#but he worries about keeping his hair nice

[babyleostuff]

⸻ first date with hip hop unit

[ 🐚 ] where they would take their partner, what they would be like taking them out for the first time & what they would do to make them feel special

scoups

place: the aquarium

what they would do to make you feel special: is such an attentive listener and the way he keeps staring at you makes you blush so much (even if you usually don't blush, it's just the cheol effect) + at the end if the date you wonder if he paid even slight attention to the fish and whatnot (you could feel his stare on you for the whole time)

what they would be like taking you out: a shy mess, keeps ruffling his hair to occupy his hands with something (cuz he has to stop himself from grabbing your hand), the biggest gentleman out there

“oh, look at this one!” you pointed excitedly at one of the fishes that just swam by right in front of you. “it’s so pretty,” you cooed. 

you took a few steps to follow the small fish, forgetting that you weren’t there alone for a moment, too mesmerised to focus on anything else. it was nice to feel like a little kid once again, not having to worry about anything other than pretty fish and the shimmering blue and pink lights that made the whole place look like straight from a fairytale. 

“would it be corny if i said that you’re prettier?” suddenly, a deep voice pulled you out of your little bubble. 

“are you comparing me to a fish?” you fake-gasped and turned around, meeting seungcheol’s brown eyes that held a mischievous look that you grew to love so much, even though you hadn’t known each other for that long. 

his gentle laugh rippled through the air. “well, if you put it that way…”

you snickered and swatted his chest playfully. “i don’t think you’re supposed to say stuff like that on a first date, choi seungcheol.”

wonwoo

place: museum/ exhibition 

what they would do to make you feel special: takes candid photos of you (the morning after the date you get a message with the photos and a text saying “that’s how i see you” )

what they would be like taking you out: so so nervous, stutters, doesn’t know what to do with his hands, feels like he’s going to die at least five times

“click” 

you whipped your head around upon hearing the familiar sound, tearing your eyes from the painting after what felt like hours. but the exhibition wonwoo took you too was truly mesmerising, you had no idea how he found this place. 

“if you wanted to take a picture you could’ve told me,” you said, taking a step to the side. “i would’ve moved.” 

wonwoo lowered the camera, his hands slightly shaking, which in your eyes made him even more adorable than he already was. not to mention the fuzzy cardigan that made him look like the cuddliest teddy bear. 

“no, it’s… i wanted to take a photo of the painting and… and you,” he said with a gentle softness in his voice, blending in with the quiet hustle of people around you. 

“oh.”

mingyu

place: the funfair/ amusement park

what they would do to make you feel special: you know those games where you have to hit the targets to win the plushies or other stuffed animals? if you kept missing, gyu would miss as well, so you wouldn't feel like you were worse (he'd win once, though, because he'd really want to gift you a teddy bear)

what they would be like taking you out: tries his best to act cocky and smug but ends up tripping over his own feet, because he keeps staring at you too much

“i was so near, like one centimeter and i would’ve hit- oh my god, mingyu!” you exclaimed, stopping in your tracks. 

the man next to you landed on the ground with a thump, face first and all, for the third time in the span of the last two hours. 

“are you okay?” you gently placed the teddy bear your date had just gifted you on the ground, trying to keep it away from the dirt, and kneeled next to him. 

“this is really embarrassing,” he mumbled, leaning his forehead against the pavement. “i swear i’m not usually like this.” 

you shook your head, not really believing his words, because yes - maybe you didn’t know each other that well, but you’ve spent enough time together for you to know that kim mingyu was quite a clumsy person. 

“why do you keep tripping all the time?” you laughed, helping him up and brushing the dirt away. 

“you seriously don’t want to know,” mingyu answered, his face red as a tomato.

vernon

place: cinema + fast food place 

what they would do to make you feel special: buys you a small bouquet of your favourite flowers (you mentioned liking them once in passing)

what they would be like taking you out: not much changes in vernon's behaviour, completely chill and vibin' (mostly due to the fact that he's in such denial that you actually agreed to go out with him that he truly believes he's dreaming)

you stared at the small bouquet vernon was holding in his hands.

“uh, those aren’t your favorite right?” he asked when you didn’t say anything, and you didn’t fail to catch the note of disappointment in his voice. “i just probably messed up the names of the flowers. sorr-,” 

“how did you know these were my favourite?” 

“well,” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “you said once and i remembered, and… yeah.” 

“i mentioned it like once,” you said, still too shaken that he remembered such a small thing to grab the flowers from his hand. “wait, aren’t you allergic to pollen? what are you doing holding a whole bouquet?” 

you took the bouquet and hid it behind your back. 

“it won’t kill me, you know?” vernon said with a smile on his face.

[mev-fizzah-writes]

ᑎᑌᗰᗷ 𓌉◯𓇋

A/N: Continuation of Part 1 with you in a hospital and Damian scarred. You know he is, even if he won't tell you. Will he keep this secret for his blood sister/sibling or will he cave in and tell the family, the same family that caused this. TW: Substance abuse, abuse, alcoholism, brief mention of underage drinking, self harm etc

۫ ꣑ৎ"You really know how to make me cry" -Billie Eilish ۫ ꣑ৎ

Every point of your life could be summarised by one thing, harm. Back when your mother was still alive, when you lived with your step-father and even after Bruce had taken you in.

Harm. It was either you were the cause of it, or someone else. That's when the drinking started, back when you were sixteen you had your first sip of alcohol. Then you were eighteen and it was the only beverage you'd drink, not legal but it was Gotham so it wasn't hard to get alcohol. After two years of non-stop drinking, all you could see in the mirror was her. The droopy eyes and frail body, the silence followed you like it followed her.

Like mother like daughter right? Right.

The harsh, white lights pierced through your eyelids, pulling you back to a conscious state. There was the sound of a distant beat of a heart monitor, everything sounded mechanic. It was nothing like the filled silence in the bathroom. You squinted your eyes, trying to make sense of your surroundings, the faint smell of antiseptic and the plastic-feel sheets you lay on gave it away.

You lay, almost lifeless, on a hospital bad with an IV drip attached to your arms. It was like it was feeding life into you, replacing the smooth liquid that once graced your tongue. It made your head throb, like it was matching the beeping of the near by monitor. The pieces that led to here were starting to come back, filling you with dread.

There fragmented memories of broken glass, now your foot started to hurt, the bitter taste of alcohol and the looks of horror in Damian's eyes, it all resurfaced.

It was like the guilt was trying to drown you, the way it came down in waves. it was more potent than the hangover that held you down, the reality of your mistake hit like an axe to the skull. It was like your head was splitting in two, you were never supposed to come back to that place. You were never supposed to fail...but you did. And the obnoxious ceiling of the hospital was proof of your failure. It made your eyes sting, every second that goes by made the dam, you spent years perfecting, break. You've never fallen so far down. You've never felt so low.

As your eyes adjusted to the fluorescent lights you finally noticed him. Damian, the side of his head pressed against you bed and his hand loosely in yours. Even in his sleep he didn't look peaceful, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth down-turned, poor baby looked so miserable.

It was your fault

You moved your hand to his hair, gently, you played with it. He always had such nice hair, even when he first arrived. It must've been in his genes, a perfect mix of his mother and father...you on the other hand..

Despicable. Every shitty thing about Bruce and everything about your mother seemed to fit in a human shaped mould. A human shaped like you. You felt the coldness of the room hit your eyes, it made the tears over fill your eyes. They slipped down when Damian woke up, confusion evident on his face as he sat up, he didn't bother with the embarrassed act.

He was different, not instantly meeting your eyes. No, instead he looked at every wire coming off of you, then he met your eyes. He met them with caution, and you could feel the disgust and self hatred bubble in your stomach.

He shouldn't have seen that, no kid should see someone like that. His eyes, usually filled with determination and will, now displayed a storm of emotions-anger, worry, distrust. It was a vulnerability he almost never showed, now laid out for the world to see. The hurt in his face cut deeper than any blade, it stung harder than any reprimand ever would. You pleaded with your eyes for him not to say anything, there wasn't much more she could handle.

"Why..." he finally spoke, his voice hoarse and raw. Look at what you've done, you've failed it all. Failed at being a daughter, a student, a robin and now you've failed him. You failed at being a sister. "How long-"

"It was one slip up, just one I promise." Desperation laced your voice as you sat up. It was just one.

His jaw hung open as he tried to get the word out, he didn't want to be interrupted, he didn't want to be comforted, he wanted to angry but he didn't know who to blame.

"No, don't interrupt me. One? It wasn't one slip up, it was a big one." He was right, and that made it hurt so much more. In your mind, Damian was one of your strongest siblings ever, he always knew what to say, so watching his chin wobble and his mind scramble for words made your heart drop further and further. "...was it me?"

Huh...

Why, on this god given earth, would he ever think that? You watched him as he clamped his hands together and the way his voice was barely audible. Oh God...why would he think that? The question repeated in your head as he waited for an answer.

"No. Not in a million year Dami." You looked him dead in the eyes as the words left your tongue, it was obvious that he wasn't fully convinced. You couldn't stand seeing him like this, "come here." You tapped the spot next to you, beckoning to come here. He does exactly that and you gently pull him closer. The room is quiet, just slow beeps coming from the corner. He hesitates before allowing his head to rest on your shoulder. With your head resting a top of his, Damian hold onto you. He's holding tight, like you'll float away if he lets go. His grip is firm but gentler, a silent way of him saying 'I'm here.'

"I'm so sorry." You whisper, knowing it's probably not the words he wants to here right now. You can tell with the slight tremble of his hands. It makes you think, is this how you would've reacted if your mother survived that night? Would you have hugged her? Would you have asked her?

For a while neither of you speak, words weren't necessary. Right now you needed him, and he needed you. No matter how much you want to leave, you would never go without a proper good bye. Dami was like an anchor, he kept you grounded when needed. And that's all you needed, him. You didn't Bruce's money, you didn't need Richard or Jason or anyone else. Right on the brink of sleep, you heard your brothers little voice call your name.

You hummed in response to indicate that he's got your attention.

"You broke my promise." His voice was quiet and weary, like he was treading slowly, in case he accidently set off a bomb.

"I did, buddy." You don't know how many apologize you had left in you.

"Promise you won't do that again."

You smiled softly, knowing that this was really just the calm before the storm. But ignoring that fact, you held out your pinkie.

"Pinkie promise." You managed to get out, you were really starting to get tired. Damian rolled his eyes and muttered 'childish acts' underneath his breath, but he still interlocked his pinkie with yours. "I love you Dami." The words left your mouth just before your eyes shut, there was no bother waiting for a response, you knew how he was. And you knew how perfect he was.

"I love you too, sister...and I am sorry." ˙⋆✮

Taglist ˙⋆✮

@pix-stuff @mangogoesfishin @navs-bhat

[yinemw]

𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫

context: doing your bf Katsuki’s eyeliner (gender neutral reader)

warnings: none

character: Katsuki Bakugou from MHA

m.list

“Can I help you?” You ask, standing in front of the mirror, watching the blonde from the reflection. His arms crossed over his chest, as usual, and a frown visible between his brows.

“Your eyes look nice” he compliments, something that had gotten more and more common the longer you had gone out with him. Usually they were followed by an insult right after, but not this time.

“Want me to do yours too?” You wave the eyeliner in your hand, hoping your excitement could rub off on him as well and he wouldn’t just roll his eyes and leave. “I’ve done it on others before so if you’re worried I’ll mess up, don’t be”

“Oh yeah?” He quirks up an eyebrow, taking the liner from your fingers and opening the cap to inspect it closer. Going as far as smelling it. “Who’s eyeliner have you done before?”

“Oh you know” you take a step closer, hands behind your back and innocently looking up at him. “Just Momo, Mina, Tsuyu” you pause, trying to hide your smirk. “Izuku and Denki”

“Hah?” His eyes grow wider, fingers grabbing your wrist and pulling you along with him to his bed. Swearing and mumbling under his breath of how you should have done it on him first if you wanted to experiment, not two losers like them. Mentioning Izuku worked like a charm every, single, time.

Giggling, you sit down on his lap, feeling the muscles in his thighs flex a little under your weight. You brush some of his soft hairs away from his forehead and use a hair clip to keep them in place. His back was comfortably resting against the headboard, letting you do whatever you wanted to him. He loved moments like this, just the two of you enjoying each others company and not having to do anything special. He could lower his guard and relax for once. Your touch always seemed to calm him down as well, so having you secured in his arms only made his heart flutter more.

“Do you wanna try anything special?” Your voice brought him back to reality, blinking a few times to register what you had just asked him.

“Do whatever you want”

Humming to yourself, you tell him to close his eyes. But before you started your work, you took a couple of seconds just to admire his face. His soft cheeks you always loved to poke whenever his mouth was stuffed with food after a long day of hero work, his slightly chapped lips that always pressed against your forehead before drifting off to sleep, the tip of his nose that was always the victim to your quick kisses he said he hates (obviously a lie).

“You gonna do something or what?!” He blurted out, tired of the waiting. Squeezing your thigh to try and get your attention.

“So impatient” you mumble, placing one hand on his jaw to keep him in place as the other started to work on his left eye. Doing gentle strokes on his eyelid and under his eyes with the tip of the pencil. “Stop moving your eye”

“You’re the one touching it! I can’t do anything about it!” He immediately hissed back, eyebrows furrowed and only making the muscles in his face move more and almost mess up the liner.

You move your hand from his jaw over to his mouth, “just, shhh, I need to concentrate”

Easier said then done, because the next few minutes Katsuki made it impossible. Biting and licking your palm, squeezing your thighs out of the blue that made you jump, saying stupid things like ‘I’m going to sneeze’. He of course thought it was hilarious, didn’t need to see your face to know you had a frown he always found adorable.

“I’m hungry—”

“Kats!” You yell for the tenth time, letting out an annoyed sigh as the eyeliner was put on the bedside table. “I’m done, though it’s definitely some of my worst work” you say as Katsuki opens his eyes again, taking out his phone and using the camera as a mirror.

“Not half bad, but why’s one eye smeared?”

You don’t even say anything, just staring at him with a deadpan expression. Arms folded over your chest as your right eye twitches.

“Quit starin’ at me like that! You’re the one who poked my eyes—”

“Kacchan! Oh, Y/n you’re here too” Izuku opens the door to the dorm room, catching both of you off guard.

“Deku what did I tell you about not knocking?!” One second you’re on Katsuki’s lap, the next you’re thrown on the bed as the mentioned man stands up and walks angrily over to Izuku.

“I’m sorry, I- Kacchan, are you wearing eyeliner?” The green haired boys eyes widen, looking over Katsuki’s shoulder at you “Y/n I’ve always wanted to try some makeup to see if it would suit me, could you do my eyeliner too?” Izuku asks innocently, not realizing why all chaos broke lose after his request.

“You little minx! You told me you had done his eyeliner!” All of Katsuki’s attention was now focused on you, turning on his heel and taking slow steps to the bed. “Now I have this stupid shit all over my eyes for no reason! Get back here! Running is useless!”

You were already out of the room, running past Izuku as fast as you could. Katsuki’s shouting and your giggles filling the UA dorms.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

(Thunderbolts) I feel like it would be really funny. There's a x reader where Bucky had a wife, and she just walks in during one of their meetings, holding their kids and like "where the hell were you? All I need a frozen pizza and some diaper wipes."

And alexie teaches one of the kids their first word but it's not mama or dada. It's Gin.

Bucky is pulled away quickly for a mission, leaving you holding the babies...and worrying about your husband.

Warnings: 18+ for language, domestic fluff, Thunderbolts!Bucky before the film, Dad!Bucky, reader likes pineapple on her pizza, I feel this is something I need to warn for. I don't really write kids in fics normally and I've never written Alexi before so…please be kind! Rated F for fluff and K for kids.

A/N: thank you so much for this request! Not going to lie I'm nervous writing anything about Thunderbolts before it's out but Thunderbolts!Bucky does live rent free in my head. It's not exactly as you requested but I hope you still enjoy it anyway!

Padruga - female friend in Russian

Divider by @firefly-graphics & @saradika-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

Being married to Bucky Barnes was everything you'd dreamed about since the first time he'd strolled into your boutique and nervously asked if you had any gifts suitable for ex-assassins with limited wardrobes.

After a few hours searching for items he'd bought a new jacket for himself, black leather of course, and a smaller woman's jacket. Your heart had sunk, of course there was a woman already in his life. Tall, handsome, a rakish mop of hair flopping into his piercing blue eyes, she was a lucky lady.

Bucky had looked at you, those blue eyes looking straight into your soul, "it's for my sister, sort of, well, she's not my real sister, but she's like a - it's not for …I don't have a girlfriend."

"Oh, good." And then you kicked yourself for sounding so stupid. Bucky had given you the widest smile and written his number on a scrap of paper.

"Call me." He'd winked.

It was becoming harder to appreciate your luck when you were covered in bath water, probably the only shower you were likely to get unless Grant went to sleep quickly.

Bucky had been called out to an emergency meeting on his way to the store and as much as you loved his dedication and hard work you really, really, needed him to come home with the groceries.

You were running low on literally everything and you knew eventually you'd have to do a full shop, but now just the essentials would do. You couldn't have a repeat of lunch, hunting down some crackers, cheese and cucumbers sticks.

Distracted for a moment, Grant lined his rubber ducks up on the edge of the tub, splashing them in one by one.

"Look Mama!" He said, gleefully, "'dis one is Daddy!" He took the duck, left wing coloured in black, and made it dive into the heap of bubbles surrounding him.

"Well done, Sweetie!" You cooed, turning away quickly to hide a yawn and checking your phone.

Get your ass home or I'm ordering the pizza in instead

From the nice place

Get me some fries?

No

and I'm getting pineapple

Doll cmon now youre being cruel

It wasn't unusual for Bucky to keep his work secret, but he would normally be able to say when he was coming home. Perhaps it was really important.

Grant had just gone to sleep when the doorbell rang and you cringed, setting your pineapple heavy pizza down on the coffee table and pausing your movie.

There was a familiar silhouette in the frosted glass -

"Alexi, is everything okay?" The door swang wide open before you could even reach it. It had definitely been locked, but it was hard to keep any of the team out for long.

"Padruga! I am returning the small one." A very familiar mop of hair popped over Alexi's shoulder, face covered in cookie crumbs. For all that Grant was like you, Natalia was all Bucky, soft curls and sparkling blue eyes.

"Mommy!" She jumped from Alexi, landing heavily in your arms, "we went to Dairy Queen and I had two ice creams and one of those ice creams was vanilla and the other was choca-chol-choco-brown-extreme-blizzard-extreme."

You turned a cold eye on Alexi, "I thought we said park, dinner, home?"

"Ah how can I resist to spoiling the daughter of the Winter Soldier, if she wants extreme blizzard milk drinks I cannot say no." He shrugged, an indulgent smile peaking out of his beared.

"God," you rubbed a hand over your face. "She'll never sleep - Petal, can you go and get your pjs on please, I'll come up and help you do your teeth."

Natalia climbed the stairs quickly, sounding more like a herd of elephants than a four year old.

"Do you know what's going on with Bucky? I expected him home by now."

Alexi looked concerned, but didn't immediately start a tirade about the strength of the Winter Solider, so you felt reassured it couldn't be too serious.

"He is discussing planning with Wilson and his comrades. I have advised against it but he trusts the Captain and so we do too."

"We?"

"Yelena has been very helpful and is talking to the rest of the team. We will have a plan soon."

"So you're heading out for something?"

"Yes. I am sorry."

"Fuck."

"In Russian you can say, yebat, Mommy." Natalia's little voice floated over from the hallway and you cringed. Everytime she came back from spending time with Alexi or Yelena she seemed to have learnt a new Russian word, which wouldn't bother you, except they were almost always curse words.

"I'm all for her being bilingual, but could you maybe teach her how to say her favourite colour or something." You grouched.

"Sorry."

Alexi took a slice of pizza and left the address of the current discussions on a scrap of paper stuck to the fridge before vanishing in to the night again with the promise that you could "call anytime."

It had been two days since Bucky left on his bike to, "have a quick chat with the team, baby, don't worry, I'll swing by the store on the way home." And you were starting to move from slightly annoyed to a see-saw of furious and anxious.

He'd text a few times to let you know they hadn't left yet but the situation was complex, he'd be home very briefly before they left, just to see you and the kids, but other than that he was holed away for the foreseeable.

One week after Bucky left and you were truly stir crazy. There was only so many times you could have the same conversation with the other parents at the park before you lost your mind.

You really didn't care if Timmy or Charlie or whoever had cut their first tooth. All you cared about was what your husband was doing somewhere, anywhere, and when he'd be home safe in your arms.

It was 2am when the call came in, he was home, safe and unharmed, at the abandoned airstrip twenty miles past the town border. Yelena and Alexi were with him, also safe.

Grant was a heavy, floppy, weight in your arms as you buckled him into his car seat. But Natalia was wide awake and excited, clutching her bear to her chest and staring at the street lights in awe.

"I can't wait to see Daddy," she sighed, snuggling the top of the bear's head. You made sure to put his cologne on it, every day, while she was out at kindergarten, the same way you sprayed his pillow. So you'd both have a memory. Grant's blankie was the same and, still asleep, he pressed his chubby cheek into the cotton.

"I can't wait either, Petal, we'll be there soon."

You drove through the night, the darkness closing in around your car, streetlamps dwindling and stars appearing as you made it out of the town and towards the airstrip. There was a single plane looking almost abandoned, its tail at an angle, on the landing strip. But there was the faint glow of artificial light under the door of a metal supply shed beyond it.

You slowed the car, expecting there to be someone at the gate to the airstrip before remembering it had been closed a few years previously and there would be no one to care. It must have been a rough mission, to come back like this rather than through a real airport. It was normally Sam who let you know about his return and you could collect him from the big airport in the city or he'd appear in the night from some taxi or hire car.

You double checked to make sure the doors were locked on the car, the children dozing in the back. Grant was drooling on his blankie and Natalia, despite her assertion that she would "definitely certainly mostly stay awake until Daddy, Mommy" was bumping her head on the side of her car seat every time her eyes closed.

You stopped the car opposite the shed and flashed your lights, ready to drive off if they didn't flash back.

It went dark, then light, dark…light and the door opened. You put the handbrake on and jumped from the car, leaving the door flung open in your haste, and raced towards Bucky.

He dropped his duffle bag and swung you into his arms, latching around your waist and lifting you easily. His lips were chapped and there was the tang of blood when you pulled away from a cut on his upper lip. You cupped his face in your hands and inspected him as best you could in just the headlights.

"You're okay." You sighed, breathing him in, burying your face in his neck and squeezing your legs around his waist.

"I'm alright Doll, don't worry about me. Are you okay?" His voice was rough with sleep, his cheeks chapped with cold and he smelt faintly of fire which was disconcerting. But he was here, safe, holding you close.

"Glad you're back, baby." You smiled, kissing him again. It was amazing, even after all these years, ever though he'd been on a hundred missions. It still gave you butterflies every time he came back, not just that he returned at all, but that he came back to you.

Behind you came the sound of little fists banging on the windows.

"Daddy!" Natalia shouted and Bucky carried you, giggling, back to the car.

With practiced ease he unbuckled both children and held them close.

"My little monsters, have you been good for Mommy?"

"Yes!"

"No!" Grant giggled.

"Sounds about right." Bucky looked over Natalia's head and smiled again, soft and slow.

"I'm glad you're back." You repeated, "but if you ever take two weeks to 'pop to the store' again we're over." You wagged your finger teasingly.

"Don't worry, I got everything we needed." Bucky carried the children back to his duffle, shuffling them around so he could lumber back with everything in his arms. "Look in there."

You unzipped the bag and inside - a pack of wipes, a bottle of laundry soap and two frozen pizzas.

[xaytheloser]

My Sweet Angel.

Sunder x human! Reader scenario warnings: obsessive behavior, mentions of blood, no specified continuity, Sunder is a bit of a freak, Sunder himself should count as a warning tbh (/hj),ooc Sunder??, this is VERY self indulgent if you couldn't tell, I haven't written a lot so this might be REALLY bad please forgive me </3, also this is my first x reader so be nice to me :( /silly

Sin. It is was everywhere, it was all he could smell. Autobot, Decepticon,, human, the pungent bitter smell of sin reeked off all of them...

except one.

A group of human liaisons, so fragile, creatures made of squishy flesh and fragile bones, so easily broken down, reeking of sin all the same... however, despite all of it.... a subtle scent of sweetness hit his nostrils... it was something he has never smelled before.. it intrigued him.. he needed to know where it was coming from..

....

"(y/n)! we have to go back for them!"

"leave them! they're food for that... thing now! we don't have time to go back! we'll just tell the autobots about this, they'll help! now MOVE! we need to get to the communication hub!"

.....

a lone human laid before him, their leg injured, blood sliding down to the ground creating a small pool...

it was them, the culprit behind the sweet scent invading his nose..

they we're small, of course smaller than him, but also smaller than the rest of their fellow human consorts...

but... they smelled... clean. whilst everyone else smelled of bitter filthy sin.. they smelled... pure, untouched by sin.... sweet..

they cowerd before him, only natural of course..

"p-please don't hurt me! I-I didn't do anything! just leave me alone!"

tears stained their face, they looked so broken.. such a pure creature shouldn't cry.. oh no.. no no no.....

such a pure, sweet, angelic creature....

"you.."

His larger servo reached towards the fragile creature.. his digit lightly brushing the creature's cheek, wiping away their tears....

"do not be afraid, sweet creature..."

he scooped the small creature within his servos, they barely weighed anything... bringing them up to his face, the sweet smell emanating from them grew stronger..

"you lack the filthy scent of sin, you smell of the sweet scent of purity... you are... remarkable... wonderful.."

he gently stroked his other servo through the creature's hair, it was soft, the human winced.. oh no sweet angel, there is no need for that, yes, Sunder was the infamous Tetrahex Ripper, he could cause any cybertronian to forget their own name by a single glance, he could crush a human with his servos without a second thought.. they all smelled of filth, reeking of bitterness and sin.. but this was different.. this human... no.. this angel caused him to feel... warm. His whole life he found pleasure within consuming the delicious memories of his own kind, their sin fueling his desire for more. However, seeing this angel before him.. their sweet scent was overpowering,, they were so small and fragile, the fact these warm feelings that rushed through by simply touching this fragile creature was remarkable..

a creature so pure should be looked after and provided for.... no?

yes... yes. do not worry, angel, Sunder shall take care of you... he shall provide for you, he shall make sure no one shall dirty you.. no one shall even dare to tarnish your sweetness with their filth. he will keep you close...

and NEVER let you go...

[cjsmalley]

Party, Wedding, and Time:

It was an ambush.

Marinette was walking home alone. Still flushed and happy from Adrien properly asking her to the upcoming impromptu dance that night, when someone strong grabbed her from behind and another put a large bag over her.

She fought back like a feral raccoon, not even thinking about transforming.

“Quit fighting, DC!” Chloe’s voice rang out sharply, commandingly, “This’s for your own good!”

Marinette went limp; she was hefted across a pair of shoulders and moved into a vehicle, which started at Chloe’s command.

The bag was pulled off her, it was a laundry bag from Chloe’s hotel, to find at least half the class looking at her. All the girls, Marc and Kim.

“What’s going on?” Marinette demanded, none of them looked to be akumas so why had they kidnapped her?

“We’re getting you ready for the dance,” Ayla said, eye twitching as she continued, “Chloe’s in charge.”

Chloe was busy texting someone but she looked up, “Sabrina and the boys are on Adrien; Adrien knows how to dress himself. You, on the other hand, have to be taught certain standards now that you’re dating Adrien. Don’t worry, do as I say and we’ll all get through this with our dignity intact.”

“Guys, it’s just—”

“Your first official dance with Adrien,” Ayla reminded her, beaming at her blush and shy nod, “we’re gonna make sure you look so beautiful he can’t even think!”

“Why is Kim here if the boys are—”

“Someone had to grab you, duh.”

Chloe left unsaid that taking Ladybug by surprise should not have been possible and that they were all lucky that Marinette hadn’t transformed, “By the way, I’m signing you up for self-defense lessons, DC. And paying for it. You’re dating a former model, and he still has fans. Fans that get crazy.”

Chloe so wanted to tell Marinette that she knew the Secret but kept mum about it. She did not want to make herself a bigger target, thank you very much. But she could make sure Ladybug could at least fight half-way decently while a civilian.

“I don’t—Chloe, you can’t—”

“Oh, I can, I will, I already have. Six months, weekly appointments, one-on-one with a handpicked instructor. At the Hotel. And I will have a car pick you up for them.” Chloe threatened, nicely.

“She’s right, girl,” Ayla admitted, “you remember that crazy stalker Lila? If Adrien’s new dad hadn’t put his foot down who knows what she could have pulled. And Lila was only verbal threats, right?”

Everyone was looking at her expectantly so Marinette slumped, “I’ll ask my parents—”

“Already did,” Chloe flipped her hair, “Daddy talked to them. They were happy to agree, especially after the trouble with the crazy bitch.”

“Language!”

“Sorry, not sorry, Anciel. Grow up.”

The limousine finally pulled up to the Hotel and Marinette was escorted to a dressing room where a professional hairdresser and a professional makeup artist were waiting. She was marched into the chair while Ayla and Chloe left; they returned, a half hour later, with the dress Marinette had been working on in her spare time for formal events. And the fabrics needed for it.

Then Marinette saw Chloe slip a cookie into Marinette’s purse and gaped, eyes wide in fear.

Chloe caught her eye and nodded, making the motions to zip her lips and throw away the key.

Still Marinette mentally fretted even as she forced herself to relax; Chloe knew the Secret, her most precious Secret. Did she know Adrien’s? Did anyone else know?

“Relax, DC,” Chloe said, picking up the purse, “I’ve got it handled. I’ll keep your purse safe tonight."

And all Marinette could do was trust her.

A seamstress came in, was given Marinette’s notes on the dress, and set to work finishing it as Marinette herself was prepared.

“Adrien’s suit—” Marinette began, for she had made Adrien a suit that tastefully matched her dress.

“Already delivered, DC,” Chloe was perched somewhere behind her, also getting ready. The entire class was, “Got Daddy’s best tailor on him doing final fittings. Everyone else has last year’s clothes to wear. Except me. I was smart, ordered a dress for just such an event.”

“Chloe had her people pick up our clothes as soon as we heard,” Ayla added, “relax, girl. Everything’s covered.”

“The school—as class president, I—”

“Professional party planners,” Chloe sighed at her, “don’t be so ridiculous, DC. When I say don’t worry, I mean it.”

And so Marinette shut her mouth and let the stylists get on with their work.

Unbeknownst to her, Adrien was in another dressing room in the hotel, also being prepped under the watchful eye of Sabrina and the boys of the class.

With Marinette the girls were in overdrive, treating the entire event like…well, a wedding or something equally serious.

“Something old!” Chloe ordered and one of the girls, Alix, hung a pocket watch from Marinette’s neck.

“I’m not marrying Adrien tonight!” Marinette protested. She was ignored.

“Something new!” was the next call.

Ayla scurrying up, holding a lace veil that accentuated the dress.

“Guys!” Marinette sputtered as the veil was put on her, “We’re only sixteen!”

“Isn’t red the traditional Chinese wedding dress color?” someone asked, and Marinette couldn’t see who through the veil.

Marinette’s dress was a deep red, Ladybug red, “Yes but—!”

Kagami stepped up without prompting, sliding a dagger into Marinette’s sleeve, “My favorite dagger.”

“When did you get here, Kagami?” Marinette asked, confused.

“Chloe called me. She said you are having a practice wedding, an engagement ceremony—”

“GIRLS!”

“And something blue,” Chloe stepped up and tucked something into Marinette’s bra, “for Adrien, you two are ridiculous but he’ll need it. Seeing you. Trust us, Marinette.”

Marinette quieted and thought things over before saying, “This is all just…practice?”

“Yeah, Daddy wouldn’t give special permission without your parents’ permission,” it sounded like Chloe was pouting and Marinette gave a sigh of relief before giggling, “Okay.”

Her classmates cheered and hurried to dress themselves; then they formed a wall around her to stop any peeking should they see Adrien, and escorted her out to the limousine.

The school gym had been done up based on one of Marinette’s daydreams scribbled into a sketchbook; how Chloe had gotten her hands on that specific sketchbook…Ayla had some explaining to do.

 Still, seeing her possible wedding a reality, even if it was just “practice”…

Ayla took her duty as “Maid of Honor” seriously as she, in lieu of Marinette’s father or mother, escorted her to Adrien.

Adrien, whose jaw had dropped at the sight of his “bride”.

There was a table behind him, holding an array of finger foods and drinks, and he leaned on it heavily the closer Marinette came.

Nino, the “Best Man”, snickered, “If you’re reacting like this now, imagine your actual wedding!”

Chloe, unseen, took up a position behind the table as the couple reunited and cleared her throat.

Everyone jumped and she smirked, “Daddy did give me the speech a priest would say—Who’re you?"

Everyone was suddenly on guard as an unknown adult entered the gym; he had white hair and was thin though muscular. He was dressed in a pinstriped three-piece suit.

The man smiled warmly, “I am Adrien’s new grandfather, please call me Adam; I came in to visit my grandson when I heard there was a wedding rehearsal occurring—Adrien, your father did tell me to give you this as proof.”

He held up an envelope. Nino grabbed it for Adrien who opened it and quickly read the missive, his eyes widening before he smoothly said, “My apologies, Grandfather—”

Adam chuckled, “Do not worry, grandson. So, what is going on here?”

“Just a pretend wedding,” Ayla spoke up, already filming, “Adrien and Marinette can’t legally get married for another two years but we all know they will. So we decided to throw a pretend wedding.”

“I see,” Adam spoke, nodding gravely, before looking to Chloe, “If I may, Miss? I am ordained and can officiate.”

“Grandfather…”

“All is well, Adrien. Your marriage to Miss Dupain-Cheng has been foreseen…by the family.”

“Grandfather,” Adrien walked up, guiding Marinette with him, “may we speak in private?”

“Of course.”

Adrien led the trio to the nearby boys’ restroom and locked the door behind them as they entered.

“What’re you playing at, Grandfather?” Adrien hissed.

Clockwork rumbled a laugh, “You should be happier, this is your first wedding day, Adrien.”

“Grandfather.”

“If you “pretend” to marry Miss Dupain-Cheng today,” Clockwork explained, “it will be registered as real in the Realms, because you are equals and opposites and Destined.”

“Adrien, who is he?” Marinette lifted her veil.

“One of Papa and Mama’s most trusted advisors, if not their most trusted period,” Adrien introduced, “He…oversees Time. You could call him the God of Time for the Realms…We call him Grandfather out of respect.”

She nodded in understanding, “And you, Monsieur, are saying if we play pretend today it will be real in Adrien’s fa—Papa’s Realms?”

“Yes, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Clockwork bowed slightly, “but you must also know that by marrying Adrien, whenever and wherever you so choose even if not now, you shall become an unofficial princess of the Realms. As befitting His Highness’ status as unofficially a prince.”

Again she nodded, thinking before asking with a sharp blush, “Will we have to ah….consummate the marriage?”

Adrien blushed as well as Clockwork answered, “While that may be required of Mortal Marriages, Ghost Marriages do not require it so much. It is preferable, yes, but not required.”

“So we could get married tonight, by the Realms’ reckoning, but put off consummation until we want,” Marinette nodded yet again, feeling a bit like a bobblehead, as she thought some more, “Our parents…”

“Adrien’s parents are already aware and are watching through a special portal,” Clockwork explained patiently, “they are not…happy, they wished Adrien could remain a teenager where he could, for marriage in the Realms does emancipate one from one’s guardians, but they respect any decision made. Their only request is that you do not consummate the marriage until you are older and considered adults under French law.”

Adrien gave a sigh of relief before asking, seriously, “But, Marinette’s parents?”

“You will tell them that as Ladybug and Chat Noir you had to undergo a ritual. One of the side-effects of this ritual is what can be called a “Soul Marriage”. That your souls are bonded and many magical beings will recognize you as married, in mundane terms…It is a version of the truth they can palate.”

Adrien looked to Marinette, “I’m in. I’d marry you for real, legally, here, in this bathroom.”

Marinette beamed, “Oh, Adrien. I’m game.”

Clockwork coughed and revealed a set of rings, “From their Majesties, with compliments.”

The bands were plan silver, though Marinette’s had a large ruby embedded in it, not unlike her promise ring. Not so large that it couldn’t be hidden beneath her super suit, however.

Someone knocked on the door, Chloe’s voice ringing out, “Hello?”

Bride and groom, for there was no pretending anymore, exited the bathroom and took up their places.

Kitty Section had somehow arrived while they were talking with Clockwork and, led by a smiling Luka, played the traditional wedding march perfectly as Marinette was once again led to Adrien.

Adrien who was beaming and weeping tears of joy and love at the sight of his Lady walking so confidently towards him.

Adam took his position behind the snack table turned podium and led everyone through the ceremony with a practiced air.

There classmates and guests gasped at the sight of the rings and everyone suddenly knew that this pretend wedding was somehow very real even if it wasn’t legal…yet.

Chloe quickly bullied Nino out of his position of Best Man, replacing him.

Once the vows were said, improvised yet heartfelt, and the rings were exchanged, Adam announced the Fenton-Chengs as Adrien and Marinette walked down the makeshift aisle as Kitty Section played.

Nobody who had ever wielded a Miraculous dared mention the ribbons of magic now binding the two together; they were only briefly visible, after all, could have been a trick of the light. Nothing to speak about.

Nobody also mentioned that Adrien’s grandfather disappeared as soon as the dance turned reception was in full swing.

It was Paris; he probably had a plane to catch. He was American after all.

Chloe had shanghaied her father’s baking team to create cupcakes based on a fantasy wedding cake from Marinette’s sketchbook and Adrien’s preferences.

Nino took up his post as DJ and curated a playlist of both modern and classic songs, including the First Dance song he himself picked out for his friends.

And the party went on.

The next day at school Alya nearly screamed in joy when she noticed Marinette and Adrien both wearing their wedding rings on chains around their necks.

The two considered themselves married.

And that was that; at least until summer when they had a Realms’ Wedding fit for a prince and his princess.

And when they turned eighteen, finally, and were wed legally under French Law.

Back in his Lair, Clockwork would smile at each wedding; time was going as well as possible for that universe.

Wished Away 9

Tylers meet Phantoms:

“Christ, Mum,” Rose said as she took in how Jackie, Pete, and Tony were dressed, “we’re just meetin’—”

“Royalty!” Jackie squeaked. They were all done up like they were meeting the Queen at Buckingham Palace itself!

“Honestly, Mum, they don’t care,” Rose rolled her eyes, grabbing her mother’s wrist and tugging her through the console room and to the wardrobe room, “I told ya ta dress casually. Let’s just hope the Ol’ Girl has clothes fer ya.”

It took about an hour to get everyone redressed, in things much more casual but still nice, before Rose led them back to the console room.

Jackie was clearly anxious, “Are ya—”

“’m sure, Mum. Danny an’ Sam don’t do formal unless they have ta. Unless you’re an annoying subject or someone threatenin’ war, ya don’t even have ta call ‘em by their titles. They’re just Danny an’ Sam ta family.”

“Lookie what I found,” Jenny bounded from the innards of the TARDIS, holding a tiny bike helmet.

She went to her toddler uncle and put it on him, making sure it fit right, “Landings in the Realms are worse than normal ones. The TARDIS does Her best but the Realms give her…nausea? A headache? She just doesn’t do good.”

“Oh, goody,” Jackie said lowly, hugging a strut for dear life already.

“Let me protect Anthony,” Bad Wolf came out, holding out her arms; without hesitation, Pete handed his son over.

Bad Wolf settled Tony in her arms, against her chest and shoulder, and then spread her feet and crouched slightly, clearly bracing for impact; she stayed steady even as the TARDIS began Her flight.

Everyone else was thrown about the console room, the Doctor and Jenny barely holding on to work the console, but Bad Wolf and Tony did not move an inch.

The landing was rough, just as Jenny said it would be, throwing even the Time Lords to the grated floor before the TARDIS stopped quaking.

Jenny recovered first and stood up, rubbing her shoulder, to peek out the doors, “We’re in the Palace. Uncle Danny and Aunt Sam are waiting…”

Slowly, everyone picked themselves up and Rose reemerged, straightening with some popping from her knees.

Jenny led the procession out, racing to hug a man and a woman, “Uncle Danny, Aunt Sam! How’re you?”

Danny and Sam chuckled and hugged her as one, “Good, doing good. You?”

“Perfect!”

She let go of them to drag Jackie, who was hesitant, forward, “This’s my Gran, Jackie. Mum’s side, duh. Completely human. He’s my step-granddad, Pete, and Mum’s holding my uncle, Tony.”

“Yer Majesties,” Jackie tried to curtsy even though she was in trousers, “an honor ta—”

“Oh, enough,” Sam chuckled, “didn’t they tell you? We don’t do formalities with family.”

“Family?” Jackie’s eyes were wide, “I know Rose said—but—”

“We count Clockwork as family,” Danny explained, “and he’s claimed the Doctor as family. The Doctor and Jenny. Rose’s basically married in by this point. Common-law, you understand. That makes her family our family. Welcome to the Palace, your home in the Infinite Realms.”

“My god,” Pete muttered, somewhat disbelieving.

“Not a god, not yet anyways,” Danny winked.

“Where’s Dani?” Jenny burst out, “Is she still in school?”

Sam grinned, “With Anakin, in the nursery. We let her stay home today.”

“Oh, Gran! Can I introduce Tony to Anakin? Please!” Jenny nearly begged.

“Anakin’s our youngest,” Danny explained kindly, “around Tony’s age, actually. We also have a nanny looking after them, Nanny Clara. He’d be perfectly safe.”

“Well…” Jackie looked to her husband, who nodded, “if you’re sure.”

Jenny cheered and took Tony from Rose, dashing off with him deeper into the Palace.

“Jenny knows the Palace as well as anyone,” Sam assured, “and if she gets lost, she can flag down a servant for help. She’s heading directly for the nursery. It’s the most defensible part of the Palace.

Danny stood up, helping Sam, “C’mon, we can talk over food; stay close, Tylers. Doctor?”

“Rose and I can bring up the rear,” the Doctor agreed, taking Rose’s hand as they began walking.

The Palace was a gothic masterpiece, in a very literal sense, though even Sam had wearied of all the gloom and had sought artists and artwork to fill the halls, soft, plush carpets and tapestries to keep the warmth, glassworks to fill the once barred windows. Statues and busts dotted the hallways, some classical, some avant garde

Masters had given their masterpieces, their magnum opuses; they were paid handsomely of course, in either coin or material.

Oils, watercolors, acrylics, textiles, glass, all created for Her Majesty the Ghost Queen. For His Majesty the Ghost King.

It wasn’t yet a riot of color, nor would it ever be, but it was more alive.

Jackie gasped and the group stopped, turning as one to see what had captured her attention.

“When they said the family was huge…”

Ah, it was the most recent family portrait; all the children were gathered around Danny and Sam, all in formal wear.

“We…sometimes people sell the souls of children to me,” Danny started, causing her and Pete to whip around to him in horror, “I know, it’s horrible, isn’t it? But anyways, we adopt the kids. Only Dani—Danielle—isn’t adopted.”

He pointed out each child and gave their backstory.

“Good Lord, you were young!” Pete said at Damian’s story.

“Old enough to be king,” Danny shrugged helplessly, “it…it wasn’t easy, we had help, so much help, and we made mistakes…”

“All parents do,” Jackie told him softly.

“So we’ve been told,” Sam smiled just as softly, “and we’ve learned and made new ones with each kid.”

Danny coughed and continued to point out kids and tell stories, until all had been covered and then they moved on.

As they neared the dining room, Danielle and Jenny joined them with each holding a toddler.

“Oh my,” Jackie said, taking in the Anakin Skywalker; she knew who he grew up to be, or would have if he had not been adopted.

“We’re hungry, Dad,” Danielle said.

Danny waved them into the dining room where the smaller table was already set for a meal; there were two chairs with booster seats and Jenny and Danielle put Tony and Anakin in them before sitting beside them and helping them get food.

The group chatted over the meal, Jackie and Pete slowly relaxing at how easy going the Royals were, and generally had good cheer.

After the meal was done, Jenny asked, “Do we put their photo up on the family wall now? I know you’ve got me, Dad, and Mum…”

Danny chuckled, “We can, if they’re okay with it.”

“Family wall?” Pete questioned.

“We keep walls of pictures of the extended family,” Sam explained easily, “you know, like Rose, the Doctor, and Jenny. Harry’s and Neville’s parents. Damian’s paternal birth-family. The Royal Portrait is just the immediate royal family. The walls are for everyone and everything else.”

Danny and Sam led the group out of the dining room and down another hallway; the walls were plastered with photographs. Some were professional, most were candid and amateur.

A common camera sat on a small round table; a high-end camera but nothing too expensive or professional.

Danny picked it up, saying, “If Jackie, Pete, and Tony don’t mind—”

Jackie decided it would be a family photograph and dragged the Doctor in; Rose and Jenny came without complaint.

Danny took a set of pictures.

After that was done, it was decided it was time for the Tylers to leave, taking pity on the still disgruntled TARDIS.

They were, however, invited to the next family gathering.

[fluentmoviequoter]

All That Matters

Requested by anonymous: "Alright, could you write Luca with a younger reader (25-28 yes old). She's super sweet and bubbly, basically just a sunny disposition. People think she's too young for him/he's too old for her, like especially her family. She grew up really seeking their approval, like she has a problem trying to make other people happy even if it leaves her exhausted, sad, or uncomfortable. but she won't compromise her happiness this time for anyone because she really loves Luca. Sorry if that's too much. I really love your writing" AND a request that I lost about Luca meeting his shy/innocent girlfriend on the beach and keeping their relationship private

Pairing: Dominique Luca x younger!fem!reader

Summary: You're sweet, bubbly, and perfect for Luca. When people begin judging your relationship because of the age gap, you decide that you, Luca, and the love between you are all that matters.

Warnings: age gap, fluff, brief angst, parental judgement

Word Count: 2.0k+ words

A/N: Thanks for the kind words, anon! And sorry to the other anon whose ask I lost; I hope I remembered the gist of it. :)

“What’d you think of that one, sweetheart?”

Luca looks up from his surfboard when he hears the question. It sounds wrong like the man in the wetsuit is calling someone sweetheart when he shouldn’t be. The word is dripping in condescension, and Luca is prepared to stand up for the woman being addressed with the sarcastic and likely uninvited pet name.

“It was really good!” you reply, smiling brightly.

Immediately, Luca regrets turning his attention away from his board. He’s quickly convinced he can never get it back from you. You playfully shove the surfer, who grips his arm like he’s in incredible pain. At least she’s okay, Luca thinks as he tries to focus on prepping his board for his morning surf.

“Peters was looking at you again,” the man with you complains.

“Why?” you inquire, using your heel to trace a shape in the sand.

With a sigh, he replies, “Don’t worry about it. I’m going back in. Pay attention long enough to give me some honest feedback?”

“You’re always good,” you assure him. “But I’ll try.”

Luca stands and lifts his board while your friend runs into the surf again.

“Good morning,” you greet as he nears you.

“Morning,” Luca replies with a smile. “How’s the surf look today?”

Nodding, you look at the water and say, “Good. Offshore breeze should help, water’s glassier than it was yesterday, and the wave shapes have been nice.”

“You know your stuff.”

You look down at the sand, and Luca decides then he’d love to get to know you.

“I’m Luca,” he says, dropping the end of his board to shake your hand.

“Luca!” your friend calls as he returns from a wave you didn’t witness. “I thought I recognized that board.”

“And I should have recognized the hair,” Luca replies, fist-bumping him.

“How do you two know each other?” you inquire.

They both look pointedly at their boards, and you roll your eyes.

“Better question is, how do you two know each other?” Luca questions.

“He’s my neighbor,” you explain. “He’s trying to ‘get me out of my shell.’ His words.”

“It’s working!” he defends. “You wouldn’t have talked to a stranger on the beach six months ago.”

You lower your voice to confide in Luca, “That’s true.”

“Excuse me,” your neighbor asks, marching toward a surfer you recognize: Peters.

“He doesn’t like Peters looking at you?” Luca deduces.

“I don’t know why,” you say with a shrug. “Good luck surfing. Or have fun, whatever the right phrase is for non-competitive wave riding.”

“Either works. And between you and me, it’s because you deserve better than Peters.”

You look down again, but you’re smiling, so Luca decides to use this opportunity like a perfect wave and ride it for as long as possible.

“Would you like to get dinner with me?” he proposes.

Looking up, you answer, “I’d love to.”

That evening, Luca glances at his watch while Street and Tan argue about which restaurant makes better cheesecake. He needs to leave now, or he’ll be late to your first date, and while you seem incredibly sweet and would probably understand, that isn’t how he wants to start a relationship with you.

“Guys, I’m gonna head out!” he calls, pointing over his shoulder.

“What? Why?” Street inquires. “We’re going to your favorite place!”

“You don’t know what my favorite place is, Streeter. And the waves are going to be perfect in the morning, so I need some rest. Have fun!”

After he leaves his team, he meets you at an oceanside restaurant and takes your hand as you’re led to a table on the deck. The more you talk and open up, Luca realizes that you’re not only sweet, you’re downright bubbly, and possess a sunny disposition about everything in the world. Yes, you’re innocent and can be shy, but you open up to Luca. He knows he was right this morning, and he needs to know everything about you.

Four Months Later

“Pretty dress,” your mother compliments at family dinner.

“Thank you! Luca got it for me,” you reply, holding the skirt as you look down at the dainty details lining the top.

“You’re still with him?” your father inquires. “Sweetheart, I’m glad you’re happy but you are too young for him.”

Your mom lays her hand on his arm as she amends, “He’s quite a bit older than you.”

You swallow harshly, fighting the urge to do something that will regain their approval. You’ve been trying to make them happy your entire life, and when they continuously bring up the age difference between you and Luca, it makes you sad.

“Why don’t you go out with that neighbor of yours?” your mother suggests. “The surfer with the pretty hair?”

Because then you’d complain there’s too much sand in my house. Rather than voicing that opinion, you remind her, “He has a fiancé. And she’s one of my best friends.”

“Maybe I can set you up with a son of one of my buddies,” your father says.

You nod, picking at the appetizer on your plate with no trace of your usual smile. Being aware that you’re a people pleaser doesn’t make dealing with the emotions of disappointing someone any easier.

“I’m happy,” you say softly.

“For now,” your father grumbles.

You decide to change the topic, and as the night goes on, the heaviness in your stomach seems to weigh you down. When you return home, you’re inexplicably exhausted, sad with yourself and your parents, and uncomfortable. You never feel like this with Luca because he accepts you for who you are and doesn’t take advantage of your tendencies to do all you can and more for others. It’s one of the many reasons you love him.

As you lie awake in bed, you make a decision. Your happiness is the only thing that matters. And starting now, you will not compromise your happiness or relationship for anyone. You’ll do it for yourself and for Luca.

“How’d your dinner go?” Luca inquires, brushing a stray hair from your face.

You shrug, and Luca brushes his lips against your temple.

“I don’t want to disappoint them,” you admit. “But I don’t want to put us at risk to do that.”

“Do you care about the age gap?”

“Of course not!”

“Then that’s what’s important. Everything is up to you. I know it’s not easy to hear and even harder to put it into practice but doing what makes you happy is the only way you’ll get what you deserve. You’re sacrificing yourself for others.”

“I just don’t understand why they can’t accept that you make me happy. They don’t care that I love you.”

Luca’s brows raise as he smiles. You realize what you admitted but can’t ask if he’s okay with you saying it before Luca pulls you into a hug that makes all your worries and discomfort disappear.

Luca’s phone buzzes during a sparring match. When he remembers that you are one of the few people who can reach him while he’s at the station, he calls timeout. Ignoring Street’s protests, he lifts his phone and reads the message.

“I gotta go,” he tells his team. “Family thing.”

“You’ve been having a lot of family things,” Deacon says.

“Just tell us what’s going on, man,” Hondo invites. “You know we’re here for you. Don’t have to keep sneakin’ off if you let us help.”

“I…” Luca hesitates, then says, “I don’t know if you can help me get my future in-laws to like me.”

Deacon and Hondo’s jaws drop, and Street snatches Luca’s truck keys out of his hand.

“We’re meeting her right now,” he declares. “Wasn’t a question either, and I can beat you if you try to take these keys back.”

“She’s not feeling great right now,” Luca argues. “Next time.”

Tan pulls Luca’s phone from his hand and taps the message. Luca tries to get his phone back, but Hondo reaches it first. Lifting it to his ear, he raises his hand toward Luca and says, “It’s ringing.”

Luca stops. He’s almost sure you will hang up when you realize it isn’t him calling, but Hondo has a way of disarming people, and you already see the best in everyone you meet.

“Hi,” Hondo greets. “My name is Daniel Harrelson; I work with Luca.” He smiles and holds Luca’s gaze as he says, “Yes, I am Hondo. And Luca is fine. My team and I just wanted to ask if we can finally meet you. Luca hasn’t said a word about you.”

Hondo ends the call a moment later and returns Luca’s phone without a word.

“She said she’ll have coffee and desserts ready when we get there.”

“Watch him,” Deacon warns Luca.

“Alright,” Luca says. He chuckles and shakes his head before inviting his team to follow him to your house. He doesn’t mention that you’re young, sunny, or nearly perfect, but he’s sure they’ll realize quickly. If they disapprove of the relationship, Luca may have to make the hardest decision of his life.

Hondo, Deacon, Street, and Tan watch as you greet Luca at the door. They realize imediately that Luca is in love. Not like the love he’s claimed to be in before, but really, truly, madly in love. What makes Deacon smile is that you are, too. Three of the four men on your walkway don’t notice that you’re younger than Luca, at least not right away. The fourth notices, but only to make well-meaning jokes and take jabs at Luca while they bicker.

“Nice to meet you all,” you say after introductions. “Luca’s told me a lot about you.”

Luca cuts in before Hondo can remind you that they haven’t heard about the relationship.

“We kept the relationship private,” he explains.

“He means he decided to keep me from any possible judgement,” you explain. “I’m getting enough grief from my parents about the age gap without inviting more people to comment on it.”

“I mean I wasn’t going to say anything,” Street begins.

“Then don’t,” Deacon interjects. “He’s kidding.”

Tilting your head, you look at Street, then say, “You’re funny.”

“If you ever get tired of Luca or he throws his back out surfing or something, I’m right here.”

“And you said I’d have to worry about Hondo,” Luca murmurs to Deacon.

“What is that wonderful smell?” Hondo inquires.

“Maybe it’s both of them,” Deacon replies.

“I made some scones, chocolate chip muffins, and brownie bites this morning,” you remember excitedly. “There’s also fresh-brewed coffee. Follow me.”

Luca watches as his team gets to know you. They support the relationship - which they ensure they voice to Luca upon returning to the station - and clearly appreciate your sweet and bright personality. It’s a welcome light in their sometimes dim day-to-day lives.

“So, what are you doing about the parents?” Street inquires as he reaches for another brownie. “If you decide to cut them loose, Deacon and Annie would probably adopt you.”

You look to Deacon, smiling as you expect a deadpanned response that will make you laugh.

“Annie’s going to love you,” he begins. “So, I actually don’t have a response to that because it probably would happen.”

“I think you should just introduce Luca to your parents,” Hondo says, breaking a muffin into smaller pieces. “If we can see how happy the two of you are together, anyone can.”

You look to Luca and decide to do just that. It won’t be an overnight change, but if they see that you love him, they’ll grow to accept him. You and Luca are the only people that matter in your relationship, and you’re happy with him and him alone.

“When’s your birthday?” Tan asks. “We’ll add it to the calendar.”

“What calendar?” you ask.

“The family calendar,” Luca tells you. “I wasn’t kidding when I said if they like you you’re stuck with them.”

Smiling, you ask, “What else is on the calendar?”

“Not your parents’ birthdays!” Street exclaims from the living room, looking at your pictures.

[greyeyedmonster-18]

Five Times Sirius Black Fucked James Potter and One Time He Didn't

(a slytherin!sirius au...part 4/5. read parts one, two, and three)

-

“So you met with my Mum last week, and you’re meeting with my Dad today?” Harry asked, as Sirius held the door of his classroom open for him, squinting up at Sirius.

“Yes, Mr. Potter.”

“I have to have two meetings?”

“It seems that way,” Sirius said with a soft smile, “Price that comes when you have parents with very important jobs.”

“I guess, sir,” Harry said, huffing a little, “So does that mean if I get detention, I’ll have to have two meetings too?”

“I hope you’re not planning on getting one any time soon,” Sirius said, leaning against his classroom door to hold it open, and to minimize some of the height difference between himself and a tiny first-year student. 

“I’m not, sir!” Harry replied instantly, green eyes wide, and Sirius laughed, “I’m just saying…”

“You just focus on keeping up the good work in your courses, and we’ll not have to worry about two detention meetings.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I will see you at dinner, Mr. Potter,” Sirius said, giving him a nod.

Harry grinned, and gave Sirius a wave, “Bye, Professor!” He rushed down the hallway, black robes trailing behind him, to catch up with his classmates.

Teaching was not something Sirius expected for his life or something he even considered wanting for himself. The better part of the last decade Sirius had spent being a bit reclusive, content to conduct business out of his quiet home on the shore; content to boost the wizarding economy and invest where he could; participate in politics when necessary, but otherwise kept to himself, spending free time he had comfortably alone. 

Until an open position at Hogwarts was brought up during a meeting with the Board of Governors. And then Sirius had received post from one of his favorite professors from his time at Hogwarts. Sirius’s quiet world became much bigger overnight, leaving his beachside home for a classroom and quarters near the Astronomy tower, and becoming Head of Slytherin House. 

From no children of his own, to having a house of over twenty. 

One of which was the spitting image of James Potter.

The universe was full of surprises.

Sirius glanced at the watch on his wrist, as he walked back into the classroom, door shutting behind him. He took off his outer robe, leaving it on the back of his desk chair, and Sirius made himself busy cleaning up his classroom and organizing papers, chest already pounding in anticipation of his next meeting.

He knew what was coming. He knew that after another five years of James Potter being nothing but a distant memory--a distant and very, very fond memory-- in his life that he would come barrelling in once more. Throw the quiet off-kilter the way he always did, and Sirius loved it. The only type of excitement he craved was the one elicited from James. The only type of mess and disorder he could tolerate was when James entered and exited and everything in between. It was odd. To anticipate the chaos. To crave it.

Sirius shook his head and took a breath, steeling himself as he rifled through his first-year assignments until he found Harry’s, placing it on top. 

This too, was unexpected. Watching as James Potter’s son was effortlessly sorted into Slytherin. A shock to the professors, but Harry was taking it in stride, and taking on Hogwarts with confidence and Sirius knew exactly who he inherited it from. 

Sirius walked to the front of his classroom once more, straightening out a few odd chairs as he did so, with the intention of opening the door and waiting for James to arrive. As his hand made to grab the knob, it twisted and pushed in, swinging so quickly that Sirius had to step back to avoid getting hit in the face. 

His favorite hurricane. 

Older. Still with the wild, messy, curly hair. James had his Healers robes thrown over a pair of denim jeans and a handsome violet sweater. Hazel eyes still bright behind smart square glasses. 

“Nice to see you, Potter,” Sirius said, after narrowly dodging the door, shutting it behind James as soon as he was fully in the classroom.

“This has to be a joke.”

“Afraid not.”

“Out of all the wizards in the world who could come teach at Hogwarts, they chose you? And conveniently, you are my son’s Head of House? You? I didn’t know you liked children.”

“Me neither,” Sirius admitted, and shrugged, “Turns out I like them better than most adults.” Most.

“Thinking of new ways to torment me, Black?”

“Just an added bonus,” Sirius said with a small smirk. It was just so easy. Old habits die hard.

“You’re insufferable.”

“And this parent-teacher conference is off to a phenomenal start. Best one I’ve had thus far,” Sirius said, flicking his wrist to pull out a chair from behind a desk and put it in front of his desk. James sighed, mumbling something that sounded like who the fuck says thus as he passed Sirius to walk further into the classroom.

“So what’s the angle, Black?”

“Broadening the minds and educating our youth,” Sirius replied shortly.

“Just like your St. Mungo’s venture was a worthwhile investment.”

“Is this your way of telling me the children’s ward hasn’t been useful and you would like me to pull the funding Healer Potter?” 

“Well, don’t do that, the ward has been incredibly helpful. I informed my colleagues I would be meeting with you and I was actually supposed to be extending my gratitude to you at this very moment,” James said quickly, “so thank you, on behalf of all the Healers and so on and so forth--”

“Was that so hard?”

“Yes.” James sat in the chair, leaning back to look up at Sirius. 

Sirius rested his hip on the corner of his desk, crossing his arms over his chest, “Believe it or not, Potter, not everything is a ploy against you. I do not wake up every morning and wonder and work to figure out just how to irritate you. The sun does not rise and fall around James Potter.”

“How could it with your big head in the way?" James retorted and paused, "I’ve never heard of parent-teacher conferences.”

“Professor Slughorn held them for all of Slytherin,” Sirius explained, “A way of…keeping track of his students during challenging times, I suppose. My parents never bothered to show up, but I do remember as a student feeling a certain sense of safety with my Head of House.”

“You were the last person who needed to be kept safe back then.”

“Maybe so,” Sirius hummed, “It’s a practice I wanted to continue, and fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, from your perspective, your son ended up in my care.”

“I’ve already told him to let me know if his robes turn pink after the wash…”

“I haven’t any idea what you’re talking about and if I did, I am far too old for that foolishness, Potter.” James shrugged, hazel eyes slowly scanning down Sirius. Sirius cleared his throat, shifting against the desk and uncrossing his arms, “I met your wife last week, she--”

“Ex-wife. We’re separated.”

Two meetings made much more sense now. The separate correspondence did too.

“Well," Sirius cleared his throat again.

“We decided to separate a few years ago. It’s fine, we’re still friends,” James responded, as if reading off a script. “No one did anything wrong, we just--”

“Well….”

“Okay…so, I did, but…to her knowledge, we just…I don’t think anyone should marry during wartime. Let alone two teenagers. It’s mad what the legal system allows.”

No one had to know. 

The room seemed to shift at the confession. James’s convenient excuse to stop to keep the secret to leave was no longer there. The room blurred, bookshelves and classroom desks and astrological schematics spinning around him and all Sirius could focus on was James. How quickly they both returned to each other when given the opportunity. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’m not,” James said. James’s  hands went to the tops of Sirius’s knees, broad palms slowly moving up Sirius’s thighs, stroking the inseam of his trousers. James stood up and the pressure forced Sirius backward ontop of the desk, knocking over a cup of quills and muggle ink pens. Sirius turned over his shoulder, glancing back at the quills scattered over papers. “Leave it,” said James lowly, in Sirius’s ear. 

Sirius shuddered, turning his head back to face James, ignoring the voice in his head that said to clean up the mess in favor of James’s. 

“These are new,” James said, running his tongue along the shell of Sirius’s ear before flicking the tiny gold hoop in the lobe.

“A few years ago.”

“Like I said, new.” 

Sirius’s resolve broke, turning his head to capture James’s mouth in his own, one hand under James’s jaw to hold him there. The kiss was warm, and inviting. Open-mouthed and soft, and Sirius could feel the slightest bit of stubble on James’s jawline. He felt James’s hands move around his waist, moving closer to spread Sirius thighs further apart on the desk. 

And maybe it was the sound of the graded papers crinkling beneath him that broke Sirius out of the James Potter trance. Sirius willed himself not to buckle under James’s touch. Because, Merlin, he wanted to, thinking back to their last encounter at St. Mungo’s that left Sirius breathless and practically begging for more; thinking about the way James zipped up Sirius’s trousers, cum-soaked briefs underneath and made a show of finishing the tour. Every step around the hospital, cold, wet, running along his thighs, making him hard all over again. It was maddening. Exhilarating. James had picked up some tricks between nineteen and twenty-five, and now, apparently, thirty. He wanted to feel callused palms on bare skin, and wanted James to run his tongue along Sirius’s tattoos--more new things that James had yet to discover. He wanted to see where James would take him. He wanted.

But instead, Sirius put his hands on James’s chest and shoved. Not hard, but definitely strong enough to get the message across.

Not this time.

They separated, James taking a step backward to put more distance between them and Sirius put his feet on the floor to stand up. Sirius could see the tent in James’s jeans beginning to form and Sirius swiftly ran a hand over his hair, smoothing out any curls that may have sprung out of place during the brief moment of contact with James, walking to the opposite side of the desk.

“I’m sorry, I thought--”

“Well, that isn’t--”

“Was this--”

“This wasn’t some ruse to get you here--”

“I didn’t think it was--”

“This is a parent-teacher conference, one that I’ve had with all the students parents in my house, and that is all. It’s also my place of work, we are in my classroom and I cannot--”

“Place of work?” James exclaimed incredulously, “We shagged in the stairwell in a bloody hospital, and now you’re concerned about a place of work?”

“That was your place of work, and you seemed quite content with it,” Sirius corrected.

“You seemed quite content with it at the time too, and if memory serves, you were the one your knees--”

“Keep your voice down, Potter,” Sirius admonished through a harsh whisper, and James jaw jutted out pointedly.

“Why? Did I say something wrong?”

Sirius rolled his eyes, trying not to rise to the bait like he usually did, exhaling through his nose shortly, “You might have been okay with…in your workplace, but I am not. A student, another professor, could come in at…any moment, and while I admit…” Sirius paused, “That is…alluring in its own right…that is not what we’re doing today.” Sirius pulled on the cuffs of his shirt, straightening up further to drive the point home. 

James opened his mouth, and then closed it again, “...Alright. Fair enough.” James acquieced, taking a seat in the open chair in front of Sirius’s desk, hands up in surrender. Sirius took a breath, watching as James picked up the picture frame that had been knocked over, looking at it, before placing it back down. Nosy. But if nothing else, this man could recover from the whiplash. Sirius sat down in his desk chair, clasping his hands ontop of it. Grey eyes meeting hazel.

Sirius had undressed and been undressed in front of James countless times.

Sirius had been confined to broom closets, and empty classrooms, and locker rooms, and stairwells with James.

They had been caught in this odd, initimite, mutual relationship with one another for years, but it had always ended the same-- one of them left, and they didn’t speak about it. No one had to know.

Until now and Sirius could not believe he was the one bringing it up. Finally.

“I’ll be…direct, Potter.”

“Sure.”

“We have a bit of a history,” and James snorted out a laugh, “And…we’re both here at Hogwarts again which might stir some of that up, and I understand this may be…difficult. At first. But I do take my responsibility as Head of House and professor very seriously, and I also believe forming relationships with my students parents and working with them, is only going to better the student. So I am hoping, we might be able to set aside that history and any other…urges--”

“Merlin, Black, you sound like my father giving me the sex talk…”

“I feel a bit like it, to be honest,” Sirius admitted with a soft laugh. 

“I can be professional,” James told him.

“I didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t,” Sirius said.

“Came out wrong.”

“Aw, did I hurt your feelings, Potter?”

“Always,” James retorted and Sirius couldn’t help but laugh, this time louder, shaking his head, “What?”

“There are first years who are less obstreperous than you, I think.”

“And I don’t think there's a politician alive less arrogant than you.”

“There better not be,” Sirius replied, and James cracked a smile this time, “I’m sorry. It wasn’t meant to be an insult to your professionalism. And…shagging in the stairwell, as you put it, might have been an oversight on my part as well. I don’t regret it, to be clear, but…” Sirius trailed off. “I’ve made…more level-headed decisions in my life, and I had quite the time explaining to Gringotts why exactly such a large expenditure would be going towards St. Mungo’s…”

“They didn’t believe you were feeling generous?” James asked

“Not exactly, and detailing out a spectacular shag didn’t seem appropriate.”

“Thank you.” James said, sitting up a little straighter in his chair, “I’m sorry for…I thought I had a read on the situation--”

“You did.”

“It’s kind of how it’s gone, you know…”

“We’ll likely be seeing a lot of each other over the next several years, Potter, and I do not want our history to impact your son. So…can we agree to--”

“Control our urges?”

Sirius rolled his eyes, “Yes.”

“I can agree to that.”

Easier said than done. 

Sirius cleared his throat for the third time, picking up a paper on his desk he had set aside, and handing it across the desk to James, “Then, I’ll start by saying, you have a great kid.”

James’s eyebrows furrowed as he took the paper, and then unclenched, a smile slowly spreading across his face. Sirius wanted to bang his head against the wall for the line in the sand he had just drawn, James’s wide grin sending him into another dimension. 

He wanted. In another world, he reached across the desk again and kissed James. In another world, all of Sirius’s quill holders and ink pots and papers were thrown aside and cast onto the floor so he could spread James Potter open on top of his desk. And Sirius would let James do the same, imagining how it would feel to have the cool, oak wood beneath him and James’s warm body on top.

But instead, Sirius prepared himself to do something he and James had never really managed to do in the past 20 years. 

Have a conversation. 

[fortytworedvines]

How about 24 for the drabble prompts?

Did I do this instead of work? Nooooooooo.... Did this get away from me? yes...

Drabble list - send me a number!

24 - "You're not supposed to be up and about” 

Audrey knew she needed to be getting up. There was breakfast to sort for a hungry household.

She just couldn't seem to move. Her arms and legs were heavy. Her head was fuzzy. The slightest movement made her dizzy. She made one more futile attempt to get up, then gave in. Closed her eyes. Let herself slip back into sleep.

Siegfried wandered into the kitchen. A frazzled Helen was at the stove, trying not to burn porridge. James and Tristan were making toast and tea.

"Where's Mrs Hall?" he asked.

"Haven't seen her," Helen said. "Don't you know?"

Siegfried frowned. She was always here. Always. Even in the depths of her despair over Edward, she had been up in the morning and making breakfast.

He turned on his heel and made for the stairs.

A rap at the door brought her out of a weird, twisting maze of a dream. "Mrs Hall? Mrs Hall, are you in there?"

She couldn't quite form the words to reply. A weird sort of groaning grunt came out instead.

There was a pause. Then his voice again, worried. "Mrs Hall, I'm going to come in."

She was dimly aware of the door opening. She forced her eyes open to see him crouching beside her. A careful hand touched her forehead. It was blissfully cool.

"You're burning up," he said, worried.

"I – don't feel good," she managed.

"I can see that." He stroked her hair. "I'm going to call the doctor."

Seeing her lying there, so still, so passive, scared him horribly. It was clear that she could barely keep her eyes open and her temperature was soaring.

"I'll be back in a minute," he promised.

He left her door open a crack, just in case she called out, then hurried downstairs. He called the doctor first, extracted a promise to come out as soon as he could, then headed for the kitchen.

The family was sat around the table and little Jimmy had porridge all over his face.

"Mrs Hall is ill," he said abruptly. "I've called the doctor. I'll take her up a cup of tea and sit with her until he arrives. James, can you handle everything?"

"I'll help," Tristan put in. "And send Mrs H our love."

James nodded. "We'll manage, Siegfried."

He poured a cup of tea, buttered a slice of toast and put it all on a tray to carry upstairs. He didn't think she'd manage food, but just in case.

He slipped back into her room and closed the door.

She was lying still, sweat beading on her forehead, eyes closed.

"Mrs Hall?" he said quietly. There was no response. "Audrey?"

A murmur.

He crouched next to her and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I've brought you some tea. Can you sit up?"

Audrey blinked. He looked so worried. "Need – help," she said, through dry lips.

He slipped his arm around her and helped her upright, propping her pillows behind her. Then he let go to get her tea and she felt like she was going to fall over.

"Mr Farnon," she whispered. Immediately he was next to her again, his arm around her.

"I've got you. Here, have some tea."

Her arms felt like useless dead weight, but he lifted the cup to her lips, tipped it carefully so she could sip.

She managed two sips then lay back against his arms, exhausted with the effort of being upright.

"Do you want to lie down again?" he asked.

"Please," she murmured.

Carefully he lowered her, tucked her sheets back around her.

His hand pressed against her forehead again. "'s nice."

A smile flickered over his worried face and his hand remained in place. "Hush now. Go back to sleep. The doctor is on his way."

Her eyes fluttered closed. "Thank you."

He left his hand on her forehead as her eyes closed, as she slept. He hated seeing her like this, his indomitable housekeeper, completely floored.

Crouching next to the bed became uncomfortable. Tentatively, he sat on the bed next to her.

There was a knock at the door and a head poked round.

"Siegfried, I've brought you some breakfast," Helen said. She put a cup of tea and a plate of fresh toast next to him and stared at Mrs Hall worriedly. "How is she?"

He swallowed. "She's not well, Helen. Not well at all. Any sign of the doctor yet?"

She shook her head. "I'll send him straight up when he appears. Are you staying here?"

He gave an abrupt nod of his head and she smiled. "She's in good hands then." With another smile she left.

Siegfried looked down at the sleeping woman beside him. He stroked his thumb across her forehead, easing the little frown lines that were there. "Audrey," he murmured.

The doctor arrived within the hour, but time had slowed to a crawl for Siegfried. The head under in his hand was still burning hot. She hadn't woken again, but the occasional whimper suggested that her dreams were not pleasant.

When the doctor arrived, he took her temperature and listened to her heart. Siegfried hovered anxiously.

Finally, the doctor straightened. "Flu," he proclaimed. "Encourage her to drink when she wakes, take food if she can. She should stay in bed for a week, at least."

"Flu?" Siegfried sagged. After Evelyn... he hadn't realised quite how scared he'd been.

"She needs looking after, but she should recover. She's strong and healthy."

"Thank you," Siegfried said. He held out his hand and the doctor shook it, surprised.

"Take good care of her. Call me if she gets worse." The door closed behind him.

Groggily, Audrey emerged from sleep. There was somebody sitting next to her, a cool hand still on her head. "Mr Farnon?" she croaked.

"There you are," he said, and his tone was fond. "The doctor has been and gone. He says you have the flu."

She sighed.

"Do you think you can manage a bit more to drink?" he coaxed.

She nodded and regretted it as her head swam. A strong arm around her shoulders again and he helped her upright. This time, she wasn’t propped against her pillows bug against his chest. “There, I have you.” She felt safe, cradled against him as she was. Like he wouldn’t let her fall. “Tea. It’s cold, I’m afraid, but maybe that will help with your temperature.” He held the cup against her lips and she managed a few sips. “Good girl,” he said.

She leant back into him, let her head tuck under his. Even with the haze in her head, she thought she felt him brush a kiss to her forehead.

Sitting on his housekeeper’s bed and holding her protectively as she leant into him, despite how ill she was, Siegfried felt at peace.

He’d held himself at a distance from her for so long but she was ill, and she needed him. He wrapped his arm around her tighter. “How are you feeling?” he murmured.

She nestled into him. “Better,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

He brushed a hand over her forehead. Still burning up.

“Can I get you anything?”

His only answer was a sigh. He peered down at her. She’d gone back to sleep.

Helen appeared again a little later. If she was surprised to find Mrs Hall asleep in his arms, she said nothing. “Can I bring you anything?” she asked.

“Maybe a book? How are the boys getting on?”

“Everything’s under control. How’s Aud?”

“No better. But no worse.”

For Audrey, time was meaningless. Occasionally she woke, and Mr Farnon helped her to take sips of tea. Then she drifted off again. At some point, he’d laid her back down in bed, but he stayed beside her. Sometimes as she drifted on the edge of sleep, she could hear his voice reading to her quietly.

She felt protected.

She felt loved.

For Siegfried, the day was long. He looked after Mrs Hall as best he could, rubbed her back and murmured soothingly when she tossed in a fevered nightmare. Persuaded her to take sips of tea when she awoke. Read the book that Helen had delivered, hoping that she might find some comfort in it.

Helen delivered dinner and he ate it from the bedside table, taking care not to spill food in the bed, unwilling to leave Mrs Hall’s side even to eat.

“I can sit with her a while,” Helen offered when she retrieved his plate.

He shook his head. “I want to stay.”

As the evening wore on, he conceded to her offer. She sat with Mrs Hall while he found the camp bed and set it up in Mrs Hall’s room, washed himself and changed into his pyjamas.

Helen left with a sympathetic pat on his shoulder. “I’m sure she’ll be better in the morning, Siegfried.”

“Mmm,” he muttered, unwilling to hope.

He looked down at Mrs Hall. He’d felt better for a wash – maybe she would too. He fetched a flannel, ran it gently over her face. She didn’t stir. He drew her hands out of the covers and sponged them too. She gave a little murmur. He hoped it wasn’t a sound of protest.

Then he settled down into bed. Despite the fact that he’d been confined to the room for most of the day, he was dog-tired. He slipped into sleep easily.

He woke up some hours later with a start. Mrs Hall was restless, letting out little whimpers of fear. A nightmare. He climbed out of his bed and perched on hers. Rubbed her back.

“It’s just a nightmare, Mrs Hall. It’s all right.” Her forehead was still burning.

Her eyes opened. “Siegfried?” she asked. She didn’t sound awake. A clammy hand found his. “Stay with me,” she whispered.

“Audrey – I can’t,” he said, allowing the use of her given name under the cover of the night.

“Please?” A hopeful sigh.

He couldn’t say no. He picked up her bed covers and wriggled down the bed. She rolled over to make space for him then immediately curled into him.

“Go to sleep, Audrey.” He stroked her damp hair. “I’ve got you.”

Audrey woke in the morning feeling completely disorientated, though less fuzzy than she had been the day before. She opened her eyes and blinked. There was someone next to her.

The someone rolled over and met her gaze. He blinked, and blushed. “Good morning, Mrs Hall,” Mr Farnon said. “How are you feeling?”

Audrey moved tentatively. She ached, but not as badly as she had before. Half a flash of memory appeared in her mind. “I asked you to stay,” she said, her voice still dry and croaky.

He nodded. “Do you mind?” His eyes were worried.

She smiled at him and the worry subsided. “No. And I do feel better.”

“Whole sentences are certainly an improvement,” he said drily.

She nestled into her pillow. “You were worried?”

He held her gaze. “Terribly.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. Placed a hand on her forehead. “You feel cooler today.” There was relief in his voice. “Do you think you could manage some breakfast?”

“Maybe some tea?” she asked hopefully.

“Coming right up.” He swung himself out of bed and stood in his pyjamas, looking down at her.

“Mr Farnon?” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

His voice was soft when he replied. “Anything for you, my dear.”

Siegfried threw on his dressing gown and went downstairs, on a mission for tea. The relief in his heart was overwhelming. She’d spoken coherent sentences. She hadn’t minded him being there, next to her in the bed. She was going to get better.

He waited impatiently for the kettle to boil, brewed the tea to the precise strength that she liked and carried it upstairs.

When he reached her room, she was asleep again. One hand was flung into the space that he’d vacated.

“Audrey,” he whispered to himself, tasting the word, savouring it. The first names they had exchanged last night were precious, even if she had uttered Siegfried only because she was feverish. Maybe that meant he was always Siegfried, in her head.

He sat down on the camp bed and watched her sleep, ready with the tea when she woke up and wanted it.

By the afternoon, Audrey was able to sit up in bed when she was awake. She wasn’t up to leaving it, yet, but some of the aches had gone.

Despite her protestations, Mr Farnon insisted on keeping her company and it touched her, that he was putting her above the practice.

“The boys have it all under control,” he said, waving off her concerns. “I would rather stay with you.”

In between her naps, he read to her. She let the sound of his voice wash over her.

At dinner time, she managed a small bowl of soup. “Maybe I’ll be able to get up tomorrow,” she mused hopefully.

“Absolutely not,” Mr Farnon said firmly. “A week in bed, the doctor said.”

“Oh,” she murmured.

At bedtime, Siegfried hovered uncertainly, not knowing whether he should return to his own room. Perhaps he’d outstayed his welcome.

Mrs Hall looked up at him from where she was burrowed into her bedsheets. “Stay?” she asked quietly.

He smiled at her and climbed into the camp bed.

“I’m hungry,” Audrey said to herself with wonder when she awoke in the morning. She sat up slowly in bed, testing her strength. She glanced at the camp bed – empty – and then at the clock. It was breakfast time. Mr Farnon was probably downstairs.

She swung her legs out of bed, tested the carpet under her bare feet. Could she manage it? Holding onto the edge of the bed and her bedside table, she stood. Her legs felt like jelly. She took half a step. The door felt a very long way.

It opened suddenly and Mr Farnon stood there, a steaming bowl in his hand. "You're not supposed to be up and about,” he said sternly.

“I’m hardly about,” she said. Her legs quivered, and he moved quickly, stowing the bowl on the bedside table and catching her around the waist. “Back to bed, Mrs Hall,” he said gently. “I just wanted to – try,” she said sheepishly. Siegfried helped her back into the bed. It had given him a shock, coming into the room to see her out of bed and still so fragile. He sat her up against her pillows and tucked her sheets around her.

Then he sat next to her, tentatively. “You’ve looked after me for so many years, Audrey,” he said, heart beating quicker as he used her given name. “Won’t you let me look after you, now?”

He found her hand and held it, stroking his thumb gently over hers.

He dared to meet her gaze. She was staring at him. He let the silence sit, waiting. Hoping.

“Siegfried,” she said eventually. She looked at their joined hands. “I liked it when you held me, yesterday,” her voice was barely more than a whisper. “I felt… loved.”

She looked back up at him. There was a lump in his throat. “You are so very, very loved.” He leaned forward, kissed her forehead, cupped her cheek, brushed a stray tear from her cheek. “For now, Audrey, dearest… let me look after you.”

She smiled at him tremulously. “I will.”

“Good,” he murmured. “Now, my dear.” He picked up the bowl that he’d abandoned on the side. “Have some porridge.”

[out-there-tmblr]

Young Zaundads wip (26)

***

For the sake of progress, they don't make the new tunnel any bigger than it needs to be. It's tall enough for Vander to kneel and punch cracks into the next lot of bedrock, but no higher. Vander breaks the rock and moves the pieces behind him; Silco moves the rocks to the larger cavern, clearing the tunnel.

Despite the three charges in Silco's pocket, neither of them are willing to use it. They don't want to risk causing another cave in.

The work is slow and tiring, and Vander's knees feel like they'll be covered in bruises by tomorrow. Silco rolls the bigger rocks out of the way. The smaller ones he lifts up and carries out, bent over in half to fit in their little tunnel.

There's no way for Vander to know if they're digging straight or starting to curve, but he can feel the sweat soaking through his shirt and the ache in his arms as they keep moving forward.

They take a break, both of them lying on the cavern floor just to stretch their backs and rest their legs.

Vander eyes the broken gas mask, the gap down the front where the metal edges bend and twist away from each other. "I almost wish Benzo was here. He'd be able to fix that."

One side of Silco's lip curls up, like he's too tired to sneer properly. They both know Vander isn't great with anything delicate and Silco might have nerves of steel but that's about the limit of his machinery knowledge. There's no way either of them can fix it. "We could try it anyway. It can't hurt our chances."

Vander rolls his head to the side, watching Silco. The strong line of his nose, the soaring curve of his cheekbones, the small chin and narrow jaw. He always thinks it's Silco's eyes that make him pretty, or the thin, delicate line of his lips, but it's everything. It's the knowing arch of his brows and the strands of dark hair falling across his cheek. Everything about him is sharp and fine, and stronger than he looks.

It's not somethingbhe wa looking for, not really, but he can't imagine his life without Silco in it. Maybe Silco should know that, since there's a strong chance they might not make it through the night.

"We're not dead yet," Silco says dismissively, before Vander can even work out the words to say.

Vander feels his own tired grin. "That could have been a nice moment. I could have said something sentimental. Something romantic."

"Your idea of romance starts and ends with: you're pretty, want to fuck?" Silco says tiredly and Vander laughs. He's not wrong.

"Are you complaining?"

"Nothing wrong with the classics." Silco watches him, something serious lurking beneath the wry humour. "You're pretty. Want to fuck?"

It catches Vander's breath for a moment, what Silco really means. The words neither of them are saying, even if they are true. It feels safer to treat it as a joke. "Now?"

"When we get out of this," Silco clarifies. "Five more minutes, then we keep digging."

***

They keep working, hour after hour, and their small tunnel grows longer. The lantern light is growing dimmer but Vander can't afford to worry about what they'll do when it fails. How they'll make any progress when it's just them and the dark.

He looks up at Silco's shuffling footsteps and notices his kerchief is tied across his face again. "Why are you wearing that?"

"Put yours on," Silco says instead of explaining. He hands over the broken gas mask. "I tried it. Doesn't work at all with that hole."

But the only way he'd be able to test it is if… "The Grey?"

"It's started seeping through the collapse." Silco sounds calm and collected, but his hands are clenched in tight fists. "We have some time yet. Keep going."

The spike of adrenaline helps Vander to hit harder, to force the bedrock around them to give way. He stops worrying about breaking the rocks smaller and just tries to break through to something. Something that isn't sheer rock and their inevitable deaths.

Silco doesn't complain about the larger rocks; he just rolls them along the uneven floor, pushing them out. Each time he comes back breathing heavier, until he comes back and sinks to the ground, pulling his makeshift mask off to gulp for air. His eyes are red and watering.

"Swap," Vander says. "I'll take the next lot."

"What could I do," Silco says and his voice is rough as gravel, "with those gauntlets?"

"Then rest," Vander says, grabbing the largest bits of rocks and hunching over to carry them out. He finds their cavern half full of the Grey. It's creeping through the pile of broken rock, grey-green fog spreading across the floor. It stings his eyes, makes his throat feel hot and scratchy, like the start of a bad cold.

Vander clamps a hand over his mouth and heads back to Silco.

Silco is still sitting on the ground. His eyes have stopped watering but they're still bloodshot. "We have to keep going."

"Can we seal the tunnel behind us? Buy some time from the Grey?"

Silco shakes his head and then pauses, thinking. "We could set a charge. Cause a collapse to slow it down."

"Could the whole thing cave in if we do that?"

Silco shrugs. His voice still sounds rough. "Maybe. We don't have any good options here, Vander. It's a risk, whether we do it or not."

He hates that Silco's right. If they do nothing, they have to hope to dig somewhere before the Grey fills this whole tunnel. "So, best case scenario, it doesn't collapse above our heads and it seals the entrance?"

"Best case? There's enough silt above us to seal it tightly, and we dig somewhere before we breathe all of the air in one small, sealed tunnel."

"So, suffocation, suffocation or being crushed to death? What do you think?"

"Set the charges," Silco says grimly. "If we're crushed, it's quick. If we run out of air, we'll fall asleep and never wake. It's better than dying with your lungs burning as you claw at your own throat."

***

[justarithinnngs]

Spaces. (Squid Game x Player!Reader)

Chapter 1 - Dynasty

Warnings: death (character death), terminal illness, mentions of medical trauma, mental health struggles, emotional distress,

It was a perfect night. The kind that felt like it could stretch on forever—easy, light, and full of laughter. (Y/N) sat at the bar, leaning over to listen to her best friend, Jiwoo, as she rambled on about some guy she’d met earlier that evening. The music was loud, and the chatter was lively, but for a moment, everything felt right. (Y/N) could feel the hum of contentment in her chest, the steady beat of happiness she always found when she was with her friends.

“…And then, I swear, he tried to impress me with some lame pick-up line about my shoes,” Jiwoo laughed, her voice barely audible over the beat of the club. “Like I didn’t know exactly what he was doing.”

(Y/N) giggled, playfully nudging Jiwoo’s arm. “Classic. But hey, at least he tried, right? Most guys wouldn’t even bother.”

Across from her, Soojin joined in, raising her glass and grinning mischievously. “Maybe he thought your shoes were worth impressing. But knowing you, you probably just went along with it.”

(Y/N) laughed again, a soft, genuine sound that could be heard above the noise. It was the kind of laugh that made others smile, the kind that came easily to her. She loved moments like this—being surrounded by her closest friends, the ones who knew her better than anyone. The night stretched on, filled with shared jokes, teasing, and stories. In the midst of all this, (Y/N) was happy. She was light, unburdened, free.

But her friends knew something she didn’t always recognize herself.

“You’re too nice for your own good, you know that?” Jiwoo had said earlier in the night, a serious edge in her voice that was rare for her.

(Y/N) had smiled it off, tossing her hair back. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re always the one to look out for everyone,” Jiwoo had continued, a hint of concern creeping into her tone. “You’re always helping people, always trying to fix things. You need to be careful, (Y/N). It’s gonna catch up to you one day.”

(Y/N) had laughed it off, but deep down, she knew they were right. She was the one always trying to make everyone happy. The one who stayed up late to listen to someone’s problems, who would drop everything to help a friend in need. It wasn’t that (Y/N) minded. She couldn’t imagine being any other way. Her kindness was like a light, and it radiated from her in everything she did.

But now, as the night wound down and she stepped out into the crisp air with her friends, a sudden shift of unease began to settle deep in her gut.

“Are you okay to get home?” Soojin asked, her voice tinged with a touch of concern as she linked arms with (Y/N).

“Yeah, I’m good. Just a little tired, that’s all,” (Y/N) smiled, waving off any worry. “I’ll be fine.”

“Call me when you get home,” Jiwoo added, glancing at (Y/N) with a look that made her hesitate. “We love you, you know that?”

(Y/N) grinned at her friends, pulling them in for a tight hug. “I love you guys too. Now, go home and get some rest. I’ll be fine.”

But the moment she stepped inside her apartment, the weight of everything from the night seemed to press down on her, and she knew something was off. Her phone buzzed as soon as she closed the door behind her.

It was her mom.

(Y/N) had spoken to her mom earlier that day. She’d been worried about her dad, who’d been feeling increasingly unwell. His health had been declining for a while, but they hadn’t been able to figure out what was wrong. At first, they thought it was just stress. Then they thought it was something minor, maybe just exhaustion. But as the weeks went on, things weren’t improving, and now, it felt like the weight of it all was suffocating her.

She answered the call, trying to shake off the remnants of the night’s fun, bracing herself for the conversation.

“Hey, Mom. How’s Dad?” (Y/N) asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

There was a long pause on the other end, and then her mom’s voice came through, softer, more fragile than usual. “Sweetheart… We got the results back.”

The words hung in the air, a sharp sting that immediately made her heart race. “Results? What do you mean? What’s going on?”

Her mom took a shaky breath, and in that moment, (Y/N) felt her entire world tilt. “It’s… brain cancer, (Y/N). Your father… it’s brain cancer.”

There it was. The words hit her like a physical blow. Brain cancer. Those two words, so simple, yet so heavy, dropped like an anchor into her chest, pressing the air from her lungs.

She gripped the phone tighter, her fingers trembling. “No… No, that can’t be right. He’s… he’s been feeling sick, but not like that. Not—Mom, there’s got to be a mistake. Please, tell me there’s been a mistake.”

Her mother’s voice cracked. “I wish it were, honey. I wish it were a mistake. But… it’s not. The doctors—they said it’s advanced. We don’t know how much time we have.”

A hollow silence swallowed the room, and for a moment, (Y/N) couldn’t speak. Her breath came in shallow gasps, and all she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat, thundering in her ears.

The world outside her apartment, the noise of the city, the memories of the night—everything blurred, faded into a hazy mist. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed in her chest, each beat slower, more painful than the last. Her mind couldn’t grasp what her mom had just said. Brain cancer? Her dad, the man who had taught her to ride a bike, the one who made her laugh so hard she’d cry, the one who held her when she was hurt… he was sick. So sick.

“No…” she whispered, her voice barely audible, cracking under the weight of it all. She sank down onto the couch, the phone still pressed to her ear, the words spinning in her mind like a broken record. No, no, no.

Her mom’s voice came through again, gentle, but full of sorrow. “I know, baby. I know it’s a lot. But we need to be strong now. We need to be there for him.”

(Y/N) shut her eyes, squeezing them tight, as if she could block out the reality of it all. But it didn’t help. It didn’t change anything.

She could feel the spark inside her—her energy, her light—slowly dimming. It wasn’t something that happened all at once. It wasn’t a switch being flipped. It was the slow, agonizing realization that her world had just shifted, irreversibly. She wasn’t the same girl who had been laughing with her friends just hours ago. That girl was gone.

Her voice cracked again, this time louder. “I… I don’t know what to do, Mom. I don’t know what to do.” Tears blurred her vision, and she wiped at her eyes frantically, but they just kept coming. “I can’t lose him. I can’t lose him. Please, Mom, please tell me there’s something we can do.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, and for a moment, it felt like time itself had stopped. Then, her mom spoke, her voice trembling, but filled with quiet strength.

“We’ll fight, (Y/N). We’ll fight for him. We don’t know how much time we have, but we’ll fight. You’re not alone in this.”

But (Y/N) felt alone. She felt the weight of the world pressing down on her chest, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t know how to keep going. The energy that had once been so full of life, so vibrant, felt hollow now. Her father, the one person who had always been her rock, was slipping away from her, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Her sobs echoed through the quiet apartment, her body wracked with grief she didn’t know how to handle. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. And she didn’t know how to fight against it.

She couldn’t be strong anymore. Not tonight. Not yet.

[kcalsforhim]

𓏲.ೃ࿔❀˙˖ ｡ thursday 9 jan 2025

༄.°

i woke up in the worst state someone could find me in LOL. i can’t recall much except feeling so fucking terrible ;; i did go to college and haku didn’t go to college so i was all alone

2 sugar free red bulls

2 sugar free coca cola oreo

in class for the first half i worked on a drawing for college then on the second half i talked with my classmates to make sure i could actually be included in the second half of the group project pretty please. i had a lot of cool ideas and that is a lot of fun im excited for that

then when i was walking home my mom sends me a text, she got called by a number and she’s asking me who it is. i checked and the number called me too

earlier in the day i sent my mental health coordinator at college that i wanted to commit suicide on new years and i ended up not doing it, and that im just kind of lost now ;; and she started panicking and called me

we had a nice conversation on the phone about a new special trajectory for me so that i can calm down and obviously get extra help and bla bla. this has been weighing on me for like.. ever since i started college again, but mostly since start of november, that’s also when i started binge eating.. or well, it started developing.

afterwards i just started to stress and i wanted to binge, it was a good convo, but i wanted to eat everything in sight. instead i went to the shops to spend money there instead since another one of my comforts is shopping. (yeah i know lots of bad comforts)

i went to miniso and got lots of kuromi stuff, bottles and lunch box that’s tiny and even a hair straightener ; then i went to primark and bought a pair of sweatpants and a kuromi hoodie and pyjamas and more kuromi stuff. i also went online and ordered a pair of pants. yes i went crazy.

however, i got no food. when i got to my local train station i began my walk home and my knees wobbled and i just kind of half fell on the floor, i was so exhausted and it was. cold. icy cold. i called my friend and asked him to get me

he did and he was deadass pale like a ghost. he had to hold onto me when we got me some groceries so i could eat. he even pulled out of his savings to have enough for what i wanted to eat

he got me cigarettes and got me everything i wanted, just ingredients for a dish. he held me when i felt my legs giving out lol, he took me home and he gave me the longest hug ever and asked me to keep safe, i told him i would try

a pokebowl containing salad mix, spicy mayonnaise, edamame beans, half of an avocado, carrot shavings, cucumber cubes, shrimp and salmon.

4 courgette hashbrowns / cakes

3 medjoul dates

1 protein yogurt

i didn’t count my cals cause i knew if i didn’t eat something properly i would and will binge eat everything and i was feeling really emotional so i would rather eat salad and salmon than a big thing of cookies… im just saying… 3 dates instead of 1 for the same reasoning

its pathetic but i did half all of the ingredients at the very least, half the avocado, half the salmon, half the shrimp, ect ect. i made my mom a small bowl to eat out of too and that’s where the extra meat went (i ate similar meal today too)

i wanted to eat more and more and more afterwards but i ended up not doing it dont worry. i just chewed a lot of gum to get my jaw moving and active so that i wouldn’t go downstairs to chew on something else yk ?

i am relieved things in my life will change though, i’m relieved. telling everyone in my life i wanted to be gone on new years stressed me the fuck out

fitting for how i felt yesterday, i listened to it a lot that day too… it just resonates with me, you know ?

𓏲.ೃ࿔❀˙˖ ｡ stats for today

streak : 4 days binge free, thank god

cals : n.v.t

steps : 15.2 k

overall today went shit in well, EVERY regard, not just food. im cutting myself a little slack. the next day; so today as im writing this, i did eat the leftovers but only because my friend pulled from his savings for me to be able to eat something i find comfort in. my favourite restaurant is closed, so i have to make their dish from my own memory. i hope you guys understand but im ready to feel terrible by the next day (11th)

༄.°

[thedarkcoven]

The Things I Do For Love | Charlie Walker

Not proof read. 18+!!! MINORS DNI !!!!!! Dividers by @cafekitsune and @strangergraphics story banner made by me; Inspo : Charlie Walker/Ghostface Vibes Blood/gore. Stalker!Charlie Walker. PinV. Unprotected sex. Breeding Kink. Knife play. Pervy!Charlie. Rough sex. Choking. Voyeurism. Male masturbation. Cussing/adult language. Switch!Charlie. Subby!Charlie (cause I can't get enough of Rory's whimpers). Obsessive!Charlie. Possessive!Charlie. Charlie Walker x Alternative Reader (Y/N x Charlie Walker). If red flag, why cute awkward dork I wanna keep forever?!?!

You had to switch stupid fucking schools. Your mom was offered a job in a few towns over. A nice little neighborhood your mom thought... but that neighborhood had some dark secrets and a dark past. The morning had just started as you dragged yourself out of bed. Your dyed hair cascades down to your lower back, sticking out in every which way indicating you didn't sleep too well. The sun spilling into your room made your eyes squint as you walked over to your closet: sliding the mirrored door to the left and grabbing your everyday attire of black clothing. Black tripp pants, a black baggy band tee that hid the shape of your body, and your black Converse. After slipping your clothes and socks on, you quickly pulled on your shoes, brushed your hair, and decided to put some quick and simple makeup on of your usual style. Foundation that matches your completion, your favorite lipstick, black eyeliner, and black mascara. Once you were satisfied and styled your hair how you wanted it was off to hell you went. Sounds of laughter and loud schoolmates filled your ears. Of course, your new school, Woodsboro High, had its cliques like every other school. Jocks and preps spread about, geeks and computer tech lovers off in a group, alternative kids like yourself spread about, nerds off by themselves talking about the latest installment of Stab and what were the best parts of the movies. "Well, who do we haaaave here? Robbie Mercer. Nice to meet you. You must be new here. This handsome fellow here is my friend-." The longer-haired boy cuts off the boy who is wearing a camera headset. "Charlie Walker... Don't worry about him he uh he's a fucking idiot like all the time. You're uh you're new here right?" "Nah I'm just here for a day..." You joke, "Yeah I'm uh I'm new here. Mom got a new job offer so had to move here. Yay... no offense." "None taken. So you like movies?" Charlie asks raising a brow. You gave a slight nod and look around, awkwardly putting your hands into your pockets as your bag hangs loosely off your shoulder. "Yeah. I like movies. Horror is my favorite." You look back at Charlie. He and Robbie were slightly taller than you. His blue eyes focused on you. Your breath hitched slightly so you quickly averted your gaze from him and on Robbie. Robbie smirked as he could tell Charlie was already smitten with the new girl. As you started to walk off Charlie grabbed your wrist softly pulling your attention back to him. "We've got a club for films and stuff, Cinema Club... you.. you should join us." He gave a soft smile.

Fifteen years... Fifteen fucking years since the first Ghostface murders and the started happening again so you decided to start sticking to Charlie's side like a little lost puppy.... or was it the other way around? The way he would stare at you. Taking in every... single... detail. Your flaws. Your perfections. The way you laughed and smiled. The way your leg bounced in class as you concentrated on your school notes. Charlie had a little secret besides being the Ghostface killer... no... you were everything to him. No one would be able to touch or let alone look at you. He had a collection... of you; things you owned and thought you lost, some of your hair, the perfume you thought you misplaced, his favorite pairs of underwear you wore with the pretty lace. His perfect little shrine. The way you looked laying in bed... so peaceful like an angel. He would sneak into your room as you slept. His blood would start pumping in his veins, his heart beating wildly as his body began to respond to the sight of you in just underwear and a tank top after pulling your blanket off from you ever so slowly as to not wake you. His hands were shaking as he pushed his pants and boxers down to his knees, your underwear in his hand as he inhaled your scent. His fist worked up and down on his cock, the precum dribbling down. His long slender fingers smeared it along his shaft and head. Soft puffs of breath left him as he stood with face flushed, mouth open slightly, and brows furrowed. Sweat glistened on his forehead a bit as his half-lidded blue eyes stayed on your form. Soft whimpers left him as he worked himself faster. "Fuck, Y/N... I want you so fucking bad.. Please.. I just want you so fucking bad..." He whimpered pathetically as his movements stuttered as he painted the underwear he was holding in his come with a soft little whine. He waited a few nights before finally calling. You stood in your kitchen making yourself dinner since your mother was off on a business trip for the week. You jumped and almost flung your cooking spoom when your phone came to life. "Fuck...." You calmed your nerves before picking up the unknown number's call. "Hey. Who's this?" "Who's this?" The distorted voice spoke. "Who's this? You called me-." "Oh right I did... What are you doing right now?" "Uuuh well right now I am making dinner then I am going to watch some scary movies." You answered as you continued to cook. "Scary movies, huh? What's your favorite scary movie?" "Would have to be Stab and maybe Nightmare on Elm." "You like when the girls are all alone, her parents gone, and no one to help her huh? Is that your favorite part?" "Kinda." You turned the flame off and reached up into the cabinet to grab a plate. "Good because we can recreate that scene right now" A loud bang made you drop the plate and your phone. Ghostface had kicked your door down and tilted his head as he stood in front of you. Before you could grab a kitchen knife he grabbed you by the hair and pulled you against his chest. He pushed you forward bending you over the kitchen table and gripped your wrist with his free hand, knocking the knife out of your hand. Your eyes widened as he took his hand away and then pulled out a Buck 120 knife, hooked it under your shirt, and cut through the fabric with ease. You shook your head, bucking underneath him but was met with a harsh pull of your hair as he pulled your head back more so you could see him. He shook his head no as he dragged the tip of the blade along your sensitive flesh. A sob left you as he cut open your shorts and underwear. He pressed the blunt side of the knife against your throat with a chuckle. His free hand moved up and removed the mask. Your eyes went wide and your heart pounded faster against your chest as Charlie revealed himself.

to be continued (aka tumblr was being a dick and wouldn't let me add anymore lol)

[livingst0ned]

They had all come to grow used to living in a certain way.    Back  at  the  cabin  in  Northern  California,    it was Gio and Vicente who dominated the kitchen during daytime hours     —  they cooked the three essential meals and then some, always laughing over ground chile and doughy masa.    They cooked enough for a small army, Gio and Vicente.   Every morning, and every afternoon   —    and  Cee  seldom  ate  with  the  others,   but Vicente always saved her a plate. Even if it made Gio sigh or shake her head in dismissal. 

They were all getting used to living in vastly different ways. 

    So much change   —   it was enough to make your hands shake,   to set your back teeth on edge.   It wouldn't have been so unlike her to fumble the ball completely.     She kept wondering to herself:  Was Claire surprised when she saw that I actually found a place? Did she half-expect me to piss the money she gave me away? Did I expect me to do that?       So much change was alarming for a thing like her. Unreliable, unstable and constantly dropping the ball — but here she was, fixing French toast for unprompted guests.    Francis and her never got along well.   It was her own fault   —   standoffish as she was,   and she never did well playing nice with others.   She was a twat,  in the not-so-distant past.

And she doesn't expect them to like her.  But she won't turn them away for it.   What would the reason be behind that?   Vicente was dead.  And her thoughts are hinged on Claire — standing beneath the spray of shower water, or maybe sitting with her knees drawn to her chest at the foot of the tub. Her mind is crowded, anxious with thoughts of running water — long black hair, her lover's distant gaze. Preoccupied. That would have been an understatement. Maybe because she's thinking about Claire all the while. And her hands are still shaking. And her stomach is growing teeth. And she just keeps making French toast even though Vicente used to cook breakfast. 

Cee fishes a couple dishes from the drying rack for Francis,  and Alo.   It's a set  —  grey geese delicately drawn along the edges, thorny vine and iris.  She listens to Francis with those same vines knotted around her chest. 

     ❛   —  I normally wouldn't, either. But —... worries me, thinkin' about not making something right now...   ❛    Cee mumbles, melting stick of butter in hand   —   deft fingers working a butter knife, cutting a square. It sizzles on the pan. She wasn't entirely sure if her words would make sense to Francis. Broad hand grips at the pan's handle, shaking teflon-coated cookware until the melting butter spreads.   She works hastily.   Twin slices of bread are dipped in egg wash until dripping, splat — on the pan. 

Alo's haughty gaze is disturbed by the Highmore's inquisition.    He's as quiet as a goddamn pantomine, not looking anywhere but out the window.    His boyish face betrays some immediate confusion.    But he does take the joint, dumbly.     It's drawn to his lips and the short drag makes him cough hard in his chest. 

He shakily hands the joint back to Francis, ears burning. 

Cee cocks her head at the sound, looking over her shoulder to get a good look at something strange: Alo smoking weed. He doesn't seem the type.  What would Kerry say to that, she wonders. She squints, apprehensive for a moment    —    though she's quick to shrug it off.   He was evidently going through some kind of crisis.  Two plates are procured, set in front of Alo and Francis    — French toast glistening with syrup, melting whipped cream.

   ❛   A job, though? Maybe. I dunno. It's difficult when you don't feel drawn to any one thing, y'know?   ❛   She rubs her hands together anxiously, pale eyes darting toward the joint in Francis's possession. She thinks to ask. But then she thinks she hears the shower turn off and swivels her head at once, listening close. 

Alo's rubbing at his flushing face.    She hears the sound of the shower, and sighs. 

    ❛   ... Not to mention I haven't really been looking these past few days.   ❛  And she wasn't rightly sure when she would start up again. Her eyes flash toward Francis, anxious. 

    ❛ — Have you ... have you heard from Gio, by chance? ❛

Francis regards the joint with a fleeting smirk, as though the gesture from Cee were as surprising as it was expected. They take it, pinching it between their fingers with care, a sliver of faint approval in their movements. No words pass as they ignite the end—not with the lighter, but with a quick amiable flicker of undefined magic. It was always a trick of theirs. Probably one of the first one's they learned when they were a child. The ember catches, glowing steadily as they inhale deeply, the faint curl of smoke slipping through the still air.

They exhale slowly, gaze falling to the small quaint ashtray they pull toward themselves, fingers tapping once on the edge of the table before setting the joint down for a moment.

“Thank you” Francis murmurs, their voice soft, words more for the room than anyone in particular. The faintest ghost of a smirk lingers on their lips before they lean back slightly, elbows resting on the chair’s worn arms. They never got along. And now, with how things were, they were still trying to figure out how to be a person. It occurs to them with very little trouble at all, that Cee was doing the same. Just trying to navigate being a person. They watch Cee with something resembling quiet curiosity as she busies herself at the stove, her movements almost mechanical, as though to distract from everything unspoken simmering beneath the surface.

“Can’t say I’ve thought much about cooking lately,” Francis continues, their tone measured, masking the undertone of weariness that clings to every syllable. “I was so used to things when we were all in one place together. And now all Abra and I do is order room service. And it's been nothing short of a waste of money.”

They flick their gaze to Alo briefly, his silence unnerving but at least familiar, before focusing again on Cee. “I'm happy this place is working for you.”

Their fingers drift back to the joint, lifting it for another slow drag. “Have you considered working in a kitchen?” There’s a pause, almost as if they’re weighing whether to continue speaking on job prospects. They knew conversations like that could be awkward. They turn to look at Alo. He didn't really smoke cannabis. They remembered that. But they offer the joint anyway. “It might help.” They offer quietly, nearly drowned out by the sound of sizzling butter.

[starry-bi-sky]

on a completely separate note; shizun luo binghe with a disciple shen yuan who fell into the abyss??? *thinks about LBH canonically stealing SQQ's corpse for 5 years* he'd hallucinate i think. like, like visual and audial hallucinations.

Keeps thinking he's seeing SQQ in the corner of his eyes, or wandering between the trees, amongst a group of disciples. Thinks he hears him calling for him, but its just the wind or another disciple.

Gets Xiu Ya reforged but patently fucking refuses to make a sword mound. Because his disciple Is Not Dead :))) There was No Body. He's Not Dead. And If You keep Insisting That He Is, He's Gonna Skewer You :). He's holding onto Xiu Ya so he can return his most favored disciple's sword when he returns. It's on his hip right next to Zheng Yang where it's supposed to be.

Also this motherfucker?? does not sleep btw. He has the image of SQQ, wide eyed and hysterical and standing at the mouth of the abyss burned into his fucking eyelids. Can't use the dreamscape to escape it either because he keeps trying to save him and either he does and it's an incredibly cruel trick to wake up to, or he doesn't and he gets his heart broken in several different pieces again.

There is no convincing this man that Shen Qingqiu is dead. Absolutely nothing at all. He is buried so deep in denial that moles would be jealous of how deep he is. He keeps making tea for two in the bamboo house only to remember that it's just him. SQQ's fans are hiding everywhere, little reminders of his presence. He goes to wake up SQQ on the mornings he sleeps in-- only to find the room empty.

[random-thot-generator]

Ghost decides after one blind date that you're going to be his.

>>>>>

Simon isn't used to dating. A quick hook up in the loo, sure. A drunken one night stand? He's had too many of those to count. But proper courting? Hell, it's been years, maybe a decade, since he's taken a bird out on an actual date.

It's probably going to be a disaster, but he gave Johnny his word he'd go out with his bird's best friend, so he can't back out now. He'll just have to grit his teeth and power through it.

His sour outlook for the evening is forgotten the second he sees you walk in with Johnny's bird. You're no tipsy tart on the pull, like the birds he's used to dealing with. You're a proper lady, dolled up nice for your date with him. It makes his chest feel tight when he gets a good look at your pretty face and nervous little smile.

His usual gruff manner is obviously not going to fly with you, so he quickly tries to recall the mannerisms he's seen his captain use around women. He gets to his feet with Johnny when the two of you reach the table, trying his best to look less intimidating.

Johnny introduces the two of you, and Simon melts inside when he takes your soft little hand in his for the first time. His brain goes fuzzy, dark eyes glazing over, and he's not sure what he says when he greets you, but it earns him a smile.

"It's really nice to meet you, Simon," are the first words you say to him.

Your voice is soft and sweet, and the way you say his name? Oh, he's gonna need to hear more of that, and often.

For the first time in a long time, Simon's worried about what someone thinks of him. He's worried he'll put you off with his harsh manner. So, he minds his words and gentles his tone. He slows his steps to match your pace and tucks your small hand at his elbow to keep you close and safe. He's holding doors and pulling out your chair. He compliments your dress and hair.

And when your heel catches on the sidewalk and you stumble, he doesn't bark a laugh or say something mean, wouldn't bloody dream of it. No, he catches you before you fall, and all that softness in his hands makes something shift in his brain. You're such a fragile little thing, delicate as spun sugar. You need a big nasty mutt like him to protect you, take care of you, and he's more than willing to do the job.

When the date is over, Simon sees you home, and you kiss him on your front stoop. It's not all groping hands and tangling tongues. It's a gentle press of lips, his big hands cradling your face, the sweet intimacy making his eyes flutter shut. He's floating when he finally gets back in his truck and drives himself home.

Instead of going to bed, Simon begins to formulate a plan of strategy. He figures it'll take a few more dates before you invite him into your flat, and several more after that before you invite him into your bed, then eventually into your life. It might take months, even a year or more. That's alright, though. If his years in the military have taught him anything, it's patience.

Simon knows how to play the long game. He'll go at your pace, let you get used to having him around, then make himself indispensable to you. No one will treat you as good, meet your every need and desire the way he will. He won't stop until he is your world, your reason for being. Your everything.

And when enough time has passed, he'll claim you completely as his. He's going to put a ring on your finger and a baby in your belly, then tuck you away safe and sound in one of those cute country cottages he looked up online. You'll be his little missus, and he'll be your tamed beast, keeping his teeth and claws hidden but at the ready.

By the time he arrives at your flat the next evening for your second date, he's already got your engagement ring in his safe at home and the names of your future children picked out.

And when you text him the day after to invite him for dinner, the new name he replaced yours with pops up on his screen.

It says 'Missus Riley', of course.

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