#but late start so probably won’t finish this month lol

[greenorangevioletgrass]

give me a minute (1/2) | chef luca

pairing: chef luca x ex-wife!reader word count: 4.7k warnings: established former relationship, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, discussions of separation and divorce, luca and reader has a son, unresolved sexual tension 👀 notes: this fic has been the bane of my existence for the last couple of months or so. it all started as a simple thought of "ooh it would be fun to have a steamy smut with ex!luca" and then it turns into a whole thing with like proper angst and stuff lol. this will be split into two parts, and i think i need encouragement to finish the second part. so please enjoy this first part and tell me what you think! ✨follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notifications to get alerted of my latest fics! ✨

03:49 PM

Everything is fine, you keep telling yourself.

Your soon-to-be ex-husband is flying in from Denmark to finalize the divorce—and even after two years of exhaustive paperwork and mediations and court proceedings, you still don’t know how to feel about this. His visit to New York is meant to be a consolation prize for your six-year-old son Alfie, whose only facetime with his dad lately is through… well, FaceTime. But, given how extraordinarily difficult he’s being—fussing over his breakfast, stalling shower time by a record of 48 minutes, refusing to wear anything you picked out for him… you have an inkling that he might be a little nervous to see his father.

And to make matters worse, it’s raining cats and dogs outside, which delays Luca by two hours now and actively threatens the zoo outing he has planned out for him and Alfie.

So… despite the shitstorm that is happening in your apartment and out, you keep telling yourself that everything is fine.

Because it is. Your home is tidy enough, with all the toys and the mess tucked away in their little cubbies. Your son is dressed up enough; he’s finally put on his pants and shirt, although you missed a button and he won’t let you fix it. The storm is outside, and you’re safely sheltered in. And your relationship with your ex is civil enough, so you feel…

Fine enough.

But the doorman buzzes in, and you can definitely tell the awkwardness in his voice. “Afternoon, Ma’am. I have your husband— I mean, Chef Luca— I mean Mr. Bailey—”

You sigh, not having the energy to let this go on. “Yeah, yeah. Send him up.”

Alfie looks up from his coloring book and practically jumps out of the couch. “My tummy hurts, I’m gonna make a doodie!”

“No running!” You remind him just a second too late, watching him dash over to the bathroom and slamming the door closed. He has a nervous stomach just like you, and as you feel the icky twist in your gut… you can’t help but empathize with his antics today. You would be fucking shit up too, if you only could.

There’s a knock at the door, and you brace yourself as if you’re about to let the storm itself in (although, quite frankly, you probably are). Your hand feels clammy, and you have to wipe it off on your dress before you unlock the door and turn the knob.

“Hey.”

If the storm was a person, you wouldn’t have associated it with the man standing before you. So tall and broad and sturdy. With boyish features and dark blond locks like gentle daylight. It feels like a reach to imagine the seven years of your relationship with him was, indeed, an epic fucking hurricane.

Still. 

You can’t help that you miss him.

“Come on in.” You step aside, not really meeting his gaze.

He murmurs a small thanks and apology, a staple combination in Luca’s British vernacular, as he squeezes in through the door with his duffel bag and suitcase.

“I thought you’d dropped these off at your hotel before you came here.”

“I know. I was going to, but…” he puts down his bags close to the jacket closet, like he always does, “But I got held up for ages and traffic was awful and I didn’t want Alfie to wait even longer, so…”

“Right.” You nod absently. “Well. He’s in the bathroom, should be out in a second, so… have a seat. Do you want anything to drink?”

“Um, water’s fine.” He takes his seat on the dining table.

You’re not sure which one is more jarring; the sheer familiarity of this, or the fact that it isn’t anymore. The two of you just hovering in the home you used to share, courteous but distant.

Luca looks around the place, and notices all the differences right away. You kept the glass dining table and two of the chairs, but changed the corner seating into a plush dining bench against the kitchen island. He recognizes Alfie’s favorite stuffed bunny on the couch, although the throw pillows were new. But he takes one look at the wall… and his heart drops.

Gone are any traces of him in the snapshots of your life. The pictures are all of you and Alfie—eating ice cream in the park, grinning and showing his first lost tooth, dressed up on Halloween… He really shouldn’t be surprised or disappointed to find the wedding portrait gone, or the vacation selfie in Italy four years ago. But it hurts quite a bit to find a generic flower portrait replacing the picture of him kissing you on the forehead while Alfie, laying on your chest, merely hours after his birth.

“Yeah, I…” you clear your throat as you hand him the glass of water, “…did some redecorating.”

“It looks good.” He manages a stiff nod, taking a hesitant swig of water.

“You look…” good, you want to say. Because he is. He’s got that tan and the haircut that reminds you of when you first met him years ago. But you can’t say that. So you settle with, “You look well.”

He meets your eyes, really meets your eyes for the first time, and you try to convince yourself the little flutter you feel inside is just your nervous stomach. But he smiles, soft and earnest. “So do you.”

You turn back and open the fridge, welcoming the cold air and how it cools down the burning warmth on your cheeks. Trying not to freak out and decide what you’re getting, so you don’t look like an idiot. Your hand grabs a can of ginger ale, and you sigh in relief.

“How’s Alfie doing in school?”

“He’s doing alright. He’s enjoying his art classes. Math is still a struggle, but Ms. Rashad says his reading is quite advanced for his age.” You relax a little bit into the conversation. The topic of your son resets you a little bit into a somewhat common ground as co-parents. Plain and simple.

“Definitely takes after you. My dyslexic ass could never.”

You smile at that. Small jokes are still there, always a good sign.

“And the, uh…” he lowers his voice, “the anxiety?”

“Comes and goes. He’s been complaining about a stomach ache all day.” You glance towards the bathroom.

He frowns in concern. “Should we go check on him?”

“Sure…” You walk together with Luca following suit, tentatively knocking at the door. “Alfie? Hey bub, how’s your doodie?” It sounds silly, but you find it helps to ask open questions instead of showing your worries outright.

A flush from inside. “There’s no doodie,” he hollers. His voice is murmured from the barrier, and then the running tap water.

You catch the unease in Luca’s features, and you feel a little bad for him. It wouldn’t feel great that your own son is nervous to see you after many months apart. “You wanna come out, then? Your dad’s here.” You try to sound cheerful and upbeat, hoping it’ll hype them both up.

The two-second gap never felt so long. But the door opens, and there he is, standing meekly against the frame. Staring up at you and then at Luca.

Luca’s heart nearly stops as those big doe eyes stare up at him, a spitting image of you. The same softness. The same spark of stubbornness.

The same vulnerable look.

“Hey, bub.”

“Hi.”

“Can I get a hug?”

There’s a brief pause, before he steps forward and throws his arms around his father’s middle. Luca grunts softly, a little surprised by the sheer force Alfie is hugging him, his heart swelling three times over.

“Oh my God, look at you!” He ruffles the boy’s dark hair and kneels down to level with him. His cherubic face is small cupped in his large hand, but not as small as Luca remembered it. “You’re so tall now!”

“Of course. I’m 3 feet and 8 inches tall now. Right, Mommy?” He proudly announces, getting the exact height completely memorized.

“That’s right,” you confirm with a grin. 

Luca gasps, a smile blooming on his face. “What?”

Alfie nods. “I’m gonna be as tall as you.”

“No! Don’t grow up so fast!” He playfully cries out.

“Why?”

“Because I won’t get to do this anymore!” Luca seizes his boy into his arms and sweeps him off of his bunny-socked feet, sending Alfie into a fit of hysterical giggles.

The sight makes you chuckle, but the feeling could bring Luca to happy tears. He’s been gone for so long, he’s afraid he’d forget how it feels to hold his son in his arms again. Or worse, that his son would find his presence alien.

But he’s here now. With you and the son you share. Attacking Alfie in tickles and noisy kisses, and letting the boy climb him like monkey bars. And it calms his anxious heart a bit as he reminds himself, everything’s fine. 

And as things fall back into place, thunder crashes outside, as if sobering all of you back into reality. Alfie shirks into himself, climbing off of his father’s back. You want to reach out for him so badly, but at the same time, not wanting to interrupt his bonding time with his dad.

“It’s okay, bub. It’s just thunderclap,” Luca soothes emphatically over the sudden silence, bringing Alfie back down to his feet. He smooths his son’s hair gently, comfortingly. “I got you, I got you…”

“Do animals even come out in the rain?” Alfie is back to his withdrawn self, mumbling his words and avoiding Luca’s gaze.

“Some animals actually love playing in the rain,” you chime in helpfully.

Luca keeps his tone cheerful and bright. “Yeah, and you can wear your raincoat and your wellies and I’ll even let you jump in puddles—”

“I don’t wanna do that! I wanna stay home!” He whines, voice raising a little.

“It’s your dad’s time—”

“No!”

“Alfie.” Your tone is firmer now, as he struggles out of his father’s arms and runs to his favorite corner of the couch in the living room, holding his stuffed bunny tight. 

But Alfie’s got a point. This is not the kind of rain where you can take a leisurely stroll in. No, this is the kind where you stay huddled inside and hope it doesn’t flood the streets. Luca takes a thoughtful look at Alfie who is sulking and shrinking from the sound of thunder, at the window completely obscured from rain, and then at you… offering an apologetic smile.

So much for quality time with his son. 

Luca’s heart sinks a little. He sighs in defeat. “Maybe we should just wait it out…”

“Are you sure? I mean, you flew 9 hours to see him—“

“And I don’t want him to be pissed at me the whole time we’re hanging out,” he reasons. “Besides, I don’t think any Uber would take our order at this time.”

It makes sense, you think. As much as you want this awkward little broken family dance to end, you know that staying in and waiting it out is the best option. Alfie would feel much more comfortable at home than in whatever hotel Luca is staying in. And maybe it’s your protective side talking, but if he ever gets fussy, you’d prefer to be around to deal with it.

“Alright, fine.”

“Yeah? Is that okay with you?”

You shrug. The truth is a little more complicated, but ultimately you settle with a simple, “yes.”

Alfie takes a quick glance at you and Luca emerging from the hallway (you have your mother’s side eye, Luca always said), before returning to fiddling his stuffed bunny’s ears (your father’s neutral look of disapproval, you would say). Like clockwork, Luca takes the seat next to Alfie, while you take the puffy stool in front of him.

“That wasn’t very nice of you to raise your voice at me and your dad like that. I get that you’re nervous about the weather—a bit startled, too— but still. We don’t raise our voices in this household.”

Alfie looks at you and Luca. “I’m sorry.”

Luca nods in acknowledgement. “I’m sorry for being late, buddy.” He gingerly reaches out to touch the boy’s hand. “You’re right, though. It might be best to stay in for a bit.” He motions at the rain hammering down on the window outside.

“I told you. I wanna stay at home.”

“I know. And we are for now. We can…” Luca scans around for something to do. His eyes fall on the coloring book and the open box of color pencils next to it. Bingo! “We can… color some drawings in that book?”

He pouts, not entirely sold on the idea but not outright refusing it either. 

“Or, hey, I got some new drawings on me. You can color them, too.” Luca takes off his hoodie and shows off the tattoos on his arms.

God, you forgot about the plethora of trashy tattoos adorning his skin. Even worse, you forgot how it highlights the defined curves of his biceps. Focus, for fuck’s sake! You avert your gaze towards the flower portrait on the wall. 

Alfie perks up a little. “This is my old drawing.” His tiny finger pokes at his forearm, on a tattoo of a stick figure climbing up the stairs. “You still have it?”

“Of course. It’s there forever. I’ll always have it.” Luca finds himself choking up at that simple admission. A little token of childhood of his ever-growing love. “Go on, get your crayons.”

Alfie looks at you as if seeking permission, and it makes you want to laugh that he shares the same animated eyebrows as his father. 

“Go ahead, bub,” you usher him off lightly, and as soon as he’s out of sight, nods at your ex. “Good save.”

Luca half-smiles. “Thanks. You should chill out. Read a book, take a nap or something. I got him.”

“What, are you trying to kick me out?”

“No, I just—”

Your smile breaks out. “I’m kidding! Go hang out with Alf. I got a Zoom meeting in a few minutes anyway.”

He sighs in relief, chuckling lightly. “You almost got me there…”

You briefly pat his shoulder and for an even briefer moment, his hand is atop yours. The big ‘A’ tattoo on the back of his hand—your son’s initial in a bold Gothic letter— serves as a reminder of what’s past; a whirlwind romance, the wild days of being a family of a merry band of misfits…

Misfits. That’s the biggest takeaway here, you suppose. Your pieces don’t quite fit right. Not without little Alfie gluing you together. 

With a final squeeze on Luca’s shoulder, you make your way to your bedroom, making space for Luca’s puzzle pieces to fit with Alfie’s because they don’t fit yours anymore.

***

05:04 PM

By the time your Zoom meeting ends, the pelting rain outside is louder and the chatter inside is nearly inaudible. It feels nice for about ten seconds… until you remember that you have a six-year-old at home and long bouts of silence can be quite… well, suspicious. You pad out into the hallway to check on him.

“Let’s see. You wanna do the sunflower next? What do you think, my love?”

Oh right. For a moment, you forgot that the thirty-year-old other parent is here with him.

Luca has his t-shirt sleeves hiked all the way up, biceps in full display as Alfie colors in a tattoo on the back part of his upper arm. The boy’s tongue sticks out and his eyebrows furrow in focus. It seems like a delicate operation between them, so you linger out of sight for just a while longer.

“Why do you like sunflowers, Dad?”

The two of you have always supported his inquisitive mind, and he missed these kinds of questions most of all. Even if the answers can be a little complicated. “Because of your mum, actually.”

“You like it because Mommy likes it?” Alfie’s little nose crinkles.

Luca chuckles in amusement, sensing the judgment in his son’s tone. Damn you guys for teaching Alfie not to get carried away by trends. “Well… when your mum and I first met, it was winter in Chicago and it’s pretty bleak and gloomy and freezing. But, your mum had a little sunflower by the window—just like that one.” He glances at the little potted sunflower on the windowsill. “She said it’s a reminder to let the sun shine in. I thought it was adorable. We started doing that everywhere we lived and… I don’t know, it reminds me of home.”

“Do you have a sunflower by your window, Dad?”

His heart catches as he realizes the answer. “No, I don’t…”

“Why? You don’t miss home?”

There’s a sharp pang of hurt in hearing that innocent query. The apartment in Copenhagen, as nice as it is, has never been much of a home for Luca. He would get up before the sun is up and return from work late at night—lather, rinse and repeat. On his days off, he would either go on a morning run and spend much of his time outside, or sleep til noon and live on instant ramen and takeout. There’s no time for a sunflower by the window. No room. He made sure of that.

He doesn’t deserve one after leaving his wife and son for fucking Noma. 

Luca swallows back the lump in his throat, although the slight waver in his voice gives him away. “I got my sunflower right here, bub. My little piece of home.” He taps on his arm softly as his son finishes up. 

Alfie hums, pleased with how the tattoo looks, now filled in with yellow and black and brown crayons. “I think this is my favorite one.”

“Yeah? Not the tabasco?” Luca grins, looking down at his forearm—specifically at the mostly accurate red and green of the hot sauce bottle.

“No…” Alfie taps his chin with his finger thoughtfully. “This one is prettier.”

Luca maneuvers around to look at the sunflower tattoo a little better. “You’re right, it is much prettier. Maybe I should get the colors in permanently, huh?”

The boy’s face lights up. “Can you?”

“Yeah. I think I will. Nice job, my little tattoo artist.” Luca pulls him into a bear hug and kisses the top of Alfie’s head. 

You can’t help but chuckle, glad to see them bonding again, lost in your thoughts for a moment.

“Mommy! Dad says I can be a tattoo artist!” Alfie snaps you out of your reverie.

“Is that right?” Your eyebrows shoot up, struggling to maintain a neutral expression while staring at Luca like with all due respect, what the fuck?

He raises his hands in surrender. “I just said he’s my little tattoo artist, that’s all.”

“I colored in all of Dad’s tattoos! Look!” Alfie tugs at his dad’s arm, beaming as he shows off his work.

You step forward, studying the results of the tattoo makeover. Every single tattoo is colored in; some accurately, like the sunflower and tabasco, while others (like the purple fish and chips and blue scotch bonnet)… not so much. You don’t know which one’s more amusing; your son’s artistic style, or your ex’s bashful look as he models the art works on his arms. 

“Looks great, bub. Well done!” You ruffle Alfie’s hair, enjoying his improved mood.

“Can I watch Bluey now?”

You purse your lips comically. “I don’t know, bub. Why don’t you look at your checklist on the fridge and see if you can?”

Alfie bounds past you, towards the fridge, and reads the checklist out loud to himself. “Have you… brushed your teeth? Yes. Brushed your hair? Yes…” He flattens his wavy locks with the palm of his hand, continues reading with a lower murmur. “Mommy, I did everything except tidy up my room and play outside for 30 minutes!”

“Okay. Obviously we can’t play outside, so… why don’t you just go clean your room and I’ll let you watch Bluey for a bit?”

Alfie gamely nods and goes into his bedroom, his bunny socks muting his footsteps against the hardwood floor.

Meanwhile, it takes you an extra beat to realize how close you’re standing with Luca without your child between you. He rolls down the sleeves of his black t-shirt sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Your meeting went okay?”

“It’s alright.” You look at literally anything but the man in front of you, ultimately stopping at your potted sunflower by the windowsill. “That storm out there, on the other hand…”

“Yeah…”

You take an inconspicuous look at the hallway, making sure your son is out of earshot. “Weather reports say it might last a few more hours.”

Luca huffs, trying not to stress out about the possibility of street floods. Of all the things he missed, New York thunderstorms are not one of them. Still, this shitty weather has granted him some time with his son, at his former home… with his former spouse. And God, does he miss this more than he dreads the weather…

“Want me to make you guys dinner?” He offers earnestly.

You pull back, returning to your normal volume. “Oh. No, you don’t have to—”

“I don’t mind. Really. Might as well, right?”

You hear heavy footsteps from the bedroom and Alfie hollers from the hallway. “I’m all done!”

“Don’t forget your crayons!”

Alfie promptly makes a beeline towards his leftover mess. “Heard, Mommy.” He hurriedly puts his crayons back in the box and rushes into his room to put it away. Returning mere moments later with a newfound spring in his steps. “I’m done for real! Now can I please watch Bluey now?”

“I can cook while he gets his screen time.”

The two boys look at you with their best puppy eyes, and it’s the most disarming thing you’ve seen in a while—and the resemblance between them only makes things worse. You playfully roll your eyes in relent. “Alright, alright. Go ahead. Watch your TV and make your dinner.”

There’s a quiet little yesss from Alfie as Luca low-fives him before they scatter, one to the living room and the other to the kitchen. For a moment, you feel like you were transported back in time. For the first time in over two years, you’re caught between cartoon sounds from the TV and the kitchen alive again. All was well in the household. 

“Is he still a picky eater?” Luca mouths the last two words inaudibly.

You raise your eyebrows in confirmation. “All he wants to eat is chicken nuggies.”

“I can do chicken nuggies,” he shrugs easily, rummaging through the freezer and takes out a pack of chicken breasts. “Or some version of that.”

Upon overhearing the key word, Alfie’s head all but whips toward Luca. “We’re having chicken nuggies for dinner?”

“Er, kind of.”

“Can I help?” He perks up from the back of the couch, excitement bubbling over.

Luca smiles apologetically. “Maybe later, my love. Daddy’s gonna be using a big knife…” he says as he checks the blade closely, swiping it with his thumb. “…which is dull, by the way. When was the last time you sharpened this?”

“I… have no idea.” You frown. You don’t even remember sharpening any knives… ever. Meanwhile, Luca simply rummages through the kitchen drawer, which makes you ask, “What are you doing?”

“I’m sharpening it,” he states matter-of-factly, already setting up a makeshift sharpening station which… what?

“Didn’t even know we had that,” you murmur plainly as you watch him work. Taking out a block of whetstone from the drawer (where did that even come from?) and running it under the sink. Laying out a kitchen rag and the stone on top of it.

He chuckles a little, scraping the blade against the stone at an angle, firmly but carefully. “Can’t leave you good Santoku knives without the proper sharpening tools, right?”

“You never taught me how to do it, though.”

“Yes, I have.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“What are you talking about? Back in Chicago, I—”

You burst out laughing. “Oh my God, that was one time forever ago! And you never let me sharpen the knives. You literally always do it.”

He pauses, grinning bashfully. “Fair…”

For the umpteenth time that day, Luca’s heart catches—this time from hearing you laugh. Your warm voice rings so pleasantly in his ears, and the way your face lights up… he almost forgets there’s a storm outside, because he’s got a lovely summer day right here in front of him.

And honestly, what is beautiful sunny Copenhagen compared to this warmth of the two people he loves the most?

“Alright, alright. You want a refresher? Come here.”

You gingerly take the place next to him, arms crossed so as to not invade his space. Neither of you say anything when your shoulders brush against each other. It’s brief, painstakingly so, but eerily familiar. You wouldn’t admit that you want to stay pressed against him a little longer, but… you do.

“Okay, so. You see this bit right here?” His finger runs up the line where the blade flattens into the edge. “Rest the knife on the stone on this angle, start from the heel—near the handle— and just… bring it in,” he demonstrates the inward sliding motion—short and precise and repetitive, “and work your way up to the tip.”

You silently watch him work for a moment, handling the knife. Firm and steady, but not harsh. On the contrary, it’s almost… delicate. You’ve seen many chefs work in your lifetime, but no one is as composed or stoic (or handsome, but that is beside the point) as Luca. It’s quite fascinating. 

“And you do this on both sides, right?” You vaguely recall.

“Good memory.” He nods appreciatively. “Some people like to do each side one at a time, back and forth, but I like to do one side, get that burr forming…”

“What’s a burr, sir?”

Luca chuckles at your little Hamilton reference. “So when you work on this side, you’ll feel a nice little rough bit forming on the other side like this.” He slides his thumb from the knife’s spine to the edge and carefully guides your hand through the motion. “Feel that?“

Yes. That should be an easy enough answer, because yes, you do feel the rough edge of the excess metal on the blade. But it’s a bit hard to focus on that when you’re more fixated on the rough calluses of his fingertips instead…

In theory, playing a knife with your almost ex-husband is as bad as a bad idea can get. In practice, though… Having your hand in his again, feeling him so close to you, smelling his perfume…

“That’s the burr. Once you get it on one side, you can switch over to the other side and balance it out.” His voice is lower now. Softer. “And you just… do it over and over again until you’ve worked off the burr and have a smooth and sharp blade.”

Luca switches the knife to your other hand and stands behind you, hoping to God you can’t feel his pounding heart as his chest presses against your back. Gently guiding you through the sharpening motion—the firm, steady, angled scraping of the blade towards you. You swear to God, every pull brings him just a tad closer.

“So you basically have to break the knife a little to fix it?” 

“That’s basically it, yeah.”

The storm feels miles away. His hands are still curled against yours. His chest flush against your back. His body heat emanates from within him and shrouds you like your favorite cardigan.

“Listen, I—”

“Thanks… for the refresher.” And with that, you put the knife down on the kitchen rag and pull away.

It takes him an extra second to snap out of it and step back to make way for you as you retreat back into your bedroom. “Yeah, yeah. No problem.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck your fucking life to hell.

***

if you've reached the end of this page, thank you so much for reading! do tell me what you think, reblog, send me asks, thoughts, ANYTHING. i would LOVE to hear your opinion!!!

[sleepingdeath-light]

celebrating their s/o’s birthday ; full ensemble

requested by ; anonymous (27/05/23)

fandom(s) ; welcome home

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; barnaby b beagle, eddie dear, frank frankly, howdy pillar, julie joyful, poppy partridge, sally starlet, wally darling

outline ; “since it's my birthday today-though it'll probably be long past when you answer this lol-could i have headcanons for the welcome home squad doing something for it? i figure that headcanons would be easier to do for everyone, but you can write it out story-wise if you want. if you only want to do some of them, wally, frank, sally, and howdy is fine. thank you and have a good day!”

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

barnaby b beagle

he’s a strong believer in ‘birthday bumps’ and will start the day by making sure you get your share

before bringing you some breakfast in bed, of course

he gets you a number of gag gifts as well as genuine presents and cards — but what those gags are depends on your boundaries and such (e.g. if sudden movements and loud sounds genuinely scare you then he won’t get you a pop up box or screamer)

hosts a small get together with by your friends and facilitates an all out prank war that’s based around your humour — doing everything he can throughout the day to keep you laughing and smiling

eventually everyone leaves and you sit down for your evening meal and that’s when he hands you his actual birthday card for you

of course there are puns scattered here and there, but it’s written so genuinely and it’s so sweet that you end up tearing up and tackling him with a hug

you end the day with your sides hurting from laugher and your heart full to bursting and you couldn’t have hoped for a better birthday

eddie dear

eddie unfortunately doesn’t get to wake you up on your birthday as his rounds have him out and about until about 9 — and your neighbour, julie, had already woken you up at 8 to give you the presents she’d prepared and give you (some very gentle) birthday bumps

he gets home around the same time that frank stops by to give you your gift so you all sit down and have a chat over a fresh cup of tea/coffee — with the others eventually joining you to share in good drink and sweet foods

it’s a good laugh and he can see the joy and appreciation in your eyes as your loved ones celebrate you and you open your remaining cards and gifts in the middle of this makeshift gathering

they all stay for a little while after that, leaving at around 1 as they had other responsibilities, leaving you and eddie alone for the first time that day

he hands you his main gift: a handmade scrapbook featuring photos and letters you’d sent to each other over the course of your relationship so far with little captions in his neatest handwriting noting down when each date happened

it’s cheesy and sentimental and incredibly fitting of him, but still you tear up and spend a good hour or so cuddling

then, to cap off the day, you go for a walk around the neighbourhood and into the surrounding woodlands

enjoying the beautiful weather and fresh air and good company as you talk about anything and everything

what a lovely end to a lovely birthday

frank frankly

frank takes a much more domestic approach to celebrating your birthday and will spend it comfortable indoors

he prepped your gift and card months in advance — having managed to get the complete collection of your favourite books from their original printing run after literal years of searching

and he was incredibly proud of himself for it — unbelievably excited to see your reaction when you finally saw what he’d gotten you

he lets you have a lay-in whilst he makes you your favourite breakfast before waking you up quite late and giving you your card

it’s simple but sweet and you share a kiss before you go down to eat

good food, good company, good conversation

and, once you were finished, good gifts and good cards

you were due to celebrate with the rest of your loved ones the next day but they’d dropped off their presents in advance

and you appreciated each and every one

then came your partner’s present and frank was anxiously watching as you tore open the wrapping paper

and you saw it and you gasped and you cried — a good cry, though

it’s such a sweet and thoughtful gesture that you couldn’t not tear up and, after placing them to one side, you pulled him into a hug and thanked him for your wonderful gift

what an amazing birthday you were due to have

howdy pillar

howdy actually takes the afternoon off to spend it with you — he needs to go in during the morning but he manages to close at noon

and he walks into your home with his arms filled with your favourite flowers, a personalised stuffed animal, a bag filled with presents and cards and a bag of your favourite take out for lunch

you eat whilst opening your gifts and cards with the radio on in the background, just enjoying each other’s company and the rare chance to spend a quiet afternoon together

the other neighbours had stopped by earlier in the morning to send their regards and gifts so you didn’t have anything to interrupt and ruin the moment

your flowers were put in a vase and displayed on the windowsill alongside your cards

then, after putting everything away and throwing away all of the rubbish, you decide to have a calm evening in

playing a new board game that had been delivered to the store — and winning despite all of howdy’s best efforts

dancing around the house — being spun and dipped and toss as you laugh and squeal

making your evening meal together and trying to keep up with howdy’s four handed mastery of the art of cooking

eating your favourite meal together and exchanging gossip that you’d heard earlier in the day

and ending the day sat on the porch, cuddled into your boyfriend’s side as you watch the sunset and smile at the conclusion of a birthday well spent

julie joyful

to describe the celebration in one word: colourful

she starts the day by shaking you awake, kissing you good morning and dragging you downstairs to open your presents because she’s terrible at keeping secrets

she watches you open them and is arguably more excited than you as she does — but she quickly busies herself by making you a cup of tea/coffee and some breakfast

then you eat together and chat and then she hands you her last gift and tells you to go and get changed

it’s a beautiful set of clothing, the fanciest you’ve ever owned, and then she does both of your hair and you spend the rest of the day going between your neighbour’s houses

celebrating with friends until your cheeks hurt and your legs ache and you’re just about awake enough to stumble back home arm-in-arm

ready to be greeted by her family, who help you celebrate the rainbow monster way — with lots of colours and lots of affection and lots of good food

and by the end of the night (or, rather, the beginning of the next day) when you’re finally drifting off to sleep you know that you’ll be looking back on this birthday with a particular fondness — and you can’t wait to spend the rest of your birthdays with julie by your side

poppy partridge

she memorised the recipes to all of your favourite foods and desserts and started practising them months beforehand

then on your actual birthday she woke you up with a selection of your favourite breakfast foods (and a peck to the cheek, of course)

next came a long chat as you enjoyed your breakfast in bed before you went to get dressed and she prepped the presents and cards you were sent by friends and family

she put on a vhs of your favourite movie in the background whilst you made your way through them — taking them off of your hands to arrange/wash/fold them and put them away to save you the trouble

the rest of the day is pretty standard, honestly

the neighbours stop by for lunch (another selection of some of your favourite dishes) and chat and hand over their presents

and after they leave you and poppy have a low-key afternoon

spending the day in your comfiest clothes, cuddling on the settee and reading and completing a puzzle that eddie and frank gifted you

and finishing the day with another favourite food of yours — dancing in the kitchen when she was cooking

it was calm and intimate and comfortable

you wouldn’t have had it any other way

sally starlet

this girl is nothing if not dramatic, so she naturally roped all of your loved ones into her plan to make your first birthday with her the most spectacular one yet

interviews your closest friends and family members to organise gifts and cards and transport — making sure that everyone was on the same page

then, on your actual birthday she was sure to keep things low-key at first

waking you up with a kiss and a cuddle, going downstairs to make you breakfast whilst you opened the neighbours’ gifts and cards

everything was very chill and affectionate and intimate — until 12pm exactly when her plan came into action and everyone showed up

friends and family with arms filled with food and gifts singing happy birthday to you as they filtered into the home

half doing a bang up job of decorating your shared home whilst the others absolutely spoiled you with affection and compliments

you could solidly say that she’d succeeded in surprising you

and when the food started to get plated up and you sat in a room with your loved ones, you found yourself smiling at sally and being thankful for having someone as charmingly dramatic in your life to do all of this just for you

wally darling

on a spectrum from high key to intimate celebrations, wally falls somewhere in the middle

like he won’t arrange a massive party but he also won’t force you to spend the whole day with him inside of home

it’s likely going to end up being a split day

the morning (6-12pm) is spent with just the two of you, with home waking you up early to open your presents whilst wally watches on and celebrates you

the afternoon (12-6pm) being spent going between your neighbours’ houses to celebrate as a collective

and ending the day with a sleepover at whoever’s home you’re closest with

that way you get a little bit of everything

poppy’s cooking that leaves you wanting more

eddie’s craftiness that gives you cards and gifts that are so charming and handmade that you tear up

julie’s attentiveness and insistence on making you look as fabulous as possible

frank’s genuine and honest approach to gifts and cards that has you grinning and pulling him into a side hug

barnaby’s endless humour that leaves you with straining cheeks and burning lungs and aching sides

sally’s dramatics and ability to make a celebration so impactful and unique that it stays with you forever

howdy’s cheerful disposition and willingness to help you with whatever whenever you ask — including tossing you up into the air to replace the standard birthday bumps

and wally’s endless affection for you — which he channeled into your gift: a painting of you through his eyes, one that wasn’t necessarily true to your physical appearance but that highlighted the aspects of you that made him fall in love with you

an exercise in perspective that made your eyes well up and your heart soar

you really couldn’t have asked for a more impactful gift to cap off your birthday, nor for better company to have spent it with

[britany1997]

I’ve decided I’m back now lol

Couple of notes with that:

-originally, I thought it would be easier to just wait till after finals, but I turned my first draft in, and I have been inspired lately, and I DID actually finish writing a fic soooo… I don’t want to wait to post it and it probably makes more sense for me to come back now

-I’m not taking requests for a while, maybe months. I’m gonna finish up some stuff I have already that I’ve been working on, then I’m just gonna write what I want to write. For the characters I want to write for too. Definitely some TLB stuff coming, but I wanna write for Steve, Spike, and maybe others too.

-I’m doing this very much on my own schedule and at my own pace so that I don’t feel pressured to write, so my writing doesn’t feel like an obligation, and so I don’t prioritize it over anything else in my life. This started as a hobby for me and I want it to go back to being that. Just writing for fun

-I reserve the right to change my mind and leave whenever I feel like it’s too much for me, not good for my mental health, or I don’t have time with school (I’ll probably take another, much shorter break in April/May around finals🤷🏻‍♀️)

-I’m not gonna be on here all the time or interacting as much as I did in the past. I don’t have the time. I still wanna read and reblog stuff though, so you’re still welcome to tag me. I’ll just have to get to it when I can. Same for responding to asks. (I actually have a backlog of asks I mean to reply too lol)

-on that note, I’ve been gone for a while, so mutuals, you can retag me in stuff y’all have written so I can go back and read it and reblog it. (Please don’t feel pressured to do so though)

Tagging some author mutuals so I can read their stuff: @6lostgirl6 @misslavenderlady @ghoulgeousimmaculate @crustyboypix @bloodywickedvamp @auntvamp @darlingverse @luv4fandoms @anna1306 @chiefdirector @david-powers-simp @dwaynedelight @sad-ghost-of-garbage @henhouse-horrors @kurt-nightcrawler @phantomenby @prettywhenibleed @darlingverse @michael-after-hours @gothamslostboy

(If I didn’t tag you and we’re mutuals you can still retag me if you want). I probably won’t be able to read everything all at once, but I plan to go through it all.

I think that’s everything, happy to be back:)

[midnightsnyx]

I have an angst idea! Panthers win ECF and during a drunken celebration, Matt calls his ex in Calgary after they had broke up bc she didn’t want to move countries. He tells her he misses her and asks her if she watched and of course she did, and she misses him, but she can’t be with him? If you’re up for it!

the loml + angst? how can I resist writing that? guys sorry btw im not editing any of these lol

Everything is different and nothing is the same and you hate it. If this was last year and Matt was still with the Flames, you would be celebrating with him. Instead, you’re sitting on your couch in your small Calgary apartment watching the Panthers win the ECF on the television screen. When Matt went to Florida, you didn’t go with him. You couldn’t. Even being with him for 4 years, you weren’t ready to uproot your entire life and move to a different country. Matt was understanding and the two of you tried long distance but it didn’t last longer than a couple months. It was too much of a strain on your relationship. So, you decided to end things after 4 years together. It was the hardest decision you’d made, especially after hearing from a drunken Brady that Matt was planning on proposing. He even had the ring bought, but then he decided to go to Florida and that was that. 

After watching the team celebrate on the ice for a few minutes, you smile bittersweetly and turn the tv off and get ready for bed. It takes you a while to fall asleep, because you’re going over the last conversation you and Matt had over and over in your head. Once you do fall asleep, it’s not for long because your phone starts ringing. It’s far too late (early?) for someone to be calling so you immediately know who it is.

“Matt,”

“Did you watch it?” he asks, words slurring and you know he’s drunk. He’s done it a few times before, called you when he was drunk and you just hung up but something stops you this time.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “‘course I did.”

There’s music somewhere in the background but it seems like he’s in a room or somewhere quieter. 

“Miss you,” he mumbles and you have to stop yourself from crying. You should’ve hung up the phone when you realized he wasn’t sober or just didn’t answer in the first place. 

“Yeah,” is all you can manage to say, knowing if you try to say anything else, you’ll end up crying. You miss him too, more than words can say but you made the decision that was best for you and if you had followed him to Florida, you would’ve ended up regretting it and eventually, regretting him. 

“Y’know, I-”

“Don’t,” you say, cutting him off before he says something that you’ll both regret in the morning. “Please, Matt.” He’s quiet for a minute and the only thing you can hear is his breathing and the music in the background. 

“I’m proud of you, and I know you’re gonna do great things,” you say, knowing he probably won’t remember any of this in the morning. He’ll look at his phone and realize he drunk dialed you, and ignore it. “But you need to let me go, okay?” 

“Okay,” he whispers, “I-”

You end the call before he can say anything else, putting your phone on silent and closing your eyes. You know you won’t sleep tonight now, you’ll be awake for hours letting yourself think about the what ifs. What if you went to Florida with him, what if you didn’t break up, what if you let him finish that sentence. You’ll let yourself think about the what ifs until the sun rises and then leave them behind.

[polyklok]

for the ask thing, if you’re still doing them, give pickles some love 🥹 fluff C, G, I, M, T

I am! Although I’m considering just writing full alphabets for each of them at some point lol

C- Cuddles

He’s very awkward the first time you cuddle up to him. He’s gotten touchy with other people before, but his platonic/sexual love is very different from the way he feel romantic love. When you drape yourself across him, he stares straight ahead, red in the face as he stiffly rubs a hand up and down your back. He brain is freaking out over the fact that you’re touching him, you’re touching him, holy hell!

After that initial moment, he’s a lot better. Now he feels comfortable getting snug with you at random moments and will gladly accept your affection. It definitely becomes a casual pastime, where he messes on his phone or just talks to you for an hour or so.

If he’s drunk, and it’s late at night, and he wrap your arms around him…he just starts crying. He tries to hide it, but it becomes pretty difficult when he’s shaking and sniffling right there. It dawns on him how loved he feels and how amazing you are. They’re very happy tears, but he unfortunately falls asleep before giving you an explanation, giving you some distress until morning.

It’s rare, but he’ll sometimes still cry at random, soft moments.

G- Gentle

Most of the time, he won’t be. He’s impulsive and witty with the way he acts and this doesn’t cease around you. He knows you can handle his jokes and he loves seeing you laugh at them! He doesn’t understand trying to baby you.

Until he finds you in a difficult moment, crying or hyperventilating, and he recognizes his own weaknesses within you. So he does what he always wants done to him; he’ll sit right there, tell you it’s all gonna be okay, and cradles your head in his lap. Probably offers you some weed too.

If you have breakdowns and panic attacks often, he gets increasingly better at helping with them and, by circumstance, dealing with his own freak outs as well. His gentleness always comes out when you most need it.

I- “I Love You”

It’s a bit of a mixed bag.

When you’re just beginning to know each other, maybe before even being in a relationship, he’ll spout out a “Love ‘ya” anytime you do him a quick favor or even make him laugh really hard. It’s not super serious and he says it to a bunch of people all the time. In all honesty, it doesn’t mean that much to him and it shouldn’t to you.

It’s not until later, six months to a year in, when he finally means it. He’s thought that he loves you for a while, but he always keeps the words from leaving his lips. Until he just can’t.

He’s laying on you chest as the two of you finish up a movie. You turn off the TV, lamenting that it was just mediocre despite what all the reviews said. He’s drowning in your warmth, you scent, he feels all the buildup from the wonderful time he’s spent with you filling up his throat. You shift slightly to pull a blanket over the both of your bodies, settling in to sleep on the couch. His face buries into your stomach.

“I love you.” He says, the words small, muffled, and yet so heavy to him. He feels like his skin is about to tear open with how hot he suddenly gets.

“I love you too, hun.” You say, casual, as though it were obvious. He shudders as your nails slowly trace down his back. He falls asleep, comfortable, flustered, and praying that this moment lasts forever.

M- Morning

“Eghh, it’s too demn earhly!”

It doesn’t matter if it’s 2AM or 2PM, Pickles is going to say that every damn time. If someone didn’t force him awake, he’d sleep forever. He hates waking up and hates you waking up as well, so he’s gonna clutch onto your clothing as you try to leave bed. Once you finally tear away, give him a small apology kiss, he’s going to continue to sleep as you shower, get dressed, whatever.

He’ll only wake up on two terms; he either misses you in bed and so he’ll crawl out, try to convince you to come back, and once that doesn’t work he groans that he’s already up and might as well get dressed. OR, you yell at him to get dressed because he has a band meeting in half an hour. He’s annoyed at you for a little bit, but he realizes that you’re right and gets it over with.

T- Try

At first, maybe in the ‘wooing’ stage, he really wants to impress you. Not necessarily with his money, but just by how cool he is, so your dates are gonna be at underground parties and your gifts are gonna be rare and unusual.

But he actually prefers to stay casual. The effort he puts in becomes more so about you having a good time with him rather than by just how awesome it sounds in theory. Pizza, wine, and sex sounds like a great date to him. He loves buying funny little gadgets and trinkets as your gifts. Everyday is going to be about making you happy and comfortable, not just in shock by big gestures.

If anyone else has a request, refer back to here!

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Hi, it's two part anon. Congrats on the 1000 followers ^^ (sorry I'm late).

I read failed 5 and I love it so much (my kokoro is squeezing lol) can I request to finish failed 5 with just moments of them being cute dorks? Like how Sabo is also crushing on Y/N and has been buying like 3 cups of coffee daily just to see Y/N. Y/N on the other hand, is way too shy and can't say a full sentence with Sabo's presence. Maybe after finding out about they are neighbors both of them attempt to try to ask the other out, but they are clumsy dorks in love. Like Sabo trying to practice his pick up line but the wall's soundproof ability sucks so Y/N hears it all.

I'm aiming for fluffy cute stuffs that will give me cavities.

Congrats again. Have a great day!

Two part anon! I'm so glad you're taking part in my event! I'll admit, with how long this was when I started, I was worried it might be in two parts too 😆. If I'd kept writing, it probably would have but I was trying to keep it to one.

Warning: fluff

Word Count: 1560

   How long had you chatted with your neighbor like this? Weeks? Months? A year? Never once seeing each other’s faces, a wall separating your balconies, but talking to a faceless voice. It was nice to have someone to talk to after you came home from work, almost like having a roommate but without the hassle of an actual roommate.

    “So did you see him again?” the voice asked with a chuckle.

    “Do you think I’d be talking so calmly if I hadn’t?” you asked, a small laugh escaping your lips.

    “I guess that’s true, you’d probably be worrying about how he wasn’t there, is he okay?” your neighbor said in a bad imitation of you.

    “Shut up! You’re just as bad, what was it you were whimpering about the other week? She wasn’t there! Where was she?” you mimicked back. On the other side of the divider wall, Sabo blushed, remembering how he’d been worried about his crush’s health.

    “I was worried she was sick!” Sabo shot back at his mystery neighbor. He never saw them, only knew what they sounded like. He’d tried waiting outside his apartment a couple of times but that never seemed to work.

    “Sure, sure. So, are you gonna finally tell me her name?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow even though you knew he couldn’t see you.

    “Not a chance, what if you know her? You could tell her your ‘weird neighbor’ has a crush on her and keeps stealing glances at her.” the voice called back.

    “What about your name then? We are neighbors after all, it wouldn’t kill us to know each other’s names.” you said with a small laugh. You sort of understood his fear with his crush and in the beginning, you understood his worries about telling you his name, but you’d been talking like this for some time now.

    “I…” Sabo’s brow furrowed, why was he so worried about telling you who he was? Did he prefer the anonymity of not knowing who he was talking to? Was it paranoia about someone knowing some faceless person would know who he was? Was he worried about ruining the strange friendship you already had?

    “That’s okay, you don’t have to, I won’t-”

    “Sabo… i-it’s Sabo.” he interjected, his face suddenly bright red. Why had he just blurted that out?

    “Sabo? Like… blond hair, tall, always wearing gloves and visiting the coffee shop on 2cd, Sabo?” you asked nervously. It couldn’t be. Your crush was living next to you and you didn’t even realize?

    “Uh, yeah. Do… Do we know each other?” Sabo asked, unsure of how you knew him. You were silent for a minute, trying to figure out what to say. He still didn’t know who you were, you could still talk to him anonymously without stumbling nervously over your words or fear of making a complete fool of yourself, right?

    “Hey, you still there?” Sabo asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

    “Uh, y-yeah, sorry. I was just… I suppose we sort of know each other. You… you come into the coffee shop I work at everyday.” you muttered. It was almost too quiet for Sabo to hear and for a moment he thought he heard wrong.

    “You… you work at the coffee shop on 2cd?” Sabo asked, eyes widening, half wanting to run inside his apartment and hide, half wanting to attempt to jump over to your balcony to see your face, to confirm something in his mind.

    “Is… that okay?” you asked nervously, biting your lip.

    “Y-yeah, that’s awesome. Looks like we knew each other without knowing it, but you still haven’t told me your name. Since I know you work at the coffee shop, I already know who you are in a sense, so there’s no harm, right?” Sabo asked, attempting to be casual but practically bursting with anticipation.

    “Y-Y/n.” you stuttered out, trying to stay calm as you gripped the balcony railing. The two of you had been going on about your lives, your crushes, everything for quite some time now, you knew so much about each other, would he figure out you had a crush on him? Things went silent on both sides, the guy you had a crush on and the girl Sabo had a crush on had been talking to each other for weeks and weeks without realizing they were telling each other everything about their lives.

     Neither of you really noticed the silence, too wrapped up in your own thoughts, your heads spinning until a ring broke you both out of your own thoughts.

    “Uh, sorry, that’s one of my brothers, I gotta go, see you tomorrow?” Sabo asked.

    “Yeah, tomorrow at the coffee shop I guess.” you said, hoping your chuckle didn’t sound as nervous and forced as it felt. With that, the both of you walked into your apartments, both internally freaking out.

     Sabo had been fighting with himself lately. You knew who he was. You knew who he was! Should he stop by more often? Less? You knew he was your neighbor now, he could stop by more often without seeming weird now, right? Just a friendly stop, say hi. No big deal, right? You probably wouldn’t think anything of it, just your friend swinging by! Except if he was stopping by, he’d need a reason for entering the coffee shop to see you. Maybe he should get more coffee? He did stay up pretty late at night, maybe grab one then? To hell with it! He’d swing by! Fuck the excuses, all he needed to say was that he needed more coffee!

     He’d been stopping by more often, why, he wouldn’t say, but your coworkers suspected a big test that he was cramming for. You, on the other hand, had become rather shy around him, barely able to say anything other than your usual welcome and such necessary for work. How could you? He knew who you were now! What if he figured out your feelings for him? Talking to him as your neighbor was easy, talking to him as the girl who worked in the coffee shop wasn’t too hard either. He didn’t know you had feelings for him. But now… what if he figured it out? You’d been telling him about your crush on… him, for a while now!

     Your late night conversations had changed as well. You stuttered and couldn’t finish a sentence anymore. Your once comfortable talks about your crushes, your days, your… everything, now had you a stuttering mess. Likewise, Sabo couldn’t shut up. Between the amount of caffeine and how nervous he was, he’d pace his balcony just blabbering on. The one thing that brought you back down was the other’s crush. He liked someone else. He liked a girl and she was probably one of your coworkers. At the same time, you liked another guy, some guy who stopped by frequently, he’d probably passed the guy before. 

     Biting your lip, you paced the balcony. Neither you, nor Sabo had been meeting up lately, he was probably busy with ‘his girl’. You hated it! Even with tears pricking in your eyes, you opened your mouth.

     “Sabo, you’re the most handsome. No! That’s so… ugh! Sabo I was hoping we could get some coffee? No, no, no, I work in a coffee shop! Hey Sabo, I was wondering if you’d like to go on a date? Wait, don’t guys usually ask girls? Would Sabo be okay if I asked him instead?” you took a deep breath, “Sabo I’d really-” “Y/N WILL YOU GO ON A DATE WITH ME?!” you screeched as you spun around, finding the blond hanging onto your railing on the opposite side. If he let go, he’d fall to the parking lot below.

     “Sabo what are you doing! Get over here before you fall!” you shouted, grabbing his arm and tugging him onto the balcony. The blond shook his head.

     “NOT UNTIL YOU ANSWER ME! WILL YOU GO OUT WITH ME?!” he shouted once more, eyes frantic. He’d heard you practicing, you were practicing to ask him out, right? His chest was heaving from jumping over to your balcony railing, his heart pounding from hearing you practice. Your heart pounded as you realized what he’d just asked. You hadn’t registered what he’d said at first, too surprised by him suddenly showing up to realize what he’d said. You swallowed hard, blushing and looking away.

     “You… you heard me?” you asked nervously, Sabo nodding his head rapidly. 

     “I really like you too! I have for so long! I’ve wanted to ask you out but wasn’t sure how! Please, please go on a date with me!” Sabo pleaded, eyes still wide. You could only blush and nod before pulling on his arm again.

     “A-alright, but you have to get over here first! I don’t want you falling before our first date!” you said, making the boy smile as he climbed over.

     “Don’t worry, there’s no way I’d die before I get to take you out.” he said, picking you up and spinning you around once he was on your balcony. You both smiled and laughed as he put you down, pulling you into a sudden kiss, one that had you melting in his arms. It seemed like the crushes you’d both been telling each other about for so long was each other.

[kelandrin]

Home for the Holidays

Pairing: Wyll x Tav [Atlas, male tiefling paladin] Prompt: Holiday Spirit / Delicacies Summary: Several months after saving Baldur's Gate, Atlas finally introduces Wyll to his mother over Midwinter. Way more gets revealed than Atlas would have liked. Warnings: T | spoilers for the game | ambiguity of relationship for side character Word Count: ~5,000 Notes: I wrote this in bits over the past few weeks so it probably isn't in the best shape nor very consistent. Many typos probably floating about I forgot I already mentioned details at least once and I started a plotline that I realized I couldn’t finish in the scope of this story so I promptly pushed it to the aide lol. EDIT: Recently ran through a grammar check and added this to AO3.

“Uhm, Wyll?” Atlas halted along the snow-lined trail. His breath turned white in the air, pluming out to obscure his face. It cleared and he could see where Wyll paused a few feet ahead of him.

“Yes?” Wyll turned, smiling, though it slipped away quickly. “What’s the matter?”

“I was just thinking it might be better to go back to Baldur’s Gate. It’s not too late to spend Midwinter with your father.” Atlas felt his brow knit tight.

“It isn’t very like you to hesitate after making up your mind about something.” Wyll let his expression soften and he walked over, taking Atlas’s hands. “Surely your mother can’t be scarier than a Netherbrain or the Avatar or Myrkul.”

“I wouldn’t call her scary, per se, just a bit eccentric.”

“So you’ve told me. You also told me you promised her you would visit for the holidays. I was under the impression that paladins don’t like to break their word.”

“I know… I’m just worried she’ll say something… Inappropriate.” Atlas cringed. He had already spoken to her mother about Wyll, praying she would be on her best behavior. Idda was a creature of her vices, though, and self-control was something he had never seen her exercise.

“Do you think she won’t like me? I’ve been told I am very popular with parents if that helps.” Wyll gave his hands a little squeeze and Atlas felt his heart soften.

“It’s not so much that. She’ll love you. I just worry it will be for the wrong reasons or, worse, you won’t like her.”

“If she is anything like you, I am sure I will love her.”

Atlas looked up, meeting Wyll’s eye. There was so much love in the way he looked at him. The dimples in his smile, the softness in his brow. It was overwhelming at times. Atlas didn’t know if he could live up to that love.

“You really are too good for me.”

“No. We are perfect for each other.” Wyll raised Atlas’s hands, pressing a kiss on his fingers. It was warm against the winter chill. “Now, who almost single-handedly defeated Ketheric Thorm.”

“If I had a couple more seconds without anyone else that old man would have been toast.”

“And who defeated a magically enhanced Elder Brain?”

“That one really was a group effort.”

“And who managed not to fist-fight my father during their first real conversation with him?”

“I knew how much you loved him and after Ketheric I realized I am too strong to go around hitting people’s dads… At least not ones who aren’t empowered by death gods.”

“There you have it. You are strong, brave, and virtuous. One Midwinter meal with your mother and fiancée is nothing compared to what you’ve overcome.” Wyll smiled, lowering Atlas’s hands.

“Alright, I get it…” Atlas found himself smiling back. He couldn’t help himself, though it slipped away a moment later. “Before we go, I should warn you, my mother isn’t a tiefling.”

“Oh. Then is she…?” The question of the hour. Anyone with half a brain would wonder if Idda was a warlock.

“Yeah… I didn’t mention it back when we were tadpoled since you had a lot going on with Mizora.” Atlas shuffled his feet a little in the icy mud.

“Is her contract still valid?”

“She renegotiated when I was born but I don’t know the details.”

“I see. I suppose that explains why you were so tolerant of me, of everyone really.”

“It is really hard to be a judgmental paladin when your babysitter was a quasit.” Atlas grinned. “Though perhaps we don’t tell your father about this for a while? I think he is starting to like me.”

“Consider your secret safe,” Wyll laughed. “Though you’ll have to tell me about this quasit babysitter of yours sometime.”

“It went about as well as you would expect.” Atlas started walking again. They made their way down the path. A small farmhouse sat on the far side of the clearing, smoke rising from its chimney. Yellow light warmed the windows. Atlas raised his hand, pointing to a tall oak tree behind the house. “He talked me into climbing to the top of that one time. I couldn’t get down and ended up falling. When I came to, he was dragging me through the woods to find a place to hide my body, convinced I had died. Oh and past the tree line that way is Mr. Hender’s farm. The quasit talked me into stealing his ducks one day and then he went and ate the evidence!”

Atlas caught Wyll staring at him and hesitated. “What?”

“Nothing. It just sounds like it was a good childhood.”

“The grievous bodily harm and theft gave you that impression?”

“No. Your smile did.”

Atlas hadn’t even noticed he was grinning. He typically didn’t think his childhood was very special. If anything, he usually felt a little shame over his mother’s “profession” when he had to talk about it. They were never wealthy and he had to do chores every day. It seemed a far cry from the comfort of a life in Baldur’s Gate’s upper city.

They stopped at the door before he could think of a reply.

“Ready?” Wyll gave him a softer smile, one of reassurance.

“With you? I could be ready for anything.” Atlas ceded, raising his hand to knock on the door.

“Come in! It’s not locked!” Idda’s voice rang from inside, summer sweet.

Atlas opened the door and was hit with the familiar smell of roasted chicken and honeyed rolls. The inside was the same as when he last visited. The living space was modest with a kitchen, table, and rocking chair next to a fireplace. Two doors sat on the wall to the left, leading into the bedrooms. The right wall had a second door leading outside to the barn, chicken coop, and outhouse. Evergreen laurels hung on the support beams and a candelabra on the table was lit. A bird cage hung in a corner, a fat toad sitting in it, watching with beady black eyes.

Atlas’s mother turned from the oven, where she had been stoking the fire inside. She smiled wide and hurried over, removing her apron along the way. “Hurry, hurry! Don’t let the cold in!”

Atlas and Wyll stepped in and shut the door behind them at the woman’s command.

“Please tell me you haven’t been leaving the doors unlocked like that.” Atlas sighed and his mother pulled him down to kiss his cheek. He was more than a foot taller than the woman.

“Don’t worry about me. You know your Ma can take care of herself.” Idda said, letting Atlas go to have a look over Wyll. “And you must be Wyll! Blade of Frontiers! I have heard quite a bit about you?”

“All good things, I hope, ma’am?”

“Only the best but none of that “ma’am” crap! You can call me Idda.” She reached out, giving Wyll’s hand a firm shake. “Now, let me get your coat.”

She hurried Wyll out of his coat, hanging it by the door. Atlas pulled his own coat off and hung it beside Wyll’s.

“The food smells good,” Wyll commented, glancing towards the stove.

“Aw, you’re sweet. Why don’t the two of you have a seat at the table? The chicken is almost ready.” Idda smiled sweetly, ushering them both to the bench. Once they were settled next to each other, Idda sat down across from them. “So tell me, do you have a date picked out yet?”

“I was thinking a Spring wedding in the city. Doves, white flowers, the best bard money can buy.” Wyll was beaming. It wasn’t like they had talked much about their plans, but Atlas told him he was happy with whatever he wanted.

“I am sure the Duke is the one financing it?” Idda asked.

“Father has been more than willing to support us if that was the concern. Not that we are freeloading, of course.”

“Nothing wrong with a little freeloading. After what the two of you did for the city, I personally think you should ask more of others but I know you’re both too kind for that.” Idda shot a glance at her son. “No date yet?”

“We’ve been taking our time. We know we want to spend the rest of our lives together and that is enough for me.” Atlas reached for Wyll’s hand under the table. “There is still plenty of work to be done and people who need help.”

“Then I suppose this Spring is out of the question. A large city wedding takes months to plan, even with a Grand Duke bankrolling it.” Idda sighed. “Well, I suppose that means I don’t have to worry about grandchildren anytime soon. Being a mother makes me feel old enough as it is?”

“Really? You don’t look a day over thirty-five.” Wyll was working really hard for this one. “I see where Atlas gets his handsome looks from.”

“Oh, stop it!” Idda chuckled and playfully waved the flattery off. “You only say that because you haven’t met his other mother.”

Wyll gave a quizzical look. Before he could open his mouth, Atlas cleared his throat.

“Mother, why don’t you check on the chicken? We haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“Don’t you start that ‘mother’ crap with me. You call me ‘Ma’ like you always have.” Idda shot him a glare. She stood, though, walking over to the stove to check on the chicken.

“Ma? You know you don’t have to change how you talk for me.” Wyll whispered to Atlas. “I’m quite fond of your informalities. They’re genuine to you.”

“It really isn’t intentional. You’re rubbing off on me.”

“In that case, the feeling is mutual. I actually caught myself saying “y’all” the other day.”

Atlas grinned ear to ear at that. He couldn’t hardly imagine it.

"So who is taking whose name?" Idda didn't look up from the open oven, stoking the fire inside.

"Uhm, I don't think we talked about it really," Atlas said. "I figured we wouldn't bother."

"And your kids?" His mother didn't miss a beat.

"It feels a bit early for that."

"For deciding their names or how many or any at all?"

"All of it." Atlas squirmed in his seat.

"You know," Idda shut the oven and stood, dusting off her apron as she turned. "Most people talk about those things before they get married. Now, be a dear and go out and get me some more firewood. The chicken is almost done."

Atlas pressed his lips tight but stood. He might have had a few choice words about her interrogation but he was still a dutiful farm boy at heart. "At least tell me you have some chopped."

Idda just smiled.

Atlas gave a groan. He leaned down and kissed Wyll on the cheek. "I'll be right back. Don't let her do that to you, okay?"

"It will be alright. I've wooed plenty of disapproving mothers before." Wyll whispered back.

"If you're trying to make me jealous on Midwinter, you're succeeding." Atlas huffed, moving to collect his coat. A moment later and he was out the side door and making his way to the shed.

Idda made her wake back to the table, sitting down across from Wyll. There was gentleness in her smile, but a tinge of something coy under all of it. He could see her resemblance to Atlas clear as day. He had her nose, the shape of her brow, her lips. Her hair was the same deep red and not even the streaks of grey could dull it in the firelight. Only the color of her eyes differed. While Atlas's were an infernal gold, Idda had soft, brown, human eyes.

"Wyll, darling, I don't want you to think for a moment that I dislike you. I actually think you are the best thing that could have happened to my son. You're a good person and that is something he deserves after having a mother like me."

"I sense there is a "but" coming."

"But… Atlas is an impulsive boy. He can only see what is right in front of him and right now that is you and this adventuring of yours. I know you are committed to him and he is committed to you but he will never answer those questions on his own without someone asking him. If you let him, he won't bother thinking about those details until you're both seventy." Idda glanced out the window to where Atlas was chopping wood. He hacked the pieces in half with an old axe. "You don't have to talk to him about it right now just… Keep it in mind when you are ready to take on a new sort of adventure."

Wyll listened, frowning. He knew Atlas was a bit plan adverse. The other man was straightforward, said what he thought, and usually acted on his first impulse. They were things he loved about Atlas but he could see how it would be worrying from a mother's perspective.

"Your son is a truly remarkable man, Idda. He is kind, thoughtful, compassionate, and brave. I have only ever seen him do the right thing, even when it is hard or others disapprove. I don't need a wedding, or kids, or to trade last names. They are minor wants compared to my need to just stand beside him." Wyll's gaze didn't waver as he met Idda's eye.

"Well, if you say that then I really want you two to hurry up and get married!" Idda laughed. "Who would turn down such a well-spoken son-in-law?"

"Hey, Ma," Atlas pushed his way back inside, arms full of chopped wood. "You gave Scratch and the Owlbear cub something special for Midwinter, right?"

"Scratch got a chicken leg and the Owlbear, who I have to say doesn't look much like a cub to me, had two whole chickens, minus one leg." Idda stood, walking to take the logs back over to the oven.

"Speaking of, where are the two rascals?" Wyll glanced back out the window.

"In the barn, snuggled up nice and warm for the night, I'm sure," Idda added a log to the oven before shutting it up again. She looked as if she might say something else on the matter but was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Expecting more company?" Atlas asked.

"No. It is probably just a neighbor asking for eggs. Old Man Morris up the road can't bake with his tremor. Wasted a dozen eggs just a month ago." Idda didn't bother stifling her groan of annoyance. "Atlas, go tell him I'm out."

"Are you?" Atlas smiled, but only received a glare in response. He relented and walked across the room, opening the front door.

Old Man Morris wasn't standing in the doorway. A tall, broad-chested woman looked down at Atlas, her eyes burning like golden flame in the night. Her lips curled up into a sneering grin. A black cloak hugged her shoulders and long white hair flowed down her back in a ponytail.

"Hello, son." Her voice was velvet and sin.

Atlas slammed the door to shut it but the woman stuck her foot inside, catching it. "Now, now. Shutting doors on people is pretty rude, you know"

“So is showing up uninvited,” Atlas growled before giving pause. He looked back at his mother. “You didn’t invite her, did you?”

“Of course not! Now let go of the door. I’ll talk to her…” Idda placed a hand on his arm. The tension slipped out of it and he let the door go. He didn’t move away, however. Instead, as Idda slipped past and outside with the newcomer, he stood perfectly still. His eyes were glued on the door, his expression tight with anger.

“Was that…?” Wyll stood from the table. He could smell the sulfur. It was a telltale sign of a fiend. “That was her, your mother’s patron?”

Atlas gave a slight nod. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Wyll.

“Is she also your…?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Atlas said it a little sharper than he meant to. His anger broke enough to spare Wyll an apologetic look before he turned his face away. Warmth pressed against his hand as Wyll locked their fingers together.

“Alright. It doesn’t matter. The circumstances of your birth are meaningless in the face of all you’ve accomplished.”

“I’m sorry. Maybe we should have stayed in the city for Midwinter or perhaps gone somewhere just the two of us.” Atlas couldn’t hear what his mother and her patron were discussing outside.

“There is no point in “should haves”. We are here now and despite the unwelcome guest, I think I quite like your mother,” Wyll said. “If we had brought our weapons I would suggest we send the fiend right back to whatever Hell she came from but since we are short on arms, I’ll follow your lead.”

Atlas met Wyll’s eyes and nodded. “We’ll let Ma handle it. She knows how to deal with a demon the best, I just hate how she lets Lexe yank her around. I won’t pretend it is as bad as Mizora but…”

“A demon is a demon. Comparing them is a disservice to all the poor souls they claim.”

Atlas gave a small nod in agreement. “Getting you out of Mizora’s claws was a miracle but I worry for my ma. She doesn’t seem to care about what is going to happen to her soul. I don’t know anything about her contract. I doubt Lexe even forces her to keep it quiet. I think she just doesn’t want to disappoint or worry me.”

"She's a good mother, demon pacts aside, and you're a good son."

“You’re a good boyfriend.” Atlas echoed, turning to pull Wyll into a hug. He was careful not to get their horns caught, a mistake made on more than one occasion.

The moment their embrace ended, the door opened and Idda hurried in. Lexe stepped inside, still in disguise, but didn’t wander far from the doorway.

“What’s going on?” Atlas frowned as his mother made her way to the fireplace. She shook the cage with the frog. “Toad, wake up you useless thing!”

The frog jolted and was engulfed in a plume of smoke. Out of the smoke emerged a scrawny quasit. She opened up the cage and the creature jumped out.

“Kept me locked in there so long I thought you forgot about me!” It croaked.

“I did,” Idda said before turning to give an apologetic look to Atlas and Wyll. “I am so sorry. This won’t take long.”

She didn’t bother waiting for a reply as she grabbed Toad by the tail and dragged him into her room, shutting the door behind her.

“So you’re the pet warlock Mizora lost. In the market for a new patron?” Lexe’s eyes fell on Wyll while they waited for whatever Idda was doing.

For all his politeness, Wyll didn’t bother hiding his disgust for the demon. “I’m not interested in playing games with devils anymore. Don’t you have better things to do than interrupt mortals Midwinter dinners?”

"Isn't this the season for spending time with your family? I'm just trying to get into the holiday spirit!" Lexe laughed, reaching out to put a hand on Atlas's shoulder. He was quick to shrug her off.

"Don't touch me." He growled.

"Prickly," the demon grinned but didn't push him any further.

"Here!" Idda slipped out of her bedroom, holding a small wooden box out to Lexe. The demon took it, giving it a small shake. Something rattled inside. The noise must have pleased her because Lexe smiled again.

"Thank you, dear. With this, my business is concluded. Enjoy yourselves." She waved a hand and magic swirled up, whisking her away back to the hells.

"What was that about?" Atlas looked back at his mother.

"She needed me to return something. Don't worry, it isn't dangerous." Idda replied, making her way back to the stove. She peeked inside and then moved to grab some oven mitts.

Atlas sighed. She wasn’t going to answer him. He could save Baldur’s Gate ten times over and she still wouldn’t want to involve him. He let her change the subject. “Chicken done?”

“Mhm!” Idda pulled a tray out of the oven. Steam rose off a golden chicken and spices filled the air. It overpowered the lingering sulfur of Lexe’s visit. She walked it over to the table and set it down. “I’ll grab the knife and you boys sit down.”

“It smells heavenly, Idda.” Wyll put on a smile, though this one seemed a little forced after the demon encounter. He settled at the table with Atlas.

“Was that a pun, young master Ravenguard?” Idda grinned, walking back with the knife. She dipped the blade into the chicken and juices ran out into the pan. Carving even slices, she dished out the meat. With everyone’s plates full, Idda sat down. “I made up your room in case you planned to stay the night.”

“I don’t know. The bed is pretty small.” Atlas took a bite of his chicken.

“We’ve slept in worse places than a small bed.” Wyll had a point. Just a tenday ago they had found themselves tracking down some Loviatans and had perched up on the half-rotted second floor of an abandoned barn. With the limited space and shortage of blankets, Wyll had slept on top of Atlas for most of the night. There was a good chance that would have to happen again if they stayed tonight.

“Don’t feel pressured if it isn’t comfortable. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to walk all the way back to the city if you don’t want to.” Idda added.

“Perhaps it is for the better if we stay the night? I doubt the snow will let up anytime soon.” Wyll looked to Atlas, who conceded with a nod.

“You’re right, and I still want to see Scratch and the owlbear cub.”

“Not much of a cub anymore. You really should name him, though.” Idda pointed out.

“And what do you suppose I name him?”

“Something cute. Why not Honey? Owlbears like honey don’t they?”

“No, Wyll calls me Honey sometimes. It would be weird to call an owlbear that. I think he already thinks his name is Owlbear or Cub. Maybe we shouldn’t change it. It could confuse him.”

There was a lull in conversation as they ate. With Lexe gone the mood slowly began to right itself and by the time Idda rose to get dessert from the cupboard, Atlas and Wyll were both in better spirits. She took out a platter of honeyed rolls and set them on the table.

“They smell wonderful, Idda.” Wyll gave one of his shining smiles and the woman feigned a shy blush.

“Oh stop! No need for flattery. I like you plenty.”

“I missed these.” Atlas reached for one, not bothering to wait for Idda to sit back down. He took a bite and sighed. It tasted of childhood. The others followed suit.

“Forget the smell, they taste amazing. Better than anything they are serving in my father’s house right now, I’m sure of it!” Wyll insisted, already halfway through his roll.

Idda chuckled, shaking her head. “I am glad I am up to par with a duke’s chef.”

“With these? It’s not even a competition!” Wyll shook his head.

Atlas finished his roll. Not once did he doubt Wyll’s ability to charm his mother but he was still glad to see it. Wyll was the first to stand, insisting that Idda let him do the dishes. Atlas watched him from the table. “You know how to wash dishes, Mr. Patriar’s Son?”

“That’s a Blade of Frontier’s skill though I like to think I would have figured it out if pressed back in the day. I spent enough time in the kitchens, absconding with snacks.”

“Oh, so you would have learned to get rid of evidence.”

“If I bothered eating my loot off plates? Most definitely?”

“How scandalous.” Atlas gave a smug grin. He then became aware of Idda’s stare. She was watching him from across the table. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m just proud of you.”

Atlas felt heat spread across his cheeks and he quickly went back to watching Wyll. “Where’d you put Toad? I saw you take him to your room but you didn’t come back with him.”

“I left him in there. I figured he’d just be in the way out here.”

“Probably a good idea. Unless he breaks something, of course.”

“He is well-behaved now that there isn’t a child in the house for him to get into trouble with.”

Atlas didn’t look at her but he could hear the smile in her voice.

“Idda, where would you like me to put the clean dishes?” Wyll looked over his shoulder.

“Oh don’t worry about that, darling. I’ll take care of it. Why don’t you let Atlas show you his room? I’ll put away the dishes and prepare a wash basin for you.” Idda rose from her seat, making her way to where Wyll stood.

Atlas got up as Wyll left Idda to finish putting away the dishes.

“It isn’t much compared to your childhood room, I promise. No embarrassing stolen books under my bed.” Atlas grinned as he led Wyll to his room. He opened the door to reveal a small, modest room. There was a woven rug, a small single bed, a dresser, a chest, and walls decorated with tattered flyers. There were circus flyers, ads for adventuring gear with drawings of swords, wanted posters, and torn-out storybook pages with rolling hills and fierce beasts. It was the poster-covered wall that Wyll inspected first.

“Perhaps no saucy romances under the bed but maybe a few flyers for Sharess’s Caress?” He posited after taking it all in.

“I kept those in the dresser under my winter clothes, actually.” Atlas grinned as he sat on the bed. It was as small as he remembered.

“No toys?” Wyll asked, walking over to stand in front of Atlas. The tiefling wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing his face into Wyll’s abdomen.

“Only a few growing up. Mostly just pretended sticks were swords. I donated what I had to the church a few years back. Father Lorgan gave toys out to kids during the winter. Doesn’t fill bellies but it lifted spirits, easing some suffering of the heart.” Atlas murmured. He could hear the gurgle of Wyll’s stomach, the beating of his heart, the rush of his blood. In just a few short months he had already become familiar with the sounds of life in the other man. Their bodies fit together easily, comfortable in their embrace. “I’m sorry about tonight. I’d say it isn’t normally like this but that isn’t true. Lexe shows up whenever she pleases and Ma… I don’t know. I love her but as an adult, as a paladin of Ilmater, I don’t always know how to feel. My awkwardness probably made this harder than it really was.”

Wyll was silent, running his fingers through Atlas’s hair. A single lantern lit the warm in warm gold hues, turning Atlas’s deep red hair the color of fire with each flicker.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said finally, pulling back and lifting Atlas’s chin so their eyes met. “There is nothing about your family that would make me doubt you but more than that, you are not responsible for them. I enjoyed tonight. I enjoyed getting to see where you grew up. I enjoyed eating the food you were raised on and speaking with your mother. I even enjoyed seeing your quasit, though I will pass on a proper introduction with it for now.“

Atlas felt his eyes burn and he forced back the tears. He felt rather foolish now. The whole night he had been worried and on guard. He had almost missed that Wyll was genuinely enjoying himself here. Obviously, no one liked Lexe’s arrival but other than that, it was a good night. “Thank you. I wouldn’t mind visiting with you again sometime. As long as you don’t mind, I mean.”

“I would love that. Every moment I spend with you is rewarding, no matter if it is wrought with tragedy, conflict, or anxiety.”

“Careful,” Atlas smiled. “You’re going to run out of material for your vows at this rate.”

“I will never run out of words to express how I feel about you. If anything, I don’t have enough to capture it all.” Wyll closed his eyes and leaned down, placing the softest of kisses on Atlas’s lips. Their mouths hovered a breath apart, a stillness shared between them for a moment.

There was a knock at the door and Atlas jumped, banging his horns against Wyll’s. They both winced.

“I have a wash basin for you,” Idda called in.

Atlas quickly stood and opened the door. His face was the color of his hair as he took the basin. “Goodnight, Ma.”

“Goodnight.” She glanced past him at Wyll. “Goodnight, Wyll.”

“Goodnight, Idda.”

Atlas quickly shut the door and set the basin down on the dresser. He cupped his face in his hands, letting out a groan. “She did that on purpose, I know it.”

Wyll just laughed and made his way over to the dresser. He carefully undid his shirt and set it to the side before taking the cloth in the basin and beginning to wash up.

“How come you never seem embarrassed?” Atlas asked, watching Wyll.

“You think I don’t get flustered?”

“Not as often as I do.”

“I have no reason the feel embarrassed about kissing my fiancé.”

“Not even in front of his mother?”

“We didn’t kiss in front of her but no, not even in front of your mother.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Let me put it this way after you asking me to kiss you in front of a hag’s teahouse, in a myconid colony, in a very dead wizard’s tower, in a sharran temple, next to Ketheric Thorm’s body-“

“Okay, I get it! You built up a tolerance for kissing in places people don’t normally kiss. In my defense, kissing you made me feel braver back then.”

“Does it still make you feel braver?” Wyll’s grin softened into a gentle smile and he offered Atlas his hand. The offer of a kiss.

Atlas accepted, taking Wyll’s hand. He was pulled in with a twirl, a familiar recital. It was like how Wyll did it when he asked all those months ago. It made him smile. Then their eyes locked again and the almost childish joy vanished under tender love. Atlas closed his eyes. Warmth blossomed across his lips as Wyll kissed him. He tasted of honey and spice.

[unohanabbygirl]

Thanks for tagging me babes ☺️ @sapphireblueye

How many works do you have on A03?

7! Five multi-chaptered and two oneshots

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

481,884 (I honestly thought it was more)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

HOTD, specifically Lucemond with some background pairings.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Forget me not

2. Hiding in plain sight

3. Fill my bleeding heart

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! However my timing is always so bad and it makes me feel shitty but I’m the sort of person who needs some time to think out what I wanna say + I get distracted very easily and forget to do so until weeks later. My responses are horribly late but my words are genuine.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hm, I guess it would be by latest oneshot featuring corpse queen Luke with a very mentally unwell Aemond. Very sad.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

The ending isn’t published yet since the story won’t be completed for a while but Hiding in plain sight should be my happiest ending according to my plans. Crazy, I know.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I wouldn’t say I receive outright hate. Maybe a few backhanded responses every once in a while but it’s rare.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

YES! Very emotional, 9/10 there will be tears shed while they fuck nasty.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one

Sadly no. I don’t think I’m the type of person who could pull off clashing two different universes and their characters together. It’s a difficult thing to write in my opinion and the handful of crossovers I’ve downloaded so i’ll never lose them are god-tier. Takes a lot of talent me thinks.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge 🧐

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes. Its translated in spanish

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Nope. My process is a very long drawn out one that I don’t want to stress anyone out with while trying to work alongside me. Sometimes it’ll take me weeks or even months to get a chapter out. Im looking at you FMBH.

However I wouldn’t be co-writing something small if the plot interests me. Maybe four chapters or so? Idk

14. What's your all-time favourite ship

IchiRuki (bleach) and Braime. Samdean is a big one too.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Interesting enough I started a WIP when Lucemond was still new so around December-ish. It’s a dragon shifter AU but I don’t know where to take it so she’ll probably never see the light of day. Lol

16. What are your writing strengths?

Conveying emotions I think. Probably because i’ve been down the depression and crappy self image rabbit hole enough to express it in my works. Internal monologue is also one I’m good at.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Pacing! Omg my pacing is ass. Everything is either too slow or too fast which leads to so much re-editing to get it all flowing in an appropriate time.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I don’t do it because google translate isnt very accurate most of the time and language is so important. If I do feel writing dialogue in another language is that important i’ll ask someone who speaks it to help.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Well…does the shitty fic I wrote about Edward/Bella/Jacob in seventh grade count? Because if not then Lucemond it is lol

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Forget me not. She’s an icon, what can I say.

Tagging; @handsome-wise-strong @armonial

[merv606]

Fluffy omegaverse! Daniel is happily married and pregnant, excited about about his and Terry's first pup...until he begins to gain weight and turn all plump and soft several months in. He's used to being slender and tiny, so this is all new. He keeps rebuffing Terry's advances and wearing loose clothing to hide his new figure, and hardly leaves their home. But what he doesn't know is that Terry is, if anything, even MORE turned on by Daniel's new curves and his cute omega chest and how squishy and adorable he's become lately. One day Terry catches him just finished with a bath, all damp and clean and rosy. But when Daniel sees him looking in and that expression on his face, he grabs a fluffy bathrobe to cover himself up and that's when Terry's control SNAPS. He carries him off to their bedroom, totally ignoring Daniel's protests. He's an Alpha, he knows what his little omega wants and needs better than he does--and he will show him. If he could he would put another pup in him, he looks so good...

Terry sits the fluffy bundle onto the bed, Daniel clutching the bathrobe together at the chest.

Terry kneels, one knee flat on the floor, the other up, his elbow resting on it as he looks at his mate.

Terry had thought he was just getting used to the changes his body was going through, and that he may even be uncomfortable - the only reason he was allowing Daniel to rebuff his attempts.

This though - this won’t do - this he will not tolerate.

His mate is beautiful to him all the time, but now, growing life inside him, life put there by Terry, so he will not have Daniel believe anything less than that.

And he will not longer be deprived of his mate in this state - Terry’s fingers itching to get his hands on his body and memorize the new softness and curves where sharp lines and bone used to be.

“Sweetheart, I’ve been letting you hide away, because I know the changes your body are going through are new but you aren’t to hide them away from me.

“And there is nothing to be ashamed of - your body is doing what it needs to do to provide for my pup.” He puts a finger under his chin forcing Daniel to look at him - “and that so the only thing that matters.”

“I like you that this as well.”

Daniel looks up at him suddenly.

“Being able to see what I’ve done to you - how your body is changing because of me ….

His grip on the robe loosens and Terry gently opens it, exposing the smooth tan skin hiding underneath.

“Now, we’re going to go out tonight, to your favourite place - I’ll be picking your outfit.”

He has not problem with Daniel wearing his clothes around the house - even if it is to hide the weight. He looks good in Terry’s clothes and he knows his little mate likes being surrounded by the safe smell of his alpha but he is going to start taking him out more - in outfits that are form fitting - Terry wants people to know as soon as they look at Daniel - what Terry has done to him.

Until then - he opens the bathrobe the rest of the way, small mounds where flat chest used to be, nipples swollen and a shade darker than normal.

He pinches at them, Daniel’s back arching, as he whimpers, pushing his thighs together in pleasure as Terry continues exploring them - cataloguing the changes in them. They’re thicker than normal and Terry knows they are textbook perfect for feeding their pup. He can’t wait until he starts producing from them.

The robe falls to his waist, leaving him totally exposed to his husband and Terry’s hands on his knees open his legs, Terry’s fingers creeping up to the warmth between them, the inviting wetness there.

“First I’m going to show you exactly how much I like you like this - in fact - I’ll probably have to keep you like this ….. you were made to be full of pups.”

Now I did have a story - You’re having My Baby - which is kind of touching on some similar themes (mainly chapter one - it was only supposed to be a one shot lol)

[cha1cedony]

Okay fine I’ll do one of these (because I like to talk about myself hehehe). Thanks @roboobin for tagging me B)

A very long ‘get to know me’ post below…

Last song: Apparently it was ‘Two Time’ - Jack Stauber, according to Spotify? I’ve also been relistening to a few tracks from Falsettos all day, for some reason. ‘I’m Breaking Down’ got stuck in my head somehow. I’m not super big on musical theater, but I LOOOOVE Falsettos and especially Trina :) You can probably tell I have a certain type of favorite characters/media lol.

Favorite color: Light greyish blue (or white, grey, silver, orrrr light greyish green?)

Last movie: I actually have no idea. Maybe Nimona with my IRLs a few months ago? I almost NEVER watch movies in full because I get bored of them easily. Sorry I know that’s so lame lololol

Currently watching: A commentary YouTube video to use as background noise while I do my writing assignments lol. Like I said, I don’t really watch a lot of movies or TV :/

Currently reading: Nothing, unfortunately! I haven’t read any books/stories in an embarrassingly long time :( I am so ridiculously busy and haven’t had the time/motivation to read and get invested in new characters. I have a bunch of series I want to reread for nostalgia purposes, though. I’m also strangely tempted to read the Animorphs series? LOL. I looked it up on AO3 for the first time a few months ago while in the kids’ section of the library with my IRLS and we were assessing the popularity of kids’ books based on the amount of AO3/Wattpad fics (btw, there are a shockingly low amount of Geronimo Stilton fics in the world). I wasn’t expecting there to be an Animorphs fandom, but there IS? And the fics are really GOOD even though I don’t know the source material? Anyway. Tempted to read it because I like putting teens in situations /lh. Also I want to read more short stories! Send me recommendations, if you have any.

Last thing I googled: This is so embarrassing. ‘Bathroom cruising’ LMAOOOO. I was just writing a funny bit, but I wanted to make sure it was accurate, okay? T_T Other recent searches include my voice lesson Lieder, various areas I’ve felt pain recently (because I’m a hypochondriac /lh), and a vlog I had to watch for my job… I was writing an article about it.

Sweet/spicy/savory: Savory. Every time. I love savory foods, and they’re basically the only types of food I ever crave. Then I would go with spicy, but only if it’s spicy in a flavorful way (and not just a painful way). I don’t like sweet foods except for chocolate—and, even then, I am infamous among my friends and acquaintances for only liking SUPER dark chocolate… like 70% cocoa or more. I would say my favorite flavor profile is bitter! :)

Current obsession: I think y’all already know :^) I am incapable of having more than one strong interest at once, soooo DnDads has quite literally been occupying my brain since liiiike October 2022… almost a year ago now! o_o Holy shit. I’ve been really busy with work and school in the past month or so, so I haven’t done basically anything else in my free time. I’d like to start cross stitching again because I have some projects to finish, and I got some of my late grandmother’s jewelry-making supplies recently, so I’ll toy around with that, too.

Currently working on: Like, right this second? Discussion post replies for my Writing in Digital Environments course :p In general? As far as hobbies go, the beginnings of my next longfic chapter! As far as work goes, I’m working on article about a mural. I have to drive like 30 mins to get a features image for it tomorrow ugh. At least I get to kill time on the clock :’)

I don’t want to tag anyone in particular, but, obviously, if you want to do this, you can just say I tagged you. Shhh I won’t tell ;) hehehe

[inklingofadream]

Ink's 2022 Fic

It’s that time of year again! …. Almost a month late, because I was doing family stuff and also my brain and body strive every moment to defeat me. It’s time for a new pinned post listing out every single fic I published in 2022, for your reading (or rereading) enjoyment. To the followers who joined me in 2022, welcome!

According to my AO3 Stats, I posted 81,996 words of fic last year. That’s a 29% increase from last year. What the hell! It was spread over 22 distinct works. 

This post lists out everything I wrote, with descriptions that are somewhere between synopsis, liner notes, and sometimes an excerpt. Most of what I wrote was for TMA, but since that’s my most popular stuff I’m listing it last/under the cut. Wordcount and relationships (romantic or platonic, healthy or not) are listed, but check the AO3 tags, warnings, and notes, as I won’t be including the content warnings here. 

Star Trek: Lower Decks

Midnight Outing- 1.9k, complete, Boimler/Mariner/Jennifer; So this was one of my mutual gift fics last Christmas, and I actually ended up watching the entire series specifically to write it because it was what Ash was super into at the time lol. When ST:LD was announced I thought it was a lame idea (mostly because I’m immensely picky about animation art styles, I’ve dismissed… a lot… of shows because I didn’t love the art and ended up watching for one reason or another and been proven wrong). It was fun to watch, though! Though in a vacuum I would NOT have watched as fast as I did, the whole series in like a day and a half.

Malevolent

it seems a tiny miracle- 12.4k, WIP, Arthur & Faroe; finally, all my Shirley Temple knowledge comes in handy! Seriously, though, I’ve been so pleased with the reaction to this fic- I’ve been secretly observing every chance I get to see my baby cousins/run kids arts and crafts/etc to use for my characterization of Faroe and Little Archive!Jon.

The Locked Tomb

Ortus the Ninth- 1.3k, complete; Honestly I was SHOCKED that no one did this concept before. I know Ortus isn’t the most exciting character, but I feel like him being in the same position as the girls but even weirder, because he REMEMBERS what it was like to have peers and now he doesn’t even have one same-age archnemesis like Gideon and Harrow do has SO much weird depth to explore. Go read this, I had to hash out the meter in the Noniad to write it and it was a PAIN

The Magnus Archives

Jon and Gerry’s Fairy Tale- 7.3k, complete, Jon & Eric Delano, Gerry & Eric; This fic is an au of nature has taught her creatures to hate, but like… probably you could read it without if you’re just real hard up for dad!Eric fics. Or bb!Jon fics. This is probably my favorite of the fics I wrote various mutuals for Christmas last year, because I love bb!Jon and I especially love when he goes through a lot and comes out being brave and adorable.

your head caught flame (kissed your scalp, caressed your brain)- 2.3k, complete; Ah, the bad ending au to the cult au…. Had to have something to balance out the birdverse good(ish) ending au! Writing Desolation stuff isn’t my forte, but it was a fun experiment.

Dishonor- 4.3k, complete; Alternate POV for sutton’s lovely Stag Story. Writing Elias getting his karmic just deserts is always delicious.

Favor for a Friend- 1k, complete, Daisy & Jon; This was probably my fastest turnaround ever from “idea I had because I was half-conscious trying to fall asleep” to completed fic ever. Hopefully I captured the chills the idea gave me when I had it, idk.

A Different Archive- 1.4k, complete; I’m really proud of this one. It was for the TMA Minor Character Exchange and the prompts I got to fill were for characters I wasn’t really into, but the epistolary idea got me really excited for it when I came up with it. I do still have a half-finished Mike Crew character study I started first floating around my drafts, though.

Your Heart into my Chest- 9k, complete, onesided Martin/Jon; My other fastest turnaround, I was so obsessed with Sutton’s vampire februwhump fic that I HAD to expound on it and give Jon a little rescue. My favorite bit of lore that hasn’t really been picked up much, either in comments or sutton’s later additions, is that I was careful to imply that Martin’s father and the vampire who sires him are the same person. I never decided whether he was a vampire when he met Martin’s mother, how consensual their relationship started out… but if he was a vampire when Martin was conceived then that DOES make Martin his universe’s Renesmee. You’re welcome, I guess!

The Archivist and the Adventurer- 9 works, 24k, complete, Jon/Martin; I FINISHED MY FAE AU THIS YEAR! It took AGES, but I finally brought the whole story to the end! This is the thing I’m proudest of finishing this year.

and now i am a cereal girl- 2.5k, complete, Jon & Martin; My favorite thing about this fic is that it gave me a chance to mine my favorite song from when I was 3 for fic titles :)

10 In the Bed- fanart, complete; This is on AO3 mainly because it’s the only birdverse thing I uploaded this year :( I have 2 different drafts! Hopefully at least one comes out this year!

sitting pretty on the throne, nothing more i want (except to be alone)- 113k, WIP, Beholding/Jon; the origin point for the aforementioned birdverse! Honestly, that’s probably my favorite thing to come out of the little ol’ cult au this year- most of my favorite scenes either happened in 2021 or are yet to come! Stealing Dracula’s cowboy was fun, but as a writer it just can’t compete to the whump I got to do before or the reunions yet to come! I was really happy with the little farewell to Tim and Danny, though 

Dreams and Recovery- 3.9k, complete; Sutton’s The Mage of the Castle and the Mage of the Cavern has been bouncing around the inside of my skull since it was published. I have wayyyy more that I’d like to potentially do in that verse, but I was happy to finish this. The little bits of worldbuilding are a ball to fiddle with Also has one of my favorite sentences I wrote this year

Good things do not happen to Jonathan Sims anymore, but for a frozen, quavering moment he's suspended in the hope that Jonah will be there to smooth the worried creases from his brow and kiss him the rest of the way to wakefulness.

Little Archive-45.9k, WIP, Jon & Beholding; Baby Jon!!! And his best friends gerry and the eye. This might be the year i make myself my own little little archive jon + eye plush doll. I think about him all the time

Beneath the Stains of Time- 41k, WIP, Jon & Daisy; Just edging Jon up through every conceivable age group. In the coming year, teen!Jon is going to get to Go To School! He’s gonna have… well, not friends. He’s not very good at socializing. But peers! And escape attempts! And if we’re very lucky, we’ll reach the point in the flashback where he resigns himself to living with Daisy and the point in the present day where Martin realizes something is Very Wrong

in his hand the fire of Jove- 15k, WIP, Jon/Martin; This fic is like… 80% inspired by that scene in Peter Pan where Captain Hook traps Tinkerbell in the empty lantern. Jon is tinkerbell in this analogy. It’s been on a longer-than-planned hiatus bc of life/brain things, but it’ll be back soon!

[m1ckeyb3rry]

LMAOO tumblr really said f u…but glad it worked out either way but I seriously need to find a better system for remembering if I actually sent something in or not….hmm….

Anyways hope your flight was nice!! And omg NOO the migraine :(( hope it goes away soon! I wish I had some tips or remedies but I honestly can’t remember anything that was super effective…..

Karasu serving as usual!! No because the Karasu nagi content from epinagi lately is fire like thank you for saving us in the drought that is the PxG match!!

First rin now ISAGI I saw your post and oh my god I was kinda shocked but then again I think we’ve mentioned this possible scenario at some point before so maybe it was just a matter of time….bro atp you’re gonna be providing more content for Kiyora than kaneshiro is you might as well just adopt him as your oc LMAOOO (I think your blog really just has manifestation powers atp let’s just face it)

I’m genuinely laughing my ass off (needed to write it all out for emphasis) at the “karasu anon requests (any)” LMFAOOOOOO but PAUSEEE SINGING READER KARASU??? That sounds very interesting!!!!! WAIT A DAMN MINUTE CHERRY TREE PT 2??? Sign me tf up part one slapped so hard

Also wait riding lesson right when you got back from vacation WITH jet lag AND a migraine??? You’re truly built different I can’t even wake up at a decent time after traveling between time zones ok but Karasu bfb was a JOURNEY LMAOO I’m also never getting over that wc it’s insane

Shidou would go wild for Karasu’s sus comments LMAO adding Otoya to the mix would be so chaotic HAHAHA also someone needs to save yuki asap fr

LMAOOO Karasu truly the only thing holding PxG together esp since Loki probably does not care about the dynamics of the team beyond winning and Charles’ growth

Lukewarm is honestly the perfect word for it…but wait ok speaking did you see the chapter….because wtf….im ngl i still haven’t caught up fully with whatever happened after the yuta gojo freaky Friday but what just came out was wild

SHSHS thats actually so annoying….hopefully it gets resolved soon! Im not super well versed in the topic but have you looked into it being something like vertigo? Or is it till more likely the side effects thing? Either way hope that and your migraine goes away soon and doesn’t come back!!

Anyways I’m gonna go read your latest post and try not to convert to kaiserism (I probably won’t but it should prove for some more uhhhh clearheaded commentary (??) than if I was fully invested in the character too and not just your writing LOL)

- Karasu anon

FR like it all linked up and that’s what matters in the end 🤩 hm ik for me personally when i’ve finished smth and i have it in my notes app i put a little green checkmark emoji next to it?? so maybe once you’ve sent an ask in you could put a green check on the note or smth 🤔

icl the flight was kinda crazy my brother and i were judging the pilot HEAVILY because the landing was kinda bad 😭 we’ve both been flying since we were like 6 months old so we’re very used to planes and whatnot LMAOO we can even tell what went wrong…as soon as the guy started landing we were texting each other like “omg he didn’t descend enough in the air now he has to take the landing too high and he’s going to hit the runway too hard 🙄” “negative aura for the pilot fr” (second text was obviously my brother FJDKDJS he is nothing but a teenage boy through and through)

HAHAHA PLSSS no because i’ve always considered isagi boring because where is the angst potential?? but then i realized that he (and yukimiya who kinda falls into the same boat) are very very yuta okkotsu coded 😳 so like where the angst with characters such as karasu and nagi is the fact that the feelings are there but never quite acknowledged/understood in time, the angst with isagi and yuki and characters like that is that no matter how hard you cling to someone and love them there’s sometimes extenuating circumstances that just tear you apart and there’s nothing you can do abt it (ex all of the dying and whatnot that happened in pomegranate ink…like for the majority of the story reader and yuta are in a relationship but they just can’t be together because of the bs going on in their world) 😰 they’re definitely characters that work better in an au though because in a modern setting they are just too healthy and normal…okay also i’m realizing that me being bored by personality types that i’m supposedly most compatible with might have smth to do with why i’ve never been in a relationship irl 😓 JFKSKS

nah because watch me write a beautiful layered complex kiyora and then all of a sudden my little fun facts abt him appear in the manga or a possible ln 🤨 going to be raising some eyebrows and asking which of my followers is secretly kaneshiro at that point LMAOAOA

HAHA i’m probably going to give your idea posts special tags and then that way i can go back and reference them when i’m in dry spells!! but for now i’ll probably do one of the ideas from each post just so i can clear my inbox LMAOAO i’m going to have to go through and see which characters i’m feeling when i get to them 🤩 and yes the request is for a reader who’s good at singing but shy abt it!! it’s probably going to be on the shorter side (like the isagi ones) but yk my track record with saying that 😭 ALSO YOU HEARD RIGHT CHERRY TREE PT 2!! it’s going to take place when rin goes and finds the reader again after the world cup like he says he will 🥹 so much more of a time skip than instrument pt2 🫣 but i’m excited to write it!! rn i’m working on the nagi req because he’s #bae but cherry tree pt2 might be next 😳 trying to take a break from karasu so i don’t feel like i’m writing the same thing over and over LMAOAAO i’ve written quite a lot for him recently (aka bfb) so i’m switching it up and writing for other characters for a bit 🤩 i have not abandoned karasu nation though trust i will return just taking a second to do my duties to the rest of the fandom 🙏🏻

LMAOOO i’m always on my grind 😩 i missed the pony i ride so i had to go back fr 🙏🏻 tbh it was a struggle getting there but my lesson was pretty good so it all worked out in the end!!

THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYING like shidou and karasu are actually two peas in a pod it’s insane to me that no one else has picked up on their duo potential 😟 i need them to be besties and a trio with otoya would be insane JFKSDJSJ yukimiya needs friends fr 😭 like poor guy doesn’t even have a canonical bestie in bllk…i’m trying to think of people without a set “duo” that he could be paired up with 🤔 like kunigami has chigiri, isagi has bachira + rin + barou, reo has nagi, and most of the other characters feel like they’re too young to be super close with him (like hiori and all)…maybe gagamaru?? actually that would be crazy because apparently gagamaru thinks one of his strengths is his good eyesight and we all know what’s going on with yukimiya’s eyes 😓 i can’t think of anyone else who’s definitely staying in the manga that doesn’t already have a bff though 😟

yes i did see the new chapter!! honestly idk how i feel abt it…i think it was just done weirdly 🤔 like a lot of people are defending the situation and saying it makes sense/is supposed to be a shock factor thing and while i can definitely see the appeal of that it still doesn’t feel cohesive to me?? like okay she’s back in the last five chapters it just doesn’t sit well for ME considering how important she’s supposed to be 😕 i’m sure people will say i have no reading comprehension or media literacy or wtvr for thinking that but maybe i’m also just sensitive because she’s a female character so i think it’s annoying she was dead for most of the story and then suddenly she’s relevant again randomly?? like to me that is not how you should develop a character especially when you already are on such thin ice with writing women 😰 also again i can see the shock factor aspect but in my opinion an author should not be out to surprise their readers just to say “gotcha 😏” yk?? like if nobara was going to come back it should’ve been done in a way that felt more natural than her just randomly springing up LMAOAOA i’m not saying she should or shouldn’t have shown up earlier in the FIGHT just that it didn’t feel as exciting to me as it could’ve because it didn’t feel earned or deserved 😬 but this is top ten opinions i’ll never share in the public because the jjk fandom WILL jump on me and say i can’t read and blah blah blah 🙄 listen like i said idm her coming back it’s just the execution was off to me!! but also maybe i’d be more hype if i was still super into jjk like i used to be 😔 truly atp i’m just reading to keep up with it and know what happens…maybe one day in the future i’ll go back and binge read the whole manga at once and maybe it’ll feel much more cohesive then!! but we’ll see

sadly i have no clue what it could be 😓💔 but fingers crossed it resolves itself soon 😩 and EEK not kaiserism…i had a brief dip into it because he’s just very easy to write about in literally any au but he’s not a character i can stay passionate abt for very long LMAOAOA like he’s not rlly one of my favs even though i don’t mind him that much

[odiwtbl]

The Man from Under the Streetlight, part 2

part 1

Dano!Riddler x reader

Warnings: light stalking again, rly super brief mention of sh, Edward being a creepy lil weirdo, sfw

Author’s note: again not beta’d lol apologies, n it’s not a super exciting part 2 but o well. im not sure how many parts im going to do of this, its not planned out literally at all lol so if anyone has any ideas then lmk!

Wc: 1655

<?>

Edward Nashton knew he had a purpose, a part to play within Gotham City. He promised himself over a year ago that nothing would get in his way of laying his plans out, and now that he had amassed a  small following, he felt as though he couldn’t let them down either. All the people that tuned in to his livestreams religiously, all the people that gave him help and offered him advice, and all the people that he could help that don’t know anything of Eddie or the Riddler. He had job to do and it was so incredibly important that he got it done. 

So why was he faced with a new distraction. 

Edward was sat alone in his long-term hotel room. It was late, the small lamp next to him being the main source of light. News paper clippings and articles and maps lined the wall, creating its own unique patterns. Notes and diagrams filled what little empty space there was on one of many desks throughout the rooms. Towers of notebooks and ledgers stood precariously tall in the corners, one slight move from toppling over. Years of Eddie’s life was on display in this place, all his hard work and determination laid out in messy handwriting. If only other people could see his conviction. 

On all legal documents he still lived in the house he moved to after the orphanage, but in actuality he lived in the hotel opposite the Iceberg Lounge, just around the corner from where you worked. What started as a temporary living situation became his permanent place of residence. After living there for a month, he struck a deal with the hotel owner, paying a monthly fee in cash, all under the table and off the records, and with Eddie’s job he could easily afford it. After all, people wouldn’t come looking for him here. Not unless he wanted them to. 

He was currently drawing up a cipher for his first milestone, his first mission, he liked to call them. Normally creating puzzles cleared his mind, gave him room to think over his future work, but tonight the only thing he could think of was you. Your name and face swirling around in his mind on a constant loop. 

You saw him, not just through him like so many people in this city did. After talking to you he knew he was soon to be fully addicted, he needed an out, but even leaving you in the diner wasn’t enough. He had a little taste, but he craved more, he was desperate for it. 

“Fuck!” Look, you were even causing him to make mistakes and ruin his work. Eddie grabbed a new piece of paper and started tracing out the lines again. This is the third time he’s tried to finish this damn thing. 

After a while of writing, he decided to take a break from his work, perfection takes time after all. Pushing back from the desk, he stretched his arms above his head, his body shaking slightly. Edward’s eyes were strained and sore, working in the darkness probably wasn’t helping him. He needed something to take his mind off you, but if the puzzles weren’t working, what else would. 

He could walk down to the diner, see if you’re working. Maybe get some coffee, order it from you. Nothing more than a caffeine break. No, No! Giving into the urge will make it worse in the long run. So, what if he doesn’t talk to you? Keeps his distance, follows you to make sure you get home safely again. No! That won’t do! That’s a couple hours taken out from work, at least. He needs something brief, something non-damaging, and preferably something to not do with you. 

Spinning around in desk chair, Edward looked over the stacks of papers and piles of books. Surely there’s something here that needs to be done. He stands, the rats in the cage nearby making more noise at the sudden movement. Eddie walks past them, through to the kitchen, and braces his hands on the counter, leaning down slightly. He huffs, frustrated. Why is this happening? Why now? 

He pulls a mug out of the cupboard, filling it with coffee from the pot. It’s too hot and burns the roof of his mouth, but Eddie hardly reacts. It’s a welcome distraction, for a brief moment he wasn’t even thinking of you. He takes another sip, holding the scolding liquid in his mouth for a couple seconds too long. And then another. And another. Each time the burning getting worse, but Eddie couldn’t stop. He needed the pain. But needed more. 

<?>

Eddie pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, finding delight in the sensitivity of it. The air around him was cold, his cheeks and nose numb. He felt guilty for giving into his urges, but he just couldn’t help himself. It’s stupid, he knows that and hates himself for it. Eddie isn’t stupid. He’s not. But he could allow himself one more night to relieve himself. 

The lights in your apartment weren’t on. It’s 10:30pm, you were either still at work or in bed asleep, but Eddie would take his chances. He walked up to the main door of the building, the paint was chipped off and it looked old. Three labelled doorbells line one side of the door, he pressed the one at the top, ‘third floor’, and waits for it to ring. No answer. You must still be at work. 

He reached for the door handle, it obviously being locked, but it was worth a try, right? He pulled a hammer out from underneath his green parker, hitting the handle off as discreetly as one can, then using the wedge side to pry the door open. It swung open, to reveal a dark hallway. There’s one door on the left, with stairs at the end. No elevator. He pulled his mask over his head before stepping inside. 

Edward pushed the door closed behind him with the toe of his boot, looking around for cameras. Nothing, really? Moving towards the step, he was constantly on high alert for any sounds, but no one came. The floor was an old black and white tile design, the walls probably used to be white but now were a faded grey, with the odd stain here and there. 

The stairs creaked underfoot. There seemed to be no one out on the second floor landing either, and so he progressed to the third floor. Your floor. 

Your front door was the same as everyone else’s, white and standard, nothing special. Edward reached for the hammer again. He didn’t want to damage your door, but the idea of you knowing someone had been inside, that he had been inside, was exhilarating. He performed the same manoeuvre that got him in downstairs, and in front of him was your home. His heart pounded at the thought of you living here, your belongings, your food, your clothes. Excitement filled his body as he took his first steps into the first room, the living room. Your decorations were tasteful, nothing too exciting. It looked as if most of the furniture was new, plain white. There wasn’t much room in the small apartment for anything big, a small two seater sofa faced a small television. A small light blue rug sat in the middle of the floor as there was no carpet throughout the apartment it looked. A couple of houseplants placed on side tables and the floor gave Eddie the idea that you were a kind and nurturing soul. Walking through the doorway in front of him, led Eddie to a small kitchenette, again nothing exciting. 

What did excite Eddie was the door in the kitchen. It must be your bedroom. Your sanctuary from this city. Edward’s heart started beating even harder than before, his hand resting on the door handle so softly. He sucked a breath in before pushing the door open. Your room was small, most of the space being filled by a double bed. He walked over and ran his gloved hand over the blue sheets, he wanted to feel them with his skin, how soft they were, but he couldn’t risk leaving the DNA. Your smell enveloped him, light and sweet, like vanilla. Words couldn’t describe how he felt, he could live in here forever, breathe you in everyday. One day he’d have that. 

Edward wanted to take so many things from your place, but with breaking the door in he knew you’d be expecting things that are worth money to have been taken, not the mundane things like pieces of clothing or any of the framed pictures from your bedroom. 

After spending another few minutes walking around you apartment, looking in every cabinet and drawer, Edward forced himself to leave. He closed the front door as best as he could, before making his way down to the main entrance. He stepped out onto the sidewalk, the coldness rushed straight back to his fingers. You should be wrapped up nice and warm tonight, he hoped you took a warm enough coat to work. 

As he crossed the street, reading to make the walk back to his own ‘apartment’, he saw your figure crossing a couple feet down from him. His heart jumped, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He wanted nothing more to stop you, talk to you, hear your voice. But he walked into the shadows cast down by the monorail above them. Edward waited for you to enter the building. You were obviously concerned by the broken front door as you pushed it open tentatively. You should call someone before going inside. You stepped inside, your gait sped up as you rushed up the stairs. 

Edward turned down the street before seeing the lights turn on in your apartment. Sometimes things are best left as a surprise. 

<?>

[ms-starflower]

Young Survivors – Part 3 – Maribat

<Previous | First | Next >

Hey, Hi! Long time no see, uh. So sorry, but life kinda got in the way, (I was helping a friend organise her wedding, then I helped her move apartment across the country). I really didn’t have time (or was in the mood) for writing or tumblr/socialising, or anything besides reading, really. It happens to me, sometimes. And I can’t say it won’t happen again, so you are warned. But, now that things settled, and with the holiday coming up, it shouldn’t happen in the near future, at least!

Anyway.

Chapter 3! The first part (Marinette first pov) had been written for months and the rest had been literally written in the past three hours. I couldn’t sleep, and I was feeling inspired! Lucky!

I played a little bit with the povs in this chapter, and it was kind of fun, ngl. I will probably do it again in the future! Susan and Beth kinda snuck up on me, too, they weren’t supposed to have this much screen time, lol.

No reunion or meeting with the batfam in this chapter but, if everything goes as planned, it should happen in the next chapter! (no guarantee here, tho)

Hope you like it and have fun!

(also, the ‘V’ of my keyboard is broken, so sometimes it doesn't work. I think I got them all, but just in case; sorry about it!)

Taglist:

@frieddonutsweets @queenz-z @emistar0 @jayjayspixiepop @imarivers8 @waffleyunsure @bigpicklebananatree @kking13 @redbullgivescaswings @ritacrow-blog @marvel--unsolved @redgemsposts @alexizlazy @toodaloo-kangaroo @gajer-1226 @adrestar @noisydeputyturkeybear

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

Looking around the hotel’s lobby with a frown, Marinette tried to locate Mlle Petit or one of her classmates. She looked at the time on her phone again, but no, she wasn’t late. The class was supposed to meet in the lobby at 8, and it was still 7:56.

She did sleep through her alarm, but nothing that skipping breakfast shouldn’t have fixed. Playing with one of her earrings, Marinette started to walk toward the cafeteria, maybe they were all still there. There was no way Mlle Petit or Mr Marchand, their history teacher and second chaperone, left her behind. Right? (But what if…)

No. They were probably all still eating, they weren’t supposed to meet up for… 3 minutes still.

She felt her mouth dry when she entered the hotel’s dining room and didn’t recognize anyone in there. Panic overwhelmed her, and she didn’t realize she was shaking until she felt Tikki nudge her from her purse.

Walking back to the lobby, she got in line to talk with the receptionist, hoping they would have answers for her.

While she waited she looked through her phone to see if, maybe, she overlooked a message from her teachers. Maybe the location or time of the meeting had been changed.

Her phone plan didn’t include the USA, but Mlle Petit made it mandatory to install WhatsApp for everyone, and she was still connected to the hotel’s free wifi and should have received any messages. But the class’ group chat was completely silent. Very suspiciously silent.

Like nobody had used it since they got here. Her grip on her phone tightened as doubts started to grow in her mind. (She was going to kill Lila and all the sheep she calls classmates before the end of this god forsaken trip.)

“Marinette?” A slightly familiar voice called from behind her, making her turn to face the newcomer. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, hello Miss Tracy,” she said with a smile when she recognized yesterday’s receptionist. The poor woman had been the one on shift when Marinette’s class arrived, and they had talked a bit while the teachers got the rest of her classmates under control. She wasn’t in her work clothes anymore, she probably just finished her shift. “I can’t find my class anywhere, so I thought I would ask the reception if they saw them. Or if they can call in Mlle Petit’s room.”

“You…” Tracy started, blinking at the young girl before her. “What do you mean, you can’t— Marinette… I was on shift when your class left. Almost an hour ago.”

Marinette startled, lips parted slightly in shock. She had suspected that something like that had happened, but getting it confirmed was still… somewhat shocking.

“Do you have your teacher’s number? Maybe you can call her to let her know? She might come back to get you or send someone?”

“I… I can’t make calls with…” she whispered slowly, eyes wide and stinging with unshed tears, and waving her phone limply. (She didn’t know why she wanted to cry. She was used to being left behind. Being back in Gotham was getting to her.)

Mlle Petit told them she didn’t have internet data, so she wouldn’t be reachable with WhatsApp out of the motel or other free wifi zones.

“Don’t you worry, come on,” Tracy said, trying to sound reassuring, she grabbed her by her arm and took her toward a door labeled “employee only”. “I’m sure Mrs. D. will let you use the phone in her office.”

“Oh, euh, I don’t want to be a bother! You were leaving weren’t you? You should…”

“Nonsense!” She waved at her, walking into what looked like a changing room. “Wait here, I’m gonna explain everything to Mrs. D.”

She disappeared quickly through another door in the back of the room, leaving Marinette with a couple of women that were getting ready to work.

Smiling shyly at them, she grabbed her arms with the opposite hands in a sorta-hug and waited for Tracy and whoever Mrs. D. was.

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

Susan loved her job. Like, really, loved her job. Wayne Enterprises was the best place to work in all of Gotham; in terms of work conditions, salary, and whatever you could think of, they were the best.

And, alright, working at the front desk was a tough job, what with the regular attacks attempted here —from Rogues and petty criminals alike— but the security measures were top notch. And, hey, that was what her risk premium was for, right?

But, truth be told, Susan would gladly welcome whatever braindead that regularly attacks the lobby if that meant saving her from those whiny kids.

She wasn’t fluent in French, but she did take it as an option in college. She was young and stupid, and had been charmed by the language during a summer road trip in the Côte d’Azur. She quickly fell out of love for that demonic language when she had to pull all nighter to try and start to make sense of the conjugation. (If someone tried to explain to her the difference between imparfait and plus-que-parfait one more time in hundreds of years, it would be too soon.)

The phone rang and she almost jumped to get it faster, hoping to be distracted from the Lila girl whining about her weak knees —or elbows? Susan French was rusty— and the not-so-subtle glare some of her friends sent Susan’s way.

“Hello, Wayne Enterprises here, thank you for calling. Susan on the line, how may I help you?”

“Um, Hi Mlle Susan,” a young female voice started, and Susan sighed silently when she heard the, admittedly very slight, French accent, already knowing where this was going. “I’m calling about the French class supposed to start a tour here in fifty minutes?”

“Alright, listen kid,” Susan started, wincing at how unprofessional she sounded but unwilling to back down. She loved her job, and she loved to do it right, but, by god, those kids were so annoying. It was already the third time they tried to pull something like that. “I told your teacher already, and the two kids who called before you, there is no way to start the tour before the meeting time that was agreed upon during the organization. People are not at your disposal, and this Lila girl's weak elbows or whatever are not going to change anything about it. Even if you try to impersonate another doctor or the French president himself.”

“Ah… I’m.. Um, I’m sorry to hear that Lila is making a scene again but, euh, I’m not calling for that?” The girl said slowly, and Susan blinked.

“You’re not?”

“Ah, no. I tried to contact Mlle Petit but she is not picking her phone and I thought that maybe, if they got to Wayne Tower already I could try to call there?”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I thought… Anyway, I can’t pass her the phone but I can tell her to look at hers?” Susan said and, feeling guilty for snapping so unprofessionally at her, added. “Or I could give her a message?”

“Please, if it’s not a bother, could you tell her that she forgot a student at the hotel?” The young girl said it so softly, it took a second for the words to sink into Susan’s brain.

“I’m sorry, could you say that again?” She blurted, disbelief obvious in her tone.

“I… Um, I didn’t know the time to meet changed and I woke up late so… I’m sorry, they probably didn’t notice I wasn’t here so…”

“Ok, alright… You know what, why don’t you wait a minute while I call for Miss Petit?”

“Oh, didn’t you say that you can’t…”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure my superior will understand the situation,” she said with a —only slightly forced— smile, grabbing her rarely used headset and putting it on mute, she was feeling like she would need it.

“If you’re sure, that would be really helpful. Thank you very much, Mlle Susan.”

“You’re welcome, hon. Now, wait a minute, alright,” she said, putting the phone aside and getting up. “Miss Petit?”

The woman turned toward her faster than a shark smelling blood, starting to power-walk quickly toward her desk with a satisfied smile.

“Well, can we finally start?” She said as soon as she was within hearing distance. Susan only raised one eyebrow slightly.

“Someone is on the phone for you, Miss,” she told her politely, giving it to her before putting her own headset over one of her ears.

“Allô?” Petit asked with a frown, only to widen her eyes at the answering voice. “Marinette?! I thought you were sick?”

Pulling out the list of students and teachers supposed to be at Wayne Enterprises today, Susan shamelessly eavesdropped on the ongoing conversation.

Despite her poor grasp on the language used, she understood enough to get that Marinette—and wasn’t that something, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was listed on the paperwork as the class rep. and the major contact for the organization of this tour—wasn’t, in fact, sick.

The following discussion was quick —too quick— Petit shot down Marinette as soon as she said Lila’s name, before talking quickly over the girl. When she finally said her goodbyes, Marinette was clearly holding back tears and Susan wanted nothing more than to punch in Petit’s nose. And teeth.

“Thank you for the phone,” Petit said with a polite smile. “Do you know when we are going to star—”

“Are you going to send someone back to the hotel?” Susan asked over her, curious about the lack of urgency from the teacher.

“Oh, euh, no, no. It’s too late now, isn’t it? We could start the tour any minute now,” she said with a strained smile. “Marinette is ok with staying at the hotel for today, she has things to occupy herself there.”

“Oh?” She hummed, looking pointedly toward the clock; the tour wouldn’t start before at least forty-five more minutes. Enough time to go get the girl and come back. “Well, I will let you know when your tour guide is ready, Miss.”

“Yes, thank you,” Petit said with a nod, her lips downturned, before going back to her students.

Susan watched her go with narrowed eyes, her fingers tapping on her desk. Did that woman really believe half the bullshit that come out of her mouth, or did she just hope people will be stupid enough to believe her?

Tapping her palm against her desk, she unplugged her headset and put it back in her drawer, before grabbing her phone and composing the number of her friend in HR.

“Hi Emily, I need to talk to Sofia, do you think you can patch me through? Something real weird happened down here.”

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

Tim was in the middle of re-reading the R&D’s half-year financial report when someone knocked on his door.

“Yes?” He called cheerfully, all too happy to abandon the semi-familiar papers —he really should stop reading reports after 86 hours without sleep and with caffeine withdrawal— and turned to look at the door.

“Mr Drake?” Sofia, his PA, asked with a frown.

Sofia was a thirty-something with two kids and a perpetual smile, she had worked with Tim for as long as he had been Wayne Enterprises’ Co-CEO, and was probably one of the reasons he didn’t crash and burn the first few months. Tim could literally count on one hand the number of times he saw her without a smile, with fingers to spare, and it had never been good.

“What happened, Sofia?” He asked more somberly, straightening in his chair.

“Today is the day of the tour for the French class, you remember?”

“Yes, of course. They should get there in… Something like an hour?” He frowned down at his watch, not sure if the tour was at nine or nine thirty. “Are you still hoping to catch the girl you talked with during lunch?”

“Well, I’m not sure if it’s going to be possible,” Sofia said, her frown deepening. “I just got a call from Susan, the front desk’s receptionist; it turned out that the class got here twenty minutes ago and wanted to start immediately, despite their tour not being for another forty minutes.”

“Did they cause trouble?”

“They’re being annoying, and anything but silent, but nothing really problematic, no. Though, Susan did get an interesting phone call not long ago.”

“Oh?” Tim leaned forward, his elbows on his desk and putting his chin on his joined hands.

“Yes, a student from the French class trying to get a hold on her teacher. To let the woman know that she forgot her at the hotel.”

Tim was so surprised he lost his equilibrium, almost face planting on his desk. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yes. And if that wasn’t enough, the teacher told her to stay there and entertain herself for the day,” Sofia’s feelings toward said teacher was made clear by her cold tone.

“She what?! Today’s tour isn’t… entertainment. It’s supposed to help the students and open them opportunities for future jobs or college’s internship! What the hell?” Tim muttered under his breath, passing a hand through his hair. “Forgetting a student at the hotel and letting her stay there? I thought Paris had his own supervillain, didn’t it teach something to that teacher? This is Gotham, for fuck’s sake! What’s the girl’s name? I’m going to send someone to bring her here.”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Sofia said with a satisfied smile, no doubt that she wanted him to do exactly that.

“Wait, hold on a minute, isn’t she…”

“The young woman who spent the last months talking with me to organize this tour, and organized the trip in general? Yes, it is,” she said with the faux-cheerful tone of someone who wanted to separate some heads from their bodies.

“Holy shit, what the hell?” Tim muttered under his breath. “Alright, can you send someone from security to pick her up? Tell them to take a company’s car. And ask Susan for the girl’s number, to let her know someone is coming. I need to talk with Bruce about that, I can’t tell if this woman is stupid or incompetent…”

“Probably both, Mr Drake,” Sofia muttered under her breath, already turning around to do what he asked. “Probably both.”

He couldn’t help but smile at that, although he wasn’t overly surprised. Sofia had all but adopted the girl after only a couple of email exchanges, and always had a fond smile when she talked about her. Tim had decided weeks ago that he was going to ambush them in the cafeteria, when the time comes.

He was curious, alright.

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

Marinette was breathing deeply, counting to 5 in her head between every inhale, and concentrating very hard on not crying. She didn’t know why it was so difficult not to, but was starting to think that being back in Gotham was probably not helping.

She walked out of the changing room, ignoring the couple of concerned side-looks she was getting, and made her way toward the elevators. She wasn’t really surprised by Mlle Petit’s reaction to her call, the woman had been wrapped around Lila’s finger all year, and she was not the kind of teacher to accept when she made a mistake and work a way to fix it. But. Somehow, Marinette thought that she would, maybe, try to fix this.

Petit had thought she was sick. And it’s not like Marinette wouldn’t have appreciated the day off, if she had been, but the woman didn’t even check, for kwami’s sake. And when she had mentioned Lila, she had shut her down quicker than lighting. But Petit could say what she wanted, Marinette knew it was Lila; Sophie, one of Lila’s ‘best friends’ was the one who reported Marinette's supposed sickness, showing the teacher a text message she supposedly got from her.

One didn’t need to be a genius to connect the dots, Valérie.

Marinette winced at the anger in her thoughts, instinctively trying to calm down, before remembering that Hawkmoth was gone.

She was standing in front of the elevator for a couple a minute when she realized that she hadn’t called for it. With a sigh, she pushed the call button before refolding her arms around her midsection. The doors just opened when she heard Tracy call her name from behind her.

She put a hand on the doors to keep them open and turned around, looking curiously at the panting woman when she reached her.

“Holy shit,” she wheezed, rolling her eyes. “I need to work on my cardio. Anyway. Someone from W.E. called! She said they were sending someone to pick you up!”

“Really?” Marinette asked dubiously, Petit hadn’t really been keen about getting her there.

“Yeah! From what I heard when I was spying on Mrs. D’s call,” she started, surprising a laugh out of Marinette. Tracy smirked at her, looking proud of herself. “Apparently, the receptionist you talked to talked to someone higher up, and they decided to send a car themself when they learned you were gonna spend the day here, all alone.” She paused, taking a breath, before her lips curled into a devious smirk. “The woman who talked with Mrs D sounded like she wanted to tear your teach’s head off with her teeth.”

“Oh,” Marinette blinked, kind of surprised by how many adults were helping her. It was a foreign concept, especially as Marinette. “That’s… That’s kind of Miss Susan.”

“Hey,” Tracy said with a soft smile, squeezing her shoulder. “It’s okay, you can thank her when you get there. She said your escort would be here in twenty minutes max, so you can wait for them in the lobby, alright?” Marinette nodded, still thrown off balance by all their helpfulness. “Do you want me to wait with you?”

“Oh, no!” Marinette told her with a shake of her head, eyes wide, before patting her purse lightly, mindful of Tikki. “Don’t worry, really, I have some things I could work on in the meantime.”

“Alright sweetheart,” Tracy said with a smile, squeezing her shoulder again before letting go. “I’m gonna go then, see ya around.”

The woman waved with half a smile as she walked backard, Marinette responding with a grateful one, before turning around and walking out of the hotel. Marinette followed her with her eyes absently, until she disappeared in the crowd, and then her eyes landed on the café across the street.

Well, she couldn’t do much to thank the people that helped her, but she could, maybe, if they were any good, buy them a couple of pastries. Papa always said that good pasties were the best of presents.

She stopped quickly by the reception, telling them where she was if someone asked for her, and that she would be right back, and quickly took off.

She should buy one for her chauffeur, too. They probably weren’t supposed to pick up wayward teenage girls, and it was only polite.

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

Beth parked her car in the staff’s parking area, cutting the engine before putting her forehead against the cool, steel part of her steering wheel. She had the worst hangover, ever.

And, alright, admittedly, she shouldn’t have drunk that much on a sunday night. She wasn’t twenty anymore, that was for sure. But it had been her birthday party. She should have listened to her girlfriend, though, and don’t take Mark on his stupid bet. The asshole didn’t work on monday.

Sighing morosely, she grabbed the carrier with two still hot cups of coffee from the passenger seat, and got out of the car. She thought about taking off her sunglasses, but just the memory of the sharp lights of the elevators made her wince, and she opted against it.

She was right about the lights, of course, and that made looking like an asshole wearing sunglasses inside worth it. The trip to the lobby from the underground parking was a quick one, and she walked readily toward Susan’s desk. She couldn’t help but cringe at the loud group of teenagers waiting in a corner of the hall.

She knew it was karma, some sort of cosmic punishment for not listening to her perfect, kind, beautiful, and thoughtful girlfriend when she told her to calm down on the intake. Because those kids couldn’t be anyone but the group she was supposed to tour in ten minutes.

And, looking by Susan’s amused smile, she wasn’t as discreet in her despair as she would have hoped.

“I came bearing gifts,” she said softly, internally pleading the ibuprofen in her blood to work faster, passing on the coffee with ‘Susie’ scrawled on it. Susan rolled her eyes at the nickname. “Please, oh beautiful goddess of my life, tell me they are not it.”

“Don’t call me that at work,” Susan said softly, because she was the best and was mindful of her headache, before grabbing her cup. Still, her fond tone didn’t really convince her that she was serious about it. “And they totally are. You really should have listened to me, because they are worse than whatever you’re thinking right now.”

“I had to woo you for months to earn the right to call you that, I deserve it,” she answered with a smile, walking around the desk to steal a kiss. She had been way too out of it this morning to really appreciate the one Susan gave her before leaving for work. “And there is no way they are worse than what I think.”

“Oh my god, babe, no one says ‘woo’ anymore,” she said, rolling her eyes. Beth had found that attractive since the first time she crossed paths with Susan, the way the woman would roll her eyes. “And they are, oh my god Beth, you are in for an interesting day with this bunch.”

“They are… rumbustious,” she said slowly, half-sitting on the desk beside Susan's keyboard, side-eyeing the group. Susan snorted. She snorted. At work. And that, more than anything Susan would say, was what made Beth realise how dire the situation really was. Susan was way too proud of her professionalism to snort because of a bad joke, unless she was already stressed out of her mind, and it was only ten to nine.

“I don’t think my mom really thought you would be using it, when she gave you that a-word-a-day calendar,” Susan told her with a fond smile, and Beth couldn’t help the slight blush at that. “But, yeah, they are rumbustious. And the woman calling herself a teacher is the worst of the lot.”

Both of Beth’s eyebrows raised toward her hairline at the venomous tone of her girlfriend. She was the asshole in this relationship, Susan was the sweetest person Beth had ever met, and the group couldn’t be here for more than a couple minutes. So she was really curious as to what the woman could have done to deserve Susan’s ire.

“What for? She ate a kitten for breakfast?” She joked, trying to distract Susan from the glare she was sending the teacher’s way. She took a sip of her coffee, sighing contentedly at the sugary taste, and immensely grateful that the ibuprofen was finally doing something.

“First, the woman had the gall to bring her class here an hour early and expect us to accommodate her,” Susan muttered angrily, making Beth blink in surprise, coffee forgotten again.

“Wait, what? They have been here since eight? What the fuck?”

“I know, right?” She said, turning toward her with a pout. “And then, something like twenty minute later, after two call from very young doctor, with bad english and French accent, telling me that one of the student was very ill, and that we needed to start the tour for her–”

“They didn’t,” Beth cutted in, because what.

“They totally did,” Susan told her with a roll of her eyes, distracting Beth for just a second. Her girlfriend has beautiful eyes, alright? “So, twenty minute later, another young french girl called me, and I thought; ‘oh god, here we go again’, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah. So what? Did she tell you she was the French prime minister?”

“I think it’s a man, isn’t it?” Susan said with a frown, and Beth just arched one of her eyebrows. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. So, anyway, no. She was from the class alright, but she was trying to reach her teacher–” and the word was venomously spat here, “–because the woman left her behind at the hotel.”

“No,” she breathed out, taking her sunglasses off to let Susan see how wide her eyes were. She only winced a little bit at the light, but she would have to take them off soon anyway, so she might as well make it dramatic, and get a smile from Susan out of it.

“Yes,” Susan said, nodding her head, before the fond smile on her lips turned into a vindictive smirk. And, oh my god, it was so not the time for Beth to be turned on. “But I called Emily in HR, and she got me in contact with Sofia. And Sofia sent someone to pick up the kid at her hotel.”

“Holy Batman, you called in Sofia,” she murmured with a gleeful cackle. Sofia was Mr Drake’s PA, and one of the most mom to ever mom. She mothered everyone who would cross her path and looked even a little bit sad, but she clearly had a soft spot for kids. Literally nobody had been surprised when Mr Wayne put her as the PA for his teenage son when he became the Co-CEO.

“Damn straight I did,” Susan whispered furiously, her glare finding the teach again. “The cupcake was holding on to tears after she talked to that woman, what was I supposed to do?”

“You did good babe,” She said with a fond smile, leaning to grab her lips with hers in a kiss. “What’s the name of the kid? I’m gonna keep an eye on her if you want.”

“Oh yes, please,” she started, but was interrupted by a girl walking up to her desk.

“Um, Hi, um, are you Mlle Susan?” The kid asked with a shy smile, her eyes flickering toward Beth before focusing on Susan, her voice a bizarre mix of a French accent and a Gotham accent, of all things.

“Yes, honey, it’s me. Who is asking?” Susan asked her softly, a genuine smile curling her lips, and Beth was assaulted, out of nowhere, by the thought that Susan would be a wonderful mom, and that Beth wanted that with her. To have a kid, with Susan. That wasn’t something they had really talked about, beside the fact that they both wanted to, in the future. But, now, the thought was in her mind, and it wasn’t going to leave her alone, she just knew it.

“I’m Marinette,” the kid, Marinette, said quietly, breaking Beth out of her thoughts. Susan made a noise of recognition that sounded suspiciously like a squeal, and Beth realised suddenly that she probably was the kid they were talking about. “Apparently, you are the one I have to thank for the car they sent, so… Thank you!”

The girl then put a brown bag on the counter and pushed it toward them, before quickly waving at them with a smile and turning around, making her way toward her teacher. Both Susan and her blinked at the sudden departure, before sharing a smile at the girl’s shyness. Susan grabbed the bag, looking into it and letting out another aborted squeal.

Curious, Beth tried to peek in, only for Susan to hug the bag, putting it out of her reach, with a noise of protest. She blinked at her owlishly, not understanding her reaction, before a slow smirk took over her lips. There was only one thing that would fit in this bag and make Susan react this way.

“It’s cinnamon rolls, isn’t it? Is it the little ones they sell by six?”

“It’s mine,” Susan said with a pout, her whining tone answering the question for her, one hand cradling the baked goods protectively. “It’s my thank you gift.”

“Come on, love, can’t I have a little one? I brought you coffee!” She pleaded with puppy dog eyes, hers weren’t as efficient as Susan’s, but they worked sometimes. “I’m going to have to spend a whole day with that woman, it’s going to be such a hardship…”

“Fine,” Susan sighed after staring at her with narrowed eyes for a whole minute. “But only because I love you. And today is going to suck for you, with that headache.”

“Love you too, babe,” she said with a smile, grabbing the roll before Susan could change her mind, and stealing a kiss on the way. “Wish me good luck!”

“Break a leg!” Susan told her way too cheerfully, as she made her way toward the group.

It was going to be a long day, that’s for sure.

[givemetherapyimawritingtravesty]

Hi! Way back when in your disability pride month post you mentioned you hc Logan w/ some depression and Finn with adhd. I'm adhd, and sometimes it causes issues with my friends with depression, when I am just SO much and they really can't handle so much. I was wondering if you'd write a fic about something along those lines and maybe leo just in the middle? And/or how they solve it (i.e, finn going for a run to get out energy or smth) i LOVED your logan h/c leo's depression and would love more!

Yes! Okay so disclaimer, this is based of my experiences with things similar to what anon is talking about.

Also, does this feature some Logan / Sirius bro-lationship because do I have another ask I’m working on about that? Maybe. Maybe. (Who am I kidding, definitely yes lol.)

I’m sorry this took soooo long to get out, but it’s long (like, over 2,700 words) and took a lot of time and energy and I haven’t had the energy or people points to deal with things lately. But finally, it is finished. (You may ask yourself, what are people points? Well, read on to learn what I mean lol. It's a real thing my friends and I use to express how we're feeling.)

Credit, as always, to the amazing @lumosinlove who created this universe and let's us play around with it!

CW for depression and anxiety references

Finn woke up very excited. He was so hyper; he could barely contain himself. He was practically vibrating with excitement for the day. He had been feeling a little cooped up the last few days, having a lazy weekend with his boys, watching movies on the couch. Today he was finally able to let out some of that pent up energy playing tennis with Kasey and Nat, who had only agreed to go last night when Leo suggested it after the whole day of Finn not being able to sit still for a single movie scene.

Finn sat up in bed, pulling his phone from the nightstand to check the time a shoot a quick text to Kasey to confirm that they were up and would be ready to meet at the courts in an hour.

He heard Leo start to rustle on the other side of their still sleeping boyfriend and thought it odd that Logan, ever the light sleeper, hadn’t moved yet. He reached down to grab his shoulder and shake him awake not exactly gently, being a little too excited for the day ahead.

Logan only groaned and roughly shifted away from the touch, pulling a pillow over his head.

Finn shot a questioning look over to Leo, who just shook his head and whispered, “Let him sleep in. He hasn’t been doing well the last few days, he probably just needs some rest.”

“Then who’s gonna help me beat Kase and Nat in doubles? You already had plans to help Celeste bake for Katie’s bake sale.” Finn pouted.

“Y’all’ll just have to play singles and switch out, I’m sure they won’t mind. Come on, lets get some coffee brewing.”

***

Leo, having already seen one boyfriend off to the gym, crawled back into bed and pulled the other into his bare chest.

Logan only sighed, snuggling closer into the warmth.

Leo soothed a hand through Logan’s hair, whispering, “I have to get ready to head over and help Celeste, are you gonna be alright by yourself today?”

Logan hesitated for a moment before nodding against Leo’s chest.

“Is it a bad one today?” Leo asked softly.

Logan took a shaky, deep breath and started to silently cry, nodding again. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry. It happens, alright? You’re alright darlin’. These last few days were hard, I know, and it’s okay. Do you want me to stay with you?”

Logan hesitated again before shaking his head. “Go. I think I’ll try to sleep it off a bit.”

Leo sighed, knowing that what Logan wanted was to be left alone for a bit. “Okay, but if you need anything… or me… just text, ‘kay? Just let me know what we can do.”

Leo sat there a few minutes, letting Logan settle down before getting up to head to the Dumias’.

When he got there, he let himself in and saw Sirius helping to wrangle the kids and keep them occupied playing ‘go fish’ while Celeste got the kitchen set up.

“Cap, hey, didn’t think you’d be here.” Leo let out a surprised chuckle.

“Just swung by for a visit while Re had to do some work at the rink.”

“Ah.” Leo continued to make his way to the kitchen, but then stopped and turned back to Sirius. “Hey. Um, could I have a word with you quick?”

“Oui, of course.” Sirius said, setting his hand full of cards and walking over. Right before he reached Leo, he turned around, “And no peeking at my cards!” He called back to the kids, who only giggled. “What’s up rookie? Am I in trouble?”

“No, no, of course no.” Leo let out a nervous laugh. “It’s just.” He sighed. “Lo. He’s… been having a rough go of it and… I don’t know. He stayed home today, and I know he won’t talk to me about what’s going on. I… you’re like a brother to him. He respects your opinion. Not that he doesn’t respect ours, it’s just…”

“Different?”

“Yeah. I… it’s been getting bad again. I think he should go see Heather, but he never wants to talk about it with us and… Could you talk to him maybe? I just…”

“Of course. Yeah, I wondered what was up when he missed team dinner Friday. I get it’s the off season and rest and all but, he never misses, unless he really not doing good, you know?” Sirius let out a heavy breath. “I mean, I’ve been there and… it sucks. I want to help him. Whatever I can. Just tell me.”

“You should say that to him, I’m sure he could use the support right now. This weekend… Finn was just bouncing off the walls, I don’t think he sat still long enough to really notice it. And then they were supposed to go play tennis today but- Lo really wasn’t up to it. He’s home, wanted some space. And I get that, I just wish… he’d, I don’t know. I don’t know.” Leo started to get a little choked up.

“Hey.” Sirius said, pulling him into a hug. “It’s okay. He’s hurting and that hurts. You can feel upset about it too.”

“But he’s the one…”

“Hey, non, don’t go down that rabbit hole. You can feel what you want without having to feel guilty about it. You support him the best you can and that takes a toll on you too.” Sirius said, holding Leo at arm’s length. “I mean… I know I’ve put Re through the ringer a few times trying to get me to calm down when the world starts to spiral. And he still has his days too when the world is too much handle and getting up is too much energy. But we get through it together. It’ll be okay, Knutty. I promise.”

Leo sniffled and ran a sleeve across his eyes. “Yeah. Thanks, Cap. You’ll talk to him?”

“Yes. I’ll give him a few hours to rest then shoot him a text and see what he’s up to, ouais? Now, Celeste had more ingredients than should be in one household, better go help her bake up a storm.” Sirius said, giving him a pat on the shoulder and a gentle nudge towards the kitchen.

***

Logan knew from the moment he woke up that it was going to be a rough day for him. He sat up slow, still groggy, and looked over at the clock. 11:47 am. Almost noon. He looked around the room to take in his surroundings. He vaguely remembers Finn trying to get him up this morning, excited to go out and play some tennis today. He remembers being grumpy and Leo saying something about letting him rest. Then Leo coming back, acknowledging that it was a bad day, and letting Logan cry before leaving him on his own for a bit.

He pushed the covers aside and planted his feet on the ground, getting up to walk to the bathroom. It felt like everything was in slow motion. He made his way to the kitchen, the apartment unusually silent. He stopped at the counter and stared at the coffee pot for he wasn’t sure how long before two long arms wrapped around his waist slowly. He blinked back to reality and realized Leo was behind him, talking.

“Lo? Logan? Hey, you in there?” He sounded worried, tossing his keys on the counter.

Logan turned around in Leo’s arms and brought his hands up to rest on the younger boy’s chest. “Quoi? Oui. Désolé.” The world still seemed to be moving too slow and muffled. He hadn’t even heard Leo enter their apartment just now. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt like there was cotton in his ears, and all his thoughts being drowned about by a dull ringing. “I…” Logan’s words died in his mouth. He didn’t know what was going on or what was wrong beyond the fact the something was wrong. Tears started to well in his eyes.

Leo gave a sad sigh and pulled the shorter boy into his chest, one hand on the back of Logan’s neck, the other rubbing soothingly up and down his broad, bare back. They stood there for several long minutes as Logan sobbed silently into his chest.

After Logan’s tears tapered to a stop, he held Leo close and whispered, voice a bit rough, “I though you were helping bake?”

“I hadn’t heard anything, so I came by to check and see how you were doing. Drink any water?”

“Haven’t had anything.” Logan mumbled into the taller man’s chest, shivering in the cool apartment in only a pair of shorts.

Leo held him close. “How about I make some peppermint tea? Yeah?”

“You should get back.”

Leo sighed, noting Logan’s subtle attempt to hint that he just wanted to be left alone, though the physical comfort he seemed to seek begged to differ.

“I have time to make you a cup, then I’ll get back. Is that okay?” Leo asked softly, running a hand up and down the shorter man’s back.

“Oui.” Logan grumbled, pulling away from Leo in favor of curling up on the couch with the blanket they kept there.

A few long and silent minutes passed before Leo handed him a warm mug, placing a soft kiss to his head before saying something Logan couldn’t focus enough to hear. He just curled around the warmth of the mug and watched Leo go.

Logan wasn’t sure how much time passed, but he had only taken a few sips of tea and now it was cold. He set it on the coffee table and made his way into the bedroom, picking up his phone and seeing a text from Sirius.

Hey, missed you at dinner the other night. Everything okay?

I yeah just wasn’t feeling it ig

Fair. Anything I can do to help?

Are you busy rn? No worries if not

I’ll be there in 20. Never too busy for you Tremz <3

Thanks cap

***

“Hey Leo?” Sirius said, walking into the kitchen. “I just got a text from Tremz, I’m gonna head over, d’accord? I’ll let you know how it goes.”

Leo gave a sad smile. “Okay. Thank you.”

And with that, Sirius headed out the door and made his way across town to the cub’s apartment.

When he got there, he let himself in and toed off his shoes. He found Logan curled up on the couch, nearly asleep under a comforter that Sirius knew had been dragged out of their bedroom. Logan seemed to not even notice him until he sat cross legged on the floor in front of him.

“Hey, Tremz. What can I do?”

Logan’s only response was to sniffle and pull the oversize blanket tighter around himself.

“Hey,” Sirius cooed as he got up to settle on the couch next to Logan, wrapping him up in a hug, “C’est bon. It’s okay. Shh.” He pulled the shorted man’s head to his chest.

“But-” Logan hiccupped, “I ditched him. We- we were supposed to play tennis, bu- but I just couldn’t.”

“It’s okay, Finn will understand. I’m sure he understands.”

“But I- I did it last week too. An- And Kasey and Natalie, we were all supposed to-”

“Logan,” Sirius said more sternly, pulling away just enough to meet his eyes, “I’m sure they understand, it happens. If they don’t, they’ll get over it. You have to take care of you, and if you don’t have the energy, or people points, to do things, that’s okay.”

“People points?” Logan hiccupped again.

“Oui. Like, some days you can have lots of people points to use up by being social? And some people take more people points because they can be a lot to be around, which isn’t a bad thing. Like… I love Finn, yeah? But he’s got a lot of energy sometimes and talks a mile a minute, and sometimes I can’t keep up. And some days, I just don’t have people points to use up, or I have only a few. For me, Re doesn’t take a lot of my people points to be around, and when he knows I’m having a bad day, we just snuggle up to a movie, or, I don’t know, we just sit in companionable silence? We just don’t do socially exhausting things. And Dumo, he’s good at seeing when I’m just out of points, and he’s easy to be around, even when Re is too much. And he understands. Your boys will understand too.”

Logan had pulled away to sit back and had been nodding along slowly, staring down at the floor, deep in thought. “D’accord. That… makes sense, I guess. I just… I feel like I’m low on people points all the time lately.” He sniffled quietly.

“That’s okay. You just need to get some rest and… I’m gonna say this and don’t get upset, but I think you should start seeing Heather more regularly.”

“I- yeah.” He sighed out. “Why would I get upset when you’re right? I… I saw her a few times, but then I was fine, so I thought- I don’t know, that I didn’t need to see her anymore or waste her time.”

“Tremz, there doesn’t have to be anything wrong to see her, and it’s not a waste of time. Not if it helps keep you in a good place. And- And sometimes it’s not enough. To keep you good, and that’s okay. I…” Sirius let out a long exhale, steadying himself for what he was about to admit next. “For a while, when I was still living with Dumo, nothing helped. And even after I was with Re, I… My childhood sucked, yeah? And I had a lot of nightmares because of it. Still do once in a while, but it’s not- just not as much? I… So I went on medication for it. And there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s helped. A lot.”

“I- I didn’t know that. That you took medication for, well, anything.”

“Yeah… I don’t really like talking about it. Not because I’m embarrassed or anything, but because it’s my business. And Re’s too. And Dumo knows, but only because he had suggested I bring it up with Heather in the first place. I also have high blood pressure I take medication for, but I think that’s all the stress of the job.” Sirius joked, giving a small chuckle, trying to lighten the conversation a bit.

“I- Thank you. For sharing that. I never really considered that as an option. Finn and Leo might have something to say abo-”

“It is an option if you want it to be. And the decision isn’t Leo and Finn’s to make. It’s yours. You don’t have to bring it up to them if you don’t want, but I think you should tell them what your thinking. Just don’t let them make the decision for you. It’s up to you.”

Logan nodded. He moved to pick up his mug from the table but retracted his hand when he realized it was cold and gave a sad sigh.

“You want fresh tea?” Sirius asked, gesturing to the mug.

“No, it’s okay.” He said quietly.

“Is it? I’ll ask again, would you like a warm cup of…” Sirius trailed off as he leaned forward to snag the mug off the coffee table and give it a sniff. He laughed to himself, “… of course, peppermint tea?”

“I mean, kinda, but I don’t want to get up so-”

“I’ll be back.” Sirius said, taking the mug into the kitchen to dump it out and make a new one.

“Sirius-”

“Ah ah ah, nope. I’m doing this for you, just sit tight.”

A few moments later, Sirius returned, pressing a warm mug into Logan’s hands, tea bag still steeping.

Logan whispered a soft, “Thank you” and took a small sip, huddling himself around the warmth as Sirius settled next to him, shoulder to shoulder.

“Is there anything else I can do? Leave? Stay?” Sirius asked softly.

“Stay. If you don’t mind?”

“Of course, as long as you need.”

[yee-fxcking-haw]

•Porcelain Obsession•

Summary: Tamaki has a problem, a bad problem. He's obsessed, he's desperate, and he'll do whatever it takes to have you the way he wants you.

Pairing: Pro Hero Yandere Tamaki Amajiki x Reader (both 18+)

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, noncon voyeurism, mild manipulation and sabotage, mild coercive behavior, male masturbation, panty theft, male ejaculation, cum eating. It's just real graphic, strap in.

A/N: I am hopeless, this will have a second part that will be so much more sinful with gratuitous tentacle content. Just tagged those that interacted with the posted about this fic as usual. This little series was inspire by a tiktok I saw, and I'm literally writing it for the sake of putting one zinger of line in it lol.

Playlist

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMJbubhQN/

Word Count: 4,184

Part Two: Love Me Tender

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Stunning, astounding, enchanting. You're an angel, you have to be. That's the only explanation for the way you shine, surrounded by some ethereal glow.

Tamaki Amajiki has a problem. No, it's not a problem, it's completely normal to fall in love, he's under a spell. He can't be blamed for it, he never stood a chance. Although, most people would call this a problem, but only people who don't understand.

An ignorant person would have seen him watching you from around the corner for weeks, following you to your house after work under the cover of darkness, and finally, finally getting a glance into your window at night and label him as obsessed or disturbed. He should have felt dirty for that, but he didn't, not even close. He felt almost holy.

He felt like some chosen follower that was allowed to witness a sacred ritual. He watched you all evening with immeasurable reverence. He took note of the way you ate, how intently you read, but his favorite part was watching you settle into your bed and fall asleep.

As soon as he saw it the first time, it became an addiction. Watching your body curl around your pillow, clutching the fabric as you snuggled into it. How sweet you looked, so soft, so innocent. It made his chest ache, it made him feel starved. He had to have you, smell you, feel you.

That was nearly three months ago. Now, he watches you every chance he gets. The days he doesn't get to, he feels like a pitiful addict going through withdrawal. He has to at least speak with you, know your voice, see your skin up close.

During his patrol around the city he comes to the conclusion that it has to be today. He feels like he's losing breath without knowing you, captured by your existence but suffocated by the distance. He will have you, he will do whatever it takes.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

At your age, you should at least have a friend or two, maybe go out on friday, possibly even work another job. None of that ever seems worth it, not worth the time or the money or the effort to pretend you enjoy it. Here you stay, stuck somewhere in between discontent for your situation and the refusal to do anything about it.

You only have a half hour left of your shift, everyone else has gone home and you’ve been left to do dishes and lock up, as usual. You huff and puff around the shop as you complete the final closing tasks. Anybody else could have stayed and closed, they probably should have too, considering how often you shut down by yourself so they can all go home.

Naturally, you jumped at the opportunity to stay late, where else are you going to go? Certainly not on a date or out with friends. You feel slightly better about making money while you burn the hours away, so you always end up here.

The sun has set already, leaving the illumination of the shop to the awful fluorescent lights that hang from the ceiling. It’s all so mundane, so simple, so dreadfully boring.

Then the bell above the door jingles.

You roll your eyes and throw your rag into the sink, the sign says closed. Why don’t people read? You huff out of the kitchen and into the serving area.

“Hey, sorry but we’re closed right now, we open again tomorrow-” You freeze, it can’t be him, it has to be some cosplayer, some wannabe.

“I’m sorry, I just- my phone died while I was on patrol and I needed to call my boss to let them know I was finished for the day. I was hoping there would be a phone in here that I could use.” His voice is so timid, so unsteady. It doesn’t sound anything like you would imagine the voice of a pro hero to sound.

You try to stay uninvolved with any hero business, all of the flashy quirks and the gossip and the drama. The theater of it bores you to tears, and you lack respect for anyone that uses their ability to save lives as a tool for gaining popularity. You find most heroes to be so incredibly irritating. Most of them, except one.

Suneater, the emerging pro hero that has been the focus of all of your thoughts lately. You've only seen glimpses of him in the news, seen his face on the back page of a magazine, or heard his name from other people. Any evidence of his existence rapidly became precious to you. You are not some hopeless fangirl, you do not collect merchandise or follow him around and beg for autographs.

You admire him, his subtlety, how genuinely different he is from all the other heroes. He isn’t some attention whore, he isn’t some pretty boy that’s always posing for fan service. His quirk is so unique and powerful, unparalleled by any hero on the charts right now. He’s a real hero, and so much of you wanted him to be your hero.

There he stands, right in front of you, in your shop, asking you for help. He’s far more beautiful than you could have possibly anticipated. He’s all porcelain skin and inky hair, deep indigo eyes pear out from under his magnificent hood. He stands so tall, yet comes across so reserved. He’s spectacular, he’s an angel, he has to be.

“Of- of course, it’s in the back, follow me.” You say, motioning for him to come around the corner with you as you tuck back into the kitchen.

“Thank you, this is very kind of you.” He says as he follows, cape swishing behind him as he moves. You don’t know, you can’t possibly know, how badly he wants to take you into his arms and finally know what your body feels like against his, how he wants to bury his face in your hair and inhale your scent. If he could get away with it, he would, oh how he would feel every inch of you. He can’t though, not yet. He has to be careful, he has to be smart.

I will have her, and she’ll have me.

“It’s no problem, it sucks to be stuck without a phone. I’m happy to help.” You say as you round the corner to your shop’s makeshift break room.

It’s not even a room really, just a corner tucked away with a phone on the wall and a few chairs around a cheap foldable table.

You turn to him and motion to the phone awkwardly, heat settling in your chest and all over your skin. Your heart races and you can feel your palms turning wet.

“Take as much time as you need, did you uh- are you hungry?” You ask, “I’m technically closed, but I can only imagine how hungry you are after a whole day patrolling, I could throw something together for you?”

God, you’re so sweet.

“Oh no, you d-don’t need to do that, I can eat at home.” He insists, your mind fixates on the way he stutters, the way his eyes dart down and his feet shift as he talks.

“I would like to. Please? If you’ll let me?” You say softly, heart pounding even faster when he shifts towards you slightly.

How perfect you are, already asking for permission…

“Are you sure, I really don’t want to create more work for you.” He says, eyes flicking up to meet yours. His gaze makes it hard to swallow, he looks at you so intently, you almost feel like you don’t have enough clothing on.

“No! I promise you won’t be. You’d also be missing out on the best takoyaki around if you didn’t let me, and that would be a tragedy.” You say, trying to entice him with your bold claim.

“Well I g-guess, if you put it that way.” He offers you a trace of a smile.

“I’ll get started while you make your call.” You say as you move to squeeze past him in the narrow hall. As you slide by, there’s a brief, precious moment where you stand inches from each other. You don’t dare look up at him as you skate by, You know your legs will fail you if you meet his eyes while standing so close, and you can’t risk the embarrassment of dropping to your knees in front of a stranger, even if he is a hero,

He doesn’t say a word, simple stalks towards the phone as you glide down the rest of the hallway and into the kitchen.

You slip into autopilot in the kitchen, your brain is far too fixated on the fact that Suneater is down the hall, in your shop, using your phone. You clink around some pans, prepare the octopus meat and the batter and get to work. You can’t overhear him talking to anyone with all the noise you’re making, you almost want to apologize for being so noisy.

Your mind settles on thinking about how beautiful he is, how strong he looks, how easily he could overpower anyone… especially you. The thought makes you squeeze your thighs together, it shouldn’t, but holy hell it does.

Out of the corner of your eye you see him come into the kitchen, you immediately start to berate yourself for thinking that way about him. He’s a hero, he would never be interested in something like that with someone like you.

“I think the phone is down, do you maybe have a- a cell phone i could use?” He seems almost ashamed of the question, it makes your chest ache.

“Shit, that line is always being funny. I’m sorry, but I left my cell this morning.” You say, flipping the takoyaki around in their tray so they’ll cook evenly.

“I live just across the street though, I can run and grab it while you eat.” You say, desperate to help him in any way you can.

I know you’re just across the street.

He just shakes his head and bunches his cape in his fists, a very faint blush spreads across his cheeks and it makes your heart do summersaults.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, you’re already doing t-too much for me. You don’t need to make the extra t-trip, I can just call my boss when I’m home”

“Really, it’s not too much, if you’re worried about the extra trip you can just walk me home and use it when we get there. I imagine you would need to call as quickly as possible and get somebody on patrol now that you’re off.” You say, catching yourself a little when you sound too desperate.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable?” As he talks, he shuffles so he can press himself up into the corner of the kitchen, almost looking like he wants to melt into the wall.

“Well, considering your occupation is literally saving people, I definitely don’t feel uncomfortable, it’s not like you’re some crazy kidnapper.” You chuckle a little as you plate up the takoyaki. You try not to give attention to the twisted thoughts that enter your mind when you mention the kidnapping, pushing down the desire to be taken away from the colorless life you live.

If you only knew how badly I want to take you, to have you, keep you…

“I guess you have a p-point.” He says, taking the plate with a soft thank you. He starts stuffing his face with the spheres of breaded octopus immediately, letting a small content sigh leave his body.

“This is incredible, thank you, um, can I ask what your n-name is?” That damn stutter is going to turn your bones to jelly.

You say your name quietly, he responds by repeating it back to you, like he’s checking the pronunciation. You just nod as you open the fridge and pull out a gallon of green tea so you can pour him a glass.

“T-Tamaki, my name’s Tamaki Amajiki.” He says with his shy voice.

A warm, invasive feeling spreads through you. You have to remain calm, pretend that his real name is news to you, pretend that you haven’t spent hours searching through fanfictions listed under that name.

You chat as he finishes his food, thanking him as he mumbles compliments about you cooking in between bites. It doesn’t take long for him to take down the plate. He thanks you over and over as you clean the rest up. He stays glued to his spot in the corner until you take your apron off and hang it on the rack with the others.

“Alright, let’s get you to that phone.” You say as you grab your keys off the hook and switch the lights off.

When you turn to look at him the breath is stolen from your lungs immediately. He looks so celestial in the dark, somehow glowing in the dark. He’s stunning, he’s perfect, he’s painfully out of your league. You remind yourself of that last fact in order to still your nerves.

You turn on your heels and walk towards the door as quickly as you can without seeming rushed. He follows silently, the heavy sound of his thick cloak floating around him makes the hair on your neck stand up. He even sounds powerful.

After you exit the building, he stands with his back to you as you lock the door. His stance is protective, surveying the streets around you like a real hero. You can’t let it go to your head, it’s not for you specifically, he would do this for anyone, it’s his job.

The walk to your house isn’t really uncomfortable, but it is tense. The energy between you is painfully obvious, just not to each other. You both want to speak, ask about each other, know each other, but neither has the guts to make the first move.

While you walk, Tamaki’s head is constantly on a swivel, and he stays so very close to you. It makes your chest ache, the feeling of being so safe next to such an intimidating man. Nobody would dare approach you with him next to you. You would damn near kill to have this all the time, if not all the time at least as often as possible.

You arrive at your house after not even two minutes of tension filled strolling. Silently, cautiously, you both enter your home after you unlock the door.

"It's so cozy." Tamaki says immediately upon seeing all of the soft lights and pastels that make up your decor. He’s nearly trembling with excitement from finally being able to see inside your little world. After watching from the outside for so long, he can finally learn more about you.

"Oh, thanks, I try to keep it soft looking in here. It helps me decompress after a day at a busy restaurant." You explain, setting your keys in their dish before leading him down the hallway to the kitchen.

The house is nothing special, a simple little single bedroom, one story with a relatively open floor plan. It’s small but easy to afford and keep clean. It works for you.

“I’ll go grab the phone from my room, feel free to sit down.” You say, gesturing at the two chairs on either side of your tiny breakfast nook.

He just nods quietly, taking small glances around the rest of your house. You find his hypervigilance charming. It makes you feel incredibly secure to know he’s so aware of his surroundings.

You walk off to your bedroom then, leaving him to stand in your dimly lit kitchen.

Instantly, his eyes zero in on the laundry basket full of clothes that’s sitting on your counter. His body moves without his mind’s permission, his heart thrums in his chest once he catches something pink and lacy.

He can’t help but think you’ve done it on purpose, like you’re some spider sitting up in your web waiting for a poor little bug to stumble along and get all caught up. He’s more than willing to be that bug, and so desperate to get caught up.

He grabs the fabric quickly, as it unravels in his hands he sees what it is and his breathing stops.

It’s a pair of underwear, your underwear.

His fingers go all twitchy as he shoves his hood off to expose his pointed ears, wanting to be able to hear your footsteps.

He brings the panties and takes a deep breath in.

They’re not clean.

He has to choke back the noise that threatens to escape when he finally smells the intoxicating aroma. You smell so fucking sweet. His body reacts instantaneously, goosebumps raise on his flesh as he’s dick twitches in his pants.

God he feels dirty, but why should he? You lead him in here, after cooking for him and being so kind. You left this little gift out for him, you had to know what you were doing.

The sound of soft footsteps jolts him back to reality. He shoves the underwear deep into one of his pockets, he’ll keep them as long as he can, preferably forever.

“Sorry it took me a minute, I’m constantly misplacing everything. One of those ‘lose my head if it wasn’t attached to me’ kind of people.” You give a half hearted laugh, which he returns with a cute little chuckle as he takes your phone.

“Oh sorry about the laundry, I’m a bit of a mess today.” Hot embarrassment fills you as you grab the basket of dirty clothes off the counter and hoist it onto your hip.

“Don’t be sorry, you weren’t expecting any visitors.” He assures you, voice soft and soothing.

“I’ll run this to my room and give you some privacy.” You say, turning once again to leave him alone.

As soon as you’re out of the room his shoulders drop and he lets out a quaking breath. Having you so close after filling his mind with your smell pushed him to the very limit. He wants to grab you and lay you out on the counter, rip your pants off and shove his face between your thighs. He wants to drown in every smell and taste you can offer him. He wants to gorge himself on your sweet little cunt.

He can’t think straight. He’s fully hard, his skin is boiling and his mind is fuzzy. He has to get out of here, he has to get to somewhere hidden, Somewhere he can fuck his fist and think of playing with your soft body. Maybe, just maybe, if he stuffs your panties in his mouth he can taste a trace of you.

When you return he says a very quick goodbye, says something about stopping by your shop again so he can see you again. He doesn’t know for sure what words he uses, he’s too focused on getting out before you notice his erection, before you smell the shame wafting off of him in thick waves.

He has to go before he makes a mistake, before he ruins all of his plans.

You follow him to the door to let him out, bidding him goodnight with your gentle, enchanting voice.

You’ll never know that the phone at the restaurant worked fine, that he never even had to call Fatgum. You’ll never know that he stole from you, that he almost lost it and took you home with him. You won’t ever know that he’s not going home now that he’s left your home.

Urgently, he swoops around the corner of your house, heading straight for your bedroom window. His pants feel so tight it’s maddening, he’s frantic, he’s slipping.

As soon as he reaches the bedroom window, his favorite window, he slumps against the building with one arm as the other shoots down to his pants. He takes a quick glance around, noting that the lights in the surrounding buildings are all out given the hour.

He should be safe.

Then you walk into your room, the image of you is distorted slightly by the white sheers you have up, but only slightly, only enough to make you look like some fuzzy apparition.

She uses these curtains on purpose, she wants me to see.

You have no interest in showering tonight, now exhausted and confused. Did you say something wrong? Why did he take off like that? He did say he would see you tomorrow, though, which gives you a bubbly feeling.

You strip your clothes off, and it shreds Tamaki’s last ounce of self control.

You little fucking tease.

You undress until you’re left in your simple white underwear.

Tamaki’s hand is in his pants the second you crawl into bed. He grabs his aching length, thumbing at his head as he watches you shuffle around in the blankets. His mouth waters when he sees your collar bones, his breath hitches when he sees the way your stomach rolls when you sit. He starts to stroke himself slowly when you leave one leg out of your blankets.

His chest rises and falls rapidly as he remembers the precious gift in his pocket.

He snatches the panties out as he watches you move, as he zeroes in on the meat of your thigh. He shoves the fabric of the crotch into his mouth and bites. He bites your panties like he wants to bite your delicious looking legs.

His hand jerks more rapidly as the faintest flavor spreads across his tongue. His cheeks are pink and his eyes start to tear up as he trembles from the euphoria of knowing you this intimately. His hips thrust into his fist as he claws at the panites, pulling the fabric tight as he watches you drift off to sleep.

His mind races through every possible way he would take you. How he would ruin and claim every inch of you. The idea of you shaking beneath him, moaning his name so sweetly, begging him to keep going, maybe begging him to stop, it makes him want to break down the window.

He tongues at your panties, wishing he could swallow your slick. He feels so unbelievably envious of the fact that the fabric in his mouth has been so close to your perfect little hole. The thing he wants to taste the most, feel the most, fuck the most.

His hand tightens around his dick as he tries to imagine how tight you would feel around him. He rips your panties out for just a brief second so he can spit down into his palm, wrapping it around his cock the second the spit reaches his skin.

“Shit- fuck- shit- fucking love you.” He chokes out as his eyes stay locked on your body.

Once the panties are back in his mouth, the free hand flattens against the window.

Then you shift, hips rolling gently as you adjust your position, exposing your cute little ass to him.

“Slut- bad little slut.” He huffs out as he claws at the window. He feels his balls start to seize up as he focuses on his swollen head, fucking it as fast as he can whle he imagines you with your head buried in the pillows as you stick your ass in the air for him.

He tears the panties out of his mouth and holds the crotch of them in front of his dick, drool slips over his bottom lip as he lets out a high, broken moan while he starts to spill into them.

His body quakes and shivers as he squirts rope after rope of hot cum into his stolen prize. Tears wet his cheeks while drool soaks his chin as he strokes himself through his climax.

He chants your name over and over again, watching the way his seed ruins your pretty little panties. In his orgasmic haze, he brings the panties back to his mouth full of his own release, he laps it up as he eyes roll to the back of his head, pretending he’s made you cream yourself, pretending he’s tasting you instead.

It’s filthy, it’s depraved, but he doesn’t care, he needs it, he’d die without it. He swallows the rest of his own cum down with a greedy whine as he watches your perfect form lay there so peacefully.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, how many more times he fucks his hand while he watches you sleep, only to leave himself covered in sweat and cum and shame. Somehow, he finds himself walking away, as much as it hurts, he knows he can't indulge himself all night.

Once he’s finally home, he collapses, body buzzing and addicted. He sleeps with your soiled panties clutched in his fist. He wakes up with one thought on his mind, he needs more.