#great practice before entering the real world

[onceuponamako]

i like to think that simulation games (creation) is a such great learning tool and a good coping mechanism to deal with any range of emotion especially loss and pain.

[cjlouwho]

“Hey, it's me!” Tommy called out as he entered Evan's place.

“I- In the living room,” Buck replied, sounding a little anxious.

“You ready to head to the gym?” Tommy clapped his hands together as he headed toward Buck.

When he got into the living room, Buck was sitting a chair, sweatpants and hoodie on.

Tommy felt something was off right away. Especially when Buck made no effort to get up, or even look in Tommy's direction.

“You okay?” Tommy asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah,” Buck answered, tugging the hood further over his head. “Still don't know why we couldn't just practice Muay Thai at your place.”

“Because when we practice Muay Thai at my place we end up naked on the mat.”

“And that's a bad thing?” Evan tried to sound cheeky, but it was more awkward than anything with the way he continued to lower his head, trying to cover his entire face with his hoodie.

Tommy crossed his arms. “Evan, what's wrong? Why won't you look at me?”

“Nothing! No reason. Let's go!” Buck went to stand, but Tommy held out his arm to keep him in place.

“Evan, what's going on? Did something happen at work? Did you get hurt? Did someone hit you?” he asked, each question filled with more concern.

“No, no, it's-” Buck took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Hesitantly, he reached up and pulled his hoodie down, then angled his face up toward Tommy.

Tommy didn't mean to let out a gasp, or jump back the way he did at the sight of Evan's face, but he couldn't help it. The blisters scattered over his face and neck looked like something straight out of a horror film.

“Wow, thanks,” Buck muttered, grabbing his phone. “Just what every guy wants their boyfriend to do when they look at them.”

“No, I- Evan, I'm sorry, I just...” he leaned in to get a better look. “What the hell happened?”

Buck looked at himself through the camera on his phone. “It's not that bad, is it?”

“It... It's not good. I think we need to get you to the hospital.”

“No, I don't wanna go to the hospital like this, Tommy. They'll quarantine me or something!”

“Honey, that might be what you need,” Tommy replied pointedly.

“Tommy!”

“Evan, I don't... I don't know what this is. You've gotta be in pain.”

“It- It's not too bad.”

“Evan.”

“Stop saying my name like that,” Buck whined.

“You just said my name like that.”

“Tommy!”

“Evan!”

“Okay, okay, that's enough,” Buck said, getting up from his chair. “Let's go do some Muay Thai.”

“You've got to be joking. We are not going to the gym.”

“Great!” Buck smiled, wincing slightly at the pain it caused. “Your place it is.”

Tommy sighed, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Buck's face fell. “What are you doing?”

“I'm texting Eddie.”

“You are not texting Eddie.”

“I am too texting Eddie.”

“Tommy!”

“Evan!”

“Ugh!” Buck rolled his eyes, turning and heading for the kitchen.

“Babe, if you won't go to the hospital, you can at least have Eddie come check you out,” Tommy said, following behind Buck, “because I don't know what this is and I have a feeling you don't either.”

“Actually, I do.” Buck reached into his fridge and grabbed a water, then turned back to Tommy.

“Okay? Enlighten me, please.”

“It's a curse.”

Tommy stared at Buck for a moment. A few moments actually. Blinking once, twice, before, “Yeah, I'm texting Eddie.”

“No, I'm serious,” Buck said as Tommy sent the text. “See, I- I bought a mummy for work.”

Tommy gently set his phone down on the counter, nodding. “As one does.”

“Exactly. And, I- I didn't know it was a real mummy. Price was definitely too low for that.”

“Wait a minute. You bought a real mummy?”

“Unknowingly,” Buck clarified.

Tommy had dealt with a lot of odd things in his life. And he couldn't deny that dating Evan made his world even more odd and eccentric, but this definitely took the cake.

“Okay, Evan, I... you aren't cursed.”

“Take a good look at this, Tommy,” Buck said, leaning over the countertop. “This is a curse.”

“That,” Tommy replied, gesturing toward Evan's face, “is probably some sort of infection. Possibly from touching a decaying corpse.”

Buck reached up, feeling just below one of the blisters. “It does kinda hurt.”

“And that's why-” Tommy paused as his phone buzzed. He picked it up and read the text, then turned it to show Buck, “that's why Eddie will be here in about fifteen minutes. Why don't we get you back to the couch while we wait?” He motioned for Buck to come around the counter. As Buck rounded the corner and neared him, Tommy held out his hands and guided Buck back toward the living room without touching him.

“Are you avoiding contact with me?” Buck questioned, glancing back at him with a glare.

“Until I find out if this is some sort of plague, I'm maintaining proper distance.”

Buck plopped down on the couch while Tommy opted for the chair Buck hadn't been sitting in when he first arrived.

“So, no Muay Thai today, huh?”

“No, no Muay Thai.”

Buck sighed dramatically, looking over at Tommy with his pouty eyes on display. “No sexy time either?”

There had been many times over the last nearly six months that Tommy had thought, I'd give him whatever he wanted. Anything he asked for, wouldn't even question it.

This was not one of those times.

He swore one of the blisters had gotten bigger just since he'd arrived.

He shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

[teamatsumu]

where we left off. (hinata shoyo x reader)

summary: “you confess because you think you will never see him again, so it doesn’t matter ” - for my valentine’s day event - theme: confessions

word count: 1981

tags: @nishayuro @kitas-tapioca @kakashineedstotouchgrass s @amisuh @avis-writeshq @samanthaa-leanne @akaashi-todorki @sp1ng @kur0obaby @bleach-your-panties

event masterlist

There is a light in Shoyo that just won’t dim. Not that you want it to. It’s your favorite thing about him.

There are ten million reasons to like Shoyo (though Tsukishima would disagree and say he can barely find one. He’s lying. No one can dislike Shoyo. It’s not possible). But you like him for the simple reason that he is the best person you have ever met. He is dedicated and kind, loyal and friendly. You have known him since your first year in high school, and you have seen him face every adversity that comes his way with full confidence and optimism.

It’s no wonder you’re hopelessly in love with him. How could you not be? Shoyo entered your life and made everything ten times brighter and easier to deal with. From day one, he was your confidant and your cheerleader. In all those three years, Shoyo stood by you like you stood by him. You had grown by leaps and bounds with him as your friend.

Friend.

The sun was low in the sky, spreading a warm orange light over the clouds as it set. The color reminds you of Shoyo’s hair, and you have to curse yourself. It seems you can never stop thinking about him, and the world is adamant on making sure you didn’t even try to. You sigh and lean back on the bench you were seated on, closing your eyes and mentally preparing yourself for what was coming.

High school graduation had come and gone. Tomorrow, Shoyo will leave for Brazil. For two years minimum. And who knows? He says he will return, but there is a very real chance he won’t. An up-and-coming volleyball player like him, he could be snatched up by a local club. Or he could fall in love with beach volleyball and continue living there so he could keep playing it.

Two years is a long time for a person to change. You can change. He can change. You can’t trust yourself to leave this until then. Now, before Shoyo leaves, you will confess to him all of your closely guarded feelings. Before he potentially leaves your life for good, he has to know that he is the reason you are where you have gotten.

Heavy footsteps slowly fade in, making you turn your head to follow the sound. You spot Shoyo barreling down the sidewalk towards you, skidding to an abrupt halt when he reaches your bench. He takes a few deep breaths before grinning wide, and just the sight of his million watt smile has your own lips tugging up to return the gesture.

“Ready for dinner?”

Homey, comforting ramen is Shoyo’s choice of last meal in Japan. You both trudge into his usual ramen place, one that he loved to frequent often after practice. He talks your ear off all the way there, telling you about his day. He had been getting his affairs in order, saying goodbye to all the important people and packing up some last minute stuff. You let him catch you up to every tiny detail, (He is like that. He doesn’t like leaving anything out) and you hum along to his stories.

When steaming bowls of ramen are set down before you is when Shoyo finally shuts up, instead choosing to immediately wolf it down. You watch him with blatant adoration in your eyes. You know you do, and you don’t bother to hide it. Sharing this one last moment with him, you don’t want to hold back. This might be the last time you can look at him in leisure. So you drink him in the best you can, trying to seal this moment in your memory forever.

“Are you excited for beach volleyball?”

He nods around a mouthful of noodles. “I have just two years to learn it, so I’m a bit nervous. But I can’t wait to start!”

You smile at his usual unending enthusiasm. “You’ll be great, Shoyo. I have never met someone as hardworking as you.”

And there is that smile again, so bright you almost have to squint to withstand it. He was so different from how he was in first year. He had come such a long way in just three years. Imagine how much he would change after two years in a completely foreign country, on the other side of the world.

You can feel your shoulders drop.

After dinner, Shoyo insists on dessert and you both end up getting ice pops. He finishes his before you can even take one bite of your own, and then ends up finishing half of yours as well when you tell him you are full and he can have it. No wonder he has unending stamina. He eats the food of three people. You smile at the thought.

As per routine, Shoyo walks you home afterward. The sun has fully set by this time, and the streetlights periodically illuminate the two of you as you walk along the sidewalk. Your figures cast long, moving shadows on the concrete, and you keep your eyes on them as you walk. Shoyo is humming something under his breath, occasionally breaking the silence to comment on something. You bask in the moment.

When you slow to a stop at your front door, you realise it is finally time to do what you had been psyching yourself up for all this time.

“I have something to say.” You comment. Shoyo blinks and nods, encouraging you to continue. You take a deep breath.

“For the last three years, you’ve been the best person in my life. By a long shot. I can’t believe I met someone like you. You’re always so supportive, Shoyo, and you’ve really helped me be the best version of myself.”

You cringe at your corny statements, but Shoyo’s face has softened. He stays silent. You muscle on.

“I like you. A lot. A lot. And before you leave, I just wanted you to know this.”

Because I may never see you again. You let the last sentence die in your throat.

Shoyo looks down at the ground, fiddling with his hands a bit. You realize you have made him nervous. And no wonder. You just dumped a huge revelation on him the day before he leaves the country.

“You don’t have to say anything!” You add on, as soon as Shoyo opens his mouth to speak, trying to soothe his nerves. “I don’t want you to reciprocate. I just wanted to tell you all this before you left.”

You step forward to wrap him into a hug, feeling him freeze at the gesture. You don’t let yourself linger, pulling away mere seconds later. Shoyo opens and closes his mouth like a fish. You giggle.

“Do your best in Brazil, Shoyo. I’m counting on you.”

And then you pull open the door, shutting it behind yourself with one last smile at his surprised face.

……………………

Tokyo is a big city, and you lose yourself in the hustle and bustle of it.

Miyagi was quiet, peaceful, and you knew more or less everyone there. In contrast, Tokyo is continuously moving, and you have to run to keep up with it. It’s a big change, going from Tokyo to Miyagi, but it is a welcome one. You can feel how you change and blossom along with the city.

Your apartment is small. One bedroom, open kitchen, tiny bathroom. It’s a starter apartment and you are still a student, so it doesn’t matter. Every night, you cook yourself a modest meal and plop yourself down in front of the television, continuing some show you have been watching for the last few days. Afterwards, you have a warm cup of tea and then begin your nightly routine, ready for classes the next day.

Today that routine is disrupted by loud knocking on the door.

You pause your chewing, reaching for the remote to mute the TV. You don’t hear any sound, not even shuffling, but ten seconds later you hear another, longer knock. Sighing, you set your bowl down on the coffee table and throw your blanket off, trudging to the door. When you look through the peephole, all you see is one shoulder. You roll your eyes at the person who chose to not stand in your view.

You undo the lock and pull the door open, immediately freezing on the spot.

He has grown so much taller, and broader. His skin holds a wonderful bronze tan, and his hair is shorter than the last time you saw him. But his smile is the same. Bright and blinding, endlessly welcoming. Your heart skips.

“Hi.” He breathes. His voice is deeper too. A little scratchier. You continue to stare, mouth agape. You cannot believe it, and your brain cannot process it.

“Shoyo…” Your grip on the doorframe tightens. A small silence extends between you two. Shoto shifts a bit.

“Can I come in?” He asks sheepishly.

You abruptly jerk back, nodding vigorously. “Of course! Sorry, sorry. Come in.”

You allow Shoyo to pass through the threshold, toeing his shoes off and stacking them next to your own before looking back at you expectantly. You lead him into the living room, mind racing with a thousand thoughts.

He was back. From Brazil. Taller and tanned and just as bright. And he’s back. You reel with the revelation.

“How have you been?” He asks, seating himself on the couch and looking up at you with a small smile. He seems…. calmer somehow. More present instead of how flighty he used to be. More grounded. You nod a bit.

“I’m- I’ve been good. You?”

“Me too.”

“Okay good.”

Awkward silence stretches between you two. You feel your face heat up.

“I’m going to make tea!” You announce, bustling towards the kitchen before Shoyo can protest, trying not to think about the last conversation you had with him right before he left, over two years ago.

Once you settle before him with two steaming hot cups, the awkward air disperses a bit. You aren’t surprised. It always did with Shoyo. He had a talent like this. You ask him about Brazil and he goes on a whole storytime for it, telling you about the vast beaches and the burning sun. How much he learned and how much he changed.

That part is true, you can tell. Shoyo has changed. But despite all that, you can feel the way your heart skips, the way your palms get clammy. All those old feelings are coming back, and you cannot stop them. As you watch the way Shoyo laughs and reminisces with you, you’re not sure you want to.

A lull hits after Shoyo stops talking, and you watch as he fiddles with his hands a bit before speaking again, his voice lower this time, more serious.

“Can we….. pick up where we left off?” He doesn’t glance up at you, playing with his hands.

You blink at his words, trying to process them. He gives you a crooked smile that lights your nerves on fire.

“You never let me reply that day. And…. I didn’t think I should either, because I was leaving. But now…”

He trails off, you feel your breath catch. Is he implying what you think he is? You try not to get your hopes up, but Shoyo’s next words seal the deal.

“I like you tons.”

You can’t help your breathless laugh at his choice of words. Your skin buzzes. Shoyo scoots closer to you. You let him. His leg brushes against yours and you can feel the way electricity zips through you at the feeling.

“I like you tons too.”

Ten minutes later, when Shoyo drags huge suitcases into your lobby from outside your front door, you realize he came here straight from the airport. And it only makes you love him more.

[solxamber]

Witch, Please- Floyd Leech x reader

You're the best witch to go to for getting the job done. Your potions? Absolutely foolproof. At least, that's what you thought until a certain Floyd Leech waltzed into your store.

You were the go-to witch in the entire realm, known far and wide for your incredibly potent spells and potions. When people said you were good, they meant it—your concoctions didn’t just work; they exceeded expectations. Need a luck charm to ace that impossible test? Done. Want a potion to make your ex weep every time they hear your name? Consider it finished.

Of course, this level of expertise came with a price—literally. You didn’t work for free, and you made sure your clients knew it. The other price? You were constantly sleep-deprived. Sleep? Never heard of her. But hey, that’s the life of a witch: overworked, overtired, and somehow still making better potions than anyone else in the business.

So when Floyd Leech first showed up at your door, you were only half-conscious and didn’t know that you were about to enter a whirlwind of chaos, idiocy, and—unexpectedly—romance.

It was a cloudy afternoon, and you were organizing your potions, mostly to avoid falling asleep standing up. The soothing sound of glass bottles clinking was the only thing keeping you from face-planting into the nearest pile of spellbooks. That’s when you heard it: a loud, careless banging on your door. Great, you thought. Another customer.

Opening the door revealed Floyd, towering over you with that wide, toothy grin that practically screamed trouble.

“Yo, witchy! Got a minute?” He leaned in close, invading your personal space like he was about to share some sort of grand secret.

You blinked slowly, still not fully awake. “Floyd Leech… what brings you here?”

“Need a love potion.” He said it so casually, like he was asking for a cup of coffee. “Think it’ll be hilarious!”

“Hilarious?” You frowned, crossing your arms. “Love potions aren’t exactly for pranks, you know. They can be… unpredictable.”

“That’s the point! Imagine someone gettin’ all mushy and clingy. It’ll be so funny.” He was already laughing at the thought, practically vibrating with energy.

You sighed, because of course, Floyd would think that messing with people’s emotions was peak comedy. But hey, a job’s a job. And you did like getting paid.

“Fine, but use it responsibly.” You handed him the potion, explaining the rules. “Only a few drops, and make sure they drink it. Not bathe in it, not pour it on them, just—"

“Yeah, yeah, got it!” he said, snatching the bottle before sauntering off like he hadn’t just asked you for the magical equivalent of playing with fire.

You didn’t expect to see him again so soon, but the next day, there he was. Except now he was soaking wet, as though he’d taken a dive in a river.

“I thought you’d follow instructions,” you said, eyeing the puddle forming under his feet.

“I did!” he pouted. “I poured the whole bottle on ‘em!”

You blinked. “You poured it on them? Floyd… I said they have to drink it.”

“Ohhh… well, that explains why they just got real mad and threw iced tea at me.” He shrugged, totally unconcerned.

You stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he was messing with you. Nope, that was just Floyd being Floyd.

“Well, at least you got iced tea,” you muttered, already pulling out ingredients to make another potion.

A week later, Floyd was back, this time bouncing into your shop with that familiar grin. You felt your eye twitch involuntarily.

“What do you need now?” you asked, mentally preparing yourself for another round of nonsense.

“Good luck charm,” he said, like it was the most normal request in the world. “I wanna win all my basketball games without even tryin’. Gotta show those scrubs how it’s done.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “I can make you a charm, but it’s not gonna turn you into some kind of invincible sports god. It’ll give you a little edge, nothing more.”

He grinned wider. “That’s all I need! Gimme your best shot.”

With a sigh, you whipped up a charm that should have been harmless. It wasn’t meant to make him superhuman—just enough to tip the scales in his favor during a game.

Three days later, Floyd came back looking like he’d been through a warzone. His hair was singed, his clothes were tattered, and he had the unmistakable stench of burnt rubber clinging to him.

“…What happened?”

“Eh, turns out bleachers don’t hold up so good when you dunk the ball too hard.” He smirked, clearly proud of himself. “Collapsed the whole thing. Coach was so mad! It was hilarious.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Floyd, I gave you a good luck charm, not a demolition spell.”

He shrugged. “Details, details.”

You couldn’t decide if you were exasperated or impressed. Maybe a little of both.

After the good luck charm incident, you figured Floyd would take a break from terrorizing you with his wild requests. Nope. A week later, he was back again.

“Need a sleep potion.”

You raised an eyebrow. “For you?”

“Nah, for someone else. They’re too high-strung. Figured I’d help ‘em out.”

You didn’t ask questions. You didn’t want to know who he was planning to knock out with a sleep potion. You just brewed it up, handed it over, and gave him a warning: “One drop. That’s all it takes. If you use too much, they’ll be out for days.”

“Got it, got it,” he waved you off, already halfway out the door.

Fast forward to three days later, and Floyd showed up at your shop with a giant bruise on his face.

“Let me guess,” you said, not even looking up from the book you were reading. “The sleep potion backfired.”

“Yup,” he grumbled. “Guess people don’t like gettin’ surprise naps.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. “You’re lucky you didn’t put them into a coma.”

“Nah, they woke up… eventually.”

You rolled your eyes. This was becoming a pattern, and you were starting to question your life choices.

Round 4: The Strength Spell Chaos

It was late one night when Floyd barged in again, this time asking for a strength spell. You were too tired to argue, so you whipped up something simple, thinking what could go wrong with a bit of extra strength? Famous last words.

Two days later, Floyd came back, and you could hear him laughing from down the street. He walked in, looking like he’d just won the lottery.

“What happened this time?” you asked, though you weren’t sure you wanted to know.

“Broke the hoop clean off the backboard!” He mimed the motion, still laughing. “It was awesome! Then the hoop flew into the crowd. Chaos everywhere! Best day ever.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “You… you’re not supposed to destroy the equipment, Floyd!”

“Eh, details.”

You sighed. Again. A lot.

After all the mayhem, you thought Floyd had finally gotten bored of messing with potions. You were wrong. He came back one last time, leaning casually against the doorframe with that familiar grin.

“Witchy, I need another love potion.”

You groaned internally. “Floyd, we’ve been over this. You don’t—”

“Just trust me,” he interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. “This one’s important.”

At this point, you were too exhausted to argue. You mixed up a stronger potion this time, hoping that whatever chaos he was planning would at least stay contained to… well, wherever he was taking it.

But then, as you handed it to him, Floyd did something that made your brain stop and reboot.

He took the potion, popped the cork, and—while staring straight into your eyes—poured it into your tea.

You blinked. “Floyd.”

“Yeah?”

“…What did you just do?”

He smirked. “Wanted to make sure it worked on you.”

Your brain went blank. “Wha—”

He leaned in, resting his elbows on the counter, face close to yours. “Y’know, witchy, I thought hangin’ out with you was just a fun way to kill time. But after a while, I realized I like ya. So let’s skip the whole love potion thing. It’s more fun without magic, right?”

Your jaw dropped. “Floyd, you… you could’ve just asked me out!”

He shrugged, completely nonchalant. “This was more fun.”

You stared at him, half-exasperated, half-dumbfounded. “You’re insane.”

“Yup,” he said, grinning like a shark. “But you like me anyway, don’tcha?”

You didn’t even have the energy to argue. Maybe he was right. Maybe, in some bizarre, unprecedented way, you did like him.

“Well,” you sighed, leaning back in your chair, “I guess you’re brewing the next round of tea, then.”

Floyd just laughed, and for once, you couldn’t help but smile back.

Masterlist

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

omg i really really love your blog<3 you are such a sweet person and so kind to all your followers and others on here and your writing is absolutely amazing!

i saw ur requests were open and i was wondering if you could write something for poe dameron? a hurt comfort because in your rules you said you wouldn't accept full angst which honestly is so real of you and i completely agree :D its just, ive read so many fics where poe's best friend or squadron member is either in love with him or fwb with him and he starts dating someone and they look rlly in love but then he leaves the person for the best friend and i cant help but always wonder how the person he left is feeling! and i was wondering if you could write something along the lines of this but he doesnt leave the reader and hes not really in love with his best friend or anything im so sorry this became really long but you can totally ignore this or say you cant do it its absolutely alright!<33

thank you sm though and i hope you have a good day!

Anon, thank you so much for such lovely and kind words! You are AMAZING! (Seriously, they have absolutely made my day/week/year!)

This ask has killed me (positive), my subconsciousness had a lot to say, it seems.

Tangerine, Tangerine

Poe Dameron x GN!Reader Rating: M Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: angst (but with a happy ending), thoughts that a partner is cheating, blood, x-wing fight, swearing (not star wars swearing, because even though Kriff is great, I need to say fuck), Moonbeam as a nickname, typos, rail road sentences, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 4494

_______________________________________

It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. 

You’d misunderstood, you’d read the situation wrong, you’d seen incorrectly. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. 

Your radio crackled, “Green Leader, checking in. We’re manoeuvring in 5. Call out.”

“Green Two check.”

“Green Three check.” 

 It was just a kiss. 

“Green Four check.” 

 It was just a-

“Green Five check.” 

Just a-

“Green Six check.” 

Just-

“Green Seven,” you swallow. “Check.” 

It wasn’t just a kiss. 

You patted your helmet twice and rolled your neck, breathing deeply as you settled in. On your left, you could see some of Blue Squadron. 

This mission was straightforward - on a holopad. 

Two teams to escort The Harbringer, the resistance supply ship. It had been damaged by a rogue blast from a tie fighter just as it jumped to hyperspace and had had to make an emergency landing on one of Tre’Ral’s desert moons. 

The crew on board had managed to fix all they could. But without proper materials, there was little chance of the ship making it out of the moon’s thick atmosphere and entering hyperspace. So Blue and Green Squadrons had been dispatched. Blue 1-4 had already made contact, jump-starting The Harbringer enough to get it airborne. 

Due to Tre’Ral’s sun and planet density, the gravity on the moons was a little stronger than most world’s atmospheric pressure. 

Green Leader, Sena, had repeated through briefing at how this would affect flying. How to be ready for it. And she hadn’t been wrong, it was different flying here. Tougher. And you loved it.

You’d grown up on Para, a planet with a high gravity density. You’d learnt to fly there well before you’d flown in space. Being here on this desolate moon almost felt like home. Your movements seemed smoother, precise. No longer needing to overcorrect for your naturally ingrained harsh movements. No longer spinning out and fighting low gravity, finally working with the tide. 

The manoeuvre would see the ships escort The Harbringer out of the moon’s atmosphere and then the rest of Blue squadron would form a sort of 3D star formation around the cargo ship. All jumping to hyperspace at the same time to carry it along with them. 

Simple. 

In theory. 

Everyone had spoken about how practically textbook it was, how easy. 

But then, of course, why was Green Squadron going? 

No one at the briefing had asked, why would they when the answer was so obvious. This part of the quadrant was teething with First Order. With a slow, busted supply ship you were all practically screaming for them to come and play target practice. 

You swallow. 

You should be focusing on that, on the mission. Instead of the utter nonsense that was ricocheting around your head and piercing your heart. 

I hadn’t just been a kiss. 

You and Poe had gotten together clumsily, three months ago, your normal awkwardness drowned out by so much Polanis Red that you almost couldn’t see straight. It had been after the battle of Hurthwen, a nasty dogfight that had everyone hyped up on adrenaline. 

He had been drunk when he kissed you, you remembered that. 

Maybe he had thought… maybe he had believed he was kissing her instead. 

It made a lot more sense. 

Sena was the Green Leader, she was a great pilot. One to be reckoned with. She was kind, she was fun, she was beautiful. She and Poe had joined the resistance together, risen the ranks together. Basically inseparable. Always laughing and joking. She had been in the same squad as Poe, under his command before she was promoted to leading one of her own. 

They had always been close. Always. Best friends. 

Sickness bubbled in your throat. 

You remembered Frizz and Hank talking offhandedly, well before you and Poe were a thing. Both of them sure that Sana and Poe were dating or ‘knocking boots’ as Frizz had so elegantly put it. 

“Two people can just be friends, you know.” You’d said, trying to hide your little crush on the commander. 

“Yeah,” Frizz laughed, “But not them. You seen them together?” 

Hank chortled. 

Nonsense. You’d brushed it off then. Allowed it to creep into your thoughts when it was dark and the base was quiet. When Poe’s breathing was soft and light behind you, his arm around your waist. 

Him and Sana just made a lot more sense than him and you. 

“Yeah, but not them. You seen them together?” 

Yeah. Now you had. 

The Harbringer came into view over the horizon. The seemingly endless stretch of desert was cut through in the distance by a fearsome outcrop of crocks, leading up into a field of formidable mountains. 

Blue 1-4 were already hooked up to the cargo ship, all five hoovering moving together as they flew towards you to meet. 

You wouldn’t have said things were difficult with you and Poe. Well, you wouldn’t have said that before. It was complicated for everyone on the base, most staff were on different call schedules, off-world or on a mission at all times. Having a relationship wasn’t straightforward. There were stretches where you wouldn’t even be on the same planet for days, but…

But you had thought it was…

It didn’t matter. 

You’d gone back to the briefing room, just before take off. You’d wanted to tap the main holoscreen twice, for luck. A little ritual you’d adopted early on. Most pilots were a superstitious bunch. 

That’s when you’d seen them. Sana and Poe. Locked in a tight embrace, their lips pressed together in a deep kiss. 

Your heartbeat had thundered so loud you’d been surprised they hadn’t heard it. But they’d been too preoccupied to notice your presence. 

It was cliche but time had almost slowed, calmed and stretched like the moment you take aim, the second before you fired your ship's canons. 

A flash of the control panel had flickered into your mind when you saw them, your fingers twitching as if you had the trigger in your hands. 

You’d turned and left without a sound. Without a word. Without letting them know you saw. Leaving them to… whatever they did next. 

Was it their first kiss? One of many? Had this been going on well before Poe had taken your hand and led you outside so he could clumsily name all the constellations, making up new ones and backstories to make you smile?

“That one here, you see it?” 

“Yeah?” 

“That one’s the best one, best in the sky. It’s orange and it’s right next to that other orange one, like they’re holding hands.”

You’d laughed. 

“That’s me and you Moonbeam.” 

Moonbeam. That stupid nickname. 

You’d gone to your room quickly, the one that you and Poe shared, and taken off the necklace he’d given you. 

“I want you to wear it for luck, Moonbeam.” 

That stupid smile he’d given you as he’d slipped it from his own neck and onto yours. That stupid kiss he’d given you after. You’d thought that expression was cute when you’d seen it, pure. Now it just seemed like he’d been laughing at you, playing some sick joke. ‘How long can I string someone along?’, ‘how far can I go before they realise it’s all pretend?’ 

You’d left the necklace with the ring slipped through on the small set of shelves in the corner, the one Poe normally kept his holopad on. 

It was idiotic, but your neck felt… empty without it. Cold. Every now and then you touched at where the chain normally lay.A subconscious action only brought to the forefront of your mind by the sensation of your own skin instead of metal. 

Something caught your eye in the distance, a flash of sunlight glinting off the horizon. Dread twisted in your stomach as realisation dawned a second earlier than your scanners. The extra gravitational pressure and high quantity of magnetic metals in the sand affected everyone’s ship computers, causing a brief information delay. 

Your alarm sounded out inside your ship, the radar blinking into life as tie fighters approached from the rock outcrop. They’d used the high mineral concentration to hide their energy signatures. 

“Fuck.” 

The radio screamed into life, orders out pouring over orders. Blue squadron rushed into position while Green scrambled. 

“Blue in place now!”

“It’s gonna be rushed, but we haven’t got a choice!”

“No time!” “Incoming!” “Green half split! Evens left, odds right, let’s keep those fighter’s off The Harbringer and Blue squadron! Gamma pattern!” 

“How far away is the Delta?” 

“Calling in attack pattern!” 

You swing to the right, falling in with Hank and Petal and bank hard, it takes less than a second for you to notice that your squad's movements aren’t as precise and well-timed as usual. The stronger gravity throwing everyone, except you, off their game. 

That didn’t bode well. 

You climb for a second, punching hard on the acceleration to get some height and a clear view of the oncoming and flick on your targeting system. The image glitches, doesn’t hold steady even as you focus. Off by half a fraction. 

Shots fire out from both sides, most missing.

“Targeting not working!”

“It’s out!”

“I can’t get a clear shot!” “The read is malfunctioning!”

“Half a click 4/8!” You shout, as you take your shot, hitting two tie fighters head-on. 

“Good shot Green 7!” You can hear the joy and relief in Sana’s voice. “Half a click 4/8, you’ll all have to manually adjust!” 

You dive, swirling around two fighters before skimming close to the ground, trying to draw their attention away from the cargo ship. You spin, slamming your control harder than you would need to in any other situation as you turn and spike past another fighter, taking out one in the process. 

“Wooooo!” Hank yells over the intercom.

You laugh. “Bet you never thought you wished you grew up on Para right?” 

“Every day new things surprise me.” He banks left, you right, Petal dives down. 

It’s too much of a rush, everything all at once, patterns and shots flying, your ship’s systems screaming as you push the engines a little too hard. 

The tie fighters aren’t moving as fast as they normally do, bogged down even more than the x wings by the gravity. They can’t make their normal quick turns and it’s affecting their strike patterns. 

Good. 

But there’s so, so many of them. 

Explosions fly debris out, and you climb higher. Needing a clear view and unable to rely on your targeting systems. 

More shots fly out, The Harbringer is taking a battering but so far its shielding is holding the hull together. 

The radio keeps screaming, overlapping voices that blur into background noise. You’re trained to only hear your call signal, direct messages. You vear off, narrowingly missing a blast to your wing. 

“-On my tail.” Frizz’s voice cuts through the noise, a sharp stab of dread slicing you open as you turn, automatically looking to the reader, it’s still not clear. 

You climb, twist, fall, see a Green ship, followed tightly by two fighters. Accelsorate, bank. You fire. You’re aiming in a panic now, not adjusting right, not breathing through. 

The shot hits one, before you have to swerve to avoid being struck head-on. 

“Thanks 7!” Cril yells over the speaker, managing to shake the other fighter. 

There’s a scream, a crackle of sound over the system. A sound you know too well. You see the ship crash into the desert, exploding before it even hits the ground as the a tie fighter’s shots hit home. 

Frizz.

“No…” 

“Check!” Sana yells, unable to tell who went down with the system glitching. “Green Leader!”

You swerve around another fighter, everything moving so fast, too fast.

“Green Two check!” Cril.

“Green Three check!” Petal. 

Nothing. 

“Green Four!” Sana yells. No call replies. Balna. Not Frizz. 

The momentary rush of relief at Frizz being alive is cut horribly short by the image of Balna’s kind face that bursts behind your eyes. 

You bank left, right, swerve, take aim, twist. 

There’s a chance, a good chance that you’ll win. All of Blue is in place, The Harbringer is moving up with them. The tie fighters are taking more hits than the resistance, their less aerodynamic design hampering them more than usual with this gravity. 

All you need is…

Another alarm. 

“Oh… fuck.” You slam on your intercom. “Z-Fighter!” 

A chorus of yells answer you. 

A Z-fighter, a quick moving ship a fraction bigger than The Harbringer, with two powerful front guns. A few shots would take the cargo ship out completely. 

And with how slow the supply ship was moving, that wouldn’t be hard. 

The Z-fighter storms in, moving fast but not firing, they were obviously having problems with their targeting too, needing a close clear shot. 

“Take out the main cannons!” Sana yells, the panic in her voice cutting through the chaos. You turn, aim, take out a tie fighter but have to veer up at the last second. Twist. 

Someone comes in after you, aiming for the cannons, a fighter clips their side and they can’t correct quick enough. They spiral off, their ship crashing into the Z-fighter. Obliterated on impact. The Z-fighter seemingly unaffected. 

You loop back, adrenaline blinding you to everything, anything that’s not the goal. Take out the canons. Take out the canons. People are counting on you. Take out the canons. 

You fire, a clear shot before you bank to the side to avoid a direct hit to your hull. 

It’s not enough.

You need to pass again, and again. Other x wings flying in, taking shots, the gravity making them slow, imprecise. Only one blast hits and it’s not full on.You’re the only one hitting directly and it’s not enough. 

It’s not enough. It’s not enough. It’s not enough.

There’s shouting and screaming, the zipping of the fighters as they cut through the sky. Someone yells your name and you don’t hear it. 

Another hit lands. One canon out. Only one left. You can do this. The Harbringer is nearly in the upper atmosphere, they can jump from there. Just a few more seconds. You can do this.

“Black Leader!” Poe’s call sign cuts over the dim, followed by the call signs of half of the Red Squadron.

They must have scrambled after first contact. 

The canon’s powering up, a quick glance to your panel tells you that The Harbringer’s shield is barely functioning. They won’t survive a direct hit. With how close they are and the Blue Squadron ships that are attached there’s no way they wouldn’t be pulled down too if The Harbringer fell. 

The canon needs more than one hit to take it down, more than five. No way you can shoot five times before they fire. 

You twist, full force. Pumping the acceleration. Fire. Fire. Fire. Three hit. You don’t slow down. Fire. Fire. Fire. They hit. The canon is still operational. 

Sana is screaming orders, so many shots fire at the canon, none of them hit right, hit full on. 

Two chances left. 

One to fire. If it takes out the canon you just have enough time to serve up, to avoid getting smashed to bits. 

Poe shouts for you over the intercom. 

You don’t answer.

One to fire. If it doesn’t take out the canon then… then you crashing into it head on will. 

Poe yells again, this time cutting over everyone else, sending you a direct call. 

You don’t answer.

You fire. Hit. 

Poe screams for you, his voice painful and panicked. He’s already worked out your plan before you had even thought of it. 

The canon doesn’t go down. 

You cut the call to him. Blocking out his signal. You don’t want Poe to think you did this for him. 

You don’t want him to think you did this because of him.

“Green Seven!” Sana yells, seemingly knowing what you’re going to do. 

Hank screams your name over the radio. It hurts. You think it’s the worst sound you’ve ever heard. 

“Moonbeam!” Poe’s voice is ripped raw from yells, Sana has patched him through over her signal. You were wrong. That was the worst sound you’ve ever heard. 

You dip at the last second, not hitting the canon straight on but smashing your right wing into it. The force surprises you, even though you braced for it. The impact sending you spiralling. You try to regain control, try to turn into the spin. Training taking over even though you're a wing and half a ship down. 

Shouts over the radio, you barely make out- 

“-cannon’s down-”

“-Jump!-”

A spark hits, your console explodes into flame, shards hit your side and you yell. Sky and sand tumbling over each other over and over, and you manage to hit the eject button.

The force rips you upwards, free briefly from your burning ship. But you’re too close to the floor, not enough time to slow down your velocity. There’s-

.

The impact of the ground hurts. Pain explodes along every nerve despite the ejection seat dampening. You scream. 

Agony is everywhere, everything. You can’t feel anything else, can’t comprehend anything except floods of pain. 

You hit your belt, falling out and to the desert floor. Looking up just enough to gauge where you are, where your ship fell. It’s an exploded, fireball mess far off. At least it’s not an immediate threat. You crawl to the side and sob. 

There’s blood falling into the sand from your head, the right side of your face. You can’t see properly out of your eye and your left leg is definitely broken. Shattered. Still, you drag yourself forward, digging your hands in and pulling as something ribs and tears in your side, warm liquid soaking into your fight suit. 

The resistance will jump to hyperspace, they’ll get out. They’ll make it. 

You just needed to get away from your ejection seat, when the First Order doubles back they’ll see it, they’ll see you. You just needed to get to an outcrop. Hide. 

Make it look like you had a weapon. 

Make them shoot you first instead of taking you for questioning. 

Can’t let them take you alive. 

There's the faint sound of a ship somewhere above, landing gear coming down. 

For a second you freeze, panic gripping your heart, you dig into the sand hard, pull, pull, pull�� yourself closer towards the outcrop of rocks. The air seems to be leaving your lungs, your breathing ragged and hot. 

You cough, red hitting the dirt, iron hitting your tongue. 

You crawl, pull. The pain is making you light-headed. You gasp, trying to get in a full lung full of air. It's not enough. It's not enough. It's not enou…

.

When you open your eyes your first thoughts are simple. Clear. 

I'm dead.

You were either shot in the head in the sand or simply succumbed to your wounds. 

But then things begin to feel… fuzzy. Not painful, but not right either.

And that's when you smell the Bacta. And then the light starts to change to distorted shapes, and finally, you recognise Hank sitting next to you.

“You better not be dead too,” you whisper your voice dry from lack of use. 

Hank jumps up, goes to grab your hand and then stops himself. There are tears in his eyes. He softly places his fingers on yours and you squeeze back. 

“You're a fucking idiot you know that?” He grins and you laugh. Which hurts a little, but feels good. 

“One sec,” he moves away just to speak to someone outside before he comes back. “I'm the one that picked you up, you know?” 

“Now who's the fucking idiot?” You smile but your chest aches, heavy with the weight of his words. “You shouldn't have done that.” You whisper. 

“What?”

“You were under fire, you should have just jumped-” 

“I saw you eject. Saw you moving. You think I was just gonna leave you there?” He sits. “Besides, I was closest. The commander would have blown up the whole planet to get to you.” 

You swallow, turning away slightly. Going cold at the mention of Poe. 

Hank mistakes the look for guilt, and squeezes your hand again. “Hey, look,” he smiles, “you took out the canons, you're a fucking idiot but you know how to fly in heavy gravity.” 

You snort. 

He smiles. 

“Who did we lose?” 

Hank sighs, “three…”

You nod, closing your eyes for a moment. 

“There-”

There was shouting from outside, a crash and then Poe stormed into the room, med staff close behind him.

You swallow, sickness building in your throat.

He looked awful, drawn out and worn thin like he hadn't slept or eaten in days. His eyes red. 

He rushes forward, Hank moves out of the way, so Poe can take your hand in his. He leans forward and kisses you softly, carefully stroking your cheek, being gentle with your bandages. 

“Moonbeam…” he mutters and you flinch back from him. He looks at you with sad, confused eyes. 

“Look, I can only allow one visitor in here.” The med staff member says.

Hank stands, and speaks when you frown. “I'll see you later, Poe’s the one that hasn't left your side. The only reason he wasn't here when you woke was because I made him go take a shower.” Hank smiled, “you can thank me for that later.” 

Both you and Poe are quiet as the others leave. Poe searching your face for something, while you look away. 

“Moonbeam,” he says again softly, but there's an edge to his words that you're not used to. “What the fuck happened on that mission? What the fuck is this?” He holds up his hand, his necklace and ring wrapped around his palm. His eyes are shiny as he speaks. “Were you trying to kill yourself? What the fu-”

“Poe,” you breathe. Best to get it over quickly. “I saw.”

He frowns. “Saw? Saw what?” 

“You and Sana, in the briefing room… before take off.” 

The small frown on his forehead relaxes slightly for a moment as his eyebrows raise. “You… saw?” 

You nod. 

“You, but, I didn’t see you when I pushed her away?” His voice cracks at the end, a splinter running into the muscle of your heart. 

“You pushed her away?” 

“You didn’t see that?” He frowns again, blinking hard, “you just, just saw and walked away and what? Took this off?” He holds up the necklace again. A tear falls from his eye and he rubs it away furiously as if it had scorched his skin. “Just, just left it and… and…” 

“I didn’t know you didn’t want it…” You say quietly, emotion is making your chest tight and constricted. “I didn’t know you didn’t want her…”

“What?” He breathes, moving closer and squeezing your hand. There’s disbelief in his voice, confusion. Anger, it’s deep down and controlled but it’s there. “No, look, she kissed me. I pushed her away, I, I even logged a report, I’ll pull up the god damned camera feed to show you.” 

He’s not lying. His gaze is unwavering and he’s got that painfully earnest look in his eyes. 

“You thought…” he shakes his head slightly, his voice pained, “you thought I’d-”

“You both make sense together.” You blurt out. “She’s… and you’re…” you shrug and sigh, on the verge of tears yourself. “You’re both the best of us.”

“No,” he shakes his head fiercely, “Moonbeam, no.” He wipes roughly at his eyes again, glancing down for a moment and you lightly touch his head. 

He looks up instantly as you stroke his curls, still lightly damp. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

Poe shakes his head again, grabbing your hand and kissing your wrist. “I’m sorry.” He kicks off his shoes and clambers into bed next to you a little awkwardly. He’s trying to be careful, trying not to hurt you but needing closeness so badly it’s suffocating. 

You scooch to the side as quickly as you can in your current state and lean into him as he wraps his body around you softly and kisses you sweetly. 

“Love you, love you, love you,” he repeats after every kiss, pressing his lips to every part of your skin that he can reach.

“Why are you sorry?” You mutter as he holds you, “I’m the one that messed up.”

He shakes his head, “I’m sorry that I don’t make you realise how special you are, how perfect.” He kisses your cheek, “you’re the best of us Moonbeam.” 

You tut but his grip tightens and he holds you tight. 

“And one hell of a pilot.” He grins. 

You scoff. 

“You are.” He kisses you again. 

You nuzzle against him, settling into his touch. Knots have formed in your chest, pain that’s loosening. His warmth is comforting. Home. 

“Sana said she didn’t know I was in a relationship,” he says softly, resting his chin on the top of your head. “I don’t know if that’s true, but… I do believe her.” 

You nod. “She’s a good person.”

He moves so he can look you in the eyes. “Please, Moonbeam, I… don’t,” he bites his tongue, closing his eyes for a long second. “I want to tell you, I want to say, don’t ever do something like that again… don’t… don’t put yourself at risk.” 

You touch his cheek lightly. 

“But it’s not fair is it?” He smiles sadly. “We both do that every day… You know you were gonna be in my squadron at first?” 

You shake your head in surprise and he nods.

“You were, but… well,” he blushes ever so slightly. “I was so embarrassingly head over heels in love with you,” he laughs lightly. “For months I could hardly talk to you, you know I had to down five Polanis Red’s in a row after Hurthwen just so I could ask you out? I knew I wouldn’t be able to function right if you were in my squad. I knew that I’d put everyone else at risk because if it came down to it… if there was a choice between everyone in the squad dying, everyone on the base, or you… I’d let the resistance burn instead of lose you. Every single time.” 

You close your eyes, fighting the emotion that needs to break through and squeeze his hand like a lifeline. “I love you.” You whisper. 

Your fingertips brush against the necklace, the ring hooking around the first knuckle of your index finger by chance. 

Poe slowly moves his hand from yours and unwinds the necklace from his palm before carefully placing it over your head, giving you plenty of time to move away if you wanted. 

“I love you Moonbeam,” he mutters, his voice low, reverent. Then leans in to kiss you. You kiss him back with all your heart. 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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[proneterror204]

Another vampire Cass au

Danny didnt know how this is his life

It all started when his parents, doctors Jack and Maddie Fenton supernatural scientists and monster hunters, got an anonymous tip about vampires being in Gotham. Worse the tip was about one of the worlds most dangerous vampires, Lady Shiva. So with a excuse of a "Family hunting trip" his sister and he were packed and in the GAV and heading for Gotham

What his parents didnt know was that since an accident in the lab with his friends and a black grimoire Danny had been practicing necromancy. Well a subclass of necromancy called Ghost magic. Which he was apparently extremely good at. He couldnt tell his parents they were extremely old fashioned. He could hear his father now "All magic users are witches and warlocks and need to be burned or put to the stake with extreme prejudice".

Danny knew you didn't get "anonymous tips" about vampires, espectialy this vampire. Sure enough, as soon as they entered Gotham, it's ghosts started to warn him that this was a trap. Figures Vlad would be up to some new trick. He could handle whatever the fruitloop had planed.

It happened the first night. They were sleeping in the GAV when *Crack* the GAV was hit and tipped on its side. Despite all his parent defenses (UV lights, Garlic gas, Holy water sprinkler system, and stake launchers) one vampire seemed to dance through it all. Before Danny knew it his family and him were held down and the last of the defenses were destroyed.

Danny looked up from where he was being held on the ground by... ninja vampires? He looked at his family. They had been knocked unconcious with a 'gentle' blow. Then a pair of boots stepped in front of him and he looked up. The real Lady Shiva stood in front of him.

"Daniel Fenton, prefers Danny, Goes by Phantom, 14 years old, male, a virgin, and a powerful spirit mage." She looks into his eyes " you are going to be a great gift for my Daughter"

[rosiesramblings]

I Can't Help But Wonder

Fandom: EPIC: The Muscial

WC: 1.7k

Characters: Athena, Odysseus, Telemachus

A/N: Season's Greasons @amazingmsme ! I am your Squealing Santa this year! I've never written for EPIC before so please forgive any mistakes. That said, I am OBSESSED with the music so this was a very welcome challenge. I picked Athena, Ody, and Telemachus for your fifth prompt (A&B get into a tickle fight, C makes a teasing comment and then A&B team up to get C). I also ended up trying to see how many of the EPIC song titles I could fit in this fic. I counted ten total that I squeezed in - can you find them all? This was so fun to write - I hope you enjoy it!

Thank you so much to @cantsaythetword for organizing this year's @squealing-santa extravaganza! You did a great job, and I really appreciate you keeping the tradition alive! Now, on to the fic!

Even though it would have been nice, the world didn’t stop spinning just because Odysseus was finally home. There was still court to hold and merchant disputes to resolve, not to mention the job of explaining to the citizens of Ithaca what happened to all 108 of the Palace Suitors. With Odysseus recovering from his 20 year journey under the careful supervision of the palace physicians, Penelope hardly left his side, and that meant much of the work of actually running the country fell to Telemachus. It was a burden that he shouldered gladly - an opportunity to both prove himself as a wise and noble ruler, and to give his parents the time to fall in love with each other once again.

And how they fell. Often. In most of the rooms of the palace. Telemachus had taken to loudly clearing his throat before he entered a room after one unfortunate occasion that scarred him for life. He was tempted to flee to the ocean and beg Poseidon to follow through on the threat to gauge his eyes. 

Athena was unsympathetic to this particular plight of his - when he told her, she did this hideous snort-scream-laugh that made both his father and his mom come running, thinking there was an animal loose in the palace.

However busy Telemachus was during the day, both with his royal duties and the equally important task of not barging in on what seemed to be his parents’ best efforts to revoke his status as an only child, Telemachus always made the time to eat dinner with them. It wasn’t always easy - Telemachus often found himself red-faced and tongue-tied when his father attempted to make conversation, the right words always evading him. Some nights, Telemachus just spent the whole meal drinking in the sight of Odysseus’ face at the table. Having spent so long dreaming of his father’s homecoming, at first Telemachus found it difficult to believe that he was really there. But with each sunrise and sunset, Telemachus slowly convinced himself that his father was really, truly back. To stay.

*****

Telemachus followed the sounds of sparring through the palace halls until he found his father and his goddess. He wasn’t worried, okay, just like - appropriately concerned? It really hadn’t been long since his father had returned, and he still had a long way to go before the palace physicians granted him a clean bill of health. Sparring with a goddess definitely wasn’t on his list of approved physical activities.

Telemachus stopped in the doorway, shrouded in shadows by one of his mother’s tapestries hanging on the wall next to him. He took a breath. No one was bleeding. Both Athena and his father had wooden practice swords rather than real weapons. 

Even though it was clearly just practice, neither Athena nor Odysseus were pulling their punches. Odysseus was doggedly attacking Athena’s blind side, and Athena was swinging hard and fast, knowing that Odysseus’ endurance was shot to Hades.

Eventually, Athena swept Odysseus’ legs out from under him, and he went down hard. She smirked, panting with exertion, before offering her old friend a hand up. But Odysseus clearly wasn’t done yet, and he wasn’t above fighting dirty, either, because he laughed and flung a handful of sand at Athena’s face.

“You cheat!” She shouted, stumbling to her knees next to Odysseus on the ground. She reached for him blindly and he rolled out of the way.

“You’re the one who taught me that trick,” Odysseus laughed, springing toward Athena to grapple while she was still down.

“As a last resort against an enemy,” She said, finally blinking the sand from her eyes as she struggled for the upper hand. “Not against your goddess who is already half-blind!”

Just when it seemed that Odysseus had her in a pin, Athena reached around and drew a finger up his spine. Telemachus looked on in interest as his father let out a yell and dropped the pin immediately, trying to roll away. 

“That’s cheating!” He protested as Athena caught his ankle and dragged him back toward her.

Athena grinned, all teeth. “You’re the one who taught me that trick.”

“Bullshit!” Odysseus laughed as he tried to free his ankle and dodge Athena’s now-wiggling fingers at the same time. “If anything, you learned that from Polites. Wait!”

“I’ve done enough waiting,” Athena said, letting go of Odysseus’ ankle in favor of reaching up to squeeze his thigh, just above his knee.

His reaction was instantaneous. He let out a shriek before collapsing back to the floor, kicking out with his free leg and cackling.

“This is not fahahahAIR!” He cried as Athena pinched up and down his thigh.

“Oh gods, is that a hickey?” Athena asked, bemused. Still behind his tapestry, Telemachus made a face.

“Shuhuhuhut the fuhuhck up! I hahaven’t seen Penehehehelope in twehehenty yehehears!” Odysseus gathered his wits and latched a hand onto Athena’s upper ribs.

“Yohohou’re incohohorrigible!” Athena yelped, twisting away from Odysseus’ grip.

“Gotta mahahake up for lohohost tihihime with my looove,” Odysseus snickered.

Telemachus forgot himself. “Oh, gross,” he whined.

Athena and Odysseus both whirled toward him, and Telemachus got to witness what might best be described as the facial equivalent to a sunrise as his father recognized him, only to turn worryingly playful when the complaint registered. Athena’s face was stern, but the tips of her ears turned red and her eyes glittered with mischief.

“Telemachus of Ithaca. Is that any way to speak about your father?” Athena asked.

Telemachus turned red, both from the attention and the playful reprimand. He started edging toward the doorway to attempt an escape. “I just call it like I see it. And Father? You and mom. Are gross.”

“Odysseus, are you going to let your son speak to you that way?” Athena, the instigator, prodded.

Father cracked his knuckles and grinned. “Clearly my absence has made my son bold. The sass on this boy, ‘Thena!”

“Can’t imagine where it came from,” Athena muttered, shooting a devastating side-eye at Odysseus even as she crept toward Telemachus.

“Hmmmm. No clue,” Odysseus said as he lunged for his son.

Telemachus threw himself toward the door, but felt his father’s hand close around his wrist before he could make it through. He was yanked into his father’s chest with a yelp, and between the literal goddess of battle strategy and the veteran of 20 years, Telemachus found himself outmaneuvered. Before long, Athena held both of his hands above his head in one of her own, and Odysseus had thrown a leg over his son’s. Telemachus was well and truly pinned.

Humiliatingly, as soon as Telemachus realized his predicament, giggles started to pour out of his mouth. He yanked at his hands, not to escape, but in hopes of covering his rapidly reddening face.

“What’s this? We haven’t even started yet,” Odysseus laughed, incredulous.

“This does not bode well for you, young warrior,” Athena smiled, spidering her fingers in the air above Telemachus’ armpit.

Telemachus whined at the teasing, but couldn’t stop the flood of giggles. “Ihihihi cahahan’t hehehelp it!”

“Hm. I can’t help but wonder, if he takes after you in sensitivity,” Athena grinned at his father.

Odysseus smiled, taking the teasing gracefully. “Well, there’s an easy way to find out,” he said, and brought his wiggling fingers down on Telemachus’ tummy.

Telemachus let out a screech of desperate laughter before falling back into frantic giggles. Athena let her fingers descend into his underarm, scratching at the hollow in the most ticklish way. Telemachus shook his head back and forth frantically. He’d never been tickled by two people at once, and he was in ticklish agony.

“You know something? I sailed across the world for twenty years, and I haven’t found a single sound anywhere that is better than my son’s laughter,” his father smiled, tapping Telemachus’ nose and making him go cross-eyed.

“Ohohoho my gohohods, Dahahad, stohohohohop,” Telemachus whined, squirming now from embarrassment as well as ticklishness.

“Never,” Odysseus grinned, lighting up at the less formal slip. He gave his son’s thighs a few squeezes, relishing in the belly laughs that Telemachus gave in response. Athena switched to fluttering her fingers around Telemachus’ neck and ears, and Odysseus used one hand to bunch his son’s shirt up around his ribs.

“Tell you what. If you can tell me which monster I am, I’ll forgive your insolence,” Odysseus teased.

“Whihihihich mohohonster?”

Instead of answering, Odysseus took a comically deep breath before blowing the world’s longest raspberry right over Telemachus’ bare belly button.

Telemachus shrieked before cackling so loudly that Odysseus was shocked Penelope hadn’t come running.

“Come on, son, which monster?”

“AhahahahAHAHA - CHAHAHARYBDIS?” Telemachus could hardly breathe, let alone recall his father’s stories.

“Ooo, good guess but not quite,” Odysseus laughed. He bent down for another raspberry. “I’m a different beast.”

“AHAHAHAHAHA - SAHAHA -SCYLLAAHAHAHA?”

“Zero for two,” Athena shook her head mockingly. “Can you even call yourself a warrior of the mind?”

Tears squeezed out of the corners of Telemachus’ eyes as he gave it one final guess. “CAHAHAHALYPSO!”

“Wrong again, I’m afraid,” Odysseus smirked at his son, scribbling up and down his ribs. “The answer I was looking for was ‘The Tickle Monster.’”

If it was possible, Telemachus turned even redder. “NAHAHAHAHAHAT FAAHAHAHAHAIR!” he wailed.

“I know, I’m so mean,” Odysseus hummed, finally letting up and rubbing a soothing hand on his boy’s tummy to chase away the ghost tickles. “Lucky for you, I’m in a forgiving mood. No more monsters - I’m just a man. That can be the end of your tickly suffering for today.”

Athena let go of Telemachus’ hands and he brought them down to wrap around himself, still giggling. She got up from the floor and brushed herself off. “Don’t worry kid. Your father’s still worse than you on his back and thighs.” She grinned at Odysseus’ spluttering response and ruffled Telemachus’ hair. “Consider this as my goodbye. For today at least. Perhaps we can form an alliance and exact revenge tomorrow.”

Telemachus curled up so that his head was in his father’s lap. Odysseus’ hand began to run through his son’s hair as if he had done so a million times before. Before long, Telemachus’ eyes slipped closed. Odysseus pressed a kiss to his crown and said, “Sleep, Little Wolf. Dad loves you.”

Telemachus smiled.

[sammaggs]

4x05 The Ladies’ Man | Details

due South is a show that puts a TON of time and effort into subtle details like set dec, blocking, and framing, which invites us to do close readings of particular scenes in great detail. Let’s examine this scene in Ray’s apartment from The Ladies’ Man with that in mind!

Another thing I find fascinating about this show is its continuity; how significant time can pass between episodes, and it’s up to us to use context clues provided in future episodes in order to piece together what we can about the past; the parts of Fraser’s life that we haven’t been permitted to see. This scene is crammed with context clues.

(It’s worth remembering that John Krizanc, who wrote this episode, is a playwright first and foremost. He basically invented the style of play that would go on to become Sleep No More. The way characters phrase things, where they’re standing when they say them, what they surround themselves with—these things all matter.)

So in order, we learn:

Fraser lets himself in — By this point in Season 4, he has a key to Ray’s apartment.

“You there, Ray?” “Mhm.” — Fraser comes over so often that 1) he doesn’t call ahead, and b) it doesn’t matter if Ray is home or not. Ray doesn’t even feel the need to sit up when Fraser enters, let alone answer with words. This is long-time familiarity.

The Hat - Fraser automatically tosses his hat down on a stool that’s been pulled out from the bar and remains there for this specific purpose. That’s where Fraser’s hat lives when he’s over.

Diefenbaker - The wolf is so comfortable at Ray’s place that he jumps on top of Ray to his usual spot on the couch. Reading Dief as Fraser’s Ego, he bounds into the apartment, directly onto Ray’s LAP before LICKING RAY’S FACE. Okay!

The VCR - Fraser knows how to use Ray’s VCR and his TV remote. Those of us who were alive in the ‘90s know how much practice this would have taken. (Also, hand porn, you’re welcome.)

Seating arrangements — Fraser sits right next to Ray, who sits directly in the center of the couch, between cushions. Cannot be comfortable, but their legs and arms are touching. Their usual spots? Fraser sits ON TOP OF Dief to do this.

“Bark tea?” — Ray immediately starts teasing Fraser about his flirtation with the records gal for information. It’s teasing without intent or malice; Ray knows it was just a front, like Fraser knows Ray’s barbs are just for fun.

“What, I’m a pig?” “No, no, not that.” — This is an old grievance. This is not the first time Ray’s apartment cleanliness has come up. It’s something they’ve bickered about many times before. No, no, not that, not the usual. Something else.

The Turtle - The shot lingers on the overhead here to remind us that the macguffin note is in the VHS case, but also serves to focus in on the turtle sculpture. It’s made to catch your eye, which means we are meant to infer something about it; otherwise, it’s an unimportant, out-of-place distraction from the shot’s real purpose (again, the VHS case). Given what I perceive to be the turtle's Indigenous style, I think this is clearly a gift from Fraser (maybe from the previous Christmas?). He either had it shipped down from a friend up north, or he whittled it himself, and I like to think it’s the latter. Fraser does, after all, think Ray is the world.

TL;DR Fraser is basically living there, oh my god these cops gay, good for them, good for them

[corazondebeskar-reads]

no one could save me but you

dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

originally for Febuwhump 2024 Day 2 - solitary confinement | Febuwhump masterlist

words: 1.9k

summary: You're under the care of Dr. Miller at an inpatient mental health facility. He has a vested interest in your "recovery."

warnings: dark, dark!Joel, dark!pyschologist!Joel, unethical healthcare practices, bad representation of mental health facilities, medical malpractice, corruption kink, innocent!reader, virgin!reader, manipulation, past suicide attempt, sexual abuse, abandonment trauma, inappropriate touching, non-con, abuse of power, look it's a fucked up mental hospital fic—if any of that is potentially triggering skip this one, dead dove do not eat

dividers by @saradika-graphics

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the handsome doctor with the kind brown eyes tells your mother. 

Miller, she thinks he’s called. Maybe Josh? John? A good Biblical name; she knows that much. 

“She can’t have visitors. It’s like I said on the phone. She’s a danger to herself and others,” he says, brows knit and a frown turning his pink lips. 

“Won’t she get worse being all alone?” Your mother pleads. 

“I promise you she is rarely alone. It’s just that we can only have trained staff with proper safety precautions around her right now. We’ll call as soon as that changes.” Or as soon as he’s bored of you. 

At the end of the night, Dr. Miller enters your room and your hopeful look wilts before it really even has a chance to bloom. 

“Again?” you whisper. 

He squats down next to where you’re sitting on the floor. “Sorry, sweetheart. I called a few times, but no one picked up.”

This is the sixth weekend in a row that no one has bothered to visit you. And it was really starting to wear you down. 

Enough that your little tantrum had you stuck in this stupid room all alone. Now they give you extra pills, and you succumb, numb and dumb in this soft little world, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re so lonely.

Except at eight pm. You can always count on Dr. Miller to stop by and check in before lights out.

You look up at him with sweet sadness dripping from your eyes, which you wipe on the back of your sleeve. “Thanks anyway,” you say. 

“You been good today?” he asks, reaching over to neaten your sweatshirt where it’s slid down your shoulder. 

“Yes, Doctor.”

He smiles. “Good girl. I know you can get through this,” he says, and it warms you, maybe too much.

You bite your lip and look down. 

“What is it, sweetheart?”

You debate fessing up, but he’s been nothing but kind and gentle with you, and the haze you can’t seem to shake makes you bask in the warmth of his attention. Plus, he said you should tell him if anything changes with your mind or body, in case you react badly to the meds.

“I think something’s wrong with me,” you mumble. 

“Why’s that?”

“It… it makes me feel funny when you say that.”

“When I say what? When I call you a good girl?”

You flush and stare at the plain, endless white of the room. But you nod. 

“Supposed to make you feel good, honey. You’re bein’ a real good girl. Might even be able to start takin’ you outside sometimes.”

“No,” you whisper, voice harsh with shame. “A different kind of feeling. Like a real one.”

“All feelings are real. You mean like a physical one?”

You nod.

“Oh, that’s normal. You feel hot and kind of tingly?”

“Yes, Doctor Miller.”

He beams. “That’s great. That’s huge progress, sweetheart. ”

Sometimes, he can’t believe his luck. A pretty little thing like you nearly kills herself to get out of a betrothal made by zealot parents and falls right into his lap. Well, not literally. Not yet, anyway. 

He’s still building the doctor-patient rapport, so to say. 

You’re so confused; it’s making you a little dizzy. “I think I need to lie down,” you tell him. 

He stands up and offers his hand, which you take, but it’s a mistake. His skin is hot and a little dry, the coarseness brushing against your own. His fingers wrap tight around your hand to pull you to your feet, and you realize no one has touched you in three months. Not in any way. No handshakes, no high fives, no hugs. 

Your lip quivers. You think you’d be embarrassed if that was a feeling you were capable of right now.

“C’mon, let’s get you comfortable,” he says. He doesn’t let go of your hand even though the bed is just a few steps away. 

When you’re settled and have pulled the blanket up to your chest, he sits on the edge of the bed.

“Now, I don’t want you worryin’ yourself about that feeling. It’s supposed to happen, sweetheart. And feeling it means you’re feelin’ something, which is what we’re workin’ towards, right?”

“Yes, Doctor,” you whisper.

“If it’s really botherin’ ya, I can teach you how to make it go away. Or I can teach ya how to make it better.”

You look up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, and he’s hard as a fuckin’ rock. He takes your hand again, rubbing his thumb back and forth. 

“Are you—do you mean—” you stammer, panic rising. “I’m not—”

“I know, sweetheart, but I think that’s part of the problem.” He hasn’t yet gotten you to eschew your parents’ programming, not that your mother knows he’s trying to, but he’ll break you of it one way or another.

“It ain’t bad to feel that way. It’s natural. But I think you’ve felt this way before, hmm?”

You nod, looking at the white knit blanket where your hand lays in his. 

“Wanna know what else I think?” he whispers conspiratorially. 

You look up at him, biting your lip. 

He takes it for permission. “You were so scared of gettin’ married because you were afraid he’d know you liked it.”

You shrink under his analysis. This is wrong, wrong; you should not be having this conversation at all, let alone with a strange man. But… he isn’t strange, not really. He’s your doctor. If you can’t trust him, who can you trust?

“So how do you fix me?” you ask.

“A lot like this. Talkin’, like we always do. Could try some exposure therapy, get you used to your own feelings. If you’re okay with it, we could try a little right now.” 

“What?” 

“We’ll start real slow, like how we eased you into group.” Come to think of it, he’s pretty sure you’ll have relapsed a little after this long in solitary. Well, nothin’ he can’t fix again. “But today’d just be me seein’ where your comfort levels are at so we know how to move forward.”

It makes sense, you think. It makes your stomach feel like a washing machine, but in theory, it sounds reasonable. He knows what he’s doing, after all. “Okay,” you whisper.

“Okay. You want me to get gloves on, or are you okay with my skin touchin’ yours?” He’s slowly peeling the blanket back.

“S’fine,” you say, fists clenching the sheets as you try not to seize onto your dignity. 

He scoots back on the bed. “Just gonna lift up your gown, okay? Nice, deep breaths like we practiced.” 

You focus on a spot on the wall just past his shoulder and inhale slowly through your nose, exhaling in a huff from your mouth. 

He’s drawn the gown up and nudged your legs apart a little. “Slower, sweetheart, take it nice and easy.”

His hand moves between your legs and you flinch, almost snapping your knees shut. His other hand rubs up and down on your calf. “S’alright, you’re okay. I’m not going to go inside just yet, okay? Just want you to see what it’s like to have a hand close.”

He gently, but firmly, cups your mound, and you suck in a breath, jerking in place. 

“That okay?”

You have to take a few more deep breaths and think about it, feeling the weight of his palm against part of you that no one’s ever known. “It’s, um. It’s nice. Warm.” 

“Just keep breathin’ nice and slow for me, okay?” 

He’s looking at you with those beautiful brown eyes, the ones that have made you feel seen and heard for the three months that you’ve been here. The ones that got cold and empty when you told him how the hospital had treated you, how your parents had reacted. 

What your fiance had said when he found out. 

The ones that were warm and clever, little crows’ feet at the corners and a pinch between his brow as he studied you. 

And you relax a little, taking a slow breath that filled you to the brim, letting it wash away as his hand began to rub wide circles between your legs. 

“That’s it, honey, you’re doing great. Well beyond my anticipation, actually.” Well, his expectation. His anticipation was a whole different metric that had his heart pounding. 

“Let’s slide your panties down and see how you react to skin contact, okay? Same thing, just without clothes in the way.”

You bite your lip but nod, wide eyes watching as his thick thumbs hook into either side and tug. You raise your hips a little, allowing him to dispose of the white cotton with ease. 

“Doin’ so well for me. Such a good girl,” he murmurs, stroking one finger up and down the seam of your cunt. 

You whimper, so he stills.

“S’matter?”

“N-nothing,” you say. “Just… it’s so intense.” 

“Want me to get you used to that or do we need to stop for today?”

“No!” you cover your face. “I mean. No, it’s okay, I’m okay.”

It’s good that you’re hiding, because you miss the flash of a smirk. He resumes his gentle stroking as your breath goes ragged.

“Doctor Miller, I feel weird,” you mumble. 

“Yeah? You feel it right here?” his other hand traces fingertips over your pelvis. 

“Uh-huh. It’s… it’s so much. I don’t know,” you choke off a gasp as the tip of his finger nudges open your labia, just the width of a breath, but it makes you dizzy.

You clutch at your temple. “Is this because I’m crazy? B-because my head’s so messed up?” Everything feels like it’s spinning. 

“No, sweet girl. It’s supposed to feel like this. You’re supposed to feel good.” 

“I-I-I—” but you can’t get it out, the last syllable reaching a squeak as he traces just inside your lips. 

He pulls away. “Alright, you’ve pushed through enough for today. You did so well, honey. Tomorrow, I’ll show you somethin’ real good, okay? It should help ya, clear your head a bit.” 

You whine as he stands up. “Doctor, please, I feel… it hurts.”

“I’m sorry. It’ll fade in a moment. You’re not ready, darlin’. Remember how hard it was the first time you went out to the rec room? And it didn’t feel good after?”

You nod. 

“It’s kinda like that. You gotta acclimate. Don’t worry. I’ll help you every step of the way.”

“Doctor,” you start hesitantly. 

“Yeah?”

“When can I get out?”

“Like outta the hospital or outta this room?”

“This room,” you say, lip quivering. You’re so, so lonely, and you know he’s about to go home for the night and leave you here with no one, nothing.

He sighs. “It’s not fully up to me.”

“But you-you said I’ve been so good,” you say, tears welling.

“Don’t cry, honey. You’ll get out, it’s just… ya gotta keep showing me you’re gonna be good, okay? Ya scared some ‘a the others.”

“I didn’t mean to, I won’t do it again,” you say, unable to stop the burning tears from spilling over. You hadn’t. All you had done was throw one book across the rec room at the end of visiting hours, unable to hold back the heartbreak of being left alone again. 

“I know, sweetheart. I’ll see what I can do. Be good, now,” he says, jacket rippling a little as he sweeps out of the door. The lock clunks, and you lay back, lost in his overwhelming wake.

*title from "Wicked Game" by Chris Isaak

[hendersister]

dancing in the dark

summary: you run into steve while he's picking up dustin to drive to the snow ball.

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!sister reader

title 🎵: dancing in the dark by bruce springsteen

a/n: this is my first ever steve fic! i hope it doesn't suck 🫣

“Mom! Where did you leave the car keys?” 

You walk into the living room to find your mother watching TV. Her new kitten, Tews, sits comfortably on her lap. Christmas music is playing loudly in the background.

It’s a busy night in the Henderson household. Your little brother, Dustin, is getting ready to go to the Snow Ball at Hawkins Middle. He’s a little anxious but you can tell he’s excited. 

While Dustin is at the dance, you plan on going to the movies with a couple of your friends. Your mom is even letting you borrow her car under one condition - you have to pick up Dustin from the Snow Ball. Luckily, you don’t need to worry about giving Dustin a ride to the dance. He’s already got that covered… 

“In my purse,” she answers, nodding to her bag on the coffee table.

“Thanks!” you smile.

You reach for your mom’s purse and pull out her car keys.

“Son of a bitch! Son of a bitch!”

Dustin frantically enters the living room in search of something.

“Where did you see it last?” your mom questions Dustin.

“Right here, where I put it,” he tells her.

“What’s in there that’s so important anyway? You look fabulous, baby,” your mom tries.

“Yeah listen to mom, dork! You look great,” you tease your little brother, ruffling his hair.

“Stop!” Dustin shrieks.

Dustin backs away from you and makes a b-line for the kitchen. You head towards the front door. Before walking out, you grab your coat hanging nearby.

“Don’t forget to pick Dusty up on your way home from the movies,” your mom reminds you.

You shrug, nodding your head. As if you needed the reminder. You’ve been looking after your little brother since the day he was born. After your father left, you took on a lot more responsibilities at home. You practically helped raise Dustin. You two are latch key kids. You used to babysit for Dustin everyday while your mom was working late. You and your brother became really close during that time. Sure, you and Dustin bicker occasionally, like all siblings do, but there’s a special bond between you two. 

“When have I ever forgotten to pick him?”

You put on your jacket, then call out to your brother.

“Hey Dustin! I’ll pick you up around ten.”

“Mhmm,” Dustin mumbles.

He’s so focused on looking for whatever he’s looking for, you don’t think he actually comprehend what you just said.

You roll your eyes and open the door.

“Got it!” you hear your little brother announce.

He grabs a paper bag off the kitchen counter. The last thing you see as you walk out the door is Dustin rushing off to his bedroom.

“Later mom! Have fun tonight, Dusty!” 

You close the door behind you on your way out. Just as you step outside, a red BMW pulls up in the driveway. You recognize the car and the driver immediately. It’s Steve Harrington.

You and Steve didn’t really know each other until a few weeks ago. Of course you knew of him, everybody did. He’s one of the most popular guys at Hawkins High. But Steve had no idea who you were. You never had a real conversation with Steve until the world almost came to an end….

It all started when Dustin had inadvertently adopted a creature from another dimension. Your little brother recruited you and Steve to help him handle the situation after the Demodog ate your mom’s cat, Mews. And, much to your surprise, Steve “The Hair'' Harrington actually stepped up to help. Until then, you had thought of him as douchebag King Steve. The experience made you see him in an entirely different light. Outside of school and away from all the petty teen drama, Steve Harrington is a good guy.

Steve bonded with both you and your little brother. What made you really grow to respect Steve was how he became close friends with Dustin. Your brother had been lacking a male role model since your dad left. Now Steve was starting to fill that role in Dustin’s life. You really appreciate Steve for everything he’s done for Dustin.

Steve parks his car right next to your mom’s. You’re walking towards your mom’s car when Steve gets out of his.

“Hey Steve,” you wave politely.

“Hey! Is he almost ready?” Steve asks.

You nod.

“Thanks for giving Dustin a ride. You saved me a trip…”

If Steve wasn’t driving Dustin then your mom probably would’ve made you take him.

“Yeah no problem. I think I’m basically one of his chauffeurs now anyways,” Steve nods.

“Welcome to the club, Harrington! We meet every Thursday to go over the driving schedule,” you joke.

Steve laughs, “Oh really? Well, I’ll make sure to bring the snacks for the next meeting.”

You quietly chuckle. You give Steve a small smile before you continue walking to your mom’s car. When you reach the car, you stop yourself from getting in. You turn back to Steve.

“I, uh, I think it’s really cool that you're driving Dustin to the dance,” you tell him sincerely. 

Steve nods, unsure what to say. You two lock eyes. There’s a spark there. You feel some sort of electricity between you and Steve. You’re having a quiet little moment. Well, at least you think so. You have no idea if Steve feels the same and you’re way too shy to make the first move. 

You take a deep breath and then break the silence.

“You’re a good guy, Steve Harrington.”

Before Steve has a chance to respond, you get in your mom’s car and drive off into the night. Steve watches you go, mentally kicking himself. He wishes he said something. When he was with you, he felt the spark too. But he's still getting over Nancy. Steve is just not ready for you yet. He'll get there... someday.

[insomniac4000]

Hinge and a Ski Trip

Chris smiled when he opened the Hinge app, he was well versed to using it by now but this time it felt different. If he was being honest though he had this different feeling before but there was something about this girl that kept drawing him to her. He checked her profile one more time. Her name was , she worked as a civil servant in the Department of Health. She had a warm smile, and a down-to-earth vibe. Her profile didn’t have the usual curated, filtered perfection; instead, her photos looked spontaneous, capturing her hiking on a sunny day, laughing with friends at a café, and petting a golden retriever in what appeared to be a park. There was something genuine about her, and that stood out to Chris in the sea of profiles that screamed for attention.

With nothing to lose, two weeks ago he messaged her, and to his surprise, the conversation flowed effortlessly from the start. They shared a few jokes, talked about their days so Chris took the plunge and asked her out for drinks, his smile widened hugely when she had said yes. The location was a casual bar on a Friday night, Chris sat there nervously checking his phone while waiting for . He rarely got nervous, but the thought of this date stirred something in him. He wondered if she’d recognize him, most people did at this point, he had lost count of the amount of times girls had turned him down only to back peddle once they had Googled him but from what he could tell through their chats,  wasn’t the type to make a big deal about things like that, she hadn't mentioned she knew who he was yet anyway.

The door opened, and Chris looked up. There she was.  entered the bar, scanning the room until her eyes met his. She smiled, waved, and walked over to the table where he was sitting. Chris stood up to greet her, extending his hand, which she shook warmly. She looked just like her photo's, from her shining eyes to her wide excitable smile and  couldn't help but think about how much more attractive Chris looked in person.

“Hi, Chris! It’s great to finally meet you in person,”  said, sliding into the seat across from him.

“Yeah, you too! Glad we could make this work,” Chris replied, settling back into his seat. “How’s your day been?”

“Oh, you know, just a typical day at work,” she said with a chuckle. “Lots of paperwork, meetings, and endless cups of coffee. What about you?”

“Pretty similar, actually. Just work." Chris coughed a little, he was always a little bit awkward bringing up what he did because he was never sure what the reaction was going to be, some girls wanted nothing to do with it, some didn't think it was a real career and other's you could practically see the pound signs in their eyes.

“So what do you do for work?"  with a small smile on her face, Chris took a deep breath to answer but  continued letting him off the hook. “I'll be honest I’ve seen a few of your videos. My younger brother’s a big fan, actually, so I’ve been roped into watching your football challenges more times than I can count.”

Chris grinned, though he felt a small knot form in his stomach. “And that’s… not weird for you?” He asked, looking at 's smile, there was something about that smile he couldn't take his eyes off.

“Not really,” she said, taking a sip of her drink. “I mean, I know you’re famous in that world, but I’m more interested in getting to know you as a person. The whole YouTube thing is cool, don’t get me wrong, but I’d like to know what you’re like off-camera. You're just Chris Dixon."

Chris relaxed a little at that. It wasn’t uncommon for dates or new acquaintances to treat him like a celebrity, so the fact that  seemed genuinely curious about who he was beyond the screen was a relief.

"Great, well can I get you a drink?" He offered the girl who nodded enthusiastically.

They spent the next hour chatting about their lives.  explained her work as a civil servant in the Department of Health, she was an officer looking at how different places were trying to broaden the workforce across the NHS. It was hard work and a lot of the time very difficult decisions were needing to be made, especially if she didn't agree with the orders from the government but she had to remind herself she was in a position to actually do something and hold the government to account.

Chris listened intently, finding her passion for her work endearing. “I can’t even imagine how tough that must’ve been,” he said. “I mean, I’ve had some stressful moments with YouTube and football, but that sounds like a different level.”

“Yeah, it’s been intense,”  admitted, “but it’s also been really fulfilling. I like knowing that I’m making a difference, even if it’s in a small way. Anyway, what do you like to do when you're not working?"  was very careful to avoid the words Youtube or videos, she had promised she wanted to know Chris outside of that world and it was very easy to have conversations around it, it turned out there was a lot more to Chris than football videos and she was enjoying hearing about it.

"I go on a lot of holidays, I like travelling," Chris kicked off the conversation and the pair spent a while talking about the places they had been plus the places that were still on bucket lists.

“I’ve always wanted to explore Japan,” Chris said, his eyes lighting up. “The mix of old and new culture, the food, the landscapes everything about it just seems incredible, climb Fuji.”

“Same here!”  exclaimed. “It’s been at the top of my list for years. I’ve spent so much time researching places like Kyoto, Tokyo, and even the countryside. The temples, the cherry blossoms, the hot springs… I want to experience it all.”

Chris smiled, feeling a growing connection. “Maybe we should plan a trip,” he said half-jokingly, but there was an underlying excitement in his voice,  grinned.

As the night went on, they moved from travel to other topics, and one surprising commonality emerged: their shared love of animals.

“I grew up with dogs,”  said, her eyes softening. “We had a golden retriever named Daisy, and she was the sweetest. I’ve always loved animals. If I wasn’t working in public health, I think I’d want to be a vet or something.”

"Are you joking? I was going to train to be a vet!" Chris explained before going on to explain he didn't quite get the grades so decided to take a year to pursue his channel.

By the time they finished their drinks, the conversation had flowed so naturally that neither of them noticed how late it had gotten. The pub had started to thin out, and Chris realized he didn’t want the night to end just yet but it had to, as Chris went to order himself an Uber  spoke

"I don't live too far from here so I'm going to walk,"  announces as she put her jacket on.

"Don't read too much into this but I can walk with you and can get an Uber from there? I just wouldn't forgive myself if you didn't get home safe." Chris offered and  nodded, smiling at the gentlemanly offer.

The walk back to 's place was filled with comfortable conversation, interspersed with laughter and a few quiet moments where neither of them felt the need to speak. The night air was cool but pleasant, and the streetlights cast a soft glow on the pavement as they strolled through the quiet streets of London.

As they approached her door, Chris realized he didn’t want the night to end, but he also didn’t want to push things too far. The date had gone better than he could’ve hoped for, and he didn’t want to ruin it by being too forward.

“Well, this is me,”  said, turning to face him with a soft smile. “Thanks for walking me home.”

“Of course,” Chris replied. “I had a really great time tonight.”

“Me too,” she replied, biting her lip as if debating something. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, but… I’m glad we met up.”

Chris nodded, feeling a strange sense of anticipation building in the space between them. “Same here,” he said, his voice a little quieter now.

For a moment, they stood there in the soft glow of the streetlight, the night around them quiet and still. Chris could feel his heart beating faster, and he wasn’t sure if it was the nerves or the fact that he felt an undeniable pull toward the girl.

Before he could second-guess himself,  closed the distance between them, standing on her tiptoes to press a gentle kiss to his lips. It was soft and tentative at first, but when Chris kissed her back, the kiss deepened, and the moment felt electric.

When they finally pulled apart, both were smiling.

“I’ll text you when I get home,” Chris said, feeling a little dazed.

“Please do,”  replied, her cheeks flushed. “Goodnight, Chris.”

“Goodnight, .”

Chris stepped back, pulling out his phone to order an Uber as he walked down the street, his mind still buzzing from the kiss. He glanced back once and saw  standing at her door, watching him go with a smile on her face.

As his Uber arrived, Chris got in, leaning back in the seat with a grin. Something about tonight felt different and he couldn’t wait to see where it would lead.

It had been nearly two months since that first date, and Chris couldn’t stop smiling. His days had settled into a comfortable routine. He was still working hard on his YouTube channel, but between all that, he was spending more and more time with , the girl who had effortlessly slipped into his life and brightened everything up. They hadn’t made their relationship public, not yet. Chris didn’t feel the need to rush into that. For now, he loved having something just for them something that wasn’t for the cameras, his audience, or anyone else. It was real, and it was his. He had already made his mind up before that any relationship he would have wouldn’t be as public as one previous but now he had found it he was more determined to keep things to himself, his own little bubble.

George and the two Arthur’s, had noticed how much happier he seemed lately. It didn’t take long for them to realise what or should that be who the culprit was. George and Arthur Hill were lounging in the living room after filming a video when Chris walked in from another date with , a big smile on his face.

“Alright, Chris,” Arthur said, leaning back in his chair with a mischievous smirk. “How’s the girl?”

Chris raised an eyebrow. “How do you know I was with her?”

“Because you have that dopey grin whenever you come back from seeing her.”

“I do not.”

George chimed in from the kitchen, where he was making a cup of tea. “Arthur’s right. You’ve been suspiciously happy lately. We want details.”

Chris laughed, trying to deflect. “I’m just in a good mood, that’s all.”

“I know!” George shouted from the kitchen. “It’s just good to see you not in grumpy gnome mood that’s all.”

Arthur leaned forward. “So, when do we get to meet this mysterious girl?”

Chris shrugged, he had floated the idea a couple of times and while  had agreed nothing had come to fruition. “I don’t know, soon maybe.”

That conversation had only been the start of it. Over the next week, it wasn’t just George and Arthur asking about Y/N. His other friends; Will, Theo, Reev and other’s who shared the same office were curious too. They could see the changes in him, how much more relaxed and happy he was. Everyone was eager to meet the girl who had bought the old Chris back, well he wasn’t exactly like the old Chris he was a completely new Chris, this girl obviously bought out the best in him.

Chris’s video shoots were notoriously long, started early and finished late with take after take after take so naturally a lot of conversations took place to try and pass the time.

“So, when’s this girl gunna make an appearance?” Theo asked casually as he stretched out his hip.

Chris rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. You guys would like her, I think, but she’s a bit shy about the whole YouTube thing.”

Reev nodded. “That makes sense. Not everyone’s keen on being in the spotlight.”

“Exactly,” Chris said. “But she’s great. I just don’t want to rush her into anything. She does want to meet everyone but I just don’t want to make a big thing out of it you know.”

“Well,” Theo said with a grin, “we were thinking… what if you invited her on the ski trip?”

“The ski trip?”

Theo nodded. “Yeah! It’s in a few weeks. We’re all going, and it could be a good chance for her to get to know everyone in a more chill setting. Plus, who doesn’t like a holiday?” Chris paused, thinking it over, it did make a lot of sense, which he thought was rare for Theo.

A few days later, Chris was spending the evening with . Since she lived alone he spent a lot of time at her flat, they loved enjoying each other’s company without the chaos of the outside world. They were curled up on ’s sofa, a film playing in the background while they shared a bottle of wine. It was one of those perfect, comfortable nights, where neither of them felt the need to fill the silence with endless conversation.

Chris waited until they were halfway through the movie before broaching the subject. “So… my friends have been asking about you.”

 looked up from where she had been resting her head on his shoulder. “Oh? What have they been saying?”

“They’re just curious,” Chris said, choosing his words carefully. “They’ve noticed how happy I’ve been lately, and they want to meet you.”

“You’ve said before, they sound really sweet.”

“They are, in their own way. Theo can be a bit of twat.” Chris joked. “Actually… they suggested something. You know there is this ski trip coming up in a few weeks. All the lads are going; George, Arthur, Will, Theo, Reev. They thought it might be a good opportunity for you to meet everyone in a more relaxed setting.”

The smile on ’s face faltered slightly, and she bit her lip, her brow furrowing in thought.

“You don’t have to say yes,” Chris added quickly. “I just thought I’d mention it.”

Y/n sighed softly and sat up a little straighter, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the edge of the blanket draped over them. “It’s not that I don’t want to meet your friends,” she said carefully. “I really do. It’s just… I don’t know. I’m a bit nervous.”

Chris frowned slightly. “Nervous? About what?”

She gave him a small, apologetic smile. “Chris, you’re part of this huge YouTube world. You’re famous, whether you want to admit it or not. And your friends… they’re all in that world, too. I’m just… a boring civil servant. I’m not sure I’d fit in.”

“Don’t be silly…”

“I’m not being silly. I go to work, home come with a glass of wine and the TV and occasionally go out with my mates. I don’t do these big parties and holidays and cameras, it’s not my world Chris I’m just plain.”

Chris felt a pang in his chest at her words. He hadn’t considered that she might feel this way like she wasn’t good enough for his world, or like she didn’t belong. It stung, not because of what she said, but because he realized he hadn’t done enough to show her how much she meant to him.

“Y/N,” he began softly, turning to face her fully. “You’re not boring. And you don’t have to be part of the YouTube world to fit in with my friends. They’re good people, and they’ll love you for who you are, not for what you do.”

She still looked hesitant, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. “I just… I don’t want to feel like the odd one out. I’ve seen some of your videos with your friends, and it all seems so… fast-paced, so fun. I’m not sure I’d be able to keep up.”

Chris reached out, taking her hand in his. “Listen, you don’t have to be like them to be special. You already are, Y/N. You make me feel like I’m just Chris — not ChrisMD, not the guy on YouTube, but just me. And that’s more than enough.”

Y/N smiled, though her eyes were still a little unsure. “I guess I didn’t realize how much this world of yours intimidated me until now.”

Chris felt a wave of guilt wash over him. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I should’ve realized sooner. I should’ve done more to make you feel special, to show you that you’re not just some girl I’m dating, but someone who means a lot to me.”

Y/N shook her head gently, squeezing his hand. “You do make me feel special, Chris. You really do. I guess it’s just my own insecurities getting in the way.”

Chris leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “I want you to feel comfortable, no matter what. If you don’t want to go on the ski trip, that’s totally fine. We can figure something else out.”

Y/N looked up at him, her smile returning in full force now. “Maybe I just needed to hear that,” she said softly. “Maybe I’ll give it a try. I mean, I do want to meet your friends… and it’s a holiday, right? How bad could it be?”

Chris grinned, relieved that she was opening up to the idea. “You’ll have fun, I promise. And if you don’t, we’ll ditch them and go somewhere else.”

Y/N laughed, leaning in to kiss him. “Deal.”

The conversation took a softer turn after that. Chris could feel the tension slowly dissipating, and as the night went on, they both relaxed into each other’s company once again. The closeness they shared now felt deeper, more intimate.

After a while, the movie became little more than background noise as they focused on each other. Chris’s hands wandered across Y/N’s back as she shifted closer, her arms draping around his neck. The kiss they shared earlier was just the start, and now, it felt like they couldn’t get enough of each other.

The hesitation that had been in Y/N’s eyes earlier was gone now, replaced with something else entirely — desire, comfort, and the sense that, in this moment, everything was exactly as it should be.

Chris gently pulled her onto his lap, his hands resting on her hips as they kissed, deeper and slower this time. Y/N’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as their bodies pressed together. It wasn’t rushed or frantic, but rather a slow burn, like they had all the time in the world.

Y/N broke the kiss for just a moment, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, “You always know how to make me feel special.”

Chris smiled, his heart swelling with affection for her. “That’s my job, isn’t it?”

[thesensteawitch]

MESSAGE FROM YOUR HIGHER SELF 🍀💫

Pick A Pile Reading

(Left To Right- Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3)

Hello, Senstea Souls! 🩷

I am back with another collective reading! Take a deep breath and pick a pile intuitively.

In case you wish to book a personal tarot reading with me feel free to DM me on Tumblr.

I am sharing the links to my rate card and booking form below:

🌷 Rate Card

🌷 Booking Form

Here is your reading:

Pile 1

Hello, my beautiful pile 1. Your cards came out in pairs. What I felt instantly was that your higher self is talking about two paths. So I thought maybe you've got two paths in front of you, and the one you choose will define who you become. But reading more into the cards, I realized that one path leads you to your future and the other to your past. So take how it resonates for you, pile 1. For the very first time, it seems you're seeing someone in a totally different light. You're surprised. How could you overlook this person's great qualities? Your higher self is asking you to heal the past by being loving toward yourself and toward someone else. Your past is not holding you back at all, you are. So to move forward, you must learn to handle your emotions. Perhaps that was your lesson that you needed to learn from the path of the past. It seems that you've done enough for the people around you. It's time you start doing things for yourself. You were so attached to being a good friend, son/daughter, father, mother, or partner that you forgot yourself in the process. Your higher self wants you to release the past with love and forgiveness.

Now moving toward the second path, which is toward your future, I see that some people are coming in the way. This is what your higher self wants to say to you: “My love, it's time that we start pursuing our dreams. It's time to search for our inner artist. Create something of your own. You may think what you want may be impossible, but I am asking you to believe in the impossible. This full moon shows your first artwork to the world. Don't dim your light. You have all the things you need to get started. With one strech of a hand, you can grab a star. Trust me, it just seems worlds apart, but truly it's not. Ask yourself: What are you afraid of? Where does your resistance come from? Someone has always been there for you, supports you, and is rooting for you. They too are transitioning with you. They are practically rowing the boat. And if you can't think of anyone, then know that the universe is rowing your boat. You've got your loved ones with you. SHOW THE WORLD THE REAL YOU. “The Hymn Of The Weekend” is your channeled song. The moment you launch your project, you will enter a new chapter of your life! Hunt down your fears and desires before the next full moon. And show everybody your talent.” If someone here wants to use a stage name, spirit is saying you're free to do so unless you're ready to reveal the artist behind the art.

Pile 2

Hello, my beautiful pile 2. Your higher self is sending you so much love right now. You needed that pain to have a perspective shift. The cards are so blue. I feel those who chose this pile have cried a lot in the recent past. What you went through wasn't easy at all, but you took a stand for yourself. Your higher self is really proud of you to take the lead in a challenging situation. Your higher self wants you to take a break now. There's something that's bothering you because it seems your beliefs have been challenged, so it's time you learn and understand something from a higher perspective. When something challenging happens, it's our ego that breaks first. And it's important for it to break so that you become truly humble. Listen to a Guru or a spiritual teacher. It's time you again become the student of life. Your higher self sees your kind, loving, and protective side. But the guides are saying that you cannot save people from the lessons they are meant to learn. You can't fight God. Recently, you've also communicated what's important to you or about your pain. From next week, each passing day will heal you if you try to upgrade your knowledge and be wise. It's not the time to think you know everything; it's time to learn. Learn why certain situations happen; what's the root cause? Be compassionate toward yourself and others.

This is what your higher self is saying to you: “My love, it's time to find your emotional balance again. It was just a bad day, not a bad life. You're overthinking, trust me. Your life is going to be far better than what you think it is going to look like. In fact, there's a new start coming into your life. Before that, you must learn what this challenging situation was trying to teach you. And you cannot learn it by yourself. You need to look for the deeper wisdom from books or spiritual gurus. What's true to you may not be true to others. So don't fight with yourself. The horror is in your heart, not in your life. Respect the differences. By the next new moon, if you continuously seek wisdom from the right and trusted source, you'll be out of this mental rut. Journey to your better mindset/mental state begins after 3 days.” ‘Just The Way You Are’ by Bruno Mars is the song I've channeled for you.

Pile 3

Hello, my beautiful pile 3. For how long have you been waiting for love? But what I see looking at your cards is that love has always been around you. You were blocked from it because you were not mentally ready for it. Your higher self is saying that love is selfless. It doesn't expect anything in return. There's someone in your life you misunderstood in the past (it can be anyone). Maybe you went through a tough cycle with them. For most of you, I think it was a romantic connection. Your higher self is asking you to show compassion toward yourself and work through your fears. Don't be so indicisive. There are no right or wrong decisions in life. Someone seriously has eyes only for you, pile 3. You're their dream come true. It seems that you worked really hard for this connection or on yourself, and your higher self is saying that your hard work is paying off, though you may not feel so. Your higher self is emphasizing these words: trust, choose, love, and be fearless. All along you were just running away from your patterns and your trauma that needed to be addressed.

This is what your higher self is saying to you: “You have the power to design your destiny! Do you get that? All along, you've painted your life with every stroke as per your wish! Ask yourself: What do you truly want? How can you work on your relationship with yourself and with others? If you really give it your all, you will have the kind of relationship you want. Yes, you did all you could, but there were some patterns being played from your end too in your connection. That did more damage than good. So be kind to yourself and to the other person. You're a warrior. You've come so far in your life. What you're afraid of is just in your head. You can easily defeat your shadows and rise above them. Every time given a chance, you got afraid and walked away thinking you'd done it all. But all these signs that you've been getting were leading you to this moment. You were where you were meant to be, and you're where you're supposed to be. So don't you ever think that you were on the wrong path? The obstacle in the path is the path. It just took you some time to understand the maze and find your way out of it. Open your heart and spread love. The song I am channeling for you is “Firework” by Katy Perry.”

If you're a writer, painter, or any sort of artist, you're being called to heal yourself through expression. Love and let yourself be loved, pile 3. You've built your life brick by brick, and your foundation is strong. Listen to your heart; what do you truly want? The truth is buried in the deepest corners of your heart, and the moment you'll show it in your art, you'll find it coming to the surface.

[like-a-omen]

Best friend! Folio

@darling-millicent-aubrey @alloraiona @english-fucker @pathion @foliosgirl @livingdeceasedgirl

18+ below the cut minors DNI

Best friend folio would definitely drag you along on fishing trips to keep him company. When it's quiet between bites he's pulled you close under the blanket rubbing slow circles on your clit, you know later when he calls it a night he's going to fuck you in the tent as his way of saying thank you for coming with him. Without warning he picks up the pace catching you off guard as a loud moan escaped you causing him to smirk at your reaction, now pulling you in for a sloppy kiss as his fingers entered you to muffle your moans you feel that familiar knot building. Your close and he knows it the way your grinding your hips into his hand tells him all he needs to know, a sudden beeping of the bite alarm pulls you back to earth and folio away from you to start reeling in the fish "sorry babe got a bite!" In that moment all you could think was fuck that fish.

Best friend folio setting up a nice little smoke session for just the two of you after hearing how rough your day at work had been, ever seen your text he's been snack shopping and pre rolling preparing for your evening. You finally arrive at his and are greeted with a big bear hug before leading you to the sofa the coffee table laid out with everything you guys will need, as you both lay there cuddled up joint passing between you both you slowly felt the stress from today melt away. Folio laid there stroking your hair and you couldn't help but smile thinking how did you get so lucky to have such a caring best friend, it was always that boys mission to make you smile and he was pretty damn good at it.

Best friend folio would 100% take any opportunity to make you laugh watching you light up like that always brightens his day, plus he thinks your laugh is just adorable he'd make it your personal ringtone if you let him. Even in the bedroom he will try to make you laugh the way it makes you clench around him puts that boy on cloud nine, thrusting into you while he's making you laugh just gives your boobs that exta bounce that he just loves.

Best friend folio would love it when you ask to go out on his bike with him, you was cruising along with no real destination but that's what made it even better you'd always find the most stunning locations. You watched the world go by arms wrapped round him tight just getting lost in the scenery it was a great way to clear your head, folio had offered plenty of times to help you learn so you could ride together and as much as you loved that idea you'd miss admiring the views. Typically you'd stop by some lake he finds before heading back, but you didn't mind you loved watching him get all excited scoping out a new potential fishing spot.

Best friend folio noticed your gaze fixated on his arms as he was practicing a new drum solo, he just knew your mind was going to some very dirty places. "Hey Y/N can you chuck the towel?" No answer "Earth to Y/N?" He snapped his fingers a few times dragging you out of your fantasy, you felt a blush creep across your face realising you'd been caught but also not having a clue what he just asked you. "Umm I thought it was great.. looked really technical" he laughed before heading over to grab the towel himself wiping away the sweat, you couldn't help but bite your lip as you watched. "Bit distracted are we? Wanna tell me what we was up to or do you wanna act it out? " That's how you ended up bent over his drum stool, the grip he had on your hips was definitely going to leave bruises but you didn't care.

Best friend folio wouldn't admit it but he'd definitely get jealous if other guys were chatting you up at a party, he could tell that they only intended to use you for the night and you just didn't deserve that. He watched this guy like a hawk and just didn't like the vibes he was giving off, so once he left he decides to save you from a night of disappointment. "Hey Y/N this party is a bit lame wanna come back to mine and have a smoke?" Shortly after you both was in a uber on the way to folios the guy that was flirting with you wasn't that interesting anyway, besides he probably couldn't fuck you better than your best friend. Folio definitely made sure it wasn't a disappointing night you started to wonder if come round for a smoke was just code for sex, because here you are getting absolutely railed into next week by your best friend.

Hope you like it! I really enjoyed writing this one so expect some more best friend folio in the future 😉

[stormsthatrage]

The Hair Thing

At some point, the hair stops being about what was stolen from Xanxus and starts being about what was stolen from Tsunayoshi.

Of course, in the beginning, it's like this: Squalo knows the Vongola Ring should have been Xanxus's.

It’s simple. Xanxus was first in line for the throne after his older brothers died — and damn whatever Timoteo says, those three were his brothers. Even considering the fact that Xanxus wasn't a blood son after all, the fact remains that for the majority of his life, Xanxus was a Vongola heir. He was claimed as one, he was raised as one, he was loved as one. (And again, fuck what Timoteo says. If Enrico had still been alive, Timoteo would have been dead for the mere suggestion that Xanxus wasn't family as well as Family). And as such, he should have been on the throne far before any other candidate could ever have been brought in.

Also? Xanxus had the skills to be just about a damn perfect Don Vongola. He knew how Vongola worked. After all the time spent learning at his brothers' knees, he knew everything that the Capo dei capi could possibly need to know, and had a bunch of practice at it to boot. He was familiar with the duties of the head and the duties of the underbosses and the duties of the lowest ranks on the street. He knew how to keep his people safe. He knew how to enter a hostile negotiation and come out on top. He was great at strategy, both on and off the battlefield, and, oh yeah — speaking of the battlefield, Xanxus was really, really fucking strong. And so on. Squalo could have spent a week listing all the reasons Xanxus would have made a perfect Tenth.

So yeah. Squalo was fucking pissed when Timoteo revealed his lies, revealed his betrayal, and revealed that Xanxus had never actually been in line for the throne at all.

And Squalo's anger damn near turned him insane when Timoteo put his fucking Sky in ice.

So yeah. The hair thing. It begins because of what was stolen from Xanxus. As permanent as the fury embedded in his bones (as permanent as the rage still twisting in the back of his mind, a quiet, infernal madness that doesn't heal even when they finally break his Sky out of a fucking ice-seal) is his determination to never cut it, not until what was stolen is restored.

His determination grows even stronger when he meets Timoteo's choice heir for the first time. Tsunayoshi is weak. Tsunayoshi is a coward. Tsunayoshi is slow, and inexperienced, and absolutely not qualified for the throne.

The only thing Tsunayoshi has going for him as a candidate is his blood, his freakish primo-like genes, but ancestry has no impact on capability, and Squalo has been by Xanxus's side for too long to be okay with the thought of Tsunayoshi leading the Vongola into the ground from incompetence and cowardice.

Squalo's initial impression of Tsunayoshi, of course, does not withstand prolonged contact with him. It turns out that underneath the weakling appearance is, in fact, a perfect Capo dei Capi — different from the type Xanxus would have been, but no less ideal for it. Tsunayoshi is strong, fierce, determined, protective, smart, skilled, and — as it turns out, most importantly — kind.

Tsunayoshi is unbelievably kind. Impossibly kind. So kind Squalo finds himself searching for proof that it's a mask, because it has to be, because no one could be that genuinely good — but no matter how hard he searches, he only finds more evidence that somehow it's not a mask, it's real. And Squalo can only watch in awe and terror as Tsunayoshi's compassion spreads out like a fucking fungus, infecting others and the world and the fabric of the underworld itself, until Squalo has no choice but to believe that Tsunayoshi is going to save everyone, both Vongola and outsiders alike, from all the blood and suffering they were once destined to stain themselves with.

Squalo gets a front-row seat to Tsunayoshi's... Tsunayoshi-ness, as shit goes down in the wildest year of his life. There's the undoing of a ten-year-apocalypse, the undoing of an ancient curse, the making of what feels like a thousand different treaties, hell, fucking earth flames. At some point, Squalo stops keeping track, because so many absurd things have happened. And after it all, Tsunayoshi turns 15, and the kid and his guardians finally come to Italy.

For some reason, as soon as they step foot on home soil at the airport, they're ditching their Iron-Fort appointed chaperones to infest the Varia Castle. The kid and his equally impossible guardians make themselves comfortable, and as another year passes, every single one of the brats manages to endear themselves to the Varia Commanders — not that any of them would say it, of course.

(Years later, Squalo will remember his initial amusement at their sudden appearance at the Castle, and will realize that instead, he should have been furious. Why, why, after everything, didn't he think to wonder why they didn't want to stay at the Iron Fort? Sure, Tsunayoshi was Timoteo's chosen heir, but that didn't guarantee safety in the bastard's presence. After all, Xanxus had once been Timoteo's chosen son.)

The year ends, and the time comes. Tsunayoshi takes the throne.

Squalo doesn't cut his hair. He doesn't cut his hair, and for a moment, for a brief period of wonderful relief, the abstinence is not performed out of fury. The rage, the hurt, the insanity clawing at the back of his mind — it's dimmed, as dormant as it could ever be, after everything. Xanxus is happy, and frankly, after the ice, more comfortable heading the Varia than the main family anyway. Tsunayoshi is a better Vongola X than anyone could have dreamed. Vongola is stronger than it has ever been, his Sky is happy, and Tsunayoshi is leading the underworld into an impossibly bright future.

So Squalo does not cut his hair, because he took an oath not to and he is a man of his word. But he can imagine a world in which he did not take the oath, a world in which the hair was not a vow, and was instead a mere visual expression of his fury and resolve. It is a world where, after the ceremony in which the kid donned the title of Vongola X and Xanxus called the kid "little brother" in front of half of Italy, Squalo went home and pulled out a knife and finally got rid of the damned ponytail.

That period of blissful relief lasts right up until seven months later, when Squalo finds himself exhausted and a little bit tipsy and no longer up for celebrating the destruction of the human-trafficking ring the Alliance had just broken open.

He stumbles up a secluded staircase in the Iron Fort, and down a quiet hallway, intent on locating a room in which he can fucking take a nap. He spies a door that looks promisingly abandoned, tricks the lock open, and enters the room to find Tsunayoshi curled up against the far corner, spine pressed tightly against the wall, head tucked between his knees.

Even from the doorway, Squalo can hear how rapidly the kid is gasping for breath, can tell how painful it is.

For a moment, Squalo thinks someone has had the audacity, the stupidity, to dare and poison his Sky's little brother.

And then he hears the strangled sob, and puzzle pieces that he didn't even know he had come slamming together with the force of a fucking asteroid impact.

He's across the room in a heartbeat, pulling on his rain flames to calm the kid down. As he tries to take Tsunayoshi's hands, the kid flinches back. Holds his hands away from Squalo, like there's something coating them and he doesn't want to get Squalo dirty.

All of a sudden, Squalo thinks of his initial impression of Tsunayoshi. Not suited for the underworld, and especially not suited for leading the Vongola. Best left as a civilian, far away from Italy.

He bites back a hysterical laugh as he realizes that he had been right all along.

Tsunayoshi. Sweet, compassionate Tsunayoshi. Too stupidly soft to not get maimed by all the suffering he sees, by all the people he can't save, by all the people he has to fight because they are too far gone to save. Too ridiculously loving to not loathe himself every time he sends family onto the battlefield.

Too strong to let any of that stop him. Too kind to turn his back on those who are defenseless, who need his help.

Squalo gives up on cradling Tsunayoshi's hands. He sits down next to the kid, legs splayed out in front of him, and then hauls the kid (still just a kid, god, they are all so young) into his lap, back to chest. He wraps his arms around Tsunayoshi’s ribcage, as tight as he can without causing pain, tucking his chin over the kid’s head, and pours rain flames into his shaking frame.

The hyperventilating stops. The agony and self-hatred, so strong that Tsunayoshi's flames are radiating it into the air, do not.

His Sky's kid brother sobs into his neck, shakes apart in his arms, and all Squalo can feel is, in the back of his head, that fucking rage flaring back to life from dormancy.

_____________

In the end, it's like this. Squalo knows the Vongola Ring should have been Xanxus's.

Tsunayoshi gets it anyway.

And so Squalo never cuts his hair.

______________________________________________________

Edited 7/14/2023. Crossposted to AO3.

(AN from 7/13/2023): Authorial Disclaimer: Normally I don't post fic hot off the press but in my defense I didn't know this was going to be a fic. I just wanted to post an idea! It was going to be like. 1 paragraph! Max! I swear! ...So I'm posting my definitely-short-idea, because I planned on posting today, and I'll edit and revise and add it to ao3 later. Because that is a thing I am going to need to do now. Apparently. Later, after bedtime. Dang, but these plot bunnies are out of control...

[enullarts]

cn // tmpreg, birth, balder's gayte

fic about gale and astarion welcoming their daughter into the world. Gale is a trans man!

The latest addition of the Dekarios' line arrived one stormy and rainy night in the wizard of waterdeep's very own home. Not that this was planned of course, he had come up with a birth plan which involved a hospital, with healers at the ready considering his age and the babe being that of mixed origins.

However, the weather and the babe seemed to conspire against his own plans and just as he entered the transition stage the clouds went dark and a storm came down the likes of which the city had not seen in a while.

Gale groaned painfully as he leaned forward on his knuckles, his hips lifting and lowering, moving in a circular motion in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure off his pelvis. He had read all the books on pregnancy; human and elven. Even monsterous, just in case. But the practice differed greatly from theory he was beginning to find. His brow was damp with sweat and the small hairs that couldn't be slicked back clung to his forehead as he released a breath he hadn't known he had been holding and the pressure released. Though he knew it would only be a matter of minutes, maybe even less before it would return.

"Astarion?" He called out for his spouse, slowly moving himself into a more kneeling position and adjusting his robe. He was becoming quite agitated wearing this much while being so hot already. But he wanted to be dressed in case Astarion was successful in obtaining transport to the hospital. Honestly, he would Magick them a portal but the birth was taking up more energy than expected. Plus if he couldn't talk during a contraction he wouldn't be able to cast spells.

When he heard no reply to his call he inhaled a little deeper to call out louder this time. "Astarion!"

"I'm afraid Astarion is still out, mr. Dekarios. He is trying to track down a carriage to get you to the hospital." Tara fluttered down onto the bed next to Gale and gently bumped her head against his hip, purring gently. "Is there anything I can do?"

Gale couldn't help but chuckle, reaching out to scratch Tara gently under her chin like she prefered. "Dear Tara, I'm afraid my current condition cannot be helped by anyone but me and my husband." He bit his lower lip in thought, a hand going to his dissented abdomen, reaching down to the base of it and feeling the weight of the baby there. "Although I suppose, in the end it will mostly be me resolving thiiiIiahhhh...."

The wizard blew out the rest of that breath harshly before inhaling again hurriedly. The contractions were nearly on top of each other now and the pressure once again returned with a vengeance. He leaned forward onto his arms again, his rear lifting to rock in an attempt to alleviate the pain. Beside him, Tara lay down quietly, intelligently infering her friend needed quiet to concentrate on the task at hand.

Gale's vocalisations had become deeper and more intoning with each sound, his face burned from both effort and embarrassment from the noises he couldn't help but make in the face of these overwhelming sensations crashed through him. Finally the pressure peaked and-

Gale felt it before it was visible but his body quickly caught up, slowly but surely the bottoms of his brown pants turned dark with fluid and Gale roared through the last of the contraction. Without the bag of waters the pressure increased tenfold and along came a new, desperate sensation.

"Oh, Mystra guide my hand..." Gale sobbed, begged almost, as he pawed at his pants to undo them and get them off, but failing before the urge became too great and he grunted heavily as he gave his first real push.

A minute passed and when it did Gale quickly set about undoing his pants, a worried look meeting Tara's. "Tara, please, find Astarion... I, I think I'm pushing.. the baby is coming Now."

Tara's nose scrunched up as she peered out the window behind her friend, the weather was absolutely terrible, storm winds and rains but glancing back at her friend she shook her wings out with some concern. "Well... I do suppose this is the type of emergency one should be willing to get their feathers and fur wet for. ... I shall return soon, mr. Dekarios." She came up to him and bumped him once more for good luck, slow blinking at him lovingly. "You'll be alright, my dear. Your instincts are rarely wrong."

With that she sprung into action and left the bedroom, out the door and into the cold night to seek out the vampire who had bewitched her faithful companion and induced this state upon him.

it was a relief to know Tara would bring his husband back soon, but then came the realisation that he was now, truly, all by himself... and about to give birth to a baby. A pang of fear hit his chest, but he had no time to think more on it as his belly tightened once again and with a hiss the man bore down once again, a hand reaching down to cup his lips and check his progress. He didn't feel anything near his entrance yet, which made sense considering he just started pushing, but it still upset him somewhat. He wanted to meet his baby.

Another push followed, and another, and another.

Rolling waves of pressure crashed down over Gale like the wind gusts and rain upon the windows as if with each shove Gale gave internally the weather responded in time. Eventually, blessedly, he finally felt just the tiniest sliver of the head beginning to emerge from his folds, followed by a burning sensation.

"Oh, Gods, help me..." Gale whispered desperately as he attempted to pull himself together again after the last position change. His arms had gotten tired from holding up his weight so he now sat in a squat on the bed, propped up by the pillows. Tara had been gone for a while now and still hadn't returned with his husband, he was beginning to worry something had happened to them.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, the task at hand required a hundred percent of his attention and before he could really ruminate on it he was back to pushing.

"nnghhhhh.... gghhhahh.. oufhh.." He let out a deep breath before inhaling and bearing down once more, he could feel himself progress now, the baby's head stretching him further, the widest point was just coming up now. He just had to keep going.. "ngg- ah- AH!"

With a gasp the head emerged with a splash of fluid right into their father's waiting hand. Gale let his head fall back against the pillows and blinked away some tears, but other tears had already fallen as the oxytocin worked its way through his system. Relief, love, belonging, that was his baby that he was cradling in his hand. His heart swelled with excitement even if he was fearful of being alone while this was happening.

One more contraction came and went with little progress much to Gale's dismay, the shoulders where quite sharp and it was difficult to rotate the baby on his own even with two hands, he couldn't tell what he was doing. Tears of fear pricked at his eyss again.

"Come on, love ... please help, papa here... oughh..." His face scrunched up as he tried to give another shove, the shoulders moving forward slightly but always retreating again by the end. He was at his wits end. "Ooh.. oh... please.." His head rolled to one side as his eyes closed, attempting to rest. "Oh Gods, help me..."

A commotion of sounds came from the living room and Gale's eyes snapped open to the sight of an absolutely drenched and ravaged Astarion, holding an equally disheveled Tara. "Gods!" Astarion complained, throwing his hood off his head, his hair was soaked flat. "There are no carriages whatsoever. And the wind nearly blew Tara halfway across Waterdeep, I-"

The sight of his beloved whimpering, his eyes shut tight and in the middle of what appeared to be quite an intense push, baby's head out but the shoulders seemingly unwilling seemed to kill all other words of complaint Astarion had as he uncerimoneously dropped the thressym (who luckily always lands on her feet) and rushed to shrug off his outdoor cloak and gloves to place his hands over Gale's cupping their child. His voice shaking as he asked: "What can I do?"

Gale hissed, breathing through his current contraction rather than pushing as he had found the last few times unhelpful. 'H-help me turn them... shoulders..."

Astarion looked down at the little babe between his beloved's legs, noticing the little white hairs on their head and the floppy ears of a newborn elf, he couldn't help but marvel at it. But soon enough Gale's miserable groan brought him back to his senses and he cupped the baby's head gently with both his hands, reaching onto their little jaw and what was visible of their neck to have a firm hold and gently began rotating the baby's head when Gale gave a whimpering push.

Under Astarion's careful guidance (Bless Halsin for that), the shoulders finally rotated and freed themselves followed by the rest of the baby, right into Astarion's waiting hands. Marveling at the sight of her he quickly placed the new half-elfling against Gale's chest, still robed as he did not have the time nor mental capacity to disrobe during everything. The baby immediately letting out a loud wail. "Gods, Gale..."

Gale smiled at him tearily before looking down at the little elven girl. "She's perfect."

Outside the wizard tower in Waterdeep the storm had let up, giving way to a clear sky with a bright full moon.

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

COOKIE JAR!

when a new bakery opens up in your small town, both its indescribable pastries and michael kaiser, the ridiculously attractive patissier, become the talk of the town. you love chowing down on a little treat yourself, worn out from your responsibilities, although that comes at the cost of bravely fending off a certain lovestruck pastry chef...

gender neutral reader

content warning(s): patissier au

Life was all about balance. This was a lesson you learned very quickly once you entered the working world, the world of functional adults, the world of corporatism and responsibilities. You never had any real qualms with your job: it paid well, your work was never too much, and your coworkers were all pleasant.

But even then, it still meant that every night you clocked out of your office to go home, fatigue clung to your body in the same incessant way the bitter aftertaste of coffee clung to your mouth in the morning.

Life was truly about the silver lining. The details. The finer things in life. It was the reason why you focused so much on treating yourself for even the smallest things. In the great scheme of the universe and the inevitable march of time, the only thing that truly ever mattered was the joy you could wring out from your drab life.

And that was where Patisserie Munchen stepped into your life.

The newly built bakery had become the talk of the town overnight. You avoided the opening days for a while, knowing that the curious customers would overrun the bakery. You settled for your usual coffeeshop and treats, letting the initial huzzah of the shiny new patisserie wear off before you even stepped foot into it. 

But you still heard a lot about it. Your coworker gushed about how utterly delicious the pastries were, made with a skillfully trained hand that the knock offs at Starbucks simply couldn’t compare to! Even on your lunch breaks, you couldn’t help but peep the flyers boasting the pretty German bakery: a foreign delicacy that was unlike anything in your quaint middle-of-nowhere neighborhood.

What you overheard the most was not about the patisserie’s baked goods nor even the exoticness of it (or at the very least, the most exotic a goddamn German bakery could get), but it was about the owner and the man behind it all. 

The patissier himself. 

“Oh, he’s such a beaut!” Your coworker’s mother had bashfully admitted when you dropped by for dinner one day. “All the women in town are gushing about him! He’s so tall and handsome, with the most gorgeous German accent you’ve ever heard. He’s from Germany, you know. It wouldn’t hurt if a young thing like you were to catch his eye. I don’t think he’s that far off in age from you.”

Geh. You bit back a wave of disgust at the memory. That had been months ago, and your feet now instinctually led you in the direction of Patisserie Munchen the very instant you were done with your work for the day. The night sky hung heavy above you, and when you approached the small building, it was empty and illuminated like a lonely lighthouse in the distance.

And like you did every night, you braced yourself as you opened the door.

“Daaaaaaaaaarling!” A familiar voice broke your peace the moment you stepped into the patisserie. Red hot annoyance shot through your body. If only you weren’t so hooked on the delicious bread here, you would have abandoned this patisserie a long time ago.

“Don’t call me that,” you brusquely grunted. “People are going to think we’re dating.”

“Well, if that’s an issue, we can always start dating. That way it won’t bother you anymore, ja?”

You picked up a tray and a pair of tongs, deadpanning at the beautiful man. The only thing on your mind right now was stuffing some pastries in your face and filling up your very empty stomach before going home to unwind after a long work day. “Maybe in another life, Kaiser.”

Most of the bread boxes were empty at this point, which was customary practice. For a patisserie this high in demand, it was only natural that everything were to sell out before the end of the day. The only things that were left behind were some few straggling pieces of bread and the example cakes stacked high in the display shelves.

Which, also notably, besides a handful of birthday cakes and whatnot, were all stuffed to the brim with exquisitely decorated wedding cakes.

(You asked Ness, Kaiser’s assistant, about the cakes once. 

“You guys sure make a lot of wedding cakes,” you laughed weakly, eyeing the three-tiered cake in the display window. As much as you hated to admit it, it was beautiful. Captivating to the eye and alluring to the imagination, it was evident that a skilled hand had poured a lot of time and love into hand-frosting every laborious detail on the cake. “Is there a lot of weddings happening or something?”

Ness paused, and he thought for a second. “Not particularly. This place is a small town, so if there was a wedding taking place, I’m sure you would know.”

You tilted your head to the side. “Huh. Then is this just for show?”

“In a way.” Ness boasted endlessly about the rigorous schooling Kaiser had gone through. He had graduated as a prodigy from one of the most prestigious baking schools in Germany, and finessed work like this was his specialty. Ness droned on and on about how Kaiser was nothing like those amateur pastry chefs who could only churn out average cakes and that his boss was truly like an emperor in the kitchen, commanding ingredients to become his subjects and crafting them into the stronghold that he envisioned.

You stood there listening to him go on and on, not necessarily having the heart to cut him off. “T-That’s fantastic, Ness!”

“As for the wedding cakes…,” the young man had hummed. He grinned at you sweetly. “Consider it a kind of subliminal messaging of sorts?”

And that was when you knew you needed Kaiser dead expeditiously.)

“Here, darling.” Kaiser gestured for you to come closer to the counter. You eyed him suspiciously until he reached down and brought forth an already prepared tray, stuffed to the heavens with all sorts of different breads and pastries. 

Some were filled with jam and cream, others decorated with generous helpings of cheese and veggies… Just looking at them made your mouth water. You couldn’t tear your eyes away, and Kaiser grinned proudly when he noticed you making a beeline for them.

“I set some aside just for my favorite patron,” he sang, watching you pick out the ones you wanted. “I wasn’t sure which ones you’d want, so I saved a little bit of everything for you. Aren’t I so sweet and kind and perfect husband material?”

You stopped for a moment to glare at him. 

You hated how right the gossip was. You couldn’t deny the fact that Kaiser had a horrible personality: conceited, arrogant, downright rude at times. But he was gorgeous, breathtaking just like his handmade cakes. With hair the same color as silken-spun gold and eyes as blue and refreshing as a sunny day sky, Kaiser was truly like a breath of fresh air in the drab monotone of the corporate life that had a chokehold on you. Even the way he was dressed, with a small apron tied around his waist and a white shirt slightly unbuttoned at the top of his chest, was nothing like the colorless business casual that dragged on your eyes daily.

You refused to give into his antics. “How much do I owe you for the bread?”

He winked seductively. “I could give it to you for free in exchange for a kiss.”

This bastard…! You gritted your teeth as heat unconsciously flooded your face, and you pouted as you did your best to keep your cool. You dug around in your pocket to bring out your wallet, and you wiggled in exaggeratedly in his face.

“I’m paying with this. With money,” you stressed. Kaiser shrugged, refusing to let go of the playfulness in his expression. He rang you up, lovingly placing all the bread inside a pretty little bag, complete with a blue ribbon and a small blue rose sticker that complemented the tattoo tracing up his arm and neck.

“For someone who claims to hate me so much, you still visit me everyday,” he added on, handing the bag to you. Your stomach turned at the sickly sweet tinge in his voice, and he leaned over the counter again, posing himself perfectly so that you could catch a generous glimpse of his toned chest and muscled arms. He had bragged to you once about how it was all natural muscle made from years and years of kneading dough. “It almost makes you look like you’re in love with me.”

You almost dropped the bag.

What audacity! What depravity! What indolence!

“Of all the things, you could accuse me for,” you took a deep breath and shook your head, “Falling in love with you is definitely not one of them. As if anyone could fall for someone as annoying as you!”

He shrugged cheekily, his golden hair tumbling over his shoulders. “I don’t know. I’d say I’m pretty popular around these bits. You’ve seen my admirers. I’d say you’re a pretty lucky one, to have a man as in-demand as me chasing after you. C’mon, darling…”

He batted his eyes up at you. Again, your body crawled with a sick mixture of both disgust and desire at the sight. You hated him, and you hated how attractive he was. You hated his stupidly lowered sexy eyes, and you hated the apple-like flush of his milky skin. You hated the cherry-pink color of his lips, and you hated the way his body made your heart jump up to your throat whenever he moved the slightest bit.

No. No—you had to keep your calm! You couldn’t give in, couldn’t let him win so easily. You were a rational person, and it was this level-headedness of yours that had gotten you this far in your adult life. 

“If your bread wasn’t so goddamn delicious,” you muttered, swallowing thickly, “I would have found another bakery to go to. I’ll admit that you’re this skilled. More than anywhere else by a long shot. But don’t delude yourself! If it weren’t for your bread, I would never come here!”

Kaiser hummed at your declaration, and he pinched a lock of his hair in between his fingers, absentmindedly twirling it around his knuckles. You watched with your heart bundling up into a quivering stack of nerves as a coy smile bloomed across his lips, and he laughed at you with a voice so sweet that you could only describe it as angelic.

“Well, darling, if it’s my bread you like so much…,” he chuckled, shaking his head at you as if he was chastising a young child rather than making coherent conversation with a fully grown adult customer. “We really should get married!”

“HUH????????”

“It’s not that difficult to follow, don’t you think?” He gleefully explained. “If we get married, I’ll bake bread for you every day! I’ll feed you a delicious breakfast and package up a pretty lunch for you to take to your cute day job, and when you come home, I’ll welcome you in my arms with a feast fit for a beautiful monarch! That way you get to eat my bread to your heart’s content, and I can quit coveting you and take you up as my beloved darling that I’ll dote over for the rest of my life!”

You gawked at him. “You’re- You’re insane…!”

“All great things come from a bout of madness, sweet love,” he giggled. “Mull it over while you go home, okay? You’re going to come back to buy more bread tomorrow, aren’t you? Oh, don’t make that face—I know you will. I’ll ask you every day until you say yes! And then we can be the happiest couple ever!”

You turned on your heel, unable to stop your heart from pounding wildly against your chest or your face from flushing and heating up uncontrollably at Kaiser’s shameless courtship. “G-Goodnight, Kaiser…! I’m going home!”

He wiggled his fingers at you in a mocking goodbye, smiling all-too-knowingly to himself. “Goodnight, my future love! I’ll bake lots more delicious bread for you tomorrow as well~”

x