#can’t be worse than my worst loaf

[sodacowboy]

made a sourdough starter on a whim the last time I made bread (like a week ago?) and did barely anything to it in the meantime and I have no idea how to use it so here’s hoping this loaf turns out good

[theunicorncomic-blog]

Okay my personal headcanon is that Aziraphale was Jesus’s nanny. Little Yeshua was a good kid, but a bit of a handful. He came into his powers earlier than Adam and always knew a verse to justify what he wanted to do (think that cryptid child Jesus post that goes around from time to time). To make matters worse, Aziraphale had trouble saying no to him, partly because the little boy was technically his superior and mostly because he always gave his guardian angel the most irresistible puppy dog eyes.

He also had a tendency to wander off, at one point running into Crowley. I imagine it went something like this:

“Angel, what are you doing?”

Aziraphale jumped at the familiar voice. Crawley stared back at him curiously. Of all the days to run into his wily adversary, this was the worst one.

“Nothing!” he said too quickly.

The serpent arched an eyebrow. “Which is why you’re running around like you lost a cat. You didn’t lose a cat, did you? They’re sneaky little buggers, but they always come back eventually.”

“No, no, not a cat.” Now the panic was truly setting in. The boy was four. How far could he have gone?

“Well, what did you lose, then?”

“Thechristchild,” he mumbled.

Crawley tilted his ear, presenting it to Aziraphale. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I lost the Christ child!”

His golden eyes widened. “You wot?”

“Please don’t make me say it again.”

“How in somewhere did you do that?”

Aziraphale anxiously wrung his hands. “I don’t know! I turned my back to him for a minute to pay for the groceries Miriam needed and when I finished, he was gone.”

Crawley chuckled. “Oh, yeah, kids do that. You gotta keep ‘em on a short leash. So, what would get his attention enough to make him wander off. Street performers? Children playing? Sweets?”

“Well, there was a beggar woman he kept staring at. He wanted me to help her, and I told him I would do it after groceries.” Before he finished the thought, his feet were already moving in that direction.

“Of course that’s what he’d be doing,” Crawley mumbled as he caught up. “Takes after his uncle.”

“Hey you! Get back here!” The voice of an irate fruit seller rang through the streets.

Crawley raised his eyebrows. “Found him.”

Now fully panicking, Aziraphale ran in the direction of the voice. There, a burly merchant held little Yeshua roughly by the arm. In the other, he held a large knife. “Excuse me! Excuse me, my good man. I’m terribly sorry, but it seems you have my nephew.”

“I just caught your boy stealing from me.”

“I just wanted to give food to the lady,” Yeshua protested with tears in his eyes. “How you treat the least of us is how you treat the Lord.”

Without thinking, Aziraphale scooped the sweet boy in his arms. The merchant didn’t even realize he had relinquished his bruising grip until the angel spoke. “I know you just wanted to help, but you can’t steal from others to do it. If everyone took from this merchant without paying, then he wouldn’t be able to afford to feed himself and his own family.”

Yeshua looked thoughtfully at his guardian angel. “I didn’t think of it that way.” He turned to the merchant. “I’m sorry.”

“The boy still needs to be taught a lesson,” the merchant growled. “The old lady ran off with the stolen goods, so I think a finger will be payment enough.”

“Whoa there, mate.” Crawley grabbed his arm. “The boy apologized, and I know my friend here can pay for whatever he took. So, how about we settle this like gentlemen.”

He took one look at Crawley’s golden snake eyes and gulped. “Fine. He stole a loaf of bread and a fig. Pay me twice that and I’ll forget the whole thing.”

Aziraphale grinned. “Wonderful. Thank you so much, my good man.”

He absentmindedly passed Yeshua to Crawley to grab his purse. It was only after he’d paid the merchant that he realized what he’d done.

He handed the son of God to a demon.

A demon who was now walking away with a giggling Christ child.

He was going to be in so much trouble. “Crawley! Crawley, get back here!”

The demon stopped and turned around. “Thought we should get clear of that merchant. We don’t want him to suddenly decide that double the cost of the goods isn’t enough.”

“I’d like to have the boy back now please.”

Crawley thought for a moment. “Nah.”

“What?” Aziraphale’s voice was little more than a squeak.

Crawley shrugged, savoring flustering his angel. “I was thinking he and I could go out and make some trouble. There’s a little hellion in you yet, Yeshua.”

“He’s a demon,” Yeshua added helpfully.

“Yes, yes, I know.” Aziraphale pouted.

“Then why’d you give me to him?”

“It was a mistake.” He turned to the demon. “Crawley, this isn’t funny.”

The serpent grinned. “I think it’s hilarious.”

Aziraphale kept pouting. Yeshua’s puppy dog eyes had been a touch of divine justice on Her part, a taste of what he did to Crawley every time he wanted something. And those eyes were Crawley’s greatest weakness. It now was clear to him that the joke had gone too far and stopped being funny.

Crawley sighed. “Fine, you thwarted me. Here.” He handed the boy back to Aziraphale. “Later, Angel.”

As he sauntered off, Yeshua looked up at Aziraphale. “Why did a demon help us?”

“All demons were angels once. I think he still remembers it better than most.”

Yeshua hummed thoughtfully. After a few seconds of silence, Aziraphale spoke hesitatingly. “Yeshua…can we keep today between us?”

“Isn’t that lying?”

“No, no, my dear boy. We’re just, uh, not telling the whole truth. What heaven and your mother doesn’t know won’t hurt them.” Between the two, he wasn’t sure whose wrath he feared more at the moment.

“But—“ Yeshua began to protest. Aziraphale snapped and a sweet appeared in his mouth and a toy in his hand. The child munched contentedly on the treat while Aziraphale finished the shopping. As the son of God, Yeshua did not take bribes. But he was four years old, and four year olds are easily distracted by toys and treats. By the end of the day, the whole incident was forgotten.

Two thousand years later, an argument broke out in a certain London bookshop.

“Angel, I actually know how to tend a garden. You should be the nanny.”

“Absolutely not. Yeshua was hard enough, and he was literally the perfect child. I have no hope of controlling the antichrist.”

I think I'll be forever obsessed with nanny ashtoreth and brother francis. gardening is crowleys thing, so I want to see how that conversation went down. did crowley volunteer to be the nanny? did aziraphale just ask to be a gardener to troll crowley?

brother francis/aziraphale would end up talking to the plants so kindly but ultimately knowingnnothing about gardening besides the fact that plants should grow. then it got better when I pictured nanny at 2 am, smeared with dirt, doing some remedial gardening.

"Angel, I can't keep telling you this, NICE WORDS ARE NOT A SUBSTITUTE FOR OPTIMAL NITROGEN LEVELS IN THE SOIL!"

"oh, but Crowley, that poor orchid was positively shaking by the time you were finished berating it!"

"she knows what she did."

[aminiatureworld]

Disappearance

Characters: Diluc, Razor, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,133

Warnings: Slightly claustrophobic

Premise: The line between small upsets and huge quarrels can be a blurred one, and it’s often difficult to cope with in the aftermath.

In which there is an argument and the reader disappears.

Author’s Note: Thank you for your request anon. I really cannot stay away from angst, and this was right up my alley. Poor characters, how I love to torture you.

I wasn’t sure if I was going to write Razor, he isn’t in my list of characters I’m comfortable with. For one thing I find his broken speech quite difficult to deal with. I can’t tell if I find it irritating or not, or if it’s an example of good characterization or the “savage” stereotype a la Tarzan – sorry Tarzan I don’t like you. But I tried to make the effort and I hope it came out well! Though I still don’t feel quite comfortable with writing him. I hope I handled the dialogue well enough. He makes me think of San from Princess Mononoke.

Diluc

Diluc accelerated his pace as the Winery came into sight, his normally serene face breaking into a small smile.

It was the best time of day, the time when he came home, the time when he could finally see you. The two of you had been a couple for about five months, and though it wasn’t the longest of time, it was certainly the happiest Diluc had been, happier even than when he was a child with a family to call his own. You were his family now after all, something that you reminded him when he was in his darkest moods. You were his family now, and nothing could tear that apart.

“Welcome home.” Your voice was warm with happiness, and you threw your arms around Diluc the moment he came through the door. Diluc reciprocated the embrace and for a moment the two of you simply stood in the landing, the picture of perfect happiness.

“I’ve missed you, beloved.” Diluc whispered.

“I missed you too.” You replied, smiling softly. Your smile slipped however, and was instead replaced with an expression of worry. “You were gone so late tonight, I was unsure if something had happened to you. Really, I was about to go after you.”

“Well I’m glad you didn’t.” Diluc replied, tone firm though not unkind. “We’ve talked about this before my love, if something were to happen to me, which it won’t,” he quickly added, seeing your gaze cloud over, “but if it did I wouldn’t want you to put yourself in danger. I fight for you as much as anyone else in Monstadt, and for you to be injured or worse on my part, I’d never be able to forgive myself.”

“I know we discussed it and came to that conclusion.” Your words were slow, deliberate in tone. “But though I agreed to it then, I found tonight that I regretted it more than anything I might ever do. I cannot bear the idea of you somewhere near, hurt and crying out for help or worse…” you swallowed, unwilling to conjure the image to mind, “…I couldn’t bear thinking that you might be in a bad way and with no chance of rescue simply because I made a foolish promise. And while I was thinking about this all I came to the realization that I could never truly keep that promise. If you’re ever in need I will be there for you, no matter what. No matter what you said, what you think, it is the simple truth.”

“Please don’t do that.” Diluc replied, voice quickly becoming filled with emotion. “If there’s something out there that could hurt me like that, then how –” he paused, realizing his mistake, but you’d already caught it.

“How could I possibly defeat it?” You replied, a grimace replacing your smile. “You cannot treat me like glass Diluc. I’m an adventurer, a warrior in my own right. And I won’t be kept from saving the one I love the most, not when the only thing keeping me from it is his pride and a few words.”

 The two of you said nothing more of it that night, but the argument hung in the air the next morning, continuing the awkwardness up until you left for your adventuring duties. Diluc did nothing to breach the gap. He was in the right after all. And besides, it was such a stupid little argument, barely one at that. In a day or two it’d be nothing, and then all would be well again.

This conclusion was sorely tested when you didn’t return to the Winery in the evening. As Diluc prepared himself for another night of patrol he began to worry slightly. Surely you weren’t avoiding him. About something so small? No, most likely you were simply late. You’d be there when he got home. If he was sure of anything he was sure of that.

Unfortunately Diluc was proven quite wrong. The doorway was empty at his arrival, you were nowhere to be found. A sinking feeling began to settle into his stomach, and Diluc found himself quite unable to sleep that night, instead tossing and turning this way and that, wondering if you were truly so angry over something that he’d seen as so small. It was the only logical explanation for your disappearance after all, though Diluc wasn’t sure what to do about it. Chasing after you seemed somewhat uncouth, and besides didn’t that always make things worse? No, he’d give you space, all the space you needed. If a week passed then he’d seek you out, but before then he’d let you be. No point in jeopardizing the relationship anymore than apparently he already had.

His promise to stay away for a week was nearly torn to shreds by the end of the next day. Were you truly so angry with him? How could he have hurt you so much? Diluc didn’t know what to do. During the day he tried to behave as always, keeping tabs on everything he could and busying himself as much as possible. At night, however, the feeling became more and more unbearable, and Diluc found sleep more fleeting than ever.

He kept replaying the argument, over and over again did he try to remember exactly what had happened. Was your tone of voice angrier than he thought? Was your expression darker? Had he been too curt, too dismissive, too demanding? What could’ve possibly caused you to simply disappear? It was unlike you; usually what arguments took place resulted in you trailing him more than anything else. Why was this so different? Turning onto his side once more Diluc closed his eyes. Tomorrow all would be well. Tomorrow you’d come back for sure.

You didn’t come back tomorrow, nor the day after that. Those days were some of the most anxious Diluc had felt since the immediate passing of his father. Work became unbearable, for words that one stood clearly on the page now swam before him, a sea of incomprehensible figures and symbols. Eating and sleeping too were utterly alien to him, and what those two days were mostly comprised of turned out to be him walking about in a stupor, too dazed and too worried to think about anything around him, anything other than you.

On the fourth day a knock came to his door, and with it came Katheryne of the Adventurer’s Guild. Her face was ashen, and she was fiddling with her hands. As Diluc gestured for her to sit down the anxiety that had been sitting in his stomach tangled itself into knots. What in the name of the Seven had happened?

“Master Diluc, we have some information, information involving your partner.”

“Yes?” Diluc’s voice was sharp and low, for he couldn’t bring himself to hide it. Collapsing into the opposite chair he tried to prepare himself for the worst, knowing that if you had left or, Seven forbid, been killed he’d never be able to move on.

“Well you see your partner, they went on an expedition, a commission rather. They were looking for bits of Noctilious Jade and Cor Lapis. Although these minerals are normally found in Liyue only there are a few reservoirs in Monstadt along the border of the two lands, specifically they can be found in certain caves behind the waterfalls that flood into the river. A merchant bought the rights to the land of one of those caves and, being a merchant, he couldn’t get it out himself, so we sent one of our own to mine it out for him, see if it was any good.”

“This is all quite fascinating,” Diluc replied, tone made sharp with worry, “but I can hardly see what this has to do with anything.”

“Your partner was the one selected. They went down to mine it but the entrance was the opening to a sharp drop and they fell down. We only managed to recover them this morning.”

The shock that ran through Diluc was something that he never wished to experience again. It seemed to pierce right through him, into the center of his heart. You’d been trapped. You’d been in need of help, stuck for days in the worst of possible situations, and he’d done nothing but loaf around the Winery. How could he forgive himself for something like that?

“May I see them.” He choked out, his throat constricted and burning.

“They are coming here right now. Thankfully injuries were minimal. Caves connected to water are the most dangerous kind, you can die and it can be impossible to retrieve your corpse. They were incredibly lucky.” And with that gruesome thought in mind Katheryne walked over to the door, opening it to reveal you.

Diluc had never moved so fast in his life. Instantly you were wrapped in his embrace. You returned the gesture just as fiercely, clinging on as if he was the only thing anchoring you, keeping you from collapsing from relief, from fatigue, from the terror that had yet to dissipate.

“Oh my love, oh I’m so sorry, so deeply sorry. Forgive me, forgive me for not being there. Forgive me.” Diluc whispered, practically incoherent. You were both shaking, and when you two collapsed in the chair closest to the fire there were no words for a good many moments. The terror you’d both felt was hardly over, and you both needed to be sure that this wasn’t a dream, that it was all over, and that you were going to be fine now.

“Diluc.” You finally whispered.

“Yes my love.” Diluc replied, a tremor still in his voice. You leaned into him, head perched on his shoulder, breath tickling his neck.

“I never want to quarrel again.”

Diluc reached over to cup your face. Raising your head slightly he leaned over, brushing his lips against yours, indulging in something he thought for a moment he might never be able to do again.

“Neither do I.” He replied, voice just as soft. “And remind me never to try to restrict you again, for if I’d not been such a fool I would’ve run to your side the very evening you were trapped.”

You smiled softly, expression conveying relief and tenderness and most of all love. Leaning in for another kiss you whispered something right before your mouth collided with his.

“I will follow you wherever you go.”

 Razor

Sitting at the edge of one of Wolvedom’s many cliffs, eyes trailed towards the far away walls of Monstadt, Razor wondered if he might’ve been too harsh.

It wasn’t that Razor wanted to quarrel with you, I mean you were the first and only person that he’d managed to build a sincere connection with. It was only that he’d grown up with a complete distrust of humans, and as much as he tried to bury that aspect of himself it still came to the forefront at times.

“I don’t understand what you’re so angry about Razor?” You’d exclaimed, face twisting into an expression of annoyance.

“Why do you like them?” Razor had replied, gesturing towards the people who had arrived with you, trampling their way through the forest as if everything belonged to them simply because they were human. He could practical smell the arrogance wafting off them, and it made his hair stand on edge. It was frustrating that he didn’t have the words to convey that to you.

“My guild members?” You’d said, glancing over your shoulder. “Razor I work with them. We’re going on a trip.”

“I want them to leave.” He’d practically growled, moving to take your hand in his. “I want them to leave, I want you to stay.”

“Well you can’t do that Razor.” You’d said, tone growing more and more exasperated. “And I don’t understand why you’re so hostile to them.”

“They’re human.” To Razor this was enough, but evidently the answer was hardly satisfactory to you.

“I’m human.” You’d pointed out, raising an eyebrow. Razor shook his head.

“You’re different.”

“No, I’m not. You just like me. And like it or not I’m a human, and a human who has a job to do. I can’t stay here, and I can’t stop talking to all other humans.

“Why not?” He’d shot back. “It would be better. Humans are bad creatures.”

“You keep forgetting who I am!” You’d exclaimed, shaking your head. “Whatever, I’m not arguing this with you. I’ll see you in a day. I hope that you can think about my feelings by the time this is over.”

Well the day had come and gone and there was no sight of you. Razor was too angry though to feel much remorse, no matter how much he missed you. You were probably busy anyways, talking to other humans, fraternizing with the enemy. For what else could humans possibly be? They cut down trees, killed the inhabitants of the forests. Even the wolves weren’t safe, for what farmer hadn’t taken a shot at one of them at some point in his life? No, Razor was not the one in the wrong. You were just too used to them. You couldn’t see it.

Still your absence sat wrong with him, and he found himself scouring the edges of Wolvendom the next day, trying to figure out what had happened. It wasn’t as if you didn’t know what he thought after all. And surely you wouldn’t abandon him so quickly, surely.

Razor was hardly so sure when the sun went down the next night. It seemed you were well and truly gone, though where he couldn’t tell. Maybe you really had decided to abandon him, decided he was too much of a burden, decided you preferred humans anyways. The thought ate at him, and he found himself walking around with a bitter taste in his mouth, unsure what to do.

Razor wasn’t sure what finally caused him to cross out of Wolvendom to look for you. Perhaps it was anger, perhaps it was guilt, perhaps it was that he at least wanted to say goodbye. No matter the cause however he still found himself walking on an unfamiliar path, as the woods shifted to plains. He felt vulnerable, uncomfortable without his familiar family. But it was too late to turn back now, and so he pressed ahead.

All sense of discomfort faded away upon running into you. You looked the worse for wear, covered in dirt, your clothes ragged. For a moment Razor wondered what could’ve possibly caused this. Perhaps there was a creature out there he was not aware of. Running up to you he wrapped his arms around you.

“You’re hurt.” It was more of a question than a statement, and you seemed to understand that. Returning the hug you sighed slightly.

“I was stuck in one of the shallow caves off of the Stormbearer Mountains. The passage we went through started crumbling, and I was the last one in line. It took some time to dig me out.” You laughed slightly, but there was a tremor in your voice, and you seemed ill at ease. “It was so dark in there Razor, so utterly dark. I couldn’t imagine being a creature down there, it all seemed to weigh down on me, and I thought it’d collapse and bury me at any second.”

Razor had tightened his embrace, the image seared into his mind. There was a visceral fear in his reaction, the fear of what you’d just described, but it was more complicated than that. To be down there himself was terrifying, but for you to be in that situation, and for so long, it stole the air from his lungs and weighed him down with such a sense of dread he could barely stand it.

“Humans sent you down there?” The tone of his voice was seething, but your reply was much calmer than it had been before.

“Yes. They did. But they also saved me Razor, you must remember that.”

It was something he hadn’t considered, and as he pulled away to look you in the face he pondered the implications. What he’d said was true, yes, but what you’d said was also true. They could’ve quite easily left you if they wanted, could’ve left you for dead and said there was nothing to do about it. Certainly some humans would’ve done just that, but they didn’t. Instead they helped you, for days they had dug, and thanks to that you were safe.

“I was wrong.” He said, tone straight, for it was a fact. He was wrong, at least about your people he was wrong.

“There are many evil people out there.” You said, expression pensive. “There are those who kill and rob and lie and think only about themselves. There are those who cannot see the world around them. But you can’t judge all of humanity by that. There are also those who care for every aspect of the world they can, who burden themselves with all the misfortune they see, so much it might break them. Humans are complicated Razor. So yes you were wrong, but I cannot say you were completely so.”

Razor said nothing, absorbing what you’d said. It was hard not think in black and white, something necessary sometimes for survival. But ever since you’d entered his life he wanted to try to understand you, even a little bit. And, especially after today, he’d do anything to make that effort a reality.

For though he understood little of humans and their ways he knew of one thing for sure. And that was the love he carried for you.

 Xiao

Looking back it was such a stupid argument. Of course all arguments seemed idiotic looking back after what happened. But if all arguments were stupid, then surely Xiao couldn’t’ve picked a stupider one to have.

“I wish you’d see me off at the bridge.” You remarked, strapping the last of your equipment into place. You were off to do another commission, something about recording a rare species of lizard and taking photographs of some rare luminous mosses, and once again the topic of goodbyes had come up.

“I’m saying goodbye now aren’t I?” Xiao tone was as brusque as ever, but this time you didn’t brush it off with your usual smile.

“I mean it Xiao.” You said instead, turning to look him straight in the face. “I know you don’t fraternize with people, I know that you consider it a result of the burdens you carry. I know that and I don’t ask you to go and set up shop in Liyue or some such thing. I do ask you though to simply be there when I leave the city. It would mean a lot to me to have you there when I step out into the wilderness, especially when I’m going to be gone for two days. Can’t you do this for me, at least this?” You searched his eyes, expression pleading, but Xiao simply scoffed and turned his head.

“Saying goodbye here should be enough. Besides, there aren’t any people here. Would you really want me to say goodbye surrounded by prying eyes?”

“No one is going to pry.” You pointed out, voice flat with annoyance. “And to answer your question, yes, yes I would like you to be there to say goodbye. I love you dearly Xiao, more than I have ever loved anyone, more than I ever will. But I cannot love you unequally. I don’t ask for much, but I am asking for this. Please say goodbye to me at the bridge.”

But Xiao merely scowled, shaking his head violently. Huffing you turned around, everything set and ready to go.

“Sometimes I don’t know why I put myself through this.” You muttered; stomping your feet ever so slightly, and slamming the door to the room behind you.

 Xiao’s sense of time was usually quite poor. To adepti days were more like minutes, and even months seemed as abundant as grains of sand. One of the things that had most surprised him about starting a relationship with you was how his sense of time was affected by it. The days with you were mere moments, and the days where you were gone dragged on and on, minutes replaced by endless boredom.

This time was no different, instead the feeling was exacerbated. Although the first two days were a blur, made meaningless by Xiao’s irritation over your final conversation, the moment the third day dawned and you were nowhere to be found time ground to a halt, and Xiao no longer became sure of what day it was, sure that a month must’ve passed instead of a few hours. You must’ve been more irritated than he’d thought.

Still the adeptus was full of pride, pride and principles. If you were staying away over something so petty so be it. He’d not be the one going after you, not when he was utterly within his rights. Why should he changed so over the request of a human? No matter how much he loved you a part of him chafed at the idea, and thus he did nothing, instead sulking the days away under the concerned eyes of Verr Goldet.

If he was filled with pride though, there was also anxiety. Day three came and went, then day four, then day five. When day six arrived Xiao’s will seemed to give up, and he spent his hours in a restless sleep, something highly unusual for the adeptus labelled the “Vigilant Yaksha”. It was if you had taken all his strength away, and what remained was nothing but anxiety and his quickly shattering anger. Surely nothing was worth this feeling of being eaten away by poison. Surely.

Night had fallen, and the moon had taken her silent vigil over the land. Xiao knew that he should get up, knew he should go after you. But it was as if he was chained to the mattress. His head was filled with static and he felt as if he were burning up. A headache had come on the moment he’d opened his eyes, and now he found he could do nothing but lay with his thoughts, each becoming darker by the moment.

He recognized the weight of your footsteps as soon as they came into earshot. Bolting up, all fatigue leaving him, he slammed open the door, taking the stairs two at a time until he finally came face to face with you.

If he was expecting something, it certainly wasn’t this. Though there was a smile on your face it was marred by the bandage on your forehead, and by the long gash on your arm.

“What happened?” The words came out in a rasp. “Who did this to you?” The weight had come back, and Xiao swayed slightly, feeling altogether faint, the range of emotions he was experiencing becoming overwhelming.

You pressed your hand to his chest, the other moving to cup his cheek. “No one did this to me.” You said, voice slightly hoarse. “One of the caves I was in collapsed, and I fell and hit my head while running away from the entrance. Thankfully it was nothing serious, and it only took them three days to get me out.”

Three days. The situation seemed torturous. Xiao was a creature of air, the mere idea of being beneath the earth was claustrophobic to him. It was to humans too, that he knew, knew from what he’d heard from Rex Lapis. The idea of you trapped underground, injured and unable to escape, it shook him to his very core.

Taking your hand in his he kissed your palm, silently thanking Rex Lapis and all the other archons for letting you come home. The situation, what you’d gone through, it was all crashing down on him. You were the most precious thing in the world, the one he loved most, the only person he would truly love, in all his years on this earth it would forever be that way. How could he take you for granted? Take your needs for granted?

“I’ll never fight with you again.” He whispered.

“I don’t know about that.” You said, smiling slightly despite it all. “Fights are hardly unheard of after all.”

“I won’t. Not about something so stupid. Not when…” he trained off for a moment, eyes clouding over. “… Anyways I won’t do it.”

“Does that mean you’ll say farewell at the bridge?” You asked, tone hopeful.

“I will.” Xiao promised. “I’ll do anything for you. For you are that which I love the most.” And leaning over to kiss you Xiao made a silent vow that he’d never let you go through anything like that. Never again.

[avaoracle]

Batfam Descriptions pt.1

Bruce "Because I'm Batman" Wayne: Has never moved on from his parents deaths, probably never will, copes by dressing up as a giant bat and pummeling people instead of just going to therapy. Smart as hell when it comes to everything but meaningful communication and how to handle interpersonal relationships, has the emotional bandwidth of a stale loaf of bread. -Is addicted to collecting dark haired orphans/near orphans/probably better off if one or both their parents were dead (lookin at you Talia) Loves all his kids- though he loves Cass most and it's totally obvious.

Dick "You can take the boy out of the circus but you can't take the circus out of the boy" Grayson: A guy who enjoys a pretty casual relationship with gravity for a guy who is technically only human. Pun master, 'third times a charm' older brother- turns out taking out bat daddy frustration on your first bro (largely from being fired from Robin and then replaced), and firing your second bro from Robin and then replacing him (with a demon child that tried to kill him) isn't something siblings appreciate, go figure- He cares though, one of the only bats at least somewhat capable of expressing his feelings with words and actions rather than just repressing them and brooding (Bruce).

Jason "Remember that time I died?" Todd: Angry zombie boy with daddy issues, mommy issues, batdaddy issues and crowbar issues...Really just issues, lots of issues, covers with inappropriate jokes about his own death that make everyone but Roy, Steph and Damien uncomfortable...actually mostly just Dick and Bruce are still bothered by it. Just wants to be loved and accepted for who he is, won't admit it but he still wants Bruce's approval but they're both to stubborn and communication challenged to actually have a productive conversation about their relationship and how to fix it-instead Jason antagonizes Bruce who misses that this is obviously Jason's cry for help/way of getting his attention because he just wants Bruce to love him- and instead somehow always manages to handle it in the worst way possible every single time (like beating him up).

Timothy "More espresso less depresso" Drake: One of the smartest people on the planet when it comes to everything but self care (and realizing his feelings for Kon...Like he tried to clone the guy back to life-that's not friendship love, that's love love). Literally runs on caffeine and spite, probably holds some world record for most shit done on the least amount of sleep. Terrifying badass master manipulator, could totally take over the world if he actually wanted to, probably has more contingency plans than even batman.

Cassandra *Stares directly into your soul* Cain-Wayne: Could beat up every member of the batfamily without even breaking a sweat and they all know it-literally one of the most skilled combatants on the planet. Is more fluent in body language than most people are in their native language. Is probably the only member of the batfam who actually knows how Bruce feels about her, really how he feels about all of them. Totally knows she's Bruce's favorite but isn't a Dick about it (pun fully intended- because before her he was the favorite and he was far less graceful about it)

Damien "You are all imbeciles" Wayne: Started out as a little turd with a massive superiority complex and mommy issues (and granddaddy issues) Is now somewhat less of a turd with worse mommy issues, batdaddy issues and a little less of a superiority complex...I think, he's had some humbling moments in the last few years, my favorite of which was when he started a fight with Jason and Jason kicked his ass into the next century. Still it's not fully his fault he is the way he is, he was raised as an assassin by an immortal lunatic and the world's worst mother (well she might have to arm wrestle Lady Shiva, Sheila Haywood and Shado for that title)

Duke "I'm part of this insanity too" Thomas: Only meta member of the batfam, which is a big deal. Patrols during the day because he's the only one not damaged enough to face sunlight. Probably the most well adjusted member of the family, maybe because he had good parents and didn't loose them until he was older than the others and thus did not spend his formative years with: a.Bruce-Wayne's-C-minus-Parenting, b.on the streets/with Batdad/ getting murdered because of birth mom's betrayal, c. alone in a mansion wayyyy to often by traveling parents/Bruce-Wayne's-D-minus-immediately-post-Jason's-death-parenting/coma-mom/finally-actively-parenting-basically-because-he's-paralyzed-and-his-wife-is-comatose-dad/the assassins trio, d.evil assassin dad who only had you to create the perfect solider and kept you from even learning to speak/Bruce-Wayne's-C-plus-Parenting/assassin mom who wants to kill you for being a better fighter than her, e.Talia, just everything about Talia/ Bruce-Wayne's-D-Plus-Parenting/Dick Grayson doing his best

[donutloverxo]

Nude

Run through - Steve wants to try new things so he takes a painting class with a nude painting subject. Only the woman he has to paint are you, Peppers assistant and his crush.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 2k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

Steve Rogers was many things. He was an artist, an amateur cook (who really does try), a loyal friend, a good citizen, a soldier. Yet when people looked at him, they only ever saw the captain. His friends called him cap. He'd go weeks without hearing his own name. Sometimes he felt the lines were blurred. When did Steve Rogers end and Captain America begin?

He had a big wake up call when he confronted Tony, saying he wasn’t iron man, it was an alter ego. To which Tony said that Steve was basically captain America. And Steve couldn’t argue or disagree, because it was true. He didn’t want to lose himself in his work anymore than he already had. His therapist told him to make healthy boundaries, which is what he’s going to do.

So he ordered some colors and pencils online and got to work on his art, for the first time in a long time. It was exhilarating and freeing. He could lose himself in it, go on for hours without thinking and seeing anything but the colors and his canvas. Which was extremely rare for him. He could rarely ever shut his brain off or run from his traumatic memories.

Everyone could see the visible change in him. How he seemed happier. Clint even joked about it saying

“Cap must be getting some”

To which Steve only snorted. There was no room for anything as complicated as a relationship or sex in his life, not right now.

But wouldn’t it be nice? To have a woman to hold and to paint. To love and care for. He didn’t let himself delve too much into that fantasy. Because even if it was a nice escape once in a while, he knew that while Steve Rogers might make a good partner, Captain America would certainly not. He would never subject any woman to deal with either of them.

With some encouragement from Sam and his old friends he started attending painting classes at his alma mater, the Brooklyn College, every Saturday evening. It helped him make some friends. He didn’t know if he could call them friends. Most of them were too different from him. They seemed like different types of 'tortured artists'

When he heard that there would be a nude subject to paint the next class, he was a little bit hesitant. Such a thing would’ve been scandalous in the 40s. But he was trying to open himself up and that meant pushing his comfort zone, even just a little bit.

When he set up his canvas, oil colors and brushes that Saturday he expected male subject. He didn’t however expect to hear a woman’s voice. He was too focused on his set up to look up, whatever. He didn’t care if it was a man or a woman. There wouldn't be anything erotic about it. This was strictly professional and educational.

He looked up to take a good look at his subject, when he felt as if his soul was knocked out of him. There you stood, his crush, Pepper Potts' assistant, and the woman who turned him down.

“You know back in my day they used to play elevator music” He said to drown out the awkward silence. Even after all this time, he still didn’t know how to talk to women. He had had a crush on you since the moment he laid eyes on you. You were always so funny and sweet. Asking him and everyone about their day, if they were doing well. Always willing to help others.

When he let it slip that he likes banana bread, you baked him a whole loaf of it, which chocolate chips so ‘so you think of me when you have them. They’re my signature of sorts' you had said proudly. Of course he’d be thinking of you when he ate it. Overthinking actually. Wondering If you like him as he likes you, or if you’re just being your sweet self.

“Oh we still have that!” You chirped “but not in um professional or business buildings like these”

He just nodded. Tapping his foot impatiently. You would get off in just six floors it was now or never. “Hey uh – what are you doing this Friday?” he asked shyly.

“Oh just watching some Gordon Ramsay with my dog probably. I have no life” you laughed at your own self depreciating joke “Why?” you tilted your head.

“I was thinking, maybe we could get dinner? Only if you uh – you wanted to, you're free to say no” he promised. Maybe he should’ve asked you to ‘hang out' or 'for a coffee' like most people these days. But he felt that was no way to treat a lady, especially one like you.

“Oh Steve” he was already disappointed upon hearing your tone “I would’ve loved to. But even though we don’t work together, it wouldn’t look good you know? I mean I don’t care much for 'my image'” You said making air quotes “But I don’t, it’ll be complicated” You looked completely defeated. As if it hurt you to say no more than it hurt him to hear it.

“I completely understand” He nodded “no hard feelings” he gave you a smile as he watched you walk away. It did break his heart a bit, but he’d respect your feelings.

He looked at you taking off your satin robe revealing your bare body to the class of twenty or so artists. His breathe hitched. Your hair flowing down your back and covering a bit of your left breast, your soft stomach and thighs, the patch of soft curls at your core, your nipples hard against the chilly air, and how your stomach rolled a bit as you sat uncomfortably on the stool. You were beautiful. A work of art even. There was absolutely no way he could do you justice. He started drawing an outline on his canvas. You would very well be his best subject.

You looked around a bit, your fingers holding onto the stool for dear life so you could stave off the anxiety and feeling of being so exposed. Then your eyes landed on him. You thought you were dreaming, maybe you didn’t see properly, so you did a double take. Then you were frozen on the spot. There he was, Captain Rogers, the first Avenger, the man you often dreamt about, sitting right in front of you while you were naked as the day you were born.

You had no idea what you should do. This was literally like a nightmare come true. If you flee it would look bad, if you didn’t it might look worse. You decided you’d follow his lead. So you peeked a glance at him from the corner of your eyes and saw him, sketching you? Holy shit Steve Rogers was drawing a nude portrait of you. What has your life become?

You had always been insecure about your body. You knew magazines, porn and movies were meant to feed people lies to get them to buy more things. That didn’t make you feel any less bad about not looking anything like the women in them. You tried to remind yourself that you have many things going for you. Like your supporting family, your loving friends, your cute labrador, your amazing job.

Speaking of your job, exactly why you turned Steve freaking Rogers down! A man that looks like him asking you out and you say no. Your friends flat out laughed in your face at your unfortunate predicament, where the cake is right there but you can't eat it. Now that you thought about it, it was funny.

Your co-workers weren’t kind to you. Even on your best day you didn’t look anything like the women you worked with, who would stab you in the back the first chance the get. You were kind to everyone, but you knew by now not to expect the same treatment back. Which was why you had to say no to the beefy blonde. You didn’t want to be branded as the ‘office slut’.

Which now you were sure you would be. You didn’t know Steve enough to know he’d be willing to keep this a secret. He didn’t seem like someone who would do that to you. But you still couldn’t help but think the worst.

You squirmed and shivered in the chair for a good part of the next two hours. By the end your back was sore and you did everything you could to avoid looking at Steve, only sneaking glances here and there, while he seemed too engrossed in his work.

You had done this a couple of times before, to accept your body for what it is and get comfortable with it. If you weren’t going to love it no one would do it for you. Finally the time was up and the artists were asked to pack up for the day.

You quickly got up from your stool putting the robe back on. You turned your back to Steve, stretching your muscles. You couldn’t wait to lay down on your comfy bed and just get out of here. But you knew you needed to have that inevitable conversation. You probably would never be able to look Steve in the eye after this.

You walked towards him as he was cleaning up his work station. “Fancy seeing you here” You cringed at your embarrassing attempt at a British accent.

“Hey there” He gave you a bashful smile scratching the back of his head “I didn’t expect to see you here”

“Right back at ya” you returned his smile, no longer feeling on edge. It was strange how his presence served to comfort you.

“You do this often” he asked casually. You couldn’t really hear any judgement in his tone, not what you would expect from a hundred year old.

“No not really. It just uh – I’m trying to love myself. Which I already do! Of course” you let out a nervous chuckle “just trying new things and stepping out of my comfort zone”

“That makes two of us” he said as he was done packing his bag, which he was deliberately doing at a slow pace. He didn’t want to leave. Not yet.

“Can I... Look at your painting?” You asked nervously. You didn’t know if you wanted to see his interpretation of your naked body, what if it was bad? But what if it was good? What if he was impressed by you...

“Uh it’s not done yet. And frankly I’m not that good”

“I seriously doubt that. I’ve seen the sketches in your office” You caught your slip of tongue. You couldn’t let him know about your borderline unhealthy obsession with him.

“Well, have a look then” he relented showing you his canvas.

You let out a breathe you didn’t even know you were holding at the painting. It was breath-taking. The woman looked like you, but why was she so beautiful and graceful? In the painting she was sitting on a stool, like you, in front of a tree admiring a rose in her hand. She was naked as well. It reminded you of classic Greek paintings where women weren’t perfect, but were celebrated for their imperfections.

“It’s amazing Steve. I – do I look like that?” You stammered not being able to tear your eyes off the painting.

He shook his head at your shock “On the contrary you look much better I’m glad you like it”

“You’re a great artist” you gushed

“I don’t know about that. I’ve seen much better” he said humbly.

You would argue with him. But you knew it would be of no use. Looking at the beautiful woman in the painting gave you the surge of confidence you needed “Steve, does the offer for that dinner still stand?” You straightened your back looking up to lock eyes with him.

“Yes” He blurted without even thinking “how about tomorrow evening?” He asked.

“Yes that will be awesome! You can pick me up at seven. I’ll text you the address“ you said making an mental note to do so.

You could hardly wait for your date. You didn’t really care about what your co-workers would think of you. As long as you were happy their opinions didn’t matter.

Tags will be in the reblog! If you want in on the taglist click the link in the bio or send me an ask!

Please do not steal or repost my works. Reblogs are welcome.

This was actually a request. But I can't fir the life of me find the person who requested it. I hope you see it babes❤

[5uptic]

crewfu fanfic spotlight :)

Smores by Chione_chan (5up & Steve, general rating, gen | 273 words)

Summary: 5up and Steve roast their fans as they roast marshmallows.

arms wrapped tight by spaded_ace (Apollo/Steve, general rating, m/m | 283 words)

Summary: Another short drabble about the cuddling

guitars that gently weep or something like that by 5280ft (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 469 words)

Summary: He wonders what feeling would be like physically. Feeling someone. In specific instances. In circumstances that he can’t generalize, or compartmentalize, or ignore and wait to go away: Apollo wants to feel so badly his hands ache.

5:39 by spaded_ace (Apollo & Steve, general rating, gen | 674 words)

Summary: Musing when you can't sleep, lethargy in the morning

grab hold the darkness we become by headlessline (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 675 words)

Summary: “Are monsters born or created?” Steve, 5up, and vampires.

defining moments by meowcode (5up/Sleepy, Janet/Kimi, teen rating, multi | 704 words, chaptered words)

Summary: working title: heather attempts to write regularly for once in his miserable fucking life

Tantalus by farmersagainstweed (Apollo/Steve, explicit, m/m | 755 words)

Summary: This was, arguably, worse than before. Before tonight he had thought Steve was straight, unobtainable. He hadn't even let him want. But now? Like Tantalus doomed to an eternity with food just out of reach, he could now see all he could ever want. It was so painfully close, he could just feel it on the tips of his fingers. Pinning Apollo gets a night he could only dream of, but it won't last forever.

Cold sheets and menthol by some_spooky_shit_right_there (Apollo/Steve, explicit, m/m | 851 words)

Summary: The sensation is like a brain freeze. It's one which Steve savors. Sometime after the events of things like me and things like you shouldn't mix Steve and Apollo enjoy some alone time.

There's nothing simple when it comes to you and I by BloodSplatter (Apollo/Steve, unrated, m/m | 876 words)

Summary: Steve thinks of how he and Apollo can have something between them, but it doesn't go further than that.

Would like you, to be someone else. by Nifki (Apollo/Steve, general rating, multi | 929 words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Apollo goes to a Summer camp and dislikes Steve while the readers decide what they'll do.

Love Will Tear Us Apart by AllianettemiE5 (Apollo/Steve, unrated, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: He always has been told not to fall in love with anyone who won’t love you back. That statement also included not giving his heart to his best friend.

Breakeven by Chione_chan (5up/Fundy, teen rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: “I think it’s better that we, ya know, move on, see other people…” Fundy says. "I gave you everything and you’re just leaving," 5up wants to say. He also feels the profanities buzzing at the tip of his tongue. It was only recently that he’s felt comfortable cussing freely, less concerned about how others perceived him. He wants to hurl obscenities at Fundy but he knows that he’s better than that. Fundy never did deal well with people yelling at him. It made him easy to manipulate, but not in the way 5up would like. Besides, it’d only make him miserable later knowing that he let his mask slip so far.

what if earth just got tired of spinning? by Anonymous (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: apollo and steve in love at the end of the world

taught you the ropes; taught you to love by homeward_bound (5up/David/Hafu, teen rating, multi | 1k words)

Summary: [5:05am: hafu wakes up and opens twitter, and after.]

oil and water by Qupid (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: Apollo is a puppet on strings, pulled along by a heart that no longer beats.

Apollo's Letter by AllianettemiE5 (Apollo/Steve, mature, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: A letter you found in the hollow of the wall in the cell of Larkhill.

Élet by Nnoitra (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: Steve knows his Soulmate is aware of who he is, the neat first words scrawl is proof enough to him. But who?

Inside Your Head by BoxesWrites (Apollo/Steve, mature, m/m | 1k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: When Apollo meets Steve in Vegas, something changes. Maybe a lot changes. But the weirdest thing seems to be that Apollo can hear Steve speaking when his mouth isn't moving.

sunrise symphony by sweetlikesugr (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.2k words)

Summary: As the first rays of the morning sunshine spill into Steve's bedroom, a memory of a melody fills Apollo's mind.

here's the earliest star by headlessline (5up/David/Hafu, teen rating, multi | 1.2k words)

Summary: And, really… 5up can’t help the way he flops into David’s embrace the second they are close enough to touch. He can’t help the way he buries his face in David’s soft flannel, and he definitely can’t help the deep breath he takes in of floral, woody jasmine. “Hi,” 5up whispers.

Home with you my love~ by RK16 (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1.2k words)

Summary: 5up stresses and Steve calms his worries

we belong in the quietest quiet by headlessline (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1.3k words)

Summary: Steve looks at 5up’s back, his burgundy sweater and whorls of dark hair, and imagines standing up and slow-dancing with him to the hum of Chanel. He wants to slow-dance--to step on toes and awkwardly hover his hand above 5up’s flank--and he wants to touch noses in a platonic kiss, and he wants to lay his head on 5up’s chest, and he wants to stay here forever and make loaf after loaf of cinnamon banana bread, and he wants.

we will grow old as friends (time and hearts will wear us thin by Qupid (Apollo/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1.3k words)

Summary: It’s stupid, Apollo knows it’s stupid as he stares across the hotel room, a whole universe between his and Steve’s beds, and watches the rise and fall of Steve’s chest. Steve is fast asleep, softly snoring in the middle of his bed. His limbs are a mess, thrown everywhere, and his mouth is wide open, drooling all over his pillow.

easy to seduce by Anonymous (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.3k words)

Summary: Where Steve tries to understand his feelings and the universe doesn't let him take a break.

i could do about anything by neptoons (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.4k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: a fic about jealousy, uncertainty, and a little courage — where apollo falls for his best friend, and keeps on falling.

Highschool by Paige_crewfu (unrated, gen | 1.6k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: A collection of Crewfu Oneshots in a highschool AU

The Ghosts of What We Could’ve Had by Anonymous (Apollo/Steve, mature, m/m | 1.7k words)

Summary: It’d been months. Months since Apollo had gotten up the courage to send that first DM. Months since he woke up to a text from his best friend every morning, though it was more recent that he’d started sending them first. Months since he’d given Steve a compliment for the first time, months since he made Steve have a laugh attack for the first time, months since he began to have a reason to live again.

housewarming by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.8k words)

Summary: The thought makes his chest warm, the urge to touch hold feel rearing up, and Steve isn’t one to deny his instincts. He’s a wild animal of a man, he is. He ignores 5up repeatedly asking to be handed cheese in favor of suddenly grabbing him from behind, snaking his arms tightly around his waist and burying his head in 5up’s mess of curls. 5up startles, settles, and then laughs. “What are you doing?”

you would do that for me? by neptoons (Apollo/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1.8k words)

Summary: apollo expresses his love for steve in silly little ways.

gingerbread houses and candy hearts by Anonymous (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2k words)

Summary: “No Steve, we don’t fucking put that in first, why the fuck would you do that-” “Shut up! I know how to fucking bake. Just let me do this, and you can do everything else!” “You said that last time, you moron. You’re decorating, I’m making the gingerbread house, you dumbass!” “But Apollo-” “This is why you can’t work with other people. Let me do something, for fuck’s sake.” “But it would taste better if you did it like I did-” “Nope. Not talking to you. Either you can sit and watch me make the house, or you can actually help out without trying to change everything.” Steve slumped, clearly done with arguing. “Whatever. It’s not my fault if it tastes like shit.”

Knight in Pink Armor by Chione_chan (5up/Fundy, teen rating, m/m | 2k words)

Summary: Fundy gets stood up. Luckily, there’s a cute leafling to rescue his evening. Kinda.

cafés and clichés by waywiser (5up/Fundy, teen rating, m/m | 2k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Fundy scoffs. Surely, this guy with the stupid fuzzy sweater and piercing eyes has come in here specifically to irritate him. He hasn’t even ordered coffee for heaven’s sake. Tea! He wants fucking tea, even though it’s almost one o’clock in the morning.

whole world in his hands by Anonymous (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.1k words)

Summary: “Hey Apollo, I think the worst thing about America is that they allow racists to live. How about you?” Apollo grinded his teeth together, glaring at Steve. “And how, Steve, does this relate to America’s shit economical status? The thing we’re supposed to make a presentation on?” Steve gave Apollo an awfully pretty grin, leaning onto the desk. “Dunno. I’m sure you can work something out. I just think the fact that racists exist is worse than America’s economic status.”

little mysteries by neptoons (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.1k words)

Summary: apollo has a secret, and steve won’t rest until he finds out what it is.

Free Bird by AllianettemiE5 (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.1k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Apollo found himself in need of a new place to live. The opportunity to leave Texas was in front of him, and he chose to follow it. Or, how Apollo discovered his feelings, defined himself, and freed his life from people it was pressured by.

what you fantasize about by homeward_bound (Apollo/Steve, explicit, m/m | 2.1k words)

Summary: [steve has a wet dream about apollo, gets the ride of his life, is sort of jebaited, and realizes he has a humiliation kink, in that order.]

Wolfboy by Anonymous (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.2k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Apollo upgrades to an e-boy by acquiring wolf ears.

picturing me and you (together) by liquorleftovers (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.7k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Steve wakes up incredibly hungover after Hafu's birthday party and finds a picture on his phone of him and Dumbdog kissing. He is left very confused, about a lot of things.

Heat waves by BloodSplatter (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 3.1k words)

Summary: Apollo doesn’t feel well. So he decided to take a week or few off streaming and focus on himself. Week turns into a month, and he doesn't even notice how time flies. Getting out of the burnout is the hardest part, but he's sure that it's possible. Especially when he finds out that his friends were worried about him.

At the end of the world with you by RK16 (5up/Steve, teen rating, gen | 3.2k words)

Summary: 5up finds himself in the middle of a apocalypse then proceeds to find and promptly lose his family.

Inner Workings of Life by amethystvxidwalker (5up/Poki, Apollo/Steve, teen rating, multi | 3.4k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Tales and drabbles of friends and more <3

trusting fears by 5fu (Hafu & 5up, general rating, gen | 3.6k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: If you asked Hafu, soulmates were worthless. It was something she learned early on, as soon as she had gotten the words on her left arm. Words that have haunted her for years. But that didn't matter. She had no need for any of those silly notions of being "complete." What she needed was to get on with her job aboard the Morn as Second in Command. She was set to, along with her Captain and the rest of the crew, welcome the people of the Fable. They claim to have important information urgently needing to be shared but something's off about them. Hafu just couldn't put her finger on it. Especially their Second, an arrogant pink man. Something feels... wrong.

like a wolf howling at the moon by Anonymous (Apollo/Steve, explicit, m/m | 3.6k words, chaptered)

Summary: steve comes to the conclusion that apollo is in love with him. and so, steve decides to do what he does best: completely fuck with apollo's peace of mind. but apollo knows how to play games, and most importantly, he knows how to win them.

Sometimes it is like that by Anonymous (Apollo/Steve, explicit, m/m | 3.7k works, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Just another party at Hafu's and just another night together in their hotel room. But today Dumbdog was especially flirty while drunk. But why should Steve complain.

the lull of your lips by sweetlikesugr (Apollo/Steve, explicit, m/m | 3.7k words)

Summary: “Welcome to Sugar Pine Hotline, where you can find everything your body craves, and then some more. All you’ve got to do is not be afraid to ask, lover boy.” “Uh, is the guy with the extremely soothing voice working tonight?” “I’m sorry sir, you’re going to have to be a bit more specific.” “Ehm, I believe he said he goes by a Rat Boy sometimes? Is that helpful?” “Redirecting you now…”

we lay here for years or for hours (so long we become the flowers) by Qupid (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 3.7k words)

Summary: Steve's words fall from his lips in the form of petals, waiting for him to whisper I love you to the person that holds his heart. Apollo is trapped in a magic slumber and Steve's words would only fall on deaf ears.

Blood and Dogwood Flowers by DeadlyHuggles (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 3.8k words)

Summary: Steve laughed softly at Dumbdog's antics, but the laughter swiftly turned into something much worse. That ever present scratch in his throat grew as he began to cough. He couldn’t stop coughing. His throat hurt so badly, like thorns were digging into them. He felt like something sharp was trying to climb up his throat. He hacked and hacked until at last he hacked up the thing in his mouth into his hands. And then everything stopped. The scratch in his throat was still there, but it was much less severe, merely a tickle than an actual scratch now, and delicately in his palms sat a four petaled, light pink flower with a light green center. Steve felt a bolt of horror go through him as he stared down at the innocent little flower. Hanahaki was a decently rare disease, but often cases of hanahaki were broadcasted and romanticized. There were very few people alive who didn’t know what coughing up flowers meant.

I'll surround you (make you feel sure) by LovelyDayForIt (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 4.4k words)

Summary: The events preceding, during, and subsequent to the Vegas meetup. Follow Steve and Dumbdog through a tale of adoration, panic. Secrets only lead to more secrets, and they can eat up a person inside and out.

My Kinda Love by rosesinwinter (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 5.8k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: 5up as the shy bartender with a pretty voice. Steve as the sarcastic and oblivious runner-from-his-past. Hafu as the meddling best friend. The rest is history.

out of nothing, into more (see the day) by 5280ft (5up/Apollo/Steve, teen rating, multi | 5.8k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: dive out of nothing and into more but i can’t quite tell what i’m hoping for somehow, maybe now, i’ll find the words to say: never thought i’d see the day see the day, the altogether

soften the light that hurts my eyes by homeward_bound (5up/David/Hafu, mature, multi | 8.8k words)

Summary: [hafu has a rough day, 5up has a rough night, david holds them together, and the morning sun casts a gentle warmth over all of them.]

cupid's compendium of extraordinary words by Qupid (5up/Ellum, 5up/Sleepy, 5up/Steve, Apollo/Gumi, Apollo/Steve, Br00d/DK, Koji/Steve, teen rating, multi | 9k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: a series of brief accounts of the word of the day in the only way I know how to express it

lexicon of a simple worm by thebetterwormy (5up/Apollo, 5up/Ellum, 5up/Fundy, Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 10.3k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: a series of little fics based on the word of the day :)

I haven't told you anything yet by some_spooky_shit_right_there (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 11.6k words, chaptered)

Summary: Apollo has always been a great pilot. He never felt more at home than when within the cockpit of his Jaeger. But now, he's been stationed at the Houston base, tiny and empty. His Jaeger comes with him but he doesn't have a copilot anymore. If he's being honest with himself, he isn't really a pilot anymore either.

anthology by sweetlikesugr (5up/Ellum, 5up/Sleepy, 5up/Steve, Apollo/Steve, Koji/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 12k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: anthology [ an-thol-uh-jee ] noun, plural an·thol·o·gies. a collection of selected writings by one author.~ or lav attempts to write a short ficlet based around the word of the day, hopefully every day.

Under the Rose by Hinician (5up/Fundy, unrated, m/m | 14.4k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: 5up, a plant-hybrid witch, encounters an injured Dreamon Hunter lying in his woods. After rehabilitating the Hunter and convincing him that he’s not a Dreamon, 5up thought he’d never see the fox man again. This is in fact not the case.

we should just kiss like real people do by Qupid (Apollo/Steve, mature, m/m | 14.6k words, chaptered)

Summary: Apollo spends his nights walking other people's dreams, but then he moves to LA to live with his good old pal Steve. Suddenly, he is walking Steve's dreams every night, a tourist of his subconscious, and Apollo can't decide if it's the best or the worst thing to ever happen.

The Kind That's Never Done by some_spooky_shit_right_there (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 15k words, chaptered)

Summary: Apollo is fucked. In general, Apollo doesn't really believe in love the way most people talk about it. To Apollo, love isn't some big thing, there's no grand romance that the universe has destined, that's just not how it works. What love is, is having someone that you're happy to be around. When the good parts about someone outweigh the bad parts, when you're content to be around them, that's what love is. And Apollo has lost count of all the good things about Steven Suptic.

loving you is so easy (and I never want to stop) by thebetterwormy (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 17.3k words, chaptered)

Summary: “I didn’t know we had a third roommate,” Steve says, turning the stuffed animal to face him. “Does this mean we can split rent three ways?” (Apollo brings his childhood stuffed dog to his new apartment with Steve. It causes a few... changes.)

Things Like Me And Things Like You Shouldn't Mix by some_spooky_shit_right_there (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, multi | 62.3k words, chaptered)

Summary: Steve startles, just slightly, when he sees the man in his kitchen. And, it's not like Steve checked out the place before signing the lease, because it was cheap and he needed somewhere to stay, so he didn't know if he would have any roommates, but if it's just one, he can deal with it. The guy's about Steve's age, and just as tall, too. Maybe even a touch taller then Steve, but who's keeping track. He looks perfectly normal, which is honestly the most startling thing. His skin is unblemished, and his clothes, while definitely a bit old fashioned, are spotless. His slightly reddish hair is a touch unkempt, but overall he looks like a perfectly normal dude. He doesn't look up when Steve walks in, and he suspects that the guy hasn't even registered that he's there. He's just sitting in one of these creaky old wooden chairs that came with the place. He's looking across the built in table, (and Steve takes a moment to admire it, because he's always found built-ins to add so much character to a house) and he stares blankly at a spot on the opposite wall. Steve decides he should probably just get this out of the way, and moves to address the ghost that's sitting in his new kitchen.

Also!!

spaded_ace’s sex and vienna collection.

5280ft’s modern metamorphoses: a greek collection and world's worst roommates and co. collection.

Nnoitra’s What happened In Vegas collection.

FAQ:

Wait what is this: pretty straight to the point! i’ll regularly share crewfu-related fanfictions to this blog :)

How regularly is “regularly”?: great question! LOL. it depends on the flow of fanfics that get uploaded, which i do not have any control over, but i’m looking forward to do this twice a month. after all, it’s only me doing this and i often run on a tight schedule.

What’s the format like?:

[title of fic with link] by [author of the fic with link] ([main pairing(s)], [fic rating: eg, general rating], [relationship: eg, m/m] | [word count in k], [added prompt to specify if it’s complete or not])

Summary: [summary provided by the author. if it doesn’t have a summary, a “No summary” prompt will be put instead]

(What does WIP mean again?): Work In Progress :)

Why are you doing this?: from the beginning, my blog has hosted conversations about RPF (real people fiction) and crewfu pairings. this has evolved into people sending me updates about certain fics in the crewfu tags every now and then, but i wanna take the next step and just do these things myself. after all, i’m already lurking in the tags often to see the fics that get posted. as someone who is both a writer and a reader, i wanna appreciate fanfic writers and help out other people that want to read fanfic and consume more fandom content!

Will it be AO3 only?: well, ao3 has a very helpful tag system that makes finding fics incredibly easy, as well as allowing people with no accounts to like and comment on fics, so that’s the site i will personally look in for fanworks. but if there are any fics you’ve written or liked in any other platforms, such as wattpad, you can always contact me through my inbox (send an ask or a dm!), and i’ll make sure to include for the next fanfic spotlight :)

Does it mean you won’t reply to fic asks anymore?: yeah, i guess. since i’ll be doing the searching myself it seems counterproductive. but if i ever skip a fic or again, it’s in another platform, or you’ve posted/read the fic a while ago and you want to get more traction on it, hit me up and i’ll take it into consideration!

Will you read every single one of the fics on your list?: oh no. again, i run on a tight schedule, and also i have my own taste when it comes to fics. i won’t be reviewing fics or any of the sort, and my intention extends to simply sharing these fics to this page so people will have easier access to them :) that’s where ao3 tagging becomes SUPER useful!!!

So what’s the criteria for the way you’ll sort out the fics in your list?: word count, going from lowest to highest. in case of fics in other platforms, i guess i’ll put them at the top of the list. i’ll also be looking for fairly recent fics, so let me know if you want any old-ish fic to be included.

I see you talking mostly about 5up/Steve and Steve/Apollo. Can I still send/see other crewfu fics?: why yes absolutely! my goal is to push every fic which heavily features regular crewfu characters - 5uptic and supdog just happen to be very popular pairings. so, to give you a list: core 4 (5up, hafu, dk, steve), apollo, aipha, annie, janet, kimi, ellum, koji… you know the drill. it doesn’t have to be centered on a relationship, or about 5up in specific, etc. my only requirement is that any of the previously mentioned members are a central part of the fic or are HEAVILY featured in it (sorry, minecraft fics with 50+ tags who only mention 5up as an afterthought won’t make the cut :/).

Isn’t shipping Bad™?: well, it’s a little more nuanced than that. i will go out of my way to discourage and shame people who often violate CCs’ boundaries by acting like so and so has a crush on this person, or that this and that are Actually Into Each Other or secretly dating. any sort of tinhat bullshit is a big nono (think larries). but i run on the assumption that people who write rpf understand that what they’re doing is simply write a completely fictional story using real life personalities, and understand the boundaries necessary to do it - aka they’re not tinhats, they understand they can’t assume everything about CCs’ thoughts and personalities, they understand that what they’re writing is strictly fiction, they keep these works only in fandom circles, etc. (but again, it’s only one me doing this, so please be kind if i don’t happen to know that this person is Actually a tinhat or whatever).

show fic: NO. (seriously. i don’t feel comfortable putting my ao3 account out there. please respect my privacy on these trying times <3)

I REALLY don’t care about your rpf/fic talk: fair! i’ll be tagging every single one of these posts as “fanfic spotlight”, so just mute the tag using tumblr settings so you’ll never have to look at these! likewise, you can follow the tag if you want to keep up with it, or search it on my blog to look at the other entries you might have missed.

Hey, my fic is here and I don’t feel comfortable with it being shared over here: no problem! let me know as soon as you can and i’ll take it down <3

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Christmas Specials: Fishcake

CW: Some hint of dehumanization and references to Bahram’s depression/past breakdown at the end, some brief emeto references, but really this is just fluff. Oh, also brief unintentional ableism that Miah calls out.

Introduction | Siren Song | Cries | Here | Not Sure | Draw Blood | Fish | Signs | Stop | Something New | Help | Please Don’t Let Me Drown  | Fish Food | Squeaky Toy | Fading | Fishcake

---

BAHRAM’S NOTES

December 24th, 20XX 11:15 pm Mer in Residence: 71 Days

Miah showed up tonight with a Christmas present for me, and now I feel like a giant dick for not having anything to give her. 

Christmas just isn’t a thing in my family. I mean, I have cousins who go overboard with it, kind of a fitting in thing, but my family never did. Baba does some kind of fast, but for Maman it’s just another day and for me it’s always meant mostly a day where I played video games all day because I didn’t have to be at school or work. 

Oh, I need to call Baba and Maman tomorrow, note to self. She always gets worried about me right around the end of the year, what with how they figured out I was quitting school and everything.

I guess getting a phone call from a hospital leaves a bloody impression.

Anyway, Miah comes in with this big shopping bag in her hand, waving at me all bright and sunny and cheerful. She set the bag down long enough to berate me for - she assumed - having not taken my medicine on time. 

For the record, she was right, but I didn’t tell her that.

Nearly drowning in saltwater made my lungs apparently terribly angry with me, so for the next eight days I’m on a run of antibiotics to handle a lovely case of bacterial pneumonia. Would’ve been far handier to get pneumonia right away, but instead I ended up in Urgent Care yesterday, paying 200 dollars and waiting two hours to see a doctor for less than ten minutes. 

Dr. L says she’ll reimburse me the cost, but still. 

Miah asked me how I was feeling, I said I felt fine, really, and then of course I had an awful coughing fit just to prove myself a wonderful liar. The coughing’s the worst part - every time I really get going, it’s like being underwater all over again. I can feel my lungs fighting to inflate, to take the air in, and I can hear how hard I’m working to get enough air to stop coughing at all. Miah can’t hear it, but she can see it all right, and she looked worried.

I signed, “I’m fine, it’ll stop, the doctor says it will,” and she frowned at me, but let it go, I guess. While she had her face turned away to greet the mer, I opened the pill bottle and dry-swallowed the meds really fast. Sometimes there are benefits to Miah not being able to hear things.

The mer - Kima, I can call him by his name in these notes, the ones only I see - was already at the side of the tank, watching us. He’s perked up a bit lately, since I started giving him live fish on the days Dr. L isn’t around and Miah brought him all these enrichment things. We’re doing what we can, but I know it’s still not enough.

Enough would be figuring out where his bloody family is and getting him back to them, but I just… I can’t even begin to explain, even to myself, the logistical nightmare of hauling a six-foot-long mer back to the ocean and finding someone who would take him back up north where his family likely is in the middle of bloody fucking December.

It’s the right thing to do, yeah.

But it’d just be too hard to pull off, not without losing… my whole taped-together life, yeah? Plus I’m still dealing with trying to figure out who exactly is my real employer at this point - who’s paying Dr. L - and what they want from the mer’s… thing he can do.

Miah glanced over at him and signed, “Don’t worry, I have something for you, too,” and Kima just looked back at her, head cocked to the side. She looked over at me and signed, “It’s a fish-cake.”

I have to admit, it took me a second to even begin to respond. My hands just… hung in mid-air, before finally I asked, “A what?”

“A fishcake. It’s like a fruitcake, but so much worse.” She leaned down to dig around in the big bag and pulled out a box, pausing to add, “I had to wrap it and box it or the car would have smelled horrible for days,” before she picked up and laid the box on my desk, opened it, took out something wrapped in layers of plastic, and unwrapped that, painstakingly slowly.

I glanced over at the mer, who watched with total fascination. Maybe he’d caught the sign for fish, he’s incredibly food-motivated. Which makes sense, of course, probably with his pod he’d spend a lot of his day eating and hunting for more, but

Bahram. Focus.

She was right - as soon as the plastic came off, I could smell it. 

“How can you handle that? Isn’t your sense of smell… really good?” Ah, yes, I am always so proud of myself when I forget a sign for a word I want to say and have to sort of cobble together the spirit of it with other signs.

She looked at me with this sort of dry are you kidding me expression, then signed, “I’m deaf, B, not a superhero,” in a way that made me feel about ten inches tall.

“Sorry. That’s an awful smell, though.”

And it was. I like fish as much as the next man, but this was foul. She grinned at me and picked up the tupperware the fishcake was in using towels to protect her hands from picking the smell up too, I guess, and went over to the ladder up to the platform. Her back was already to me, so I couldn’t ask her the question I had, or tell her not to do that one-handed. Instead, I just sort of��� got up and hovered uselessly while she climbed up without looking back, and then followed her up there.

The platform makes me… nervous, now. I stay closer to the ladder, farther from the water. I hope the mer, that Kima doesn’t think I don’t want to be close to him or something.

Miah took the lid off the tupperware and waited. Soon enough the mer popped up near us, interested in what we were doing on the platform. 

I watched those nasal slits open wide when he smelled the fish. And I watched how his eyes went big and shiny with excitement. Whatever Miah had put in the foul thing, he wanted it.

She dumped it into the water - I didn’t see much, other than a sort of loaf-shape and a sense of texture I never want to think about again - and Kima tore into it. It was the grossest thing I’ve ever seen, and I have actually watched Kima eat raw fish that was living seconds before. I had to look away - and so did Miah, but she was laughing. She can’t hear herself, only feel the vibration in her own throat. Her laughs kind of sound almost honking, choked-off, just totally un-self-conscious noises she’s barely aware of.

I should tell her that I like the way she laughs.

Oh, I absolutely should not do that.

Maybe I should, though.

She grinned at me, still laughing, and signed, “This is disgusting!”

“It is,” I signed back, “And it’s your fault, don’t forget that!”

She was still laughing when Kima looked back up at us, fish bits smeared around his mouth, and she signed, “Merry Christmas, K-I-M-A,” to him. He stared back, signed yes, and then dove back under the water, present utterly devoured, leaving only gross little particles I will probably have to hose off the sides of the tank on cleaning day when the filters can’t quite pick them up.

Miah looked at me, and I just thought, you know, she’s really pretty even under the sun lamps, and nobody is pretty in that light. Then she signed, after this moment of stillness, “I bought you a present, too.”

“Me?” I pointed back at myself, blinking, surprised. “I don’t do Christmas, M, I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “I know. But I still bought a present. Can I show you?”

“Um, sure.” I get nauseous when I’m nervous. For a second, climbing back down the ladder, I thought I’d just get sick all over myself. I was badly designed, my defense mechanism is just to vomit on myself to scare predators away, clearly my body thinks pretty women are dangerous and I have to embarrass myself until they stop looking at me.

Finally, though, we were back at my desk. The smell… lingered. I’ve since burned the candle Miah got me, and the sulfur from the matches and the scent of the candle itself have largely done away with it, but when we got back, it was still powerful. 

She didn’t pull anything out of the bag, instead she just took a small card out of her back pocket and handed it to me. 

I looked down at it. “Alborz?” I realized I’d spoken out loud, looking down, and looked back up quickly so I could repeat it in sign, so she could see. “A-L-B-O-R-Z? A gift card to a restaurant?”

She nodded, quickly, signing so fast I was having trouble keeping up. I guess… was she nervous, too? “It’s food like you grew up with, yes?”

“Yeah, more or less. I mean nothing is better than my mother’s food. But why-”

She reached out and grabbed my arm with one hand to stop me, leaned in so close that the smell of this super subtle perfume she wears was stronger, for a second, than the smell of fish. “B,” She signed, with heavy, slow emphasis, “Think about why I bought you this.”

I just looked at her. I didn’t get it at all, and told her so.

I’m so bloody dense.

She sighed, throwing her hands up in the air with an eye-roll and a smile, and then signed, “When are you taking me there?”

She had to repeat the signs three times before I realized she was asking me on a date.

So anyway, I don’t think I’ll sleep a wink tonight, and also I think I celebrate Christmas now.

Date-mas.

That was an awful joke. I’m leaving it there just to properly shame myself if I ever reread this.

---

@astrobly  @burtlederp   @finder-of-rings   @slaintetowhump   @moose-teeth   @misspelledwitch   @whumpfigure   @whumptywhumpdump   @boxboysandotherwhump   @whumpywhumpwhump   @yet-another-heathen   @fanmanga1357-blog @justabitofwhump  

[allycryz]

Thancred x Nerys x Haurchefant for either Spring Prompt 4 or Spicy Prompt 10

I went with Spicy Prompt 10 (Praise Kink). For some background context the loose timeline right now is

Lakeland Invasion -> Emissary Haurchefant goes in disguise to infiltrate Eulmore as a soldier -> Amh Araeng- -> Thancred and Nerys get back together -> Than and Nerys hook up with Emet ->  Save Eulmore/Haurchefant -> Reunion Sex with Haurche turns into Thancred and Haurche Hooking Up for First Time

This is set after that while they work on the Ladder

Rated E, not for Everyone, Haurchefant gets praised and pampered

"Early tomorrow," says Thancred, wiping a forearm over his brow. His coat is a long abandoned pile on the lumber. "Should be ready to go by then, I think."

"Well ahead of schedule then." Nerys sits on the ground, propping her back against said lumber. They'd made her rest during the morning but she had made up for it during the afternoon. 

Better to have the distraction of work while she processed her earlier conversation with Emet-Selch.

"Come sit." She curls a finger at him. He looks...magnificent in the tight black shirt, his muscled arms shown to advantage. More than one of the laborers gives him an appreciative glance. 

"If I sit, I might not stand." He grins. "Did you see everything Chai-Nuzz had me haul around today?"

"Oh come now, you've had far more taxing days."

"After you and Haurchefant wore me out two days and nights in a row?" His grin grows bigger now and she can't help but return it.

She had imagined of course–what it might be like to have them both. Especially after she and Thancred reconciled. But she hadn't dared hope the two men would fit together as well as they did.

"So what was everything we did up until then? A warmup?"

"Well...Haurchefant is a wellspring of energy. Speaking of..."

The man himself strides towards them, clad in the golden armor bestowed upon him when he became the Crystarium's Emissary. There are appreciative glances for him too, but also double-takes.

There was a fairly recent addition in Eulmore; one of the soldiers who defected from the Crystarium after Vauthry's attack on Lakeland. A tall, black-haired, friendly fellow named Edmont Grey.

The glamour on his features is gone but there were enough similarities between the two handsome profiles. Those who didn't know must wonder if this man is related to the affable soldier. 

"I hoped I might find you together," he says. "Am I allowed to steal you away yet?"

"We were about to discuss that," says Nerys. "Thancred worries he cannot keep up with you, my lord."

Thancred nudges her arm with the toe of his boot. "Don't go spreading lies, sweetheart."

"If anything it should be the reverse. You two have been at work on the ladder all day while I have been spent the past hours in meetings or traveling via Amaro and Aetheryte." Haurchefant steps closer to Thancred, running a hand down the front of the tight black material. "Never fear, where I'm taking you has all the amenities to unwind."

Thancred watches the path of the gauntleted fingers as they stroke over his midriff. "And where is that?" 

"You'll see." Haurchefant turns to Nerys, extending a hand. She takes it and finds herself hauled up, tugged against his chest to receive a soft kiss. "Hello."

"Hello." She slips her arms about his neck, shivering as Thancred presses a hand to her lower back. "You may take us away, my lord. Alphi will tell the others where we have gone."

"Hm?" Haurchefant glances around, till he spots what Nerys had a few moments ago: Alphi trying not to get flustered seeing three of his comrades positioned as they were. He is a good ten yalms away and Haurchefant lifts a hand to wave emphatically. "Hello Alphinaud! I shall be borrowing these two, take care of the others!"

"Right," the youth calls back. Looking pointedly at their faces and not their hands. "Good evening!"

"When I was his age," Haurchefant says to the other two. "It had stopped surprising me when the knights retired to a single bunk, two or three at a time. We squires just made ourselves scarce for the evening."

"He admires you a great deal," says Nerys. "Maybe that's part of it."

"And you. And Thancred, of course."

"Mm, do not try to flatter me. That boy saw me at all my absolute worst and at best thinks of me as a wayward brother." Thancred sighs. "At least he doesnt delight in spilling about my past like Urianger and Alisaie."

"Sweet Urianger is an imp," says Haurchefant. "However, he did help me secure our destination. Please hold on tight."

They do and it is no hardship to embrace thus. Haurchefant wraps them in teleportation magicks, whirling them away from Kholusia…

...and to the colorful wilds of Il Mheg. They stand before a little cottage Nerys recognizes from her hunting ventures. Abandoned, not all that far from Lydha Lran. Or–it had been abandoned but looks freshly cleaned and aired out. 

Haurchefant holds up a hand and opens the door. "The game was that if they did not touch anything, I would give them something fun and sugary."

"And we did not!" A voice giggles above them. Three pixies hover above, watching expectantly. 

"Yes, it look quite well looked after.." He produces a handful of colorful paper straws sealed at both ends. "Tear off whichever end you like and you can eat the treat inside."

"...Haurche," Thancred says, eyes gleaming with mirth. "Are those-"

"We thank you Haurchefant," one of the pixies cooes. "It is too bad you won't play with us to-day…"

"Ah, but another day I should like to. Hide and seek the next time I am here?"

They nod, flying away with a burst of magic. None too soon because Thancred has to duck into the house and explode with laughter. The sound is like a balm to Nerys' heart–it has been too long since he made a sound of pure and utter delight like that. 

"Well," Haurcefant says, grinning. "There must be a reason the Crystarium merchants call it that. The fae love sugar."

"Good gods, Haurchafant," Thancred leans against the small dining table for support. Careful not to muss the place settings though it is a very near thing.

"It was a good idea," Nerys says, stifling her giggle. "It's no tricking them into making your tea but…"

“I prefer honest bribery with pixie sticks rather than elaborate ruses." Haurchefant grips her hand, urging her to take one of the chairs. The ache is getting worse the past few days, the churning of the light in her belly. So she doesn't protest. 

He steps over to a small ice chest and gathers up items for the table--cheese, cold cuts, fruit, a bottle of sweet Kholusian white. Butter to go with the loaf of bread he takes from a cabinet. "I...may have had a bell or two prior to bring things here, after my meetings."

"Look at that." Thancred steps over to him, laying an almost tentative hand on his arm. "You're a good man, Haurche."

Haurchefant beams under the compliment and the touch. Nerys watches the pull between them in silence, the hesitation before Thancred curls a hand in his hair and tugs him down. Kisses him soft and sweet, his murmur barely audible. "Very good."

She knows well the shiver that goes through Haurchefant. Nerys stands, needing a moment of support from the chair before walking over to them. Burying her hands in the soft fabric of Haurchefant's blue cape. "This was lovely of you, finding a private place and preparing this food for us."

"Truly, it is the least I might do." Haurchefant turns his head towards her. "And all I did was cut up some of the offerings."

"Still." Nerys finds the clasp of his cloak and removes the bilious garment. She peers over his shoulder at Thancred who gives her a minute nod. "Its exactly what we needed."

"Perfect." Thancred looks around the small space–the kitchenette, the table, and the largish bed in the corner. They'll have to huddle but that is fine. His gaze returns to Haurche and he smirks a little. "You're perfect."

"I know what you two are doing," Haurchefant says in a sing-song way. He moves his arms to let Thancred remove his cuirass. Sighs when his shoulders are bare and Nerys rubs soothing fingers into his shoulders.

"But it's working," she sing-songs back. "Let us take care of you, please."

"My love…" He turns in the circle of their arms, pressing his palms against her cheeks. His bright eyes bore into her and there is no hiding from him. There never is. "You need care as well I think."

"I do," she admits. "It will make me feel good to do this."

"And with that you have trapped me," he presses his forehead to hers. "As you take care of me, please let our Thancred also take care of you."

Our Thancred. Her heart flutters at that and she kisses him, her gratitude and joy permeating the contact.

Haurchefant's armor disappears piece by piece until he is pressed between them, cloth the only barrier left. Thancred tugs his lips down, dropping praise against his ear. "You're gorgeous in the armor and even better like this. And those hands-"

Those hands slide over Thancred who groans in appreciation. The three of them move in a tangle to the bed. Nerys feels hands on her own hips and chest, though it’s hard to tell at first who is touching what. Only that they're petting her, peeling off her leathers and tugging loosely at her short hair. 

She finds Haurchefant's ear and sucks lightly at the tip. "Do you know how beautiful you look right now? You almost never blush but…"

At that, the faint pink across Haurchefant's cheek grows. He sighs, turning his body to face hers and rubbing her hip. "This is the effect you have on me, beloved."

"Not just her, I hope." Thancred slips his arms about him from behind.

"Not just her. You're an attractive man, Thancred."

"Indecently so." Nerys adds. "He could bat those eyelashes at a king and receive half a kingdom."

"You forget, they called me Thancred of the Silver Tongue when I was a young and wild bard." That same tongue traces Haurchefant's jaw. "I am more than a...what did you say once? Infuriatingly handsome face?"

Nerys grins. "Alright then, please demonstrate how good you are with that silver miracle."

"Verbally or..." He slides his tongue into Haurchefant's mouth, kissing him into a pliant puddle of limbs. They're dazzling together–Thancred half-propped over the other man, hand curled about the knight' cheek. He directs Haurchefant's limbs upward, above his head. "Good boy."

Haurchefant groans. "What wickedness do you have planned for me?"

"No plan, moving as we are inspired to." Thancred presses a hand over his chest, kneading Haurchefant's pectoral through his shirt. "You're so beautiful Haurche, you drive a man wild. Whenever I look at you I think seven hells, how can we mortals be so lucky."

"Ha-I thought you were the pretty one," Haurchefant gasps, hands flexing above his head. "There-keep rubbing right there."

Nerys cannot hold herself back anymore, adding her hand to the ministrations. Slipping it beneath his shirt to cup the other pec, circle the nipple with her thumb. He starts to jerk forward, to reach for her-and then keeps his hands where they are above his head.

"You're so obedient for us," she says, kissing the underside of his jaw. "So good and sweet "

He sighs. "I would do anything for you."

"We know." Her lips travel to the column of his throat. The words fumble a little--Thancred and Haurchefant are good at reciting a litany of praises. She doesn't talk quite as much during.

As if he senses her doubts, Thancred grins at her and picks up where she leaves off. "How lucky we are, to have someone this giving and beautiful in our bed. Will you do us a favor, lovely one? Will you let us suck your cock?"

Haurchefant groans like a man wounded. "Fury, you don't even have to ask-"

"Of course we do." Their hands are quick at Haurchefant's laces, shoving down the supple leather leggings and the smalls all at once. They draw him out: already hard and in need of their succor. 

"You look amazing like this," Nerys says. "So still and good, and needing us to take care of you. And one of the prettiest cocks I've ever seen."

"Agree," says Thancred. "And we've both seen enough to know. Yours is by far one of the best."

Haurchefant groans, disobeying so that he might cover his eyes with a forearm. "You two will destroy me before I even feel your mouths on me."

"Look at us," Nerys begs and he lifts the arm. His lips are parted, his cheeks flushed, his eyes blown wide with desire. "There. I want your eyes on us, and not just because they're exquisite."

Thancred nods his approval at that. "And promise to be vocal, so we know when we're doing a good job."

"You have my vow."

"Good boy." Thancred licks a stripe along one side of the shaft and Nerys the other, meeting in an open mouthed kiss at the head. Haurchefant obliges them with a moan and some very improper Ishgardian curses. "Nerys, suckle him."

She obeys without hesitation, drawing the swollen head into her mouth. A gentle but insistent hand cups the back of her neck, lips brush her cheek and whisper, "Good girl."

Nerys shivers. If she isn't careful, Thancred will have her as overwhelmed as Haurchefant is.

The pressure increases until she takes more of Haurchefant, savoring him with the flat of her tongue even as her jaw aches and he slides further into her throat. She watches as Thancred changes his angle, drawing the heavy sac into his mouth while she bobs up and down the shaft.

Haurchefant gasps, hands once again reaching for them before he returns them above his head. Thancred draws himself up and murmurs something into his ear-too quiet for Nerys to parse but Haurche’s cock twitches in her mouth with each syllable. 

She looks up and can see Haurchefant's eyes shut tight, his breathing growing faster. Nerys takes a shallow breath through her nose and takes him deeper. It is never an easy feat, big as he is, but she wants this for her dear knight. 

Haurchefant gasps, pressing his face into Thancred's shoulder. The words become louder, probably for her benefit.

"Look how she takes you, big boy that you are. That's how much she wants to make you feel good. You deserve to feel good-"

"Thancred," Haurchefant pants. "Nerys, I don’t have much control left-"

"Yes you do. We know you do." Thancred slides back down, tugging Nerys away with gentle hands. Putting his own mouth upon Haurchefant's straining cock.

"There you go," Nerys says, cupping his sack with gentle fingers before subtly increasing the pressure. "Our lovely knight has so much control left."

"Yours," Haurchefant sobs. "Yours, I'm yours-"

"Ours," she hums, lips pressing to the base of his shaft where neither of them can manage to swallow. "Our wonderful, perfect Haurche."

His back arches and she can feel the control shaking through him, the strain to hold back and be good for them. 

Nerys' eyes meet Thancred. He pulls off with a gentle pop and their twined hands replace their mouths, their mouths hover close to the head.

"Come for us," Thancred says, drawing their hands quick over the spit-slicked cock. "We need you."

"Please," says Nerys and it seems to be the last straw for Haurchefant, who comes with a desperate yell. Painting their faces, their open mouths. He babbles through it–declarations of love and need that twine with the other two's fervent praise.

He sags into the mattress, as if it might cocoon him. Tugs at their hair and arms until they rise to meet him with slow, tender kisses. 

"You did so good," she tells him and he smiles.

"So did you. And you, dear Thancred. Silver tongue indeed."

"He's very good with it." Nerys says, curling against her love. And then seeing the mischievous glint in his eye. Uh oh.

"Oh really?" Haurchefant smirks. "I think I need to see it again, on a willing test subject. Do you volunteer?"

Her own need pulses between her legs and she nods. Swallows. "Yes, I think I do."

"Good girl," says Thancred, as he crawls over to her, a leg swinging over her waist. "Shall we?"

[seaswalllow]

okay so letters from l'manberg did Not get posted, but let's run west did so! i'm giving that to y'all instead. pounded out ~2.5k words and this is the result for a songfic competition :P

inspired by west by radical face

link to the ao3 fic in the notes

i.

“You know,” Tommy grouses, “I can't see a thing with my hair all in my eyes.” Tubbo just laughs at him, while Niki hides a gentle smile behind her hands.

Jack rolls upright, and the crown of foxgloves tilts dangerously. There's a very dangerous way to how he’s puffing out a chest, a suggestion of I’m about to enter this argument and win and you’re not going to like it.

Eret has a sixth sense for when this trouble starts brewing, it seems. They scoot backwards, minding the cape slung haphazardly over their shoulder, and bump Niki to do the same, out of the line of fire.

“See, this is why short hair is superior. Your hair’s a sanitary hazard- actually, just a hazard all around.”

“You’re a hazard all around,” Tommy snaps back. He pushes the hair out of his eyes- and grumbles as it flops back in. This time, the titters around the group echo louder. Eret has the grace, at least, to hide their laugh behind their hand.

Tommy rounds on the nearest offender; Niki, as it happens, and backpedals as quickly as he starts when he sees the set to her hip. That’s a straight ticket to one of Niki’s I’m not mad, I’m disappointed, really, you can do better lectures and Tubbo still hasn’t let him live down nearly crying after that lecture. She's terrifying, okay? She’s terrifying, and he’s not ashamed to say that. (He’s told her that exactly once; she had laughed gently as she’d drawn a warm loaf of bread out of the furnace. She hadn’t contradicted him, though. So: no thank you.)

Jack is next in his line of fire.

“What’re you laughing at? ‘least I’ve got hair to impress the ladies with- oh, have you seen Tommy Innit’s hairs? luscious, luscious locks, look, healthier than me!”

“The ladies like my hair,” Jack protests. “Makes him right spiffy, they do say, right spiffy and proper; that Tommy Innit looks like a hooligan who’s just crawled out of the woods. Jack Manifold- now that’s a man of esteem and grace.

“Esteem, grace, oh what lovely qualities,” Tommy parrots back in a voice pitched four tones too high. “They look at you and say oh my, where has his honour gone? He’s got none, just a patchy head of fuzz and glasses that look like they’ve just been dug out of the bin-”

“You take that back- these glasses are top of the line-” Jack’s hauling himself up, and Tommy’s squaring his shoulders, and Tubbo’s laughing hard enough to be doubled over in the grass, despite the gentle shove from Niki and the cautious look from Eret. He’ll get to Tubbo next- it’s not like his hair is much better, kept out of his eyes only by sheer force of will.

They get to about three steps within each other when Wilbur's voice cuts through the argument.

“What's all this, then?” Tubbo's still choking down his laughter, and Jack's sputtering something about high tech, and they’re all really being incredibly useless, so Tommy asserts himself as the loudest. (And most correct. Obviously.)

“Jack Manifold is insulting the honour of my hair,” he proclaims, drawing himself up. Chest out, shoulders back, head high- just like they were taught.

Wilbur must notice this, because he musses Tommy’s hair gently, not a minute later. Or maybe it’s to prove a point, because it falls back over his eyes, to Wilbur's laugh. Traitor.

“There's enough here to make a shag carpet, Tommy. I don't know if he’s wrong.”

Tommy folds his arms, and- okay, he doesn’t pout. He just… lets his face settle into something more disgruntled.

“I've had bigger things on my mind. things like incredibly important-” incredibly important wars, he realizes he was going to say, moments before the words spill out of his mouth. There’s a line of tension in Eret’s shoulders where there wasn’t before.

He clamps his mouth shut.

“I’ve just been busy, and so have you, and you’re the only one who knows how to get our trim decently,” he finishes.

Around Wilbur's eyes, the exhaustion softens.

“C’mon, Tommy.” Wilbur gestures to a nearby chair, dragged out to the shade. “Sit down, we’ll trim it up to something more respectable.”

Tommy squints at him. He's not sure if the effect comes across the same way, obscured as it is. Which- may be proving Wilbur’s point. Damn it.

Begrudgingly, he slinks over to the chair of shame, letting his steps fall a bit heavier. Niki pats his knee gently, while Eret calls over to Wilbur. “You might need to do Tubbo’s next. goat boy’s going to start bumping into things.”

“I’ll just go around the circle,'' Wilbur laughs. “We all need a little trim and care.”

Reaching up to poke at the curls hanging around Wilbur's face, Tommy arches an eyebrow. “Are you planning to cut your own hair?”

Wilbur waves a hand, before he takes up his position behind Tommy. His fingers are gentle as he sorts through the long mess, a soft snick echoing as he starts cutting away at it.

It's a familiar sound, and Tommy lets himself relax as Wilbur continues combing through the tangles.

“It’s not the first time I would've done that. I can take care of myself too.”

“Doubtful,” Tommy huffs at the same time as Eret murmurs. “That's what they all say, don’t they?”

Wilbur pauses in his actions. Tommy darts a peek at Eret underneath his hair. Niki and Tubbo, engrossed in their debate with Jack, aren’t paying too much attention, but niki sends a fleeting, if concerned look, their way.

They’re technically not wrong. Wilbur can roll his shoulders back and step with military, practiced precision, and it won’t hide the bruises under his eyes that grow by day.

It won’t hide the ever-lengthening shadows on his face, the ink-stains on his fingers that never seem to wash out.

But if Wilbur says not to worry about it- well. There's already a lot on their plate. He knows what he’s doing.

(Right?)

(Right.)

So Tommy squares his shoulders and grins at Eret. “He's a disaster, isn’t he?”

Eret hardly smiles at that. Niki, Jack, Tubbo- they’re all listening now. Tubbo meets his eyes, and sits up fully, rolling his eyes. Silently, Tommy thanks prime.

“There’s a saying about glass houses,” he begins, and Tommy splutters, retracting any and all thanks.

“Oh, don’t you go pulling out the wise shit on me now- I’ll have you know I’m the best around here at-”

“At raising the disaster rates? Yes, yes you are.”

“You’re lucky I'm stuck on this chair,” Tommy points threateningly at Tubbo. “when I’m off of it-”

Tubbo simply pulls out a sword with the same shit-eating grin. “You’ll give me the beating stick?”

“You’ll wish you had the beating stick.” With that lovely parting line, he sticks out his tongue, only to immediately hiss and spit into the grass to the side. Jack cackles.

“Shouldn’t have opened your mouth while your bird’s nest was getting cut!”

“Oh, you-” Wilbur clamps a hand on Tommy's shoulder. He stills immediately.

“Stop wriggling. Your hair doesn’t need to get any worse.”

Tommy narrows his eyes in Wilbur's general direction, but he does settle down. The tension’s dissipated- somewhat, at least. They should be okay.

(Later, he’ll look back. He’ll wonder what Eret saw before them; he’ll wonder if it was the sleepless nights, or the way that Wilbur shies away from a blade outside of dinners and nights reserved for haircuts. He'll wonder if it’s the ashes of letters that pile, and pile.

He’ll wonder if that’s what scared Eret away, and goaded him into lacing the very ground that they had rolled in a play fight on just days earlier.

When he hears it was never meant to be, he’ll wonder if it was a threat. Later, he’ll understand it was the writing littered on crumbling walls. But for now, they sit, and they laugh, on the home that they built.)

ii.

There is, quite simply put, too much happening.

Tubbo sits to his side, kicking his feet over the ledge; Tommy’s insisted they both sit by a railing to hold onto, one of the few that they’ve diverted Wilbur's attention from.

Below them, the ravine buzzes.

Techno is not in the farm- hasn’t been for a bit, in fact. This is the first they’ve seen him around Pogtopia in days.

He's facing Wilbur, in the far corner. Tommy doesn’t take his eyes off of him, while Tubbo nudges him, attention elsewhere.

“Fundy’s arguing with Quackity in the corner,” he mutters. “Think they know something about the Schlatt situation?”

Tommy spares the two a quick look. Fundy's ears are pinned flat against his head; quackity’s eyes are obscured by his sunglasses, but even his printed smile seems strained.

“Could be worth checking out,” Tubbo presses.

“I’m more worried about whatever those two have going on in the corner,” Tommy says tersely. “Wilbur’s not in his right fucking mind as is- and Techno’s not good fucking company.”

“nobody here is,” Tubbo replies, and doesn’t elaborate.

Which is. just fucking great, honestly. Everybody here is either stressed out of their mind, scared out of their mind, or both. This is fine. This is fine.

He forces out a noisy breath that does nothing to calm his racing heart.

“It won’t matter in a few hours,” Tubbo finally adds. “The waiting’s the worst part.”

Tommy forces the image of Tubbo staring down the crossbow, waiting, out of his head, and folds his arms.

“It’s the aftermath that sucks the most, innit?”

“Not really. By then, it’s happened. You can’t change it. There’s no what-ifs. You just move forward. You can’t move while you’re waiting.”

Can they stop with the fucking metaphors?

He works his jaw free from where he’s clenched it tight enough to crack a tooth.

“Think Schlatt’s going to pussy out of it?”

“No.”

Of course it can’t be that easy.

Tubbo leans back, mindful of the bandages winding up his arms. He keeps an ear tilted towards Tommy.

“It depends on how much we corner him,” he amends.

“If he can run to preserve himself? He will. If it’s a last stand? He’ll take us down with him.”

Plant his feet and lower his head for the charge. Great. Just what they fucking need, with Wilbur ready to plant the button, and a trigger-happy anarchist.

Is this how Wilbur felt? ready to scream ‘til his voice cracked, as it kept piling? Tubbo, as schlatt got louder and angrier?

He hates it, honestly.

“Great. So we don’t give him a chance to do either.”

“Easier said than done.” There’s a thoughtfulness to Tubbo’s voice. “Doable, though. The night of- you didn’t see him. If Wilbur’s a mess… Schlatt’s not better.”

Tommy cuts a sideways look. Tubbo's still staring down, not a single emotion escaping the neutrality he’s plastered across his expression.

They’ve all gotten rather good at their masks. Some more than others.

“Hardly coherent. Passed out on the speech he was writing.”

Making a face, Tommy scoots back to fold his legs upon the ledge as well.

“That place sounded like it reeked. It lingered on you for ages.”

“You get used to it,” Tubbo replies. “You get used to a lot of things.”

Down below, someone’s raised their voice. Judging by the stuttering speech- they both swing to look as Wilbur’s voice bounces off of the walls.

A summons, then.

“Time already?”

“Techno said he had something to show us, before… before.”

Tubbo’s expression doesn’t change. Tommy doesn’t need it to, as he watches Tubbo’s ears carefully press against his head before forcibly relaxing again.

He makes sure he steps first into the vault.

Takes the first step towards Schlatt.

(it still doesn’t matter in the end.

it was never meant to be, a sovereign once said.

Tommy’s beginning to think it was an apology.)

iii.

“You know,” Tubbo says. “This would be L'manberg's last life.” He laughs a little as he says this; Tommy can't bring himself to laugh with him, the words sour on his tongue.

They've always held themselves differently.

Tubbo laughs even as he aches, shrugs it off while he bleeds.

Tommy rages, and he rages loudly. He grieves- though he grieves quieter, holds on to his hurt tight enough to bleed.

They have that in common, he guesses.

“You sound like you're already burying it,” he settles on. Tubbo slants a sideways look at him. The fringe of hair curling around his face isn't obscuring his eyes yet; Tommy catches every sharp thought flicking through Tubbo's eyes, and a few that he doesn't know how to read yet.

(This concept of unfamiliarity sits awkwardly in his hands; he's not sure how to hold its weight, so he sets it aside. He can't help but pick at the splinters that it leaves behind.)

“I'm preparing to,” he says simply. He doesn't have to say why. The angel's shadow hangs heavy on their doorstep. So efficient. So practiced. The memory of building their country's coffin lies engraved in their muscles. They sing its funeral hymn in their sleep.

“You're killing it before it's had a chance.”

Tubbo doesn't answer.

A whetstone passes over the sword glittering in his lap once, then twice more. Tommy turns back towards the grid hanging over them.

“Like Schlatt? Or like Wilbur?” Tommy flinches, unexpectedness slamming bodily into shame, a full-body reaction that unbalances him from where he's kicking his feet over the dock's edge; he pulls himself back.

Out of neglect, or out of fear? Do you think it’s because I never understood what L'manberg stood for to us, not like you did? Or because I was too afraid to hope, and look what that did to us, Tubbo doesn't say- or maybe Tommy's just filling in the blanks with fear and a memory of two exiles.

Maybe Tubbo really does just sound tired. Maybe they're all just tired. He swallows hard, and this time reaches out first, to bump Tubbo on the shoulder.

He forces out a breath, and forces them out of his head.

“You were better than either of those two bastards ever were.” Tubbo only raises an eyebrow at him.

He doesn't argue, though, and so they sit. Axe at Tommy's side, sword in Tubbo's hands.

At midnight, the angel's- the blood god's- the smiling god's- hounds bay, a resounding death knell. At midnight, the angel's wings darken their skies.

“It’s not- it’s not dawn,” Tommy shouts to empty air. Around them, the streets murmur, crescendoing to a wail as a wither, then another, then another barrels through their streets. “It’s too early! This isn’t fair!”

It’s too early.

They hadn’t said good-bye.

“This is war, Tommy,” the skies tell him. (At least they graced him with a reply, the tone suggests.) “War isn’t fair.”

None of this is fair. None of it was meant to be, none of it will be.

At dawn, the sun finds them at the bottom of L'manberg's grave.

(What do you do with a country taking its last breath?

You bury it where it can’t hurt.)

[thotsforvillainrights]

if requests are open and you haven’t done smth like this before, how do you think the Hassaikai would handle an S/O with a cat mutant quirk? like, in addition to the ears and tail, they’re super flexible, squishy palms + sharp claws, rubs their cheeks on things, does the loaf position, gets distracted by fast moving objects, pupils dilate when they’re Silly(tm), makes the :3 face, you know what i’m talking about

~Shie Hassaikai S/O Cat Quirk~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

-Overhaul: He’s probably going to wanna get rid of it to begin with. Like he really can’t see himself with anyone that has a quirk. Falling in love with you was the exception. I mean, he’s already outside of his comfort zone. He’s gotten to the point where he wants to touch you but his hives pops up because he’s irritated and unhappy with your quirk. He secretly thinks it’s very cute, but still an abomination in his eyes. He won’t force the serum on you, but he’ll annoy you until you take it. On the off chance that he actually lets you keep it then it won’t be for too long. You have about a month or 2 to make him fall for it, then maybe he’ll let you have the quirk. But you’ve only got a 4% chance at success for that.

-Chrono: Fuck you’re adorable. I mean really cute and he hates that you make him blush so easily. Like it must be a super power at this point. Hari is always secretly taking pics of you and setting them as his wallpaper to his phone. Hari also has a newer car so he sets them as the screen wallpaper in his car too. Plus he’s rather taken with the way you have cat characteristics and mannerisms too. He’s also talking about how you’re the cutest girl/boy/person in the entire world. He really brags about you like a LOT.

-Nemoto: He treats you like a gentleman should, and that doesn’t change. He’s a little more protective of you since you have an appearance altering quirk and he doesn’t want anyone to be rude to you about it. Like you may be cute to a lot of people but there are still awful people out there that think you might look weird as hell. Sometimes when you nap, Shin pokes and prods at your palms while mummering something about soft bean toes. He’s pretty soft with you. 10/10 husband material.

-Deidoro: Literally a bully when it comes to you, but don’t take it personally. He doesn’t hate you. It’s actually quite the opposite when it comes to you. I think he has a hard time telling you that he thinks you’re literally the most perfect person he’s ever met. Therefore it comes out in garbled messes when drunk, and teasing tones when sober. “Hey mittens, got you a bell to go around your neck.” Sometimes you ask him for a drink and he comes back with a bowl of milk. Other times He busts out the laser light just to see if you chase it. He may seem to give you a hard time, but he’d be nothing without you. As soon as he finds out the right way to tell you this, he’ll say it one day. Until then, just endure his teasing lol

-Mimic: No good with relationships, and even worse when they involve quirks like these, but Joi tries his best to make you happy. He’s the type to buy you a lot of cat related stuff in the hopes that it would make you happy. He has to admit you can be a handful sometimes so he kinda keeps an eye on you. He knows the danger comes from you at night time. This is when he learns the hard way when he rocks his legs under the cover. The sudden movement makes your pupils blow and you do a wiggle butt before a pounce, sinking your claws and teeth into the blanket and pushing through the fabric to his legs. That’s when he realized he’s dealing with a wild one 

-Pops: This is no issue to him. He’s taken care of so many stray cats in his young days. He treats you as such, but also doesn’t forget that you’re human as well. Pops is very soft and gentle with you. There are many times when he’s sitting on the back by the koi pond, gently petting you and stroking your tail. Sometimes he gives you a little scratch behind the ear because he knows you like it. Other times he might let you rub your cheek against his hand as you two relax well into the night and watch the moonlight together. 

-Setsuno: Oh my God he swears he’ll never fall in love again and that he should just break things off with you before they get too complicated. Then he sees you in bread-loaf position with your eyes closed happily as you purr, and he realized you have his entire damn heart in your hands (or paws). God his problem is that he falls in love too fast. He’s so whipped for people and super easy to manipulate and exploit. He keeps waiting on the hurt to come, but it never does. You continue to love him and treat him right, returning all the love that he gives to you back unto him. You are his whole world at this point (cat quirk or not) and he’s most definitely determined to marry your ass someday.

-Tabe: He’s not familiar with love the way you give it to him, but he’s willing to learn and try for you. Tabe is a pretty good partner actually, and he seems to get better along the way. He’s learning not just about your personality but your quirk as well, and how it may affect the relationship (or your life). He takes part in cat-like activities with you as well! That’s everything from petting the special spot behind your ears to wiggling a string toy so you can play with the ends of it. He secretly hopes you can eat cat food/treats along with normal human food too. It’ll be his excuse to try that without seeming weird.

-Hojo: For some odd reason he goes into full body-guard mode when it comes to you. It’s mainly because of your quirk that he becomes more protective over you than ever. He knows you might get distracted too easily and dart out in front of a car or something. Also what if someone tries to easily take advantage of you in a dark alleyway because they use a laser light to lead you there? He’s always worried about the worst things while you’re just vibing and sharpening your claws on the couch (which he told you not to do like a million times...uh oh...here he comes with the spray bottle and rolled up newspaper!!!). Although Hojo is protective, he still tries to calm down and give you space to survive as an adult without him hovering. 

-Katsukame: Flexible you say? Oh yeah, he’s bring that to the bedroom for sure. Anyway, aside from that he thinks you are the cutest little thing to exist (and yes you’re little because there’s no way you can add up to his height/size/weight. I mean, how could you not be cute with a quirk like that? You can get anything you want with that damn :3 face alone! Katsukame doesn’t admit to spoiling you but he does, believe me. Aside form treating you like a little baby, he takes advantage of that flexibility in the bedroom ;)

-Tengai: Very respectful regardless of your quirk or not. He loves you and wants to hold you to a certain level of respect that he thinks you deserve. He tries not to bring up your quirk a lot because he doesn’t want to run the mistake of hurting your feelings .Of course you don’t care about any of that! You’re currently too busy sniffing the lock box where Tengai hides all the catnip. Anyway, he really loves you and acknowledges your quirk while being respectful and loving of it at the same time!

-Rappa: First of all you get bombarded with cat related nicknames both inside and outside of the bedroom. On top of that, he’s going to wear that flexibility out and probably add a few new poses to the list. Besides all that, he loves you AND your quirk so he’s no doubt adamant on beating the brakes off ANYBODY that dare disrespect you or your quirk. He really is a sweetheart even though it may be hard to see under that brutish himbo energy. 

»—————————–———————————————————–✄

TIp Jar: https://cash.app/$YuTakeyama

[heart-eye-harrington]

the last midnight ~ chapter one

Summary: Every aspect of Prince Steve’s life is mapped out with one objective in mind: become king when the time comes. With the help of a friend, he escapes for a taste of freedom for a day. As he explores the village, he sees the baker’s daughter telling stories to the village children and is enchanted.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: none I can think of, brief mention of death but nothing more than a line.

Author’s Note: Hi! I am so excited to start this series! I hope you’re doing well! ♡

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★

The kingdom was something out of a handcrafted storybook. Every color was vibrant, as if hand-picked from a painter’s pot. If you squinted, you could see brush strokes in the setting sun and in the blooming flowers. The ink traced castle stood strong set upon the watercolor village. 

As with any art, what you see is up for interpretation. 

For the King and Queen, it was a fantasy. They lived in a beautiful palace filled with only the most beautiful objects. Everything had to be perfect, as anything less than was not up to standard. Of course, the funding had to come from somewhere, so they heavily taxed the village. 

Their desire for perfection was even realized in their child. They had a son, a future king. They made sure to instill that idea into him from the moment he was born. They picked an excellent name for him, one fit for a future king. Prince Steve he was called, a name which meant crown and victorious. He was destined for a life of power and perfection, and the King and Queen made sure his potential was realized in the mold they created for his life. Anything that didn’t fit into this mold was not allowed. If it wouldn’t make him a great king, his time wouldn’t be wasted on it. Perfection or nothing.

The village saw their kingdom in a different light. They saw beauty as well, but in different ways. Because of the high taxes, value was placed on people rather than objects. Houses and clothes were plain, but they didn’t need to be anything but.

Your family’s bakery was the beating heart of the town. Leisure spending was nearly impossible, so the townspeople often splurged on baked goods. The small store was never empty, wandering eyes and feet carrying rumbling bellies always lingered. People would come in to get their bread, but they stayed for you and your pastries. 

It was no surprise that the secret ingredient in everything you made was love. The bakery was warm, not only because of the hot ovens but also your friendly smile. You knew how lucky you were to wake up with a full belly while so many customers came in with pleading eyes. You made your prices as low as you could under the tax, but when even that wasn’t enough, you tried to offer something else. 

It all started when a mother and child came into the store. You greeted them with a smile, which they returned. After a few minutes, you look up from your work station to see the mother counting her coins. With keen eyes, you’re able to see she only has enough for a loaf of bread and milk. Her sad eyes travel to her daughter sat before a glass case, not the only thing between her and the blueberry scones. Your heart breaks at the scene before you. Something stirs inside, guilt maybe, but there is nothing anyone can do to change the village’s financial situation. Not you, not the mother, no one besides the King and Queen. But there is something else you can give the child.

“Have you heard of the princess and the pea?” You learn over the counter, getting more to her eye level. The girl’s attention leaves the case in front of her and is pulled to your story. With a simple shake of her head and a curious smile, you begin to weave the tale of a poor girl who had nothing and her strange sleeping arrangement. The little girl was enchanted, the mother grateful for a distraction from the expensive sweet. Before the young girl knew it, her mother had bought her bread and the story was finished. All were left with smiling faces.

Word of your good deed spread to all the parents of the village. They all started bringing their children with them to the bakery to escape to the fantastical worlds in the stories you created, giving their kids a sense of wonder and excitement to distract from the pricey sweets when pockets were light. Your stories became so popular you began to tell them in the town square, sitting on the ledge of the fountain, drawing large crowds of children. You were lovingly dubbed “Fairy Godmother in Training”.

⋆★⋆

Dawn’s soft golden light washes over the vastness of Steve’s room. On most days he would still be sleeping away, dreading the moment a maid would come in a throw open the curtains, but not today. He was currently pacing his grand bedroom, waiting. Just before his patience wore too thin, a secret knock comes to his door. He cracks it just enough to see the familiar smirk on his visitor’s hidden face. Once he ushers them inside, they remove their hood. 

“You sure you want to do this Steve?” her question to the prince was the last reassurance she needed to go through with the crazy plan they had concocted. If anything were to go wrong, the King would have her head, but they both knew the consequences.

“There’s no one else I trust more than you, Robin.” Steve’s words are sincere. The two had grown up together within the castle’s walls. When the head of the royal guard’s wife passed away, he and his daughter were permitted to live in the castle. Steve and Robin became fast friends, finding their way in the royal world together. Robin became her father’s apprentice, and Steve his father’s. The shared many of the same hardships, which was the common glue that connected them so well. The one exception was that Robin could leave the castle walls whenever she pleased, while Steve never had, until today. 

Robin shrugged the ragged disguise onto Steve’s freshly made bed. She made sure to bring hooded cloaks for them both, no need to bring any unnecessary attention to Steve or the sword she wielded in case she needed to step in to protect him. Her hand instinctively rested on its hilt as she watched Steve tug the billowy white shirt over his head. Once he secures the cloak’s clasp around his neck, he gives Robin a little spin.

“So”- he lifts the hood, chuckling - “how do I look? Just like any other towns-person?” Robin tries to bite away her smile. 

“Yeah, you’ll blend in just fine. Now come on, your parents are going to be back from their visit at sundown. I want to give you as much time outside as possible, which I can’t do if you’re gonna twirl around all day.” 

Steve groans at her reminder for the reason for his parents’ absence. They were off visiting a neighboring kingdom to marry him off, trying to woo any princess with a heartbeat, not taking his dreams and goals into account at all. After being treated this way his entire life you’d think he’d be used to it, but he never was. It always left a sour taste in his mouth. 

Robin was quick to lead him out of the palace through the old servant’s tunnels. They had long forgotten, abandoned, but were once the only way servants could move about the castle. Robin and Steve had discovered them one day when playing hide and seek. 

Once outside, the began their walk to the village, which was made more bearable with the rising sun tinting the sky warm oranges and golden yellows. Despite going over the plan a million times, Robin still found herself comforting Steve’s fears and answering his questions. 

“What if we see a dragon?”

“Steve, we aren’t going to see a dragon.”

“But, what if we do? That’s not in our plan.” He had a smug look on his face, knowing he a popped a hole in her airtight plan. Robin brings pinched fingers to rest between her furrowing brows, eyes screwed shut in annoyance. 

“Okay, fine. If we see a dragon, we seek shelter. I know a cave not far from the village. If worse comes to worst, you have your sword and I have mine. We fight our way out. How’s that sound?” She tilts her head his direction, eyebrows raised, expecting another smart-ass response. 

“Fair enough. I do like showing off my sword skills.” He takes it from its sheath, flipping it around once before taking a playful stance, inviting her to do the same. She scoffs, and just as her hand reaches for her weapon, she scans her opponent and realizes something. His shoulders are more tense than usual and breathing a bit more shallow. 

He’s nervous.

Of course! She feels like an idiot for not seeing it sooner. Steve has never been out of the castle walls and with each step is getting further away. He’s out of his comfort zone, and maybe he’s stalling or trying to play fight to distract his nerves. She needs to reassure him that everything will be fine. 

“While you do know your way around a sword,” -she bows, gesturing to herself grandly -” you’re welcome, I don’t think you’ll need it. The village is quite calm and peaceful. People go about their lives and have no need for fighting. And, we won’t see any dragons.” She gives him a reassuring pat on the back. The corner of Steve’s lips tugs up as he puts away his weapon. “Alright, lead the way o wise leader”

When the grassy meadows begin to meld with cobblestone, the pair use the transition as a signal to lift their hoods. Robin’s head peaks out more than Steve’s, as the penalty for her being recognized is significantly less than the prince’s. Plus, having two mysterious hooded strangers walking around would probably draw suspicion. 

The sleepy village is slowly waking, stretching its tired limbs before starting the day. The cobblestone streets slowing start to fill with groggy shoppers. After a few apprehensive moments and brushing of shoulders, Steve allows himself to relax and take in the sights.

People smile at one another, asking about their family’s well being and the weather. Shudders open to reveal storefronts and attendants fixing their window displays. Florists arrange their fresh flowers, shoemakers polish buckles, the barber dusts off his chairs, and seamstresses smooth out any creases in the selected dresses. This is the first time Steve has seen the people he has the honor of calling his subjects, and it fills him with an overwhelming sense of pride. They are nice people, and he hopes he’s worthy of his title. 

The closer Steve and Robin get to the town square, the louder it gets, and the more their interest is peaked. Children are squealing and giggling, sitting down in front of the water fountain. They seem to be under a spell, obviously enchanted by something. As the pair gets closer, they see they’re enchanted by someone, and quickly fall under the spell too. They settle into the back of the small crowd and watch, mesmerized. 

“The prince clutches the damsel close to him as they run from the tower, shielding her from any danger” you’re crouched down, hand-gestures low to lure your audience in. “They bob up and down to avoid the traps the prince discovered on his way in to rescue her. They turn the corner only to find—” you jump to your feet and up to the ledge of the fountain, loose flour remaining from this morning’s baking floating into the air from your apron like pixie dust. Raising strong arms to your sides, you flap them like mighty wings. —“a mighty dragon flys into the air, determined to keep the princess in her tower.”

Steve chuckles under his breath, nudging Robin. “See, told you there might be a dragon.” All she can do is shake her head and turn back to see you shrink down, softening your body along with your words. This was your favorite part. 

“Before fear grips the prince, the princess holds his hand. In that moment, he knows she’s his true love, and that he would fight any creature to keep her safe, for the touch of a hand cannot be altered by magic. No magic spell can mask or mimic the way a person’s hand makes you feel.” 

The girls swoon. while the boys raise their arms. Imaginary weapons gripped tight, they begin to fight with one another, pretending to be princes and dragons. The girls squeal, either running away from the chaos, or rushing in to join the boys in battle. Either way, it’s obvious that you’ve lost your audience, ending your daily story for the day. Jumping down from the fountain’s ledge, you wipe the sweat from your brow. You scan the crowd for any little lingering eyes still interested in your story, but find a new set of eyes you’ve never seen before. 

The world stills for a moment. No loud children, no negotiations from merchants, not even chirps from birds can be heard. It’s just you and the beautiful mysterious stranger. Small beams of sunlight break through the shadow cast by his hood. You’re able to make out the freckles that speckle his neck and climb to his cheek. His eyes are a bit harder to read. The light can’t seem to catch them as much, but when it does you feel weak to your knees. They’re curious, excited, but also anxious. Before you can try to read more, find more of the clues he was dropping, you’re called back to the bakery. 

“Robin? Who was that?” Steve’s voice is hushed, not from the worry of being exposed, but wonder. His words pull Robin from her own daze, as he seems to fall deeper into his. 

“I’ve never caught her real name, but I’ve heard the kids call her a fairy godmother in training,” a cheerful smile reaches her eyes, watching Steve scan the square for the mystery girl. She’s able to catch you making your way to the glade, a large bucket in each hand. 

“Hey, prince charming, twelve o’clock. I think our storyteller may need some help. Why don’t you catch up with her, and I’ll get us something to eat from the tavern.” Steve’s brows knit together, not really following. This wasn’t in the plan.

“Are you sure?” 

“Not really, but I trust her. If anything happens I won’t be far away. Now hurry before I change my mind.” Steve nods, wide eyes shining with joy. Robin gives him a final nod of approval and he’s off, practically skipping down the street. She let a laugh fall as he disappeared around the corner of a store. 

You huff, frustrated with the prospect of the long walk ahead of you. Someone from the palace would be arriving in the morning for the King’s order. They always insisted on using “the most perfect water”, which meant a long walk to the waterfall. It wasn’t all that bad, the birds sang their serenade through the tall trees. You’re so distracted by their song you don’t realize someone is following you until they call out to you. 

“Excuse me? Would you like some help?” The voice, though unfamiliar, is soothing. You turn around and are met by your mystery stranger, but this time, his hood is down. You’re surprised it was able to conceal his mop of wavy hair. His face was kind, as were his eyes. The strangest sense of security fills your chest. The heat makes its way to your cheeks, and you duck your head in an attempt to hide it. 

“Thank you” you accept his offer timidly, extending one of the buckets to him.  He takes it with a shy grin, and the two of you continue on your journey. There’s a comfortable silence for a few moments as you steal looks at one another. Light breaks through the tree canopy, occasionally catching the most beautiful light on his and your features. You have the strangest sense that you’ve seen him before but quite can’t place your finger on it. 

“Do you often find yourself alone this deep in the forest?” his question seems to come from a place of concern, nothing malicious within miles of his thought. You laugh a bit,

“I’m not alone, I’m with you, Mr.?” you stop for a second, realizing you never asked the nice young man his name. It’s his turn to laugh

“You don’t know who I am?” you look at him with a puzzled expression. Fumbling for his words, still not believing this is true, that he’s able to get away from the castle without the worry of being caught, he answers, “I’m Steve”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Steve. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before, where do you live?”

“At the palace.” He stumbles again, not wanting to lie but knowing he can’t tell the whole truth. “My father is teaching me his trade.”

“You’re an apprentice?” Your question is full of curiosity and excitement. 

“Of a sort.” 

The conversation continues even after you reach the waterfall and journey back,  just barely able to see the village in the distance. Talking with him seems like second nature, neither of you needs to force anything, new topics easily flowing from one to the other. You’re even able to tease one another on how you need to waddle to carry your heavy buckets without spilling the water. During one lull in the conversation, you think back to his life in the castle and grow more curious about what exactly he does. 

“Do they treat you well in the palace?”

“Better than I deserve, most likely. And you?” you think for a moment,

“They treat me as well as they’re able” sadness tries to edge its way through your words. Despite your efforts to hide it, Steve can easily read the slight shift in your tone and stride.

“I’m sorry” his words sincere. You smile at the notion but are sure to reassure him

“It’s not your doing.”

“Nor yours either, I bet.” you smile at his kindness. 

“It’s not so bad. Others have it worse, I’m sure. We must be thankful for what we have and help those less fortunate, in any way we can.” 

“Like with your stories?” you nod,

“Yes, like with the stories. Hope is one of the best gifts you can give someone. Seeing how people’s faces light up, all worries washing away if just for a few minutes, it’s the best feeling in the world and the least I can do.” 

“Well, that’s very honorable and kind of you to do. You can see how much it means to everyone.”

“Thank you, Mr. Steve”

Blushing smiles are exchanged, and it’s a tender moment. A tender moment that’s cut short by yells through the trees.

“Steve? Steve? Your High-” before Robin can finish and let his title slip, he calls back to her. 

“Robin! Robin, I’m here. And it’s Steve. Steve. I’m Steve.”

“Well, we better get a move on if we want to be back by sunset, Mr. Steve.” She smirks, holding out a roll and jug for him she got from the tavern. He takes it in his free hand and looks back to you. You make grabbing motions for your bucket back, which he hesitantly returns. You send him a comforting nod. He was kind enough to carry it this far and you were appreciative for that, not upset that he had to leave now. He’s able to read that all from a scan of your face. His gaze can’t linger much longer as Robin is already walking away. He turns for a few strides as he tries to catch up, but stops short.

“I hope to see you again” charm and delight practically radiate off of him. 

“And I, you,” you respond with a charming nod. He flashes you a goofy yet sweet grin before turning to chase after Robin again. He manages a few backward glances your way, his boyish laugh echoing throughout the woods. Even after just the brief exchange, he had fallen hard under your spell, and you under his. 

You hoped to see Steve again soon.

[bookshelfdreams]

(Part 2 to this; morning after)

You wake up with the all-too familiar feeling of having received a thorough ass-kicking the day before. Everything hurts. Your head aches, your shoulder is a nightmare and your ribs are not ready to do anything more drastic than lie in bed all day. You feel stiff and sore all over, and that is before you open your eyes and realize that you are not home. Right. Solaris. You came to him and he helped you, for whatever reason.

You sit up, slowly. You still feel a little dizzy, but not nearly as much as last night. Getting up is still a challenge, your left arm is mostly useless, which throws off your balance. But once you stand it isn't so bad, and you make it to the hallway in one piece. You find the bathroom on the first try – all the doors are open. So it wasn't a trust thing. You refuse to feel guilty for your thoughts from last night.

Once you are inside you close the door and lock it. As much as you appreciate Solaris' help you do not want him to know the full extend of your injuries. He's seen the worst of it already, he does not need to know how weak you truly are.

Your face is not as bad as you expected. There's an impressive bruise forming on the right side of your forehead, centred around a cut that disappears into your hairline. You have bled all over yourself, but Solaris cleaned away the worst of it last night. There's still some blood clinging to your eyebrows and of course your hair is a nightmare but that will have to wait until you can find some place to shower.

You pull up your shirt enough to inspect your ribs. Faint blue bruises spread over the right side that will become a lot more colourful over the next few days. You take a breath. Ouch. They are reasonably solid when you feel them tough, and you decide to believe there is nothing broken.

Bruises and scrapes on your arms and the unmistakable marks of too-tight handcuffs around your wrists. Those will fade fast, hopefully.

You do not check your legs. You know there will be more bruises, but you walked across the whole city yesterday and if something had been seriously wrong you would not have been able to do that, so you leave it.

When you come back out, Solaris is just coming down the stairs.

“Oh”, he sounds genuinely surprised. “You're still here.”

“Um.” This is awkward. “Yeah, I'll be out of your hair in a minute, but there's-”

“No, no!” Is that a – is he smiling? Genuinely smiling, at you, a villain (or Rogue, he’d probably prefer that), standing barefoot in his hallway. “I thought you would have left in the night, but – I kinda hoped you wouldn't.” And yeah, definitely smiling, a little awkwardly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got beat up and then slept on a couch”, you say, because why not be honest.

And Solaris. Chuckles. Like you made a joke.

Unbelievable.

The dude will find a villain bleeding on his doorstep, bandage their wounds and befriend them in the morning.

You can’t deal with this. There are more important things to talk about, anyway.

“You know, I didn't just randomly get my ass kicked last night.”

Solaris looks at you, thoughtful now, the smile vanished from his face.

“You wanna tell me what happened?”

“Yesterday”, you start. “In the morning – well, it was still night, really. A bunch of people broke into my place. I thought they were your boys, at first.”

Now it's Solaris' turn to raise an eyebrow. “My boys?”

“Police. Special forces, whatever – thought you'd finally done the strategic thing, tried to smoke me out.” Literally. You had woken up choking on smoke. There had been a fire in the stairway. You put it out, sucking the oxygen right out of it, dispelled the smoke. Your neighbours weren't hurt, but that hadn't been the intention of the arsonists anyway. All they had wanted was for you to reveal yourself.

“Wasn't the case, obviously. There were – I don't know, maybe 5? They wore all black, body armour, helmets, the whole thing, but no uniforms, you know? Had their faces covered, as well. They tried to take me in.” They had come at you from behind, as you were still trying to cough the smoke out of your lungs, stunned you, beat your head against the floor. Kicked you a bit, for good measure. Pretty effective, you have to admit. Your powers require you to concentrate and giving you a concussion is a good way to prevent that.

“How did you get away?” Solaris asks, disbelief in his voice. Fair. You knew you could hardly expect him to trust you, not when he is an Official, a hero. In his world, as long as you stay on the right side of the law, nothing bad happens to you, and human rights are a thing that exists.

“They used normal handcuffs on me.” You smile a little. “Their van had standard issue locks as well.” Telekinesis is your power, which they must have known. You have no idea why they would have been so stupid. Did they think hitting you over the head would leave you unable to pick a lock? Please. This trick was one of the first you learned, you could do it with your eyes closed, half asleep, bleeding out.

“And they just let you walk out?”

“They didn't expect me to get free. I jumped out.” Luckily the van hadn't been that fast. Luckily you had fallen asleep on the couch, still dressed. Luckily you had thrown on your leather jacket before running outside to deal with the fire.

“You jumped out of a moving vehicle?”

You shrug, one-sided. “Wasn't fun, but there also wasn't anything else I could have done.”

Solaris just looks at you, with an expression that borders on horrified. “And they didn't come after you?”

“I jammed their gas. Locked the doors.” You can't help a smirk. “Bet it took them a while to get the thing to stop.” You decide to wrap this up quick. “I hid during the day, waited for dark. I knew they'd be looking for me, so I couldn't go to any of my usual places. I didn't-” you manage to stop yourself. I didn't want to put anyone in danger. “Anyway, I thought they'd never suspect me coming to you. Whoever they are.” Also, Solaris can take care of himself. He would have probably beat the guys to a pulp, plus if he disappears there are going to be questions.

“So yeah. I don't know who they belong to, or what they wanted from me, but I though you should know anyway. Doubt they'd be after you, but I can't be sure what they want with – you know. Specials.” The word almost makes you shudder. Yikes.

“Wait, you said they weren't law enforcement?”

You shake your head. Say about cops what you will but they would probably not set fire to a house full of civilians.

“And they basically tried to abduct you?”

“Basically.”

“And you think they are after people with powers?”

You flinch. That's even worse. But, “Yeah.”

Solaris takes a breath. “That's a lot to take in. I need some coffee. You want to stay for breakfast?”

And right. Sure. Why the fuck would you not want breakfast with your nemesis.

“So”, Solaris says after you sat down and you learned that he takes his coffee black, because of course he does. There's toast and you are trying really hard to restrain yourself and not eat the whole loaf. “These – people. Any idea what they were? Who they work for? What they wanted?”

You swallow. Another one-sided shrug. “Don't know. But...”

He looks at you expectantly. “But?”

You sigh. How could you explain this to him. “Sometimes people disappear. Kids, mostly. I'm sure you know that. And sometimes they are found. Mostly it's just parents having messy divorces, right? But sometimes...not. Sometimes someone will just not come home from school. Or be taken into foster care, never to be seen again. And they usually aren't the kind of families where cops put a lot of effort into the investigation, you know?”

To your surprise, Solaris nods. “I have – heard about that.”

“Right. Well, usually this doesn't happen to adults, because we know what we are capable of, and many of us have jobs and shit. We can defend ourselves. But recently, there were some weird things going on.”

“Like what?”

“Like people feeling like they were being followed. I know some people who I haven't heard from in a while, mostly homeless. You know.”

“You think someone tried to take you – for what?”

You shrug again. Truth is, you don't really want to think about it, just like you do not want to think about what might happen to children in white rooms.

“There have always been people who wanted to find out what makes us tick, right? What makes it so some people can do things others can't.”

Solaris nods. “I heard that there were efforts to develop a prenatal test for powers.” He glances down at his plate, thoughtful. “And there's the military testing, too.”

“You know about that?”

Now he looks back at you. “Of course. I'm not an idiot. How do you think-” he cuts himself off, but you might have an idea what he'd wanted to say. Huh. Interesting, you think and file that information away for later.

“Anyway. Not to be cocky but I'd be a pretty good catch, wouldn't I? Nobody is gonna ask too many questions if I disappear.”

“Your powers are strong. Useful.” Solaris looks at you with an expression you cannot quite decipher. “People would notice if you were gone though.”

“Maybe, but what's another dead villain? Mostly, people would just be glad I was no longer around to make their life more complicated.” You take a sip of your coffee. It's gone cold, but you drink it anyway.

“Whatever. Just thought you should know. If they are going after someone like me...well. Don't know who else might get on their radar. Maybe keep your eyes open?” You get up. Leaving the dishes for Solaris to deal with is okay, you decide. You are a villain, after all. There's a limit to how domestic you get with a hero and that limit is reached.

“Of course. Thank you.”

“No.” You turn around to look at him proper, one last time. The next time you will see each other, he's gonna be in uniform again. “Thank you. Truly. For everything. You didn't – have to do that.”

“I'm glad you came to me”, he says, and you might just believe he's actually genuine about it. “I'm glad you – you knew I'm not the kind of person who would turn you away.”

I didn't, you want to say, but you know it would just be to hurt his feelings. So you don't. He doesn't deserve that. You smile at him, say “See you on the streets”, and out you go.

The street is empty. You were right about one thing: They did not expect you to come here. You still hurt all over, but you feel more like yourself than you did last night. You start walking as casually and inconspicuous as someone with an arm strapped to their chest and blood in their hair can. There's a small park nearby, the kind that is mostly a public dog toilet, with a few trees, a path, a sandbox. You make sure nobody watches you before you disappear.

[httpjeon]

— 03. risk it all | jungkook

jeon jungkook/reader ― ft. jimin & yoongi | light angst | hybrid!au

wordcount: 1.4k

contents: illegal hybrid smuggling, hybrid abuse, heat cycles, mentions of death, implied potential non-con

― synopsis: with jungkook unavailable, you’re in even more danger. thankfully, someone is willing to risk it all to help you.

note: this part is rather short. but it’s mostly being used as a filler chapter before all hell breaks loose lmfao

 blog masterlist | series masterlist

© httpjeon 2019. do not repost, modify, or translate.

Everything around you was a blur -- you could see people bustling about like normal but everything felt so enhanced. Your body was burning from the inside out, every noise sounded louder, and every scent in the room made you want to curl up and hide.

You stared across at the empty cage where Jungkook would usually be occupying.

"Hey," A gruff voice from beside you called out. "Look at me,"

You managed to shift your gaze to where Yoongi was crouching in his own cage, staring at you. His brows were furrowed in worry and you briefly wondered how long he'd been trying to get your attention.

"Shit, you're really in deep," He grumbled.

"How is she?" Another voice softly asked.

"I can't tell from here but her scent is strong..." Yoongi replied. “Definitely preheat,”

Slowly shifting your gaze, you realized Jimin was standing there holding a small loaf of bread.

"Will she eat? In...this condition?" He asked the wolf.

"Wolves don't typically eat during heat. I don't know about a doe," Yoongi sighed. "But generally the body needs to bulk up in advance of their heat. Obviously she hasn't had the opportunity to with the absolute shit menu in this hellhole. A heat in this condition could honestly kill her,"

"That's really bad," Jimin whispered.

"Right this way, we have a lovely little doe ready for a new home," A chirpy voice drifted into your sensitive ears.

"Shit," You heard Jimin curse before he darted from your vision around Yoongi's cage. Your body was so slow that you were barely able to keep up with him.

A new figure appeared and you heard Yoongi growl, a vicious warning.

"Shut up mutt," Youngho snapped, disgust laced in his tone. "Now this is the only prey hybrid we have in stock at the moment,"

"What's the matter with her?" You blinked several times at the unfamiliar scent and saw an unfamiliar human dressed in a suit.

"She's in pre-heat apparently," Youngho mumbled. "Must be deer-season,"

"Interesting. So she's mature," The newcomer said, humming.

"Please sit up, hybrid," Youngho commanded.

Although your body was dead exhausted and felt like it weighed a trillion tons, you managed to do as he asked. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Jimin running away once again -- except in the direction of the holding cells; where Jungkook was.

Sliding your gaze back over to Youngho and the stranger, you were surprised to see how close they had gotten.

“She’s very pretty,” The stranger mused, smirking menacingly at you. “How much are you trying to fetch for her?”

“Well she’s young and submissive,” Youngho explained, reaching in the pet you which only made you flinch away. “I’d say we want a mil for her,”

“A million?!” The stranger snapped, stepping away. “That’s way more than you charge for any of the other hybrids here,”

“Well you know how rare prey hybrid are. You expect me to charge the same amount for a deer as I would a wolf?” Youngho scoffed. “It’s the cheapest you’ll get around her. No other smugglers will charge such a low price,”

“You’re out of your mind!” The stranger argued.

You toned out as they argued, lazily looking over to Yoongi where he sat glaring at the two of them. He felt your eyes on him and looked over to you and his gaze softened.

“This is bad,” Jimin breathed, racing down the dank, musty concrete hallway. He passed cages and cages -- more like cells. Some empty, some holding hybrids. “Jungkook,” Jimin panted as he ran to the bars of Jungkook’s cell.

“Hey Jimin, how’s it going?” He lazily asked, scratching at the dirt under his feet as he sat on the cold ground.

“There’s a buyer looking to take _____,” Jimin breathed. Jungkook was on his feet immediately.

“What?!” Jungkook snapped.

“That’s not the worst of it,” Jimin wrapped his hands around the metal bars. “She’s going into heat as well,”

“Shit,” Jungkook cursed, slamming his hands loudly into the bars. “That’s bad. Fuck, of course I get myself locked up at a time like this. Jimin, you have to help -- you have to do something!”

Jimin sighed, watching helplessly as Jungkook kicked the bars and began cursing to himself.

“The only thing we can do is get her out of here,” Jimin explained.

“How do we do that?” Jungkook rushed up to the bars again.

“I-It’s nearly impossible, Jungkook,” Jimin whispered, looking around to make sure than no other hybrids were listening. Don’t need anyone blackmailing them to get themselves out. “There’s guards everywhere and all entrances are so heavily guarded that even I have trouble getting in and out and I work here! Do you think it’d be easy to sneak hybrids out?”

“Jimin I am begging you,” Jungkook’s eyes grew teary as he regarded the human. “You are the only hope we have. You’re the only one with fucking morals around here. There has to be something that can be done,”

“I-I’ve made friends with a lot of the hybrids. I’ll look around and ask and see if I can get some of them to help,”

“Thank you so much, Jimin I owe you my life,” Jungkook sniffled.

“I can’t promise anything, Kook,” Jimin pat the youngers head softly. “A lot of them aren’t going to be willing to sacrifice their own comfort and safety, you know?”

“It’s worth a try though right?”

“Yeah,” Jimin sighed. “It’s worth a try,”

You were curled up, pressing your face to the metal bottom of the cage as you panted. You looked so small, so weak and pitiful.

Had he been a wild hybrid, you would have made the perfect meal for him. He shook those thoughts out of his mind. This wasn’t the wild and you were in serious danger.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi breathed, crouching down inside his cage.

“I’m so hot…” You complained, fighting back tears. “I don’t want that man to take me,”

“I know,” Yoongi sighed, reaching through his bars to pet your head. You leaned into the touch and finally opened your eyes to look at him.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You asked softly.

“Well I--”

“Guys!” Jimin whispered, cutting Yoongi off before he could finish making the wolf hybrid glare at the human.

“Jimin,” Yoongi stood up and you found yourself missing his touch. It’d been so long since you had affectionate contact. “Where’d you go?”

“To see Jungkook,” His words had you sitting up, which made your head swim and you whined, reaching up to cup your forehead against the pain.

“I-Is he okay?” You cried, scooting forward to the door of your cage where Jimin was standing.

“He’s okay...for the most part,” Jimin said before turning his attention to Yoongi. “I...I don’t know what to do,”

“I’ll help,” Yoongi suddenly offered. “In any way I can I’ll do it,”

“You’d really help me?” You asked, smiling at Yoongi.

Even through your fear and pain, you still had it in your to give such a vibrant smile. It made a small, barely there smile come to Yoongi’s lips.

“Absolutely. I’m sorry I was a prick I just…” He sighed, shaking his head before fixing his gaze on Jimin. “Do you have a plan?”

“I…” Jimin bit his lip. “Yes actually. But...it could end up with you in a cell or worse,”

“I don’t care,” Yoongi argued, his scent changing from one of anxiety to one of defiance. You whimpered at the scent but managed to remain strong. He wasn’t the type of person to easily be told what to do. He was stubborn and pig headed but it allowed him to be some kind of strong pillar in a place that easily broke your spirit.

“Yoongi, you can’t risk your life for me,” You argued back, although you knew there was no point to it.

“What else am I meant to do?” Yoongi sighed, shrugging his shoulders helplessly. “If I live I’m going to be stuck in this cage for who knows how long. If I help you escape, there’s a chance you can help all these other hybrids get free. And if I die then...so be it. It’ll be for a worthy cause, right?”

“Yoongi…” You whimpered, fighting back tears. He was willing to do that for you and it made your heart ache.

“Alright,” Jimin sighed,  moving closer to the both of you to breathe his next words. “I need you to listen carefully...”

[dramaqueeenamby]

The Switch.

A/N: MAKE SURE TO READ THE AUTHOR’S NOTE AT THE BOTTOM! Words: 1.5K Warnings: None. Yet. This is going to be messy and twisted, though.

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

Do you wanna know the worst part about working in the market?

The whole thing.

Sure, there are times when smiles are copious and courtesy is extended, regardless of station, but that’s not always the case. Most of the time, courtesy is non0existent, and a person’s station is solely responsible for how they are treated.

Take, for instance, the stable boy. He’s small, smells most of the time, and is typically covered in undesirable substances because of the nature of his work. Now, it is because of all of these factors and more that no one knows his name. No one cares. Their only concern is seeing to that he does his job, and heaven forbid he doesn’t. He’s beneath the scum on the bottom of their royal boots. They’ll cast him aside, maybe with the pay he’s owed, and that’s that.

There’s no concern about how he’ll make a living, what he’ll eat, if he eats. No one here cares about that, they don’t care because it doesn’t affect them. And it never will. They make sure that the system that keeps them on top and us on the bottom remains intact.

A revolution is needed. It’s a must. And it’s happened before, with much bloodshed on our side. The commoners. The dirt. The bugs that need to constantly be reminded of their station. And they’ve reminded us time and time again, random, public executions and all.

Using my forearm to wipe the sweat from my forehead, I blow out a deep breath at the same time my stomach protests this hunger strike. It’s not intentional. My mouth waters with acrid desire for the alluring scent of the bread that’s freshly come out the oven. What I’d give to have a piece, maybe even a whole loaf with how loudly my stomach is growling, but I cannot. Lest I wish to earn a good lashing.

Work first. Eat (scrapings) later.

That’s just life around here.

“Y/N!” I don’t have to turn toward her to know that she’s lecturing me for day dreaming. I have to keep moving. I need this job. It’s not much, but it keeps a roof over my head. Our heads. Barely. But, I cannot complain. A lot have it much worse.

I could even be dead right now. But, yet, I am still alive. Some days I wonder if that’s a good  thing.

When I finish kneading the dough, I realize the trash is spilling over. Damnit. It’s logical to remove it and relocate it to the dumpster in the back alley, but logic isn’t always applicable here.

Being away from my station will garner attention and potential questioning. I am a baker, not a sanitation worker. Everyone has their job to complete, and I am no different. The fact that an abundance of trash in my work station is not reason enough to leave my post, despite sanitation concerns.

Still, I’d much rather questioning for leaving my post than questioning for potential poisoning of a royal’s food. The punishment for that…..

Just the thought it enough motivation for me to take a brief respite as I gather the odorous trash and scurry out the backdoor. A cool wind rushes past me. The season is changing. As the low temperature drop, I’m reminded that I will need to start setting aside money for wood as well. The thought dampens my mood.

Something else brushes past me, just as I lower the covering for the dumpster. It knows me down on the ground. Rather, they knock me down on the ground.

“What the hell?” You grumble, groaning as you sit up on your elbows. Courtesy isn’t an issue. No one above a commoner would dare be caught in the alley.

“I beg your pardon?” You shake your head and stand up, hearing that the other person in a female, a female who seems confused by your statement. Perhaps they aren’t from around here. That has to be it. “I do apologize—“

“Don’t worry about it.” You don’t have time for apologies, anyway. You have work to do. Still, you’re not completely heartless. You offer your hand, seeing that they’re still on the ground. “Let me help—” Your hand drops as does your stomach, your legs becoming wobbly. “you.”

This….person….woman….she looks back at you, but somehow, she has a mirror in front of her face. A mirror that she is not holding as you see one hand is planted on the ground, while the other is still in the air, waiting to accept your own hand.

A magical mirror, perhaps, because the reflection is much more dainty, clean, proper, and regal than your own frizzy hair and blotchy face.

“What in the goddess….” You stumbled back even more. Even the voices are identical, and yet, since when did mirrors talk?

“What—” Words. You struggle to find them. You also struggle to breath, but one problem at a time. “How—”

“Impossible,” the other one finally speaks, slowly standing up, eyes still on you. Or, your eyes are still on you. Or….what. “And yet—”

“What are you?” You finally whisper.

Your reflection smiles, exposing perfectly straight and white teeth. “You, apparently.”

“Impossible.” That’s your natural response.

“That’s what I said.” She smiles crookedly, moving closer. You inch back. “I will not hurt you.”

“Don’t you mean, us?”

Her smile widens. “What is your name?”

Somehow, you murmur out a response, to which she begins to return her own, halted when you interrupt.

“Princess?” Your eyes are damn near bugged out of your head. “You are a princess? Seriously?”

Her smile dims. “Unfortunately.”

That catches your attention, almost more than the fact that the woman before you is, well, you. “What is unfortunate about living a life of luxury?”

Her brows furrow. “You think my life is easy?”

“I know it is,” you rebuff. Traces of shock are gradually being replaced with determination and, maybe, some resentment. “You want for nothing, princess, while the rest of us battle for our share of scraps.”

Her eyes fall to the ground. “I see.”

“Doubtful.” You retort, shaking your head and crossing your arms. “I must be going—“

“Wait!” She lifts a hand and places it on your forearm. You just stare at the point of contact. This is all too strange. “What if you didn’t?”

You lift your head to meet her gaze. “Didn’t what?”

“Didn’t go back,” she clarifies. “In there, at least.” She gestures with her head to the backdoor that leads to your place of normalcy. “What if—what if I went instead?”

You can’t help the laughs that travels from your core and erupts through your mouth. “You can’t be for real.”

Princess frowns. “And why not?”

“Look at us, princess. We couldn’t be anymore different.”

“Not on the outside. On the outside, we are one and the same.”

“And that’s where it stops.”

“Now.” She smirks. “What if I told you I could teach you how to be me?”

Your laughter increased. “Me? A princess? Did you hit your head, your highness?”

“Hear me out.” She inched closer, but you did not move away this time. “You think one thing of my life, I think one thing of yours. Why not test out our beliefs? Perhaps this is the goddess’ wish.”

“Her wish?”

“What are the chances, Y/N, of us meeting at this very moment? The opportunity was intended for us.”

“Princess—“

“Have you not ever desired a chance to live like a royal?”

It was a stupid question with an obvious answer. “Well, yes, but—“

“So, why not take advantage of this opportunity?” She pressed, lowering her voice and whispering. “I will remain here for two weeks. We can switch back before I leave. No one need ever know.”

“Princess, do you have any idea what you’re asking?” You pointed to backdoor. “This is no life for a princess.”

“Let me be the judge of that.” Your reluctance was evident on your face, prompting her to continue. “You will be rewarded greatly. So much so that you can return to your life without having to return to your work.”

That definitely caught your attention. You didn’t even need to ask about the specifics of the compensation, because you just knew it would be more money than you’d seen in a lifetime. You thought about what the money could mean for you, for your father. Perhaps you could finally afford to give him the help and medical assistance that he needed.

“It just two weeks, right?” You finally caved. She smiled and nodded happily.

“Yes. Just two weeks, and if you can meet with me tonight, I can tell you everything you need to know, and vice versa, before we switch,” she started to ramble, and you were partially tuned in, well enough to catch one word.

“Fiancé?” You interrupt. “What fiancé?”

She smiled humorously. “Why else do you think I am in this kingdom? To announce my engagement.” She winks. “Or, rather, yours.”

Your eyes widen. “Engagement?” A beat. “To who?”

---------

A/N: Hiya, friends! Hopefully, you’ve made it to the end. Don’t like how this ended? Good! That was intentional! Know why?

Because you all get to choose the main love interest for this story? I’ve said how I want to be more interactive and give you all what you want, so here I am. Who would you like to be the reader’s love interest? Here are our options.

Thor (this would include Loki as his brother, and if you want, you can lmk if you’d like to be T’Challa, Loki, Bucky, or Steve’s love interest! I will write you in!)

Steve (this would include Bucky as his brother, and if you want, you can lmk if you’d like to be Bucky, Thor, Sam, or T’Challa’s love interest! I will write you in!)

T’Challa (this would include Erik as his brother, and if you want, you can lmk if you’d like to be Erik, Steve, Thor, or M’Baku’s love interest! I will write you in!)

[nicoletterogers]

an oath

trigger warnings: mentions of death, gun violence, survivors guilt, gun shot wounds

“Liam?”

Her own voice startled her as she called out into the familiar, empty apartment. everything was exactly the way she remembered it--piles of newspaper stacked messily on the chair by the door, jackets strewn over the couch waiting for nic to get tired of the mess and put them away. there even was the familiar smell of something cooking--for whatever reason, liam had gotten the culinary gene share for both himself and nic, and he put it to good use. it’s why family dinners were always at his place and nic was in charge of bringing the frozen garlic bread. or whatever bread side they were having. 

Tonight smelled like ziti though, which made sense why she held a long loaf of Great Value frozen garlic bread in her hand. she always preferred this version to the boxed texas toast--it felt more authentic she’d tell liam when he’d beg her for a box of that. he’d relent, always--because she was his little sister and that was the way the universe worked. at least in terms of garlic bread. 

Nic stepped cautiously into the kitchen, clutching the long loaf tighter than usual. Something didn’t feel...right, about this set up. Her eyes traced the kitchen, her detective senses triggered by the uncomfortable sensation in her chest. her vision swept the background before the began their inspection of the counters--knives, onions, san marzano tomato cans (liam only ever made fresh tomato sauce, he didn’t do the pre-made stuff). all normal, all nor--wait. her eyes caught the date on the clock in the corner and she dropped her garlic bread immediately. may 13, 2018. 

may 13, 2018. no, no it can’t be. she blinked. may 13, 2018, the clock still read and her heart stopped. 

“Liam!” she called, her voice more frantic. it felt familiar because it was familiar--it was the worst day of her life.  “Liam--Liam!” she tore through the apartment into his bedroom, where a completely confused Liam Rogers looked at her. 

“Nic? You good?” he asked, unlacing his shoes. Nic remembered that he specifically asked for sunday nights off, but since the station was working a particularly big case, he had to work earlier in the day to support. He stopped fiddling with his laces when he caught sight of her face. “Hey--hey, what’s going on?” god, she missed his voice. his voice alone almost sent her into tears. 

“I--” she couldn’t get words out. She couldn’t get anything out, because all she wanted was to wrap her arms around him and never let go. “You’re still here.” Nic breathed and threw herself onto him...only to have the scene disappear and she left holding herself in a dark alley. 

Her stomach tightened and she shook her head. No, no no no. She repeated. This was some kind of sick and twisted dream--why was she here? Voices began to surround her and she ran to hide behind some trashcans on the side. nic peaked her head through a small opening and listened to her coworkers start talking 

“Oh--oh my god.” Detective Peraltiago breathed. “Fuck.” They weren’t supposed to curse on the job, but she didn’t blame him--how could anyone blame him? He was standing over his former coworker and one of his closest friends over the station. “Captain!” He called gruffly, moving quickly to escape the emotions that threatened to overtake him. “Captain, I need you here now.” 

The tone of his voice must have signaled something was definitely not right and Nic had never seen Captain Gerhardt move so fast in his life. Silence followed as she watched the two men take in the scene. Finally, Captain Gerhardt spoke into his walkie. “We’ve got a 151(a1)--corner of Michigan and 51st. Detective Liam Rogers, unresponsive, two gunshot wounds in the chest, no witnesses or perpetrators.” His voice sounded hard, clinical--and Nic felt her entire body grow cold. 

She used to think hearing about what happened on the phone was the worst way to learn--but she had been wrong. Where she stood now, looking into the scene itself--that was worse. 

“Someone’s gonna need to call Nic.” 

“Shouldn’t we wait before we--” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, you know how she--”

“Captain?”

Another long silence, before it was cut short by her cell phone ringing. The groups attention flew to the trashcans but before she could make out their shouting, the scene changed again, and she was sitting on a cold stone bench in the rain.

Nic was dressed in all black--but not her usual attire. for the first time in a long time, she was in a dress. a simple black dress, but a dress nonetheless. if liam was here, she thought, he’d laugh and ask her why she thought to dress up for him. But in all honestly, she didn’t have many words to say today at all. The funeral had ended hours ago, her coworkers had left in the big black cars, even her father had made his way to grieve separately. But Nic stayed. She’d stay until she was told to leave. No amount of rain could make her move--but this was not by choice. She had found she was stuck, unable to get herself to stand or do anything but stare at the headstone directly in front of her. 

Rest In Peace Liam Samuel Rogers. April 4, 1986 to May 13, 2018. Beloved Son, Brother, and Officer.

Her eyes constantly read the gravestone, taking in the words as if she had never read them before. The pain was still as fresh for this version of Nic than it was for the version that sat there on the actual day of the funeral. Tears dropped like bullets from a machine gun onto her folded up hands, adding to the rain that was drizzling heavily over her. 

“Why did you have to go so soon?” she screamed at the grave, her ability to control her emotions becoming obsolete. “I needed you! I needed you more than you could have ever imagined and you just left!” 

Silence. 

“You weren’t supposed to go anywhere. You promised me when you took this damn job you wouldn’t leave! We had plans, Liam. You were supposed to be the fun uncle, the one that taught my kids how to sneak cookies from the cookie jar and swear when I wasn’t looking! They were supposed to love you more than me and I was supposed to get into fights with you about it! Family dinners were going to get bigger, and you were gonna find someone to marry too--so then I could be the cool aunt and exact my revenge!” She wailed, dropping her face into her hands.

“You were supposed to be there the night he cheated, Liam. I was supposed to have you to comfort me. You were supposed to be in your apartment and I could go and eat ice cream and brood and not talk about anything and we could watch Jeopardy together. Or Who’s Line is it anyway. or whatever documentary you felt like you wanted to watch. And we’d sit in silence and i’d feel better. I’d be ok because I know you’d be here.

“But you left--you left with no goodbye, no warning. You walked out of that apartment and you never walked back in. I lost a piece of myself that day that I’ll never get back. And it’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I should have never let you walk through that door, I should have never made you take out the trash. If I can’t protect you, Liam--who can I protect? I can’t protect you, I can’t protect Rowan, I can’t protect Gabe or Mig or Venice or Ruby or...anyone! Liam i couldn’t protect my brother, what makes me think I’m good for anything or any one!”

A strangled cry broke through her throat and Nic fell into the mud, her whole body wracked with sobs. Sobs she had been holding in for the last two years, over every imaginable piece of grief she could hold on too. her life had been one big cover up and now she could no longer cover it up. there was too much grief, too much sorrow, too much pain to hold onto any longer. 

so there she sad, full of mud, leaves and soaked by the rain that finally matched her inner turmoil. as the emotional tsunami passed, she lifted her glassy bright eyes to the headstone and sighed. 

“Liam, I--” another sob passed her lips. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

immediately, nic woke up with a gasp. she looked over at gabe, who seemed blissfuly unaware of her nighmare. good, she thought and slowly slipped out of the bed and onto the porch. tonight she’d sleep on the patio, among the gently swish of the wind and waves. perhaps then she might be able to be peaceful. or, perhaps, at least she could avoid waking her best friend up and ruining his sleep. if she couldn’t do anything else in her life right, at least she could do this. 

nic settles into a chair and takes a deep breathe. maybe she’d skip the sleep tonight--out here she couldn’t harm anyone else. at least for the next couple hours anyway.

( @malnatimedia​ )

[vands38]

things i wish someone told me about coeliac disease (UK edition)

apparently some doctors are still not telling coeliacs what they actually need to know so here’s some fun facts --

*coeliac disease is likely to go undiagnosed if you don’t have digestive symptoms. for a lot of folks, their first symptoms are odd things like weight loss, bloating, mouth ulcers etc that take ages for doctors to correctly diagnose as coeliac disease. I know someone whose only sign was tingling in her fingers (nerve problems are a Thing sometimes). I don’t wanna freak folks out but check this list of symptoms and if you’re worried, ask your doc for a blood test to check for coeliac disease. I went in and out of my docs for years with various symptoms (mostly from the anaemia) and no one caught it until I was finally having noticeable digestive trouble.

* coeliac disease an autoimmune disease. not an allergy. not an intolerance. when you eat gluten, your gut just screams NOPE and throws everything out of there.

* this means if you keep eating gluten you will have serious long-term health problems because your gut can't absorb shit 

* as I mentioned, anaemia is one of these associated health problems. a lot of people have this at diagnosis b/c your gut hasn’t been absorbing the nutrients it needs. it leaves you very weak and tired, and the longer it goes on, the worse it gets. 

* long-term anaemia / malnutrition causes so many fucking health problems I can't list them all. basically, if your body sucks, there's a good chance it's a side-effect of your coeliac disease going undiagnosed. I got shitty joints and a shitty heart and shitty bones and godknowswhatelse and every time my doc is like "hey, guess what? it’s coeliac disease!"

* you know what a common side effect is? LACTOSE INTOLERANCE. this is because, once again, your gut hates you from all that gluten you've been killing it with, so it starts to muck around and kick out other things too. but good news! most of the time this is reversible!!! lay off any lactose for a couple of months, reintroduce it to your diet slowly, and you -- like me -- might be a-ok 

*some folks with coeliac disease can’t digest oats either as they contain a similar protein. I found that I was kinda squiffy with them at first but as soon as my gut had calmed down I was a-ok with GF oats (this is good b/c 99% of good GF biscuits are made with oat flour, RIP to everyone that can’t eat them)

* so... your bones are probably fucked. if you were diagnosed early and your doctors are on it, you might be okay but for a lot of people it means osteopenia, and further down the line, osteoporosis (meaning it's v easy to break bones). you need to be eating, like, double the regular amount of calcium every day. most people are put on calcium tablets with combined vitamin D (to help absorb the calcium) but even on top of that, you need to be getting a lot in your diet. If you're still lactose intolerant then switch to lacto-free versions of dairy products or eat tofu like there's no tomorrow. It's super important that you get enough.

* relatedly, bone health!!! You should be doing MODERATE impact exercises like jogging to strengthen the bones but nothing high-impact like tennis. load-bearing exercises are good too. here’s some examples (in detail) given to me by the rheumatology dept

* people have different sensitivity levels. in the UK, certified gluten-free products have to be 20 parts per million or less, but in the US this is 100! marmite lives somewhere between these two and can cause some coeliacs to have a reaction. please be aware when you eat international gluten-free foods that they might have more parts per million than your body is used to

* because you're super sensitive to gluten, not only do you need to check the bold allergens on the ingredients, but the small print too. it might say "made in a factory that handles gluten" or "may contain traces of gluten" and that’s a no-go

* similarly, be careful in restaurants. Apparently it's still perfectly legal for restaurants to say a dish is "gluten free" and then put your nice GF bread in the same fucking toaster as regular bread and have you shitting your pants for days. Just because the ingredients are GF doesn't mean they're cooking it in an allergen-conscious manner. If its not a Coeliac UK certified restaurant, always ask about their methods. Is that milkshake made in a GF blender? Is your fry-up cooked in a separate pan? The first time I got glutened after my diagnosis it was because my GF naan bread shared a tray with a regular one. A lot of places won't even fucking think about this stuff.

* if you're in a gluten-eating household, you've got a big expense coming up. you need to buy a GF toaster at the very least and I would recommend also a separate baking tray (because pizzas, garlic breads etc stick to that shit like no tomorrow) and a saucepan (or anything else that regularly contains pasta/noodles/etc). You'll also need a separate bread knife and board. Separate butter. Separate strainer if you're the type to drain your pasta. Line anything suspicious (e.g.your sandwich toaster, a communal baking tray) with baking parchment. Don’t use bare rungs in your oven or hob. And buy separate spreads and condiments, unless your household is very well trained in not dipping their crumb-covered knives into those things. I've even got separate plates, kitchen utensils, and cutlery. It seems extreme but I haven't had a cross-contamination incident since. Just think: has gluten touched this? And if so, do your best to minimise the risk.

* living GF is expensive long-term too. GF bread costs twice as much as regular bread. Restaurants often charge extra for GF alternatives. I had to switch from having toast in the morning to cereal because it's much more reasonably priced. I eat more fruit than I ever have before just because GF snacks cost so much. I used to have breakfast bars lol say goodbye to that shit unless you wanna be broke

* things I didn't realise I couldn't eat: crisps (a lot of your standard crisps are made with ??? production methods), candied nuts (most of these are made in factories that handle gluten), soy sauce, strawberry laces and a whole bunch of fave sweets (contain wheat starch to bind them - check this list for safe sweets), marmite (you can buy a GF yeast extract that is only 50% worse than the original)

*good food you actually can eat: most cadburys but not most nestle, GF beer which tastes exactly the same, schar pretzels are actually the shit, so are their BBQ pringles and those little chocolate bars with hazelnuts, Morrisons free from frozen mini hash browns will cure your depression, M&S do these bacon tortilla rolls which... OH BOY. Quiche alternatives are pretty damn good but I've yet to find a pizza that doesn't make me want to cry.

*speaking of supermarkets... Morrisons stock a good range of stuff and tend to have everything in one aisle, M&S have many yummy (and expensive) treats, Sainsbury's has good own brand things including bread, Tesco's are fairly decent and stock a lot of baking things, ASDA are the king of GF cake, if you're still lacto-free then Waitrose sell LF cheese including halloumi, and check your your local hippy food store because I found the best goddamn bread in mine (Incredible Bakery Company - you are £4.50 a loaf but I have no regrets)

*party risks: if there's a BBQ, insist that your things go first or have a separate BBQ, or, if worse comes to worse, just eat cold snacks. (Beware of sausages! Many aren't GF!) If its a chip and dip situation, either everything has to be GF (easily done) or have your own dip. BUFFETS ARE LITERALLY OUR WORST NIGHTMARE. the amount of coeliacs I know that have been glutened at one are INSANE. even if those tasty treats are labelled 'gluten free' they've probably be contaminated. everything at a goddamn buffet is contaminated. Dinner party? Well meaning friends will want to cook for you but unless their kitchen is set up as above, it's safer to bring your own food -- if you're very lucky, you will have friends who take the time to learn about allergens and will clean every item in their kitchen before cooking and serving an entire GF meal. these friends are to be treasured -- nay, worshipped.

*fast food. there’s no good way to put this but you’re never having that guilty pleasure 2am burger again. mcdonalds fries are miraculously GF though. (a lot of takeaways recycle oil so even if the ingredients are GF it’s often not safe but mcdonalds always use a separate fryer for chips). indian takeaway is great as most dishes don’t contain gluten. on the flip side, you’ll only be able to have about 5 items on the chinese menu (soy sauce is in everything, yo) so be prepared to learn those 5 items by heart. dominoes do Coeliac UK certified GF pizza!!! (buuuuut not during covid). chains like pizza express have got our back and will even serve you GF doughballs

*coeliac UK are your best friend! most of the things I’ve mentioned are described in detail on their website. they also have a barcode scanner app that will tell you if foods are safe, and they have a restaurant guide, and useful things like translation guides for when you go abroad. 

That's all I've got right now but hmu with any questions or corrections. Take care of yourself, folks. <3