#fortune and judgement seem pretty spot on

[princeblack]

it's a shitty night and even shittier week, reg having more homework than usual but unable to do it because he's working overtime to scrape together enough money for bills this month. it's been over a year now since he moved out of his parents' house, cutting them off to escape his arranged marriage and avoid living in their commune. for most of his life their approval was his everything, but the pressure grew and grew until he finally couldn't take it anymore. he doesn't want to be apart of their cult, or be in an arranged marriage with a distant cousin-- what he wants is to pursue higher education and make his own decisions, even if it means living a life like this.

he has one client come in that's been a regular for a couple weeks and he entertains her until she leaves, fortunately early enough for him to prepare for the bachelorette party scheduled tonight. after taking a break and getting some water, he returns to work around the time the party starts filing in. it seems like a few college friends at first, spotting hannah and luna, but then he sees astoria and behind her is the future bride, immediately recognizing her as bee diggory. 

he’s trying to focus on the dance, hands gripped tight around the pole as he lifts his legs, upside down for a moment. as soon as he sees bee, his eyes are glued to her, barely even smiling at the patron who tosses him a big tip because he’s so preoccupied with his crush walking into the club.

he’s liked bee since he met her at the beginning of the semester in biology I, seeing how beautiful and charming she was, watching her answer questions on the material with ease. they haven’t spoken much outside of class yet, despite that he’s seen her in passing at their apartment complex because they’re next door neighbors. usually theo nott is at her side, meeting her after class or going home with her.

he knows they’re engaged because bee mentioned it in class once, but the tiara and ribbon around her body make it obvious that this is her bachelorette party. reg can’t help but feel slightly jealous, thinking it’s a shame that a girl as incredible as she is wound up with someone like theo who probably didn’t know what to do with her to begin with. 

he’s twisting around the pole, arching his back the way he knows clients like, when astoria approaches and tosses him a tip. she seems to want to talk, gesturing him over, so he pauses the dance and starts to get down from the stage. collecting his tips, he turns to face her, green eyes looking her over curiously.

“hey, astoria. you can call me leo here. private dance?” he knows most of his co-workers would be uncomfortable seeing people from their personal lives at work, but reg has never minded it, as long as they didn’t treat him differently because of it. it’s only happened one other time outside of this, with another peer from a different class, but she seemed nice enough and not judgemental.

astoria is also too nice to judge him for it, and he knows bee is too. the girl is smiling mischievously though, as if she knows what she’s about to ask will cause problems. “not for me, no… but for the bride? i’ll pay for it, just make sure she has a good time.” her wallet still in hand, she pulls the money out.

he’s impressed to see she already knew the cost of the private dances and there’s more on top of it as a tip, so he takes it and slips it into his waistband. “happy to,” he says, appreciative of the payment but also secretly glad he has an excuse to dance for bee. “i’ll be right back.”

he makes a stop at his locker in the back room to deposit the money he collected, already knowing he might be naked for her (if that’s what she wants, anyway).

when he returns, he spots bee over by the bar, laughing at something hannah is saying. she looks beautiful, already making his heart race a little even before he reaches her. he’s always admired her pretty face and big blue eyes, and the way her auburn hair curls in soft waves. she looks even more beautiful than usual tonight, wearing a two piece skin tight pink outfit, the fabric shimmering in the neon lights of the club. her body looks perfect, the skirt and top accentuating her curves. it’s hard not to stare at the slit in the skirt showing off her thigh, or the way her breasts look in the top.

he feels more naked than usual when her eyes land on him, suddenly hyper aware of the fact he’s wearing nothing but jewelry and a scrap of leather for bottoms. he smiles when they make eye contact, leaning against the counter beside her. he realizes for the first time how much taller he is than her, and how small she looks even in her heels and tiara.

“hey,” he says, almost shyly despite the fact he never gets shy. “come here often?” he pauses, smiling a little. “kidding. your friend astoria just paid me to give you a private dance…” he leans a little closer to her, gently brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. green eyes flicker to her lips and back, smoldering a little as he holds her gaze. “i think we could have fun together,” he purrs, dropping his hand. “if you want.” / @devcted

[theneeksilva]

(—) ★ spotted !! neek silva on the cover of this week’s most recent tabloid! many say that the 31 year old looks like chay suede, but i don’t really see it. while the humanitarian aide worker / media sensation is known for being selfless my inside sources say that they have a tendency to be egotistical. i swear, every time i think of them, i hear the song let it be by the beatles.

AGE:    thirty   -  one     .

DATE     OF     BIRTH:   may   15th     .

mainly known for activism but was the bachelor in 2020.

PERSONA:    neek silva is a self proclaimed martyr ( and saint ) . wholly delusional and rich as fuck . if you’re lucky enough to be blessed by knowing him then you’re more than likely to end up being told all about what’s wrong with the world , a total dissatisfaction with any correction , neek is always seeking to improve on things and make the world a better place with little consideration for the little people that he affects along the way . in general though he is self - sacrificing , generous , creating and innovative but his head barely fits through the door . he can’t let any little trivial things stand in his way and he’s more than willing to leave pretty much anyone in the dust along the way - sorry guys ! neek isn’t the type of person that you want to make a permanent part of your life although he is a good catch in terms of net worth and moral value to the public appearance . he’s stubborn , stuck in his ways and always seeking a new adventure . he will never be satisfied .

LIFE   STORY:

neek silva had the fortunate to be born into a long line of socialites who made their money by simply feeding into the extravagance of being rich . he and his younger sister bluebell were the only children to their parents and were spoiled in every single fashion , loved wholeheartedly and given whatever their hearts desired . unfortunately , neek seemed to desire more than material possessions , his passions ranging from beginning in donating to the poor to becoming a vegetarian and calling his parents murderers every night at dinner . neek was no easy child and his behaviour escalated from simply verbal judgements to taking action against this wrong behaviour ; his parents were not best pleased but they still tried their best .

as they grew up , six years separated himself and his sister and he loathed her selfish , manipulative and fake ways . they could argue for hours on end and neither was able to identify a single thing that the other was doing right . he and his little sister were opposites in every single way and everything that was wrong with the world , neek believed was due to people like his family . now , don’t misinterpret neek for being a good person because in a way he was exactly the same as them … out of touch with reality and stumbling through life making decisions that negatively affected all around him and claiming he was doing it for good . when neek donated all of his parents clothes to charity , signed his sister up to be a guest speaker at the local church , invited the homeless into their mansion or dosed his mother in pigs blood to show that meat was murder … he might have thought that he was being a good person but he was actually just trying to force his beliefs on everyone else . over the years there was a certain friction growing and as he headed into his latter teens then that would come to a head , a number of arrests for activism , inciting protests , slander against corporations and rich families ; neek was causing great embarrassment to his family . still hanging on by a thread , the final straw seemed to be when neek publicly denounced one of their close family friends science foundation as morally wrong and claimed that during a break in he had seen that they were planning to test unknown substances on humans . of course , his claims were refuted but it sure did make a splash in the local news – had neek been right ? it was unclear , but , in his eyes , he was saving the world … or whatever . a few weeks later someone set fire to a tree in his parents front yard and he was told that he could either issue an apology or get out of their house and take his claims with him . he left .

neek felt after this point that he was a true joan of arc type character , a martyr who needed to be vindicated and appreciated ( very wholesome thoughts ) and headed out into the local community to his small following to continue causing a ruckus . he always started things but he never stuck around to see how it ended … peace to the people ! he was easy enough to get feathers ruffled but he only ever faced superficial consequences even without his parents , nobody really wanted to interfere with the rich boy who liked to scream and shout . his followers often ended up in way bigger trouble but they still loved him just the same . by the time he reached his mid twenties then he was touring the world doing humanitarian work and being hailed as a saint … even his parents were coming around although he still played his same old tricks , implying they were awful people unlike him .

WANTED CONNECTIONS .

rich people who know he’s also rich and think he’s a total idiot however he thinks he’s just on the moral high ground so they have to hate him

people who can’t stand to be around him but are allys in public for their reputations

ex husband/ex wife that wants to scream every time they see him. this probably stems from the fact that neek is a terrible partner who focuses all his energy on strangers rather than anything occurring in his personal life

friends who are involved in the same charitable activities although probably have better moral code than neek

someone who tells him off because he acts like an idiot

[witchyfemmee]

and i see you’ve posted another thing for me to do so i’ll do that :))

hmm wanna answer 8, 10, 13, 29, and 35?

8. I’m most proud of myself and how much i’ve grown in the last year. i used to have really bad driving anxiety, but now i drive myself practically everywhere. (i’m still a passenger princess at heart) I also hated making phone calls, but i’ve gotten so much better at it.

10. The biggest fight i’ve ever had was with my father, unfortunately to tell that story we’d need more time than the universe has to offer. And fortunately he’s no longer in my life.

13. I know that virginity is a construct, but i don’t know if what i’ve done counts as sex 😭 but weather it counts as sex or not, it happened with someone i was extremely comfortable with, someone who i felt safe with, and it was a very sweet experience. Which is all that i can ask for in future experiences. I just wanted to feel safe and comfortable, like there’s no judgement. I never want me or a partner to feel like we can’t say how we really feel during sex.

29. Being desired by someone not only sexually. I want someone to desire being with me as a person, someone who wants to spend time with me, be around me. that alone is enough to make me wanna jump your bones.

~ Also praise..”your doing so good” “you look so pretty” i’ll melt on the spot.

~ Oh god, taking it slow is one of the hottest things in the world. Like i want the build up to sex to be almost painful. I just feel like the slower you go the more intense and intimate it is.

35. i wish i could stop biting my nails, it’s such an embarrassing bad habit, i hate it. But I’ve tried so many things and still can’t seem to stop.

[alyjojo]

January ⛸️ 2024 Monthly - Leo

Whole of your energy: The Lovers

4 Cups came out with this dissatisfied feeling, and 3 Swords rev shows it’s not hurt or pain, you’ve healed from any of that, it’s just…not thrilled. Something could be coming to light about the past, you could be deciding you’ve waited on someone or something long enough and it’s time to move on. It shows up as past energy, something you’re not exactly thrilled to hear, or even discuss, at least initially. The meditation was simply a little metal ship 🚢 like the Monopoly game piece, moving across a map of many colors, from a pink spot across the sea to somewhere pretty far off. This waiting energy was connected to 6 Swords, you could be waiting to travel, or expecting someone else to come see you, but maybe they don’t have the same enthusiasm, or you don’t, either way. You could just be feeling restless and wanting to travel.

Having pulled the initial cards, every 👏 single 👏 card 👏 is major arcana. Even The Magician at the bottom of the deck, this is an intense & transformative time, big changes are at play. You seem to have already gotten through a relationship that was toxic, kept you stuck, and broke your heart, likely a karmic soul tie of some kind…or this energy wouldn’t be here, whatever this was happened for a higher purpose in your life. The Lovers is a powerful connection, The Star is here too, this can show Twin Flame where/if that applies. It hurt, this relationship crushed you, there are likely more people involved than just you two. But you’re over it now - 3 Swords rev, and it was not easy.

What’s going on in January:

The Star:

After a Tower has completely collapsed and wiped away everything as you knew it to once be - likely in the past, The Star eventually appears like a light in the dark, to show you the way back to your path. It fills you with hope, optimism, Wheel of Fortune at the bottom can show different synchronicities showing up for you, and people/opportunities you need at just the right time, it’s no coincidence. The Devil clarifies, you could see the deeper meanings to why things had to go the way they did, how they’ve benefitted you in the long run. Referring to the preshuffle, you could be finding out or realizing things about a person you don’t really like, but never saw clearly. Or you’ve waited on a toxic personality that’s never going to change. Some of you have healed addictions, or you’ve waited for someone else to. However it plays out for you is seeing the positive in a formerly negative situation, habit, way of thinking or behaving, that’s probably kept you stuck for some time. You seem to be releasing more than just a person, if a person is included, this is like the end of an era for you. With Pluto moving into your 7th and you being one of the most intensely affected, this all makes sense astrology wise. Relationships of all kinds are subject to change - for your highest good, you will change too 💙

The Hierophant:

Could be a marriage that’s ended. You have Judgement clarifying, and three more major arcanas at the bottom. I’ve never seen a reading like this before, not *this* much. This could be a counselor, a rehab facility, a priest or spiritual leader, a wise elder of any kind, that’s helping you move forward in the ways you were previously stuck, whether that includes addictions or not - it does for someone. Some of you may feel “born again” or finding your faith after a long time not really caring about that sort of thing. Spirit may be proving themselves to you, in countless ways, only you would know how. Someone or some higher learning is helping you make a final decision that’s Justice for you - and The Hermit. Could definitely be a divorce, doesn’t have to be, it can be removing yourself from anyone you find to be toxic. The Hierophant can be a parent too. Something hurt you deeply, and it had to go, or you had to, and your own faith or some kind of teacher/mentor is helping to pull you through this difficult time.

The Sun:

Clarified by Page of Swords & The Moon, you seem to be seeking this Hierophant energy, someone very wise with a spirit of learning, eagerly and curiously finding out all you can about the things that confuse you, to make you feel more knowledgeable and well-adjusted or prepared for how to move forward. For some this is literally a counselor after a toxic relationship or addiction. Or you’re doing your own work in this area, you see your issues clearly and want to know how to overcome them. Some of you may have put off school and could be trying to go back, further your education in some way, get training on something, a certificate or license. Where you were once confused, fearful, worried, unsure and not aware of what’s going on, you feel you have a much better understanding now, and what you don’t, you’ll seek out that information. Page of Swords can be communicating with others as well, some kind of a support group that’s helping you work through these difficulties, and it’s working, or it will 💯

The Fool:

A brand new beginning is here for you to completely start over. 3 Swords being here upright with 10 Swords & The Devil, there could’ve been some 3rd party interference in a relationship that’s ended, your person could’ve been juggling an air sign, or this is the ex, could just be you were in this Queen of Swords energy. Truth, balance, fairness, but zero hesitation in cutting something off thats no good for you, this Queen makes no time for unhealthy bs that’s unworthy of her and what she deserves. You probably found someone out and ended this connection altogether, Death follows. It’s a new beginning for you, The Fool isn’t afraid to take a leap into the unknown, he’s excited, and so are you. But first, the ending of something else.

Death:

The end. You’re not giving to this anymore. Or they may have left. But most of you I think were the ones to realize what’s going on, and decide you’re better than this, you deserve more than 4 Cups - not being chosen, treated as an option or not a priority. Or that’s switched for a crosswatcher. Death is not only death but a powerful transformation in yourself, further encouraged by Pluto entering your opposite sign for the next 20ish years. Your relationships will be affected more than anything else, especially for risings, but in order for what you deserve & want to come in, you have the shed the skin of the past first. I get Spirit being with you 1000% through this, it’s a difficult reading but an encouraging one, you see this wasn’t or isn’t good for you and that’s the first step towards getting to where you want to be, with who you’re supposed to be with. If they haven’t shown up yet…things are still transitioning, it’s gotta end before it all begins again.

Signs you may be dealing with:

Gemini, Libra, Aries, Scorpio, Capricorn & Taurus

Oracle: ✨

20 Healing Energy 🤕

Drawing this card guides you to work with energy on a healing level. Take a class, go and receive a Reiki healing, or just sit in meditation and concentrate on mindfulness. With the healing energy of Divine love, you do not have to “know” how to do anything. Just sit quietly, set your intention and let Spirit’s love fill you up. When you are living in a vibration of healing, you not only affect yourself, but those around you. Others then can connect with your energy and their vibrations can rise as a result. There is no force to this. This is basically how energy works. Your vibrational change will effect change in the ones you are close to. Alternately this card signifies healing is taking place within a relationship.

We enter into January as:

Cherry Heart 🍒

“When you accept yourself, you find love.”

Cherry Heart reminds us that we may not be accurately assessing ourselves. If you are drawn to Cherry, consider that perhaps you are being given signs to see, hear or feel a truth, but have yet to accept it. It is also a reminder that you may be distorting your reality in a self-defeating way. Short-changing ourselves is how we hold ourselves back. Cherry Heart is at the core an issue of self-acceptance and seeing miracles in everyday life. Cherry wishes to tell you that prosperity happens with acceptance. She invites you to see yourself as complete just as you are.

What is to be learned in January:

Blue November 🕊

“ A window is opened as a door gently closes.”

The passing of things in our lives is inevitable. Jobs, people, friendships, or relationships. This card is a message that whatever is going on requires a release on your part. There is no healthy escape from your own feelings. This card is a reminder that what is taken away is replaced with something else, in some form, eventually. You may not even be aware of the loss, but others around you are feeling it, in some cases. This could represent some unexpected news. You must be grateful for what you have. A coming celebration will pull you through whatever is coming. Do not be afraid that you are avoiding your feelings by celebrating. Your feelings will surface, and resurface, when they’re supposed to. Whatever is pending that you must face will not be as frightening as it is in your mind.

Blue may be a lucky color 💙

[changelingz]

(—)  ★  spotted  !!  neek  silva  on  the  cover  of  this  week’s  most  recent  tabloid!  many  say  that  the  31  year  old  looks  like  chay  suede,  but  i  don’t  really  see  it.  while  the  humanitarian  aide  worker  /  media  sensation  is  known  for  being  selfless  my  inside  sources  say  that  they  have  a  tendency  to  be  egotistical.  i  swear,  every  time  i  think  of  them,  i  hear  the  song  let  it  be  by  the  beatles.

AGE:    thirty   -  one     .

DATE     OF     BIRTH:   may   15th     .

PERSONA:    neek  silva  is  a  self  proclaimed  martyr  (  and  saint  )  .  wholly  delusional  and  rich  as  fuck  .  if  you’re  lucky  enough  to  be  blessed  by  knowing  him  then  you’re  more  than  likely  to  end  up  being  told  all  about  what’s  wrong  with  the  world  ,  a  total  dissatisfaction  with  any  correction  ,  neek  is  always  seeking  to  improve  on  things  and  make  the  world  a  better  place  with  little  consideration  for  the  little  people  that  he  affects  along  the  way  .  in  general  though  he  is  self  -  sacrificing  ,  generous  ,  creating  and  innovative  but  his  head  barely  fits  through  the  door  .  he  can’t  let  any  little  trivial  things  stand  in  his  way  and  he’s  more  than  willing  to  leave  pretty  much  anyone  in  the  dust  along  the  way  -  sorry  guys  !  neek  isn’t  the  type  of  person  that  you  want  to  make  a  permanent  part  of  your  life  although  he  is  a  good  catch  in  terms  of  net  worth  and  moral  value  to  the  public  appearance  .  he’s  stubborn  ,  stuck  in  his  ways  and  always  seeking  a  new  adventure  .  he  will  never  be  satisfied  .

LIFE   STORY:

neek  silva  had  the  fortunate  to  be  born  into  a  long  line  of  socialites  who  made  their  money  by  simply  feeding  into  the  extravagance  of  being  rich  .  he  and  his  younger  sister  bluebell  were  the  only  children  to  their  parents  and  were  spoiled  in  every  single  fashion  ,  loved  wholeheartedly  and  given  whatever  their  hearts  desired  .  unfortunately  ,  neek  seemed  to  desire  more  than  material  possessions  ,  his  passions  ranging  from  beginning  in  donating  to  the  poor  to  becoming  a  vegetarian  and  calling  his  parents  murderers  every  night  at  dinner  .  neek  was  no  easy  child  and  his  behaviour  escalated  from  simply  verbal  judgements  to  taking  action  against  this  wrong  behaviour  ;  his  parents  were  not  best  pleased  but  they  still  tried  their  best  .

as  they  grew  up  ,  six  years  separated  himself  and  his  sister  and  he  loathed  her  selfish  ,  manipulative  and  fake  ways  .  they  could  argue  for  hours  on  end  and  neither  was  able  to  identify  a  single  thing  that  the  other  was  doing  right  .  he  and  his  little  sister  were  opposites  in  every  single  way  and  everything  that  was  wrong  with  the  world  ,  neek  believed  was  due  to  people  like  his  family  .  now  ,  don’t  misinterpret  neek  for  being  a  good  person  because  in  a  way  he  was  exactly  the  same  as  them  …  out  of  touch  with  reality  and  stumbling  through  life  making  decisions  that  negatively  affected  all  around  him  and  claiming  he  was  doing  it  for  good  .  when  neek  donated  all  of  his  parents  clothes  to  charity  ,  signed  his  sister  up  to  be  a  guest  speaker  at  the  local  church  ,  invited  the  homeless  into  their  mansion  or  dosed  his  mother  in  pigs  blood  to  show  that  meat  was  murder  …  he  might  have  thought  that  he  was  being  a  good  person  but  he  was  actually  just  trying  to  force  his  beliefs  on  everyone  else  .  over  the  years  there  was  a  certain  friction  growing  and  as  he  headed  into  his  latter  teens  then  that  would  come  to  a  head  ,  a  number  of  arrests  for  activism  ,  inciting  protests  ,  slander  against  corporations  and  rich  families  ;  neek  was  causing  great  embarrassment  to  his  family  .  still  hanging  on  by  a  thread  ,  the  final  straw  seemed  to  be  when  neek  publicly  denounced  one  of  their  close  family  friends  science  foundation  as  morally  wrong  and  claimed  that  during  a  break  in  he  had  seen  that  they  were  planning  to  test  unknown  substances  on  humans  .  of  course  ,  his  claims  were  refuted  but  it  sure  did  make  a  splash  in  the  local  news  –  had  neek  been  right  ?  it  was  unclear  ,  but  ,  in  his  eyes  ,  he  was  saving  the  world  …  or  whatever  .  a  few  weeks  later  someone  set  fire  to  a  tree  in  his  parents  front  yard  and  he  was  told  that  he  could  either  issue  an  apology  or  get  out  of  their  house  and  take  his  claims  with  him  .  he  left  .

neek  felt  after  this  point  that  he  was  a  true  joan  of  arc  type  character  ,  a  martyr  who  needed  to  be  vindicated  and  appreciated  (  very  wholesome  thoughts  )  and  headed  out  into  the  local  community  to  his  small  following  to  continue  causing  a  ruckus  .  he  always  started  things  but  he  never  stuck  around  to  see  how  it  ended  …  peace  to  the  people  !  he  was  easy  enough  to  get  feathers  ruffled  but  he  only  ever  faced  superficial  consequences  even  without  his  parents  ,  nobody  really  wanted  to  interfere  with  the  rich  boy  who  liked  to  scream  and  shout  .  his  followers  often  ended  up  in  way  bigger  trouble  but  they  still  loved  him  just  the  same  .  by  the  time  he  reached  his  mid  twenties  then  he  was  touring  the  world  doing  humanitarian  work  and  being  hailed  as  a  saint  …  even  his  parents  were  coming  around  although  he  still  played  his  same  old  tricks  ,  implying  they  were  awful  people  unlike  him  .

[sirneeksilva]

NEEK SILVA . 

(—) ★ spotted !! neek silva on the cover of this week’s most recent tabloid! many say that the 31 year old looks like chay suede, but i don’t really see it. while the humanitarian aide worker / media sensation is known for being selfless my inside sources say that they have a tendency to be egotistical. i swear, every time i think of them, i hear the song let it be by the beatles.

AGE:    thirty   -  one     .

DATE     OF     BIRTH:    may   15th     .

PERSONA:     neek silva is a self proclaimed martyr ( and saint ) . wholly delusional and rich as fuck . if you’re lucky enough to be blessed by knowing him then you’re more than likely to end up being told all about what’s wrong with the world , a total dissatisfaction with any correction , neek is always seeking to improve on things and make the world a better place with little consideration for the little people that he affects along the way . in general though he is self - sacrificing , generous , creating and innovative but his head barely fits through the door . he can’t let any little trivial things stand in his way and he’s more than willing to leave pretty much anyone in the dust along the way - sorry guys ! neek isn’t the type of person that you want to make a permanent part of your life although he is a good catch in terms of net worth and moral value to the public appearance . he’s stubborn , stuck in his ways and always seeking a new adventure . he will never be satisfied . 

LIFE   STORY:

neek silva had the fortunate to be born into a long line of socialites who made their money by simply feeding into the extravagance of being rich . he and his younger sister bluebell were the only children to their parents and were spoiled in every single fashion , loved wholeheartedly and given whatever their hearts desired . unfortunately , neek seemed to desire more than material possessions , his passions ranging from beginning in donating to the poor to becoming a vegetarian and calling his parents murderers every night at dinner . neek was no easy child and his behaviour escalated from simply verbal judgements to taking action against this wrong behaviour ; his parents were not best pleased but they still tried their best . 

as they grew up , six years separated himself and his sister and he loathed her selfish , manipulative and fake ways . they could argue for hours on end and neither was able to identify a single thing that the other was doing right . he and his little sister were opposites in every single way and everything that was wrong with the world , neek believed was due to people like his family . now , don’t misinterpret neek for being a good person because in a way he was exactly the same as them ... out of touch with reality and stumbling through life making decisions that negatively affected all around him and claiming he was doing it for good . when neek donated all of his parents clothes to charity , signed his sister up to be a guest speaker at the local church , invited the homeless into their mansion or dosed his mother in pigs blood to show that meat was murder ... he might have thought that he was being a good person but he was actually just trying to force his beliefs on everyone else . over the years there was a certain friction growing and as he headed into his latter teens then that would come to a head , a number of arrests for activism , inciting protests , slander against corporations and rich families ; neek was causing great embarrassment to his family . still hanging on by a thread , the final straw seemed to be when neek publicly denounced one of their close family friends science foundation as morally wrong and claimed that during a break in he had seen that they were planning to test unknown substances on humans . of course , his claims were refuted but it sure did make a splash in the local news -- had neek been right ? it was unclear , but , in his eyes , he was saving the world ... or whatever . a few weeks later someone set fire to a tree in his parents front yard and he was told that he could either issue an apology or get out of their house and take his claims with him . he left . 

neek felt after this point that he was a true joan of arc type character , a martyr who needed to be vindicated and appreciated ( very wholesome thoughts ) and headed out into the local community to his small following to continue causing a ruckus . he always started things but he never stuck around to see how it ended ... peace to the people ! he was easy enough to get feathers ruffled but he only ever faced superficial consequences even without his parents , nobody really wanted to interfere with the rich boy who liked to scream and shout . his followers often ended up in way bigger trouble but they still loved him just the same . by the time he reached his mid twenties then he was touring the world doing humanitarian work and being hailed as a saint ... even his parents were coming around although he still played his same old tricks , implying they were awful people unlike him . 

WANTED CONNECTIONS . 

rich people who know he’s also rich and think he’s a total idiot however he thinks he’s just on the moral high ground so they have to hate him 

people who can’t stand to be around him but are allys in public for their reputations 

ex husband/ex wife that wants to scream every time they see him. this probably stems from the fact that neek is a terrible partner who focuses all his energy on strangers rather than anything occurring in his personal life

friends who are involved in the same charitable activities although probably have better moral code than neek 

someone who tells him off because he acts like an idiot

[nataliawrites]

My Boyfriend’s Not in the Mafia // Charles Leclerc

I’ve been having issues with my posts disappearing from the tags so I’m going to give reposting this a try

It was funny at first. You didn’t really think anything of it the first time … or the second … or the third.

When you landed your dream job straight out of college and traded in the familiar streets of your hometown for the glitz and glam of Monaco, you didn’t know what to expect. But the reality ended up being more than you could have dreamed of.

You had a crooked cobblestone and poorly closed latte to thank for that. One wrong step saw you flung across the sidewalk. Fortunately, someone managed to catch you before your head became the street’s next victim. Unfortunately, his white linen shirt also caught the remnants of your coffee.

That’s how you met Charles Leclerc. Who needs a meet cute when you could have a “I’m mortified and can’t ever show my face in the second-smallest sovereign state in the world again” cute?

Of course you didn’t exactly know who he was at first but the gigantic billboard of his face next to the Prancing Horse that you passed on the way to your first date clued you in pretty quickly.

As you became more serious, you never intended to keep your relationship secret. But it was the off-season and that meant that Charles could mostly stay out of the spotlight while the two of you relished in your own little bubble. The honeymoon phase never felt sweeter.

But then your coworkers started asking questions. They saw the Ferrari (and the other Ferrari and the other Ferrari and the other Ferrari) that often dropped you off in the mornings and picked you up at night. They saw how you started to rush out for your lunch break instead of spending it in the office. They saw the new earrings and bracelets and necklaces and shoes and lots and lots of red accents.

“Who is he?”

You turn towards your coworker, Stephanie, as you go to refill your water bottle after lunch. “Who is who?”

She wiggles an eyebrow, “Your new man!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Your other coworker, Jacob, walks over from across the room. “Don’t be coy. We have eyes.”

Stephanie laughs, “And my eyes are telling me that you’ve found yourself a trust fund kid. No judgement here — get that bag!”

“One,” your raise a finger, “he’s not a trust fund kid. And two,” you raise another, “it’s not about money. I really like him.”

Stephanie squeals with as much zeal as she can manage in a corporate office, “I knew it! You have a man.”

Jacob chimes in, “So trust fund kid’s out … I’m betting on an oligarch.”

“Or a torrid affair with a politician.” Stephanie seems way too excited at the prospect.

You roll your eyes good-naturedly, “He does something much more dangerous.”

“He’s in the mafia?”

“Damn, you’ve got yourself a mobster.”

You don’t grace them with a reply, just laughing the teasing away.

You should have just straight up denied it. You knew that. But you were having too much fun and what harm could a little joke possibly have? You just didn’t expect the photos you posted on Instagram from when you joined Charles in Maranello and then explored northern Italy together to have your work friends quite so suspicious.

Stephanie and Jacob corner you as soon as you step out of the elevator on your first day back from vacation.

Stephanie starts, “So Italy …”

“Where the mafia is from. What a coincidence!” Jacob finishes.

“Wait,” Stephanie focuses on your neck, “that’s a new necklace.” She spots the patent red bottoms of your new more fashion than function stilettos, “and those are new shoes!”

“We were in Milan!” You explained. “You can’t not go shopping in Milan.”

“Yeah,” Jacob laughs, “you and your mafioso sugar daddy.”

To be fair, the phone call they overheard between you and Charles the next day didn’t help much.

“Did you manage to get the blood out?”

He sighed through the phone, “Yes, finally! Only took me two hours of scrubbing. Remind me not to scratch my leg on a cliff and not notice while it bleeds on my car’s leather the next time we go to the beach.”

Your back turned to them, you don’t even notice the wide eyed look that Stephanie and Jacob exchange.

When your birthday approached right before the season started up, you finally decided to introduce Charles to your friends. Your family, the Leclercs, and your friends would be joining you for dinner at your favorite local restaurant.

Charles was standing next to you, welcoming your guests and inviting them to sit down for dinner, when Stephanie and Jacob walked in.

You think they would’ve looked less shocked if Charles was actually in the mafia.

Jacob stutters, “You’re … you’re-”

“CHARLES LECLERC!” Stephanie managed to find her voice.

Charles extended a hand and chuckled, “Hope I don’t disappoint. Y/N told me you thought I was in the mafia. I’m not quite at that level.”

Your best friends from work turned the same color as Charles’ race suit.

[muffindaddystyles]

DENTIST THE BAD BOI

Word count: 7k

A/N: Heavily inspired from 90's rom-coms, so if your heart swoons out of loneliness it's not on me sistas -- doctor Harry my fav.

Summary: Harry's a med-student and Y/N's an art student, being neighbours with Y/N was already a living hell for Harry but when she fusses over his cat getting her cat pregnant -- he mighty looses it.

Pairing: Dentist Harry × Artist reader, Frenemies to bestfriends to lovers, platonic affection and loads of bestie fluff.

MASTERLIST, REQUEST FOR BLURBS FROM THIS FIC ARE OPEN || PART 2

“Harryyyyy!!!!” Y/N screamed at the top of her lungs staring at the small picture of ultrasound, blinking at it several times to vision herself back into reality because the more she does the more she becomes grumpy and fussy – cursing the beast of a neighbour who got her little innocent cat pregnant.

She pulled the strings of her pyjama shorts to tighten it around her and hastily towed her feet into fuzzy slippers, giving a stink of an eye to her cat “don't act so surprised you little ragamuffin!” She mouthed at her with venom (as if trippers her cat cares), stomping her way out and writes a whole book of judgements in her rattling brain upon hearing the loud music weeping through walls.

She knocks. Huffs when it goes unnoticed and this time pounds at the door, crossing her forearms infront of her chest. Not unaware and very accustomed; of happy chatter whirling around whenever she’s trying to focus how a certain recipe goes by, his mates chanting his name from outside when he’s too occupied in whatever he's sorting out inside for their arrival, clanking of beer bottles knowing they and her have a long time to go, the music dimming in the wee of night as the door closes after every fifteen minutes and it dawns at that time –-- she always get left with one option and that’s to curse him till she sleeps.

It’s every Friday and Saturday’s story.

“Max stop that before Ni asks fo’ a dummy —-,” His neck's craned to where his friends are sitting on one of the cosy spots. His jaw popping, dimples chasmic from the smirk he’s holding and Y/N gulps then arches her brow when his attention drops down at her, “Oh .... hi, could help ya?” His cocky grin irks her – bubbling a fire in her pit and an urge to twinge his ear and drag him to her apartment, to show him what he did.

“Could you help me!?” She laughs ironically, chases her frowning gaze from the ripped patches of his jeans towards where his curls are brushing his earlobes and it kind of makes her gasp which she traps in fortunately because – he’s always wearing a hoodie, beanie or his hair up in a little fountain like bun rushing through the lobby with his thick books and laptop clutched in his arms, “Yes please .. y’could help me by transferring expenses of your cat's babies every month to me —-...um could simply have them in your apartment too if the first deal’s too bad.” She shrugs. Taking a glimpse from his shoulder of his friends bunched over eachother and he toys with his bottom wet lip, brows stringing into confusion and his bicep flexes making her flutter her eyes away as he grips the knob of the door and closes it behind him.

“What d'ya mean?”

“You’re doing it on purpose right? ‘cos there’s no way —--” He cuts her groans with a snap and runs a palm down his face, “I seriously don’t know what you’re talkin' ‘bout, Y/N.” His lips tinned into a flat line, his posture now resembling her's and she slaps her forehead with the heel of her palm.

“Then you should keep tabs of your beasty minx of a cat who got my cat pregnant!” She exclaims disbelievingly to which his eyes turns saucer and he throws his sinewy arms in between them, mimics her expressions comically, “Is that my fault? Did I get your cat prego?” She blinks up at him rapidly --- he’s such a nerve puller.

“Yes it is! You didn’t get your cat desexed —-,” She stuffs her pointer against his chest and twist it with a grit, “Now he’ll have babies left and right – like a catwhore he is!!” She aerials her hands in different directions rapidly and he takes a step closer kissing his teeth together to seethe his words.

“He’s not a catwhore!”

“Kay then take the responsibility of what he did.” She mutters tapping her foot onto the carpeted floor and guppies at him like a fish when he bursts into taunting cackles, leaning to catch the door-frame before he mushes her under his weight. ”

“Ye -‐..- you’re —- you aren’t serious are ya?” His rosy eyelids snib tightly forming crinkles to where his temples meet his cheeks and she almost pouts, how much she doesn’t want to she could never cascade her expressions.

“Oh my — .... Bambi eyed wouldn’t I’ave had free him of his ball’s heaviness –-- if I’d ‘ave enough money down me pocket?” He scrunches his nose to take a breather from laughing hard.

“Don’t call me that!” She bites at him.

“You’re cute when you’re angry.” He smirks gingerly – drums his fingers against his folded bicep and presses his back to the wall tipping his chin high.

Her blush eager to creep up her neck embarrasses her further more and she hides the softness in her voice, muttering gruffly, “Shut up.” Then turns to walk back into her apartment and to slam the door at his face -- but -- his whistle for her halts her in tracks.

“Hey – Bambi, we could sign the custody of kitties if that what ye'want.”

..

Three weeks after. There was another knock on Harry’s door, Niall's head perks up and bangs against the bookshelf –- he was trying to keep the furry cat in his lap, for a good warmer but its more enamoured with the ‘clucks' of his daddy’s boots than the soft flesh of Niall’s thigh as Harry chucks his wallet in the back-pocket of his jeans (he was about to go outside and bring some food) and opens the door slightly to see through the trapping chain, “who’s it?”

“Harry ‘s me ....” The voice mousey and worried. Niall recognizes it in a hot-second, frowns and tries to gain snowy’s attention, “What did y'do again? Did ya get the pretty neighbour's cat prego twice, you fat farts.” He chuckles when snowy meows at him innocently and Harry's brows skews together into a scowl.

“Call him fat farts another time —- I dare you —--,” He howls. Throwing angry upset glares towards Niall – their bickering gets interrupted when Y/N slips her hand from the crack of door, pinches Harry’s knuckles and he squeaks, “Ow —- what the fuck!”

“Harry.” Her tone threatening.

Harry puffs out a huge sigh and reveals himself infront of her, he's not in mood to fight with her over their cats, or the parcel Harry forgot to give her which got delivered to him on accident like one of the thousand times (he never found anything freakish until now .. not that he goes through what’s inside, but the labels tell they’re mostly her art supplies), or why he’s been showering for an hour because she now isn’t left with any warm water —- because he just came back from UNI and is dust bones from having two exams in a row.

“Y/N —-,” His face reeks with exhaustion. His curls drowsy, escaping from his knit beanie and his eyes glazed with sea-foam. She kinda feels bad for disturbing him -- but – it’s an emergency and she doesn’t know where to go, except him.

His weary vision falls upon trippers tucked beneath Y/N’s arm, “Is she alright?” He scratches behind her ear and trippers gives out a pained yowl.

“No –-.. that’s why ‘m here. She’s spotting blood everywhere and –-- and I don’t have enough money ...,” She’s embarrassed to say least. Not meeting Harry’s eyes and he gazes her sincerely –- belly doing weirdly funny somersaults. He clears his throat, grogs out gathering all the information in his head from the anatomy of humans and animals he studied till now.

“It’s okay for spotting in pregnancies – but ‐-.. she looks very much in pain s' we shouldn’t risk it. I’ve a friend. She’s practicing vet -- we could take her there.” He offers. Rubbing the back of his neck and Y/N bobs her head vigorously, anything to save her trippers baby.

“Fine –-- yeah, Iemme just wear my shoes ... then we're good to go.” She mumbles. Harry hasn’t seen her demeanour flatter like this ever before, whenever she’s banging and barging through his flat it’s always taut and cold banter.

He has never seen her this defenceless.

He drops his gaze down at her feet and finds that she’s wearing cute pizza slices socksies.

..

“Is this a clinic, or weed doing zone for animals?” She didn’t try to be mean. It just happened as she takes in the wearbouts of garage, stuffed with drums and musical instruments, spray paint on walls. Harry seems unfazed though, he could be shabbier than her if he wants to –- much fouler that could make her cry.

“Told you. She’s practicing not a vet yet.” She doesn’t question him further. Grateful enough for his help. She might not admit but he isn’t that bad of guy as she once imagined him in her head.

Y/N stifles a snort when a girl with mullet shag, having a stud in her brow and the corner of her lip, attired in all black greets Harry with a hip-check, “Vas’up booger.” She grins and Harry grumbles ruffling her hair with his knuckles.

It leaves Y/N in awe. This’s what group of friends look like -- so fun and annoying, she wanted to have this since when she’s small. Sadly, it’s just her and trippers in her friend group.

“Hi there!” She waves to Y/N trying to battle Harry’s tickles away. Takes trippers from Y/N's arms and coos up at her, “hiyaa baby .. oh, she’s having lil buns inside her.” She laughs and Y/N already likes her so much. As if, she’s the main character of any vintage styled movie.

“Rori here.” She introduces herself as Harry strolls inside her kitchen to rummage through her fridge, “Y/N.” Y/N smiles –-- eyeing Harry who’s whistling and tearing the crate of orange juice open.

When Trippers purrs from a cramp, Rori snuggles her closer to herself – “Her spotting is nothing to worry about –-- maybe she’s ready to give birth. If not I’ll take her to my hospital.”

“So Harry said...” Y/N nods.

“Oohh.” Rori exclaims, wiggling her brows curiously at Harry who’s gulping down juice hungrily, “Booger got normal friends too? Thought, those were all white lies.” He almost chokes at it – downing it cautiously and blinks vividly.

“No. Just neighbours.” Yeah, there’s nothing friendly between them –-- but how it’d be like to befriend Harry. The thought makes Y/N feel snoozy and warm.

“I see.”

“Okay then! ‘m gonna keep Trippers with me for two days –-- figure out what I could do to help her and if she heals I’ll drop her by, how that sounds?”

“Sounds good!” Both, Harry and Y/N chimes together heating their cheeks up. Harry wavers his gaze away, sulking a pouty mouth and turns all stoic again.

He doesn’t want to like, Y/N. Nope. Not at all. In any case.

She’s his bedevilling, bothersome and galling neighbour who just screams at him too much for his likening.

..

“Would you like something to eat?” She asks him while walking back home and he shakes his head, so she nudges him in ribs, “oh c'mon let it be a thank you, grumpy pants.”

“’M not –-,” He was about to snap at her. Instead, he groped her wrist tightly and tugged her to his side –-- she squeals into his chest as a car passes by them swiftly, honking at them in anger.

Her hair wisps from the friction of Harry’s hoodie as she pushes herself away from him, surprisingly he smells incredibly sweet – that of vanilla and citrus musk, something very cosy and like a morning breeze.

A jolt buzzes through her spine at the fact she was about to get crushed under a vehicle but she grins up at him awkwardly, “Tofu then?” His peepers widen in shock and he slaps his forehead.

“You’re mad, know that.”

..

Harry and Y/N. Sky and earth . She sprouts buds of irises and peonies when she speaks, her touch that shines away even an intimidating person as if they're mimosa plants, those eyes --- those eyes are itself sepia of grounds on which the tiny creatures celebrates by and Harry's well ... he’s the floss of clouds hidden behind sunshine, his rains would turn her into loam and his uppish thunder would make her loathe him.

Then some gods decided to break the needles and fix it in some other clock that rotates anti-clock wise.

Now, when she’s unable to nourish her flowers he's always there to rain and stroke a tender breeze against her that makes her lush grass snuggle the roots of who she’s.

They were enemies once. Opposite to eachother in many ways but couldn’t live without eachother despite of their distances. Just like sky's a hollow sheet of nothingness without it’s dear earth.

..

What blossomed their friendship was Y/N's date with this cute boy that is in her ceramic class, (not a date if you’d ask so –-- more like a meetup at this coffee house near her UNI).

Turns out he isn’t that cute. His blunt hands wandered up Y/N’s thigh without her consent and before she could know that, he was groping at it –-- making her gasp and hit her knee against the table. She struggles to writhe out of the chair but he stitches his nails in her skin, “I’m not liking it – you better stop.” She hisses, palms sweaty and slipping trying to remove his grip from around her.

“Don’t act all stupid .. you were hitting at me for hours, you want it but wouldn’t admit.” He groans, rolling his eyes and she feels like crying –-- teeth clanking letting out a shuddering breath.

“I’ll scream.” She warns him.

“You’re not that innocent, you act like.” He smirks, sliding his hand down her insides and before he could reach further Y/N sneaked a fork from the table and stabbed it in his knuckles.

“Fuck.” He shrieks, “Bitch.” He almost screams but stops when everyone stares at him as Y/N’s chair fell against the floor and she stumbles inside the bathroom.

Locking it behind her. Her chest burns with tears. Her vision spins and her fingers shakes as she dials one number she could reach for anytime, it rings then goes to voicemail so her bitten lip wobbles and eyes turn glossy.

She again dials it. There’re noises behind, that of someone instructing and Harry was in his lecture hall when she called .. his heart drops because all he could hear is quivering breath ... it shudders to tight painful gasps and he’s collecting his stuff leaving his seat immediately the doctor who's teaching them Apiceoctomy stares Harry while speaking.

Once he’s out in hallway, “Hey? Y/n are y’there? You okay? What happened?” She bolt her eyes close pressing her head to cold tiled wall and yawps outta fear when someone pounds at the door. Harry runs towards the exist, “Y/N where are you!? ‘m coming .. whatever it’s just --.. just ...” He gripes at his curls pushing them back – his heart beating loud, “ – just stay where you’re ‘n don’t panic .. yeah? It’s okay.” He mutters. Voice soft and assuring.

Her breathing patterns back to calmness – something about him so consoling, so warm and she nods. After some minutes she’s telling him the address and gladly it’s not that far away from Harry.

When he reaches. There are several people waiting at the bathrooms door and he’s knocking on it lightly, pressing his ear to it and grabs the knob (in case he’d have to break it).

When there’s no-response from inside he gets it something’s peculiar, “Bambi. ‘s me Harry.” It clicks and unlocks and he’s tumbling inside while the others groans and disperses knowing it’s invain waiting.

He’s dishevelled. His curls in moppy condition and his eyes full of concern and worry –-- she feels awful for doing this to him.

“Were you crying? Did somethin' happen?” He frowns. Ducking a bit to meet her gaze level and she clears the clump in her throat, “Can we just leave .. please?” He couldn’t believe it’s her voice – the bubbliness and chirpiness of it died to frightened meekness.

Harry takes her hand and walks them outside, Y/N sucks in squeak when the same guy rushes to confront them and when Harry sees his injured hand -- everything pieces together and fury spikes through his veins.

His brows pinches together into a frown, his lips lifting into a scowl and his eyes darkens pitch coal like.

He grips her dainty fingers and moves her behind him protectively and his chest buffs out as he takes a step forward towering the guy – “What d'ya want?” He kisses his teeth together to grit vehemence and that guy lift his trembling hand infront of Harry.

“Look what this bitch —-,” Ah –-- he really pushed Harry’s bad button didn’t he?

Harry grabs him from collar and Y/N squeals rubbing his wrist to pull him back, no-use.

“Badmouth her or anyone —-" Harry sneers and if he'd be a cartoon character – fume would have been coming out of his ears and nose.

“Else what!?” Harry’s more of a practical person -- so he did what he's been learning for years now and breaks his nose with such force it almost knocks him out.

Y/N's still in shock. Walking behind him on jelly toes and a shiver spirals in her bone marrow when her sweat dries from the wind that’s blowing and hitting them in faces.

They wait at bus shelter, sitting side by side –-- thighs brushing now and then flustering Y/N, Moreso when he apologizes everytime.

There’s silence. Harry’s irritated groan breaks it –- he clenches and unclenches his knuckles .. the thin skin a bit bruised.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry –-- .. ‘s my fault.” She rambles. Taking his hand to inspect it, “I shouldn’t have called you at ---..” He frowns confused and pokes her in knee conveying her to stop worrying. Because if anyone needs to be taken care of is her and wish he could just hug her and tell her that it’s not her fault – not even a tad.

“Y/n...” He gains her attention and his gaze flickers from her snotty nose towards her soaky cheeks, “Shut up.” She chuckles at that putting his palm gently back on his thigh.

“Would you like to have, noodles? I know this incredible chinese place ...” He shakes his head. His smile small and kooky, nose scrunched up as he sniffs the air – predicting a rain coming soon.

“D'we have to eat after every tragedy that happens t’you?”

“Yup, tragedies makes me hungry.” It’s her coping mechanism if she'll be honest and that’s what she’s been doing for ages.

“Who are you, Y/N?

She jumps up. Wiggling her fingers for him to take and beams sweetly, “Bambi next door?”

..

“From when did ya become s' rich?” He giggles. He finds her fucking adorable as she drags him along herself excitedly – she halts infront of the expensive restaurant –- where people dressed in all kind of luxuries and bright pearls are dinning in and she arches her brow sceptically, “Did you really think –- I’ll be able to take us here?” He shoves his hands in his jeans pocket, elevates his shoulders and smiles bashfully.

“Maybe one day, who knows?” They walk towards the chinese take out and Y/N trots backwards –-- facing him all while and rolls her eyes, “’M an artist whose half of paintings goes to trash.” Harry’s eyeballs springs out of his sockets hearing her statement and he really wants to knock some senses into this silly girl.

“Oh my --.. jeez .. those paintings are ‘s good y'divvy. They're hanging onto my walls, been enjoying them fo' free —- what the actual fuck .. really your hands are magical.” He feels annoyed and sad that she felt a need to dump them, because those were some beautiful art pieces.

(“Hmm. It has some hidden meaning beneath it, H. I’m tellin' ya.” Ni would always say. Standing infront of it for hours and hours staring at it.

“Looks like a pussy to me.” Max would quip sipping his bevy and Harry would smack him in head, “Guys how ‘bout we just see it like a fuckin' painting.” He'd grumble focusing back on his books.)

“Really?” She asks shyly and he bobs his head, “Guess you could just keep them then ...” She grins up at him taking the boxes from the cashier.

“Where are we going?”

“You’d see yourself.” She sing-songs galloping over the muddy potholes and Harry looks funny doing it with his spider long legs. Their footsteps echoes in the empty warehouse and Harry didn’t expect her to be the person – that loves finding weird places and spend time there.

“Careful there.” He murmurs. Pressing a hand to her waist when she wobbles on her feet climbing the metal stairs and Harry thinks if she was this clumsy all along or it’s from what happened at the coffee house.

“Holy shit!” He cups a hand around his mouth as the traffic bustles down on the street, “You afraid of heights?” She glances back at him from where she’s standing on the cemented edge.

“Matters. If we're about to act silly and jump, then yes.”

Warmth worms up at his chest and his adam apple bobs, he barks out a laugh when she giggles demanding him to come closer to her, “Come here then you dentist the bad boi.” He tugs the fabric of his jeans from his crotch and hikes his one knee up sitting beside her, other leg swinging in air.

He listens to her hums and happy sounds as she slurps the long noodle inside her mouth, “What you’re afraid of then Harry?” Her question catches him off-guard. Nobody has ever asked what his fears are and he might be famous for an intimidating personality just because he speaks less and owns a roaring bullet –-- he’s still very nice to talk to, but he'd rather spend his time with snowy than waste his time on orgy parties.

“Snowy’s funky farts -- they're ‘orrible!! have to leave the flat fo’ a minute.” He grins when Y/N’s head lulls back and she laughs gleefully, rolling into his side to support herself, “Oh no!” She whines when her chopsticks falls and drops onto the road poorly.

“We can share mine.” He hands her his chopsticks and she thanks him timidly, “What d'you fear?” They pass it back and forth –- his lips wrapping around them as he takes a chunky bite.

Harry tries to down the food that got stuck in his throat when she said nonchalantly, “Dying alone I guess?” He chews the veggies, grimaces and shakes his head -- puts his hand over her knee squeezing it kind-heartedly.

“You’ll not.” She feels like every tulip of light around her’s sparkling – the buzz of having his company tingling her in good way, “Promise?” She asks and Harry lifts his pinky in between them encouraging her to bring her's.

She wasn’t serious about the promise thing it was more onto sarcastic side than to sincerity.

“Promise.” His dimples caters deep and his eyes crinkles when different golden lights dances against her skin making her look prettier than she’s.

He’s gonna fulfill his promise.

..

Y/N could be sentimental given on occasions and how bad the situation’s – but she bottles it up for good amount until later, it all crushes her completely and she’s unable to stand back.

Now, when there’s eerie quietness in the bus and the world infront of her fades behind in weird shapes and forms in her head because of the speed of vehicle – her mind thought it’d be best time to remorse over what happened to her and her eyes well up at that.

Harry plucks his headphones down upon hearing her soft sniffles and turns her towards him with her shoulder, “Y/N hey ....” His voice tender and dewy as he slides his palm under her jaw and cups her cheek to wipe out her tears with the mild stroke of his thumb.

His gentleness rakes out an agonising sob from inside her and she feels like her organs are clashing together.

“Shh. Bambi you’re okay now, ‘s alright you’re here with me -- shh, ‘m so sorry love —- but it’s over now, yeah? We're going home and I’ll make you chamomile tea, could ‘ve both snowy and trippers cuddle with you while I’ll get you all warm and nice inside this new fluffy blanket I just bought! – how does that sound?” He pets her hair. Brings her closer to his chest and she keeps her nose tucked against his clavicles to stop from crying and make a show.

When she nods, suckling a wet breath he swipes a loose errand of her hair behind, “Sounds good yeah?” She just hums snuggling into him.

Her arms slowly loops around his love-handles and he stows her head under his chin -- rubs her back in circles to soothe the stiff muscles, covers her ears with the headphones he was wearing before – plays acoustic version of Landslide by Fleetwood Mac and simpers when she hiccups his name, but doesn’t respond when he answers – his ears turns pink from fond and his belly overglows with butterflies as she babbles his name till she drops into peaceful sleep.

Y/N found herself in his bed with snowy and trippers ontop of her and Harry snoring on the couch – his gangly limbs not fitting at all.

She really wanted to call him and sleep on his bed, but she drowses back to slumber.

..

“Grumpy jerk and an actual ray of sunshine. Sorry, couldn’t process it – too much.” Rori teased Harry the last time they gathered and Y/N was there too! though the true statement was claimed after her departure.

Harry’s friends couldn’t believe that he stepped out of his comfort zone and made a new cute friend, now after one year of their friendship it doesn’t feel like they’re neighbours anymore –-- it's just one big home with an alleyway in between.

“What're y'doin', moppet?” Harry chuckles picking up the half eaten packet of crisps, chewy sour candies, wrappers of oreos and the romcom CDs they were playing before.

Y/N's sprawled on her tummy. Feetsie in air and her chin secured in her palm as she looks like she’s seriously about to take an admission in med school –-- she’s concentrating real hard on the thick book under her, eyes fixated on the diagrams of teeth – it makes Harry laugh like a maniac.

“Aish. Your books, gives me an ache.” She massages her forehead, shakes her head as if she tasted something icky and pushes his book away. Harry laughs harder at her antics wrappers flying away from his grasp and he flops onto couch –-- thighs spreading wide and back sinking into the cushions.

“Where?” His lips rumbles as he tries to hold back another fits of laughter when she gets his dirty joke and pouts, lips fluttering into a smile until she bursts into giggles joining him.

“Nope. My cookie doesn’t throb like it used to sneaking on reproduction chapters in biology.” Harry roars out a cackle at that and Y/N grins fiddling with the frizz of her socks, “Heyyyy it’s not funny –- very much sad.”

He suckles a breath in, their grins achy and big, “Stuff your cookie with some jam ‘n you'll be alright.”

“You’re gross!” She fake gags. Hunches over to exaggerate the severity and scares the shit out of Harry when she gasps loudly slapping his knee, “Harry! Harry! Oh my gosh.....ahhhh!” She gallops like a bunny towards the window and gazes up at the sky with glinting eyes, “Harry look! It’s snowing.” He trots behind her with a roll of eyes knowing what’s about to come next.

When she turns around with sparkly grin, hands clasped atop her chest and tippy-toes to beg him, Harry shuts his lids, “No Muffy.” Y/N loves eating chocolate muffins –-- eating them whenever she could possibly ... and that’s how the pet name Harry decided to call her was muffy.

“Please, it would be so fun .. we could have hot chocolate afterwards.” She mumbles tugging at the hem of his chunky yarn sweater.

“Nothing’s fun about snow angles, Muffyyyy!!” He whines. Squinting down at her with one eye and finds her all slumpy, head falling downwards.

“Okie then. ‘m going to sleep.” She mutters in a meek voice pushing past him –-- but he wraps his hand around her wrist and pulls her back to himself, chuckling with wide eyes, “You’re very dramatic and annoyin’ y’know that?”

Instead, she grins bobbing her head shamelessly, pats his chest and dashes to wear his warm jacket, “Biscuits on you -- hot chocolate on me.” She tells him slipping into her shoes with the support of doorframe.

He comes closer to her and her heart thuds into her tiny ribs as he zips his jacket she’s wearing up till her neck and warns her while pulling out her hair, “If I get sick – ‘m gettin'y sick too.”

..

Harry’s waiting outside the candy shop Y/N just barged in moments ago. He refused to step inside – knowing she’ll use him as a taste tester and at the end of the day his tongue would have a mountain sugar atop his taste buds.

The spring breeze flowery and warm. He shakes his head, smiles softly watching her switch aisles and guffaws loudly catching attention of an old couple siting on the bench behind -- at her eagerness when she started chomping onto the long chewy candy right after getting it from the cashier.

“That’s g'na rot your teeth even before your forties.” He tells her taking the small bag from her and walks beside her, “Your kids are gonna hate you ...” She tells him –- stretching out the candy with her teeth.

“You sure, y'were allowed colas and candies in childhood?” He teases her prodding her side so she throws it at his chest making him laugh and he bends down to pick it up and dump it in bin.

“You’ve got a cute bum.” She whistles and Harry’s cheeks bashes with blush – turns around and wiggles herself, “How's mine?” She hums glancing back at him with cheeky grin.

“Ten by two, I guess?” He bites down a smirk when she spins to face him a bit gobsmacked, “Not even five?” She grumps chin doubling as she tries to see her bum herself.

“Six then?” He giggles enjoying how she’s getting riled up out of nowhere and she stomps away from him so he jogs to catch her, “Bambi. Was kiddin'.”

“You owe me two muffins with the amount of insults you’ve caused my poor bum.” He knuckles at her hair and she slaps him away like a feisty kitten, “I take it back –-- you’re really ten by two.”

“Oi!!!” Now, she’s running behind him. His curls blowing away and his coat ruffling with the zephyr, his head falling back with the belly-ache laughter that bounces against the bricked walls of shops.

..

It’s Friday night. Y/N is doing her laundry. Plucking out Harry’s socks from Trippers furry ear, her kitties sleeping in bassinet. Harry and Y/N have named them Tum, Tug and Truggers –-- she sits back on her heels upon hearing her door closing and hikes the small basket on her hip trudging outside —-- she didn’t had any clothes that could make her feel warm during these days – even her socks were all soggy -- so was Harry’s, now all she’s gonna do is make a blanket fort and hide in it for hours.

She knuckles at her eyes, blinking the tiredness away to see properly who’s standing in the middle of room, “Harry?” He's wearing a graduation gown and tips his hat with a sheepish smile then waves his degree infront of her, “Guess who's a proper dentist now!?” She’s frozen to her spot –- jaw slacked and eyes blown away in surprise.

“Your bad boi!” The basket falls from her hip onto the floor scaring Trippers and she whispers an, “Oh my goodness.” Before, stumbling towards him and crashes in his arms giving him a tight loving hug. He slinks his forearms around her and squishes his face into the crook of her neck, lips tickling her skin and if it was possible for him to freeze the time and cherish it for some more he'd.

“I’m so proud of you.” She mumbles into him with a grin. He feels so worthy and every hardship he faced now feels like nothing, this's how life supposed be throughout –- but best things always bores fruit for the right time.

“How about we celebrate? Just you and me.” Just you and me. It feels nice to just her and him. Makes her heart swoon. Makes her feel like skies outside are wet and pink, “Umm .. can we celebrate here? It’s okay .... “ She shifts on her feet and he furrows his brows in confusion, lips ticked up as if he’s scrutinizing her.

“You and not goin' nutters for an outing .. seems odd —-,” Then his eyes falls over the surrounding, a heating pad beside his feet – aloe fused socks hanging to get dry, a tray of chocolate muffins, kettle on the coffee table so he puts one and one together himself.

“Oh muffy —-... pizza and cuddles then?” If he wouldn’t be aware of how first few days of her period are hell for her then who would? He’s always making her pot meals and curry rice – feeds her and gets all strict when she refuses to eat anything. She looses her appetite and transforms into something ‘if zombie had a baby with vampire -- it sure looked like you’ he'd always scold her.

Even bribe her with candies. Once they were awfully painful and Y/N really didn’t want to be all dramatic not when their friends were having a good time, she doesn’t like to be a party pooper.

But, when a stinging cramp cut through her pelvis and thighs she was hunching forward with a jolt -- all teary eyes and wobbly lips. Harry left everything and rushed towards her, sitting on his knees on the floor and cupped her throat to make her look at him when she refused to, “Y/N ‘m serious -- you rather tell me what’s happening with ye’ or ‘m throwin' you at my shoulder and takin’ you hospital —... cause fuck look at you been like this since morning ....” He was rambling and Y/N felt like drilling a hole into floor and hide herself there forever.

She was mortified and embarrassed, a terrible combination.

She wasn’t able to tell him infront of all of their friends even though it’s something very normal, so everyone stared and nodded when they left they for Harry’s room.

“Bambi are you okay? I’m not even kidding something’s not —-..” She wipes her nose and tugs at his wrist trying to shush him, when he doesn’t pushes a fingers against his lips.

“Don’t worry. ‘m good --- just —-... umm I’m on my periods.” She rubs her one feet on another and his mouth fall into an ‘o' when realization hit him and his brows clinches together sternly.

He sighs running his fingers through his hair, something he does when frustrated and whumpy.

“Should’ve told me. We could have done this later ... do you want anything? I’ve got pain —--,” His words swells on his tongue when her head bumps against his chest and her hands locks around his neck, hugging him with all her gentle will because nobody has ever cared for her –-- him being so tentative to her makes her want to sob into his chest.

He warms her in all the right places.

..

“How’re you feeling on scale of one to ten?” He speaks while chewing onto the stuffed crust of pizza. They’re cosied up on the sofa while Mama Mia plays on the telly and she’s cuddled up into him, he's holding her heat pad with the grip of his forearm and she lifts her head mousey-ly from his bicep and whispers – “Eightish...? Now, you’re Dr.Styles.” He giggles at her and pushes her head back against him with his finger.

“What does my being dentist has a connection to your periods?” He dips the pads of his fingers into her pudgy love handles and squeezes them -- she giggles thinking about the joke she’s about to crack.

“You pull teeth, it’s blood and I pull out tampon so it’s —...” Harry chuckles gruntly at her and tickles her more, “Oh no. I know where it’s goin'....”

“You asked for it!” She pouts at him and he squishes her lips together as if she’s a duck toy.

Then they flump back into their cuddling position and Harry rubs her tummy in tender soothing circles, it helps her relax and his breath syncs with her and she really tries not to pay attention to her bratty screaming hormones heating her skin up – her thighs experiencing a quiver and she squeaks down a huffy whimper.

“You okay?” Harry asks. When she squirms against him and she gulps -- they don’t hide stuff from eachother so she tells him honestly, “You’re really turning me on.” Harry’s heart hiccups at that and his palms still over her thighs.

“Is that so?”

He pets her hair and tries to make her stand, “Just go to washroom and jizz one out.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t? Why?”

“Promise me you wouldn’t make fun....” He frowns and nods bringing his pinky to make the deal.

She clutches her sweater down to her knees, cheeks rosy and mutters out in one breath – “I’ve specific days for that....” Harry really tires to. He locks up his laughs in his lungs and it aches his chest, his cheeks balloons up but at last he rolls onto floor and guffaws into his elbow.

“You said you wouldn’t make fun!!!” She whines kicking his side lightly and he grabs her ankle, “This means all those times you’d be all locked up –- oh my god, you were playing with yourself.” She folds her arms. Her nostrils flares with irritation and she doesn’t even spare him a glance.

“Pet, waiting so long .. it’s a torture to yourself.” He tells her genuinely sitting up with crossed legs and she mumbles knuckling at her eyes, “just some reasons ... horny is bad.” Now, Harry feels kind of terrible pushy person and he really wants to help her out but he’s walking on egg shells here. So, he stops asking anything.

“Rori's girlfriend is a sex therapist —-“ She becomes all fidgety at that and Harry takes in her nervousness, “It’s totally fine if you don’t want to.” He exclaims waving his hands and she gulps giving him a small nod.

“Night time fo' some grumpy muffy!” He coos, brings the blanket to her chin and his pupils dilate adorningly when she asks him, “Could I snuggle you?”

“Ofcourse.” He pecks her temple and tells her to budge over before sandwiching her between him and the sofa.

That whole night all his mind could think was why horny is bad for her?

..

Y/N was feeling overly warm and heated, a tad achy between her thighs. She vigorously tries to focus on something else but her chest is heaving at this point, even opens the windows and let the cool air hit her but no use –- so she does what have to be done in order to get rid of the throb.

She cosies herself on the bed, switches onto hentai and throws her legs in air to shimmy her sheer white panty down.

“Oh ...” Whimpers teeny-ly when her fingers brushing up her soaking pussyfolds provides her a bit relief – her soft hands wanders beneath her flimsy shirt and touches her skin in the most arousing way possible –-- tweaks her nipples and jerks up, oozing more wetness.

“Ah! Fuck.” She moans easing in two fingers at once and cramps down at them watching the hentai porn –- but it’s not enough, she’s been pushing her fingers in and out for ten minutes now—she’s unable to get to climax.

So she groans sits up and switches to domineering audios, listens to it while fingering herself hard and she has no idea from where her mind gathered these images from -- but -- soon she’s thinking about Harry’s husky rasp, his sea-foam beautiful eyes and those rosy knuckles ring clad hands —-- imagining him holding her down into mattress and pounding into her at a brutal pace, making her sit on his cock and not letting her move –-- his fingers down her petty throat —-- him spanking her ass if she let’s out any voice out and he'd roar at her beg as she'd be lurking at her tenth orgasm –---- every plausible dirty stuff with him.

She was so engulfed into making herself feel good, lost in her own headspace and imaginations that she didn’t hear footsteps approaching and it’s like she manifested him as he stands at the door-frame with blown away pupils –-- guppy mouth and she’s squealing feeling dizzy upon sitting up this quick.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck —-... sorry sorry ... “ He covers his eyes and turns to walk away but bumps his head with a thud into doorframe.

She gasps, knees up and almost shouts, “No!” making him halt mid-track and she’s on the verge of tears, red face and shaky fingers.

“Please ....”

“Stay.”

Harry’s eyes turns soft at that and he walks towards bed, licks his lips wet and brushes the loose tress of her hair away.

“You want me to stay, muffy?” He asks to make sure – she isn’t in haze and all fog minded.

“Yes. I want you to stay.” She doesn’t hesitate this time. Her words honest and full of plead, she needs him, she wants him, she wants to have him.

[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

PART ONE

Pairing: Josh & female!Reader Warnings:  None yet.  Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: Here we are everyone. This fic has been a long time in the making, but I’m pretty dang happy with it so far! I made Josh extra lovable and squishy for you all. I hope you enjoy! This fic is edited by the amazing and gorgeous, @lantern-inthenight. And big thanks as always to @myownparadise96. I literally could not have found the motivation to do this fic without you. 

MASTERPOST 

taglist: @myownparadise96 @n1-party-anthem @valleyd0ll @bigblack-catattack @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @oblvions @hansonobsessed​ @satingrass-maidensfair​

The scenery in Michigan was vastly different than back home. You were used to and comfortable with the nearly unforgiving heat of the American South West, but the farther away you got from home, the more foreign everything seemed. The scrubland slowly started being replaced by emerald green grass and dense forests of towering pines. Once you hit Illinois, little farmsteads were scattered along every road you took, boasting fields thick with corn and beans. 

It was a bit over a full day’s worth of driving. You had originally thought you could just drive right through - after all, you were young and you had plenty of caffeine at the ready. In reality, you wound up digesting the trip over two days. 

You were a fortunate enough person that you had a reliable car, which made up for the fact that it wasn’t very pretty to look at. It didn’t exactly sip gas, but that had never even been a concern before this - it wasn’t very often that you left home, let alone make a trip across the country. But you were able to breathe a sigh of relief when you started seeing the exit signs for Ann Arbor. 

Your parents had been a bit judgemental about you picking a school so far away - they were even worse homebodies than you, and they knew that you being across the country meant they wouldn’t be seeing you until the school year was over - but there was no way you could turn down an opportunity like this one. You had worked your ass off to qualify for a scholarship, knowing full well that there was no way you could afford higher education otherwise. MU hadn’t been your very first choice but with one of the better programs in the country for your desired field, you just couldn’t turn it down. 

You had to pull over into a McDonald’s parking lot to pull up the address you were looking for and program it into your phone’s GPS before continuing further into the city. Your mother had been particularly wary about your living situation. See, she was a woman that adamantly liked to have a plan and then stick to it - she didn’t see any value in just letting things happen. “Go with the flow” wasn’t in her vocabulary, but you’d always romanticised the idea. Which was why, when you pulled up to the apartment that you were going to be living in for the next year, it was the first time you’d ever seen it. 

You had found the listing on the Facebook marketplace for the area, looked at a couple of pictures, and signed the lease agreement online - all without knowing what you were really in for. You’d been informed that you’d have a roommate when you’d contacted the landlord, but she hadn’t mentioned a thing about the person other than that. All she really said was “no pets, no smoking, and one month’s rent for the security deposit. You had told yourself that it didn’t really matter what the situation was as long as the other person wasn’t outwardly malicious and the place wasn’t infested with pests or anything, even though you knew it mattered a little. 

An audible sigh of relief left your lips when you pulled into the apartment parking lot and found that your new home looked well kept. The building had old, slide-up windows, but the brick siding was clean, and the shrubs that lined the property were trimmed and neat. You and your back seat stuffed to max capacity with house plants had made it - and with only a bit of sleep deprivation and caffeine jitters for damages. 

After you got out of the car, you grabbed your very favorite potted cactus and found your way into the building, meandering down the dim hall until you came upon the door marked 6. You hadn’t been given a key yet, so you knocked with your free hand and waited until you heard someone shuffling around inside.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous - obviously, you were - but more than anything you were excited. Anxious, maybe? That seemed like the right word. 

The door opened to reveal a boy, around your age, hair a mess of curls on the top and shorn tighter to the sides of his head. You were immediately taken aback by the depth in his eyes, chocolatey and warm. 

“What’s up?” he asked casually, leaning against the door frame, a pair of old-school headphones dangling from his hand. 

You frowned at him slightly, suddenly terrified you’d gotten the wrong apartment number. You weren’t sure how you’d live with that embarrassment, especially if you had to live next door to him - you’d just be that stupid girl that didn’t even know where she lived.  “Oh, I think I’m your new roommate? This is number six, right?” You peered around the other side of the open door, just to confirm.

A beaming grin spread over his soft face, showing you his blindingly white teeth and the deepest pair of dimples you’d ever seen. “Oh, cool, yeah. Come on in.”

He stepped aside, giving a dramatically flourished bow as a gesture for you to enter. You obliged, and even though this was your new house too, you paused and waited as he shut the door behind you. 

“Sorry, I was expecting you yesterday, so.” He trailed off with a sheepish smile and then extended his free hand to you. “Anyway, I’m Josh.” 

You shifted your cactus to one arm so you could shake his hand. “Y/N. Yeah, sorry, it took me longer than I expected to get here. Which is why my stuff apparently showed up before I did.”

You eyed around the apartment, spotting boxes of your things in piles. The original plan your parents had come up with was to have you rent a U-Haul, but since you’d never driven anything bigger than your Camry, you had quickly shot that idea down. After some expert negotiating, they had agreed to hire a moving company. You hadn’t had the balls to ask what a service like that had set them back - decided instead that it was better if you didn’t know. 

“Oh yeah,” he replied, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It all showed up yesterday at like noon. One of the boxes was open a little, and I saw records so I looked through them to make sure you weren’t some kind of freak.”

It was more of a statement than a warning, and the smile he gave you showed not even a shred of an apology so you just smiled back. “Find anything you like?”

He turned on his heel and headed into the kitchen - connected to the living room by a huge square archway. “Your music taste is,” He paused, opening a cupboard and pulling down two mismatched glasses. “Eclectic.”

You laughed at him, bending to gently set your plant down on a side table. “That’s true.” 

“But I found plenty I could listen to, so I guess you’re okay. You want some juice?” he asked as he held up a paper carton of store brand orange juice

. 

“That would be lovely,” you agreed, standing stick straight the way you did when in the presence of new company. “My dad used to take me to a lot of thrift stores and we’d go home with a minimum of two records per trip.”

“I love thrifting,” he said simply, giving you an alarmingly serious look. “There are three here, I think. Every once in a while you can find something really worth keeping. I have kind of a ‘catch and release’ policy where if I don’t instantly know what I’m going to do with an item, I leave it there, but I think - like - a third of my wardrobe is from thrift stores.”

You listened, feeling oddly entranced by the way he was handing you thoughts as they came to him. There was something truly honest about it - a quality people back home didn’t seem to have. It was charming. 

He brought your glass of juice to you and then motioned to the rest of the apartment. “You want the grand tour of Casa De Joshua-” He gave you a pointed look and a cheesy grin. “And Y/N?” 

You breathed a laugh at him, nodding as you sipped. “Please.”

“Okay, try not to get lost - this is obviously the living room. I do most of my living here as the name would suggest. I found this couch on the side of the road - actually almost all of my furniture is adopted.” As he explained, he was gesturing to items like Vanna White.

The couch looked. Well-loved. You could tell just at a glance that it was probably past it’s prime when Josh had stumbled upon it, but it did look comfortable, and it wasn’t like you had a couch to offer, so you were happy with it. 

“I have this TV but it’s really only for movies and stuff because I’m twenty-two and I’d rather die than pay for cable. But there are literally hundreds of DVDs in the TV stand that you are welcome to peruse at your leisure,” he informed, his hands gesturing almost arbitrarily as he talked. 

You followed as he moved on through the archway. “This is the kitchen. All of the food lives here. There’s lots of stuff, but I try to just make two bigger meals per day. I don’t have a real ice tray so I’ve been using a chocolate mold- Well anyway, our ice will be in the shape of wiener dogs.”

You were shocked at the laugh that escaped you, genuine and uncontrolled. He grinned over at you, clearly also surprised - but pleased with himself for getting the reaction he was aiming for. 

“I think I can live with that.” 

“Good,” he agreed simply, giving you a new kind of smile - something sweeter. After a beat, he motioned down the hall with his eyes, letting you lead. “The bathroom is this way. The water takes like three or four minutes to get hot. I realized that I have a lot of products for some reason, but I condensed them all into this one area in the corner just in case my new roommate was a girl, and you are so that’s great. I’ll probably get a shelf.”

There was a proud quality to his voice like he felt gentlemanly for letting you have all the space you needed. For some reason, that made you feel warm and fuzzy. 

“And what if your new roommate had been a boy?” you inquired with a smirk. 

He put a finger on his chin, taking on a contemplative look for you. “Hmm. Then I guess I slowly would have moved my stuff back to the cabinet - probably just one thing per day so he wouldn’t notice. Unless he had a lot of makeup or something, then I’d just let him have it.” 

He grinned as you teasingly shook your head. 

“This way is the sleeping quarters. My room is there on the right and yours to the left.”

You stepped into your new room and let a sigh of relief. Two huge windows took up a lot of the far wall, framed underneath by large sills. The space was bright and roomier than you’d pictured. Your bed was set up in the very middle of the room, but you already knew exactly where you wanted it to go. For some reason, you had been concerned that you wouldn’t like the space, but it was kind of perfect. 

“This is great,” you breathed, turning to him and giving him a sly grin. “Wanna give me a hand moving my furniture around?”

He pretended to consider for a moment until you spoke again. 

“My mom sent money for pizza while I get stuff unpacked,” you said coyly. “If you needed any convincing.”

He laughed, showing you his teeth. “You drive a hard bargain. Okay, I’ll help as long as I get to look through your stuff while we move it.”

You gave him a questioning look, earning a one-shouldered shrug in return. He looked benign enough standing there, propped against the door frame with a goofy upturn to his lips, so you relented.  

“Deal,” you agreed.

You were positive you would not have been able to move stuff without his help. For being a slender boy, he seemed to easily be able to get things where they needed to be. He dutifully helped you shove your furniture into place - your bed against the window wall, your desk and vanity on the wall with your closet door. Then, bless his little heart, he helped you move it all again when you decided you didn’t like the arrangement (but not without some light griping). 

One by one, you brought in your boxes from the living room and you allowed him to poke through them, perched on your bed. He flipped through your books, thumbing pages of ones that piqued his interest - you could only imagine that he was already planning on borrowing some of them. He reacted similarly to your framed photos, as he unwrapped them from their packing paper.

When you got your record player set up, he put on a vinyl and started to hang your art prints on the wall where you instructed him to. The look of concentration on his face was rather endearing as he held a few nails between his teeth and hammered them into the wall, one by one. There was a time or two you were convinced that he was going to mutilate his thumb, but he didn’t, and when the last picture was hung, you breathed a sigh of relief. 

You called in a pizza, adorned with his requested toppings as you hung your clothes into your closet, your phone tucked against your ear and shoulder for maximum efficiency. 

Plants collected on your bed until there was no more room for them - after that, he started setting them on the floor as he brought them in from your car. He didn’t seem to be judging the sheer amount of them, even though he had every right to. 

“It’s going to look like a jungle in here,” he stated finally as he took a bite out of a slice of pizza that he was holding like a taco, his eyes raking over all of the foliage scattered around your room. Rather than sounding like he was teasing, his tone seemed excited. 

You grinned at him, starting to arrange them on the window sill and your bookshelf that had only ever served you as a plant shelf since you’d bought it. “Plants are my passion. Botany major,” you explained as you fluffed up your Monstera’s huge leaves. 

“Ooh.” He raised his eyebrows at you, pulling one of his legs up underneath him on your bed - now fitted with sheets. “I think that’s going to be nice. Give it some life in here.”

You grabbed another slice from the pizza box on your nightstand and tried to think of the right tone of voice to use to ask the next question. “How long have you lived here by yourself?”

He hummed, eyes flicking around distantly as he thought. “Well, I’ve lived here just over a year, and my first roommate dropped out and moved back home about...six months ago?”

“Have you been lonely? You seem like a social guy.” You gave him an empathetic look but he just shrugged at you. You hadn’t known him long enough to know for sure, but you suspected he was more affected than he was letting on. 

“I mean, a little lonely. But I got used to it for the most part.” He paused for a good couple of seconds before a smile spread across his lips. “And Penny’s kept me company.”

“Oh, does your girlfriend stay here too?” you prompted, trying to remember if you’d seen any feminine looking items lying around that weren’t yours.

“What? No,” he said under a chuckle and stood, gesturing for you to follow him across the hall. 

The second you walked through the doorway, you were met with the smell of incense sticks and linen. His room was dimmer than yours and kind of cramped with all of his mismatching furniture, but he had a huge bed - you thought it could easily fit three people in it. There were some clothes strewn about around a laundry hamper by the door and you tried to not be jealous that his closet seemed to be about twice the size of yours. 

He crossed the room to crouch in front of a coffee table that he seemed to be using as a catch-all. The varnish was worn off the top of it in rings because sitting on the coffee table was a globe of water and a calico colored goldfish swimming around aimlessly inside of it. 

“Ah, so this is Penny,” you giggled as you bent over next to him. When the fish spotted him, it rose to the surface of the water, opening its mouth in demand for food.

He grinned down at it. “Light of my life. We’re not allowed to have pets but I figured that a fish didn’t count.”

You hummed, admittedly a bit charmed by the whole situation. “But don’t goldfish require a lot of space?”

The smile fell from his face, adopting a level of concern you hadn’t yet seen from him as he peered over at you. “Do they?”

Immediately, you felt guilty for putting that look on his features. Your brain kick-started - trying to think of a way to make it right again. “I think so? Maybe we can find her a small tank? Put a few little plants in there for her?”

Josh nodded at you, stroking his fingers over the glass with a frown. “I’m a bad dad.”

“No, no!” you assured, putting your hand on his head but then removing it instantly when you realized that you didn’t really know him, he’d just already made you feel like you did. Either way, you figured it would be inappropriate to touch him. “You’re great. She looks really happy.”

“She’s great at begging for food, so don’t get tricked,” Josh instructed after a moment, seemingly able to put his concerns aside to jest you.

You nodded in agreement. “I’ll be ever vigilant,” you promised, making him smile again. 

He stood back up, so you did as well. 

“Well, I’ll give you some time to get comfortable in your room,” Josh said, sitting back on his bed. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?” 

“I promise I will,” you assured, tapping your hand on the doorframe on your way out. 

By the time the sun was set, your room was shockingly well put together. The emotional rollercoaster that was the album Rumors helped you keep on task, losing yourself in the music so it didn’t feel like work at all. You hadn’t been expecting it to come along so quickly, but you guessed that was because you hadn’t anticipated such a friendly roommate. The nesting had always been your favorite part, so you took your time to enjoy placing out all your knick-knacks and photos. 

You took a break to shower when you decided you were done for the day, reveling in the feeling of the water after such a long time in your car - He was absolutely right about how long it took to warm up from ice cold. When you got out and changed into your pajamas, Josh was sitting in the living room with a laptop across his legs. 

“You wanna chill?” he asked when he heard you padding down the hall, shutting the lid of it and setting it on a side table. “Or if you’re too tired, that’s okay too.”

“No, no. I’d love to talk.” You sat next to him, leaving a comfortable amount of room between you as you pulled your knees up to your chin. “Tell me more about yourself,” you requested, tugging a blanket from a beat-up wicker basket on the floor and wrapping it around your body.

“Hmm, okay,” he started. You wondered how long it had been since he had to introduce himself to someone new. “I’m from a tiny little town here in Michigan. I’m the oldest of four - two brothers and a sister. My brother, Jake, also attends MU and lives just off campus.”

You frowned at him. “Wait, why wouldn’t he live with you?” you asked through a disbelieving laugh. 

“He lived with me long enough,” Josh explained in a humored tone. “There are only so many people where I’m from and well - we wanted to meet new people, you know?” 

“I guess I should be grateful for that.” 

“Yeah, probably,” he teased and then paused to think. “I’m in performing arts - I’m actually putting on a production around Christmas with some elementary school kids.”

You suppressed the aww that was threatening to pass your lips. “You like kids?”

He beamed you a smile, shaking his head. “Love them. I want to have like ten of them someday.”

The thought of him surrounded by kids made you soften. You were genuinely shocked about how easy he was to talk to - how easy he was to like. You had never thought in a million years you’d get along with your roommate so well, let alone the first day meeting them. 

“I hope you get to,” you said as genuinely as you could muster, prompting him to give you a grateful smile. 

A yawn escaped you before you could hide it, and you quickly breathed an apology, but he just waved you off. 

“You must be exhausted from that drive,” he said, his voice soft. “You should get some sleep.”

You nodded in agreement and gave him a thankful smile. “Is it okay if I sleep out here?”

The look on his face was quizzical, forcing a laugh from you. “Why would you do that?” 

“I have this tradition where whenever I’m in a new place, I always sleep in the living room on the first night. It’s good luck.”   

“Whatever you say.” His lips pulled back into an unconvinced smirk. “Well, yeah, you live here now too, so you can sleep wherever you’d like.”

He disappeared into his room for only a moment before popping his head back out, fingers wrapped around the door frame.

 “Do you mind if I join you?” 

You tried not to look too taken aback by the question, but you could feel your cheeks flushing warm. You raked your eyes along the couch, entirely positive that there wasn’t enough space for the two of you to lay out on it together fully - at least, not without being pressed flush against one another. However, his face looked innocent and soft - not a single tint of mischief colored across his features.

“Yeah, that-. I guess that’s okay,” you agreed sheepishly with a shrug. “But I’m not sure we’ll both fit if I’m being honest.”

He frowned questioningly at you, his brows lacing together until he realized what you thought he meant. His face instantly turned a light shade of pink to match yours. “No, no,” he quickly assured in between a breathy laugh. “I’m not going to sleep with you - I’ll take the recliner.” 

“Oh, right.” You gave a nervous laugh of your own, cursing yourself out in your head for being so dull. 

You were still well embarrassed as you made a nest of blankets on the couch and he brought out a pillow for you when you realized yours were still tucked deep in your bag of bedding. When each of you was situated on your respective pieces of furniture, he flicked the light off with a comfortable sigh. 

It was silent for a moment before he spoke again, his voice taking on a tone that was far too smug for your liking. “You were awfully quick to agree to sleep next to me. You don’t have a crush on me, do you?” 

You knew he was teasing, but your heart rate still managed to pick up under the pressure. You had never been particularly good with awkward social situations; you rolled your eyes in the dark, thankful he couldn’t see how red you were. “No, Josh. I do not have a crush on you.”

“Okay,” he said through a melodic laugh, and you got the feeling that he’d gotten the reaction he was aiming for from you. “Should we be best friends though?”

You snorted a laugh of your own, wanting to be annoyed at how likable he was, but falling short. “You are the most peculiar person I’ve ever met, I think.” You curled up, clutching your blanket tight to your body. “But yes. We can be friends.”

“Okay, cool - I’ll order matching t-shirts for us.” You could hear the pleased grin he was wearing, making you feel warm and cozy. You pulled the worn blanket up to your chin.

“See to it that you do.” 

Author’s Note: okay, I hope you guys like it! please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list or removed from it. I’m using the same taglist from my Jake!fic, so no hard feelings if you don’t want to be tagged!

[officialleehadan]

Folding Puff

Today's story was brought you you by Jennifer! Darling, thank you so much for all your support!

Prompt: Pride of Place

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Prince Hanver wasn’t terribly bright, and Tilly hadn’t known that he even remembered that most of servants existed. Mostly he seemed delighted and taken aback as his rooms were clean, his food made, and his horses taken care of.

So really, it was a surprise to see him in the kitchens almost before the sun was even up. Most nobles, Atteila aside, avoided the downstairs household. Prince Hanver wasn’t a bad man, near as she could tell. He never set a toe out of line with the serving girls, and the boys in the stable said that he liked horses.

The nobles judged people on how slick they were. How fashionable. Servants watched behaviors and knew better than to trust a pretty face.

People who were good to their horses were usually good to their staff, too. Noble men who respected the servant girls too were rare. Hanver might not be the smartest of the bunch, but he was a decent man. That was enough for Tilly to at least hear him out.

“Something for you, Your Highness?” Tilly asked when it became apparent that the prince wasn’t going anywhere. It was probably rude to just get started on her work for the day, but the special puff pastry Tilly needed for this evening dinner took time in the icebox to chill. She watched the prince for another minute, pulled out the butter, and got to work. “How can I help this morning?”

Hanver watched her work for a while and fiddled with a button on his sleeve. He was nervous, or maybe just unsure. Tilly wondered if he had ever been in the kitchens before. At least he picked a spot that was out of the way, even with the busy morning kitchen.

“I don’t know how to speak with Princess Atteila,” he said, apparently either inclined towards honesty, or desperate enough to go to someone with no choice but to listen to him. Tilly couldn’t quite prevent the side-eye she gave him, and was amused when he winced the same as the garden boys did when she frowned over the apples. “I… I don’t know what sort of arrangement you have, but I’ve seen her coming down here and I thought maybe if you’re her friend, you might be willing to be mine too.”

Tilly was reasonably certain that Hanver didn’t know she was also sleeping with Atteila, and was absolutely certain he wasn’t propositioning her. That meant that, for some reason, Hanver genuinely was just desperate for someone to talk to.

“All respect, Highness,” Tilly said cautiously, not entirely certain what Hanver was going for. All the same, he wasn’t as intimidating at Atteila had been in the beginning, and Tilly wasn’t in love with him, which also helped. “But It’s not my place, being friends with a noble. I’m a cook.”

“Atteila is… well, she’s perfect,” Hanver said, still fiddling with his button, and looking entirely out of his depth. Tilly couldn’t help but be a little sorry for the man. After all, he came to court a princess, and discovered, as so many did, that Atteila was as unassailable as an ice statue. “Look, I know I’m not going to marry her. She made that… very clear. I just want to make sure this alliance doesn’t fall apart.”

Oh. Politics. She wasn’t any good at politics. Atteila told her about politics sometimes, but Tilly had a hard time understanding them. Fortunately, it seemed like enough to just listen when her princess started throwing things.

Prince Hanver, however, seemed to want advice, which Tilly was utterly unprepared to give him.

“Don’t know that I can help with that,” Tilly said frankly. She folded the butter into the dough and wrapped it in cloth, before tucking it into the icebox to chill. “I’m a cook. Don’t know much about kingdoms or alliances. Puff pastry, yes, but not politics.”

“So teach me about puff pastry,” Hanver said, and started rolling up his sleeves. Tilly stared at him, her mouth open as she tried to process the prince, who tossed his elegant coat over on a counter and stood before her, apparently prepared to take instruction in baking of all things. He realized that Tilly was staring at him and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Look, I know I’m not… not the smartest guy around. I’m a younger son, and younger sons aren’t expected to be worth much.”

It was strange to think of nobles and their habit of casting their children aside, Tilly mused to herself. The small folk valued every single child they got, first as sparks of joy, and then as hands to join the work and raise the family. Nobles, though. Nobles threw their spare children away like yesterday’s wash-water the moment they stopped being useful.

“You don’t have to be smart to fold pastry,” Tilly decided against her better judgement, and to the incredulous stares of half the kitchen. They were used to seeing Atteila in the kitchens these days, but for Tilly to take in a second wayward royal, well, that was probably madness. “Come here. Maybe getting your hands dirty will help clear your head.”

+++

Pride of Place:

Tilly is a cook. Attiela is a princess. As it happens, Tilly knows every one of her princess’s favorite foods.

Strawberry Roses

Orange Bubbles (Subscriber Only!)

Wine Shower

In Hot Water

Under Orange Blossoms

A Little Bitter

+++

More Stories!

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[almostnugget]

Here Lies...

Reggie x Ghost!Reader

It’s on an off day that you find Reggie on the beach, quieter—more mournful—than you’ve ever seen him. You propose an unusual solution.

Warnings: vague mentions and talk of death/dying, angst, talk about inadequate parents, etc. also the word ‘hell’ is written Once? (twice now ig)

A/N: y’all seemed into this idea so im Delivering. had the idea awhile ago when i read a few fics about reggie dying first and now I’ve actually...dOne something with it. so here! hope you enjoy!

Reggie was acting strange. You aren’t sure when you noticed, how you noticed, but he was. There was a certain quietness to him, something like that wasn't normal. You wanted to think nothing of it, but when you found the others in the studio without him, you couldn't help but wonder.

Alex and Luke seemed hesitant to tell you where he'd gone, as if they knew what you had already suspected and didn't want to tell you. Alex caved—despite Luke's protests.

It feels weird to be back at the beach, your hands laying stagnant at your side as you spot the familiar figure sitting in the sand.

Your better judgement tells you to leave. You never bothered to involve yourself like this before, there's no reason to do it now. Yet, you still walk over and settle down in the sand beside him.

Neither of you talk. You don’t know what to say if you wanted to, instead just absentmindedly pulling at the strings of your jeans and trying not to nervously bite at your nails.

You’re still looking out at the ocean, listening to the dull chatter of passersby and the crashing waves, when Reggie finally speaks.

"Did they tell you I died first?"

Your breath almost catches in your throat. Instead, you don’t reply, only sending him a quick glance. Nothing could quite articulate what went through your mind when he said that. It never quite occurred to you that one of the boys had to go first, and it never occurred to you that it would've been Reggie.

"In the ambulance," he continues, fiddling with his own hands. It's a nervous habit of his that you’ve noticed before, but only rarely seen. "I can still remember it." He lets out a shaky breath and you fight the urge to frown. "All of it."

When he doesn't speak again, you both fall back into silence. You’ve never been good at this. Comforting people isn't your forte, you can hardly comfort yourself. Hell, maybe Reggie doesn't even want that. He wanted to be alone, probably, and you forced your way here.

Your words fall out before you can stop them.

"I don't," you breathe, still looking out at the ocean as your eyes trail over the horizon. "I remember everything that led up to it. But I don’t actually remember how it...felt.” You instinctively wince as you remember the cold water against your skin, but you press on. “I remember some of the dark room, but then...I was just back on the beach.”

Reggie watches you and the way you continue to tug at the frayed strings of your jeans. You both fall into silence again. It's like neither of you really knows what to say, what you want to say, what you need to say.

You’re not sure when you speak up again, how long after, but you do. “Have...have you seen it? Your grave?" You ask tentatively, looking over at the ghost beside you. Reggie's looking forward when he shakes his head. You nod a little, biting your tongue before letting out a sigh. "I've seen mine."

That catches his attention as he looks over, his thoughtful expression switching to one of concern. "Y-you have?" You nod again. He stammers a little before blowing out a heavy sigh.

You push herself to your feet, Reggie watching as you does so. "Come on," you say finally, holding a hand out. Reggie's gaze flickers from you to you outstretched hand and there's a moment before he takes it, allowing you to pull him to his feet.

When you get to the cemetery, it's fortunately pretty empty. Reggie looks around apprehensively, but he still follows you as you walks. It's clear you’ve been here more than once.

Your pace slows, the pair of you coming to a stop in front of a grave at the end of a long row. The tombstone isn't particularly ornate, but it isn't overwhelmingly plain either.

"Tada," you say mirthlessly, removing your hands from your jacket pockets to gesture toward the rock. You go to move, before stopping. "Think it's disrespectful to step on your own grave?"

Reggie lets out a weak laugh that makes you feel marginally better about the entire ordeal. You smile sorrowfully before kneeling down in front of your own tombstone, ignoring the faint chill that runs down your spine when you do.

He notices that there isn't much on the stone to begin with as you trail your hand over the etchings: Y/N L/N. It's painfully simple, even more so by the muddied years below your name, worn at with time.

"That's all?" Reggie asks, a certain degree of hesitance to his voice. "No...quote?" You smile a little as you glance up at him.

"No quote," you confirm. "I was a foster kid, Reg. Not much to say when you get bounced around a lot." Your hand trails over your last name. "This is all I've got from my parents."

He swallows thickly, unsure what to say now. It feels like he has to apologize somehow. But you lean away from your tombstone and push yourself to stand, the ghost of a smile on your face.

"Don't feel bad, I've had a while to get used to it," you assure, shrugging a little. Reggie doesn't reply, but you can tell he's desperately trying to think of something to say. "Reg, it's okay," you repeat, stepping closer and setting your hands on his arms. Your hands eventually fall and you look out at the rest of the cemetery. "Do...do you wanna see yours?"

Reggie's eyes widen a little. "I-It's here?"

You nod, moving to stand beside him. You point out a grave several rows away, but he can see it—feel it—even from here. "I saw it the last time I was here," you admit, frowning a little. "Small world, huh?"

"Yeah," he says lowly. There's apprehension before he starts moving towards it, but he does nonetheless. You follow him. You try to create distance now and then, but he looks back at you every time you do like he doesn't want to be alone, so you stop.

When the two of you get to his grave, you almost wince as Reggie stares upon his very own tombstone. You can't remember dying, but you can remember seeing your grave. You imagine it feels similar.

Reggie kneels down in front of the tombstone, eyes carefully reading the engravings; Reginald Peters, 1978 - 1995, Loving Son. The grass is a little overgrown at the bottom, but it's all still legible.

He lets out a shaky breath, you carefully watching him in case this turns out to be a bad idea. Neither of you speak for what feels like a long while, but Reggie doesn't seem eager to leave, so you hope it's okay.

Biting your tongue, you look around before settling on an idea. "I'll be right back," you state, causing Reggie to look away from his tombstone. He can't even argue as you start to walk away, he can only watch with a frown. He wanted to be alone before, before all of this, but not now.

Fortunately, you do come back like you promised. Your hands are behind your back as Reggie glances up. You fidget uncomfortably before bending down and setting some flowers in front of the stone.

“It looked empty," you admit softly, shrugging a little when Reggie looks away from the flowers and back at you.

A faint smile tugs at his lips. "Where'd you get those?"

"There's a stall, nearby. I might've...stolen them," you confess, wrinkling your nose as Reggie lets out a laugh. Of course you did. The gesture won't be forgotten though. "Are you...okay?"

He looks back at the grave, wondering that himself. However, there's something cathartic about seeing his grave like this. It finalizes everything, sure, but it puts things in perspective.

Reggie stands up, you worriedly watching him. He doesn't speak, only moving back toward a nearby bench and taking a seat. You tentatively follow, settling beside him, your back pressed against the opposite arm as you cross your legs.

��Reggie?" You call softly. He doesn't think he's ever heard anyone say his name that softly. He looks over, taking in the expression on your face and the way your brows furrow. "I...I can leave you alone?"

Instead, he shakes his head. You frown a little, letting your hands fall into your lap as you continue to watch him and the way he looks out at the rest of the cemetery.

Reggie lets out a shaky breath. "It's okay," he finally says, you sitting up. He fights himself on his next words, but they come out regardless. "Good to know my parents cared enough to...you know," he gestures weakly to the tombstone.

"Oh, Reggie," you sigh, scooting closer until your knees brush against him. He looks over. "Just because your parents fought doesn't mean they didn't love you."

“Felt like it sometimes," he admits softly, you frowning further.

“I'm sorry you felt like that," you settle on, but it's clear you’re not done. "But them fighting? It's not your fault." He doesn't know how you know what to say next, but you do. "Dying wasn't either." He looks momentarily surprised, wondering how you could've possibly guessed. You shrug, as if continuing to read his mind. "It wasn't hard to guess."

"Yeah, Luke and Alex said that too," he responds with a sigh, shoulders falling as he lets his hand rest against the arm of the bench.

“I don't say this often, and I won't, but they're right." He looks back at you, noticing the serious look on your face. Neither of you are hardly ever serious, at least not like this. "It's really not your fault, any of it." There's a pause, neither one saying anything before you begin to smile. "I've got an idea," you say excitedly, hitting Reggie in the leg before getting to your feet.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Reggie asks quickly, furrowing his brows.

“I think you deserve a eulogy," you admit, with a deep breath.

Reggie's confusion furthers. "But...it's not my funeral?"

You let out a light laugh, stepping back towards his spot on the bench as he cranes his neck to look up at you. "But you are a ghost,” you whisper, leaning in close.

"Oh."

You step back and straighten up. "So! You'll be getting a eulogy by yours truly! This is a once-in-an-afterlifetime opportunity, so prepare yourself!"

Reggie can't help but smile now as he sits up, almost on the edge of his seat now. "I'm ready!"

“If this gives you an ego? I will be taking it all back," you warn him, but his smile doesn't falter. He only nods, bouncing his legs a little in excitement. You sigh, shaking your hands loose and clearing your throat. "Reginald Peters, better known as Reggie, was...an incredible person. He was, apparently, a loving son, but he was more than that."

You’re too busy trying to choose the proper words to even notice the way Reggie's face seems to soften as you speak.

"Reggie was talented. He could shred on the bass—"

"—and the banjo!"

You chuckle softly. "And the banjo. His country songs were pretty good too." Reggie watches the way you tug at your sleeves, a soft smile on his face. "More than that, he— he was one of the nicest and funniest people I've ever met. Anyone was lucky to meet him, but they were even luckier to have him in their life."

You carefully avoid his gaze, as if finding your own words too much, but Reggie can only continue to watch you with a fond expression that you don’t even notice.

"But, none of that really matters because Reginald Sinclair isn't someone you can ever forget. His memory and his soul will forever live on. ...Not just because he's currently a ghost in a band in LA or anything like that."

You both laugh a little as you finish, stepping back up to settle beside him on the bench. Your eyes cast back out toward the cemetery as you do, carefully missing the gaze Reggie fits you with.

"That would've been better if I actually wrote something, but—" you start, wrinkling your nose as you already begin to recall everything you said a moment ago.

"Thanks," Reggie cuts you off. When you look at him, you meet his eyes this time and you both seem to go quiet. You hadn't meant to sit so close, but now you can feel his breath on your face as your breath hitches.

"Yeah, well..." you trail off, voice barely above a whisper. Biting your tongue, you get to your feet before anything can happen—not that it would, of course. "So, do you wanna head back or...?"

"Wait! What about you?" He asks, shooting to his feet. Your brows furrow.

"What about me?"

“Your eulogy," he supplies and you’re quick to realize he's prepared to give you one. The thought alone makes your face heat up. Reggie saying nice things about you? You’re not sure you could handle it.

You shake your head. "No, no, we don't have to do any of that," you insist with a forced chuckle, ducking your head to walk past him.

He's quick to rush after you. "C'mon—"

"We can do it another time," you settle, nearing the exit of the cemetery. Your words slow Reggie in his tracks.

"Right, next time," he mutters, prompting you to turn back. He suddenly looks crestfallen and you waste no time in pressing toward him.

“Yeah, like we can come back?"

"Yeah..." Reggie trails off, your eyes falling to watch as he plays with his hands like he does when he's nervous.

“Reggie?"

He squeezes his eyes shut, letting out a sigh. "The guys and I— We have to cross over," he admits slowly, eyes carefully watching the ghost in front of him.

Your face seems to fall. "Oh."

The dots in your head seem to connect. No wonder he’d been feeling so particularly...low today, of all days. He hasn’t the time for much else.

"We don't want to!" Reggie says quickly, not wanting you to get any kind of wrong idea. "We really don't want to, but—"

“Caleb's stamp, right?" You ask, quirking a brow. "Wasn't just a stamp, was it?" Reggie frowns, shaking his head. "Yeah, I figured as much." You almost want to roll your eyes as you pivot on your heels to begin walking again.

“It's either that or join his house band for eternity or stop existing, so!" He adds on, hurrying after you. His shoulders fall. "Not like we can cross over."

“Why not?" You question after what feels like a long moment of silence. Reggie watches you and the way you choose to keep your eyes ahead instead of sparing him a glance.

"We might have to play at the Orpheum."

“Of course," you almost scoff, and it nearly makes Reggie wince. He assumes you’re mad at him or something akin to that, but you suddenly stop. "We'll figure something out," you then say, crossing your arms over chest and actually turning to look at him now.

“Are ghosts even allowed in the Orpheum?"

“Doesn't matter, you guys are gonna perform there one way or another. Better than not existing at all, right?" It's like that was supposed to be a joke as you force a smile, but it doesn't quite reach your eyes. You then bump your shoulder against his in an attempt to dissipate the tension you inadvertently created.

You didn't mean to be upset, to make Reggie feel like you were mad at him, instead of for him—maybe for yourself too, as selfish as that sounds. But you can't ignore the tightness in you chest either when you think of losing someone you never even had. All you can do is push it down.

It's with that fading tightness that you start walking again, Reggie lingering back. He didn't want this to happen, any of it. He meant what he had said, they really didn't want to cross over. As you glance back, he knows it to be even more true.

You usher him to follow, your expression subtly softening, and it's with a deep breath that he follows after you.

[lilxberry]

Revenge and Revelations - Sam Wilson

Synopsis;

You scare your husband with the threat of getting him back after a prank, but once you get your revenge, you happily reveal some exciting news that brings the short-lived prank war to a happy conclusion.

Warnings: I think a lil language but nothing too bad. FLUFF. Sam being a cute, paranoid, dorky husband. Shitty writing and terrible plot lmao.

Words: 1,433

Pairing: Samuel Thomas ‘Sam’ Wilson x Reader

_______________

“Honey, c’mon, it was a joke!”

“No Sam, that was NOT funny!”

“I thought it was pretty funny.” Sam pursed his lips as he muttered a reply. Although, as soon as he noticed the death glare you’re currently looking at him with, his features morph into that of fear. “Listen, baby, I just thought that maybe you could do with the distraction. Plus, I thought you would definitely find it funny.”

You crossed your arms over your wet form covered in flour whilst you scowled at your husband, popping your hip out for further emphasis of your current mood. 

“Samuel Thomas Wilson, you have brought a shit storm down upon yourself like you won’t believe. This is now war. Better watch your back, baby.” You had a sinister smile plastered across your face as you repeated the nickname he used earlier in a menacing tone.

Sam’s face paled and he audibly gulped at his wife’s threating declaration of war. He watched as you spun on your heel and headed towards the bathroom, presumably to get clean up after his antics.

He’ll be sleeping with one eye open for the foreseeable future.

_______________

You nor Sam had seen each other within the tower for the remainder of the day but now that night time had arrived, he was metaphorically, and nearly on the verge on literally, shitting himself as he stalked closer to his and his wife’s room to retire for the night.

Slowly and quietly opening the door, he peered into the room, spotting you head over towards the bed, assuming you had just finished changing into your sleepwear. 

He composes himself as he manoeuvres his the rest of his body through the door and closes it behind him. You heard the shutting of the door and turned your attention to your husband who looks like a deer caught in the headlights of an on coming truck.

“Hi, honey.” You quickly cross the room and peck his cheek. When you pull back you notice his jumpy and alert demeanour. You giggle slightly at his behaviour and shake your head in adoration. “I swear, I haven’t put something into your side of the bed, baby.”

He narrows his eyes into small, judgemental slits as you coo at him. You reach up and cup his cheeks in your dainty hands, bringing his face down closer to yours. “I promise you baby, I haven’t done anything.” This seems to calm Sam down a little as you see his body ease. But that didn’t last long as you quickly add on. “Yet.”

His eyes widen as you throw your head back, laughing loudly, almost a cackle. Once you calm down, you look up at your husbands handsome face and kiss his lip slow and tenderly. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Y/N Wilson.” He exhales a shaky breath and speaks in a hushed tone after you break apart. 

The skin around your eyes crinkle as you send him a sweet, wide smile. “Good. Now let’s go to sleep. Y/N Wilson is tired from all this imputing fear into her husband.”  

Sam chuckles and shakes his head as he watches you with love filled eyes, a warm, fuzzy feeling consuming the inside of his chest cavity. He walks over to the Chester draws and pulls out a pair of sweatpants to change into.

Once changed, he’s quick to get into bed and under the covers with his wife for some well needed rest. Plus, maybe she’ll forget about the prank by the morning.

Right?

_______________

When Sam awoke the next morning, the first thing he noted with the absence of warmth that’s usually beside him. He peered over at the empty spot to see his wife’s sleeping for missing. 

It was unusual for you to be awake before him, especially when you have time off. His mind slowly pieced together the conspicuous thought that made him shoot up right from his laying position, his body now on alert.

He scanned the room, looking to find anything suspicious, even going so far as to lean over the side of the bed to peer underneath. Once fully satisfied, he threw the covers to the side and swung his legs of the edge of the bed, bare feet touching the floor. 

He made his way out of their room and towards the elevator, surely finding his significant other in the kitchen.

As he reach the main floor, he noticed all but one Avenger scattered around the living space and kitchen. “Morning.” Tony was the first to speak, mug of coffee close to his lips, still dressed in yesterdays clothes.

“Uh, yeah, morning.” Sam has feels uneasy not knowing the current whereabouts of his wife. “Where’s uh-where’s Y/N?” 

“She said she had to run some errands.” Natasha was next to speak, currently sat at the table flipping through a magazine, hiding her smile behind the pages. The red head didn’t often lie to her team mates but with the knowledge of what’s to come, she HAD to make an exception.

Sam gave her a small nod to show he had heard her, continuing to walk towards the coffee machine then proceeding to pour himself a drink.

He still couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling inside him. He wondered where you had gotten to. What you had gotten up to. 

_______________

It was now 5pm and Sam had still yet to see you. Fortunately, you did text him that you were really busy and would be held up with your ‘errands’.

Sam was sat on the couch, surrounded by the other Avengers as they chatted with, a movie playing in the background to fill the silence.

As your husband was engaged in conversation with Bucky and Steve, Natasha looked over at Wanda, sending her a wink then pull out her phone to quickly notify you that he’s distracted and it’s go time.

As you looked down at the message that had flashed across the screen, you smiled, a glimmer of mischief in your eyes. You grab the overly large nerf gun and began your stealthy entrance into the room.

You could already hear Sam’s voice as you slowly made your way over to behind where he sat on the couch. Reaching the large item of furniture, you crouched behind it and loaded the gun. You looked down at your tummy and smiled.

Not a second later, you jumped up and started unloading nerf darts at your husband. He would denied it but you swore you heard Sam let out a girlish shriek. 

You continued to shoot until the last bullet left the gun and hit Sam. As the firing of your weapon ceased, the Avengers could do nought but laugh, except for Sam. He just glared at you. 

You smirked triumphantly. “Suck on that, baby!”

All the sudden, he leapt over the back of the couch and picked you up in his arms, spinning you around as you giggled. Once he put you down, you noticed the kind smile on his face directed down at you. “You got me babe. Although, I think I may have to get you back.”

“Ah. Right. You see, I don’t think the doctor would be very happy to hear you attacked your pregnant wife, Samuel.” 

The entire room filled with silence. Sam’s face wasn’t the only one with shock plastered across is. You felt anxious but once you looked over at Natasha and Wanda, you felt reassured that everything was going to be okay. 

“Are you sure? You’re not just playing with me, right?” Your husband all but whispered, scared of what the answer is.

You nod as you bit your lip, feeling tears fill your eyes. “Yeah. I went to the doctors today to confirm it. You know what I’m like, not one to trust my own diagnosis.” Your face broke into a smile, rivalling the one etched across Sam’s.

“I’m gonna be a dad. I’M GONNA BE A DAD!” He yelled in excitement as he once again scooped you up into his arms, spinning you around. 

Happy expressions fell upon the faces around the room, ecstatic for their team mates. You and Sam stared at each other lovingly, one of his hands placed upon your stomach, the other holding the small of your back.

“I love you, Sam.”

“I love you, Y/N.” He knelt down in front of you, your belly at eye level. “And I love you, Sam Jr.” You laughed and slapped his shoulder playfully. 

Everything finally felt okay again, knowing your husband would love you and your growing unborn child unconditionally.

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I had NO idea where I was going with this when I started writing but hey, imma still post it, yanno

I hope you enjoy none the less

It’s honestly a mess but it’s MY mess so I’m super proud lmao

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed :D

[mkstrigidae]

Current WIPs and Fic Concepts

I promised I would do this yesterday, and then I forgot!!! (I was very sleep deprived). Anyways, here are a bunch of the WIP premises that I have in my 'unfinished drafts' folder. Most have at least a few pages written for them, but I love them all! ☺️💕

- A Santa Clarita Diet AU (Jonsa) Takes place in sunny southern California, where a shitty dinner at a mediocre restaurant turns into a huge problem for Jon and Sansa when Sansa's heart stops beating. Although she seems fine, Jon is flabbergasted several days later as he watches his wife- who alphabetizes their pantry and refuses to let anyone wear shoes in the house- rip the throat out of one of the sleazy new partners at their law firm, eating half of him before anyone processes what's going on. Hilarity ensues as Sansa's inhibitions and filter disappear, Arya ropes an extremely confused Gendry into helping figure out what the hell is going on just because he moderates the zombie forum on reddit, and Jon tries to deal with the fact that the woman he loves more than anything is now a humanitarian. He really could use a drink. (This one is actually mostly complete, but i need to refine a few things- i really love it. It's as gory and irreverent as the show, so viewer discretion advised, but it's a BLAST to write).

- A Thor/MCU AU (Jonsa, Steve Rogers/Sansa)- Asgardian prince Aegon is banished to Midgard after one too many arrogant decisions, and is promptly hit by a van containing Dr. Sansa Stark, Dr. Barristan Selmy, and Margaery Tyrell- two astrophysicists studying wormholes and Sansa's best friend and pseudo-intern. Marg yells at him, he yells back, Sansa tases him, and Barristan didn't sign up for the kind of heavy lifting that getting a 200+ pound slab of muscle into the back of a van takes. And then Aegon's younger brother, Jon, shows up, in the middle of an identity crisis because, apparently, he's adopted. He wasn't intending to stay, but he's rather drawn to Dr. Stark and her brilliance, and against her better judgement, she starts to trust him, and maybe even like him. This story is in about three parts so far- the first is based on 'Thor' and the second on 'The Avengers' and are fully Jonsa, and the third started as a family bonding story between the Stark kids and Tony (Ned and Tony are second cousins, and Ned was really supportive of Tony in rehab without expecting anything in return), and accidentally turned into a Steve Rogers/Sansa Stark story, which is a pairing i am HERE for. A lot of this one is written, but it needs some fill in before publishing, although it's one of my favorites that i've written to go back and actually read.

- A Star Wars AU (Jonsa) where Sansa and Arya are Alderaanian princesses who are off planet when Alderaan is destroyed- Sansa as a senator and Arya as a pilot, both working for the rebellion, and jon is a smuggler who does not know how all of these people got on his ship and why two princesses are sassing him. His copilot, Tormund (yes he's a wookie), thinks it is hilarious. I started this one just the other day, and it's already thirty pages long, most of them involving Sansa and Arya sassing people. Dany is a leader in the rebellion, Roose Bolton is the emperor, and Barbrey Dustin is a disgruntled former jedi trying to live in peace on a remote planet until another Stark crashes into her life and harangues her into teaching again.

- A witches/magic AU (Jonsa) where the Starks run an apothecary and spellcasting supplies shop. Jon had been completely in the dark about magic before his mother confessed to being born into a family of witches. He finds himself traveling to her hometown, trying to understand her world more clearly, and what it means for him. On the way, he develops something of a crush on the red-headed shop clerk who brews the best headache potions in town. Featuring lots of magical shenanigans, this is one of my favorites in the folder :)

- A 24 hour diner AU (Jonsa) where Jon is a local mob boss, and Sansa works the late shift at Seaworth's diner to buy textbooks for the PhD she's working on in botany. Sansa's running from memories, and Jon has a soft spot for the red-headed waitress who always remembers how he likes his coffee.

- An East of the Sun, West of the Moon AU!!! (Jonsa) This is one of my fav fairy tales, and of course i couldn't resist Jon as a direwolf striking a deal with the starks!

- A Roomates AU (Jonsa)- Arya, Jon, Tormund, and Sam have been renting the same house together off Winterfell's campus for years- but when Sam moves in with his girlfriend, they need one more person on the lease. Sansa, about to relocate to Winterfell for grad school, finds out that her boyfriend has been cheating on her and that her housing plans have fallen through, all on the same day. Needless to say, she's a bit upset when she calls Arya to relay the news. There's a simple solution here, if Arya and Tormund can stop teasing Jon about his crush for five minutes. (any excuse to write tormund and arya roasting jon, tbh).

- A Fae AU (Jonsa)- When Sansa, a baker living in the city, washes her face in an enchanted spring on a camping trip, she gains the sight as a result. Suddenly able to see the fae underworld all around her is disorienting and terrifying. Sansa tries to conceal it- afraid of what might happen if the fae around her know that she can see them- but slips up, and catches the attention of Jon Snow- one of the lords of the unseelie court.

- A nuclear winter wasteland AU (Jonsa)- (?? I don't even know how to describe this premise, haha) where the Starks are living and running the Free Winterfell settlement in Siberia after a worldwide nuclear meltdown. Before the fallout, Sansa was one of the world's preeminent researchers in plant genetics and pathology, and works at the settlement to create newer, disease and radiation resistant crops to distribute for free to other settlements, aiming to break up the monopoly that Lannister Corp has on the market. Jon is a scavenger, searching throughout Siberia for his sister Rhae who disappeared several years previously. When he runs across Arya Starkovna, helping her fight off another band of radiation ravaged scavengers is just instinct- he doesn't think twice about it. In thanks, she brings him to the Winterfell settlement, where her brother Robb offers Jon sanctuary and resources, in exchange for serving as a bodyguard for Sansa when she travels to other settlements. Sansa is not particularly thrilled by this arrangement, but given that multiple parties seem to want her dead, she doesn't have much of a choice but to accept his company.

- A reincarnation AU (Jonsa)- of sorts. Robb is an archaeologist who finds a strange set of runes at a site up north, and immediately calls in Jon Snow- a historian and expert in said ancient language, as well as an old university friend of Robb's. When he arrives though, Robb shows him their most valuable finds- two mysterious ice blocks, with what appear to be perfectly preserved bodies from over a thousand years ago. No one could ever have imagined that either of them were still alive, but when the ice melts, revealing two very alive girls, the entire crew is instantly buried in NDAs, and given an assignment from the Westerosi government to figure out what the hell was going on. Sansa and Arya wake up, extremely confused about the world they live in, trying to adapt and mourning all that they've lost, even as the people around them wear familiar faces.

- Soulmates AU (Jonsa)- (Yes, another one, I love this dumb trope) Trauma surgeon and medical resident Sansa Stark is having a very bad day, and ends up meeting her soulmate during what she thinks is a mugging gone wrong. Fortunately, he’s not the one mugging her, just an intervening bystander, but she ends up slightly shot nonetheless. Sansa’s fretting about bleeding on the upholstery in his car, but Jon is a bit more worried about her injuries than the blood stains. He’s a bit confused when she threatens him if he takes her to a specific hospital, nearly has a nervous breakdown when she insists on doing her own triage, and is very charmed when she insists on ice cream after taking pain meds at the hospital. On Sansa’s part, she’s a little less concerned about being shot, and a bit more concerned about whatever weird first impression she’s making to her soulmate while high as a kite on pain pills. (this one just needs some tweaking to be postable- I'm not sure if it's going to be a oneshot or a series, but i love what I have already)

- A Demon/Archivist AU (Jonsa)- where Sansa works in the university's historical archives in Oldtown, and is learning to restore old texts with her fellow student and friend, Alleras (Trans Sarella is an amazing concept). When Joffrey Baratheon shows up with a pile of old books from his family's library to donate, Sansa is eager to get away from his sleaze, and accidentally takes one of the books home with her in her rush to leave. Unbeknownst to her, it's more than it appears, and when she leaves it open overnight, she accidentally summons forth Jon- an ancient, powerful, and extremely annoyed demon who is under a curse, and now hers to command. As Jon and Sansa try to get used to this new normal, the Lannisters (unaware that Joffrey had donated the tome) try desperately to find the book and it's owner, wanting Jon's power for themselves, and putting Sansa in considerable danger unless she can figure out how to break Jon's curse. Fortunately, she's a pretty good researcher, even if Jon is initially a bit of a grump. (This is based on a total wish-fulfillment mary-sue type premise for something I wrote when I was thirteen, and I revisited it and wanted to see what it would look like if i took it very seriously, and i am really enjoying it so far. It's a love letter to the terrible, heartfelt writing i was doing in middle school that created the foundations for my writing today, and so much fun).

The one that I am MOST excited about though:

- A Pacific Rim AU!!!! (Ned/Cat, Gendrya, Braime, Sansa/Jon Umber)-Twins Sansa and Robb Stark have always been completely in tune with each other, and when your parents are Jaeger pilots and your mother invented the neural handshake, what option is there but the Jaeger academy? Sansa studies to be an engineer, but ends up copiloting the Jaeger 'Winter Wolf' with her twin brother, after they lose Ned Stark to cancer. When Robb is ripped out of the conn-pod and killed by a kaiju while he's still connected to Sansa, she barely manages to kill the creature before stumbling back to shore, traumatized, grieving, and swearing that she'll never pilot again.

Unfortunately, the Kaiju don't stop just because Sansa does, and when the end of the world is imminent, Marshall Catelyn Stark orders both her daughter and former pilot Jaime Lannister (who lost his twin and copilot, Cersei, several years previously) back to Hong Kong for one final stand. Forced to face both her demons and an irate Arya, furious that Sansa had abandoned the rest of them after Robb's death, Sansa and Arya have to figure out how to pilot Winter Wolf together before the apocalypse comes for them all.

Featuring Marshall Catelyn Stark (commander of the Hong Kong Shatterdome, inventor of the neural handshake, former Jaeger pilot, and BAMF), Sansa x Jon Umber (Yes i know it's a rare pair but i've always kind of loved the idea of them, even though we know so little about him), Kaiju parts dealer and smuggler Petyr Baelish, bickering kaiju biologist Dany and theoretical mathematician Jon Snow, LOCCENT officer Theon, lots of snark, lots of angst and heartfelt conversations, and a weird friendship between snarky-grieving-asshole Jaime Lannister and kind-quiet-grieving Sansa Stark, who are the only two people in the world who know what it's like to lose a copilot and a twin in the drift.

Thanks for reading guys!! There are more, but some of them I just don't know how to explain quite yet, haha. I'd love to hear what you guys think about these!

[alice-in-wonderart]

Can I request a pregnancy hcs for Lan Wangji, Lan Xichen, Wei WuXian, Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen? Thank you!!!

Hello, hello, dear. These turned out a tad shorter, since it's 5 characters, (and pregnancy is Xtreme to write) but regardless - I hope you enjoy ❤️ One fluffy request coming right up~

Lan Wangji

"I'm pregnant" "Mn"

It's not like he isn't happy, he just needs some time to realise what you've just told him. And boy oh boy, does he realise it.

*cue smol content smile*

Lan Wangji has already taken care of a child, he raised Lan Yuan. But a baby? That would be a novelty to him for sure. But a novelty he's more than ready for. Even if he doesn't think so.

Despite that, he'd take great measures to make sure he'll be the best father possible.

His excitement would be hidden, but fully noticeable to you. His eyes would sparkle more, he'd generally appear more relaxed, he'd spend more time with you. (as much as possible, that is) The only other person who'd see the excitement in his icy stare would be Lan Xichen, who'd be the second to learn of the pregnancy, right after LWJ.

Now, he isn't the #DreamHusband™️ without a reason. He'd be fully prepared with anything you might need during those 9 months. He'd talk to his brother, albeit reluctantly, for any advice on how to deal with any side effects of the pregnancy, so he could make sure you are heathy and happy.

He'd silently watch over you, always making sure you are not in harm's way. His cold glares would double towards anybody who'd dare approach you about anything, outside of Lan Xichen, Wei Wuxian and Lan Sizhui.

He wouldn't necessarily stop you from going anywhere, although he'd want to but rather - he'd just tag along. You want to go down town? He'd escort you. Want to cook something? He'll help. Oh look, a puppy! Protective husband mode - on.

Sometimes, before the two of you go to sleep, he'd lay a strong hand over your stomach, gently rubbing your skin, basking in the joy, that you are carrying his child - the product of your love. And should the baby kick? A surprised, almost mute yelp would escape his thin lips, before he'd move to leave a gentle kiss on your stomach.

He never thought, never even imagined, that one day he'd have a family of his own, with a wonderful wife right next to him, and a child to call him papa. He didn't even so much as thought he could have one of those "happy endings". It seemed such distant a future, almost as if it was make-belief. Yet during those rare moments in the dead of night, he'd think, that perhaps a happy ending is possible. Perhaps he'd get to experience that normal, domestic lifestyle loving families have. And then sleep would come a little easier, knowing you'll stay by his side until the very end.

Lan Xichen

"Oh?"

What wonderful news! He'd be the most calm and collected out of everybody. He'd hug you, pouring all of his love into the hug, promising to be by your side until the very end, that he'll try his best to be a good father, to take care of you and your child and to love you unconditionally. (which he already does)

The two of you decided not to tell everybody just yet. It would be while before it became noticeable, so you decided to keep it to yourself to avoid unnecessary attention and possible bad omens or whatever. The only person who'd know would be Lan Wangji.

At first glance, nothing much would change. He'd still have responsibilities to get to, he'd still be your loving, kind, compassionate husband.

But every time he is left alone, his mind would immediately travel to you. In fact, such occurrences would begin happening while he's presumably busy too. Zoning out and day dreaming while working were pretty uncommon for Lan Xichen, yet the constant thought of you and your well-being would cloud his vision.

That, in turn, would be a dead giveaway that something was happening in his more personal life. The first to address this would be none other than Wei Wuxian, who'd turn to LWJ. Slowly but surely, more people would begin noticing the slight, yet unusual changes in Lan Xichen. He'd leave a little earlier, reply a little later and he could be spotted with you every second away from work.

When you decided to finally announce the pregnancy, a collective "I knew it" would be all but the response you'd expect.

Behind closed doors, he'd be so sweet and affectionate with you. And don't get me started on how much he'd play music to the baby you. He'd want your child to grow up with music, which included singing and playing different instruments around you before it was even born. And you wouldn't really mind - after all, Lan Xichen's music rivalled the gods' voices, or so it was said.

In fact, with time you'd realise, that your child would indeed react to his music. If the baby was exceptionally wild, kicking and moving around, Lan Xichen's calm melodies would put it at rest. (had this happen to a friend, it was crazy) Even his voice would act as a natural lullaby to the baby.

And you already knew, that the child would grow up to fall in love with music, just like his father.

Wei Wuxian

"Wait what? Really???"

*Happy pterodactyl noises*

The happiness. The joy. The love. The pride. Wei Wuxian would be beyond ecstatic! He'd be on cloud nine the moment your announcement hit his ears. He'd have the most OVER-THE-TOP MELODRAMATIC reaction to your pregnancy imaginable.

Imagine a tsunami. Now replace the water with joy. This is how EXTREME his happiNESS IS.

But then, he'd sit down and talk to you about it properly, about how this baby would change your life together, what you'd need to do, how you'd do it. Together you'd figure out your future, as much as possible that is.

He'd make sure both you and the baby would be well taken care of, well-fed, living a nice, domestic life. He knew poverty, famine and sickness. They were his old friends. He knew what is was like growing up without much on your plate. He knew of every struggle imaginable, which came with being less fortunate, so he'd be ready to do absolutely everything to provide for you.

Once he settled down, believing he's planned ahead well, the realization would finally kick in - Wei Ying, The Yiling Patriarch, Founder of Demonic Cultivation and the pinnacle of darkness and despair, was about to be a father. And with that came in the insecurities. He'd constantly worry whether he'd be a good father, whether he'd set a good example, whether his reputation would ruin his child's life. He knew how judgemental society is, how quick it is to draw conclusions and ostracise those, who stood out. In those moments you'd have to remind him of how far he's come and how much farther you'll go together - as a family.

And a family he's wanted all of his life.

He's had some practice when it comes to kids. After all, for a brief moment he'd taken care of little A-Yuan. But then again, he was already old enough to speak, talk and think completely on his own. Wei Wuxian had never had the chance to actually take care of a baby, a newborn. That thought both terrified and thrilled him.

He'd be quick to announce of the pregnancy to all of his closest friends, but try to avoid spreading the news. Even though he was no longer considered the villain™️, you can never know who's scheming from within the shadows. With that in mind, the Twin Jades, Jiang Cheng, Nie Huaisang, Wen Ning and the Juniors would be the ones he'd excitedly inform. Soon he was going to have his own progeny! Would it be a strong, fearless handsome boy like its father, or an intelligent, masterfully cunning and dangerously beautiful girl like its mother? Stay tuned to find out!

And boy, would he celebrate the pregnancy! You'd almost make him quit drinking just to sympathise with you. Almost.

Xiao Xingchen

"We're going to have a family? Together?"

Words wouldn't be enough to describe what he'd feel. Fleeting worry in between bouts of utter elation and delight, mixed with a hint of surprise and a whole lot of internally sappy thoughts occupied his better judgement. He'd pull you in for a gentle hug, before moving to rest a hand on your head, stroking your hair, whispering lovingly how delightful a family with you would be and how he couldn't wait to meet his child.

He'd want to teach his child everything he knows, everything he was taught and everything he believes in. You'd have to remind him, that there's still much time to go before he'd have a chance to do that. A toddler can only do so much, you see.

Of course, the question about his endless travels would come up eventually. Truthfully, Xiao Xingchen would be more than willing to set his travelling aside for the time being, at least until your child is old enough to travel with you. In fact, a domestic family lifestyle suddenly wouldn't seem so out-of-reach for him and that would bring him utter delight.

The thought of a having his own loving family with a wonderful wife and adorable children had rarely crossed his mind, seeming as nothing more than a distant thought. But as you stood beside him, with a small baby bump and a child on the way, he'd realise that indeed the gods had smiled his way in the best possible way.

He'd often rest his hands on your stomach, wanting to feel the baby kick. Of course, he'd also use that excuse to be ever-closer to you. Physical affection would double, as Xiao Xingxhen found himself attached to you whenever any of you had time.

You two would often joke around about the baby too, since laughter was something sacred to both of you. And Xiao Xingchen would absolutely never fail to make you laugh, whenever worry would overcome you.

" Maybe our child will be as tall as a giraffe" "A-Chen, my love, it's 3 in the morning. Go to SLEEP."

He'd never taken care of a child before, hell you were his first love, but you'd seen him around kids when passing through different villages. His caring nature and innocent heart made him a wonderful father.

He'd never expected to one day have a family, but the very thought that you were there and you were carrying his child, would make his heart swell with pride and love. After all, he wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

Song Lan

"..."

Tall, dark and handsome over here would be utterly starstuck. He never thought he'd get to a point in his life, where he'd actually become a father. He never thought he'd have children, who would become his legacy. And as all that raced through his head, worry swept over him. Did YOU want that?

"Are you happy...we're having a baby?" The first words he'd utter.

"Of course! Are you not?"

The moment he sees your worried expression, his eyes would soften and he'd pull you in, leaving a kiss on the top of your head. "I am surprised, worried, yet thoroughly overjoyed." he'd mumble into your hair and the world around you would melt away.

Song Lan is a man of a few words, but many actions. He'd become twice as protective, keeping a steady hand on your shoulder as you walked thorough town, going out of his way to make sure you're comfortable and content, safe and sound, and of course happy.

He'd try his best to spoil you, getting you absolutely everything you might want or need. He'd even cook for you! He'd put you as his number one priority. After all, you were all he had left.

Would he silently panic whenever your stomach hurt, or you were feeling sick, or just in general felt any discomfort? Yes. Has he read a ton about pregnancy to make sure he was prepared for anything? Yes. Did he imagine every worst-case scenario in existence? Yes. Did any of that happen whatsoever? No. But Song Lan - big scary, dark and broody Song Lan, would absolutely cower at the thought that something so much as MIGHT go wrong. Of course, he wouldn't show it.

Well into the later stages of the pregnancy, he'd try to spend as much time with you as possible, to make sure he was there when the baby was going to be born. You'd already have a few names planned out, no matter the gender. The two of you would be READY. Hands down the most prepared.

He'd often lie with you, imagining what it would be like, being a father. He'd wonder whether you'd have a girl or a boy, whether it would resemble you or him more, whether it would be quiet and stone-faced, or kind-hearted and cheerful. And your answer to all of his what ifs would remain the same. "We're about to find out."

And those exact words would make his heart swell, both with love and anticipation. Of course, he wouldn't show it. But you knew better.

Thank you for reading~

[ilguna]

Anteric - Chapter Nine (f.o)

summary: secrets have more worth than you gave them credit for.

warnings; swearing. MURDER PLOT, MURDER, SUICIDE MENTION SEVERAL TIMES.

wc; 9.3k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

The next four days follow the same nightmarish pattern of facing your fears early in the morning, and then wielding a gun or a knife in the evening. You think that Caspian and Laurel are really testing fate by allowing a group of unstable teenagers near anything dangerous. 

Sure, all of you have to be prepared to be able to wield a gun and defend yourselves in hard situations. But you wouldn’t say that it’s the brightest idea ever, too. You’re not entirely convinced that some of your fears correspond to shooting directly after. The only exception in this case, would be the one where you’ve watched Finnick die.

Despite all of this, you think that you’re beginning to get a hang of the fear-facing, to the point where you’ve managed to increase your time to five minutes. While everyone else works hard to make their time smaller and smaller, you’ve been trying to go against the current to make yourself look less suspicious.

You’ve figured that it’s easier to calm yourself down once you realize which fear you’re in. It’s only the four that repeat themselves, being buried alive, watching someone bleed out and die, and being trapped in an enclosed space with spiders. The easiest of them being buried alive, mainly because it’s not as hands-on.

You’re not forced to save someone, drowning in their blood as you try to cover wounds that will only become insignificant in the end. As more and more appear on the other’s body, screwing your focus and making you forget that you’re in a simulation. And you aren’t aware of the fact that you have to keep moving around for as long as you can without being covered in the spiders.

With the coffin, there’s no imminent danger, no real threat is hanging above you, besides the sure. Sure, you’re being buried alive, the dirt will eventually end up suffocating you. Yet, it’s not chaotic. You’re not fighting anything, you’re just forced to sit in darkness, feign some fright for a while, and then you’re free. If you were being buried without the coffin, that might be a different story. But that isn’t your fear, the coffin is a detail for a reason.

The others don’t seem to be as lucky as you are. They’re stuck in the same loop of facing their fears, and not knowing what to do after. At least you can say that your nightmares aren’t making your skin crawl anymore. For them, they shake when someone asks what they’ve gone through, and wake up screaming at night.

However, there are a few of you who are outshining the others. And it seems to be the people who hadn’t done too well during the first stage of initiation that’re getting the hang of this one. Which is a shame, because their progress isn’t really going to pay off until the final stage, when they beat the rest.

The few that you’ve noticed are Sydney, Nestor and Cass. They act a little differently than the others do. Sydney and Nestor have always been laid back. You can’t really say the same for Cass, since you don’t know her as well. But they definitely have a different attitude when they go into the room, compared to someone like Thyme.

Then there are the people who are naturally good or bad at the simulations, and it’s typically hard to tell which is which. Like Laurel told you, your friends are close to the twenty minute range, and as far as you know, you’re the only outlier. You can always time people on your watch, but it’s not the same, not really.

Anyway, it’s been about four days since you’ve so much as glanced at Finnick in front of Thyme. It was a smart move to make, because she might have started off stiff, but she’s officially cooled down. She’ll still glare at you occasionally, then again she was doing that before the party, so it’s not a surprise or a change of routine.

Because of that, the only times you’ve gotten to talk to Finnick was in bits and pieces when Thyme wasn’t around. Which was practically never, considering that she attached to him like a parasite and doesn’t let go. You’d hardly be able to get a full sentence in before she came around again. Laurel wasn’t much help either, she didn’t give you any accidental golden chances either.

The more time passed, the more anxious you got over the fact that Finnick might have been thinking that you were backtracking. You were making no real effort to get alone time, not to mention you felt like your grasp was slipping. You said so yourself, you had Finnick in your hold. And leaving him with Thyme for four days all alone might change things.

In order to finally ease the stress that’s been eating away at you, you went ahead and sealed the leap of faith. It’s taken you four days to finally come to terms with the fact that you have to tell Finnick that you’re Divergent, whether you like it or not. You can tell yourself that it’s an unnecessary risk, and that he might already have some biased ideas somehow. But the truth is, you won’t know until you try.

A slight problem is you didn’t get to invite Finnick to the chasm before Laurel called you into the fear room. So, you had to ask Laurel for a favor, which was to call Finnick in next and send him through the second door in the room that will bring him to the dark hallway. It’ll be completely out of the way of Thyme, you won’t have to worry about accidentally running into her on the way to the chasm.

Fortunately for you, today you had to be locked in a coffin underground, so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. You hope that the same goes for Finnick, because you really would like him to be in the right headspace before you go ahead and dump your biggest secret onto his shoulders. You don’t want it to end up being the last straw that does it.

You twist your wrist towards your face, making the watch light up in the hallway. If you’ve been tracking the time correctly, it’s coming in fifteen minutes. You should have another five to go, and even that might be an overestimation. 

You yawn, cracking your knuckles before getting to your feet. The last time you jumped out at Finnick from the wall, you scared him pretty bad, so you’re not entirely sure if there’s a way to get around it this time. There’s no lantern for you to steal from the wall, not that you’re sure if you’ll be able to do that, anyway.

About a minute or so later, the door finally opens. You emerge from the wall, standing off to the side of the hallway with your arms crossed. There’s just enough light from the room to light you up, so Finnick spots you easily. 

He has one hand reached up and placed over the spot where Laurel injects the serums. For a second, his eyebrows draw in like he’s confused, but then a smile slowly comes onto his face. You lean around Finnick to thank Laurel, she’s already holding a hand up, and then shoos you.

You hold out your hand for Finnick to take, and you watch as he takes it. You pull him along, he lets the door slip shut behind him with a gentle click. The hallway falls back into a pitch black, and you’re left to guide Finnick. You remember when it was the other way around, with you relying on him to warn you of where you step.

“What are we doing today?” he asks, “Another secret party?”

At the thought of your confession, an ache starts in your chest. If only it were something fun, “No, I think I’m going to tell you everything today.” With the exception of one thing, one little thing that doesn’t exactly have any connection to the blackmailing problem.

“Oh.” he says, you’re not sure you’d have anything to say in response to that, either.

The hallway finally splits into two, you head off to the right. It’s only a hundred or so more feet when you begin to hear the rushing water. You have to swallow to ease the growing tension in your throat. Finnick should be fine, you’ve known him a long time. He’ll give you a chance to explain yourself before judgement.

At least, you hope he will.

You let go of his hand in the doorway, continuing to your spot on your own. To the same place you stood last time you spoke to him. This time, you don’t lean against the railing. Knowing you, you’ll get caught up in the conversation and end up falling off backward.

Finnick resumes his spot across from you on the wall.

You have to remind yourself to take deep breaths, “I need you to listen all the way before you make any judgement calls, okay?”

You don’t want to look at him, this will be so much easier if you don’t look.

“Okay,” he agrees.

You know where to start, you’ve rehearsed this exact moment several times, thought up every single possibility. You found the best way to explain why, all you have to do is start speaking.

You swallow.

“It starts with the aptitude test,” you begin, eyes focused on the toe of your shoes. Is this too far back? No, it’s where the root lies, “Normally people get a straightforward result, but I got inconclusive.” you have to look at his face, it’s neutral besides his eyebrows, “Which means that I didn’t place for just one faction, I placed for three. Abnegation, Erudite and Dauntless.”

You pause for a moment, letting him process this. You feel like you’re speaking too slowly, he isn’t a baby. But this is new to him, right?

“How?” he asks, the confusion is setting in.

“Um,” you're hyper aware of your shaking hands, “Well, the choices in the aptitude test are supposed to eliminate a faction each stage. The cheese was for Amity, and the knife was for Dauntless. I chose the knife, so that’s a Dauntless oriented response. But I was vulnerable to the dog, which is Erudite thinking. Then I threw myself in front of the dog, bringing out Abnegation.

“Candor was ruled out when I didn’t tell the truth, and Erudite and Dauntless were brought up again when I posed some stupid question and stood up for myself. And technically it wasn’t a conditioned Abnegation response, either.” You lace your fingers together, “I hold equal aptitude for Abnegation, Dauntless and Erudite. The term for it is Divergent.”

Now you hold your breath, watching the gears turn in his head. You’ll be patient, let him come to conclusions on his own. Maybe he’ll suddenly solve the Thyme problem on his own, only allowing you to fill the gaps. Maybe he won’t, and he’ll demand more information.

The silence is overwhelming, “My legal result is Abnegation.”

His eyes flicker to you, “Why do you say Divergent as if it’s a bad thing?”

You think you’ll cry, “Because I can be killed for it if people find out.” 

Finnick understands, you can tell by the way he goes rigid, “You’re not kidding?”

“No.” 

Please don’t start running. Please don’t have ill intentions. Please say that you’ll keep it a secret.

“Okay, I can understand why you’ve been like this,” he slumps slightly, a frown coming over his face.

You know what he’s thinking, “Finnick, don’t think that I don’t trust you,” you move forward a little, “I don’t…” you take another deep breath, “A lot of people know right now, and my worst nightmare has already happened.”

He’s still watching you, “Like what?”

A metallic taste spreads over your tongue, “You asked if Thyme said anything to me, and I said yes,” your throat is closing, “You remember that?”

He nods.

“Well, when our families came to visit, Mox and his small family came and visited me,” Finnick raises his eyebrows, he must’ve missed them, “Just before they left, Mox told me that Caspian knows I’m Divergent, and he’ll look out for me. Then he told me that these two stages of initiation are going to be easy, because of the way my brain works so I need to be careful not to get caught, whatever.

“I went to leave the area that we talked in, and Thyme had overheard everything.” Your eyes find Finnick’s face again.

And he is bright red, eyebrows turned down, “What did she say?”

“She said that if I don’t stay away from you, she’ll tell everyone I’m Divergent.”

He doesn’t move for a long moment, jawline becoming more obvious each time he grits his teeth. His eyes cast towards the path you have to take to get away from the chasm.

You feel like crying, this is the exact reaction you were looking for. Anger because the person that’s been playing sweetheart and hanging off his arm has secretly been blackmailing you for a week.

“Is that all?”

No.

“Yes.”

There’s something else that you need to tell him.

“Does she know that they’ll kill you for it?”

You shrug slightly, “It’s Thyme we’re talking about, do you really think she’d care about that?”

“Probably not.” he mumbles.

You scuff your shoe against the rocks, pressing your lips together. You should tell him, do it real quick to get it out of the way. You’ve already spoken about so much, what’s one more?

When you open your mouth, the words lodge themselves in your throat, refusing to move. You settle for sighing instead.

He catches this, raising his eyebrows, “What’s wrong? Is there something else?” 

Tell him.

“No, I told you everything.”

Finnick doesn’t lessen his gaze. 

Just tell him you like him.

You smile, he doesn’t smile back, continuing to wait.

You’ve told him so much already, what’s one more?

“Come on, (Y/n),”

What if he doesn’t feel the same?

Silence.

It’s a chance you have to take.

You clear your throat.

No, you’re going to ruin recently established peace.

“I just wanted to apologize for the final fight, is all.”

What a lie.

Finnick doesn’t believe you, he turns his head to the side a little.

You shrug again, “I didn’t want to bring it up because I don’t want to bring up things in the past if you aren’t bothered by them.” you play with your fingers, trying to figure where to go next. Then you realize that there is a problem that you left unsaid, “Ah, right, I remember now.

“Besides the obvious reason why I was mad at you, I realized something during the fight which made it a whole lot worse,” you rub the back of your neck, trying to ease the growing tension, “You--um--you see me as an equal, right? Cause for a second, I was convinced you thought of me as lesser and that doesn’t… sit right with me…”

Finnick’s got his eyebrows screwed in, “An equal?”

“Yeah, like we’re on the same level ground and I’m not in some ditch or whatever.”

His face twists, “I’m sorry, but shouldn’t this had been in the meaningless conversation the other day?”

You open your mouth, eyebrows in. Once he starts laughing, you snap your mouth shut.

“I’m kidding, of course we’re on the same page.” he grins, showing his teeth, “I mean, if we weren’t, we wouldn’t be friends, would we?”

You purse your lips, “I guess not.”

“You guess?” he laughs again, “Anyway, I don’t care about the fight. You won fair and square, even though you were definitely hyped up on adrenaline.”

You smile.

Finnick eyes the hallway for a moment, the humor slowly fading from his face, “So what are we going to do about Thyme?”

Your heart twists when you hear the word ‘we’, “There’s no real way to get her to shut up, Finnick. Unless we somehow make her get cut during stage three.” you clench your teeth, “All my ideas have been permanent and illegal.”

He nods, “I can see why.”

“It’s a lifelong thing she can hold over me.”

“You can always tell Caspian.”

“He already knows,” you lean your head back and watch as Finnick looks at you, “You know when you caught me that morning getting ready super early?”

Finnick nods.

“Yeah, well, the leaders of Dauntless and our trainers will eat breakfast way before everyone else so that they can discuss initiation and stuff. So I got Caspian away from them and told him about Thyme, and he said he can’t help me anymore because Thyme accused him of interfering so he really needs to back off.”

You crack a smile, “Actually, he told me that I should tell you the truth about everything and have you work with me to find some solution. The problem is that he can’t know what I want to do with her, and he told me not to be too brash but it’s not like I have a choice.”

“We,” Finnick corrects, “It’s not like we have a choice.”

You give him a soft smile, “Right, we.”

Finnick stretches, arms above his head, letting out a groan, “I’m going to go ahead and guess that your plan includes murder.”

“Honestly, it was my first thought when she made me agree to it on Visiting Day.”

“And I don’t really see any other option besides beating her up and throwing her to the streets, but she’ll just tell the factionless that you’re…” he doesn’t say the word, eyebrows furrowing, “...and that would be the end of it.”

“Yup.”

He makes a face, “We should probably think it over some more.”

“That works, I guess,” you check your watch, thirty minutes have passed since the beginning of the conversation, “Alright, you go ahead and go back, I’ll follow after you in a couple.”

“Sure,” he says.

You expect him to start into the hallway immediately, but he comes towards you instead. You lift your head from the wall, face twisting in confusion. He holds a hand out for you, you go ahead and take it, not entirely sure what he wants. Is he going to bring you somewhere?

No, he pulls you into him for a hug. His arms wrap around your back, underneath your arms. Immediately, your face feels like it’s on fire, heart pounding in your ears. It takes you a moment, but you hug him back, placing your ear against his chest, closing your eyes. The last time you hugged was before the Choosing Ceremony, when you weren’t sure if you’d see him ever again.

Your thought from earlier boomerangs back, much louder and begging this time for you to tell him that you have a crush on him. That you’ve had a crush on him for years, you just couldn’t say so before because of Abnegation ideals and how taboo a relationship is.

You can’t though. You’ve said too much today, told him everything on your list. This confession, the very last one, is not as significant as the rest. You can tell him some other time.

Finnick gives you a gentle squeeze, “Thank you for trusting me.” he murmurs.

You swallow the tightness in your throat, “I’ve always trusted you more than the rest.”

He moves away first, a smile on his face, “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Yeah.” Why are you dizzy all of a sudden?

He leaves now, all you can do is place your hands on your head, fingers interlaced as you turn to the railing. There’s tears in your eyes, and you don’t even realize it until they’re rolling down your cheeks. You sniff, and then huff out a laugh, bringing your hands back down to wipe them off.

You and Finnick are okay.

It’s a thought that keeps running through your head over the next hour. You’re okay, there’s no need to worry anymore. And he thinks that your problems are his again, it’s a good sign. The hug really topped it off, but it’s also the thing that broke you. He must’ve known that you needed one.

You loosely wander back to the dorm, having had enough of the chasm for one day. You’re more than sure that everyone is done facing their fears now, so it should be safe for you to come back without any suspicion. When you reach the door, you softly push against the wood and slip through the crack that’s barely big enough.

You expect to see everyone off in their usual corners, maybe a few people napping because the daytime is the only time when they can sleep anymore, maybe a few people missing. You’re pleasantly surprised to see that everyone is gathered together around the chalkboard that had given the first stage’s rankings.

Caspian is standing within the half-circle, his eyes follow you on your way in, “Now that (Y/n) has finally made it, I can show you.”

A few people glance over their shoulders, none of them dirty looks except for Thyme. You ignore her, and Finnick, going to stand on the side of Blaire that’s away from them, as if he’s some sort of shield. In classic Blaire behavior, he slings his arm over your shoulder.

“Are these the rankings for stage two?” you ask.

“Progress report,” he says, “Caspian’s showing us where we’re at so that we’re prepared for stage three and how badly we need to improve before then.”

An uneasiness grows in your stomach, heart skipping. Everyone is about to see where you’re at, and how far ahead you are. And with Thyme’s accusation of Caspian interfering, this is not going to look good.

Your teeth sink into your cheek, right into the wound you carved up earlier when you were with Finnick. The warm taste of blood crosses over your tastebuds again, the pain sharp.

Caspian doesn’t say another word as he reaches up to hang the board on the designated nail. He stands in the way for a moment, blocking the view. Then, he shoots you a look before stepping aside, a silent warning that you are not as undercover as you’re supposed to be.

And he’s so right.

Your name is the first one on the list.

Your breath hitches, body rigid, eyes glued to the board, blood running from your face. Three minutes and forty-five seconds. This must be your time from the first fear simulation, and you are so incredibly grateful that your two minute one hadn’t been put up there. It would be a lot worse, then. Suddenly, the predator would become prey.

The person in second is, unsurprisingly, Finnick. He has nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds. There is a five minute gap between you two, and it is so significant that it makes your stomach twist.

Someone looks at you, you think it’s Eytelle. Judging by the corner of your eye, she is incredibly angry, compared to Blaire, who has a tight grip on your shoulder, shaking it to bring you back to life. You think it’s praise, you think that he’s excited for you.

His name is in the third slot.

You look past Blaire, eyes finding Finnick for comfort. He’s already looking at you, his lips are pressed together. Thyme could easily mistake this as displeasure towards you, good. To you, this looks like worry. You told him you had to be careful, and this does not look like careful.

When you look at Thyme, you can see her arm loop around his, pressing her body into his side. She doesn’t speak very loud, only enough for Finnick to hear. Unfortunately for her, in Abnegation you’re all used to the silence and working around it so that you don’t disturb the others.

“She’s cheating.”

You elbow Blaire slightly, trying to get his arm off of you, “Laurel warned you about accusing me of cheating already.”

The silence in the room is overcome by the blood rushing in your ears, body heating up. You’re tired of people saying that you’re cheating, Thyme, Ameer, now Eytelle. Is it so hard to believe that you can be in first place without cheating? That you don’t need help to get there?

Thyme looks over at you, face twisting until her mouth drops and her eyes widen. She looks at Caspian, shaking her head, “I didn’t even say anything!”

“Except you did.” Cass says, she’s standing further back than the rest of you. Which means she’s got a clear view of Thyme, “You mouthed it.”

“But I didn’t say it, there’s a difference.”

“So you’re admitting to it?” Caspian asks.

This is when Thyme pales, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Come with me.” Caspian starts towards the door, “Tomorrow’s a day off, don’t waste it.”

Thyme shoots you a nasty look on the way out.

The tension in the room doesn’t have time to grow, Blaire throws his arm back over your shoulder. You have to force a smile before you look at him, “Congrats.”

“Congrats to me?” Blaire’s laughing, the circle is beginning to form. They’re probably going to want to celebrate, “You’re in first!”

“I’m pretty sure (Y/n) meant to say, ‘Congrats for beating Lennox’.” Sydney laughs too, she’s in sixth, her hand is intertwined with Nestor, who holds the same smile. He’s placed in fifth.

Lennox makes a warning face at her, it’s playful. You can tell because he can’t keep the expression for very long before smiling. Lennox is in fourth. 

Trink, who’s in eighth place, is bouncing next to him, face suddenly lighting up, “Oh! That means that Lennox owes you his twenty points!”

Lennox lets out a groan, “No, don’t remind her!”

In order of first place to last, the list goes as follows: You, Finnick, Blaire, Lennox, Nestor, Sydney, Cass, Trink, Ameer, Mirza, Thyme, Allio, Eytelle, and Horace. The rankings from the first stage have definitely flipped. Allio was first, now he’s last. Eytelle’s isn’t all that surprising either, she nearly got cut on the last stage too. She was saved by Amos and Ossie.

There are fourteen of you. If Dauntless only accepts the top ten, then that means Thyme, Allio, Eytelle and Horace will immediately be cut. Which would partially solve the Thyme problem, only she would still know you’re Divergent and would be able to tell people later on,

When you look at Finnick, you think that he’s working on the same thought process.

“Well?” Sydney says, “Hand the points over, loser.”

Lennox punches her arm, “Shut--”

“Hey, Lennox,” you nudge him with your elbow, “You can just pay me five every month so I don’t run you dry.”

He stops, raising his eyebrows, “Are you sure?”

You shrug, “How else are we supposed to get celebratory tattoos today?”

Ameer and Mirza let out a whoop, leading the way out. They placed ninth and tenth, you’re not entirely sure if you'd be celebrating if you were them, but then again, they aren’t going to get cut. If they keep this up for the final stage, they’ll be golden. 

As expected, there are a couple of people that stay back, namely Eytelle and Allio, who are giving you dirty looks like Thyme normally does. Horace trails behind Ameer and Mirza since they’re refusing to leave him behind. You have to grab onto Finnick to make sure that he doesn’t stay here, either. 

“Hey Blaire!” You call, making him turn, “Finnick was wondering who you think the hottest leader out of all the factions is. He was thinking about Haymitch.”

“(Y/n)--?” Finnick strangles out, giving you an incredulous look. You flash him a smile, pushing him forward into Blaire.

“Really? I was thinking Mags.” Blaire snorts.

--

Even though it was risky, you and Finnick went ahead and got matching tattoos like a couple of idiots. It was a long process of trying to figure out a middle ground. You’d suggest something like the Abnegation logo and Finnick would look at you disgusted. Then he would suggest something vulgar, and it would be your turn to look at him like he was doing it on purpose.

Since it took a while, by the time you two made the decision, Blaire, Sydney and Nestor were the only three that were still willingly sitting with you. Lennox and Trink had disappeared sometime during the middle, Ameer, Mirza and Horace went to play a dangerous game near the Pit drop off. And Cass got distracted when she realized that her blonde hair was perfect for dying.

You can’t take all the credit for the tattoo idea, it really stemmed from Sydney and Nestor when they showed you theirs. If they stand side by side, with Nestor on the right and Sydney on the left, and lift up their shirts, they have a flutter of butterflies across their ribs that make a whole picture.

So, you and Finnick decided to get something like that, but a lot simpler. No color or shading, just the lining of two hands holding out their pinkies to make a promise. Yours is on your left shoulder, and Finnick’s is on his right. It can’t really be seen unless you force your shirt over, so there’s not a lot of risk.

Unless Finnick walks around shirtless, and someone catches a glimpse of your tattoo and Thyme somehow finds out and puts two and two together. However, you don’t see that happening any time soon. As far as you’re concerned, she’s completely oblivious to the planning that’s going on between you two.

You tie your hair in a knot at the back of your head, desperate to get it off the back of your neck. Next to you, Trink is twirling her hair around her finger like she always is. She’s also leaning into Lennox more than she usually does, so something definitely happened between them yesterday when they left.

Lennox seems to be making an effort to stick close to her, too. This morning, they had sat next to each other at breakfast, glued to the hip and refused to let anyone sit in the middle. It makes you think that they’ve officially started dating, but they’re not acting like it. Not like Sydney and Nestor.

Your eyes drag over to Finnick and Thyme, they’re sitting on the other side of the dining hall. She sits across from him, body turned so that she isn’t facing you. Finnick, on the other hand, has made sure that he can see you from where he sits. He’s not eating his lunch anymore, his cheek is cupped in one hand.

And his other is on his shoulder, where his new tattoo is.

You sit up a little straighter, wondering how long he’s been waiting for you to see. You and him decided to make a sign for if one wants to talk to the other, so that you two don’t have to keep waiting to talk to each other after fear facing. He suggested that putting your hand over the tattoo would be it, a telltale sign to go to the chasm after whatever you’re done doing.

Finnick briefly glances over, you go ahead and place your own hand over your shoulder, giving him a gentle nod before looking back at your friends. You need a way to get out, you’ve been sitting here, done with your lunch for a while. You’re sure that they’ll understand.

You place your hands onto the table, getting ready to push yourself up. This immediately catches Trink’s attention, she slowly tears her eyes from whatever Blaire is talking about, to look at you. Her eyebrows are raised, mouth parted.

“I’m going to disappear for a while,” you say, “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Trink pouts for a moment, “Can you be back before dinner this time? I thought we could all sit around and play some Dauntless games.”

You shrug with one shoulder, “Sure, no problem. I’ll keep track of the time on my watch.”

She smiles, “Thank you.”

You say your goodbyes to the others, punching Blaire’s shoulder on the way out. 

You’re the first to escape the dining hall, taking your time when you walk to the chasm. There’s no question that you’ll be back before dinner. Only in your dreams will you be able to hang around Finnick for longer than thirty minutes at a time, anymore. On the off-chance that you stay behind for a while, Sydney and Nestor know where to find you.

You get halfway down the long hallway that drops off at your corner, when there’s a rapid sound of footsteps behind you. You raise your eyebrows, a smile on your face when you spot Finnick running at you. He holds his hands out, making a noise that’s a mix of a snarl and a snort.

You get it, you’re supposed to run away.

You play along, running down the hallway in the dark. It’s dangerous, you could trip and fall. But then again, your whole life has been dangerous since the moment you finalized your decision of joining Dauntless. On your first day you jumped from a moving train to a rooftop! You hung from the chasm bridge by your fingers! You ziplined face first off of a building! You’re Divergent, for fuck’s sake!

At this point, you’re beginning to think that danger could really be your middle name.

Your guys’ laughter echoes off the stone walls, you can see your little dip for the chasm coming up, preparing to throw yourself against the wall to avoid Finnick. He’s much quicker than you, his hands clamping around your upper arms as he pretends to roar.

Tears appear in your eyes, you wipe them away, “Okay, get off of me.”

Finnick’s still chuckling to himself when he goes to his far wall. He doesn’t stand, though, he sits down immediately. You go ahead and follow, criss-crossing your legs and placing your hands in the gap in the middle.

“So, what’d you call me here for?” you ask.

Finnick shrugs, “I just didn’t want to be around her anymore. She kept asking me if she thought you were cheating. I think she’s a little on edge now that you keep ranking on top.”

“I can’t help it,” you murmur.

“I know,” he says, his legs extended in front of him, “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

You smile, “Have any ideas on how to solve the problem?”

He shakes his head, “I mean, at this rate she’ll probably get kicked out, but that isn’t what we’re looking for, right?”

You press your lips together, “It’s not realistic.”

“I figured as much, don’t worry.” he looks off to the side, “What if we blackmail her?”

You don’t answer him right away, “We don’t really have any leverage.”

“But if we trick her into it?” Finnick asks, sitting up, “Like, I could hint at getting rid of you from number one somehow, which will keep her in the top ten so she wouldn’t get cut.”

You try to hide your horror when you remember just how alike you and Finnick are. Sometimes you forget that you’ve been around each other for so long that you ultimately have the same brain. You could be thinking something, and he’d probably be able to guess what.

“I’m… not sure…” you manage to get out, “if I still want to be the--um--center of the danger...?”

Finnick doesn’t question you, nodding, “But it’s an idea.”

“I guess? How about we put that on the back burner and try again?”

Finnick gives you a funny smile, “I’m not sure if any of my other ideas will be as perfect as that one so bare with me.”

“Sure.”

And he’s right, once the two of you try brainstorming again, you’re not really coming out with any ideas that you like. You’d really like to go for the first one, but you’re not sure how Finnick would even lead her in that direction. You have no doubt that Thyme wouldn’t have any qualms about murdering you to get ahead. To her, that would be the perfect solution to keep you away from Finnick forever.

The real problem would be to frame her for thinking it up on her own without getting Finnick mixed in there somewhere. Also, there would need to be witnesses--other than you and Finnick--because it’s already known that you three aren’t exactly the best trio when you’re around each other. You could end up getting in trouble, Thyme could figure out that you’re working with Finnick, and it could end right there.

Finnick suggests accusing her of being Divergent, giving it a little spin. You shoot him down, explaining that your results had to be entered manually. Not to mention, she could always spin it back on you, and then the two of you could be taken away together. 

He’s not very quiet when he calls you a buzzkill.

You glance at your watch.

“Is time up?” Finnick asks.

“Is it that obvious?” you joke, beginning to get up, “We can always brainstorm tomorrow, it’s not like we don’t have a week until initiation ends.”

You stretch your arms above your head. Finnick gets to his feet too, sliding his hands into his pockets, “Before I go, I actually had something I wanted to tell you.”

“Yeah, sure,” you smile, leaning against the wall.

“I know we just started being okay again...” Finnick trails off suddenly, eyes fixated on something in the dark. You open your mouth, going to ask what he’s looking at, but he takes a hand out of his pocket, palm-down as if to tell you not to speak.

“Who are you talking to?”

You can feel your blood run cold.

Finnick moves forward, “I was practicing.”

You knew that going past thirty minutes would be a mistake, but you didn’t think that Thyme would come looking. Did she follow you guys? No, she would have come out a lot sooner. Then again, she waited until you found her to say anything about you being Divergent.

And there’s only two people that know this spot is yours. Which means that Thyme might have gone asking about Finnick, she came up with some excuse, and ended up here.

You close your eyes, tilting your head up to the ceiling, holding your breath.

“No, there was another voice, I heard it. Who are you talking to?” Thyme demands, her shoes are loud against the floor.

You look over to Finnick, who’s trying to walk towards her to make her backtrack. 

“It’s (Y/n), isn’t it?” she asks, her voice is getting closer.

“Thyme, no one is there,” Finnick says.

“Then prove it, move out of the way,” she presses her hands to his chest.

You scoot to the left, moving away as you exaggerate a nod. 

You two can trap her here, and figure out where to go from there. The more you think about murder, the more your heart skips. You can’t just kill her, someone will figure out that it’s you two that did it. Thyme goes looking for you two, who are known for hanging out together now, and she doesn’t come back?

You have to convince her not to say anything about you being Divergent. 

Finnick moves aside, allowing her to look for herself. His eyes lock with yours, lips pressed together into a tight line, shaking his head. He doesn’t know what you’re going to do, but he’s sure that it isn’t going to work. You wish he’d have a little more faith.

Thyme comes around the corner, arms crossed over her chest, mouth twisted into an angry mess. You reach out, grabbing her arm and throwing her towards the railing, trading spots with her. She catches herself on the railing with her hands. You used too much momentum, she could’ve fallen.

Finnick moves around you, standing on your right side. Thyme slowly turns around, eyes landing on you first, “You’re so fucking stupid.”

You stare at her, not saying anything. She goes to walk around Finnick, but he moves when she does. He’s not going to let her through, and she doesn’t understand this at first. Only when he mirrors her movements again, does she shoot a glare at him.

“Finnick, you don’t understand what she is,” Thyme’s voice changes significantly, from anger to softness, “I don’t know what she told you, but it wasn’t the truth.”

“So it’s not true that you’re blackmailing her?” Finnick asks plainly.

Thyme gapes for a moment, clearly not expecting him to outright say it.

“You’re not a very good actress,” you say, “you should work on being less transparent.”

Her eyes flicker to you, and she’s back to being pissed, “I told you what would happen if you came near him.”

“And I warned you about what would happen if you did this to me, Thyme.”

She doesn’t get it, you can tell by the way her face scrunches up. The more the gears turn, the more her face relaxes and she pales instead. You’re glad you’ll be able to see the terror in her eyes, the same terror you felt when you realized that she had heard about your secret.

“You won’t be able to kill me.” Her voice isn’t as smooth as it was before.

“What makes you think that?” you ask, tilting your head a bit, “You think that just because Finnick’s here, he’ll save you? If that were the case, he would’ve let you go by now, don’t you think?”

No comeback.

“What’s the plan?” Finnick asks, glancing at you.

“Don’t let her think for you, Finnick,” Thyme blurts, “You told me yourself that you hate  it when she’s in your head like this!” she reaches out for him, he takes a step back, “And now that it’s happening again, you’re just going to let it go?”

“I never said that.” Finnick suddenly snaps, “I said I hated it when she’s in her head, like she can’t tell me anything.”

You ignore the wrenching feeling in your heart. You need to focus.

“Did she tell you that she has Erudite tendencies?” Thyme asks, not a hint of regard in her tone.

You straighten up, because it’s decided. She just sealed her fate by asking him that question. Had she shown a little restraint, a little bit of sympathy, then she would’ve been fine. But just saying it out in the open like that, trying to use it as leverage again…

You reach out, grabbing her wrist harshly, “Throw her over.”

Thyme’s face changes, façade dropping again. She raises her other hand up, fist formed and aimed at your face. Finnick catches her wrist, holding it above her head. She starts yanking her arms down, “No--no, let me go!”

“Give me her other wrist, you can take her feet.” Finnick says, “I can hold her up higher than you can.”

“Stop!” the scream is shrill, “No!”

Finnick holds both of her hands above her head. If he wanted to, you’re sure, he could pick her off of the ground like this. His arms aren’t even fully extended yet, that’ll come in when you have to pick her up to get her over.

“Finnick, please!” she tilts her head back, “Please don’t do this, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing to me?” Finnick glares.

You sweep up her feet, holding her ankles together under your arm for when she starts kicking.

“(Y/n), don’t!” Thyme inhales, a sob follows after, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I won’t say anything, please don’t do this.”

You let go of her feet when they’re over the railing, letting her scramble to find footing. Finnick doesn’t let go of her arms yet.

“I warned you,” you say again, staying on her right side. You place both hands on the railing, leaning forward so that she can see your face, “I warned you that you’d end up here if you went through with this. You’ll be lucky if they find your body this far down the river.”

“They’ll catch you,” she sobs, her eyes bloodshot, hair blowing up because of the wind from the river, “you won’t get away with this.”

You give her a smile, “No one in this faction will miss you.” you lean in a little, “They might even thank me.”

“Or think you committed suicide because there’s no way you’re surviving initiation.” Finnick says.

“Hey, being dead is better than being factionless, right?”

Thyme sucks in a deep breath through her mouth, “Help!”

You snort, “Thyme, we are so far down this hallway that you’d be lucky if someone heard you.” you look at Finnick, giving him a nod, “Any last words?”

“Finnick, I thought I was your friend!” she screams, leaning backwards, away from the river.

“I was wrong.” he says plainly, letting go of her wrists.

Thyme teeters for a moment, looking like she’s going to catch her balance. All it takes is one pat on the back to send her flying forward, “Good luck!” you shout.

Her screams are loud, and are cut off suddenly when she hits the water. You don’t move from where you stand next to the railing, Finnick comes up beside you, wrapping an arm around your back, hand squeezing your upper arm as he pulls you into his side. 

All you can think about is what your father would think, after being murdered by a factionless. How his daughter, who had suffered from this loss, went through with a half-baked plan like it was her only option. How selfish it was to save yourself.

You need a distraction.

You suck in a shaky breath, closing your eyes when your head dips, “What were you going to tell me before she came?”

Finnick’s quiet for a moment, “That I’m Divergent too.”

--

It’s late into the night when they discover Thyme’s body, and you’re already wide awake when Trink shakes you to let you know. You have to pretend to be groggy when she helps you down from the top bunk, already tugging on your arm to get you to move faster.

You couldn’t sleep, not after what you’ve done.

There are only a few people awake, you notice. Blaire is hovering over Finnick’s bed, a hand on his shoulder as he speaks quietly. When Blaire notices you staring, he nods at you. Finnick is rubbing his eyes, but his movements are far too soft for a person who just woke up. He wasn���t sleeping either.

Trink doesn’t stop to wait for them, bringing you right through the door and down a series of hallways, taking you deeper into the Dauntless headquarters than you’ve ever dared to go. There must be another place where the river shows up besides your corner, otherwise you don’t think they would have found her.

“How’d you know?” you ask her, trying to sound like you’ve just woken up.

She seems to believe it, “Lennox was trying to be cute by showing me where the river leads because I mentioned that I like it. And we followed it all the way back here, and I don’t know how he saw her body through the dark because I couldn’t see at all. But he saw, and told me to stay put while he got help.”

She looks at you, “When Lennox got back, he told me that one initiate dies every year because of their ranks.” she’s shaking her head, “But I don’t understand why she wouldn’t just choose to be factionless?”

You shrug, feigning a frown. The plan is working exactly like you hoped it would, not a single finger has been pointed toward you. Then again, it might be too early to speak, her body was just found. 

Thumping footsteps makes you and Trink turn back to see who it is. Trink gives room between you two to allow Blaire and Finnick in. Finnick comes right up your left side, his tattooed shoulder to yours. His hand finds yours, squeezing tightly.

You didn’t believe him when he told you he was Divergent. You were convinced that he was just telling you that to level out with you, to make you feel better and that you weren’t alone after all. But the more he kept talking, the details he was giving, the more you realized that he was telling the truth.

On the aptitude test day, Finnick had been stuck in the room with the Candor man. And that detail alone was enough to begin to settle the doubt because the Candor aren’t supposed to lie. An adult man in Candor shouldn’t have the urge to hide a Divergent teenager, especially if they’re supposed to be a danger to everyone else. Candor is supposed to be the law.

Finnick kept going, telling you that he took his aptitude test like normal. It was only after the test did he realize that something was wrong because of the look on the Candor man’s face. Finnick figured that the man was new, he looked confused and didn’t move from the aptitude test for a long time.

When Finnick asked what was wrong, he was told that the test accidentally gave him two results. One of them being Dauntless, the other being Abnegation. The Candor man went ahead and manually entered Dauntless, though, because the Abnegation part of him was ‘so insignificantly small’ that it couldn’t even count towards Divergence. But when Finnick caught a glimpse of the screen…

You were still confused on how Finnick didn’t know the terminology for it, then, if that’s the case. He said that the Candor man never explicitly used the word ‘Divergent’ or ‘inconclusive’, he just said that the results came out as an accident, it happened all the time, and there was nothing to worry about. That was the reason why manually entering results was possible in the first place.

And since you’re not supposed to discuss faction results, Finnick never had the reason to tell you his result or the aptitude problem in the first place. Honestly, he’s lucky he made it this far without casually telling anyone. Plus, you can’t imagine what he felt like while you were explaining your own Divergence to him, the realization of just how dangerous it is.

It explains a lot, though. Why Finnick’s time is so low when he faces his fears, but it makes you wonder why it isn’t as low as yours? Is it because he’s only Divergent in two ways instead of three? And a part of you thinks that Laurel should’ve asked him if he was Divergent, or figured that out on her own. Unless, of course, he’s still within the reasonable time range, which blocks him from being so suspicious.

So many questions, and no one to answer them

“When’s the last time you’ve seen Thyme?” Trink asks, looking over at Finnick.

“Just before I left lunch yesterday.”

Trink looks at you, her eyes lowering into a squint, “Which was a few minutes after (Y/n), right?”

You nod. She better tread carefully, because if she starts pointing fingers at you two…

“Oh my god!” She lights up, “Does that mean you two are…?”

She’s making a scissor motion with her fingers, chopping them together with a slight head tilt. You think she’s trying to ask if you two are together without realizing how odd her symbol for it is. 

“Dating?” you guess, Finnick’s grip tightens considerably, “No--”

“They’re holding hands,” Blaire grins, giving Finnick a wink.

Trink raises an eyebrow, “I bet you two are taking it slow, huh? Since you’re both Stiff’s.”

“We were Stiffs.” Finnick corrects her.

“Same difference,” she waves it off, “I’m just surprised you two can hold hands without being a mess.”

If she were standing next to you, you would’ve punched her.

“Anyway, did Thyme ever come find you?” Blaire asks.

You turn to your right to look at him again, “What?”

“Yeah, she asked us if we knew where you were, and Sydney told her that you were probably by some empty corner of the chasm. When Sydney asked why, Thyme said she wanted to apologize or something.”

You called it, you said that she probably went looking for one of you. And she did. If she had waited to eavesdrop, though, she would’ve heard you and Finnick speaking. She could’ve wreaked so much havoc, but she wasn’t patient enough for that. You’re thankful.

Your grip on Finnick’s hand is like iron.

“We never saw her,” Finnick says casually, looking at Trink, shaking his head, “(Y/n) and I were in the party room messing with the microphone for an hour before we decided to head back to the dorm.”

“Oh, it’s still in there?” Blaire asks, he sounds a little excited.

“Yeah! At least when we were in there,” you say.

“Huh,” Trink’s eyebrows are drawn in, “Do you think she was looking for you to make amends or something, and when she realized that you didn’t want to see her, she killed herself in that corner?”

“Didn’t Lennox think it was for ranks?” Finnick’s trying to steer her back to her original point.

“It could be both,” Trink shrugs, “I was just saying. It’s over here.”

She takes the lead, bringing you three around another corner before you all come to a stop. Lennox has his back to you guys, his arms crossed, but he’ll lift one every now and then when he speaks, like he’s trying to explain the situation. Off to the side, there’s a large puddle of water beneath a motionless body.

Thyme is soaked from head to toe, lying on her back. Her head is faced away, toward the ledge that has no railing. Wet hair, flattened against the ground and the sides of her face. Her clothes are like a second skin with the way they stick to her body.

A woman is holding a blue lantern up, staring down at Thyme. If it weren’t for the light, this whole area would be pitch black. And with the light, you’re able to see the ear piercing that you insisted on her getting when you and Finnick got nose piercings.

Finnick draws in a breath, and doesn’t release. Blaire stays on your other side, staring. Trink is the only one who moves forward, coming up behind Lennox to tell him that she’s brought you two. Her hand is gentle on his back, and he offers you three a half-glance, a nod, and then turns back to the man he’s talking to. Trink doesn’t leave his side.

“I’m… so sorry, Finnick,” Blaire says slowly, not being able to tear his eyes from the puddle of water.

“Don’t be, she wasn’t really my friend, anyway.” he gives your hand a squeeze.

Was she anyone's?

You try to bring out some sense of remorse, thinking that you should at least pretend to be upset, but what’s the use? Everyone in the transfer initiate group knows how much you hated each other, it would be weird for you to cry over her. In fact, it’s even weirder that Finnick isn’t crying over her.

Besides, you can’t fake an emotion that’s the complete opposite of what you’re feeling. In order to be a good actress, you have to feel what your audience would feel at that moment, and you just can’t do it. There’s something else that’s brewing, something more sickening and vile and would most definitely get you in trouble.

It’s pure gleeful laughter, the relief and satisfaction of knowing that you will never have to deal with her again. Much less worry that she could snap at any moment and get you killed. No more pressing your ears to closed doors, no more walking on eggshells...

At the rate the balloon is swelling in your chest, you’re not sure if you’ll be able to hold it in.

--

ANTERIC IS A SPIN-OFF DIVERGENT AU //MASTERLIST//

add yourself to the TAGLIST

@amixedwitch / @justthatfangirloverthere / @fnnshelbys / @neenieweenie / @vxntae / @liaaacantwrite / @terezasworld / @i-dumb-bitch /

[pearl-pilots-in-chains]

Ice Cream Expertise (All the Little Lights #1)

Fandom: Neon Genesis Evangelion

Ships: Kawoshin

Rating: G

Summary: Shinji is faced with a dilemma of sorts, and is characteristically indecisive. Fortunately, Kaworu is there to give some helpful advice. Or maybe just call himself an ice cream expert. Let's be honest, it's a bit of both.

Notes: This is intended to be the start to All the Little Lights, my attempt at a relatively happy Evangelion high school AU featuring the pilots we know (and maybe love) actually getting to live a normal life (including all the cute gay romance they deserve). That said, it also works totally fine as a one shot. Considering it's an AU, there's going to be some rather interesting deviations from canon, some of which are alluded to here. So, if something seems off, that's probably because it is.

As usual, any errors, grammatical or typographical, are mine. I apologize in advance.

This was originally posted to my old AO3 on May 21, 2020. I hope you enjoy it!

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Shinji Ikari was not having a good day. No, perhaps that was an understatement. He was having a distinctly bad day. School had been tedious to say the least, considering that testing week was approaching, and the teachers seemed to be doing their best to “prepare” the students using every form of academic torture known to humankind. Okay, perhaps that was a bit of an exaggeration, but it had been a hectic hell all the same. Not to mention the fact that his best friend Touji was going through a rough patch (not the first one, mind you), with his girlfriend Hikari, which led to a tense mood within their friend group outside of class as well. Adding onto this was the fact that he was getting worried about his sister (what wasn’t new?) Rei, who had been especially quiet the past week or so, even by her standards. That was usually a sign that her depression was going through a rough spot. He had wanted to mention something to his mother about it, considering she usually had better luck at getting through to Rei than he did when his sister was going through a difficult time, but unsurprisingly, he hadn’t gotten around to it yet. He was gone too often, and his mother was gone too often. There was all of a one to two hour period when they were both home and awake on any given night. Rei always ending up alone probably doesn’t help her state of mind improve either. I wish she had more friends. People she could connect with.

And, of course, to top all that wonderful baggage off, he had had work after school, which had gone lovely. Just lovely. A simply wonderful group of customers had come in, and stayed for a better part of three hours, ordering intermittently while they all talked (way too loudly, in his opinion) at their shared table, which, in a predictable move, they hadn’t even bothered to clean off. He was a barista, not a waiter, despite what some people seemed to think. To make matters worse, they had been laughing so hard partway through their “discussion,” that one of the party had practically flung her iced latte through the air by accident (how someone could do that by accident, was a whole other topic for conversation), sending its contents flying halfway across the room (in a bafflingly impressive display, he had to admit, as irritating as it was). Of course, he had drawn the short straw and been the one tasked with cleaning it up. His boss seemed to get a special satisfaction out of giving Shinji all the “fun,” jobs. Okay, maybe Mr. Anno’s not that bad, but he still gets a kick out of watching me suffer. Or something like that.

Shinji sighed as he pulled his car into the store parking spot. As he exited it, he glanced down at his phone. 7:16. That meant he should have enough time to get home and get dinner going before his mother got home. These days, it seemed as though she worked progressively later and later. It had been a couple months since she’d been home before 8. She was almost certainly still out at the base at that moment. Whatever project she’s working on now is one of the more intensive ones.

He headed for the doors. He was planning on making stir fry, which meant that he needed to get soy sauce for sure, since he knew they had run out from the last time. He thought they had most of the rest of what he needed at home. So, this should be a quick run. Just in and out. After a day like today though, he was tempted to grab something sweet. Come on, after this whole mess, I think I at least half deserve something to take my mind off of it. Just a little.

Inside, he made a bee line for the condiments aisle. Alright, first things first. Get what I need. Then, maybe, I’ll just check out what they have. He grabbed soy sauce, and then wavered for a moment, trying to decide just for what he was in the mood. Okay, just something little. Nothing too big. I am going to be cooking, after all. Hmmm . . . I mean, it’s probably not the best idea, but . . .

Making his decision, he set off for the frozen section. Once again, he paused when he arrived at the aisle, looking through the glass freezer doors at the available options. I’ll just get a pint. That should be more than enough. Even if Rei goes for some too. ‘Cause mom hardly ever eats anything sweet, so I doubt she’ll have any. He tilted his head, tapping the soy sauce bottle against his thigh as he considered the selection. Why are there so many flavors? I didn’t even realize they sold Pumpkin outside of November. And Lime-Raspberry? What would that even taste like? Who comes up with these things? I’ll go for something classic. I could always do Vanilla. But, that’s a little boring. I don’t even really like it that much. Chocolate’s always classic, except that Rei doesn’t like it. And her favorite is Cookie Dough, which I don’t like the texture of . . . there are way too many choices here. Running his eyes over the racks, he did a quick count. Forty-two different flavors. Why are there forty-two different flavors? I wonder if anyone’s ever tried them all. Then again, that might take a while. And be kind of pricey. Dammit, I’m getting distracted again. The only conclusion that Shinji was coming to was the fact that he liked ice cream far too much, and was wasting far more time than he should be trying to pick out something. Maybe I should just get the soy sauce and head home. He peaked down at his phone. 7:29. Yeah, I’ve already been here longer than I should be.

A voice interrupted Shinji’s thoughts. “So, what’s your drug of choice?”

Shinji head snapped to the side, his concentration broken. “What?,” He asked, a little surprised.

The source of the interruption was standing a little further down the aisle, casually leaning on one of the freezer windows, his head cocked to the side, watching Shinji with a friendly smile on his face. Shinji thought the interrupter looked to be about the same age as him, though that fact was complicated slightly by the fact that though his face was youthful, his hair was an ashen grey. He must dye it. Is grey hair a style though? The interrupting individual sported a pair of black jeans and a band shirt for a group whose name looked vaguely familiar to Shinji. Porcupine Tree . . . I feel like Rei might listen to them. Maybe. Not to mention the fact that the newcomer had red eyes. Red eyes. Okay, so maybe this is a look he’s going for. I mean, those are definitely contacts, right? Unless there’s a genetic mutation I’ve never heard of, I don’t think humans can be born with red eyes. Which means that they’re contacts. Which means that the hair is almost definitely dyed too. I’m pretty sure that’s not what ‘scene’ looks like . . . there’d be brighter colors . . . and I don’t think it’s emo either . . . I’m pretty sure his hair would be black then . . . huh . . . maybe that’s goth. Yeah. Let’s go with that. In addition to making him second guess what scene fashion looked like, Shinji’s visual analysis of the interrupter also led him to a more definite conclusion. That regardless of what category his fashion fell under, he was pretty cute. Seriously Shinji, focus here, and stop thinking about how some random boy in Safeway who asked you what type of drugs you like is cute. Don’t be an idiot. Sure, you haven’t been on a date in months, ever since Martin broke up with you, but he was a manipulative jerk anyway— Shinji realized the interrupter had started talking again, which snapped him back into reality and out of his wandering mind.

“Yeah. What flavor is your favorite. I mean, out of the forty-two, there has to be one you’d pick, right?”

“Oh. Yeah. Probably cookies ’n’ cream,” Shinji answered, feeling more than a bit confused. On an afterthought, he added, “You’ve counted all the flavors too?”

“Not a bad choice,” the boy said with a firm nod. “Although, I’m more into mint chocolate chip myself. And yes, I’ve counted them all. It’s an important part to being an ice cream expert. Keeping track of the available flavors at the nearest store.”

“Okaayyy.” Shinji’s tone betrayed his uncertainty concerning just how he should deal with this stranger. “Ice cream expert?”

“Yep, that would be me,” the boy replied matter-of-factly, as though the question was a pointless one. He strolled over to Shinji and extended his hand. “Kaworu Akagi, ice cream expert, at your service.”

Shinji shook the offered hand, deciding he should be polite, despite the fact that his perplexity had not been substantially diminished in any way. This guy is . . . interesting, to say the least. As their hands met, Shinji was struck by the strange, but intense, sense that this wasn’t his first time meeting Kaworu.

“Shinji Ikari.” Against his better judgement, he decided to follow his introduction with, “Have we met before?”

Retracting his hand, Kaworu pursed his lips, ostensibly mulling over the question in his mind. After a few moments, he shook his head. “I don’t think so. At least, not that I can recall. I just got into town a few days ago. Why do you ask?”

Shinji shrugged, trying to play off his earlier question. “Oh, I think you just reminded me of someone I used to know.”

Kaworu nodded, seeming to accept this answer. “Ah, that makes sense. So, have you come to a conclusion, or would you like a second opinion?”

Shinji raised an eyebrow. “About the ice cream, you mean?”

“Indeed. That is the topic on the floor, as they say,” Kaworu responded nonchalantly.

Shinji blinked. “Who says?”

“Why, they do of course.”

“Oh. Umm, alright.” Shinji looked back through the window, surveying his options once more. A obvious choice didn’t present itself. “Well . . . I suppose a second opinion probably wouldn’t hurt.”

“Great,” Kaworu stated, his tone even and pleasant. “Any occasion in particular you’re buying for?”

Shinji shook his head. “Nope, not really. Just . . .” he hesitated, uncertain how much he wanted to tell someone who was still basically a stranger to him. “Just a bad day,” was what he ended up deciding on.

Kaworu pretended to stroke nonexistent hairs on his chin, nodding slowly as did so, in an amusing imitation of the stereotypical philosopher. “Hmm . . . ice cream for a bad day, you say?”

“Uh. Yeah. I guess so.”

“I’d have to recommend Cherry Chip for that. It’s a guaranteed mood improver from my experience. It is nearly impossible to feel down while you’re eating Cherry Chip ice cream.”

“Really?” Shinji’s ice wandered down the display, finally locating the flavor in question. Fortunately, they had it in pint size, which meant that the option was on the table. He couldn’t think of any reason not to go for it. As far as he knew, Rei liked Cherry Chip. At least, he thought she did. He wasn’t entirely sure that he’d ever seen her eat it. For that matter, he wasn’t entirely sure that he’d ever eaten it himself. Which means it might be pretty good, and I just don’t know it yet. You never know. “Really. Trust me, I’ve tested its potency. It won’t let you down.”

“Alright. Why not?” Shinji opened the door and grabbed a pint of Cherry Chip. He examined the container in his hands for a few seconds, before looking back up at Kaworu, who now seemed to be smiling in encouragement, which had the effect of making him look even cuter than before. Come on Shinji, don’t get distracted! Sure, he might be attractive, but he’s also a self-proclaimed ice cream expert. . . not sure whether that’s a good or a bad thing yet, to be honest.

“That’ll do the job,” Kaworu remarked, in a straightforward tone that made it sound as though he was utterly confident in the truth of his words.

“I’ll take your word for it.” Shinji furrowed his brow as another question popped into his mind. “Hey .. . you said you just got into town a few days ago. How is it that you already know all the different flavors they have here?”

“It was one of the first things I scoped out after we got into town. Always important to know what kind of ice cream game you’re going to be dealing with. Plus, I had plenty of free time once we finished unpacking, considering I won’t be in school up here until the fall.”

“Ah, okay. That makes sense.” Almost on a whim, Shinji was tempted to ask Kaworu where he had moved from, but decided that could come across as prying a little too much, since Kaworu hadn’t offered that information. As it was, Kaworu gave a partial answer to the question without Shinji even verbalizing it.

“School down south ends earlier. Though, to be fair, it also starts earlier there as well. We left a couple days after my semester ended. Which means I currently have relatively few obligations, other than locating and obtaining a job for the summer.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Shinji still wasn’t exactly sure how to respond, but he decided to field a question of his own. He figured it could come across as a polite inquiry, rather than being nosy, taking into account what Kaworu had just revealed. “So, what brought you up north?”

“My mother got transferred out to the base,” Kaworu returned offhandedly.

Shinji tilted his head in response to this answer, the gears in his brain turning. Well, that’s interesting. He almost wanted to make some sort of follow-up remark expressing their similarity in that regard, but he decided that might be a bit too much to say for the moment. Instead, he merely offered a casually, “I gotcha.” He continued with an amiable, “Well, welcome to Asherdale,” along with a more ironic, “It’s halfway decent, once you get used to it.”

Kaworu’s face broken into a grin at the humor, an expression that Shinji couldn’t help but feel made him look all the more attractive. Oops, getting distracted again. . . don’t do that . . . too much.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Kaworu said warmly.

“No problem.” The thought suddenly entering his mind, Shinji shot a momentary glance down at his phone. Hmm, what time is it? The answer was 7:37. 7:37?! I’ve been talking for eight minutes?! That felt like four or five at the most. I have to bail, now, if I’m going to make it home in time to get cooking.

He looked back up at Kaworu, who was still watching him, his gaze soft, the smile still on his face, his head tilted to the side. Shinji had the strange feeling that if it had been anyone else, the observational pose the boy had struck would have looked unusual, to say the least, but somehow, on Kaworu, it didn’t look half bad. It gives him a kind of elegant aesthetic . . . okay, where did I come up with that? I definitely need to head out.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry to leave so quick, but I need to get going.” Shinji cringed a little internally, hearing the awkward tone in his voice. You could have said that in a way that didn’t basically announced the fact that it made you flustered. Great going.

“Understandable. You wouldn’t want that ice cream to melt before you get the chance to test out its powers.”

“Haha, yeah, you know it.”

Kaworu nodded, imply that yes, he did indeed know it. “Why don’t I give you my number?” He remarked. “That way, you’ll have someone on hand for any future ice cream dilemmas.”

“Ahhh . . .” Okay, that was actually kind of smooth, in an odd way. And . . . it’s not like it could really hurt anything. I mean, he didn’t even ask for my number. Which means he’s not even necessarily flirting with me. It’d probably be a bit of stretch to say he is. After all, if I have his number, and he doesn’t have mine, that means I can choose whether I want to text him or not, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Which isn’t really a good way to flirt with somebody. I think I’m stalling again here . . .”

Shinji noticed Kaworu was watching him again, waiting for a response. “Sure. Sounds like a good plan.” He pulled out his phone and hastily created a new contact, before offering it to Kaworu. “Here, you can put it in.”

Kaworu nodded, his smile remaining intact, and typed in the digits, before handing it back to Shinji. “It was nice to meet you, Shinji Ikari,” he commented affably.

“You can just call me Shinji,” Shinji quickly responded.

“Alright then. It was nice to meet you Shinji.”

“You too . . .” Should I use first and last name like he did the first time? Or just go with first name. I don’t want to offend him, if that’s the sort of thing that’s important to him. After all, he does seem a bit, umm, particular.

“You can just call me Kaworu,” the boy suggested, his smile widening.

“It was nice to meet you Kaworu,” he finished lamely. “Guess I’ll see you around.”

“Yes, maybe so.”

Shinji nodded again, spun on his heels, and promptly made for the registers. Well, that went excellently. You meet a boy who’s kind of cute, even if he is a little eccentric, and straight off the bat, you’re second guessing yourself and fumbling for words. Fantastic.

Shinji shot a brief glance back as he reached the end of the aisle, to see that Kaworu was now retrieving an ice cream carton of his own from the merchandise freezer. Shinji turned away again before the boy could look back in his direction. Don’t want him to think I’m staring at him or something.

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Shinji collapsed back onto his bed with a satisfied sigh. He was glad to have finally reach it, after the nigh-interminable day. Well, maybe not quite interminable. But definitely overlong. Without much thought, he grabbed his phone from his nightstand and spun in about in his hands a couple times, feeling the sensation of the textured case against his skin.

Dinner had been a success, such as it could be, anyway. He had impressed himself with just how fast he managed to throw things together when he went into slight (well, maybe more than slight) panic mode.

The ice cream had been a success as well. He had to admit, Cherry Chip was a pretty good flavor. He still wasn’t sure whether he had tried it before or not, but he was glad he had definitively tried it now. Rei had also enjoyed it, which was an added plus. In fact, their mother had even had a bowl, something altogether unexpected. Apparently, Cherry Chip ice cream was one of the sweets she would indulge in. Didn’t see that coming. All in all, the majority of the pint was no more.

Powering on his phone, Shinji was faced with another choice for the evening. Unlike his earlier ice cream deliberation, however, this cerebration was of a cursory duration. After a few seconds, he had composed the text, and was hovering over the send button. Alright. Let’s do this. He tapped the icon.

Shinji I.: Thanks for the recommendation. It was a good choice! Lol. This is Shinji, btw.

The response to his message came swiftly. Wow, he must type fast.

Kaworu A.: Happy to be of service. I’m glad it worked out.

Shinji found a smile edging its way across his lips. Maybe, in spite of everything, today wasn’t such a bad day after all.