#but I still just allow myself to leave every poor soul who looks my direction breathless and heart struck

[snarlingteeth]

She pushes her lips against mine

Slots herself into my lap

Her weight pushing me down

The air trapped in my lungs

And all I can think is

Why am I doing this?

[aggressive-positivity-network]

do any of the mercs play board games?

Mercopoly (Board Game

Headcanons)

Scout:

You think he has enough of an attention span to play something that doesn’t involve sweating out his energy drinks?

Hell no!

He gets very bored very quickly, especially with something complex like chess.

He’ll play cards sometimes, but only Crazy Eights and Go Fish - that’s all he knows how to play.

However, there is one true board game he plays occasionally: Candy Land.

It’s one of the few board games that you don’t really have to read the rules for, and there isn’t any writing on the cards.

However, he only asks to play it when he’s not feeling very well.

Medic even has a page in his medical journal for the mercs that says, and I quote:

“The Scout has an extremely short attention span, and if an activity isn’t active or immersive, he will not stay long. If at any point he chooses a sedentary activity, a check-up is in order.”

As sad as it is, a request to play Candyland is a good way to know if Scout needs a little extra reassurance or support.

By the end of the game, Scout usually feels more himself, whether he wins or not.

Engie is especially good with Scout when he’s this way, being the one of the most emotionally sensitive of the group. But he also knows Scout would never admit straight-away how he was feeling, so he usually has a more fun way of getting answers.

“You feelin’ more like a King Candy or a Lord Licorice?”

“...Fudge Monster.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah...”

Spy:

If you ask him, he will most likely go off on a tangent about chess, and how it’s a game of strategy, deception, and crushing your enemy with your wit.

He scoffs at any other game, and constantly makes fun of several of his more intelligent peers for finding interest in them.

“You are mercenaries. Blood-thirsty killers of men. And you are playing ‘Hungry, Hungry Hippos’ like a hoarde of kindergartners?”

But one thing he cannot resist is Sorry.

He considers it above normal board games because it has strategy - or at least that what he says.

He actually just likes it because it’s a game of revenge, which is like a drug to him.

He’s gotten so good at it that if he asks you to play Sorry with him, it’s almost guaranteed that he’s mad at you and just wants to let off some steam by giving you a horrendous loss. However, occasionally, he’s the one who loses.

Spy isn’t a poor sport, exactly - he’s too cultured for that - but sometimes his pride outweighs his manners and he convinces himself that the other player cheated through made up signs of deception.

He simply “allows” them to win because he “doesn’t want to make a fuss.”

But god help the unfortunate soul who decides to rub their win in his face.

Sniper had won five games in a row, and it was clear Spy was getting hot under the collar.

Sniper ended their games with a mischievous, “You’ll get ‘em next time, tiger.” and a small pat on his shoulder.

Spy immediately saw red, grabbed Sniper’s hand, and before the aussie knew it, he was against a concrete wall with a butterfly knife to his throat.

“I could kill you right now. Your final cry for Medic will be drowned in blood, and I would leave you here to die a painful, dramatic death. You’ll be replaced with a rusted trash can of a bot until they could grow another clone of you. Every memory will be gone. The team will be shrouded in grief, not because of losing you, but losing what the clone can never have. And I shall bide my time, ask the clone to play the same game, and kill them when they win. Another clone, another kill. And again. And again. And again. You think the Manns give a damn as long as their work is getting done? You will never be able to form a single thought before I spill your blood - caught in an eternal prisoner’s dilemma where you always lose.”

After gathering his bearings, Sniper finally spoke.

“Is this about your takeout?”

Spy scoffed.

“Do you really think - !”

“Tonight, my treat if you don’t kill me.”

Spy squinted.

“Egg rolls?”

“And an extra order of crab rangoon.”

“Your treat?”

“Yep.”

“How do I know you won’t poison me?”

“Chemical test before and after the food arrives.”

“How do I know Medic isn’t in on it?”

“Miss Pauling as a witness and Scout as an overseer. Pauling’s main objective is to keep us alive, and Scout can’t do bloody anything subtle, even if he wanted to. You can also play back the cameras in the lab, if the mood really struck ya.”

Spy held Sniper against the wall for a minute or two while he thought it all over, then let Sniper fall to the ground.

“I don’t need your sympathy, bushman. But you had better keep your end of the deal. I am the only backstabber around here.”

Demo:

Can’t even stay awake long enough to play most board games.

On the rare chance that he’s sober, he, Engie, and Medic like to play Monopoly.

Here’s the thing: you should never ask a drunkard, an engineer, and a sadist genius to play Monopoly together. It will not end well.

They have been playing the same game for years, with new rules in place and physical extensions to the board in order to try and end the game. Every other Friday, they take the weekend to try and finish it.

However, it all ends up fruitless.

Demo is usually the one keeping the peace, since he is the least competitive out of the three. That isn’t to say he isn’t clawing for the win as much as the other two, but he is definitely the least invested. He’s mostly staying out of principle.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, ‘s ta ne’er give up, e’en when the goin’s gettin’ tough. Roll the dice, doc.”

Despite his confidence, he’s not even sure what he would do if he or anyone else won. It would seem more like a relief than a celebration.

Medic:

He’s the one who started the Eternal Monopoly game, which has led to some theories that the game itself came straight from hell, and is one of the many punishments used on sinners. The box does smell a bit of brimstone…

He seems to enjoy the chaos that each round brings and the challenge of coming up with new rules to the game. To any outsider, his commentary and directions are complete nonsense.

“According to zhe ‘Calvinball Rule,’ as stated by Engineer, and the ‘Double Kill,’ as stated by myself, since the current time ends vis a three and ve all received at least two kills zhis veek, ve need to double every other roll and whomever loses zhe resulting game of ‘Bim Bum’ vill have to go to zhe Purple Jail.”

The rules and mechanics are like an unholy amalgamation of Monpoly, Sorry, chess, D&D, Bluff, and poker.

However, when Medic isn’t stapling pages of rules together, he likes to play a nice, relaxing game of checkers with Heavy.

Both of them are excellent checker players, but neither of them care who wins.

In fact, they usually talk over the game, taking the other player’s pieces as one of them shares a story from that day’s battle.

They’ve even played while Heavy was in surgery - leading to many unfortunate times when Medic had to fish a piece out of Heavy’s intestines.

One would think that a genius doctor would also have a passion for chess, but he expresses his disdain for it almost every time the checker board is brought out.

“Ach, people think chess is such an intelligent sport. Let me tell you, liebling, it is terribly overrated. If zhe devil can play chess, anyvun can. He might as vell just give souls avay, vis those shaky claws of his.”

Engineer:

Being the engineer, he is usually the one to add to the Eternal Monopoly.

Pieces, board extensions, cards, trivia - it gives him a nice break from all the weaponry.

He’s usually the one who remembers all the mechanics and rules, and serves as the judge if rules contradict each other.

“Alright, now let’s see here…we’ve got the Infinity Loop over here, but now you’ve got the Time Travel card…how many years? Infinite? Ho boy…looks like I’m gonna have to add a Hilbert’s Hotel square somewhere. Hold on…”

Despite his affinity for Eternal Monopoly, Engineer will play almost any board game. He learns new rules and figures quickly, and enjoys the challenges that brings.

However, if he’s particularly burnt out, he likes to take a break by playing Jenga. He and Spy have a friendly rivalry, since Engie can tell which blocks are supporting and Spy has quick fingers.

Spy, oddly, is a lot more amiable losing in Jenga - he knows Engie won’t think less of him - but Engineer hates when the bricks fall over. Not because it means he lost, but because, to him, it’s a failure on his part…even if it was someone else that knocked it over.

He’s made several blueprints for the perfect Jenga game, but has concluded that no human hand could put it into practice.

During one particularly bad day, Engie bumped the table, causing the whole column to come crashing down. Spy had already recovered from the noise, but Engie was still standing there, stone-faced.

His eyes were covered by his goggles, but it was clear he was crying.

Several of his machines had broken on the job, and to him, this was just another egregious mistake.

Spy carefully put the blocks back in the container, and Engie came to his senses.

“I’m real sorry, Spy. Maybe another time…?”

Spy only nodded. He was thinking.

The next time they played, Spy brought out a different container.

Instead of wood, the bricks seemed to be made of a sturdy foam.

“They fall a bit more…quietly,” Spy explained. He dropped one, and it only made a small bouncing sound. “Pyro uses these, but they allowed me to borrow it.”

Engie was a bit skeptical at first, since it was a new material, but he got the hang of it rather quickly. He was almost ecstatic the first time it fell - the blocks barely made any sound at all!

After a few games, Spy had to leave for an assignment. Engie put a hand on their arm.

“Thank ya, Spy. Maybe you ain’t the cold-blooded backstabber I thought you were.”

Spy chuckled, but said little else. He didn’t want to admit that noise sensitivity plagued him as well.

Pyro:

Pyro loves board games, and has quite the collection in their room.

Each plastic piece is at least a little melted, and all the boxes have two or three scorch marks.

Hungry Hungry Hippos, Candyland, and Uno are among her favorites.

He is an absolute beast at Uno, though.

They take each game very seriously, especially when they can convince the whole team to play.

As you can imagine, it’s pure chaos - it even led to a rule in the Merc Guidebook: “When playing Uno with three or more players with the inclusion of a Pyro, at least one Mann Co. representative and/or a mediating Medic must be present.”

Pyro has been known the hide cards, bribe players, or even try to set flame to competition. Playing Uno is almost like a mission, with weapon preparation and Spy posing as other players.

The mercs even have a betting stand that Sniper runs. All parties have lost a lot of money that way.

It’s pretty much the only time outside of battle that the team remembers how cruel and malicious Pyro can be.

Sniper:

Conventional board games aren’t exactly his forté, but he does enjoy a bit of cards every once in a while - Solitaire being his favorite.

He even has a pack of cards in his Sniper Square for that exact purpose. It allows him the pass the time without having to look away from his targets too often.

On occasion, he could be pressed to play poker, but only if the stakes weren’t monetary (i.e candy pieces, crackers, duties, etc.).

His favorite part of every match is shuffling the cards. Pretty much every merc could shuffle cards, but Sniper could make them almost float with how quick his fingers and wrists moved. He always began the game with a new trick he learned, which delighted his fellow players (usually Spy, Engineer, Medic, and Demo).

You could always tell if he had a busy day because he would avoid tricks with too much movement, which would be murder on his sore fingers and hands.

Pyro is currently learning card tricks from Sniper, and show off what they learn at the beginning of every Uno game.

Heavy:

He isn’t a huge fan of the bright, plastic-y board games that Pyro has, although he will play them if asked.

It’s mostly because of how complicated the rules are and the fact there are almost never a Russian translation for the directions.

He always prefers checkers, cards, or mancala, which he almost exclusively plays with Medic because he’s the only one who speaks fluent Russian.

Heavy can play a mean game of mancala, though, and it’s the only game he can beat Medic at.

Soldier:

The only games he will play are Battleship and Uno - but only after Miss Pauling convinced him it was “American enough” because the game had red, white, and blue cards.

He prefers the electronic Battleship because of the sound effects and voices. However, if it’s out of batteries, he’ll make his own sound effects.

Miss Pauling is the best at pretending to be a commander, so she’s usually the one playing with him - but, sometimes, Demo gets in on the action, too.

[cornacopicimagines]

A Rose Blooms │t.h

pairing: prince!tom holland x princess!reader

words: 8.4k (WHOOPS)

warnings: arranged marriage, SMUT (we been knew), slight praise kink and 10000% breeding kink, therefore unprotected sex, swearing, slight cockwarming & good lord there is so much

summary: Perhaps God does have a sick sense of humour. To allow such misguided souls to one another. Souls that shouldn't be allowed to feel the sense of happiness he can provide, that should accept their dire situations. The Prince of Wales and his new bride can attest to the quite well. 

a/n: what do y'all mean a historical prince au!tom holland with major smut and breeding kink is not a thing. i know the sluts want it, even if they never ask for it. i must provide it.

masterlist

━━★✼☆｡

y/n of Burgundy was a splendid piece of artwork. A sweet and humble French Princess with a huge dowry and a bright future. It was as if DaVinci had casted the girl from Venus's shadow and gifted the baby to displeased parents. Parents who so wished for a boy, that the arrival of a healthy girl is so overlooked that the girl is better off dead. The sadness is heard across not only France but the entirety of Europe. Poor y/n of Burgundy! The Unlucky Princess of Burgundy! It's all she hears; she is deemed a tragedy before her life is even written. Perhaps that is her greatest misdeed in this life, that because she is born the wrong sex to what is expected she is casted to the side as a woman destined for slight and anguish for her entire life. Even if this is the case, y/n wished to think of herself as unwritten for the moment being. A woman waiting for a calling no matter how big or small. A woman who's only current wish to sit atop this windowsill, letting the cool September French breeze kiss her flushed cheeks. Alas, even this is stripped from her.

"Get off the window, y/n!" her mother's shrill voice shrieks as The Duchess yanks y/n to the floor. It's harsh and frantic, as if an arrow is to fly through and hit her. Her tightly coiled chest hit's the wooden floor hard. It knocks the only wind y/n really has left, a wasteful shame.

"I am sorry mama," y/n responds quietly, her hands desperately pat to find a piece of wood that will not cut up into her as she attempts to regain her balance. Though her room is filled with four maids not a single one offers their own hand to help her. She knows it is because of her mother's cowl. If they dare so move in a direction towards her, The Duchess will become a Fury of Hell himself.

"The breeze is so sweet at this time of afternoon." Finally, y/n does place her feet back on the floor with a small clack of her heels. She takes a moment to take in the state of her gown. While she has countless others, something about the pure white of the satin being destroyed by the inevitable dust that has collected is disheartening even to her. The pattern of bright red roses now looks more of a dull blood grey than a true flower.

"The breeze is something so frivolous my dear," The Duchess is suddenly content with her surroundings. "Busy yourself with something more intelligent, it makes for a much better bride." 

"Thank you for the wise advice mother," y/n snaps, her fingers gripping the ruined material of her gown. "I'll be sure to not engage myself in something that gives me the slightest bit of freedom in the lifeless castle," it was no louder than a whisper. Her braided hair still muffling the sounds.

As if her words seemed to not even reach her, The Duchess mumbles in agreement before taking her leave. The door shutting loudly behind her, the air was finally safe to breathe. The maids immediately begin to swarm her. Like flies to honey; they grapple her, prod at her and pinch her. It was too much. It was as if a million ants had swarmed her body, nipping at any piece of flesh they could just because it was what they were meant to do. An instinctive need to draw more blood than necessary, it was overwhelming. They inspected her perfectly capable hands, wondering if their incompetence has cost them their heads because y/n of Brittany split her blood and The Duchess refused to let them help. She was suffocating.

She didn't mean for it to slip, it just did. Her voice raised, "Get out." It was softer at first. "Get out," they still didn't move, still abusing her. "I said get out!" Everything stopped for a moment, the air her mother had ensued had now come back. The maids all took a single step away from her. y/n felt the tears threaten her, warning by dancing across her lower lashes. "Do none of you listen, get out for Christ’s sake!" That's all it took, in a matter of seconds y/n was finally alone. She could hear the faint song of the trees whispering to her, it was calm, but she couldn't appreciate it. She dropped to her knees and began to softly weep into her palms. The groans muffled by the skin of her hands and the tears halted from falling by her fingers. In this moment and forever ahead of her, she was desolate.

But like all things, even this bleak minute of sorrow was cut to an end by the deafening sound of her father's boots storming down the hallways towards her room.

━━★✼☆｡

Tom spectated as the pole shattered into a thousand pieces. The splinters hitting ever edge of the arena. He watched as the knight fell limp and as his horse rode on through the chaos. The young prince roared out of his seat, his knees hitting the harsh wood of the royal box. His name echoed on the young knight's medallion above his breast. He had picked the winning side and rightfully so, Sir Harrison had never been defeated. For a moment, Tom turned around to face his beaming mother. A woman who loved the games, Tom always relied on his mother to accompany him to these festivities but his father. The Prince would always ask graciously but was refused every time. Constantly belittled for the consul of old men with a working cock between them, it was a joke. The King had many failed efforts to rile the English people to cause, Tom had offered a large gathering to help inspire the people. The King told his son this would cause nothing but useless panic and many painful deaths. Scoffing, Tom waltzed back to his seat. It was uncomfortable, it felt as if ants hand made their nets below the seat's support. He wished to ride alongside them.

"You cannot and you will not," The Queen smiled at him, waving to squires as they led the horses away. Tom's head swivelled around to meet his mother's. "I refuse it my son."

"I had said nothing mother," Tom replied quietly, he too doing his duty to the lower noble men who had come out today. Each one sweatier than the last. "Perhaps you are hearing things, 10 childbirths can change a woman's mind," Tom stifled a laugh, too which he received a slap on the arm for.

"Don't play smart with me son," The Queen spoke coolly, her countless rings clanged as she rose from her seat. Tom followed suit, allowing a hand for his now middle-aged mother for gracious help down the impossibly large stairs. "I almost lost your father to one of these silly little cock shows, I will not go through it with you my boy."

Tom raised an eyebrow, watching his mother's golden trim become bleaker by the stain of the grass. "I had half a mind to believe you enjoyed these silly little cock shows," Tom played. The Queen peered up at his through hooded lids. It was dangerous waters even for him, a man who has seen the blood of war. He allowed his mother and her ladies to return to Windsor, watching as if to wait for the shark to disappear.

"Your Royal Highness, if I may have a word," a soft voice called out from below the podium. Tom paced to the edge and stared down. Constance, he thought to himself as he smiled wickedly. She was a short and mildly plump woman, with wild unruly hair that had to be constantly shoved out of her face. He remembers her name because of how sweet his name sounded dripping from her tongue. Countless nights spent in the throes of passion, wearing moonlight as cloth. Tom knew he had dishonoured her just by bedding her, but he couldn't help himself. She was the first woman who really took an interest in him. Still, he had to come to her aid on multiple occasions. While he likes the way, she grips at his biceps, he however, doesn't like when her father comes storming into court demanding his daughter's honour back because Tom had prayed on her. Perhaps, it was the odd lack of ladies that would flock to his side or maybe it was simply because he wanted a little bit of fun before the inevitable. 

"You may, my Lady," Tom smiled widely making his way to her side. He could tell the mud was ruining the polished leather of his boots, he completely forgot about his favourite riding boots he had put on in hopes that he may indulge himself in the sports. Still, he pushed the though deep down at met her eyes. He not an unusually tall man but the way he almost dwarfed her was delectable. As he watched her squirm, he wondered as to why she would speak with him where anyone could see. There was no danger for him, but the world's eyes were on her.

She played with the small ring on her pinkie finger, riding it up and down the skin. "Why did you not tell me," she whispered, refusing to look up at him. Tears began to well.

"What on earth do you mean?" He queered, genuinely curious as to what had got her all worked up. His hands went to stroke her cheek gently, but she abruptly pulled away from him. This time her eyes did meet his, the salty liquid glossed over her eyes.

"It is bad enough that I am called the Prince's Whore but now they are cursing my name because I have ruined the royal couple!" she cried out, her deep green dress swallowing the mud below. "That a stupid maid slut has stolen you away from the beautiful French Princess!"

Tom saw nothing but red. Not because of Constance but because of what she said to him. He had begged his parents to let him choose his own wife. If he was to rule England after his father's passing, he wished to at least have a woman whom he truly loved by his side. He said nothing to her as he stormed away. The small drizzle of rain hitting his skin as he picked up his speed. He knew that his father was in a council meeting alongside his mother. Perfect opportunity to unleash his rage. He faintly heard her calling after him, that was muffled by the buzzing in his ears.

He had been told who he was meant to be and what he was meant to be from the moment he was born. Hardly ever seeing his mother or younger brothers because he was eldest, never knowing true companionship because he would be constantly cooped up listening to his advisors and tutors as they taught him the art of war and foreign policies. This was his one chance to spend his life with a woman who understood him and would grow a loving family much in contrast to what he had.

His hands pushed the heavy wooden doors, they hit the walls with a large smack. The entire council stood for the Prince, with the exception of his mother and sickly father. He walked past them with ease and took his seat at the opposite end of table. His eyes focused solely on his father as he absently noted the appearance of his son.

"Wonderful of you to finally join us," The Duke of Essex smiled weakly, in any attempt to deflect the tension elsewhere.

"When were you going to tell me?" Tom spoke, his voice barely above a whisper and laced with venom. His elbows digging into the cool wood of granite of the table. He watched his father finally face him; the man was a wreck. His greying hair stuck to his hair with copious amounts of sweat, his brown eyes had sunk deadly back into the sockets and his skin was pale and filled with wrinkles. "When were you going to tell me father?"

"You were spending too much time with that scullery maid," The King respond calmly, still flipping through royal documents. Tom was on the verge of an explosion. If the Prince was known for something, it was his anger. Much like Mount Vesuvius, he didn't get angry often, he hated how it affect those around him. The times he is pushed to the breaking point however, he was destroy everything in his path. "We had to put an end to it."

"We?" Tom pushed.

"Your mother made the arrangements; she is being brought here as we speak." Once more, the King had no interest with the devastated look on the Prince's face. Too caught up in an attempt to stile a cough.

"You promised me my own choice of bride," Tom seethed. He faced his mother, if the King wouldn't listen perhaps the Queen would.

His mother sighed; the silk of her sleeves draped over the arms of the chair. "That was before you had instinctively made the choice, we hoped that perhaps you would have fallen for the daughter of a Duke or at worst an Earl. You were going to marry that girl, after everything her family has done against the court. We couldn't allow it."

Tom jaw clicked. "Who is she?" He was done arguing, done protesting.

"You'll marry the granddaughter of the French King; y/n of Burgundy," his father spoke up before his mother could sugar coat it. "The family sent a portrait of the girl as the first payment of her dowry; it has already been placed in your room. Hopefully, you can find the slightest bit of attraction for your new bride before the wedding."

"Will I get to meet her beforehand?" He at least hoped to see the girl with his own eyes before calling her his wife. Finally, the King met his eyes. He dropped the quill on the desk as locked his eyes, leaning towards him.

"Did you really think you'd get that luxury?"

━━★✼☆｡

The sea breeze prickled at y/n skin as she sat atop the deck. She could tell they were getting closer. The wind went from a soft tone to a howling scream, something her great aunt had told her all about. English weather could go from a perfect sunny day to god's worst mood. In all honesty, she preferred it to French. It was wild and unpredictable, something she so desperately needed.

She remembered how she got into this predicament as she lay down a 9 ace on the table. Waiting for the ship to land.

"You'll leave tomorrow, it will take you a good couple of days to get there." Her father exclaimed, picking a raspberry from the plate and eating the sweet fruit. y/n stood in silence, still reeling her tears back into her eyes. She refused to weep in front of the Duke. She moved around the large room, in order to hear his words. "You'll make a fine queen," he smiled, placing his hands atop her cheeks. y/n smiled warmly before raising a concern.

"How do you know this will be different than the last?" she asked quietly, staring down at her shoes. Her father sighs before picked his coat up from the chair.

y/n placed her bets, her hand is exquisite. Three queen and a pair of Kings. If she doesn't win, it's as if God is going against her. The men that sit beside her raise their brows in confusion. She's not backing down.

"Because, you know their language and their culture from Great Aunt Mary. You were her favourite after all," her father tells her, the memory of the old lady teaching her English brings a curve to her lips. That was not the answer she was looking for, however. Her father knows it as well, he knows the answer she wants but he cannot give it to her. "Trust me pumpkin," the endearment is wonderful. Unlike her mother, y/n's father has always been kind to her. She doesn't know if it because she is his eldest daughter or because her brother is a lousy boy and she is the only child with a head still attached to her shoulder blades.

She releases her tension; she knows whatever comes out of this she must go along with it. She must accept whatever situation is handed to her and accept her duty as a future queen and mother to the English Throne.

y/n squeals, her hand's won. The rest of the chips are placed in her corner, she is asking if they want to go another round but instead, they all huff and walk away from her. y/n feels her heart sink into her stomach. Perhaps the English wind has turned their moods sour. Soon enough her worries are washed away as the boat docks into Brighton and y/n hears the cheers for her. She can't exactly make out what they are saying. Sadly, she doesn't get a chance to even greet her new subjects as her new English ladies are gently pushing her towards the carriage. The only thing she can do is wave and smile at them, hoping to instil a fraction of hope for the new royal couple. As she steps into the carriage, a huge white dress follows her. The abundance of ladies and herself are stuck in the cramped space for a little over an hour before they start agreeing to change her dress into the one being coddled.

"Why? This is dress is perfect as it is," y/n laughed gently, her fingers playing with the pearls that lace the neckline.

"Forgive me, my lady, but His Majesty; The King has requested that you wear a white gown." One of the younger girls pipes up. Sighing, y/n nods her head to agree and goes to stop the carriage.

While they don't completely undress her, she knows that the smock under her dress is shear and leave nothing to the imagination. Quickly they strip her of the current dress, even unlacing the corset before adding another one. As they place the soft silk of her veil over her head, she can hear the ringing bells at Westminster. It hasn't completely dawned on her what she is exactly going through. Marrying a man she has never met. Marrying a man for all she knows could be a tyrant. She's heard quite a few English Monarchs fall under that said category. Her heart started to jump now; she could fell the beat thump against her vocal box.

The people began to line the city. Countless bodies waved at her as she strolled through the city of London. The abbey somehow seemed ten times bigger in person. White rose petals fell through the air as the coachman opened the door for her. The walkway was paved with red velvet. Her heels felt as though she was ruining the beautiful material as she walked.

Tom can physically hear her pounding heartbeat from where he stands. He can't exactly make out her face, but he can see the white gown strutting towards him. It's the same patterns as the dress his mother wore more than 20 years ago. He's seen it in countless paintings, his mother scowling as she attempts to salvage any positive thing out of such tremendous pain. Harrison lays a hand on his shoulder; the contact makes him jump.

"I heard she looks like a siren," he joked, dusting a small particle of fluff off Tom's shoulder. "Perhaps she'll sound like one too," the comment was enough to grant the knight a hard whack on his arm from the Prince. He truly did wonder if she would as beautiful as the painting which depicted her. A small red rose for his house in her fingertips as she grinned softly. It was as if she was staring into his soul.

Tom reached out to allow her aid in getting up the stairs. She graciously accepted muttering a small thank you as her other hand lifted the countless layers of fabric to mend her steps. Her touch was soft, something he wasn't used to. The gentle touch of a noble woman, even if it was only upon his fingers. The entirety of Westminster Abbey went silent as the faced each other.

y/n could barely hear anything over her rampant anxiety. Though she was eased slightly as she blindly grasped at his fingers, she was afraid she gripped a little too tightly. Finally, she stood in front of him. The gown dipping down the stairs to end in her ladies' hands. She wondered what she looked like to him. Wondering if it was a glorious sight to witness a new bride waltzing towards him. Or if it was one of dread, to be in holy matrimony with someone you've just met for the first time. She's still trying to decide between the two.

The ceremony was beautiful. A simply yet elegant affair, as two young royals wed. She knows that she is marrying the Prince of Wales, a worthy husband for any noble woman. Yet she can't help the dread that builds as the Archbishop drones on. The hymns falling deaf ears. She tries to pay attention, but she can’t, all she can hear is the drumming of her heartbeat. It pounds against her ribs, creating echoes in her head. Before she knows it, his hands reach for hers. There was no strength in his grip unlike beforehand, it was soft and gentle. As if she was a beautiful yet delicate doll, that she would completely shatter if he pressed just that bit too hard. Their fingertips locked; her skin fell into the ridges of his knuckles.

“I proclaim thee, y/n of Burgundy to be my lawfully wedded wife from now until the end of my days,” he hesitated. She could hear it in his voice. “She shall sit beside me as I rule the kingdom.” The ring passes down her skin, the metal biting at her finger.

She repeats him. “I proclaim thee, Thomas – Prince of Wales to be my lawfully wedded husband from now until the end of my days. I shall sit beside him as he rules this beautiful country.” She smiles at the end, though she never intends to. y/n thanks her ladies that they cover her grinning face behind the thick white lace of her veil.

The entirety of Westminster Abbey is silent, no one dares even breathe as Prince Thomas coils his fingers around the tipping of the lace. He lifts it over his now wife’s face. He taken aback slightly. The painter wasn’t paid enough, clearly. She was even more beautiful standing in front of him. The same clear complexion now glistening in the soft sunlight of England. He doesn’t pry of course; it would be rude of him. Just to stare at his bride, as if they were the only people in the hall. Good lord, does he wish it was.

His hands reach her cheeks. Tender once more, he brings her forward. She shifts on her feet as they meet. A quaint and soft kiss, unlike anything either of them has felt ever. He can’t remember the last time, it was this – well, gentle. Thomas doubts he has ever kissed a woman of such luxury in his entire life up to this point. y/n is the first to pull away, her fingers resting lightly on his raised wrists. Their eyes meet for a moment, a short moment.

Westminster Abbey erupts into celebration. Red rose petals fall from the ceiling and music begins to flood the area.

As she stared around, y/n began to think to herself. I do not know what will come out of this, but I already can see that joy my presence brings to these people. I shall not let them down.

Prince Thomas of England, Heir to The English Throne and y/n of Burgundy, Granddaughter of The French King had been wed. They were now locked in holy matrimony, a feeling unlike any other. Both horrendous and hospitable.

━━★✼☆｡

The Hall is a grand party. Laughing and singing is heard from every corner, mugs of beer and wine are flung across tables and scraps of food are being thrown to the dogs. y/n has never seen such a scene unfold. Too contained by the prudish French court. The most scandalous thing she has seen is a risqué dance meant to be for a married lover.

That is what she always despised about the French Nobility. Their secrets. Whispers and Rumours spread faster than fire. If you had committed some heinous act, the entirety of France will hear about it by the end of the week. Perhaps that is another reason why she felt so trapped in Burgundy. y/n could never do a single task on her own before her ladies’ loose tongue would find their way back to her mother. A delicate little flower, such a waste of potential.

Tom noticed her prodding, her fork twirling the few peas left on her plate. He hadn’t said a word to her all night and yet he looks at her if she’s unwillingly to speak. Does she know any basic English? Perhaps not.

“How are you liking the food,” Tom asked her, leaning into her. She smiled up at him, he spoke to her in French. It made her heart swell for a second. y/n turns to face him, smiling warmly. Tom wishes he could keep that smile forever.

“It’s is very well Your Grace,” y/n replies to him. Her flawless English rolling off her tongue with a petite French accent. It’s like heaven to his ears and he’s taken aback. “My Great Aunt was an English Countess, I loved her very much. I was fluent in English before I was 8.” She explained, almost as if she had read his mind.

“You need not call me Your Grace,” he teased, it was somewhat natural for him.

“Then what shall I call you?” y/n queered.

“I am your husband now, whatever pleases you pleases me,” Tom replied, turning back to his empty plate in an effort to hide the rising red flush on his face. y/n knew she should leave it at that, so she turned her attention elsewhere.

“Are royal weddings usually this,” she paused, “loud?”

Tom laughed quietly, he too turned to face the ruckus crowd. Men laying in the laps of maids, dogs feasting over food that had been flung across the floor. Loud chants to the beat of the music filled the hall. He would have been completely embarrassed by the state of his people in front of his new bride, if he hadn’t seen the amused look on her face. “Not usually, I have only been to one other wedding and that was extremely sombre.”

“How so?” she asked, sipping from the freshly poured wine.

“I went to my uncle’s wedding a few months ago. He had also married a noble woman like yourself, but the poor thing was only 11. My uncle was 35 and counting.” He wishes it was different but like all things in this world, he is powerless to the wills of those who think they are higher than others.

He peered at her; y/n was already looking at him. An eyebrow and a lip raised in disgust. It was quaint.

“I wish I could be more repulsed by that,” Tom wondered if she was joking or if she was serious. He couldn’t tell just by the use of her tone. He did however note her wit. Something he so longed for. They talked for hours, sitting by one another and discussing anything that arrived at the conversation. Tom can’t decide whether it’s her honey-like voice or her banter but it’s making him feel things no one should for someone they are being forced to wed.

Just while they are comparing the contrasting jousting techniques, the joyful music suddenly stops. It’s a quick snap and the entire hall is now dead quiet. The Earl of Salisbury mounts himself on one of the tables. His cheeks red with drunkenness.

The Earl points directly at y/n and Tom as they sit in confusion. “The final tradition, an honour for any noble man. The Great Bedding!”

y/n turns to Tom, clinging slightly to his sleeve. He takes immediate notice. “Thomas, what is The Great Bedding?” There was great concern in her voice as she watched all of the men rush towards them. He didn’t get to answer as the women abruptly hauled him out of his seat and down the hall, away from her.

y/n didn’t fear too well either. At least a dozen grimy hands placed themselves all over her body, pulling harshly as they brought her into the air. Dancing her down the halls. She constantly whacked their hands, to no avail of course. They only dropped her once they got to a dimly lit room.

It was already buzzing with people. Hustling around a single bed, covered by finely woven silk. The men dropped her gently, placing her feet against the ground. y/n tried to turn around to give them a piece of her mind but was stopped as her corset began to become loose around her waist. Incredibly uncomfortable, y/n looked up to distract herself in any regard and found Tom at the other side. The maid’s hands undoing every buckle of his coat, tiny fingers unthreading the lavish ropes across his body. y/n blushed at the sight.

Tom was trying his hardest not to look at her, not to stare as countless men of the court undressing her. He could hear the bulky wedding dress hit the floor of the room, he could feel her eyes on him, and he could see the variety of unknown nobles swarming them in any hopes to achieve the right to gossip tomorrow morning. It was despicable.

He climbed in first, the cotton of the blankets itching his skin as he settled. The only comfort he found was in the softness in his unkempt hair. Not restricted by the gel he was forced to wear.

y/n slowly followed his lead, it was dead silent. No one dared breathed as the new Princess of Wales found her spot next to The Prince. All the while, the exact same priest Archbishop chanted away, and priests flung holy water at the bed. Some of the liquid found itself on her skin. Finally, the crowd bowed to the couple and began to take their leave.

Tom watched in peace; he would be alone. He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh, perhaps he would be able to get some well needed sleep. That seemed achievable until he felt a cold grasp around his wrist. His eyes shot open to find his father’s glare directly at him. “Don’t let the spring pass, I hope to see a grandson in the next few months,” The King spat.

It had been hours since the quarry of guests had left the room but the the monarch’s words etched themselves into his mind. Echoing nonstop, getting wilder as Tom felt y/n settle herself next to him. The mere presence of her alongside the duty he had to fulfil was too much for him. Tom shot up and quickly gathered his things, hauling his boots and clothes. He couldn’t be near her for another moment, too afraid of what he might do if she was subject to this sort of cruel punishment. Tom quickly decided he was sleep next door, just far away to have the thoughts no longer plague his mind but not too far that he would impose the wrong meaning on her. He reached for the door when she chimed in.

“Where are you going?”

He halted instantly. He wished that they could have gotten along like most royal couples should. A cold and initially distant meeting, then hopefully something would blossom over the years. Instead they had gotten along quite well, too well in fact. He was used to going slowly, taking his time in bedding a girl. A constant glaze over the court every few days, then promiscuous banter and in the span of months he would have her melt in his hand with a simple word. Now, he was feeling flustered and out of control and all of it was happening over a single night. Tom pressed his forehead against the wood, taking a deep breath. He turned to look at her, just like a painting coming to life. Her hair was down, unlike anything he had ever seen. Not grimed with sweat and dirt nor was it pinned underneath a headdress or away from her face. This time, the soft curls framed it. The nightgown clung to her shoulders; the fabric dangerously close to falling off. It made his life that much more difficult.

“I am sorry. You are a beautiful woman, but I just cannot fulfil the expectations that are placed upon me tonight. I will be sleeping in the room next door if you need me,” Tom blurted out. He waited for a response before he could speed out. She sat there, like a perfectly sculpted statue. It was torture.

y/n sighed, “nothing has to happen tonight.”

“But they will ask, they will pry like they always will,” he countered.

“Who says we have to tell the truth?” y/n giggled. God, it was a symphony to him. Tom watched her leave the bed, waltzing around to meet with him at the door. He wanted the tell her to stay exactly where she is, not to move even an inch closer but with ever step she took, his breath hitched higher in his throat. “I would prefer to spend the first night of my marriage with my husband, whether something happens or not.”

He swallowed thickly, “you are incredibly calm.” He now met her, his full attention on y/n as she chuckled in delight.

“I am filled to the brim with anxiety, just not that same fear that you are feeling,” she told him as she sat down the small longue in the middle of the room. She took the wine from the table and poured each of them a glass. Tom was hesitant at first, still wishing to flee the room and into the safety of his own solitary. Still, he found himself pacing towards her. Taking soft and flinching steps until he sat beside her.

“Then what is the fear?” He took the other glass, quickly chugging the alcohol. y/n said nothing but just stared at him in confusion. “The fear you feel, why?”

It was now her turn to become flustered. He looked genuinely curious as to why she was feeling doubtful, but she was unsure if he truly wanted to know the answer. Her father made her promise never to speak of it to anyone, a shameful secret that would ruin her future if it was released. But Tom was now her husband. They were bonded by law, a thought she really didn’t wish to dwell on. Surely, whatever she told him wouldn’t cause them any stress? Still, it would be rude of her not to tell him the reason after he had just clearly demonstrated his own fears in the commitment. “You must promise not to become angry.”

Tom nodded his head gently, even more intrigued then he was before.

y/n quietly exhaled, avoiding looking at Tom. “I was married once before, he passed from the sickness 3 months into our matrimony. Perhaps it was God way of guiding me to a better future, but it ruined almost everything. His death caused create strain for my family as they attempt to rebuild myself as if I was not capable of it myself. I am terrified that I am cursed, that I shall find myself falling in love with you only to be weeping over your coffin months later.” She had poured her soul out, shared such a personal section of her life. She was ashamed to see his face. Too afraid that pure anger and disgust would paint his face.

“Who was he? The man whom you had married?” Tom asked her again. His voice calling out as she stared directly at the purple velvet beneath her dress.

“The Prince of Spain,” y/n squeaked.

“That inbred!” Tom joked, suddenly becoming relaxed by the mere mention of the Spanish Royal Family. “I am surprised you got three months and not three days, that kid was on death doors for his entire life,” Tom was now in a fit of laughter. It wasn’t directed to her but more that they allowed such a beautiful woman to be the wife of such a dull man. y/n peered up, thoroughly embarrassed as she gave him a light whack. Tom finally came down from his laughing fit, staring directly at her. “You are cursed Princess; you are just coddled. Forced into a life clearly not meant for someone like yourself.”

The mere mention of the cradling of her life got y/n riled up, “that’s another thing! The Spanish constantly treated me as if I was some porcelain doll ready to shatter if they dared even look at me! I felt like a child trapped in a woman’s body and he touched me like that as well. God, I was finally ready to truly live my life and then he just was too soft, I wanted something much mor-” Oh. Oh God. She had run her mouth too far, dug her own grave with her rambling. Her hands clamped against her mouth as a heat rushed to her face. She could see the French ships arriving for her next month, giving her passage because she was not in pristine condition. Hopefully Tom didn’t pick up on what she was inferring.

“You aren’t a virgin?” his voice was quiet, almost dark. She felt her entire world shatter. Tom scooted towards her slowly, it was completely unnoticed. She was too deep in panic to recognise the growing flirt rising in the Prince of Wales. y/n shook her head feverously. “That little tick took you?” When he put it like that, it made her stomach tingle. She had never heard such a sentence used in that tone. She was drowning in thoughts.

“I didn’t know what I was doing, that’s why I was so unsatisfied,” she tried to explain, her hands now bunched up the fabric against her knees. “He was just so soft, too soft and I wished he would have-”

“Would have what?” he toyed. Tom doesn’t quite know why he was acting like this. So intent on prying her little secrets out of her. Usually, he would have just simply got straight to the point but now, seeing her become red with frustration was a view causing him great pleasure. Any abstinence he hoped to place upon himself earlier in the night had been thrown out the window. He finally felt back in control, something he longed for. Something she was serving to him on a silver platter.

“I..” she began but the words got caught in her throat. Her tongue stopped completely, almost refusing to finish the damning sentence. She wanted him to be rougher with her, she wanted him to treat her like a woman and not a girl. “What happen to you wishing to keep your hands to yourself?” She attempted to change the topic, trying to flee but to no avail as he quickly caught her wrist in his palms. Their skins igniting on sight.

“Don’t try to change the subject Princess,” he purred, standing up to meet with her at the side of the bed. Her title now held a completely different meaning, it wasn’t being used to describe her. It was being used to utterly destroy her; a nickname only meant to be whispered in the dim light of a dozen candles. “I can see right through you,” Tom’s calloused fingers met the loose fabric on her shoulders, dancing over her collarbone. It was soft but held meaning. “I can see that you wished he touched you differently. Touched you like a real woman, rougher and passionate.”

His words were damned. She should feel ashamed that she was feeling light-headed just by the grazing touch of his fingers above her perked breasts. “Yes,” it was the only thing she could get out. The only single three lettered word that allowed itself out of her mouth. Tom pressed his lips to her neck, underneath her jaw.

“Perhaps, he too was inexperienced.” He spoke through small pecks. “Allow me to show you something different, something better,” it was barely above a whisper, but y/n heard every word. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair as he peered at her.

“I would enjoy that very much,” y/n responded just as quiet, all the gentle touches he currently had placed upon her turned darker. He pulled her into his embrace quickly before tripping her feet from under her and ending atop her on the messily made bed. His hand instantly found the inside of her thigh, his finger bruising her skin. It was delightfully, the slight pain sending shivers down her spine.

Their lips met, gentle at first. Her hands moulding themselves against his jaw, moaning into his mouth as he pushed her deeper into the mattress. She wished she could stay like this forever, wrapping in Tom’s embrace as they mended together. Alas, he pulled away from her. Lips separating with a small pop and a soft whine from y/n underneath him. Tom took a distinct look at her; she was sprawled out and whimpering for something more. Did she give this look to him as well? Did she use the melody that was her voice to beg him to do anything? Tom didn’t particularly wish to replay the thought in his head but yet, he couldn’t help himself.

Her nightgown quickly found itself discarded; her nipples perked in the cold. His lips immediately latched on, massaging the soft tissue. He never knew something could feel this smooth, without any flaws or imperfections. Even though he knew he could spend an entire night between the valley of her tits, he too longed for something more.

In a matter of moments, he found himself staring directly at her sex. A glorious sight to behold, glistening with her arousal in the pale moonlight. She was practically dripping onto the sheets below her. He placed a soft kiss to her pelvis, she jumped at the contact. “If you feel uncomfortable, you need to tell me,” he told her all the while his fingers toyed at her hot hole. Dipping even so slightly into her heat. She was already in euphoria just from the slightest bit of pleasure. y/n nodded her head before locking eyes with him.

He didn’t waste another second, quickly licking a fat stripe through her folds. The taste was pure heaven, he didn’t give her a moment to register the feeling before diving right back into her juices. Sucking and pulling at her, wasting the night away feeling her thighs clamp around his head every time he flicked her clit coupled with a singular finger prancing in and out of her.

y/n wasn’t quite sure how loud she could truly be. She knew that even though they were in the far south-east of the castle, there could be a dozen scullery maids listening right outside the door. Or if someone was trying to achieve some sleep right beside them. At this very moment though, with Tom’s head in between her thighs devouring every inch of her throbbing cunt, she couldn’t give a single fuck. y/n allowed the string of curses and praised to tumble from her lips as she clasped onto the bed sheets for dear life.

“Such a dirty mouth,” Tom remarked, releasing her for a few seconds, “for such a pretty and delicious pussy.” He chuckled darkly. y/n wanted to bite back at him, but she was cut short but the addition of another of his digits sliding into her tight entrance. y/n clasped down hard on her hand. A foreign feeling began to drive itself into her stomach. While unusual, it was not at all exotic to her. It was thrilling, feeling her walls contract around his fingers as y/n began to instinctively rock her hips against his digits.

“God,” he purred, “that’s it, make yourself cum on my fingers Princess. Let me see that gorgeous face while you do it.” Tom had now retracted his mouth from her, completely mesmerised by the way her eyes screwed shut as she reached her peak. A cacophony of beautiful and dazzling sounds stumbling out of her mouth as he felt her climax all over his hand. Such a tantalising sight for any man.

y/n was too deep in her own return that she didn’t notice the retraction of his presences from the middle of her legs. So, when he felt his hands roughly pull her to the edge of the bed, she almost choked. The exhilarating feeling of his strained cock rubbing against her drenched folds made her forget her place. Made her speak before her mind could catch up. “I want you to fulfil the expectation.” She told him, her eyes never wavering from him.

Tom halted all his movements. It was painful but he needed absolute clarity before he did anything without her reassurance. “You need to elaborate Princess,” he told her darkly. He knew exactly what she was asking of him, he knew exactly what she desired.

“I want you to come inside of me,” she spoke as if she was a different person. y/n doesn’t quite know whether it’s the shift of mood or her own personal feelings but either way, she wanted to feel their juices mix and then leak out of her. Wanted him to fill her right up to the brim until the possibility was certain.

“You want me to fuck my seed right into you?” his words were dirtier than she expected but so was he as he slid in and into her. His naval hitting hers with a loud smack. He refused to move until he had played with her just that tad bit more. y/n’s head thrashed into the sheets behind her. She was so full, never has she felt this complete in her entire life. He wasn’t even moving but she could feel every inch of him deep inside of her.

“God yes,” she whimpered. “I need it so bad,” she was going to drive Tom insane. Just by a simple sentence, he was going to lose his mind and cum right now without even doing anything. 

“Want to carry my child, our own Prince or Princess,” he pulled back out of her and slammed right back in, knocking the wind out of her y/n. It was so profoundly dirty, just discussing it. It thrilled her to the very core, child-bearing was meant for women not girls. Perhaps that is why she is so drawn to the talk, the talk of something so primally feminine set her entire body on fire. She couldn’t speak a coherent sentence instead she just let out a continuous plea.

He began slow, hips rocking to find that perfect beat. He revelled in the only sounds in the room, the sound of his cock hitting the divine spot inside of her over and over again and her delirious moaning. It was a symphony he was lucky enough to hear. He wanted to hear more, listen to the pure sounds of him railing into her. So, he picked up the pace. His thrust became not only deep and harsh but fast.

God, if he could immortalise this feeling he would. The feeling of her walls constricting around him as he pounds right into her, the feeling of her legs wrapping around his constantly thrusting hips and the feeling of her sweating skin underneath his fingers as he grips for support. It’s like the Lord himself made her tight little cunt just for him.

“You’re so big,” y/n praised mindlessly. He’s never had someone say that to him without it sounding forced. It’s so raw that he can’t help but go even harder into with each praise that falls off her lips. “Fill me up, I want to feel you all inside of me.” It’s a dangerous game, she’s tapped on something so feral inside of him it hurts.

y/n wants to prop herself up and explore his body while he pounds into her, but she simply can’t. Her limbs give out with every thrust. Her entire body spasms each time he hits the perfect spot inside of her. She a moaning mess, trying to maintain any sense of normality but failing miserably. It’s a constant state of pleasure, she’s afraid that she’s lost track of time. That is until the faint, but all the desirable fit finds itself lit in the pit of her stomach.

“I’m almost there,” she whispers, it’s the only thing she can get out. His thrusts, that once had gained a steady and harsh rhythm are now falling. He’s losing focus with each grip he receives. With her words though, he gives her the final stretch. No longer does he has some form of structure but instead he’s just railing her like a wild animal.

It’s an explosion and neither knows why but it’s addictive. y/n climaxes around him, her toes curling as her final orgasm hits her long and violent. Shaking underneath, him as she unknowingly milks his own finish out of him. Tom’s fucking his cum right into her, he doesn’t stop for a second. Too focused on the goal ahead of him. Placing it where it counts. It’s a feeling he wants to never forget, better yet it’s a sight he wants permanently etched into his memories. As he pulls out of her, their climaxes tumble out of her. Dripping down her leg.

“Hold your legs up Princess,” he teases as he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I heard it works wonders.”

The rose blooms only for those who care properly for her.

━━★✼☆｡

a/n: please don’t flop, omg this is so long and no one asked for this shit. please don’t flop chile 🤡

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Fourth commandment: honor father and mother

Contain spoilers from the manga.

Old writing of mine. Thought about posting so here you go.

I recently find out that the majority of the fics I have more replogs and comments are avout sadness sooo why not shed sone tears for our bird man this time huh?

He smirked at hearing the sound of you singing in the shower. He had just arrived from work and was greeted by what he loved to hear the most, your voice, his dove's voice

The echo the bathroom made only made him smile more at being able to hear such melodies coming out of your sweet lips.

He would tease you now at them about it. But oh, how it ceased the anciety and pain in his heart on terrible days he would just swallow it up for your sake. Knowing very well that your family life wasn't the best anyway. Not perfect, but was good as you would describe it every now at then with a smile; despite his worried frown whenever that was a fight and affected you so badly to the point you cried over his shoulder at night or morning.

His ears pecked up when your humming stopped and smiled lovingly when the melody of your qorda started to come...

'You left and took, my heart suffocated, and it suppressed my pain, a subtle gesture of loveee~'

A chuckle left his lips. He would never learn where the musics you learmed came from. But it didn't meant it was beautiful no less. He stood up from the couch and took careful steps to hear it more without you knowing it.

'Father. Look at this rain outside ... oh my father, I think the time has come...

aandd dont just, sit there to see and vanish it

the chance that already weaves in the past, oh this little boy's soul just is begging it...'

For some reason... that part, made his heart thump hard on his chest... after all. It did reminded the hero of... him.

His father. The reason why his true name was hidden from the public view and completely erased by the comission. The one that constantly beaten up just for him going into the city just to help others. The man that was a thief, a murderer, a liar... a abuser.

Just when he swallowed up another part of your song came up.

"Oh mother, cover me up with your sacred embrace, allow me to be your son, recreate that thought of a shelter, just don’t leave me alone,

your memory is my calm, swords that pierce into my soul.

like the wind of the desert that is so cold...

How I miss your maternal love and your laughter.

the world only brought me slaughter, I lost that old hope of just being a child,

that the smile never fades, they made me just a weapon..

I am still in the quest to be loved~" the shower sounds stopped as you he heard you sigbh and without him noticing, he stormed out of the roon to close himself on his huge closet, a hand on his mouth as tears threteaned to spill from his eyes at the mention of only blinking them.

Keigo's past was never an easy one... his parents never should be used as a example. His mother did fell in love with a criminal, but that didn't make it easier... she wasn't warm, she wasn't the kind of mother that would just embrace him and help the poor boy feel safe, loved nor protected....

God... she made him go get some money and questioned what were the use of his wings, his quirk... what kind of mother says that to a child that was only trying to help dammit!?

Angry drops of tears strated to fall from his eyes as he controlled the harsh breaths and sobs that threatened to escape beforw his whole body tensed and stopped when he heard the source of his comfort on his adult life...

"Honey? Did you come home earlier? Where are you?" He heard you call and took deep breaths before putting on a smile on his face, a so fake smile that surely you would notice right away.

"Right in the big ass closet dove. I was planning to shower a-anyway." He cursed himself the moment his voice cracked as he desperately picked some clothes to wear as he discarded his hero costume with pure anger.

"..Kei?" He flinched at hearing your voice behind him "Baby is something wrong? Tough patrol, is that?" You carresed his feathers gently and he almost whimpered at how delicately your fingertips brushed against it.

"J-Just a bit. Nothing major." He shrugged and made bee line towards to the bathroom as you stood there in pure worry and confusion at the same time. Never Keigo refused your comfort when you two finally passed that time of getting to know each other in your relantionship.

Frowning, you decided that maybe just a time for himself was best as you picked your favorite and warm pajamas and started to get things started to see if Hawks's mood brighten up for just a bit.

Sadly you knew he was trying way too hard to hide the pain. But the echo of his muffled sobs and curses as he ounched the wall wasn't helping him at all...

Brownies on the oven, Fried chicken already ordered and the most you could do of a nest out of pillows and blankets on the living room right in front of the Tv, already open to choose a movie on your boyfriend's will.

The sounds of the water finally stopped as you mentally prepared yourself as you saw your boyfriend in grey sweatpants and red hoodie, wings and hair all dropey as well as his eyes, him rubbing the top of his hair with a towel until his honeyed orbs widened at the sign of the living room and you cursing yourself for burning your hand at taking out the batch of the brownies out of the oven without protection....

"Fuck..." You hissed in anger before a confused sound left you as a warm and bigger hand grasped yours with care and brought the place where you had burned on his oh so kissable lips.

"Maybe you should have waited a bit. Just saying though." He smirked, but not with the usual glint on his eyes as you frowned but playfully scoffed.

"Excuse me? I am Hawks's girlfriend!" You dramatically proclaimed as he snorted "'The young hero that is way too fast for his own good!', so yeah, I guess I have the right of being a bit too anxious to get the set of brownies I made out just on time, thank you very much."

"And burnt yourself along the way." He chuckled as you showed your tongue at him with a smile but his features soon dropped and looked away from you, in hopes you wouldn't catched.

But you did.

"Whats all this for anyway? Am I geting my ass beaten up for forgetting some day important?" You frowned with a smile as you carefully hugged him from behind, mindfull of his wings as his muscles tensed up a bit only to loose as his scarred hand carresed yours over his chest.

"Cant I just spoil my man for a bit? Especially after a tough day?" You sensed his shoulder getting up and dropping with a watery chuckle as he shook his head in disbelief.

"You didn't have to do all this you know? Is not-"

"Dont." You muttered sternly as you let go of him to get right in front of your boyfriend as you cupped his cheeks "Dont say 'is not a big of a deal' with me Takami Keigo. I know you more than yourself as you once said it. Dont hide things that bother you away from me when you help me just as much with my insecurities and problems, alright?" He looked troubled as his eyes dropped to the ground mainly controlling himself as always but you nudge his gaze back up rubbing your nose against his "Alright?" You asked for the second time as his mouth opened and closed like a fish before giving up and nodding, pulling you to him for him to hide his face on the crook of your neck as he hugged your waist tightly, shoulders shaking.

"Aw my prince..." you cooed as you hugged his neck and caressed his nape "What is bothering you, hm? Is it the comission again pressuring you?" He shook his head as you frowned... maybe it was one of his secret missions he couldn't speak about it...

The inter phone ranged, indicating that the food you ordered was here. Moving away from the hug, Keigo only pulled you back as you frowned but soon noticed a couple of his feathers working their way to catch the money and go pick themselves.

"Kei I would pay myself for those!" You poyted as he only tightened his hold on you.

"Is the least I could do dove... please just at least this let me do it."

"Well.. fine. But you have to get a cool movie to watch. No crappy ones."

"... yeah sure."

Now you were alarmed. Not even a "you're the one who chooses the crap one"s ?.... For All Might, what happened to him...?

"Kei..." you almost whimpered, which catched his attention as he looked at you in concern as he cupped your cheeks in worry which you quickly covered with your own "What's going on? Dont tell me is nothing...please, I can see right through you that something is not right..."

Hawks sighed shakily as his eyes looked at the other direction as well as his hands dropped into your waist to pull you close.

"Sounds stupid but... I heard you singing. Beautiful as always..." he smiled as you contained your urge to squeak in embarrassment "But... I dunno, the lyrics of the song catched me off guard I guess? Speaking of father and mother's love or some shit..." he chuckled dryly as you frowned, catresing the rebel strands of blong hair making their way into his face.

"So it has to do with them? Did they contacted you or something?" You asked softy as you carresed his cheek and was meeted with a shook of his head and a sarcastic chuckle.

"Why would I? She is happy with me far away from her, a nice home to live in... as far for the old man, he..." he sighed heavily "I could care less. Neither of them cared so sometimes I ask myself why the fuck they didn't used the goddamn protection if they didn't want a brat to "ruin" their lifes?!" He sobbed as he clinged to you "he himself made the favor of saying the freacking condom was beaides but he made the mistake of not using it! What kind of dad says that to their kid of six years (Y/n)?! F-FUCKING SIX YEARS! I KNOW I WAS A DAMN MISTAKE BUT DID THEY HAVE TO RUB IT ON MY FACE ALL THE FUCKING TIME?!" Your heart broke in more than two pieces at seing him in this state before you guided him to the make shift nest to pull him down.

"Stop this, Kei-" you shushed him softly as he gulped harshly, gritting his teeth to mantain his tears at bay "If they werent careful, fuck them, this doesn't matter to us. They dont matter. But what they done, it wasn't a fucking mistake. It was a miracle and a blessing. My hero, my boyfriend was born because of these two, so stop saying that you being born was a mistake!" You cried while he stopped grinding his teeth to look at you dumbfounded.

"Your wings saved more people than anyone can count." You whispered tearfully as your hands carresed them before cupping his cheek "You saved more people than anyone can count. You matter not only for me but for a shit ton of people!"

"... you're getting worked up because of this tantrum I threw-" he mumbled only fro widen his eyes at the how you almost screamed.

"Of course I am worked up! Who wouldn't be?! Whenever I have shit to deal with, you get angry at whoever hurted me, so damn well I will get pissed off with or who whatever makes you fell less like the shining bright passionate and beautiful hero that you are Takami Keigo!" You poked his chest angrily before breathing in and out to contain your tears as he finally cracked a toothless smile at your state.

"You... You're so perfect you know that?" You angry face soon vanish at the way he looked at you like you were the solution for all of his problems, like an angel that came to hush all of his dark voices that haunted him at night with nightmares... a look with so much love that almost made you tear up again as a smile cracked into your lips.

"Dammit... love im trying to stay serious..." you hugged and peppered his face with kisses all over until he was chuckling heartless and turning his face enough for your lips to land on his instead of his skin.

You both were breathless as you were on top of him and carresed his golden looks with heart eyes as he closed them with lopsided smile at the pets and all the sweet gestures you did for him, and him only.

"Kei.." he hummed "Seriously, stop thinking about what your parents thought or think of you. They opinion doesn't matter, specially considering who they are and what they done so far... but dont hold hatred either because it only prejudices you, not them." He opened his eyes slowly and stared at the ceiling.

"... i cant actually forgive them. I dont feel I could even if I tried..."

"Im not saying for you to forgive them Kei." You stared at him as he arched one of his eyebrows that you surely need to trim at least tommorow "They are the same thing as the commission if you think about it. Their feelings or opinions towards you doesn't mean anything. Because you, birdboy, are the greatest human being in all world and everything I could even ask for." You smushed his cheeks together causing him to chuckle watery.

"You're gonna make me cry again birdie.." he prosteted heartly as you kissed both of his cheeka then his lips lovingly.

"Then at least be tears of joy, hm?" You hummed as his gaze soften and let tou peck his lips "The food is going to get cold, Im going to grab the plates okay?"

He groaned(whined?) While hugging your waist tighter and pressing his head down on your collarbone "Dont leave now, you're warm..."

"Keigo, you're basically a walking furnace especially with this hoodie, you will live." You giggled when he huffed and looked up at you with a pout.

"My feathers can go grab it then, you stay right where you are. Arent this suppose to be for me after all?"

"You've been gotten lazier every day it passes huh chicken little?" You carresed the apple of his cheeks as he tsked.

"Lazy my ass, I almost never have a day off..." he mumbled before nuzzling on your neck and sighing in bliss.

"Maybe if I pester them enough you can get some... but for now lets just rest here and enjoy the peace and quiet eh?"

"Hmm..." he hummed on your neck, causing vibrations to tickle your skin as you laughed and grabbed the packet his feathers brought, taking a package of nuggets out and almost getting to eat one until a certain bird brain just looked up and opened his mouth.

"You're such a cutie brat you know that?" You plopped the chicken nugget on his mouth as he hummed lovingly before smilling at you one more time.

"First, yeah I think as myself as pretty adorable-ouch!" You snorted at his expression after you pinched his ribs "Second... I love you.. so much." He mmurmured, face getting back on the crock of your neck.

"I love you more..." you kissed tenderly his temple and carresed his back while laying down on the huge amount of pillows.

"I love you more." He grunted.

"Dont argue with me on this!" You giggled as he chuckled.

"But is true... you're my love, my home, my family... my world."

"Takami Keigo if you make me cry one more time I swear Im beating you out of our nest."

"WHa?! WHY?!"

"BECAUSE YOU DO THIS ON PURPOSE YOU ASS!"

"IM NOT EVEN DOING ANYTHING!" He laughed at your desperate laughter and just laying back on the safety of your arms as he breathed in and finally felt the anxiety of earlier completely vanishing.

Yeah... fuck what his parents thought of him. What matters to him is when he is finally popping the big question and making you oficially his.

==============

(A/n) if anypne interested, the start of "song" is actually from a brazilian rap dedicated for gaara, naruto and sasaku called "sem familia" or in english "no family"

[apiratewhopines]

Thanks to @teamhook for the updated artwork. She’s the only person I know who will provide a gift for her own gift 💝

Thanks to @motherkatereloyshipper for helping me pick Killian’s hometown in this story and for being an all around lovely person

Midnight

Chapter 2 — The Stroke

Summary: In which our heroine does what she does best

Chapter 2 of 7 on AO3

“And my imagination will feed my hungry heart,

Leave me one thing before we part”

-A Kiss to Build a Dream On, Louis Armstrong

The spot he was referring to was an out-of-the-way pub serving the greasiest onion rings in existence and a lively clientele that didn’t notice it was one o’clock in the morning and all decent people were in bed. After days of getting by on breakfast bars and the memory of what a full meal tasted like, Emma thought she had died and gone to heaven.

Melancholy tunes droned softly in the background as she demolished enough food to feed an army. The pretty waitress earned her respect when the woman didn’t even blink at her handsome companion, and she liked to think she earned it back when she ordered three of their daily specials without a trace of shame.

Ignoring the way Killian watched with an expression close to awe as she stuffed her face, she happily gulped down a cup of coffee and observed, “Nice place. Come here often?”

“Not as much as I used to,” he murmured, taking a sip of his drink. “Tell me about this man you’re hunting. Is it personal?”

“Please, don’t make me lose my appetite. Surely we can come up with something else to talk about,” she groaned around a mouthful of beef and melted cheese. He had removed his leather jacket when they entered the pub, and his black short sleeve t-shirt stretched across his biceps in a manner entirely too distracting for comfort. Their high-backed booth made it feel as though they were on an island all by themselves, the dark wood and Tiffany lamps creating a cozy cocoon while still allowing a view of the nearly deserted dance floor.

“Ah, definitely personal then. Did he insult your honor? Break your heart? Have you ever even been in love?”

It stung how quickly he was able to see through her. Did she wear her heartache like a stamp on her forehead announcing to everyone she was an idiot? Ignoring the last question, she replied, “He hurt the only person who ever cared about me out of petty revenge. Neal Cassidy broke me. Now I’m going to return the favor.”

“Chills, darling.” His tone was teasing, but she thought she saw him shudder at her words. “I guess you don’t abide the notion of turning the other cheek.”

“Not when the first hit cost me my home, my possessions, and my peace of mind.”

“So he’s the reason you haven’t eaten in days and don’t have any luggage? Sounds like a lovely chap.”

“I don’t need your commentary or your sympathy, Captain. While I appreciate your help tonight, and I definitely owe you one for the meal, I think my past is closed for further discussion. Let’s talk about you instead. What’s your story?”

“I don’t have one, love. What you see is what you get.”

“What I see is someone dodging my question. Guess I’ll have to fill in the details myself then. Let’s see…thirty-something-year-old man who lives a life of boredom and pines for more while feeling stuck in his white picket fence world. You have a decent career in a field that pays well but decided to start a side hustle to meet new people and have something to do after eight in the evening.” Gesturing with her chin toward his forearm, she continued, “Currently nursing his own broken heart over the woman who loved and left him. The only thing I can’t figure out is what part of England you’re from.”

“Well, aren’t you the perceptive one,” he answered with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Although, I would argue it’s cheating since I have my emotional baggage inked on my skin for everyone to see while you carry yours around like an invisible tumor on your soul. As far as where I’m from, a man likes to maintain a little mystery.”

“Come on! You really aren’t going to tell me anything about yourself? After I guessed all that about you?”

With an unfathomable look, he smiled softly and said, “Fine, I’m from Cambridge. Now you know all my secrets. And allow me to call your attention to how well my devious plan worked. My first evening with my side hustle, as you call it, and I’m already having a late night rendezvous with a beautiful woman. One full of food and dancing.”

“There will be no dancing, Captain. But I wouldn’t be opposed to more food.”

“Not sure where you’ll put it, love, there’s no more room on the table. But I’m game if you are. Come on, one dance, and I’ll buy you a whole pie.”

She wanted pie but not as much as she wanted to feel his arms around her. She wanted it so badly her mind raced with images of skin on skin and restless hands exploring. Then her stomach twisted at the knowledge they would say goodbye soon. They probably should have already said it, truth be told. As she debated what harm could come from giving in just this once, he extended his hand and pulled her gently from the seat. Slowly, she felt a small section of her walls crumble and gave him a reluctant smile. “One dance.”

The soft music wasn’t loud enough to allow for an appropriate selection of dance style, but she didn’t mind when he gathered her close and swayed gently in time with his soft humming. She felt his breath stir the hair around her face and realized this was a mistake. Now that she knew how it felt, it would be harder to deny herself an encore. Especially knowing tonight was a one-time thing.

“Tell me something, Swan. Do you believe in love at first sight?”

“No, I don’t believe in love at all,” she answered. Her words conveyed her deeply held conviction that poets and Hollywood movie producers invented love to make people so miserable with the lack of it, they had to seek out fictionalized versions to find some measure of happiness. Her tone, however, sounded as though she was open to being convinced otherwise.

“That’s a shame. I think you’ll miss out on a lot of what life has to offer by being so close-minded and scared.”

“If I were scared, which I’m not, I have every reason to be. One of my foster moms told me a long time ago that love wouldn’t buy me a diamond ring, and it was as easy to be in a relationship with a rich man as a poor one. Easier really. I used to think she was a witch, but now I think she had a point.”

“Bloody hell, what exactly did that man do to you?”

She felt his direct gaze like a physical thing caressing her even as his eyes flickered with disappointment. “I told you. He broke me. And my bank account.”

“Money isn’t everything, love.”

“Excuse me if I ignore advice telling me to count my non-monetary blessings from the man who picked me up in his Beamer. It may not be everything but not having it leaves you with nothing.”

“A person who needs forty dollars a day and makes forty is richer than someone who has everything and needs more.”

“Now you’re just being silly,” she said as she slipped from his arms. “And when a rainy day comes? What then?”

“I recently took up being an Uber driver in my spare time, love. I imagine I’ll make more on rainy days.”

Laughing as she looked at his endearing face under the dim light, she shook her head. “About my pie…”

—

She knew what she was doing. She lingered over the large platter containing a sampling of every type of pie the surprisingly eclectic menu had to offer. She watched him with affection as he critiqued each in turn, always saving the bites with whipped cream for her. The best parts, in other words.

She was stalling.

The night hadn’t turned out as she expected. While her main goal was unfulfilled, she couldn’t make herself think of it as a loss when her sides hurt from laughing, and her troubled heart felt at peace. It was a pity it had to end. And not because she had nowhere to go, although that was certainly the case.

Slowly they made their way back to his car, neither one speaking as the noises of the summer night buzzed in the background. She’d said a lot of goodbyes in her lifetime, eagerly in most cases, but was strangely reluctant to add this one to the list. “Well, Captain, it’s been an expensive night for you. I think you better drop me off at the nearest bus station before I cost you any more.”

“You’re always trying to bring the conversation back around to money. Get in,” he ordered as he handed her into the car.

The air in the cabin of his luxury sedan felt heavy with expectation. Neither of them spoke nor hardly moved a muscle. She considered asking him to turn on the radio but didn’t want to miss out on the last few moments of hearing his even breathing next to her. Minutes passed, and it took her a while to notice they had left Storybrooke and were heading back toward Misthaven. “How much further to the bus station?”

“We passed it several miles back. You’re going to stay at my place.”

Under normal circumstances, this would be where she prepared to kick someone’s ass, but she knew deep down, as surprising as his announcement was, she had nothing to fear from him. Well, nothing except a repeat of the broken heart fiasco that was getting harder to remember with every second spent in his company. “Oh no, I’m not. What happened to no strings and no funny business?”

“Calm down, Swan. Our deal stands. I’m working the rest of the night so you’ll have the place to yourself. Trust me, the bed in my guest room is much more comfortable than a seat at the bus station.” Without taking his eyes off the road, he reached into one of the compartments in the console and pulled out a key. “There are some shirts in the dryer if you need something to wear. Help yourself to whatever you want. If you hang around until nine, I’ll even make breakfast. If you don’t, leave the key under the Welcome mat.”

“I think you better keep your key, Captain. There are two ways this could end, and neither one is pretty.” She gave him a sidelong glance and was mildly irked to see him grinning at her.

“Only two? Please enlighten me with your power of premonition.”

Heaving a sigh of frustration, she wished he would be logical about this whole thing. Sure they had attraction in spades; the very air around them seemed to crackle with electricity whenever their eyes met. But she knew it would fade, and the only thing left then would be goodbye. Better to skip the messy part and go straight to the end. “The first is I stay and have breakfast, and it turns into the day and then another night….”

“That doesn’t sound so bad, love. And the second?”

“I leave the key under the mat, and we never see each other again.”

“Hmm, option two is decidedly less appealing. I’ll take what’s behind Door Number One, please,” he joked.

“You think so until reality sets in and you realize you’ve taken in a stray with a score to settle and not a cent to her name. It won’t be long before the sight of me in your shirts makes you cringe, and you resent having to share the couch with a woman who has nothing to give.” She would know having been in a relationship with a person who was only capable of taking, and she vowed never to do that to someone else.

“I have half a mind to hunt down this Cassidy fellow myself after seeing the hit job he did on you. Listen, Swan, the key has no strings. Breakfast is just food. Whatever happens, happens. But if you think I’m going to drop you off at a deserted bus station with only the clothes on your back, fetching as they are, you’ve got the wrong idea about me in more ways than one.”

“I’m not yours to rescue, Captain.”

“You could be,” he whispered in a voice that made her skin tingle. He tossed her a half-hearted smile, eyes stormy with the knowledge she was going to turn him down. Again.

“The fact we both want me to be is warning enough it’s a bad idea. Come on, Killian, let’s call it a night now so we can remember it fondly in the years to come.”

His jaw clenched, and she was worried he was going to fight with her sensible argument. People didn’t meet people in the middle of the road and form attachments in one night. This wasn’t a fairy tale, and she was as far from a princess as a person could get.

Although she had to admit he made a rather fine prince.

Pulling off into a nearby gas station, he turned to her and said almost threateningly, “We’re not through discussing this.”

Then he stepped out and slammed the door as the sky opened up.

—

It was a dirty trick. She knew even as she did it, but it was for his own good. For whatever reason, he felt like he needed to protect her, and she needed to save him from himself. So she waited until he walked into the convenience store and made a run for it.

That’s not to say she didn’t have a brief moment of whimsy. She couldn’t stop herself from placing a kiss on the key he had casually tossed to her as if inviting her into his home and his life wasn’t a big deal. Then she carefully placed it on the dash, grabbing the newspaper from his backseat as an afterthought, and scurried away before she was caught.

Like a rat.

Maybe Neal was exactly the kind of man she deserved.

The rain beat down in a punishing way, her makeshift umbrella getting soggy and soft under the onslaught. She was so busy looking over her shoulder, convinced he was going to search for her and half hoping he was successful, that the sudden absence of the storm took her by surprise.

“Here, miss, it’s raining cats and dogs tonight,” the sturdy doorman of the fancy establishment she was passing said as he reached out to place his umbrella over her. The burgundy awning extended to cover most of the sidewalk and, despite the late hour, classical music was drifting from the open door. Limousines lined the street, spilling well-dressed patrons as they approached the swanky club.

Before she could maneuver out of the way, she was swept into a tide of rich fish, all glammed out and ready for the party to start or continue as the case may be. She overheard one woman, whose hat was so large she had to tilt her head to make it through the door, complain, “Regina’s parties are always so dull even nature weeps.”

Deciding a boring party indoors was better than a lonely night in the rain, Emma changed her stance and walked over the threshold with her head held high like she belonged there. She noticed the plaque on the wall as she entered read The Rabbit Hole and couldn’t help but think it was aptly named. With its marble floors and curving staircase, it was no wonder this wasn’t one of the stops on the Captain’s tour of town. This place was as high-end as they came.

There was a man collecting tickets at a small side table and, with only a minute to improvise, she was glad to see the stubs were roughly the size of the photo she was toting around, one of the few remaining possessions to her name. Without a moment of regret, she turned the photo face down, relieved the love note Neal had written on the back was faded and worn, so only his faint signature was legible. Luckily, the sheer volume of people entering the place meant the employee merely took it from her without looking to confirm it was what it appeared to be.

Following the crowd into a large ballroom off to the side, she saw a black grand piano played with a precise kind of violence by a wild-haired man in a tuxedo. The room was packed to the gills, the group she straggled in with taking the last seats on the far side of the room. The audience was appreciative but far from silent, conversations carrying on as if private concerts of this caliber were a normal everyday occurrence for them. Every time Emma thought she found a place to rest her sore feet and sorer heart, someone took it before she could get there and, in one near miss, she almost flattened a lap dog that warranted his own seat for the show.

Finally, after pushing her way through a narrow row, she found a place and asked the man in the next chair with a hint of desperation, “Is this seat taken?”

Shrugging a silent negative with brooding eyes that lit up when she neared, she tried to ignore the searching glance he gave her as she dropped into the chair and surreptitiously removed her shoes. She could tell by the hint of a smirk he noticed the movement, but at least he had the good grace not to comment on it.

He was handsome in a careworn kind of way. His tousled dark hair and thick stubble were eerily similar to the Captain’s look, and it made her shuffle in her seat with guilt. The man kept staring, his light-colored eyes settling somewhere between gray and green, keenly taking in her appearance and finding it amusing if the continued presence of his smirk was any indication.

As the final notes of the concerto echoed through the room, a burst of applause started. Now that she was fed and able to sit for a few moments, Emma realized she was exhausted. It was a bone-deep weariness far beyond fatigue, and she was fairly confident it could be traced back to a man with blue eyes and more charm than any one person should be allowed to have.

She wondered where Killian was now. If he had already given up or if he was wasting more time and losing out on more money combing the streets looking for his erstwhile damsel in distress. Emma knew what she did was for the best as surely as she knew she would be haunted by the feeling of his arms wrapped around her for a long time.

After a brief break, the musician approached the piano again. Before he could start hammering out another song with the intensity of a madman, a raven-haired woman stepped in front of the instrument. She called out in a commanding voice, “Pardon the interruption but does anyone recognize this man? It would seem there was a mix-up at the ticket counter and someone accidentally handed in a photograph instead of their invitation to this private event.”

Resisting the urge to sink deeper into her chair, she furtively looked around as the audience murmured amongst themselves regarding the unusual disruption. She could tell by the sardonic tone of the woman’s voice and the way she emphasized the word private she wasn’t convinced it was an innocent mistake. A scene would be made if the guilty party were found and couldn’t provide the appropriate documentation.

“Really? No one is going to come forward?” With an annoyed look at the assembly, she sulked, “Fine, I won’t waste any more of your time.”

She saw the woman hurry to the corner and carry on a quick conversation with a few men before the group disbursed and fanned out to cover the room. Feeling her luck was running out, she slipped her feet back into her shoes with barely a wince and slowly stood under the watchful gaze of her neighbor.

She needed to escape for the second time that night, but now she had hundreds of witnesses. Nonchalantly, she surveyed the room, trying to determine the best way. During this perusal, a man caught her eye, and she froze as he began to cut across the room to her side. So much for a stealthy getaway.

Her pursuer had an air of refined boredom with an edge of mischief. His graying hair was an attractive finish to a lean, well-dressed form. Cocking an eyebrow in disdain or maybe curiosity, he spoke quietly to not draw the notice of the surrounding crowd. “A word, madam.”

“With me?”

“Indeed.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that.” Squaring her shoulders, she ignored the way her neighbor watched with rapt attention as she resolutely marched toward her fate.

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @motherkatereloyshipper @stahlop @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @klynn-stormz

[just-a-quirkless-loser]

Maybe We’re Not Meant To Be

Alpha Izuku x Omega Reader

Warning: Sexual Content Below

Word Count: 3.9K

Two years of dating Izuku was no easy task. As sweet as the man is, he often blundered when it came to the love life (or the lack thereof) the two of you shared. No one questions his devotion to you. You’re cold? Midoriya will give you the shirt off his back. You’re hungry? Midoriya runs to the nearest store to grab you something (he doesn't care if it’s miles away). Two years of dating the most considerate person in the world yet, you selfishly yearned for more.

A mating mark; a silent reminder to onlookers that you were taken by one of the most eligible alphas in Japan. You wanted your skin to be marred by his long fangs and you wanted to leave your own mark on him. But after two years of waiting, it felt as though maybe he didn’t want to mark you. 

‘Maybe we’re not meant to be.’

At first, you didn’t mind that Midoriya wasn't quick to ask to bound you; it showed that he cared about you rather than force himself on you for the rest of your life. It was nice to have him court you but, you’re getting older. You never wanted to admit that biology was correct but, you felt yourself slowly facing the realities.

It’s easy to push the want away, hiding it deep in your mind to only ponder over every once in a while. But, every once in a while becomes every day. It makes you wonder if there’s something wrong with you. 

You watch as all of your friends start to show off their marks, they start to get married, one by one having pups. And, you’re there for all of it. Silently cheering everyone else on from the sideline but, awaiting your turn to race.  

You’re quietly bitter. All you can think about is having mini versions of Midoriya and yourself running around. What would they look like? What would they smell like? Would they want to be heroes? Your desire to have a physical manifestation of your love to care for and nurture grew. It seems like the closest you’ll ever get to that dream is when you're around other people’s pups. 

“Wow, Y/N! How did you get her to be that quiet?” Uraraka asks you with an amazed expression. She watched you cuddle her close to your chest, rocking her off to sleep after her latest tantrum. “You're such a natural.”

“Thank you. I've always loved kids,” you're mesmerised by the rise and fall of the pups chest as she breathes. It’s nice having something so small depend on you.

“You’d make a great mom,” she doesn’t miss how you tense and, for the fleetest of moments, a scent of resentment seeps from your pores. Why should you have to sit and take care of someone else’s baby when you want one? “I’m sorry if I said something wrong.”

“No, no, you’re fine. I was just thinking,” you put the sleeping pup down to its duvet. “I want one. I want what you have so bad it hurts.”

“Why don’t you talk to Deku? I’m sure he’d love to have a baby with you,” she smiles to push your hurt away but, it only makes you grimace eternally. 

“For us to talk, he’d have to be home for more than thirty minutes before he crashes out in bed,” that ends the conversation. You knew that dating a pro hero with ambitions like Izuku’s would be no walk in the park however, you didn't think it would be this hard.

You know he didn’t mean to but, Midoriya has inadvertently neglected you. First, it was forgetting date night due to the need to pursue a link to a villian. Then, it was forgetting your birthday to finish some paperwork. It seemed like something always popped up that Midoriya had to follow but, you couldn’t hold a grudge; he’s always been the type to help.

‘You knew what you were getting into when you chose to date him,’ you blamed yourself. You can't just expect him to change (and you grew bitter for that as well). 

“Izuku,” you started across from him on the floor. He looked up at you with those dark green hues, giving you his full attention. “Izuku, why haven’t you marked me yet?”

“Y-Y/N, ahh you caught me off guard. I mean, do you want me to mark you?” he always does this; reverse the question when he doesn’t know the right answer. 

“Izuku, I asked you a question,” you put your chopsticks down.

“Well, I don’t think I should bind myself to you,” cue the dramatic scent drop. “N-No it’s not you, it’s me. Okay, that sounds cliché but I just, I don't want to keep you from finding someone better.”

‘THERE ISN’T ANYONE BETTER THAN YOU,’ the words were stuck in your mouth. The conversation should have ended there but you were hurt. 

“Y/N, please, say something. Are you mad?”

‘Yes.’ “No.”

“Are you sure? You haven’t take-”

“I’m fantastic. Just not as hungry as I thought I was. But, I’m glad you told me. Now, how was your day?” It hurts but your grin through it. The conversation shouldn’t end there but, you have no desire to see what other bullshit can leave the alpha’s mouth. 

You know he doesn’t mean it in this way but, doesn’t that mean that Midoriya doesn’t see you as a life partner? Wouldn’t it be safe to say that he’d leave you if he found someone better? Weren’t you just wasting your time? 

“Are you sure you’re okay? We can talk about it if you want,” he pauses to yawn. “Maybe, tomorrow though. It was such a long day. All Might was-“ ahh yes, All Might. You’re sure you know more about him than you do about Midoriya’s mother. 

You feel unwanted, used, and taken advantage of. You do everything for him: cook, clean, support, help him with leads that stump him, drag him to bed, bandage him up. Yet, your efforts have only gotten you in a position where you’re positive Midoriya only keeps you around for entertainment. It’s a bad feeling.

But, you can’t bring yourself to pack your belongings and leave. Your inner Omega is intertwined with his,  even without the mating mark. She wants to be with him till the very end; till either one of you dies and the other soon follows into the afterlife. 

But, the feelings just keep growing. They’re in the back of your mind as you kiss Izuku, they’re in the corner of your bedroom as you cuddle with him, they’re blaring in the car as you falsely laugh. So, you suppose it’s half your fault that things have gotten to the point that they currently are. 

Today, you woke up in a particularly good mood. Midoriya had made your favorite breakfast and kissed you roughly before he left the house. 

“I have a feeling something’s going to happen today; make sure to call me when you get to work and when you get home,” his lips pressed down on you almost urgently, making your insides quiver. “And, make sure you check your surroundings.” 

“I will Izuku. I’ll see you later,” and he went out to save the world. You got dressed in some leggings and a blouse and headed off to your café. While it wasn’t the flashiest job for a person with a powerful quirk like yours, you loved watching the little pups pick out what they wanted. Occasionally, you could even pick them up. 

“Hai, Y/N. I have some fresh scones waiting to be put out,” one of your workers greeted you. You h/c colored hair was pulled into a messy game, a few tendril framing your face. There was a low gust of air from the door behind you. Another mother with her pup. 

You got to work helping wherever you could, throwing powder sugar at your workers whenever they were being too impatient; you have a knack for doing things slowly till you get them perfect. 

“As to be expected of such an analytical quirk,” one of your best employees, Kagey, tells you. 

“You’re just mad because I won’t allow you to rush my beautiful cakes,” you stick your tongue out at him. 

“No, I’m mad because you’ve made me wait for ten minutes just so you could place those fucking cakes. And they’re placed crooked. I could’ve been over there serving that hottie. Look at himmmm,” Kagey shakes your shoulders while fawning over some unsuspecting soul. 

“Ummm, you forget I have Izuku,” you raise one of your eyebrows. 

“There’s no crime in looking. It’s not like you’ve got a mark,” you crack your neck. “Sorry, I forget that’s a sore subject for you. “

“It’s fine. And, who’s the poor victim you’re staring at this time,” he points to a man you’re well acquainted with: Monoma Neito.

His blonde hair is still light but he’s grown it to be a little above his shoulders. Those beady eyes that used to be rimming with anger and discontent are finally happy and playful. He’s filled out, body-wise, and you can tell he’s bulging with muscle. 

‘Izuku’s better.’

“Damn, that glow hit him like a truck,” Kagey pushes your shoulders forward. “Okay, bitch, stop being pushy.” 

“Ofcourse, you know a beefcake like that. Introduce me to him! I’d love to get my tongue on him,” you shudder with disgust at that mental image. “Don’t look like that. My men always leave me satisfied.”

“I didn’t know that was how people describe STI’s nowadays. I really am a Boomer now,” he smack you upside the head. “Okay, okay, I’m going. Just stop hitting me.”

You wander over to Monoma, trying to decide what’s the best way to approach him. You decide on being direct. 

“Monoma,” he turns and his face lights up with recognition. “Hai, it’s been so long. Welcome to my shop”

“Y/N!? You own this place? I would’ve thought you’d want to be a hero. It’s good to see you,” he grabs your hand in his. His hands are warm, no doubt he’s probably feeling the strength of your quirk. He’s always been the handsy type. “You’re single? What happened to Izuku?”

“We’re still together. We’re just taking things slow,” you shrugged off his gaze. “Plenty of people do it.”

“So, no mark and no ring. You’re basically single,” you ruffle up and his tone. You had forgotten he can be as blunt as yourself, one of the main reasons you had been good friends. 

“You could say that if that’s what you believe. But, this isn’t about me. My friend over there, Kagey,” you point your thumb over at the fool. “He wanted to know if you’d like to go on a date.”

“You and I both know I’m straight. But, I appreciate the offer,” Monoma raises his voice so Kagey can hear. You can hear muffled cursing about straight men behind you following his statement. “But, I’d love to take you out sometime this week.”

“I have Izuku.”

“Do you really? You know alphas are preconditioned to mark what they feel belongs to them. What does that say about you?” He knows exactly how to manipulate your mind. 

“...when are you free?”

                                                         ***

You were shaking as you applied your makeup. Today was the day that you were going to go on a small date with Monoma. Nothing too serious; just an outing with a friend that just so happens to be an alpha. 

Why were you shaking? Well, you hadn’t told Izuku about your plans. He normally gets home later in the night and you had planned on getting back from your date earlier than him. But, what if he found out? Well, it shouldn't matter, right? 

He did tell you that you could find someone else (although, now as the moment was nearing, you started to doubt how serious he was when he told you). So, it shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s not like you were planning on running away with this alpha. But, would Izuku understand that? 

‘He’s not even going to find out. No point in worrying about it,’ you hissed as you accidentally poked your eye with your makeup brush. 

The soft material of the skirt stretched across your thighs as you paced through the halls. Were you really going to do this? 

“Y/N, I’m home baby. I picked up some pizza for us,” you froze. Out of all the times for Izuku to come home early, he chose the day when you were going to converse with another alpha. You thought about trying to run back to the bedroom but he was already halfway to the kitchen and he would most likely hear you. 

“Ohhhh that’s great. Really great,” you inched towards the couch to try to cover yourself in the pillows. 

“Yeah, why are you covered in the pillows? Are you building a new nest here? Want me to go get my shirts?” You immediately felt guilty all over again. Here you were about to betray him and he’s being selfless. 

“NOOO, no, just, stay right there,” you sink in further as you hoped he’d leave you alone. Unfortunately for you, Izuku doesn’t leave anything alone if he thinks something is wrong. 

“What’s wrong, omega?” He gets closer and sniffs the air. “Are you wearing perfume?”

“Yeahhhh, wanted to try something new,” you avoid eye contact. 

“Why aren’t you looking at me?”

“...”

“Omega, look at me please.”

“Izuku, I’m just not feeling well.”

“Look at me.”

You look at him with small tears in the corners of your eyes. 

“Awww, omega. Are you okay? What’s wrong?” He starts to emit a soothing smell for you. 

“Izuku, I have a-“ the doorbell interrupts you. You know it’s Monoma. You know you can’t get up to get the door. You know that you are fucked. 

“I’ll get it. But, when they leave, we are talking about what’s wrong,” you gulp. You hear Midoriya open the door. 

“Midoriya, it’s nice to see you. Is Y/N ready?” There’s the nail in the coffin. 

“What do you mean?

“We have a date tonight.”

“No you fucking don’t.”

“Um, we do. I asked her out the other day at her café,” you hear silence till you hear the unmistakable sound of Izuku’s growl. The air becomes stiffling as his pheromones threaten to choke you to death. You cower in the pillows, listening to Izuku grab Monoma and pull him into the room. No matter how much he told you he’d be fine with you finding another alpha,  you should’ve known your actions would drive him feral. 

“Why the fuck is he here?” Izuku snarled in your face. You were silently sobbing, ashamed of what your actions had caused. “FUCKING ANSWER ME, OMEGA.”

“Y-you’re the one that said you weren’t mating me in case I found someone better,” you pushed the pillow into his face as you stood to defend yourself. “Why are you so fucking mad? You drove me to this.”

“Don’t try to fucking blame me. You should have told me. So, you really want him?” You nodded your head to spite him. “No, you don’t. You just want to piss me off. Well, if that’s the objection, you accomplished your goal. Now, strip.”

“What?” The false confidence was wearing off. 

“You wanted to make me mad and you did. You want a mating mark? I’ll give you one. Now, strip for your punishment,” you shakily point to Monoma that was wide-eyed in Izuku’s grip. “Yes, in front of him. He needs to see you belong to me since he’s clearly a visual learner.”

You slowly reach behind and unzip your skirt. You push the fabric down your legs to bunch at you ankles, step out of them, and shakily pull at the hem of your shirt. You lock eyes with Monoma as you pull it above your head. The air feels cold against your soft skin. You stand there in your bra and panties, awaiting Izuku’s next command. 

“I said strip. Keep going,” you gulp. 

“I should leave,” Izuku slams Monoma into a chair. He grips his shoulder so hard you can hear a small crack. 

“Nahhhh, stay. I’m sure you knew she belonged to me but, this is a good reminder,” Izuku turns back to watch your breasts spill from your bra. Your nipples pebble from the attention you’re getting. You slip your panties down your legs, reaching for a pillow to cover yourself. 

“No, show him what belongs to me. Turn around and bend over,” you slowly turn, placing your hands on the sofa behind you. You clench your legs together. You bend at the waist, hearing two sharp intakes of breath. 

You stand there like an exhibit, slick pooling in between your legs. You’re sure they can see your nether lips glistening with arousal as well as the wall, your breasts hanging from the position. 

“Look at how wet she is for me, Monoma. I bet you wish she was like that for you,” Izuku’s breath fans across your ass. His hands gently cups your waist, tugging you backwards so he can muzzle your ass crack. “Such a beautiful body. All mine.”

“IZUKU,” you scream out as he suddenly slaps your ass. It makes more slick fall between your legs but, it still stings as a punishment. “I’ll be good omega.”

“I know baby. You’re always such a good girl. You just need to be corrected. I’ve been giving you a little too much free reign. Wanted to be sensitive alpha. Wanted to give you time. No more of that,” you shivered at the promise. “Gonna give you exactly what you need.”

A tirade of smacks rain down on your behind, lighting up your backside. You yelp and try to pull away but are restrained by Izuku’s strong arms. He’s the one supporting your weight as you crash down against the couch, the front half of your body slumped down. 

“Awww, is Omega tired? But, we’re just getting started,” from behind you, you can hear Monoma’a breathing get heavier. “Let’s give fuckface a good show baby.”

You’re about to question what he means when Izuku stands up, walks over, and rips the tie from Monoma’s neck. He walks back over to you, tying your arms together. 

“I’m in control,” he says. You quiver when you hear Izuku’s knees hit the floor behind you. Only moments later his face is buried in your heat, lapping like a dog. It sounds so lewd to hear him slurp at your juices.

He starts off slowly kissing the backs of your thighs, gripping you by your ass cheeks as he pulls your globes apart. You feel exposed when he takes an exaggerated sniff. “I’ve missed this. Need to start being more attentive to my baby.”

He licks up and down your slit, lightly nibbling on your clit as he circles it, pulling it between his lips to give it a harsh suck. Your hole clenches around nothing as you moan and try to cant your hips into his face. Your efforts are rewarded with a warning smack. 

“Just enjoy my tongue,” he positions you to be on your knees as he continues to eat you out. He first slips in one finger to the knuckle, reveling in the debauched groan that leaves your beautiful lips. Your lips are parted as drool rubs down the left side of your face. Your eyes go crossed eyed from Izuku slipping in another finger and curling them upwards, those two fingers touching that spongy texture inside of you. The perfect Ahegao face. A vision of wrecked. 

“That’s it, cum all over my fingers,” he continues to finger fuck you through your orgasm, latching back onto your clit. You shiver from the overstimulation, wanting to run with nowhere to go. You’ve forgotten Monoma as you whimper. 

“Zuku’ too much. Please,” you’re shaking as you bite into the sofa to mute your screams. 

“Aht aht aht, I wanna hear you fucking moan for me. Let him know who’s making you feel this good,” he allows his lone hand to stroke your stomach, knowing that was one of your sweet spots.  You whine loudly as you cum once again, mascara running.  

“Nooo more. Izuku. Please. Alpha,” you’re stuck there. Forced to take all the pleasure he gives you. 

“I think you can give me more baby,” he removes himself from you as he unbuttoned his jeans. “Monoma, you wanna know something funny.”

“What?”

“I bet you thought you’d be the one to fuck her pretty pussy tonight,” Izuku laughs with no amusement behind the sound. “Never thought you’d be forced to watch.”

Izuku pushes his hard cock between your legs, smearing your juices across his shaft. He grabs his cock as he toys with your entrance, pushing the tip of his cock between your lips and groaning at the sight. Your pussy grips the tips in a vice, trying to suck him in further. 

“Alpha, stop teasing me. Please. More. Give it to me.”

“I thought you couldn’t take anymore,” he teases. 

“Pleaseeeee ohiuuhhh yess,” you throw your head back when you feel him push all the way in in one motion. Your toes curl as his cock strains against your walls, forcing you to take it all. He expertly pulls back and gives an experimental thrust. 

“Look at that pussy, Monoma. Isn’t it nice? Too bad you’ll never get to feel my pussy,” he sets a bruising pace, never giving you a chance to recover. You hear your own whines mixed in with his pelvis slapping against your ass, your body rocking forward from the force of his body. 

He wraps his hand around your neck, lifting your body so he can make you meet his thrusts. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum around his cock but, you’re okay with being used like a cocksleeve.

“I’m gonna fuck my babies into your tight pussy. Gonna breed you,” you mewl. “Is that what you wanted? Pups?” 

You nod as you cry, partly from the overstimulation but also from the emotional state you’ve been reduced to. 

“I’ll give you as many pups as you want. Looks like I’ll have to fuck you out of your mind more to get you to talk to me,” he growls beside your side and he leans over you, crushing you beneath him as he pushes your body to scrunch beneath him, pounding you like he hated you. 

“Are you gonna cum again,” you nod due to your raw throat. You’re clenching and the pleasure starts to build but, this time, it feels different. Your vision goes out as you spasm, stars coming across your eyes as you squirt all over his cock, making a mess on the cock bellow you. Your tightness pushes Izuku into his orgasm. 

“Cum for me, Omega. Cum for your alpha,” you whine as you spasm but nothing comes out. He’s pushed you into a dry orgasm. You feel his hot spurts of cum enter your pussy, coating everywhere inside of you. His teeth sink into your neck, making you his forever. 

“Izuku,” you whine. 

“Feels good, omega?” You nod. He slowly pulls out from behind you, tapping your ass like a horse. 

“Get the fuck out,” Monoma doesn’t have to be told twice as he runs out. Izuku grabs a few baby wipes from the kitchen and comes back to wipe your pussy. 

“You’re mine. Never forget that.”

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

I hope you all enjoyed this. I was asked to write this a longgggg time ago and I’m so sorry for it taking so much time to complete. I rewrote this a total of three times and I’m finally happy with the end result. 

Tag List: @sakurashortstack @sinclairsamess

[chaoticpuff17]

A Dangerous Game

part 25

masterlist

Hello darlings! guess who finished her paper! This bitch! This one’s a little short again, my apologies, but we are inching ever closer to the inevitable for Y/N and Namjoon. Again, please take a look at the teasers for the hyung line. I would love to know opinions on who you all think I should write for next! Comment, ask, send me a message! I’d love to hear from you!-- chaotic puff

The next few weeks were oddly reminiscent of her first weeks at the estate. She was never alone. It was a though everyone around her thought she was going to break, and maybe she had. Her world had been turned on its head, and suddenly she felt every bit the fragile lady that Namjoon had made her out to be. Jackson’s betrayal had hit her hard leaving her far more listless than normal. It was as though all the fight had gone out of her. But just because she was listless, this did not mean that the estate was as well.

Everything around her was bustling in preparation for the upcoming wedding. Due to her “fragile” condition, Namjoon had taken all the planning in hand. There were a constant stream of his people going in and out of the estate. Cake tasting and floral arrangements, tuxedo fittings, and anything else you could think of. It was as though Namjoon was determined to have everything arranged as quickly as possible, before either she or GOT7 could change their minds. She doubted though that anyone changing their minds would stop him. He was a formidable man in more than one way she was finding. She didn’t think that she had ever seen a man take wedding preparations quite so seriously.

She didn’t know how he had the energy to do it all. He was running his criminal empire, planning a wedding, and he still found time to spend doting on her. She swore there was something new every day, flowers, deserts, jewelry, books. All the affection was a little smothering, and when Namjoon wasn’t with her one of his goons was. She had hoped Jungkook’s return would mean a return to his being her babysitter, but that was unfortunately not the case. She had a stream of different babysitters, the most daunting of whom was Hoseok.

While she had a preexisting dislike of Taehyung based on his being the one to place the anklet on her, and Yoongi was a decided grump, something about Hoseok unnerved her. The man was a ball of sunshine, most of the time. But there were moments where the sunshine faded away, and in its place was a darkness very much akin to Namjoon’s. At least Namjoon wore his darker nature like a second skin. He was a predator through and through. Hoseok’s darkness was hidden under a carefully cultivated layer of sunshine. If Namjoon was the wolf, then Hoseok was the snake hiding in the grass, and in this game she was only prey. With Namjoon she knew what to expect, but Hoseok was like a pipe bomb without a timer. You never knew when he was going to go off. Her discomfort didn’t seem to dissuade him from following Namjoon’s orders though. On days he was assigned to her, where she went, he followed to every fitting, cake tasting, and walk through the garden.

She was sitting in the garden basking in the autumn sun taking a break from the constant stream of wedding plans, completely exhausted. Luckily her guard for the day had to be the most laid back out of all of them. Yoongi was just as content as she was to bask in the sunshine doing nothing. If someone had told her that he was secretly a cat, she probably would have believed them. The man had a very feline quality to him, but she found him to be a very calming presence despite his grumpy demeanor. He spent the least time of all her minders treating her like a doll that would break if not handled with care.

“You’re getting married next week.” He pointed out as she waved off one of the maids telling her that her dress had arrived. “Shouldn’t you be more excited?”

“I would be, if I actually wanted to marry the man.”  She scoffed taking a sip of her tea.

“You agreed to this.” He deadpanned.

She rolled her eyes leveling him a look that was just as deadpan as the one he was giving her. “That was before I found out Jackson was still in the mafia, and that sacrificing myself for him was useless, before his friends sold me off like it was the 1400s.”

“Want me to shoot him?” He asked taking a drink from his coffee. She could swear the man survived on coffee alone.

She laughed though it held no joy. It a bittersweet sort of sound. “Do you think it would help? Would it magically send me home or send me back in time to before I met Namjoon?”

“No.” He shrugged. “But I’m a really good shot.”

And he was. Yoongi was an excellent shot. She’d found out from Taehyung and Jungkook that Yoongi was a sniper, an assassin, a fixer. He took care of problems for Namjoon. If someone got on Namjoon’s bad side, Yoongi was the one that paid them a visit.

“You wanna marry Namjoon then? That would make me feel better.” He snorted shooting her an unimpressed look. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

She shivered as a stiff autumn breeze went through her. Almost immediately a maid was there offering her a shawl. She took it only because she knew that the maid was only trying to help. Namjoon had given everyone strict orders to take care of her which translated to the hovering she had been living with for the past few weeks.

“You could have all this. People waiting on you hand and foot.” She tried to convince him as she wrapped the shawl loosely around her shoulders only slightly annoyed that Namjoon had given one the maids a shawl to hover over her with that perfectly matched the dress that she had chosen to wear that day. He was annoyingly meticulous like that.

“They already do that.”

“Only ‘cause they’re scared you’ll break their kneecaps.”

“Too much effort.” He shrugged slouching down in his seat. “You should go try on your dress though. Namjoon will throw a hissy fit if it doesn’t fit, and I don’t want to deal with that.”

“You and I both know that Jin or Hoseok would be dealing with that tantrum.” She reminded him. Jin and Hoseok were the poor souls to deal with the brunt of what could only be described as Namjoon’s pre-wedding jitters. She wasn’t supposed to know about them, but Jin, Yoongi, Taehyung, and Jungkook had no qualms about complaining about their perfectionist boss and friend to her so she heard every detail of his almost manic pursuit of perfection for their wedding day.

“Think of Jin hyung.”

“Jin can give him a sedative and do us all a favor.”  She hummed gently pushing herself out of her seat and moving over to examine the flowers that were in bloom. “Besides we both know that he wouldn’t allow the dress to be anything less than perfect. I’m pretty sure he threatened the poor seamstress with a bullet through her skull if she didn’t make sure everything was perfect.”

“If you took more interest in your wedding, maybe he wouldn’t be so stressed.”

“If I took more interest in this sham of a wedding, it would give him far too much pleasure.”

Yoongi chuckled finishing off his cup of coffee. “He’s excited to have a legal claim to you, can’t say that I blame him.”

“You want to marry me too, Yoongi?” She asked throwing him a coquettish look over her shoulder.

“No. You’re far too much trouble. But you’re good for him.”

“I’d stab him in a heartbeat given the chance, and you know it.”

“You already have.” He pointed out. “You weren’t aiming for him though. Planning to try again?” He inquired quirking a brow at her.

She was going to answer him, but a different maid made her presence known carrying in a bouquet of pink and white peonies. “Bu-in, the sajangnim sent these for you. Where would you like them?”

She sighed giving Yoongi a long suffering look before turning a tired smile on the poor maid. “Put them in the piano room please. I don’t think the bedroom has any more room for flowers.”

“Yes, bu-in.” She bowed scurrying away to place the flowers where she was directed to.

“You can tell your friend to stop sending gifts. I don’t have any need for diamonds, and if he doesn’t stop soon, we’ll be drowning in flowers.”

“Wait till the wedding. We’ll really be drowning in flowers then. Who knew Namjoon was such a romantic.”

“Romantic, psychotic, same thing.” She shrugged watching as yet another maid come out to tell her something. “Sajangnim has arrived. Would you like me to prepare a fresh pot of tea?”

“No. If he wants something he’ll ask for it. I’ll be in the piano room.” She sighed suddenly feeling more tired than before. “Would you like to come Yoongi? We can practice that sonata, and you can yell at me for messing up the notes.” She offered.

She’d found over the past few weeks that while Yoongi was a grump and Namjoon’s fixer, he was also an excellent pianist. They’d played a few songs together, but his skill far outweighed her own. More often than not he ended up scolding her for missing the rhythm or the notes or not placing her fingers correctly.

“That piano is wasted on you.” He grumbled.

“I’m aware, Yoongi. I’m aware.” 

She headed towards the door knowing that Yoongi would follow shortly as Namjoon had yet to steal her away, and she wasn’t to be without a minder when Namjoon wasn’t present. The man had become more paranoid than normal ever since the incident, as he liked to call it. Before, her minders could give her a bit of space, but now space was a thing of the past.

Namjoon found them in the piano room playing the same duet that they had been practicing for the past two weeks. He didn’t even mind the sharp reprimands that Yoongi would snap at her, something he normally wouldn’t allow, because Yoongi had gotten her to play the piano again. She hadn’t touched the instrument since the incident, but Yoongi had gotten her to play again, unsurprising given the man’s talent for piano and the beautiful instrument that was at his disposal at the manor.  

“Schubert again?” He asked remaining just outside the door. This was her space, and he was hesitant to invade it without her permission given the incident. He didn’t want anything to set her off again. He didn’t think he could handle another incident.

“Sonata for four hands ‘Grand duo’. It’s only the first movement though.” She responded with a slight smile while Yoongi grumbled at the interruption.

“She can finally play part of the first movement without it sounding like a toddler.”

She didn’t seem to mind the insult though choosing instead to lean her head on the man’s shoulder with a gentle smile. She never seemed to mind Yoongi’s more abrasive comments, and Yoongi never seemed to mind her more affectionate gestures. They all knew he was secretly a softy. She’d known that from the first time she’d seen him with Moni. The man was a sucker for dogs.

Yoongi shrugged her off and got up leaving without another word, leaving her alone with Namjoon who came to sit next to her on the piano bench.

“I see you got my flowers.” He mused while she hummed in agreement. “Play for me?” He asked, and she did.  

part 26

[circuscarnage]

Picture Perfect.

Hello! I saw a picture of Rooks room and get inspired to write a yandere fanfic. Sorry if he seems out of character, I haven't written for him since the game released. I’ve also been wanting to try my hand at writing a yandere fic for a while so I hope you enjoy. 

TW: Stalking. A lot of stalking.

Words: 2755.

Potions wasn't exactly a subject that you excelled at. It wasn't that you were bad at it... you just had trouble getting your head around the instructions. It's not everyday you are flung through a magical portal and expected to partake in activities meant for trained wizards who have been here for more than five seconds. So a little struggling here and there was to be expected. But to completely mess up and almost set half the school on fire? That was a new record of stupidity, even for you. 

Divus was not impressed. The way he lightly tapped his cane over his crossed arms was enough of an indication. He was just about to teach this stray puppy some discipline. But thankfully for you, someone came to your hour of need. And that someone came in the form of the boisterous Rook Hunt. Sweet talking his way into your conversation seamlessly and rescuing this poor soul from punishment.

"Monsieur Crewel," He started. "You must forgive our petite colombe, they are not accustomed to this world, and still have much to learn." He placed his hands gently on your shoulders, firmly keeping you in place. "May I suggest some personally tutoring? After all, who better the guide this innocent creature through the hurdles of life than yours truly?"

So it was settled. Instead of being placed with a heavy detention, Rook would be you personal tutor. Helping recover your grades and ensuring that you never repeat your little mistake ever again. You both agreed to meet in the Pomefiore dormitory, where he would escort you to his room in order to study. 

As expected from Pomefiore, their rooms were nothing short of elegant. The room was quite grand. Cream coloured walls lined with gold coating the exterior, giving the room a very regal vibe. They had the same satin sheets that matches perfectly with their uniform. And the bed canopy above only added an extra layer of elegance. The stained glass window embedded in the wall illuminated a section of the room with rainbow light. He even had his hunting equipment decorated on the wall. His trusty hunting bows seeming as casual as a family picture. It looked extremely glamorous, and extremely expensive. 

You kept your books clutched to your chest as he invited you further into the room. "Thank you again, Rook. Without your help, there's no doubt Crewel would make me do one of his impossible tasks." You turned to face him. "How were you able to persuade him so easily?" 

Rook smiled, closing the door behind him. "We share an eye for the divine. Fashion and beauty come second nature to us. I am also one of his top students. He places his trust in me to guide his little 'puppies' in the right direction." Rook laughed, finding it endearing that Divus saw himself as a trainer, rather than a teacher. He walked himself over to his desk, pulling out the chair, and gestured you to sit down. You placed your belongings on the table and sat down, thanking him. 

Before you started, Rook removed his hat, and went to place it on the stand. "Let's start with the basics, shall we? Firstly-" Rook suddenly stopped mid-sentence. He stared off into the distance, thinking for a moment. His hat still sitting firmly in his hand, before he finally placed it down. He checked his pockets, patting them down gently at first, but then becoming a tad more frantic. He patted down his jacket as well, as if he was missing something. He breathed out a smile. "Ah... sacre bleu..." 

"Is everything okay?" You queried, quirking your brow at him. It was unlike Rook to be disorganised. He always knew where everything was, so seeing him in a state of surprise was a first. Rook met your gaze again, giving you an apologetic smile before speaking. "You must forgive me, petite colombe. It seems I may have left something important in Monsieur Crewel's classroom. I hate to leave at such short notice, but I must retrieve this item of mine."

"It's alright." You reassured him. There was plenty of times where you had left something behind, it was perfectly understandable. "Take your time. I can go over some notes by myself if you want?" Rook clapped his hands together happily. Expressing his delight to your sedulous mind. "Tres bein! Such a diligent student. So eager to learn, yet has trouble expressing so. Like a flower yet to bloom yo-"

"Rook. Go." You ushered him out of the room with a smile. If you hadn't stepped in, he would have continued his rant on beauty for the rest of the day.

As Rook left the room to retrieve said item, you opened your book to a random page and started to reread over your notes. At least this way, you wouldn't bore yourself to death waiting for him to come back. Might as well do something productive. Before long, your eyes started to get tired. Without Rook being here to help you, it felt strange being in his room, like you weren't supposed to be there. Some time had already passed yet he hadn't returned. You sighed, leaning back in the chair. Whatever he misplaced must have been important. Not wanting the boredom to consume you whole, you searched the room for something to do.

Without a doubt, the hat on the stand had caught your attention. You stared at it, resisting the temptation to try it on. Just as you reached out your hand, you quickly retreated it back. Another time, you thought. Today was a day of no distractions. You were going to do work, and Rook was going to help... whenever he came back. Given the unpredictability of Rook, who knows how long he would take. He had left his phone in his room, so there was no way to contact him. Sitting back down in the chair, you let out a heavy sigh.

That's when you saw it. Hidden away in the very corner of the room. Something that was slightly off.  A stray corner of wallpaper was peeling off the side of the wall. It was only a small section, easily overlooked by anyone who passed by. But for someone who was obviously looking for something, it wasn't hard to miss. Rook didn't seem like the type of person to allow his room to fall into a state of disarray. Suffice to say, it caught you off guard. 

Something about how that one corner was different was completely throwing off your concentration. There was no way you would be able to focus with something that distracting in the back of your mind. It was decided, in order to gain a better working environment, something needed to be done.

You stood up from your seat and made your way over to the bed, removing your shoes before carefully stepping on top of the satin sheets. They sank under your weight, making you briefly loose your footing, but you manged to make it to the wall without falling over. The Pomefiore dorm really went all out with the bedding. Soft and smooth to the touch, yet emitting a sort of poisonous aura. It dragged you in, insisting for you to lie down. As if someone could lie in peaceful slumber, forever in a death like state.

You shook those thoughts from your head. Now was not the time to think about that, there was a wall in desperate need of fixing! Standing up on your tip toes, your hand glided up the wall to secure the loose wallpaper. Just before you sealed up the wall, something else caught your attention. There was something behind the plaster. A corner of a white scrap of paper was peaking out from behind it. Why the heck was there something behind the wall? Was it something that he didn't want others to see?

You looked towards the door, seeing that Rook hadn't come back yet. What was taking him so long? His lengthened disappearance might as well be a blessing at this point, considering the blatant curiosity that festered inside you was starting to eat away at your moral compass. It is awfully rude to look at someones personal things without asking, but it was basically staring you right in the face, begging to be looked at. Surely, it wouldn't hurt to take a small peek, would it? No longer being able to subside the pestering need to be nosy, you peeled back a little more of the plaster, surprised at how easy it came off. 

There was no denying the cold feeling that started to creep it's way up your spine. Slow and sultry, like someone trailing their fingers up your back. What you had expected to be a simple joke to be laughed it, turned out to be much darker then you could have ever dreamed. You couldn't believe what you were looking at, blinding rapidly, praying that it was just a trick of the eye. But every time you opened your eyes, there it was, staring back at you. That's when you noticed that there wasn't only one. Another corner peeked out. 

In a marvellous flourish of motion, you quickly tore the wall paper off, revealing an entire collage of horror behind a thin wall of plaster. There was more of them. Completely covering the back wall. But these weren't pieces of paper. These were pictures. 

Pictures of you.

How Rook was able to capture them without you knowing baffled you. He had taken shots from all angles, close up and distant, capturing every moment perfectly. You studied the pictures closer, being able to remember the exact date of when they were taken. One was from the day you were having lunch outside with your friends, smiling and laughing in ignorant bliss, unaware of the danger that lurked just beyond your line of sight. Another was from one of your walks, going around Night Raven campus without a second thought. Enjoying the peaceful scenery away from the usual chaos. Oh my god. He even managed to snap a shot of you while you were asleep.

Your hands instinctively slammed on the wall as you felt your body lurch forward, suddenly feeling very disorientated, and extremely unsafe. Rook could be somewhat of a stalker at times, but this was just too far. The little games he would play with the other students were nothing more than playful motions, they never borderline on obsession. So why. Why this? Why now? And most importantly, why you?

"Beautiful, is it not?"

Hearing those words broke you from your bystander state and placed you back within the clutches of the predator. You completely froze. Standing still on his bed, not even being able to look him in the eyes. You knew that you were in the wrong by snooping through his things. But if you knew what was in store, you wouldn't have done it. Discomfort radiated off you rapidly, filling the room with unimaginable dread. Neither of you said anything for a moment. But when Rook spoke, it shot through you like an arrow.

"My collection." His voice had gotten louder. He was much closer than before. On the side of the bed just behind you. You didn't even know he moved. "I've travelled my entire life and seen beauty in all it's shapes and forms. The Savanaclaw students are beast-men, their animalistic instincts interest me greatly. The students at this academy are all so distinct with their unique magic. But you." The way he spoke, letting you linger on every word he said, unsettled you greatly. "You had your own beauty in being simple. Standing out because you blend in with the background. A simple buttercup in a world of exotic flowers. It's a wonder how you managed to catch my eye, more so than that of Roi de Poison." He placed his gloved finger to his chin, taking a moment to think about his next words. "You have a certain... Je ne sais pas... Vulnerability. Something that a hunter like myself can't resist..."

As he said that, he reached out his hand, gently twisting it around your wrist. You shuddered at his touch, not wanting to be here anymore. Whatever was going on, you wanted no part in it. You wish you never saw this. Wanting nothing more than to rewind time and remain oblivious to his obsessive actions. That would be better. Going about life without knowing of the danger that was always three steps behind. 

Plucking up the little courage you had, cautiously you turned to face him. You expected to see him looking at you with a sour expression. But he didn't. He didn't look angry. Why didn't he look angry? You just exposed him for stalking. Someone in their right mind should have at least changed their expression, or do something. But Rook didn't. He just continued to smile at you as he always did. As if nothing was wrong. You looked back to the pictures, and then to him. His timing was too perfect. Leaving suddenly and then catching you in the act. Leaving you bored and in need to do something. He didn't plan this... Did he?

"Did..." It was hard trying to conceal the fear in your voice. Still uneven and shaking from the realisation. "...Did you want me to find this?" Your voice was only just above a whisper, yet Rook heard it clear as day. His keen eyes picking up the slightest of sounds. He clapped his hands together happily. "Tres Bien! As expected of my petite colombe, you were able to find the clues and uncover the mystery. Your beauty surely knows no bounds. All good hunters know how to cover their tracks and remain undetected. I wouldn't let something like a stray piece of paper cause my undoing." His eyes flickered to wall, scanning over the pictures once again. It was clear that he was proud to own such a collection, but his gaze never stayed focused on them for long. Too soon his eyes would return to grace upon your features, taking them in intensely. "Even though I was able to capture your beauty within these images, it can never compare to the real thing. A replication of a painting is worthless compared to the original. That's why I had to have you."

Gently he began to pull you towards him. You tried to fight back. Squirming under his touch, hoping to be let free. But no matter how much you wriggled, how much you battered your fist against his arm, or how much you protested, he was easily able to seal you in his arms. He didn't even flinch. Being able to pull you in with one wave of his hand, like it was nothing. He only chuckled in response. There was no where for you to run, you both knew that. You had accidentally cornered yourself standing on his bed. You considered making a break for it. But then you remembered how fast Rook could be. It was sometimes scary watching him in PE, being able to easily sprint past Savanaclaw members without breaking a sweat. There was no way you would be able to outrun him. Not like you could run anyway, being clutched to his chest. Smothered in unrequited love.

All thoughts of escape fled your mind as his grip tightened. Digging his gloved fingers into your skin without breaking his smile. He was enjoying this. Having you be at his mercy. It was like being a rabbit surrounded by traps. One wrong move and something would end up broken. With a delighted expression, he tilted your chin upwards, forcing you to make eye contact with him. Half-lidded emerald eyes that sparked with delusional longing. "I want to capture that look of your face forever. Belated innocence... Such a pretty face would be wasted on those who can't appreciate it's beauty. My heart pulsated with admiration. You've completely captured my heart. My mind, body, and soul sing for your embrace. Every action I have taken has been in your name. And every action I shall take will be laced with your image. Won't you be my personal muse?"

[carnationcreation]

Can you write a Reggie x reader fic where reader was a part of the band in the 1995 and didn't die with the guys but then by some unfortunate accident, like a car accident or a drunk driver, dies a few months later and has been a ghost for 25 years and know modern slang and stuff? If Caleb could know her but not own her soul because she's superstitious and he reminds her of the fae that would be awesome! Sorry for the long ask and if you don't have the time to write it it's fine.

TITLE: Back for you (JATP Reggie x reader)

✌🏻Masterlist Taglist, Requests, and Works in progress!

Prompt/summary:  Reader dies after the boys and finds them in 2020 after years of being on her own.

Word Count: 1,595

Authors note: I’ve done car accidents in like 3 of my other fics so I decided to spice it up a little bit. Sorry if this isn’t exactly what you wanted, you can always ask if I an rewrite it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wish I could’ve done something to stop them that night. 

My life was cut so short, all because of a stupid hotdog. All I wanted in life was to belong somewhere and I finally had that with the band. They had dragged me out to that street dog stand before our biggest show at the Orpheum. Fortunately (but unfortunately) I only had time to take a bite or two of my food before I remembered Bobby and I had to unload the rest of the merch before call time.

I barely made it to the door.

I spent 6 days in the hospital, but the boys died that night. When I saw my body laying on the hospital bed with my family surrounding me I broke down. I still wonder why this happened.

I spent months wandering around LA, doing small jobs for other ghosts in exchange for food I could actually eat. I stole books and snuck into movies to pass my time while I waited to see if I would crossover to... anywhere. Isn’t that’s what ghosts do?

I had so many questions other than that. Why am I still here? Where were the boys? Were they together? If they were, why wasn’t I with them?

Some of those were answered when Caleb found me outside the Orpheum.

“If you shake my hand, I can help you. You can perform at my club for thousands of legends. You’ll get the best foods, equipment, clothes. All that if you just come with me.” 

The offer was tempting. I had always wanted to be known as an artist but something didn’t sit right with me. Maybe it was the look on his eye, or the fact I ran into a ghost boy earlier that week with the same symbol on his wrist, regardless I turned it down. Claiming I wanted to explore the world a little more before I settle down. And with that I left.

For the next 20 years I wandered around the US. Poofing only could take me so far, and I could only do it to places I’m familiar with. Eventually with time and power I had gained from being in this realm I managed to open up a shop. Only ghosts could see it of course but everyone was welcome to come and spend time there with me. I gathered books from all over and let people trade them out on the various shelves that spread throughout the room.

The entryway was located in the same alleyway the backstage door to the Orpheum was. Some might say it’s morbid to live right near the spot you died but I say it’s only closure. Closure to the short life I got to live.

The only thing I ask from my patrons is a drink or a song. Once that’s paid they’re allowed to stay as long as they’d like and are free to come and go as they please as long as they make that payment every time they come back.

It made the time a lot less lonely, I spent so much time searching for where the boys could’ve possibly ended up that I forgot I needed to focus on myself for a while. 

Willie came by every once in a while, mostly to stop in for a drink and listen to some music.

“The weirdest thing happened the other day (Y/n),” he sat down at the bar as I wiped down my equipment, “I ran into a boy that’s been in the black room for 25 years!”

I had heard of the infamous black room where some souls went until it was their time to come here to our realm, “25? That’s crazy.”

“I know! And he said he and his friends died eating hotdogs,” Willie laughed and my hands froze.

“What?”

“Yeah I know it’s crazy.”

I took a deep breath, “Willie, what’d you say his name was?”

“Uh... Alex,” he said, the look on his face expressed concern, “Did you know him?”

“Willie, I need to know where you saw him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I searched all over our old neighborhoods, the school, even our old spots where we would busk or get gigs to play. I turned up empty handed, no sign of the boys anywhere and I was starting to get worried. 

What if Caleb got to them?

No, I can’t think like that. They may not be the smartest group of boys I’ve ever met but they do have some common sense. Or, at least I hope they still did.

It felt like the band happened so long ago, but if they’ve been in the black room for all this time then they probably don’t realize how much time had passed.

Finally I went to the last place I hadn’t checked, Caleb’s club.

I changed my outfit into an elegant dress with a cloak on top. May seem strange now but in Caleb’s place it wouldn’t look anymore out of place than a flapper from the 20′s. I tried my best not to look suspicious considering I wasn’t even a member to Caleb’s cult and was technically direct competition to his business he had going on. I learned quickly from Willie that if he didn’t find any use for you he would exchange your soul for more power. I wasn’t about to let that happen to my boys.

It wasn’t long until I found them stuffing their faces with food at the center table. He must be trying to convince them to join him.

“Guys,” I said, I pulled my cloak down to reveal myself, “It’s time to go.”

“(Y/n)?” they said confused.

“No time to explain. Outside. Now.”

I pulled Luke and Reggie by their collars away from the food as Alex followed close behind. Luckily I got them out before anyone noticed.

“What’s going on? Where have you been all this time?” Reggie asked.

I sighed, “I’ve been here. Traveling and making a place for people like us to go to instead of Caleb’s club.”

“What’s wrong with Caleb’s club?” Luke said.

“Once you join you can’t leave,” I said, “Caleb owns all those poor peoples souls. Once he’s done with them then he exchanges them for power.”

The boys eyes went wide as they looked down at their wrists.

“Oh god, he marked you didn’t he?”

They all nodded and held out their wrists showing the glowing purple tattoo.

“I’ll find a way to reverse it I promise. I just need some time.”

Luke finally saw the time, “Crap, we’re late for Julie’s dance.”

The boys Alex and Luke poofed away but Reggie turned to me, “It’s so good to see you again, I missed you.”

“Who’s Julie?” I asked.

“Our new band members.”

I frowned and swallowed hard.

Reggie laughed before leaning forward to place a kiss on my cheek, “Don’t worry, she could never replace you.”

I smiled and felt my heart hammer in my chest.

“Come find us later. The old garage we used to practice in.”

“I gotta get back to my place. I got customers to serve.”

“Where is it?” he asked.

I smiled, “The alleyway behind the Orpheum. I don’t think Julie can come in cause she’s a lifer but you guys can’t miss it.”

“Awesome,” he smiled, “We’ll be back for you okay?”

“Okay. Now go play at that dance,” I grinned as he placed another kiss on my cheek and turned to poof away with the boys.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I went back to the garage to wait. I enjoyed how much it had changed over the years as I walked around. Eventually I sat down at the piano and began to play some of the sheet music that was still there, Julie must’ve left it.

“You still got it.”

“AHHH!” I startled and almost fell off the bench.

“Woah woah, sorry,” Reggie chuckled, “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Well you did Reginald.”

He rolled his eyes, “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“You’re place. I wanna see it,” he said, holding out his hand to me.

I smiled and took it before poofing out of the room and into my cafe.

“(Y/n)!” I heard some of my regulars cheer. I waved before walking behind the bar to refill drinks for people. Reggie turned in a circle to admire all of the old art and instruments I had hung up everywhere.

“So anyone can come and go?”

I giggled, “If they’re dead then yeah. Haven’t had any lifers wander in yet.”

He smiled and took a seat, “How long did it take to make all of this?”

“Considering how draining it was and how much magic I had to use, probably about 4 or 5 years.”

He sighed, “And I wasn’t here for any of it.”

“That’s not your fault,” I said as I placed my hand on top of his.

“This doesn’t make any sense. Why did I go there while you’ve been here all this time?” he asked.

“None of this makes any sense Reggie. Maybe it’s because you guys died together and I died afterwards or something. Regardless you’re here now. I’m just so glad I found you guys. Maybe once we find a way to release you guys from Caleb, you guys can help me run this place. I need to solid gigs to play on weekdays.”

He smiled before lifting my hand to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to my knuckles making my face grow hot.

“Of course, I always told you you couldn’t get rid of me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[prose-for-hire]

They say romance is dead

Pairing: Angel x reader; Spike x reader; Faith Lehane x reader [Choose your own ending]

Request: But have you ever seen interactive fics? Where you can choose your ending? Like for example: Spike and Angel trying to woo the same girl. And the end is interactive. Like there's an ending for when you pick Spike and one where you pick Angel. (and maybe one where you don't pick any of them because maybe you're already with someone of your choice?!)

Requested by: @kind-wolf​

Warning: Small sex reference. Swearing.

A/N:  Reader speaks kinda gossip-y on the phone lol. I really hope this is okay - I loved this idea so much, I couldn’t help but make a third option with Faith !! I’d love to do more of these if you have any more requests/scenarios.

There’s a tense change in the middle, if it doesn’t work tell me I’ll rewrite it 💜

You were laying on your bed, the phone to your ear as you thought about the night before. You twirled the cord around your finger as you sighed. You felt as if you were living inside some kind of work of fiction. You had two vampires seemingly interested in you and you had no idea how to even sort through your thoughts let alone think about making a choice of one over the other.

One was named Spike, he was a punk inspired vampire with the body of a Greek God. The man was hot and he definitely knew about it. He was fierce but had a soft side he wasn’t ashamed to present to you. The other, Angel. Angel by name and occasionally by nature so long as you caught him on an ensouled day. He was tall, dark and incredibly biteable despite him being the vampire in the equation. He wasn’t a man of many words, but those few words had been surprisingly sweet when directed towards you. Both were incredibly attractive and both had an intriguing and ultimately tragic backstory that you would be lying if you said hadn’t intrigued you.

“Hey, I’m not judgin’, it’s your life y’know?” your good friend Faith confirmed from the other end of the phone, trying her best to comfort you the way she knew how. She wasn’t really used to in-depth phone calls like this one with friends, but she couldn’t help admit she enjoyed having someone that could vent to her and would listen if she needed to talk as well.

She asked you to explain everything that had happened, so she could help you weigh up the pros and cons. You knew what her advice would be, to get under them both and judge for yourself. But you decided to talk through it anyway, for your own peace of mind.

“It all started a few months ago…

I was spending time with Spike, he had been so kind to me. He found me alone and offered to get us some drinks. He said he had some kind of discount. He was so soft with me, I couldn’t believe it was him.

We had such a great time, he was asking about me as if he really cared. He looks at me like I’m the whole world sometimes. And he spoke so beautifully. So emotionally about his past, it was as if he trusted me in a way he hadn’t with anyone else. I’ve not stopped thinking about it since.

Then the next night I had bumped into Angel, he offered to walk me home. He seemed to really care that I got home safe. We got talking and I invited him inside, he seemed so pleased that I had. I couldn’t help smiling – my face was aching after he told me a story about a demon he had to defeat. He’s a good story-teller. It had me in stitches – but not as many stitches as the demon probably needed.

He told me he liked spending time with me. That when we were together he forgot about his troubles. He forgot about his past. That it was just us.

 I had been spending so much time with each of them I hadn’t realised how close I was to them both. They have both been making sure I’m safe after dark and being so much more physically affectionate.

Ever since then, Spike has been really protective. We fell asleep cuddled up in his crypt watching old re-runs of soaps. He’s always so attentive and sweet and I don’t know what I’d do without him in my life.

 And Angel? He gives the best hugs. I swear he kissed my forehead one time and I swear I could have melted. He’s always there for me, the other night we just stayed in all night enjoying each other’s company. I was leaning against him and he read aloud to me. It was so cosy.

 Anyway, it all got a bit awkward last night. I was at that bar – you know the one. I came across the both of them and I didn’t realise they were arguing until I made my way towards them. They looked like they were about to fight there on the dancefloor but there is a strict no-violence policy in there so they managed to stop themselves. It was that, or they sensed me coming. The closer I got, I realise they’re arguing about me! I know, crazy right?

So, I split them up - they tried to swing at each other. It was awful to see them fight ‘cause I care for them both so much I just don’t know in what way. But they wouldn’t stop squabbling with each other until I shouted at them to stop. There was this horrible silence and then they looked me dead in the eye and asked me to choose!”

You finished your explanation, intaking a large breath – you hadn’t realised you had been speaking without breathing with such pace. Faith had been listening and shaking her head at your tendency to romanticise things like this but didn’t comment. She was trying her best to assume the role of supportive friend.

“Shit. What’re you gonna do?”

“I don’t know… why is everything so difficult?” You sigh, thinking of them both earlier. You were incredibly fond of both of them, but you felt caught in the middle.

“They say romance is dead, y/n/n” Faith stated, opting not to give you any solid advice.

“Yeah, but nobody ever warned me it was fucking undead” You muttered and she snorted with laughter, unable to give you any further advice other than the inevitable ‘try before you buy’ line she had sworn by since you had gotten to know her.

She had told you to bring the lucky suitor to her house-warming party if you managed to decide by then. If not, she assured you she would have a selection of eligible party guests for you to choose from. Faith had recently moved into somewhere more permanent right around the corner from where you lived.

Spike:

It had been a few days of reflection and you found one man, well vampire, stuck in your mind. You missed his touch, his comfort and reassurance. Just as you were thinking of him you saw him. He was looking around before skulking down a darkened alleyway. You squinted, following him and trying not to make too much noise to spook him. He listened and stopped abruptly and your eyes widened as you copied him.

“Bloody hell, pet, you ever actually heard of stealth or what?” he said, still facing away from you but he knew exactly who you were. He could only hope to bump into you after everything. He had been fearful he had pushed you away by giving you an ultimatum.

As you walked over to him and your heart skipped a beat. You saw his face, a smug smile playing on his lips that it was him you had seen and chosen to follow. He had seen Angel brooding extra hard the past few days and knew you hadn’t spoken to him.

“Sorry I just saw you and I... well, I needed to see you” 

“Always got the time for you, love. You know that...”

He moved his hand, tucking a stray strand of hair back as his gaze bore into yours. You moved further into his touch, the feeling better than anything you had ever experienced. His touch was magic. If his heart could beat, he was sure that you would be able to hear it. He couldn’t face another day without you - he had to say something. 

“I love you, Y/n, I’ll never bloody stop. Not until my body turns to ash and dust and some poor bugger on minimum wage sorts my remains into the trash”

“And I love you too. I’ve never been so sure of anything. I would choose you every time”

He scooped you up without warning but your legs were quickly wrapping around his waist. He pressed you between his body and the wall of the alleyway, not leaving any space between you. It didn’t matter where you were, this memory would be long since remembered. The kiss was sensual, slow and filled with passion threatening to pour over. 

Your breath caught and he allowed you time to breath as he pressed meaningful kisses along your jawline. His eyes had been closed, his feelings were running through you as if they were your own with every touch. His lips worshipped you, he had you pressed against the wall whilst he supported with with one hand and stroked your side with the other. His strong hold making you feel so safe.  You were his. He couldn’t believe it, he finally had you all to himself.

 “You wanna... go to a party with me?” you mumbled, your mind still spinning as you asked between your deep breathing. He didn’t miss a beat, just looked at you as if you had suggested something ridiculous like he walk into the sun. 

“Fat bloody chance, love. I want you all to myself” He whispered in your ear, leaving you grinning as he hoisted you over his shoulder and stalked off to find you somewhere more private where he could treasure you properly.

Angel:

It had been a couple of days since the incident between Angel and Spike. It was after dark and you were walking around aimlessly, trying to clear your thoughts. You were walking slowly down the street, someone on your mind that you weren’t even conscious about until you heard his voice. Somehow, you had found yourself outside of his house.

“Y/n?” a voice asked. You closed your eyes, the rich tone of his voice drawing you in. You knew in this moment exactly where your heart belonged.

You slowly turned around, looking directly into his soul. A soul that you were sure was bound to yours in some abstract way. You loved him, how could you not see this until now? None of the squabbling with Spike mattered. All you wanted was him. You would drop everything if it meant you could be his.

“Hey Angel” you tried to be casual, but your voice faltered slightly. There was something so intimate about his gaze. You walked towards him and he rested a hand on your arm. A comforting gesture – he was so used to being in contact with you. He loved how warm you were, your body heat comforting to him. He liked how alive you were, how you never once judged him.

He looked you in the eyes, trying to sift through his feelings. His thoughts. He looked as if he wanted to say something and you nodded softly, resting your hand over his in encouragement.

“Why am I so nervous? I’ve done this a million times…” He saw your horrified face at his apparent “Okay, twice” he admitted quickly, putting his hands up in surrender. You smiled at him and he quickly mirrored your expression. e He

He loved your smile, he could spend hours just enjoying how it lit up your face. He was gazing softly, before looking down at the ground. He had been ashamed of the way he had joined Spike in giving you an ultimatum.

You moved and pulled him into you, his lips now on yours. 

“I thought after the other night…”

“Don’t ruin it now with your big mouth” You smiled, teasing him lightly. He smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting possessively on you.

“I love you, y/n. D’you know that?”

“You may have hinted it slightly” You laughed and he smiled more as you replied, “I love you too… I’ve never felt anything so much” you smiled as he scooped you up into a close embrace. He opened the door to his place and invited you in. He had been frowning, as if in deep thought as you both entered.

“You know what this means? I beat Spike!” He exclaimed, apparently not quite reading the moment. But you could tell that he was only joking.

“Don’t ruin it!” you warned, not able to stop giggling at his boyish boasting. You roll your eyes but he just presses his lips against yours again, hoping to make you forget about his earlier comment. His hand cupping your face 

His hand pulled you flush to him, your kiss deepening his lips demanding and earnest at the same time. He made you dizzy as he sat and pulled you onto his lap. His kisses told you of his love as if you needed any further confirmation. His lips explored you slowly, cherishing everywhere they brushed against your skin.

“Do you want to come to a party with me?” You asked, grinning wide as you already knew his answer. His face lit up in a way you had never seen before as he pulled you to rest on top of him. He hugged you to him as you leaned into him, smiling as he thought about showing you off to Faith’s party guests.

Faith:

It had been a few days since the call. You walked out into the sun, closing your eyes and enjoying the sensation on your face before you carried on with your day. It was in this moment that made you realise there was something that you wanted way more than fangs and a bad back from sleeping in mausoleums. You wanted something real. Not something that could easily be torn away from you in a movie-style showdown between two competing vampires with loosely defined morals.

There was one person you spoke to about everything. Confided in over anyone else. It was her. Faith. How did you not see this sooner? Neither Spike or Angel meant anything compared to her. You felt lighter after this revelation, as if you were walking on air. Sometimes fate worked in funny ways, like the sun’s rays bringing you epiphanies of romance-novel proportions.

You were running a little late, but you wanted to dress nice for her party. You knocked on the door, the anticipation already killing you. The door swung open and there she was.

 “Faith?”

“Where’ve you been, y/n/n? You know the fun only starts when you’re around” She grinned, ruffling your hair before starting to turn away. You couldn’t see, but she had closed her eyes, savouring the moment. She had expected you to bring one of the vampires that had been trailing after you so eagerly lately. She was pleased that it appeared to just be you but it didn’t mean she was any closer to revealing the way she felt.

She struggled to articulate her feelings, but she had them for you. In the biggest way. She had been waiting for you to show, the only guest she was bothered if they turned up or not.

“Drink?” She offered, your drink already made. She really was waiting for you to arrive and it was your favourite too. You sipped on it happily.

“Thanks – what would I do without you sweetie?”

She almost winced at the affectionate term. She enjoyed you referring to her that way, you had since you had started to become close. She had teased you at first, pretending she didn’t love it. But she did.

“So, did ya manage to choose?” She asked, almost hesitantly. You nodded and she did wince this time, not able to catch your eye anymore. She knew this day was coming, but you had hoped it wouldn’t be too soon.

You nodded and her eyes widened. Her eyes dropping to the floor. This was going to hurt her, she could feel the jealousy curling around her stomach and up into her chest. She felt as if she was drowning from the inside out as she waited with bated breath for your answer, as if hearing which guy you chose would make the rejection any easier. She had so many feelings for you she just wanted to scream them out loud, pull you to her and show you that she was the best one to take care of you.

“I’m pretty sure I love you” you stated, leaving her head spinning and her heart beating dangerously fast against her ribcage. Her eyes whipped up, widening in shock that you took for horror, “I-I’m sorry if you don’t feel the same way, I just had to say it. It’s you. It’s only ever going to be you that I choose” You continued softly.

“Come here” she murmured, pulling you against her in the middle of her new living room. The group of party-goers cheered as your lips met hers, your hands tangling in her hair as you tasted love for the first time, her lips were soft and pressing desperately against yours. Your lips parted for her, her tongue entering your mouth slow but wanting. She held you to her, her hands propelling you closer to her.

She had been waiting a long time for this moment, “I love you too” she whispered against your lips before grabbing your hand and gesturing that she wanted to show you her new bedroom.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Hey...I am AN ABSOLUTE jercy TRASH like A HUGE JERCY FAN and I was wondering if you could like a one shot of jealous percy...I have seen a lot of jealous jason fanfics but never really saw a jealous percy!!! Thank you and I LOVE YOUR BLOG SO MUCH...

Hello darling Anon!! Adore that you're #jercytrash (is there really any other way to be????) and I'm so happy you enjoy the mess of content i have🥺💙all the heart eyes

Anyway I loooovvveeeeeddddd this prompt and this is evident by the very many words I couldn't help but write! I do hope you love it as much as I loved writing it☀️please excuse any mistakes it's like 3am here and Ciara be tired as hell

Masterlist

"Are you coming to the party tonight?"

"Gods no," Percy shivers, face pulling into a look of distaste.

"Why not I heard Annabeth is gonna be there," Leo's eyebrows waggle, earth eyes sparkling.

He wants to laugh, to cry a little too. If only that is the blonde he is so infatuated with.

"Nah bro those parties always end up much wilder than they need to be and nine times out of ten they're shut down by the cops."

"That's half the fun Jackson!" Leo's smile widens.

"I'm good thanks, my idea of fun is sitting here playing Playstation and gorging myself on M&Ms."

"Will you at least promise to come on the trip this weekend?"

"I don't know man," He shakes his head, "I've got a psych test to study for and there's like three assignments due by the end—"

"Oh excuses, excuses Jackson you haven't gone out once since we started. It's gonna be winter break soon and we won't see each other for at least a month." Those brown eyes are puppy wide.

He sighs, half-ready to give in, "Who's gonna be there?"

"The usual gang. And Jason finally gets to come this year! His dad is on a business trip so he isn't spending the weekend for once."

Percy's ears get hot and he hopes they don't look flushed, "Oh that's nice I guess. If you leave me alone tonight I'll come on the trip."

Leo's answering whoop is enough to make him laugh. When he collapses on the couch, after waving goodbye to his friend, there is a warmth blooming in his chest.

Three hours, five packets of M&Ms and a stream of curse words at the TV later, he finally decides to head to bed. But as he's shoving on a pair of sleep shorts there's a knock at his door. He frowns, considers ignoring it but his mind whirls with all the possibilities.

What if someone got hurt? What if someone needs his help? What if someone is....oh gods he doesn't want to think about it. He brushes his fingers against the wooden headboard, rubs at his head, grabs his elbow and then he takes a deep breath and opens the door.

"Peerrccccyyy," A slurring, smiling Jason Grace stumbles into him.

"Jason?" He grabs hold of the blonde's arms and pulls them both into his apartment, "What are you doing here?"

"I came over because–" Pearl white teeth flash, "Wow you're so pretty." Those golden hands grab Percy's chin, pulling their faces together until there is nothing but tension and breath between them.

"What are you doing?" He swallows.

"Has anyone ever told you your eyes look like emeralds glistening at the bottom of a river?"

"Uh no can't say they have," He wants to laugh but Jason's lips are so close and his hand is still on Percy's face and oh gods he needs to move before he does something he shouldn't.

"Have we kissed before? No I'd remember that." Eyebrows scrunch, "I think you have a beautiful mouth."

"I think—" He inhales sharply as Jason's fingers dance along his collar bone, "I think we should get you to bed."

"Aw," Full pink lips pout, "But we are having so much fun."

"I think we'll have more fun when you're sober."

The blonde giggles, "I'm not drunk silly. I only had like... fifteen shots of vodka."

"Jesus Grace how are you even standing?"

"When you're this tall it takes forever for the liquor to do its thing and you need a lot of it otherwise it all goes to your toes and you never get drunk."

Jason is frowning again and all Percy wants to do is kiss the crease in his forehead and pull him closer. Instead he tugs him by the hand and guides him to the bed.

"Where will you sleep?"

"I'll take the couch." He pushes the blanket aside and let's the blonde fall into the sheets.

"Are you sure? You can always stay with me?" Those blue eyes are bright and big and so full of, of, of... "I promise I won't kick you. I stopped doing that in first grade."

He can't hold in his laugh this time but when he recovers enough to reassure his friend he'll be fine he is greeted by the peaceful sight of a sleeping blonde. He shakes his head softly, allowing himself a moment to take in the scene. Tangled white sheets, golden hair, soft deep breathing, a tiny splattering of freckles, and the wonder of tomorrow carried on the wind that stirs the chiffon curtains. This moment will live within his soul for the rest of his life. Of this, he is certain.

***

The treadmill beeps incessantly indicating the end of the session and the end of Percy's day. He's about ready to pass out from exhaustion and he couldn't be happier. The days are long and blurry and he would do anything to escape the weight on his chest. A blue-eyed, golden-haired weight. He snorts at the innuendo. If only the actual person was sitting on his chest, entertaining each other. But no it's just the feeling, the emptiness, the lack of anything weighted. His eyes shudder closed as he steps into a red-hot shower and let's the memories of his last meeting with the blonde wash over him. There is a time, mere months ago, where Percy would have scoffed at these feelings. Would have told himself it was ridiculous and stupid and there were much more important things to be focusing on than some boy. But every interaction with Jason Grace feels like the middle of a fireworks display, feels like crawling into the sun, or falling off a cliff only for the water to catch you. Every interaction feels electric. And he cannot help but overanalyse each touch, smile, lingering look. Are they for him, or for the world? Jason had always been easy. He could make you feel like the most important person in the world just by glancing at you. It was beautiful, magnetic, but it also meant Percy never really knew if anything they did was genuine. If the extra squeeze when they hugged was as a friend or something more. If those blazing eyes over the campfire was a trick of the light or... But tomorrow it's their annual WastedWinter trip and at the very least he can look forward to a few nights of bad decisions and sinful delights.

The day dawns bright, cloudless, and icy cold. He breathes in the fresh winter air and lets the sting travel through his lungs. There are few things as lively as the winter morning air. With a look through his apartment window to see the birds flying and the wind shaking the trees awake he ducks into the shower and gets ready for the trip.

At exactly eleven a knock echoes through his apartment. He clicks submit on his assignment and races over to throw the door open.

"Good morning Jackson! You're looking especially radiant this find day."

"Must be the seaweed face mask I put on last night."

"Oh," Annabeth Chase frowns, "And here I thought you got down and dirty with someone."

He snorts, stepping aside to let her in. "No such luck Princess, I'm down and out on laundry."

She smacks his arm, grey eyes sparkling, "I hope you know you're driving for most of this."

"Is this because I'm the only one who can be trusted to get us there in one piece,"

She gives him an incredulous look and then turns her nose up, "No Jackson it's because the rest of us want to get wasted and you don't drink."

"Ah, glad to know I'm of some use to the group."

"Oh you're plenty useful," She winks.

He laughs at that, mind flashing to the fling they had at the start of their undergraduate years. Both had realized pretty early that life was leading them in different directions and it would be better to stay friends. But tumbling in the sheets with her had been fun while it lasted.

"Alright who's in our car?"

"We got me, you," She starts tapping her fingers, "Leo, Jase and Rey,"

"Great so I'll be talking to myself for most of this trip." He rolls his eyes.

"Why do you say that?"

"Well Leo and Reyna will fall asleep about five seconds after we start driving and you and Jason will talk incessantly about gods knows what, which leaves poor old me."

"We will not!" Annabeth's ears go pink as she glares at him.

"Mhmm okay Princess."

"Shut it." She grumbles, shoving him.

Some minutes later they're all piling into the car: Percy driving, Reyna in the front, Leo at the back on the left, Annabeth in the middle and Jason on the right.

"Hello everyone ready to roll?"

"I didn't get nearly enough sleep last night," Leo mumbles and then he's fluffing his pillow against the door and closing his eyes.

"What was he doing?"

"Engineering project," Jason grins, "He forgot and had to sit up all night to submit before we left."

"I'm also out," Reyna throws up an uncharacteristic peace sign and settles into her seat, eyes already shut.

"And her?" He asks, a little sore his right-hand passenger is ditching him for dreamland.

"No idea," The two blondes shrug.

Percy refrains from rolling his eyes and puts the car in gear. With a final check to make sure everything is in its place he pulls onto the road and starts the long journey to Lakeside Lodges.

The music is soft, some pop song that everyone is raving about, and the city is alive with the lunch hour rush.

"Jason," Annabeth starts, "What are you doing for the structural—"

Percy tunes them out, content to let their university talk become background noise. He glances at the rear-view mirror and sees shining blue eyes staring intently into serious gray ones. He looks away, focuses his attention on the road.

Sometime later they leave the city behind, the sound of cars and sirens and endless people fading into calmer, more lilting noises. The quiet of the empty road, and the crackle of the radio, and the soft chatter from the backseat. He cannot help but feel at peace, feel as if the world is balanced just right.

Annabeth giggles, catching his attention and he watches in the mirror as Jason lays a hand on her thigh and laughs into her shoulder. Quickly he adverts his eyes, swallowing the sinking feeling and turns the music up to distract his thoughts.

"Percy," At tap on his shoulder. "Pers?"

"Yea what's up?" He smiles and it feels like surgery with no anaesthetic.

"Did you hear what Jase said? It was such a stupid joke I said you'd appreciate it."

He shakes his head, "Wanna tell it again?"

"Nah," Jason mumbles, "Won't be as funny the second time."

"Aw come on Jase," Annabeth pouts, "For me?"

He watches from the mirror as those blue eyes light up, "What do you mean for you? I thought I was telling the joke for Mr Driver?"

She giggles, shoving at his arm, "That's what I mean."

Percy isn't sure he can't take anymore of their whatever it is so he clears his throat and asks them for a pack of Sour Patch Kids.

"Oo I love those!" Jason gasps, rummaging around in their snack bag. A packet drops into the cup holder and he thanks the blonde.

"Jase throw them at me, let's see if I can catch!"

The six gummies shoved in his mouth turn bitter as he watches the two giggle and joke and share space. By the time Jason throws the last gummy Annabeth is practically in his lap to catch it. Percy wants nothing more than to get out of this damn car. His skin is hot and he's sure his blood is about two degrees away from boiling. The stones in his stomach are stacking up like rock scultputres. Pretty but destructive. Nothing can get passed but nothing can leave either. And the heavy, sinking feeling certainly doesn't seem to be going anywhere. Finally though they arrive at the lodges and after check in he practically vaults himself out of the car and disappears into a bathroom.

There staring in the mirror he can see his misery reflected back at him. His green eyes are stormy, and there seems to be a permanent crease in his forehead. His mouth is down turned and his hair is in a state of complete disarray. Tugging at it when he's frustrated is an unbreakable habit.

He stays in the little bathroom for longer than he thought because he is sharply pulled to the present by a rap on the door.

"Percy?"

"Coming," He sighs. He straightens his back, attempts to tame his hair, and plasters a smile on his face.

"You good?" Frank frowns when he walks out.

"Yea sorry, drank one too many slushies."

His friend laughs, "Tell me about it. I think my tongue is going to be stained red for a month."

"I mean that's your fault. Blue is clearly the superior slush."

"Blue is the worst flavor," He scrunched his nose, "It isn't even a flavor. They somehow managed to give colour a taste."

"Well red is nothing but iced medicine."

"Hey guys," Frank waves their friends over, "Percy thinks blue slushies are the best flavour, care to tell him he's wrong?"

There is a pause amongst them and then everyone is talking at once.

"No,"

"I mean I kind of agree."

"Green is obviously the best."

"There is no way, it's red all the way."

"What about-"

"Okay!" Annabeth shouts, "Let's settle this WinterWasted style,"

Leo rubs his palms together, a gleam in his eyes.

"Everyone who says red stand on one leg, everyone who says blue stand on anything but the floor."

They all shuffle around, pushing each other over and generally causing chaos but soon they're in their spaces. Everyone observes the room.

"That's four to red and three to blue." Leo announces.

Jason, Percy and Hazel are standing on the couches and counters. Piper, Annabeth, Leo and Frank are on one leg in the middle of the lounge.

"Yes! We won." Frank smirks, "Alright losers you know the drill."

"No!" Percy yells, "We're missing a person. If Reyna joins us then we're even and we go into death round."

"Okay Jackson, I see you can't take the loser title sitting down so we'll get Reyna's opinion. But if she chooses us you guys have to drink and jump." Frank's black eyes sparkle with mischief.

Percy narrows his own, pinning his gaze on his friend, "Deal Zhang."

Just then Reyna walks in and seeing the odd scene sighs heavily. "What are we trying to settle? We haven't even had lunch yet."

"First of all it's six o clock so it's a little late for lunch and secondly are you Team Red Slush or Team Blue Slush?"

She scoffs, looks over them and grins, "I'm Team Purple because grape is obviously the only valid flavour."

Everybody groans, cursing her.

"Grape is the absolute worst Arellano." Leo gives her a look of disgust.

"Mhmm," She simply smiles.

"Well if you had to choose between blue and red which one?" Percy asks.

She taps her head for a moment and then looks to the ceiling in exasperation, "Guess I'll choose Red."

"Hell yes!" Frank whoops, laughing as the blue team groans. "Guess who's doing the BigFalls jump tonight!"

Percy grumbles but there is a light in his eyes and as he swats away a hand ruffling his curls he decides it was worth it, even if his friends are wrong.

That night they all stumble to the GreatCliff, an area that had witnessed many a fall, kiss, and confession. Most importantly a place that held some of their favourite memories.

Percy, being the only fully sober one, constantly counts his friends, making sure none of them have gone over-cliff or landed in a ditch somewhere. Soon enough they make it to the clearing and lay down the picnic basket and their towels.

"Alright losers," Piper smirks, "You ready for this?"

Hazel pouts, "Do we have to?"

"Yes!" Annabeth exclaims, blonde curls bouncing as she jumps up and down in excitement.

Jason whispers something in her ear and she dissolves into giggles. Percy looks away, refuses to let their closeness ruin his night, weekend, forever.

"On the count of three," Frank starts.

Reyna takes off her sarong and settles down on the blanket with a smirk.

"One..."

Hazel bounces nervously.

"Two..."

"Don't get hypothermia," Piper laughs.

"Three!"

Jason, Hazel and Percy are sprinting, racing for open air. With a yell they jump and then they're free falling, flying, screaming.

Percy hits the water in a neat dive, barely flinching at the icy temperatures. When he comes up for air the world is noisy with laughter and cheering. He waves to his friends at the top of the cliff and checks to make sure his fellow jumpers are okay.

Hazel is grumbling about being fully sober again and Jason's teeth are chattering but there are smiles on their faces and stars in their eyes and Percy knows the weekend has just begun.

They all swim up the stream and climb all the way back to the cliff where a small fire is crackling and their friends are dancing sporadically to a bawdy ukelele tune being played by Leo.

"Oh gods," Jason groans, "How are we already at this stage of the night."

"Whatever Pipes put in the punch is going straight to our lungs," Annabeth giggles.

Reyna shakes her empty glass in confirmation and request. Soon everyone is hopping and bouncing and singing badly around the fire. Percy settles into the blanket and watches his friends. They are full of life and magic and he can't help but tear up at the love he has for them. Even Reyna is joining the revelry, laughing bright and beautiful at something Hazel says.

His attention catches on the twirling figure of Annabeth. And then Jason grabs her mid spin and pulls her to him.

"Dance with me,"

"Of course Mr Grace," She bows.

They draw together, his hands on her hips, her head on his chest, swaying slowly. Annabeth mumbles something and Jason's shoulders shake with laughter. She looks up, their eyes meeting. Percy can't stand to watch anymore. Abruptly he gets up, throws the blanket aside and stalks into the trees.

"Pers?" Someone calls. He doesn't bother to respond.

He hears scattered conversation and then footsteps are running towards his retreating figure.

"Percy wait!"

He manages to hold in a groan as he realizes who followed him.

"Pers slow down, what's going on?"

"Nothing," He grits, "I just needed some air."

Jason laughs, "We are literally in the middle of a forest how much more air do you need?"

They're still stalking through the woods, dead leaves cruching under their feet.

"Come on, what the hell happened? You just up and left?"

Percy stops in his tracks, whips around to face the blonde, "I'm surprised you noticed."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You've been so wrapped up in Annabeth all day I wouldn't be surprised if you forgot to breathe unless she told you to." He spits.

Jason's face crumples, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Percy instantly regrets his words but he can't take them back, "Just nevermind. I'm going to the cabin. Be careful walking back." He turns to walk away but a golden hand on his arm yanks him back

"Um no, you're going to explain right the fuck now because this isn't like you at all."

"Isnt like me?" He laughs sharply, "What isn't like me?"

"This," Jason motions up and down, "You walking away, being angry with us? What is going on?"

"I'm just tired," He sighs, "Can we drop this?"

"No Percy. I've seen you tired. I've seen you so exhausted you couldn't even see straight. I've seen you sad and angry and frustrated and happy and excited and calm but I have never seen you so... volatile. So just tell me—"

"I'M JEALOUS OKAY!" He yells, "I. Am. Jealous."

Jason reels back, lightning eyes blinking, once, twice, widening, "You're jealous?"

"Yes," He breathes, "And I'd appreciate it if we stopped talking about this."

"Oh," Is the blonde's intelligent reply.

"Yea oh," He scrubs at his face, running a hand through his hair.

"You're jealous of me? If you liked Annabeth why didn't you just say so? I wasn't flirting with her, we were just being dumb. I've had a few too many tequilas and she's hilarious and gods I'll back off I swear I didn't mean to hurt you. I'll even hype you up to her if you—"

"You are such an idiot," Percy growls and then he grabs the blonde by the t-shirt, pulls him in and sears their lips.

Jason tastes like the sky, like winter breezes and lightning storms and home. He tastes like home.

When they break apart Jason is gasping, mouth opening and closing.

"Do you get it now?"

"You- and I- and we- and Anna- and just- and-"

"Are you speechless because you don't know how to let me down easy or because I took your breath away?" Percy winces.

He needs to know. Needs to understand if this is a one-sided thing, if he's been dreaming up their dynamic all these months.

"Do that again," The blonde breathes.

A slow smile spreads across his face and then Percy Jackson cups Jason Grace's cheek and comes home at last.

[miniaturephantomprincess]

You know those times, when your thoughts go flying and your own headcanon gets thrown into an (alternate) bad ending scenario?

Definitely guilty here... ^^‘

The bad ending

„You do realize this is quite your own fault right?“

Neptune came to hate this voice so much during the last weeks and months. Her fists were already trembling by the bare sight of her opponent, while she simply refused to believe any of those words Venus’ whispered to her right now. However, the former Senshi of love was far more successful in this than Neptune would have liked. While manipulating Haruka had been fun but far from any real challenge, Venus had come to particularly enjoyed teasing and driving Neptune over the edge. It had ended painfully for herself on more than one occasion but damn, it had been worth every single moment. Haruka had been easy. There was so much anger, so much hatred for herself buried that close beneath the surface. A small little push and pull, that’s all that had been necessary for the nice little chaos to unfold and things quite naturally following their way. Neptune on the other hand… even Venus had to admit it was way different with her. The senshi of the sea was much more complicated, her feelings much more concealed, but oh how her strength had proven to be her greatest weakness. It shouldn’t have surprised her but still, even Venus found the irony behind this strangely amusing.

„I actually have to thank you, you know.“

Venus grinned as she carefully followed the impact every single one of her words caused. Oh, how she enjoyed having Neptune on this point. Her careful held facade breaking away slowly, giving way for the much more pleasant feelings of hate and anger Venus feed on for her own joy.

„I don’t think I could have done all of this myself. Not that quickly anyway. You did help quite a bunch you know. Poor Haruka. In the end, you broke the very rest of her spirit.“

Venus felt the by now nearly familiar pressure on her chest, rapidly and mercilessly growing as Neptune used her powers, however, none of this stopped her lips from forming into a cold and deeply satisfied smile. Despite everything, this was her victory. They both knew it was.

„Shut up!“

The roaring depths of the sea sparked back through Neptune’s eyes right before a wild hit of energy knocked Venus off her feet. Neptune’s attack sent her crushing against the nearest wall, the force breaking at least two of her rips in the process. Nevertheless, Venus laughed out loud.

„Well, look at who cannot bear the truth!“

Venus coughed, the sharp pain exploding at her side, but the so-called senshi of love grinned. She bathed in the sea goddess’ hatred. In that guilt cracking up Neptune’s soul and seeping through this raging sea of emotions. To Venus, this felt like the most exquisite wine or perfume and it was worth each and every risk she just took.

“Come on! Tell me I am wrong.”

Quite some dance with the devil this was, but Venus had not come this far to let this end without a little bit of fun.

“She asked you not to keep her away, didn’t she? Her only wish not to be a useless bystander on the battlefield. And you...? Tell me again, what did you do exactly?”

Venus never actually was surprised to find her body lacking the ability to move. She knew that part of Neptune’s powers all too well by now. She could also tell what probably would follow, but Venus never actually intended to give Neptune time to call upon the crushing waters of the sea to rise deadly from beneath her feet.

“Don’t worry.”

The pressure on her chest made it more impossible to breathe. It literally cut off her breath and caused Venus to cough. Her mocking words no longer escaped her as easy as before, but nevertheless, she pushed on. The blonde tasted her own blood in her mouth and fought to take her next breath, yet she knew in only a moment she would have won everything there was.

“I fixed your mess.”

The wicked grin on Venus’ face quite successfully drove Neptune mad. She would end this. Here and now. Once and for all.

But along with those last mocking words came a change of atmosphere that made Neptune freeze. The very air seemed to have changed and shifted. The wind picked up and with it came a far too familiar brush not only on her skin but on her soul.

“Haruka...”

Venus forgotten, Neptune turned, instinctively knowing where to look for her partner. Standing several meters across and away from her was Uranus, strong and mighty, her presence so radiant Neptune actually shivered. The aura of her partner choked her and she painfully realized how long it had been since she felt the soldier of the sky embracing her full potential and power like this.

“You know what to do.”

Neptune didn’t even turn as Venus summoned another portal to disappear, maybe to watch in all safety the confrontation that was about to happen. Neptune could not care less about their former leader, retreating once more cowardly and fleeing from their battle. It could not be more insignificant when it was Uranus who caught Neptune’s every attention.

It had been weeks... no months...

Months since Haruka had vanished.

No... since Michiru’s very own actions had driven her away...

Since then, since she had found the crash-site of Haruka’s bike and all traces were grown cold, Michiru had pushed herself to her own breaking point and limits, both physically and mentally, with her powers finally growing (or was it breaking?) to their fullest potential.

Vision after vision she had witnessed Haruka suffer…or get tortured…

As vague as her visions could be, the pictures they brought to her this time always remained crystal clear. Right to the point where Michiru, for all she knew, felt like she too was with them back at that chamber of tortures. A powerless bystander to Haruka’s cries, her screams…to every damage inflicted on her bruised and broken body as well as to her spirit.

At times, Michiru was sure Mars knew she was there as well, for she could feel a grin behind the searing flames occasionally appearing on the edge of her mind. For some reason, they both shared this strange connection to this realm of visions. And Michiru was sure the only reason Mars allowed her to stay was because the senshi of fire knew to have Michiru watch her lover’s endless tortures would do way more damage, than burning down Michiru’s thoughts.

It never made a difference anyway.

No matter how many times Michiru returned back to this living hell, no matter how many times her visions either overtook her out of nowhere, or she forced her mirror to do her bidding, she never got closer to actually find Haruka or reveal her location.

The prickling on her skin, the actual shift of the wind should have warned her, but Neptune cast away all instincts of the warrior inside her because they could not matter less.

She still managed to dodge Uranus’ attack, close as it was, but never rose her arms to send the roaring sea down at her attacker in response. Instead, Neptune’s thoughts, ever so calculated even within the fiercest battle, grew blank.

Too many things she wanted to say... too much to apologize for...

But there she was, staring back at eyes clouded by a dark and restless storm, that did not even seem to recognize her and her own regrets and guilt bound her tongue, as she looked at Uranus with disbelief.

„How pathetic.“

Uranus‘ voice was as cold as her appearance and demeanor. It did not bear any emotion other than the ever so small sign of growing impatience.

The senshi of the skies took one single step towards Neptune’s direction and with it came another set of attacks Neptune barely managed to avoid. Uranus always had been fast. Way faster than her and it never took long for the raging winds to cut deep into her skin. Those blows she reflected with her mirror didn’t make much of a difference, leaving Neptune bruised and shaking, way too soon for her own liking.

„This is a waste of my time.“

Again grey, empty eyes looked down on her and if Neptune recognized anything it was the displeased hint marking the end of Uranus‘ patience.

This wasn’t the challenge she had hoped for. Too easy. Too weak. It was a mere mystery to her how no one before her had not already silenced the disobedient sailor of the seas. But it wasn’t her place to question the princess‘ orders. She had been sent her with a clear mission and order she planned to execute without further toying around or wasting her time.

A sudden change of energy washed over Neptune senses, a spark, bright and clear, that spiked the second Uranus across from her summoned her sword.

„You got it back..-“

Neptune watched the scene in front of her utterly puzzled. Seeing the mighty talisman appear in her partner’s hands shocked her in a way she never had expected. It took the ground from underneath her feet and Neptune never grasped the moment Uranus charged at her without further hesitation. Instead, visions flickering in front of her eyes robbed her of the reality. Fast and hectic fragments, all tinted dark and red drilled themselves into Neptune’s consciousness.

Flashes of chains…of pain and suffering…a broken pledge of obedience…the cover of nothing…of strength..and purpose…and power born anew…

Neptune choked, both from the impact of her visions rendering her frozen, as well as the force of the blade knocking out of breath.

„Does it mean, it’s gone..?“

Neptune barely noticed it, the searing blade cutting through flesh and bone, nor the pain exploding from her abdomen to quickly cover and wreck every last part of her body.

„All your suffering and pain....“

Neptune blinked. Her vision blurred from sudden tears and pain, neither of which she could differentiate at this point. But still, the strangest kind of smile flickered across the dying soldiers face.

„I-I … I am glad…-“

She tried to raise a bloodstained hand. Just once... just one last time...but another thrust cut off her words, robbed her of her breath.... her pain...

Her last moment, gone just like that...

The transformation of the warrior vanished, leaving behind the body of the young woman who suddenly appeared way more fragile. The storming sea gone and vanished from deep blue eyes, turquoise locks torn and tattered while the mirror shattered on the ground.

A broken relic to prove the execution of her order.

A useless thing the princess told her to keep, without Uranus ever grasping the reason or intention why.

[mystic-helena]

S/o who likes to sing!

Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, and Belphie (obey me!)

This is my first time writing anything at all, and I disappointed myself because it didn't turn out very well and Belphie's part was way too short-

Hope you enjoy it!

-Lena (yeah, I changed my name akzihxjs)

@drxxmofyou

Lucifer

In your defense this wasn't planned.

You only were going to try to cook something edible from the kitchen and be right back to your room.

And put some music on at a totally not acceptable volume.

At four in the morning.

Ok, maybe this isn't the best plan, but it is the best thing you could think at that hour.

Anyway, that was what you were going to do.

Now you were singing Bring me to life, progressively augmenting the volume until you were just shouting the lyrics like you were on a concert, jumping around the room dancing and having the time of your life.

Also ignoring the cup of noodles waiting patiently for you at the microwave.

Lucifer had enough of listening someone yelling and honestly, he was seriously thinking about scare the shit out of whoever was the source of the noise.

While he stormed down the stairs in your direction the song came to an end and you turned to your D.D.D and started looking for another one- until you found the perfect song. It was literally named Perfect.

The first born was about to open the door just when you started singing: this time sweetly and calm.

At that very moment he stood still and remembered why he loves you with all his heart. Anyways, nothing could go wrong from taking a peek of the inside of the kitchen.

Inside the kitchen and long forgotten about the food, was a happy and radiant y/n with their eyes closed, gesturing dramatically with one and holding a mic wooden spoon with the other.

The demon was now peeking his head through the door with his s/o's back facing him, so there was only one thing to do.

He walked in quietly and hugged you from behind, humming softly along the song.

That caused you a nearly heart attack and you algo let out a yelp.

It took you a second to come back to your senses and keep singing, leave the improvised mic now at the counter and turn around in his arms to face him with a lovely smile.

Mammon

Like almost every day Mammon slammed the door open and seconds later was lying in your bed, waiting for you to come out of the bathroom to start ranting about every mean thing his brothers told him and the new plan he made to make easy money.

Sure, he has a huge little crush on you and likes to get to your nerves from time to time, but he would never disrespect your privacy and that was the reason he always wait for you looking at his D.D.D and facing the opposite direction of your bathroom door.

There are several days when he stared or kinda zoomed out looking at the black screen because a) his battery ran out or b) he just didn't want to be scrolling through Devilgram or either reading the sometimes mean comments on his posted pics.

Today was an exception. He's been the whole day singing under his breath a concrete song to prove a point he's smarter than his dear brothers think he is, the point was check if you pay the same attention to him as him to you- which you obviously did, he is your first and favorite demon of the family, not to mention he is your love interest.

Ok so, the second born turned off his phone (it can be called a phone too, i guess?) and closed his eyes when he heard you raising the volume and start singing Fly me to the moon, the same song he's been waiting for you to sing.

Happiness filled him as he heard his beloved y/n sang happily, muffed by the sound of water falling and a wall that separate them from him.

Once you finished showering and the song came to the end, you came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around your body and wet hair, to be received by a teary demon who was covering his face with his hands.

“Mammon? what’s wro-” you started to say concerned, but then you saw his smile and you understood. Those were tears of happiness. Your body moved on it’s own and hugged him.

“Y/n?” “Yes?” “I... Please don’t tell my brothers that I cried” “I won’t” “Y-yeah, ‘cause The Great Mammon doesn’t cry y’know and-” “I know, ‘you should be glad ‘cause the great mammon is allowing you to hug him’“ “Yeah, that’s what I was gonna say...”

He was actually going to say “I love you”, but we’ll leave the confessions for another day.

Leviathan

You love singing and this lil’ shit he knew it, so he proposed to watch an anime with a catchy opening.

The first few episodes you just ignored it, but the more times you listened it the louder you sang.

And now you both were screaming your lungs out while watching the opening of the last episode of the first season of My Hero Academia.

Levi loved the way your eyes seem to light up when you sing and how you take his hand and dance to the rhythm of the music but he would never tell you that.

Also, he loves you more than he love Ruri-chan and that was something he told you whispering, when you where asleep.

Anyway, in this very moment you were very bored and a brilliant idea crossed your mind.

How would your boyfriend react to you singing something special for him? What would he do if you sang your love for him?

You didn't know. Yet.

The avatar of envy was chilling at his room playing some online game (Devilwatch? League of Demons? Something like that) when you opened the door and quickly let yourself in.

At first he didn't even knew you were in there, but seconds later you started singing and making your way to him.

Poor boy blushed hard

His beautiful s/o was telling him that they love him just the way he is.

Was he back to the heaven? Did his brothers convinced y/n to prank him? Or was he dreaming? Yeah, that must be a dream, anytime he would wake up and-

The screen of the computer turned black because of the inactivity and his character died- he didn't care about that.

You were now turning his chair so he was facing you and he almost choked because your face was inches away from his own. Almost is the key word.

"… And when you smile- the whole world stops and stares for a while… 'Cause boy you're amazing, just the way you are."

The lyrics ended, you leaned in and kissed him.

Belphegor

Who would have thought the avatar of literally laziness had trouble sleeping? Nobody. And they were right, he didn't have trouble sleeping, Belphie just like to hear you sing.

It all started one day at your room. Mammon didn't have any sleep last night and you like the good soul you are wanted to help him, so you forced him to lay down with his head on your lap and while your fingers played with his hair, your voice sang a calming song.

Ten seconds later the second born was out.

And Belphie realized. He wanted that too.

Two weeks later, the same situation happened repeatedly and he was seriously thinking about doing something. What, you may ask? Something.

It seemed suspicious for you. Bel, the boy who sleeps all day and night, was now telling you he couldn't get at least five minutes of sleep? Yeah, he answered. Ok then, you believe him. Really y/n?

And this is the story of why you currently are singing while he's fake asleep.

He loves listening your voice and is more than happy with the fact that despite he hurt you, you still want him around.

[beeblackburn]

Ghosts for the fandom ask as well! 👀

The first character I ever fell in love with: Thomas Thorne. “Ah, she’s gone” remains one hell of a delightful line delivery. And his following melodrama was just amazing to sit through. I love dramatic™ bitches.

A character that I used to love/like, but now do not: I... honestly don’t know? Like, I generally like every character in this series and that’s not particularly a small feat. I suppose if I had to choose... the Captain or Mike, and only because I’ve come to realize their later more self-centered/forcible moments were there from the get-go, from the Captain’s complaining about Fanny’s screaming and Mike taking out a loan without talking about it with Alison while she was in a coma, not necessarily because I dislike them.

A ship that I used to love/like, but now do not: Ummm, none! I generally agree with the ships in this series. 

My ultimate favorite character™: Thomas Thorne, he usually guarantees a laugh with any line reading, he looks good, he usually holds back before his crush on Alison gets too creepy, The Thomas Thorne Affair and Free Pass helps explain his more romantic tendencies and the former genuinely floored me with some of its twists and that last revelation broke my damn heart. Poor Isabelle and Thomas. They lost so much because the first Lord Button was a selfish arse. And I adore that Thomas was the first one who sung along In the Bleak Midwinter with Alison. I hope all the best for him.

Prettiest character: Kitty or Thomas. Kitty’s more my type, and I love her dress, but Thomas has those floofy locks to die for.

My most hated character: FUCK LORD BUTTON THE FIRST WITH A MUSKET BALL. That being said, I don’t come out of the Christmas Special respecting Mike’s sisters. And, depending on how Kitty’s backstory goes, her sister’s set to replace Lord Button the First. Honestly, I feel like I come out of this series hating cousins and sisters.

My OTP: Mike/Alison. Aside from some hiccups, Mike’s genuinely supportive and follows Alison’s lead and Alison grounds Mike’s eccentrics or flights of fear. They’re not friction-less, but they feel lived-in, have little jokes with each other, and are a couple who love each other and work through their problems.

My NOTP: Yeah, still none.

Favorite episode: Man, there’s a spoil of riches in Season 2 alone, but I keep revisiting Happy Death Day, Getting Out, About Last Night, Redding Weddy, The Thomas Thorne Affair, and Bump in the Night. If I had to narrow it down... The Thomas Thorne Affair, Bump in the Night or The Ghost of Christmas all vie for favorite.

The Thomas Thorne Affair is the best flashback episode Ghosts got, given it’s got a ton of narrative room to breathe around the death in question (I love Redding Weddy, but I wanted more scenes between the Captain and Lieutenant Havers), allowing for multiple perspectives to see the death, and I love how many holes get plugged up by POVs like Kitty’s or get misdirected off-track like Robin’s or get made into a more interesting imaginary scenario like the Captain’s (real talk, his take never fails to make me laugh, bless you, Captain). It’s all hilarious (that bird getting shot by Thomas’ gun as he falls is my second-guiltiest laugh of the series) but it also speaks to a very real idea of our memories: that we edit, we revise, we look back with nostalgia or clean up the messier bits. Add in the twists and the Mike subplot and it all adds up to a tragic tale whose theme is about how another man’s utter selfishness is capable of destroying a relationship between two lovers through violence, either directly or by proxy. It’s delightfully hilarious, but it hits so hard and Thomas’ words about the truth making it all worse twists my heart.

I feel Bump in the Night is the funniest episode Ghosts’ got. It’s not particularly serious, there are no real stakes, given one of the burglars is terrible at theft, it’s just a bunch of total morons fumbling through a breaking-and-entering and it’s amazing. Fanny complaining that the burglars are terrible at theft, the Ghosts calling for 999, only to not think through how to communicate, them trying to communicate with Mike via a creepy doll’s eyelids, Alison immediately realizing Mike’s in the wardrobe, Julian writing “2 of them” instead of 2 like a non-dumbass, MIKE IN THE SUIT OF ARMOR, it’s all amazingly funny, but at the same time, it’s all underlined by the emotional truth that Alison, Mike, and the Ghosts have come far enough that the Ghosts are willing to help them out because they like them, instead of scaring them off or causing problems like in Season 1. Alison verbalizes it, but the more touching scene is how she thanks Robin, the Ghost that first scared her because he had nothing better to do, for getting Barclay to help them and he just nods humbly back. This episode is full of idiots, but it’s got a decent amount of heart in it that gives it weight beyond the laughs.

The Ghost of Christmas probably has one of my favorite theses on why we endure the holidays with our families, despite it never being as magical as can be. There’s stuff to nitpick like how I don’t like how Mike’s sisters delight in Mike throwing a fit, going so far to film it, and some of Julian’s scenes with the baby run a bit long for my taste, but I really do like Julian’s summation of Christmas: that it’s perfect because it’s not perfect and that we should be grateful of any time we spend with family, because it will all go away someday, as the ghosts can testify. We take the good with the bad. There are some delightful humor bits like the Ghosts needling the Captain and Thomas to join in on Twister, Fanny looking up at the tall tree from the seeds they planted, Mike’s dad having a chainsaw, and Julian waving off his daughter being a MP of the Green Party (screw you, Julian, she rules because of that), but there’s also the theme of family in the emotional scene. When Mike’s dad tells him they’re overbearing because someday they won’t get to do things for him, there’s a heartwarming irony that, even past death, the Ghosts are there for Alison, their newest family member. This episode made me realize just how... barren Alison’s biological family connections are from the first episode’s mentioning that there were no other direct relatives. And In the Bleak Midwinter is a gorgeous song that cuts as a certain truth: just because others can’t see your family doesn’t make them any less real to you. 

Saddest death: Thomas dying all alone at the tree, no one living by his side, feeling the sting of being rejected one final time at the end because his cousin was a selfish arse who capitalized on a woman he didn’t love for her estate? God, this bears repeating, but fuck Lord Button the First.

Favorite season: Oh, definitely Season 2. I love Season 1, but I’m not a huge fan of second-hand embarrassment and seeing Alison get embarrassed by her reacting to ghosts that others can’t see made me wince quite a few times. I much prefer Season 2′s handling of Alison and the Ghosts and how they work.

Least favorite season: Season 1. I don’t take to the more second-hand embarrassment humor of that season, but I do love every episode except Free Pass. It’s still a great season with episodes like Happy Death Day, Moonah Ston, and Getting Out. Special mention to Happy Death Day, which was the first time I realized Ghosts could balance the comedy and the darkness with sincere emotion without them undercutting each other at the wrong time.

Character that everyone else in the fandom loves, but i hate: Now? Not really. In the first season though, I sometimes found Kitty a little too grating, possessive, and intrusive. Not that I don’t get where she’s coming from, her childhood sounds lonely and painful in ways she doesn’t fully comprehend and ghosthood hasn’t exactly made her any less lonely in some ways, most times I understand, but sometimes, like at the start of Getting Out where I feel she really should pump the brakes. 

That being said, her backstory’s gonna break me. I just know it.

My ‘you’re piece of trash, but you’re still a fave’ fave: Fanny or the Captain. They really can be abrasive or domineering in that first season, the Captain steamrolling over Pat from time to time and Lady Fanny’s nitpicking and homophobia, but I do get why they are that way and they do get better.

My ‘beautiful cinnamon roll who deserves better than this’ fave: Kitty, who deserves all the blankets for that childhood. Mary, who likely has a mental illness and got burnt because of that. Humphrey, who doesn’t deserve being ignored by the Ghosts.

My ‘this ship is wrong, nasty, and makes me want to cleanse my soul, but i still love it’ ship: Thomas/Alison. Thomas, sometimes, your behavior can get a little too much regarding Alison. That first (thankfully only) peep at her in the shower, I know you’ve been frustrated for years as a Ghost, but noooooooo. That being said, when Thomas respects her boundaries and is a supportive friend (have I mentioned how touching In the Bleak Midwinter is?), I dig them.

My ‘they’re kind of cute, and i lowkey ship them, but i’m not too invested’ ship: Pat/Cap. Not that I don’t get it, and it promises heartwarming feels and heartbreak (Pat moving on after they hook up and Captain having to watch another leave him again, but this time, Captain got to admit his feelings before the leaving) and they are rather adorable together, but I’m more waiting for the narrative to acknowledge the possibility before launching myself into the ship full-time.

[igirisuhito]

Title: Your love is a fraction, and it’s not adding up Relationship: Kamukura Izuru/Matsuda Yasuke Rating: Mature Summary: Mundane tasks bore Kamukura Izuru. Incompetent children who don't know how to take care of themselves piss Matsuda Yasuke off, apparently.  Trigger Warnings: Eating Disorders

[Ao3 Link]

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

"How many days has it been this time?!"

The door slammed against the wall with a bang, and there stood a slightly out of breath Matsuda with a deep scowl on his face. His eyebrows were so furrowed that you could barely see that icy blue glare beneath them. If Kamukura's guess was correct (and it always was) he had just come out of his weekly check in with the steering committee.

"Please specify what it is you're asking." Kamukura spoke, his soft tone contrasting heavily against the booming voice that left the other boy.

Removing his hand from the door, Matsuda crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his chin up to the ceiling, flicking his hair back out of his eyes in the process as he looked down at Kamukura. "Don't act stupid, you know exactly what I'm asking about you fucking greasy troglodyte."

"I don't think the person keeping me here has the right to call me a troglodyte." Kamukura's eyes flickered down to the manga in his hands. "However, if you're inquiring how many days it has been since I refreshed myself, the answer is five, rounded down."

"Five days?” Matsuda snorted, “You’re shitting me, no wonder Kobayashi was so bitter. You know it's me who has to touch your disgusting self, right?"

Kamukura brought his hand to his mouth and quickly licked his thumb before turning the page with a loud flick. "I'm aware."

“You dick.” Unfolding his arms, Matsuda took a few long strides that made his sandals snap against the vinyl floor before snatching the manga from Kamukura’s hands. “Stop licking my manga, you’re disgusting. And stop being such a spoiled brat, it’s an unbecoming trait in troglodytes.”

“Again, I believe it’s--”

The manga was slapped hard against the top of Kamukura’s head, how unfortunate that he was reading an extended edition of Ponpon, because that one actually hurt a little. “I don’t give a shit about what you believe . Go wash up before I take away one of your five senses.”

Kamukura sniffed the air, staring at Matsuda’s crumpled Hope’s Peak shirt. There was a toothpaste stain just below his sternum.

A loud scoff left the older boy. “What? Are you pretending to cry? I already know you’re incapable of that you emotion deficient sack of--”

“How long has it been since you bathed?”

Twack. The book hit Kamukura’s cranium once again. “This isn’t about me, Kobayashi was complaining about you.”

Ah, Kamukura had hit his mark, perfect. “Perhaps I should start complaining to the Steering Committee that my doctor is unprofessional and fetid. Surely they would be willing to give me another who has higher standards for personal hygiene and knows how to wash his shirts.”

“I know how to wash my fucking shirts. I’m so sorry that I don’t have a personal maid waiting on hand and foot to do my laundry every single day.” Matsuda hissed, glancing down at himself and tugging at the hem of his shirt.

“You’ve been wearing the same toothpaste-stained shirt for three days now.” A slow blink passed as Kamukura looked up to meet Matsuda’s eyes. “I’m willing to speculate that you haven’t bathed for longer than that.”

“Yeah? And so fucking what, Sherlock?”

“You know I don’t understand your references to Western media…” Kamukura mumbled. “But my point is that your accusations hold no weight, for I will not bathe for a hypocrite who cannot uphold his own standards of cleanliness.”

A hand reached out, securing a fistful of ebony hair and tugging harshly in a way that forced Kamukura's head to jolt forward. “Actually, yes you will, because I am your supervisor and you will listen to what I tell you to do.”

For a second, Kamukura said nothing, turning over the possibilities in his mind. With an impatient sigh, Matsuda allowed him a second to process and gather his thoughts. Matsuda Yasuke may be an asshole, but he was sympathetic to the poor kid who he gave capabilities much too big for his brain to handle.

Only a little, though.

Once finding his words, Kamukura gave Matsuda another slow blink, seemingly unbothered by the hand in his hair. “I do not have to obey your demands, however, I am willing to yield if you admit to the fact you are a hypocrite.”

“That’s not happening. Come on.” With a sharp tug, Kamukura was yanked up to his feet, no pain showing on his face but it definitely hurt more than he would have liked. “The safest place to take you would probably be the communal baths in the old building, because you are not setting foot in my dorm.”

Kamukura followed obediently as Matsuda began to drag him along. “This is likely due to the fact it is as dirty as you are, am I correct?”

"Shut your filthy mouth."

-

At some point during their walk to the old building, Matsuda had politely let go of Kamukura's hair, probably out of laziness and a fear of being questioned by any passer-bys. It was dark outside, judging by the angle of the shadows and the height of the moon, Kamukura was able to determine the sun had only set an hour ago. There were few students wandering the campus, those who did notice Matsuda didn't seem to acknowledge Kamukura. As they shouldn't, after all, he was very good at hiding his presence.

Matsuda's face had an unhealthily pale glow in the moonlight. It reminded Kamukura a little of his own sun-deficient complexion. Those cheeks seemed to have thinned out significantly since they had first met, something that caused an unfamiliar sensation to swirl in Kamukura's chest, a sensation that weighed heavy on his jaw and heart.

"Did you eat dinner? It's not healthy to skip meals."

A soft "Huh?" left Matsuda's lips as he turned to the boy to his left, glancing down at him. "That's a stupid question for a troglodyte to ask. Shouldn’t a troglodyte such as yourself be able to at least ask me something interesting?"

Kamukura pursed his lips together, before separating them with a soft pop. "Being a troglodyte is unrelated to the question."

"So you admit that you're a troglodyte then?"

"I admit that you need a better insult."

Matsuda tipped his head back as a loud snort of laughter escaped him. Kamukura merely clenched his teeth more tightly. "You avoided the question."

Huffing, Matsuda pushed open the door to the old building, stepping inside and propping it open with his foot whilst he waited for Kamukura to follow. “Like I said, it’s a stupid question, why would I bother answering it?”.

“When placed in situations that are stressful, some people resort to binge eating, whilst others tend to eat less frequently.” Stepping into the building, Kamukura glanced around at the familiar sight of the lightly coloured halls. “This is because one who is stressed may desire to distract themselves, or be so troubled by their worries they no longer notice the signals their body is sending to the brain.”

“I went to fucking med school, I know this. Who’s dodging the question now huh?” Shoving his hands into his pockets, Matsuda stepped around the small seating area and turned right down the hall, heading in the direction of the old dorms and cafeteria.

“I’m expressing that you may be one of those people, Matsuda. You have lost a significant amount of weight in the last month.”

Matsuda rounded a corner, his pace quickened slightly. “I’m on a diet. I could afford to lose some weight.”

“But you are within the healthy weight range for your age? Even if you are leaning slightly towards the ‘overweight’ category, there’s no need for dieting.”

“See, you just admitted it, I could stand to lose a few kilograms.”

A soft inhale could be heard from Kamukura. “Is this why you haven’t been eating the snacks I give you?”

Finally, Matsuda stopped and glanced back at the other boy. There still was no emotion painted on Kamukura’s ever stoic face. Beautiful and apathetic, like a porcelain doll to be perched upon one’s collection. The thought made Matsuda’s throat tighten in an unpleasant way he refused to acknowledge.

“Yes. I haven’t been eating your snacks because I’m trying to lose weight.” He thread a hand into his hair with a sigh.

“I see. So why have you still been eating your own?”

Shck! Matsuda could hear the sound of Kamukura’s keen argument cutting through his flesh. Those burning scarlet eyes were digging into his soul, slender fingers reaching towards the truth of his lie. It was a nauseating sensation, one that could have been completely avoided by just telling the truth to begin with.

But Matsuda was in too deep, as was the case with most of the lies and secrets he had picked up since beginning his studies at Hope’s Peak Academy. It was a realisation that shook him to his core.

A slow blink, “Matsuda?”

He snapped back to reality. “Let’s just get you cleaned up you gross weirdo. I don’t think I can stand being in the presence of someone so smelly for much longer.

Kamukura opened his mouth to argue, but his hair suddenly being pulled in the direction of the bathrooms distracted him. He knew better than to question Matsuda’s motives, no amount of interrogation seemed to get anything out of him. Besides, he was sure whatever deep rooted issues Matsuda was hiding would bore him anyway.

With Matsuda’s arm parting the curtain, the two of them stepped into the change rooms. Within moments, Matsuda was already pulling off his tie and tossing it into one of the lockers.

“It seems like a worthless choice to leave this building still functioning.” As he shrugged off his jacket, Kamukura watched the other’s movements closely.

“Not really, I’m pretty sure there’s a few people still staying here and using the facilities for convenience sake." Those precise fingers undid a few buttons on his shirt. "Not students, though, teachers, personnel.”

“I see.” In a swift movement, Kamukura pulled off his tie and placed it into the locker beside Matsua’s along with his blazer. “You do realise we won’t have clean clothes to change into after this?”

“There’s a few spare uniforms in one of the lower lockers. I had someone bring some here after our last incident.” The inflection on the last word would have made most people feel somewhat guilty, but Kamukura didn’t care in the slightest.

Matsuda pulled his shirt off, exposing his bare chest to the open air. Kamukura’s eyes immediately darted to the small pouch of baby fat sitting on his stomach, he wasn’t as chubby as Kamukura recalled.

A flick against his forehead brought him back before he could get too deep in his thoughts. “Stop fucking ogling me and get undressed, creep. Or are you such a useless weirdo that you need me to help?”

Before Kamukura had a chance to answer the question, Matsuda had begun undoing the buttons of his shirt, starting from the collar. He went to reject the help, as he was perfectly capable of doing it himself, but something about the other boy being so close in his vicinity just made him close his mouth again.

Once all the buttons had been undone and Kamukura’s mouth was thoroughly dry for a reason he didn’t understand, he shrugged the shirt off his shoulders and placed it with his other clothes. He realised he wasn’t getting any further assistance when Matsuda took a step back and kicked off his sandals, reminding Kamukura to slip off his own socks and shoes as well.

The click of unclasping metal seemed incredibly loud amongst the silence of the room, along with the following shuffle of Matsuda sliding his pants off his legs. As Kamukura began to unbuckle his own belt, he couldn’t help but glance at Matsuda’s underwear. Something deep within him was so curious about what Matsuda’s underwear looked like, and he didn’t quite understand what that was.

The answer was unsurprising. They were rather faded and thin, with an incredibly distracting striped pattern. Kamukura could see the globes of his ass through the fabric, which also meant they were much too thin.

He reverted his attention back to the task at hand, undoing the button and fly of his slacks before pulling them down and stepping out of them. He then hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers before tugging them down at well.

It didn’t feel too strange to be so exposed next to Matsuda, after all, he was frequently stripping down to his underwear for examinations. He would go naked had Matsuda not insisted on him not doing that. Kamukura could recall how he very clearly stated that he does not want to ‘see another man’s junk.’

Unfortunately it is inevitable that such an event will occur, especially if you’re often dragged into one of the science labs and forced to bathe under the cold water of the chemical rinse shower. Such a punishment would have taught most people a lesson about refusing to bathe, but not Kamukura.

“Oi, hurry up, I’m cold.” A harsh voice cut through Kamukura’s moment of recollection.

He turned to Matsuda just as he was closing the locker he shoved his underwear into. Matsuda had a pair of white towels in his hands, one extended towards Kamukura. Taking it with a steady hand, he then watched as Matsuda turned and headed into the men’s bathroom.

He's rather attractive from behind.

But like many other of his worthless observations, Kamukura shoved the thought into the deep recesses of his mind as he followed the boy closely behind.

The bath was rather humid, a thick layer of steam coating the room and leaving everything slightly damp and sheeny. The air was warm, implying that this place was used more recently than he had originally expected. “It appears you were correct.”

Matsuda tossed his towel onto one of the wooden seats near the corner of the room as he entered. Following suit, Kamukura dropped his towel there next to Matsuda's.

“Of course I’m fucking correct, I always am.” As Matsuda hissed, he pointed towards the row of showers and stools along the wall. “Sit down and I’ll wash your hair, it’s going to take too long to do yourself.”

“You understand that--” Before Kamukura could finish his sentence, a pair of hands slapped hard against his shoulders.

Matsuda spun him around and pushed him towards the showers, Kamukura walking along obediently. He didn’t speak a word as Matsuda forced him to sit down. “I understand that it’s difficult, Kamukura. You have a lot of fucking hair.”

He didn’t give Kamukura a chance to ask any more questions, as cold water was suddenly being blasted into his face from the shower head in Matsuda’s hand. He must have flinched, because Matsuda snorted and started cackling. “Oh the look on your face! So betrayed!”

Kamukura was certain his expression didn’t change, but Matsuda was acting strange. Like he was forcing a mood, deflecting, distracting Kamukura from his multitude of questions about the upkeep of his personal health.

Ah, he understood now.

He decided to play along. “To splash me with such cold water, how very cruel of you Matsuda Yasuke.”

Running the water onto his hand for a while, Matsuda allowed it to heat up and adjusted the temperature before bringing the stream of water back to his scalp. The warm water made Kamukura’s muscles feel as if they were turning to jello as a pleasant tingle creeped down his spine.

Lithe fingers threaded into the dark strands, spreading them in a way that allowed the water to completely rinse through. “Too hot?”

“Not at all, I prefer it hot.” Relaxing into the soothing touch, Kamukura allowed a soft sigh to pass his lips.

“Good, at least you’re not a complete freak. Still a little bit of human left in that big brain.” Matsuda tugged at a bit of hair, a small smile barely visible reflected in the mirror in front of him. It was a rare sight, he must be enjoying himself.

Kamukura considered returning the smile, but couldn’t quite bring himself to it, it felt wrong, foreign.

“You’re praising me for preferring hot water, yet I recite hundreds of digits of PI and you are not impressed.” He tilted his head slightly, allowing the warm water to trickle down his neck and onto his chest. “I do not understand, what is it about my intelligence that bothers you?”

“See, you’re asking stupid questions again.” The water was suddenly taken away, the tap switched off as Matsuda stepped forward to hang it back up. “Nothing about your intelligence ‘bothers me’ it’s just easier to fucking- to relate to you when you’re not whipping out a talent.”

He reached for a bottle of shampoo that had been left in a small tray on the floor, jumping when Kamukura spoke up again. “You would prefer if I was normal.”

Matsuda angrily snatched the bottle and uncapped the lid before tipping it upside down over the other boy’s head and squeezing hard.

“If that was the case, I never would have given you those stupid talents, would I?” His words were contradictory to his tone. And within them held a bitter truth Matsuda seemed to not want to be confronted with.

“You don’t understand your actions and resent yourself for it.”

“And you need to stop trying to psychoanalyse people. Nobody wants to talk to a weirdo who makes them uncomfortable.”

Once Matsuda has squeezed out the entirety of the bottle’s contents, he tossed it aside and began to lather up his hair, bringing the ends up and wrapping it in a soapy mess on top of his head. He was rather rough in his technique, but Kamukura didn’t mind.

Deciding to keep his mouth shut, he hummed softly in contentment. Trying to get anything out of Matsuda always proved difficult; he was stubborn. For a guy with such a deep interest in neurology you would think he’d be able to acknowledge his own psychological issues. It was just another one of Matsuda’s many self-destructive personality traits.

A strong tug on his hair perked Kamukura’s attention. “Oi, stop watching me like that. You’re going to get it in your eyes.”

He made a soft noise in response, allowing his eyelids to settle over his eyes. With one less sense active, Kamukura found himself melting into the sensation of blunt nails scraping along his scalp and massaging gently, almost as if they were seeking out something.

Slender fingers rubbed soothingly over the bumpy scars lining Kamukura's scalp, coaxing a soft huff of satisfaction from the boy beneath him. Matsuda made a noise like he was about to comment, but merely sighed instead. “Put your head down so I can get the hair at the back.”

Carefully, Kamukura craned his neck forward, uncovering his nape even further. It was an incredibly vulnerable position; completely naked with his eyes closed and neck exposed, yet he couldn’t find himself feeling worried. If Matsuda did have any intentions of killing him, he probably wouldn't mind dying by his hand anyway.

Matsuda's fingers threaded into the sensitive hair resting at the back of his neck, eliciting a shudder from Kamukura. He worked the shampoo into the knotted hair, grumbling softly as his fingers got caught multiple times.

“You really should try to brush this mess more often you know. If you just took better care I wouldn’t have to deal with it when it gets this bad.” A soft hiss could be heard as he yanked at some more strands, however, the sound hadn’t come from Kamukura. “It’s like you enjoy making my life a living hell.”

“That is not the case. Brushing my hair is a mundane task with little reward, I do not enjoy it.” Kamukura explained.

“Yeah, and neither do I.” A loud groan left Matsuda as he contemplated the best way to clarify things. “Most things involving general upkeep are mundane, but you still have to do them you spoiled brat.”

Those comforting hands left Kamukura’s hair and he found himself instantly missing the sensation. Leaning over his shoulder, Matsuda reached for the shower head once again and turned on the tap.

“Keep your eyes closed.”

A torrent of warm water hit Kamukura’s face, rinsing the shampoo from his bangs. He pursed his lips together and squeezed his eyes closed a little tighter to keep the soap out. Matsuda stroked through the wet strands to ensure they had been thoroughly rinsed, an uncharacteristically soft sigh escaping from him into the tense air.

When Matsuda moved to working on the back of his hair. Kamukura spoke up. “Something is on your mind.”

“Get out of my head freak.” That scathing tone quickly returned. “You just look weird like this, like a drowned rat.”

“Ah, I see. This amuses you?”

Another sharp tug on his hair. “No, brat. It annoys me how much of a child you are, completely incompetent. You know I don’t enjoy cleaning up your fucking mess.”

Grumbling something that sounded an awful lot like, “Dumbass.” Matsuda stood up again and turned the water off. “You can finish washing yourself, learn to be more responsible.”

Kamukura nodded. “Thank you, Matsuda.”

With a final sigh, Matsuda sat down in the stool to his right and reached for another bottle. Kamukura turned back to the dish in front of him, picking up the bottle of liquid soap before uncapping the lid and pouring some into his hand. He lathered it up between his hands to bring it to a light foam before beginning to scrub at his skin, starting with his arms.

Beside him, Matsuda was working shampoo into his roots. It was rather odd to see him with his bangs slicked back, exposing his forehead and thick eyebrows. He couldn’t help but admire how nice of a look it was on Matsuda, to have his face exposed to the light for once instead of hidden beneath dark bangs and poor basement lighting.

He really was as pretty as the reserve course girls rumoured him to be.

Turning back to what he was doing, Kamukura focused on the sensation of soap rubbing away the thin layer of grime that was clinging to his skin. As much as he refused to bathe, he truly did understand why people did it. It’s refreshing, makes one healthier, relieves feelings of fatigue. What he didn’t understand was why it seemed so difficult to motivate himself to engage in a task that rewarded him greatly.

It was strange. If someone desires to do something, they should do it, correct? Yet he had no desires.

They had been surgically removed by Matsuda’s precise hand.

Was his lack of proper hygiene habits only skin deep? Was there truly any point in analysing and fussing over it?

But, there was always that small chance, the chance that it was something more. Perhaps was there even something wrong with his brai--?

“Are you done? Or you can’t even do this?” Leaning his hands onto his knees, Matsuda pushed himself up from the stool and turned to Kamukura.

Ah, he had spaced out yet again.

With a nod, Kamukura reached for the shower head and began to rinse the soap from his body, avoiding Matsuda’s steely gaze all the while.

Once clean, he hung the shower head back up and looked to the other boy, eyes instantly wandering downwards in a moment of distraction. Huh.

“It’s smaller than average.”

Matsuda blinked hard a few times, processing the words. His face twisted into a scowl and his cheeks quickly flushed with a bright red colour as he followed Kamukura’s gaze, “What?!”

“Ah." He pulled his eyes back up. "Nevermind. It’s unimportant.”

With a huff, Matsuda turned on his heel and made his way over to the large bath. The other boy followed at a short distance, careful not to slip on the tiled floor that had been coated with a thin layer of condensation.

Once he reached the bath, Matsuda leaned down and sat on the wooden edge that rimmed it. He dangled his legs into the warm water, a rather gentle smile perking on those thin lips at the sensation.

“Oi, weirdo, get in.” He waved a hand, beckoning the other to join him.

Obeying, Kamukura sat himself down next to Matsuda. He then pressed his palms into the polished wood and shifted his weight, slowly lowering himself into the hot water. The water was a perfect temperature, and he couldn't help but let out a quiet sigh of pleasure as his torso became submerged in a blissful heat.

“It’s good, huh?” A soft chuckle escaped Matsuda, “Why would you ever deprive yourself of this?”

“Hmmmmm, I don’t know.” Closing his eyes, Kamukura sunk further into the water until it rose up past his lips and sat just beneath his nose, nearly impeding his breathing.

Matsuda slipped himself into the water beside Kamukura with a smirk. “Oh? So Mayor Dumbass of 'I Was Wrong To Not Listen To Matsuda' -ville admits he's at fault? You mean to tell me he isn’t a perfect being? Shocking."

Shaking his head, Kamukura pushed himself up out of the water a little. “No, I am a perfect being.”

With an exaggerated eye roll, Matsuda raised his arms over his head. He groaned audibly as he stretched the muscles and tried to work the tension from his shoulders.

Keeping the other in sight, Kamukura sunk back into the heated water, reveling in the feeling of being surrounded by such pleasant warmth. It made his skin tingle and his limbs feel like they were floating, much like his hair beside his face.

Moving through the water, he eventually came up the wall of the bath and leaned his back against it, allowing his eyelids to flutter close before taking a deep and relaxed breath.

With the environment being so calm, it felt as if his brain was finally beginning to slow down. Concerns about Matsuda’s wellbeing, anxieties of the past, confusions of the present; they all melted away into the muggy atmosphere, leaving his head filled with nothing but a pleasant foggy sensation. It reminded him too much of the drug induced haze that was settled over his mind for the first few days after his birth.

“Matsudaaaa.” His weak attempt to whine came out more like a monotone groan. “I think I might fall asleep here.”

“Don't be a moron.” Matsuda splashed a bit of water in Kamukura’s direction, smirking when it hit his cheeks. “I’m not going to save you if you drown in the bath. You're on your own this time."

“Mm…” With a soft nod, Kamukura submerged the lower part of his face again, indicating he was tired of talking. The pleasant warmth kissed at his lips, a sensual feeling that made every bone in his body soften beneath its touch.

He felt as if he were floating endlessly through space.

Logically, he wasn’t, it was merely the buoyancy of the water giving that illusion of sensory deprivation. But that didn’t matter, all that mattered was the enticing pitch black void beginning to swallow him whole.

Kamukura let go.

.

.

.

“Oi, troglodyte…”

“Kamukura?”

“Izuru-! What did I say?!”

[n7inky-fanfics]

One Day at a Time

The destruction of the Reapers did not mean galactic peace. While the treaties Shepard had brokered during the war remain mostly intact, there is no shortage of pirates, criminals, gangs, and terroristic organizations bent on creating chaos and destruction. The Council began directing their Spectres towards overseeing and protecting reconstruction efforts and maintaining peace. Now that scientists are close to unlocking the key to repairing the mass relays, the galaxy has settled into unease. No one knows if crime will get better or worse with the relays back online. All factions are getting agitated, and more fighting is breaking out.

Sometimes, Kaidan pities the poor soul on the wrong end of Shepard's gun. More than once, he has heard all sorts of people shout something along the lines of "Oh shit, it's Shepard!" as they realized they were about to die. Shepard is a skilled soldier who dominates the battlefield with equal parts strength and grace. Fighting alongside her can be almost beautiful in an odd and violent sort of way, especially when she used her biotics. It took her almost a year of practice fighting on her military grade prosthetic leg, but she has now found that grace on the battlefield again. In the end, her skills and her career could not be taken by the Reaper War. The galaxy kept its greatest protector.

Today, they are both back on Mars, of all places, fighting a remnant of Cerberus that is attempting to steal more data from the archives. If intel is correct, their goal is to find weapons they can use "for the betterment of humanity", which is their way of saying anti-alien terrorism. Kaidan does have to admit that some part of him enjoys taking down pieces of Cerberus. After all the horrible things he's seen them do, including all that they have put Shepard through, he's glad to eliminate every last cell in the galaxy. It's a worthy career goal.

As the smoke clears, Shepard begins checking the bodies for data pads, hoping to find anything to indicate how many of them are at the archives and what their exact plans are. After all, if this was just an outdoor lookout team, there's bound to be more already inside. She freezes as she reads one of the data pads. Kaidan can barely see her face through her helmet, but her reaction to the data pad can't be good. "Shepard, what is it?"

She clears her throat and says calmly "It's not pertinent to the mission. Let's move on." She drops the data pad and continues towards the entrance. Kaidan trusts Shepard, but curiosity gets the better of him and he glances down at the data pad as he passes by. It currently displays the owner's profile. He can see an image that he guesses matches the body they found it on and a name. "Andrew Mason".

As they enter the archive, they happily find a distinct lack of civilian and scientist casualties. This time, intel learned of the plan early and decided to evacuate the scientists and ship in more soldiers. Unfortunately, Cerberus still puts up a good fight and many of the Alliance soldiers were injured or killed before the Spectres arrived (travel between systems takes more time now that the relays are gone). Shepard hops on to the nearest terminal and accesses the system logs. "Ah, here it is. Someone opened an archive five minutes ago. We can take the tram there."

"Perfect. Maybe this time we'll make it through without getting shot at." Immediately after making the joke, Kaidan winces at the realization that bringing up their last mission on Mars might not be a good idea. Sure, they've worked everything out, but it still could be a touchy subject. He was pretty cruel to her last time, before he almost died in front of her.

"Doubtful." Shepard laughs lightly as they board the tram.

They ride quietly for a moment before Kaidan asks "So, will I get to know who Andrew Mason is?"

"Maybe later. Now's not the time."

"Fair." Kaidan says. He smiles at her, hoping she can see it through the helmet. His is much more open and visually blocks less of the face. Shepard's preferred gear usually allows less visibility, but it also has fewer structural weak points. He noticed a change in her treatment of her armor not too long after he got back on the Normandy, but he's never said anything. Without asking, he already knows why Shepard chooses armor with the most reinforced environment system, and why she carefully and almost obsessively maintains it. He would, too, in her shoes.

He refocuses himself on the task at hand as they begin approaching their destination. They've almost made it when a Cerberus soldier begins firing at the car. They both take cover behind the wall and the dance begins yet again. As the car docks, Shepard throws up a barrier and runs out, shooting at several men in a row as she charges to cover. Kaidan focuses on the heavy trooper slowly approaching from a distance and Reaves. Together, they feed off each other's energy. The can move in sync, watching each other's sixes and supporting each other throughout the entire battle. Before long, the docking zone falls silent as the battle ends.

They take turns clearing doors until they finally get to the archive. They take cover on either side of the door. He opens it carefully, and Shepard immediately swings around to cover him with her pistol. The immediate entryway is surprisingly empty. Shepard gestures for him to follow, then slowly and quietly moves inside the room until they reach a sharp turn. She takes cover against the wall and peers around the corner, gun at the ready. As soon as she does, she is thrown backwards by a large biotic force. Her gun fires before she even hits the wall. Kaidan swings around and unleashes a singularity that pulls the target into the air. Shepard fires again, making several headshots that eventually pierce the armor and hit their mark.

"Thanks for the cover, Alenko." She says, her smile coming through in the sound of her voice. She pats him on the back and pushes further into the room, where the target had been collecting data onto a drive. She plugs the data into her omnitool and runs it through analysis softwares. Liara would be able to tell them more, but it appears that intel was correct. They had been here for advanced weapons blueprints. Shepard begins forwarding the information back to the Normandy, then turns to head back to the LZ. Kaidan follows her.

Getting back to the Normandy and conferencing with Admiral Hackett is no big deal. After the verbal debriefing, they retire to her cabin to write their mission reports. Kaidan's ship, the SSV London (named for the Battle of London that ended the Reaper War), is still getting it's final touches before he'll be able to take it out on a shakedown run, so he rode along with Shepard for this mission and their last several. As they settle into the couch with their tea and data pads, he can't help but smile. This is a good life, one he hadn't expected to attain. Every day, sometimes several times a day, he still finds himself thankful that they had found Shepard after the Crucible. When the Alliance had formally declared her missing in action, with the caveat that she was most likely dead, Kaidan refused to lay down and wait for them to declare her death. He contacted Hackett with an emergency QEC on the Normandy and told him that until they found a body, Shepard was to be considered alive and in need of assistance. They all owed that to her. Seeing her here and now, living her life with him, is something he is grateful for every day.

As Kaidan is putting the final touches on his report, Shepard sets her data pad on the table and walks to her shower, stripping off articles of clothing as she goes. He fumbles over the keyboard, leaving a line of text that reads "ghdhshgdg" as he watches her go. Knowing that he's watching, she calls "finish your report first, and then you can join me." He deletes the line of typos, hurriedly wraps up the report, and follows her for an enjoyable interlude.

Their activities eventually end with them cuddling in her bed. She lay with her head resting gently on his chest, her hand absentmindedly rubbing circles on through his chest hair. He has one arm around her back and gently brushing strokes down her upper arm. He can feel her back subtly rise and fall with her breath. They lay this way for a while before he feels a slight dampness on his chest, where her head is. "Hazel, are you okay?" he asks, looking down at her. Her face is buried in him. She stifles a sob, and he feels the shift in her breathing as she forces herself to cry silently. He wraps his arms around her tighter. "Sweetheart, whatever it is, I've got you." Slowly, she pulls herself back and looks at him. He reaches up to her and gently wipes the tears from her cheeks. She pulls herself into a sitting position against the headboard, and he follows so that they are sitting side by side.

She leans her head on his shoulder and quietly says "You asked about Andrew Mason?"

"Yeah. Do you want to talk about it?"

"I knew him... from before the Alliance." she ends the sentence at barely a whisper. Her shoulders tense and she looks down at the floor. "He was one of the younger kids in the Reds before I left." He gently reaches for her hand and takes it in his as she continues. "I heard he'd gotten out, that he'd joined the Alliance some time after my death. I had hoped he'd do well and go far, but it didn't work that way. I checked his records when we got back to the ship. His team got ambushed by some pirates about seven months before the Reapers invaded. He was discharged honorably for medical reasons, for PTSD. I guess that's when Cerberus got to him."

"Hazel, I'm so sorry." he says.

"The hell of it is that I can see myself in that kid. In what he came from, in his escape. What if I somehow influenced his decision to leave like that? How many kids joined after hearing fantastical stories about my life, only to be swooped up by Cerberus when the Alliance didn't live up to their expectations or to die in battle before they got the chance to reconsider?"

"Hey, stop that. It's not your fault, Hazel."

"How many people died because of me? Will continue to die because of me? Because I failed?" Her voice cracks and she lets out a shuddering breath.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Backup. Failed at what?"

"I couldn't save them all. I can never save them all."

"Hazel, stop. Look at me." He gently places his hand under her chin and guides her to look at him. "You are not responsible for every person in the galaxy. You've spent far too much of your life fighting galactic wars practically on your own. Enough is enough. We stopped the Reapers. Now, we just do what we can to make things a little better. One day at a time, okay?"

She nods and he pulls her into a tight embrace. "One day at a time." She sniffles.