#ask a grouchy old woman

[gladyscontrerasart]

What are your thoughts on the hokkiado arc so far?

Honestly, I’m not particularly interested. It feels like a forced story. Things feel like they’re happening just to happen rather then to build up/move a story along.

One of the points that bugs me is that Kaoru is supposed to be looking for her father and 50 chapters later, she hasn’t done anything other then be a mom and stay at a hotel. Her’s is the inciting incident to get the story going and she’s barely there. Finding her father has become maybe a tertiary plot line? Do any of the other characters even care anymore?

I’m not sure how to feel about the other Shinsengumi characters being introduced because, again, they’re not doing much to further the plot. If you cut them from the story, the story still happens. Other then Nagakura & Abe, they’re all just kinnda there, airing out grievance from over a decade ago.

I love the idea of the Juppongatana siding and fighting with Kenshin & gang. But they’ve been cast aside like Kaoru. The last time they all showed up as a team Kenshin saved the day and there was no need for them. Maybe these next few chapters will have everyone shine on their own.

I don’t know, maybe it’ll make sense in the end. But I feel the Hokkaido Arch came out in that time when sequels were a thing. When companies were looking at their popular IPs and asking for sequels even if the stories were done and didn’t need one.

[bunniekittiee]

Hi! Hi! Sorry for asking, mind if I ask if you are open request for the hc or fic? Since I have a brilliant idea, about Bi-han and bi-han s/o.

"They fell first, they fell harder but he never fell. He fell too late until he realized he's late for apologize."

I’ll answer this in headcanons and a little drabble just because I’ve been cranking out fics like crazy so I need something else to switch it up. This is kind of long ngl but I couldn't help it. Might have some spelling errors.

Reader gets referred to as a woman and such, so fem. reader.

Bi-Han x Reader; Raiden x Reader

If you are married to Bi-Han for your clans sake, he sees your marriage as a business ordeal.

To him, he is not romantically interested because he only married you for clan purposes. He does not love you.

That is the sad truth and truly it bothers you.

A marriage was supposed to be based around love and support, not business.

However Bi-Han saw it differently.

There is not many interactions between you two. He stays away and you stay out of his way.

You eat dinner together but there is not much conversation. Sometimes he will talk about certain events, but he will never really ask about your day.

If he does, he is just curious to know what you have done while he’s been tending to his duties.

There is nothing special about the bed time routine.

He will stay on his side of the bed and sleep with his back turned to you.

The nights can feel really lonely and make you really sad.

Sometimes he will lower the temperature of the bed so it doesn’t get too hot.

To keep you somewhat comfortable.

But what you truly crave is the touch of the man you married.

Although Bi-Han is standoffish and not exactly the most welcoming, you have still fallen in love with him.

Every imperfection of Bi-Han is just an extra part of him to love.

He sees it in your eyes when he catches your gaze, and honestly it strokes his big ass ego that you are in love with him.

He cannot say the same for you, though. :(

You like to do special things for him to get his attention and appreciation.

Such as cooking his favorite meals, preparing his uniforms, even going as far as stitching together his ruined ones.

He appreciates it, he may not exactly show it but he does, however he feels that you are simply doing this to make him love you.

So it can kind of annoy him.

You try to show him some sorts of affection, but Bi-Han will only really allow kisses. He will reject hugs often.

It hurts but at least you can still show him some affection.

Kuai Liang and Tomas both see how much you love Bi-Han, but they see that look in their brother’s eyes.

Void of any infatuation of you, let alone romance.

They will comfort you when you feel unloved and uncared for.

Tomas wishes the circumstances were different for you, but he tells you that maybe one day Bi-Han will realize that he does love you.

Kuai Liang shoots him a look that says ‘don’t give her hope’.

They don’t want you to be hurt or to hold onto Bi-Han in hopes of him returning the same feelings.

Kuai Liang and Tomas took you out to eat dinner at Madame Bo's which is where you met some of their friends. It was Johnny, Raiden, Kung Lao, and Kenshi.

They were interested in you as you were a new face, and Kuai Liang introduced you as the Grandmaster's wife. Johnny thinks that you are too stunning for grouchy old Bi-Han.

"You are married to Bi-Han?" Johnny asks in almost complete shock. "I didn't even know he was married. How did he get so lucky with a pretty woman like you?"

Blushing at his words, you just smile. Kung Lao rolls his eyes. "Stop flirting with the Grandmaster's wife, otherwise your head will end up on a ice pick."

"It will all be worth it in the end." Johnny replies with a small wink at you. Kenshi chuckles quietly.

Kuai Liang notices how Raiden looks at you, his mouth slightly agape at your beautiful form. He thinks it is a little funny but also sweet. He almost wished Bi-Han would do the same for you. He sees Raiden's eyes travel down to take you in completely, wearing blue and black to match Bi-Han's uniforms. Matching with Bi-Han who hardly ever took you out.

Tomas is a little oblivious to it, he doesn't see it at first until Kuai Liang points it out. You and Raiden strike up a conversation, and the Thunder God is fumbling over his words. He has a serious blush on his cheeks, and Kung Lao almost feels bad for the inexperienced Raiden. You, however, think it's very cute. You relish in the attention he gives you because Bi-Han hardly ever paid any mind to you. It makes you feel good, it makes you feel wanted.

There is some guilt that gnaws at you though. Almost as if you are doing something bad behind Bi-Han's back, but his siblings were sitting a couple feet away from you, so it wasn't bad right? By the end of the night, Raiden has fallen head over heels for your kind, compassionate personality. Just like Johnny, he wondered what Bi-Han did to deserve such a sweetheart like you. He feels disappointed when it is time for you to leave with the brothers. The moment you leave, everyone is grilling him.

"You made it super obvious that you are interested, Raiden." Kenshi states humorously. "I could hear your heart race from here."

Raiden internally groans. "Was it really that obvious?"

"Totally Thunder Lad. But she was enjoying the attention." Johnny grinned mischeviously. "I don't think Bi-Han is exactly taking care of her."

"It's Bi-Han, he probably treats his wife like she's a warrior." Kung Lao said as he took a sip of his tea.

You are on Raiden's mind at every possible moment after he first meets you. He seriously could not wait to see you again even though he felt like it was wrong. You were married to another man, but you were too good for him.

Kuai Liang and Tomas discuss that night in their chambers about how Raiden was acting.

They honestly think it was cute to see you both interacting with each other. they thought of puppy love when they saw you together.

But they knew it was good to be wary because of Bi-Han. He may not have loved you, but you were still his wife.

Bi-Han asks you how your night was with his brothers. He sees that dazed look in your eyes and wonders what happened.

You just tell him you met their friends. Bi-Han just nods his head and tells you that he is glad that you had a good time. But he is wondering why you seem much more giddier.

It feels so wrong, but you continue to think about Raiden. When you make dinners for Bi-Han or do little tasks, you pretend that you are doing them for Raiden.

To get the look of approval and love that Bi-Han never shared with you.

Kuai and Tomas wonder if it is better to have you separate from Bi-Han. Although the word of divorce would not be a good look, it is better than possibly committing adultery.

Then they wonder if Bi-Han will willingly let you go.

They try to bring it up to him in different ways and Bi-Han never really catches on.

Until one day, Kuai Liang brings it up outright and Bi-Han is a little taken aback.

But Bi-Han thinks about it. Although he shared a life with you, you were not exactly in it.

Impulsively, he decides. Might as well break it off now, and he negotiates another deal with your old clan.

When he broke the news, you felt your heart break. Even though you were starting to think about Raiden, your heart was still with Bi-Han.

Kuai and Tomas felt horrible when they saw how awful you felt, but they knew it would work out for you in the end. It was better this way, they were convinced.

You moved back with your clan, and you thought that Kuai and Tomas would stop taking you out, but they did not. They still kept in touch with you often. They never brought up Bi-Han or talked about him out of respect for you.

The other Earthrealmers heard about your split from Bi-Han and they knew it would not last too long.

Raiden felt liable for your divorce, but part of him was joyous. Without Bi-Han in the picture, he had a chance.

Kuai and Tomas took you out again to Madame Bo's when you felt like you were ready.

Raiden is in awe of how free and wonderful you look. It was as if you had gotten more stunning after your relationship with Bi-Han ended.

Seeing Raiden makes your heart flutter and you immediately sit by him.

Johnny makes a comment about how the Lin Kuei colors were not fitting for you and you laugh.

Raiden feels himself start to get flustered when you two interact. You both are much more handsy but in innocent ways.

Kung Lao cannot help that stupid grin on his face and he gives Raiden a look. Raiden rolls his eyes.

As the night continues, you and Raiden are in your own world.

When it is time to leave, Raiden walks you home. You get the courage to tell him that you are interested in him, but you feel that it is too soon to get into another relationship.

He completely understands, and he takes your hands and tells you that he would wait an eternity to be with such a wonderful woman like you.

You become flustered and both say goodbye. He cannot help but smile like a madman when he is walking back.

When it is time, Raiden is so thrilled. He feels honored to be with someone similar to him.

Your heart swells with love when you see Raiden. He makes you feel much more appreciated and adored than Bi-Han had ever done.

Kuai and Tomas congratulate you both on your new relationship. They are happy for you, and it is good to see you in a happy, equal relationship.

However, Bi-Han was troubled. He did not notice it at first, and it did not hit him right away until more time passed. His chambers were empty, there were no more warm meals from you, he had to be treated in med bay for his wounds instead of you taking care of him, his uniforms were never patched up, he never got to wake up to you next to him. The Arctika felt lonely without your presence. He ate dinner with his brothers, but the empty spot next to him made him long for you.

He did not realize how much of a difference you made in his life. With your sweet kisses that you pressed to his face or his lips or the loving gaze you had when you crossed paths with him.

His moods faltered. He really started to miss you, and his brothers could see that he was struggling. They felt culpable because they convinced him to divorce, but it was for your own good. Deep down, they both knew you deserved better than Bi-Han. And you did get better, you had Raiden.

The brothers were able to convince Bi-Han to go out for dinner. Just the three of them. Bi-Han surprisingly agreed, but he still felt melancholy. It upset him that his wife could not go with them. So he was in a sour mood when they arrived.

Raiden always took you out no matter what, he loved being with you and showing you off. His friends were overjoyed that you both were a couple now. Kung Lao always teased you both. But truly, they were happy.

Sitting at the table with the men, your eyes were met with cold, hurting brown eyes. Your breath slightly hitched as Bi-Han watched Raiden's arm snake around your waist while he was talking. His eyes narrowed and his face was screwed up in displeasure. Seeing Raiden touch you in intimate ways made Bi-Han clench his jaw as he furiously watched as Raiden held your hand with his free one. It should have been Bi-Han holding you. It should have been him next to you. You should have been with him tonight, not Raiden.

But Bi-Han saw how happy you looked with him. He saw you show emotions that he never saw from you when you were with him. It made him regretful. He should have been better with you.

He turned his eyes away from you and stared at the table. Tomas and Kuai Liang both felt the miserable energy radiating from Bi-Han. He was too late to change things. You were happy with someone else. And that was final. He could not change a thing about it. Although he badly wanted to grab you and take you back to the Arctika, he could not bring himself to move. You were not his.

[watchmegetobsessed]

MISTAKEN HATRED

A/N: okay im veeery nervous about this one bc its the longest story i've written in probably months and it took me sooo long to finish it so im just praying its not utter shit 🙃 anywaysss, happy holidays guys! it's not overly festive, but it has some vibes so im labeling it as my xmas fic haha feedback is always appreciated! 🎄

WORD COUNT: 6.3k

SUMMARY: Things don't go as smooth as you planned with your bakery's opening, but you're doing your best to overcome the struggles. However there is one person who is hating on your business as if it was his job: Harry Styles. You just wish you knew what you did to earn his hatred...

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

This is not how you imagined the last weeks before your official opening. 

You imagined the interrior to be fully done by now so you can focus on the last touches, ordering the right ingredients and promoting the opening.

Instead, you’re staring at what’s supposed to be your eight tables, intact and put together but it’s all in pieces. You specifically remember the website said they would deliver them done and you wouldn’t have to play puzzles. But they arrived six days late and very much not the way they promised. 

Taking a deep breath you stare up at the ceiling and decide to take the trash out before turning your bakery into Ikea.

“It’s alright. I can do this. I can do anything,” you keep telling yourself as you drag out the trash bags that are almost the size of you. 

You knew opening your own business would be tough. Especially in Eroda, the little town you have some of your earliest memories from, where your grandma used to live, the place that was closest to her heart and it breaks yours to know she couldn’t spend her last years here because she was too sick to live on her own. 

She never asked you to come back here, but the moment you found her recipe books the summer after she passed, you just knew what you had to do. Now it’s been three years and you’re finally opening Nana’s that will bring her warmth and love back to Eroda, or you hope so. 

Pushing the door open with your shoulder, you keep dragging the bags to the containers behind the small shop and you’re so deep in your thoughts you don’t even notice the two people just a couple of feet away.

“Hi, Love!”

You recognize Anne’s sweet, chirpy voice and a smile spreads across your face even before you look up, but the moment you see the person standing next to her, all joy just drains from your body. 

Harry Styles is standing as grouchy and arrogant as always next to his mother, hands hidden in the pockets of his fleece jacket, his unruly curls are tucked underneath his beanie and any normal woman would be into the man, but you. Not after he very clearly let you know you don’t belong here and you should take your business back to the city where you came from. 

You expected some resistance, not much has changed in town in the past decades and you had a feeling some might want to keep it that way, but you guessed older people would riot against your bakery, not a thirty years old grown man. 

“Hi Anne,” you smile back and mustering up all your strength you throw one of the bags into the bin, but you overestimated your muscle work, because it only falls to the edge and almost topples right out. Luckily, you grab it just in time and push it in.

“Oh, dear, those bags are bigger than you! Harry, help her!” 

“No, it’s alri–” 

Before you get to protest, Harry strides over to you and grabs the remaining two bags as if they weighed nothing and throws them into the bin without breaking a sweat. 

Of course he is fit, the man probably runs up the hill carrying twice his weight every morning, because that’s how you can imagine him working out. 

Though you shouldn’t be imagining anything about him.

“Thanks,” you purse your lips and square your shoulders as you face the two of them.

“How is everything coming together?”

Anne has been so enthusiastic about your bakery, she comes around probably every other day, checks in on your progress and always offers her help. 

“Um, it is… okay, I guess,” you let out a tired chuckle. Glancing over at Harry you see him looking to the side, as if he wasn’t even listening, but something is telling you he is very much focused on the conversation.

Yeah, that’s right, I’m still here! Not even your arrogance can chase me away!

Anne cranes her neck, peeking into the shop and she spots the pile in the middle.

“Oh, are you planning to put those together by yourself? Harry, why don’t you help her?”

The moment she suggests, you both protest.

“No, there’s no need.”

“Mum, I don’t really have the time,” he says at the same time, but it doesn’t seem to go through. Anne’s phone starts ringing and she excuses herself, leaving the two of you there. 

Great, this is all you were missing today, an awkward, forced situation with the man who wants to see you gone. Perfect.

“Should’ve ordered them done, don’t you think?” he speaks up, nodding towards the shop.

At first, you just blink at him, then close your eyes and when you open them, you have the fakest smile on your twitching face.

“What a wonderful idea! I totally did not think of that!”

“Then send them back and ask them to bring what you ordered.” He rolls his eyes and it’s irking you so much. You definitely don’t need his stupid advices, not when you’re terribly behind your schedule.

“They arrived almost a week later than they should have, if I send them back there’s now ay they will send me the new ones in time for the opening.”

Harry stands there, staring at the pile of furniture pieces inside and for a moment you think he might actually offer his help, which you’re not sure you’d have accepted, but it remains a mystery, because that’s not what he says when he speaks up.

“I’m busy for real. Mum likes to offer my help around without asking me.”

It takes you a couple of moments to figure out what you feel about what he just said. And when you finally do, you see red.

“As I said, I don’t need help. I did everything by myself and I will get this done as well. I don’t need your unwanted, half-assed effort to pretend like you’re helping me.”

You come off rougher than you probably should have, but he’s been bugging you ever since you moved to Eroda. The man knows nothing about you or your business, yet every time he comes near your shop he acts like it physically pains him to even look at it. He’d be the last person you’d ask for help, he doesn’t have to act like he has so much to do and doesn’t have the time to help when he doesn’t actually want to help. 

Harry stares at you with such intensity you almost break and stutter a sorry out, but that’s when Anne returns.

“Ah, we have to run. But I will come by tomorrow, Darling. And Harry can hel–”

“No need for help,” you smile at her as gratefully as you can force yourself to be in this moment. 

“Alright, then see you later,” she waves and you nod at her before your eyes meet Harry’s one last time before they walk away and you return to your shop. 

It takes you six hours to assemble the tables later that day, but you do it.

With no help. 

Moving to Eroda, it hasn’t been your only goal to have your business become part of the town but you also knew you’d have to become one of the locals as well. Only a handful of people know who your grandmother was and you don’t plan to reveal it until the opening. You want them to taste all the baked goods and think of her first and then put the picture together. But this means you’re a total newbie for most people around. Last time you spent more than just a day here was when you were sixteen and you’ve changed a lot since then, so it’s natural people don’t recognize you. 

Anne has been your biggest help in breaking the ice and involving you in as many things as possible so you get to meet the people of Eroda. The weeks leading up to Christmas are usually filled with all kinds of winter activities locals enjoy wholeheartedly. Concert by the town hall, decorating the trees at the main square, collecting donations and cooking for those in need for example. You’ve been to all of these and very much enjoyed being part of the community. This weekend however, you can’t say you’re looking forward to the new festive activity.

Ice-skating on the frozen lake.

It sounds nice and fun, but you’ve ice-skated only once in your life and ended up breaking your wrist. Not your favorite childhood memory for sure and you don’t exactly want to relive it as an adult. 

You arrive with the intention of just sipping some hot tea and watch everyone else skate around until your fingers are falling off and you can go back to the shop to finish putting up the tinker lights at the back. 

Anne however had different ideas about today. Because as soon as you arrive at the lake, she is waving at you, holding up a pair of skates and you know they are not hers, because she’s already wearing those. 

“Kick those boots off, Love, I brought you my old skates! Come join us!” She smiles brightly at you from next to the pier where people get on and off the ice. 

“Oh, no, I don’t skate, Anne, but thank you!”

“Don’t be silly, even Bernie is on the ice!” She nods towards the old man who must be at least eighty, sliding on the ice as if he did this all his life. He might have, you have no idea.

“It’s really not for me, I–”

“Just try it! Come on!” 

She drops the skates by your feet and then slides away, leaving you no chance to protest.

Staring down at the skates, you can feel your stomach churning, but as you look up you see that literally everyone is on the ice, you’d look weird standing on the pier on your own. 

“Fuck,” you mumble under your breath as you give in and sitting down you start peeling your boots off your feet. 

“You’ll break your ankle if you leave it that loose.”

You know the voice and it just adds to your stress even more. You see his black skates in front of you as you’re trying to lace your own up.

“Hi Harry, so good to see you again,” you hiss through your teeth. 

“Tighten it or you’ll fall.”

“I’ll fall either way,” you mumble as you go back and pull the laces tighter. When you’re done you straighten up, but remain sitting on the end of the pier, anxiously string down at your feet. Harry doesn’t speak, but you know he is still there, probably watching you, trying to figure out what’s wrong with you, why you’re not just standing up and going at it like everyone else. 

Your hands are holding onto the wood underneath you for dear life as you picture yourself finally moving, but you never get to actually acting. 

“Do you need help standing up?” Harry speaks up at last and his voice is different this time. It’s not as arrogant, maybe even concerned. Do you look that awful right now?

“N-No.” Your voice cracks and you hate that it’s him who sees you like this. 

“Doesn’t seem like–”

“Would you stop being an asshole for a moment?” you snap at him and finally look up, eyes meeting his examining gaze. You have no idea what he sees in yours, but a few seconds later he breaks eye-contact, looks around as if he is hesitating before he sits beside you at last.

“You don’t have to skate if you don’t want to.”

“Tell that to your mother,” you mumble under your breath and it makes him laugh.

The sound of it is actually nice, surprising, but nice to hear something other than insults coming from his mouth.

“She can be a bit too much, but she’s just too enthusiastic.” You sit in silence for a bit before Harry turns to you. “You really don’t have to skate.”

“I want to take part, I just… I broke my wrist on the ice once when I was a kid and I haven’t tried skating since then.”

You didn’t plan on telling him much, but you felt like you had to explain why you’re being so dramatic. Part of you is expecting him to make fun of you for being scared of skating because of something that happened ages ago, but the arrogant comments never come.

Instead he stands up and when you look up at him he is holding a hand out to you.

“I’ll help you. You won’t fall.”

Any other day you’d think he is plotting against you, that he would get you to trust him and the trip you the first chance he got, but not this time. He looks and sounds genuine and as you take his hand, you put way too much trust into them than you would have ever allowed yourself to. 

You hold onto him with both hands and he keeps you steady as you finally attempt to push yourself up from the edge of the pier. Your knees wobble the moment your weight is on the blades and you instantly feel yourself losing balance, but Harry’s hands wrap around your arms and keep you from falling.

“It’s okay. Relax a bit, you’ll find your balance.” He encourages you and it’s almost strange to hear him so supportive of anything you’re doing, but not breaking your neck keeps you too busy to care about his random act of kindness. 

“Try to move forward.”

“I can’t,” you protest without even trying.

“You can, just relax.”

“Don’t tell me to relax, it’s not gonna help me relax!”

“Y/N, you’re gonna have a panic attack if you don’t relax,” he warns you and you realize how fast you’re breathing and all your blood is being pumped into your head. 

“I-I can’t, I can’t do this, I–”

“Y/N, look at me!” His hands snap to your shoulders and you grab onto his biceps as you look him in the eyes while your chest is still heaving. “I’ve got you, okay? You’re not going to fall. I’m holding you, I promise.”

Focusing on his words you finally forget about your fears and instead, you’re now trying to figure out where this version of Harry came from and why he hid from you all along. 

You’re not one to trust people that easily, but just from this one promise he made, you let go of all your doubts and hesitation. 

“Okay,” you breathe out. Harry nods and his hands slowly slide lower until they rest on your waist. 

“You knew how to skate, right? Before you broke your wrist.” You nod. “Alright, then it will all come back quickly.”

There’s a tiny smile hiding in the corners of his lips and your heart pitter-patters in your chest, but not because of the skating this time. His hands on you are not helping either, because for some reason, you feel heat radiating through the millions of layers you’re wearing where his hands are touching you. 

What is happening?

“Okay, I’ll hold your hand and you just focus on moving forward, yeah?”

You nod and panic rises in your gut for a moment when his hands leave your shoulders, but then they instantly take your hands and you feel safe again. 

Slowly you start moving, inching forward, your hands gripping Harry’s so tight, you’re afraid you might hurt him, but you’d never let go of him, not when you’re getting farther away from the pier. 

“That’s it, you are doing great,” he encourages. “Try to move a bit less rigidly.”

“Easy to say that,” you breathe out shakily. 

It takes time to loosen up even the tiniest bit and not grip Harry’s hand as if you wanted to crush his bones. But as you slowly move around the ice, led by him, you finally get more and more familiar with the feeling of sliding on the ice. 

“See? It’s not that bad,” he smiles when you stop for a short break after circling back to the pier. 

“I still fear for my life, but it’s bearable now,” you nod and he just chuckles.

It looks good on him. His smile is warm and welcoming, it’s a shame it took you so long to see it. You definitely prefer this version of him. 

“Honey, it’s so lovely to see you on the ice!” Anne slides over to you with ease, holding a cup of something warm, probably hot chocolate. 

“Well, it’s not quite my element,” you let out an awkward chuckle.

“You’re doing just fine. Besides, you just snatched up the best skater in town.” Winking, she bumps her hip against Harry’s. Your puzzled look urges her to elaborate. “Harry took over coaching the boys’ hockey team last year, the kids adore him!”

Instantly, you imagine Harry dealing with a bunch of cute kids, cheering on them, teaching them, making them laugh… The image is actually moving something inside you that’s been buried somewhere deep for a while now.

“Y/N, how are things coming together? Everyone is buzzing for the big opening!” Anne does a little dance that makes you laugh, but at the same time, something changes in Harry. 

“Um, it’s going okay. Not how I planned, but I’ll manage.”

“I’m sure everything will fall into place perfectly. And if you need any help just let us know!” She turns to Harry, looking for validation that he is open to lending you a helping hand as well, but his reaction is not quite what she was expecting, probably. 

“Sorry, I gotta go now,” Harry mumbles quickly, his gaze obviously avoiding you or his mother and he skates away so fast you just blink after him. 

“What’s gotten into this boy?” Anne huffs, but she lets go of it fast, starts chatting about something you don’t quite catch, because you just stare after Harry, watching him slalom between the skaters so fast it’s almost aggressive. 

And once again, you feel like you’re back where you began. He hates you and you have no idea what you did against him. 

Theoretically, opening Nana’s two weeks before Christmas was a great idea, because you imagined all the baked goods people would order for the holidays, you knew it would be a great kick start.

Realistically, it means that now you have to do the last touch ups in the harsh winter that’s as cold as the North Pole. Or at least that’s how you imagine the North Pole.

It’s been non stop snowing for the past three days, the fresh, soft looking snow is now covering every bit of Eroda’s breathtaking view and though it’s very festive and nice to look at it from a warm room with something hot to drink, it’s not as relaxing when you’re still working on the bakery, doing the last bits of decorating and starting the first batches of baked goods, because in 24 hours, Nana’s is officially opening its front door to the public. 

You’ve been here since five in the morning, now it’s four in the afternoon but it’s almost entirely pitch dark outside so it feels like it’s nearing ten. The place is not a mess anymore, but the kitchen is, there’s all kinds of dough everywhere, you’re doing everything you can now so there’s less tomorrow, but even with all the work tonight you’ll be here at five in the morning again tomorrow. 

It’s been hours since the last time you looked out the window, so it fully goes over your head how heavy the snowfall has gotten lately, chasing home every soul from the streets. While you’re covered in flour and keep muttering Nana’s recipes to make sure everything is measured right, there is one more person out there who is still not home, battling the weather. 

Harry has been going around town all day, helping out the elderly with either delivering groceries, or repairing the heating, whatever they needed a helping hand with. He’s usually the person one calls in Eroda when something needs to be fixed.

The roads are now not quite safe to be driving around, but with his jeep he’ll be able to get home just before it gets too bad. Or so the thought, but that is until he drives by the bakery and sees the lights on.

At first he keeps driving, telling himself it’s not his business. But the farther he gets the guiltier he feels and then he turns the car around.

You’re too busy to hear the knocking at first, but then you hear it again and know it wasn’t just in your head. Rushing out of the kitchen you stop in front of the door, because through the glass you make out Harry standing there, the snow already covering the top of his head as if he’s been out there for hours. 

“It’s freezing out here, Y/N! Would be nice if you let me in!” he shouts through the glass and you finally snap out of your surprise, unlock the door and Harry practically runs inside. 

“What are you doing here?” You watch him shake the snow off of him and finally turn towards you. For a moment you forget about how you parted ways at the skating, how cold he turned out of the blue after helping you. 

“Funny, I wanted to ask you the same thing. There’s a snowstorm out there, you won’t be able to get home if you stay here!”

“Are you kidding me? I’m opening tomorrow, I have a million things to finish!”

“So you’re risking getting snowed in? Were you planning to sleep here or something?”

“Maybe! Yeah! I need to get a ton of dough ready and I still haven’t put up the tinker lights and I need to clean up…”

Harry stares at you with such a vivid look, you expect him to start screaming at you or something. But he just keeps staring until he finally breaks.

“Okay, where are the lights and where do you want them?”

“What?”

“You’ll spend the night here if you do everything alone. I’ll help and hopefully we’ll be able to leave when it’s all done.”

Now it’s your turn to stare at him as he is looking around, searching for the lights to start working, but you can’t really believe he is about to help you out when he could be home by now. On the other hand, you could really use the help and maybe finish earlier than midnight, so after pushing your surprise to the side you start instructing him. While Harry works on the lights, you return to the kitchen. 

To test out the dough for the croissants, the one thing you’re the most nervous about because it used to be Nana’s specialty, you decide to make a few and pop them in the oven while you do everything else. 

It’s hard to believe you’re finally at this point, so close to the opening, turning your biggest dream into reality. You wish Nana would be here with you today.

“Lights are done.”

Harry interrupts your thoughts and you wipe your floury hands into your apron before following him out of the kitchen to see the work he did.

“Oh my God, this looks perfect!” you gasp, seeing all the tinker lights run along the ceiling and walls, lighting up the place like magic. 

Harry just nods, pressing his lips together, as if it was nothing. 

“Anything else?” he asks.

“Yeah, I have a few pictures I want to hang up and then it’s all done–” The timer in the kitchen goes off, letting you know the croissants are done. “Let me take them out and then I’ll show you where I want them.”

You rush back to the kitchen and take the fresh, steaming croissants out of the oven, completely missing that Harry has followed you and he is now watching you curiously as you take the baked goods off the tray one by one.

“That smells like…” he speaks up, but the words die on his tongue and you just smile, placing one onto a plate, holding it out for him.

“Here, try it.”

He hesitates, but takes the plate at last. Though it’s still hot and he should definitely wait a bit, it’s hard to resist, you know that. You watch him take a tentative bite and wait for his reaction as if he is about to tell you your future. 

“So? How is it?”

“It’s… it’s really… good. Really good.”

It’s obvious he is having a hard time admitting you did something right, but his face says it all. You just don’t understand why he looks kind of puzzled, but you think it’s just because he didn’t expect it to be this good. 

“I bet the croissants will be the bestsellers,” you chuckle as Harry takes bite after bite until it’s all gone. He devoured it so fast it’s incredible. You couldn’t help but focus on his pink lips while he ate and those tiny sounds he let slip… they surely planted some thoughts into your head, thoughts you shouldn’t be thinking of when it comes to Harry.

“Come on, I’ll show you the pictures.” It’s your attempt to clear your mind.

You walk out and grab the box that holds all the framed pictures you want to hang on the walls, of course, all of them feature Nana. 

“Okay, so I thought a few could go over here, and then on that wall as well, and these, I want them behind the counter…” You start explaining your vision, but when you turn around you see that he is staring at a photo in shock. “Harry? What’s wrong?”

You step closer and see that it’s the photo that was taken on your tenth birthday. You’re holding up one of the cupcakes Nana made just for you and she is standing behind you, with her hands on your shoulders. It’s a fond memory, one of your favorite birthdays you ever had. 

“Oh, is it the dungarees?” you ask, pointing at your outfit. “I wasn’t quite the fashion icon back then,” you chuckle.

“No, it’s– who’s this?” he asks, pointing at Nana. You give him a puzzled look, because it’s not rocket science to figure out who the woman in the picture is.

“That’s Nana, obviously.”

“But as in… your grandma?” He finally looks up at you and his face is frantic, as if he is solving a lifelong mystery. 

“Of course, Harry, what is goin–”

“Y/N, Nana was your grandma?”

“Yes!” you laugh in confusion. “Of course she was, that’s why I’m opening a bakery under her name with all her recipes she taught me!”

You can’t read the look on Harry’s face as he puts the photo back into the box and then starts walking around with his hands on his hips. 

“Why do you look like you just learned you were adopted or something?”

“Y/N, I didn’t… I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?”

“That you’re… Nana’s granddaughter. I had no clue.” He runs a hand through his hair and you try your best not to stare at how his bicep flexes in the movement. 

“What? Harry, why else would I be opening a bakery, named Nana’s right here, out of every possible place on Earth?”

“I don’t know!” he admits, throwing his hands into the air. “That’s why I… Okay, this is why I hated the idea so much. Because I knew Nana, I loved her! She was like… my grandma too! And I thought you just chose this name for fun!”

“Are you kidding me?” you huff in disbelief.

“I felt like you were ruining her memory, that’s why I was so against this place. I had zero clue that you are actually… related to her.”

“Oh my God, Harry!” There’s nothing else you can do other than just… laughing. This whole situation feels oddly comical, like something that only happens in movies. 

“I know, I’m sorry!” He exhales sharply and you truly see the regret on his face. “I was such a dick.”

“Yes you were!” you laugh in agreement. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Well, now at least I know why you were my biggest hater all along.”

“Not anymore!” He holds up his hands and finally breaks a smile that looks so fucking handsome, it makes you forget about everything in a second. 

Turning to the side he stares out the window for a moment before looking back at you.

“The snowing has stopped, let’s wrap things up and go home, alright? Big day tomorrow.”

You both go back to work, Harry finishes quite fast with the pictures so then he helps you clean up in the kitchen and you notice how obviously different the vibes are now. There’s no trace of his usual hostile behavior, in fact he is so open as he asks you about Nana and how the idea of the bakery came. Then he tells you about her as well, how he has known him for so long and after the passing of his stepdad Nana helped him through the toughest time of his life. You’re surprised the two of you never met when you were visiting, but you believe in faith and it must be because it wasn’t the right time. 

It’s almost ten by the time you’re locking up while Harry is scraping the snow off his jeep. It’s rather eerie to see the town so empty, but it’s also pretty, the untouched snow covering every inch of the scenery. 

“Thanks for the help. And the drive home,” you say when he has parked in front of your house. 

“I’ll pick you up in the morning as well.”

“What? There’s no need, Harry–”

“Just accept the help,” he flashes you a crooked smile. “I have a lot to make up for.”

“What if I say you’re forgiven?”

“Then I’ll do it because I want to spend time with you.”

His answer comes so fast and honest, you can’t mask the surprise on your face as you stare at each other in the dark car.

“Um, alright then. See you in the morning.”

“Good night. Y/N.”

You fumble with the belt and then climb out of the car, still feeling kind of giddy from his words. He waits for you to get to the front door and you wave at him before walking in. Through the closed door you hear the engine roar and he drives away, leaving you with quite a lot to digest.

Never in a million years did you imagine the opening of Nana’s to be like this. The small bakery is full to the brim, there are people everywhere, you haven’t stopped thanking everyone for the love and support and your heart leaps in your chest every time you hear someone talk about your beloved grandma. All the pastries are selling well, but as expected, the croissants are the biggest hit. 

But it’s not just the opening that has you smiling ear to ear.

Harry did show up early in the morning and he’s been helping you out all day as if he was getting paid for his work. In the kitchen, at the counter or by the tables, he’s been a one person army and your hero. You couldn’t have done it without him. 

You have just a couple of seconds to breathe between two customers and you peek over the crowd, spotting him right away by the table his mom and her friends occupy. He just made them laugh and he’s basking in their attention as he rolls the sleeves of his shirt up, revealing his tattooed arms. 

Fuck, he looks so good, it’s criminal. 

Now that he is not an asshole to you anymore, it’s pretty hard not to notice everything you’ve been trying to ignore about him. His charming dimples, his bouncy curls, the way he throws his head back when he laughs, how his nose moves when he talks, they was his hips sway when he’s walking… there is not one inch on the man you can critique.

The situation would be a lot worse if it was one-sided, but it appears that Harry is just as keen on being around you, always touching your lower back when he walks behind you, or brushing your arm to get your attention. 

“I’m seriously writing you a paycheck when it’s over,” you tell him when he returns behind the counter grabbing some cinnamon rolls to bring to the ladies by the window.

“I thought that we were already over this, Y/N,” he smirks and you bite into your bottom lip as you turn back to the customer in front of you. 

It kind of goes by in a blur, there’s so much happening, you’re always on the move and before you could even process the events, the day is over and Nana’s is closing for the first time. After the constant crowd, it’s weird to see the place empty again, but seeing that everything has sold, it finally settles in your mind: you did it.

As you turn the sign on the door your eyes slide over to the picture on the right. It was taken in Nana’s kitchen, you were about six or seven, the two of you are photographed from behind as you stand on a stool, next to Nana at the counter while she is teaching you how to make bread. The memory still lives vividly in your mind even though it’s been over two decades.

“She would be so proud of you.”

Turning around you find Harry behind you with a soft smile on his lips, his eyes on the photo at first, then they move to you and your heart skips a beat.

“You think so?”

“I know so,” he chuckles.

“So, I was serious. I owe you a paycheck after today.”

He rolls his eyes before arching an eyebrow at you.

“And I was serious when I said I don’t want anything in return.”

“You’ve been here since six, Harry!” you huff out a laugh. “I would feel so bad if you just went home without anything.”

He stares at you for long moments and you start to think he’ll just let you suffer with your guilt, but then he speaks up.

“Go on a date with me then.”

You suck on your breath as your eyes lock with his.

“What?” you whisper.

“Go on a date with me, Y/N. Will you?”

“I-If you’re still trying to make up for–” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I’m not. I told you, I want to spend time with you.”

You blink at him once, twice, as if you’re waiting for him to say it was just a joke, but he stands his ground with a serious look.

“Are you gonna leave me hanging?” he smirks, snapping you out of your haze.

“Yes–I mean, yes to the date!” you shake your head, clearing up your answer.

“I was afraid you hated me too much to give me a chance,” he breathes out a shaky laugh.

“I never hated you, I was just confused. You were the one who hated me.”

“I couldn’t hate you, Y/N. And believe me, I tried.” You both laugh at his words. “I was frustrated, because I wanted to hate you and this place so badly, but still… I was drawn to you.”

“You were?” you ask, your voice barely more than just a whisper.

“You have no idea how much,” he admits with a soft smile, stepping closer to you. “When we were skating, I totally forgot about everything and just wanted to hold your hand and help you. It was like a slap across my face when mum brought the opening up and I remembered I was supposed to hate you,” he admits with a chuckle and e inches even closer. “I’m glad I don’t have to try to hate you anymore.”

“I’m glad too.”

He is right in front of you, his face only inches away from yours and you suck on your breath when he reaches up and takes your chin between his index finger and thumb, angling your head further up so your lips are now perfectly lined up with his.

His eyes move down to your mouth, then up to meet your gaze and even without words you know he is asking for your permission to kiss you. You push closer and he is quick to close the distance and press his lips against yours.

You’d be lying if you said you never imagined what it would be like to kiss Harry. Because you did, several times. But nothing compares to having him wrapped around you, his lips so soft yet rough against yours at the same time as he kisses you over and over again while you’re fisting the collar of his shirt so tight your fingers are turning white. 

Maybe you kiss for hours, or maybe it’s just minutes, you have no clue, but when he finally pulls back, resting his forehead against yours, you just know your life is about to turn upside down.

“Changed my mind,” he speaks up at last.

“Huh?”

“About the payment.”

His words sink in slowly and your eyebrows rise.

“Oh.” Harry laughs at your reaction.

“I want my payment in kisses,” he then says with the cheesiest smile you’ve ever seen on his handsome face.

“That could be arranged,” you breathe out when you finally get what he was talking about and grabbing the back of his neck you pull him in for another one. 

And another one.

And some more.

And just like that Nana somehow brought another wonderful thing into your life, even though she is not here anymore.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

heart to heart

cw. selfship-coded, childhood friend au, pre-canon, pre-relationship, slight angst, fluff, one piece spoilers

pairing. portgas d. ace x reader

notes. apparently it isn't enough for me to brainrot in private about a character i've been obsessed with for a decade, you guys have to be subjected to it as well. whoops🤪

It is not hyperbole to say that early mornings are the only time of day when the Dadan Family base is peaceful.

The sun has barely risen, the morning birds have barely begun their song and most everyone is still snoring away in their cots. Early mornings and late evenings have become Dadan’s favorite time of day, citing them as the only times she is ever allowed a moment of peace.

That peace is stalled whenever Garp visits.

“You sure you don’t wanna come with us,” you ask Ace a final time before you leave for your hometown.

Ace shakes his head with a small smile, “they’re more your friends than mine.” A true sentiment, in your six years of knowing each other, there is still a distinction between your friends in Windmill Village and your friends living among bandits on Mt. Corvo. “Tell ‘em I said ‘congrats’ though. We might end up seeing them later down the road.”

“As marines!” Garp calls over his shoulder gruffly, not waiting for you to catch up. He has one more year to change his grandson’s mind about becoming a marine before the two of you left Dawn Island for saltier pastures. If he knew that fact, however, you’re sure the marine would grab you both by the back of your shirts and drag you to the port in Windmill Village this second. “You should take after those boys!”

The boys in question are Demarius and Stacey.

They’ve adored Garp since before you knew Ace was his grandchild, constantly pleading for him to take them to a naval base. He promised to do so once they turned 16. The least you could do was bid your friends farewell before they lived out their naval dreams.

Ace rolls his eyes, “Pirate!”

“It’s too early in the morning for you two to start that old fight again,” Dadan grumbles, turning around to head back inside. This was enough kissing Garp's butt for her, tucking away her handkerchief. “I get nothing but headaches when Garp comes around.”

You snicker at the grouchy woman’s exit, looking over her shoulder. The door to the room you share is shut close but you can easily picture Luffy stretched out and snoring, limbs all over the place wildly. He’ll be adding to Dadan’s headache soon enough. “Alright, well, I’ll be back later,” you tell Ace unnecessarily.

“You should spend the night in town,” Ace’s disgruntled expression shifts into something warm. You remember a time when he seldom smiled and could only offer you scowls. It’s hard to believe how much he smiles now, your lips quirking instinctively at the sight. “You haven’t been in town for a while. Everyone probably misses you.”

You lean forward, wiggling your eyebrows, “aww, trying to get rid of me now? You’re just trying to get more of a cut at dinner.”

“Maybe,” Ace’s grin widens and you share a laugh before Garp calls after you, further away than he was last.

Damn for an old man he moves fast. “See you,” you nudge your freckled friend before turning on your feet, nearly tripping as you stumble after his grandfather. “I’m okay,” you call over your shoulder.

Garp is grumbling to himself as you approach him. You don’t need to hear his words clearly to know he is thinking about his pirate obsessed grandsons. “Those dolts,” he mutters. “You used to play marines all the time with those kids in town. Now they’ve got you talking about being a pirate. You’ll all be marines, mark my words!”

“I really only ever wanted to just sail on the seas,” you tell Garp truthfully. Even as a child when Demarius demanded you play marines because he always wanted to play marines, you never played because you aspired to be one. It didn’t have to be the marines, it didn’t have to be pirates, you just wanted to set sail on the ocean blue. Pirate merely became the subsequent medium you vowed to pursue. “The marines kinda seem,” you mull over your next words carefully. “Strict. I just wanna see the world, not be told what to do.”

“Discipline is a good thing,” is his rebuttal. He certainly was very strict in the training you unwittingly got pulled into once he discovered your true intentions.

Silence falls between you both but it isn’t comfortable, not like the silences you’re used to.

Silence in Dadan’s home is accompanied by snores or the movement of someone heading to the bath. Luffy mumbling in his sleep about the many adventures he and his dream crew are on causing you and Ace to share a look and chuckle quietly under your breaths.

It’s when you tell yourself ‘Today’s the day I actually do it’ and you count away in your head the number of Ace’s freckles until you inevitably mess up the count and have to start all over again.

It’s when it’s raining and you, Ace and Luffy sleep in an empty hollow of a tree, the croak of the frogs singing to the drops.

Silence with Garp is suffocating and the jungle is too quiet and your brain too full of anxiety-ridden hypotheticals to even think about your childhood friends you’d be bidding farewell to. Instead, the ones you wouldn’t be saying goodbye to were at the forefront of your mind.

Another minute of silence follows before you’re unable to stop the words from falling from your lips, “Mr. Garp?”

Garp hums gruffly, bark worse than his bite, “what is it?”

“Let’s say that, hypothetically speaking of course, Ace and Luffy do become pirates,” you begin nervously, wincing at how the older man’s eyes sharpened at the word. “Hypothetically!” You’ve been a recipient of many of the marine’s Fists of Love, despite not belonging to his family, you don’t fancy receiving another. “They hypothetically become pirates and end up getting taken in,” you lick your lips as you try to imagine the scenario.

To your discomfort, it is terrifyingly easy to imagine Ace and Luffy in shackles.

The spectacle the World Government would make of it all. The grand executions of the sons of Gol D. Roger and Monkey D. Dragon.

The vitriol of the onlookers spewing words of hatred and damnation. No one would know who they are, not the onlookers in the crowds or the marines holding the weapons that would end their lives. Devils, they would be called. 

There would be one marine who knew them, however. Who truly knew them and not what they represented. It only breaks your heart that in your many years of knowing the older man that you don’t know what end of the spectrum he falls on. No, that’s an incorrect assessment. What breaks your heart is that it has always been too easy suspecting precisely where Monkey D. Garp would fall.

In spite of your suspicions, you still part your lips and ask, “would you help them?” Uncharacteristically, you fiddle with your fingers, the index finger of your right hand being nestled by the thumb and index finger of your left. Clad in a tacky red button up with white roosters, the stocky man’s back seems broader than usual.

It’s the long pause between your question and his answer that sinks in your chest like a knife. “They,” Garp begins but you cut the man off with a laugh.

“Don’t be so serious,” you laugh so convincingly you almost believe you’re unbothered. “I was just messing around. I’m up in the air on the pirate thing but for all we know, Luffy’ll start talking about being the Marine King the next time you see him.”

The elderly marine laughs at the absurdity of your thought, “a king among marines, that’ll be the day.”

ー

“Your shadows not with you for once?” Stacey jokes lightheartedly as he leans his head over in mock surprise at the lack of people accompanying you.

“I’m pretty sure Mr. Garp would drag them onto that boat if they did,” anything to make those two follow in their grandfather’s footsteps. “Ace sends his congratulations anyways.”

“I’m still convinced that guy was replaced by aliens,” Demarius murmurs, squinting at the mountain’s peaks with narrowed eyes. You snort at the absurdity. You, along with your village-bound friends, had met Ace when he was more angry at the world and nearly all of the people inhabiting it. To say they’d been shocked when, the next time they met him, Ace was polite and all smiles is an understatement. Demarius’ suspicious glance lasts a beat longer before he turns his dark eyes to you, shoulders set back. “You can still come with us, you know.”

You remember being 10, running down these dirt roads playing marines with your friends as a rowdy quintet.

The battles you pretended to have against whatever made-up opponents Demarius decided you’d be fighting against. He’d always been the leader of the five of you ー him, Stacy, Pierre, Lisa Lisa and you ー would find yourselves on the tempestuous seas of the Grand Line, all odds against you.

“This is not a good day for battle but it is a glorious day to die,” you remember resolutely saying, words too heavy for someone who hadn’t been in a real fight her entire life until that point.

Real fights came after you met Ace and Sabo. When you began running amok in the capital and Gray Terminal. Real battle came when their angering the Bluejam pirates caught up with them. You couldn’t say you felt glorious fighting the Bluejam pirates in the flames of their hideout. Nor could you say Sabo’s horrifying end was glorious either. There is no glory in fighting but you will do what you have to to protect who you have left.

Pulling yourself from the memories, you shake your head, “you’ll see me at sea next year,” you vow with a grin. You lower your voice so the cantankerous marine behind you cannot hear what you say next. “It’ll just be in a way that pisses off the old man.”

There’s simply one more year to go.

You, alongside the other locals, wave the boys down until they become nothing but a speck on the horizon. Well, off their asses go. You sit on the porch step of what used to be the house that belonged to you and your grandfather. I think the last time I came here it was like, you purse your lips thoughtfully. Shiiieet, 3 months ago? You seldom spend time in the empty shack now. It is only good for your occasional visits and when you’re too lazy to head back up to Dadan’s. That is where home is now.

It’s wherever Ace and Luffy are.

Ace and Luffy who you know Garp loves but will always choose work first. He always has and he always will, so you will always choose them instead.

[darlingdia1007]

OMG hi I saw that you ate taking requests and I just HAD to request.

Could you maybe do a Stanley x F! Reader where they are an old married couple and resder is angry about something and keeps cussing and being a meanie. The twins are scared and looking at grunkle stan for help about this and to calm Reader down before she sets the shack on fire but Stanley just says this is normal and he intact finds it incredibly hot.😜😜

Beating the heat

(Thank you for requesting this one. It seems very silly honestly. I do apologize, it’s been a while since I’ve written a fanfic.)

It was around 1:30pm when the temperatures had reached its highest of 105° degrees and the AC wasn’t working correctly in the shack. Stepping outside wasn’t the best idea either since the wind would only blow hot air.

Stan and his wife were sitting at the kitchen table as they began debating if they should close the shack since it would become a bigger issue as the day went on. This heat was slowly getting to (Y/N) very quickly. Placing her hand on the collar of her shirt, she began to fan herself with her shirt. Beads of sweat slowly moved down her face as the breeze she created felt amazing.

“Even when you’re melting over there, I bet I can Make you melt in other ways~” a scraggly voice said in front of you. Stan had made one of his “flirty” remarks at you. Most of the time you would love them and shoot one back his way, but dear lord was it a bad time. “Hun, Right now isn’t the best time.” She said as she looked at him and rolled her eyes. This heat was really getting to her now. “Oh come on, you love that one!” He remarked as he got up from his chair.

Sometimes, even after the 30 years the two had been together, married, she could still get mad at him for reals sometimes. This was one of these moments. Getting up from her chair, she had quickly put your chair back into its place and entered the gift shop. An Idea that would probably save her life but she couldn’t do it till everyone was out of the gift shop.

Reaching for the open sign, she switched it to closed as to let people know they will be closed for the rest of the day. Now the only issue was getting people to leave the gift shop. Sitting herself down at the register, she began helping people pay out one by one. Around 20 minutes later, the last customer left. She smiled and waved goodbye to the woman and hurriedly locked the door.

A sign of relief left her lips as she ran a hand through her graying hair. Stepping away from the door, she went to the vending machine and began typing in the familiar code as she made her way down the stairs.

—————————————————————

“Grunkle stan, Why does Grauntie (Y/N) seem… mad?” Mabel had squeaked out from around the corner when leaving the gift shop and entered the living room where her grunkle was seated while watching the TV. “Mad? What do you mean kiddo?” He looked at Mabel in confusion when Dipper came from behind his sister. “She was all pushy and grouchy towards the customers when she was checking them out. She was also sweating pretty hard.” He wiped the sweat from his hands as he soon realized it was getting a little hot.

Stan sat there for a sec and an idea popped into his head, “Kids, go get your swim suits, we’re going to the pool.” Shouts of excitement lept from the kids.

——————————————————————

“Ford… hello?” She had made it to the last couple of steps as she placed her foot on the solid floor. It was surprisingly cold down here so the biggest smile crept onto her face. Standing next to the stairs, she closed her eyes and embraced the cold that was creeping over her body. Unknowingly to her, her brother-in-law heard her and was walking towards her. “Yes?” He asked as he looked at her.

“Oh good, you’re here! I need to ask the biggest favor.” She pleaded as she looked at him. “The AC is broken and I have no clue what’s wrong with it. Could you please save me and fix it? I’ll make you those sugar cookies you really like.”

His attention was quickly caught on when he heard that his favorite dessert was about to be made for him. “I’ll get right to it then.” A small smile was placed on her face as she began to go up the stairs when she heard a familiar voice that she was a little annoyed at.

“(Y/N) are you down here? Honey?” It was Stan. Her smile left her face when heard her husband calling her name. Finally making it to the surface, she came face to face with him. “God you look so hot when you’re feisty.” He quickly grabbed her and spun her around. She couldn’t be mad at him for long after that. A small kiss was placed on her lips as she held onto him, slowly melting at the affectionate she was being given from him.

“See, I told you I could make you melt.” He laughed as her face quickly became sour and pushed him away. “What? I can’t like my women a little feisty?! Hey, go get your bathing suit, I’m taking you and the kids to go swimming to beat this heat.” He began walking back to the living room as (Y/N) stood there at the small gesture.

Walking upstairs to their bedroom, the sounds of floorboard creaked as she made her way to their shared bedroom. Quickly reaching to the dresser to pull out her swimsuit, she placed it on the bed and grabbed the sunscreen, sunglasses, and the beach bag. Everything was packed and ready for the pool. The sounds of laughter could be heard from the outside porch as the twins were talking to each other. Mabel seemed to be the most excited out of the two of them though.

“Honey, we gotta be home before 5, I still need to make the cookies I promised your brother.” You had said as Stan walked out in his swimsuit. Those adorable striped swimsuits would never get old.

[wonielvr]

[12:49] – nishimura riki

"hey, mind if I sit here?" riki asked quietly. the librarian hated him anyway, making a fuss like the last time he went to the school's library for a project would result in a one way ticket to hell from that grumpy old lady.

"nope. Why didn't you answer my calls?" you asked intriguingly, yet your face adorned a funny expression. The truth is you knew he wouldn't pick them up, that's just how riki is, all over the place, the kind of guy who would look for his sunglasses for hours unknowing of the fact they are on his head the entire time.

"I'm sorry, you know me... what did you call me for?" he stumbled over his words adorably. You patted twice on the gray cushioned seat next to you, signalling him to sit next to you.

"Do you remember that absolute jerk that entitled the seat next to me I saved for you in art class?" you asked snakingly. "Well he also claimed me as a partner for that stupid assignment! that freak!"

"unacceptable! I shall now call him and announce that my dear lady fell sick, and would like to do their assignment only along with those immune to the sickness, aka only her darling of a friend, me!" he went elegantly through the words with an unnecessary weird accent that was somehow meant to mock the british.

"well guess what, I confronted him, and now I'm forever stuck along the shadow of said darling of a friend. Say hello to your new assignment partner!"

"hey! Keep quiet there in the back, you pricks of the new generation," a hoarse voice suddenly called from under the big pile of books next to the two of you.

you and riki sure did have quite a laugh on account of the grouchy blob of sadness that was that woman, but after an expected long period of not being able to work, you managed to actually finish the assignment.

"did you know that I read-" he started confidently as if he was about to reveal the meaning of life to you.

"you can read?!" you interrupted him playfully. If he didn't like you as much as he does you would probably be left with a big red mark of his hand on your face for eternity.

he gave you a disappointed look in response and restarted the sentence. "I read about how physical closeness of friends through a hug or a kiss can reflect the way they view eachother romantically."

"I am absolutely sure you're making this up right now..." your sentence dragged while he leaned into you. Even though you were sure he was speaking nonsense, he was right after all. Your heartbeat was so loud in your ears you thought it would deafen you.

all the girls in the school theorised that riki is a majestic kisser, and they were all right. You never felt so passionate yet goalless, insisting yet high on cloud nine.

"out! now, you little turds! cumberworlds!" the woman reappeared out of nowhere once again, cursing as if she was a victorian woman well in the past. well, she seems old enough to be one.

[alphasunpup]

Feedist Kinktober Day 2- Masquerade Ball

You look at how the suit hugs your frame. Your girlfriend had thought you needed an upgrade and at first you thought she was just teasing you about your weight again. Now, you realize she was right.

Ever since you started t you had built up a lot of muscle but a lot of fat too. Both of which you loved but you were so unaware of your size at times. You hadn't noticed how shoulders had bulked in your shirts. How your biceps stretched out against your shirts, how your thick hairy legs made any pants you wore skinny jeans. Now you sat here looking like one hot fat butch but straining against your suit. You sighed. And there wasn't a chance in hell you were going to find a tailor before the Ball tonight.

"What's wrong baby?" Your girlfriend asks as she walks into the room.

She's stunning in the deep rogue dress she has on. The corset upheld her big boobs tastefully. The dress hugged the low hanging u-curve of her belly. You scratched your own belly, a twinge of primal lust taking over.

She giggles. "Already hungry big boy?"

She rubs your belly. You hadn't eaten yet. Your girlfriend promised you that she would feed you at the ball. It was one of those kinky balls where discretion was key. Hence the Masquerade element. One of her coworkers snagged tickets for herself and her partner but they got sick. So they kindly gifted the tickets to your girlfriend and you.

"Well if you're gonna tease a growing boy, yeah I'm feeling hungry." You giggle, nibbling on her lip.

"Hmmm, we'll see how well behaved you are. Especially if these buttons are already about to fall off." She giggles again. Her big, beautiful brown curls blocking out her eyes. You nod, almost dazed.

She loops her arms in yours as you travel to your car and get in. When you arrive at the mansion, it was already an hour drive. Now you were starting to get grouchy. That t hunger was something fierce and so was your sex drive. Upon arriving at the party, your coats are taken and you are handed masks.

Your girlfriend gets handed a traditional vampire masquerade mask. But you were handed a wolf's mask. You thought nothing of it as you were granted entry into the ballroom. You sniff the air and follow your nose to the buffet line. You don't even notice the other people gorging themselves and becoming more monstrous as they fed. Some part of you know what your seeing isn't normal but you don't care, you're hungry.

While some danced, your girlfriend couldn't help but notice the two pinhole pricks on their necks. The bloating and sloshing of bellies filled with a mysterious liquid. Red tint on their teeth, more like their canines. She's asked to dance by a woman even fatter by her and seeing you enjoy yourself, she dances.

As the night continues, you don't notice your more bestial transformation. As others dance, blood and music fills the air. But you're too concerned with stuffing yourself on expensive meats. Raw, roasted, smoked, grilled. If it's meat it ended up in your snout. Your suit jacket had already burst off. Your belly sat in your lap, heavy and full from how you were gorging yourself on the buffet table.

"Awww, look at my hungry boy," your girlfriend chuckled.

She walked over, snapping you out of your daze. You let out a long belch, and rub your belly. You don't notice the red staining her lips. The slight glowing red tinge to her eyes. Or the holes on her neck. She easily lifts you up and helps you to your feet.

You rumble softly. You sniff her. A new scent blended into her old one. The smell of spiced wines and blood. Something so sweet it had to be rotting. And something told you, you should've been concerned but you very much loved the new scents.

"Shall we dance?" She asked, her tongue licking at your neck. You growled softly. A belch escapes you and lasts a few seconds. You scratch your torn dress shirt with newly formed claws.

"In a bit, gotta digest... then we dance," you murmured. Your body wanted to just rest and sleep right then.

"Mmmm, then you don't mind me having a bit?" She asked, leading you away from the buffet table and dance floor.

She had you sit at one of the round tables in a dark corner. Where other masked women rubbed their butches bellies or even feeding on some; masks still on. Your girlfriend sat you down, mask still on, her newly sharpened teeth digging into your neck. You grunted softly and then moaned as you could feel her drink from you. Her u shaped belly had inflated from her time on the dance floor. Her hands scratched at the new found firmness of your belly.

"Don't sleep baby," she murmured, "You still owe me a dance."

[eluxcastar]

I know there's an questionable amount of 13 with Arlecchino but. Can i have 13 sandrone? Please? Or 14? There's no food going on with that doll

Sandrone experiencing a crumb of love

── ୨୧：sandrone x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: sandrone questioning why her assistant has not left on account of her delightful personality

୨୧﹑genre :: slight fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, they're not in a relationship, not proofread

୨୧﹑words :: 1.4k

"I could see the worst parts of you and still think you are the most beautiful person I’ve met."

sandrone is written like a bitter old man LMAO, but tbh, that's just the characterisation of her I prefer. some like her motherly, and Idk I just like her being a bit grouchy and wondering why these damn kids are on her lawn (slight joke), BUT I DID TRY TO GIVE HER A HEART so you can have that consolation

I hear your burning question "Riri what happened to the fourteen part" well you see the dreadful phenomenon we all know and hardly tolerate called "I can't read" struck again BUT I had an idea retrospectively so I will do that

prompt list

Sandrone is not the most personable woman. She is aware of that fact; she just doesn't care. Many people will come and go, but, dedicated entirely to her work, she finds that adapting herself for the comfort of others is an inconvenience.

You have always been her exception, a fatuu she kept around initially out of the necessity for a helping hand to hold the torch for her or aid in the testing of her creations. There is always something that needs doing, and with that workload, the demand for an extra set of hands arises to make a place for you. Assistant isn't quite the right word, her first inclination settling on lapdog and staying there as she took great pleasure in her cruelty towards you to see how long you would last under the thumb of her snappy and curt demeanour.

Evidently, you proved to be more resilient than she expected, and with time, her intentional tormenting died down to the bare bones of her attitude. Sandrone no longer requested you complete such dangerous tasks alone or begin spiels of the unnecessarily specific detailed demands she had of you. She relaxed into a state of simply accepting that, for a little while longer than the rest, you would be there to stay.

It's almost nice to hear sounds around her workshop, formerly filled only with mechanical dolls and spare parts she keeps. A person flitters about moving tools from her wall to her hand, living, breathing, capable of speaking with or without her prompting and all too inclined towards doing it. She listens to you as you work across the room—your footsteps, the humming whenever you start when you forget she's there, the clatter of gears, even the rubbing fabric of your clothes sometimes—and it's pleasant for the silence to be filled with life.

The thought almost confuses her, really, but she'll get over it.

What she may never get over is why. There are plenty of places you can go, a transient, run-of-the-mill worker she picked at random from a pile of names and didn't care to know anything about you beyond your capabilities until you showed up.

You remain steadfast by her side and don't show any signs of dissatisfaction, lost in your own little world some days. Maybe you cope with her by blocking out her presence. That would explain the humming and why you seem so happy to work here.

People always find something wrong. You have found nothing, and it makes her suspicious.

"Why are you here?" she asks one day, speaking out of the blue, out of character for her.

"I work here" is the response you offer, short as she usually is and with a bit of sass of your own that you picked up.

"I know." Slightly annoyed, she rephrased the question. "You could have transferred jobs before now."

"Paperwork's not worth the trouble," you joke, though she doesn't get that or doesn't find it funny, and her expression only sours at you. You throw your hands up in defence. "I kid, I kid! I don't have any reason to."

Sandrone knows what people say about her. She doesn't trust such a superficial reason, especially after your comment. "You're satisfied here?"

You shrug. "The work is easy, the conditions aren't gruelling. It's better than most places."

"I see," she says, falling silent. Her curiosity is mostly sated, save for some remaining questions she hasn't roused the courage to ask you yet.

"Should I be more unhappy?" you question, "You stopped making workplace hazards, and it's not unbearably cold in here. It's not like you're that difficult anymore."

She presses her lips to a lip line, a frown tugging the corners of her mouth. "You speak too carelessly."

You only offer her a smile and an unbothered "I know."

"I should reprimand you," she adds. Her hand absently finds a pleat in her skirt and toys with it, fingers running over the fabric as a background to the conversation. She considers what to say if you're so flippant with her again. Perhaps you think she'll go soft on you if you act friendlier towards her. She lifts her head with another thought. "If you have an ulterior motive, speak."

From the corner of her eye she sees you turn to glance at her for only a second before your focus is back on the tools you stand arranging for her. You always put them away just as she likes them.

"Is it a crime to just like you?" you retaliate with something unexpected, something gentle.

Sandrone opens her mouth to speak, bitter words on the tip of her tongue that die the moment she gains a hint of a conscience against ruining it. Nobody likes her. Sandrone is disagreeable, has a terrible personality, is snappy and disdainful, and is downright rude at times. People don't simply like her.

"People believe I'm terrible." She settles on a half-hearted grumble as she turns away. There's nothing more to be said, really.

"That's ridiculous." You say it too quickly for her liking.

She glares back at you like sharpened daggers looming inches from your back, though she's across the room and would have a hard time getting to you so quickly. "You're lying," she spits.

"A little," you admit, trying to ease the damage, "I don't think you're completely terrible."

She can't keep the frown from her face this time. "But I am still terrible."

"To an extent," you admit, cautious, but not nearly enough. "You have good qualities as well. It's not enough to just say you're terrible." 

Seconds pass in silence, awkward on one side and impatient on the other as you shift your weight between your feet. Sandrone merely stares ahead, clearly having no intention of speaking and every intention of watching you squirm for as long as she can prolong it.

"What? You wanted me to be honest."

"You're reprehensible," she mutters. Her hands ball to fists in her lap and then relax again as she lets out an irritated huff. It's not worth working herself up over something she has heard many times before, a fact she has long accepted.

You sigh, a strangely upsetting sound. She doesn't like it, she knows that much. It's not the kind of sound you make when you're happy, and she'd much rather hear you hum your little songs across the room. "Don't end up a self-fulfilling prophecy." 

"I'm doing no such thing," she says, sending another sharp glare your way to accompany her retort.

You crack a lopsided smile at her. It's a ridiculous face you're making, really, and in response to a perfectly reasonable statement. "Aren't you?" you question.

…Perhaps she might be. Perhaps a part of her does search for abhorrence. There's no greater reason to suspect you secretly despise her than her own belief—paranoia, one might even say—but to expect anything else is setting herself up for stark disappointment.

"Do you mean it?" she says quietly, eyes more focused on the fabric between her fingers to stave off the nervousness she's strangely riddled by.

You're nobody. Your opinion means nothing to her; it never should, never has and never will. You can lament all you like and--

"I could see the worst parts of you and still think you are the most beautiful person I've met."

She pauses, hand stilling in place, skirt pinched between her unmoving fingers. Her head tilts up, and she twists in her chair to meet the back of your head in a one-sided staring contest. At the first sign of you turning to her, Sandrone turns away, determined to hide whatever face she makes to gawk at you.

You are not real, fake, an imposter. She made a doll to curb her loneliness and programmed it to speak. You must be. You must be saying what she wants to hear. It is not new for lowly grunts to fear Harbingers to the point of reverence, though you have never shown signs of false flattery in your time with her.

Yet all of that is a lie; you are not another lifeless creation that operates on a mechanical heart. Perhaps you have simply gone mad in your time with Sandrone, or she has. Madness might suit her a little more than you.

"You jest," she manages to say after a long stretch of silence, browns furrowing to hide her shock at the sentiment, though you can't see her face. "I should cut out your tongue."

[kitthepurplepotato]

Chapter 16 - Fight!

Summary: Y/N fights Midoriya and Shouto in front of an audience. Is she able to win against the two top heroes and go back to being a hero? We shall see.

Feat. Present Mic and Aizawa!

Warnings: Swear words, Katsuki makes a few horny comments here and there, mentions of Shouto’s PTSD, one broken rib. Or two. Or three.

First Chapter Master List

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“Ladies and gentlemen and everyone in between, welcome to the battle of the year!” Present Mic yells into his speaker with utter enthusiasm. Why is Present Mic here? You have no idea, but you can’t wait to get a signature because you freaking love his talk show. “Y/N versus Midoriya and Todoroki! Yeaaaaaah!”

The whole building cheers.

You heard it right. The whole building. It’s a fucking full house.

The whole agency is here except a few who decided to stay behind to keep the business going (Katsuki had to give them a double hourly wage to make them stay at work, by the way.), which doesn’t surprise you as Katsuki’s team is quite known for being overly enthusiastic when it comes to mock battles and hero stuff, then there’s Mina, Kaminari, and a shit load of people from the wedding, possibly Katsuki’s old classmates and friends, all sitting in one corner and cheering for both teams which doesn’t make any fucking sense, but okay. Next to the famous Present Mic there is a grouchy black haired man with a massive white scarf thingy around his neck; he has a camera by this left side and a notebook on his lap.

“Why. Just why.” The man mutters under his nose; thankfully you are amazing at lip reading, so you don’t actually need to hear him to know what’s up. His face is contorted into a frown as he stares at the blond with nothing but pure judgment.

“Oh come on, sensei! Have some fun!” The guy snickers but “sensei” only rolls his eyes at that.

“I’m here to take notes and to film the fight for Midoriya for analytical purposes. I’m not here to have fun.”

“We are here to have fun, let’s go, Mic sensei wooohooo!” Kaminari yells and the whole audience cheers at that.

Dang. You’ve never had a stage fright before. Needless to say, now you do.

“Deku, what the actual fuck, do you want to die, you idiot?! This is not what we’ve discussed!” Katsuki clearly felt the nervous vibes coming from you and is absolutely fucking livid right now.

“Kacchan, I swear it wasn’t me. I only asked Aizawa-sensei! No one else!”

“Why is Auntie Inko hiding behind the pillar then?!” Katsuki tries his best to look less aggravated as he waves to the shy, green haired woman with a forced smile on his face. Midoriya then stares at his Kacchan with nothing but gratefulness, tears prickling his eyes from seeing his childhood rival being nice to his one and only mother he loves so much.

“Mum doesn’t count, does she? She’s family.” Deku mutters, ready to have his face blasted off.

“Do you see my shitty family here, Deku?! Huh?!” Kacchan yells at the poor guy; Midoriya points right where his mum is with a barely concealed smile.

“Yeah, they are right behind my mum.”

“The fuck?!”

Katsuki is having a brain fart moment. He’s so fucking confused it’s kinda hilarious.

“It’s my fault, Katsuki.” Kirishima comes over with guilt deeply etched into his face. “I accidentally told Denki about it and then… well, you know him. I’m sorry.”

“Fucking hell.”

“My family isn’t here.” Todoroki adds. The guy didn’t make a single noise until now so you kinda forgot he’s also here.

“Shouto, you are not helping, but thank you for trying.” Izuku, who’s clearly used to Todoroki’s miserable attempts to save the day, leaves a tiny kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek.

“10 minutes until show time, are you guys ready?!” Present Mic’s voice comes through the speaker again as the light around the outer edges of the building dramatically go down.

“If you hurt her, I’ll fucking kill you, you fucking overpowered energizer bunny.” Katsuki grabs the green head’s shirt by the neck and pulls him closer with a sneer. “One fucking bruise and…”

“Kacchan… I respect you but I’m here to win. You wouldn’t want me to go easy on her, would you?”

Katsuki only contemplates for a few seconds, the tips of his ears coated pink as he lets go of the poor guy, completely defeated.

“I can cauterize wounds if things get out of hand.”

You’ve never seen Katsuki so terrified in your whole life. His face is pale like a sheet and he looks five seconds away from throwing up all over the floor.

“Nope. We are not doing this. We are going home. Nope. Fuck this.” Katsuki is about to pull you towards the exit but Izuku jumps between the two of you.

“Shouto, you were doing so well...” Midoriya sighs and puts his hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, Katsuki. I swear I won’t do any serious harm to your girlfriend. I also think she can protect herself and she’ll be able to keep up with us with no problems. Please, sit down and enjoy the show.” Midoriya pushes you to the side slowly, but Katsuki’s grasp on your hand is relentless.

“Come on, bro! I heard Auntie Inko brought you some muffins!” Kirishima chimes in, pulling him towards the seats, his hands massaging the blond’s shoulders. “Come on now!”

“Just one minute and I’m going.” Katsuki tears himself out of Kirishima’s grasp. Todoroki and Midoriya make their way towards the other end of the battlefield while Kirishima takes a few steps back to give you some privacy. “Kick their asses, baby. I fucking… I fucking believe in you. I love you and shit. Fuck.”

The whole audience gawks as Katsuki snuggles into the crook of your neck like a little kitten looking for attention. You rake your fingers through his messy hair out of habit, playing with the strands and leaving tiny kisses on the top of his head until he finally looks up and lets you kiss him properly, right in front of the whole fucking building.

“Oh my god! What a day to be alive! Bakugou Katsuki aka Lord Explosion Murder God Dynamight just got a kiss from the mysterious hero! You go, lover boy, good for you!”

“That’s his girlfriend!” Kaminari yells into the air helpfully. “He’s in love, sensei!”

“Oh my god, dear listeners! The beast has been tamed! I’m so proud!”

“Shut the fuck up.” Katsuki mutters into your neck, his whole face probably the color of a ripe tomato.

“He said shut the fuck up!” You yell to the interpreter with a shit eating grin on your face.

“Ahh, well, there is a lot of things I can do but that ain’t one of ‘em!” Mic giggles and the whole audience roars.

“That’s true.” Sensei mutters with a nod and Mic makes an offended face at that.

“Five minutes to go. Are we are ready, dear listeners?!” Present Mic yells again and the audience cheers. Loudly. Dang, they are really fucking excited for this shit.

“Keep your eyes on me, loverboy.” You wink at your boyfriend; he visibly shivers under your confident gaze.

“Couldn’t keep my eyes off you even if I’d try.”

… damn, you two won’t sleep a wink tonight, that’s for sure.

~•💥•~

“Three, two, one… go!”

The two heroes charge at you right away, their movements completely synchronized and clearly planned out; needless to say having two heroes that are so used to each other fight against you should be a huge disadvantage for you but here’s the thing; you can do whatever you want. And by whatever, you mean you can literally just…

“Goldfish.”

Deku’s movements halt right away, his face contorted into a confused frown as he looks at his partner in pure terror.

“Goldfish is a quirk that makes the other person forget what they were about to do a few minutes prior. It’s quite harmless unless used… well… in cases like this. Well done.” The “sensei” steals the speaker from Present Mic who’s completely bamboozled by seeing the number one hero so lost on the battlefield. This would be the perfect time to counterattack but seeing how many people have gathered here today you decide to give them a little show instead; Todoroki comes out of his own stupor and charges towards you while Midoriya slowly tries to put himself back into the present but suddenly, his quirk changes sides in the most literal sense; his right side becomes his hot side while his left side starts to frost over rapidly; having such a change is already quite a pain in the ass but here’s the thing - to be honest this was a bluff but it clearly worked -; while his quirk swapped sides, his body didn’t, hence why his body is now affected by the effects of the quirk.

“Fuck!” Shouto yells as the flames start to burn his heat-sensitive skin…

“Y/N, stop! Anything but that. Please.” Izuku begs and he looks so horrified you cancel the quirk right away. There is something in his eyes, something painful and deep and you don’t need to be a rocket scientist to see that you somehow managed to touch a sensitive topic here. You look at Katsuki who’s standing by the side of the battlefield; he looks at his friend apologetically, his eyes somehow regretful.

“This is good practice.” Shouto’s sudden grin surprises the whole audience. “Sometimes, you need to face your biggest fears and if this would be a real fight, there wouldn’t be a pause. On the battlefield, there is no time to dwell on the past.”

“Is pro hero Shouto giving a speech in the middle of the battle?!” Present Mic screeches. “Also, how many quirks…?”

“All of them. Her quirk is called ‘quirk manifestation’. It’s the strongest quirk in the whole world as she can use several different quirks at the same time for as long as she wants to. Until she can stay focused, she’s unstoppable.” Sensei answers with a deadpanned face.

“Wow, you did your research.” You yell back to him with a grin. Thankfully, the mood is slowly shifting back to relatively normal now.

“I’m Eraserhead. I work underground. Gaining intel is my virtue.” He mutters smugly. “But for this intel I must thank my former student, Midoriya. His notes on you were quite… detailed.”

“Quirk me again.” Shouto suddenly yells, completely ignoring his old teacher. Midoriya looks at the guy like he just lost his mind and by the absolute manic grin on his face, he might be right about that.

Also, can we stop for a moment and talk about the fact that Todoroki Shouto is wearing his emotions on his face? You are a taken woman, but damn, he should do this more often.

“Are we going berserk? Plus fucking ultra then.” Midoriya grins back and by the random eye fucking those two just did a few seconds prior you are quite sure they’ll also have a long night after this.

“Come at me you gay disasters.” You give the two a manic grin and… well… they do.

First, Todoroki somehow finds a way to use his quirk even with the disadvantage. You manage to slip on the tiny, almost invisible ice he manages to sneak under your legs; the ice travels further up, pinning you to the ground but not for long; with your quick thinking you manage to counterattack with pink flames, because why the fuck not, melting the ice on your legs then charge forward towards the half and half hero but you change your stance last minute; you attack Midoriya instead, your emotions concealed with a quirk you just came up with to not trigger his danger sense; he catches your hand with black whip but you make your body intangible and slip out of the grasp; he tries to save himself by using his Smoke Ray but it’s all in vein as your favorite quirk is X-Ray Vision; Midoriya also made a massive mistake with using this quirk of his as he also made it impossible for his partner to see you, basically rendering him useless for the next few minutes until the smoke dissolves.

“I really want to gossip about the sexual tension between the two boys on the battlefield but… what a mistake! Todoroki’s lost in the smoke and Midoriya is just about to get hit by… uuuuh, that must have hurt!”

You just landed a massive hit right at Midoriya’s ribs using a mixture of Kirishima’s hardening and super strength while Todoroki is still wandering in the smoke, trapped and probably extremely frustrated.

Something cracked. Fuck.

“Izuku!” Todoroki finally emerges from the smoke, putting on a massive ice wall right between you two.

“She broke my fucking rib, Shouto.”

Suddenly, a furious Todoroki jumps through the wall, shattering it into pieces as he lands a massive hit on your shoulder and you fall to the ground.

“Midoriya is OUT! Nothing is as strong as a fury of a wounded lover, though! Get her, Todoroki!” Present Mic yells, exhilarated.

Katsuki looks like he’s about to pass out which is quite understandable to be honest. This fight is fucking intense.

“Was that really necessary?!” Todoroki yanks your wounded arm and pushes you down.

What he doesn’t know is that you are not actually in pain anymore; you already healed yourself but he doesn’t need to know that.

“You know I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Ten more seconds and Todoroki wins!”

“What kind of monster are you?!”

“The one on the good side. The one who really fucking wants to go back to work and save people.”

It all happens really quickly. You use a slime quirk to get out of Todoroki’s intense grasp and blast his face using your own version of your boyfriend’s quirk; the pink, cotton candy scented one you used to bully Katsuki with. You make sure to not use too much power this time and mostly just blind the hero for long enough to use your own version of Midoriya’s black whip - it’s quite a useful quirk as it’s heat and frost-resistant, basically indestructible. In only a few seconds, the half and half hero is rolled up like a little burrito, surrounded by black whip everywhere but his face.

“Sorry about triggering your PTSD in the beginning. I’m also sorry for hurting your boyfriend. I’ll heal him as soon as this is over.”

“Ten…”

“It’s fine, it has been ages since I’ve been challenged by someone. Felt fucking nice.” Todoroki tries to wiggle himself out but it’s all in vain. It’s game over for him.

“Five…”

“You guys are amazing. If this would have been an actual life or death situation I’m quite sure you would’ve won.”

“Three.”

“Stop flattering me, you literally took that hit on your shoulder just to be even.”

“One.”

“Anyway… it was a great fight. Thank you.”

“Todoroki is out, Y/N wins! WHAT A FIGHT! Congratulations!” Present Mic yells while the whole audience whistles. Midoriya’s mother is crying so you make a note to yourself to apologize to her later.

Todoroki is by Midoriya’s side the moment he’s free. You are just about to go over to heal him and say sorry when Katsuki jumps on you from behind, turns you over to him and kisses you with so much fervor your legs almost give up under you.

“You fucking madman.” Katsuki grins, his worried eyes long gone in exchange for pure exhilaration. “You don’t know how to hold back, do you?” Suddenly, Katsuki’s lips skim your ears. “Why don’t you go all unhinged in bed with me tonight? I want to see what else you can do…”

“Katsuki, this is not the time.” You reprimand with a little giggle. “I need to take care of your broken friend first.”

“You can take care of my…”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, you horny weirdo.” You put your palm on his face and push him away playfully in the middle of his sentence. The shit eating grin on Katsuki’s face is so fucking adorable you kinda want to kiss him but this is really not time for it.

“Y/N!” Todoroki yells, frustrated. By the look of it, it isn’t just Midoriya’s rib that’s broken but his mind as well; he’s mumbling to himself, still sitting on the floor, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the facility. Needles to say, he’s crying.

“Let me reboot the crybaby.” You grin at the big lump on the floor while most of the audience goes back to work. Katsuki’s friend group and the two senseis are still seated, probably waiting for you guys to wrap up and listen to their feedback.

This will be a long fucking day.

… Next Chapter!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Potato ramble:

- I know. This is fucking late. Honestly, I had the busiest two weeks of my whole life and I only had one day off which was the 25th and that was all. I don’t remember the last three days. Like I actually don’t think my soul was in my body. I have no recollection of the days either so yeah, I’m sorry folks who always tell me to chill the fuck out, I definitely did not listen this time. 😂

- Midoriya’s grave mistake and the whole drama around his behavior will be explained in the next chapter. Aizawa will give him a harsh feedback. 😂

- I’m really excited about the last chapter because it will have Steven in it. I fucking love Steven. I will miss him so much.

- The next chapter will be the last official chapter, then there will be one extra part and that’s probably it! BUT! If you guys have any ideas for possible extra chapters I’m more than keen to listen and maybe one day I’ll come back to this and write some cute extra chapters for you guys! So even if you read this months after I posted this, feel free to leave a comment about what would you like to see and stuff!

- Also, I’ll will start posting the Kirishima spin-off a few weeks after this one ends so if you want to be on the tag list, leave me a comment!

- I got myself a really aggressive looking cactus today. He has MASSIVE spikes all over and he looks like he could literally kill a person. His first thing after I bought him was to prick my finger. So obviously I named him Lord Explosion Murder God Dynamight because he’s a prickly little fuck like him.

- I’ll shut up now. Happy new year and all that jazz. 💜💥💜

TL: @sixxze @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @hanatsuki-hime @cloroxisadelectabletreat @cheesenmax @coffeent @smolsleepybat @therealpotatobish @qardasngan @canarystwin @unofficialmuilover @nanamomo1 @mikestuffffs @p4ndawrites @yao-ai @porusuniverse

[utilitycaster]

What are some of your favourite podcasts / podcast recs?

It's hard to pick a favorite though I will say at the moment Midst is the one I think I look forward to the most, so I'm just going to go through basically all podcasts I currently or relatively recently previously listened to and sort them by rough genre. Note that as with all recommendation requests it helps to know the vibe of what you're going for and what's important to you (I know I just was like hey I'll take most music recs but the commitment for music is like the length of a song, whereas podcasts/books/movies/tv are a bit more time put in)

Actual Play:

Longtime listener of NADDPod and TAZ which I'm guessing if you follow me you are broadly aware of but if not feel free to ask more; I also post about Worlds Beyond Number enough that you might know what it is. I checked out Burnt Cookbook party a while ago both because I liked Jenna Stoeber's work with Polygon and because someone asked me for Actual Play podcast-only recs with more than one woman or nb player that weren't RQG and I was like oh I should find some. Anyway it's quite good! it's definitely lower production values than bigger podcasts but the plot is highly original and really good, the vibes are fantastic, the characters are a lot of fun, and all in all worth checking out. I also do listen to the Re-Slayer's Take which I've really enjoyed! Everyone's good but while I was familiar with (and a fan of) Jasmine Bhullar and Jasper William Cartwright's work, Jasmine Chiong as Farah speaks to the Grouchy Old Hunter Woman fan in me and has been a personal standout. It is very heavily edited, which does take some getting used to. Also, I mentioned RQG (Rusty Quill Gaming). It comes with the caveat of "very good but slow to start and then doesn't really stick the landing, imo, though the epilogues help" but I can recommend with that warning.

Scripted Fiction

Camlann. Modern post-apocalyptic Arthuriana/Folklore of the British Isles, with some hints of other folklore as well. 1 season; hoping they get funding for a second because it was very well done and also I want Gwen and Morgan to kiss.

Midst. Hard to describe but if you follow me you've seen a lot of posts that might help. Extremely good! About to finish in a bit over a week's time! Check it out and I advice you check out the first 3 episodes at once to get a feel for it; the three-narrator thing is also "get used to it and it will be fine".

The Penumbra Podcast. Originally envisioned as an anthology podcast but then two specific settings (noir-y space opera and medieval court monster hunters) were very popular. Also nearing its end.

The Silt Verses. Quite literally everything on this list would be described as "New Weird" and "has queer characters" and this is maybe the New Weirdest. Anyway, set in a world where gods are real, require human sacrifice to live, and society is both very complicit and also uses the gods to sell shit. I think people who are mad about D20 or CR not being explicitly political enough should listen to it. Extremely good. Also in its endgame, but they've had a very drawn out schedule as of late.

Welcome to Night Vale. You are on Tumblr; presumably you know the drill. I can't say I'm like...super following what happens but it's one of those things that's been a constant in my life for over a decade and takes up a very pleasant hour-ish per month. This feels like damning with faint praise but the earlier stuff was great and it's still strong, it's just, you know, the inevitable slowness of an indefinitely long slice-of-life-ish show vs. the more plot-driven ones above.

Within the Wires. By one of the Night Vale Creators. I have a post about it but it's set on an alternate history Earth where a cataclysmic war/plague/various other bad things absolutely destroyed the population in the early 1900s, leading to a very different global society. Some people say the seasons are very uneven in quality. They are incorrect. The seasons follow different people and all are in the form of found audio, so they are all quite different, but it's entirely a matter of personal preference if you like a season or not; it's not that some are Objectively Better.

Wolf 359 finished a long time back and I haven't relistened since my original listen in like...2018, but of "podcasts that have finished" it's worth it. Weird space stuff.

Informative(?)

Home Cooking by Hrishikesh Hirway and Samin Nosrat; was a pandemic project that now only airs yearly, really, but worth checking out if you like cooking.

I found out about Home Cooking via Song Exploder, which is just Hrishikesh Hirway talking about songs. Great podcast; the editing is fascinating and I have found a lot of good music from it!

I Only Listen to the Mountain Goats. Has only two seasons but they are both very good if you like The Mountain Goats as a band.

No Such Thing as a Fish: the QI (British quiz show) (if you're British you know this better than I do) researches talk about weird facts and riff on them.

Sawbones: Justin McElroy and his wife Dr. Sydnee Smirl McElroy talk about weird medical history and dumb wellness trends on tiktok. This is one of the earliest podcasts I subscribed to back when I did not drive nearly as much.

The Anthropocene Reviewed by John Green. Has also completed and there's a book that's basically covering the same ground. It's not like, purely informative; it's very anecdotal (as is I Only Listen to the Mountain Goats) but I learned a lot from it.

Honorable mention: I just didn't have the time or energy to keep up with Ologies by Alie Ward but what I listened to was fun and interesting and my sibling is a big fan.

Comedy and Miscellany:

Beef and Dairy Network: also British, on the Max Fun network with the McElroys. Fucking weird. I debated putting this in the scripted fiction because it's basically "what if Welcome to Night Vale was a little less story focused but still had throughlines and was specifically about the cattle industry in some absurdist alternate version of our world" but stuck with comedy bc the absurdity outstrips the plot. It's weird!

My Brother, My Brother, and Me: you probably know this one; either you love it or you don't.

My Dad Wrote a Porno: also British and from what I understand a bigger deal over there. Has uh. reached completion, in that they decided they were done, but the books apparently go on (sorry Rocky I'm not buying them). A guy and his two good friends read and roast his father's self-published erotica e-books about Belinda Blumenthal, Pots and Pans saleswoman, ft. bad accents, corporate espionage, and, of course, The Duchess.

The Empty Bowl: Justin McElroy and Dan Goubert of Cerealously's ASMR podcast about cereal. legitimately has helped me calm down when anxious at night. I am not even a big cereal eater it's just entertaining and chill.

Anyway any other podcasts I have listened to I've either forgotten, weren't good enough to recommend, just disappeared without any conclusion [*cough* king falls am] or involve way more reservations than I am willing to go into without knowing more about what you are looking for.

[drunknillawafer]

right down the line: zuko x firebender!reader (part 10)

You grew up close to the Royal Family due to your father's position as a General, but you ran away from home after the agni kai against your best friend, Zuko. Now, you've joined the Gaang and plan on doing your part in ending the 100-year war.

Part 9 Part 11

hello!!! omg yall i've been waiting for this era... oh we're really getting into it now! sorry for the sokka lovers... it was so hard to write this one but it must be done! hopefully u guys like it, as always plz give any feedback by liking, reblogging, commenting, it means so much! thanks if you've read this far hehe... also thinking of another fic... but probably won't start that one until I'm done w this one... i don't own these characters or the atla world & it's about 2200 words, enjoy!

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

It’s been a few days since we all made it out of the desert. How we did it, I’m not sure. But I’m just grateful to finally be out.

The emptiness of the desert is different than the vastness of the North Pole. There’s no water around to soak and all our abilities become useless. The sun and seemingly endless surroundings beat us. No one could do a thing.

We were nothing without Appa. We are nothing without Appa.

With the revelation of the eclipse and rumors about our furry friend’s whereabouts, the five of us were on our way to Ba Sing Se. Hopefully, it would bring some comfort to Aang. The last shred of stability he was standing on was muzzled in the desert, and his pain since has been impossible to ignore. The one thing he brought from home is currently lost somewhere on Earth. How would any of us begin to understand?

\Katara can’t reach him. Sokka, Toph, and I don’t even want to try. For now, being en route to the infamous well-protected capital of the Earth Kingdom would be enough.

I’ve never been. Most of what the Fire Nation educated us on was about how we could manage to tear down the walls and go inside. It was a requirement to tell the story about the Dragon of the West, or Iroh, and his deemed ‘failure.’

Knowing what I know now of the old man’s heart and philosophy, it wasn’t a failure at all. It was a cry for mercy to the world so they could possibly forgive us for wreaking so much havoc. The tiny evidence that kindness still exists in our nation.

The train station itself is already a drastic change from the other Earth Kingdom villages I’ve visited. A well-built stone structure with a developed railway system and guards at every checkpoint. Ba Sing Se mostly kept to themselves, but I could tell from standing in these walls that it would be enormous and far more evolved in comparison.

After Toph saved us from the grouchy woman handing out tickets, we made our way to our designated cart.

For a single moment, it felt like the old times. We had something to do, somewhere to go, and a goal to achieve. Our banter started to return, but Aang’s hesitation for anything about hope could be felt by people halfway across the world. We were as normal as we could be, at least.

“Ah!” I hear Sokka yelp from behind me. All of us turn around to an Earth Kingdom guard. What now?

Menacingly, she grabs him by his collar and begins to point at his chest. “Tickets and passports, please.”

Katara and I share glances of concern, then we both get in defense mode. Protectively, I rest one hand on my sword. Silently, I beg for this to blow over. I don’t think anyone is in the mood to fight.

“Is there a problem?” The boy in blue asks the stranger.

“Yeah, I got a problem with you. You probably think you’re a big shot, huh?” The girl continues. “Let me guess, you’re traveling with the Avatar.” Have they met before? She didn’t look at Sokka like he was a stranger, but a well-known fool.

Sokka finally asks, “Do I know you?”

“You don’t remember me? Figures. Well, let me help you.” She grabs his collar again and plants a big, confident kiss on his cheek. This makes the blood rush to Sokka’s face, and he gleams.

“Suki!” He exasperates and hugs her. Katara lowers her defenses, but my hand is firmly planted on my sword. My body isn’t letting me relax and I don’t know why.

Awkwardly though, I try to make my presence known. “Um.” Is about all I can stumble out. The bubble in my throat is making it hard to sound anything but dazed and confused.

The boy in blue turns around to me as if he’s forgotten I was there at all. Don’t let it hurt; I tell myself. At least not yet. Be cool, calm, and collected. Everything the Fire Nation is known for, right?

Sokka pulls away from… Suki to face me. “Oh!” He realizes once his eyes land on mine. I’ve never seen this version of him before and it’s quickly my least favorite.

Suki stands in the same awkward place I am in, glancing between the both of us to connect any dots she’s missing.

Sokka turns his head back and forth, trying to come up with something to say. The words don’t seem to be settling in for him. “Suki! This is Y/N. We picked her up a while back. After Kyoshi Island.” Kyoshi Island had only briefly been mentioned among the five of us. Now I know why. I guess he does this everywhere Appa used to take him. The next words fall out of his mouth slowly, like a slap in the face I was desperately trying to avoid. “We’re friends.”

Sometimes when your heart breaks just the right amount, your body has no choice but to smile. The smile spreading across your face is the only thing keeping you together, like a band aid patching up a crack in a dam. It doesn’t do much for the dam, but it makes everyone else feel better.

Kindly, she greets me. “Hi! I’m Suki. I’m a Kyoshi Warrior, it’s so nice to meet you!” It doesn’t help that she doesn’t know. I can’t hate her, she’s too kind to hate. Too oblivious to see the pain I’m in.

How would she know about us if they haven’t seen each other since then?

Another logical reasoning that should make the upset, hurt, and worry go away. But it doesn’t. This is when I know the knot in my chest is not going to leave so easily.

I replay everything from the moment I jumped off of the crimson trees. When I spotted him, when he saw me. The handshake that confirmed the future, saving the village. The Northern Water Tribe. All of that came after her. I was just the second one to take his words as a promise.

Sokka can’t meet my eye right now. He can only let out a nervous laugh and rub the back of his neck.

On cue, “Avatar Aang. We need your help!” We turn our heads to the cry for assistance, successfully interrupting an impossible situation for the boy in blue.

☆

It wasn’t enough for the universe to make me realize that I’m in second place. It also had to force me to cross Serpent’s Pass with the one who got first place.

Logically, it’s better that we have her around. She’s a strong fighter, better than Sokka actually. It would help our odds. But part of me wished the grouchy lady had simply let us on the train.

The people of the Earth Kingdom, I have come to know, are set in their ways and I’m not getting out of this one.

I don’t know why it bothered me so much. It’s not like he’s wrong. We are friends. But I thought we were more. He sure acts like it everywhere else besides in front of her.

It’s difficult not to let it get to you. Let it consume you and dictate everything you’ve known about yourself to be true. Everything I had experienced with him was after. I would never make him feel the way she did, and I could feel it.

I haven’t spoken a single word to him since we left the train station, and he hasn’t noticed. He’s more concerned about Suki and her being here.

I’ve never known what it’s like for Sokka to not choose me.

For the night, we decided to sleep on a safe part of the Serpent’s Pass and attempt to walk in the daytime. Before the rocks disappear into the ocean, there’s a slab big enough for everyone and the refugees to camp. There’s also enough space to avoid them.

In this secluded area I’ve managed to find, where no one can see my true feelings, I find myself with nothing to do but think. Sitting on a rock I’m using as a bench, I look up at Yue as she’s planted in the sky, grazing us with her light.

I take a deep breath in and let the waves wash over me. The only sound is the water crashing into the rock. I try to not think about tomorrow, but right now. Here, I could wear the humiliation on my face with no one to hide it from.

When did I let Sokka have this much power over me? When did he manage to get under my skin?

It feels odd; to feel pain over something new. The last few years have been nothing but torture, but at least I’d gotten used to it.

This one. This is surprising and fragile all in one. If you had told me a few weeks ago that I’d be here, sitting and moping about Sokka, I wouldn’t have believed you. But here I am. With only myself to blame for letting my guard down.

I knew better, but I still did it. I let myself believe someone I cared about wouldn’t hurt me. Didn’t I learn my lesson last time?

It bites.

Suddenly, I hear footsteps against the pavement and I’m hoping I’m hallucinating them. No cactus juice, only me. But I’m not.

In front of me, Sokka finds my secluded safe space and I can’t find my smile band aid. There’s only a frown ready for him, but he’s not surprised. He’s come here to talk about something.

“So.” I begin. He sits down on the space available on the rock, next to me, shoulder-to-shoulder. I could feel his warmth flow through my body from this light touch. It’s still comforting to have him nearby.

“Yeah?” He questions. Sokka looks at me, and the moon is shining his face beautifully. It almost hypnotizes me, but then I remember.

“Suki.” Obviously.  

“Yeah.” This time I can hear the pain in his voice. It’s a tough conversation, but we owe it to each other.

“Was I just the second?”

“What? No. Why would you say that?”

“It’s how it looks. You said we were friends.” ‘Friends’ comes out of my mouth like its venom, a poison. A bad word.

“You wanted to be friends.”

“Yeah, but—”

“I don’t get you; you know.” Sokka stands, frustrated. “You’re confusing. You say you like me, but you don’t want to be my girlfriend.”

I shrug my shoulders. “It’s complicated.”

“Why?”

“Because it is!”

He zeroes in on his question. “No. Why, Y/N?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know.”

“Know what?”

“It’s complicated because of Zuko.”

Sokka almost knocks the wind out of me when his name hangs in the air. With all the might in my body, I am trying to hold the tears back. Why is he saying this?

“No, it’s not!”

“Then why couldn’t you say anything after the Northern Water Tribe? Why don’t you want to be with me?”

“I don’t know!” I sound like a child with nothing but empty replies.

“Yes, you do. And I’ve been here, waiting for you… But seeing Suki… it brought up a bunch of feelings.” Sokka sighs. “Aren’t I allowed to be confused?”

I’m trying. I’m trying more than anything to be more than where I come from. To be more than my roots and anger and pain and continuing the cycle. I don’t want to spew out venom, I want to be kind. But sometimes, I don’t do that well of a job.

“I’ll make it easier for you then.” I stand to look at him in the eye. “Don’t count me in as an option.”

“Y/N—”

But I’ve walked away before I could hear anything.

☆

Gently, Sokka pulls Suki away from him, separating their lips. He glances around to see if Y/N was near, she’s not. She didn’t see the kiss.  

It’s been an odd day for him.

He was already on edge with Suki joining them for Serpent’s Pass. He didn’t want anyone else he loved to be in danger. It was enough to worry about Katara, Y/N, Toph, Aang, and Appa all the time.

He knew it wasn’t realistic, but he couldn’t help it. Sokka had been this way his whole life. The need to keep everyone safe had been instilled in him since his mother died and his father left.

He could tell Y/N was upset with him from the moment he saw her face, and as much as it hurt him greatly to argue, it all had to come spilling out. For both of their sakes.

Sokka didn’t know until that moment that Zuko bothered him so much. The idea that Y/N was choosing between the both of them angered him. The universe is funny, though. It reunited him with Suki, and now he’s faced with the same problem.

But Y/N isn’t him, she won’t wait. She’s too grand. And he won’t make her. It’s over before it had a chance to begin.

He’s already hurt her.

Sokka’s sure she’d find some way to get him back, though. It was one of her best traits. The need to make everything fair. The fire inside of her never died out.

It wasn’t the kind of fire that terrorized villages and separated families, but the kind that keeps you warm in the coldest of places.

Now, he needed to deal with the girl in front of him, and he had no idea what to do.

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

tag list <3: @camilleverreault @staygoldsquatchling02 @yunloyal @lily-ann-b <3!

[aziraphales-library]

hi there, there's tons of good omens fics where aziraphale turns human and doesn't remember anything of their past while crowley stays near and protects him/befriends him/ etc. Are there any fics where crowley is the one turned human? I couldn't find any fitting tags :((

Hello. We have a #turned human tag that you can browse. Here are some fics in which Crowley is turned human or loses his memory at least believes he's human, some of which will have already been recommended...

Every Atom Belonging to Me by triedunture (T)

Crowley is rendered temporarily mortal after a run-in with a-- Well, it doesn't really matter. What matters is he needs to eat and sleep and do the things humans must do if only for one night. Aziraphale can help with the eating bit, at least. A cozy, sweet evening with tea, drinks, food, poems, and warm blankets.

The Good Demon by HolyCatsAndRabbits (T)

In this AU fic, Hell thinks the demon Crowley isn’t evil enough to merit the title of demon. As punishment, they turn him mortal, and if he wants his old job back with his powers and immortality, he’s got to seduce and cause the Fall of some angel named Aziraphale, who is serving as a campus chaplain, running a group for queer youth. Crowley thinks the assignment will be easy, until he meets the angel and his students, and discovers the kind of found family that he’s always wanted. There’s just one little problem: Crowley is a terrible danger to them all.

feel my fortune tell me by nobirdstofly (E)

“And you bet… what? With whom?” “Oh, with me!” Muriel exclaims. “Mr. Crowley bet me that I couldn’t convince a customer I was human!” “Barmy woman,” Crowley fills in. “Think you could have told her the coatrack was a human.” He sounds so grouchy about it that Aziraphale wants to bundle him in a blanket and set him by the fire with spiked cocoa.

Crowley loses a bet and, temporarily, becomes a human. Aziraphale, predictably, frets.

Save Me by atimefeeler (T)

When Anthony wakes up in a hospital with no memory, he finds himself alone with nothing but a vaguely threatening note written in blood. In an attempt to save himself from an untimely death, Anthony goes about his life as if he wasn't currently suffering from memory loss. It really is too bad he can't figure out if his stunning partner if trying to kill him or not. Going on a date with him couldn't hurt, right? ... “Do you think perhaps you could come over to the bookshop?” Aziraphale asked, “I would so love to see you, dear.” “Yeah I- no!” Anthony nearly shouted and then clamped his hand over his mouth. “No? Why ever not?” “I can’t,” Anthony scrambled for what to say, “I’ve got-” ‘Diarrhea’ was on the tip of his tongue, but then Anthony caught a glimpse of his reflection in the black phone screen and blurted, “-an eye condition.” ... or- Crowley has no idea why his plan to pretend he doesn't have amnesia is proving to be so difficult. It might be because the poor guy is actually a demon.

Pray For Us, Icarus by Atalan (Series) (G-T)

For three centuries, Crowley has been reincarnated over and over as a human with no memory of his past. Aziraphale has tried to find a way to restore him to his true self, but all he seems to do is hurt them both. This time, he only means to steal a brief moment when he walks into Crowley's flower shop. But Crowley can't let it go...

- Mod D

[novashelby]

Evelyn Shelby(OC) x Alfie-AU EVIE Verse. Meaning no connection to the main fic or timeline. Just playing around with Evie and different characters. Enjoy! I'm trying to write Alfie more.

TW: Mention of bombs and sex

It was her second attempt at university. She was turning thirty that October. However, life had other plans. Germany had other plans. When she was a little girl, she always asked her daddy if there was ever going to be another war. Either Tommy lied to make her feel safe or he truly wanted to believe it himself.

"You know, I don't feel so comfortable with you going far from home, Evelyn-London-"

"Daddy, I'll be thirty this year. I'd like to go to London, alright?" She stopped speaking, noticing his tense nature. "I'm no safer here." He couldn't argue with her. His eight year old girl was in fact thirty. She was going to do what she wanted.

So, she went to London in late August and in September of 1940, everything changed. They were so loud. The bombs. Her and the rest of the ladies were forced to live, breathe, eat, and study in a shelter that was really just a makeshift basement where the university kept files. They were only allowed out during certain hours and had to be back before a certain time.

But Evelyn never followed a curfew. If Tommy Shelby couldn't make her, fuck Germany. Hitler wasn't going to make her follow no stupid curfew.

"Un-fucking-real," the gentleman said when she walked through his underground distillery and into his 'office'. It was less of an office, more of a closet. "Not even a fuckin' air raid gives me a fuckin' break from you fuckin' Shelbys-"

"Nice to see you, Mr. Solomons-"

"Shouldn't you be home?" he asked, fixing his specks. He was observing some type of trinket. Evelyn looked over the desk at it, humming. "What?"

"I was sick of living with fifteen other girls in a file room," she explained, looking around the place. "Thought I'd get some fresh air." She sniffed in the dust. "Though, I don't think your office is that fresh-no offense." She looked over at him. "It's dusty-"

Alfie put down the trinket, and leaned back, unamused expression. "It's a fuckin' closest." Evelyn sat on a pile of boxes, folding her legs. "Make yourself at home," he said, sarcastically, of course. "Just like your daddy-barge right in. You know modern people call before they visit? or they write?"

Evelyn chuckled. "Well, Mr. Solomons. You and my father also have something in common."

"Fuck off with that-"

"Both old, grouchy, miserable," she started, rising from the boxes and walking over, leaning on the flimsy desk. "Dusty, unmarried men. Would you not like some company? You've aged a lot since I've last seen you-"

"Are you going to try and fuck me again?" he asked before settling on, "you can sleep on the makeshift bed." Alfie wasn't going to make a young lady traverse through the dodgy London streets risking getting stuck in an air raid.

"And where will you sleep?" she asked.

"I won't-"

"But what if it gets cold and I'll need more warmth? Mr. Solomons, you are an awful host." He commented how they were, once again, in a closet. That it was a....bloody fuckin' stuffy in there...and he was...nearly sweating my arse off. "Then you should have no qualms about me undressing-"

"Bloody fuckin' 'ell...alright," he groaned. Evelyn was a strange woman, he thought. "Desk or cot?"

She hummed, looking at her watch. "It's early...surely we can make our rounds. I bet we'll even make it against the ceiling if we get our position right."

[thorinoakenbutt]

As the Moth Sees Light

Anders x Hawke Also includes Varric, Carver, and Aveline SFW, pre-relationship, meet cute

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

“Maker’s Balls, and I thought Uncle’s house smelled bad.”

A sound halfway between a snort and scoff answered Hawke as she bent to pull her dagger free of the corpse with a sickening squelch. Straightening, she twirled the blade in a tight circle, only just managing to resist the temptation to wipe its bloody edge on the sleeve of her father’s old coat. A quick glance down at herself confirmed that the worst of the arterial spray from the poor, dumb sod had missed her. Good. One less argument to have with Carver later that night while she did the washing in the tiny room they shared. Maker forbid she get blood on her clothing, as though she hadn’t spent the last fourteen years having to do that exact task on a near monthly basis. 

“Must be behind on my payments,” Varric muttered beneath his breath, nudging the Coterie thug with his boot. Another half dozen bodies littered the ground behind them, half of which were skewered with crossbow bolts. Hawke had to hand it to the dwarf - he and Bianca were handy in a fight. Without their addition, she likely would have had to find a dank corner of the already dank sewers in order to use her magic to heal their wounds.

“Are we certain that that Lirene woman isn’t giving us the run-around?” she asked idly, glancing back at her brother and Aveline. Carver hovered close to her, his familiar, grouchy presence at her back providing a comfort she could never voice aloud. He had a smear of blood on his cheek that she had to bite down the urge to lick her thumb and smudge away. He’d always hated her fussing, even when they were children. At least it didn’t look like the blood belonged to him. “I know that Grey Wardens like to while away their hours in the Deep Roads, but surely even those don’t reek this much.”

“Even with the taint?” Aveline scoffed, expression pinched. She lingered at the rear of their party, protective as always, with her hand resting on the pommel of her sword in a white-knuckled grip. The end of their scuffle with the Coterie didn’t put her at ease, gaze shifting quickly around the cistern’s passageways for other threats. The shadow that flitted across her face as she spoke sent a dagger of guilt twinging through Hawke as she remembered the good Ser Wesley. 

The one who threatened to drag the Hawke sisters before the templars for the crime of apostasy. Lips quirking into a wry smile, she shoved the feeling deep down into the mental box where she kept every other troublesome emotion. He was dead, and Bethany was dead, and now her priority was ensuring Carver and their mother had a roof over their heads. Preferably one nicer than their uncle’s.

As they turned a corner, Hawke hop-skipped over the legs of yet another corpse - or perhaps this one was simply sleeping, judging by the snoring - whose legs jutted out into the walkway from an alcove. Varric walked in step with her, drumming his fingers in an off-beat rhythm against Bianca’s wooden stock. He was the only one of them that looked more or less at home in the sewers. His ambling gait brought to mind a casual stroll through Hightown’s Garden rather than the crime-riddled shithole they waded through. “Stink or not, this would be as good a place as any for a mage to hide,” he mused, eyeing the way Hawke sashayed down a flight of stairs in time with his tapping. 

“You hear that, Cat? Maybe you should move down here,” Carver teased, lightly kicking the back of her knee as she reached the bottom step. He laughed when it buckled beneath her, though his hand shot out to catch her elbow before she could pitch face first into the dirt. 

“Ha, you’re hilarious,” Hawke deadpanned, shoving her dagger back into its sheath before she could decide in favor of ‘accidentally’ letting it ‘drop’ straight into her baby brother’s thigh. The little voice in her head that precluded every bad decision she’d ever made tried to reason with her that it wouldn’t be anything she couldn’t heal herself. Probably. They were meeting with a magical healer, anyway. Hopefully. 

They came to a second set of stairs that she took three at a time, bounding up them with renewed energy. A door was set into the wall with a conspicuously lit lantern, just as Lirene had promised. A crowd of refugees gathered around the door in a loose circle, most of them with varying degrees of injuries or illness. Coming to a half, Hawke chewed her lip and considered how best to proceed. 

“Where there’s injured members of the Carta and sick children standing in a queue without it devolving into a brawl, there must be a healer,” she whispered to her companions. Drawing the still wet dagger back from its sheath, she approached her brother. “Quick, Carver - look pathetic.”

He scowled down at her, eyeing the blade warily. “What? Why can’t you play the damsel for once?” Hawke ignored him, plucking the leather away from his skin to stab a hole through it without risk of harming him. Then she smeared the blood down his front, frowning thoughtfully at the end result. It didn’t look bad. Perhaps the dim light filtering through Darktown would hide just how fake it was. Carver hissed angrily at her, but no matter. She’d stitch it together again later in lieu of an apology. 

“Because,” she explained, patting his chest in a pantomime of comfort. His already impressive glower deepened and she huffed. “Listen. When a big, strong man like you goes down, you know it’s bad. They’ll let us through.”

Carver rolled his eyes, placing his hand on her shoulder to shove her away. “Carver,” she whined, drawing his attention back down to her. She pouted, unafraid to pull out all the stops. Add a little quiver to her lip, some mistiness to her eyes, and… “Please?”

He wavered. The stubborn set to his jaw loosened before he clenched his teeth again. Hawke let a single tear roll down her cheek, internally exulting when he sighed in certain defeat. All but collapsing against her, Carver moaned as if in pain for good measure. She wasn’t the only good actor in the family. Varric joined them, drawing Carver’s arm across his broad shoulders for support, leaving Aveline to watch them in reproachful judgment at the lie. 

“Out of the way! The kid needs a healer!” Varric bellowed. Dozens of eyes landed on them at the commotion and Carver let his head loll forward, playing the part to perfection. The crowd parted, faces drawn with worry as they rushed by. Aveline darted ahead of them, propping the door open with her hip as she glanced back to ensure no one moved to stop them. 

The door shut behind them, blocking out the cacophony of Darktown with a thud. Hawke surveyed the interior with interest, breathing deep of the scent of magic and herbs that lingered heavily in the air. It was strangely homey, in a dirty kind of way, strangely reminding her of their father. Fighting back the wave of homesickness, her eyes were drawn to the hunched back of the man who could only be the healer as he bent over the prone form of a child lying on a table. 

His hands wove creation magic like he was born to it, drawing the healing energies into the boy as naturally as breathing. There was a bone-deep weariness in the slope of his shoulders and that made something inside of her ache. Hawke bit her lip hard enough to feel the skin split, the copper tang against her tongue providing enough of a distraction to strengthen her resolve to do something. She’d march straight back to Lirene’s shop once their business was finished to donate some of her meager earnings with strict instructions that it go toward a meal for the man. Maybe a nice sandwich with all the trimmings. 

The magic snuffed out as the boy stirred, his parents rushing to his side as the healer staggered away. Hawke followed him with her eyes, frowning as he caught himself against the wall and swayed on his feet. His blonde hair had half escaped a tie he’d used to hold it back from his face, letting the strands fall into his face and obscuring it from view as he bent to suck in deep breaths. He’d overdrawn on mana, Hawke realized.

Her hand flew to her pack, fingers searching for a lyrium potion before she stopped - another refugee, perhaps an assistant, rushed to his side with one at the ready. He pushed the glass into the healer’s hands and he nodded his thanks before tossing the blue liquid back like a shot. 

Carver’s impatience got the better of him and he cleared his throat, drawing the Warden’s attention. His amber eyes snapped to them, meeting her gaze for the briefest of moments and Hawke froze. He was handsome.

His was a narrow face with shadowed eyes, tired but kind with lines that crinkled at the edges even as he frowned at them. Hawke admired his long nose, her imagination running away from her with thoughts of what it might be like to sit on that lovely face and missed the way he dropped his gaze to the daggers at her waist. She did notice his eyes narrowing, darkening with righteous fury as he looked to Carver, then Varric, and finally Aveline. 

The Warden lunged for his staff, his long, slender fingers wrapping around it like - Hawke snapped out of her daze, inhaling sharply as she realized she’d been holding her breath. She took an instinctive step in front of her brother, laying her hand on his arm as he reached for his own weapon. Heart pounding for a wholly different reason than being faced with a pretty man, she knew she had to diffuse the situation before it got ugly. The other refugees were sure to take poorly to their sole doctor being threatened. 

It was an easy enough task once she got the man talking about his cat. The Grey Warden - Anders - didn’t let his guard down entirely as he ranted about the order he’d left behind, allowing her a moment to examine him more closely. He was thin, painfully so. There were dark circles beneath his golden eyes that spoke to sleepless nights yet there was a fierceness to him that drew her closer like a moth to flame. “Maybe I’ll double it and get him a nap and a sandwich,” she mused quietly, thinking about her impending donation. 

The sharp jab of an elbow to her ribs brought her back to the present, and she stepped on Carver’s foot in retaliation. When she dragged her gaze back to the healer’s face, she flustered as they locked eyes again. “So if you’re not here for healing or to cause trouble for me…what do you want?” he directed at her. He’d clearly decided that she was the leader of their merry band, like so many before. 

‘You,’ is what she absolutely couldn’t say no matter how desperately she wanted to. Anders blinked in surprise before his mouth curled into a warm smile, exhaling a chuckle. And Lirene said he wasn't a smiler. Maker. Her earlier words about marrying him rang in her ears, taunting her. Carver groaned in disgust and she felt her stomach drop into her feet as she realized that she’d said it after all. “Ah,” she said stupidly. Staring at the dirt floor beneath her feet, she willed it to open and swallow her whole to save her from her mortification. 

“Somehow I doubt that’s why you came all this way,” Anders said, his smile turning wry. Hawke felt her face heat at his light-hearted tease and tried to hide the way she faltered by clearing her throat. Carver’s impatient shifting beside her reminded her of the real reason they came. It was no time to flirt with handsome healers. 

Clearing her throat a second time, she decided to try again. “We need to know how to get into the Deep Roads.”

That wiped the smile off Anders’ face, his lips curving into a deep frown the moment she said their intended destination. “No,” came his firm reply, planting his hands against his hips to add to the sternness of it. 

Hawke grimaced at the finality in that single word. "We have good reason for wanting to go," she tried to reason, taking a step toward him with her hands raised palms up. She wasn't above going down on her knees for him to beg, though she'd rather not have an audience for that. Her eyes dipped to his hip region unbidden at the thought, wondering what he'd look like out of his robes. "My mother's an Amell and-"

"Amell?" Anders perked up at the name, as did a small number of the patients still in the clinic. Ah, good. If the family was still known within the city, then perhaps the name still held some leverage after all. Having them in his debt would be a powerful gambit. "I knew an Amell once, back in Kinloch Hold." 

Hawke wracked her brain for the stories Mother used to tell of her family. Magic had shown itself in the bloodline before she ran off with an apostate and had two of them herself. "That must have been our dear cousin…two times removed?" she stated, glancing at Carver for confirmation. He shrugged, shifting from hip to hip in anxiousness at the eyes on them. "Why Anders, that practically makes us family already!" 

The healer pursed his lips at that, fighting back another smile. He gestured for them to follow him further into the clinic, leading them to a far wall that held a few scant boxes filled with bandages and herbs. Reaching into one of the boxes for a bunch of dried embrium, Anders plucked the petals before dropping them into a mortar atop a table a short distance away. "The answer is still no," he said at last, eyes sliding to her face. 

Hawke threw her hands up in exasperation with a huff. That drew a true smile out of him, one that darted across his face before he was able to temper it back into a look of stern neutrality. "I don't know what sort of 'get rich quick' scheme this is, but the Deep Roads are dangerous. They aren't a place to go traipsing around for treasure." 

"That's a rather bold assumption to make, isn't it? What if we're simple sightseers? I happen to have quite the interest in history and Varric here-"

"Is a member of the Merchant's Guild," Anders finished for her. He gave the dwarf an appraising look before turning back to her. "If you're going to lie to me, at least make it believable." 

"It's not a lie," she pouted, not missing the way he glanced at her lips. "I do like history. When it's not boring, at least." 

"We're funding an expedition," Varric butted in, interrupting their banter. He idly tugged on the straps of one of his bracers before looking up at the healer with the same winning smile he gave Hawke when they met. "You know, Blondie, if you provided any assistance at all - even something as simple as a map or two - we'd be more than happy to offer you compensation. Coin. Protection. Supplies for this clinic of yours." 

Anders hesitated. "I'm sorry, but I just can't take that risk," he replied, shaking his head slowly. Pulling out a pestle, he began to grind the red petals into a fine powder. "I may not be with the Grey Wardens any longer, but memories of the Deep Roads and the darkspawn are fresh enough that I can't in good conscience send anyone foolish enough to risk the taint to their doom." 

"We're getting nowhere," Hawke heard Carver complain from behind her. "Listen here, mage-"

She panicked. Flailing for another tactic, whether to calm her brother or convince the Warden, she exclaimed, "Wait!"

Carver ignored her, brushing her aside before she could decide which man to handle. She watched anxiously as her younger brother squared his shoulders and the way Anders tensed his own, not turning away from the poor flower he was in the middle of pulverizing. She saw the electricity crackle over his fingers, though, and her mind went blank. 

"You can tell us how to get there, willing or not," she heard herself say before Carver had the chance to. As her brother spun to look at her in surprise, she went pale. So much for peaceful solutions. Well done, Hawke, you've threatened the healer after all.  

"Hawke," Aveline hissed in both disapproval and warning. Varric simply shut his eyes and gave a long, suffering sigh. 

The troubled expression that had marred Anders' handsome features morphed into one of anger. He spun to face her, stepping into her space to bring himself chest to chest with her and Maker he was tall. Hawke squirmed in the face of his fury, pressing her thighs together and hating that she found that attractive. There was probably something very wrong with her, but she couldn't bring herself to care with him close enough that she could see the golden lashes that framed his eyes. 

"Don't threaten me, little girl," he growled down at her. How was that fair? Hawke pressed her thighs even tighter together as a stab of heat speared her. She was transfixed. 

Oblivious to her internalized shame spiral, Carver scrambled for his sword in a much more normal reaction to the threat. Just as quickly as he'd approached, however, Anders stepped away, breaking the spell. Hawke threw out her hand to keep her brother at bay. 

"You can't imagine what I've gone through to get here," the Warden spat bitterly as he returned to his work table. Bracing his palms against its surface, he slid his gaze between the two siblings. "I'm not about to-"

"I'm sorry," Hawke blurted, desperate to salvage things somehow. She quickly moved to his side, hopping up on the table and ignored the way it creaked precariously beneath her weight. Anders didn't move away, though he watched her warily. Crossing one long leg over the other, she knit her fingers atop her knee and affected a look of contrition. "I think we've gotten off on the wrong foot. We haven't even introduced ourselves!" 

Anders followed the line of her leg with his gaze before exhaling slowly. He turned and leaned against the table, facing away from her. "You already know my name," he pointed out, refusing to look at any of them. 

"So does the whole of Darktown and half of Lowtown, it seems," Hawke replied in a light tone. She dared to reach out and gave his feathered pauldron a ginger pat. "I'm Hawke," she continued brightly, watching some of the surliness melt off of him. 

Emboldened, she gestured to the rest of her companions. "You know Varric by now, of course. That's Aveline - she's a guard here in the city. And the tall glowering fellow is my brother, Carver." 

Her brother's brows impressively furrowed deeper at the change in tactics. "Her name is Cat. We're both Hawke." 

Anders' animosity disappeared entirely at that. "Siblings? That explains the way he's stood over you like a guard dog this whole time, I suppose." He paused. "Your name is Cat?" he asked, granting her a curious look.

"It's short for Catelyn. Mother's sense for irony - I'm a dog person, believe it or not," she breezed past the query, narrowing her eyes at her brother for his big mouth. Two could play at that game. She grinned at the way Anders' nose wrinkled, his interest quickly giving way to disgust. "Regardless, it's not my fault that everyone simply calls me Hawke." 

"Of course not. It's not at all the fact that you never bother correcting them," Carver replied with a roll of his eyes. Hawke stuck her tongue out at him, resulting in a series of rude hand gestures that rapidly flew between them until Aveline broke their line of sight of each other. 

"Enough! You're both worse than children," she barked, pulling them both up short. "The man said no. It's time to find another way."

Chastened, Hawke ducked her head while Carver crossed his arms and glared at the wall. She shot Anders an apologetic look and hopped off the table. "No hard feelings, I hope," she sighed. "My own grasp of creation magic is…shaky at best, and you never know when you might need a healer in a place like Kirkwall." 

"Cat," her brother gasped, voice strained beneath the special kind of angry he became when he was scared. He grabbed her arm to haul her away from the Warden, fingers pressing painfully through the fabric of her sleeve. "Shout it from the rooftops next time, why don't you? I'll watch Mother cry while the templars drag you away."

Anders had gone deathly still, eyes rounding in a surprise that brought a giggle bubbling up out of Hawke's chest. "You're a mage?" he asked in a voice that was little more than a whisper. His hands fluttered like he wanted to draw her back to him then wrapped around his middle. 

"As my father before me," she confirmed airily. Carver shook her for her foolishness, scowling as she wriggled out of his grasp. Once free, she stepped closer to the healer. Close enough that he could reach out for her if he really wanted to. She wanted him to. 

No. Bad Hawke, her brother was already furious with her. She batted away her sudden desire to be held by a near stranger and wrestled it into her mental box alongside the other Bad Thoughts. When Carver pulled her away the second time, she let him, quirking her lips at the way he placed himself between them as though Anders himself wasn’t an apostate. But he was stubborn, like their pet mabari. The Warden gave an oddly wistful look at the two of them that made her heart ache anew. 

“Carver, it’s alright. He’s hiding from the templars too, so he’s not likely to turn me in.”

“Never,” Anders affirmed with a vengeance, a steel edge curling along his voice. His eyes took on a strange light, almost looking blue for a moment. Hawke frowned but he was turning away from them to pace agitatedly, muttering to himself beneath his breath. Glancing at the others, Varric caught her eye and shrugged. ‘Mages, right?’ his expression read. She gave a half shrug back. She liked to talk to herself sometimes too, so she had no room to judge. 

Taking the Warden’s distraction as their cue to leave, Hawke gave an awkward wave of her hand. “Alright, well…very sorry for disturbing you, Anders.” He paused in his pacing to look at them, eyes widening again. “If you ever need some muscle, or a sandwich, or a night off…well, we spend most evenings at the Hanged Man.” She turned to go, gesturing for the others to follow when his voice stopped her. 

“Wait.”

Hawke half-turned, twisting at the waist with her lopsided grin already in place. “Missing us already?” she teased, faltering when he retained his serious expression. Not so much as a smirk or an amused snort in response. Her smile slipped in turn. 

“You can have my maps, though not for free,” Anders said in a rush. He took a step towards them, and then another. “A favor for a favor. Does that sound like a fair deal? You help me, I’ll help you?”

The sudden shift put Hawke on edge. He’d refused when offered payment, protection, and supplies, so what would make the man change his mind? “I don’t do anything involving children or animals,” she replied reflexively. 

His lovely lips turned down at the edges in confusion. “What?”

She shrugged in response. “We also had to go through a lot to reach this shithole of a city, including selling ourselves to a mercenary company for a year. I found that it’s good to have standards for jobs you might take.”

“Ah. It’s nothing quite so dire, I assure you. Compared to traveling into the Deep Roads, it shouldn’t pose an issue,” Anders continued, edging ever closer. Hawke inclined her head in acknowledgement, indicating for him to continue. He locked eyes with her and she knew she’d agree to anything he asked. 

“I came to Kirkwall to aid a friend.”

[winged-self-indulgence]

I replayed BSH and was immediately infected by the dark urge to write a fic for it. Or at least, the first 2.6K words.

The crash of ceramic colliding with the beige tiles jolted Diya from her work, and it was only the reflexive tightening of strong fingers around the heavy box in her arms that prevented a veritable flood of brand-new oat milk from joining the rapidly spreading brown puddle on the ground.

The woman inhaled and exhaled a deliberate breath of coffee-flavoured air as her co-worker’s grating voice cut through the hum of the café’s background chatter.

“Ayo, Newbie, pass me some napkins!” Miles shouted despite being barely 10ft away, “some old fart dropped his coffee!”

Carefully, Diya set down the delivery – both because it was heavy, and to remove the temptation to brain the man with its vegan-friendly contents – and charitably yanked a wad of thick, perforated napkins from the box beneath the counter.

“Stop calling me Newbie,” she snapped, shoving them at his chest hard enough that Miles let out a little oof at the sudden impact before scrambling to catch the napkins before they could hit the ground. “Either use my name, or don’t call me at all.”  

“Haha, someone’s grouchy this morning!” He shot finger guns her way, making little pew-pew noises to go with them. “Guess you’re in a brew-tal mood, huh? Get it? Brew-tal? Brutal?”

As always, Miles just laughed as though he hadn’t noticed her bad temper or genuinely didn’t care that he was about 30 seconds away from being violently strangled with his own apron strings. Most days Diya wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed by his perpetual good humour or amused by his easygoing nature, so usually she simply settled on being begrudgingly fond of his particular brand of nonsense. Like a particularly stupid orange cat that constantly knocked over anything not nailed to the countertop.

A sigh escaped Diya’s lips. Her sister would have loved Miles. They could both make godawful puns together.

“Speaking of…uh…what is your name again? If I ask Hals they’ll explode at me again,” Miles scratched the back of his head sheepishly, nearly knocking off the beat-up beanie barely holding his messy brown hair in check.

Diya shot him a pointed glare, before intentionally directing her gaze down to the front of her forest green apron where a very obvious employee name card proclaimed the word Dayana in neat looping letters. As Miles lips parted in a silent oh of realization,she rolled her eyes and turned back to continue restocking the fridge.

“We have been working together for over a month, Miles,” she snapped, running a frustrated hand through the wavy strands of her chin-length black hair. “I know you have the brain capacity of a severely concussed goldfish, but you could at least try to make some effort. It’s two syllables.”

“I’m sorry! I promise I’ll remember next time!” It was a blatant lie but only one of them knew it. Diya wouldn’t be surprised if Miles had already forgotten her name in the five seconds it had taken him to look away and check the coffee spill. “By the way, can I get more napkins? It was a ton of coffee. Like, a whole bean coffee, hehe…”

For fuck’s sake, is he already high? Diya stared at the man in dull disbelief as Miles continued to chuckle under his breath. It was only 9 a.m. Haley would have his ass if he was.

“If the spill’s that big, just get one of the mops. We have a cleaning closet for a reason, dumbass,” she informed him, jerking a sarcastic thumb over to the door that led to the employee-only area at the back of the café. “Besides, if you just wipe it down with paper towels the whole area is going to get super sticky and attract ants–. You know what? Never mind. I’ll take care of it.”

Miles’s bright blue eyes went even brighter, and he even clapped his hands underneath his chin, dropping the tissue dispenser to the ground where it split open with a metallic thunk. “You sure Newbie? ‘Cause my legs are super sore from stocking up this morning, so this would be a real lifesaver!”

The headache building behind Diya’s eyes grew exponentially as she stared down at the carpet of napkins littering the ground with dead-eyed acceptance. Genuinely how did someone as careless as Miles survive on their own for so long without accidentally getting themselves killed? Without an ability or extremely good luck, people like him couldn’t last long without some sort of safety net.

“Sure, let me just–”

“Let you just what?” Haley’s tall, unimpressed form appeared behind Miles, causing both employees to jump a good foot off the ground in surprise. A pair of dark brown eyes levelled Miles with a glare sharp enough to cut through steel. “Just let Miles do his job and clean up the huge mess on that table? What an excellent idea, Diya.”

Without giving the man a chance to respond, Haley handed Miles a bucket and mop. He took the cleaning instruments meekly, shooting them a nervous grin before trailing off in the direction of the spill with all the melodramatic malaise of a Victorian orphan being sent off to the workhouse. Haley watched him go stoically, waiting for him to be mostly out of earshot before turning to Diya with a complicated expression on their face.

“You don’t have to baby him so much,” they said, grabbing a slightly burned croissant from the discard pile. Painted black fingernails picked at the charcoal-covered tips where the heat of the oven had burned them to a crisp. One of the heating implements was out of order, meaning it either didn’t work or it worked far too well and roasted everything in that corner. “I know Miles seems ridiculously incompetent, but you shouldn’t do everything for him. It just enables him.”

“It’s easier than watching him fuck up,” Diya snorted, smirking across the room where Miles was trying to mop up the pool of milky brown and mostly succeeding in smearing it around in a sickly mess of coffee and pink, floral scented cleaning fluid. Still, the tense jut of his shoulders indicated that he could feel their hawkish stares and was trying to maintain the veneer of a hardworking employee while still appearing pathetic enough that hopefully Diya would swoop in to do the work for him.

It might have worked. The tips of her fingers itched to snatch the mop away from him and just do it herself, but Hal’s stern gaze kept Diya’s feet rooted firmly by the counter.

“I know it’s tempting,” they acknowledged, wincing as some of the gross fluid splashed onto Miles’s fancy-looking shoes. Diya vaguely recalled seeing them in some brand fashion magazine going for a few hundred, if not more.

Ah, so money was his safety net.

“Shit…think I could nab those while he’s napping in the breakroom?” Haley waggled their brows invitingly, a lock of dark green hair falling into their hopelessly pretty face. “Wannabe my partner in crime? We’ll even split the winnings, 50/50.”

 “50/50?” A snort of laughter erupted from Diya’s lips. “What does that even mean? They’re shoes! What, do I get the left leg and you get the right? Do we switch on a weekly basis?”

“I was thinking more like shared custody,” Haley smirked, biting off a mouthful of somehow still-warm pastry. “You can get them…hmmm…on the weekends.”

“Wow, so generous. What am I, a deadbeat dad?” Diya rolled her eyes as she retook her place behind the register and began wiping down the countertops with a harsh, self-deprecating snicker. “Besides, I don’t think I’m cut out for a life of crime. Making minimum wage as a barista is all the excitement I ever want to handle. I don’t need any more trouble.”

Haley’s smile softened, soft lips taking on a gentler curve. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” they replied. To Diya’s surprise, they leaned closer, the deep emerald hues of their long hair forming a forest-like curtain that seemed to banish all outside noise. “I wonder what secrets you’re hiding, Diya~”

Temporarily frozen in place, it took Diya a few seconds to huff and shove them away. “My secrets? I should be more concerned about you, Mx. Owns My Own Café in The Middle of The City. How am I going to fulfil my dreams of lifelong mediocrity if you get arrested for insurance fraud?”

Haley spluttered with laughter, nearly choking on her croissant. “Ew, insurance fraud? At least let me be arrested for something flashier, like a bank heist! Then my grand, daredevil deeds can serve as an inspiration to you to go on and find your dream job!”

That was the thing about Haley, Diya thought with a grin. They always knew how to cheer her up, even in the absolute dregs. A month ago, Diya had been on her last legs. Her apartment lease was about to end, and the landlord had been banging on the doors almost every week demanding she either fork over rent or get lost.

Chilled wind carried the stirrings of autumn and the warning of winter, and she had been desperate, starving, and almost homeless until Haley had offered her a job as a barista. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that they had saved Diya’s life. Haley was her hero, though that was something Diya would never say aloud considering their vitriolic opinions on heroes and the NAHA.

Opinions that Diya herself shared, though she had the public sense to be considerably less outspoken about them than her boss. Heroes were not only huge celebrities, but also pillars of morality embedded deep into the fabric of contemporary society. They were modern myths, their images featured in preschool cartoons, on children’s books, and stamped on charities. To speak ill of a hero was, at best, social suicide and at worst legally suspicious. The last thing Diya needed was some ‘concerned citizen’ calling a raid on her apartment because she’d accidentally insulted their favourite hero.

“Uh…can I order?”

Shit! Diya’s head sprang up at the low, drawling voice emanating from a customer standing at the other side of the counter. How engrossed in the conversation with Haley had she been that she hadn’t noticed an entire grown man less than two feet away? For the sake of her pride, Diya hoped he’d only just arrived and hadn’t been waiting there listening to the two of them chatter.

The man rubbed his arm awkwardly, pupils scanning the overhead menu in an effort to avoid eye contact. Paradoxically, his obvious discomfort with the situation helped Diya calm down, banishing the heat from her cheeks as she craned her neck up to take the stranger in. He was tall, with a pronounced and off-kilter slouch that tilted his weight forward and made it appear like he was drowning in his maroon sweater. The fabric hung off his frame, revealing a lean throat and collarbones. Strands of thick, golden-brown hair tumbled down his neck and swept across his forehead, framing a wan face speckled with a striking constellation of freckles.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t see you there,” Diya put on a tight-lipped, customer-service smile.

The man finally tore his gaze away from the menu, briefly fixing her with a pair of eyes the colour of a clear summer sky. The kind of sky you get when the sun is so impossibly hot that it chases all the clouds away and all that exists is blue, blue, blue stretching out as far as the horizon. A hungry sort of hue, a void erasing gravity and swallowing up everything around.

When he looked away again, Diya felt like she had been allowed to come up for air after an unknown amount of time. “No worries. I prefer it that way.”

“Hm. I think I get it,” she replied, shrugging when he shot her a disbelieving stare. “It’d be nice to not be noticed sometimes, is all. What would you like to order?”

Those impossible eyes flickered back to the menu, pausing on the seasonal options, and Diya mentally went over the syrups they had and whether there was enough whipped cream to last until the weekend or if she should tell Miles to run out and buy some more. “Can I get…a black coffee to go?”

“What?” The word was out of her mouth before she could stop it, causing her to be on the receiving end of the man’s startled stare. Diya’s cheeks heated up and she shook her head. “Sorry, sorry. Just one black coffee, and nothing else?”

The man paused and narrowed his eyes as though trying to parse whether this was some sort of elaborate trick question. It was…kind of cute if she had to be honest. “Uh…no?” He replied, cheeks going a little pink. “No, thank you.”

Well then, it seemed the whipped cream would last a little longer. “Okay, that’ll be $3.”

The man dug his hands into his pocket and pulled out a battered wallet from which he retrieved a $5 bill. Diya quickly rang him up and counted out his change on the receipt, but he just shoved his hands back into the pockets of his jeans and muttered a curt, “Keep it.”

Not very talkative, huh. That was fine. At least he wasn’t being outright rude. Diya had frequently found that the worst, most entitled customers were the ones who never shut the fuck up. One man had even insisted on making conversation with her while she’d been preparing his drink, resulting in a near brush with the hospital from the milk-frother when his yelling got too distracting.

Then he’d even had the audacity to leave a one-star review on Yelp for ‘unfriendly service’.                     

“Here you go,” Diya handed over a to go cup of plain black coffee, wrapped in a protective sleeve. “Please be careful. It’s very hot, and I don’t want you to burn your hands.”

Internally, Diya wanted to slam her face into the countertop. ‘It’s very hot’? Wow, no kidding! Luckily the man didn’t seem to take the redundant statement with any bad intentions, and just flashed her a wry smirk.

“Thanks…uh…” His eyes dropped down, and for a single enraging moment Diya was certain that he was staring at her tits. Sharply, she followed his gaze to the name tag pinned to the left of her chest. “…Dayana? Have a good day.”

He took the coffee from her hands, their fingertips brushing as the cup was exchanged. It was barely a flicker of contact, yet something in Diya’s stomach stirred; a swarm of butterflies bursting to life inside her belly and fluttering to be free.

Embarrassment welled up in the back of her throat, sickly and nauseating, but she managed to smile back and return his words with a polite, “Same to you.”

Against her will, Diya watched him exit the café – the bell above the door chiming gently as he stepped out into the semi-busy streets – and quickly looked away when he glanced back at her with a knowing smile. The blue of his eyes would not leave her mind, no matter how hard she tried to throw herself into her work. A glance at the clock on the wall revealed that it was only 10am. Damn. Still hours to go.

Not even watching TV helped, because every news channel was running the same special on Binary Star Hero – sponsored by the NAHA of course – and Diya refused to watch the their propaganda poster-boy for a single second of her own free will. However, several customers began to complain when she tried to change the station so she was forced to work the rest of her shift trying not to think about blue eyes while a gratingly cheerful voice parroted the same corporate platitudes and catchphrases in a dozen different ways.

[mysteriouseggsbenedict]

When I was in 6th grade I took a home ec class and it was taught by this grouchy old woman who tbh had no business being a teacher. One day we were making puppy chow (the snack where it's like cereal pieces coated in powdered sugar and chocolate and peanut butter). We were split into teams and my job was to go get the peanut butter, but I misunderstood how the process of making the recipe was meant to go, so I put the peanut butter into a bowl with the powdered sugar and essentially contaminated it because the sugar stuck to the peanut butter.

I realized that we weren't supposed to have done it that way so I asked the teacher for help. She was very short and annoyed with me and said "well, go tell your team you ruined it." So 12 year old me had to go over and explain to the other kids on my team that I did it wrong.

Anyway fuck that woman. She retired/possibly was fired/at any rate left the school the next year.