hadn’t heard of ARFID for like… the majority of my life, I’ve only known it’s a “thing” for like. A few months. I really thought I was the only one who was so picky with my food and it made me feel alone and isolated (ESPECIALLY after I went to a "specialist" (not sure if she was actually a specialist anymore because her technique to get me to eat was to give my a small glass that I'd pour sauce into to try it every time it was served which obviously didn't work lmao) to help me when I was like six and she said she’d “never seen somebody this bad” before not giving me a diagnosis (as far as I know)), so if anybody with undiagnosed ARFID is reading this:

you're not alone. I know it’s difficult to deal with this - it can be humiliating and embarrassing and horrible and terrible in so many ways - but you can do it. It’s so hard, so fucking hard to step out of your comfort zone and try to expand on your list of safe foods, but you can do it. I believe in you. You aren’t alone and you can learn to have a healthier diet, please just try. I’ll be honest in that you’re probably never going to completely overcome this, ARFID is something that likely stays with you forever, but you can make it into a smaller problem. You can turn it into something so much smaller and inconsequential that you won't encounter any more embarrassing situations where you can't eat what you're given. To a point where you won't have to use the excuses "I already ate", "I'm not hungry", etc anymore. It’ll take time and patience, but you can do it. Don’t give up, okay? <3

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

BFCD Story Concepts by Nesha

Story Concept 01: No Saviors in the Wild Pt. 5

Read Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4

I Am Light by India.Arie plays in background, as it is Shani’s theme.

A Savior is Born: The Rise of the Rebels 02 - A Cage Big Enough for Hundreds

Shani knew what it meant whenever she was escorted back to the dormitories and her files were pulled up and changed. She knew what it meant for the administration to remove her arm cuff, explaining to her that the government had given her a full scholarship for the rest of her studies. When her record was expunged and she was allotted a grace days to recuperate and get back to her regularly scheduled classes with her tuition and lodging paid in full and no sign of the unjust sentence in her history, she knew.

They wanted her to shut up and move on. To just forget about not only what happened to her in the woods, but to the others. To Atlas. She tried to see if she could look him up whenever she got back to the library. The directory didn’t cover Wasteland citizens, so she had to give up after a few days. 

Since she now had free time, not having to work for her education, she decided to get a part time job, for a life skills practice and a few non-academic pleasures that weren’t covered in the tuition + nutrition supply. She started a beret collection, and learning various hobbies as a distraction from thinking about the woods every time she wasn’t involved with a school project.

She bought every single type of M&M that she saw in the store, then grabbed jars to separate them - all plain reds in a big jar, smaller jars for other reds - peanut, almond, etc, and the biggest jar had all of the excess red M&Ms of all sorts put into it. Then... she had several bags of several M&Ms that weren’t red. Researching what to do with them, besides toss them, she found a few recipes for cookies and other treats. Maybe this was a nice time to learn how to bake!

She went knocking on doors of other dorms in her building and nearby buildings, "Hi, I brought you some M&Ms cookies." and they're like... You know what idec. Yes, thanks. Because, the dorms weren’t where the rich students lived. It got her a few suspicious folk, but mostly, people were grateful for something to eat that wasn’t a strict and cheap meal or an even cheaper and far less appealing meal paste. It was the first time that people seemed to begin liking her.

She thinks about getting a tattoo, but they're ridiculously unsafe and very expensive, so instead she gets a tattoo art piece, which is a realistic painting of your body part with a tattoo on it. It's relatively costly, but safe, and hers is an Atlas tattoo, holding the world on his shoulders, on her back, because Atlas had had her back.

She researches Atlas and then goes and finds Greek mythology books in the useless books depository, and takes on learning about it as a hobby. Greek mythology, baking, school, part time job doing data entry, and collecting berets. It kept her occupied, though her mind was frequently on what happened. Months had passed, years were beginning to. She thought for sure that one day, her pain had to be numbed and so she tried not to harp on it. But, how do you just forget somebody who was willing to throw away their life for yours?

18 marked the legal age of adulthood. Shani immediately had a job, right out of school as an interpreter and translator. She was hired at a firm that also allotted her to take more college level courses to advance herself in the field and she began saving up for a place in the city that wasn’t a job related lodging when she had the most important appointment set up for her that she would ever have.

“Hi. I’m Shani, I’ll be helping you today with your assessment. Have a seat.” The wasteland woman looked at the chair that Shani gestured to and smiled, her canines showing and the smile wider than Shani was comfortable with. “Ummm... Sit down?” The woman laughed and nodded. 

“Have a seat. Sit down. Yes. Yes, that makes sense. It took me a moment. You might guess, the wasteland isn’t very prim and proper.”

Shani didn’t want to talk about the wasteland. Instead, she began typing into her computer, “So, Miss... Free... What is your first language?”

“I don’t believe that you have a word for it. I’ll call it wolfen. I doubt it is in your machine.” 

Shani furrowed her eyebrows. “No. I’ve never heard of that before. Where did it originate? If you know...” 

“Hmmm... The Epic of Gilgamesh, maybe.” 

Shani frowned and clasped her hands over each other. “Ma’am. What is this meeting about?”

“I remember you, but you don’t remember me. It’s because you didn’t see me. You didn’t know to look for me. But, I knew to look for you. I’m here, because I have finally found you... Did you think it was right? For them to come in that way? They sent us food. We ate, then they attacked and took my people, took your people, took the wolf with the hair like flames...”

“What are you talking about?” Shani whispered.

“Your mate. He was torn open, then he tasted blood. He became as we are. Not fully, but enough. He became a man who is no longer a man, a man who is now a wolf.”

“Atlas.”

“They took my people. They took your people. You.. were special, somehow. You didn’t go where others went. Why were you special? Why were you spared?” Shani had never considered that she had been either of these things. She lamented over Atlas for so long, she figured that she, too, had been made to suffer. “They were taken to a cage. Some as beasts, some as feed. You were taken to a cottage, and given gifts. Are you a queen?”

“Far from it...” Shani tried to remember what happened in those moments. She vaguely recalled a voice saying, “She was falsely accused. She shouldn’t have been there in the first place, much less get taken to the Kennel. She’s got an arm cuff. She belongs to somebody.” The school. She had been property of the school. She still owed them money and had their equipment on her person, to indicate such...

Her schooling was paid off, not as a means to keep her quiet... but to keep the school quiet. To ensure that they got what she was worth and not ask questions about potential damages she faced while serving a bogus sentence. Sure, she made the most of that, but it had less to do with her and more to do with money.

“They... took them to a cage?”

“A cage big enough for hundreds.”

Tears poured from her eyes and Free took the initiative to offer the woman’s own tissues to her, as she must’ve forgotten that they were on her desk, in her... emotional release. Shani snatched two and tried to clean her face up. They took Atlas to a prison?  “A prison! They... took Atlas to a prison?”

Whenever Free said this, her dark brown eyes glowed amber and at that moment, Shani knew. This... is a wolf. This woman is what she described. A person who is not a person, but a person who is a wolf. “They took everyone there. Everyone but us.”

NOTES: I enjoy the idea of Free being far removed enough from human society that she doesn’t know anything about mannerisms and only has a limited amount of English, that she’s picked up since she’s been scavenging through the wasteland, but that she’s smart (I’d say the smartest wolfen in the series), and she’s adaptable and quick. She’s like a wolfen counterpart to Shani, and that’s why they eventually get on so well. They’re in similar positions, but with vastly different backgrounds. @tiarathief (You are still the first name that comes up whenever I at somebody. Let me know if you don’t want to be tagged to these, please. @shslargue @jacksope-lives

[purplesurveys]

1248

Your ex taps you on the shoulder and says, “I still love you.” You say?  I feel like I’ve answered a similar situation recently, but I would assume it was a drunk text or wrong text, inform them about it, and move on.

Do you play video games?  Nah. I do feel a sort of connection of video games since I grew up surrounded by them, though; but I’m more of a watcher than anything. I like watching playthroughs of video games I’ll never play. Do you spend a lot of time with family?  No. We used to, back when the quarantine was still a relatively new thing – we hung out in the living room all the time. But now that we’ve settled in this new normal, we’re back to our normal routines and I usually like staying in my room.

Is your house more than two stories tall?  Technically, yes. We have a rooftop that serves as the ‘third’ floor.

Have you ever hit your significant other? Has he/she ever hit you?  My ex and I never hit one another; that’s a gigantic red flag even I would notice, considering I ignored most of the ones I saw hahaha.

What makes you an attractive person? (Talk about your personality too!)  I’m not sure if I’ll be able to answer this question directly, but I like my generosity. I’m not sure if I can call it attractive, though. But if we were focusing on physical features, I like my smile.

What color is your hairbrush/comb?  Pink.

What snacks do you have available in your household atm?  My dad splurged on chips in his last grocery run so we actually have quite a lot of junk food in the pantry at the moment. He also bought several packs of cookie sandwiches, wafers, sunflower seeds, and garlic-flavored peanuts.

Has anyone recently told you that they like you, or find you attractive?  Neither.

Are you attracted to the last person you Facebook messaged?  No, she’s just a good friend of mine.

Do you care about anyone that doesn’t care about you?  I guess I don’t, because I’m not even aware of them.

Was your last Facebook friend requests from a male or female?  Guy. It was another reporter, so I just ignored it and luckily he didn’t PM me just to ask to add him back, which others have already done. I really hate when work people try to make their way into my personal accounts.

Which one of your relatives is most likely to embarrass you?  My parents, especially when they are rude to service crew. Gen X-ers are impeccably talented at that, apparently.

When was the last time you ate a bar of chocolate?  Around two or three weeks ago when I had dinner at Angela’s. Her dad gave me a bar of Crunch so I can have something sweet after our meal.

Do you play any games on Facebook?  No, I never did hop on that trend.

What would you like to get a degree in?  I wanted a degree in journalism, and graduated with such. At the end of my college stint I didn’t want to pursue it anymore, but I pushed through with it anyway because it was too much of a hassle to shift and start all over.

Do you wake up a lot in the middle of the night? Technically not, because I stay up until the middle of the night anyway. It’s been a while since I fell asleep anywhere between 8 to 10 PM.

Would you prefer to read a book, watch a movie or TV show, or play a video game?  Watch a show.

Do you usually get popcorn or soda at the movie theater?  I don’t like either; I get fries instead.

What genre of films do you like the best?  Drama.

How many bank accounts do you have?  Two but I haven’t been using the other one in months. That was the bank account I initially opened when I first started ~adulting~ but when I got employed I was required to enroll in this other specific bank, so that’s what I mainly use now.

Have you ever had the flu?  Not really. I just get the occasional fever that pop out of nowhere.

What is your goal for the next few months?  Start saving FOR REAL, and also prioritizing furniture over merch for a while so I can finally fix up my room, which is quickly starting to look and feel like just a warehouse and not very homey at all.

Have you ever had some kind of sleep-disorder? How did it affect your life?  Nope.

Have you ever had food poisoning before? Describe the experience.  Yeah, it was from barbecue that apparently went bad, even though it tasted nothing of the sort. I woke up at 3 AM sweating profusely and with the most excruciating stomachache; I was feeling hot, cold, and nauseous all at the same time, and it probably lasted for like an hour or so.

What are two things that you have no problem paying full price for?  Sealed albums and my pets’ vet expenses.

Funny, charming, cute, romantic, smart - choose only 2 for the opposite sex.  Charming and smart.

Have you ever let somebody use you? Why did you do it?  It felt nice to help people.

You can go back in time & change something in your mom’s past - what is it? Good question; I’ve never encountered this before. I would let her live a more comfortable, privileged life, where she didn’t have to staple her shoes to keep them closed or have to choose between eating at a fast food restaurant or being able to commute back home.

Do you know anybody who is around the exact same size as you? Who? I’m not sure, actually. Everyone’s always slightly taller than me.

Ever been to a haunted house? How scared were you?  I haven’t.

Been on any websites today you wouldn’t want your parents to see?  Tumblr, I guess? My survey blog isn’t for any irls to see.

Which is worse: dusting or mopping?  I don’t really do either often, but I’ll go with mopping.

Would you marry somebody who was intensely religious?  Not for me.

Did you pull a senior prank?  No, that’s not a thing here. Did you graduate?  Yeah, elementary, high school, and college.

Have you ever been unfaithful in a serious relationship?  Nope.

What was the last song you listened to?  It’s a song called Epiphany.

Are you one of those lucky people with 20/20 vision?  Not ever since I was like 9 lol.

Is fashion one of your interests?  I’m way more interested in it now for sure, mostly because the celebrities I’m into these days put a lot of effort when it comes to their style; so it makes me more aware of the trends that come and go, as well.

Do you think you’ll eventually find that special someone?  I’m keeping it as a possibility, but it’s not a priority for me now.

Do you care what people think?  To an extent, I would say. My life doesn’t depend on it, though.

Is acting something you enjoy?  Never been.

What was the last thing you broke/sprained?  Do you mean a thing or a body part? Anyway, I’ll answer both. The last thing I broke was my BTS Mic Drop pen of V looooooooooool the figurine came off the pen :(( It was pretty cheap though so I’m fine with it; I can always get another one. Last body part I sprained was my ankle, when I had a bad fall a couple of years ago.

Have you ever fought with a friend because of their boyfriend/girlfriend? Because of yours?  Either hasn’t happened.

Has a stranger ever yelled at you for your language?  I don’t think so.

Whose house, other than yours and your families', are you most comfortable at?  Angela’s. Also JM’s, just because their family doesn’t hover and that vibe can sometimes be nice whenever I’m at someone else’s place.

Has any of your friends’ family ever yelled at you?  Never.

Did you ever play a sport as a little kid? Did you enjoy it? Not as a very young kid, but I took up table tennis starting when I was 12. Did you ever watch the show Full House?  Nope.

Is there a celebrity you are just DETERMINED to marry?  Now that’s just delusional haha. I’m pretty obsessed with some celebrities, that much I can admit; but thinking of them in the context of marriage is so many steps overboard.

Have you ever burned someone’s picture?  No. I could, but I am scared of fire and will probably just think of other ways to express my anger, like tearing up the photograph. What’s the longest hike you’ve ever been on?  Total length was probably like 3 hours. I haven’t gone too far when it comes to hiking.

Would you ever get a lip tattoo?  Not interested.

Who is the first person of the opposite sex that pops into your head? Hans.

Do your parents smoke cigarettes?  My mom tried it once in her life, I think. My dad has never smoked.

What does one of your T-shirts have written on it?  “Hope right here!”

Name a pet you definitely wouldn’t want.  Anything that’s supposed to roam freely in the wild, like squirrels.

Would you prefer your partner smaller or taller?  Taller, since I’m already quite pint-sized to begin with lol.

Do you enjoy going through old pictures? Sometimes. Other times, it's too painful. It also depends on the era of the pictures. < Agree, especially with the eras. Childhood photos are always fun to look at, but I have had to delete a CHUNK of photos from years ranging from 2014 to 2020 because I’ve lost a handful of friends from that period.

Do you believe people when they say they don’t judge people?  It’s hard to for the most part, but I’ve noticed very few people people really don’t. Most of the time it’s bullshit though.

What did you love the most about the town you grew up in?  That it’s pretty close to the metro.

What’s a movie that you laughed the hardest during?  Hmm, I prefer TV shows if I’m craving comedy.

What’s a movie you cried the hardest during?  Life Is Beautiful.

What’s your favorite restaurant?  Omakase for my sushi fix; School Tteokbokki if I want Korean; Yabu if I’m looking for a generous rice meal.

Is there a dessert you don’t like?  Anything with fruits.

Favorite album?  After Laughter by Paramore.

What’s a book that you read because everyone else was reading it?  I can name authors instead of books – John Green and Haruki Murakami.

Underwater or outer space?  Outer space.

Dogs or cats?  Dogs.

Kittens or puppies?  Puppies.

Bird watching or whale watching?  Whale watching. I don’t get to be in the water as much, so I would jump at the opportunity.

What is your spirit animal?  I dunno if I have one but let’s just go with dog and elephant, I guess? They’re my favorites.

What was your best subject in school?  History.

What was your worst subject in school?  Chemistry.

What is one thing you wish you knew in high school?  Don’t waste your time.

Who is your fashion icon?  Audrey Hepburn.

Diamonds or pearls?  Diamonds.

What color dress did you wear to prom?  For my own prom it was cream-colored/beige. When I went to Mike’s ball, I went with a royal blue gown.

What’s your favorite plot-twist?  I don’t think I’ve found my favorite yet.

Honestly, are you jealous of someone right now?  Not actively.

Honestly, what’s the worst thing you’ve done when you were mad?  I dunno...road rage, maybe?

Honestly, ever made anyone cry when you were mad?  It’s very likely.

Honestly, when was the last time you REALLY cried your heart out?  Sometime in the last week.

Ever pop someone else’s pimple? No thanks.

Do you need to return anyone’s phone call?  Nope.

Who are you closest to?  Angela.

Have you ever had a bad concert experience?  No, all the ones I’ve been to have been amazing experiences.

Are you currently sad about anything?  Not really. I can’t complain.

Have you had any form of exercise today?  Nah.

Can you handle blood?  Nope, I will feel faint if I see it 100%.

Has any place hired you underage for a job?  No.

Have you ever carried a concealed weapon?  I haven’t.

Are you currently searching for a job?  No, I like the one I have.

Does eating breakfast make you sick?  No?

[conaionaru]

Honor and blood (Ivar the Boneless)

Cold feet

Synopsis: Vanya learns some Norse and talks about her family

Warning: Angst, forced marriage, toxic family, mentions of abuse, Ivar, fluff (because why not)

Tagged

@youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @heavenly1927 @lol-haha-joke

PS. ANYTHING THAT'S IN CURVISE IS SUPPOSED TO BE IN OLD NORSE.

I don't own the gifs. Also, thank you for your support. I really appreciate it.

Ivar tried very hard to teach Vanya Norse. He gave her books to read, talked to her about the Aesir. Sometimes she felt like a little child learning how to talk—just pointing at things asking how to say them. 

Despite learning the problematic language for two days, she was learning fast. Sometimes they even talked in Norse at the table during meals. Since then,  the other Ragnarssons taught her a few words as well. 

Hvitserk was very determined for her to learn curse words. Apparently, it is the most crucial part of talking. She still blushed whenever he made her say a bad word. And of course, the others found it funny, which only made her more embarrassed. 

With two days till the wedding, her nerves got worse. Her nails were bitten to the flesh, and she kept tugging on her hair in frustration. That angered the thralls as all their hard work went to waste the moment Vanya though of Ivar. That's why she asked Ubbe to teach her how to say thank you and sorry. 

Margrethe fixed Vanya's dress one last time, making sure she looked presentable. She envied the Princess's dresses. The Christian was pretty, free, prosperous, and kind-She had everything she wanted. Expect a good husband. Ivar was a nightmare that Margrethe avoided like the plague. Ever since Vanya arrived, he put all of his attention on her. But how long would that last? 

"Thank þú, Margrethe." The blonde thrall looked up at her mistress in surprise. She heard her trying to speak Norse before, but never to her. She only nodded in acknowledgment, making Vanya pout. 

The ginger wished for a female friend that wasn't her future mother in law. Aslaug mostly talked to her about the wedding anyway. She wanted to have a true friend here. So when the female turned away to leave, Vanya stopped her with a hand on her elbow. "Could you please stay?"

Margrethe agreed to sit with her by the fire. After Vanya poured her a cup of ale that she kept there for Ivar, the blonde thrall looked at her, confused. "I want to talk. Please sit?"

The two women looked at each other before the thrall agreed to sit with her for a bit. But she didn't drink from Ivar's cup though. "Do you like it here, Princess?" 

"Yes. It is pretty." It took her some time, but he could form some sentences. Ivar said that she was a quick learner. And she was sure her teacher at home would be surprised. It took her a very long time to learn Frankish. Her father always wanted to visit Paris. He never made it, but he used to talk of the city with a passion. 

But Margrethe seemed to be patient with her, no matter how long it took Vanya to form a simple sentence. Or at least she didn't say anything. They only exchanged a few words before she had to go back to work. 

Vanya liked Kattegat, but she still felt uneasy. Ubbe kept telling her it would be more comfortable after she wasn't a Christian. But it wasn't the people; it was her. It didn't matter that Ivar told her to be confident. Vanya still felt like the little insecure Princess, praying with tears in her eyes after Silas hit her. 

No matter how far away he was, he still haunted her. Every time she opened her mouth, she expected to be told off or hit. She didn't flinch near Ivar anymore after the first time, mostly because she believed him that he would not hurt her. But old habits die hard.

Deciding not to dwell on people that didn't matter, she went out. She liked to sit on the bench outside sewing. Sometimes she watched the children play near her. It was such a pretty sight. 

"So, the Little bird escaped." 

Vanya glanced over her shoulder to see Sigurd standing there with his lyre in his hand. "Flew out the window, Sigurd. Have you come to sing to me?" She teased the Viking looking back down on her needlework. 

"Maybe. Would you let me?" He sat down next to her and looked over the streets. Ivar was with the blacksmith, and Ubbe and Hvitserk are somewhere of running after women. So he was left alone. 

Vanya fake gasped and dramatically put her hand over her heart. "My Prince! Are you flirting with me? I am to be married soon." They both laughed at their ongoing joke and fell into a comfortable silence.

"You are going to be my sister in two days. Do you have cold feet yet?" 

Vanya shook her head with a small smile on her lips. "Not yet. I am nervous. But I don't think I will run." It was an honest answer. She was nervous. Extremely so. But not enough to flee. 

"Well, that's nice to hear. I grew to like you. It would be a shame if you left." Sigurd smiled and winked at her. He was a good company. He was kind, helpful. And yet every time he opened his mouth around Ivar, she wanted to slap him. Of course, she never did. She wasn't that kind of person. Violence always disgusted her. 

"Sigurd, would you do me a favor? "When the Ragnarsson nodded, Vanya looked at him with pleading eyes. "Would you play at the wedding? I love your music and would love to hear it there. I am sure Ivar won't mind. "

The older male stared at her for a little while, before smiling at her and nodding. "Of course, Little bird. I will play for you. At least I will have an excuse not to serve the dinner. "The redhead smiled at him brightly and quickly hugged him. After she pulled away, a moving figure caught his attention.

He was easy to spot, considering that he crawled instead of walked. He glared at Sigurd, who left after a pretty thrall walked by. Aperantlly he wanted her to hear his new masterpiece. He may be kind, but in the end, he was no different than the rest of his brothers—a flirt.

"Did you have fun, Ivar? "The second her voice hit his ears, his frown vanished. He looked up at her and nodded. He didn't smile; he rarely did when people were around. Sometimes he smiled at her during meals but fixed his expression right after. Nobody ever said anything about it, so she followed their example.

"Yeah. I want to visit Floki tomorrow; you should come. I want to introduce you to them. "The look in his eyes left her no other option than to say yes. Who could say no to eyes like that? She now understood all the girls his brothers slept with.

He often spoke of the boat builder Floki and his wife, Helga. Floki was the one who taught him the way of the gods. The man held a special place in Ivar's heart, and she knew that he saw him as a part of the family. 

He also mentioned that Floki hated Christians and their faith, which made her very nervous about meeting them both. She wanted them to like her. Her hesitation was evident to Ivar. "They will love you. Helga surely will. Floki might say something, but he is harmless."

She doubted that a Viking could be anywhere near harmless, but she trusted Ivar. So she agreed. She couldn't ignore them forever. Ivar moved to his room with Vanya walking next to him, talking of her proposition to Sigurd. Surprisingly he didn't have anything to say about it. 

They retreated to his room to talk and learn more Norse. Vanya liked moments like this. She felt happy, something she never thought to be possible. The irony in it all was that Silas was the one responsible for it. She doesn't love Ivar just yet; it's too early for such feelings after five days. But she saw him as a good friend she could trust and tell anything. 

And over time, she could grow to love him. He was good to her, and she liked that. She was still cautious around him in case he was just pretending. 

Ivar kept stealing glances at her as if he wanted to say something. Vanya clasped her hands in her lap, looking at him with a small encouraging smile and a raised eyebrow. The Prince rolled his eyes at that and sighed. "You never talk about your family. Yet you ask me about mine. What are they like?"

Vanya chewed on her lower lips and played with her fingers. She would rather talk about eight-legged horses with him than family. "There isn't much to say. My brother Silas is the king of Slegia. My mother's name is Siflæd. My father died of illness two years ago. My mother has a brother I never met. Otherwise, that's all."

"Do you hate them?" The tone Ivar used didn't sound like a question at all. She wanted to laugh at him for even asking that. She was raised, Christian, hating somebody was wrong. She should love them. Yet every time she imagined Silas, she wanted to cry or vomit. She hated him. 

"I hate Silas. He is horrid. But I don't hate Mother. Not really. I hate that she never helped me against Silas, but you can't hate somebody you don't spend much time with." Ivar understood that feeling well. He hated his father for leaving. Yet he loved the man Ragnar Lothbrok was. He couldn't help but love him. 

"Did he hurt you more than just before you came here?"

"When father fell ill, all he cared about was power. The next day after he was buried, Silas was crowned king. With no one to stop him, he could do as he pleased. He hit me, humiliated me." Her voice was monotonous, and her eyes were blank. She looked up at Ivar with a bitter smile on her lips.

"He won't anymore. The next time he tries anything, I will kill him myself. I swear it on all the gods." The look in his eyes was sincere. It should scare her how willing he is to kill for her. But she didn't care. She hated every form of violence. But she won't survive in this world without it. If she can't spill blood, then maybe Ivar will spill it for both of them.

[godseen]

tw :  death  by  fire   characters  featured :  eddie  ,  nat  ,  ash  . 

it  began  just  like  any  other  day .

with  only  a  couple  hours  of  sleep  (  thanks  to  insomnia  and  his  choice  of hyperfixation  for  the  week  )   ,  reggie  jr  was  tired  and  lethargic  as  he  got  up  at  dawn  .   languid  with  his  movements  as  he  got  dressed  ,  a  loud  yawn  escaped  his  lips  that  was  quickly  followed  by  a  quick  groan  at  the  annoying  tick  and  tock  of  the wall  clock  amidst  the  quiet  of  the  morning  .   tick … tock … tick …  tock  …  tick …  tock …  and  reggie  would  have  taken  its  batteries  out  there  and  then  if  he  wasn’t  suddenly  distracted  by  the  very  faint  smell  of  iron  and  burnt  meat  in  the  air  .  but  in  the  end  ,  reggie  shrugged  it  off  as  some  weird  morning  hallucination  as  his  senses  awoken  with  him  .   he  had  other  things  to  worry  about  .  it  was  5:15 AM .   and  he  was  already  running  late  .

reggie  stood  there  for  a  moment  , (  breathe  in  ,  breathe  out  )  channeling  all  the  energy  he  could  muster  to  face  the  rest  of  his  day  .  then ,  a  whirlwind  of  motions  —   he  let  his  dog  out  to  the  backyard  for  a  quick  poo ,  brushed  his  teeth  ,  took  his  vitamins  ,  and  prayed  to  his  god  for  a  great  day  for  everyone  in  town  .   it  was  5:49 AM  when  he  was  finally  prepared  ,  everything  was  muscle  memory  with  his  routine  at  this  point  .  

the  first  signs  of  sunlight  kissed  his  skin  when  he  stepped  outside ,   a  comfort  as  the  cold  morning  breeze  hit  his  pale  cheeks  ,  but  reggie  didn’t  have  the  time  to  bask  in  its  warmth  —  eleven  minutes  before  the  first  delivery  ,  less  than  an  hour  and  a  half  before  opening  time  .  the  walk  to  the  diner  was  brisk  ,  with  a  few  minutes  to  spare  before  fernando  ,  their  regular  shipment  driver ,   would  deliver  the  produce  that  they  couldn’t  get  from  hidden  hill  farm  .  it  was  5:59 AM ,  and  reggie  was  waiting  behind  the  diner  for  the  shipment  while  he  fed  a  family  of  stray  calico  cats  .    

he  made  a  mental  note  to  ask  fernando  about  how  his  date  went  ,  remembering  how  excited  the  other  man  seemed  to  be  about  it  the  last  time  they  talked  .  reggie  always  made  a  point  to  make  conversation  with  everyone  he’d  come  across  ,   such  a  social  creature  with  charm  and  the  gusto  for  bringing  people  together   .   it  was  6:20 AM  ,  twenty  minutes  after  fernando  was  supposed  to  arrive  and  reggie  felt  uneasy  as  it  was  the  first  time  the  other  had  ever  been  this  late  after  all  these  years  without  any  notice  .   the  strange  scent  made  its  presence  known  again  ,  stronger  this  time  but  reggie  still  couldn’t  pinpoint  what  it  was  and  where  it  was  coming  from  .  

beginning  to  be  perturbed  by  the  smell  ,  reggie  went  back  inside  the  diner  ,  glad  to  see  ruby  ( auntie  ruby ,  he’d  call  her  —  a  good  friend  of  his  dad’s  and  a  line  cook  for  the  diner  since  he  was  little  )  was  already  there  .  he  greeted  her  and  asked  how  her  weekend  was  ,  only  to  be  ignored  .  he  didn’t  take  it  personally  ,  albeit  a  little  disheartening  ,  since  he  figured  she  just  woke  up  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  bed  .   they  spent  their  opening  preparations  in  awkward  silence  and  reggie  wondered  whether  something  was  wrong  ,  but  he  didn’t  want  to  prod  so  early  in  the  morning  .   he  was  thankful  when  the  clock  struck  7:00 AM ,  finally  time  to  open  the  diner  and  serve  great  food  to  darkwood  residents  ,  and  their  praises  and  conversations  were  his  own  food  for  the  soul  .

but  it  was  unusually  quiet  ,   the  silence  almost  too  overwhelming  that  reggie  couldn’t  help  but  tap  and  knock  on  the  counter  endlessly  to  drown  out  white  noise  —  their  morning  regulars  seemed  to  have  disappeared  from  the  face  of  the  earth  .  and  those  that  came  were  disinterested  in  his  chit  chat  ,  simply  took  their  coffee  and  meal ,  leaving  without  a  word  .  he  smiled  at  every  customer  ,   greetings  highlighted  with  pep  ,  disheartened  at  every  time  he  was  disregarded    —   again  and  again  and  again  and  again  and  again  ,  like  an  endless  repetition  that  left  him  deeply  disturbed  .   there  was  something  alien  about  what  was  happening  …  something  so  eerie  ,  especially  when  the  old  jukebox  unexpectedly  began  to  play  on  its  own  to  break  the  silence   —  and  reggie  wished  it  hadn’t  .  

 i  know  you  belong  to  somebody  new  but  tonight  you  belong  to  me  although we're apart you're a part of my heart but tonight you belong to me  —  the  song  began  to  play  faster  and  faster  with  every  syllable ,  and  while  it  had  malfunction  before ,  it  had never  just  played  on  its  own  accord  — waitdownbythestreethowsweetitwillseemoncemorejusttodreaminthemoonlightmyhoneyiknowwiththedawnthatyouwillbego                             and  the  song  continued  to  speed  up   until  it  just  sounded  like  a  loud  high-pitched  ringing   ,    forcing  him  to  cover  his  ears  as  he  ran  towards  the  jukebox  so  he  could  unplug  it  .  and  then  ,  back  to  complete  silence .  

it  was  only  9:15 AM  when  reggie  took  his  first  break  ,   so  deeply  disturbed  that  he  had  to  step  outside  for  fresh  air  .   he  texted  nat  ,  offered  free  strawberry  milkshakes  and  curly  fries  just  for  her  to  stop  by  and  make  him  feel  less  like  a  lunatic  over  what  was  happening  .  but  she  left  him  on  read  ,  which  didn’t  happen  often ,  or  at  all  if  she  could  help  it  .   he  began  to  pace  outside  ,  which  would  have  looked  really  strange  if  there  was  anyone  watching   —  but  the  town  was  almost  deserted  ,  like  he  had  been  left  behind  by  everyone  that  ever  mattered  to  him  (  a  list  that  consisted  almost  of  the  entire  town  )  .   it  was  a  sick  joke  ,  it  had  to  be  .   he  texted  ash  ,  no  detail  spared   —  it  was  a  nice  bait  ,   ash  would  probably  laugh  at  him  for  thinking  everyone  had  suddenly  conspired  against  him  but  he  needed  to  talk  to  someone  .  anyone .  

if  ash  was  stupid  about  her  pride  and  their  whole  rivalry  ,  then  reggie  was  stupid  about  ash  .  he  never  wanted  to  be  in  competition  with  her  ,  would  very  much  rather  have  a  bond  based  on  mutual  interests  and  fondness  for  each  other   —   and  yet  ,  for  years  and  years  ,  reggie  went  along  with  it  in  hopes  that  it  would  make  her  feel  more  involved .  and  he’d  be  lying  if  he  said  he  didn’t  enjoy  seeing  her  show  the  smallest  semblance  of   happiness  whenever  she’d  beat  him  in  their  most  trivial  feuds  .   he  enjoyed  his  time  with  her  ,    so  ,  he  hoped  for  a  reply  .  no  ,  he prayed  for  it  .  he  could  already  imagine  ash’s  smug  smile  when  they’d  talk  about  this  in  person  and  how  it  would  make  his  day  just  to  see  it .  

but  minutes  passed  and  still  nothing  .  he  tried  to  call  his  dad  ,  mom  ,  siblings  ,   eddie  ,  pari  ,  his  neighbors  and  even  the  police  —   all  nothing  .    reggie  felt  ill  ,   almost  lost  his  balance  at  the  thought  of  being  alone  in  a  world  without  everyone  he  cared  for   .  he  had  always  been  able  to  hold  onto  hope  ,  but  not  when  all  signs  lead  to  everything  he  feared  for  .  he  ran  back  inside  the  diner  and  auntie  ruby  was  gone  .   it  was  the  terror  of  patterns  and  schedule  thrown  awry  ,  the  banality  he  was  so  used  to  suddenly  replaced  with  dread  growing  exponentially  in  the  pit  of  his  stomach  .  what  was  his  life  if  not  to  care  for  people  ?  what  was  his  life  if  not  trying  to  make  their  sleepy  little  town  a  better  place  ?  his  life  meant  nothing  if  he  was  alone  ,  and  god  ,  he  couldn’t  stand  it  .  

he  raced  outside  ,   barging  into  every  store  ,  knocking  on  every  door  ,  desperate  for  any  signs  of  life  .  he  went  to  his  family’s  home  —   completely  empty  of  life  ,  his  parents  and  siblings  gone  as  if  they  were  never  there  in  the  first  place  .  people  were  not  just  supposed  to  vanish  into  thin  air  .  he  wondered  if  this  was  the  rapture  ,   if  he  had  been  left  behind  because  he  wasn’t  good  enough  .   it  was  a  painful  thought  ,  his  dedication  to  everyone  else  meaning  nothing  .  he  ran  and  ran  and  ran  and  ran  until  he  couldn’t  breathe  ,  collapsing  onto  the  ground   (   breathe  in  ,  breathe  out  )  as  he  became  painfully  aware  of  the  lack  of  air  in  his  lungs  .   his  throat  was  agonizingly  dry   ,   tears  welling  up  in  his  eyes  as  he  realized  that  this  had  to  be  a  nightmare  .  if  not  ,  then  it  must  be  hell  .  

he  closed  his  eyes   and  sent  up  a  simple  ,  desperate  plea  to  god  ,   ❛   please  ,   wake  me  up  .  ❜   but  the  prayer  went  unanswered  .   and  once  again  ,   the  smell  came  back   —  so  strong  ,  so  pungent  that  he  could  almost  taste  it  ,  that  he  felt  like  throwing  up  .  he  was  scared  to  open  his  eyes  ,  but  he  was  betrayed  by  his  own  body  .  in  front  of  him  was  eddie  ,  standing  tall  and  proud  (  of  what ?  he  wished  he  would  never  find  out  )  as  that  sinister  smile  on  his  lips  taunted  him  .  

 ❛  you  were  wrong  ,  reggie .  about  me  .  about  everything  .  ❜ 

 the  conviction  in  eddie’s  voice  left  his  powerless  ,  his  faith  in  eddie  finally  deteriorating  with  the  evidence  laid  behind  him   —   a  pile  of  ablazed  corpses  ,  his  loved  ones  and  the  people  of  darkwood  slowly  being  reduced  to  ashes  .   the  wind  blew  soot  and  god  ,  it  burned  his  eyes  but  reggie  remained  unblinking  at  the  horrors  ,  mouth  agape  as  he  stared  at  the  horrors  against  his  will  .  he  wasn’t  sure  how  long  he  had  been  looking  at  it   —  seconds  ,  maybe  minutes   —  when  god  finally  answered  his  prayers  and  he  finally  blinked  .  

the  next  time  reggie  opened  his  eyes  ,  it  was  5:15 AM  and  it  was  time  to  start  his  day .   tick … tock … tick …  tock  …  tick …  tock … and  the  annoying  clock  went  on  and  on  ,  but  he  was  too  listless  to  do  anything  but  sit  on  the  edge  of  his  bed  and  contemplate  that  dreadful  nightmare  .  was  he  truly  wrong  about  eddie  ?  no .  no  .  no  .  he  couldn’t  let  himself  doubt  him  now  ,  too  .   it  was  just  his  psyche  playing  tricks  ,  recycling  the  rumours  and  gossips  the  townspeople  tried  to  imbue  on  his  mind  .  eddie  was  innocent  .  he  paid  no  mind  to  the  other  parts  of  the  dream  ,  that  sickening  loneliness  he  felt   —   it  was  just  a  nightmare  ,  and  being  awake  meant  he  had  other  things  to  worry  about  now   —   eddie  ,  ash  ,  the  diner ,  his  family  —  and  he  was  already  running  late  .  

[lorei-writes]

Hideyoshi x Witch!MC

Content Warnings:

Background: war mention

Hideyoshi x Witch!MC: assault, vision of death, blood, battle

Background:

She was a daughter of a simple restaurant owner.

Having lost their original home, the war-ridden times ripping through the land, they moved to Azuchi castle town, hoping to hide under the protection of lord Nobunaga.

Initially, they worked for other people, serving at various household. However, they somehow seemed to make use of every opportunity that came their way, soon gaining enough money to start their own business.

The restaurant flourished under the local policies, the daughter working there.

The customers gave her nickname, “Lucky”, for she always appeared to be able to just barely avoid all the accidents. 

A drunk came in and started causing some ruckus? She had already sent a couple of sweet smiles towards the teenage boys sitting in the corner. A thief tried to steal the money? Oh, she moved it someplace safe that very morning. Somebody stumbled over their feet and was just about to knock her over? She nimbly danced away, even without looking.

To put it simply - indeed, the fortune favoured her in a way, as if guarding her. Was it a bad thing, though? She was a nice and hard-working girl after all, she deserved for good things to happen to her. Perhaps it was just that, the kindness she emanated, that dispelled all evil.

Of course, they couldn’t know the truth - she had never told anybody.

At an early age she noticed her dreams weren’t quite usual. Sometimes they were too real, too close to reality. Less than a year had passed and all irrationality disappeared from them completely. She was six when she first saw the future - and she could not believe herself.

Initially, she thought it was just a coincidence, but then it happened again and again, her nighttime visions growing more vibrant in details. 

Whenever she fell asleep, she saw a tree, each branch representing another aspect of the day that was to come. Depending on which she chose, the scenery changed - and then, what was to occur would reveal itself to her.

The rumours of war spread through the land - and then, for once, she hoped to see nothing, as she couldn’t bear living through that horror again.

Hideyoshi x Witch! MC:

Hideyoshi would often visit her father’s restaurant, along with the women.

She didn’t think much of it - just another rich man, able to spend his free time in any way of his choosing. 

However, with the passing of time, she realised: although the women flirted with him, he was strictly platonic with them, all his actions dictated by courtesy.

Before she knew, she joined them whenever the restaurant was empty enough, the tea tasting best in company of others. The other women seemed to have noticed that Hideyoshi was a lost cause, but kept on liking him regardless.

Sometimes, he visited her workplace alone, his smile bringing light to her days. 

Perhaps it was kindness that got her interested in him, perhaps it was his caring nature. Either way, she found herself choosing his branch at night, wondering what would happen to him.

That, however, came with its price - without an insight into the future, she could not act to prevent the accidents. 

A man ordered some dumplings and tea. She did not expect anything unusual to happen, until he rose up to his feet and set off to leave the place without paying. “ Um, excuse me, sir?” she began, standing in his way. “ Yes?” “ You have not paid for your meal. Please, do it now.” “ I do not plan to, girl. And you should know better than to ask,” the man replied, his hand reaching inside of his kimono. Within seconds, he pulled the knife out, the blade glistening ominously.  “ You know, girl, I’m actually hurt. You shouldn’t treat your regular customer like that. Perhaps I’ll forgive you, if you give me some money as an apology,” he added, grinning widely.

She should have seen this coming, she should have never allowed him to order anything or have somebody set up to help her. Yet, there she was, alone, her father in town shopping for ingredients for the evening. She clenched her jaw and was just about ready to comply, when somebody entered the restaurant.

She felt a warm hand on her shoulder, pulling her back gently.

“ You are acting against the laws set by lord Nobunaga. Unless you pay now, I’ll be the one to sort out the matters with you,” Hideyoshi’s voice came from behind her, an open invitation to fight. 

The man clicked his tongue with discontentment and threw some coins her way, leaving the place instantly. 

Her hands were trembling, as Hideyoshi took them in his. He looked her in the eyes. “I’ll make you some tea this time, okay?”

She did not understand - that was not the future she had seen. 

In the following days, her visions became increasingly less accurate, consequently driving her insane. For her entire life she depended strongly on her ability. She needed it the most then, the atmosphere tightening more and more each day.

Two weeks had passed and she noticed the pattern - the future seamed to change around the time Hideyoshi was about to come by, the incidents never happening anytime else.

With new hope in heart, on that day she chose to see his future and so, she watched him ever since. 

It felt weird at first - wasn’t she invading his privacy, even if just for a very brief time, her visions never briefing her on longer than an hour? 

Sometimes she was shown fragmented images of his visits. It was only then that she noticed how he smiled at her words, how his eyes lit up in excitement whenever she was nearby, how she was special, even if just in the simple ways. That was enough to make her heart race.

Feeling he’d be the key to solving the mystery of her ability acting weirdly, she decided to temporarily change her workplace. Recommended by her dear friend, she began working in the castle kitchen.

Knowing her long enough, Hideyoshi was not anxious she’d assassinate his lord. As such, their relationship only progressed, as they finally had the time to talk privately.

Hideyoshi oftentimes helped her around, carrying the heavy packages and going shopping with her. Despite his busy schedule, he always found at least a couple of minutes to see her.

The days passed, the battles not being mere rumours anymore. Hideyoshi was to head out the following day - and to her despair, she couldn’t sleep, the worry causing her to become restless. 

When she finally managed to doze off, the tree didn’t show. This time, she was transferred straight into the battlefield, the horrors of war spreading before her eyes. She looked around and saw Hideyoshi, commanding his troops. 

A bang turned the world silent, his heart ceasing to beat. Hideyoshi fell to the ground, blood flowing out of his neck.

She woke up abruptly, breathing fast, cold sweat running down her back. She ran out of her room.

She couldn’t tell him not to go - he wouldn’t have listened. Instead, she waited until they left and followed in their tracks on a horse she had stolen from the castle.

She observed them carefully, the battle only having just started. She urged the animal to move forward. 

With each minute, her pace increased, the cries of the soldiers getting closer and closer, until she was surrounded by them completely. The scene that played out in her mind on that very night began.

She galloped towards Hideyoshi, shouting: “ Down! Now!” Her sudden appearance startled him, the worry flooding his consciousness. He turned his horse around, not complying to her demand - was she crying? Why was she crying? What was she even doing there? The anxiety built up inside of him.

The bang. With his position slightly changed, the bullet flew right next to his head, not even grazing him. Hideyoshi speed towards her, only to assign one of his men with the task of escorting her to the camp mere seconds later. 

Until nightfall, she waited for his return.

The flaps over the entrance moved, as Hideyoshi came inside the tent. “ What were you thinking?” he asked instantly, walking fast towards her. He pulled her up by the hands, so that he could look for any signs of injury. “ I’m fine,” she muttered, as he placed hands on her shoulders. She looked up into his eyes, so full of emotion. “ Why? Why would you put yourself in such danger?” he inquired, his voice a bit husky. “ It’s just. Reckless. You are not a warrior. You didn’t even have an armour. You could have been...” “ Killed, “ she cut him off. “ But I saw you being shot and couldn’t just wait idly in the castle.”

She did not let him utter a word, a stream of explanations escaping her lips. She told him of her ability, of it acting strangely and of her latest vision - and of how she couldn’t bear not doing a thing. If he wanted to scold her, he had to wait until she was finished - then, she’d let him speak until the dawn.

However, once the last word disappeared into silence, Hideyoshi didn’t say a thing. He removed his armour, placing it in a disorganized manner on the ground. As soon as he freed himself from the metal plates, he returned to her. She didn’t even get to see his face.

Hideyoshi hugged her tightly, hiding his face in her hair.  “ Never, never do this again. How do you think I’d feel if I saw you dying?” his voice trembled. “ Hideyoshi...” “ Please.” “ Not until you promise not to die yourself,” she demanded. He inhaled sharply. 

Before he got to know her, he was ready to give up his life at any moment if it meant saving his lord. Then - he was not so sure he’d be able to do that and have no regrets. Conflicted, he finally uttered: “ I promise”, and the doubts that clung to him for days turned into nothingness. 

He had more to protect than he could have ever imagined. 

[builtonashes]

Water Me

Here it is! My most recent Heartman/Reader fanfiction. Yes, it’s fluffy and cute, I just can’t seem to write anything else for our lovable scientist. I hope you enjoy! 

This time it’s an answer to a prompt by @mygoldenmile​ - I hope you like it hun! 💖

Pairing: Reader / Heartman

Rating: T

Word count: 3,629

AO3 link: here

„I can’t take this anymore. I’ve just about had enough.”

Sam eyed you carefully from above the plate, sitting on the opposite side of the table. You were at Heartman’s, enjoying a meal you prepared for yourself, the porter and the scientist. Even though you had the best intentions and planned to make this a peaceful experience, somehow you felt irritated and on edge since the very morning. Sam was definitely surprised to see that side of you.

„What do you mean?”, he asked, his mouth full of curry.

„I mean I’ve been doing everything for him. Like, going out of my way so that it would be at least a little easier for him. And what do I get in return? Him smiling at this biologist with little hearts in his eyes. Talking to her in this sweet voice. And don’t even get me started about inviting her over for tea.”

Sam blinked twice, obviously trying to process what you just said. You knew that what you were saying didn’t make much sense, but you just had to get it out of your system. Even if it mean making Sam uncomfortable for a while.

„You’re jealous,” he stated matter-of-factly, putting his spoon away for a moment. „Right?”

You sighed and shifted uncomfortably at the table. Of course you were.

„Yes I am, Sam! I’ve been there for him all this time and… well, it looks like he didn’t even notice.”

„I’m sure that’s not true.”

„Well, I wouldn’t be feeling so… like this if he did.”

Sam sighed and a little smile lit up his face. Even in your state you had to admit it wasn’t something you could see often.

„Listen,” he said after a while, reaching for his cup of tea. „I think we both know that Heartman adores you. The way he speaks about you, I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone give someone that much praise. And he’s very sweet around you too. If you… you know… want more than that, why don’t you just tell him?”

You suddenly felt a little out of breath. How could Sam know exactly what you felt even without you realizing it in the first place?

„I… I don’t want him to be uncomfortable.”

„How could anyone be uncomfortable knowing that somebody cares about them a lot?”

He did have a point. Still, you knew Heartman was a very fragile human being, not only in terms of his health. He lost everything he once had, his entire family gone in a void out that killed hundreds, if not thousands of people. You knew how hurt he was, you were there when it was the worst. But then, slowly but surely, he started coming out of his shell. One day he told you that he was ready to move on, that he wasn’t going to look for his family any longer. You were both sad and happy for him. Sad, because you knew how much he had to give up and how hard it must have been for him. Happy, because you wanted him to grow. You wanted him to enjoy life to the fullest, you wanted to see a smile on his face and you didn’t want it to be underlined with never-ending sadness.

And somehow you thought you would be his first choice. That it would only be natural for you two to get closer. Hell, you were sure you did. Until he told you about this wonderful, smart woman he met during one of the BRIDGES meetings, someone who was supposed to help with some research. The worst part was, she was actually nice and you couldn’t blame him for wanting to spend more time with her.

Except it made your heart hurt like hell.

You couldn’t exactly remember when it was exactly that you fell for him. Was it when he laughed during a phone call and you noticed how warm his true laugh was for the first time? Was it when you were working together and he nudged your leg with his, trying to prevent you from falling asleep? Was it when he hugged you after not seeing you for a week, burying his face in the crook of your neck and staying like this for a little while longer than usual? You had no idea, it was so hard to pinpoint the exact moment in time when you realized how important he really was to you.

Maybe it was all those situations at once.

„I don’t know,” you said, really at a loss. „I think that me telling him how I feel might make him uncomfortable because he doesn’t feel the same way.”

„You mean you’re worried he doesn’t love you back?”

You felt a sharp pull in your chest at these words. Love. Of course you knew you loved him. You were just afraid of calling it what it was in case you ended up hurt and broken.

„I… I think so, Sam. I think I’m afraid of rejection. And as much as I’m tired of pretending that my heart doesn’t do a somersault every time he talks to me, him being uncomfortable around me would be the last thing I ever wanted.”

Sam nodded, focusing his eyes on the plate in front of him. You could almost see the gears turning in his head while he was processing all this.

„But isn’t it more important now than it ever was? I mean, look at this world. Everything is falling apart. Hell, even if we survive long enough to grow old, isn’t it better to be honest with each other? Especially with the people we care about?”

Once again, he did have a point. You knew it. But you were so scared.

„You might be right. On the other hand, if he felt this way about me too, wouldn’t he have told me? Or, I don’t know, made it obvious in some other way?”

„Ha, like you told him, right?”

„Hey, there’s no need to be rude!”

„I’m not being rude. I’m trying to make you understand that in this time and place, you should make sure that people who are important to you know how you feel without a doubt. Because you never know what’s going to happen tomorrow.”

You sighed. When exactly did he turn so wise?

„I know, Sam. I know you’re right. Deep in my heart, I do. But I can’t just approach Heartman and tell him that I love him, that he’s the most incredible person I’ve ever met and that every second I spend away from him hurts me physically because I miss him so much. I don’t think he’d want to hear that, especially if he has… plans in regard to the biologist.”

„And what if he doesn’t? What if he’s just nice?”

„I’ve never seen him being that nice to anyone.”

„I have. Whenever I’ve seen him with you.”

You opened your mouth to speak but no words came out. You actually had no idea what to say. God, Sam was right. You knew that and you really wanted to believe him. But this little seed of doubt, this little dark spot would steal the sunshine away whenever you started thinking that this might actually work. You knew Heartman well enough. You didn’t want to be in the way.

„I guess it’s time to clean up,” you said getting up from the table, desperate to end this conversation. „Heartman will be up in a minute and we have to get back to work.”

„Sure,” Sam also stood up, putting his plate in the dishwasher. „Just… please, don’t worry about it too much. I don’t like seeing you like this. I’m worried.”

You smiled. Sam was a really good friend.

„I won’t,” you said after a while, trying to hold back tears welling up in your eyes. „I promise.”

***

The evening approached fast and you were soon done with your work, stretching behind the table you were working at and glancing at Heartman. He sent a warm smile your way, putting his tablet away.

„I see you’re done with your work,” he spoke softly as always. „Would you mind joining me for a cup of tea before you leave?”

You sighed. You were never able to say no to him. Especially since you had to go back to your shelter soon and you won’t be able to see him for the next few days.

„Sure,” you tried to make your voice sound as flat as possible, not wanting to show too much excitement over a simple invitation. „Let me pack this up and I’ll be upstairs in a moment.”

You always had tea in one of the rooms upstairs, the one with the most incredible view over the entire lake and some of the snowy mountains. Ever since Heartman’s heart has been fixed with a transplant he was no longer dying every twenty one minutes, but his body was still recovering and trying to get used to the changes. He still needed to rest every few hours not to put too much strain on himself. You were already used to his napping and meds schedule and even though it was pretty tedious, you had to admit it was much better than watching him die over and over again to be brutally brought back by a portable AED.

So you packed away your things, left your backpack in Heartman’s room and slowly went upstairs, not really knowing what to expect. When you sat down on the floor among soft cushions and right next to a short coffee table, Heartman was already there, pouring you a cup of something that smelled vaguely of roses.

„What tea is this?” You asked, lifting the teacup to your face and inhaling the scent.

„White tea with rose petals,” he answered, excitement obvious in his face, „I got it especially for you. I remember how you said you wanted to try white tea.”

You felt a pinch in your chest. You mentioned in once, not even being too serious about it, and here he was, serving you the tea that must have been incredibly expensive given the circumstances. He wouldn’t have done that if you weren’t important for him. Right? Right?

You chased the train of thought away and took a sip of the drink. It was very mellow, a little sweet, with a subtle hint of something resembling mint. Or was it chamomile? You couldn’t really tell but the taste was incredible.

„It’s delicious,” you said after a while. „Thank you. You shouldn’t have.”

„Of course I should have. You help me with so much around here and I rarely do anything for you. This was the least I could do, Y/N.”

You laughed. He was going to be the death of you.

„Well then, forget what I said after the thank you”.

He smiled at you too, curling the left corner of his lips upwards just slightly, barely showing his teeth. You adored his smile. God, you adored all of him.

„The truth is,” he spoke after a while, breaking the sweet silence between the two of you, „I wanted to talk to you about something. And I… figured I might do that today, you know.”

This surprised you.

„What do you mean?”

„I mean, I haven’t been entirely honest with you. And it occurred to me that I should have been. But I am… I just…”

You had no idea what he was trying to say. Suddenly you felt a giant lump form in your throat, spreading downwards fast and nestling in your stomach.

„You just…?”

„Well, as I already told you, I decided to move on with my life. Quite a while ago, for that matter. But I was never ready to take that… next step. A leap of faith, if you will. But… so much has changed ever since I made that decision. I have grown to see the world around me a little differently. And I suddenly realized that… uh…”

Oh God. You could feel it. There was so much worry in his eyes that he was definitely going to say something that would hurt you.

Well, it did have to happen sooner or later.

„I’m happy for you,” you blurted out, not even letting him finish. „I really am. You deserve everything that’s best in this world.”

His expression changed then, turning into mild curiosity mixed with worry and hesitation.

„Uh, I don’t think I understand.”

„Oh, but you do. I could see it coming for weeks. You like her, don’t you? You should go for it. I think she likes you too. You’ll be happy together.”

His expression turned to puzzled for a while, but apparently he caught on fast and actually started laughing. You almost felt like punching him in the face.

„I’m sorry,” he said, trying to contain his laughter a little. „But I just realized what that might have sounded like. No, that’s not what I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you that I finally realized that I should take the last step towards a new, real life. A life with you.”

You blinked and then frowned. You must have heard wrong.

„Excuse me?”

„Well…” he continued coyly, suddenly moving closer to you. „I’m not proud of what I did, but there was no time for me to react. I overheard a part of your conversation with Sam today.”

You felt like somebody just snatched a rug you were standing on right from under your feet.

„Wh… which part?”

„Uhh, all of it.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but no sound came out. You were so surprised that for a moment you even forgot that you had to breathe. What did he mean by all of it?

„Heartman, I…”

„I know,” he said, obviously almost as stressed as you. „I know I shouldn’t have. But when I heard you tell Sam that you loved me, I just… at first I thought I was still dreaming.”

„What the hell are you talking about?”

Heartman sighed and moved even closer, pressing his thigh against yours on the floor and taking your hand in his. You were so touched by this gentle gesture that it almost brought tears to your eyes.

„Y/N, I have been in love with you ever since I met you. I didn’t realize it at first, but as we grew closer together I just couldn’t help it. Your kindness, your selflessness, even the humor you would usually use to cover up your true feelings… I loved all of it. And spending time with you, even if it was just a few minutes every week. I waited for those moments, counting down hours, minutes and seconds until I see you again. And then when you were here, I just… I couldn’t say it. There was something stopping me from telling you the truth. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was the feeling that you didn’t feel the same way, or maybe…”

You sighed and reached upwards with your right hand, placing it on his cheek.

God, you were both so stupid.

„I thought you needed space,” you said, interrupting what he was saying. „I didn’t want to make you feel… uncomfortable. I figured that even if I could just be your friend, that would be enough. But I… I always wanted more. I knew you needed time to come to terms with everything that happened, but I… I was drawn to you. I still am.”

He smiled and leaned into your touch, placing his own hand on your neck.

„You know, I never actually thought that you’d want me,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. „I didn’t think I was worthy of love. Especially yours.”

„But why wouldn’t you be? Heartman, you’re the epitome of lovable. You’re sweet, you’re caring, you’re smart. And you’re so strong. How could I have not fallen in love with you?”

He chuckled, his warm breath ghosting your lips.

„Do you really think that? About me?”

„Yes. You’re the most incredible person I ever met. But you already know that because of that conversation you overheard.”

„I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

„Yeah right. I’m sure this wasn’t the first time you did that.”

„It was, I swear!”

You nuzzled his nose with yours, trying to absorb his warmth as much as you could. He really did feel this way about you. Looks like Sam was right after all.

He reached out and placed both hands on your cheeks, absent-mindedly caressing them with his thumbs.

„Heartman?” You said, almost as if trying to make sure that he was still there.

„I’m here,” he said, hands never leaving your face. „I’m just… overwhelmed. Every single moment I spent with you shaped me into who I am now. I was a husk of a human when we met, clinging to the dead with so much desperation it hurts to think about it now. But you… being around you made me feel alive again. Made me feel like there was something worth living for.”

You didn’t want to listen anymore. You didn’t want to start crying in front of him. So you did what you thought best at that moment; you pressed your lips against his in a heated kiss, hoping that it wouldn’t be too much for him.

He inhaled sharply, obviously surprised with this gesture, but melting into it nevertheless. It made you shiver and his touch covered your skin in goosebumps, every single brush of his fingers leaving a searing spark in its wake. You wanted to control yourself, to be gentle about this, but you couldn’t help it; you wanted him so fucking much.

You pressed against him a little more and bit his lower lip, trying to get him to open his mouth. He complied eagerly, letting out a soft moan that was like music to your ears. He was here, with you, and he was making these noises for you. You never wanted him to stop.

Sliding your tongue into his mouth you couldn’t believe how eager he was to kiss you back. His hands found their way to your back, moving up and down against your spine. You could feel the overwhelming smell of his cologne; he always used the same one and you have grown to associate the smell with him and him alone. Now you could almost taste it on his skin, breaking the kiss and pressing your lips against the crook of his neck. It was intoxicating, exhilarating - and it was so Heartman that just thinking about him, there, with you made your head spin and your mind go completely blank.

„I love you so much,” he whispered, placing soft kisses against your collarbone. You ran a hand through his hair, kissing the top of his head. „I love you so much, Y/N.”

„I love you too,” you sighed, eyes closed, breath still labored. „I really do.”

He pulled away from you then, just to look you in the eyes and smile again. When he dove in for another kiss you met him halfway.

You didn’t protest when he pushed you to the cushions on the floor, his kisses becoming more passionate and his hands sliding under your shirt. You moaned into his mouth, the heat almost unbearable where your bodies were touching. You wanted him so badly. You had to admit you thought about this many times - him kissing you, him pinning you to the bed… well, the floor would have to do this time, but the underlying connotations were exactly the same.

He explored your body inch by inch, following the trail of his fingers with subtle nips of his lips. As much as you wanted to just submit to every single ministration of his, you did have to watch his health. You knew this could have been too much too soon. And just thinking about having to stop this was heartbreaking.

„Heartman,” you whispered, sitting up a little to be able to face him. „Stop. Please.”

Seeing him flushed, his eyes half-lidded and cloudy with passion, you almost gave back in. But you knew better. It was about him and there was nothing more important than him.

„You… don’t like it?”

„I love it. That’s why we have to stop. You’re not well enough to… you know.”

„Have sexual intercourse?”

You couldn’t understand why you felt yourself blush.

„Yes. You’re too weak for that. It could be too… overwhelming.”

He sighed loudly and buried his face in your hair, nuzzling your neck at the same time.

„I know. I just… wasn’t sure I could stop. Thank you.”

„Don’t thank me for things like that. It was awful.”

You both laughed as you rolled over and laid back on the floor, facing each other and smiling softly.

„Do you think you could stay here tonight?”

You pressed your forehead against his and kissed the bridge of his nose.

„I think I could. If you make breakfast.”

„Oh, I’d love to. You’ll see, it’s going to be the best breakfast you ever had.”

You turned around and placed a hand on his cheek again. The way he was looking at you almost melted your heart.

„Heartman, I’m not that demanding. I can just eat a sandwich.”

„Nonsense! You’re my guest of honor and you’ll be treated as such.”

„What did I do to deserve such an honor?”

He placed a kiss on your cheek and smiled again, making your knees weak.

„You just made me the happiest man in this entire world.”

You couldn’t help the smile forming on your lips and the warmth pooling your chest.

Happiest man in the world, huh.

You could live with that.

[maaaddiexo]

1.2 | Bucky Barnes

Mainlist | Serieslist

「PART ONE CHAPTER TWO」

Atropos returned to the training grounds just in time to see Agent Carter punch a man so hard he landed on his ass. She stared at his face. The name came to her easily.

Gilmore Hodge, twenty-two. An asshole, too.

Atropos snickered as she approached the group. Instead of being patronized for her actions, Chester Phillips praised Peggy. He looked down at Hodge wiping his bloodied nose. "Get your ass up out of that dirt and stand in that line at attention 'till somebody comes and tells you what to do."

"Yes, sir."

Atropos rolled her eyes. Typical for men to ignore women in positions of power and treat them like trash knowing full well that they always listened to their own mothers.

Phillips began to pace, looking over every new recruit as he spoke. "General Patton has said that wars are fought with weapons, but they are won by men. And guess what? We are going to win this war because we have the best-" He spotted Steve Rogers and hesitated. "Men. And because they're going to get better. Much better."

Steve Rogers didn't blink, and Atropos smiled. When his gaze flickered to hers behind Sergeant Duffy, she winked at him. His brow furrowed but when the Colonel walked by him again, he straightened up and wiped all emotion from his face.

"The Strategic Scientific Reserve is an Allied effort made up of the best minds in the free world. Our goal is to create the best army in history. But every army starts with one man." At this, Atropos stared at Rogers. "At the end of this week, we will choose that man. He will be the first in a new breed of super soldiers. Understood? Good. You're dismissed for lunch. Sergeant Duffy? Show them the way."

As the men dispersed and Peggy was called to assist in the communications tent, Colonel Phillips stepped close to Atropos. "That skinny kid."

"Steven Rogers. Brooklyn, New York."

"Him. He's gonna need some extra help. And maybe a few extra meals."

As the Colonel began to walk away, grumbling the last part of his sentence, Atropos smiled and stared at the group of men. "That is what I am here for, sir."

By the end of lunch on the first full day of training, Atropos came to realize that Gilmore Hodge was Steve Rogers' newest bully. Like Steve, she didn't like bullies, but she had no personal reasons to say why. She just didn't like bullies. So, whenever Hodge messed with Steve, she evened the scores.

The first time it happened, the men were working on their army crawls in full uniform, with barbed wire above their heads and mud in their teeth. Believing to be cloaked by the layer of barbed wire, Hodge kicked down the post and snickered as the razor-sharp metal fell down on Steve Rogers, ripping through his greens and piercing the skin. Atropos felt her blood boil and was ready to cut his thread then and there. She heard a voice.

No, sister. Aurelia huffed. Careful not to cut herself, she picked up the plank to its appropriate height so that Rogers and the others could finish the course. Then, when they were all out, she watched as Gilmore Hodge tripped over nothing and faceplanted into the mud. She smirked. "Serves him right."

A half hour after lunch the second day of training, Sergeant Duffy had the men running laps around the property. Atropos, Peggy, and a driver were waiting at the halfway point. With a pen in her mouth, Peggy was flipping through papers on a clipboard.

"Steve Rogers," Atropos finally said. "What does Erskine think of him for the project?"

Peggy stopped and stared as the men became small dots in the distance. "He likes his persistence and stubbornness. He knows he's smaller than the other guys but instead of letting that put him down, he just works twice as hard. It's quite...admirable. He's also the only man Erskine hand-picked."

Atropos smiled as the men approached and she watched as Rogers trailed behind with a lung in his throat but refused to stop. Duffy's voice was irritating, grating, and high-pitched as he screamed at the men to pick up the pace and then halt.

"See that flag? It means we're only at the halfway point. First man to bring it to me gets a ride back with Agent Carter and Miss Salem." He didn't have to tell the men to move before they were climbing on top of each other, trying to reach the top. But their sweaty palms and heavy bags dragged them back down. Aurelia wasn't sure if their desperation stemmed from not wanting to run or to flirt with her and Peggy as many of them had already tried.

"If that's all you got, this army's in trouble!"

"Does he actually think his words are encouraging?"

"I don't think he really cares," Peggy replied honestly.

"Fall back into line! Come on, fall in! Rogers! I said fall in."

The small man didn't listen. Still huffing, he bent down and pulled the hook and pin from the bottom of the pole, watching as it hit the ground with a rattling bang. Atropos and Peggy shared a knowing look. Atropos moved over to give the man some room in the back and the car rumbled to life.

That night, Steve ate dinner a little happier. He still sat alone at the end of the table, but he didn't mind. Something landed in front of him.

"This was in my mail pile," Atropos said. In her other hand was a bowl of soup and some salted crackers on the side. "Looks like it traveled a long way."

Steve smiled. "My friend, Bucky. He's in England with the 107th. Looks like he's in Austria now though." He looked at the red stamp on his letter. "Guess I forgot to tell him I joined the army. It got sent to my house first."

"He is far," Atropos mused, sliding into a seat across from him. "Nice he still sends you letters."

Steve stuttered. "D-don't you want to eat with the other instructors?"

Atropos shook her head and dipped a cracker in the soup. "They are all pigs – in more ways than one. I have seen you on the field. I do not think you have a selfish, stuck-up bone in your body. It is a nice change."

Steve looked down at his half-empty bowl. "Kind of hard to be selfish when you've got nothing."

Atropos felt a pain of guilt go through her body. It was her fault he had nothing. She'd cut the thread for both his mother and father, and she would cut the thread for another loved one soon. She shook her head subtly and took a sip of water.

"So, I have noticed you are lacking on the field," Atropos said.

"Gee, really?"

Atropos smiled. "I can give you some extra help if you would like."

"Really?" Steve dropped his spoon.

"Aside from it being my job? I actually would like to help you. Duffy only knows one way to train. But with the way he is training you, it is no wonder you are falling behind."

"So, you'd train me differently?"

"You have strengths, Rogers. Duffy just cannot see them past the big brim of his hat." Steve laughed and Atropos finished her soup. "Are you an early riser?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Meet me outside my tent at five. Oh, and call me Aurelia. Never ma'am. Makes me feel old."

1.3 >

[shineonmalcolmbright]

Shine On, Bright: Chapter Thirty-One

Table of Contents

Present

Colette’s still upset over Malcolm. Both the thoughts in her head and her words out loud match up. “Your boy’s been working my case this entire time?!” She has every right to be upset, too. Just Gil isn’t sure how to approach such anger while dealing with other issues--intuitions--at hand. Colette is looking all around shouting, “Where is Bright?”

The problem with the shining is always knowing when something isn’t right. Dani stands behind Colette looking from her to Gil as Colette continues to ask. “Where is Bright? WHERE IS HE?”

Truth is. . .none of them know. The way Dani’s staring at Gil, she makes it clear she realizes this is an absolute fact. Nobody knows where in the world is Malcolm Bright. Doesn’t take a mind reader to see that.

Yet Gil admits the truth out loud. The way Colette’s staring him down suggests she already knows. Some part of Gil is sure because she has inklings of the shining. Something she probably noticed or never really cared about. She knew it was a gift, but not the sort of gift. Gil huffs. “We. . .don’t know. . .”

Dani and JT are staring at him trying to stay as stoic as possible. To them, what’s their to fear? Malcolm Bright’s the kind of person you say no to and he yells back yes and does precisely what he shouldn’t.

Those three words pretty much shatter the moment and while there’s some distance between them and he has no idea where in the world Malcolm is, he’ll figure it out, he’s always been able to figure it out. Even when the moment seems too dark to make light of.

Come on, Bright. . .BRIGHT. . .! Dani, JT, and Colette are all staring at Gil as some minor fury builds up. Hard to say at what though. Is Malcolm at fault for just running off like that? Is it his fault for not being able to pinpoint Malcolm? Is it both or something else altogether? “I’ll-I’ll get a hold of him, just give me a moment.”

BRIGHT!

Malcolm’s shuffling his feet away from the world upstairs at the Watkins household. Matilda is humming along to some Christmas carol Malcolm can’t quite make out. There’s too much energy brimming inside of him. Too much to analyze and too much to think about and then his phone starts to buzz as he scoots back into the little dining room area. He’s looking at it to see Gil’s calling him but he rejects the call.

“No phones at the table, Mr. Man,” Matilda calls him out in such a sing-song way.

There's no comfort in that.

Malcolm pauses as he tucks his phone away. Owen is still sitting at the table no longer interested in the so-called meal Matilda prepared for them. Malcolm offers up his best smile the sort that probably screams, I hope they like me, whenever meeting parental units. He slowly sits back down unsure of what the next step should be. This would be a lot easier if he could sense more about Matilda instead she’s only darkness.

Matilda carries on letting Malcolm sit. She returns to her rambling, which is good, has to be good. “Now, John, he was a quiet boy. Very observant. Watchful.” There’s immense pride in this last word. She continues talking, “He spent hours in the garage with Benjamin.”

Only it’s hard to pay attention when your heart is beating too fast. Malcolm feels the iciness of anxiety expunges all possible thought from his mind. He’s reaching for a fork but there’s blood pooled up across the table. Even if they sat around eating rare steaks, it wouldn’t look this way. The blood’s almost black and on plastic covering it. Malcolm follows the trail only to find Owen leaning to the side, he’s all crooked in his seat. Of course, he’s not eating with his throat slit. He’s trying to speak, but there’s no more words coming out.

Just Matilda’s words fill the moment with Christmas carols serving as a backdrop. It’s easy to miss them, it’s easy to miss what she’s saying. Owen’s thoughts are fractured light. There’s broken memories and warnings unable to from as they spark and spark and spark in his mind.

“He was interested in the way things worked.”

Malcolm blurts, “John’s here.”

“JOHNNIE IS HOME?” Matilda chimes forgetting to continue with her dribbling words on whatever topic she rambled on about. Matilda hops from her seat. Her mind is like a cavern, you’re unsure to how deep it could go or what’s really down there. Something is. Something dangerous. Malcolm’s stuck watching Owen fade with his fracturing lights. “Just in time for pie!”

Malcolm snaps his attention back to Matilda. He’s still there at the table. He’s still next to Owen who’s dying. Bloods pooling across the table and Matilda’s full of joy. That much is clear. Nobody else tries to reach out to him. The doors not too far from where he sits, he can run out there but something about Matilda’s rambling captures his attention. Holds it more than the chance of escape. Garage.

The fracture lights go dark. Owen falls from his seat and Malcolm finds himself speaking up again. Close to some sobs. He didn’t like the man but that doesn’t mean he wants him to die. “No. . .No. . .!” Malcolm falls from his seat as well. His knees pop as they strike the ground and he’s grabbing onto Owen. “No. . .No. . .”

Matilda’s bouncing around, she lifts her chin and continues with her shouting. The sing-song nature of it underlies all of her words. “Jooohn, my dear! You forgot one.”

Blood’s smearing across Malcolm’s hands as he struggles to remind himself, it’s too late for Owen. He can’t stop the bleeding, the bleeding’s going to stop on its own now that he’s dead and gone. He’s barely looking at Matilda and registering her words. She knows. She knows. She knows. This isn’t-This isn’t. . .This isn’t what?

Even with Owen still dead and gone, Malcolm attempts to save his life. Anxiety is rearing its ugly head, his eyes bulge as he takes in the silence of Owen. With one of the napkins, he presses it into Owen’s neck like that’ll help, that’ll help save the dead. Some deep back thought laments, Gil’s going to be so mad. Not mad about Owen. Not made about ignoring his calls. But so mad at him for being-for being-for being so. . .

The napkin soaks up so much blood so fast. It’s everywhere really and Malcolm’s turning feeling his own anger tremble inside of him. His hands are shaking as he goes to face Matilda. Not just his hands. The forks and food left on the table tremble as well as ice in Matilda’s drink strikes one another creating a unique ringing sound.

“You-You knew! You called him!” You only have yourself to blame, a separate thought laments because it’s true, it’s true. He has only himself to blame for Owen’s death and Gil’s fury and now for his. . . Matilda snaps her full attention to Malcolm while he loses touch with Owen. Some of the Jesuses on the walls start to tremble as well. He’s even causing this world to quake in fear, but it’s quaking, it’s simmering, it’s about to splinter because of his own fear. “Where is he? Where is John?!”

“MY JOHNNIE! MY JOHNNIE TAKES OUT THE TRASH!”

Malcolm stays crouching there afraid to move because maybe he’ll cause something to physically break then there’s a bump outside. Some movement as well. Matilda quiets down and he spots a shadow moving across the window. Whoever it is--John--is out back. Garage. It gets Malcolm off the floor, he’s slowly rising up as everything around him shakes. A Jesus paint does crash to the floor. His doing. Nobody else's. The glass breaks.

“HERE JOHNNIE!” Matilda’s screaming so loud and Malcolm’s left half risen and spotting the gun Owen carried. He’d been proud (maybe that’s the wrong word) about it, too, like it’d save their lives. Malcolm takes it and knows what he needs to do. Run. Garage. “HE’S IN HERE! JOHN! HE’S IN HERE!”

Time to try. . .something. . .Malcolm goes to chase after a shadow as Matilda spits out more words. “He’s gonna get you.” She’s hissing and dangerous but doesn’t lash out. Doesn’t need to because John Watkins is.

Malcolm’s got a gun, he has a gun to protect himself as he runs to the door, slows down as he exits the house. Somewhere down the street normalcy continues. There’s Christmas lights strung along so many yards like the sky threw up on them, spewing stars out onto the ground. Somebody plays music loud and maybe they’re even outside even though it’s chilly. He can clearly hear their voices and laughter chatter. Music ties them closer together with such promise of holiday cheer and there’s a dead man so close to all of them.

God rest ye merry gentlemen. Let nothing you dismay.

The door almost hits Malcolm on the way out.

He holds up the weapon.

He tries to swallow some potential bravery, but his mouth is all dry.

Energy thrums through him. The building up of anxiety, stress, fear, and a whole lot of other emotions. All while people join in their casual Christmas carols and laughter.

Remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas day.

Somewhere out there, Gil’s still shouting for his attention like if he yells Bright even louder and louder Malcolm’ll hear him and respond. Like Malcolm isn’t responding. Another narrative is caught on the wind. All a sudden. It’s as if everybody Malcolm’s ever loved is fighting for brain space as he tries his best to focus, focus, focus on his present. Jessica’s out there thinking, Direct the narrative. And he wants her to know, he’s trying but he needs to focus as he approaches the garage that’s out back. Matilda’s inside and she’s laughing, there’s nothing for her to even fear. Ainsley is in shock, or at least, she will be, she just doesn’t know it yet.

Malcolm attempts to use the music as control. To save us from Satan’s pow’r.

But Satan has nothing to do about it. Malcolm almost loses his own breathing as he comes closer and closer. Somehow hearing Jessica louder than loud in his head as his mother pleads with some people. As you may know my husband. . . Louder than even Gil who hasn’t quite yet acted upon the fact he can’t get through to Malcolm.

. . .psychiatric hospital for killing twenty-three people, but I believe there were more. . .

Malcolm manages to inhale deeply, he can’t count the seconds or countdown to know he can accomplish something. He’s rounding a corner keeping his weapon trained and ready to fire, for protection.

Fear not then, said the Angel. Let nothing you affright. . .

Malcolm’s rounding to the back of this garage finding a door open. There’s some fallen tables out there. He looks at the ajar door almost falling out of time and back to the Overlook where Room 217 waited, it was always waiting for him. Behind him glass shatters and car alarms start blaring. Little garden figurines tumble over and he’s still present though, he’s still present, he’s still present and he’s staring at that open door.

Ainsley’s out there muttering to her own self not realizing how loud her own thoughts are. Maybe it’s just they’re all bound together and bound to another person, a shadow in their lives. You’ve got to be kidding. . .

Through some broken lawn ornaments, Malcolm walks closer and closer to that open door.

“J-J-John?”

If they met face-to-face, would he recognize the man as somebody he used to know? For somebody who’s haunted by so many memories, there’s so many he forgets. They’re drowned photographs, some of which are all because his own father is to blame.

“I-I know you’re here.”

It’s so dark inside the little garage out back, it’s looking fairly empty. Malcolm does his best to stay on edge, to stay present, he won’t fall out of time, and he won’t try and be with others. Instead, he’s here and now and he’ll stay here and now until Gil arrives to be angry at his mistakes of the night.

Something inside quakes, but so do Malcolm’s hands. He doesn’t spot anybody in there and almost lowers his weapon. But the quaking increases and a shadow burst forth and straight into him. John. . . Not that Malcolm can tell or has time to tell.

Malcolm's punched in the stomach and knocked off his feet.

The ground comes up so fast and it’s so cold. Not Overlook Hotel cold. But doesn’t matter, it still hurts.

It really hurts.

Malcolm chokes on a half sob-half grunt. Trying to bite back pain, Malcolm’s on the ground still and he’s-he’s-he’s feeling too lost to-to do. . .

He rolls his head to the side realizing John’s there, he kneels down from the shadows and a light in hand. Already John’s grumbling, “We have to stop meeting like this.”

He repositions his flashlight letting Malcolm get a better look. Drowned photographs all over again. Malcolm raises his head a bit trying to get too good of a look at John Watkins because he knows him, he knows that face, he knows him.

“Remember me?” John chuckles.

Malcolm’s looking at him, the wind’s still knocked out of him. He manages a whisper, a threat of sorts, “They’ll find you.” It’d be easy, too, he’d just need to reach Gil. . .

G. . .

John Watkins grabs Malcolm by the collar of his shirt and partially hoists him off the ground. Any intended thoughts stall. Malcolm stares at the man still recollecting some of a past life he forgot. Maybe memories don’t haunt him enough. John’s laughing at Malcolm’s come back, shaking his head, his grip tightens on Malcolm’s collar as if he’s going to strangle him.

“They’ll never find us where we’re going.”

_______________________

Emptiness.

Malcolm gawks at John with only a few clear words and by a few it’s two and those two are us and we’re.

Before he could ever manage any other life-saving technique, John punches him in the face. And just like that. . .Malcolm’s gone again, he’s falling back, and he’s not falling even out of time. He’s just. . .unconscious and a crumpled mess on the floor of the garage. John takes him by the ankles and tugs at Malcolm then drags him straight out of there to follow through with his own threat, They’ll never find us where we’re going.

###

Dani’s watching not much outside her car window. They’ve been driving around for how long now? Her heart feels a little swollen as bad thoughts keep chirping inside her mind. Worst-case scenarios all honing in on where in the world Malcolm Bright is. She tries once again to reach his cell. There’s a secret hope that they’ll laugh later about all the missed calls.

Her call goes to voicemail again and she flips her phone screen down on her leg so she can’t see it. Gil’s driving. The siren’s wailing letting people know there’s an emergency. Most people with emergencies know where to go.

“Bight’s still not picking up,” Dani whispers.

Gil’s trying not to look at her because 1. He’s driving and 2. He knows Malcolm’s not going to pick up. It’s as if the kid tumbled into a black hole. There once was Malcolm, a little blip of brightness out there he could find and now he’s just gone.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Gil mutters and he drives a little faster. They’re still directionless, but it eases his anxiety. Dani’s, too. The faster they go means they can keep on keeping on as soon as they figure out his whereabouts and speed to the rescue.

It wouldn’t be the first time Gil rushed in to save Malcolm, but that time, he heard Malcolm cry for help and he knew right where to find him. It was easy.

The Overlook.

###

Leave it to Malcolm to show up when he’s needed. All night long, Ainsley’s called Malcolm or text Malcolm only to come up with nothing. Leaving her alone to take long, long sips of wine and so does Jessica as they glare at one another at the dining table. It’s as if they’re in a drinking contest, see who could drink who under the table. But it’s more than that. There’s spite threading through the air around them and an empty seat for Malcolm. He’s not there when Ainsley needs him and Jessica needs him. Both of them need him to argue their very valid points. Looks like Christmas is going to be a silent night.

[psychovigilantewrites]

Jason, Not Him

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 5758

Ao3

Summary:  Jason feels like his older brother Dick wants his girlfriend. Too bad. Dick can't have you. You're Jason's and he's going to make sure Dick understands that.

A/N: Hey guys! Taking a break from Red Who and decided to write this short smut up instead. This has tags for voyeurism, semi public sex and Jason being all possessive. 

Masterlist

Dick got everything he wanted.

He was the golden boy, the first Robin, the responsible one, the leader.

Jason? Jason was the Universe’s bitch.

It wasn't hard to love dick. Dick had girls swooning over him ever since he was a kid. Now that he's all grown up, of course even more women would flock to him.

Dick also had a face that you knew you could trust. He was sensitive, friendly, warm, and open with his feelings.

Jason was the complete opposite. It wasn't that he wasn't a looker, but you'd need to have a specific type to like someone like Jason. People would fall in love with Dick the minute they saw him, but for Jason’s case, they'd need to see him every day to really appreciate his subtle good looks.

Jason wasn't as friendly and warm as Dick, too. Neither was he open with his feelings like Dick was.

But did Jason hate Dick? No. On the contrary, Jason loved him. He was Jason’s older brother after all, and Jason respected him. He was skilled, he worked hard. Jason had no problem admitting all of that.

And you know what? Jason never tried to overshadow his older brother. Jason never tried to get Bruce to love him more, to get people to tell him he was the better Robin, to steal his girlfriends, to snatch his best friends.

Was there a sense of jealousy that he felt? Yes, from time to time. Who wouldn’t be occasionally jealous of their perfect older brother?

But Jason would never act out on it. If Dick wanted something, he wouldn't fight him on it.

But you? Jason would fight Dick to the death if it meant that he got to keep you.

You were the only thing that Jason truly wanted, loved, appreciated. You were what pulled him from whatever dark place he was in and guided him to be the happy and content man he was today.

Dick couldn't have you.

But oh, did he want to.

Jason knew that Dick was the flirtatious type- even with men. Dick never realised how much he had an effect on people. But the way Dick tries so hard to make you laugh, to comfort you, to be kind to you. Jason didn't like it.

He knew that the way Dick looked at you was not the way he looked at anyone else.

Dick looked at you with a sense of intense longing, an emotion that Jason knew all too well.

He looked at you the way a pained ex-boyfriend would look at their loved one with somebody else. The sad smile, the big round eyes, the slump of his back that said he was emotionally exhausted from loving you too much.

Jason didn't get it.

Dick could have anyone else, and he had everything going for him. Why does he need to want you?

Jason was the one who grew up with you, not him. Jason was the one who accompanied you when both his and your parents were high as kites, not him. Jason was the one that continued to be your best friend after Bruce took you in, not him. Jason was the one that convinced Bruce to train you as well, not him. Jason was the one who seeked you out and comforted you after he came back from the dead, not him. Jason was the one who fell in love with you from way back then, when you were both in Crime Alley, not him.

You starved together, picked pockets together, survived together.

Dick didn't understand what the two of you have been through. It was the only thing about his brother that he hated. If it was anyone else but you, he wouldn't have felt the need to spite Dick so much.

But it was you, after all, so Jason needed to make sure Dick knew that he wasn't about to let you go so easily.

*** Ding dong.

Jason made eye contact with Dick, who looked up at him over the kitchen counter, wide eyed.

“I’ll get it,” he said.

“No, I’ll get it,” Jason replied.

Jason narrowed his eyes at Dick, as Dick’s own became increasingly wider. They stared at each other for a moment, like a cowboy stand off, waiting for the other to make the first move.

Dick suddenly scrambled over in the direction of the main door, and Jason hurried after him.

“I said I don’t mind getting it, Jason!” Dick yelled over his shoulder, running through the dining room.

“No, please, let me!” Jason chased after him.

Both of them zoomed past Alfred, who was setting the dining table, shouting, “Really!”

The two of them approached the large, wooden, grand door of the manor, reaching out for the handle at the same time, and pulled it open to reveal you, slightly shocked and staring weirdly at the two panting men in front of you.

“Hey, babe,” Jason breathed, and swooped in for a peck on your lips.

“Hey, Jay,” you greeted back, “Hi, Dick.”

Dick just winked at you, leaning against the door frame, making you giggle slightly.

“Come in,” Jason suddenly scowled, moving out of the doorway for you.

Jason noticed that you had raised an eyebrow at his sudden shift in attitude, and he immediately gave you back an apologetic smile.

He saw you take a deep breath and smiled, “Dinner smells amazing. Where’s everyone?”

“They’re all helping out in the kitchen, but I think you can go straight to the dining room. Everything’s just about done,” Dick answered before Jason could open his mouth.

He gave Dick a glare.

“Okay, then,” you beamed at Dick, heading straight towards the dining room.

Jason didn’t have to show you around, because the manor was almost as much your home as it was his. You have been coming over ever since he was adopted. You trained alongside him under Batman after a year he was Robin, since he told you and you wanted to be included too.

But mostly because Jason felt bad if he were to abandon you to live on the streets, unprotected, when he was eating three hot meals a day served by a butler. Jason always felt like he needed to take care of you. But he wouldn’t be able to protect you from the people on the streets if he was busy with Batman. So he talked to Bruce and demanded that he trained you as well.

You proved to Bruce that you had what it takes. You were very smart, and strategic, and Bruce saw that you had a lot of potential. Although, it took longer for Bruce to train you, since you didn’t have basic fighting skills like Jason did.

That’s because it was always Jason that protected you in the streets.

When Jason had died, you were still under training.

When he returned, you were a well trained, extremely skilled, and brutal vigilante.

The manor was your second home. Jason made sure of that.

So why were you beaming at Dick like he was the one who was with you all those years?

“Hey,” you suddenly appeared close to Jason, making him jump at your sudden touch, knocking him back to reality. “You okay?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” he forced a smile, “You hungry?”

“Starving,” you groaned, “I love it when you all get together and cook.”

“I know, princess, that’s why I invited you over,” he grinned.

“That’s bullshit, Todd,” Damian entered the dining room from behind you, “Father said that she’s part of the family, so she has to be here for anything and everything anyway. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“Why hello to you too, Dames,” you smiled at the youngest Wayne. Jason knew you were extremely touched by what he had said, but knowing you, you didn’t show it. You were similar to Jason in that aspect. “Want to give me a hug?”

“I’m fourteen, not five,” he huffed, pulling out a chair from the long and polished mahogany dining table that was set with fine china and silver cutlery. Jason saw Damian blush slightly.

And apparently, so did you, because you whispered to Jason, “I think he has a crush on me.”

“Yeah, him and the whole damn world apparently,” he grumbled to himself.

“What?”

“Nothing. Here-” Jason pulled out a chair for you.

Before you could sit down, Bruce walked in. You politely greeted him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, like you would your father.

If Jason was being completely honest with himself, he couldn’t blame Dick or Damian, or anyone really, for falling in love with you. Jason knew you best after all, and he knew you were irresistible.

He loved your smile, your pretty face, your sexy body. He loved the way you laughed out loud at a lame pun or cried over sappy chick flicks. He loved that although you were kind, you were still suspicious of others until they proved themselves to you. Growing up on the streets did that to a person.

And he knew that everyone else saw you as this brutal, tough vigilante who doesn’t hesitate to fuck shit up- but Jason? Jason couldn’t help but remember you as this skinny, hungry girl with the red nose who would come running to his apartment window from the fire escape stairs whenever your parents fought.

He knew you best, and because of that, he felt like no one else deserved to be with you.

Least of all Dick Grayson- who never knew what it was like to hate the world.

Dinner was casual, as usual. Having you around made it feel like it was complete.

But Jason noticed that Dick kept on giving you glances from across the table, offering you gravy, passing you the butter, trying hard to make you laugh with his stupid fucking puns.

The stupid puns you found so funny.

Now you were talking to Dick, about some show. So Jason put his hand on your thigh. You jumped slightly, cutting off what you were going to say.

Dick narrowed his eyes at Jason.

“-uhm, yeah, I think you’d like it,” you continued, face suddenly going red.

“Well, I always watch whatever you recommend, you know that,” Dick smoothly flattered you.

“Speaking of shows, I brought some DVDs for us to watch later if you guys want to..?” you glanced at everyone.

“Ah, sorry. I have to finish up some blueprints,” Tim apologized, “I really would have loved to, though.”

“That’s okay,” you waved a hand in dismissal. You understood very well how Tim was occupied with work.

“I have a history paper to finish,” Damian groaned, “Unless-”

“No,” Bruce scolded his son, “Unless you want to sacrifice patrol night.”

“No,” Damian slumped in his seat.

“And you, Bruce? Or do you have Batman stuff?” you asked.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he said, “Sorry.”

“Well, I know Jay has nothing to do. How about you, Dick?” you looked at him hopefully.

Jason made a point to stare at Dick, giving him an intense “Don’t you dare” look.

Dick blinked once at Jason, and then turned to you and said, “I’d love to!”

“Yay!” you clapped your hands, “Just the three of us then. You guys would love it, it recently just won-”

Jason didn’t hear what awards your movie won, or how many times it was nominated- he was too busy stopping himself from punching his older brother in the face.

So there Jason was on one end of the sofa, and Dick on the opposite end. You were sandwiched in between them.

The movie was on, the room was dark, and you were concentrating intently despite it not being the first time you were watching it.

But you were the only one watching the movie, because Dick was stealing glances at you, and Jason was just glaring at him, practically daring him to make a move on you.

Jason did feel bad for not paying attention, though, since you were so excited. He made a mental note to watch it later.

Jason just couldn’t take it. Dick wasn’t even hiding the fact that he liked you. He needed to do something about his brother’s intentions.

“Hey, princess, you cold?” Jason whispered in your ear, stretching his arm behind your head to rest on the back of the sofa.

“A little, but it’s okay,” you whispered back, not taking your eyes off the screen.

“Then come closer,” he replied, pulling your waist with his other arm, to bring you closer to him. He saw you blushing slightly, letting out a small giggle.

He pulled the blanket that was hanging folded on the sofa arm and threw it over the two of you. He felt you cuddle up to him, more comfortable now there was a barrier to block Dick’s view of the two of you.

Jason waited patiently for about five minutes before he proceeded with his plan.

He leaned over to you and started nibbling on your earlobe, kissing your neck, sucking, licking, pulling, biting. All the while letting his hand on your waist rub up and down underneath the blanket.

“Jason!” you hissed at him, “We have company.”

“It’s just Dick,” he whined, “Dick doesn’t mind. Do you, Dick?”

Jason looked up at him. Dick stared, his jaw clenched.

“Whatever,” he managed to grit and then turned back to the screen.

“See, babe? It’s all good,” Jason continued his oral assault on your neck.

“I don’t know. Maybe we should go- oh,” you were suddenly cut off by the surprise you felt when Jason slipped his hand from your waist to underneath your skirt, brushing on your panty covered clit.

Jason didn’t hesitate to start rubbing, feeling your panties getting wetter and wetter by the second. He himself was getting hard.

Jason knew you had a little kink for voyeurism that you didn’t want to admit. He knew your search history, and he knew that you loved it when he watched you touch yourself.

He went a step further and pulled aside your panties, rubbing his finger up and down your wet folds. He smirked when he felt you part your legs.

Jason rested his chin on top of your head so he could look at his older brother, who obviously knew what was going on.

Dick was looking straight at the screen, but his hands were in fists on his lap, and his jaw clenching and unclenching. Jason slipped a finger inside your dripping, tight, and warm hole, eliciting a small moan from you.

Dick’s head snapped to the two of you with that sound.

Jason continued to pump his finger in and out of you, curling up at your sweet spot. Fuck, he was hard. And it wasn’t only because he had his fingers inside of you.

It was that he was finger fucking you in front of Dick, claiming you, making him watch him do things to you that Dick never would be able to.

He loved seeing his brother livid as he fucked your pussy with his now two fingers.

You were oblivious to the exchange. You were still pretending to watch the movie, even though your pants were loud and your moans were hardly subtle. Even though the sound of your wet pussy could be heard.

Jason felt your walls grow tighter and tighter, knowing you were about to cum, so he sped up, not giving a fuck that the violent movement of his arm was slowly slipping the blanket off.

You gasped, and then clamped your mouth with your hand, your eyes tight shut.

He watched Dick watch you cum, smirking to himself.

And then Dick left.

Jason was slowly pumping you, bringing you down. Once you were grounded, Jason took out his fingers, and then licked them, savouring your sweet taste.

“Oh my god,” you whispered frantically, “Oh my god, do you think he noticed?”

“No, you were good at hiding,” Jason lied, winking at you, “He just forgot he promised to help Bruce with something.”

“Did he actually say that?” you looked at him, worry in your eyes.

“Yeah, didn’t you hear?” Jason cocked an eyebrow.

He felt bad lying to you. But he had to. He had to man up and show Dick who you belonged to.

“No, I didn’t,” you realised, “Wow. That was- wow.”

Jason kissed you on the temple, “You enjoyed that, babe?”

“Yeah,” you giggled, “I didn’t think having someone there that might catch you would make it so exciting.”

“Knew you were a voyeur,” he pinched your cheeks.

“Shut up!” you groaned, embarrassed, “Hey! Were you even watching the movie?”

“No,” Jason admitted guiltily, “But I promise you that I’m going to watch it soon, okay?”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I promise!” Jason insisted, “I couldn’t help it. I missed you.”

“We just saw each other last night during patrol,” you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, but I didn’t get to touch you, baby girl,” he told you, “I’ve been thinking about you a lot these past few days. I miss making you scream my name.”

You blushed.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Jason started.

“What?”

“What do you think of Dick?” he cringed internally, mentally slapping himself for sounding so desperately insecure.

“Dick?” you repeated in surprise, “He’s great. I mean, he was there for me when you weren’t… alive. Tim, too.”

“Yeah, no, I meant like,” Jason hesitated, “Looks wise?”

“Jason, are you asking me if I find your brother hot?” you started to break into a cheeky grin.

“So what if I am?” Jason huffed defensively.

“I think he’s a good looking guy,” you said truthfully, entertained by your boyfriend’s sudden question, “But so is Tim. And Damian. And you. It’s like Bruce adopted all of you solely based on looks. Except Damian, of course. Bruce has himself to be proud of.”

“So you think Dick’s good looking, then?” Jason grumbled, ignoring everything else you just said, “Of course you do.”

“Jason,” you sighed, “Yes, I think Dick’s good looking, but only a blind person wouldn’t think that. Look. I didn’t fall in love with you because of your looks- although that played a major factor too. You wanna know how I fell in love with you?”

Jason just pouted at you.

“Because of this,” you poked a finger at Jason’s forehead, near his temple and slightly into his hairline, “It’s not there anymore because of the Pit, but you used to have a small scar there. You got it because some asshole in the alley cut you with a blade. You were defending me. He was going to hurt me.”

Jason now looked at you, softening his expression. Yes, he remembered that. If he hadn’t jumped in front of you in time and blocked the strike, the man would have slashed your neck.

“And this,” you bunched up his shirt, revealing his chest.

“You like my bod a lot, huh, princess?” he smirked.

“Yes, but that’s not the point,” you rolled your eyes, “Here, here, and here.”

You poked three of his ribs.

“You cracked your ribs in three places because you got beaten up trying to pickpocket some brute. We weren’t starving that night, but I told you that I wanted to have a milkshake,” you softly smiled at the memory, “So you went and tried to get some money for me.”

Jason remembered that all too well. The two of you couldn’t have been older than ten. You had a sad look in your eyes when you said that you never tried the famous strawberry milkshake at Jackie’s diner. Jason never tried it too, but his heart broke when he saw you look like that.

Jason never told you, but after he came back from the hospital, his dad had beat him again while he was still injured because he got into trouble.

“That’s my point, Jason,” you explained, “I didn’t fall in love over some shallow thing like your good looks or sexy body. That’s not love. I fell in love with you every single time you had a new scar or cast on you- any stupid injury you got because you were trying to look out for me.”

Jason looked at you and took everything in. Your eyes were wide and watery, conveying every single emotion that he needed to hear from you.

“So get over Dick, okay?” you comforted him.

“Yeah, okay,” he nodded and gave you a warm kiss.

He never doubted your love for him. Nor your attraction. Even if he did, it was all gone now. But the problem still remained. Dick was still looking at you, Dick was still wanting you. And Jason still needed to show Dick who you belonged to.

***

Jason fucking hated Gotham.

The high crime rates only showed how many scum of the Earth lived there- and the stats were definitely lower than reality.

Reality is that the big crime bosses were wealthy families with old inheritance, passed down from generation to generation. Their families were the ones who built Gotham up- not unlike the Waynes themselves.

The stats never mentioned the rich. They were safe in their own mansions and yachts. No, it was people like Jason that received the bad end of their organized crime. They were the ones who hired the petty criminals to do their dirty work. And violence just bred more violence.

And what happened to the ones who couldn’t defend themselves in midst of all that chaos?

Jason happened. You happened. Two starving children with shitbag parents trying to make it day by day, exchanging what little they could afford with each other in dark alleys similar to the one Jason was overlooking from the roof then.

Jason glared down at the empty alleyway, and then turned to grapple to another, higher rooftop.

There, he strutted to the edge of the roof, leaning on a raised cement ledge that was as tall as his hips, overlooking the zooming traffic on the street below.

It was sort of peaceful, Gotham at night. Despite the increase in criminal activity, he hated to admit that he thought the city was almost beautiful when the sun goes down.

He glanced at the building on the other side of the street. He saw a movement there. Through his helmet, he zoomed in his lenses like a pair of binoculars, and saw Nightwing.

“Hey,” a voice came from behind him all of a sudden which made him jump slightly.

He turned and saw you strutting towards him in your tight, black vigilante suit, wearing a black domino mask with white lenses to protect your identity. The suit stuck to your skin at your arms, legs, and ass. Your abdomen was protected by kevlar that was sewed fashionably well onto your suit, still accentuating your breasts and the curve of your waist.

Jason loved your suit.

He glanced back at the building across the street, and seeing Nightwing was still there, cocking his head to one side and looking at the both of you curiously.

An idea popped into Jason’s head.

He rushed to you, taking off his helmet in the process. He still wore a domino mask similar to yours underneath, with special white lenses as well.

“What are you up t- mmpf,” you couldn’t finish your sentence because Jason had grabbed your face with both his hands and attacked your lips with his.

While he was prodding his tongue at your mouth, he swiftly pressed a button on the earpiece in his ear, tuning him into Nightwing’s frequency, so he could hear everything that was happening.

“Woah, Jay,” you flushed, “What’s gotten into you? Not that I’m complaining.”

“Take off your mask, I want to see your eyes,” he panted at you, ripping off the mask from your face. The real reason was that he didn’t want you to see Dick from across the street. Dick was invisible to the naked eye from that distance and dim lighting.

“Babe,” he groaned, and kissed you again, pulling your hips into his own and grinding his now half hard cock on your stomach. “Baby girl, I need you.”

“Now?” your voice rose a pitch , “Here?”

“Why not?” he grinned, “It’s not like anyone’s here. Besides, you like it a little bit public, don’t you?”

You turned a shade red when he mentioned that.

“So you up for it?” he asked you.

You looked him in the eyes for a few moments, and then gave him a tiny, shy nod.

The moment you agreed, he lifted you up in a fireman’s carry, and walked over to the edge of the roof, facing Dick, who was still watching the two of you from that distance.

Before setting you down on the ledge, he gave your latex covered ass a slap, drawing out a moan from you.

“This ass is mine,” he spoke out loud, giving you another spank. He was addressing Dick, who was now standing up erect, hands curled into fists.

“Jason,” he heard Dick’s voice in his earpiece, “Stop.”

He ignored Dick and set you to sit down on the ledge, facing him. He gave you another searing kiss, relishing the taste of you while looking for the hidden zipper at the front of your suit. He zipped your front down and down, all the way to your belly button.

“Fuck,” he gasped, “Don’t you wear a bra out on patrols?”

He grabbed a fist full of your right breast and squeezed.

“The kevlar breastplate is enough support,” you explained, “I don’t need to wear a- ah!”

Jason had attacked your nipple with his mouth, sucking and nibbling on it while his hand massaged your other breast.

“Your tits are so fucking amazing,” he choked, “I always can’t get enough of them.”

He then licked your skin from the valley of your breasts all the way up to your neck.

“And the taste of your sweat is intoxicating,” he exhales.

“You’re being descriptive tonight,” you giggled.

Jason stood up straight and said with a sudden serious expression on his face, “I just want you to know everything I see, smell, taste, feel, and hear. I want you to know what you fucking do to me. I want you to know how I fucking worship you.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” your breath hitched at his words, and you pulled him in for another kiss, “Fuck me, Jason. Please.”

“Fuck,” he growled, “Get out of that suit and bend over. Put your hands on the ledge. I want Gotham to see your tits.”

“What the fuck, Jason,” Dick’s voice appeared in his ear again.

While you were busy taking off your suit, Jason glanced again at the building and zoomed in to Dick’s face. Jason could see his jaw clenching and unclenching, the fury in his scowl.

Yet, Dick still didn’t look away.

You were naked now, and you bent over, showing your ass to Jason, and unknowingly revealing your tits to Dick. Jason unzipped his pants and took his hard, leaking cock out, already extremely sensitive to the touch.

He lined the tip to your entrance, teasing you a bit and rubbing your leaking juices all over his cock. You moaned again softly.

Jason looked at Dick, and gave him a shit eating grin, and then plunged himself into your wet tight hole. The both of you groaned at the feeling.

“Fuck,” you bit your lips.

“Don’t hold back, princess,” Jason breathed, “I want you to be as loud as you can. I want to hear you scream my name.”

“Fuck!” you moaned louder when Jason slipped his cock out and then thrusted in again, bottoming out.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised you, “That’s my good girl.”

You whimpered.

“Are you ready, baby?” Jason asked you, not needing to clarify. You knew how he fucked. And you were always ready for it.

“Yes, Jason, please!” you cried.

Jason put both his hands on your hips, and then started pummeling into you like a fuck machine.

You gripped the ledge tight, and started screaming in pleasure.

“Fuck, your pussy always feels so good,” he panted while drilling into you.

Jason could imagine Dick’s view. He’s fucked you doggystyle in front of the mirror before. He knew how your tits would look like as he fucked you from behind- and it was a damn amazing view.

The adrenaline and ecstasy that Jason felt made him almost forget about everything.

“She’s fucking mine,” he accidentally roared before realising his mistake.

“I’m yours, Jason,” he heard you sob, apparently oblivious to his slip.

It made Jason bolder.

He stopped fucking you and you took out his cock from your pussy with a pop, making you whine in protest.

“Put your feet on the ledge, baby,” he ordered, “Squat on the ledge. I want to show off your cunt.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall,” he added when you looked back at him in worry.

He lifted you on the raised ledge, and snaked his arms around your waist, balancing you while you spread your legs in a squat.

Jason silently thanked his genes for making him tall enough to be able to fuck you in that position. He pushed in his cock and groaned into the crook of your neck, and then started to thrust up into you.

He let one hand down to your pussy and started circling your swollen nub with his finger while he continued to drill you.

“Fuck!” you screamed, “Jason! Fuck that feels amazing, don’t stop!”

“Whose pussy is this, baby?” he gave you a light slap on your clitoris, making you automatically clench on his cock even tighter, feeling the waves of electrical pleasure spark through his body.

“Yours, Jason, this pussy is yours,” you sobbed, completely giving into him.

“That’s right. This. Pussy. Is. Mine,” he slapped your cunt with every word.

“You’ve made your point, Jason,” he heard Dick grit in his ear. He chuckled into your neck at his victory. Jason knew that voice. It was the sound of his older brother breaking.

“Jason, please,” you begged, “I need to cum, please.”

“Okay, sweetheart, cum with me,” Jason started to thrust faster into you and rubbing your clitoris faster and faster. He felt you tighten around him, eliciting a long groan from him. The walls of your cunt was massaging and squeezing his shaft, his head was pushing against that spot he knew you made you go wild.

“Jason! Fuck, Jason! Jay! Fuck!” your screams and cries and sobs turned silent, and he felt your pussy flutter on his cock.

At the same time, Jason felt his peak approaching, heat spreading from his toes and black spots started to cloud his vision when he finally regained the sense to take his cock out and spill his cum all over your back in pulses.

You immediately fell back onto him from the ledge, legs weak. He caught you in his arms and chuckled into the hair on the top of you head, giving you a kiss there.

He pushed the button in his ear to disconnect the frequency with Dick. He made his point already.

Feeling suddenly exposed, you hurriedly put your suit back on and leaned into Jason’s chest in an embrace.

“That was amazing, baby girl,” Jason sighed, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, that was pretty awesome,” you grinned, “So where is he?”

Jason froze.

“What?”

“Dick, where’s Dick? Wasn’t this all for him?” you raised an eyebrow.

“You knew?” Jason gaped.

“Of course I knew, I’m not stupid,” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Jason sputtered, “I shouldn’t have- I just wanted to- fuck, baby, I’m so-”

“Shh,” you held a finger to his lips, “I know you. You couldn’t just ask me to do this, what with your emotional constipation. I’m the same, remember?”

“Still,” he let out a breath, “I should have asked.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled sweetly at him, “You didn’t want to seem insecure. I get that. That’s why we’re together.”

Jason pursed his lips in worry, thinking how on Earth did he deserve such an amazing human being like you.

“Now where is he-” you put on your mask and started looking around, “Ah, there he- oh.”

You suddenly turned your head back, blushing furiously.

“Wha?” Jason looked over and zoomed to the building where he saw Dick leaning on the roof door to the stairwell of the building, his cock in his fists, furiously jerking himself off in obvious anger.

“I can’t blame him,” Jason chuckled, “We gave him quite a show.”

He saw that you were still blushing, your eyes wide.

“Babe,” he started slowly, tilting your chin up to look him in the eye, “Do you like the fact that my brother is jerking off to us fucking?”

“What? No- no, of course- no, he’s your-” you stuttered.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jason coaxed you, “Come on, I know you like it when I watch you. I know you just like being watched. That’s okay.”

“Really?” you anxiously asked.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s Dick. As much as I hate him for wanting you, I trust him not to do anything. That’s why I was fine with showing you off to him. I just needed to claim my territory,” he gave you a wicked grin.

“I guess,” you said, unsure.

“You’re okay with me doing that just now? You’re not mad?” Jason asked again.

“No, I’m not. Like I said, I enjoyed it. I just- I just feel bad for enjoying it, you know?” you bit your lip.

Jason pulled you into another embrace, breathing in your scent.

“Don’t be. It’s who you are. And you know what? I like showing you off. You’re someone everyone wants but can’t have, because you’re mine,” Jason told you, “But only to Dick, though. I’m not sure if I want a stranger seeing you naked.”

“I wouldn’t want that too,” you agreed, “It’s fine because it’s Dick. I feel bad for him, though.”

“He deserves it,” Jason grit.

“He can’t help his feelings, Jason,” you frowned at him.

“I know, I know,” Jason sighed, “But I couldn’t help but claim you, as well.”

You smiled at him endearingly, the smile Jason loved so much.

“Don’t worry about it, Jay,” you pecked him on the lips, “It’s us against the world, remember? You and me. Always have been, always will.”

“Yeah,” Jason kissed you back, “Just you and me.”

[mageicalwishes]

Read on AO3: here

Read the previous chapter (On Tumblr): here

Summary: “I’m egging your house for a dare, but you’re parent is a cop and now they’re yelling at me, so I told them you were my ex and you wronged me, and now you’re coming outside, so please just go along with this, I really don’t want to go to jail” AU When Simon Snow agreed to egg some posho’s house, he never thought he’d find himself here - The only thing standing between himself and a criminal charge, the word of a handsome stranger.

Chapter: 5/7

Words: 2,079

Not the most eventful chapter, sorry! But TRUST ... The next 2 chapters are worth it :)

Simon

After last week, me and Baz quickly fell into a routine of texting whenever either of us were free. It was the first thing I did in the morning, and the last thing I did at night (I even found myself waking up earlier, just so that we could speak more). It was a little bit pathetic, really - But, I couldn’t find it in myself to care.

We spoke about everything - Our likes and dislikes, our childhoods, our favourite sports teams, our other friends - You name it, we spoke about it. Well … Everything except what happened last time. We never spoke about that - Although, I figure that, that was probably for the best.  

So, it’s really no surprise that, the second I settled down into the booth to eat, I pulled my phone out and messaged him.

ME (15:19): Hey, hey, hey, Bazzy Bitch!

ME (15:19): How are you doing? :)

BP (15:21): Snow, I am genuinely BEGGING you to stop with the nicknames. Bazzy Bitch … Really? That's atrocious, even for you.

BP (15:22): And, I’m very well, thanks. Yourself?

ME (15:24): Good :) I’m great, thanks!

ME (15:24): And I’m never gonna stop with the nicknames. Never!!!! Not until I find one you like anyways ;) I’ve got a WHOLE list imma work my way through!

ME (15:25): I’m back at the Pizza place we went to together!

ME (15:25): I even got free chips this time :D

BP (15:26): Oh wow - I’m seething with envy. Free artery-clogging chips AND greasy pizza … What a gift!

BP (15:26): And ALL of that, on top of your chocolate pancakes this morning? Your internal organs must be thanking you!

I scoff, aloud, stupidly pleased with his grating wit.

SS (15:27): OI!

SS (15:27): Don't be a sarcastic twat!

SS (15:27): You LOVED the food there. You were practically drooling over it!

SS (15:28): Don't even TRY and deny it!

BP (15:29): It was adequate.

SS (15:28): Exactly! See! You loved it!

SS (15:28): Adequate is Baz talk for “It was the most delicious thing I’ve EVER eaten!”

SS (15:29): You’re just winding me up!

SS (15:29): If you REALLY didn’t like it you’d go all OTT using posho insults … NOT say it was adequate.

SS (15:31): You’d be all like … “Oh, Snow. This is positively ghastly! Atrocious! Lamentable, even! My private chef would never DARE serve me an abhorrent dish!”

BP (15:33): Sure, Snow. Whatever you say.

SS (15:34): You know I’m right! You just don’t wanna admit it.

SS (15:34): Cuz you’re a right dickhead :p

BP (15:35): How rude! I’m hardly a dickhead … I didn’t even make you admit how many of those words you had to Google, Snow!

I roll my eyes (Even though he can’t see them), and type out a simple, yet effective, response …

SS (15:34): Wanker!

Baz

Despite myself, I let out an unnecessarily loud laugh - Helplessly charmed by the idiocy of it all. I mean, seriously, only Simon Snow could call me a wanker, and leave me giggling like a bloody schoolgirl!

Regretfully, my little outburst draws Daphne’s attention away from the twins (Who appear to be trying to kill each other with Lego Duplo blocks), and straight onto me.

“Who are you talking to then, Sweet?” She asks.

“Just a friend,” I snap, my tone far too urgent.

“Okay,” she drawls, clearly having picked up on my unnecessary defensiveness. “Who?”

“Uh - Simon. Nobody you’d know. They’re sort of a new friend.”

“Oh I see. Did you meet him at the club?”

“No,” I snicker (Struggling to imagine somebody like Snow belonging somewhere so unnecessarily snooty, and uptight). “I just … Met him in town the other day. At the cinema.”

“Oh well, that’s nice,” she beams.

“Yeah,” I drone. “Very nice.”

She stares over to me, her full lips quirked up into a soft smile, and her deep brown eyes studying my face closely. She knows. Obviously. She always knows - Bloody mother’s intuition!

“And … Is he …”

She doesn’t have to ask properly, because I know what she’s trying to say.

Daphne has always been accepting of my sexuality. Although, it’s more than that, actually - She’s always been fully open to the idea of it (Not just reluctantly tolerant). Occasionally enquiring about whether I’ve been seeing “Anyone special”, and insisting that I must invite him over for dinner (Even after I tried to tell her that no such person existed). And I just know, that she was behind that infernal “Same-sex sexual education” pamphlet, I found on my bed last summer (It was actually fairly informative, although, I’d really rather have just sought out the information out myself. The humiliation of knowing that she’d read that with me in mind, made me want to set myself on fire).

So, the words that go unsaid when she asks if Simon is …  Are 'Your boyfriend'.

“No,” I sigh. “He’s just a friend. Honest.”

'Just a friend' … The words twist in my mouth, bitter and scornful. And, while it is technically the truth, it feels like a lie.

“Okay. Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I was just curious,” She shrugs. “But … It’s lovely to see you smiling. I’m glad that you found him - Friend, or otherwise.”

“Yeah,” I huff, scrubbing my hands together awkwardly. “Actually ... About Simon. I’ve been meaning to ask. Do you think that he could come over next Friday? For dinner.”

“Of course he can!” She grins. “I’m always telling you, you can invite people over. As long as it’s okay with his parents, that’s perfectly fine by me.”

“Okay. Perfect,” I sigh, pursing my lips, in an attempt to suppress my telltale grin. “Thank you.”

She smiles - Sweet and warm. “Of course.”

“But, just to warn you - He has quite an early curfew,” I stammer. “So - I mean, he has to be back home by eight. So, we may have to have dinner a little early. Is that … still okay?”

“Well, it’s not ideal, but I’m sure I can sort something out.”

“Okay,” I breathe, relieved. “Sorry. I would order a takeaway, or something, but I sort of promised him a homemade meal. The food at his place isn’t exactly the best, and yours is objectively delicious … So, I figured that he'd appreciate a proper meal.”

“Oh you little flatterer,” she says, laughing demurely. “I’ll figure something out, don’t worry. If worst comes to worst, he could always just stay the night - That way we could have dinner at a normal time, and you two wouldn’t have to rush yourselves.”

And there it is - Two whole days with Simon Snow, served up to me on a silver platter. Daphne truly is a superior stepmother.

“Okay. Yeah,” I stutter, my face flushing absurdly. “I mean … I’ll check if he’s allowed, but that would be great. Thank you.”

She smirks lightly, shrugging her shoulders casually (As if she hasn’t just made my entire month). “It’s no problem. It’ll be nice for you to have some company.”

Elated, I scoop up my phone and fire out a quick text to Snow. But, before I can hit send, I remember - Father.

“Uh - Daphne,” I mumble. “Actually … I was going to ask - Do you think that you could not tell Father?”

Her face folds into a frown - Her eyebrows falling, and her eyes squeezing shut, as though pained by my request.

“Basil,” she sighs. “If that’s really what you want, then of course I’ll keep it a secret. But, your Father doesn’t care about you having friends over. Even if they’re boys … Even if they’re more than just a friend -”

I scoff, unconvinced.

“- He loves you Basil. I know it. He talks about you all the time - How proud he is of you, how smart he thinks you are, how much you remind him of her. He thinks the world of you … Even if he refuses to show it. And, I know that he didn’t exactly respond well to your coming out, but he still cares for you. Trust me, I understand that it’s desperately unfair that you should have to wait, but … He will come around. Even if I have to drag him there kicking and screaming myself! You don’t have to hide yourself away in your own house. I don’t want that for you. He doesn’t want that for you.”

I scrunch my face up, unsure of what to say.

“It isn’t that,” I murmur, my voice frustratingly weak. “I just … I don’t want him to know. Father has sort of met Simon before. But ... He didn’t exactly make the best first impression. So, I’d rather he not know that Simon was here.”

“Oh?” she chuckles, her curiosity peaked. “What did he do?”

I falter, gawping at her stupidly. “The egging … That was Simon.”

She grins wickedly, clearly amused.

“But it was just a joke!” I continue. “He’s a really, really nice guy once you get to know him. And, he’d never do something like that normally! It was just a stupid game that went a little too far. And he was super, super sorry - He came back to clean it, and everything.”

“Okay, okay,” she chuckles. “We all make mistakes, Basil. I won’t hold it against him. But … You’re right - It’s probably best if we keep Simon away from your father. Don’t worry, Sweet. Your secret’s safe with me.”

————————————————————————————

Simon

BP (15:51): Good news, Snow - You’ve been invited to dinner. Friday. My place. Sound okay?

BP (15:52): And, don't worry, Father is in Oxford over the weekend, so you’ll be perfectly safe.

I smile down at my phone, ecstatically happy.

ME (15:52): Haha defo :D

ME (15:52): Dinner sounds great!

ME (15:53): What time did you want me to come over?

BP (15:54): I was thinking 11am-ish. That way we could spend the entire day together.

ME (15:54): Okay yeah. Sure :) Sounds fabbbb.

BP (15:57): Yes.

BP (15:57): Actually, speaking of spending the day together - My stepmother said that you could stay the night, if you’d like. That way you wouldn’t have to stress about being back in time for your curfew. Forgive me, but I’m not entirely sure whether you’re actually allowed to go to sleepovers - But, if you are, then you’re more than welcome to stay.

BP (15:58): And, we’d be in separate rooms, and everything. Obviously. So you don't need to worry about that.

I wasn’t really worried about that, to be honest. I can imagine much worse than spending the night with Baz. Although, I won’t tell him that - That is definitely far too forward.

BP (15:58): And if you’d rather not, then that’s fine obviously. It’s just an option.

Exhilarated - A manic grin breaks across my face, my cheeks aching with the force of it. If anyone were to look up at me right now, they’d probably think that I was mildly demented (Although, to be fair, I’m not entirely sure that I’m not - I do feel slightly mad with it all).

Irritatingly exposed, I slink off to the bathroom for some privacy.

ME (16:00): Of course I’m allowed to go to sleepovers, you plonker! It’s a children’s home … Not a prison.

BP (16:01): The strict 8PM curfew suggests otherwise.

ME (16:01): Aha lol true :D

ME (16:03): But nah, seriously. I’ve never actually been to a sleepover, but I’m pretty sure I just have to, like, ask my social worker. They’ll probs need to do some sort of check, and then I’m good. They’re normally fairly chill about that kind of stuff tbh, as long as you ask. And, I’m 17 now, not 6 - So I doubt they’ll have a problem with it.

ME (16:04): They might need your parents number, though. Just to like … Call and check I’m not just bullshitting them :’)

ME (16:04): Dunno. I’ll go ask them in a sec.

ME (16:05): But if they say I can, I defo wanna sleepover.

ME (16:05): It'll be nice not to have to run off after a few hours for once :)

BP (16:07): Definitely.

BP (16:07): Enough chatting, though, Snow. Go and ask, before you forget! I need definitive answers ASAP! Chop-chop!

ME (16:05): Alright, alright! Keep your wig on, you impatient git! I’ll go and ask now. So … Ttyl :D

[aconstellationofmemories]

Good Parents

This fic is dedicated to @unicornbeauty290, who has her big day ahead of her soon. I wrote this as a way to commemorate the happy ocassion. It's not good but I hope you like it, Liyah. I challenged myself with this one. Just know that I'm dead from writing this fic. (How dare you rush the birthday girl, haha.)

Bonus points to those who caught the Clannad reference!

Word Count: 2.6k (my longest yet omg).

AO3

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

“Gray-sama! Over here.” Juvia tugged Gray by his arm. He let her pull him as she weaved them through the crowd.

Earlier at the guild, she had gabbered about a popular dessert shop and the satisfied reviews from their customers. Their desserts were supposedly spectacular, especially their ice sherbets – a must try, she said.

Although in reality she spent half an hour just talking about the shop’s desserts, he felt like it was an eternity. He would never admit it to her – he couldn’t hurt her feelings, no matter how boring it was – but he had zoned out a few times.

Her chatter stopped abruptly when she stared up at him with puppy eyes and asked him to try their popular dessert with her. She had said something about how it’d be a memorable occasion if he accompanied her on one of their anniversaries.

When she put it that way, he didn’t have it in him to deny her. Coupled with the loving way she gazed up at him, like he was somebody special, and he was a goner.

So here he was.

Getting dragged, and not complaining about it.

Gray didn’t know who he was anymore.

With her skilful manoeuvres, they arrived at the dessert shop in no time. She turned to him enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Gray-sama, can you pay for Juvia?”

He frowned, puzzled by her request. "You don't have any money?" he asked in a neutral tone.

"Juvia does but she'd like you to."

"All right." It was his plan to buy it for her in the first place.

"Gray-sama's treating Juvia!" she exclaimed in disbelief.

"Huh?" He wasn't getting where she was going.

"But Gray-sama shouldn't mind paying." She suddenly turned serious.

He never felt more confused in his life. "Why?" he dared to ask.

"Because it's for Juvia."

He sighed. Despite being on the receiving end of her fantasies countless times, they never failed to befuddle him. She appeared as excited as a child who was about to get her first taste of a sweet. He didn't have the heart to dampen her excitement, so he played along with her.

Yeah, he needed a brawl with Natsu later to confirm he was still Gray.

“One blueberry sher–”

“Ya naughty little thief! Ya ain’t getting away this time!”

He glanced sideways to the direction of the noise just in time to see a boy tossed to the ground. The baker towered threateningly over him, casting a looming shadow. The child cowered and crawled back a few inches, a bread in his lap.

“P-please...” the boy pleaded, his voice breaking.

“I need to teach ya a lesson, ya little thief,” the baker spat out.

With his hand raised, he smacked down to hit the boy.

To the man’s surprise, a streak of ice swiftly crossed his path and blocked his slap. His palm hit a pointed shard of ice and instantly withdrew his hand in pain. “What the...”

Standing protectively in front of the child, Gray levelled the man a glowering look. “It’s you who needs a lesson.”

He heard Juvia rush to the child’s side from behind him. “It’s all right, you’re safe now,” she tried to console the boy.

“Don’t meddle in business that ain’t yours, young fella,” the baker warned, glaring at Gray.

“It’s sure as hell is mine when you’re hurting a kid,” he countered, his voice hard.

“This wee thief can’t keep his hands off my breads. I ain’t letting him off the hook. And now I ain’t letting you off the hook either.”

The baker charged toward Gray and swung his fists at him. Gray, now sans his jacket, deftly dodged his attacks by evading to the side. He bounced back a few steps and placed his hands in his Ice Make stance. “Ice Make: Hammer!” A large ice hammer appeared out of thin air above the man and slammed down on him. The attacked knocked the man out cold.

“Let’s see if anyone buys from you after this,” Gray muttered in distaste.

The crowd that gathered while they fought shouted their cheers for the ice mage. He ignored them and pivoted on his heels to check on the boy. The child peeped at him from behind Juvia while clutching her dress.

“Gray-sama was amazing as always.” She offered his discarded jacket.

He took it and put it on. “How’s the kid?” he scanned the shy boy.

“Besides some old minor injuries, he’s okay. Juvia thinks he’s starved,” she replied, concerned.

“What’s your name?” Gray asked. The child didn’t answer. He tried another approach. “Wanna eat something?” He smiled a little to reassure shy fella.

The boy’s eyes immediately brightened. “Yes!” he said, fisting Juvia’s dress and the stolen bread in his small hands.

“Come to my shop!” a lady from the crowd stepped forward with her offer. “I’ll treat you guys for kicking that high and mighty arse.”

“Well, it isn’t necessary... We can pay for our meals,” Gray said awkwardly, raising a hand to the back of his head.

“You young ones hush and come over, will you?” the lady demanded.

“Let’s go, Gray-sama!” Juvia tugged his arm for Mavis knows how many times it had been today.

While he appeared somewhat annoyed by her public displays of affection, he was in fact secretly enjoying it. The sensation of her soft curves against his was a lovely bonus. Another thing I would never admit to her. She was crazy enough as it is; Gray didn’t need her craziness to be multiplied upon his confession.

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

As soon as the waiter served the plate of curry rice, the child jumped right in to feast on it. Gray and Juvia reminded him repeatedly that no one was going to steal his food, therefore he could eat slowly. The normally timid boy paid no attention to them as he munched on his food. The plate was wiped clean in mere moments.

Gray nudged the second serving to him, and he gobbled the meal down just as quickly. With the second plate licked clean of any leftover, the boy rested against his seat and patted his bulging stomach.

“Are you full now?” Juvia asked cheerily from beside him.

Her voice jolted him back to his fearful self as he straightened. His nervous hazel eyes flickered to them. “T-thank you...for saving me and feeding me...”

“It was nothing,” Gray said nonchalantly.

“Don’t mention it.” Juvia smiled brightly at the boy. “Do you have a home?”

He fidgeted in his seat and squeezed his hands. “T-the street is my home. I was abandoned.”

The boy might as well have grabbed hold of Gray’s heart and squeezed it than his own tiny hands. He had expected the answer, but it didn’t make him any less pained to hear it confirmed. There was a flicker of a grimace on the ice mage’s face before it passed.

Juvia gasped, a frown marring her features. “That’s so sad.”

“I-I don’t have anywhere else to go.” His gaze dropped to the ground.

“I know a place,” Gray said. The boy lifted up his head, his interest piqued. “They’ll take care of you. Do you want to go there?”

The boy remained silent.

“We can’t just leave you in the streets,” Juvia said softly.

“W-will I have food?” He fixed his gaze on Gray for the first time.

Of course, the first question he asked was about food. Gray wasn’t one to indulge in pity – it never got you anywhere – but he couldn’t help the slight tightening of his heart for the boy. His heart ached a little when he imagined the suffering the child must have gone through.

“Every day, whenever you want,” he said softly.

The light returned to his eyes. “Yes, I do!”

Apparently you just had to mention food and the boy was on for anything.

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

The sun had dipped down the horizon and painted the sky with shades of orange and purple when the trio arrived at a church. Back when they were kids, Cana had mentioned to him that she lived in this church orphanage before she joined Fairy Tail. They took good care of her, she had told him, even though the Father was odd. Just the other day, he heard that she brought Wendy to visit the children at the church.

“I must fix the child’s fashion sense,” Father Block said, contemplating as he fixed his critical gaze on the boy’s tattered clothes.

“Seriously, Father? The kid is homeless, for God’s sake.” Of all the things, Gray couldn’t believe he had to point that out.

“Worry not, I’ll give him a brilliant makeover.” The Father’s eyes gleamed with all the ideas he imagined.

“That wasn’t what I was worried about...” He was beginning to doubt it was a good idea to bring the boy here.

He glanced over a couple of steps ahead of them where Juvia sat on her haunches in front of the boy. Their conversation was barely audible from where Gray and Father Block stood.

“But...” the boy squeezed his hands and stared at the ground. “I-I’ve never mixed with people. What if they make fun of me because I-I’m different? What if I don’t fit in?”

“They won’t. The children here would love to be your friends, Juvia knows it.”

“I-I’m scared,” he admitted.

She brushed back the hair from his face and smiled comfortingly at him. “It’s all right to be scared; you’re starting a new adventure. But this time, you won’t be alone. You’ll have friends to cry and laugh with and they will hold your hand.” She gently held his small hand in hers. “You’ll be all right. Juvia promises there will be happy times ahead.”

Tears began to well in his pure, innocent eyes as he stared at her. Swallowing back his tears, the boy nodded his head at her. She gave him a proud smile and hugged him.

Gray could feel his cold heart thawing in his chest as he watched them. Juvia was by far the most caring person he’d ever met. They were polar opposites – Juvia and him. Where he preferred to withhold from affectionate gestures, she went out of her way to express her love. Where he was an arse who chased people away with his frigid behaviour, she was the loving person whose presence was the glorious light after the spring rain.

Gray didn’t know what she saw in him to have stuck by him despite his coldness. What did I do to deserve her?

When he pondered about it, he realised they weren’t that different from Laxus and Mira in that regard. However, in their case, he couldn’t understand why sweet Mira put up with the lightning bastard. Gray was an arse – with how openly he displayed it, one could even say he was proud of it – but even he wasn’t as big of a smug arse as Laxus. He snickered. Both of us don’t deserve our woman.

Juvia led the boy back to Father Block. Unlike the scared and withdrawn child he was all along, the boy seemed to have abandoned some of his fears as he held his head up. He appeared the most confident Gray had ever seen him. Must have been Juvia.

“We’re leaving him in your care then, Father,” Gray said.

“We will take good care of him,” the priest replied. He offered his hand to the boy who promptly took it. Without hesitation, Gray noted.

“O-one thing...” the boy braced himself to look at Gray in the eye. “I-I hope I will be like you one day.”

Caught by surprise at his admission, he stiffened in his posture. Be like me?

“I want to be s-someone who protects the weak, just like you.”

Stunned, Gray was rendered speechless for a few moments before he blinked out of it. He ruffled the boy’s hair and gave him a small smile. “You should stop by Fairy Tail sometime. We can teach you magic.”

“Gray-sama’s right! You can play with Wendy-san too.”

“Ah, Wendy. The children had so much fun with her the other day,” the priest reminisced.

The boy’s eyes widened in wonder at the prospect. “Mmh!” he uttered in agreement, nodding excitedly.

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

Having said their goodbyes to Father Block and the boy, Gray strolled alongside Juvia with his hands deep in his pockets. He anchored his attention on the ground. There were certain things which had been bothering his mind. Once they were a safe distance from the church, he mustered the courage to voice his concerns.

“Do...do you think I’m a good role model, Juvia? If I had a kid, would I be a good father?” he blurted out.

“Gray-sama.” Her voice was suddenly serious. She turned to fix her kind gaze on him and smiled. “Gray-sama is already a good man. Gray-sama would be a good father as well, just like father-in-law.”

Tensing at the mention of his father, he suddenly halted in his steps. The memories he had of his father played in his mind – how he felt on top of the world when Silver sat him on his broad shoulders, the snowball fights they had in the snow, and his dad’s boisterous laughter filling the walls of their home.

His heart constricted painfully in his chest. The time he spent with his father was achingly short.

Yet, despite having so little time together, Gray remembered he felt safe with him. If he was afraid to try out a new thing, or if the past was caging him in a mental prison, Silver always nudged him forward into the future. Most importantly, he believed in Gray.

In short, Silver was both an outstanding father and an honourable man.

Gray wasn’t sure if he could be as good as his dad – or if he was good enough for anyone to look up to him.

“You think so?” His uncertainty leaked into his voice.

She smiled confidently at him. “Juvia is certain. Gray-sama is Gray-sama after all.”

Staring at her with in stunned silence, he allowed himself to feel her faith washing over him. It seeped into every fibre of his being and cleansed his doubts, instilling confidence in their place.

The corners of his mouth curved up slightly in a rare display of a soft smile.

Recalling how she comforted the scared child earlier, he inhaled in some courage to say his thoughts out loud. Say it, you idiot. He forced his next words out.

“I-I think you’d be a good mum too, Juvia,” he said awkwardly with slight heat in his cheeks.

“Gray-sama!” she exclaimed, shocked. She stared him with a luminous glow of happiness in her eyes.

Shit. He was glad that the attention was diverted from his feelings of inadequacy, but her daydreaming posed another headache. Her wildly exaggerated ideas could get out of hand quickly.

Gray immediately took a deep breath. He sent up a quick prayer to whichever god was listening to save him.

“Juvia would be happy to have Gray-sama’s baby,” she said dreamily. She clung to him, lost in her own world.

Flustered by her sudden change in demeanour, he stumbled sideways with Juvia still clutching his arm tightly. The colour in his cheeks rivalled the bright hue of the sunset sky.

“I never said that!” They were on entirely different wavelengths.

“There’s no need to be shy, Gray-sama. Juvia understands.”

“The hell you do!” He didn’t want to know what exactly she understood.

“How many children does Gray-sama wants?”

“None!”

“But Gray-sama, we have to get married first. When is our wedding date?”

He didn’t bother trying to correct her by that point. She was too far gone to hear his words properly. Mavis knows how she’ll interpret whatever he would say.

The gods must be having the time of their lives watching his torture. Curse them, he thought with a faint smile on his face.