#had the worst new years and then ate some chips to feel better

[isa-ah]

i regularly have nightmares about it too. trying to shop but i can’t read the allergy info so i just stay hungry the whole dream looking. being fed something then going wait did that have wheat or eggs in it? the panic and trying to make myself dream barf before it hits. getting chewed out or outright ignored asking staff allergen questions while trying to eat out on a time crunch. i have them a couple times a week & they all end with me being so so hungry and upset LOL

[maconthepen]

What a bagel taught me about how to live.

There's a small grocery shop at the end of my street.

When I say small, I mean tiny. In fact, I often avoid it on Saturdays. Not being the smallest person in stature, I tend to get stuck awkwardly on boxes of fruit the owners haven't unpacked. All would be forgiven and fine if not for the withering stares of the designer activewear crowd who, like circling sharks, single me out as Not One of Their Own. Saturdays just aren't made for that kind of negativity, so I tend to make myself scarce.

But the staff in the shop are lovely and they pride themselves on stocking the best baked goods in the area. Specifically, their bagels. It's no word of a lie. Those bagels stand tall and proud, whether they're plain, poppyseed, sesame, or blueberry. If a food had a sixth sense that it was about to be bought and devoured, these bagels would have it. If I were to get hopelessly anthropomorphic about it, I'd say they exuded smugness. I can't blame them. Were I that perfectly formed, I'd be smug too.

The kicker is that they aren't stocked every day, and today I really, really wanted one. I wanted to pile it high with cream cheese and salmon and to garnish it with care, like it came from a cafe. The idea fixated itself as soon as I was awake, and I couldn't stop thinking about it.

The grocery shop was bagel-less.

Instead, trying to delude myself into believing I could salvage the situation, I went to my local chain supermarket and bought a subpar pack. Little did I know how subpar they would be. My lunch in the picture above looks amazing — and its toppings were exceptional — but underneath was a blasphemous affair. These were the worst bagels I'd bought in my life. They were small and dense and probably overbaked, and I missed the high, chewy, pillowy goodness of the ones from down the street.

Make no mistake: I ate, and I was grateful for the food, but this exceedingly ordinary experience taught me a lesson I've been halfway to learning in the past few weeks:

Everything has its season.

I'm still learning to go with those seasons. A long bout of depression has meant that, for months, I haven't been especially keen on leaving the house. I've delegated all grocery shops to delivery services from major supermarkets, and when the fresh produce that arrived in stiff paper bags seemed bland and tasteless, I assumed it was the fault of my taste buds.

Little did I know, until I started on antidepressants and began going to counselling again, how fine a thing it was to wander out into the world — to the market, the park, the small grocery shop down the street — and really see what was there. To smell the in-season fruit. To taste air that wasn't stale. To buy bagels one day and almond croissants the next, because that's what the world is offering up, and it was finite, so I'd best enjoy it while it lasts. I've been cooking with the weather again, taking care to make soup on cold days and face-meltingly spicy, fresh salads when the sun is out.

I've been caring for myself better, but I have also been caring more about the world. In doing so, the world and I feel back in sync. The people in it feel closer. About a week ago, buoyed by all the new conversations I've been having with people, I realised that I didn't know the name of the man who owned the grocery shop along the street. For years, surrounded by a fog of my own brain's making, I hadn't asked.

It turned out his name was Dan. He asked mine in return, and I told him.

"You're lucky this morning," he said, smiling his usual warm and genuine smile. "That's the last of the sesame ones."

Then, as I was leaving the shop, he called: "Oh, I nearly forgot! You're a Swans fan, aren't you? Good luck today."

Bewildered, I turned back around to face him. It was footie finals season. I wasn't wearing my team's scarf, but I had been some months ago when I dropped in for a packet of chips on the way to the game. I'd been in and out of the shop in thirty seconds, but Dan remembered the scarf all the same.

I felt the hot sting of guilt return. I couldn't believe I'd never asked his name.

But then I recalled a visit on a freezing June day. Dan, nameless back then, had been rubbing his hands together near a small space heater under the counter. He'd been wearing a black and white hat.

I ventured, "We might be playing the 'pies next week. Here's to both our teams making it through."

He nodded. "Sounds like the perfect occasion for a loaded bagel and a beer."

It was a Saturday. I wish I could say the activewear crowd parted like the red sea, but they just looked on, as impatient as ever as I left through the shop's sliding door. The sun was out. It was a beautiful day — the kind that still felt like a novelty after a long winter — and I realised I didn't give a shit what anyone thought of me. I had Dan's name and his bagels, and my life was in a season of joy.

[sydthetiel]

Update Time!

I'm not completely out of the woods yet, but some serious burdens/guilt have been lifted.

Family friend came again today, brought me another grocery order, which has a new can opener (this one better fucking work) and some more cold foods to last the week and stuff. Eggs, salad, etc. I can feel a little better about what I'm putting into my body besides canned crap, without having to spend hours to make it.

She helped me get a huge chunk done of what all those aides were supposed to do with me. We went through foods and organized, cleaned my "ration rack" (which is, as it sounds, a rack which holds the rations for days I can't get out of bed. Chips, crackers, croissants, poptarts, cookies, etc. All the snackies, and some extra drinks, so I no longer have to sleep with all of them.) Ahhh wonderful. It's also out of my path now for trying to get to my office where Syd is currently located. No more squeezing and side stepping. Mentally, that's a load off. Clutter and mess trigger my OCD bad enough to hit me real hard with depression and hopelessness. It's the biggest reason why hoarder Rex is so bad for me.

Syd's new water bowl came. As expected, it was too big to fit in such a tiny hospital cage. It was a two person job to take the top off and install it, and it takes up so very much of the cage. I held Syd, while friend put the top of the cage back on. The sight was so fucking depressing. Friend says to me "I'm gonna buy her a bigger cage." And of course, cages are expensive, so I told her that, and explained this one is so small because it's literally all I could afford, and I feel like the worst dad ever for it. And of course, at this point, we're both crying, because my baby girl deserves better than a tiny fucking cramped piece of shit where she can't even spread her fucking wings, but it's impossible to bring her home cage into my office. It ain't gettin' up the stairs, or through the doorways. Dear fucking gods, no. Friend insists, "We're gonna order a cage today, on your phone, before we leave." And she did. It'll be here in roughly a week. It should (better) be big enough, and it's quite lovely. It has a stand, so I can store her food and all that, and will make an exceptional hospital cage, where Bean can flap and be happy and well cared for. I am in fucking tears. Her gofundme is still up, for vet stuff, but this is fucking HUGE for us! She also said she'll take us to the vet for another Lupron injection, since Syd's horny again, and said she'd pay for the shot!! <333

Between sobbing about trying to figure out how to pay for van repairs, a new hot water heater, and a new furnace, and a shut off notice for the electric because once again Rex didn't pay it, not having to worry about shelling out an extra $100 or so on a hormone injection is just... such a fucking weight lifted.

On top of that, Daddy's getting some needs met, too now! She assembled my shoe rack! No more bending or tripping over all my shoes! They're right there! Aaaand I finally have my new massager. It's been sitting in a fucking filthy box for like two years, and she helped me get it clean, so now I have that. As soon as I got situated in bed tonight, I tried it out. The pleasure screams I felt as it massaged the knots out of my agonizing back and shoulders is just... oh gods. Probably sounded like a whole ass orgy up in here. Actual goddamn pain relief! PAIN RELIEF!!!!!!

I ate twice today, and finally had some decent hydration, too. Huge boost. I no longer detest the idea of my chicken and gravy tray. Meal plan for tomorrow!

Sunday, she's coming back, and we're gonna tackle some more stuff. I can't fucking wait. I mean, I would really love a weekend with my girlfriend, and some rest, but also, just... a clean environment is so fucking good for my mental health. And it makes me happy that they'll take all the outdated foods I won't eat, so I don't have to feel like a douchebag for wasting it and throwing it out. They're happy to eat it, and I feel like I can give something back for all the help, while also clearing out all the space.

We got a game plan for downstairs, and will start making dents in that.

But honestly... This huge chunk done today is... the kind of support I needed to feel like I might actually survive? I mean... it's still grim. The debts, the bills, the taxes not being paid. The gofundme is still just as fucking urgent as ever in order to not go homeless. In order to get heat and hot water and transportation back. But I don't feel quite as stranded and alone.

We most definitely still need like $2,000 for the van repairs, and $3,000 for the water heater and furnace, and uh... like $6,000 for the backed taxes and another $5,000 for this year's taxes.

But I don't have to cry about not being able to give Syd a better cage, or Lupron, and I have some better access for my own self care. Pain relief is so wonderful. Especially when healthcare providers are failing me so miserably.

Gofund.me ($5 min donation according to their standards) Other options (as much or as little as you can spare <3): Ven.mo: @rroche90 Pay.pal: Rory Roche (Can't miss my portrait of Dean Winchester!)

[wavyhairedbabyy]

Idiots - Part 1

Karl Jacobs x gn!reader

tldr: They’ve both got a crush. Sucks, since they’re the only ones oblivious to it. (Slow Burn!)

CW: some swearing(not at each other), fluffy as a teddy bear.

a/n: I got a random influx of followers ;-; Tysm for enjoying my works and sharing them. I haven’t written in 6 years, in case it wasn’t obvious lmao, so even one is super meaningful to me :) this ended up being way longer than I intended it to be so I’m splitting it into 2 parts. 

edited yet: yes - let me know if I missed anything!

Part 1 - Part 2

Y/n and Karl met when Karl was still going to college in New York before dropping things to move to North Carolina. They met the fall of their sophomore year at the campus café when Karl was trying to shoot a piece of paper into a trash can. The problem was he couldn’t aim and it landed right in y/n’s mug of coffee, quickly dissolving into a paper coffee soup. For anyone else it would’ve been okay but being that coffee was y/n’s life line, especially during finals, it most definitely was not.

“You’re buying me another, right?” they asked, “I would highly recommend it or you might see a side of me you don’t want to see.”

Being the good guy he was, and the slight fear of their bad side, he did with no questions.

“So, since there’s a side of you I don’t want to see, and I bought you a new coffee, do I get to see the side of you that I do want to see?”

“Find me next semester and you might.”

And he did.

***

“Karl, if you don’t give me that sword, I’m going to hurt you!” Y/n screamed as they lunged toward him. It was y/n, Karl, and Chris hanging out at Karl’s place until it was time to leave for a Mr. Beast project. They sat in his living room, Karl with a foam sword that y/n was desperate to take from him.

“That’s the problem! If I give it to you, you will hurt me with it!” He yelled back, jumping out of their reach.

“Okay children, why don’t I just take the sword so we can end all of this?” Chris intervened in an attempt to stop the ruckus.

Both of them paused, looking at him in disbelief. They shook their head and in unison scoffed, “No!”

The two continued their play fighting, one holding on to the sword for a short period of time before the other pulled it from their grasp. This went on until it was time to leave the house.

While this was all going down, Chris watched Karl’s behavior. He noticed how he let y/n hold on to the sword a little longer, even when he could’ve easily reached out to grab it from their hands. He noticed how he was much more careful with his movements, almost scared to be too rough with them.

With anyone else, Chris knew Karl’s pride would have taken over in this situation. He thought back to any other time he had any of his SMP friends over. With Nick or Alex, he would have hogged the sword and brutally whacked either of them with it as much as he could. He would happily tacked them and pinned them to the ground. With y/n though... there was a gentleness with them, and Chris did not fail on picking that up.

“Okay lame-os, let’s get on over to the warehouse. Y/n, you coming?” Chris asked.

Y/n shook their head, “Nah. I’m gonna unpack my stuff and relax from the flight. Plus, word on the street says that tomorrow is when the cool stuff is happening so I’ll come then.” they replied.

“Well the street is right, but they’re still a dummy,” Chris looked at Karl for reference.

“Hey...” Karl faked a sad look before staring at y/n for defense.

Y/n giggle and just shrugged, waving goodbye to the both of them, “If you don’t bring me back Burger King fries, don’t bother coming back at all!”

***

Chris and Karl sat in the car, Chris driving and Karl in the passenger seat. With some music on in the background, the two were discussing the plan of action for what was going to be filmed for the day.

“Do you know how long it’s going to take?” Karl asked, “I feel bad leaving y/n by themselves so I want to try to get out as early as humanly possible.”

“I’m not really sure. I’m sure Jimmy wouldn’t mind you scootin’ out a little early,” Chris replied. He took the opportunity and leaned over to his friend, “Speakin’ of y/n, anything going on there? Y’know, anything special?”

“Uhh- whaddya mean special?” Karl haphazardly, “We’re best friends. I think that’s pretty special.”

“No, idiot. I mean is there anything there besides just being best friends,” Chris paused for a second, “I dunno. I just noticed you’re different with them, man. You know you would never treat Nick or Alex the way you treated them.”

Karl paused, trying to think of a response but failing. He sighed, “Yeah, there’s definitely something there on my end. I mean, I’ve been attracted to them since we first met. I just don’t think they reciprocate it.”

“You never know if you don’t try. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“I’d rather not think about it,” Karl sunk into his seat, thinking of all the bad endings that could happen if he told y/n his feelings.

***

Meanwhile this was happening, y/n was making themselves comfortable in Karl’s guest room. They planned on staying for a week and a half which meant packing a month’s worth of clothes. Before starting to unpack their things into the dresser, they FaceTimed their other best friend that was back in New York to keep them company.

“You’re calling me now? Your flight landed 4 hours ago! I was sure you crashed in the middle of the ocean - gone like that Malaysia flight,” y/bff answered.

“Hi to you too,” y/n responded as they started to place their clothes in the closet, “ You are so dramatic. My flight didn’t even go over the ocean. And don’t act like you weren’t tracking my flight. You knew damn well I was fine.”

“All this worrying and caring, and this is how I’m being treated?” Y/bff shook their head as the wiped their fake tears away “The disrespect.”

“Pft, the only disrespect I’m seeing here is the lack of questions about my day,” y/n said, “I had a great flight. I got those yummy blue chips and had a nice drive from the airport in a Tesla.”

Y/bff gasped, “What kind of Uber driver is driving around a Tesla? We need more of those people up here.”

“Dude, it was Karl,” y/n replied, “I was shocked. Last time I saw this kid he was driving a hunk of junk. One year down here and he’s driving around like he’s Elon Musk.”

“Well, I’ll tell you this now. If you don’t cuff him, I will!” Their laugh echoed through the phone

Y/n rolled their eyes, “Oh please, if he doesn’t like me like that then you’re in no good luck.”

“So you told him then?”

“No, not yet,” y/n paused, “I dunno. We’ve been friends for 3, almost 4, years now. If he liked me, he would’ve said something by now. Plus we live so far away from each other now. I just don’t wanna ruin a good thing, y’know?”

“Well, I still say do it. You can tell him and spend your life in peace knowing his answer, or keep it to you yourself and spend the rest of your life wondering ‘what if?’ And I’ll tell you now, the latter always ends with regret. With the first answer, you’ll at least have a chance of a happy ending.”

Y/n shrugged, putting away the last piece of clothing from their luggage, “I know, I know. I’ll think about it. Thanks for the chat, but I’m gonna go relax now before he gets back. I love and miss you already.”

They exchanged their goodbyes and hung up. Y/n flattened their luggage and slid it under the bed. Moving back to the dresser, they found some comfortable clothes to change into after a shower.

Y/n knew y/bff was right. They just couldn’t bring themselves to share their feelings. What if Karl didn’t feel the same way? Would it ruin their friendship? Would this be the last time they ever saw each other? No, y/n knew it wouldn’t end their friendship, but it would make it awkward for a little while. They moved to the bathroom. Maybe a shower would help them compose their thoughts.

***

“I’m back!” Karl shouted as he kicked the door shut behind him. The project took a few hours so the sun had set and nighttime was settling itself in North Carolina. There was no response. Karl continued, “And I have Burger King fries!”

“You should’ve started out with that! Coming!” Y/n yelled from down the hall. Karl rolled his eyes and walked over to the living room table. He started making room for the food when he heard fast footsteps coming toward him.

“Incoming!” Y/n yelled, tackling him to the floor with a hug. They were giggling as if they just pulled the best prank in the world.

“Hi to you too,” he groaned from his body hitting the floor. Y/n continued to chuckle as they got up, grabbing Karl’s hand to help him up too. They sat on the couch, looking at the food in front of them.

“A whole whopper meal? What did I do to get the honors, Mr. Jacobs?” Y/n remarked in a posh accent, popping a fry into their mouth.

“You existed,” Karl giggled out. Y/n smiled, but the butterflies in their stomach couldn’t feign their excitement. It was small shit like that that made y/n fall for Karl. He continued, “Plus I didn’t know if you ate or not so I thought better safer than sorry.”

“Aw, you’re the sweetest,” they gave him a tight hug before returning to the spot they were in on the couch, “So, what’s the plan, Stan?”

“I’m kind of tired from filming, I hope you don’t mind-”

“Actually, I completely mind” y/n replied sarcastically. Karl shook his head at them.

“So, I was thinking we could just watch a movie or watch a show,”

“Ah yes, head empty activities. I’m down. Can we watch a movie though? Not in the mood for a show right now,” y/n replied.

“Sure let’s scroll through and find something,” Karl switched on the TV and the two munched on their food while they decided what they were going to watch. After 20 minutes of scrolling, which really was 20 minutes of fighting over who had better taste in movies, they finally agreed on Wall-E.

Before the movie started, y/n looked over to Karl. Their hands were in the shape of finger guns, pointed to each other and the tips of their index fingers touching. They had a pout on their face when they asked, “Can we cuddle while we watch?”

“No,” Karl shook his head quickly, keeping a stoic, straight face. Y/n’s pout got bigger. He continued, “I absolutely hate physical touch.”

They both immediately broke out into giggles, y/n grabbing the nearest pillow and smacking him with it, “You are so lame.”

Karl continued with his fit of giggle, “The day I say that and mean it is the day hell freezes over.”

As the intro to the movie played, the two came closer, y/n’s legs tangling up with Karl’s. When they finished up their food, they moved closer with Karl’s arm around y/n’s shoulders and their head laying on his chest.

Y/n gave a playful scoff, reminiscing on their past memories together, “This reminds me of the time we had a Disney movie marathon before spring break.”

Karl laughed, “Yeah, and you made my old roommate cry beforehand because he wasn’t doing his dishes all semester.”

“In my defense, I gave him warnings. He didn’t wanna listen and there’s no way I was letting you live in a house with a sink full of fruit flies.”

“I’m not sure if you did that for me or because you practically lived with us.”

“Don’t get it mixed up, pretty boy. That was for you.” Karl smiled at those words, looking down at the person laying on their chest. He wanted to believe there was more than friendship behind those words. The warm feeling he would always get with them filled his chest as he turned his focus back to the movie.

“I really missed you.” He whispered.

“I really missed you too.”

***

Part 2

[sjhanny2000]

Secrets Worth Sharing

A/N: Hey y'all! This is my first Naruto fanfic, which I've also posted on Archive of Our Own. Please be kind and enjoy!

Warning(s): Minor character death, angst, hurt/comfort, intersex characters, arranged marriage, talks/thoughts about abortion/miscarriage

~~~~

Tobirama Senju was a man of many secrets. Well, more like a man that highly values his own privacy and is not as open as other individuals (like his easy-trusting older brother for example). He was not given the privilege of being open with his truths and feelings, having been groomed from birth to be a heartless shinobi who did not allow his emotions to interfere with his performance. His father had been harsh with these facts whilst training and out on the battlefield, blunt and uncaring that Tobirama and his brothers were children and children had no place amongst the battlefield and shouldn’t be expected to take a life without a bat of an eye. Kawarama had only been seven when he was ripped away from this world, so young and full of life, and it had taken everything in Tobirama’s small, lanky eleven pre-pubescent form to not break down much like his elder brother had, to feel such unbridled emotion his surviving otouto had felt. Itama’s death only a year later (sweet, innocent, and healing Itama) wrung him dry of tears, of allowing himself to be so vulnerable when it came to loss because to die ‘in battle was honorable’, at least that’s what their father had said as dirt was piled atop of his otouto’s grave to the right of Kawarama’s. He fought with every fiber of his being to protect what little family he had left, taking hits meant for Hashirama and saving Toka from debilitating blows, creating new jutsus, and putting the needs and feelings of others before his own because he wasn’t supposed to feel, shinobi don’t feel-.

Then, as he stood dutifully beside his anija opposite the Uchiha heirs amongst their fellow clansmen, Tobirama couldn’t help but feel. Moments before he had nearly stolen the life of one Izuna Uchiha and as adrenaline and tension crossed through his ever lanky yet muscular form, the conversation mingling between the opposing clans made his heart thumped against his chest as the two clan heads agreed to peace. Hope fluttered dangerously in his chest as his wine colored orbs searched Madara’s half hidden profile, gazing at those pools of obsidian with caution and reluctance whilst trying to determine whether the Uchiha was speaking truth when he offered his hand in establishing between through blood soaked clans. The time following the mutual surrender of the Senju and Uchiha, of Hashirama and Madara finally obtaining the means of support to create the peace they had dreamed of from a young age as they were forced to bury clansmen and young brothers, was a whirlwind of events, filled with peace talks, negotiations, and making sure his anija did not make a fool of himself. He waited for the other shoe to drop as each party laid out the final agreements, for this foolish dream of peace between the two rivals to come to an end before he began to believe it was true, and much to his surprise and his other clansmen (including his far too optimistic elder brother), the Uchiha set a requirement for concession.

“A Senju heir must marry one of ours, as a show of mutual acceptance of these peace agreements and in means of acquiring extra security for our clan.”

By the time this peace talks came to be, Hashirama and Mito had been married for nearly a year already and with the eldest Senju heir already taken and the other two dead and gone, the responsibility of establishing peace, in ending the unnecessary bloodshed between their respective clans, to honor the unneeded deaths of Itama and Kawarama, fell onto Tobirama’s shoulders. Being placed in such a position with no means of escape or replacement had been both suffocating and frustrating but he knew better than to reject the frail olive branch the Uchiha had set before them. Hashirama had tried to reason with Madara, (“Madara, is this really necessary-?”), and before the Uchiha clan head could even think of a response, Tobirama calmly sealed his fate.

“We agree to the terms you lay before us.”

His readied agreeance shocked not only his brother and cousin but floored the Uchiha delegation, particularly one Madara Uchiha who stared at him like he had grown a second head. Many deemed him one of the greatest haters of the Uchiha, having seen his treatment towards the rival clan on and off the battlefield, but Tobirama truly had no firm and enduring hate and ill-will towards the fire natured shinobi. Yes, he felt hate towards the Uchiha that had slaughtered his brothers but it was not directed towards the entirety of the Uchiha; they had been at war and a shinobi did whatever it took to survive or gain an upper hand, even if it meant killing the innocent. He found himself wondering what Kawarama and Itama would be like as he stood there with determination, arms crossed over his chest with finality. Would they be upset at seeing him agree to practically give himself away as a bargaining chip as a means to obtaining peace? Would they beg for there to be another way, to demand the Uchiha change their mind? Sadly, he would never know and that piece of knowing reality only strengthened his resolve.

Hashirama, placed between a rock and a hard place, conceded to giving away his only living brother away as a means of finally having peace and Tobirama watched as dread and reluctance colored his anija’s tar colored eyes. The plans of this arranged marriage were set and Tobirama found himself coming to look eye to eye with his promised husband and obsidian orbs subtly clashed with his pools of merlot, an unspoken bond now tying them together forever. Upon arriving back at the Senju compound, Tobirama found himself subjected to a nearly hysterical Hashirama, his elder brother demanding why, why had Tobirama agreed to such demands, there had to be another way-! Toka, while significantly more in control of her emotions, had similar demands, her main emotions having been anger and frustration (“There is only enough room for one idiot in this family, little cousin, and Hashirama already has that role covered!”) and after dealing with a depressed Hashirama, Tobirama did his best to soothe his cousin's worries. The only calm and rational person aside from Tobirama himself was Mito, his well-collected and commanding sister-in-law swiftly jumping in and knocking some sense into her blubbering husband and seething cousin-in-law and if she told him that she questioned his intelligence as they parted ways for the night, only the gods and the chirping crickets would know.

With the negotiations finished and the bed made and laid in by both parties, the construction of Hashirama and Madara’s dream village began and with it began his forced courtship with the Uchiha clan head. Hashirama, in an attempt to be intimidating, threatened the apathetic Uchiha with bodily harm if he ever came to harm his “precious otouto”, those his threats fell short for numerous reasons, the largest being that the peace treaty prohibited any violence occurring between the clans. Tobirama was swift in reminding his anija of this fact. Madara and his courtship began with a rocky start, as many arranged marriages do (Hashirama and Mito’s being the rare exception), and the need to be open emotionally, to not hide his emotions and to be the mind and voice of reason always was a difficult task. His betrothed also struggled with this reality, to be vulnerable in a world that ate such an open state with murderous glee, and arguments were had and feelings accidentally stepped on. Two emotionally stunted men together was a recipe for disaster and many watched them with bated breaths, for their engagement to fall apart, for the cautious hopes for peace to shatter into millions of pieces before their very eyes. The weight to succeed weighed heavy on Tobirama’s shoulders and as he stood in the middle of Madara and Izuna’s backyard amidst another argument with Madara, copious amounts of rain hailing from above without restraint as frustration and confusion tormented his soul, it finally forced him to collapse. He shouted at the Uchiha standing a mere few feet away from him under the roof of the engawa, tears racing down his marked face as he shouted himself hoarse, one of the worst storms in the region's history unfolding around them. Madara watched him with irritation, a well-made mask of indifference sitting upon his stoic visage, and as Tobirama finally gave up, when he threw the towel in and allow himself to be vulnerable for the first time in years, the Uchiha’s rough lips were suddenly on his own and suddenly his surroundings, his worries, his fears were gone and replaced with warm comfort.

Their relationship became one of truth and openness from that moment forward, the two of them doing their best to establish a balance between themselves, and unknowingly fell in love along the way. By the time the primary building of Konoha had been completed and their wedding date arrived, Tobirama could confidently (and quite fondly, though no one needed to know this at the time) state that he loved Madara Uchiha. As they exchanged their vows before the clans of the village, with Izuna smirking that ugly smirk of his and Hashirama in tears as his poor wife comforted the weeping fool (“He is taking Tobi away from me Mito!”, “Tobirama is not yours beloved, he is a grown man.”) Tobirama gazed at his husband to be with honest hope and heated cheeks. His heart sweetly ached at hearing Madara say “I do”, at knowing without a doubt in his mind that he was now Madara’s and Madara was his, that he had someone in which he could wholly confide his secrets and feelings in, and Tobirama knew he had been blessed well the moment their lips joined, sealing their marital union as those around them cheered and sobbed in the case of his anija. Their marriage, while lovely, of course experienced its own bumps here and there, particularly on matters of legislation and equality within the village, but Tobirama wouldn’t trade it away for the world because a world without Madara at his side was not worth living in.

Yet, as he stared at the white stick resting within his shaking hands, Tobirama feared that the world they had made was going to shatter at any second. Two lines of crimson glared at him with undenying truth, the feeling of an extra, new source of chakra nestled within his own person only confirming the results within his grasp. He had been born as an anomaly not only in appearance but in anatomicalities as well; the midwife had nearly passed out when she caught sight of not only albinism but his newborn self having both male and female genitalia and his father’s reaction hadn’t been much kinder. Few people knew of his condition and those who did typically accepted him no matter his abnormalities, Madara being no exception to that, and as he found himself happily married and being tasked with teaching the up and coming generation, the Senju found the yearning to have children of his own grow with each hair ruffle.

Tobirama knew the likelihood of someone with his condition, rare as it was, being able to carry a child let only father one and had unhappily accepted that he would never be able to have a child of both his and Madara’s making. With this truth in mind, the two of them still practiced safe sex and were content with the moments of parenthood being a mentor allowed them, never feeling compelled to strive for anything more; well, at least, Madara hadn’t shown any interest of having children of their own. Even with their vigilance and cautiousness, they ended slipping up here and there, having drunk too much sake or simply enjoyed feeling one another intimately, flesh to flesh, and now here Tobirama was, standing alone in their shared bathroom, two seconds from imploding as he internally panicked. How could this have happened? They had been so careful! What was Madara going to think?!

Silent, unshed tears threatened to fall down his pale features, the gravity of the situation at hand weighing down on him without any restraint. Madara and he were busy with their village and clan duties, with Tobirama being the advisor to his idiot brother who had been elected hokage somehow, along with being the Uchiha matriarch, and Madara acting as his other advisor and clan head. They had already been married for two years and were financially and emotionally stable as two shinobi could be and would have no trouble affording the costs that came along with having a child. No, Tobirama worried over whether this pregnancy was even viable and if Madara would want the child growing within him. The two of them were happy and content with their childless life, what if Madara only wanted that? He couldn’t give up his child so easily, the chance of having one in itself was a miracle, but he could never imagine living a life without his dark haired Uchiha. This secret was going to be the literal death of him.

*Knock knock*

Soft knocks from the bathroom doorway ripped Tobirama away from his heavy thoughts, the Senju hurried tucking the test into the pocket of his training pants, calling out swiftly, “Enter!”

He was thoroughly relieved when the calm personage of his sister-in-law appeared in the doorway, a look of caution and soft worry conflicting with her beautiful features as she stepped forward, sliding the door closed behind her.

Comforting pools of inky black washed over his form, the Uzumaki princess coming to kneel beside him, “No one saw me enter. It is just us.”

Relief flooded his system once more, a shaky sigh escaping the albino as he ran a hand through his hair for probably the millionth time in that hour alone, “Thank the gods.”

“If I may ask, what is this sudden need for secrecy Tobirama,” Mito questioned calmly, gazing at him with searching eyes. “Has something happened?”

Here goes nothing…

Slowly retrieving the test hidden within his pants pocket, Tobirama shakily deposited it into his sister-in-law’s hands, and if the situation had been different, Tobirama would have revelled in being able to shake Mito into a state of shock as she was now.

The Uzumaki’s now avid attention shifted from the positive pregnancy test to Tobirama, the redhead murmuring with caution, “Are you certain?”

He gave her a weak nod, his nerves growing with each second. “I can sense another source of chakra developing within me. Its size fits with the time frame of the last time Madara and I slept together without protection eight weeks ago.”

“Does Madara know of this,” Mito replied, face growing stoic once more. His lack of an answer had his brother’s wife sighing, placing the test back within Tobirama’s grip, “I see. I figure this pregnancy was neither planned nor expected.”

Tobirama did his best to reign in his fluctuating emotions, the sensor squeezing his eyes shut, “I presumed having a child of our own would never be a reality, considering our circumstances. We have never discussed having children, Mito; what if he does not want to be a father? I-I cannot just dispose of it.”

Mito shifted her form, a comforting hand coming to rest on his shoulder, “While I cannot speak entirely on your husband’s behalf, Tobirama, I know I can say that he would be over the moon to hear you are with child. Madara treasures the clan children, why would he not adore having his own?”

Both he and Madara treasured the children within the Uchiha clan, spending large amounts of time assisting fellow clan members by babysitting their spawn or teaching them various jutsus. Tobirama had often found himself imagining the dark haired children that often swarmed his husband were their children, excited to see their father after a long day. A reality he never thought possible until now.

Pools of wine, shakened with doubt and worry, came to fall upon Mito’s face of comfort and dignity, “How do I even go about telling him? What if he assumes the child is not his?”

She squeezed his shoulder in reassurance, voice smooth as water and warm as midday sun, “He would have to be stupider than he is now to conclude the child within you is the product of adulterous actions, brother. You simply need to be honest with him, just as you always have been; keeping this secret will only complicate things more.”

“Tobirama, I’m home!”

No, no, no, he wasn’t ready, he-!

It was only Mito’s touch that kept Tobirama grounded in that moment of panic, the Uzumaki stating with confidence, “Some things cannot be kept secret Tobirama. Tell him.”

“Tobirama? Is everything alright -?”

Madara’s familiar figure appeared in the bathroom doorway, the Uchiha’s already concerned face only intensifying as he stopped mid sentence, coming to kneel beside Tobirama with worry, “What has happened?”

Standing to her feet with grace, whilst knocking the pregnancy test out of view, Mito greeted the Uchiha clan head with a small smile, “Nothing that will not right itself in time, my friend. Now please excuse me, I promised my husband of mine that I would have his favorite dish prepared for him before he returns.”

Her gaze shifted to Tobirama with skillful ease, stating calmly, “Have faith Tobirama, all will be well.”

With that, the Uzumaki was gone, and the two men were left to themselves, an awkward silence quickly enveloping their persons due to her absence.

It was Madara who spoke first, the Uchiha taking Tobirama’s bare hand in his gloved one, “Are you alright Tobirama?”

Was he alright? He was eight weeks pregnant with a child he was not even sure had been possible until his discovery, one he was not certain that his husband would want. The Senju had numerous duties to fulfill not just as the advisor to the Hokage and as clan matriarch but also as a sensei to his students; he would not be able to assist them in learning for the following months until the child’s subsequent arrival.

Tobirama swallowed the fear attempting to slither up his throat, hand tightening around Madara’s, “Promise me that you will listen to what I have to say before releasing your judgement Madara.”

“What is going? Tobirama-!”

Steeling himself, Tobirama gave his husband a stern glare, “Promise me.”

Madara shifted uneasily in his position beside Tobirama, answering reluctantly, “I promise to listen.”

An agitated sigh left the sensor, Tobirama doing his best to gather his thoughts, “As you know, I have been experiencing fatigue and bouts of sickness these past few weeks. To better understand the reasons behind my condition, I conducted various tests on myself and whilst running these tests, came across a foreign entity within myself.”

His husband stiffened and moved to speak but Tobirama cut him off before a sound could escape him, “Worried that it was unnatural, I began to run more in depth tests to better understand the origin of this foreign entity.”

“In the end, with my symptoms in mind, I conducted a final test to confirm my suspicions. The results have me anxious about your reaction, because it is something I did not think possible of occurring.”

The clan head gazed at him with wariness, fear present in those beautiful pools of midnight black that Tobirama loves to peer into for hours on end, but Madara’s voice is strong with determination, “Whatever it is Tobirama, we will face it together! Hell, that idiot brother of yours will do everything in his power to fix it!”

A frown formed on Tobirama’s face, the sensor retorting quietly, “This is not something that can be healed Madara-.”

“It cannot hurt to at least try,” Madara shouted, his other hand coming to cup Tobirama’s left cheek. “I refuse to let you die laying down you foolish Senju-!”

Chuckling wetly, tears of anxiety and cautious joy blurred his vision, “I am not dying you Uchiha idiot.”

Confliction of relief and confusion waged on Madara’s personage, “You are not? But you said it was unfixable-!”

Tobirama was quick to cut him off, giving the fiery man a firm look, “If you had let me finish before rudely interrupting me, I was going to tell you that the condition I am in cannot be healed but it will fix itself on its own in seven months time you blockhead!”

Black eyes searched his person, clearly scrambling for answers, and the albino groaned in annoyance, “I swear, you can be as dense as my brother at times! I am trying to tell you that I am pregnant, you imbecile!”

Oh kami, what had he done?

Madara froze in his spot beside Tobirama, staring at him with undetectable emotion, and the sensor instantly was sent into a panic at his reaction, “I know we have never officially discussed having children and I know having a child right now while the village is still so young and with us being so busy is not logical but I want to have this child and I will raise it with or without your approval-!”

Rough lips smothering his own cut him off mid-rant, fiery passion burning brightly in the act of intimacy as his husband’s other hand came to cup his right cheek, and after a few moments of quiet, Madara pulled away, joy shining brightly in his tear-blurred eyes, “How could you ever think that I would not want to have a child with the man I love?”

With that, Tobirama fell apart, silent tears rolling down his cheeks as he timidly replied, “A normal man could never do this.“

“Who said I wanted a normal man,” Madara firmly questioned, eyes stern and passionate. “I married a man who is a genius shinobi in his own right, who also happens to have a condition that has gifted us with a chance to have a child of our own flesh when so many others couples dream of such an opportunity!”

“You are not upset,” Tobirama whispered cautiously.

Madara gave him a shining smile and kissed him once more, tears of his own running down his face as his right hand came to rest on the albino’s flat stomach, “I could never be upset over something like this Tobirama. A child is a gift from the gods; I only pray it has your beautiful mind.”

The Senju stifled a sob at the Uchiha’s confession and Madara rested his forehead against Tobirama’s, allowing him to give his husband soft, comforting kisses.

After a few moments, Tobirama was able to reign himself in, giving Madara a small grin, “Hashirama and Izuna are going to be complete nightmares once they learn I am expecting.”

Scoffing, Madara pulled away, though he didn’t move his hand resting on Tobirama’s abdomen, “Those two buffoons are already nightmares in general. All hell will break loose once they hear they will be receiving a niece or nephew within the year.”

A comfortable silence filled the area for a few minutes before Tobirama spoke once more, “I asked that we do not let anyone know of the baby until at least the twelfth week mark, Mito aside of course; I do not want to get anyone excited in case I happen to miscarry.”

“You are not going to miscarry anything,” Madara stated confidently, moving Tobirama to rest his back against his chest whilst other hand came to join his right one. “But I understand your reasoning and agree to wait until you are ready to share this news.”

Tobirama turned his head to look at his husband, murmuring lovingly, “Thank you Madara.”

His husband pecked his lips, replying fondly, “Anything for you, my husband.”

Some secrets were better worth sharing after all.

[adorethedistance]

The Best-Worst Day - Roommates!Owen and Charlie x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: Depressive episode

Words: 1194

Summary: Bad days are manageable when Charlie and Owen are the best roommates a girl could ask for.

Today has been quite possibly the worst day I’ve had this year. It all started when I woke up. I was still alive much to my dismay, but not only was I alive, I was exhausted. It wasn’t the good kind of exhausted either like when you stay up too late binging a new show or talking to a friend. No, I got the same amount of sleep as always and just woke up tired.

Since my classes don’t require cameras on, I did everything in bed, sad and cold and stressed at the workload. After my classes, I was still too restless and empty to do anything so I laid in bed and watched Kurtis Conner become a magician because that’s a great fucking video. It didn’t make me feel better like I thought it would, so I ventured up to the kitchen for a fresh bottle of water and some chips because I ate the last of my lunch for the week yesterday.

Returning to bed, I watched Trixie get ready for the Streamy’s but accidentally fell asleep for two hours, so now I’m behind on homework. Depression naps are a temporary cure and a long term stimulant, so I’m caught in the middle of minor relief and major self-sabotage. Following my accidental nap, I recalled my mother’s philosophy that water fixes a lot of things, and opted for a warm bath. It wasn’t until I was settled in the suds with shampoo in my hair, that I finally didn’t feel hollow. A mountain of tears flooded my eyes, and I began to sob. Silently crying into my hands, I felt crazy. If someone asked me why I was crying, I wouldn’t even be able to tell them. I don’t know why I’m heaving.

Crying always makes me exhausted and dehydrated but I can’t be bothered to solve either of those problems at the moment. Once I dried myself off, I got dressed in my favorite pair of leggings, fuzzy socks, and a pink sweater that I’ve had since high school. The pop of color in my outfit inaccurately reflects my mood and I think about laughing at the irony.

Then I figure I should probably eat something other than chips today, and I went upstairs to make ravioli, knowing the guys would be home at any moment.

Living with Owen and Charlie is an adventure of its own. They give the best serotonin boosts by being crackheads, but on days of depressive episodes they’re not always the most observant. I hope today they’re tired from filming and I can take a backseat in the energy department.

“Y/n!! Does Harry Styles not have four nipples?”

“That’s insane, Owen. That’s not a real thing, tell him that’s not a real thing,” Charlie hollers from the entrance where the two of them are removing their shoes via my permanent request. I sigh out a last breath to conceal at least some of my bad mood before they stampede into the kitchen.

“Literally just google a picture of him shirtless you’ll see for yourself! Right, Y/n?” I nod as a reply to Owen’s question before straining the pot of ravioli. My nonverbal reply clues the two of them in, and the volume level drops vastly lower than it was before.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?” I croak out less smoothly than I would’ve desired. When I set the pot back on the stove I look up to catch Owen and Charlie exchanging a peculiar look. “What?”

“Have you been crying?” Charlie asks as he stands in front of me. I simply nod, not trusting my voice to hold up again. I don’t feel like answering questions or conversation right now, but I know these two aren’t the type to leave things alone. Pouring the ravioli into three different bowls, I pray they don’t comment on the fact that their bowls are fuller than mine. I don’t wanna explain that I’m forcing myself to eat anything at all today.

It’s only been four months of living together, but Owen and Charlie can tell when I’m having these kinds of days. I don’t know why I insist on trying to hide it from them. Peering over the countertop, Owen clocks I’m wearing my comfort socks and knows exactly what kind of day I’ve had.

“Hey…” Owen beckons me closer and I let him pull me into a hug. Charlie joins in, cuddling me between the two of them. I feel myself trying not to cry and failing. Failing miserably. I got my big cry out earlier and softly weep into the comfort of my friends. It is so exhausting to be alive and it is just so exhausting to be mentally ill. I haven’t cut myself some slack in so long that I’ve burned out to a crisp.

“You want to talk about it?” I shake my head ‘no’ at Charlie’s question because I know I have nothing to say.

“Are you actually hungry?” I nod ‘no’ once more, sniffling away the last of my tears. Brushing a tired hand down the back of my head, Owen practically peels me off of him to tell me he and Charlie will eat all the ravioli in a record time. The thought places the smallest smile on my lips, and Charlie says to go grab my favorite blanket and curl up in his bed. Charlie has the biggest bed since he got the biggest room and as a result we use it for movie nights when I feel like this. It’s better than our tiny couch on days like this.

After a few minutes of waiting and praying that the commotion upstairs didn’t result in them breaking anything, I see Charlie enter and begin to change into pajamas. Owen has already done the same and plops next to me on the bed.

“Which comfort movie are we watching today?”

“I wanna watch High School Musical.”

“This isn’t about you, Charlie!” Owen fake yells. As Charlie slips a t-shirt over his head, he jumps onto the bed, tackling Owen in the process, smothering him next to me.

“Stop it, both of you! We’re watching Newsies... You idiots.” Charlie stops suffocating Owen via my request, and settles into the left side of the bed placing me between the two of them. The sound of the overture music prompts me to lay my head on Charlie’s shoulder after taking Owen’s right hand in both of mine.

By the start of “That’s Rich” I feel my eyes begin to droop after fighting it for so long. I’m bordering unconsciousness when I feel Charlie’s soft breathing dust the surface of my face.

“Is she asleep?” I hear him whisper to Owen.

“Yeah.”

“Can we watch High School Musical now?”

“What if she wakes up?”

“We can change it back if she wants.”

“...Okay. Can we watch the second one?”

“I wanted to watch the first one.”

“But the second one is so good!”

“We should ask Y/n which one is better.”

“You want to wake her up to ask which movie we should turn on instead of the one she picked out?”

“...Yes?”

***

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[write-out-hysteria]

Care

Matsukawa x gn reader fluff

Author’s Note: This is sort of a prequel to my first fic? It’s a lot longer though and uh, tw disordered eating maybe

For as long as Issei had worked this job, he had been an early riser. He rose before the sun, sitting down on the edge of the bed while you lay fast asleep. He stretched and popped and cracked instinctively before getting up to brush his teeth. He’d walk, eyes still half closed, to his ‘home gym,’ or the space in the guest bedroom he had converted, knowing full well you wanted it in the garage. ‘It’s too spooky in there in the morning,’ he’d laugh, both of you knowing he just wanted to work out in the air conditioned room.

He’d finish off with yoga and meditation, centering his mind, body, and spirit, before hopping into the warm shower. He’d always leave the bathroom door open in case you woke up, ready to goofily tease you before you even remembered where you were.

“You like what you see, baby?” He’d wink, holding his Discobolus pose as you shook your head.

“Put some clothes on, Zeus,” you rolled back over but soon heard footsteps approaching.

“I’m offended that you’d compare me to the most promiscuous man on Mt. Olympus,” he kneeled next to the bed, grabbing your chin in his hand. “I’d prefer to be Perseus, and have my Andromeda ruling at my side.”

“It’s too early,” you dragged out the syllables as Issei rested his hand on your hip beneath the covers.

“What do you want for breakfast, sweetie? I can make pancakes,” he pressed a kiss to your hand resting on the pillow. You nodded, pulling the blanket back over your shoulders.

“I’m sure Perseus wore pants.” He rose, grabbing a pair of cobalt blue boxer briefs from the shared dresser.

“I’m sure Andromeda made the pancakes.”

Your arms found their way around Issei’s firm torso while he flipped each finished pancake on either of the two plates on the counter. He had a system, every other pancake was chocolate chip, “maybe you’ll be sweeter to me if I give you sugar,” he’d always say. The plain ones were for him, though he would spread peanut butter over them anyway. He’d learned that from you the first time he had made you pancakes, the first time you had spent the night in his arms.

“Do you want anything else, angel?” You shook your head against his back. He carefully turned around, handing you your plate. “I’m surprised you’re up so early,” he laughed.

“It was cold last night, had you brought out the winter blankets like I asked, I probably wouldn’t be.” You had made your way to the stool at the counter by now, cutting into your pancakes eagerly. It was his turn to hold you now, nuzzling his face into your neck after leaving a soft kiss on your jaw.

“Just say you missed me, baby. That’s okay, too.”

“Do you want to meet at that ramen place for lunch?” Issei was getting ready for his break, awaiting your text response. He was going to go anyway, he hadn’t packed any food. He just wouldn’t mind picking you up on his way.

“I can’t, I have a lunch meeting.” He frowned, those usually meant the worst for you.

“Do you want me to drop something off for you?”

“I’m not hungry,” he rolled his eyes before putting his phone back in his pocket, walking calmly down the street.

He had been battling your loss of appetite due to stress for the entirety of your relationship without much luck. He had never been one to push, but sometimes the only food he could assure you ate was breakfast. He had only gotten you to eat breakfast by making dinner early, leaving you starving by morning. It was only on bad days, it’s like your body would forget. Sometimes you noticed, but were afraid of getting sick if you ate something when you had already felt “full.”

He ate his ramen, debating bringing some back for dinner. There had been weeks where you ate the equivalent of one large meal a day. Every ‘not hungry’ made him fear a week like that, making food that you’d barely touch and praying you’d take it to work with you tomorrow so you wouldn’t wither away. His only solution up to this point was eating, and reminding you that normally this is when you’d eat too. Using your love for routine against you was his only hope, and it hadn’t been working as well as he wanted.

He could tell you felt bad about not eating, that you felt bad about worrying him. What else were you supposed to do if you simply weren’t hungry? Force feeding only made you feel inadequate, you felt full after half a sandwich or a few bites of pasta. The thought of eating a full protein made you sick. At your lowest points you’d start crying while watching tv with him, watching him snack on something you couldn’t bare the thought of consuming. ‘Issei, what’s wrong with me?’ He never knew what to say. When you got stressed your body simply refused fuel, and that worried him.

“How was work, angel?” His job had given him the ability to appear entirely composed regardless of the environment. You could never tell if he was stressed unless he dropped the facade and told you. When it was about you, he’d never tell you. When it was about you, though, you could tell. Issei was always caring. If he could tell you were in distress he’d pull out all the stops. He’d light lavender candles, he’d cook, he’d clean the counter. He wouldn’t complain if you wanted to watch something he didn’t, he wasn’t planning on taking his attention off of your subtle emotional responses.

“It was okay,” you lied. He already knew it wasn’t, but you didn’t want to talk about it. He always got home before you did, he didn’t have nearly as many responsibilities as you did. His work didn’t change, yours did. New projects meant new worries and new responsibilities.

“I’m almost done making dinner,” you had dropped your things by the door as soon as you stepped inside, making your way towards the man slaving over a pot of chicken soup. “I took the winter blankets out, I thought this might help warm you up.” You snaked your arms around his waist, hiding your face into his back as it warmed up, holding the tears welling up in your eyes. You could eat a little bit of soup, just a little bit, if it would make him feel better.

“Thank you,” you let out a deep sigh into his back. “I’m gonna shower.” He was already in his ‘pajamas.’ Issei ran too hot to sleep in anything but underwear, but enjoyed lounging around the house in your oversized Batman pants. You’d offered to buy him his own so you could match, but he said it wouldn’t be the same.

You both sunk onto the couch, searching for something comforting to watch. Maybe a disney movie, or something else you’d seen a million times. “You know how I played volleyball in high school?”

“Yeah, why?” You hadn’t forgotten. He even taught you how to play so your beach trips would be more fun.

“After practice Makki and I would compete to see who could make the better protein shake. I always won.” You laughed, probably way too much.

“You’re bragging to me about protein shakes you made 10 years ago?”

“What? They were good! Have some faith in me,” the movie kept playing, he tightened his grip around your waist. “I have no clue how I’d drink one everyday, though. If I had one now I’d probably puke. Oh, the joys of youth,” he laughed.

“Are you still hungry or something?” He wasn’t, his teenage athlete appetite had gone away as he aged.

“I was thinking about dessert.”

“I’ve had your protein shakes, I wouldn’t consider them a sweet treat.” He gasped, feigning offense.

“You know how much I hate protein powder, you think I was downing that everyday in high school?” You looked at him confused. His current protein shakes weren’t bad, for a protein shake at least. “It’s an acquired taste, and I still hold my nose and chug it.”You laughed at one of your favorite Matsukawa quirks.

“So why'd you stop making them taste good?”

“I was too broke in college to buy all that ice cream.”

“Ice cream? For protein shakes?” He rolled his eyes before pausing the movie.

“I’m gonna make you one, you’re underestimating my 17 year old metabolism.” He stood up, gesturing that you stay put. Issei was having another chaotic urge, apparently.

You turned on the couch, facing the kitchen instead of the tv. He began pulling every sugary food out of the pantry and fridge. Every flavor of ice cream, cookies, granola bars, peanut butter, anything and everything sweet. “You’re using all of that?” He nodded, haphazardly throwing everything in the blender followed by some milk, chocolate syrup, and two scoops of his protein powder. This really was a chaotic recipe, straight from the mind of a gross teenaged boy.

He came back to the couch with glasses for each of them, they looked like they had been filled with a child’s birthday cake puke. “Drink it, I promise it’s good! It’s so you can’t taste the protein powder.” It probably just tastes like chocolate and peanut butter, but you were still hesitant to drink it. “I promise, the team always liked mine better than Makki's.”

You held the glass up to your mouth, slowly drinking it, widening your eyes when you realized how good it actually was. You understood now. Your 26 year old bodies would cease to function if you had these everyday. You couldn’t pull the glass away until you were done.

“Yeah, I definitely didn’t think it’d be that good.” You laughed, wiping your upper lip.

“You couldn’t taste the protein powder right?” You nodded, watching him sip slowly on his, as his face suddenly scrunched up. “You know, I ate a lot at dinner. I probably shouldn’t drink the rest of this. You want it?” You shrugged, taking the glass out of his hand, drinking the rest like you hadn’t eaten anything all day. Oh wait, he thought. You haven’t for 14 hours. Oh wait, he thought, this is it. This was the solution to his biggest worry. A hidden reset button, your sweet tooth.

[korissideblog]

ᴴᵉʸ i already apologized to Dante, but I guess I also have to apologize to y’all. So… once again, sorry I did a kick flip so sick it made the tag ill. I’ll be sure to think of you all when I’m living a solitary life as a hermit in the forest who’s mistaken for the ghost of a witch.

uuummmmmmI also finished the jetsam fic last night 👉��� so here you go bestys <3

@jetsam-kisa

Jetsam knew getting into some sort of activity with Aito would be a mistake. Usually the little creature was up to something malicious, and even if you couldn’t figure it out immediately, at some point something would take a sharp right turn and now she’s tricked you into being his accomplice for whatever his next cruel joke is. Aito hasn’t revealed what this trick will be, but it definitely terrifies him considering that they’re in the kitchen.

“It’s just that Mich’ gave me such a pretty skirt yesterday.” Aito had explained, her wiry tail wagging from side to side. “And both Ikuto and Haru said I should say thank you with a little gift in return!”

And so Jetsam (foolishly) agreed to help Aito make cookies. Aito had found the recipe and ingredients, all she needed help with was execution. Jetsam wasn’t sure if he was stressed about how little he could vet the ingredients, or if he was relieved because he was helping with so little- he couldn’t possibly get in trouble for just making cookies right? Right???

“So we have flour, baking soda… salt right here…” Jetsam mumbled, his usual plumes of smoke going up and dissipating into the air as he read off what ingredients they would need and making sure Aito got the right stuff. Aito sat on the counter nearby, watching Jetsam sort everything out silently. After making sure everything was in place, Jetsam gave Aito the thumbs up and Aito hopped off the counter to come help. “Could you preheat the oven-” Jetsam immediately recognized the fault in leaving Aito alone with a heat source and took it back “ah, no, lemme get the oven, you can start mixing th-” nope! Aito would probably be worse if he was left unsupervised with ingredients that someone would be eating, and took that back as well. “Ok then… I’ll preheat the oven, you can just… just stand there for a second.” he finally settled on, stepping away and quickly setting the oven before looking back to check on Aito and-

And she didn’t seem to be doing much. Just kinda standing around, scrolling through the phone that they were using to look at the instructions. Seeing as it was Aito’s phone, Jetsam didn’t see any reason to panic as he returned to Aito’s side. “Next we have to mix the flour, baking soda, and salt.” Aito said, scrolling up and down the instructional website in boredom. “Sounds easy, lemme get the thingies.” by ‘thingies’ Aito apparently meant measuring tools, and (with a nervous Jetsam’s supervision) measured out the dry ingredients and put them into a bowl.

“Have you started on the report for history?” Jetsam asked, starting to mix the wet ingredients together with a handheld mixer- much too afraid of something motorized being in Aito’s hands to let her help. “I know what I wanna write about, I just haven’t started.”

“Yeah, Haru made me start before we left class.” Aito responded vaguely, strangely not taking the opportunity to lightheartedly complain about her friend.“It's lame, but I’m halfway done.” she shrugged, hopping onto the counter and watching like a cat on a windowsill, her tail even swaying side to side as she watched the ingredients mix. “Now we add the chocolate, right?”

“Roawr”

“Meow?” Aito perked up and looked to the floor of the kitchen, Jetsam not far behind as Aito jumped down from the counter to greet their new guest. “Oh! Look who’s here Jetsam!” Aito smiled, picking up a small black kitten who had wandered into the kitchen. “Oh wait, You’ve never met little Jiji, have you?”

“No?” Jetsam said, not wanting to get in trouble for being seen with a pet in the dorms but… but it was just the smallest little kitten he’s ever seen! And Aito was just bringing him to him! “H-hello there sweetheart.” Jetsam hummed, carefully putting his hand out for the kitten to sniff as he realized that the kitten didn’t seem to have eyes- a terrifying realization when in relation to Aito “Can he see anything?”

“No, I think it was a birth thing though.” Aito said, petting the kitten fondly before putting him down again. “He needs to walk around a bit, get a feel for the space.” she explained as the kitten stood still for a second before realizing that Aito wasn’t going to pick him up again and running off to go explore. If Jiji ran into a few walls, Aito ignored the sound, and so did Jetsam. “I think he got out through my vent, I'll have to close it next time.” Aito shrugged, finding the bag of chocolate chips and opening it.

“Why was the vent open in the first place?” Jetsam asked, worried about Aito’s answer, but deciding that it would be worse not to know.

“Sometimes Haru locks his door so he can destress.” Aito said, pouring the chips into one of the measuring cups. “I need to be able to stop that as quickly as humanly possible.” he explained, not going into detail as Jetsam nodded, not wanting any more details. Aito poured the chips into the mix and let Jetsam mix it for her, again taking her place on the counter to watch.

“You named the cat after the Jiji sticker on my wallet?” Jetsam asked, suddenly realizing how quiet Aito was being (at least compared to the insane amount of talking she normally did) and wanting him to talk again.

“Mhm.” Aito responded, watching the dough spin around in the bowl

“It’s from a show you know.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I could show you it some time.”

“I’d like that.”

Jetsam could taste the silence in the room as he put the mixer down. He thought he was scared of an over excited Aito, but a deathly silent one was twice as agonizing. He let Aito get the sheet pan and spray it down, but decided to let her play with a small portion of the dough as he quickly divided the rest into even little balls, all spread across the sheet, with a small space for Aito’s.

When he looked up to the girl on the counter, she had her back turned to him as she messed with the dough. Aito felt eyes on his back and looked up, noticing that Jetsam was finished, and held up the plate she was working on.

The cookie dough was formed into a crude little heart shape, rough around the edges, and still needing some work. “It looks good, Aito-kun.” Jetsam said, not sure how well it would turn out in the oven, but also not willing to put Aito down when she looked so contemplative. She turned around and put the plate back down on the counter, as if to let Jetsam see what she was doing.

“You know they found a body…” Aito said, barely above a whisper as she carefully formed the dough “on an Arabian Peninsula…” Jetsam felt his heart beat quicken with nervousness as he tried to hide the larger clouds of smoke billowing from his mouth. “It was an archeological dig and… they think she’s 4000 years old- the bones that is- she was… they think she was 18 when she died.” Good lord- Aito-kun always tells her stories in the worst way possible. “I’m writing my history report on her. Her bones were all messed up- way too thin for her to do much. She was severely disabled and would have needed around the clock care… but… but they also saw that she had… she had a lot of cavities, and her teeth were falling out and it didn’t make sense till…” Aito paused momentarily, as if trying to remember what his hands were doing before he continued the story. “till they realized that she… she just ate too many dates.” He giggled, sharpening the bottom of the heart as best as he could. “They just loved her so much… they loved her to death.” Aito paused again, looking over his handiwork and immediately started poking it again, less out of a want to shape it, and more out of a need to do something with his hands. “They always say survival of the fittest and- and I think they’re right!” He said, her voice rising a bit in volume. “Humanity’s made it this far because we found out that what makes us fit for survival is love and compassion and empathy and community and- and…” Aito just stood there, collecting her thoughts as he tapped a rhythm on the center of the cookie, as if trying to make it beat on its own. “And I like things better when they’re heart shaped.” She finally finished, still tapping the dough, but calming down a bit. “Can we… um”

“We can make them all heartshaped, if you want.” Jetsam offered, pointing to the rest of the cookies. Aito simply nodded and finally removed her hands from the dough, frowning a bit at the messy edges, but not willing to reshape it as she moved it from the plate to sheet pan.

Jetsam showed Aito how to make the dough into a shape that would actually end up as a heart after the oven, and together they finished the sheet, Jetsam slipping in into the oven and turning back to face Aito. Aito still looked tentative, swinging his legs over the side of the counter, but a bit more confident than before. “You said you still needed to start on your report?” Aito asked, and Jetsam nodded. Aito hopped down from the counter. “I’ll be back.”

Jetsam followed Aito to the door of the kitchen, but stayed put as Aito continued down the hall to the dorm rooms. Aito returned a bit later with a paper, pencil, copy of their history book, and a cozy looking blanket. “You should start now. I need a nap.” Aito said shortly, turning away from the kitchen and into the common room. Aito laid Jetsam’s supplies on the adjacent coffee table and let him sit down before wrapping herself in the blanket and laying her head across his lap.

“Is this my copy of the textbook?” Jetsam asked, recognizing some of the graffiti across the well used pages. “This was in my dorm room.”

“Mhm.” Aito hummed, looking over the pages as well.

“My dorm was locked?”

“Yeah,” Aito chuckled, sitting up a bit to explain himself. “But all the doors kinda suck. If you know what you’re doing, you can get into any dorm you want without a key.” He said, flipping a few pages and ignoring the nervousness on Jetsam’s face. “Your door in particular is a bit harder though, if it’s any comfort. You have to point the handle perfectly vertical and knee it really hard. Easy once you get used to it, but I don’t exactly go around telling people these things.” He mumbled, tossing his arms over Jetsam’s legs and resting his head on his arms.

“Thanks?” Jetsam shrugged, mildly uncomfortable with the fact that Aito could just break into his room whenever… maybe he should invest in a deadbolt…

“But what do you plan on writing your report on?” Aito asked, closing his eyes and very clearly not planning to listen to Jetsam’s report. So Jetsam gave a quick summary of his ideas till he was sure that Aito was out cold (luckily she fell asleep quickly) and continued working on his report in silence till the alarm on Aito’s phone went off.

Aito immediately jumped awake at the noise, but grumbled and complained as he turned the alarm off. Aito yawned like a cat and stepped over the couch like it was nothing- and seeing how often she disregarded the proper use of furniture, she probably saw it as such. Jetsam was still sorting his supplies, as well as his (mostly finished!) report when he heard Aito mumble something along the lines of “oh I hate this part” and the sound of running water. Jetsam immediately sprung to the kitchen, only barely making it to the door before Aito reached into the oven with his BARE HANDS and pulled the pan out, before throwing it on the counter and immediately putting her hands into the sink, under the running water. “I hate this I hate ovens I hate heat I hate-“ Aito rambled on and on about hating this and that about the stupid decision he just made, leaving Jetsam in completely stunned confusion.

“Why didn’t you just??? Use the mits???” Jetsam howled, running over to inspect Aito’s reddened hands.

“Mitts? You use those for cold things?” Aito asked, as if Jetsam was the moron here.

“You… they’re called oven mitts, Aito-kun!” Aito started at Jetsam, as if finally putting something together

“Oh…”

“Oh…?”

“Oven mitts are kitchen gloves.” Aito hummed, turning the water off and reaching into the drawer that the mitts were kept in, wincing a bit as his still red hands made contact.

“What?”

“Yeah ah… mama calls them kitchen gloves and… and ours are made of cloth.” Aito explained, pulling out the silicone glove. “I thought… you know, I thought these were two different things.”

And suddenly Jetsam understood why that prehistoric 18 year old was so important. Everyone will always not know something, it’s inevitable. Maybe it was something stupid like what oven mitts were, or something less stupid like living. Nobody knows anything. One day fire may burn cold, or the sun just not rise, or our blood may not pump… and all we could do is be kind, and caring, and compassionate.

“We have to take the cookies off the sheet.” Jetsam advised, patting Aito’s shoulder as she returned the mitt to it’s drawer. “They’ll keep baking if we don’t get them on a cooling rack.”

And so, in a more comfortable silence then before, Jetsam and Aito moved the cookies to the rack, pausing only at the last one, the one Aito had made first. Jetsam was right, the shape didn’t survive too well in the oven, the tops of the heart looking more like a single hill and the bottom having lost it’s point, and yet Aito moved it without hesitation onto the rack.

“I like it.” He said softly, making sure it fit onto the rack with all the rest. “It’s a little messed up, but it’s still heart shaped.”

[aggresivelyfriendly]

‘Tis the Damn Season- Chapter 7 Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)

Author’s Note- anybody still with me? If not, totally understand. This one is self edited- sorry I’m advance. Reblogs are still and always love!

“Are you sure I can't convince you to come home this Christmas?" Her mother's voice had just a tinge of loneliness, but Emma was set and certain.

"I think I would really like to have a Scandi Christmas this year mum! And I think the best present you could give me is to come and do it with me!"

They'd had this conversation eleventy million times. Emma knew her mum was doing so much better, and that her being in Holmes Chapel, even alone, would be ok, she'd be ok. Emma just knew they'd have so much fun in her newly reclaimed life abroad fusing old traditions with the ones they would make. Her mum was just resistant, she loved her home, was a certified home body, and now that it didn't hurt quite so bad, she loved the reminders of all the Christmases before. She was bathing in nostalgia with a smile on her face and a sweet ache inside.

Emma didn't feel the same. She'd had a fair few wonderful holidays in Holmes Chapel, but to many revolved around Harry Styles, and well, Emma's life did not revolve around Harry. Had never and didn't even have the axis centered around December 26 for a once a year moment any more.

She'd just really gotten back into her own life. Well, Emma patted herself on the back, she'd been living her way for 8 months now, that was almost as long as the 9 months she'd stayed in Holmes Chapel.

When her mother had assured her she was well enough that Emma could go to Iceland, the thought of ice capped fjords in summer thrilled her as though she was climbing them, not just studying them.

So she did.

She felt so much better, and her mother was better and she'd climbed to the top of her trail back to her own life, the one she'd made out of choice and ambition and only been sorry for in brief, lonely morning afters.

Emma wanted to share her life with her mother more than anything, certainly more than she wanted to spend a holiday in a place she now almost entirely associated with hurt. Heartache takes many forms, deep and abiding grief, the kind like she imagines phantom limbs give amputees years on. It also can hurt like a quick sharp mishap, a slip of the knife, full of crimson pain and stitches.

She'd had both together and then his deep cut on top of the other last Christmas. The wound was too fresh to go back at the moment. The good memories were still colored crimson. She needed to wait until her lover's memory flashed with true colors instead of red or blue. Her father's memory was cozier and longer, it was wrapped around the warm pink of her mother, but even it was still too tender.

She needed time.

Emma also had no idea where Harry was these days. She'd cut off all methods of inquiry.  She wasn't staying up late googling even, ever, not anything. Not his naked or Camille's. They'd be going on well into their second trip round the sun by now. Probably more deeply in love than he openly confessed to her. Emma didn't need evidence of it. It just opened the stitches she'd sewn herself.

So, no Holmes Chapel, no Google alerts or text messages. She'd blocked his number.

"Well, I suppose if you insist, we can try Amsterdam for Christmas." Her mother covered the sigh at the end of that sentence and Emma appreciated it. She suppressed a wry smile. Her mother could also still hear it in her reply she was sure.

"Oh mum! You won't regret it. It will be so lovely! I can't wait. I'll meet you at the airport, then we will go to my favorite cafe and take a snow walk. It will be picturesque. You'll fall in love, you'll see."

"Alright, darling. I'll give it a chance. I just hate to miss Anne's party two years in a row." Emma cringed and was happy this was not a video chat. She almost gasped and blew her cover when her mum said. "Won't you miss Anne's party? You're close with Gemma, and" she breathed while her mother hesitated, "and Harry?"

God, did everyone know?

"It'll be fine mum. I'll call Gemma. She'll understand."

She would, after they'd had that conversation the last time they'd spoken.

Gem had not really cornered her so much as insisted they get out of the house as often as possible from the day after Boxing Day until she'd left to head back to London.

She, the lovely friend that she was, didn't actually bring it up until she was back for Mother's Day. And she waited until Emma told her she was headed back to her program in the fall with a twinkle in her eyes even Emma knew had been long gone for too long.

Ever the blunt one, Gemma didn't even cozy up to the subject, "so did you break his heart or did he break yours?" She took a big sip of her cider and leveled her state over the rim at Emma.

Emma could feel her face blanching or heating or giving some indication who's heart was broken. Her elegant side step to that mine field was, "huh?" Then a moment later. "Who are you talking about?" To Gemma's patient silence.

"Alright, if that's how you want to be." Gemma playfully rolled her eyes. "You and my brother are not stealth, at all. You would make eyes at each other all night at my mum's and then disappear for the same amount of time. Remember I live with him."

"Do not." Emma didn't bother to deny it.

"I suppose not really, but as much as any one "lives"with him, I do over Christmas, and did for most of my life. I know when he's smitten with someone, and when he's got them around his little finger too." Gemma snorted and ate a chip. "His stupid walk even changes, all of a sudden he swaggers and walks hip first. It's gross!" Her face screwed up.

Emma tried to remember if she had ever seen this hip walk. She supposed she had when he'd walk towards her at the Boar's Head. Or occasionally when he'd corner her by the mistletoe.

"It's not gross." Slipped out.

"That right there," Gemma pointed. "Is gross. Your face all soft and flushed for my little brother. Bleach!" She sighed mixed with a bit of good humor. "But I suppose that means he broke your heart. I can't believe he just turned up with another lady. Did you at least know? I feel like I always know way to much about my brother's sex life."

"Huh?" Emma laughed.

"I just feel like I know way too much about his sex life, due to blind items and pap shots. Thought you might feel the same."

"It's not so simple as that, really. I knew because of that, about his girlfriend." Still couldn't say her name. "But I think he felt like I'd broken his heart, if I'm honest. And That's why he turned up with her. To hurt me back, in case I hadn't seen."

"Did you."

"Certainly not on purpose. My heart and head and life were in shambles, still are, and he made an assumption, and never let me explain."

"Why don't you explain to me."

So she did, haltingly, Emma talked about it all, tears on her cheeks about her dad and then her mum, and even Harry. The sad footnote of loss in a story of grief.

"Why didn't you just tell him?" Gemma asked the question Emma asked herself a lot.

"I guess, I couldn't say it and I couldn't text it. And it confirmed to me that he really only knew me so little, that he could think I'd take advantage of him."

"Did you ever think that was more to do with how other people have treated him than you? he's had to learn to expect the worst of people he wants to trust?"

"Don't make me feel bad for him. Remember? He broke my heart and found someone new. Had the audacity to move on before me!" Emma tried to joke.

"I think, I think you guys got into a mess and never bothered to clean it up until it was so unkempt you couldn't find the good parts." Gemma said after a quiet, mirthless moment.

"Oh no!" Emma tapped her head. "I kept all the good parts."

"Firstly, blech, I wish I could bleach that smile from my head, but 2nd-Is that enough?" Gemma asked.

"It'll have to be, I suppose." She swallowed the moisture in her eyes, "he told me he loves her. Straight to my broken face. Then piled on how he never got the time to love me."

Gem looked curious, then cautious, "I think he does. But it's cuz he wants to. Wants that desperately, to be in love. It may be some leftovers from you."

"Yeah?" Her eyes really pooled then and she bat her cheek to stop more from swarming. "Well I'll have to take that as cold comfort then, that she gets the seed of love he wanted to grow with me."

"I'm sorry. Sure he is too." Gemma sighed. "I'm so sorry for all of it."

"Yeah, yeah." Emma leaned on her friend, her only real one right then. "Me too."

And they left it at that. Emma's eyes were swimming and Gemma blinked a few times too rapidly. They hoisted their glasses. "To almosts!" Emma said.

"To dad's!" Gemma said. Then they both did cry.  Talked about Robin's diagnoses. Then it was Emma's turn to be the shoulder, to bolster.

Life went on, the way it always seems to do. Emma and her mom laughed more and then her mum even laughed on her own. By that summer, they both stood on their own two feet, without leaning on each other, except when they wanted to.

By June, there was no reason to stay.

"So, are your roommates excited to have you back?"

Her mum was making tea and packing her sandwiches.

"Mum, I actually had to find mew roommates. The others had to fill the room I was in." She could see the down turn of her mum's lips from the side. Guilt was heavy. "It's not a big deal. The people I'm rooming with are other grad students, I know them. And it's works for the budget. Mum, you know I'm not riding the bus to camp right? I don't need a sandwich. There will be food at the airport and on the plane?"

"Won't be home cooked." Was all she said.

This wasn't for her then. It was some sort of amends, or a thank you. Like the tea she had taken to bringing to her to her room when she woke up, and before bed.

"That's true." Emma kissed her cheek, "I'm gonna go finish packing." She ate the sandwich on the plane later.

Counting bags, she frowned. She'd acquired a lot. She sincerely hoped the bag wasn't as heavy as her heart.

Emma was going to miss Holmes Chapel.

She did, surprisingly as much as she missed school the first 6 months she was home. Maybe, those feelings were tangled up in other events, the other missing pieces of her former puzzle.

I'm any case, she found herself better at keeping in touch

"So, any cute boys in Amsterdam?" Gemma chuckled over the phone one mid December afternoon.

"Don't you have a boyfriend?" Was Emma's laughing response.

"I do, I really do." And Gemma, the blunt tongued, fierce hearted girl sounded suspiciously like a woman in love. Then she pretended to complain, because she was Gemma, about how They were both a little spoon, pretending to be annoyed about it.

"I'm really happy for you." Emma interrupted, meant it, even though she still didn't know if there were any cute boys in Amsterdam because she was still hung up on the cute boy who spent Christmas in Holmes Chapel.

Gemma must have picked up the stain of blue in her voice, "Hey, Emma, I think maybe I should tell you something-"

The buzz from her hallway door went then, and Gemma didn't get to finish.

"Hey Gem, my flat mate lost her key. I'll have to ring you back. Tell me then?"

And then it was Christmas, well Christmas Eve and she was at Schipol with a giant sign that said, "Katherine the great( est mum)!"

"Oh, bless you! Could you have made a bigger sign?"

"I'm sure I could have tried. Maybe found some glitter. Think a flat mate has the body sort somewhere." Her mum narrowed her eyes and pinched her cheek.

"Well, if you've finished embarrassing me, show me this dreadful country that's not England and all it has in terms of festive cheer."

"Let's go get some nuts then!" Emma laughed.

"I beg your pardon?" Her mum put on the prude and Emma laughed at her over the top expression as they made their way to the train to the city center.

Her famous Danish bakery was the first stop. "I thought we would have a taste test. We can rate them."

"Do you already have a favorite?" Her mum asked.

"Yeah." Emma thought about the trifle Harry's mum made and that he'd sneak to the boar's head to feed her in bed. It had only taken him watching her eat it once for him to recognize her glee. It was his favorite too. "But, I want to know what yours is!" Emma brought her memory and watering mouth to the present moment.

They ate their way through Christmas Eve And decorated her Kerstbomen. "Sorry the tree is already up. They were starting to disappear for purchase, but reappear in everyone else's windows! I had to grab one."

"Oh, no dear, it's alright. And actually, I brought a gift from Anne. I saw her the other day and had been complaining about you making me come all the way over here-"

"It's an hour flight!"

"Well, I suppose it will do, but it's not home."

Thank god.

"Anywho, she came by the day after and brought a present for your tree." Her smile was so expectant, Emma was expecting the worst. "It's so important to have good friends." Her smile was cryptic. What friends- Anne to her mum or Gemma to her? Who was the present actually from.

The box was festive. And wrapped beautifully just like Anne's house was always decorated so well. Emma set it aside, "I'll open it tomorrow mum, On christmas, at the proper time."

"Oh no! You must open it now. Gemma told her mom it was for your tree." Ah, mystery solved. Gemma was great at wrapping. When Emma opened it, her heart stopped a full beat.

At first she thought it was the frog, the one she'd gotten for him. That he was giving it back to her like a seal on their relationship that never was. But when she picked it up, she realized it was a proper ornament, not just ornamental. It was a frog, holding a heart.

What Did that mean, whose heart was it?

His for her? Or hers back where he decided it belonged.

"Where will you put it?" Her mother interrupted her train of thought.

"Um, dunno," she moved around the tree to an inconspicuous place. "I guess here." She shrugged.

"Oh no, dear. It's by far the cutest one we have." Her hand scanned over the other ornaments, a hodge podge of beloved ones and ones from Christmas markets. "It goes here." Her Mum stood and took the ornament from its hidden place, placed it front and center. "Let's get the rest up and take a picture."

She'd gotten her mother an aura frame for Mother's Day and she was now obsessed with adding to the Revolving cue of photos.

"Course, ok." Emma ripped her eyes from the frog, but they kept drifting back to it.

It was an hour of a little too much wine and her mother's cheer. It lightened her spirit and got her mind off it's wandery at Harry's intentions, until after silly smiley photos and teary eyed huggy ones, her mum said, "now let's take one for Anne and Gemma. Show them how nice it looks.

Emma thought she'd done a good job at the photo, at arranging her face the way it was supposed to look.

She must have been wrong.

Later, a number she knew by heart but had no current contact for came through. "Your smiles fake. Do you not like it at all?"

She didn't answer it on Boxing Day, or the day after, it wasn't until New Year's Day that she realized she'd blown her resolutions to Smithereens before they could even uphold their name.

All she'd texted back to his cold question was, "how come you're the only person who can always tell."

She may have never noticed she'd done it, with the way her group chats were going off, except he replied before her hangover even subsided.

[skrltwtch]

Scent

Prompt: a & b have been friends since they were children — but they’ve gone their separate ways during college. during that time apart, muse a and b were attacked by a vampire and werewolf respectively, undergoing a transformation they never expected. they kept it a secret from each other, hoping that this doesn’t change their friendship — until they meet up over summer and … holy fucking shit why do you SMELL like that? (Source in master list)

Word count: 5,123 words

Genre: Romance, supernatural

Warnings: Blood

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Impatience composed the rhythm my fingers were drumming on the table. Late. As always. The optimist in me would say it was comforting to know that some things remained the same after all these years. The pessimist in me, the unspoken captain of this ship, wondered why it had to be this gross habit that weathered the winds of change. He suggested this time and place. He had been insistent on meeting in the evening. I didn’t mind either way. I simply figured that being fussy about what time to meet meant that he’d put some effort into being on time.

Because the bar had a flood of new patrons and a dearth of ones contented enough to leave, I went inside and got a table for us first. I didn’t want to have to think of a new place for us to go if the place was packed by the time he got here — whenever that’d be. Time check: fifteen minutes and counting. He was such a lovely friend, and may God never fail to bless every brown hair on his head for every second of his life, but this was infuriating. Not even a text to tell me where he was and what was holding him up. Morgan, please!

His arrival melted away all the indignation I was feeling — and made every hair on the back of my neck stand.

No, that was the pins and needles from sitting cross-legged for too long.

‘Ellie?’ Confusion squinched his eyes. I expected this. The last time he saw me was in college, i.e., some twenty kilograms ago. I wouldn’t have pitched a fit if he’d thought the pictures I used were the result of Photoshop, Facetune, and/or angles. In contrast, he looked exactly as he did when the pictures he used were taken — in college, albeit maybe with a little less baby fat in his face than I’d remembered. Damn. Well, how much could a person change in three years? It wasn’t like he ever needed to lose an ounce of weight, too, let alone twenty kilograms.

When I confirmed I was the same Ellie he’d had the privilege of knowing since childhood, he enveloped me in a hug. I did what had been conditioned into me by the ‘dog’ that I told people was responsible for the scar on my arm the time I went jogging at night because I thought the full moon was bright enough to keep me safe. People were more keen on lecturing me for daring to have that train of thought as a woman in London than questioning what kind of dog it was exactly that could leave a scar like the kind I had, perfectly vindicating my choice of cover for what really happened.

His scent was like a bat to my face. I’d never smelled anyone like this before. People smelled like their diets, their emotions, their likes and dislikes, their best and worst memories: all that made them, them. The scents I’d have associated with him would’ve been the crisp brininess of sea air and the comforting sweetness of chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven. Instead, he smelled like blood, yet it didn’t smell like it belonged to him — or in him. I was also discerning a discomforting whiff of inhumanity, like something in him had been switched off. On top of that, he was clammy to the touch, and, most damningly of all, perhaps — no, no ‘perhaps’, as I pressed my ear to his chest, I couldn’t hear a heartbeat.

I put on my best poker face and released myself from his embrace. ‘You’re late.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’ He sheepishly ran his hand through his hair. ‘God, it is so good to see you. It’s been so long. And look at you! I couldn’t recognise you. (Is it gauche to say that was why I was late?) I only knew — I only had a feeling it was you because —’

‘Because …?’

He clicked his tongue. ‘That’s not important. Listen, I don’t know what I was thinking, asking to meet in a crowded bar … Do you want to go somewhere quieter? So we can talk better without having to shout?’

I downed the last of my drink, which I’d been forced to get earlier than I wanted so the staff wouldn’t kick me out for taking up a table in one of the more desirable corners of their establishment. I agreed with Morgan on the condition that he thought of where to go next. I hated crowds to begin with, and now that I was hypersensitive to all that the five senses encompassed, crowds were, to put it simply, a fucking nightmare. I should’ve put a kibosh on his suggestion to meet at a bar when he made it. I’d be comparing apples and oranges here, but not liking crowds was normal, whereas smelling and feeling like a dead person wasn’t.

We went for ice cream. The first thing he asked me was how I lost the weight. Had we not met on an app meant for matchmaking, his first question would likely have been something else entirely, something to do with what it was that had us seeing each other for the first time since college. I told him what I did to get in shape, which was to watch what I ate and move farther and for longer than the trips I made from my room to the kitchen or bathroom, or from my desk to the pantry or washroom, throughout the day. What I left out was how I’d been maintaining despite having ordered something as indulgent as three heaping scoops of gelato with chocolate brownie pieces and hot fudge sauce: catch something from an animal bite that counted an enhanced metabolism needed to sustain monthly bodily trauma among one of its many symptoms. It really was easy as that.

We opted for takeout and a walk around Hyde Park to pad out our evening. The open space did nothing to defuse his strange scent. It was all I could focus on, and I needed all the brain cells I could get to the office on such short notice focus on our conversation. We’d gotten the answers to simple questions about our lives over text prior to tonight: what we did after college, what we were doing now, how our families were doing, so on and so forth. You know, small talk bullshit. I hadn’t doubted that we’d broach the subject of our break from each other at some point during our reconnection. The elephant had made itself comfortable in the room the instant I received the notification he’d swiped right on me. The thing was, the elephant couldn’t stop another one of its ilk from invading its space, and now they were both arguing over which one of them deserved our attention better.

The almost pristine three-layered sundae drenched in strawberry sauce in Morgan’s hand provided the perfect icebreaker for me to possibly appease either elephant. ‘Are you okay, Morgan?’ I said. ‘You’ve barely touched your ice cream.’ Conversely, I was halfway through mine, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I had hot fudge sauce smeared across my lips.

It wasn’t only his restraint from inhaling his ice cream, the single course of action the Morgan I knew, the one who wouldn’t be smelling like a mortuary, would’ve carried out ages ago. He had been looking out of sorts the entire evening. Even softballs were answered with skittishness and reserve. Really, why’d he agree to meet if he wasn’t entirely over what happened all those years ago? If that was what this was about, that is. Did seeing me in person make him realise that it wasn’t the best of ideas to attempt to rekindle a friendship that’d turned awkward from differing expectations? It didn’t bother me in any way, but that was easy for me to say, considering the role I played in all this.

‘I’m fine.’ He gulped down a giant spoonful of ice cream without flinching. He and I understood the concept of ‘fine’ very differently. ‘Ellie … we’re friends, right?’

He’d wanted to be more than at one point.

‘Yeah,’ I said as deadpan as I could to prevent him from reading too much into my answer. I mean, I would if I were him.

‘We can tell each other anything.’

We sure did.

‘Promise me you won’t take this the wrong way,’ he continued.

I stared at him blankly. Caveats never came before anything good.

‘… Why do you smell like that?’

Wow, what the fuck. I should be the one asking that question, not him!

‘Like what?’ Still as deadpan as humanly possible. Disregard the fact that I hadn’t been human in a while.

‘Like … fuck, I can’t. This was a bad idea.’

‘No, tell me. Like what?’

‘Like the forest. Moss. Tree bark. Leaves. Dirt. And a little bit of raw meat.’ There were no pauses between his words, though the sounds were disparate enough to identify them as actual words. ‘No, a lot of raw meat. No, forget I said anything. Sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me tonight.’

‘Just what has gotten into you, period? Why do you smell like spoilt wine — like blood?’ I wanted to ask as well why he didn’t seem to have a heartbeat. I remembered in time that a stethoscope was required to detect that sort of thing, and I had no business owning one. I wouldn’t even know where to get one, short of robbing the doctor the next time I had to go in for a check-up.

‘Something happened to us, didn’t it? Other than the obvious.’

‘I think so. Say it together on the count of three?’ I needed the countdown to convince myself that whatever had made him like this hadn’t made him cruel. He hadn’t said or done anything that’d wound me. No, what was I thinking? This was Morgan I was talking about. What sacrilege to think he could hurt a living being. I should apologise to him for this.

He agreed to my proposition.

I started the countdown: ‘One — two — three —’

‘I’m a vampire.’

‘I’m a werewolf.’

Together: ‘What?’

‘Are you messing with me?’ he said.

‘Are you messing with me?’

‘Have I ever?’

He had a point. I really needed to apologise to him. ‘How did it happen?’ Why play dumb? I turned into a hulking wolf-woman hybrid once a month. There were obviously others like me. It stood to reason that vampires would exist as well.

‘I … met someone after college. She and I had … stuff in common. I thought she was kidding when she asked if she could feed on me the first time. I let her anyway, and so much about her made sense immediately. I asked her to turn me eventually. Being vampires together was fun at first … and then it wasn’t. I don’t regret it, though. Okay, I do regret not being able to really enjoy food anymore.’ He cast a wistful stare in the direction of his sundae. It was a milkshake by now. ‘You?’

‘I was bitten while I was hiking at night. It was an accident. He’ — I paid no attention to the wince he made — ‘realised what he did and brought me to safety. He revealed himself to me the next day. He taught me everything about being a werewolf. Of course, one thing led to another, and …’

‘He was your ex,’ he said stiffly. For the first time tonight, I smelled something other than blood on him: bitterness.

‘Yes, the one I told you about on Tinder.’ Because he asked. His responses in that part of the conversation, as brief as it was, had borne little to no emotion. Jude and I ended things on a good note. I made that clear to Morgan. There was nothing for him — as a friend — to have strong feelings about. ‘Please, Morgan.’ Us coming across each other and reconnecting on a dating app meant — was supposed to mean — nothing.

‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’ He pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘I’m sorry for what happened in college. I’m over it, I promise. The time and distance apart helped. I don’t want us to not be friends anymore because of this — because of what I did. I’m happy we got to meet again after so long … and after everything that happened.’

‘It’s okay, Morgan. I wasn’t — I’m not — upset about what happened.’ I wasn’t really anything about it. Okay, I might have been surprised that the roles had been as they were: Morgan glowed up toward the end of secondary school, a development that didn’t go unnoticed by most of the female population wherever he went, whereas I was pudgy, socially awkward, and not the right amount of weird for it to be seen as quirky, and would therefore be likely to latch on to my sole source of male attention. (I was now two out of three of those things.) ‘Things happen. We don’t get to control this kind of thing. I’m happy, too, that you’re back. I missed you. I’m happy you got to work things out and want to continue being friends. Let’s just put this behind us and move on, okay?’

I hugged him. Relief and cheer emanated from him, alleviating the musty scent that made sense to belong to a vampire.

‘I missed you, too. On the bright side, it made the vampire–werewolf confession easier to stomach, didn’t it?’ His grin revealed pointed canines.

I chuckled. We could compare our fangs sometime. ‘What do you do for food?’

He guzzled the entirety of his sundae-milkshake in one drag. I envied the apparent departure of the concept of brain freeze from him. I should learn more about vampire lore from him and see what Hollywood had gotten right and wrong. (It was mostly the latter for werewolves: we were underrepresented and misrepresented. I just could never get a fair shake on the big screen.) ‘You’d be surprised by how well vampires have modernised and worked the Internet to their advantage. Blood bag delivery services, forums and apps for vampires and … vampire enthusiasts to connect. How about you? What do you do on full moons?’

‘I drive out to the woods whenever I transform — whenever I want to. That’s a thing.’ Jude and I spent a lot of our nights together as wolves. I did miss that sometimes. Jude never prepared me for how lonely being a werewolf could be until it was too late. ‘I hunt. I play. I explore. I haven’t killed anyone to the best of my knowledge.’

‘I want to make a “good girl” joke, but you can literally tear me from limb to limb.’ I nodded with a slight air of pride. ‘This is so fascinating. Vampires are pretty straightforward. What you see in movies and on TV is what you get — mostly.’ Ah, hell. ‘Hey, can I tag along whenever you transform? So I can learn how to hunt animals. Blood bags are actually kind of shitty, and I’m trying to keep biting people to a minimum. I — um — I don’t want to accidentally go too far and turn or kill someone.’

I was deeply relieved that he was still the same caring, thoughtful person I knew in spite of the faint unfeelingness I sniffed earlier. I wouldn’t think twice if it were another vampire: maybe that was what was needed for them to survive. I mean … who was I to judge? I gave in to feral thoughts occasionally. Given a choice, the only thing I’d choose to hunt was the perfect red velvet cake. But this was Morgan, the same person I needed to apologise to for thinking he’d say something mean to make me feel bad on purpose.

‘Of course, I’d love to show you the ropes! Just don’t judge my wolf form, okay?’ I said.

‘Shut up. I’m sure you look great. Would you prefer being called cute or ferocious?’

‘Both, please.’

‘I figured. Can you believe I was afraid to tell you about this? I didn’t know how you’d react, especially after …’

‘Same.’ The club that knew what I was, was a highly exclusive one, consisting of only two members at the moment and for the foreseeable future. I didn’t dare tell anyone else. Just how would this come up in a normal conversation? ‘I know we can tell each other anything.’ We did. We were in a world where asking a friend to be more than friends was less cause for concern for one’s mental health after all. ‘And nothing’s come between us. Not even —’

He nodded emphatically.

We found a place to sit in the park and continued talking, sharing stories about our new lives and recounting those from our old ones. Time became inconsequential, as did the fact that it had done so on a weeknight. We left only because the park was closing soon and I got hungry, because enhanced metabolism. A Lebanese takeaway near the park was my saviour. Our conversation persisted into the wee hours of the morning and a long way away from where we’d started. As he turned down my request to have breakfast together before heading home almost at the crack of dawn as we were wont to do in our early college days (and he did so patiently, which was more than what I deserved for being a forgetful idiot), it hit me for a moment that being friends with a vampire might pose a challenge to scheduling, as if his chronic lateness wasn’t already a thing. Then I realised it didn’t matter. I was simply happy to have him back in my life, and while anything about us could change at any time, one thing was for certain: our friendship would be everlasting.

✦✧✦✧

It happened again.

I fell in love with her again.

As soon as I felt the same tingle in my stomach that gave rise to our long separation in college, I knew I had to call our friendship off for good. This couldn’t keep happening. She needed a friend she could count on to be there for her because he wanted to out of cordiality, not one whose intentions she’d constantly be second-guessing. She had to know something was up. She had to have sensed my feelings for her. What could that nose of hers not detect? No, we agreed not to read each other’s emotions using our sense of smell. We weren’t at that level of intimacy with each other, as much as I desperately wanted us to be.

And hell, did I ever want it so terribly. Being what I was, everything I felt was intensified. I didn’t know what I might do to her if I continued to be around her while she didn’t reciprocate my feelings, and I didn’t want to find out. I was prepared to spend all of eternity without her. There’d come a time anyway when she wouldn’t be in my life anymore. Werewolves weren’t immortal. I’d have to watch her grow old — at a slower rate than humans, sure. So that’d buy us at least a decade or two. So what? I’d still have to watch her die. The sooner I ended things, the better it’d be for the both of us. She could get a head start on the life she deserved, one free of a perpetually lovesick wanker.

I’d do it tonight — under the stars at the beach, the breeze appreciable but not disruptive, the waves lapping the shore with calm strokes, the waxing gibbous moon bathing us in a warm, tranquil glow. It was fucking perfect … for what I wished this was instead of what this was supposed to be. It didn’t have to be tonight. Did I want to ruin this lovely picnic she’d so eagerly planned and looked forward to? It had to be tonight. The longer I spent in her company, the more I feared I’d do something that’d push us beyond the brink of repair.

Desire and disquietude were making it difficult to focus on her words. She was talking about … her latest project at work or the 22nd and 23rd cats her sister had just adopted … or something. Her lips were mesmerising to watch. They must feel just as nice to kiss. Jude was bloody lucky to be the only person to know for sure. Fuck. Fuck, Morgan. You’d fucking lost the plot. This shit was exactly why you needed to get away from her. Fucking knob. Fucking loser who thought ‘once bitten, twice shy’ didn’t apply to him. She’d think you were a fucking obsessive creep, and she’d be right.

‘— I can’t stand to visit her. I don’t need to be a werewolf to think that the smell of twenty-something cats in an okay-sized flat is horrendous. And no one would dare call her out on it. You know what she’s like. It’s how she has twenty-something cats to begin with. She wasn’t even a cat person before. Anyway’ — Ellie held up her hands, the movement stealing my attention from her lips, ‘low contact, as it is with the rest of them.’ She popped a pie bar in her mouth. ‘And I just spent the last five minutes ranting about my sister and her lack of self-control. Totally the best thing to do at a time like this, right?’

I could listen to her spout off about the most mundane thing possible all night and find it all so riveting.

I sipped my drink — badger blood to bring out the sweetness of the fruit-heavy dishes and complement the fowl-based sandwiches she packed. I never would’ve thought of pairing the blood of different animals with human food to make the latter more palatable. She revived in me the thrill of being a vampire after two years of languishing under the spell of ennui and regret for an existence spanning all of eternity cast on me by the desolation of my split from Lorelai. And I was likely going to go down that rabbit hole again after tonight. It was for a good cause. I’d rather be miserable than be the source of her headache.

‘Morgan? You’re — um —’ She made a circular motion at my upper body, and then heaved her shoulders in an amused shrug. ‘I wish you all the best in getting all that out.’

I looked over what she’d gestured at. ‘Fuck it. I’d been meaning to toss this shirt anyway.’

I soaked up what I could with a napkin — or five — and took off my shirt before I’d retch from the smell. I practised controlled feeding for a reason. Now I was shirtless and a little bloodied, just in time for one of the most important conversations in my very long, soon to be very lonely, life to take place. Terrific.

‘Ellie, I — I have something to tell you.’

‘I fucked up the dip, didn’t I?’

‘No, it’s not that — it’s delicious.’ For something that didn’t come from a vein, at least. ‘Ellie … I love you.’ Again. Because I was a stupid fuck.

Her lips formed an O. Stop fucking looking at her lips!

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I thought I’d gotten over it the first time.’ It sucked that there was now a ‘first time’. ‘I just get this feeling when I’m around you. I feel safe, happy — I feel like I’m alive again. I don’t have to hide anything about myself. I can be me, yet you make me want to be the best I can be for you. But I can’t keep doing this to you and myself. I don’t want to settle on being friends this time. I know that part of me won’t let me either. And I don’t know what that part of me would do if I continue to be in your life like this.’

‘Morgan —’

‘I shouldn’t have come back. I’ve enjoyed the past year tremendously. But I think — I know I have to leave now while things are still … good between us. It’d be for the best. I don’t want to fuck up what we had since we were kids. I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry. I truly am.’

She simply stared at me. She must be thinking why the fuck she’d been saddled with a right prat for a friend. Where did things go wrong? Did I knock back too many whiskey shots on my 18th birthday? I vaguely remembered her asking me to stop after my eleventh. Why wasn’t she still saying anything? Did I break her?

‘No, Morgan’ was what she said at last — and the only thing she said for the longest time.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Don’t leave.’ Her hand hovered over mine. Uncertainty swam about in her eyes. Her dilemma was plain to see. I took her hand and locked our fingers together. This was the only time I could get away with being this forward. I wanted to savour her warmth as well for as long as I could; I’d miss it so much.

‘I have to. It’s not safe for you to be around me.’

‘But … I want to be with you. Not as friends. Morgan … I’ve fallen in love with you, too.’

‘What are you saying? No, don’t — that’s not —’ Had I put her under some kind of glamour without realising it? Was she humouring me? Every fibre of my being yearned for what I heard to be true. Nothing I’d seen in all the time we spent together suggested the possibility. Nothing we did together seemed out of the ordinary.

‘I’m — I mean it. I should be the one apologising, I think. I’ve felt this way for the last couple of months. I look forward to being with you all the time. I love receiving your texts throughout the night and waking up to them in the morning. Nothing feels like it’s happened until I tell you about it. I get these butterflies in my stomach every time you smile at me and touch me. You remember these small details about us from so long ago. I think the moment I knew was when I was having a tough time transforming for whatever reason and you were just … there for me, holding me, talking me down. I love you. I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you sooner. I didn’t know how. I didn’t know how you’d react because of — because of what happened in college.’

She sniffled. Seeing that I was the reason for her tears stung my heart. I wiped them away for her. ‘I love you. I always will,’ I said.

Then our lips met. I’d waited so long for this, and it was both everything I dreamt of and like nothing I could’ve ever imagined. Her lips were so warm, so soft, so sweet. I tasted the tartness of cherries and apples, the smokiness of turkey, the acidic sharpness of vinaigrette, on her mouth, notes I thought lost to me forever. An indistinct thumping sounded deep inside my chest. Her fingers slid into my hair, making waves of it. I pulled her closer to me, my hands gripping her waist, in the hope that the rush of her skin against mine would allay my doubts that this was all just a dream. But how could it be a dream when everything seemed to finally make sense? While Lorelai had promised a life anew in death, Ellie was the promise of a life renewed and delivered from death.

I didn’t want this moment to end. It had to, as my body was beginning to respond to the call of her blood.

She pulled away. No, I wanted to cry out. She must’ve sensed my thirst.

‘It’s okay if you want to,’ she said. ‘I’m not afraid.’

She bared her neck for me. My nostrils flared. I could smell her blood — like red hot ambrosia. Her heartbeat pounded in my ears, growing louder with every second I dithered. Why was I hesitating? I wanted her. I needed her.

I sank my teeth into her neck. She shuddered; a soft moan fled her lips. Crimson flowed out of the punctures I made. Everything I’d imbibed prior paled in comparison to what I was now partaking of: little explosions of flavour — syrupy, racy, robust — went off in my mouth. I feared nothing else could do it for me after this. I lapped up every drop of ruby as if it were exquisite manna; I made sure none of it went to waste. The blood I ingested was making its way south, making a signal for another kind of craving to be met. Not now. It’d be too soon for us. I had all the time in the world to get to know her better.

Her scent and whines were becoming too hard to ignore. I stopped for fear that I was misinterpreting them out of my own bias. I found myself staring into enlarged amber irises in pools of black. Claws had popped out from under her fingernails. She, too, was sporting fangs. Her chest, lightly shining with sweat, rose and fell sharply. The changes reversed themselves in short order. Red spread across her cheeks in uneven blotches.

‘I’m sorry. I —’ she said.

I cupped my hand around her cheek. ‘You can let go if you want to. You don’t have to be shy around me.’ She’d always been sheepish about her wolf form and the lengths she went to for its emergence around me. The incident she referred to had only been allowed to happen because her panic attack drowned out any embarrassment, any diffidence, she harboured about the process. That was the only time I saw her in that state.

She shook her head. ‘I know. I just — I’d want to experience that — our first time — as myself, and I don’t think I can do that now. I hope that’s okay.’

I wiped my mouth and gave her a light kiss on the lips. ‘Of course. We don’t have to rush into things. We have a lifetime ahead of us’, and I wanted every second to be as special as the last. She smiled in agreement and enfolded me in a tight embrace. It startled me how much she felt just like home in my arms. I could do this with her forever, and for a fleeting moment, as I fingered the now unblemished skin where my teeth had pierced, I wondered if there would ever be the chance of her wanting to share in my idea of forever.

[song-tam]

right where you left me - Sophie x Fitz

A/N: So this was a bit of a nightmare, writing this, writing Sophie not moving on hurt a lot more than it should have. This is basically an angsty human!Sophitz AU based off of Taylor Swift’s “right where you left me” from evermore. And it is not meant to be romantic in any way! I don’t want to give anybody a false sense of what romance is supposed to be like, this is all about Sophie being unable to move on.

Warnings: this is pretty much heartbreak, pining, all that angst

Word count (including the song lyrics): 1.7K

Taglist (I’m really just tagging random mutuals, let me know if you want to be removed): @stardustanddaffodils @dreaminq-out-loud @sunset-telepath @summer-waves9764 @thoserainyrainboots@thatonewhalewatcher @jenniecrushed @jaxtheshade@beautifuldaysahead​ @bloodred-roses @bianavacker-is-bi-as-hell @where-in-the-world-are-we @scribblesnsketches05 @real-smooth

Pairing: Sophie x Fitz

Read on AO3

Friends break up, friends get married Strangers get born, strangers get buried Trends change, rumors fly through new skies But I’m right where you left me

Sophie Foster had experienced a lot in life.

Those experiences taught her that hearts were made of glass, that bliss never lasted, that love left wounds that time couldn’t always heal.

Sophie’d watched her friends fall for each other and then leave, destroying any bond between them. She’d seen babies sitting in strollers, still at the beginning of their lives, and the elderly pass on. They were lucky, Sophie thought, the elderly. Becoming numb to the pain that came with life.

Life, after all, was a cold, cruel thing, and love was even more vicious.

Matches burn after each other Pages turn and stick to each other Wages earned and lessons learned But I’m right where you left me

Sophie’d scraped along after Fitz. She worked as an assistant librarian, watching children and adults alike come and go, getting lost in another world through books, even if just for a little while.

She remembered the days when she could still dare to pick up a novel. Sophie knew that an escape, for a little while, might have helped her over the years, but she knew that she’d be reawakened the second she read a page.

Sophie couldn’t afford to live again. Life reminded her too much of Fitz. All she could do was simply survive, get by as the empty shell she was.

Being numb was better than being in pain, but numbing the pain would only make it hurt worse when it wore off.

She would have to stay numb forever if she was to protect herself from that kind of hurt.

Help, I’m still at the restaurant Still sitting in a corner I haunt Cross legged in the dim light They say “What a sad sight”

Sophie went back to the restaurant almost every night.

It hurt each time, bringing back memories that she should have tried to forget if she was ever going to move on with her life.

But it made her feel closer to Fitz.

It destroyed a bit of her, every time she thought of him.

And yet she still wanted him.

She wanted the one thing she would never get.

And that was why she went back to the restaurant--back to the closest she could get to Fitz.

I, I swear you could hear a hair pin drop Right when I felt the moment stop Glass shattered on the white cloth Everybody moved on

It was always quiet at the restaurant, even quieter than the library.

Occasionally, if there were new waiters, they’d come seeking her order, but most of the staff knew to serve her the blandest meal on the menu and then leave Sophie to her thoughts.

They’d been kind to her, in the beginning. Some of the staff had been there on that fateful day years ago when Sophie’s relationship came crumbling down, offering her tissues and chocolate cake on the house.

But the years had passed. Sophie didn’t expect them to keep pitying her like this--she knew that some of the staff had gotten tired of her sorrow dampening everyone’s mood, not that she could blame them.  

I, I stayed there Dust collected on my pinned-up hair They expected me to find somewhere Some perspective, but I sat and stared

One of the waiters silently slid a dish of mashed potatoes over to Sophie.

“Thank you,” she whispered hoarsely, the waiter only nodding in acknowledgement.

Sophie was used to it. They’d all expected her to leave eventually, to stop showing up at the restauraunt, to move on.

Not just the staff, but Sophie’s friends, family, and colleagues as well. Dex, especially, was often upset at Sophie’s state. Dex hated seeing his best friend still brokenhearted with her ex-boyfriend from years ago.

Dex didn’t get it. No one really did--they all talked like moving on was easy. Like Sophie was nothing for not getting over Fitz. But it took all of her strength to work and eat and try to at least get to a point where she was just okay, and by the end of all that, she didn’t have enough strength to get over Fitz.

Right where you left me You left me no, oh, you left me no You left me no choice but to stay here forever You left me, you left me no, oh, you left me no You left me no choice but to stay here forever

He’d left her. Sophie’d always been more vibrant when Fitz has still been in her life. When Fitz had still thought that she was worth loving.

“But then you left,” Sophie said softly.

Knowing that Fitz had stopped loving her hurt a thousand times than the fact that he had left.

Perhaps Sophie didn’t deserve love, no matter how much she wished she did.

Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? Time went on for everybody else, she won’t know it She’s still 23, inside her fantasy How it was supposed to be

Sophie often imagined the what-ifs and alternate endings to her doomed love story. What if she’d tried harder? What if she’d tried less? What if she’d done something different? What if he’d never left?

They shouldn’t have ended like that.

She thought about it all the time, so much it wasn’t healthy.

But Sophie had been glass, and she’d shattered. She’d broken.

Sophie broke when she thought about Fitz leaving or anything after that, so she had to think about all the good memories from when they were dating. Midnight drives and shoveling mint chip ice cream into their mouths, kissing on a picnic blanket underneath the stars.

She tried to imagine what other memories the two of them would have made, if they’d lasted.

Did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion? Breakups happen everyday, you don’t have to lose it She’s still 23, inside a fantasy

Sophie knew she was focusing on all the wring things, she knew she should get over Fitz, she knew she was destroying herself with every time she thought about her failed relationship.

This love wasn’t healthy, and yet she was still holding onto it. Somewhere, deep down, she still held onto the fragile hope that Fitz would someday come back.

It was delusional to think that he ever would, the logical part of her brain knew that.

But Sophie hadn’t really been paying attention to the logical part of herself these past few years.

If Fitz magically showed up on her doorstep, saying that he’d made a mistake, she’d take him back in a heartbeat, even with all the hurt he’d caused her.

And you’re sitting in front of me At the restaurant, when I was still the one you want Cross-legged in the dim light, everything was just right I, I could feel the mascara run You told me that you met someone Glass shattered on the white cloth Everybody moved on

That night had easily been the worst night of Sophie’s life.

They were at the restaurant, the one that they’d always gone to for dates--the two of them never could get enough of the food. Dinner had started out great, they’d talked so much about everything, Sophie had always been more comfortable around Fitz than anyone else.

Fitz, though… looking back on that night, Sophie recalled how distant he was. How absentminded and anxious he acted. She hadn’t noticed at the time, too caught up in his company to notice. Perhaps that was a reason he’d moved on--because Sophie was never the best at recognizing his feelings, never really knew how to comfort him when he was down.

“Ate you okay?” she’d asked.

Fitz had looked like he was about to say yes, but then shook his head no, his eyes turning slightly glassy. “Sophie…” he said slowly. “I… I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what anymore?”

“Us, Sophie. I can’t keep pretending that we aren’t drifting apart, that we aren’t meant to be anymore.”

“Fitz, what are you--”

“I’ve met someone. She… she makes me happy. She makes me feel like I’m worth something, like she’s the one I want to be with for the rest of my life. I’m sorry, Soph, but I… I just never felt that way with you. I thought I did, but…”

It had become a bit of a blur after that. All she remembered was starting to cry, and her glass shattering, and Fitz walking out of the restaurant and her life forever.

Help, I’m still at the restaurant Still sitting in a corner I haunt Cross-legged in the dim light They say “What a sad sight”

Sophie knew that everyone saw her as pathetic, as someone who’d destroyed herself because of a stupid guy. She paid them no attention. Their words would cause her more agony and she wasn’t strong enough, she wasn’t ready to hear it yet, no matter how much she might have needed it.

I, I stayed there Dust collected on my pinned-up hair I’m sure that you got a wife out there Kids and Christmas but I’m unaware Cause I’m right where

Fitz… Fitz was probably happy. He’d probably gotten married to that woman who made him so incredibly happy, they’d probably had children. Sophie could just see Fitz with two toddlers, spoiling them silly with Christmas presents and chasing them around the house. Playing games with them and being a wonderful father, because he was Fitz.

He had a way of making everyone feel loved.

I cause no harm, mind my business If my love died young, I can’t bear witness And it’s been so long But if you ever think you got it wrong

Sophie, on the other hand, she was alone. She didn’t let anyone else in, she didn’t make herself vulnerable, she didn’t hurt anyone and didn’t let anyone hurt her. Not anymore. She kept to herself and kept her guard up around everyone, not pausing to pay anyone any attention.

When you cared, you had something to lose. The only thing she’d cared enough about to risk losing was Fitz, and she did him. And yet… and yet she still waited for him.

Sophie’d probably always be waiting for him.

I’m right where you left me You left me no oh, you left me no You left me no choice but to stay here forever You left me You left me no, oh, you left me no You left me no choice but to stay here forever

[kindness-bliss]

New Beginnings Ch. 11

Timothy Thatcher x OC

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: none

Tim looked outside as he watched them drive off and rubbed his face and leaned against the wall and watched them all walk towards him. “I know, I know”

“Do you though ? Do you ?” Candice spat out “What in the absolute fuck were you thinking ? What happened ?”

“I just...I couldn’t handle the alcohol, it hit me all at once and then next thing I knew whats her face shoved her tongue down my throat and then...I was the one who initiated it” he admitted quietly “I was the one who took her to the bathroom to…to do that” Tim said not even being able to say the words

“What the fuck is wrong with you ?!” Oney demanded

Tim shook his head as he debated throwing himself in front of a moving car to end his never ending misery “Guys, Candice please”  “No, answer us” Johnny said sternly “Before we all take turns beating the absolute shit out of you, granted Maya clearly did a great job as we can tell by your slight limp and broken bruised nose you shit head !”  

 “Guys !” Tim exclaimed frustrated as he threw his hands down

“So you see her having a good time with us and Marcel so you decide to fuck someone in a bathroom at her own party when you claimed you were heartbroken and wanted her for yourself ? Instead of being a man and pulling her aside you do that ? To Maya, the legit most nicest and genuine person ?” Oney asks

“Oney….” “No I wanna know, I wanna know what it the absolute fuck went through your head when you decided to pull that shit ?” he repeated “This is a girl who liked you, spent 6 months sad over you while you couldn’t even answer a simple text message or call, you acted like a little bitch for 6 months moaning and complaining when you had absolutely no right to. She reached out, she called, left voicemails and sent text messages to you every fucking day for a month straight and you chose not to respond yet you get pissy because you see her enjoy herself with Marcel and all of us, you get jealous seeing her have fun. You’re bitter” he finally says “You’re nothing but a bitter child stuck inside a 38 year old man's body and you don’t deserve Maya. You don’t deserve her kindness nor her love and care because despite her being all lovey with Marcel tonight everyone here can see she wanted you, she craves you and that’s really fucking sad. But I think it’s time we don’t let that happen, it’s time we as her friends don’t let a 25 year old fall for a 38 year old bitter, disrespectful asswipe.”    Tim stood there in silence, swallowing the small amount he had left of pride. For Oney whom he had known for years to reprimand him he knew just how deep and bad shit really was.   “Yeah stay quiet buck teeth” Johnny muttered as he pushed past him with Candice and Fabian “Chipped teeth...not buck teeth” Fabian corrected quietly as he waited with them for an uber turning back when Johnny, Candice and Oney weren’t looking and giving him the finger ***** “Your place, not mine” Maya whispered meekly “I wanna be with you in your space, not mine”  “Anything you want” Marcel said softly as he noticed her holding his hand tightly in hers. This wasn’t in any way what he wanted for them, especially not for her. He felt disgusted as he drove thinking of how broken she must’ve been seeing that.    “I just wanna be with you, anywhere with you” she said quietly as she stared out her window “As long as I’m with you, I’ll be okay” He nodded as he blinked away tears, emotional at hearing her words as he pulled into his apartment building and helped her out   She let out a small shaky breath as she held his hand and walked with him towards the elevator taking off Fabian’s suit jacket as she handed it over “You can give this to him when you see him again, it was extremely kind of him”   “I will” he said softly as he pressed the button and stood with her with looming silence as the elevator took them up to his apartment   “I hate him” she said suddenly “and I’m sorry for everything that I did and said to you while being enamored with him, you didn’t deserve any of that from me”  

 “Maya, no. Don’t say that, listen things happened tonight and I really think tomorrow you two should talk I can call him over and-”

“No” she answered sternly as she shot him a look full of hurt and anger “It ends here, it dies here. He doesn’t exist to me and that’s that”   Marcel simply nodded as he didn’t push the topic any further and walked with her as he opened the door with his key and went to his bedroom to pull out a shirt and sweatpants for her and changed into his usual basketball shorts   

“Thanks” she whispered as she stripped down in the bathroom and threw them on immediately taking in his scent and feeling an immense feel of comfort

  “You didn’t eat” he said softly “let me get you some cereal at least, you still like lucky charms and almond milk ?”   Maya gave a soft grin as she nodded “Yeah...yeah I do, you still remember”

“Of course I do,” Marcel chuckled. “I remember all your likes and dislikes, what shows you love and hate, the fact that you need to sleep on the side by the wall, how you only like your eggs scrambled but never over easy. I remember it all”

 She walked over and looked up at him as he caressed his cheek with her hand “You truly never forgot, you remember and you’re always there for me”

“I always will be, no matter what” he whispered as he touched her hand “As much as I’d like to kiss you, I think you should eat and get in bed, you look exhausted as can be. You need proper rest” Maya nodded as she sat at his table and ate the bowl he served in front of her. It softened her seeing Marcel care so much about her and something about this made her see him in a different light. He wasn’t the vain wrestler who was into himself, he was the man she fell in love with 3 years ago who taught everything there was to know about love.   “What’s going through your head ?” He asked finally “You can be honest with me, I know you still like him a lot judging by how you reacted tonight”  “Marcel...it’s not like that” she explained “It was a shock, that was it. It was just purely shock but just...I don’t wanna talk about it anymore okay ? Can we just stop it please ?”    “Absolutely” he nodded as he picked up her plate “Let’s get to bed”  She nodded and followed as she laid down and scooted close towards him, going beneath his arm as she snuggled up and looked up at him caressing his cheek with her hand    “Hi” he whispered as he gave a soft grin  Maya looked in his eyes and sat up as she cradled his face and kissed him deeply “That’s what I wanted to do all night”   “I-I…wow” Marcel whispered as he licked his lips “That was just, did-did you just kiss me, is this a dream ?”   Maya chuckled as she rolled her eyes “Wow, way to ruin a moment. I’m trying to be romantic over here and do something”   “I’m just shocked is all….you like me ? As in like me more than a friend ?”   “I do” she admits “I really do, these last 6 months you’ve been there for me in so many ways and you’ve made my life so much better. It’s been hard you know ?”   “I do,” Marcel whispered, “But this isn’t exactly how I pictured things working out at all, it’s not how I wanted things to be. I wanted something nice and calm and a bit more romantic” She laughed as she shook her head “Listen life isn’t a fairytale and as much as we’d like to be it’s best just to not expect much and go with the flow. I for one can admit tomorrow I’m probably gonna be hungover and emotional just letting you know ahead   “I’ll be here with you” He pet her cheek as he watched her finally drift to sleep “I’ll always be here with you..” ****  “Well well if it isn’t my favorite student” Eli grinned as he opened the door into the room at the performance center “You’re bright and early Thatch, love when my worst promo student shows up early to class” he laughed Tim rolled his eyes and sat down “Not today alright ? Just get on with the private class so I can go home already” “Not even a death stare or shove today ? Something really must have you down” He raised a brow as he grabbed a chair and sat in front of him “Tell me”    “You haven’t heard ?,” Tim asked surprised. “It’s literally everywhere by now, seriously go check your phone or ask your girlfriend Alli. She has to know” Eli furrowed his brow, taking out his phone and putting it on speaker as he dialed “Baby, hey ! Um have you heard anything about something going down at EVE nightclub in downtown Orlando last night ?”   “Oh my god, yes ! So remember Maya ? Maya Dawson ? The girl we met during one of your commercial shoots in LA and had dinner with a few weeks ago ?” Alli asked not even giving him a chance to answer “Well she apparently had a thing with that one loner dude Tim you work with for a hot minute but nothing serious from what I’ve heard, like not instagram official or anything. All she told me was that they made out a few times but nothing too much”  Eli nodded as he listened “Oh wow, I didn’t know that. Okay go on….” “So they broke up because she didn’t tell him she was engaged prior to that really cute German dude with the blue eyes who happens to be friends with Tim. Drama ensues, she tells me over brunch he never bothered to respond to anything she sent for 6 whole months and she’s back with Marcel on “friendly terms” well she got that Maxim cover and had a big party last night which we got invited but obviously couldn’t go and well...Tim shows up, gets drunk and fucks none other than Kara Smith in the bathroom of the club ! THE Kara Smith !” Alli exclaimed loudly shaking her head disgusted  “NO ! No fucking way ! Um baby, I gotta call you back !” Eli’s eyes widened as he hung up and looked at Tim “You didn’t…. tell me she’s just somehow dramatizing shit”   “How the hell does Alli know everything ?” Tim asked “This is weird, this is why I stay away from social media, this isn’t normal”   Eli scowled “Jesus christ, you fucked Kara Smith and got away with it. That woman has had it out for Maya for the last year, all because miss bleach blonde can’t stand Maya’s more popular, she’s like 33 having it out against a 25 year old. You literally slept with her worst enemy, how drunk were you ?”   “Don’t even remind me” he rubbed his face “I literally am the most hated man in this building, I walked in and immediately it looked like I was gonna get jumped”   “And here I thought I was the whore yet I’ve been in a loving relationship for over a year” Eli chuckled “I can’t believe you man, who does that ?”   Tim shook his head “I don’t even know how to fix this, or even talk to her” “Don’t” Eli answered “Let her be, this isn’t something women get over fast or ever actually, you’re gonna have to suffer man. And quite frankly you deserve it”   He sighed and got up “I’m going home, I don’t feel like being here and quite frankly I don’t wanna hear anymore about how I fucked up”   “Since everyone hates you but me just come to my place” he offered “Alli won’t care, plus I’m done here I was just waiting for you to show up”  Sure it may have been a pity offer but Tim took it with no hesitation “Alright, I’ll drive behind you” he nodded as they both left ****   Maya stirred as she fluttered her eyes open checking her phone for the time, groaning when she saw it was only 8 am , leaning her head back against Marcel's arm as she turned her head and caressed his cheek lightly with her finger tips. She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips taking in all his features, his cheek bones, his soft skin, his chiseled jawline, his defined lips. Everything she loved about him standing out to her as she gulped and moved her hand onto his chest as she kissed him once again slightly deeper, looking into his deep blue eyes once they opened    “Maya ?” he whispered as he pet her cheek, slightly confused as she had kissed him. Confused she had initiated their physical contact rather than him like it had always been   “Hey” she whispered back “I want you….” Maya finally said “I want you now”  As soon as she said those words he leaned in and kissed her ,gently flipping them around so she was on her back as he laid above her and kissed down her neck listening to her loud moans. It had been years since they were together, years since they had last had any kind of physical contact like this.    Maya groaned as she felt his hand down her sweats at her core “t-take them off” Marcel did as told, watching her as he moved his fingers in circular motions, breathing deeply as she kissed along his jaw and removed his shirt. He took his time as he continued to kiss focusing on her breasts feeling her arch her back slightly   “I can’t, please...now” she whimpered “please”  “Are you sure ?” “Yes” she nodded “I’ve been been so sure of something before, yes” He kissed her deeply as he guided himself into her and thrusted in slowly, feeling her nails dig into his shoulder blades “Is it okay ?” “Perfect” she nodded as she hands caressed his face “So perfect, I...I had forgotten how good you feel, how this feels”  Marcel gave a soft grin as he kissed her once again and picked up the pace, holding one hip with his hand as he found a perfect rhythm not keeping his eyes off of hers  She cradled his face and planted a sloppy kiss on his lips arching her back off the mattress and into his body as far as she could feeling the need getting closer and closer  “I’m so close, so fucking close” “Fuck you feel so good” he moaned as he swallowed a deep gulp “Every part of you feels amazing, god I missed you so fucking much Maya, so much”  “Marcel...I can’t hold, I can’t” she whimpered as she felt his hot breath in the crook of her neck He pulled out slightly and pushed back in giving a few more hard thrusts as he picked up the pace and felt her walls clench against him   “Fuck….” she cried out as she came with him wrapping her arms around neck, riding out what was left of their orgasm with him  Marcel collapsed on top of her as he felt her chest rise up and down, her fingers gently playing with his hair

“You okay ?” she asked softly as she lazily kissed his forehead

“I’ve never ever been better” he lifted his chin and looked into her eyes “I haven’t felt like this in a long long time” “Neither have I” she admitted with a smile “Just like old times….”

Marcel blushed at the memories “You mean when we almost got caught by my brother at my mothers house ?”

“And just like that the romance is once again gone” Maya chuckled as she sat up and pulled the sheet up to cover herself 

Marcel laughed as he held her hand in his and kissed it “Now, don’t call me cheesy but….will you be my girlfriend...again ?” “After an orgasm like that ? Of course” she joked as she kissed “But honestly, yes. I would love to”

He let out a sigh of relief as he kissed her back “Things are gonna be good, I promise you that”  

 “No promises” she whispered against his lips “Let’s take it day by day, no pressures no nothing. Just us being together”. She cuddled up against his chest, listening to his heart beat as she dozed back to sleep in his hold ***** “Tim, this is my girlfriend Alli” Eli grinned as he introduced them “Baby, this is Tim”

“I’m loner dude Tim” he said as he offered his hand with a small grin, retracting it when he received a stare back

 “You’ll have to excuse her…women sticking together and that whole thing” he whispered lowly as he sat with him    “May I offer you something to drink as dinner gets closer to being ready ?” Alli asked “Water, Coffee, tea, soda...a condom” she muttered under her breath   “Alli...” Eli looked up at her “Come on, the guy knows he messed up let’s let him not feel like crap for a bit”   “I wanna hear it all, all of it. Not one detail left behind” she scowled as she set the table “Come eat” Tim sighed as he got up and sat and told them everything, everything from how to they had met to their first fight, to finding out the truth and to the previous night  

“So here I am now, hated by 95% of people at the performance center and with a brand new reputation now so yeah life’s great” Eli turned to Alli who had the same expression he had as they both looked at Tim, Alli being the first to speak as she sipped her wine and let out a deep breath “Tim, do you realize you’re in love ?”   “Yeah” he answered quietly, putting his fork down “I do, I realized it last night when I felt myself get angry when I saw her with Marcel enjoying herself. I wasn’t angry because I was jealous or felt possessive, I was angry because she wasn’t with me” Tim admits “because she wasn’t by my side enjoying herself with me and because in that moment it hit me that I majorly messed up. That I was an idiot who let 6 months go by all because I had to be right, I had the need to be in the right when I was in the wrong” “Deep shit” Eli nodded sighing “I just, I just really think you gotta let things cool down for a bit but also send her a text, do what she did to you all those months ago but in your case don’t stop. Do it till you get some kind of response back”  “Or maybe not” Alli said softly as she looked at her phone and showed Eli “Oh…” Tim looked up “what ? what happened ?”,  he looked as Alii gave Eli a nod and moved his eyes towards her phone. A soft breath escaping his lips as he stared at the image in front of him, a picture of Marcel and Maya’s hands intertwined via his IG account  marcel.barthel.wwe “Matching and hand holding with my favorite girl❤️👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨”

“Back together I see” Tim nodded “Well that’s perfectly fine, it’s their right” “I’m gonna um load the dish washer” Alli grinned as she got up quickly and left to the kitchen, Eli following shortly behind her   “Be right back man” he coughed leaving his phone behind on the table Tim looked around as he picked up the phone and unlocked it easily with Eli’s birthday, sure it was wrong as hell but curiosity had gotten the best of him. He quickly went to the instagram app and looked up Marcel’s profile, shaking his head when he saw everyone comment @candicelerae omg love birds ! I can’t handle the cuteness, double date soon please 😍 @thejohnnygargano what she said👆🏻, also u 2 make me wanna puke (in a good way) @indihartwell my other mom and dad, so cute 💕 @fabian.aichnerwwe so I take it you’re gonna take his gym pics now ? @wwestardestroyer I swear if you guys don’t get a damn room already 🤮🤮🤮 “Jerks” Tim muttered as he put the phone down and crossed his arms. Perhaps this was the end of good things for him, or maybe just this once he’d get out of his own shell and go for it. 

[tellmealovestory]

That Summer (4/?)

Summary: You’ve spent every summer since you were a child in the idyllic beach town you call home three months out of the year. This summer should be no different except for the addition of Bucky Barnes. Sparks fly upon first meeting, but it’s only a summer fling, right? Modern AU.

Notes: Also posted on my ao3. 

Warnings: A few lines of suggestiveness, angst if you squint

Series Masterlist

"How come you never cooked for us before?" Wanda asked.

"Last time she cooked she almost burned the kitchen down," Natasha added, laughing when Wanda's eyes grew wide with a mix of shock and worry.

Standing over the wooden cutting board you ignored them as you concentrated on slicing cucumbers and tomatoes for salad. "That's not completely true," you muttered under your breath. Wiping your hands on the red apron you had borrowed from Wanda you walked over to the stove checking on the potatoes.

"You never told me that."

"Because it was a long time ago," you started, opening the oven door to check on the chicken. "And I'm not going to burn down the kitchen so please stop looking so worried, Wanda."

A snort came from the other side of the room. "It was two years ago when she was dating that guy Eric."

"The musician?"

"Are we really doing this right now?" You groaned. 

Ignoring you she continued, "That's the one. She tried making him a fancy dinner and when he got there how'd you say it happened again?" Smirking she snapped her fingers. "The lust overcame you and you guys went at it like rabbits."

"Okay, okay, first off," you started, raising your voice to be heard over their peals of laughter, "Natasha is lying I did not say anything like that! Although I might have gotten distracted when he came over and we might have had sex making me forget about dinner and there may have been a small fire in the kitchen, but it didn't burn down! And Wanda, please stop looking at me like that because I promise you that's not going to happen tonight!"

"Which part isn't happening tonight, Y/N?" Nat teased.

"I hate you." Untying the apron you focused on folding it into neat squares while trying to ignore Natasha's laughter and Wanda's growing nerves as she hovered around you, checking the boiling potatoes and chicken roasting in the oven. "Also, for the record it was different with Eric. Our whole relationship was about sex and with Bucky... it's deeper than that. I've never felt this way about someone else before and..." Letting your words trail off you stared down at the counter, your fingers running over the apron. "After the movie in the park and all the dates he's taken me on I wanted to do something nice for him so no, tonight is not going to be a repeat of the disaster with Eric and you guys have nothing to worry about. We're going to have a nice homemade dinner and that's it."

Greeted with silence you looked up to find Natasha scribbling down the number for the fire department and Wanda again hovering by the stove.

"You guys really have no faith in me," you sighed. "I made brownies this morning and you weren't worried."

"That was before," Wanda murmured, fingers turning down the burner of the stove.

"I promise you by the time you get home the kitchen will still be here, everything will be cleaned up and-"

"You and Bucky will be making out on the counter again?" Natasha added, deftly catching the apron you threw at her.

"Wanda!" You snapped. "You said you weren't going to tell her about that!"

"She went into some very graphic details about where she saw your hands disappearing."

"I hate both of you," you muttered. Heat burned your face and you couldn't tell if it was from the conversation, the oven being on during the heat of summer or the memories of that late night in the kitchen with Bucky kissing you until your lips were swollen, exploring his body with your fingers and hands until you swore you knew it as well as yours.

Ignoring their laughter and the way you could still feel your face burning you glanced over at the clock. "Shouldn't you guys be leaving?"

"Someone's eager for us to be gone."

"I'm not eager," you lied. "But you guys don't want to be late. You know traffic and parking and all that."

"Uh huh. I get it. I think she wants some alone time with Bucky. Come on, Wanda."

Peeking into the oven again Wanda fiddled with the knobs of the stove. "We could help you finish dinner first."

Exchanging a look with Nat across the kitchen you watched the way she went over to Wanda, slinging an arm around her shoulder and murmuring something you couldn't quite hear, but still she didn't budge. 

"I promise that I'm not going to burn the kitchen down. Natasha exaggerated what happened with Eric. You guys have nothing to worry about. I've got this under control."

Twenty minutes later and you did not have it under control. 

After darting upstairs to freshen up you had stepped out of the shower only to catch your first whiff of smoke. Thinking nothing of it you had taken your time in searching for something to wear. But as the minutes ticked by the ashen smell grew stronger until you couldn’t ignore it anymore and when the piercing screech of the smoke detector blared in your ears you had raced downstairs. Tugging your dress on only half aware it was on backwards you skidded to a stop at the edge of the kitchen.

The piercing screech was amplified downstairs as smoke filled the kitchen, billowing out into the living room. Acting on instinct you raced to the oven, flinging the doors open only to be met with more smoke. Coughing, eyes burning with tears you waved it away before reaching for a pair of oven mitts and pulling the pan out.

Burned beyond repair you slammed the pan onto the stove, the thunk reverberating throughout the kitchen. Hours of preparation for tonight ruined in a matter of minutes. Tossing the mitts onto the counter you ran a hand over your hair determined not to cry, but it was so hard when all you had wanted was tonight to be perfect, a small thank you for all the time and thought he had put into your dates and it was ruined.

Letting the screen door slam shut as you left behind the smoke filled house you inhaled the saltiness of the ocean and the sweetness of freshly cut grass. Sitting on the bottom step of the front porch, brain trying to come up with a plan b for tonights date, clean feet getting dirtier by the second as you ran them over small pebbles, loose piles of dirt, grass clippings from early this morning when you had cut it. In the distance you could hear the familiar rumbling of Bucky's motorcycle, the soundtrack to your summer. 

Like a child eagerly waiting for the ice cream truck to drive down their block on those hot summer days you stood up, bouncing on the balls of your feet as you watched Bucky effortlessly maneuver the motorcycle to a stop in front of the house. No matter how many times you watched from the living room, peering through the curtains, or standing on the front porch watching him leave you would never get tired of the way he so easily climbed on and off as if the bike was part of him and in someways you supposed that was true. Meeting him halfway the sidewalk burned the bottoms of your feet, but you paid it little mind as you flung you arms around his shoulders, inhaling that familiar scent of exhaust and woods and him. The smells of your summer.

"Hi," you breathed, lips landing on the corner of his mouth as you struggled to break the news to him. 

"What happened? Are you okay?" Eyebrows knitted together, callused hands resting on your shoulders before gliding down your arms, gaze scrutinizing your body looking for any sign of injury before briefly glancing to the house. 

"I'm fin-,"

"You're not." Sliding his hands up to your face he cupped your still warm cheeks, striking eyes filling with a cloudiness, voice gruff. "Something happened, pretty girl."

Guilt pooled in the pit of your stomach for making him think the worst. "I'm fine." 

"That why your dress is on backwards and you're out here waiting for me?"

"Maybe I missed you." Warmth found its way onto your face and though you wished you could blame it on the mugginess of the night you knew it had more to do with the current situation. "Okay, okay, there may have been a little accident in the kitchen, but I didn't burn anything this time. Technically I burned dinner and the kitchen is probably still filled with smoke, but other than that I'm fine."

"This time?" He laughed and like the waves washing away sand castles you could feel the guilt and the worry about trying to impress him tonight washing away. 

"I tell you I burned dinner and I ruined our date and the only thing you take away is that I've done this before?" His laughter was infectious.

"You didn't ruin our date," he murmured, offended at the thought that you would ever think that. Dropping his hands from your face he rested them on your waist, tugging you closer to him. It was too hot to be held, but that didn't stop you from resting your head on the burning leather of his jacket or to let out a content sight when he kissed the top of your head. 

"I did though." Voice muffled against his chest you pulled back enough to stare up into his eyes. "You've been planning all these amazing dates for us and I wanted to do something nice in return and instead I made a huge mess and dinner was gonna be good, like really good, Bucky. Better than your chocolate chip banana pancakes good."

"That so, pretty girl?"

"Mhm." 

"Weren't you the one who said my pancakes were the best thing you ever ate?" Dipping his head down so his mouth was pressed against your ear he whispered, "Weren't you the one who moaned after the first bite? Said they were as good as that orgasm I gave you the night before?"

You swore the temperature rose a hundred degrees on that sidewalk and it had nothing to do with the night air. Opening and closing your mouth you were at a loss for words.

“Hm?” 

“Brownies,” you blurted, a twinge of embarrassment working its way through you. “I made some brownies this morning which unlike dinner aren’t burned.”

“Brownies? You trying to distract me?”

Laughing you shrugged your shoulder. “Maybe,” you said, drawing the word out until he was laughing too, until he was leaning down and kissing you, until you momentarily forgot about dinner, until you were so happy you swore you would sink straight down into the cement. “Is it working?”

“Maybe.” Kissing you again, a little longer this time, one hand sliding to your lower back holding you close. “C’mon, I’ve got an idea.”

His idea turned out to be brownie sundaes shared on the patio, double scoops of vanilla ice cream dripping with extra whip cream and enough chocolate sauce to make your teeth ache. Watching as the sky turned from rosy pinks reminding you of the way he’d blush to deep purples that reminded you of the wildflowers that dotted the grassy fields on the drives he’d taken you on outside the city. And when the pinks and purples of the sky changed to deep blue to black, when the stars came out, when your stomach hurt from laughing too much and eating too many sweets you had grabbed his hand, leading him down the steps and onto the sandy beach.

Deserted, stars twinkling above, your bare feet sinking into the damp sand, cool ocean water running over your toes, holding hands, his rich laughter drifting outward when he teased you about Jaws getting you when you dared to wade a little further into the dark water.

Tugging you back to shore, your feet kicking up water, your own laughter joining his when you accidentally splashed him, soaking the bottoms of his jeans. Feet and legs wet, sand sticking to your skin like sugar on fried donuts you stumbled into his open arms deliriously happy.

“Careful there,” he laughed, so reminiscent of that first night you met. 

“I’m always careful.”

“That why you burned dinner?”

“You’re never gonna let me live that down either are you?”   

“Not a chance.” Pulling you close to his side he wrapped his arm around your waist, your feet sinking into the sand as you continued your lazy stroll along the beach. 

Almost back to the house you paused your steps gaze swiveling to the patio where the light was still on illuminating the wicker furniture, the piles of fluffy blankets and oversized pillows you used during your girls nights, the same set that you used when it became too hot upstairs, the fans and open windows doing nothing to cool you off as you slinked down the stairs and settled in for a night sleeping out under the stars. The kitchen light was still off telling you that your friends weren't home yet. Except for the waves rolling against the shore it was quiet out. Down the beach you could see a bonfire, the orange flames dancing in the night as a small group of friends huddled around the warmth. 

"Why were you so worried when you came over?" You hadn't meant to blurt it out, but since his arrival and the worry that had seeped from him even after you told him you were fine to the way he had been so tense in the kitchen watching those final curls of smoke float around the ceiling you could tell something had been bothering him.

"I told you," he murmured, voice a little gruff, arm tightening around your waist as he led you in the direction of the stairs.

Holding firm you dug your feet into the sand. "Come on I'm serious. You were weird. I've waited for you outside before and in the kitchen? You saw the smoke and you just shut down. I've never seen you act like that before so talk to me."

Dropping his arm from your waist he said, "'Bout two years before we moved here there was an accident." Silently climbing the stairs after him you shivered when he reached for your hand, pulling you down onto the lush pile of blankets and pillows. 

"Got into some trouble with another biker group." Refusing to meet your eyes he stared out at the horizon. "Started off small with fights. Didn't take long for things to escalate. Sure you wanna hear the rest?"

"Nothing you say is going to make me think less of you, Bucky Barnes," you whispered. Lifting your hand to his face your thumb smoothing over his stubbled cheeks and jaw, tracing the plumpness of his lower lip, you smiled softly when he relaxed into your touch and met your eyes.

"They weren't good people, Y/N. It was a small town, they were ruining it by running drugs through. When we got word we tried to stop them and." A pause. A deep breath. A humorless chuckle. "We confronted them, got them to leave and thought that was the end. Couple months later our bar burned down." 

Another pause. Another deep breath. Eyes turning downwards. "Nobody got hurt, but they burned it to the ground. Didn't take a genius to figure out who was behind it. After that we left town. Haven't seen 'em since, but tonight when I saw you sittin' on the porch, your dress on backwards the only thing I could think about was they were here and hurt you. Then in the kitchen when I saw the smoke, dunno, guess I went back to that night."

"Jesus," you breathed, at a loss for words. It was the deepest you had ever delved into your pasts and sitting next to him on a floral blanket, the patio light bathing him so that you could see the pain in his eyes, could see the way his shoulders were hunched as if by telling you he was still worried you'd think less of him. Seeing him so vulnerable next to you had your heart shattering. You had heard rumors around town about him and his friends, had seen the way the locals had pointed and stared, but you had never given it much thought when they had been nothing but kind and generous towards you. And when you had asked your friends about it they had simply shrugged their shoulders, murmuring offerings about how it was a small town and rumors spread like fire around here. 

"Yeah."

"I meant what I said it doesn't change anything.” The thought of Bucky and his friends getting caught up in another round of fights, of their war escalating, bringing with it the possibility of casualties didn’t sit well with you. “You really think they’d come back after all this time?”

Gently removing your hand from his face he pressed a soft kiss to first your knuckles and then your palm in a gesture that was both calming and sensual. “No,” he finally said. 

“But what about other groups coming after you or-“

“Hey, you got nothing to worry about, pretty girl. Haven’t been in trouble since and don’t plan on getting into more. ‘Sides, nothing interesting happens in this town anyway.”

“Really, Bucky?” You asked, trying and failing to hold back your growing smile. You didn’t understand how he could go from talking about something so serious and dangerous to making jokes, but a small part of you was thankful for the lighter conversation. “Nothing interesting has happened here? At all?”

“Well,” he smirked, “Guess one interesting thing.”

“What’s that?” 

Your breath hitched when he leaned in closer, your eyes fluttering shut, heart picking up speed at the thought of feeling his lips on yours again. Warm breath against your mouth, fingertips dancing down your jaw and neck, but still, you didn’t feel his kiss. The growing impatience you felt turned to frustration.

“This patio. Most interesting one I’ve seen. Wanna tell me why you guys have so many pillows and blankets out here?”

“Seriously?” 

“What?” He asked innocently with a shrug of his shoulders and an infuriating smirk. “Expecting a different answer?” 

And this time when he leaned forward he gave you the answer you were looking for in a kiss that left you tasting brownies on his lips and tongue. Breathless when he pulled away you went back for seconds wanting him to kiss away your fears over his past, wanting to kiss away his worries of seeing you on the porch. 

“How was that answer?”

“A lot better,” you breathed. 

Stretching his body on the floral blanket he spread his arms, an invitation you accepted without hesitation as you curled into his side, feeling instantly safe and at home. Stroking his fingers down your back you let your eyes flutter shut as every beat of his heart and every roll of the ocean against the shore lulled you into a sense of peacefulness.

Your feet were still caked with sand, his jeans still a little wet and when you shivered against him he grabbed a light blanket, draping it over your body so delicately you were convinced it would take a week before your smile faded. 

“Sometimes when I can’t sleep I come out here and look at the stars.”

“You ever gonna tell me what’s so special about those stars?”

“Jealous?” You teased.

“No,” he scoffed. “Already showed you I could make you feel better than the stars, pretty girl, don’t tell me you forgot already.”

There was no way you’d ever forget that night,. The way his body had pressed yours into the edge of the blanket and grass, the way he kept laughing, husky voiced reminding you to be quiet. The memories came rushing back and as you buried your head in his chest you now knew it’d take a month before your smile faded.

“I didn’t forget,” you mumbled, face burning as you left out the part about how’d you never forget. In a summer that was already filled to the brim with snapshots of your time together that one was on the top of the pile. 

“I always tell people it started when we learned about them in school, but it started earlier than that. When I was a kid I always had trouble leaving at the end of summer. I used to throw tantrums and beg my parents to let me stay here year round and obviously that never worked out,” you laughed. “One year my mom told me that whenever I got lonely and missed the beach and my friends all I had to do was look at the stars and I wouldn’t be lonely because they’d be watching over everything I left behind. I know it sounds dumb, but I was a child and didn’t know any better. But as I got older it just became this sense of comfort, you know? I’d leave and even miles away from everyone I loved I took comfort knowing that no matter the distance we’d still have the stars watching over us.”

“You never thought about staying when you got older?”

“All the time. When I was a kid I used to picture myself moving here right after graduation and sharing a house with Wanda and Nat and sometimes when I’m having a bad day I dream about packing everything up and coming here, but I’ve got a life back home, a job. My mom is expecting me to take over the business one day. It’s not that simple.”

It was the closest you had come to talking about the end of summer and with a pang in your chest you realized for the first time just how hard it was going to be saying goodbye to him. Blinking back the tears you pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind, telling yourself you still had time with him even though it felt like every second was slipping through your fingers. 

“That what you want?”

You wanted to tell him he was the first person who ever asked you that, wanted to tell him that before meeting him that was the plan, wanted to tell him that a part of you, a large, scary part of you that was reckless wanted to spend the rest of your life with him, wanted to tell him that even though you didn’t know each other well enough you wanted to settle down making a life with him here in this little slice of paradise. Even to your own mind you knew how ridiculous you sounded. But there was something about him, about the way he made you feel whole, the way you couldn’t get him off your mind no matter how hard you tried, the way those simple good morning texts sent your heart racing and your smile growing so large it hurt your face, the way you never slept so well as when you fell asleep next to him, the way you wanted to grow old with him by your side learning new things about him everyday, the way you were convinced you’d never feel this way about anyone else.

You couldn’t tell him that though. You hadn’t even told him that you thought you were falling in love with him. Instead you softly said, “What I want is to stay like this for a little longer.”

“He’s still here? That’s a good sign means she probably didn’t burn the kitchen down,” Wanda murmured as the headlights of Natasha’s car swept over Bucky’s motorcycle and the darkened front of the house.

“Or it could mean you’re about to walk in on them in the kitchen again,” Natasha retorted. “Or the living room.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Entering the house each of them made sure to make extra noise, stomping their feet, using their outdoor voices in a bid of warning. With each light that was flipped on to illuminate an empty room they became more confident.

“Maybe they’re upstairs,” Natasha said before getting shushed by Wanda.

Sliding the patio door open Wanda lightly stepped out being careful to avoid the creaky boards that would awaken you and Bucky. Slipping her phone out of her pocket she snapped a few pictures of you on your side fast asleep with Bucky holding you to his chest, arm wrapped protectively around your middle quietly snoring.

“Because that’s not creepy at all,” Natasha smirked. 

“She’ll thank us for these later.”

Tags;

@nacho-bucky​

@redhairedfeistynerd​

@19mrs-rogers18​

@ceeellewrites​

@shawnie--jo​

@breakfast-at-kelseys​

[snowdice]

Little Kestrel (Part 9)[Birds of Different Feathers Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan & Patton & Virgil (future Virgil/Patton but not in this story)

Characters:

Main: Logan, Patton, Virgil

Appear: Thomas

Mentioned: Janus

Summary:

It was supposed to be a quick job either way. Either Virgil would assassinate King Thomas of Prijaznia or he’d be caught and get executed. Yet, when Virgil gets the wrong bedroom and gets caught by Prince Logan and his future royal advisor, Patton, the job ends up getting way more complicated for the 14-year-old. He also ends up sleeping in a (actually pretty comfortable) closet for a few weeks…

Notes: Implied/referenced child abuse, assassination attempt, knives, torture mentioned, captivity, teenagers being really dumb

This is a prequel to Kill Dear. I wrote it 100 words at a time on my blog, but this is the edited version. If you want to see how it was crafted, look at the tag proofread stories.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Logan had explained briefly what had happened while Patton was gone getting food. Patton had lectured him a bit about the whole drugging the poor boy on accident over their breakfast, but he understood why it had happened. Logan had been too busy explaining to him that the nutritional potion would not hurt him, that he’d forgotten to explain everything about it.

The poor thing. Patton didn’t have any personal experience with binding potions, but he’d been around that one time Logan had accidently gotten some on his hand and that had been a nightmare. Swallowing it had to hurt really, really bad. So, it made sense that Virgil was tense when Logan came back in with the new restraints. It was just two thick leather bands that looked like simple bracelets and had little engravings on them. Patton wasn’t sure if those were decorations or meant something, but he did know at first glance they didn’t look like something to keep someone prisoner.

“I’m going to put these on first,” Logan told Virgil. Patton had brought him out of the closet and set him down in one of the comfy chairs while Logan had been gone. “Then, I’ll take off the old ones. Once that’s done, we’ll do some adjustments okay?” Virgil nodded, looking resolutely at his knee.

Logan’s expression grew pinched, but he still reached out to take Virgil’s wrists. Patton saw Virgil close his eyes and clench his fists. The leather bands were quickly fastened around his arms above where the metal ones sat. Then, Logan removed the metal ones and set them aside. “I’m going to tighten these around your wrists now,” Logan said, already sliding them down so they settled around his wrists. “Please tell me if there is any discomfort. I want them to be tight enough not to chafe, but I don’t want to tighten them too much and cut off your circulation.”

Virgil peeked open his eyes and blinked down at the cuffs. “That didn’t…” hurt, Patton filled in to himself.

“It’s not meant to hurt Virgil,” Logan said, coming to the same conclusion as Patton. “Whoever has applied binding magic to you before clearly is not only grossly negligent, but cruel. Now,” he finished fiddling with the cuffs. “There are three different settings that only Patton and I can change for these cuffs. The first setting is like the basic binding potion on the metal cuffs. It keeps your wrists locked in place wherever they’re moved.” He moved Virgil’s wrists, so they were both at his side and tapped the cuffs once. They glowed slightly making Virgil look at them curiously.

“This setting allows you some range of motion. You can move slowly, but you will feel a pull back to this position, and if you move too quickly it will snap your wrist back into place. Go ahead and try it.”

Virgil stared at him for a long moment. “Just… just move them?”

“Slowly, but yes.”

Virgil’s arms moved very slowly at first, but eventually he did pull them in front of him. Then he let them return to his sides.

“See?” Logan said. “You can do things like eat with that setting easily. The third setting gives unrestrained range of motion, but Patton or I can make them snap back into place with a simple hand motion. We’ll likely keep it on the second setting when we are actively watching you and the first when we are not, but I wanted to have the flexibility of the third as well, as well as have it be an option for when you are sleeping. For now, we’ll keep it on the second setting so you can eat.”

“Okay,” Virgil agreed.

“Here,” Patton said, walking over to where they had stored Virgil’s breakfast. “Logan put it in a stasis thing to keep it warm for you.” He walked back and sat it down next to him. “So, we’ve got bacon, eggs, blueberry pancakes, and blueberries by themselves. I suggest we start with the pancakes.”

“Um,” Virgil said. “Okay.” He still didn’t seem comfortable with moving his arms much, so he nodded at the plate. “Are those the pancakes?”

Patton gasped. “You’ve never had pancakes before?!”

Virgil looked startled. “Uh… no?”

“We need to rectify this immediately!”

“You were already going to have him eat pancakes,” Logan pointed out.

Patton ignored him and instead pulled over one of the other chairs so he could sit next to Virgil. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do this right,” he informed Virgil.

Virgil blinked at him and then looked over at Logan. “What is he talking about?”

“I have no idea. Just do what he wants. The worst it will be is a slight annoyance,” Logan said. Patton stuck his tongue out, but the statement seemed to make Virgil relax marginally so Patton couldn’t actually be annoyed.

“So, these are blueberry pancakes,” Patton said. “They’re my favorite types of pancakes, though chocolate chips ones are pretty good too. Have you had blueberries before?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Well, these are blueberries from the castle gardens and they’re really good. Here, try one!” He picked up the bowl and offered it to him. He looked at it hesitantly. “Oh! Right!” Patton said. He reached forward and popped a couple into his mouth and then offered the bowl again. Virgil very slowly reached out to take one and brought it to his mouth. Patton watched as his eyes lit up when he bit down on the blueberry.

“See? They’re really good!” Patton said. He shook the bowl. “Have another one.” He was a little quicker to grab a second blueberry, but still cautious of the restraints. He popped it into his mouth and happily chewed it. The way he perked up a little bit at the taste was absolutely adorable. “Okay,” Patton said, smiling in excitement about the next part, knowing if he had never had pancakes, he probably had never had syrup either. “You can have more of those later, but first we’re going to introduce you to one of the most important parts of pancakes other than the actual pancakes: syrup.”

Patton grabbed the still slightly warm bowl of syrup and stuck his finger in it before putting it in his mouth.

“Patton that’s disgusting!” Logan scolded. Patton rolled his eyes, popping the finger out of his mouth.

“Don’t mind him,” Patton instructed. “He’s just silly.”

Logan sputtered. “You didn’t wash your hands.”

Patton’s eyes met Virgil’s and then he rolled them. He saw Virgil’s lips twitch just barely. Patton offered the syrup and Virgil carefully dipped his finger in and brought it to his mouth. He made a small sound when he tasted it and then blushed slightly when he realized that he did.

“And then the best part,” Patton tore off a little bit of the blueberry pancake with his fingers and dipped it into the syrup.

“Patton silverware.”

Patton looked over at him as he popped the piece of pancake into his mouth. “Are we giving Virgil a fork?”

“Right…” Logan said. “Probably not.”

“It’s better to eat it as finger food anyway,” Patton advised Virgil. “Go ahead.”

Virgil tore a piece of the pancake off and dipped it into the syrup. He got maybe a bit too much on it because it dripped onto his shirt, but it was worth it to see his expression when he ate the bite of pancake.

“Like it?” Patton asked. Virgil nodded. “Well, have as much as you want and don’t forget about the bacon and eggs. You need some protein too.”

“Okay,” Virgil agreed. He reached forward and grabbed some bacon. Surprisingly, he didn’t make Patton eat any of it first.

“Patton and I were discussing sleeping arrangements before you woke,” Logan said after a few moments. Virgil looked up warily at that, and Patton wondered what he expected out of that. “I’m going to ward the closet you were in earlier and you can sleep in there.”

“I’ll make it up real nice and comfy for you,” Patton assured quickly. “I bet we can even convince Logan to make you some of the fun light thingys he does for it.”

“Unless you have an objection,” Logan said, “however, you seemed to be comfortable in the closet before. Also, since it is warded, I’ll set it so whenever you are in the closet you can move your arms freely.”

“The closet is good,” Virgil said. “It’s comfy.”

“And that’s without all the other stuff I’m going to put in it!” Patton bounced a bit in excitement. “We can decorate it too! However, you like!”

“…Okay?” Virgil replied, seeming confused.

“Great!” Patton chirped. “You keep eating and I’ll go get stuff to decorate it if Logan’s able to watch you.”

“Sure,” Logan agreed. “Go ahead.”

“Okay,” he turned back to Virgil. “What type of decorations do you want? I have a lot of cat decorations in my room so we can do that. Or mama has a lot of flower themed things I can get from her. Ooo and I think I still have star themed stuff from Logan’s birthday last year.”

“I like stars,” Virgil said after a moment’s thought. “But anything is fine.”

“Stars work,” Patton said with a smile. “I’ll go get the stuff and we can decorate the closet together today so it’s nice and comfy for when you go to bed.” He stood up to leave. “I’ll be right back with the stuff in a few minutes.” With that, he left Logan and Virgil alone in Logan’s room.

Want to read more? Click below!

AO3 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

[thegreatestofheck]

The Girl with No Heartbeat Pt.2 ⊰JJ Maybank⊱

Part One!

(gif not mine! all credit to gajo1987 )

Word Count - 6712 Warnings - Light swearing Synopsis - The pogues take a little time to get to know their new friend better. Mera tries to understand the new world she lives in and makes a few new...friends.  A/N - I kinda liked where this was going and a few others said they did too, so here’s another part! Mostly just some domestic stuff with a few tropes thrown in here or there. If you there’s going to be a love triangle, who do you think would be the other point? I’d love to hear your thoughts. Enjoy! And thank you all for you support, I couldn’t do this without you all. 

“You hungry?” JJ asked when the silence went on for a little too long. Mera nodded her head slowly. “I’m gonna go drive by my house to get some clothes,” Kiara said, standing. “Will you be okay here?” Mera nodded again. She remembered what it was like the first time meeting all of her siblings. They hounded her, asking questions, pulling at her hair, dragging her off to a feed only hours after getting her gills and tail. While similar, this felt different, better than that. Mera knew that these people were concerned for her as a person and not just another set of fangs. Kiara shuffled out of the room, leaving Mera with the three boys, who all stiffened suddenly. “What, uh, what do you like to eat?” JJ asked, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m not sure. I’ve eaten nothing but human flesh for a very long time,” Mera said. As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Pope’s eyes widened and John B covered a laugh with his fist. “I only mean to say that I am unfamiliar with the foods you eat here.” 

“I’ll whip you something up,” John B said, sending a wink her way. Mera smiled as he left, looking back at the remaining two boys. “I’m sure you have plenty of questions to ask me,” Mera said, straightening her back. She knew how humans were. They liked to ask questions, to understand things. She knew this when she made her decision to return. “I was going to say the same thing to you.” Pope slowly sat on the edge of the bed. “Why don’t we take turns asking questions?” “That’s a stupid idea, Pope,” JJ huffed. But Mera nodded her head eagerly. “I would love to play this game.” Pope sent JJ a look that said “who’s stupid now?” “You ask the first question,” Pope said, looking back at you. Despite his apparent dislike for the questions game, JJ sat in a chair and listened intently. “What year is it?” she asked. The question had been on her mind since she woke up. It was impossible to tell how much time truly passed beneath the sea. Mera had sisters who had been alive for centuries. A part of her hoped that she may still have some relatives alive, but by the progression of the world and its technology, she didn’t hold out much hope. “It’s 2020,” Pope said. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but JJ interrupted him. “Do mermaids have sex?” He asked, leaning forward in his chair. “Dude!” “What? I’ve always wanted to know.” Mera smiled, the tips of her cheeks turning pink. 

“I am not used to speaking about such things so openly, but no. Mermaids, as you call us, reproduce only by turning other humans,” Mera said. “As we are immortal, there is no need to reproduce as humans do.” “I am so sorry about him,” Pope said, holding out his hand as if to shield Mera from JJ’s entire being. “Hey, it was a serious question,” JJ said, slapping Pope’s hand away. “Are you kidding me?” Pope spun around to slap JJ’s knee in retaliation. “We are having a conversation with a real-life mermaid and you ask her about sex?” “Well, what do you want to ask her, Mr. Suit?” “I’m not a suit, JJ.” “You’re acting like one.” “And you’re acting like a douche, did you know that?” “Oh, really?” “Yeah, really.” Mera watched in increased interest as the two bounced insults off each other, taking turns slapping at each other’s hands. Humans were so unusual. John B returned not long into their prolonged argument with a plate of food. “This is for you,” he said, offering the plate to her and completely ignoring the slap fight going on between his friends. John B jumped onto the bed, stretching out his legs alongside Mera, who delicately picked up what looked like a sandwich. “How long have you been a mermaid?” John B asked, tossing an oddly shaped piece of thin bread into his mouth. “I became a mermaid in 1667,” Mera said, looking up to the ceiling in hopes that it would help her mental math. “And if the year is 2020, then I have been under the sea for 353 years.” John B choked on whatever it was he put in his mouth, partially turning on his side to look at her better. “Really?” He asked, still coughing. “That long?” Mera nodded. She lifted the sandwich to her mouth and took a tentative bite, JJ and Pope still arguing in the background. Mera pushed down the desire to shove the entire thing in her face. When she lived beneath the ocean, there was nothing delicate about the way they ate. Living as a pirate, she had the same fate when it came to food. She was unsure whether or not times had changed since then. There was nothing overwhelmingly delicious about the sandwich she ate, but Mera had long ago forgotten what real food tasted like. Even something so simple as bread, lettuce, and some kind of slimy meat made her moan with delight. “This is amazing,” she mused with a grin. John B’s smiled perked up. 

“You think so?” Mera nodded her head up and down, taking another large bite. Despite her best efforts to eat calmly, she had gulped the entire thing down in a few bites. When she was finished she sucked in a deep breath and smiled. “Thank you, John B,” Mera said, setting the plate in her lap. “There’s more where that came from, Mera,” he said. She shook her head. “I can’t take anything more from you,” she said with the wave of her had. “You have provided so much for me already.” John B blew air through his lips, offering the bag of the flat bread to Mera. “Take anything you want,” he said. Mera smiled again, sticking her hand inside the bag and pulling out whatever was inside, inspecting it carefully. “These are called chips.” “Chips?” 

“Yeah. Fried potatoes.” “Potatoes?” Mera looked at the chip in her hand, wondering how on earth they made this out of a potato. “Go on, try it.” She was slightly wary of John B’s smile. She was more than familiar with pranks. The crew of The Iron Anchor had a habit of pulling them constantly, especially on her. John B wore the same mischievous grin as they usually had before something blew up in her face. But when she put the chip in her mouth, she found that there was no prank. It was salty and crunched when she bit down on it. Her eyes widened at the taste of it. “You like it?” He asked her, his smile growing. “There are about a hundred different flavors and a million different brands.” “Flavors?” “Like barbecue, sour cream, vinegar.” 

“I have truly missed many very interesting inventions,” Mera said. John B offered another chip, which she took gladly. “Oh, just you wait.” Once Pope and JJ finally finished their argument, Mera was deep in conversation with John B about the different kinds of foods that she had missed out on. Pizza sounded like something she would especially like. John B looked over to find Pope and JJ intently trying to listen in, so he decided to include them back into the conversation. 

“Did you know that Mera is 353 years old?” He said. Pope’s mouth fell open and JJ choked out a cough. 

“Pardon?” “Actually,” Mera said, swallowing the piece of chip that was in her mouth. “I am closer to 369 years old. I became one with the ocean when I was 16.” 

“Wait, you died at 16?” Pope asked, eyebrows furrowed. Mera shook her head.    “No, I never actually died. I just put of mortality for a couple hundred years,” Mera said, as if it was the most natural thing to occur. JJ scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “That doesn’t sound too bad,” he said. Mera narrowed her eyes at her hands, feeling an uncomfortable pressure suddenly build up near her heart. “There were downsides to being immortal,” she said, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “Like what?” John B asked, picking a bottle off of the counter to drink. “I had to watch my mother mourn for me and my father on the same day, unable to comfort her. And the worst part was, I’m not sure I even wanted to comfort her.” Tears suddenly gathered in her eyes. “There is a numbness when you become apart of the sea. I couldn’t feel physical pain, but I couldn’t feel the emotional pain either. I have never mourned for my father, nor my mother, nor my crew. It felt so... empty.” The boys were quiet, unsure of how to comfort the girl in front of them. Mera spent a few moments silent, her eyes narrow and eyebrows pinched, nose threatening to run. Eventually, she shook her head and looked back up with a smile. “Then, of course, there is that fact of tearing the flesh off of humans to eat,” she said with a playful grin. John B paled, suddenly aware of how close to Mera he was sitting. JJ pushed himself upward. “Anyone want a beer?” He asked, moving his finger across the room to point at each of them. Pope shook his head, chin pressed against his hands. “I’ll take one,” John B said. “Mera?” “Is it like ale?” “Yeah, pretty much.” “Then yes, I would like one.” “Cool.” JJ tapped his knuckles on the doorframe as he left the room. For some reason, watching him leave made Mera somehow feel exposed. “Mera,” Pope said, finally dropping his hands. “Why did you leave the ocean?” Mera heaved in a deep breath before letting it out as a sigh. There were too many reasons to condense into one simple response. Her mind searched for a way to explain it, but no good answer came to mind. “I always felt called to the sea,” she said, speaking slowly. “Even as a young child. My mother said that it was a part of my heart. I thought when I joined the sea that I would be completed, like that void I always felt would disappear, but it only deepened. I knew that whatever I was searching for couldn’t be found on the ship I lived on and could not be found where I was under the water. Pair that with being haunted by the screams of drowning men and the lack of feeling, I saw no other choice.” Pope bobbed his head up and down slowly. He said nothing else and neither did John B. The room was quiet until JJ returned with three beers. He tossed one to Mera, which she caught. He was about to offer a bottle opener when she broke the neck of the bottle off. Careful of the sharp glass, Mera took a long swig, oblivious to the agape jaws and wide eyes of the boys around her. Pulling the broken bottle away from her, she smacked her lips a few times, scowling. “This beer tastes very different from the ale that I am used to,” she said, before looking back at the boys. Her scowl fell and she lowered the bottle. “What?” “You just...the bottle,” JJ said, pointing at her hands. Mera’s cheeks flushed. “I guess the strength has yet to wear off,” she said. That meant there were going to still be side effects of leaving that she had yet to feel. “You had super strength too?” JJ turned in a circle, hands over his eyes. “I want to be a mermaid so bad.” “I’m telling everyone you said that,” John B said, pointing a finger at his friend. Pope laughed, leaning back. Mera smiled as she watched the friends interact. They reminded her of her crew, whom she remembered like she had left them yesterday. Maybe that was why she felt like she fit in with them so well. It was like she never left home. “So, Kie, Pope, and I came up with a plan while you were asleep,” John B said, pushing himself into a straighter sitting position. JJ looked away from Mera, remembering where he was when that conversation took place. The world Mera came from, it was shameful for a woman and a man to sleep in the same bed if they weren’t married. She had hoped that in the world was full of things like beer bottles and pizza that the stigma and shame would have passed on. “It’s a pretty good plan,” Pope said, pulling Mera back into the conversation. 

“Plan for what?” She asked. 

“For keeping you here, with us,” John B said, as if it was that obvious. “And before you say something about being too much, we know that you have nowhere else to go and this world is incredibly different from the one you left. We want to help you.” 

Pope bobbed his head up and down in agreement. Mera felt a strange feeling build up inside her, her eyes beginning to sting. She recognized the feeling almost instantly; joy. Mera fought back the tears, not wanting to cry in front of her new friends. She swallowed a lump in her throat and nodded. “What’s your plan then?” She asked. “Alright,” John B said, leaning forward. “We tell everyone that you’re my cousin, Uncle T’s daughter. My Uncle T is supposed to be here taking care of me right now, but he’s not so we’ve got to pretend that he is. We’ll say you were living with your mom and the mainland but wanted to spend a summer with your uncle and your wonderful cousin. That’s me.” JJ rolled his eyes, but Mera nodded slowly. “Can you not live alone?” Mera asked him. “Why must ‘Uncle T’ be your guardian?” John B cleared his throat, a sad look falling on his face. The other two boys looked at their feet and Mera instantly knew she had said something wrong. “My dad is missing,” John B finally said. Mera’s heart sunk. She understood all too well how losing her father felt. “And since I’m not 18, I can’t live alone without a guardian.” Mera scowled. She placed her hand over John B’s in an attempt to comfort him, a movement that caught the attention of all in the room. She retracted her hand, cheeks turning pink. “Where...where I’m from,” she said, trying to cover for herself. “Many were married before they were 18 and living lives all their own. I myself have been betrothed to a pirate lord since I was ten and was expected to marry when I became a woman.” Mera had wished that it would be comforting, but it clearly just made the boys uncomfortable. She thought it best to hold her tongue on matters of the past for a while, at least until she was asked questions. She had no desire to make the boys any more confused or unnerved. “Well,” Pope said, trying to finish what John B had been saying. “You’ll want a job so you can survive out here. John B works with the Camerons up at Tannyhill-” “Tannyhill?” Mera asked, perking up and immediately forgetting her vow to stay silent. “You know it?” JJ asked. “Yes, my family had dealings with Denmark Tanny for years.” “I keep forgetting you’re like a million years old,” JJ said, putting a hand over his eyes. “369,” Mera corrected. JJ dropped his hand and gave her a smile. “Right.” 

“The plan?” Pope’s voice drew Mera’s attention away from the blond and his smile. “I’ll introduce you to Ward Cameron,” John B said. “You just smile at him and I know he’ll give you a job.” 

Mera nodded her head. “You’ll stay here with John B,” Pope continued. “You’ll work with Ward Cameron and we’ll just keep going about our daily life.” “And that’s the plan,” John B said, putting his hands behind his head. “I like this plan,” Mera said. “But you’re sure I am allowed to stay? I don’t mean to be a burden.” “It’s no problem,” John B said, waving his hand. “Like I said, you’re a Pogue now and Pogues help out Pogues.” Mera couldn’t help her grin. The front door opened and Mera jumped, pulling the blanket tighter around her. “I’m back!” Kiara yelled through the house. When she showed up in the doorway, she had a bag in each hand. “I have some clothes and some food for you, Mera.” “Thank you, Kiara,” Mera said. “You were a pirate, right?” JJ asked, pulling Mera’s attention away from Kiara. “Yes.” “But you talk like a rich kid.” “JJ, c’mon,” Kiara said, giving him a look that reminded Mera of her mom. 

“It’s alright, Kiara.” Mera turned to look at JJ. “My parents wanted me to be able to speak with British officials without my vernacular giving me away.” “Vernacular?” JJ breathed under his breath to Pope, who leaned back and whispered a quick definition. “And then I spent more than 350 years with my brothers and sisters who all spoke in a variety of different ways and in many different languages. This is the one for me that felt the most fitting.”    “Wait, how many languages do you speak?” Pope asked, an interested grin on his face. “Hang on,” Kiara said. “Let’s save questions until after the girl has some clothes on.” “I like what she’s wearing now,” JJ said, with a grin. Mera felt her cheeks heaten again, a small smile on her face. “All of you get out,” Kiara said, a disgusted look on her face. “This is my room,” John B protested nonchalantly. “I think I should be able to stay.” “Nope!” Kiara said, shouting over the boys before Mera could hear the arguments they made for who got to stay in the room as she changed. “We’re all going out to the front so she can change, yeah?” The boys grumbled. Mera was grateful for Kiara and her ability to round up the boys when she needed to. It was a talent that Mera respected. Mera’s mother became captain of The Iron Anchor because of her skill to round up the crew, even at their rowdiest. They respected her, followed her no matter what. If Mera wasn’t mistaken, Kiara played a similar role amongst the Pogues. Kiara herded the boys out of the room like cats, shutting the door behind her. Mera was now alone for the first time. She sat there, unmoving for a while, trying to see if being alone was something she liked. She never had before, but maybe she did now. After a few minutes, Mera decided that she did not like being alone and it was the last place she wanted to be. She dug through the clothes, pulling out a long pair of pants and what she assumed were undergarments. It was hot out, but there was nothing outside of the long pants that Mera could see herself wearing. When Mera emerged from the bedroom, she was wearing a pair of Kiara’s jeans and a blue tank-top, feeling more than exposed. JJ’s sweater was in her hands as she shuffled toward her new friends. “Hey!” Kiara said when she caught sight of Mera. “You look good!” “Thank you,” Mera replied, sheepish. “I don’t know who’s sweater this is, but thank you for letting me borrow it.” 

“Keep it,” JJ said, arms crossed as he leaned against the countertop. “I got a million more back home.” Mera smiled, still feeling awkward and uncomfortable in the clothes she was wearing. “We were thinking about going to town for a bit,” John B said, scuffing his feet on the floor. “Introduce you to some of our friends to get the word out there that you’re in town.” 

“If it’s alright with you,” Pope added quickly. “That would be wonderful,” she said, bowing her head slightly. 

“Great!” JJ clapped his hands together and pushed himself off the counter. “I also brought a hairbrush for you,” Kiara said as the boys made their way to the front door. “I can brush your hair on the way there.” Mera hadn’t thought about how haggard her hair much have looked. She wasn’t sure she wanted to think about it after spending the last hour surrounded by people. Kiara approached her with a smile and looped her arm through Mera’s, leading her toward the front door. The van outside was unlike something Mera had ever seen before. She tried not to let it surprise her, but when Kiara gave her arm a squeeze, she realized that she wasn’t covering up her shock as well as she had hoped. JJ helped Mera into the back of the van, offering his hand to pull her in. She took it and he pulled her inside. As soon as she was sitting with her back to Kiara, JJ let go of her and turned to look out the window. Mera watched him flex the muscles in his hand, feeling a tingle in her own. Kiara took the bottoms of Mera’s hair, brushing the tangles out slowly. It was methodical, mind-numbing. Music bopped out of the radio, Pope, John B, and Kiara each taking turns talking at a million miles per hour. Mera tried to listen to what they were saying, but she found her mind turning back to JJ, sitting across from her, staring out the window. “Your hair is so soft,” Kiara mused, running her fingers through Mera’s brushed hair. “Do you want me to put it back?” “Could you braid it?” Mera asked. “One or two?” “Two please.” The van shuddered to a stop just as Kiara finished braiding Mera’s hair. They all stepped out into the sun. The sun. Mera lifted her face up to the sky, letting the heat from the sun beat against her skin. She breathed out as the wind rustled her hair. Mera hadn’t felt the kiss of the sun in far too long. A smile spread across her lips, soaking in the warmth, letting it ease the tension in her bones. “There is no way anyone will believe that she’s your cousin,” JJ muttered from behind. “Dude.” “No, JJ’s definitely right.” “Dude!” “Who is this?” Someone asked from in front of her. Mera pulled herself from her trance and turned toward the voice. A boy stood beside her; tall, blond, wearing a pink collared shirt. Mera smiled at him and offered her hand. “Mera,” she said. The boy shook her hand. “Rafe.” “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” “The pleasure is mine,” Rafe said with a wide grin. “What are you doing here, Rafe?” John B asked, walking up and standing behind Mera. She could feel the tension between them and her smile fell. She knew well enough when an enemy had boarded ship to know that there was something going down between her new friends and Rafe.  “Just talking to a pretty girl, here, John B. You got a problem with that?” Rafe asked. Mera felt her chest tighten, discomfort passing through her like ice. “Yeah, I got a problem. She’s my cousin,” John B said, voice tight. “There is no way she’s your cousin. I mean-” Rafe’s eyes scanned Mera’s body, instantly making her tense. She felt her breath hitch. “Damn.” “Back off, Rafe,” JJ growled, standing beside Mera. “I can talk to whoever I want, JJ,” Rafe snapped, his smile finally falling. Mera felt herself flinch. What was she doing, being afraid of a boy like this? She had fought and killed tougher man than him. She had dragged men to their deaths for hundreds of years. She had no reason to be afraid of him. “There’s no need for a fight, boys,” Kiara said, Pope standing next to her by the van. “We’re just showing Mera around.” “Mera, huh?” Rafe looked down Mera’s body again. “Back off, man!” JJ said, starting to take a step forward. Mera’s hand shot out and grabbed JJ’s wrist to keep him from going any further. Never before in either of her lives had she let someone else fight for her. She wasn’t about to start now.    “I would really appreciate it if you would less us by,” she said, smiling up at Rafe.    “But we were just getting to know each other.” He reached out toward her, but before he got close, Mera slapped his hand away and jabbed the heel of her palm into his nose. He stumbled backward, blood dripping down his face. “Shit!” John B put his hands against his forehead while JJ let out a burst of laughter. “Mera!” Kiara cried out, stepping forward. “What the hell?” Rafe coughed, blood pooling in his hands. “Never touch a girl when she without her permission,” Mera seethed, leaning closer to Rafe on the ground. “You are so badass,” JJ laughed to her from behind. Mera felt herself smile, but dropped it quickly. “Let’s just go,” Kiara said, putting a hand on Mera’s arm. Mera looked away from Rafe and back over at Kiara, who was pleading with her eyes for Mera to step away. From the look on Kiara’s face, Mera could tell that this wasn’t the first time she had been forced to beg her friends to stand down from a fight. Mera didn’t want to be another burden on Kiara’s back. She nodded once, looking back at Rafe for a few seconds, before stepping toward Kiara and Pope. John B and JJ followed after them as they walked away. JJ threw his arms around Mera’s shoulders, giving her a tight squeeze. “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen,” JJ said, beaming. “You handed Rafe his ass!” John B laughed. “You’re going to be my favorite cousin.” Mera smiled at the two of them as John B tapped her shoulder with his fist, a feeling of pride burning in her chest. “Look, Mera,” Pope said, stepping in front of her and putting a hand on her shoulder. “That was pretty sick back there and I’m sure Rafe deserved it, but this isn’t like your pirate ship. We can’t go around punching people. It’ll bring too much unwanted attention and could get you into some serious trouble.” “C’mon, chief-” “JJ, Pope’s right,” Kiara said. “You get too much attention and people will start asking questions. You have to lay low, Mera.” The feeling of pride soured in Mera’s chest. She felt like she was being chastised by her parents and it wasn’t a good feeling. Still, she acknowledged what they were saying with a nod. “Good, let’s go get some ice cream.”

***

“You didn’t like that boy very much, did you?” Mera asked JJ, taking a bite out of her ice cream. “Oh, jeez, Mera,” JJ said, cringing. “You don’t bite it. You gotta lick it.” “Lick it?” “Yeah.” 

“Oh.” 

Mera watched how JJ was eating his ice cream and mimicked him. It was much more pleasant to her teeth than biting it. “No, we don’t really like Rafe,” JJ said finally, once Mera got the hang of her ice cream. “Why?” “He’s a kook, one of the worst.” “I don’t understand that word. ‘Kook.’” “They’re all filthy rich and the only one who gives two shits about the rest of us on this island is Kie.” JJ pointed his ice cream at Kiara as she ordered up at the front. “I understand that,” Mera said. “My parents were born with nothing, forced to steal and beg for food, while the British lived comfortably in their big houses with their slaves.” Her voice shook as she spoke, hands curling into fists. “You know they got rid of slavery?” JJ said, licking the top of his round ice cream. Mera nodded. “Many of my siblings were those lost at sea from the slave ships coming from Africa. And every new brother or sister we gained, they told us about the world above land as they knew it. Many of my siblings were sad to hear of the end of slavery for they feared it meant less food, fewer people willing to turn and join us,” Mera said and she shook her head. “But I saw those slave ships, I boarded them. The cargo we stole was people more often than not, human beings who did not deserve to be in chains.” “You and Kie would get along really well,” JJ said. Mera scoffed softly, trying to pull herself from the memory she had dropped herself into. Kiara slid into a chair beside Mera, holding a cup rather than a cone. “What kind did you get?” She asked Mera. “Chocolate,” Mera said. “JJ said it was the best kind.” JJ raised his eyebrows, biting into his waffle cone.    “One thing you should learn,” Kiara said with a playful tone. “Don’t ever listen to JJ. He’s constantly full of shit.” “Hey!” JJ protested, but Mera nodded her head with a smile. “Sounds good to me.” By the time they all left the ice cream parlor, the rumor had already buzzed around that John B’s cousin was in town. A few people whispered to each other as the group of five walked past. Mera felt that same fear in her bones when Rafe was looking at her once again. Never before had whispers bothered her. She would keep her head high, walk on without a care. Apparently, she had changed much since joining the ocean. A strange sound from behind startled Mera. She spun around and realized that she wasn’t the only one to tense. JJ, who stood behind her, stepped in front of her ever so slightly as a large blue and white truck with strange lights pulled up behind them. “These are the police, Mera,” Pope whispered to her. “Law enforcement.” Mera nodded, mouth running dry. Pirates and law enforcement had never gotten along. Maybe these police, as Pope called them, were more accepting of different kinds of people than in her time. A woman stepped out of the front of the car. “John B Routledge,” the woman sighed, walking over to them. “What can I do for you, Sheriff Peterkin?” John B said and took a step toward her. “I heard you have a cousin in town,” the Sheriff said, looking at the group behind him. “That her?” Mera put a hand on JJ’s shoulder. When he looked back at her, she nodded her head and he stepped out of the way. “My name is Mera, ma’am,” she said, putting out a hand for the Sheriff to shake. “Good to meet you.” 

“I didn’t realize the police drop by every time family visits from out of town,” John B said, obviously tense. Tread lightly, Mera told herself. “I’ve just never heard mention of a cousin from Big John or your Uncle Teddy.” The Sheriff rested her hand on her hip. “Just wanted to make sure nothing fishy was going on.” Mera heard JJ cough over a laugh. “I’ve been living with my mom,” Mera said. “I haven’t had much contact with my dad in years, but he reached out, wanted me to come down.”    “Why now? On top of taking care of John B here, now he’s got his long lost daughter in town.” “Is this an interrogation, Sheriff?” John B asked, defensiveness clear in his voice. “It’s alright, John B,” Mera said, putting a hand on his arm. “You see, ma’am, my dad wrote me and my mom a few months back, said his brother was missing. I didn’t even know I had an uncle, or a cousin. My dad said something about regrets and doing right by me, you know the drill. My mom has a lot of work and couldn’t come down, but it’s summertime and I wanted to see my dad and to meet my cousin.” “And seeing your dad, how has it been?” “He is very different than I expected.” Mera smiled at the Sheriff, hoping that she wasn’t rusty on all of the things her parents had taught her about lying. With adults, be as innocent as possible. Smile, bat your eyelashes, make things sound worse than they are. And if it is a woman, rely on her maternal instincts. She’ll want to protect you, Mera, make her think she needs to. Eventually, the Sheriff dropped her hand from her waist and gave Mera a rather unconvincing smile. “It’s good to meet you, Mera,” the Sheriff said. “If any of these boys give you any kind of trouble, don’t be afraid to call me.” 

“Thank you, Sheriff.” “See you around, John B.” 

When the Sheriff stepped into her car and drove away, Mera heard a collective sigh escape her friends behind her. “C’mon,” John B said. “Let’s get home.”

***

“Damn,” Mera whispered, spotting a brown stain on her jeans. “What’s up?” “I got ice cream on Kiara’s jeans,” Mera said, chest tightening. “I didn’t realize it dripped the way it did.” “It’s alright,” Pope told her. “You can just change.” Mera’s lips twitched awkwardly to the side. “Don’t tell Kiara, I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but the other pants she brought are rather...short and I’m not used to wearing something like that,” Mera said, leaning forward toward the boys, afraid that Kiara would hear, even though she was outside on the phone. “I don’t mind wearing these. I once wore a blood-stained shirt for a week before we made it to port.” “Don’t sweat it,” John B said, waving off what Mera said about the blood-stained shirt. “You can borrow something of mine.” He turned away from the dining room and headed down the hall. “You guys have been too kind to me,” Mera said, looking back at JJ and Pope. “I don’t deserve this kindness or respect.” 

“You saved JJ’s life, Mera. I think you deserve more than what we can give.” Mera felt tears sting in her eyes as she hung her head. “You don’t know the things I’ve done,” she said, her words trembling. “What do you mean?” John B turned back around the corner, holding a pair of pants in his hand, completely unaware of what he walked into. “These are just a pair of sweats, but they’re clean.” He tossed them at Mera. She caught them and forced herself to smile. “I’ll be right back.” Mera hurried off to the other room. As soon as the tight jeans were off of her legs, Mera let out a breath of relief. She quickly pulled John B’s grey sweats, pulling the elastic as tight as they would go. Walking back to the dining room, Mera had a smile on her face. These pants were much more similar to the trousers she once wore. It almost felt like being home. “How do you do it?” JJ asked, almost breathless. “Do what?” Mera asked, realizing that the sweats she wore had pockets. A wider smile spread across her face. “Nevermind.” Kiara came through the front door, a frown on her face. “My parents won’t let me stay,” she said. Mera’s heart deflated. “I have a shift tomorrow morning and they want me home. I’m sorry, Mera.” “Don’t worry, Kiara. I am fine staying here with JJ and John B.” “Are you sure?” “Yes,” Mera said. “You and Pope have a life to live that I have no desire to get in the way of.” “We’ll see you at the party tomorrow night, though,” Pope said, pointing a finger at Mera. “A...party?” “Yeah, we all get together at the boneyard, drink beer, dance, whatever,” Pope said. “That sounds like fun. I will see you at the party then.” “I’ll take you home, Pope,” Kiara said. “Bye, guys.” “See ya.” 

Watching Pope and Kiara walk out of the house suddenly made Mera feel like a part of her was leaving with them. She watched the door shut behind them, watched Kiara’s car pull out of the driveway. “Are you good?” John B asked. Mera had almost forgotten they were there. She turned around, smile on her lips, and nodded. “Tired, I think,” she said, twisting her hands. “You can sleep in my bed,” John B said. “I’ll take the floor.” “No, it’s alright. I’m used to a bed on the floor.” “No, no, no, sweetheart,” JJ said, putting his hands on her shoulders and leading her off toward the bedroom. “A princess never sleeps on the floor.” “JJ, I’m not-” “You are tonight.” Mera found herself once again in the bedroom. “We’ll be out there,” John B said. “If you need anything, just let us know.” They were halfway out the door when Mera turned around suddenly. “I don’t want to be alone,” she blurted, taking a quick breath after she said it. The boys stopped and turned back around. “I can’t remember the last time I was completely alone.” John B and JJ glanced at each other. “As your cousin, I wouldn’t feel right staying,” John B said and bumped JJ with his elbow. “He can stay with you.” “You’re not her cousin, dude,” JJ said as John B started to pull the door shut. “Sleep tight!” JJ and Mera stood awkwardly on opposite ends of the room. He shoved his hands in his pockets and she tucked hers under her arms, both refusing to look at each other. JJ cleared his throat, tapping his foot against the nightstand. Mera was regretting her decision to say anything at all. “Thank...thank you for staying,” Mera said finally. JJ looked up at her suddenly, shaking his head. “It’s no problem.” “Well, um, I’m going to….” She pointed at the bed. “Yeah, of course.” JJ waved his hand toward the pillows, stepping out of the way. Mera went to the other side of the bed, crawling under the blankets. “You aren’t sleeping in your clothes, are you?” She asked him. JJ’s cheeks turned slightly red as he looked anywhere but at her. “No, but-” “I want you to sleep comfortably,” she said, pulling the blanket up to her chest. JJ nodded his head slowly. When it was clear to Mera that he wasn’t going to move until she did something, she rolled onto her side, closing her eyes. “My eyes are closed, JJ.” She heard him shuffle around, mumbling to himself about something or another. She finally felt the bed dip underneath him as he slid under the covers. Mera rolled onto her back, sitting so close to the edge, her arm practically dangling from the bed. “I have slept in closer quarters with men before,” Mera said into the darkness. “There is no reason to be uncomfortable.” “Are you telling me that?” JJ asked. “Or yourself?” Mera tensed her jaw, letting out a deep breath. “I’m not sure.” There was silence again. Mera could hear the wind rustling the reeds and leaves outside, the water lapping against the dock, the sound of JJ breathing. “You said you were engaged.” “Betrothed.” “Yeah.” JJ let out a deep breath. “What was his name?”  “Jeremiah Hayne.” “What was he like?” “I don’t know. I never met him.” “You were going to marry someone you never met?” “That was the world I lived in, JJ. It was a treaty with him and his armada. We needed the extra aid, the ability to sail his waters.” “Weren’t you...upset about it?” “Not really. It was for the best of my crew.” “Oh.” “Do you have a betrothed?” “God, no.” JJ let out a short laugh. “Anyone my dad chose for me would be the last person I would want to marry.” “So there’s no one?” “Um, no. Just me and the Pogues.” “Kiara-” “No. Kie and I tried it out a while ago. Didn’t work.” “Oh.”    They fell silent again. “We should probably sleep,” JJ said. “John B is going to take you to Ward Cameron’s tomorrow.” “Yes, of course.” “Rafe is his son, so watch for him. I doubt he’ll say anything about how you kicked his ass, but just don’t go anywhere by yourself. Guy’s a psychopath, I swear.” Mera smiled into the darkness. “I’ll be careful.” “Night, Mera.” “Goodnight, JJ.”

[hermannsthumb]

So I just saw your Halloween prompts! I don't think you've done this one yet so could you do "we hate each other but we were invited to a mutual friend’s party and were warned to be civil so you complimented my costume and fuck you, i haven’t changed yet"?

from halloween prompts here

ok I thought I'd get a little funky with this one and set it within the first year of them getting shoved in the shatterdome together when they’re just total dicks to each other. for reference this is the ABSOLUTE EXACT OUTFIT NEWT IS WEARING!!!!!

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

Newt arrives fashionably late to the party.

Well, it’s more just like late late. His date with a hot ranger hopeful went a little over schedule, so over schedule Newt had to straight-up bail on the guy before they got the check, which he felt bad about, and then he left his phone in the bar and had to double back for it (awkwardly pretending he didn’t notice his date chatting up another guy at the counter), and then he missed his bus and had to hail the most expensive Uber ride of all time, and basically didn’t make it back to base until well after he’d promised to appear with cupcakes. Newt spent a shit-ton of time on those cupcakes and basically sold his soul to get the ingredients for them (rationing, man, it’s killing his amateur baker dreams), so he books it to the break room with the tray without even bothering to change into his costume first. These are more important.

Everything is in full swing when he gets there. The lightbulbs in the overhead lights have been swapped out for purple ones, and the music is pulsing so loud Newt feels it vibrating in his stomach; tacky Halloween garland, most of it homemade, is hung from practically everything; every available surface not cluttered with bottles of cheap booze or chip bowls is cluttered with plastic Jack-O-Lanterns and dripping black candles. In short, it looks pretty fucking fun. Newt squeezes his way through the costumed crowd, rearranges a few candles to carefully slip his cupcakes onto one of the repurposed card tables in a place of honor, and resolves to make himself a drink with the first bottle of something he finds that’s not fruit-flavored—he’s earned it after his shitty night.

There’s a tap at his shoulder before he can make good on his promise to himself of a drink. “Yeah, whatever, I know I’m late, dude,” he shouts over the music. “It’s been a night. I—” He turns. “Oh.”

It’s not Hermann like he (admittedly, foolishly) thought, but rather Tendo, who’s already flushed a bright red, undoubtedly from whatever horrific purple concoction is in his paper cup. Newt wonders if it’s what’s currently foaming in the ominous black cauldron labeled Witch’s Brew next to the cheese dip. He’ll pass, thanks. “It’s about time,” Tendo says. “Gottlieb has been on my ass all fuckin’ night long about where you are. Go find him already.”

“Hermann’s been on your ass about me?” Newt says, eyebrows jumping. Out of everyone in this entire goddamn room—including the janitorial staff, who have had a bone to pick with Newt ever since his ill-advised kaiju eyeball experiment, and resulting explosion, that left the laboratory coated in slime for a week—Hermann is perhaps the very last person he would ever expect to give a shit about his whereabouts. It’s just that Hermann prides himself on not caring about Newt’s personal life, something he takes great care to remind Newt of at every possible opportunity, and Newt would’ve thought he’d have jumped at the chance to enjoy every Newt-free second to the fullest. He should know well enough by now that Hermann manages to find something to complain about in anything. “Why?” he says, and this time, he rolls his eyes. “Did he miss having someone to bitch at? Or bitch about?”

“Easy,” Tendo says warningly. He pokes his finger at Newt’s chest. “Try to keep it civil, boys, okay? I am not having you crush our chances of Pentecost approving a New Year’s bash with a repeat of—”

“Okay, okay,” Newt sighs, waving him off. He doesn’t exactly want a reminder of his and Hermann’s, uh, behavior at the somewhat disastrous Valentine’s Day party, either, or how tense the lab was for weeks following it. Well. Tenser than usual. “I got it. No fights. Where is he?”

“Hiding in that corner,” Tendo says. He gestures with his cup, splashing purple Witch’s Brew all down the front of his dumb greaser costume, and Newt squints where he’s directed; he thinks he can make out pale, sharp cheeks and the flash of a tweed coat. Trust Hermann to wear tweed to a Halloween party. He’s so lame. “Nice pants, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Newt says, distracted, and pushes his way through the crowd.

Newt’s surprised that Hermann even bothered showing up in the first place, and he can’t imagine he’s been very exciting company to anyone all night. The guy hates parties. Sure enough, he’s staring sullenly at his shoes when Newt finally reaches him, back pressed against the wall, soda can gripped so tightly in his free hand Newt can see the aluminum starting to crinkle under his fingertips. Newt doesn’t say hi, just sidles up next to him. Hermann doesn’t seem to notice. “How’s the party?” Newt says.

Hermann’s whole body goes rigid; when he turns to Newt, his lips have curled down into an ugly grimace, like he just ate a whole lemon or maybe caught sight of his tragic hairdo in a mirror. It’s good to see you, too, Hermann, Newt thinks. “Distasteful,” Hermann says. “They haven’t a single decent thing to drink anywhere.”

“Hm,” Newt says. He shoves his hands in his pockets. “I heard you were asking about me.”

“Hardly,” Hermann says with a scoff.

“I heard Tendo didn’t get a second alone you were asking about me so much,” Newt says. “What, did you miss me? I bet you just came here tonight to hang out with me, didn’t you? I bet you were all disappointed when I wasn’t here, and…”

“Hardly,” Hermann snaps. Newt grins. “My presence at this party is in no way affected by your own. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“You were asking where I was, though,” Newt says.

Hermann’s lips contort again, this time into a thin line, and he turns a glare on Newt—though, Newt notices with a flare of glee, his cheeks have gone a bit pink. “I was aware you had…a date, tonight,” he says, slowly, “and—when you were not back by a reasonable time—well, forgive me for worrying that something may have happened to you.” His soda can begins to bend inward. “I wasn’t fancying the idea of having to tack on all of your work atop mine, is all.”

“Sure,” Newt says. He’d be touched, he thinks, if Hermann wasn’t the worst. “Anyway, look, I promise I’ll stay out of your hair—Tendo told us to behave ourselves. Just wanted to brighten your night real fast.”

Hermann snorts. “He warned me similarly. Well—in the interest of civility, I suppose I should compliment your costume.”

The grin vanishes off Newt’s face. Any feelings of good will towards Hermann—any sentimental feelings of companionability—that have been steadily building vanish with it. “Costume?” he says.

“Yes,” Hermann says. He waves his cane up and down, vaguely, over Newt. “Costume. ‘S better than mine, all I’ve got are some bloody vampire fangs in my pocket I haven’t even bothered to put on. You’re a clown, are you not?”

Briefly, Newt considers upending Hermann’s soda can over his head, or maybe indulging in a repeat of the Valentine’s Day party and using that whole fucking black cauldron. Instead, he just blushes and scowls. “Do you have to be such a jackass all the time?” he snaps. “No, I’m not dressed up like a fucking clown. These are my date clothes. A clown—that’s something coming from you, Doctor Sweatervest, you wouldn’t know fashion if it crawled out of the fucking Breach and stomped on you.”

Hermann looks mortified. Good—he should. “Newton—I didn’t—"

“Have a fun time,” Newt says, and storms off.

The thing about Hermann is that he’s a real square who knows exactly how to get under Newt’s skin, even when he doesn’t mean it; the thing about Newt is that he’s majorly cool and knows exactly how to get under Hermann’s skin, and he almost always means it. Newt thinks, if they were other people, he might consider them Frenemies, but he really can’t imagine a world in which Hermann would ever willingly be his friend, so half of that is a bust. Besides, Hermann’s not really his enemy either. He’s more of a…rival. Though it does complicate things severely when Newt takes into account how bad Hermann wants to get into his pants.

“That’s really great and all,” the guy Newt’s been chatting up by the snack table says, “but I don’t have any idea who you’re talking about.”

“It’s just like,” Newt says, “I know he wants me. I’ve caught him staring at my ass, like, twenty times in the lab. And when the eyeball incident happened—he was way too happy to strip me down for the emergency shower.” The event was very conflicting for Newt, too, to be quite honest, and he still looks back on it (Hermann, shouting at him and calling him an idiot, while ripping off his sizzling clothing) with a mixture of annoyance and arousal. He shrugs. “I just don’t know why he doesn’t admit it to himself. We’d all be happier. Can you believe he said I was dressed like a clown?”

“Uh-huh,” the guy says. “Look, Dr. Geiszler, I’m just trying to get some pretzels.”

“What?” Newt says. “Oh. Sorry. Here—” He uses a plastic spoon to scoop some out onto his new friend’s orange paper plate, and finds himself alone again very swiftly.

It’s not like the clown comment ruined his night or anything. It’s just that he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it, once, or stop talking about it either, and every time he does, he feels angry and embarrassed all over again, and maybe sort of wants revenge against Hermann for it. He think he might know how to get it, too.

Hermann is lurking in the same place Newt left him, though instead of his soda can, he’s tensely nursing a paper cup. His name is Sharpied across it in his familiar scribble. Newt announces himself by wrapping his fingers around Hermann’s, raising the cup to his lips, and taking a sip. (It’s more soda.) “Hey, Hermann,” he says.

Hermann stares at him blankly; a familiar blush is making its way back to his cheeks. “Ah,” he says. “Hello.”

“What’s up?” Newt says. He scoots in next to Hermann until their shoulders touch; then, for good measure, he brushes his hand over the one Hermann has clenched firmly on his cane. He feels Hermann shiver. “You having fun?”

“Not—” Hermann clears his throat. He’s looking down at their hands. “Er. Not particularly.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Newt says, and (this time, settling his hand on top of Hermann’s) adds in a low voice, “I bet I could make it more exciting.”

The revenge plan was pretty simple. Preying upon Hermann’s obvious feelings for him, Newt would seduce him, get halfway through makeouts in some secluded hallway, and then pull away and be like just kidding! You suck!, announce he was going to find the sexy ranger he had a date with tonight who was totally into him, and go enjoy the rest of the party while Hermann—well, moped, Newt guessed. At least understood how Newt felt earlier. Except once they actually start making out, Newt realizes that’s kind of fucked up of him, and if Hermann tried the reverse (not that Newt has feelings for Hermann, obviously, but like—hypothetically), Newt would probably lock himself up in his quarters and cry for weeks. Plus, Hermann is apparently kind of awesome at making out?

“I take it your date did not go well,” Hermann breathes in his ear. “I can’t say I mind very much. Will you pull my hair again?”

Newt’s going to examine all this later. “Fuck yeah,” he says.