#but its another like level to try and prove i have kitchen skills from like 10 years of home cooking

[raisinchallah]

you know i do think the dumbest silliest thing about the job search is like ok i have not been putting myself out there for a ton of food service jobs because its a very dark tunnel with no light getting in and all that but like ok so for jobs one must acquire correct experience to be considered and so on but like.... tho most of my skillz are self taught and whatever i have worked a bit in food service but like genuinely i have kitchen skills its one of the only things i am like good at and i have decent knife skills not like professional chef level but u know a lot better than some rando i know food stuff kitchen multi tasking all that and i do have some level of knowledge of the difference between home cook skills vs professional cook skills and yet this means NOTHIGN my resume is IGNORED like idk how exactly id put knife skills whatever i mean even when i bring up my extensive home cooking experience in interviews they are like haha ok anyways its just idk very funny almost like surely i should be the top of the heap of beginners or whatever but it counts for nothing lol whatever i shall simply chop my onions quickly in my house whatever

[in-ky]

Hi! I’d love a story about Negan being a serial killer who only kills “bad people” (like in Dexter) and maybe he saves the reader from her ex who’s about to kill her and Negan can save her and takes her in because she’s a mess but she’s actually a killer herself (who kills rapists etc/ only the bad ones) and Negan and the reader start fighting and then get caught up in steamy hot sex ��� thank you!

Savior - Negan Killer AU

Warnings: Warnings: GORE + violence, smut, domestic abuse, swearing, dirty talk ig? idk how to tag this lol

A/N: hey! i struggled over this one for a while lol. ive only seen like. 3? episodes of dexter so. i really hope this meets your expectations! also forgive any mistakes its late, im tired, and i wanna get this up lol. also, is negan batman? maybe. 3.7k words

"Will, stop you're hurting me!" I hissed, grabbing at his wrist. He tugged me out of the bustling restaurant and into the dark street.

"I don't really give a shit," He snarled, throwing me into a secluded alleyway a few buildings down from the restaurant. Will had taken me out to a business dinner with his boss in hopes of showing me off and making a good impression. But things didn't quite go according to plan. "You embarrassed me in front of everyone!" He pushed me against the brick wall of the closed department store.

"What was I supposed to do?" I sneered, trying to wiggle away from him "He kept commenting on my body, saying how he wished he could take me home at the end of the night and do all kinds of 'unspeakable things to me'."

"You were just supposed to shut up and take it!" Will said, voice filled with rage "But no, you and your untamable fucking complex just couldn't handle a compliment. You threw your drink in his face! You're lucky he didn't fire me right then and there. You made me look like some pussy who can't control his whore."

"You're an asshole." I shouted, tears welling at the edges of my eyes. Will's face contorted further into a look of pure, unadulterated hatred.

"What the fuck did you just call me?" He seethed, clasping his hand tightly around my throat and constricting his fingers around my airway.

"I said you're an asshole who cares more about his dead-end career than his fucking girlfriend." I croaked. I hated him. I hated him so much. My vision clouded with the combination of disgust, loathing, and lack of oxygen, so I hit him where I knew it hurt. "There's a reason you needed me for arm candy tonight. It's 'cause you're a boring, piece-of-shit, lowlife who has no skill whatsoever. How does it feel knowing you need me to make something of yourself?" With that, he threw me to the ground by my throat. He wasted no time and pinned me to the cold concrete. His knees dug into my shoulders and his hand flew to his back pocket, whipping out the switchblade he carried as a precaution against mugging. My eyes widened as they caught a glint of the moonlight off the sharp knife. He brought the blade up to my throat and slapped me over the cheek harshly with his free hand.

"You better take back those words, bitch," He hissed, pressing the blade into the soft skin of my jugular "or they might just be your last." A dribble of blood ran down my neck with the pressure. Realization flashed through my mind. I could die right then. That could have been my last moment. Was I scared? No. Why wasn't I scared? Maybe it had to do with the shadowy figure that was slowly approaching us from the ally entrance.

There was plenty of time for me to warn Will that someone was coming. But I didn't. Instead, I stayed quiet and watched as the shadow figure pulled Will from my body with ease and tossed him to the side. Everything was kind of a blur. I was still oxygen starved and filled with a whirl-wind of emotion. I heard Will cry out in surprise and indignance. The shadow figure said nothing. It saw the switchblade with a steady line of my blood. It kicked Will in the chest, knocking him to the ground. Then it lifted up a baseball bat over its head and cracked it down over Will's skull. He continued to beat Will until he stopped squirming. The shadow figure paused and swung the bat over his shoulder. I had regained my breath and pushed myself to my elbows. The shadow noticed me moving and took a few heavy steps in my direction. I squirmed away slightly, instincts telling me to get away from the thing that had just pulverized my boyfriend. The shadow entered a stream of moonlight. It was a man. He had peppered hair and a blood-speckled face. He had dark brown eyes and a small smile perched on his lips.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He said. His voice was deep. I was partially surprised. He wasn't a bulky man. He was tall and had a broad frame, but his limbs were long and his body was lithe. He wore a leather jacket and his boots were slick with what I could only assume were Will's brains. I didn't want to look at his bat.

"W-Why did you do that?" I whispered. It was all I could muster.

"He was going to kill you." The man sounded confused, like I was supposed to know who he was and why he saved me.

"You don't know that." My voice was quiet. My eyes were glued to a spot behind the man, unblinking. He let out a throaty chuckle and dropped to a squat, leveling with me.

"Doll, he had a knife pressed to your throat," His words were gentle "Looked like he was gonna fuckin' kill you." He hesitantly reached out two fingers in the direction of my face. I didn't move. He was wearing leather gloves. The ridged fabric ran along my injuries. "Seems like he did some damage before I could step in. Damn. Sorry about that. Listen, I live a few streets down. If you want, I can get you cleaned up."

"Okay," I said softly. I let him help me up to my feet. He guided me along with one arm while holding his bat with the other. As we walked out of the alley I couldn't help but look down at Will, or what remained of him at least. His forehead was split in half, a pool of chunky blood bubbling on the ground. I clenched my jaw and forced myself to swallow the bile that had risen in my throat. And yet, I didn't feel sad. I didn't mourn him. Maybe it was shock, maybe it wasn't. "Thank you?" I murmured, though it was more of a question. The man and I stepped out onto the street and I was grateful there was no one around to see us leaving the scene of a very heinous-looking crime.

"No problem, doll," The man hummed, setting a brisk pace down the sidewalk. "The name's Negan, by the way." Cool. Negan: my Savior.

~~~

"So you're like Batman?" I asked Negan as he dabbed the blood away from my neck. He gave a short chuckle and tore away the sticky part of the band-aid.

"I guess you can say that," he mused, splaying the bandage over the cut the knife had left "but I specifically go for people that I know have hurt others. The baddies, if you will."

"Is that legal?" I tilted my head, crossing my ankles as they dangled over the bathroom counter. My palms were flat on the surface of Negan's marble sink top, fiddling with the wrappers of the medical supplies he had used to clean and bandage my small cuts and bruises.

"I haven't been caught," Negan shrugged "besides, it's less work for the police. They don't have to do any interrogation bullshit or anything. I usually catch people in the act, like tonight. Then I do my thing."

"Do you kill everyone?"

"Only the bad people," He reminded, tossing away a bloody tissue "only people who have hurt others. But, yes, usually the offender ends up on the business end of Lucille over there." He pointed out the door into the living room, where the still-bloody bat rested against a chair. I furrowed my brow.

"Well, doesn't that make you a bad guy?" I pressed. He tapped my knee and I dropped down to the tile floor, tucking my hair behind my ear and gathering some of the scraps.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you still kill people, right? Even if they're bad? So doesn't that still make you a killer?" Negan was quiet for a minute. "Let's put it this way," I continued "What would you do if you came across someone who was like you; someone who hurt the bad people. Would you still kill them. They're hurting people." Negan took a deep breath and let it out with a contemplative sigh, itching his bearded chin.

"I'm not sure," He mused "I've never really thought about it before. See, I don't consider myself a bad person per say. Yea, what I'm doing might be considered fucked up. But I'm doing it for the right reason. I'm protecting people by attacking their attackers. In the end, someone's saved." He brushed off his hands and led me out of the bathroom, flicking the light off. "Would you rather me not have saved you tonight?"

"No," I said immediately "thank you. Really, thank you. You saved my life. Will is...was...always a dick, but I never thought he'd actually hurt me. I guess that proves people can have a whole bunch of layers." Negan nodded and moved to the kitchen. He raised a bottle of whiskey as an offering. I shook my head but he poured himself a glass.

"I was just doing my job," Negan grinned sympathetically "I'm sorry your boyfriend was an asshole who tried to murder you." I shrugged, amusement in my eyes.

"Eh, it happens to everyone." I smiled as he let out another laugh. I felt as if I shouldn't be laughing, but at the same time, everyone has their own responses to almost getting stabbed to death in an alley. So I let myself have this moment. Besides, Negan was a good guy to be around. He made me feel safe, comfortable, secure. Everything I needed right now. "So, Negan, what do you do? Surely vigilante-ing can't pay well, and this apartment is really nice."

"I'm a retired baseball player," Negan said, sipping his whiskey and settling into one of the armchairs in the living room "Hence the bat."

"Were you any good?" I asked. He let out a loud scoff.

"Was I any good?" He mocked "Sweetheart, I have a whole damn trophy room. I was fucking amazing. I just got old."

"So you're rich with no real job, you kill bad guys, and you have a massive ego," I listed "You really are like Batman, aren't you?"

~~~

Negan let me stay on his couch that night. It was leather, like everything else that man seemed to own, but it was comfortable. I woke up to the smell of bacon filling the air. I groaned and rubbed my fists against my eyes, clearing them of sleep. I stretched my arms above my head in a yawn and rolled off the couch, stumbling into the kitchen. Negan was hunched over the bubbling pan, dodging pellets of grease as they shot up at him.

"Smells good!" I purred, closing my eyes and taking a deep inhale.

"Good," He grumbled "You better fucking enjoy it because I've gotten burned at least three times." I laughed and walked up to him examining the small red patches that dotted his arms.

"You didn't have to make me breakfast you know."

"Yea, but I wanted to make sure you were comfortable," He sighed, turning off the stove and scooping the cooked bacon onto a paper towel. "Besides, I was craving some bacon when I woke up. I haven't had someone to share a meal with in a while."

"Well, if you want, you can come by my house for dinner." I offered, crunching down on a piece of bacon "I've been meaning to whip out the family alfredo recipe for a while, maybe a hot date would give me that incentive." I gave him a playful wink and he chuckled.

"Sure thing, doll," He hummed, putting the pan in the sink "I love me some fucking spaghetti. I'll see you around seven?"

"Sounds good."

~~~

I ran down the sidewalk, chest heaving. There was enough darkness to cover me, but I still kept my head down to prevent recognition. I held my hands close to my stomach, praying that the blood on my fingers wouldn't drip on the pavement and leave a trail. I had been on my way home from the store when I heard some commotion coming from an alley. My first instinct was to run, but then I heard the girl crying for help. Negan came to mind, what he did, how he helped people. I couldn't turn away. I marched down the alley and saw a greasy man pinning a woman to the wall of a building. Flashbacks of the night before hit me like a train. I looked on top of the alley dumpster  and saw a crowbar perched on one of the lids. I grabbed it and stormed up to the man, whacking him upside the head with the weapon. I kicked him to the side and brought the crowbar over my head before swinging it down. It connected with his face in a sickening 'thwack.' I thought of Will. I thought of what might of happened if Negan had never stopped him. I thought of all the times that bastard had gotten drunk and told me I was nothing. I let the rage bubble up and fuel my beating. By the time I was pulled back into the moment, my muscles were screaming, the woman was gone, and the man's face was unrecognizable. I tossed the crowbar into the dumpster and ran back home.

Dried blood is extremely hard to wash off. It sticks to your skin in flakes, creating a pattern of red veins crawling over your hands. Fuck. I scrubbed as hard as I could under the rushing water of the sink, pumping more and more soap into my hand. It was under my fingernails. It was stuck in my palm prints. Shit, did I leave fingerprints at the scene? Would they be coming for me? With a hiss, I rubbed even harder at my skin, small flecks of blood turning the sink water red.

Suddenly, my door opened.

"I'm ready for my s'getties!" Negan boomed with a wide smile. My head whipped around, looking at him with wide eyes. His grin faded and he crossed the room in record time, grabbing my wrists and turning the sink off. "Is this fucking blood?" He snarled, bringing my hands up to my face. I clenched my jaw and dropped my eyes to my feet. "Jesus, who's is it? Answer me!"

"I-I heard someone screaming on the way home," I said quietly, eyes still downcast "I thought I would help..." His jaw went slack and he let go of my hands, running his fingers through his hair.

"Jesus fuck, you can't just go around killing people!"

"Why not?" I snapped, eyes meeting his "You do it all the time? What's the difference? Why can't I help people?"

"Because it...Because you just can't!" Negan growled, shaking his head.

"Why are you so special?" I hissed back, drying my hands off on a towel before tossing it at him "It's not like you can get a permit for fucking murder. Why do you do it, anyways? Is it some perverted thing? Do you get off on saving people from attackers?"

"Watch yourself." Negan warned, eyes darkening.

"Pfft, or what?" I laughed, tossing my head back "What are you gonna do, kill me? I'm not afraid of you, Negan." As soon as the words left my mouth, he charged me. His hand flew to my throat, squeezing my airway lightly. His hips pressed me against the counter. I let out a small gasp when he shoved his face next to mine.

"Oh, but doll, you really fucking should be." He spat, curling his lip "I could snap your neck right here, right now." He gave a small squeeze to emphasize his words. I let out a strangled moan. We both froze. "Are you turned on right now?" He muttered, furrowing his brow. I licked my lips and squirmed in his grip, pressing my thighs together slightly in an effort to alleviate the warm pressure growing in my belly.

"No," I lied, voice weak. A sinister grin curled over the bottom half of his face and he licked his tongue over his teeth.

"And I'm the perv, huh?" He sucked on my earlobe and peppered kisses down my jawline "Sweetheart, tell me, do you want me to fuck that pretty little pussy of yours? Do you want me to make you cum harder than you ever have?" I whimpered at his dirty mouth. "Use your words, doll, or I'll leave right fucking now."

"Y-Yes!" I breathed as Negan's lips sucked on the sweet spot right beneath my ear.

"Yes, what, princess?"

"Yes, I want you to fuck me, please!" I groaned, clawing at his shirt. He let out a short chuckle, muttering something about how needy I was, but I didn't care. Right now, the only thought running through my head was that I needed Negan. I needed all of him. And damn me if I wasn't going to get it.

We clawed at each other's clothes like rabid animals. Once we were completely bare, Negan moved his kisses down my body. His large, calloused hands kneaded my breasts, twisting my nipples between his thumbs. My arms flew around his neck and I dragged my fingernails up his back. He shivered against my touch and slid his hands further down my body. They settled firmly on my hips as he captured my lips in a fervent kiss.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he grunted, pulling back for air. I looked at him. His tawny eyes were now black, pupils far beyond dilated with lust. Both of our lips were swollen and red from the intensity of our kisses. Negan's chest inflated and deflated quickly as his eyes roamed over my body. "You're so damn perfect." I smiled sheepishly and pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, looking up at him through lidded eyes.

"You're not so bad yourself," I reached out my hand and used my pointer finger to draw a line from his collar bone down the center of his chest and through his navel, finally ending right over his pulsing cock. He sucked in a breath as my fingers closed around him. My thumb swept over the hot tip, gathering precum on the pad of my finger and rubbing it around.

"Shit," He hissed as I slowly pumped him "I'm not gonna fucking last if you keep doing that." He gently pried my hand away and took a step closer to me. I could feel his hardened length resting against the inside of my thigh. The thought of him being so close made a burst of heat rush down between my thighs. Negan took a long finger and ran it through my folds, collecting my wetness. I moaned as he teasingly dipped the first knuckle into me. He pulled back and let out a low whistle. "Damn, girl," he chuckled, raising his finger to my face "You're fucking dripping. Who's that for?" His slick-coated fingers glistened in the light of my apartment. I let out a deep groan as he slid them between his lips and sucked.

"You, Negan!" I whimpered, wrapping my legs around his waist "It's all for you." A wolfish grin spread over his features as he tugged me off him and pulled me down off the counter. He spun me around and pressed gently between my shoulder blades until my chest was flat against the cold surface.

"Then if you don't mind," Negan cooed, lining himself up with my entrance "I'm going to take what belongs to me." With that, he slowly pushed into me. I gasped at the stretch, balling my hands into fists as he continued to split me open.

"Fucking shit," he groaned once he bottomed out "you're tight as hell. I bet you've never had a dick as big as mine." He pulled out slightly and I let out a moan at the growing emptiness inside. The moan soon turned to a yelp when he brought down his hand against my ass. The smack was loud and he rubbed the red spot tenderly. "Have you?"

"N-No!" I gasped when he thrusted into me for the first time "Never. Fuck, you feel so good." Negan's thrusts sped up, his hips snapping against my ass in an obscene rhythm. Grunts and moans of pleasure slipped from both of our lips as he plowed unapologetically into me. I could feel every inch of him. He was hitting every spot, dragging against my walls in a sinfully perfect way.

"You're doing so good," He purred, kissing and biting my shoulder "So good for me. You're so perfect." I tossed my head back and he grabbed my chin, tilting my face towards him so he could give me another bruising kiss. I could only keep up for so long, though, and the white bliss of pleasure he was giving me soon became overwhelming. My jaw went slack and my head dropped against the cool tile of the counter in an attempt to ground myself in the moment. "I want you to cum, doll, cum around me. Wanna feel those walls squeeze me." His thrusts were starting to become sloppy and I could tell he was getting to his end. One of his fingers danced down my spine and found its way to my clit. He circled it with just enough pressure to get me to the edge that I was so willing to jump off. "Now." Negan growled. I obeyed, feeling the band in my lower abdomen snapping violently. We reached our releases simultaneously. My walls clenched around him, milking him of every drop. I screwed my eyes shut and screamed his name, holding in a large breath as the world around me spun. Negan eventually pulled himself out and collapsed on top of me. We both were breathing heavily, sweaty bodies entangled as well as we could over a counter. I swallowed, my throat dry from panting through my orgasm. When my eyes fluttered open, I could see Negan's thumb tracing circles over the love bites that were starting to darken on my shoulders.

"Are you going to kill me?" I rasped, running a hand through my wild hair "I guess I'm a bad person now." Negan chuckled, still out of breath.

"I think I'll make an exception," He mused, pressing a sweet kiss to the shell of my ear "I don't think I'm ready to let you go just yet."

[lihikainanea]

Did tiger and bill ever go through like a phase where tiger kind of had to get used to bill thinking of her? Like she wasn't really used to being someone's first choice, like someone thinking about what she might like or want. To have someone frankly just think of you. I'm sorry to be a bother. Just feeling kind of bad lately, and could use some sweet bill. Sorry again.

First of all boo, please don't ever be sorry for sliding into my DMs. I love hearing from you guys, especially if you're not doing that well. I'm all ears, and this blog is a safe space for everyone--so pull up a chair and stay awhile. I, and our two favourite idiots, would be nothing if it weren't for all the amazing asks that you guys send to me <3

Secondly, I love this train of thought because I think it is very, very true. And it probably started back at the beginning of their friendship, right? Yes, it did. Follow me down this rabbit hole.

Bill doesn't make a lot of new friends because since the whole fame thing, he has trouble trusting people--and Bill, by nature, is a caretaker. He's extremely nurturing. He provides. He takes care of those close to him, in one way or another. But he knows his own empathic side, he knows its limits and boundaries, and one of the worst things he can do for his own well being is care about too many people. Get involved with too many people. Bill is happiest amongst his close group of friends, people he knows he can trust, people he can cook dinner for and host movie nights for and fly halfway around the world when he has a premiere.

And tiger, for her part--my girl tiger, she has zero self-preservation skills. Like, none. And Bill is fascinated by that. He's fascinated by this little fireball who not only has no idea who he is, but who subsequently really couldn't give a shit once she found out. He's enamoured with this little scrappy ball of ire who is convinced not only that she can start a bar fight with everyone in the pub, but that she can legitimately win. Bill's never seen anything like it. And once you meet tiger, she's impossible not to love. Or at least, it's impossible not to be intrigued by her, and to want to know more.

But the thing is, that firecracker personality and the massive chip on her shoulder doesn't come from nowhere--tiger's been hurt a lot. And it's because she never goes for the good guys. For as much as Bill has an empath side, tiger has the self-destructive kind where she wants to fix people. And she always goes for the dudes who will take and take and take, the dudes who play rope a dope with her heart, and who leave her shattered. Tiger gives her soul away too easily, and she takes it as a challenge when she's tossed to the side by some guy who was never worth her time anyway. She tries to prove she's worthy.

But then in comes Bill--this big, wall-eyed, kind of freaky looking dude who seems nice and kind and is moderately soft spoken. And when they hang out, Bill starts showing a genuine interest--platonically, of course--but it's genuine. He asks what she does for a living. He asks if she likes it. He wants to know where she went to school, what she studied. Does she have any siblings? Because he has a lot, and he knows how tough big families can make you. When tiger can't decide if she wants the chilli fries or the chicken wings one night at a pub, Bill tells her to get both--and that's when she knew they'd be friends.

And it slowly but surely escalated from there--still all platonic at the beginning--but suddenly, Bill was asking her how she was getting home, if she needed a ride. He was asking her how her week was, when everyone got together on Friday--and if she had mentioned something big previously, a meeting or a presentation or something--he'd remember, and ask her how it went. If he left the bar early, he'd politely ask her if she could text him when she got home.

"Why?" she scoffed.

"Because somebody needs to look out for you," he answered honestly. Tiger, in true fashion, balked awkwardly.

And this is where her defence mechanism started to fly up. Because when you're not used to being cared for, when you're not used to genuinely mattering to someone or hell even just getting the attention of a truly good person--it's weird. It's awkward. It's scary as hell and requires a level of vulnerability that tiger isn't ready to let exist--because it would mean that she would have to admit to herself that she is worthy. That this is the norm, and that she deserves this. That she knowingly let herself settle for being treated like shit for so many years.

And tiger's first defence is always anger. So maybe she started getting real snippy with him, probably well into their friendship by this point--so Bill was cooking for her, and if he wasn’t then he was checking in to make sure she ate at least one vegetable that day. If she had a date, he would wait until she texted him that she was in for the night--whether that was at the guy’s place or hers. If she needed a ride home in the morning then he would pick her up, in all of her walk of shame glory--but he’d pick her up with a few Advil, some big sunglasses, a huge coffee. And he would absolutely make fun of her nefarious, ill-fated decisions but he’d always wait at least 12 hours before he dared.

But to go even further--you are absolutely right. Bill does put her first. Once she is solidified as his best friend, then there’s no going back--she comes first. And part of it is Bill really is legitimately concerned because tiger has no self preservation skills and he worries that if HE doesn’t concern himself over her, then tiger will just like...her reckless decisions will be her undoing. He must look after Little Human, because Little Human’s self-destructive streak is far too prevalent. He has left dates in the dust when she needed his help. He looks out for her in group settings, and intervenes if some idiot is getting too handsy with her. If he has a boys night that night but tiger calls crying because some idiot broke her heart, or crying because it’s shark week and she’s out of gummy bears--then Bill is there. In a heartbeat, he’s there. She comes first.

And I’ll bet it’s all very nice, but it also kind of has tiger seething. Because she’s not used to this kind of...care. The genuineness of it. And tiger can’t be vulnerable enough to admit that part of her likes it, part of her feels safe knowing that even in the wee hours of the morning, Bill is awake and waiting for her to let him know she got in safely. Part of her kind of likes this idea that someone is thinking of her, that someone prioritizes her. But it’s still tiger, so she also gets hella mad. And she seethes--for a long time, she seethes. Quietly. And then maybe it all just comes to a head one night when she goes over to Bill’s place after work and he has a crisp glass of white wine waiting for her, a change of clothes, even her favourite make up remover--the kind that doesn’t sting, because she has sensitive skin. And all of that pisses her off, but then she walks into the kitchen as he’s deftly cleaning and slicing mushrooms.

“How did it go?” he asks casually. Tiger plays dumb.

“How did what go?” she swigs her wine.

“The meeting with your boss today.”

“...Fine,” she mumbles, petulantly. Of course he’d remember that, even though she told him two weeks ago. 

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he offers kindly. Tiger sees an errant pile of green onions on his chopping board, and she eyes them wearily but somewhat triumphantly. Bill heads to the fridge, pulls out a bowl of salad, then he tosses the green onions in. Perfect, she thinks, and it gives her a weird sense of satisfaction. Mr. Nice Guy, Mr. Considerate, doesn’t even remember what she considers to be the most significant thing about her. That she hates green onions. She feels triumphant, renewed. Somewhat weirdly comforted to confirm that perhaps she doesn’t mean that much to him.

Until he heads back to the fridge, and pulls out another bowl of salad--one that he promptly dresses, salts and peppers, and tosses. One without green onions. One for her.

“Why do you do that?!” she explodes. Bill jumps in surprise.

“Do what?” he asks innocently, “This one has no green onions!”

“Exactly,” she continues, “Ugh, Bill. Just...why do you always...ugh, Bill!”

Bill is stunned, still holding his bowl of salad, trying to figure out what exactly is happening here.

“It’s too much,” tiger says, slamming her wine down, “All of it is too much.”

“What’s too much?”

“You! This. Why do you always just....think of everything?” she says, and she’s steadfastly working herself into a tizzy.

“Tiger...”

“How? How do you remember these things? How do you fucking remember that I had a meeting with my boss today, a meeting that I told you about two weeks ago? Why do you make a whole other bowl of salad for me, why do you remember that I hate green onions?”

“Because I care about you kid,” he shrugs.

Tiger is angry, but she’s also at a loss for words. Bill’s genuineness, his honesty, will do that. For as much as she struggles to be vulnerable. Bill shows that side of himself openly. She doesn’t even know why she’s so angry. Bill watches her for a minute, but she’s kind of just bug-eyed so he goes back to his cutting board and starts calmly chopping his little mushrooms again.

“I don’t like it,” she mutters after a long pause.

“Too bad,” he shrugs non-chalantly. Tiger glares at him.

“Too bad?” she seethes.

“Too bad,” he repeats.

“Stop it,” she says.

“No.”

“Bill, I mean it. Stop always trying to--”

“No.”

“I’m not finished,” she stamps her foot, “Stop being such--”

“No.” he says again, “Tiger, this is what I do.This is how I am. I care about the people that matter to me.”

“Well I don’t ma--”

“Yes you do. You matter to me. So I suggest you put on your big girl panties, and fucking deal with it,” he says. And that’s final. Tiger is taken aback at his tone, at the way his face suddenly got serious--but then in a heartbeat, it’s relaxed again.

“Now, do you want mustard on your burger, or ketchup?” he asks. Tiger is petulantly silent, glaring at him.

“Tiger.” he warns, holding up the hamburger bun.

“Shouldn’t you already know?” she huffs in annoyance, going to the fridge and grabbing the wine. She swigs it right from the bottle as she boosts herself up on the kitchen counter. Bill goes to the fridge and grabs the mayo--her favourite--putting a thick schmear on the bun.

“God, get fucked asshole,” she mutters. Bill just grabs her face, plants a noisy kiss on her cheek as she shrieks and swats him.

[catxsnow]

NERVOUS ROBIN D.G.

Request: Could I please get Young justice Robin/dick Grayson with a quiet reserved s/o? So about her is that she's part of the team but has no power and she get flustered easily when she's around with Robin and only him because she has crush on him and she try to not blushes and stay serious.

Warning: fluff

A/N: I changed this into a headcanon I thought it worked a little better, I hope you don’t mind! (Also this was written around the time of American Thanksgiving lmao sorry for the theme)

- Joining the team was not your idea. At all. It was Oliver's. He had taken you in when you were young and taught you everything that you knew right alongside Roy. Since Speedy was joining, that seemed to automatically mean that you were as well

- you knew of the other teens joining. KF, Robin, Aqualad - it was an exciting time for all of them. You on the other hand? Much more content sticking at Ollie's side and not packed in a team with kids you didn't even know. Even if Roy was going to be there, it didn't make you feel any better about joining.

- And then Roy left, deeming that he was too good for the team and when you tried to leave right alongside him? Oliver stopped you. You were too young to go off on your own, too young to try and fight crime with someone as hot headed as Roy. So you stayed.

- Sure, the other guys made you feel at home. Robin, Wally -Conner and M'gann. It was okay being on the team, but they were always trying to get you to join with everything. Time alone was time well spent - and they couldn't seem to get that through their heads.

- Maybe it was because of the same self-reservation that you had but it was easy to start to crush on Robin. His ridiculous laugh, the way that he always liked to prove he was right in a way that didn't make him look like a jerk. Not to mention how adorable he was too.

- Training with him was the worst. Often times you got paired with him since you were without powers as well. It seemed like a fair fight considering you were both on the same skill level. However, Dinah always forgot to consider just how much of a mess you were around him.

- It was impossible to stay on the task at hand when he was there - especially when you knew he was watching you. You always found yourself turning your gaze towards him. Even the split second looks had you messing up completely.

- The absolute WORST when Conner decides to say something about you being near Robin.

- "Why's your heart beating so fast"

- and of course Wally has to overhear and join in, totally teasing you that maybe you really do have a crush on Robin. He doesn't know just how right he is, but he continues on nonetheless until you storm out of the room.

- Never hearing the end of it from Wally for weeks after that. He catches you looking over at Robin and he's by your side asking when you plan to propose to him. Or point out how flustered you are every time you have to work together.

- it's the comments over the comms that really get to you because Robin is the only one to not understand what's going on.

- '(Y/N) got any big plans later tonight? Rob? No? hmm, maybe you should do something together'

- 'Wow (Y/N) I dig the new suit. What do you think, Rob?'

- It's just past subtle that it drives you crazy

- The team suddenly putting you and Robin together for literally everything. You're not sure if it's because they're trying to get you together or because they just like to see how flustered you are around him.

- Robin inviting you to his home on thanksgiving because you and Oliver are having a huge fight and you have nowhere else to go.

- Nearly fainting when you see him without his suit and mask because holy shit is this boy beautiful. The most stunning blue eyes that you had ever seen in your entire life and it's impossible not to get lost in them. It's even harder not to be a mess around him without your own mask to hide behind

- Dick getting way to excited to show you around the batcave. ~grabbing your hand~ to drag you around everywhere in the massive manor and in the cave. He doesn't realize he's still holding it as you run into Bruce and they have an entire conversation while you're still holding his hand - not wanting to let go and to shocked to

- Bruce thinking it's adorable when Dick's cheeks get rosy upon realizing that he didn't let go of you. Unfortunately not noticing that he blushed.

- Starting to hang out way more after that when training. Still being a mess around him but now Wally's started to pick up that Dick is too.

- Now he's teasing the both of you separately and it becomes the most entertaining thing to see you both stumble over your words or mess up while doing something because of what he says. Wally brings out the popcorn every time you spar together now because it's just so entertaining to watch you both be hesitant around each other.

- Dick finally has enough of Wally's comments and jokes one day.

- Completely out of the blue you're in the kitchen with M'gann trying to help her make some new recipe that she wanted to try when Dick comes storming into the kitchen with Wally right behind. Neither of you have any time to ask what's going on before Dick grabs your cheeks and kisses you

- You don't have time to react out of your shocked state. M'gann drops the spoon she's holding and Wally's absolutely losing his shit at the site that he's seeing.

- By the time he pulls away you've finally realized what happens. Dick, your crush, kissed you completely randomly and completely perfectly. He glares at Wally before leaving the room, not explaining himself to anyone - not even you.

- Wally speeding you so you're standing only inches away from your chests touching. No one's around this time. Dick's cheeks are bright red and he's trying his best to avoid your gaze.

- "I really like you" The words aren't meant to completely blurt out but now you've done it and there's no taking it back. It's painful waiting for him to respond. Decades, hours, seconds pass and he still doesn't say anything. Maybe he doesn't need to - maybe another kiss will give you the answer you need. And it does.

- Dick's hesitant this time. he doesn't have the surge of confidence and frustration this time around. His hands latch onto your lips, pulling you closer. Its far more perfect than the last one - and this time you're actually able to kiss him back without being in complete shock.

- "I like you too"

- Wally is incredibly proud of himself for finally getting you guys together after that painfully long wait.

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Only Vampires

(Story Post)

Nari wasn't sure why he trusted these two vampires, but he wanted to know what they knew and so he followed them to their home. They didn't live more than a block north of where the library stood. They must've lived there a long time to afford such a big house, but then again, he had no idea what the housing market was like here. Either way, any active and diligent vamp over 100 years old could secure themself considerable wealth if they tried. Nari himself hadn't focused on capital during the majority of his life though, but he still did well for himself. The front doors of the house were very big, with stained glass windows, but Wesley and Everett took him around to the back door which was average sized and let no light in. This wasn't an issue right now as it was an hour to midnight, but he guessed that any daytime travel came through here, so they'd grown accustomed to it.

Inside was a small mudroom with another door at the other end. Nari waited for Everett to take off his shoes before he removed his own because wasn't sure what the traditions were in this country, but he was only further confused when Wesley took his shoes off but Everett kept them on. “Um, shoes on or off?” Nari had to ask. Wesley wacked Everett's leg with his loafer. “Shoes off, please.” Nari was relieved and did as told. “Alright.” “I'm not sure why we adopted that,” Everett said, reluctantly removing his footwear and then promptly putting on a pair of slippers. “My family always wore their shoes inside, his family wore shoes inside… Not to mention, it doesn't matter at all what Wesley wears.” “It's for our housemates,” Wesley said. “We have several housemates from across the world, you'll find Nari. The general consensus has been shoes off. We do our best to be accommodating.” He then proceeded to pull out a set of wheel slippers and socks and maneuvered them onto his chair. Nari thought for a second and then raised a hand. “I hope you don't think I need somewhere to stay. I'm well established.” “No, no,” Wesley said. “We just like to help anyone when it comes to library matters. As you may have noticed, it is not very accessible to all vamps of all shapes, abilities, and colours. We like to help anyone find the knowledge they need.” Nari nodded. “I see. So you steal the books for them.” “I told you, we borrow them,” Everett said as he led them through to the main hall. “Evie does think of himself as a modern-day Robin Hood of Knowledge, though,” Wesley said. The main hall was a lot more modern than Nari expected for a house apparently full of vampires. It was open concept with a lovely kitchen with granite counter tops. Further on was the living room and stairs, both up to the next floor and down to the basement. An elevator had also been installed beside the stairs for easier access to all floors. Nari’s hosts took him down to the basement, which was set up as a games room and study. There was pool, and darts, and even a pinball machine on one side. Some lounge chairs, a sofa, and a set of bookshelves on the other. There, they found another pair of vampires, one with her nose in a book, the other passed out on the couch, an open book on his chest. “Ah, glad some of you are here,” Wesley said going over to the reading nook. “Inaya, please meet Nari. We met him at the library.” The conscious vampire got up and smiled. She wore a hijab and had big round eyes framed with detailed eyeliner. She offered a hand to Nari. “Nice to meet you. Are you looking at a room?” “No, no, I’m just getting a little extra help with my research,” Nari said shaking her hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve never met, well, a vampire like you.” “A hijabi vampire?” Inaya chuckled. “Me neither. That’s why I’m here.” “To find more?” Nari asked. “No, to learn about being a vampire,” Inaya said. “I didn’t know anything about them really until I was turned, and I didn’t have any other vampires around to teach me. Figuring out how to be a vampire and muslim at the same time is difficult. Blood is haram, you see.” “Ah.” Nari nodded. “Have the books been helpful?” “Some, yes. Wesley seems to know how to find me good reads,” Inaya said. “I’ve tried entering the library on my own, but it’s always been a hassle. They always find some excuse not to let us in.” “I understand,” Nari said rollimg his eyes. “It's a different excuse each time.” Everett went over and kicked the end of the couch to wake its occupant. “Rise, Jeremiah! Meet our guest!” Wesley frowned. “Evie, let the boy sleep. He's probably been studying tirelessly, the poor kid.” It was too later however and the sleepy vampire stirred and sat up, rubbing his eyes. The book he had been reading fell off his chest and onto the floor. The bang made him curse and scramble to pick it up. “Shit, it better not be busted… These old ass books…” “Language, Jeremiah. You know the rules,” Everett scolded. “Shit, sorry, Ev,” the vampire huffed. “Not my fault you woke me up.” “I have half the mind to discipline you,” Everett said, crossing his arms. “Yeah, that’ll look good, you pasty old Brit beating my black ass…” the young vampire mocked. He noticed Nari. “Who’s this little mosquito?” Wesley put a hand on Nari's shoulder. “This is Nari. We're helping him in his research.” The other got up and offered a hand to the newcomer. “It's Jez, but these old farts insist on calling me by my whole name like they're my damn mother or something.” Everett huffed. “Seriously, if you don't straighten out your language, I'll—” “The entire concept of vulgar language is inherently racist,” Jez interrupted, his entire diction changing just to prove a point to old Everett. “My use of swearing is not abusive, but instead cathartic, emphatic and idiomatic, forms of swearing that are not meant to offend anyone. For you to tell me what words I can and cannot say is a blatant form of oppression and reduces my abilities to cope with pain or misfortune.” Everett frowned, his lips pursed. “Fine. But could you tone it down just a bit?” “No.” Wesley came up behind Everett and patted his back. “Relax. We're all adults. Anyway, where's Paolo?” “He's in his room,” Inaya said. “Probably working.” “Ah, okay. Nari can meet him later,” Wesley said approaching the coffee table. From out of nowhere, he pulled out a book and offered it to Inaya. “I found an Arabic tome with stories from Turkey in it. I’m hoping it might help you.” “Oh! Maybe!” Inaya took the book gratefully. “I appreciate it, Wes!” “Where did you pull that book from?” Nari asked, a bit dumbfounded. “The library?” Wesley said, a little confused by the question. “No, I mean… I didn't notice it on your person before,” Nari said. “Oh! It's pocket magic,” Wesley said. “Easier than carrying them around.” “Pocket magic is some real basic level shit,” Jez said, eyeing Nari. “If you don't know that, what abilities do you have?” Nari shook his head. “…I never learned vampire magic. Well, except a blood purifying spell I found the other day.” Everett placed his hands on Nari's shoulders. “Oh dear, so you've just been going about your life with all the cons and none of the pros to the whole vampire thing? Sounds miserable!” Nari frowned. “I didn't know I could learn any of it…” “You absolutely can!” Everett said. “We will show you the basics.” “Honestly, it's fine…” Nari said. “I don't plan on sticking around long, and my partner has enough magic for the both of us…” “Your partner knows magic but you didn't know you could learn it?” Inaya asked. “They didn't try to teach you?” “He’s not a vampire,” Nari said. “He doesn't know what I'm capable of doing as one.” “What is he, then?” Jez asked. “A dragon?” “No, he's a wizard,” Nari said. “A wizard?” Wesley inquired, his voice a little concerned. “Like, a human wizard?” “Uh, yes,” Nari said. “The magic isn't the same, though he's convinced he can learn vampire stuff…” Everett started shaking his head. “Do you always engage in romantic relationships with humans?” “Yes.” Nari frowned, reading the negative energy coming from his acquaintances. “You say that like it's bad. Are you going to tell me we're not supposed to do that? It's taboo or something?” “No, it's fine! I mean…” Everett put his hands on Wesley's shoulders. “He was unturned when I fell for him…” “But we weren't trying to reproduce, that’s for sure,” Wesley said. He placed a hand on Nari’s arm. “It’s no wonder you’ve been having trouble… You can't have children with humans. It never works.” Nari clenched his jaw. “That's not…My information came to a 1-in-8 chance that a vampire can complete live birth.” “It's more complicated than that,” Everett said, pulling out one of the books be grabbed. “It's likely the one successful time out of eight, their partner was another vampire. The odds are much better with two vampires. Like, 1-in-3.” He opened to a page that displayed a large family tree on it. “Any time in history that a vampire successfully completed a pregnancy, both parents were vampires. Any pairings with children from one unturned and a vampire were from before the vampiric parent had turned. Or, there has also been the occasional time a vampire sired a child with an unturned person, but it is rarer.” Nari frowned and sat down on the couch. “But…I… Isn’t there any magic that can help?” Wesley shook his head. “Not that we've found. Your best bet is to try with a vampire.” “But I don't want a child from someone else…” Nari said. “I want one with Diederich.” “I'm surprised you even date unturned,” Jez commented. “It's sad stuff watching humans grow old and die all the time…” “Diederich isn't just any human, he's immortal too,” Nari said. “He knows really powerful skills and spells.” Jez rolled his eyes. “So, easy fix. Just turn him.” Nari shook his head. “No, I can't do that.” “I could teach you,” Everett said. “Or I could do it.” Nari glared. “No, I don't want to turn him. I wouldn't do that to someone.” Everett sighed. “Nari, I don't know what to tell you. Your goal is to have a baby with your partner. Both of you need to be vampires for that to happen. That's all there is. We don't have any other advice.” Nari looked down at his hands, his eyes brimming with tears. “So, all those times I tried… Complete waste of time...” Wesley rubbed Nari’s shoulder. “You didn't know…” He looked to Everett. “Would you give us a moment? All of you.” “Of course, love,” Everett said, kissing Wesley on the forehead. “Come along now, children.” “We are not your kids,” Jez groaned as he got up reluctantly and followed Inaya and Everett upstairs. Once they were alone, Wesley sighed and rubbed Nari's arm. “Before you turned, did you have any children?” Nari slowly and sniffled. “Yes… My son, Tae-seok. He was just a baby when I turned…” “Is he alive?” Wesley asked. “No… He passed away around the turn of the millennia…” Wesley sighed. “When did you start trying for another baby?” “We tried for several years when Tae-seok was young… But his father, Eun-young, died in a factory accident when Tae-seok was still a child. I didn't try again until well after my son passed away too.” “With your current partner?” Wesley asked. Nari shook his head. “No, my previous relationship. It was an accident… But I wanted it to work out. I had a little hope.” “I'm really sorry, Nari,” Wesley said. “It must be difficult to hear about the circumstances of your pursuit… And I'm sorry about Evie. He thinks turning people will always fix everything. It doesn't.” “But he's right though… If Diederich were a vampire, we'd have a much better chance,” Nari said spreading his hands. “If he were turned, we could try…” Wesley shook his head. “I can tell, you don't want to do that. It sounds like your experience with being a vampire has been more negative than positive and you don't want to subject someone else to that.” “I don't. Diederich is… He’s so lovely, and he's happy…” Nari said. “I don't want to take that from him.” “I understand. It isn’t easy. I don't always love being a vampire either… And I certainly wouldn't make that decision for someone else,” Wesley said. “You do realise that if you did manage to give birth to a baby, you'd be choosing a life as a vampire for them too?” Nari blinked. “Yes, but… I…” He paused. “…With Diederich, since he's unturned, I thought that they might not be…” “Well, even if you could reproduce with a normal human being, you’re a vampire. Your kids would be vampires.” Nari grit his teeth. “…I guess I just…you know, if I could have a baby again, I didn't care what they were… But now just saying it, that’s sounds so incredibly selfish… To subject my own child to the exact same curse I've suffered for their entire life…” Wesley rubbed Nari's knee. “I think you need to think about your situation and talk to your partner. Really work out what path makes the most sense for both of you, and any possible children in the mix. What's best for everyone is what is important.” Nari nodded slowly. “Yes… I just want to be with Diederich… I should go…” Wesley checked his watch. “Where are you staying? Evie can drive you over.” “It's okay, I can walk…” “No way, this time of night, any drunk vampires tumbling out of a bar will want to pick a fight, and while I'm not saying you can't hold your own, you don't know much magic and vampires around the library know their stuff.” Nari sighed and told Wesley his hotel. “I do appreciate you guys trying to help me… You’re honestly the nicest vampires I've ever met.” “Aw, it's nothing,” Wesley said going to the elevator. “Each of us understands the difficulty of being accepted in the vampire world. But we've been very lucky and those who have should give.” “So, is this sort of a boarding house for vampires using the library?” Nari asked. “Sort of… We keep the rent super cheap though because the house was paid off many, many years ago. Our housemates just split utilities. Evie and I cover the taxes and insurance.” Wesley smiled. “If you ever need somewhere to stay, we'll be here. First month is free for long term. Of course, we won't charge you if you just want to come over and visit.” Nari nodded. “That's more than generous, thank you.” They rode the elevator together and met with Everett at the back of the house. “Good talk?” Everett asked, spinning his car keys. “Yes, I think so,” Wesley said. “Inaya and Jeremiah are back in their rooms, then?” “Yeah.” Everett unlocked the door. “Alright, Nari. We won't keep you any longer than you'd like. Wes said you needed a ride, yes? Come along.” Nari blinked. “When did he tell you?” “Come on, now.” Everett placed his hands on his hips. “You really do need a rundown on basic magic. You could teach toddlers mind connection.” “I really don't know anything, then…” Nari frowned following him out. Wesley waved as they left. “Hope to see you soon!” Nari waved again before going to the garage with Everett. “You should consider coming back tomorrow night,” Everett said, unlocking the car. “Jeremiah will teach you everything you need to know.” “I might take him up on that. At least I'll have gotten something out of this trip.” “Well, there you go. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” “Hm… Yes, I suppose.” “Oh, and you still have to meet Paolo! He’s Asian like you too! Wouldn’t guess from his name though, would you?” “You really don’t think before you speak, do you?” “Hey, respect your elders.” “Sorry, grandpa.”

[oneyeartoparty]

The brothers react to a MC who cooks as badly as Solomon

I’m not going to reveal to events that inspired this react. I will say that my kitchen is glad I’m no longer using the oven in what appears to be an attempt to summon some evil entity. I hope you all enjoy and have an awesome day =)

Lucifer

You’d always worked with himself or one of his brothers when cooking dinner, so he was eager to try your cooking when you offer to make him something after a long day of council meetings and paperwork.

The smell of your cooking reaches him in his office. It’s a pleasant smell and reminds him of how hungry he is. The hunger gets so bad it distracts him from his work, and he considers going into the kitchen and helping you finish so you can eat together. He is about to get up when you appear, food in hand.

Lucifer thanks you for the food and compliments you on how nice it looks before he takes a bite.

He instantly reminded of Solomon’s cooking. He wonders if all humans are bad cooks or if he’s been cursed with only knowing bad human cooks. He also considers that this could be some prank, but he doubts his brothers would risk having to eat some of Solomon’s cooking just to get some to feed to him.

Lucifer isn’t one to mince words. He tells you outright that it’s terrible, but he’s grateful you made it for him. He can tell your disappointed, and he promises to help you improve your cooking in any way he can.

From then on your taken off the cooking schedule until you can show Lucifer you’ve improved enough to make edible food. To help you, he’ll ask both Barbatos and Luke to give you pointers, and offer to sign you up to some cooking classes.

A part of him is glad to have someone with cooking skills as terrible as yours on hand. Threats of having to try your latest attempt at cooking is a genuine deterrent to his brothers who come to fear your cooking as much as Solomon’s. He will stop making such threats is you ask him to. Your happiness is worth more to him than making his brothers squirm, and he’d do anything to prove that.

Mammon

Mammon could never see a flaw in you. No matter how flawed someone else viewed a part of you as it would always be perfect to him because it was a part of you. And so when you told him about your love for cooking, he naturally believed you were a fabulous cook.

Ever eager to spend time with you, he jumps at the opportunity to be the test subject for your first Devildom dish. You two went to buy fresh ingredients, and he sat and chatted with you as you cooked.

When you finished, he eagerly takes a bite from what you’ve prepared. It took a mere second of chewing for the taste to him hit like a tsunami. It was bad, there was no other way to put it. No amount of seasoning could save this dish, and he doubted even Cerberus would want a bite.

He was contemplating spitting out the matter in his mouth when his eyes met yours. Your smile was gorgeous, and the twinkle in your eye was brighter than any star. It’s no exaggeration to say he would do anything to see that look, especially when it was directed at him alone.

Not wanting to lose that smile, he ate every last bite of what you’d made him. When he finished, he told you how delicious it was, and was so happy when that smile of yours somehow became wider.

Every future dish you give him is eaten in full, even though they’re all equally bad. The smile you give him when he finishes is worth every bad bite.

Leviathan

At the first mention of you cooking one of the dishes from the latest anime you two marathoned Levi was on board. The animation made the dish look divine, and he was ecstatic when you told him you’d try to recreate it. It was a dream come true for him.

When you enter the room, you’re met by an excited Levi, who rushes over to you. You’d worked extra hard to make the dish look as near like its anime counterpart as you could, and this causes Levi’s excited to rise further as he takes a bite.

The taste doesn’t hit him at first. The thrill of everything made him ignore the taste of what he was eating. But when it did finally hit him, it hit him like Cerberus pouncing on a poor creature who’d made its way to its underground den. It hit him so hard that he didn’t have time to comprehend the awfulness before he fainted.

Levi wakes up to you overlooking him with concern. He reassures you he’s fine, but quickly stops when he remembers the cause of his sudden collapse.

He doesn’t know if he should tell you or not. He doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, but that level of lousy cooking isn’t something he can handle again.

He settles on not telling you, but you keep asking for his opinion until he accidentally blurts it out. You’re disappointed your food was so terrible it caused him to faint, but you endeavor to improve so next time he can enjoy it. He promises to also join you in improving your cooking skills so you can both make something together in the future.

Satan

You were both a bookshop when a recipe book caught your eye. It contained the most popular Devildom dishes, and you mention you loved to cook before the chaos of the Devildom came into your life. You end up buying the book and telling Satan you’ll make him something from it when you next hang out.

That day comes quickly, and Satan is seated at the dining table as you present him with the dish featured on the book’s front cover. He’d tried it before and enjoyed it, so he didn’t hesitate to take a bite.

He wasn’t sure how the dish came out as bad as it did. Unlike Solomon, you’d followed the recipe and not slammed ingredients together like some depraved cook hellbent on serving terrible food to the innocent masses. He also isn’t sure how he managed to swallow what he’d been chewing for a minute as you watched on, but he knew he couldn’t take another bite.

He’s quick to tell you the dish was horrible, and he feels bad when he sees the sadness takeover your face. You’d tried hard, and you loved to cook even if you weren’t the best.

Satan doesn’t want you feeling inadequate, or have you stop doing something you love when he can help you improve. With a smile, he promises to make a plan to get your cooking skills to new, much tastier heights.

He creates a slew of lessons and a massive stack of reading materials for you, all related to cooking. He is going to do his best to help you improve your cooking. And of course, he’s happy he gets to spend so much extra time with you.

Asmodeus

When you first cooked something for him, Asmo was excited to try it. It has been years since he’d last tried some human food, and what you presented to him looked scrumptious! He even took a few pics of it to post on Devilgram later.

The moment his first bite touched his taste buds, however, he flashed back to the first time he tasted Solomon’s cooking. It was like you’d used some foul magic to replicate that same dish and serve it to him.

He could feel his hair frizz up, and all the moisture drain from his skin as the sheer awfulness of your cooking truly hit him. He knew it would take days for his body to recover from the assault on his taste buds.

He was conflicted on his next move. He knew the hard work that went into creating something and didn’t want to seem unappreciative by not finishing his meal. However, the meal was so bad he doubted he could finish it.

Asmo was well known for his frequent diets. So he settled on claiming he couldn’t eat much of what you’d made him for fear of going off his new diet.

He felt awful when you asked if he’d like something else and he declined. He made a mental note to pay you back for your hard work with some pampering later. He’d also ask Barbatos to give you a few pointers for future cooking attempts.

He’d also take on on frequent trips to visit and learn from famous Devildom chefs. He has many connections with the most famous demons of the Devildom, so why not use them to your benefit? Plus all the personal time you two get is an added bonus.

Beelzebub

There are few things Beel won’t eat. Even the most bizarre or rare dishes that most would turn down, Beel would gladly gobble it up with a smile and ask for as many extras serving as he could get. He was a food connoisseur, even if his primary focus was on eating as much as possible rather than judging how well made it was.

The same happened when you first cooked for him. An ever eager Beel watched as you brought in a massive plate of food, some mix of human, celestial realm and Devildom dishes, and placed it before him.

He doesn’t notice the taste at first. He’s inhaling the food so fast it’s not hitting his tongue. But when he does, he freezes. Even the Avatar of Gluttony can’t take another bite; the food is too horrible.

He looks around the room, thinking Solomon might’ve asked you to serve one of his dishes since Beel has always declined his offers after he first made him something hundreds of years prior.

Beel’s honest, though, and he lets you know your cooking isn’t good. He doesn’t do it hurt you, but because he wants to give you honest feedback to improve at something you enjoy doing.

Every new dish you make Beel tries, and being the family’s food expert, he’s able to point out where you’ve improved and what still needs work. It’s slow going, but ever new dish sees your cooking improve.

As your cooking improves, he’ll ask you to make him something or for the two of you to cook together more and more frequently. He’ll compliment your food and also tell others how good your cooking is and how happy he is to eat it.

Belphegor

Belphie is on his 9th nap of the day when he awakes to you holding a plate and the pleasant smell of a freshly cooked meal filling the attic. He’d never actually eaten something you alone had prepared and having napped through dinner he was happy to have something to fill his stomach.

He doesn’t take in much of the dish before his first bite. He’s still half asleep, and it wouldn’t be the first time he’s eaten something in such a state.

But then the taste comes, and he’s now wide awake. The sudden push to full consciousness ecould be compared to him tripping on something as he slept walked around the House of Lamentation. The sudden sensation of slamming to the floor was what his taste buds were experiencing after tasting your terrible cooking.

He swallows more out of shock than anything. But he knows he can’t eat another bite of whatever you’ve fed him.

Belphie tells you it was terrible. He even asks if Solomon made it, but stops talking when he sees you’re disappointed your cooking wasn’t to his liking.

He doesn’t like seeing you upset. He tells you it doesn’t matter if your cooking isn’t good. No one can be great at everything, and he happy you thought of him and cared about him eating to make him something so late. He’s just happy to have you in his life, anything more than that from you is more than he deserves.

If you’re still eager to improve your cooking, Belphie will help you in any way he can except testing. Instead, he’ll propose using Lucifer or Solomon as your tasters from now on. If you’re ok with it, he’ll use your cooking in a future prank on Lucifer.

[the-clari-net]

A Mother’s Intuition

AO3

Maddie Fenton prides herself on being a woman of science. A woman full of reasoning and logic who has spent her entire career working on showing her credibility by proving that ghosts exist; not only that, but to show the dangers that they hold to the living. After so many years of being mocked and belittled she finally got her big break with that ghost portal. Once ghosts started coming into Amity Park, she knew she had something tangible that would shake the foundations of the scientific community that have been perceived as Law. Everyone would know that there exists a space that these laws don’t apply (in more ways than one). She and Jack would finally get their brilliance recognized, and her children could finally look at their parents with pride knowing that they’re the first to discover and pioneer this new branch of science never before studied by mankind.

  With that being said, Maddie was the one who always brought a more realistic approach to the ideas Jack came up with. They made a good team like that, covering each other’s blind spots to the best of their abilities. Maddie was seen as the rational one, less emotionally swayed compared to her jovial and at times overly enthusiastic husband. That’s not a bad thing really, since it keeps Maddie grounded in not becoming too absorbed in observing at a microscopic level and he forces her to step back and relook at her project with new eyes with a wider perspective. This is all to say that Maddie is an observant person. Her profession relies on her ability to analyze and being able to report and reflect on those observations.

All this needs to be mentioned because Maddie has been feeling strange lately. Well, perhaps lately isn’t the right word. This is a feeling that has existed within her for awhile, it’s just become impossible to ignore the longer it stays. This is a blind spot that has grown too large to push aside.

Dread is one way to describe this feeling. Anxiety is another. At its worst peak, paranoia might be more applicable.

Right now Maddie is sitting at her dinner table with her family. It’s a Sunday night, she had ordered pizza earlier in the evening because the radioactive hot dogs are holding yesterday’s leftovers hostage. It’s a normal evening for the Fentons all things considered.

Except for the slightly shaky hands, which is strange for a woman who has skilled precision with a scalpel. Except for the pounding in Maddie’s chest, her pulse has been quickening the longer they’re having dinner, and she’s starting to hear that same pulse pounding behind her ears. Except for the slight chill that never leaves her despite sitting next to her husband who runs so warm he might as well be a personal heater.

There’s the tightening of her chest that leaves her struggling to breathe properly. It feels as if at any moment she may have to start gasping for breath like her sister Alicia used to as a kid before she got an inhaler to treat her asthma.

Ultimately, these are all the signs Maddie feels when she’s scared. It’s been a while since she’s felt true fear that wasn’t outweighed by adrenaline and excitement. She usually can hold her own against any human and she’s smart to never fight a ghost at close range. She can’t remember the last time she had felt helpless enough to fear like this.

As a woman who is a master at martial arts, she’s had a lot of past experience in her training going up against powerful opponents. There were certain opponents (especially in her early years of training) that made her feel like she was prey, that if she lost her focus for a moment, she would be pulverized. This is the same feeling only a thousand times worse.

Maddie has been trying to deny the connections she’s been weaving since the first prick of nervousness first reached her. She was a woman of science, she needed evidence to support her conclusion; correlation does not equal causation. However, her martial arts background has told her to trust your instincts; it’s a survival trait warning of a potential danger. The conflict of these two perspectives have been arguing in her head about the odd common thread with these spikes of anxiety.

These feelings only seem to appear whenever Danny was around.

It was such a silly observation at first, more of an offhand thought. But as time went on, and her nerves were worsening, the thought stayed with her in the back of her mind.

Maddie’s mind tries to be rational about the ordeal, trying to convince herself that these feelings of anxiety could be due to stress, or some effect of the ghost portal. The fact that something primal is screaming at her that her son –the boy who currently has a piece of pepperoni stuck to the side of his lip and is pouting at Jazz—is a threat to her livelihood is what worries her.

Could he be possessed by a ghost? No, that’s ridiculous; his eyes are blue, he can’t be possessed. They look a little brighter than normal. That’s the kitchen lighting, Danny is NOT involved in this.

It feels like it has to be ghost related. This feeling of dread is common with several of the ghosts that have appeared in Amity Park before. She’s noticed that the more powerful ones are more likely to cause this instinctual feeling compared to the little ghost blobs who only cause a shiver to your spine once physical contact is made.

“—right Mom?”, Maddie jumps a bit and looks up to realize that Jazz was looking directly at her. She notices that the pizza box is empty, and the table’s been cleared, except for her own plate. Was she out of it for that long?

“Sorry honey, I didn’t hear what you said. Could you repeat the question?”. She tried to offer a smile, but she could tell looked more like a grimace. Jack was looking at her worriedly, but he knew better than to push her to talk in front of the kids. Jazz looked back with a soft smile, but her brows were furrowed.

Maddie didn’t look in Danny’s direction.

“I was just saying I should have the leftover slice of pizza for tomorrow instead of Danny because I have seniority rights, right?”

Maddie blinked at Jazz for a moment before recollecting herself and standing up from her seat and moving to the sink to wash the dishes, forcefully ignoring the back of her mind screaming at her to run as far away as she can from here and never look back.

“Now you two, there’s no need to fight like that. Why don’t I just give you both some lunch money for tomorrow and we’ll call it even?” She smiled at Jazz, subtly angling herself so her back wasn’t facing towards Danny and kept him in her peripheral vision.

She doesn’t want to think of why she did that.

--

Later that night, Maddie couldn’t sleep. She managed to convince Jack that she was feeling better after dinner, and now she’s wide awake trying to remember why that fear felt so familiar. She recognized the unease that only comes from being in close contact with a ghost. It’s the same feeling that lingered in her system after having a ghost possess her; there’s a specific rolling in her stomach that comes from it. The feelings she got during dinner tonight felt like a specific ghost, something about it felt familiar but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

When she finally went to sleep, she was restless with dreams of sharp bright blue eyes, looming shadows that suffocated her, and sweet awkward smiles that slowly turned into menacing and haunting grins.

--

The rest of the week had been a pretty regular one. Jack and Maddie had spent most of the week building some new weapons that could help capture Phantom once and for all. Because of this, they had been eating in their lab. If Maddie felt relief at using her work as a shield to avoid family dinner, that’s her secret to keep.

The week had been quiet with no battles or major ghost sightings until a massive ghost battle broke out between Phantom and another one of the reoccurring ghosts on Friday. Skulker was the name of the ghost if what she had overheard from her sonar dish on the family RV was correct. It was all the way across town. Jack was behind the wheel, and Maddie was checking over the new prototype they had been working on all week that would hopefully weaken a ghost’s powers. They were hoping that Phantom could be their first test subject.

As they were about halfway to the battle, Maddie suddenly got a prickly feeling in her neck. She was well acquainted with that feeling when nearing ghosts, so she dismissed it as usual. But it got worse the closer they reached their destination. Her body slowly began to tense up, more, her breaths were becoming shallower, and her mouth had suddenly run very dry.

No… it can’t be…

There they were in front of Skulker and Phantom and all Maddie could do was tense up in terror and barely stop herself from letting out a whimper. This feels too familiar, he feels like…

Phantom suddenly crashes on top of their windshield, he groans and begins to lift himself off the hood of the RV when for a brief moment, his eyes meet Maddie’s. He sends a sheepish smile and begins to fly up towards Skulker, immediately striking him down with an ectoblast.

Meanwhile, Maddie feels all the blood drain from her face and she feels her eyes begin to fill up with tears. Jack is yelling about that darn ghost damaging his RV, but she can barely focus. She recognized the feeling now. The interaction between the two of them didn’t even last a minute, yet it is staying with her all the same.

The smile Phantom gave reminded her of a black-haired boy who would get caught staying up late looking at his telescope. A boy who would give her that same smile whenever he was confronted about skipping class and missing his assignments. She sees that smile every day in her own home.

It looked so odd, having that smile come from a boy with bright white hair, and eyes that glowed toxic green. The smile was sharper, with incisors that were just short of becoming fangs. But it was still recognizable.

She can no longer deny it, Phantom and Danny are connected. Danny even leaves her with the same sense of terror and fear that only a ghost as powerful as Phantom could do. It feels more potent with Phantom; looking him in the eye for that moment almost made her scream bloody murder.

Jack was never as attuned to the emotional effects that ghosts brought on due to his natural bravery and confidence (she has a theory about his family bloodline having adopted some traits that could block out these senses of fear which leads them to being better ghost hunters). However, even Jack had once mentioned that he felt unnerved by Phantom, which says a lot about the power that child ghost must hold. But to think that powerful monster is somehow connected to her son was a situation she never would have considered. Was he possessed?

When did it happen? Was it around the time that Maddie first began feeling unnerved?

How didn’t you notice? The back of her mind whispered to her. You’re his mother, aren’t you?

The weight of her realization begins to set it. The burden of fearing her son with no tangible reason for doing so. Her own neglect and obliviousness about missing this massive part of her son’s life fills her with guilt. Suddenly the weapon in her hand, ready to be used against Phantom (Danny?) makes her nauseous.

She feels her body beginning to shut down and go into autopilot. Maddie dazedly notices that she and her husband are parked in the middle of a street, in easy range to get blasted or crushed, or incinerated or possessed by these ghosts. She is in no condition to fight.

She feels a little hysterical thinking about her own safety when her son (or some possessed version of him) is out there fighting a ghost after literally crashing into an RV with military grade protection.

“Jack, we should go home”, Maddie hoarsely interrupts her husband’s tangent.

He looks like he was about to protest until he saw his wife’s bloodshot eyes, holding back tears and white as a sheet. Without further prompting, he turned the car around and as soon as the stiffening fear had melted away from Maddie’s shoulders did she finally allow the tears to fall.

[mannien]

Mornings in Sheffield Park | TH - CHAPTER 1

The one with stress, takeout food around the world, late night walks, and Disney dreams.

Word count: 6.6k 

Warnings: some stress, some anxiety, mention of sex, and a lot of smiles

Masterlist

Fourth week into the morning pitch meetings at BBC, Millie felt lifeless and drained. The room was usually exploding with ideas, creative energy, and a lot of constructive feedback to the few interns who were allowed to join the conversation with editors, writers, and producers. That morning had started ugly enough for her: with an overwhelming number of e-mails about the schedule and missing content for Politics Live.

When she first landed her spot at BBC, Millie was over the moon. She was constantly calling it a dream come true, a once in a lifetime opportunity for her to begin a writing career in media. Her degree seemed to be the best choice for her future and Millie was ready to prove that graduating from humanities can actually land her a decent job. Her first days were filled with morning preparations, early commute to the city centre and exceptionally smoothed out shirts. The work environment in such a fast-paced industry felt inspiring and daunting at the same time, but Millie felt obligated to use this experience to its full potential. Each day she attempted to learn more than the day before and possibly show off a tiny bit more of her creative skills to her superiors. She spent her evenings researching topics and people, trying not to fall out of the loop. Being one step forward was hard work, one that Millie desperately wanted to ace.

The second week of her internship brought a slight shift to her agenda. After grasping the general concepts of working for a major radio and TV broadcasting company, she was aware of the production processes. She tried to happily follow up all the details about the work of a writer, a researcher, or an editor – just so she could be prepared for the follow-up of the introductory week. And as she hoped her interview was remembered and she would soon contribute to any program touching upon music or pop culture, her dreams and calls were slowly fading away. The intern manager ascribed her to the team devoted strictly to politics and daily news, having no vacancies for the popular radio programs. Even though she took whatever spot was offered, it was only to get more insight and experience.  

Having already managed to speak up a few times during the morning routines in the conference room, Millie eased herself into the work environment and was treated like a regular employee. But the first wave of success quickly passed, especially when she was hit with growing emptiness in her brain. She did not enjoy politics, so as far as she could, she attempted to sneak in a sociological aspect into the context. But her tactic had an expiration date.

A couple of heads were expectantly turned at Millie when she was unsurely stuttering her weak ideas for the upcoming programme. She knew it wasn’t going well and she was mentally cursing herself for trying to impress the producers that much so early on.

“This isn’t gonna work. We’ve covered this enough in the evening news. Let’s take five, and maybe you’ll come up with a different angle. I’ll give you another shot here.”

Hugh, the head writer took off his glasses and watched her fidget in her seat. She nodded and took a deep breath, before leaving the room for a short break. Her mind was racing in panic; she wasn’t ready to admit that she didn’t have any idea. She walked back and forth through the corridor until she cursed quietly and walked away to the main hall. She pulled her phone from the back pocket and without overthinking this anymore, she called her boyfriend. He picked up after the third ring.

“Babe, can I call you back…”

“No, Frank,” She felt determined and fierce. Her hands shook from the pure view on board members slowly coming back from the kitchen with fresh coffee mugs. They were probably waiting to hear her another take on the TV show which Millie, wholeheartedly, was beginning to hate. “My work on the programme is too basic and I’ve been roasted for the past fifteen minutes or so. Hugh has me in the spotlight in front of everyone. Help me, please?”

“It’s not your fault they’ve given you a job you’re not good at, babe. It’s just an internship, they will roast you anyway.”

Millie’s lungs were ready to stop working and suffocate her. She feared she might start hyperventilating, or at least meet up with a panic attack from the nerves. Franklin’s reaction seemed to be absolutely unfair and inconsiderate of her actual feelings, and he must have felt that through the piercing silence on the line.

“Look, I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t worry so much about it. They will probably just give you another placement where you’ll fit more, I don’t see why it’s such a bad thing.” And just like that, she started doubting herself and her right to overthink her situation. It didn’t sit well with Millie and she could feel anger slowly making its way through her veins.

“Can’t you just fucking help me? This one time?” She lost her temper, she lost her patience. At the same time Riley, one of the end writers, started waving at her from the end of the hall as to show her that her time is coming to an end. “I need a hook, or something that would spark a debate. Brexit-themed, maybe. Can you think of anything?”

Frank groaned loudly. He wasn’t exactly happy that she made him break down his ambitious wall and let her in on topics he was too invested in. Millie could hear him moving around as he left his desk of the equally large office of The Guardian, until the line went surprisingly quiet. Her anger and fear made her clutch her phone tightly to her ear, while her legs started carrying her slowly to the terrifying conference room.

“Think internationally. See what the Spanish had to say about May’s resignation from the Office. Think economics in the EU. Try to stand on the Union’s side and do some fair judgement.”

“Give me facts, not ideas. You’re the one who knows politics.”

“Spanish government says that May’s resignation is bad news. Compare it to the popular opinion that she was the worst Prime Minister since the 18th century and the American war on independence.” Millie breathed in, trying to desperately grasp all the details he just provided her with.

“That’s a… harsh and history-digging argument,” She mumbled in surprise, “where did you get that from?” She grabbed a yellow post-it note from the reception desk and quickly scribbled the key words on it. Her briefing on politics was never something like this and she could feel the embarrassment making its way into her heart. It wasn’t her way of thinking and she felt like a fraud.

“I can’t tell you that.” By the end of the single sentence Millie could feel the blood escaping her face, making her look pale and scared for dear life. She didn’t want to have heard that sentence, she was definitely happier not knowing how did he come up with a story like this. That was one of the many reasons she tried not to talk business with him.

“An opinion entry. A column for The Guardian. Shit, you just busted one of your colleagues.”

“Sometimes I hate it that you’re smart. Did I ever tell you that?”

“You just saved my internship!”

“Please don’t say that. I will pretend that we just talked about the weather.”          

“I’ll spend them the details. You’re the best, Frank.”

“Alright, go kick ass.”

And that she did. Franklin did save her internship, mainly because Millie avoided the specifics about who and why said something so harsh about the resigning Prime Minister. However, it definitely did spark interest among the production board. Afraid of not being so lucky next time, she decided to politely suggest a replacement for her permanent internship division within BBC, due to her ‘personal discomfort with discussions over issues of such importance and potential shame to their glorious country.’

Millie felt bad for using her boyfriend’s knowledge for survival at work. She wasn’t genuine and her idea didn’t come from her hard work - it was sourced in fear and anxiety-driven reactions. This situation proved to her that she wasn’t fit for the position, but it also raised her stress levels around the fact that she couldn’t get by on her own in the industry. She didn’t want others to navigate her through it all, but the conversation she had with Frank had also made her uncomfortable. Her need of support in a stressful situation was primarily turned down, so—naturally to her character—she started to worry even more.

With a heavy heart and two bags of Wagamama takeout, she walked up the stairs to his apartment. She was usually working until later hours than Frank, so all she really needed was for him to open the door for her. She leaned on the doorframe as she waited patiently for the two turns of the lock. He opened still in his work attire – tailored jeans and a light grey button up shirt. He was holding his phone next to his ear and humming approvingly to the speaker when he looked her up and down. He winked at her and let her in, as he continued to talk with someone.

Inside, Millie found the TV turned on with a football game playing. His work jacket was still hanging on the back of the tall stool in the kitchen, and the grocery bags laid unpacked on the table. She took off her shoes and made her way to the kitchen, where she made a little room for their food on the countertop. Pulling off her sweater, she peeked into the shopping bags – she wasn’t surprised to find a couple bottles of beer and food essentials, a multipack of tissues and a large box of condoms.

“What’s all this, babe?” Franklin came up to her and briefly kissed her on the lips, before looking into the boxes with deliciously smelling food.

“I just thought it might be nice to eat some goodies,” She smiled, trying to sniff out his mood first. He smiled back at her with approval and reached for the plates in the cupboard, so she continued, “also, it’s a ‘thank you for being my saviour today,’ kinda thing.”

“Ah, yeah. I bet everyone on my floor will hate BBC’s guts for that.” Frank said it so casually, with a shrug to follow up, that Millie struggled to understand the dynamic he had at The Guardian. He seemed to be a great fit for his team, because a week into his new job, he was already invited for Friday drinks and talked about his co-workers just like anyone would about their long-time friends. She couldn’t understand how was he getting so lucky at any step, but the last thing she wanted to do is doubt him. Any time worries and competitiveness clouded her brain, Millie was making extra room for compassion and support.

Frank unloaded some of the curry on his plate and started eating with a fork, and then made his way to the living room where he spread out on the sofa. He didn’t say anything else, somewhat scaring Millie that he will let her know he’s uncomfortable randomly, on a promisingly good day. Trying to figure out her brain, she followed his actions and took some extra food to the coffee table, before sitting down next to him.

“But you’re not gonna get into trouble for that, are you?” she was biting the inside of her cheek hard, definitely not used to not being judged for using someone else’s help.

“Nah, I don’t think so. They don’t know I’ve got a girl at BBC, so I should be just fine.”

Millie ate her curry in silence, suddenly at loss of words driven by his surprising statement. She didn’t want to raise an argument or seem overly sensitive. But for some reason she hoped that he would talk about her at work, especially considering his already formed strong bonds in the office, and a definitely higher success rate in his position. Ever so charming Franklin, he always glowed among people. She couldn’t really fight with this, so she just kept any comments to herself and focused on her food.

Frank switched the channel to the evening news and pulled her to his side once they were done eating. It comforted Millie to know that at the end of the day, they could both enjoy each other’s company, no matter what was happening at work. She didn’t pay much attention to the news, but rather focused on the way he reacted to it and what he enjoyed. She felt too tired to get invested in another load of politics, so she just soaked in his warmth and curled more into his side. He smelled of coffee and heavy, musky cologne that he liked to reapply frequently. Millie closed her eyes and breathed out the stress that weighed her down after a long day, finally finding peace.

“I’ll go grab a beer, you want one?” he abruptly stood up, making her slightly loose her balance and lean back towards the pillows. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips in a thin line.

“I’m good, thanks.”

“You sure? You’re awfully quiet today.” He spoke already from the kitchen, not even catching a glimpse of her pursed lips.

“I just need to wind down. It’s been stressful day.” She pushed a little smile on her cheeks as he came back with a frown. He took a few large sips of his drink and put it on the table, before lowering himself on the couch and leaning over Millie.

“I can help you relax, if you want.” He raised an eyebrow in a flirtatious manner, leaning into her and leaving a series of delicate kisses on her lips. He then moved onto her jaw and sucked on her skin, but never left a mark. Slowly massaging her waist, he slid his hand under her shirt and sprawled his fingers across her hip to pull her closer.

Millie enjoyed the warmth that started to spread through her body, but she couldn’t find any energy to give some of it back. She felt drained and exhausted, so a mere thought about participating in sexual activities was sure to make her at least slightly uncomfortable. Unless Frank was willing to change something about it.

“Okay, hold on,” her chuckle and a light push at his chest made him narrow his eyebrows in confusion, “I don’t think I’ve got enough energy today, Frankie.” Her whisper was followed by a reassuring smile. She weaved her fingers through his short hair and kissed the tip of his nose.

“What if I provide you with some energy first?”

“What, you’ll give me an energy drink?” She laughed at her poor joke and he chuckled, too, but more at her silliness than anything else. He laid her down comfortably and cautiously peppered her with kisses on her neck and the tiny bit of cleavage that was available without unbuttoning her shirt. She was slowly giving in, allowing him to get lower on her body and touch her. Frank either wanted to make her feel better, or was really horny. But whatever the case was, she didn’t want to stop him and ruin his enthusiasm. The glow in his eyes and admiration painted across his face were too intoxicating to back away. His touch was filled with sparks of emotions and a kind of drive that Millie was addicted to. She felt wanted and needed, and that’s what made her return the heated kisses despite her hooded, weary eyes.

They walked hand in hand through the chilly evening, sometime after she persuaded Frank to walk her to the nearest tube station. The wind was slightly tickling her neck, but other than that she felt at peace. She let her hair down, flowing gently with each blow of the air and lightly caressing her face like a safety blanket. They swayed their hands until they had to make room for a group of people passing by.

“Jane texted me about a little get together this Friday,” She mumbled into the night, trying not to disrupt the peaceful atmosphere around them.

“Ah, yeah. Aaron told me about it, too. I guess we’re going, right?”

“Yeah, it might be nice. The girls mentioned this new club near their apartment? I think that’s where they wanted to go.”

“Cool. I could use a little break.”

As they continued their walk, Millie mostly focused on leading the way through tight London streets. Franklin’s parents rented him an apartment in the city centre, close to everything you could dream of in London. It also meant crowded streets at any hour, so to have a nice walk around the neighbourhood usually requested it to be late at night. But it didn’t matter to him, as long as he had a short commute to the office and all other things that life requested from him, within reach. There were times when he would mention coming back to Manchester and supporting his parents at their law firm, but Millie saw how much he preferred his growing career as a journalist. Mathilda and William were a generous couple, so they shared their resources with him and tried to help him get into the business as smoothly as possible. Sometimes she wanted to ask him about his permanent position at The Guardian and whether his name had anything to do with it, but she never felt comfortable enough to do it. Some things were better left unspoken.

Reaching the staircase to the station, Franklin stopped and made her turn to him and look up at his smiling face.

“Thanks for coming over tonight. I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too.” She smiled shyly, nodding her head in reassurance.

“I wish you could finally move to the city, though. It would be so much easier if you were a few blocks away.”

“You do realize that even if I moved out, it wouldn’t be anywhere nearby?” Her chuckle resonated through her body, almost as if she wanted to humour herself at the topic that had started to come up more often in their conversations.

“I could ask around the office if anyone has a room available to rent.”

“But I don’t want to share my personal space with strangers, you know this. Don’t try to change my mind about it.” She smiled tightly.

Frank has been trying to persuade her into moving out for months. He wanted to be closer to her, within a short train journey, rather than a whole commute in and out of Kingston. He felt comfortable in the business of London, and Millie liked to call him out on being spoiled by having an apartment on his own in such a lively part of the city. But she wasn’t financially ready to leave her family home in equally comfortable Southwest London, where she had all she needed within her reach, and her social life was just a tiny bit longer train trip away. It was a source of their small disputes from time to time, because it was Millie who spent more time on going to his place and spending time there. Naturally, it made her feel more engaged in their relationship and Frank tried his best make up for the difference. But one thing that never occurred, was Millie staying over for longer than a night. Even a night’s sleepover was a rare event, somehow always blessed by excuses from either one of them.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he pecked her lips and brushed her cheek with his thumb. “I talk about it out of concern, okay?”

“Okay. But I like my train rides and I like Kingston. So let’s just deal with it for now, yeah?”

“’Course,” He sent her a tight smile before giving her one last kiss. “Text me when you get home.”

“Will do.”

Millie was one of those people who could be easily judged as thinkers. Years of taking trains and buses in and out of central London taught her to cherish every moment of peace she gets during her journeys. That’s how she learned to create playlists for each season – summer commutes were always different than autumn ones; they required different sounds and lyrical quality. Intense months during university semesters also showed her how to read fast between the stops and how to juggle standing on the tube and holding an open book without falling, as the train slowed and rushed every few seconds.

As she was approaching her station in Kingston, she stopped the music but kept her earphones in. A bunch of other people was hurrying to get out of the train and get home as soon as possible, but after leaving the station, she would have a lonely 15-minute walk to her neighbourhood, so she always tried to stay alert in the evenings. Getting on the sidewalk in the busiest area of Kingston, she closed her book and put it back in her backpack, pulled the jacket tighter around her middle and continued her steady walk.

The air was getting crispier with each minute outside. It was refreshing and calm, disturbed only by a few laughs from the pub across the street and two cars passing her by. She turned into one of the quieter streets, where the buildings were becoming shorter and more separated from each other. Brick fences and trimmed hedges adorned the concrete sidewalks on both sides of the street, illuminated only by a few lanterns. Most of the light was coming from the windows in a row of semi-detached houses that Millie has known for a good chunk of her life.

Right when she wanted to cross the street and take a right, she heard a subtle clicking of a dog collar and a leash. Soft padding from the back was slowly approaching her and becoming louder, as well as someone’s whistle.

“Tess, come here!” a hushed call didn’t disrupt the peace of the night, but rather added the familiarity that Millie adored. She slowed her walk and turned around, just in time to be met with lightly jogging blue Staffordshire Bull Terrier. She panted lightly with her tongue out and reached Millie’s legs, where she tucked her head and mewled timidly.

“Oh, and who do we have here?” Millie chuckled at the dog’s persistence in keeping close. She scratched her head and patted her on the back, “are you on your evening walk, Tessa? Is that right?”

“We didn’t mean to scare you, Millie,” Dominic reached them and sent Millie a kind and apologetic smile, “good evening.”

“Hi, it’s good to see you.” She beamed at the middle-aged man, whom she learned to adore like a family member.

“Likewise, yeah. Heading home?”

“I am, just got off the train.”

“We will keep you company, then. Is that alright?” He fixed his glasses and leaned down to attach the leash to Tessa’s collar. Millie’s insides warmed and her mind calmed down at the idea that she will get to spend a few minutes with a friend.

“Absolutely, thank you.”

“Ah, don’t mention it. I bet Tom would have my head, hadn’t I offered,” they chuckled at the mention of his son. Their laughter died off comfortably and escaped into the night air, while Millie reminisced about the caring nature of the Hollands. “How is it going at BBC?” he asked after a moment, letting her go first through a narrow passage.

“It’s… going,” she smiled shyly, not sure how to dress up her words. In Dominic’s company she always felt one step behind in her creative skills; his writing and comic abilities exceeded her capabilities, or so she thought. “but I feel like I’ve definitely hit an end with politics. I know it’s only been a month, but it’s just… it keeps on proving that I should be writing about something else.”

“Oh, it’s totally understandable. Rest assured, you’re not the only one stuck like this,” They turned the corner onto her street. “but I wish you luck there. They have some sensible editors, so I assume you’ll get a chance at something else as well.”

“I hope so. Today I asked them about switching departments and the intern manager told me she will think about it, so there is a tiny light.”

“Something will always work out. You’re smart, you’ll find your way there.”

Dom and Millie continued down the sidewalk, until Tessa stopped near the gate to Millie’s house. She sniffed the pavement and turned back to the girl who crouched down to pet the Staffy one last time.

“Thanks for walking with me,” her smile was genuine, coming straight from her heart. “please say hi to Nikki and the boys. Is Sam still home?”

“He is, he starts his practice at the end of June. So, we all will be here to celebrate your birthdays.”

“Oh, that’s great! It’s been a while since we’ve all been together.”

“That’s true. But you’re welcome to stop by anytime.”

“I know, thank you.” With fondness painted across her face, she scratched Tessa’s ear and stood up straight, reaching for the keys in her pocket.

“Have a good night.”

“You too. Bye, Tess!”

Whenever she got the chance to interact with someone from their family, Millie instantly felt their love and care penetrate her straight to the core. It was this kind of relationship that had been built through the years, only making it stronger and bringing it closer to the concept of family.

Nikki, Dom’s wife and Anna, Millie’s mother met shortly before Millie and Tom were born. At first only neighbours, soon they became best friends to the point of engaging their families in a kind affair. Greetings at the doorstep turned into late night family dinners and weekends away with the kids. They were used to spending most of the birthdays and holidays together, especially when Millie and Tom’s birthdays two days apart brought them all closer. She raced her best friend in Anna’s womb and came out to this world right before the brown-haired boy. Ever since the Beavers celebrated the birth of their third and youngest daughter, the Hollands began their journey with four boys. They always stayed close and treated each other like family, deeming it necessary to nourish their friendship and turn it into something everlasting. The example of their parents taught Millie and Tom to mimic the closeness and made them create their own little world.

Millie’s older sisters also treated Tom, Harry, Sam and Paddy like brothers, but not as much as Millie did. Samantha and Liz were already grown toddlers when the families got together, so they figured more as the female patrons of their youngest sister and her adventures with the boys. But Millie and Tom’s friendship turned into something so effortless and harmless that no supervision was necessary. They were each other’s partners in crime, best friends from next door. Their mothers had signed them up for the same dance classes, helped them get to the same summer carnivals, and let them have late nights in makeshift dens. Millie was one of the first people their dog, Tessa, got familiar with. She missed him dearly when he started his journey as a young actor, but Nikki made sure he always made the time to call his best friend when the time zones were somewhat cooperating. They nurtured their friendship through Millie’s education and Tom’s career, not stopping even for a moment. He was there for her always, carrying her home when she scratched her knee after falling off the slings. She would help him with homework whenever he felt too embarrassed to ask his parents. Tom escorted her home from her disaster of a prom; he was the first one to understand her anxiety and help her through it. And Millie always read the books and scripts Tom needed to prepare for auditions. Just like that, they always found home in one another.

           Their house smelled of baking and freshly watered plants. As quietly as possible, Millie took off her shoes and tip-toed into the kitchen, turning on only the least invasive, small lights. She put down her backpack and lightly stretched, letting out a tired, yet content breath. Her eyes scanned the kitchen in search for the source of the sweet scent, and there it was, on a cooling rack in the corner, covered with a tea towel – fresh lemon sponge cake, the favourite of Millie’s mother. Lightly dusted with powdered sugar, it added an extra layer of sweet comfort to the late night’s atmosphere. She left the cake untouched, but put the kettle on to quickly make herself a cup of tea for a good night’s sleep. She let out an overwhelming yawn and rested her hips on the side of the countertop, patiently waiting for the water to boil.

           She felt her phone vibrate in the back pocket of her jeans. The brightness of the screen was almost blinding, until it adjusted to the low lighting in the room. She could feel the anticipation growing in the back of her head as she noticed a new message.

           (Tom) I got you something today

           After a second or two, a picture loaded under the message. Millie gasped and smiled like mad, when he showed her a pair of Minnie Mouse sequin ears. It was an artefact that Millie has always dreamt of, not having an opportunity to go to Disneyland ever in her childhood.  She awaited the chance with high hopes and wandering mind, but she knew the trip had to be thorough, well-planned, and wholesomely happy.

           (Me) You were in Disneyland????

           (Tom) yeah we did promo for spidey today 

           (Me) I’m so jealous rn

           (Me) THANK YOU FOR THE EARS!!!!!  

           (Tom) it’s alright

           (Tom) I didn’t get any weird looks at all

           (Tom) Just casually carried around this shiny sparkling beauty

           (Me) I bet you loved this feeling

           (Me) I bet you bought yourself a pair too

           (Tom) Don’t tell anyone

           (Me) You could always pretend they’re for Tessa

           (Me) I just saw her and your Dad btw

           Whenever her and Tom texted, it always sparked a never-ending conversation about sweet nothings. They mocked each other, talked about their days, spoke about all things home. It allowed them a safe space from their daily hustles; Millie was able to breathe lightly and happily, and Tom had a chance to detach from the world he desperately tried not to drown in.

           Almost spilling the tea, she slowly made it upstairs without losing the sight of her phone screen. She struggled to turn off the lights in the corridor without making a noise but somehow, she managed not to disturb her parents too much, as she reached her bedroom. Safe within her own little space, she put down the mug and let go of her backpack and jacket. She threw herself on the softest bedspread and waited patiently for Tom’s reply.

           The text bubble stopped and a massage didn’t appear, but her phone started ringing. Millie answered the FaceTime call and waited for the camera on his phone to adjust and show his familiar face.

           “I had a meeting with Disney and they want me to participate in one of their projects for a Marvel-themed ride at Disneyland,” from a crooked angle she could see his neatly gelled hair and uneven eyebrows. Tom was walking somewhere, but then sat down and perched his phone on the mug that stood on the coffee table, so that she could see him better.

           “That’s exciting, right?”

           “Oh, yeah!” She could see him rummage in a brown paper bag and pull out a box with some takeaway food. “But I’m telling you this because we could turn it into our Disneyland trip that you’ve wanted, right?”

           “That would be nice, yeah.” She smiled back at the screen, but a terrible yawn sneaked in to her expression. Tom scrunched his forehead and took a large sip from a bottle of water.

           “I didn’t wake you up now, did I?”

           “No, I just came back home. I am tired, though.”

           “Yeah? How was work?”

           “Stressful and not nice. It wasn’t a good day.”

           “Oh, I’m sorry. Wanna talk about it?”

           Tom spent the next minutes carefully listening to her words and trying not to spill his soup on his fresh clothes. He hummed to some of the stories and asked little intrusive questions, to get the whole picture. She kept rubbing at her eyes and stifling her yawns every now and then, at last making a mess of her mascara and getting it all over her skin. Despite the seriousness in her voice, Tom smiled fondly to himself at the view of her ruined face that probably mimicked her current mental state. It wasn’t something he should laugh about, but it was rather endearing to have her so comfortably sharing her lows with him, while he casually ate his lukewarm, very late lunch.

           “Why are you laughing at me?” She returned his smile, knowing it was probably something she did.

           “You made yourself look like panda.” He chewed on a chunk of chicken from his second plate. The wrinkles by his eyes deepened with each of her chuckles and proved to them that this is the lightness they need in their daily routines. “Well, it’s good you asked for a new placement. You should be comfortable in your work environment. I’m proud of you.”

           “Thanks,” she yawned again and stopped herself mid-rubbing her eye again, earning a wholesome, groggy laugh from her friend, “your dad thinks they will give me another chance.”

           “I mean, he knows some people there, so he probably has a point.”

           “Yeah, I just don’t want to get my hopes up too high, you know?” A comfortable silence rested between them after he nodded and continued munching on his food. Millie stood up from her bed and took the phone with her, but also started to slowly get ready for the night.

           “You will know when the moment feels right and shows you something worth a shot. Trust yourself, Mills.”

           “I guess…” she trailed off, making her way to the closet to find fresh pyjamas. “I’m glad my panda face entertained your… what is it, lunch break?”

           “Sort of, yeah,” he chuckled, enjoying the playfulness of her tired self, “I should be coming back in two weeks. We could hang out then, if you’ll have the time.”

           “Oh, for sure.”

           “Alright, I’ll let you rest. Text me anytime, yeah?”

           “I will. Thanks for the Minnie ears!”

           “You got it, Minnie Mouse. Sweet dreams.”

                                                          *  *  *

After her little mishap with Politics Live, Millie tried her best to keep up the hard work, but stay low. She tried not to focus too much attention and just assist other workers in their tasks, only coming up with ideas when necessary. She strived to come back to her public voice, but she knew she needed it to have a comfortable outlet, preferably in another setting and on different topics. She was greeting the intern manager with additional caution and kindness, trying her best not to leave her case forgotten.

Segregating files for the research team seemed to be the best solution to her temporary creative break. Her attention to detail and wholesome care about the task being done to its full potential came in handy. She volunteered to help the group of meticulously scribbling and researching men in keeping their documents in order.

The soft mumble of the radio in the background was interrupted by a guy named Tim. He always wore rock band t-shirts under his jackets and Millie swore she had seen him participate in a wild dance routine during the last year’s Glastonbury Festival. He stopped typing on his keyboard and started to quietly hum a song that was definitely different to what Scott Mills was announcing on Radio 1.

“Oh my God, do you guys know this song? I can’t get it out of my head!” he groaned in frustration, making a few people in the open space office chuckle.

“Do you know any words, maestro?” Millie’s head snapped up at the sound of Kim, the intern manager’s voice. She was passing by with a bunch of files and a coffee, before she perched herself on his desk, obviously making fun of her friend.

“It’s got this very cool, mariachi-like trumpet between the lines,” he mimicked a trumpet player and hummed some more, “and the guy sings something about stopping a feeling…”

“Justin Timberlake?”

“You know he’s not my jam, Kim! It’s an old-school song.”

“You’re the old-school one here.” Kim’s comment earned a couple more laughs at poor Tim, who was genuinely struggling. “you’re the researcher, have you googled it?”

“Of course I googled it, stop mocking me! People are watching.”

Their little light-hearted exchange brought a breezy atmosphere to the office and made Millie smile some more. She kept on looking up at Tim to check if he’s found the song he was looking for, but without luck. Her fingertips started to tingle with each swipe through the pages in a file, because she felt like she knew the song. Deciding to come against her decision to lay low, she gently cleared her throat and swallowed her nerves of speaking up in a new environment.

“Hey Tim, have you tried to find it on Spotify?” they both looked at Millie with playful smiles, as anyone would to the up and coming intern fresh out of university.

“I don’t think it’s the title of the song, so I won’t find it there.”

“But you actually could,” she offered, biting her lip nervously “since the recent update, you can now type in the lyrics into the search bar and the results will show you all licensed songs with the same or similar lyrics.” Tim instantly reached for his phone and started typing away.

“Oh really? I didn’t know that, let’s see…” Kim looked into his phone and watched his progress.

“And since you’ve remembered a catchy verse, it’s very possible that others also tried to find this song through the same words. So, it will probably come up within the first few results.”

“Alright, smarty.” He shook his head in amusement. Millie watched as Kim’s face got ridden of any emotion and just stared at Tim’s work.

“But if nothing comes up, you can always try ‘Hooked on a Feeling’ by Blue Swede.”

Millie waited with racing heart at their reactions. Tim clicked on one of the results and raised the volume, filling the room with a sound so familiar to Millie’s memory. She smiled shyly and internally patted herself on the back, before coming back to her task.

           “How did you know this song?” His triumphant smile was radiating, as he did a little dance in his seat and twirled on his rolling chair. “It’s such an old tune, I didn’t think your generation would know it!”

           “Yeah Millie, how did you know?” Kim encouraged his question and watched her carefully, almost as if she was studying her intern.

           “It’s in the soundtrack to Guardians of the Galaxy. I wrote a paper on it.”

           “Hm.” Kim’s unreadable expression was giving Millie chills, but in a positive way. She liked to be asked about things that interested her and prompted her to be creative, so the way this situation evolved was close to burst her heart into passionate flames. “I’ll ask the Radio managers if they want a music and pop culture geek, how’s that sound?”

           It sounded like Millie put the trust in herself at the right time.  

****

tagged: @peeterparkr @katieraven @kozybear@sunsetholland @hey-marlie @lauras-collection@cunaeparker @constellationsv @heyhihellowhatsup0 @spideyspeaches

If it bothers you that you’re tagged, please let me know!

[wyrd-weaver]

"𝔏𝔢𝔱 𝔐𝔢 𝔖𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔅𝔲𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔫."

Trigger Warnings: Suicidal Ideation, Mention of Self-Harm, Mention of Rape (That Resulted in Pregnancy), Mention of Binge Eating, Mention of Weight (By a Disgusting Man), Depression, Anxiety.

⤷ Remember: Every body type is beautiful, and you're legally allowed to maim those who say otherwise! The brief few sentences in this story are not accurate of any decent, sane individual.

Word Count: 1887

～～～～～～～～～～

Depression had you caged, shackled to the memories...the all-consuming sensations of horror and disgust. The very same that were forced upon you, that iced all your muscles twelve hellish months ago. Twelve! And yet, the nightmares refused to cease. Every evening, you battled demons most powerful and foul, acquiring scar after scar after scar. If you stumbled, if you lay down your weapon or lost...could you really be faulted? If this was Heaven's retribution, a cleansing of your contaminated, sinful body, then...was it not misguided? Surely a void replaced the evidence against you?

Blame should never have befallen you! This child, despite his mask of innocence, attested to humanity's ugliest side. Your heart was unravelling - you needed him, as an extension of yourself, as someone to cherish, but...you didn't want him. He wasn't the product of consent. He was loathsome...and a burden. He was so young, so dependent.

Casting him to the mercy of the streets would be more than a mere violation of morality. You already felt criminal - convicted on thoughts and false claims, serving a life sentence in the bowels of Hell. There was an escape, of course. Although...it wasn't accompanied by a light, or the gentle touch of a loved one. No...this escape was advertised as selfish, shameful...weak. And maybe so. Maybe life's greatest demand was the forgoing of happiness. But...to such an extent seemed excessive, and deliberately cruel. You shouldn't have been so dirty, so broken...an embarrassing stain on your family's name.

A single mother. A victim. A failure.

Plagued with flashbacks that favoured spontaneity above calculation, you carved miserable little lines on to your arms. Nobody knew - not your son, nor the Avengers...nor even Loki. They all harboured some form of trauma, however deep-rooted, and so...they had no need for your sob story. Who would care for someone so violated? Someone so...afraid? Your mind, weakened by fatigue and chronic worry, was simply too weak to resist those thoughts, and all hope had been drained from your heart. Why should you be tethered to life, if only for your child? Should you instead seek liberation, peace...joy? Decency discouraged it, but pain stood its ground.

With your dignity in shambles, your disowning, your binging...nothing felt right anymore! Nothing felt...clean. Loki had noticed, observant as he was. Here, sequestered within the walls of the Avengers' Compound, he was the closest to a friend...maybe even more.

No, no, no! I can't think like that! He's a man! A man! I shouldn't even be going near him anymore! Why, oh god...why is he the only one I'm not afraid of? The only one who can comfort me when I break? I can't...! I haven't even told him about...about...Well, I haven't told anyone! They all just think I slept with someone recklessly! And now...now I'm tainted, unlovable! This is...it's all my fault...I should have defended myself. I should have done something! Anything! Why...why did I freeze...? Why? Why?! Why?!!

Loki understood mental anguish and the torture of dissimilarity, as his birth-rights. Perhaps that was reason enough for your breathing to even, in his embrace. It had taken moths to allow such a privilege, and Loki's persistence, how his voice quivered as he begged to help you in any form...

You, whom he held so very dear...

You might have assumed his affections romantic, once upon a time. Yet...no longer. An ailment had struck you - one that rendered both eyes and ears ignorant to his double meanings, his implications...his love. You couldn't process them over the fear and paranoia. Didn't all relationships entail force, and...activities of a sexual nature? You never wanted to experience that again. Never! So, while sleep washed over the Compound, you crept to the kitchen, intent on expanding your waistline evermore. That your size may, to some, be cause for revulsion, had never previously occurred. It was only when the words danced on the tongue of that godforsaken man...

Eat, eat more! Who cares if you're sick? Keep eating! He said...he said that excess was unattractive. So - so maybe he won't...maybe I won't be...again...?

It had been dominance play, a show of superiority.

Loki would never steal something so sacred, unless you willed it.

He was a gentle soul, manipulated into committing an atrocity, and scorned - by the Avengers, especially. He wouldn't find any resonance in your tale (and you hoped he never would), but as a companion, a patient listener...surely there would be no judgement in his heart? He wouldn't be so quick to abandon you...right? Still, a single utterance of that day, of that most fright-inducing event...required courage far surpassing your own. Maybe...just a word? A sign? Something...?

Lonely was the path you wandered, in spite of Loki's presence. Alone, he failed to drown your demons. He held them under the waves, but they always returned.

You appreciated the effort. Plasters may cover your scars, but they could never heal your heart. Could Loki?...In time? If distorted thoughts of him were enough to ground you in the midst of panic...could he aid your recovery?

He also wondered that. Your deception wasn't half as masterful as you had hoped. Or perhaps you were simply the target of Loki's observations, and therefore came under frequent scrutiny. He had, of course, picked up on the subtle changes in your demeanour - particularly post-pregnancy. He idled at your side, throwing neither intrusive question nor accusation. This was at the behest of his conscience, although he longed desperately to ignore it. He wanted to know...what exactly happened last year, when your transformation began?

Your lips were sealed, but his very essence ached - sorrow, curiosity, love, sympathy and compassion all melding together within him. They ran amuck, refusing any whisper of sleep. His concentration had flown alongside it, rendering him unable to enjoy the book that rested in his palm. It had maintained a decent level of interest until now, but duty called. He would pry open your chamber door, glimpse your ethereal, sleeping form...and finally feel content. If you were strolling through dreamland, then his concern could dissipate. At least for a while. If not...he would discover why.

Loki hesitated outside your door, for if you were truly non-the-wiser, asleep...vulnerable, then a mere survey of yourself and the room would leave, on his tongue, a terrible aftertaste.

But, lo and behold, only your young son slept soundly, in his crib.

Loki was grappled now with a sense of alarm - where in Odin's name were you? And, pray tell...why was your child on his lonesome, cleansing himself of the prior day, in such a frigid room? He was wrought with grief upon recalling your distaste for the babe, and again when he realised there was no option to remove him, bring him to a warmer space, rock him and sing soft melodies...

Loki's primary goal was to find you, and perhaps...coerce you into confessing everything. From a true account of the day that always replayed in your mind, to your innermost feelings and thoughts...he needed to know, and to understand.

He had scoured half the building before laying eyes upon you. However...relief proved elusive. There were an endless number of questions, but none dared to grace the air. Why was your beautiful face stained with tears? Why were you eating, despite looking so sickly? What had troubled you so? And...could he kill it? He was unsure of the proper manner in which to approach you. He had always tread lightly, but complete silence and delicacy were more fortes of his mother. He swallowed down the nerves.

"(Y/n), darling...why aren't you sleeping?"

You startled, eyes bloodshot and a biscuit lodged between your lips. "U-Uh..."

He walked forward. "Is there something weighing on your mind?"

"...No?" This was mumbled, as though credence escaped you.

"My dear, you aren't a skilled liar. Talk to me, please." The heartache nearly tore him apart.

You wouldn't meet his gaze. "I...I can't."

"Please?" Both of your voices cracked, in unison.

Oh god, alright. Okay. This if fine...right? It's fine. I'm fine...Am I? What if I'm not?! I can't tell him just yet! But he looks so upset...I did this! I caused this! Oh god...just stay - stay calm! Calm down...calm down...

A tear trickled down your cheek, then another. "I-I've never...I don't want to - to relive it."

He brought you into a protective embrace. "Then you won't. I swear, by all the beings in the Nine Realms, that I will keep you safe. Please, let me share your burden."

Three sentences. Who was so weak-willed, that a mere three sentences shattered all their defences? You cursed his silver tongue. "(S-S/n)...! He - he's...I didn't...I-I don't want him! J-Just because I didn't fight back...I didn't try to run, he...t-that man, he did...things. To me. And now...now I'm so dirty! I'm disgusting...unclean, weak. B-But...sometimes - sometimes I think it's all in my head. But it isn't! I-It happened, and (S/n)! He's...he's the proof! He reminds me...o-of that..."

Loki froze. "What...?"

"But I-I couldn't - I couldn't tell anyone! They wouldn't...believe me, o-or care! People like me, they don't - this...this doesn't happen! Why...why did this happen?? A-And now...there's (S/n). And every...every minute is Hell! I can't take it anymore...I don't w-want to be here. I don't want to be...to be alive anymore..."

Loki could almost see the threads of rationality thinning. Who would...defile you, hurt you? You were so important, so genuine and...lovely. "I will find this man, and personally deliver his comeuppance. He never deserved your voice, let alone your touch."

"No!" You stiffened in his arms. "Then he'll...he'll come back..."

"If he does, I shall slay him." Yet, Loki made no attempt to leave. Instead, he slipped into a mask of composure, enough to continue speaking without seething. "I apologise...if you thought I wouldn't care. I do - more than you could ever imagine. You are the most stunning creature I have had the honour of meeting, in all my lifetime. I was resolved to spend my days at your side, never professing my love, but after hearing that...I..."

You panicked. "Loki...don't. Please-"

"I know it would be impudent to assume that you could accept me right now, but consider that...I can protect you. I will never let him, or anyone, hurt you again." Loki wiped away your crystalline sadness. "But, please...when you can't see worth or joy in this life...please come to me. I will be here to remind you of your victory - you survived such torture, and delivered a child. You are far from weak, (Y/n)."

Loki's fingers darted along your wrist. He yearned to kiss every scar, every inch of your skin.

Though, he would do nothing without permission. "Now, my dear...let's put these treats away. I would suggest that, henceforth, you eat balanced meals and partake in some fun activities. Perhaps I could read to you, one day? And venturing out for a walk - we can do that together. I...um, hope I'm not overstepping any boundaries. I'm simply thinking of ways to occupy your mind...and your time. You can do these things alone, of course..."

You nodded. "But...you'd - you'd do them with me?"

"I would gladly do anything with you, my love." Loki's words were empty of duplicity.

You were angelic - the only one safe from his lies.

[joon-ipersgirl]

"dance with me" - jhs twoshot

genre: strangers to lovers!au, fluff, tiny bit of angst

pairing: hobi x reader (f)

summary: this is the first part of hobi’s birthday twoshot where he meets a girl on a night out on the town but loses her (a better summary will come later)

word count: 1.8k

warnings: some cursing, mentions of alcohol, not a happy ending rn

a/n: whew it's been a minute. as per, school and work are kicking my ass but i wanted to write something for hobi's birthday. i actually finished this first half on time but was stuck on the second half before i decided i should make this into a twoshot. i'm going to finish it though, hopefully soon. i’ll edit everything later. either way, enjoy :)

full masterlist // part two

“Guys, I really shouldn’t,” Hoseok laments.

“Why not?” Jimin whines from his sprawled out position on Hoseok’s aging leather sofa. “It’s been weeks since you’ve come out with us.”

Hoseok shrugs. “I’ve just been… busy,” he finishes lamely.

“Doing what?” Jungkook challenges from the kitchen, his voice barely carrying over the low hum of the open refrigerator.

“Okay, I guess I haven’t been doing too much. I just haven’t been in the mood? Life is just a lot right now,” Hoseok says as he picks at the fraying carpet on the floor. He really should get a new one.

“So, let us help you feel better!” Jimin rolls off the sofa, narrowly missing Hoseok’s head with his legs and keeping his leather pants intact. “A night out dancing with your best friends. Maybe a few drinks. You don’t even have to bring anyone home if you don’t want to.”

Hoseok is still iffy on Jimin’s proposal. Usually, he’d be the one encouraging his friends to enjoy a night out on the town but starting his new job at the architectural firm downtown a few weeks ago had really taken its toll. He knew that he’d have a lot to learn when he started but he didn’t think it’d be this much, the new programming and drawing systems much more sophisticated than what he’d remembered during his undergraduate matriculation. Hoseok spent much of his free time practicing his skills, exhausting himself late into the night. All he wanted to do was rest but it was proving to be challenging after his friends showed up on his doorstep tonight, demanding he join them.

“I don’t know, Jimin.”

“You don’t have to know anything. Look, if you aren’t having a good time by midnight, I’ll call you a cab home myself,” Jimin offers. “And Jungkook will buy you your first three drinks,” he tacks on after seeing Hoseok’s unwavering expression.

“Hey!” Jungkook exclaims from the entryway.

“It’s the least you could do, Jungkook. You’re literally eating him out of house and home right now,” Jimin says, pointing to the roll of kimbap Jungkook has in his hands.

“You can’t drink on an empty stomach,” the younger one counters.

“You ate an hour ago.”

“Fair enough,” Jungkook concedes. “Get dressed, Hobi. Drinks are on me,” he finishes around a mouthful of food. Jimin beams, turning to Hoseok.

Sighing, Hoseok reluctantly drags himself to his feet. “Fine. But you’re buying me drinks and dinner. Nope. I don’t want to hear it,” he says, holding up a finger. “Give me ten minutes.”

“Yes!” Jimin cheers as Hoseok heads to his room.

Twenty five minutes later, the three young men arrive at Antarri’s. Known for its strong drinks and booming bass, Antarri’s had become their regular stomping ground. It was safe to say a few other patrons recognized them in the dark; the trio’s dance reputation preceded them. On any given weekend the establishment would be flooded with young people ready to let loose their frustrations. The proximity of the city’s two major universities being just over a stone’s throw away may also help.

“Okay! Shots first!” Jimin yells over the incessant chatter. Hoseok shakes his head but follows his friend deeper into the club.

“What should we get?”

“Nothing too crazy -” Hoseok starts.

“Tequila!” Jungkook interrupts, waving his arm frantically for the bartender’s attention. Both Jimin and Hoseok blanch at the suggestion. “What? I’m buying. I should get to choose.”

Jimin shrugs. “He is buying.”

Hoseok rubs his forehead, already feeling the splitting migraine he’d have tomorrow morning. Alcohol never seemed to agree with him and he’d learned many times what pushing his limit did to him. Still, he doesn’t protest when Jungkook orders, “Your finest shots of tequila, my good sir.”

Maybe the night would pass by faster this way.

“Okay guys. What’s the game plan?” Jungkook asks around a mouthful of lime.

“Just have fun. If you’re leaving, send a text will you? I don’t want another repeat of last time,” Jimin huffs and sets his shot glass down on the counter.

“I wasn’t even gone for that long!”

“You came back the following evening missing your shirt and a shoe, Jungkook,” Jimin frowns.

“Okay but -“

“Guys,” Hoseok interjects. “Not the time.”

“Right. This is about you, Hobi. We’re going to have a great time. And you -“ Jimin points his finger at Jungkook.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll text the chat that I’m alive. Let’s go!” Jungkook says, pushing off the stool and heading into the crowd.

Hoseok shakes his head at his younger friend. He worried about his safety sometimes.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Jimin checks in.

“Yeah, yeah. Go have fun. I’ll see you in there,” Hoseok responds. Nodding, Jimin pats him on the arm before setting off.

“Remember, I’ll call you a cab if you aren’t having fun,” he calls over his shoulder and then disappears.

Moving over to a less crowded part of the bar, Hoseok leans against the wall. Already his shirt is starting to stick to his skin. The music blares at an obscene level he feels in his bones and he welcomes the feeling.

Though an architect by trade, Hoseok knew his way around a dance floor. He wasn’t captain of the university’s dance team for no reason. Music was a language Hoseok translated with his body, each syllable corresponding to a particular movement as he listened to each rhythm and rhyme. Closing his eyes, he lets it speak it to him.

It doesn’t take long for him to get lost in the feeling. Limbs moving freely, Hoseok glides across the floor easily. He’s not concerned with the curious onlookers as he grooves to one of Billboard’s latest bangers. A small crowd has started to form around him but Hoseok ignores them as he spins through a move. Then, he sees you.

His body sputters through the movement until he slows to a gentle rock, eyes trying to focus on you through the pockets between people’s heads. You aren’t looking at him. Too engrossed in your own movement as you vibe with the music. Hoseok almost feels as though he’s watching himself dance. Intrigued, he moves closer.

He’s pretty sure he’s never seen you here before. Granted he doesn’t remember every face he sees but Hoseok is positive he would remember you because of the way you move. Blinking, he feels like he’s in a trance as he watches you turn, your hips swaying in time with the beat. Hoseok realizes he’s not the only one watching you. A few other guys have gathered but you ignore their presence, favoring to dance alone. Hoseok chews his lip. Did he even have a chance?

The music changes and Hoseok watches you change your movement to match the tempo seamlessly. He smiles. He would do exactly the same. Smooth RnB filters out over the sound system and Hoseok calms his beating heart, finding his own rhythm again as he slips back into his translation. When he turns, he makes eye contact with you, a small smile on your lips as you regard him. He’s pretty sure it’s the alcohol that makes him bold enough to take a step towards you.

Though you don’t move closer, your eyes don’t leave Hoseok’s. A silent exchange happens between you as you continue dancing and Hoseok matches your movements while maintaining his distance. Hoseok nearly holds his breath as you tentatively step closer. If he were to reach out, he’d surely be able to touch you. He doesn’t though. The two of you continue to dance in front of one another, though not with each other as the song changes.

When you turn - back towards him and continue dancing - Hoseok isn’t too sure of what to do. He doesn’t want to impose and ruin your night but he sure as hell would love to dance with you. He takes another tentative step forward, the space between you what chaperones at prom would call encroaching on dangerous territory. Still, he doesn’t touch you though he’s sure you can feel his breath dance across your skin.

It’s you who makes the final move.

He feels your fingertips brush against the outside of his thigh until your fingers wrap around his and place them on your hip. Jeans slung low on your waist, Hoseok’s thumb rests against your bare skin. He lets his other hand settle on the outside of your thigh, his touch light so not to scare you.

Chest against your back, Hoseok matches his hips with yours, the swell of your ass pressed tightly to his crotch. When you curl your arm around the back of his neck, fingers splayed in the hairs at his nape, Hoseok squeezes you in reflex. The heat of Antarri’s only grows worse as you continue to dance and another small crowd gathers to watch you.

Hoseok has never felt so at ease dancing with another human being. He feels like you’ve been partners since you were three and took classical ballroom together for eighteen years. You read his movements and he reads yours as you trade the role of leader and follower back and forth. In all honesty, Hoseok doesn’t want the night to end, especially when you hit a particularly dangerous move - bending at the waist with your hands on your knees, the push back firm as his hand ghosts your back. He has to stifle a groan at the sight, more than a few ungentlemanly thoughts surfacing in response.

Spinning you around, Hoseok gazes down at you as he slots one of his legs between yours. A gentle smile crosses your face and you rest your hands loosely around his neck. Hoseok gently brushes your damp hair from your forehead. You don’t look away as his hand comes to rest under your jaw. He watches your tongue swipe against your bottom lip as he wraps his arm around -

“Y/N!”

The moment is broken at the scream of what Hoseok assumes is your name.

“Y/N, come on! We have to go! Code Blue!” Hoseok loosens his hold on you as you step away. Before either of you can utter a word, your friend is pulling you through the crowd and away from him. Over the din of the music, he faintly hears you call a “Sorry!” as you disappear.

Stunned, Hoseok stands in the middle of the crowd as your figure slowly becomes lost in the sea of swaying bodies. He feels like he’s just stepped out of a sauna, the trance you placed him in lifting as people start to fill in the space around him now that the show is over. Hoseok rubs his face in frustration. How could he have let you leave like that? How was he supposed to find you?

“Hobi! Hey Hobi!” Hoseok turns at the sound of his name to see Jimin elbowing his way through the crowd. “Hey, are you okay?”

Sighing, Hoseok nods.

“Okay,” Jimin says wearily. “Do you want to leave?”

“No, it’s okay. Jungkook still owes me two more shots. I gotta collect.”

Jimin grins. “That’s the spirit! Come on, let’s go.”

Tossing one last longing look to what was supposed to be a promising night, Hoseok follows his friend to the bar to forget what could have happened.

full masterlist // part two

joon-ipersgirl, 2021

[keelywolfe]

Drabble: All You Knead is Love (baon)

Summary: Saturdays are baking days and Stretch kneads to dough Edge a favor without a breach of crust.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

When Stretch was still living in the Underground, time seemed to go a little differently. There wasn’t a neat divide of weekends and weekdays, not really, what would be the point. Before things got bad, days were spent on sentry duty, hopping from one post to the next and napping between, heading home to choke down his bro’s latest attempt at tacos while NTT played on the boob tube, and evenings spent drinking too much at Muffet’s before heading home to do the same thing again. After a while, it all blurred together and when things started to—

(reset)

-get bad, well, it wasn’t like Stretch cared much about the day of the week.

Things were a little different on the surface when it came to a schedule and Stretch knew before he even opened his sockets that morning that it was Saturday. The delectably yeasty aroma wafting its way all the way up to their bedroom was like the siren call of lovely carbohydrates, beckoning to all innocent travelers to meet their starchy doom.

Okay, maybe that was a little on the dire side, but Saturday was baking day and since Stretch wasn’t exactly tied to a ship’s mast, he was about to wander on down and see what was on the menu.

He took long enough to wash up and toss on some clothes, the better to head off any conditions Edge might have about him swiping a muffin or three for his brunch, and it wasn’t noon yet, not for fifteen minutes yet, totally still brunchtime.

As predicted, Edge was standing at the kitchen island with a mound of pale dough in front of him, be-aproned and ready to get it on with his inner Paul Hollywood. Despite numerous gifts of ‘Kiss the Cook’ and ‘I cook as good as I look’ aprons, Edge still wore the plain black one he always did, only barely smudged with flour.

(The frilly apron didn’t bear mention, since Stretch was the one who wore it that one time, that and nothing else, and it did not survive the event. Worth it.)

The Stretch blinked as he got a better look at the largess on their kitchen counters. Dozens of muffins sat grouped together, their domed tops seeded with berries or nuts or chocolate chips. There were trays of cookies in high piles, sugar cookies with colored sugar sparkling and the cross-hatched peanut butter ones. Small, round cookies with a thumbful of glistening jam pressed into their middles.

Then there were loaves of crusty bread alongside knotted rolls scattered with sesame seeds and herbs. The countertop was heaped with enough gluten goodness to start a bakery and Edge was busily kneading even more. It all looked delicious, sure, and soft fluid magic was already filling Stretch’s mouth, begging for him to try his hand at a little tasty thievery.

Except if Edge made all this today, then he’d been up before dawn and he’d already been standing a lot longer than he was supposed to. Even if he was kneeling on his scooter, the cartilage in his leg was gonna start swelling after a while. Doctor’s orders said sit every two hours and the certain tightness of Edge’s mouth, the narrowness of his sockets, stated pretty clearly that Edge needed to park his carcass.

“babe,” Stretch said, cautiously. He crept closer, making sure to keep his hands nice and visible. The chances were low, but no reason to set off any nasty old triggers and make this into an event. “don’t you think you’ve made enough? even i won’t be able to eat all of that before it goes stale.”

“I’m taking most of this into the Embassy,” Edge said. His fingers moved expertly as he divided the dough, weaving it into a wide braid. “If you’d like something, you can help yourself.”

Normally, an invitation of free reign over Mount Delicious would have Stretch doing to the happy carb dance, but today? Not so much. Time for take two.

“so, after you’re done with that one, can you come out and watch a movie with me?” Stretch turned the wheedling up to max, “i could use a lap to lie on.”

Edge didn’t even look up, his slim hands working another ball of dough until it was smooth and elastic. “I need to finish this.”

“yep, you do,” Stretch agreed. He drew on his knowledge of many seasons of view the Great British Baking Show to ask, “but doesn’t it have to rise again?”

“It does, and while it is, I have three more loaves proofing.”

“uh huh.” Yeah, okay, time for the direct approach. Stretch reached out to gently lay his hands on top of Edge’s, stilling him. “babe, please. how long have you been standing? huh?”

The expression on Edge’s face told a long, convoluted story, a tale that went from indignance to faltering honesty, to dismay, to guilt. He glanced towards the corner where Stretch could see three more bowls of rising dough.

“Too long. But I need to finish this or else it’ll all go in the trash,” Edge admitted. Yeah, and Stretch knew exactly how Edge felt about wasting food.

“okay,” Stretch considered the options. There was really only one. “then let me help.”

That was a plan that worked on a few levels. It’d get Edge to sit down and Edge couldn’t exactly refuse without implying Stretch couldn’t do it. Considering all the times that Edge tried to encourage him with his attempts at cooking, any insinuations otherwise were gonna bring the wide, hurt eye sockets into play.

A long, fraught moment of hesitation and Stretch was about to get his wounded look warmed up when at last Edge said, “All right.”

Their dining room set was currently a card table hawked from Papyrus’s garage and the remaining chairs from their last set. Edge sat in the chair and propped his leg up on the one across from it. Didn’t quite hide his grimace well enough and yeah, Stretch didn’t have a single regret about making him take a seat.

That was, until it was his chance to turn on his inner chef.

Kneading dough wasn’t hard, exactly, but how the hell did Edge keep it from gunking up all his finger joints? Had to be about the technique and that wasn’t something Stretch was going to pick up in an afternoon. By the time he got it mostly looking like Edge’s and split into three lumpy balls, he got to learned something new about himself. Namely that he couldn’t braid and that might’ve been more frustrating if it weren’t for the fact Edge couldn’t keep a straight face as he watched. That normal stoic expression of his was cracking around the (heh) edges and trying to smother it under a hand was about as useful as Stretch’s braid.

“No, no,” Edge sputtered into a chuckle, “you bring the strip on the outside in…the other strip, you just did that side…”

When Stretch was done, his dough braid sort of looked as if it’d taken a sad anime walk through the rain after senpai didn’t notice it at the volleyball game.

He gave it a forlorn poke with one finger, asking meekly, “can i knead it back together and try again?”

“No need, it’ll be fine, love,” and then Edge proved he was as cruel as the interns’ rumors said by adding, “Two more to go.”

Stretch set the sheet with the almost-a-braid on the counter and covered it with a light towel before grabbing another bowl, dumping it onto the floury counter. “sorry, babe, i’m never going to be much of a cook.”

“That would be why you have me. Here.” Edge stood up and came around behind him, sliding his arms around Stretch to add his own hands into the kneading. “Like this, slow and even.”

Their height difference meant Edge couldn’t even see what he was doing and he still did better than Stretch. Didn’t help that warm press of Edge’s body against his own was distracting and Stretch exhaled weakly, trying to match Edge’s rhythm as they worked the dough together. “you’re supposed to be sitting.”

“I was sitting.” The deep vibration of his voice shivered through Stretch. Between his shoulder blades he could feel the light pressure of Edge’s skull resting against him. “I’m fine, love.”

That concerned voice in the back of Stretch’s skull was getting further away. Between both their hands, Edge’s deft and his own clumsy ones, they got the dough evenly divided, and Stretch tried his hands at braiding again. This time with Edge’s fingers resting lightly against his own, nudging when he nearly went the wrong way, guiding him better blind than Stretch did with both eye lights watching.

As if their thoughts about watching were mirrored, Edge chose that moment to speak up, “Do you know, I like watching you cook.”

Stretch snorted, looking down at his second braided loaf, still a little sloppy despite Edge’s help. “you like watching me fuck up?”

Those guiding fingers took a second to flick against his in light punishment, “First of all, you aren’t fucking up. And I do like watching you. As I’ve told you before, there’s a satisfaction to providing food. Giving nourishment to those you care about,” Edge shifted behind him, his breath warm against Stretch’s cervical vertebra, “Those you love.”

Stretch let his sockets droop briefly closed, sighing out, “oh, butter that toast, babe.”

The question of whether or not his braiding skills constituted a fuck up was up for debate, but he wasn’t about to argue about the satisfaction that came with baking, especially when it came with Edge wrapped around him like croissant. In a minute, he was gonna drag Edge out to the living room and make him take a better rest, maybe snag a few of those muffins with them to share.

For now, Stretch was gonna knead up that last bowl of dough with his husband’s help. Then he could enjoy his just desserts.

-finis-

[psychosistr]

Kings

Summary: Domino is forced to attend a party for FOWL’s top agents, and is having a hard time enjoying himself when the presence of someone in particular makes him feel very uncomfortable. Good thing Steelbeak’s there to provide both a distraction and some surprisingly good advice.

Notes: This was a little something written to wish @thefriendlyfour a happy birthday! Thanks for everything you do!

(P.S.- All OC’s in this story belong to her, not me)

Dominic was not having a good time…

It wasn’t often that FOWL High Command granted permission and spared funds on things deemed “unnecessary” for work. Everything from bank heists to political blackmail schemes and even the smallest pieces stolen from museums- every cent earned was carefully accounted for, recorded, and allocated properly. FOWL was a big organization that had many facilities to maintain- and even more workers to pay (maintenance and repair men, scientists, eggmen, all the way up to the special agents) to keep everything running smoothly.

Still, even with everything that had to be paid for, High Command understood the basic concept of things like “morale” and had to relent and reward their workers- particularly their top agents- every once in a blue moon (though it was mostly to make sure that they would feel content with their jobs and not try to leave and use their skills and training to make it as solo villains). Parties seemed to be the easiest and most effective way of keeping employee morale up: It only took one day of actual work, and food and beverages were easy to acquire and serve. After that, all that was required were a decently sized venue and some half-way decent music.

That was how the chief officer of FOWL, Steelbeak, and his partner, Dominic “Domino”, found themselves spending the evening in a heavily fortified and closely monitored outpost several miles away from Saint Canard at a party for FOWL’s most accomplished agents.

The large central room of the relatively unused outpost had been cleaned up and hastily decorated with a few different colored lights and decorations that were likely leftovers from the last party that had been thrown there. There were tables of catered food and drinks ranging from standard soda to a large punch bowl and even a fully-stocked bar all along one wall, leaving the majority of the floor open for agents to mingle and converse freely. The wall opposite the food and drinks housed a small stage that was being used for the evening’s entertainment: A small but highly talented orchestra with a full string section and a full-sized grand piano that had been brought in just for the occasion.

The party had been in full-swing for more than an hour already, but Dominic wanted nothing more than to leave and it was for one reason and one reason alone…

It wasn’t because he hated parties. Granted, he was by no means a party-loving social-butterfly, but he could still have fun and enjoy himself so long as the venue wasn’t overly crowded and his fellow partygoers weren’t so intoxicated that they forgot to respect his boundaries. In fact, compared to the parties he’d been dragged to at the northern base (which tended to involve excessive amounts of alcohol, brightly colored flashing lights, deafeningly loud pop music, and half of his team drinking to the point of passing out while he stayed sober to keep them from getting into too much trouble), this was one of the nicer soirees he’d been to in a while.

It wasn’t because he disliked his fellow agents. While there were still many new people that he was getting acquainted with and had yet to familiarize himself with each and every person present, the others in attendance all seemed like intelligent, capable, reasonable individuals who were pleasant to converse with in small doses. They also had enough common sense to not trust one another, so no one was trying to get hammered- meaning no loudmouthed or clingy drunkards to deal with, which always made for a much more pleasant evening.

It wasn’t because of his partner- if anything, the other man’s presence was one of the only things making this whole evening more bearable. As chief officer of FOWL, Steelbeak’s presence was required at any gathering of its most elite agents, which meant that Dominic, as partner of the current chief officer, was also required to attend. To the loon’s surprise, Steelbeak seemed even less excited to attend the event than his partner, stating that he found High Command’s mandatory gatherings boring and repetitive (if they were all like THIS, though, Dominic could certainly understand why the rooster felt that way after eight years of forced attendance). The lighter fowl’s hushed banter and sarcastic remarks about the party and some of the other agents never failed to bring a small smile to his more serious partner’s face and even elicited a few quiet laughs that were drowned out by the music.

No, everything else at the party was somewhat boring, but otherwise tolerable…except for one thing…one frustratingly perfect, ever present thing that he tried VERY hard to stay as far away from as possible…as long as he stayed by the wall and what he was trying to avoid stayed in the center of the room conversing with another agent about who knows what, then he’d be fi-

“Geez, short fuse, ya look like you’re waitin’ for a bomb t’ go off.” The familiar voice of his partner offered the loon a much needed distraction from his thoughts.

Dominic glanced away from the crowd of agents in front of him and looked instead to his approaching partner who’d broken away long enough to join him in his sequestered corner against the wall by the stage. “If that were the case, we might have a valid reason to get out of here.”

Steelbeak leaned against the wall beside the loon, looking across the room at the bar as if he were seriously considering it as a solution to their current predicament. “Well, there IS a full bar over there…find me a microwave an’ a can of that spray-on oil from the kitchen and I could whip somethin’ up.” It was hard to tell how much of that was actually a joke.

A smile tugged up the corners of the darker bird’s beak even as he shook his head. “Tempting as that is, we would probably just receive orders to turn the event into some sort of ‘garden party’ in the woods..and I know how much you love nature.”

A visible shudder ran down the taller fowl’s body at the thought of spending that much time out in the forest. “No-ho thank you, all that fresh air makes me gag.” He even made a retching sound to prove his point, earning a quiet laugh from the other man that made him smile and laugh along for a moment. “So, if we’re not all ‘bout t’ go out in a big ball of fire, then why’re ya over here lookin’ like you’re ‘bout t’ dig someone’s grave?” He asked after they’d both had a moment to regain their composure. “I’d ask if someone touched ya or somethin’, but I haven’t seen anyone go flyin’ through a wall or stuffed inside a cello case, so it can’t be that bad.”

Darn it, Steelbeak had gotten too good at reading the darker bird after three months of dating him. At times like these, Dominic wasn’t sure if he was more annoyed or grateful for that fact…

“No, nothing that extreme yet.” Red eyes glanced over the crowd and once more found their target. “I’m just…trying to avoid someone..”

Dark grey eyes followed the other’s gaze and landed on a well-dressed man who stood out among the crowd. “Wait…Osprey? Ya know ‘im?”

Of course he knew him. Who didn’t?

Agent Edward Osprey was a statuesque brown and white hawk that was even taller than Steelbeak. Everything about him was elegant and perfect from his immaculate feathers to his tailored blue suit coat, long-tailed shirt, black pants, and neatly folded white ascot. On top of being well-groomed and well-dressed, the man was undeniably handsome with his sharp features and piercing black eyes offset by yellow sclera- his eyes were even accentuated further by the brown band of feathers that cut perfectly across the lighter feathers on the rest of his face. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a painting; to have such perfect features shouldn’t have been possible in nature.

Oh, but the perfection didn’t end at the osprey’s looks- oh no. He was one of the most musically talented men Dominic had ever seen, being both a concert-level pianist and conductor- the orchestra which provided most of the evening’s music had been led by him when he wasn’t playing the grand piano for the crowd’s applause. The hawk was also an incredibly skilled agent specializing in sharp objects and weaponry with a nearly flawless track record under his belt. Add to that the fact that he was nothing but charming and gentlemanly to everyone he met (enemies not withstanding), and you had the walking reality-defying-perfection that was agent Edward Osprey.

“We’ve..met before, yes…” Dominic folded his arms over his chest, trying to look away while still keeping the source of his current stress and anxiety in his peripheral vision.

“Ya don’t sound too thrilled ‘bout it.” Steelbeak pointed out while eyeing his partner with one brow cocked. “I’m guessin’ ya don’t like the guy?”

Oh boy, now THERE was mine field that was difficult to navigate.. “I don’t…dislike him..”

“But ya don’t like ‘im either, right?” Once again, Steelbeak proved how good he’d gotten at reading the loon over the past few months.

Exhaling a heavy sigh, Dominic closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall behind them. “…Promise you won’t laugh.”

“Hmmm, weeeeeellll~” The fake contemplation ended when a single red eye opened just enough to side-eye the rooster with a warning glare, making said rooster break into a grin. “Alright, alright, I’ll hold it in.” The red eye narrowed at him and he held up his hands to show he wasn’t crossing any of his fingers. “Promise.”

Though he hardly trusted the other man’s word, Dominic would take what he could get. After taking in a deep breath and closing his eyes again, the words he’d been trying to avoid speaking aloud finally came out. “He makes me feel………uncomfortable..”

A brief but repressed snicker was heard before his red eyes opened and gave the taller fowl a warning glare. “Sorry, somethin’ in my throat.” A clear lie, but Dominic let it slide (this time). “So, why does Mr.Fancypants over there make ya uncomfortable? Knowin’ ‘im, he probably didn’t do nothin’ to ya on purpose- the guy takes it as some sorta personal offense if anyone forgets their manners ‘round ‘im. Think he’d have a stroke if he was the one bein’ rude for a change.”

“No, he isn’t rude- I don’t think he has it in him to be anything less than an absolutely perfect gentleman.” The loon looked across the room again, making sure the man in question was still far away and that no one was close enough to overhear him aside from his partner. “And that’s part of the problem: He’s just so..so-!”

“Practically perfect?” Steelbeak supplied, the look he gave the shorter fowl both amused and understanding.

“Yes.” Dominic groaned, rubbing a hand down his face in frustration. “He’s just so perfect in everything he does- he’s attractive, strong, clever, talented, gets along with EVERYONE, and has the highest record of successful missions in FOWL ever.” His eyes lingered on his hand as it lowered once more. “He’s so infuriatingly perfect that it makes me seem so…” His words trailed off into a mumble at the end, not wanting to voice how the hawk really made him feel…

“So, just t’ make sure I’ve got this whole thing right-” The lighter bird began without waiting for Dominic to repeat himself (likely because he knew he wouldn’t do so willingly). “Osprey’s so perfect that ya feel less perfect bein’ around ‘im?” Darn it, three for three- Steelbeak was on a roll tonight.

“Who wouldn’t?” He didn’t bother to look at his partner again while muttering his response.

He was right, of course: Who wouldn’t feel inferior next to someone like Edward Osprey?

“Heh.” The answer he received was a short, clipped laugh followed by the sound of retreating footsteps.

By the time Dominic looked back up to see what the other man was doing, the metal-mouthed fowl was heading towards the stage. “Steelbeak?” He called after him, but received no response.

One by one, others in the room began to notice the new figure stepping up onto the stage. It had been vacant for about twenty minutes now, allowing Osprey and his orchestra to take a break and enjoy the festivities themselves. With this in mind, it was understandable that the others in attendance were reasonably surprised to see none of the previous performers take to the stage- but the chief officer himself.

Steelbeak ignored the confused looks and hushed whispers as all eyes in the room were suddenly on him. He simply cracked his knuckles and shook out his fingers before seating himself at the grand piano, never even acknowledging them or saying a word.

Then, after taking a quick breath, he began to play.

The melody was captivating- soft but passionate; steady but rapid; light but powerful. Everything about it was such a contradiction, but it somehow just worked. It seemed to change and evolve as the song progressed, sometimes changing to the point of almost seeming like a completely new song, but then that familiar pattern would find a way to weave itself back in naturally to connect it all back together.

And then there was the sheer amount of skill and movement of those off-white fingers across the keys; they were practically a blur during the crescendos. The notes came so quickly that Steelbeak’s hands were never still, even for a second, often having different fingers of the same hand playing at completely separate rhythms from one another. Honestly, it was astonishing that they didn’t trip over themselves. It was almost mesmerizing to watch them fly and jump from one key to the next with expert timing.

Dominic was transfixed by the sights and sounds. While Steelbeak had told him of his experience as an undercover concert pianist on their first date, he had never actually heard him play before. He’d also never heard this song before, but there were no doubts in his mind that few could play it as well as Steelbeak was then and there.

Managing to tear his eyes away from the spectacle long enough to look around the room, it seemed he wasn’t the only one to feel that way. Everyone was staring in awe at their chief officer’s jaw-dropping performance. Even Osprey, who’d worked his way closer to the stage since the song began, seemed genuinely shocked and amazed by Steelbeak’s playing.

The song reached its final crescendo and Steelbeak let it drag on for a moment. Before anyone could pick their collective jaws up off of the floor and react appropriately, however, he immediately began to play another tune.

While still incredibly difficult to play and requiring a good deal of hand-acrobatics to hit each note properly, this one was softer than the last. There was something light and almost..sweet to it- as if the first one was to show off, but this one was to communicate something deeper.

This was another song that Dominic was unfamiliar with but, judging by the similar movements required to play the complex melody properly, it felt like it was by the same composer.

It stirred something in him as he listened, the gentle tune causing a pleasant shiver to linger in his body and a warm feeling to blossom in his chest. For a moment, he thought of the love songs he’d heard in the past- of their cheesy lyrics declaring adoration that ultimately became meaningless with how many people sang those words over and over again. Those songs were cute, but they ultimately felt hollow without a sense of genuine romance to them.

This song, though…This one, without any words or blatant messages to project, somehow felt more like a true love song than any the loon had ever heard in his life. This was raw, passionate, gentle, and beautiful all at once…and he’d be lying if he said the thought didn’t have him blushing a little..

By the time Steelbeak finished playing and stood up, the partygoers had recovered from their initial shock and finally applauded the exemplary performance they’d been treated to. Steelbeak, for his part, just smirked and gave a quick wave over his shoulder as he left the stage, not even taking a bow despite how well-earned it was at that point.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Dominic began once the other man joined him against the wall once more. “But what was that about?”

Steelbeak looked down at him with a smirk, but it was less teasing and far softer than usual. “Just MY way of answerin’ your question.” Before the loon could ask for clarification, Steelbeak looked towards the piano he’d just been playing. “You were askin’ who wouldn’t feel less perfect ‘round someone like Osprey: I wouldn’t ‘cause I know I’ve got somethin’ I’m better at than him.” Dark grey eyes returned their attention to the red ones still looking up at him. “One thing I’ve learned from bein’ chief officer all these years is that ya can’t be better than everyone at everythin’, someone’s ALWAYS gonna have somethin’ they’re better at than you are. The trick t’ stayin’ on top an’ remindin’ everyone why YOU’RE the king an’ they’re the pawns is t’ find the one thing you’re better at than whoever you’re up against an’ make ‘em feel like you’re superior ‘cause of it.”

Dominic took a moment to digest this new philosophy. It certainly seemed to make sense, and would probably explain why Steelbeak always acted like he was better than everyone- it was a way to stay on top and keep others from challenging him by appearing superior. While this information was useful, there was still one part of the chief officer’s advice that was easier said than done: “So you’re saying that I have to find something I’m better at than him? That’s asking a lot since I don’t have any comparative talents like you do.” Dominic didn’t really have much experience with playing instruments or conducting, so he couldn’t use that for any sort of advantage (and while his singing voice was pretty good, he’d never heard Osprey’s so it would be hard to compare them). They were experts with completely different weaponry, so no luck there. The hawk had a better track record for missions than he did, so he couldn’t use anything work related. “I don’t think-”

“You’re a better leader.”

Red eyes blinked in confusion and stared up at the taller bird. “What?”

“You’re a better leader.” The other repeated once more, looking down at the loon with an expression halfway between a smirk and an encouraging smile. “Osprey’s got one heck of a record with missions an’ gets along with everyone, but you’re a better leader than him: Ya know when t’ be nice an’ when t’ be serious. Ya know when t’ listen t’ others an’ when t’ make ‘em listen t’ YOU instead. Ya walk int’ the room an’ command guys three times your size t’ shut up an’ do what they’re told an’ put ‘em in their place if they even THINK ‘bout talkin’ back.” With a smirk, he inclined his head in the general direction of the crowd. “That’s why you’re over here with me an’ he’s over there with them. Sure, his track-record’s higher, but YOU’RE the one High Command picked t’ stand at the top with me- ya beat him an’ everyone else in FOWL for your position ‘cause ya deserved it.” Having made his point, Steelbeak reclined fully against the wall once more, his hands raised to cushion his head against the hard surface in a casual manner. “If anyone ever makes ya question yourself, just remember: I actually listen t’ YOU.”

Dominic was floored (and..maybe a little touched?) by his partner’s words.

After a moment of contemplation, he began to feel a smile slip onto his beak. Steelbeak had a valid point and wasn’t just stroking Dominic’s ego: The loon WAS a pretty good leader. He could coordinate teams ranging from two people to two hundred. He learned his teammates’ strengths and weaknesses and planned around them accordingly to complete any task he’d been assigned.

And, if nothing else, getting someone as bigheaded and arrogant as Steelbeak to listen to him HAD to count for something.

Before he had the chance to thank the chief officer for his rare-words of encouragement, another voice added itself to their conversation. “Steelbeak, your performance was absolutely awe-inspiring!” Looking away from one another to see who’d come to join them, the deadly duo saw none other than Edward Osprey approaching them. He smiled and bowed his head politely. “Do forgive my intrusion, but I simply HAD to commend you for your beautiful rendition of La Campanella: That is an incredibly difficult piece that I struggle with even after a few warm-ups.”

Steelbeak ate up the praise as one would expect, giving Osprey a smirk while idly bringing one hand around to inspect his fingers like a girl checking her nails for imperfections. “Woooow, really? That’s what I play FOR my warm-ups. Start with the harder ones an’ everythin’ else’s easy, y’know?”

“I suppose you’re right.” Osprey was quick to agree, never losing his genial smile. “Though, I must say, I didn’t know you were so familiar with Liszt. Your playing of Love Dream was very emotional- anyone in particular you were dedicating that performance to?”

That actually seemed to trip the rooster up a little, Dominic catching a bit of red on the other’s cheeks between his light feathers as he tried to play it off cool-and-casual. “I mean…maybe…it’s just a song, though, no big deal..”

It was Dominic’s turn to smirk knowingly at the other man. “Well, if there was someone you had in mind while playing it, I’m fairly certain they would have found it beautiful and charming.”

Steelbeak side-eyed the loon, his cheeks going a bit darker, but was saved by another agent coming up to them. “Hey, can you play one more? Everyone loved you out there!” To the trio’s surprise, the request was directed at Steelbeak rather than Osprey.

“Eh, I dunno-” Steelbeak started to say, but his eyes wandered over to Dominic and something in those dark grey depths shifted. “…Ya know what? Sure. I can handle one more.” Then, to everyone’s delight, he walked back up to the stage and took his seat at the piano once more.

“I had no idea he was so talented.” Osprey admitted to Dominic once the lighter bird was out of earshot. “I must admit, I’m a little jealous that you get to work so closely with him- that man’s been chief officer longer than some of us have even been agents.” He looked away from the stage to meet the loon’s gaze directly. “I can only imagine what you must have gone through to earn his respect and companionship.”

“Thank you. It has been.. a journey, to say the least…” Dominic was more than a little surprised..but not necessarily by the taller man’s words- Osprey was polite to everyone and was no stranger to sincere flattery. No, what REALLY surprised the loon was the fact that he just had a conversation (albeit a brief one) with Edward Osprey without any feelings of anxiety or inferiority rising up within him.

What Osprey said next was lost on Dominic as he heard Steelbeak begin to play. This song was different from the others. It was a completely different composer, era, and genre of music- one that the loon was all too familiar with since it had been played in his car a couple of times while his partner sat beside him in the passenger seat praising his singing of the accompanying lyrics. A soft smile tugged at his beak as Dominic listened to the equally soft melody, knowing that this was likely just Steelbeak’s way of driving his earlier point home and wasn’t really meant to be recognized by anyone else.

It was Dominic’s turn to receive a few stares- first from the other agents in the room, and then from Steelbeak himself when he passed in front of the piano to grab the microphone that had been left in its stand nearby. Once he removed it from its spot and made it more mobile, Dominic walked closer to the piano and leaned against it casually. He did a circular gesture with two of his fingers and Steelbeak smiled, instantly knowing what his partner wanted.

Without missing a beat, Steelbeak smoothly looped the song back to the beginning and nodded to Dominic when it was time to join in.

Nodding back, the darker bird brought the microphone closer to his beak and closed his eyes as he began to sing. “You're a-lone. You're on your own. So what? Have you gone blind? Have you for-got-ten what you have and whaaat is yours?”

He blocked out the stage lights; blocked out the crowd around them and their eyes on him. “Glass haaalf empty~, glass haaalf full- well~, either way you won't be go~ing thirsty; Count your blessings, not your flaws.”

There was only one set of eyes on him that mattered right now, and he knew the look they held without even having to see them. “You've got it all~ You lost your mind in the sound. There's so much mooore, you can reclaim your crown. You're in controoll- Rid of the monsters insi~de your head…Put all your faults to bed…You can be king a~gain…”

Another quick breath stolen between verses and he gained the confidence to open his eyes, but he kept his gaze locked solely on the one gazing back at him with awe and adoration. “You don't get wha~at all thiiss i~s a~bout. You're too wra~pped up in your self-doubt. You've got that young blood, set it free…”

The smile on Steelbeak’s face was brighter than any of the lights pointed at the pair on stage, making Dominic feel twice as warm and making him smile just as much. “You've got it all~ You lost your mind in the sound. There's so much mooore, you can reclaim your crown. You're in controoll- Rid of the monsters insi~de your head…Put all your faults to~ bed…You can be king.”

There was a spark of something in the air between them- that same connection they shared when they were working together to take down an enemy that made both of them feel so much more aware of one another on a completely different level. “There's method i~n my ma~adness…There's no looogic in your sa~dness…You don't gaaiinn a siinngle thing from misery~yy…Take it from mee~ee…”

He used his free hand to close the piano’s cover, careful not to let it drop and ruin the gentle decrescendo of the song. “You've got it all~ You lost your mind in the sound. There's so much mooore, you can reclaim your crown. You're in controoll- Rid of the monsters insi~de your head…Put all your faults to~ bed…You can be king.”

Dominic gracefully lifted himself up to sit on the closed piano, one hand holding the microphone in front of him while the other was braced behind him so he could lean back with his legs crossed in front of him- head tipped back as he belted out the notes of the final verse. “You've got it all! You lost your mind in the sound! There's so much mooore, you can reclaim your crown! You're in control- Rid of the monsters inside your head! Put all your faults to bed…You can be king again!”

Red eyes met dark grey, one additional line being sung softly and with so much more feeling than any other line before it. “We can be kings a~gain.”

Steelbeak’s playing came to an end and the two were left staring at one another fondly. There were cheers and applause and words being called to them, but neither man payed them any mind.

After all, they were the kings standing at the top.

End Notes: For anyone who’s curious, here are the songs that Steelbeak played in order: The first is La Campanella by Liszt. The second is Liebstraum No.3, also known as Love Dream, also by Liszt. And the final piece that Domino sang along to at the end was King by Lauren Aquilina.

When choosing the first two songs for Steelbeak to play, I asked a couple of my friends who were piano majors in high school what the most difficult type of music to play is that still sounds good. The general consensus among most of them was, and I quote, “people who hate their hands but love to please others usually play Liszt”- and La Campanella came up repeatedly as one of the hardest songs to play, so I went with it xD

Once again, happy birthday to @thefriendlyfour / @eleanorose123 ! Hope you had a good one and thank you for another year of awesome content!

[joontier]

“Dad!”

--> Pairing: Yoongi x reader

--> Genre/warnings: SMUUUUUUT, that is all, thank you

--> Words: 2.5k

--> Summary: Yoongi can’t keep his hands to himself even if you’re just sitting there beside him…sans-underwear

—> Note: I haven’t had the time to fix the links yet, but you guys can check parts 1 and 2 in my masterlist

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

March 06, 2029

Yoongi sits up in bed, eyes squinting as he scans the dimly lit room, the sunlight trying to break through the curtain slits. You were snoring softly on a pillow, considering you stole the same from him the previous night. He yawns as he moves his foot around, blindly looking for the other pair of his slippers.

It’s been exactly three months since you gave birth to Byungchul, and the responsibilities of a father and a husband were taking its toll on Yoongi. Your husband’s stress levels definitely reached its peak this time and with the insane sleeping patterns – which he still hasn’t gotten accustomed to since the start of your pregnancy until your son’s birth – Yoongi looks worse than a clapped-out junkie.

Having had the mentality that all the fuss would’ve been over once the baby comes out, Yoongi was overjoyed when you gave birth on the sixth of December the previous year. One look at Byungchul was all it took before tears started rolling down his cheeks. Mainly because the realization of finally being a father overwhelmed him at that moment because he thought he would no longer have to deal with your midnight cravings and bizarre antics during your pregnancy.

Boy was he wrong.

First week into parenthood, Yoongi gulps down at least three mugs of coffee a day, rushing over to Byungchul’s crib when he hears the slightest of cries. Both your mom and mother-in-law demanded that you rest for a while after having dealt with nearly a day in labor. Hence, Yoongi had to take on the responsibility of taking care of Byungchul as well as most of the daily chores.

Although there were countless times when you offered to help your husband, Yoongi was caring and understanding enough to decline each time because he knew he’d end up doing it altogether if you did try to ‘help’ him. Just like that time when you said you’d clean up after ordering Chinese take-out for dinner and when he returns from putting the baby to sleep, he sees you snoring against the couch in the living room, clutching a pair of chopsticks to your chest.

Today seemed like an exception though. Your husband didn’t wake at the sound of Byungchul wailing for the first time in what felt like forever. When he tried to lie down again to get back to sleep, he just tossed and turned for a few minutes before sitting back up, realizing he wasn’t going back to his slumber anytime soon. It was like he was already anticipating Byungchul’s cries ringing through his ears in the middle of the night.

Heading over to the baby’s crib, he peeks and leans over the plastic columns and traces light patters on his son’s pajama-clad tummy. He smiled as he remembered the first photo of his son he released to the public. It was a photo of Byungchul sleeping with arms and legs spread in all directions, resembling a starfish. He’d accompanied it with a zoomed-in picture of his son’s bun-like arms, captioning it with a bread emoji.

Yoongi pats Byungchul’s head gently a few times before he heads to the kitchen to start the day early.

Flipping the last pancake with one swift motion, Yoongi sets the pan down and turns off the stove, bringing his plate of the Min-Yoongi-pancake-special recipe over the dining table. He sat down on the wooden chair and crossed his legs as he squeezed a generous amount of syrup onto the stack of pancakes.

He cuts a large slice from the stack with his fork, closing his eyes for a moment as he savors the self-proclaimed excellence of his own specialty breakfast. Yoongi hears muted footsteps on the carpeted floor, momentarily pausing his eating to watch you pad slowly towards the kitchen, solely depending on your sense of smell as your eyes remain shut.

Yoongi pulls out a chair for you beside him and you plop down and rest your head on his shoulder. Before your hands could grab a bite from his plate, Yoongi swats your hand away and slides his plate farther from you. He tells you that he’s left you another serving on the counter and you mutter a curse before getting up and stomping exaggeratedly towards the counter.

As you stand a few meters away from Yoongi, your husband’s breath hitches as he finally takes in what you wore to bed last night. It literally wasn’t much. You were wearing one of Yoongi’s favorite white large shirts. But the way its hem just reached your thighs and assumingly, the fact that you weren’t wearing anything else underneath so you cold-induced nipples were trying to poke their way out of the shirt made something snap inside Yoongi.

This was only one of the many charms you had that convinced Yoongi to ask you to stay with him for the rest of your life. He always let you knew that you looked sexiest when getting up from bed – despite the nest-like hair, flammable breath, and that line of dried saliva on your chin, there was no greater honor to him than waking up to that sight. Yoongi still loves you nevertheless, wondering how you always managed to look beautiful even in the unlikeliest of times.

It was driving Yoongi nuts, looking achingly seductive like that, even if he only saw your back and a glimpse of your side profile. Yoongi takes a swig of the water beside him as you rummage through the drawers looking for cutlery, eventually bending down to check the bottom ones. How could you possibly not know where they’re placed when you’ve been living under the same roof for nearly three years already?!

He isn’t even the slightest bit doubtful that you weren’t doing this on purpose (well, you had the tendency to be quite dramatic from time to time) and he gulps as you bend over one more time, his shirt riding up your legs and finally confirming that you were, in fact, not wearing any underwear, at all.

Well, shit.

He quickly looks away, blocking all the indecent thoughts before they consume him and failing miserably at that. As Yoongi tries to peek one more time, he comes face-to-face with you, eyes nothing short of worry for your husband. Instead, he sees a glint of playfulness in them.

“Yoongs, is something bothering you?”

Was that even a question? His eyes travel down your cheeks to your neckline and when he gets a glimpse of your breasts due to the looseness of his shirt on you, all hell seems to break loose. It’s been too long since he got to touch you, feel you. Yoongi doesn’t know how he lasted a year without sex if it weren’t for the busy schedule divided between work and taking care of you and Byungchul. You return to your chair when he doesn’t respond, acting as if the tension isn’t as clear as day.

Fuck, you looked so enticing just beside him. Sans underwear, hair tied up in a messy bun, smothering whipped cream all over the pancakes. There was nothing he could do when he felt his cock straining against his boxers, knowing that you were the only person in this world who could give him an instant hard-on doing the most mundane of tasks.

Min Yoongi is known to be an avid risk-taker, that’s why when he sees an opportunity, he grabs it – regardless of how it may end. Which is why when you accidentally spread whipped cream across your cheek trying to gobble up an entire pancake, your husband closes the distance between you two, swiping his tongue across your cheek to clean up your mess.

A giggle escapes your lips and his heart wrenches, feeling bad for having inappropriate thoughts this early in the morning. Of course, you probably still needed your post-natal rest – the unimaginable pain of giving birth recently. “You could’ve just told me Yoongs, no need to go Holly on me.” You reprimand him in a playful tone, pinching his cheek as you grab a napkin to wipe his saliva off your face. Yoongi gives you back your personal space, trying to picture Namjoon wearing a sailor moon outfit to get his dick back down.

While Yoongi proceeds to finish his cup of coffee, you muttered something that had Yoongi choking on his drink, spluttering drops of coffee on the table. “Don’t think I don’t see that problem of yours down there Min Yoongi.” He finds your hand slowly massaging his thigh, circling dangerously near his crotch. Ah, fuck it. He was about to get lucky this early in the morning, and Namjoon in that ridiculous costume isn’t about to spoil it.

Yoongi swallows when your hand travels inside his boxers, fisting his dick while you finish the rest of your pancakes. “Take that off for me,” you order, releasing his cock from your grip as you bring the plates to the dishwasher. When you return, you tilt your head towards the table, motioning him to sit on it so you won’t have to deal with sore knees afterwards.

Your husband slowly gets up from his chair and onto the table, cock already twitching in anticipation. Yoongi takes your hand and pulls you between his legs, kissing you feverishly. You waste no time in letting your hands roam his body, enjoying the way he’s gained weight since your pregnancy, indulging in your pregnancy cravings as well.

You lower down on your seat, your fingernails prickling his skin with goosebumps, enjoying his reactions. You lick your lips before you slowly dive in, teasing the tip and circling your tongue around the head, gauging your husband’s reaction. Yoongi grunts when you take more, throwing his head back when he feels his cock disappear between your lips.

He nearly loses it when you suck around his cock, a low hum escaping your lips. The feeling is familiar but foreign at the same time, a prominent baby bump proving to be difficult to deal with during sexy time with you. You’re still just as skilled with your mouth, though definitely hotter this time. Must be the post-natal glow - Yoongi notes mentally, picturing getting you pregnant again if that means he gets to reap what he’s sown so wonderfully.

You draw your mouth back slowly and sink down on it again, taking pleasure in the groan of bliss you draw out from Yoongi. Slowly and steadily, you fall into a rhythm of sliding his cock between your lips, occasionally taking a peek at your husband whose grip in your hair tightens by the second. He’s close, you reckon - tell-tale signs all etched in memory from your shared intimacies in the past. Yoongi gasps loudly when he cums, his whole body quivering as his cock softens in your mouth.

Yoongi hoists you up for him to sit where you’ve been and pulls you down to sit on his thighs. You feel his dick almost ready again as he sits you near his crotch, the only thing separating you is your husband’s oversized shirt. His cold fingers wander beneath the large piece of clothing where Yoongi finds the need to fulfill his desire of touching you, large hands groping your breasts and tracing outlines on the expanse of your skin.

“You’re so fucking wet,” Yoongi states, sliding a finger through your folds. Dangerously testing the waters by shallowly dipping a digit and removing it and repeating the action all over again. “Yoongi,” you hiss as your grip on his forearms tighten. “I need your cock. Now.” He spares no time in removing his shirt on you, knowing that you have a secret clothed-sex kink from a drunken rant he’d accidentally listened to while you were talking to your friend while he was away for a concert.

He lays you down on the table, feet dangling off the edge and legs already spread open for him. Yoongi slides into you with ease, resisting the strong urge to cum on impact. He nestles himself deep within your walls, reveling in the feeling of his cock a snug fit inside your warm pussy. It’s been so long and it’s with a particular squeezing of your walls that reminds him that his palm could never identify with how your pussy feels.

“God, princess,” Yoongi moans, steadily rocking his hips back and forth. He takes his time with you, pushing his cock so deep that every thrust still has you clutching on the edges of table. “Yoongi,” you moan softly as his eyes close for a moment, savoring the feeling. With one hand on your hip, he trails the other beneath your shirt, lifting it up a little so one breast is exposed and the other still hidden under its confines.

You can tell how much he’s missed this as much as you. He looks down at you with lust darkened eyes, chest rising and falling in time with his hips. As much as you enjoyed slow sex with Yoongi, you can’t help but goad him on whining when you tell him to go faster.

Yoongi grabs hooks his hands under your knees and straightens your legs so they’re resting against his shoulders. You can’t help the loud cry that escapes your lips when he draws back and thrusts into you at once, impaling you with his cock. Your vision is getting blurry as your husband continues to drill into you, that familiar feeling at the pit of your stomach growing drastically by the second.

It’s with this particular angle that Yoongi is hitting that sweet spot and in a few seconds you and Yoongi finally reach your high and it’s the most beautiful thing ever because you rarely climax at the same time. Yoongi continues to back and forth between your folds, riding out his high.

Your orgasm is so strong that your legs are still trembling slightly when Yoongi guides them down from his shoulders. He peppers kisses on your thigh first, then your neck and your cheek, sitting down on a chair when he deems his post-sex pampering over.

Yoongi looks blissed out, a lovely rosy tinge coloring his cheeks. He feels like he’s been provided with renewed strength despite what just transpired a few moments ago. You sit up, only to enjoy what a view Yoongi is after times like this. There’s a sheen layer of sweat on his torso, giving it a slight glimmer when the sunlight slipping through the curtains touches his skin.

You open your mouth to say something when you hear the baby’s first cry of the day. Yoongi looks up at you from the chair and gets up, assuring you that he’ll handle it. Once he’s taken a few steps away you call at him, “Where’s my dessert?!” Yoongi scowls hard as he turns back to face you, pointing a thumb against his chest. “That wasn’t enough dessert yet?” Yoongi’s scowl turns into a sinister smile before he walks away again.

“Better get ready for round 2 later then!” he says with a wave, disappearing from your sight.

[gruviafan-forever]

DAY VII:- EUPHORIA

A/N: Finally Gruvia week comes to an end. This was my very first participation in this awesome week. I have been a fan of this favourite ship for ten years. And in these years, my favourite couple have come a long way. Hope to see them get together officially.

Hope everyone liked my works for this gruvia week. Hope this awesome event continues every year. Thank you everyone..enjoy.

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When asked about the best moment in their life, for an individual person it might be the moment they have achieved some goal or an important thing they have longed for.

But if you ask a parent, they will say anything done by their children is their euphoric moment.

Mika Ul Fullbuster, 9, youngest child of Gray and Juvia was a very special child. Of course, every child is special for parents but what made her even more special is that; she was born prematurely around two months before the due date which greatly affected her development and immune system.

On top of that, the little girl developed magic sickness, a condition where a high amount of magic power was in her system much similar to Ultear's childhood condition which Ur had mentioned as Gray remembered.

But Porlyusica and Wendy made sure to treat and completely heal their little girl with the magic portion due to advancement in magic and medical facilities.

Due to this sickness, Mika had always been a slow and dull child. She would easily be exhausted as compared to children of her age.

There was not even a day where Gray and Juvia never stopped worrying about their daughter's condition but made sure to be optimistic in front of her so that the little girl doesn't lose hope and keep fighting.

It was just a year back Wendy had informed them after Mika's monthly check-up that by age of ten, she would be alright as there was improvement over the years and also her magic level was stabilizing.

Even though Mika was slow and dull most of the time, she never forgot to smile and be friendly with her friends and uncles and aunts at the guild.

She was very fond of her elder brother, Ur Silver Fullbuster, 15, who also felt the same for his sister. He took it upon his shoulder to protect his little sister in their parents' absence.

When it was time to start education for Mika, by that time, Magnolia had its own magic school where it taught the children of mages and others skills and combat style related to the type of magic they specialized in.

It was due to Queen Hisui's ordinance to teach the younger generation the art and glory of magic, she had set up this magic academy at every major town and offered a three years course on the same.

Most of the children of Fairy Tail studied and graduated from this academy. So when it was time to enrol their little girl, both Gray and Juvia were reluctant in sending her adhering to her health condition.

But once Master Makarov, Porlyusica, Wendy and their friends convinced them that it would be a new atmosphere for the little girl and would aid in her recovery, the parents finally agreed.

Their friends made sure to teach their kids to be helpful and protective of their friend if any other kids teases or harasses Mika.

As truth to the words, once she started school things with her began to have a positive change as she didn't show much exhaustion and tiredness as compared before, all thanks to schools and medical aids.

Her friends, Igneel Dragneel, 10, youngest of Natsu and Lucy, Eva Redfox, 10, youngest of Gajeel and Levy, Rob Fernandez, 10, middle child of Erza and Jellal and finally, Wenma Conbolt, 9, eldest of Wendy and Romeo were her friends.

Even though Mika was actually good in academics, she didn't flare much in practical and sports class which disheartened her very much.

Gray and Juvia will always encourage her every time when she loses her hope just like now.

The Fullbusters were currently having dinner while Juvia served them happily and made sure they had taken much to fill their tummy.

As Ur told his father about his recent mission which he had taken with his friends enthusiastically which made the Gray feel proud of his son as he was the main reason his team could complete the assigned mission.

As soon as Ur finished telling Gray his tales, Mika butted in, "Papa, do you know in two days time, our school is going to conduct 'Sports Day'. So I'm thinking of taking part in it."

Mika said gleefully but the parents began to frown, "Oh that's great dear, so what all events are to you taking part in? Can we also come?" 

Juvia butted in before Gray could say something which the little girl wasn't expecting her father to tell.

Gray looked at his wife but she smiled and handled the situation. Mika happily told her parents the list of events she wanted to take part.

"Okay dear, so from tomorrow let's practice and make you fully prepared for the event." Gray encouraged her and showed his fist which his daughter bumped in agreement. Even Juvia and Ur did the same.

Later at night, when Gray asked Juvia, "Why didn't you stop her from taking part? I know she's excited but I don't want to see her to be depressed like last time and fall sick." He said and looked sad at the memories of last year. 

It took nearly a week to convince the little girl which greatly hurt the parents to see their child being upset and fell sick which took another week to fully heal. For them, if their kids are happy and healthy that meant everything to them.

But for Mika, winning a prize seemed way more important and didn't give a care about her health condition.

"I know Gray-sama but she's excited and this time she believes she will win at least one event and make us feel proud. That's what she told me now." Juvia told her husband and placed her hands to his cheeks.

"Juvia, the way she's now itself makes me feel proud about her. She doesn't need to prove anything else. I don't want my baby to fall sick even more. You know right, we still have a year until her condition stabilizes, so why to add unwanted  pressure and stress and make all the treatment futile." Gray gave his reasons as he still can't forget those moments where he saw his little girl suffer.

"Even I can't forget those memories. I also want Mika-chan to get well soon. That's what, I have been waiting for these many years, Gray-sama. But we can't discourage her and break her hopes right. Let's make sure she doesn't stress out much." Juvia tried to convince her husband which she succeeded finally.

Then for the next two days, the Fullbuster men trained Mika in such a way that she didn't exhaust her completely.

But her water magic was still of low power, even though her sickness was pertaining to high levels of magic in the system but she couldn't yield much out and that's what made her sickness difficult.

"Papa, why come my magic's not powerful? See it couldn't even break that log of wood." Mika began to cry. She looks clearly defeated and lost hopes in winning this particular event.

Gray knelt down to her height and patted her head, "Dear, it will take time as you are drinking these magic portions to control your instability of power. See next year, once your problem gets sorted out you will become so stronger than us. So dear, tomorrow just try your best and know one thing we are proud of you no matter what because you are our Mika."

He hugged her and held her in his arms like a baby even if she was a bit old for that.

The next day, Mika's friends had come to fetch their friend so that everyone could go together.

"Good morning kids" Juvia greeted them happily.

"Good morning, Aunty. Is Mika-chan ready?" They asked in unison.

"She just finished eating her breakfast. Come inside while she gets ready." Juvia invited the kids to the living room and went to the kitchen to prepare some sandwiches for her son who would be up in half an hour.

Mika came down and went out of the house along with her friends after shouting bye to her mother which Juvia said back.

But after sometime, that's when she realized that her baby didn't drink her portion.

Soon she went to wake her Gray-sama's and urged him to get ready so that they could go for the sports day together just a few minutes before so that Mika could drink up her healing potion.

"What? Juvia, how can you be careless? Just wait, let me get ready. We will leave soon so get the things ready. Is Ur coming with us?" Gray asked as he kept yawning.

Juvia informed that Ur was going with his friends and left the room so that her husband could get ready.

Once they reached the academy and went to the playground where the event was going to take place. As they searched for a place to sit, they spotted their friends calling them out and showed them the empty spaces.

"Gray, Juvia, what made you guys run late? Event has already begun. Luckily, you guys just missed the torch lighting ceremony." Lucy exclaimed.

"Yeah!! You should have seen my boy. He looked so manly, my Iggy." Natsu exclaimed proudly.

"Oh shut up! My boy was the one to pass that torch to your son Natsu. Even my Rob looked so gallant." Erza reasoned out but Jellal stopped her and adjusted his 5 year old daughter, Rose, on his laps also.

Juvia worried and hoped to find a small gap so that she could give her daughter the potion before the events.

Soon the main events began to take place, as said in the inaugural speech by the principal.

Firstly, it was a 200m race for boys. Then Gray spotted his daughter near the stage who looked serious but he smiled as she looked quite adorable thinking about something.

Then, he saw her turning and talking to one boy whom he didn't recognize but from the looks it looked like that little guy was making fun of his daughter as he saw her tongue and went to get part in the race.

Gray clenched his fist and made sure to talk to his parents about this later. But the race was won by him not only but most of the events were won by that boy in either of the three positions.

When it was time for the girl's event to commence, Gray and Juvia were shocked to see that their girl's name was almost there in every game which made the parents worry.

Sensing their discomfort, Lucy and others asked for their reason and slowly they disclosed everything to them. 

Juvia got up and went to meet her daughter so that at least, she could drink that medicine but the teachers didn't allow her stating it might cause hindrance to her during the games.

Juvia then went to meet her daughter and convinced Mika to not take part in every competition but her daughter was so determined and consoled her mother not to worry about her.

Once Juvia reached her place next to Gray, she couldn't stop tearing up and watched her baby struggle in a way to finish every game.

Till now, she had competed in almost every game but she couldn't secure even one small victory and ended up coming last which earned laughter from her classmates especially the bullies.

Mika's friends warned those bullies but they didn't stop and kept on teasing her with words like 'weak', 'pathetic' and 'loser'.

The parents could see Mika was literally on the verge of breaking down and was also physically exhausted.

Gray couldn't take it anymore and went to the teacher to retrieve his daughter back before her condition became worse.

"Mika dear, come. It's enough. You are exhausted, baby. Please don't stress yourself much. Enough please come with us." Gray called out to his daughter and his voice began to crack as it hurt him to see his child being in pain and suffering.

Mika almost agreed to her dad's advice and began to move towards him until the boy who bullied her in the morning spoke," Yeah! You are a baby weirdo. You are not fit to be a mage. You are just an eye sore, that's why your parents don't want you to perform." He began to laugh.

Gray dashed to beat the shit out that little punk for speaking bad about his daughter but luckily Mika stopped her dad and wiped those tears.

"Papa, let me just take part in this one game. I'm sure. I will win this. Please!" Mika pleaded with him, clearly tiredness laced in her voice.

But her friends told her she doesn't need to prove anything to the bully who left before he got beaten by Gray.

Gray knelt down, "Dear, you look tired. If things keep happening, you will fall sick which will affect your health adversely. Please try to understand,dear." He patted her shoulders.

But Mika didn't budge and was determined to finish this last game called MPF.

All the kids of her class were part of it. This was basically to count out there magic power levels.

Mika was made to stand at last so that she could rest a bit before the match. Juvia was crying to see her baby struggling to prove herself even if her condition was not proper.

Till now, it was Igneel and Eva who held first and second place respectively. Then Rob took over Eva's spot. And the third place was held by that bullying punk.

When it was Mika's turn finally, Gray and Juvia just prayed to God that nothing serious should happen to their daughter at the end.

But the little girl was determined and concentrated her water magic before blasting the MPF with her full power.

"Water Hurricane"

Juvia's eyes widened in surprise and got up, "Gray-sama, that move requires more power. This will cause her immense damage to her body." She kept on crying and soon moved towards the ground after excusing herself.

Once the MPF registered the attack, Mika fell unconscious. Soon her friends, teacher and parents came to her aid.

After an hour, at the guild's infirmary, when Mika woke up, she felt her body beaten up and slowly turned around to spot her mother crying while her dad consoling her mother.

"Mama"

"Oh my God!! You are finally awake, dear" Juvia hugged her daughter and kept sobbing while the little girl patted her mother's back.

"Dear, are you feeling alright?" Gray asked and sat next to them.

Once Juvia broke the hug, Mika began to cry, "I'm sorry, mama, papa. I couldn't make you guys proud. I'm such a loser. I will never achieve anything in my life"

Both the parents hugged her simultaneously and teared up a bit and patted her little body, "You know what dear, you made us proud. We were in euphoric state right now because you not only won second place in that MPF game but also your sickness got completely cured. We are elated dear. Finally, our prayers had been answered. We are proud of you, Mika-chan"

Juvia smiled and disclosed the happy news.

Mika's blue eyes widened due to shock, "Mama and papa, I'm happy that finally I made you both feel proud of me."

"Yes dear, you are our precious child. We were beyond the world to see you accomplish something this great. As your parents, we are extremely happy and proud." Gray said gleefully.

Of course, as a parent they were extremely happy and joyful to see their child who not only accomplished something she worked hard upon when she had an disadvantage.

And they were sure for the rest of their life, this moment will always bring euphoria to them whenever they think about it.

[gumnut-logic]

Determination II (Part Three)

My infected foot has me laying around the house and off work for the rest of the week. It also means I will not be working on Nutty Day, which is kinda yay. But anyway, there should be some time to write, just be aware that my muse is a little bit all over the place at the moment, so I apologise if it gets a bit random.

But I did manage this bit tonight :D I hope you enjoy.

Sequel to episode tag to 3.24. POSSIBLE SPOILERS FOR 3.24

From here.

-o-o-o-

He found Gordon in the kitchen making a sandwich.

“What are you doing?”

His little brother half turned towards him as if surprised to see him. “Grabbing food. It is dinner time, you know.”

“You are supposed to be finalising Four.”

“I am. Cool it, bro. Everything is under control.” As if to emphasise, he tossed a slice of ham into his mouth and sucked it in like a vacuum cleaner.

Scott’s hackles rose just that extra millimetre. No doubt his experienced brother’s intentions.

He shook it off. “Where’s Virgil?”

“In his room digging up some engineering literature. Dragged him back to make sure he ate. He’s as bad as you at looking after himself.” His brother held out a completed sandwich. “Hungry?”

Scott stared at the food a moment as his stomach lurched in its direction. But no... “No, I’ll eat later. I have to finish Three’s integration first.”

Gordon shrugged and took back the sandwich. “Suit yourself. Just make sure you do eat something before you fall on your face. We are kinda depending on our mighty leader in all this.”

Scott grunted at him, frowning. Maybe Gordon was right. He was hungry and he was here. Might as well kill two birds with one stone and eat dinner. He had wanted to ask Virgil to check the welds on Three anyway before he proceeded to the next stage. Fifteen minutes now might save an hour later due to lack of energy.

“Okay, fine, hand me the bread and butter.”

Gordon grinned at him, laid out two extra pieces of bread and reached for the butter.

“Oh, no you don’t. You spread it too thick, you know I hate that.” He grabbed the butter knife out of his brother’s hand as the aquanaut smirked at him.

Several slices of ham and a handful of salad later and Scott sat down with his little brother and ate.

Okay, Gordon was definitely right. A fuelled body mean efficient operation. He stuffed most of the sandwich into his mouth before he realised something was missing...or rather who.

“Where’s Virgil?”

“Looking stuff up. I told you that.”

“But isn’t he going to eat something?”

“He’ll be down, don’t worry.” Gordon had mustard. Large dollops of mustard on his sandwich and several streaks on his face.

Scott raised an eyebrow. “You’re wearing your dinner again.”

“Shows I’m enjoying it.” And he was presented with another Gordon trademark grin.

“If that is your excuse.”

“Sounds good, so I’m sticking with it.” He then smeared relish across the tip of his nose leaving it red like Rudolph the reindeer.

“Relish and mustard on the one sandwich?”

A shrug. “I like it spicy.”

“Ergh.” Scott shoved the rest of his down his throat and finished up his drink. Jumping to his feet he placed his plate and glass in the dishwasher and washed his hands. He stared up the stairs a moment before turning back to Gordon. “You sure Virgil is coming down? What’s he looking up anyway?”

“You expect me to know? I speak marine ecology, not engineerese.”

“He’s not worried about the Zero-XL is he?”

“Uh, no?”

Scott frowned at Gordon. “What did he say?”

“Ummm...”

“Virgil has been living and breathing this ship since Brains gave the go ahead. We launch tomorrow. Why is he here and not over there helping Brains finish up?”

Another shrug. “Again, aquanaut not engineer.” Gordon strode over to the freezer and yanked out a small tub. “Here, I found John’s stash of Bailey’s Ice Cream hidden in the hangar freezer. Would you believe he had it lodged behind the reserve coolant?”

Scott took the tub of decadent ice confectionery, the change in topic stalling him for a moment. “You stole John’s ice cream?”

“Well, yeah, I have a reputation to maintain, after all. I don’t even like Baileys, but hey, I found it. Want some?”

“So you’ve got a death wish.”

“Eh, he has to catch me first.”

“He caught you last time. If I recall correctly, all your music playlists have been replaced by nursery rhymes.”

“Yeah, that was a good one. You shoulda seen Virg squirm with all the ear worms.”

“I did, see him. You are lucky he didn’t see you. Have you found your player yet?”

“Sure did. Virg just doesn’t have the true skill of good revenge.”

“I wouldn’t say that to his face.”

Gordon waved a dismissive hand. “Nah, Virgil is a big softy. He won’t hurt a fly, much less his itty-bitty little brother.”

Another arched eyebrow. “I’ll remember to put that on your gravestone on the day you go too far.” He waved the ice cream tub away. “Keep it. John’s wrath is a much larger concern. I want to be able to communicate with the outside world.” He turned to leave.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to see Virgil. I need him to check some of my work when we get back to the XL.”

“Why don’t you go back to the platform. I’ll make Virgil some food, make sure he eats it and then return with him.”

“Why?”

“Umm, I came over with Virg and left my pod on the platform? I kinda need a lift.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. But hurry up, we have a time limit here.”

Gordon saluted sharply in a definite WASP style. “Yes, sir!”

“Move it, soldier.”

Gordon let his body slouch, hunchback style and with an exaggerated limp, made it over to the refrigerator. “Yessssh, Masssster.”

A grunt and Scott turned climbing the stairs two at a time, already running the next task through his head on the way to his pod. Eating had definitely been a good idea. He already felt much sharper. He should round up Alan, Kayo and Brains and make them take a break as well.

He was climbing into his pod when he remembered that one of the reasons why he wanted get Virgil to check his welds was because he had used the newer welding equipment. While it appeared to be welding fine, he meant to double check his settings with the engineer who was far more familiar with the equipment and he had been unavailable earlier..

He hit his comms. “Virg? You got a minute?”

No answer.

“Virg, you there?”

Nothing.

Okay, that was weird. He raised his hand to comm John, but remembered that his space brother was busy preparing Five for the XL. Which was likely why he had been so distracted when Scott contacted him earlier.

Scott mentally kicked himself. This project was so overwhelmingly important to him that sometimes he forgot how important it was to his brothers as well.

A sudden image of Virgil looking up at him kindly, but with just that ghost of worry in his eyes. It was a familiar sight in so many settings. His brother had been hovering around him for weeks now, reassuring, watching, supporting...

Aaargh. He jumped down from the pod and headed back into the villa. Gordon was nowhere to be seen. Probably took dinner up to Virgil, who was likely hip deep in a search for whatever it was he was looking for.

Scott ignored the elevator and bounded up the stairs to the residential level and into the corridor leading to Virgil’s rooms.

Virgil’s door was the most ornate of all those in the hallway. His brother had travelled to Japan for one of his periods of leave about four years ago and had come back so artistically inspired, he had churned out a dozen of so paintings and one intricately carved door.

The green dragon stared at him challengingly despite being slightly ajar.

There were voices beyond it.

Gordon’s voice.

Virgil’s voice.

“What the hell are you doing? Get back to bed.”

“I need to get back out there. Scott is going to find out.”

“He’s fine. He’s on his way back. Doesn’t have a clue.”

A lump formed in Scott’s chest and climbed up his throat. What the hell?

“Gordon, I appreciate what you are trying to do, but I have to do this. This is for Dad - ah, ow, shit!”

“And this is for you! Now does that prove it to you enough yet? Get your ass back into bed before I haul Johnny down here and we drag you there.”

There was the sound of heavy breathing and a grunt.

And Scott broke.

Heart beating a mile a minute, he shoved the door open.

-o-o-o-

TBC

[danganronpa-21]

It is very late and I thought of a question that I really want to ask so here goes: if the survivors of V3 were a part of the hopes peak saga, how do you think they would fit into the world of Danganronpa 21? I understand if you don’t want to answer this because it’s V3 related I’m sorry if it’s not a good question but I think it would be fun to imagine Shuichi, Maki, and Himiko trying to get accustomed to normal life along with the rest of the cast.

Hey, don’t worry! Your question’s just fine, and even if I’m not the biggest fan of V3, I’ll totally answer. I do like some of it, after all!

Shuichi, I think, would absolutely be Kyoko’s apprentice. That’s the number one spot I can see him in a Danganronpa 21 context. After all that he’s been through, he probably thinks that he might be able to do some good with his skills – even despite the feelings he’d had about the job in the past. Unfortunately, I think that means that on certain cases, he’s a bit of a glorified babysitter. Seiko is still the heiress of the Kirigiri family, after all. She needs to help out with cases sometimes as apart of her training.

His relationship to Kyoko is probably pretty weird. I would definitely say it’s in the way of “Kyoko cares about Shuichi, but Shuichi can’t tell”. Seeing someone younger than her, who had survived the same things she had, would probably make her feel a little like she needed to look out for him. I imagine Shuichi would feel somewhat uncomfortable around Kyoko’s cold demeanor, but would try his best to do a good job at her side. Being the one looking after her daughter would probably only add onto that pressure. Still, I think Shuichi would get along with Seiko well enough. She’s an intelligent little girl with a lot of confidence; if anything I imagine she’d be an encouraging presence for him. She’d probably be tugging him along all the time, so eager to work with him and prove to him what she’s capable of. She treats him like a friend and thus Shuichi quite likes her, although her general impishness and disobedience can sometimes make her a bit of a headache for him to deal with. 

Honestly, apart from those two, Shuichi probably isn’t close with so many of the others. Like everyone else in the world pretty much, he has no idea that the cast of SDR2 is even really still around. So his connection to them is nonexistent. As for the surviving THH cast, he’s sort of just… friendly. He’s probably only met most of them a couple times, if Kyoko invited him to a party of some kind as a colleague. The people I would say he likes most from this group are likely Aoi and Makoto, as they’re easy to talk to and are generally kind people. In turn, he finds Byakuya and Toko especially challenging to speak with, as Toko tends to assume she’s being insulted and Byakuya is still very much… himself. He doesn’t hold much of an opinion on Yasuhiro, despite his ear being talked off about OOPArts at some gatherings. 

Shuichi’s relationships with the children are also probably limited. He knows a lot about Kameyo and Junichi given that they are Seiko’s friends, and she talks about them a lot, but he’s never really seen so much of the kids themselves. When he’s around at one of those social gatherings, the kids are usually off playing somewhere. He doesn’t know and is not close with Sakura, Leon, Natsumi, or Phoenix at all; and he sort of knows Hope and Koichi. For those last two, it’s mostly on account of the fact that they’re Kyoko’s kids. He recognizes their faces from the pictures in his mentor’s office, and talks to them a little bit when they’re around. Definitely sees about of his own insecurity in Koichi, and feels soothed by Hope’s cheerful nature. Sometimes. Other times, it makes him think of Kaede and that just hurts.

______________________

As for Maki, I see her taking some time to reflect on some of the things that she felt during the killing game. If placed in a DR21 context, I could see her using her skills as some sort of peacekeeper. Not necessarily as an assassin, but she could absolutely use them to quell anyone who is trying to disturb the peace. Since the world wouldn’t snap back into a normal state just like that, I could see Maki helping manage despair uprisings in the areas that were struggling a little more to get back on their feet. She would be like a protector of the people, ensuring that those who lived in the harsher parts of the country (and in this specific case, Tokyo) could go about their lives safely and comfortably. Not exactly as a form of law enforcement, but really something along the lines of ensuring that eventually, the country would be able to get back on its feet. I should also note that I don’t see this as something done by Future Foundation. Almost like a civilian-made group, I’m thinking.

I don’t personally see Maki having many relationships with the other Survivors from Trigger Happy Havoc and Goodbye Despair. In terms of the Goodbye Despair cast, she’s likely kept in the dark (like so many others) about what happened with them and often finds herself more comfortable that way. She mostly just wants to deal with things as they come up, for that’s mostly the way she seems to have lived her life. From the Trigger Happy Havoc cast, I imagine she finds the most interaction with people like Kyoko and Byakuya. She interacts with Kyoko more due to the fact that she is frequently made to investigate the happenings in the parts of the city that Maki oversees. Since despair would still be pretty high in some areas, Maki definitely helps her out in getting the details of riots, assaults, murders, all that bad stuff. The two of them have a purely professional relationship, with both of them being pretty cold at first glance, but they admire one another for the work they put into their jobs. Kyoko is regarded by Maki as a respectable woman, while Kyoko regards Maki the same – but with a little added appreciation, as she’s a friend of Shuichi’s. Thus Maki maintains a bit more importance to the detective than she knows. 

As for Maki’s relationship with Byakuya, it’s mostly on account of the donations he makes to the relief efforts. While at first she is adamant about her disgust of him (what kind of man says he’s only providing money for aid to ensure that his own life is better?), she finds that she slowly grows to appreciate the contributions he makes to the relief effort. While not particularly caring, he is willing to pledge great sums of money to ensure that the city gets back to its former glory. And if funds are cut, she knows she can count on him to bust in saying that he somehow had some cash to spare – even when she knows he didn’t. 

I personally don’t see Maki having any relationships with the children of DR21. Maybe Seiko, if she were briefly brought upon a case, but I think Kyoko would be less likely to bring her daughter on certain cases in rough parts of town. Especially since, for awhile, child kidnappings in the name of despair were pretty common. 

______________________

I’m a little boggled on where I’d put Himiko in this timeline. Is it weird of me to say I’d put her somewhere working with children? I mean, a cute, talented magician in a world-in-recovery-post-apocalyptic timeline? She’d be a huge source of comfort for people, especially the little ones who were born into such a confusing and troubling time. I could totally see her being a performer who goes around to schools and businesses and all those places that are slowly returning to their former grace and just absolutely igniting them with joy. 

In this case, I think it probably earns her a bit of a reputation — so I think she does have a little more attention from some of the Survivors. Especially considering that out of the six of them, Toko is the only one who doesn’t have a child. I think she’d definitely earn some appreciation from Aoi, Kyoko and Makoto as morale boosters, and who knows, maybe she’d be scheduled to visit Hope’s Peak during its first couple years to cheer everyone up! I like to think that there could even be an aspiring Reserve Class magician who goes to ask her about some of her tricks. As for some of the other Survivors, though, I think Yasuhiro would be unusually mystified by half of the stuff Himiko does — and would come up with these weird theories to how it works. He’d only be right sometimes, but most of the time he’d just be throwing out random theories. I don’t think Himiko is terribly amused by them, and keeps insisting that all of it is just real magic. 

As for relationships with the children, I don’t know how well she’d know any of them. Probably just on a surface-level, I think. Acquaintance relationships at most. If she had a favourite amongst the kids, it would probably be Kameyo, as she’s inclined to wholeheartedly believe in things like magic and monsters. Kameyo would probably think that Himiko and her magic tricks are just like, the coolest thing ever and I imagine Himiko probably takes great pleasure in having someone who just so totally loves what she’s doing.

______________________

In a DR21 context, the survivors of V3 would probably each be finding their own way in the changing world. I think one thing’s for certain though, and that’s the fact that they choose to stay together. I sort of picture them with a crappy downtown Tokyo apartment that they share. It’s probably kind of shabby but it’s got two bedrooms and a working bathroom and kitchen, so they don’t mind too much about how it’s not the best. They probably take turns cooking meals for one another, and likely do the same for the household chores. After the events of their killing game, I don’t think they’re anywhere near to being entirely back on their feet yet -- but they’re getting a start, and that’s what matters most.