#help. I was meant to read and go to bed not this

[intromortal]

LIQUID SWEETENER

jake takes care of his sick girlfriend, but with an unexpected twist.

PAIRING jake x f!reader

CONTENT smut. mdni. established relationship, reader has a fever, she's very annoying tbh but it's bc she's ME! it's okay tho bc jake is equally as bad. spitting medicine in someone's mouth... is this sanitary? absolutely not but i also can't bring myself to care

WORD COUNT 3.8k

a.n happiest birthday to my love !!!! nia era where she doesn't let everything she writes rot in her google docs bc she's not happy enough with it??? gasp. maybe. thank you to my lovely @ak4e7a for being so patient with me and reading what i write before anyone else so i don't look stupid i love you mama

WARNINGS fingering, spit, biting, implied oral f!rec, cum eating

Jake’s pout got somehow more pronounced than what it already was when you, once again, refused to just take your medicine. He’d been trying to get you to swallow at least a tiny dose of the sweet fever syrup for the best part of an hour, after every attempt to get you to down any kind of pill resulted in you just hiding them somewhere underneath your cozy pajamas, against your burning skin. He even made sure to pick out a syrup that wouldn’t taste straight up radioactive, knowing you well enough to predict you’d make a big fuss about the nasty taste. Yeah, he could picture it right then in his head, how you’d gag dramatically at the smell and just beg him to go get the tablets again.

For how much you hated being sick, you seemed to dislike the idea of getting better quickly even more.

“You would feel so much better if you just took your medicine,” he sighed, resting the cap filled to the brim with sticky honey flavored syrup on the crowded comforter, careful not to leave it too close to the edge.

“Not even that sick,” you huffed back, trying to wiggle yourself out of the cocoon of blankets Jake wrapped you in as soon as you fell asleep.

“Yeah?” Jake looked at you with an arched brow, before pointing his head to the little mountain of discarded, snot filled tissues overtaking your comforter, the ones he was in the middle of throwing away. “This right here is breeding ground for bioterrorism allegations.”

He stopped you from getting out of bed, securing the warm fuzzy covers around you again. “No need to leave, just tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you,” he whispered against your lashes, placing a soft kiss to your closed eyelid.

“Just wan’ you.”

“But you have me baby, I’m right here, yeah?” he snickered, plump lips thinning into that gorgeous wide smile of his.

He knew damn well what you meant, a frustrated grumble spilling out of you at the thought. Cheeky bastard, of course he wanted you to say it out loud. The quiet part.

“Want…more,” you cranked one of your eyes open, struggling when a droplet from the wet towel on your forehead Jake promptly changed every fifteen minutes slipped in it. You blinked a few times, adjusting to the light in the room before looking over to Jake, his grin still wide and brightening up his whole face, his head turned to the side as he observed you lovingly, a strand of hair longer than the rest tickling the side of his nose.

If Jake had to be completely honest with himself, he wasn’t particularly sad at you being a little sick.

Sure, it sounded mean to say out loud. But you were not doing so badly or in any kind of pain that would worry him, and he enjoyed doting on you like this, with you having no choice but to just take his love. Can’t blame a man for wanting to take care of his girl, especially when said girl had a streak of refusing to just lay back and let him do the work.

You were always hiding your pain and vulnerability from everyone around you, so he enjoyed knowing he was helping make it at least a little better for once.

You—however—wouldn’t exactly agree that he was making you feel better, definitely not by walking around with damp hair from the shower and intoxicating the air around you with the lingering salty marine and musky notes of the cologne he always sprayed on his fresh change of clothes. A smell you usually related to comfort and home, making your head spin in the best way possible, a whirlwind of anything but pure thoughts crowding your mind.

Jake took notice of the subtle shift in the air around you right away. You had been–subtly at first—laying down little hints for him to pick up, you craved him. Had been craving him for what felt like forever, ever since you got sick. A nagging hunger that just grew further with every hour he silently ignored it. Usually you would busy yourself with random tasks, keeping your thoughts clear of images of his hands, or his plush lips and how he always absentmindedly licked away at them or how—you get the idea. But being sick didn’t help, being physically weak and needing rest didn’t stop your mind from running wild. Made it worse, actually, since you had nothing to do but lay in your bed all day. If only he’d slide right next to you under your covers and—

“I know what you’re thinking,” Jake interrupted your thoughts, a hint of amusement shining through his smooth tone. You looked up to him hopefully, breath caught in your chest fearing the next few words he was about to say. “And you’re still too sick.”

Really not being dramatic, but you thought you felt a boulder crush you right on your chest. You groaned, turning to the other side so you could sulk properly without having to look at Jake’s stupidly handsome face. A face you would love to ride as soon as possible.

“No like, you actually hate me,” your voice was muffled by the pillow you were squishing your face against.

“What are you even doing.”

“Trying to suffocate myself since my man hates me,” you explained, grabbing the sides of the pillow and pushing them to cover your ears, making Jake erupt in a fit of boyish giggles.

“No I don’t, just want you to feel better first,” he barely whispered, the loving tone making your body feel light.

You suddenly pushed yourself up with your arms to look at him, nest of hair a mess from the speed of your movement, “I would feel sooo much better with your fingers deep inside me right now.”

He looked at you for a moment, really looked at you, assessing what to do in this situation. He too missed your touch, far more than what he was letting on. Even just sleeping next to you—a pillow fortress separating you two by your request—had turned out to be too much for him on multiple occasions, finding himself silently sneaking out of bed to go and take care of his sudden little problems in the bathroom.

As if sensing his resolve wavering, you added, “don’t I deserve a little reward?”

“A reward… for what?” Jake was thoroughly amused by your desperation. You rarely ever got like this, and he was enjoying every second of it, maybe even pushing it a little farther than what he usually would, ending up punishing himself a little along the way too. But he didn’t care, not when he didn’t know when the next time he’d get to this would be.

“Well of course! For having fought this fever tooth and nail and having come out of it alive.”

“You still have a fever though,” he deadpanned. “Could kick your ass right down at any given moment.”

“That.” you glared at him with all the fake anger you could muster up. “Is such a mean thing to even suggest.”

“Don’t you care about me getting sick? Made a scene all week and now you’re okay with me touching you?”

“First of all—I only made you keep the pillows between us the first two days. And like I told you, I feel better, so if—” the words died in your throat as you felt the bed dip underneath the weight of Jake’s knee. You looked up to him as he slowly got inside the covers, right next to you. His presence felt different, the soft look in his eyes overtaken by something more primal, and you couldn't help but feel like prey under his watchful gaze. It felt intimidating in a way you weren’t used to. It made you squeeze your legs together in search of any friction, your already feverish skin somehow feeling even hotter.

“Maybe you’re right,” Jake whispered against your cheek, his nose rubbing for a moment on your skin as he snuck an arm underneath your body, pulling you flush to his side. Even just that single touch sends an electrifying shiver down your spine. “Since you’re fully capable of talking my ear off…”

You reached for his hand wrapped comfortably around your waist and guided it down to cup your heat through your thin shorts, your own hand resting on top of his as you ground your pussy against it.

You took notice of how his breath hitched in his throat, his carefully crafted mask of calmness slipping as you used his hand, the illusion wearing off even more when he tried to hide it with a gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. You knew he wanted it just as bad as you did, you were just willing to beg for it as long as it got you what you wanted. “I’ll—” you audibly gasped when he flexed his fingers just that tiny little bit you needed to be able to feel them press against your fluttering hole. “I’ll do anything, just please make me cum.”

“Anything?” he teased you, voice light and airy as he moved the fabric of the shorts out of his way. A deep chuckle tickled your neck, Jake’s mouth having dipped down do leave open mouthed kisses on the sensitive skin.

“Anything, just… please,” you whined, flexing your neck to allow him more space, his tongue dipping to lick a stripe down to the juncture of your neck.

If you hadn't been so deprived of Jake’s touch up until then, you would have found the way you were grinding up against his hand and moaning in his ear almost embarrassing. But you were desperate, so you couldn't bring yourself to care about how pathetic you probably looked.

Jake though, oh he enjoyed it thoroughly. His cock was stiff in his sweats, almost painfully so, from feeling how wet you were through your shorts. Dripping already and he had barely touched you. You were just so fucking hot.

“You’ll take your medicine then?” He moved his hand from your mound to grip your thigh, ignoring your weak one clawing at his arm in an attempt to get the little taste of pleasure he was giving you back. He kissed his teeth, his eyebrows furrowed in faux disapproval. “Use your words. What will you do?”

“Take my medicine,” you whimpered, looking into your boyfriend's eyes despite the tears aligning your waterline, and finding amusement swimming through his gaze. Little cheeky shit. Not that you were about to complain or anything.

“Theeeere we go,” Jake sang in your ear, placing a soft kiss behind it before dipping down once again and resuming his sweet torture. “You can be good once in a while.”

You nodded, lips thinning to keep quiet as if any wrong sound would make him change his mind and leave you hanging. The hand that was drawing circles on your thigh came up to hold your chin, carefully tilting it away from Jake’s mouth as he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot on your skin. He smoothed over your lips with his thumb, coaxing them to part once again.

“Let me hear how good you feel, baby,” he mumbled, mouth still latched on your neck, before taking a strong whiff off your neck. Had you not been so distracted by the wetness seeping out of your clenching hole onto your panties, you would've noticed how his eyes rolled all the way back in his skull at your smell.

His free hand finally slid under your shorts, a gasp leaving you because of how cold he felt. Jake was always warmer than you, but your fever made it so his touch felt icy against your skin. Your back arched slightly when one of his digits parted your sopping folds, your sensitivity heightened by the unusual difference of temperature.

“Poor little thing, she’s got a fever too,” he giggled into your neck, another digit joining in as he slowly dragged them from your clit to your hole to coat them in your juices. “But it’s okay, I’ll help her feel better.”

Usually you would’ve groaned at his stupid little jokes and pushed his face away. But this time, blame his voice being deeper and hoarser than normal or blame your fever, it got you clenching around nothing, cunt feeling emptier than ever while he took his sweet time playing with you.

Your head dug deeper into the pillow, hips lifting from the bed to follow Jake’s torturous movements, desperate to feel something more.

“So needy…” he breathed into your neck, going back to placing sloppy open mouthed kisses wherever he could reach.

A yelp left your mouth, eyes you didn't even notice you had closed shooting open when Jake bit down on the junction of your neck and shoulder, just enough to rip you out of the trance you were quickly falling into. He smoothed over the little bite mark with this tongue, a tingly sensation overtaking the pain in a matter of seconds, pleasure overriding anything else.

Jake finally prodded two of his digits into your hole, testing the waters, still careful not to push you too hard so soon. But your reaction was instantaneous, pussy hole fluttering against his fingertips right away, he just had to bite down on his bottom lip to keep most of his noises in. “God… I fucking love it when you act like a little slut.”

Jake was so fucking turned on, he could barely think about anything but your pussy. The only thought in his mind was get her off, make her feel good, get a taste of her sweet cunt, sweet pretty and oh so delicious cunt… like a broken record. He felt like he was born for this and this only, as if his mission in life was just that of pleasing you. And to think he had deprived himself of such bliss for even a few days… Something in you seemed different to him, almost animalistic, the way you rutted your hips against his hand as soon as he started scissoring his fingers inside you, the way you weren't even trying to hold in your moans like you usually would, mouth hanging open with a string of drool attached to your lips. And this was just from his fingers.

You yourself weren't doing any better, your brain basically turned to mush as you helped Jake get you off by essentially riding his fingers, despite how weak you felt from the fever. His fingers were so long, hitting all the right spots you knew you could never be able to reach by yourself, and his thick knuckles dragged against your walls so deliciously.

“S-so good,” you gasped when he turned his fingers just the right way, hitting the spot he knew had you coming undone in just a few strokes.

The room was filled with the slapping sounds of his palm against your drenched cunt, more and more slick dripping down your thighs and onto the bed with every flick of his wrist, making it all that much more obscene and filthy. You could feel the familiar pressure building up in your tummy, and suddenly the overwhelming need to just grab onto something crashed on you, heavy and almost painful. You clawed at his shirt, eyebrows furrowed in deep pleasure, unaware of the fact that Jake was not facing you anymore.

He looked over his shoulder to the comforter, the cap filled with syrup still there amidst the mess. He twisted his body to grab it, careful not to slow down the relentless pace he was fingerfucking your cunt at. A few drops of the liquid spilled onto his shirt as he took a sip of it, a grimace overtaking his features as he tried his best to hold it in his mouth. You were still a moaning mess by his side, tiny brain turned to putty so much so you didn't even register anything else happening around you, so hyper focused on the pleasure your boyfriend was providing you.

“J-jake, I’m so close.”

Perfect timing.

Jake grabbed your jaw to turn your head towards his, applying the pressure he always did to signal it was time to part your pretty lips and take his spit, like the good well behaved girl he knew you to be. And you did just that; immediately following his movements like he had trained you to, tongue sticking out too for good measure. He bent down slightly to aim better. But this time, instead of the slightly bitter taste of his saliva you expected, he let small amounts of medicine fall on your tongue.

You uselessly tried to back away from him, but he held you in place, fingers still working inside your cunt. Nor did he allow you to close your mouth despite your surprised gasp. His hand held your jaw open, grasp getting firmer everytime you tried to break free of it. After all, you made a promise, and he was going to make sure you fulfilled it.

“You weren't going to take it, huh?” Jake mouthed against your lips once he had made sure you swallowed every last drop of the thick honeyed syrup, holding eye contact with you through it all, fingers never once slowing down their pace. “Little dumb pet thinks she can outsmart me.”

He smashed his mouth on yours, not so much a kiss as a silencing of any complaint you were about to spit it at him. Those turned to even more whines when he finally brought his thumb to your clit, drawing harsh circles on it as he fucked you to your orgasm. It was almost instantaneous, but you just couldn't have helped it even if you tried; you were so close already, his stiff cock rubbing against your thigh and his pants hot in your mouth but his thumb so cold against your neglected clit

“That’s it baby, so good for me yeah.” Jake’s fingers gradually slowed down inside you, making sure you got every last bit of pleasure you could possibly experience from this high. He too was relishing in how your cunt pulsed against his digits, making it harder to move them inside you. Oh he wished it were his cock being constricted like that instead. But that could wait.

You finally felt like you could breathe again, chest heaving to catch in as much air as you could, forehead all sweaty from the exertion.

The sheets were drenched around you, and you couldn't even pinpoint when it had happened, but you could immediately tell you weren't the only one who had made a mess. Your gaze wandered to Jake’s pants, a very evident stain on his crotch catching your attention. And fuck, if you weren't ready to do it all over again.

Jake looked absolutely divine; hair disheveled and soaked from the sweat, boxers and sweatpants full of cum. A waste truly.

You snuck your hand in his pants, ignoring the loud hiss from overstimulation Jake let out when you wrapped your hand around his cock and pumped a few times, your thumb swiping on his exposed head to collect some of the cum covering it.

Jake watched you, mouth ajar and cock stiffening again right away, as you licked your fingers clean. He slid his own fingers out of your cunt, lapping at them like a man starved, hoping to work you up as much as you just did to him. His heart raced in his chest as you kept looking at him, a little smile playing on your lips.

“That was so…” you spoke up, giggling when Jake interrupted you by throwing himself over your figure, capturing your lips in an actual kiss this time. A very messy, very wet kiss. Allowing you to savor your own taste mixed with his and sweetened by the medicine.

“I think the word you’re looking for is hot.”

“Dramatic,” you interjected. “So, so dramatic.”

Jake curled an eyebrow at you. “You were the one acting like it’d kill you to swallow some syrup. And actually, let’s not forget–” He placed a quick kiss on your nose before pushing you against the mattress further, his entire weight on you. “Ohhh no Jake! Please my Jakey! If I don’t get your cock right now I will DIE!”

“Well I still hav–”

“And won’t.” he deadpanned, sensing where you were trying to stir the conversation. “But I’ve got a few ideas.”

You smiled to yourself, feeling featherlight kisses making their way down your body, with his messy hair tickling your skin every so often. He placed a soft kiss on your mound, whining dramatically when you grabbed a few strands of his hair to stop him. He rested his head on your thigh, puppy-like eyes looking up at you, almost pleading for permission to continue what he started.

“I really don’t want you to get sick,” you said, voice coming out in a whisper full of care, your fingertips playing with his hair and enjoying the way he nuzzled his head further against your skin.

“Well if I were to get sick by touching you… I’d say the deal is sealed by now, no?” He placed another kiss on your thigh, teeth slightly grazing the plush skin when you took too long to contemplate whether to give in or not. “Actually, I think some of this syrup would heal me right now.”

“Jake. I’m being serious.”

“What could I possibly even catch from eating you out that I haven't already by exchanging spit with you? Best pussy in the world disease?” He laughed at his own joke, gaining a roll of the eyes from you. “Let me tell you, the chances of that happening are close to zero anyway. I don’t have a pussy but I am the proud owner of a very fat co–”

“You are downright insufferable.”

“Okay so shut me up with a mouthful of this pu–”

The rest of the sentence was muffled against your mound as you pushed his head down, deciding you heard enough for the day. And the week.

“Okay, okay. Go on,” you giggled as you laid back once again, a deep sigh following as soon as his expert tongue made contact with your cunt.

[writerdownbookworder]

The princess smiled at him happily from across the battlefield as she rode away. 

Edmund smiled back and waved. The minute she was out of sight, his hand dropped and he ran it through his hair nervously as he returned to work, carting away the bodies of the enemy and friends alike. It was hard, emotional work, and thankfully, it took his mind off of the explanation he would have to give his family in a few short hours.

Finally, he was able to go home. As soon as Edmund walked in the door, he was bombarded with hugs from all six of his little siblings. They were all between the ages of 2 and 10, and the smaller ones tried climbing him like monkeys. Edmund laughed as he hugged them all, then his parents and grandparents who all lived with them in the four bedroom house. 

After Edmund finally got the little ones calmed down and regaled them with some of the tamer stories he had, he looked at his mother. 

Reading his mind, she started corralling the kids. “Come on, everyone,” she called. “Bedtime!” She ignored the groans and moans that came as she whisked them into their bedroom.

Edmund shifted awkwardly in his chair as he waited for her to come back. When she did, taking a seat beside his father, Edmund took a deep breath.

“I have some news to share,” he began. “I am…engaged.”

His grandmother hooted with joy. “Ha! Finally!”

“Really, Mabel,” Edmund’s mother said reproachfully. “Let the boy speak.”

His father turned to him. “Do we know the girl?”

Edmund wouldn’t meet any of their eyes as he mumbled, “Sort of.”

His grandfather crossed his arms. “It’s not that Katrina, is it? You do know she’s a bit strange. I don’t think you should marry her. Can you call it off?”

Edmund sighed and rubbed his forehead. “It’s not Katrina. And that’s not very nice, Grandfather.”

“Hmph!” his grandfather pouted. “Well, then, who is it?”

“Itstheoldestprincessprincessisolde!” Edmund said, all in a rush.

His grandmother put a hand to her ear. “Eh?”

Edmund took a deep breath. “It’s Princess Isolde.”

“What?!” came a shriek from behind them. Everyone whipped around, only to find seven-year-old Avalie peeking around the corner and eavesdropping. 

She started bouncing on her toes with excitement. “You’re gonna marry Princess Isolde?! She’s my favorite!”

Edmund’s mother put her hands on her hips. “Young lady, you are not supposed to be up. You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

Edmund sighed. “She might as well stay now.”

Avalie ran over and jumped on his lap. “You’re my favorite! How did it happen?!” she asked eagerly.

He couldn’t help grinning at her. “Well, last year, remember when I was gone for so long? I was one of her personal guards. A few days ago, we ended up near each other again, out on the battlefield. I thought…” he let his voice trail off, remembering he was talking to a seven year old. The adults in the room knew what he meant, so he continued his story. “I knew I loved her, and I was pretty sure she loved me too. We grew close last year. I asked her to marry me, and she said yes. And…here we are.”

“Are you gonna go live in the palace?!” Avalie shrieked, ignoring when five adults shushed her. “That’s so exciting!”

Edmund laughed. “Yes, I suppose it is. I believe she said she would send word in a few days. I’m…not too sure what to do next. We did just get out of a war.”

Avalie clutched him tightly. “Can I come with you?” 

He laughed again. “Fine by me! You’ll have to ask Isolde though.”

Avalie’s eyes went wide.

She, Avalie, was going to meet a princess! And not just any princess. Her very favorite one!

And Princess Isolde was going to marry her own brother!

That would make them sisters!!!

The rest of the adults were not as excited as Avalie, to say the least. The minute she was shooed off to bed for a second time, the questions resumed.

“How?”

“Why would you do such a thing?”

“What in the world possessed you?”

“Her?”

“She’s the heir to the throne! What does that make you?”

“Why would she even say yes?”

Edmund glared at his grandmother, who had asked that particular question. “Gee, thanks.”

She shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”

The soldier had proposed to the princess out of a mix of getting it out now and the belief he wouldn't make it. Now that the two are alive after the final battle, she intends to make good on what he promised and he's now wondering on how to explain it to his family.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 88 (Bringing Home a Ghost)

After Ghost Night ended at the Salty Paw, Heather, Conrad, and their new friend Felix Psyded left Fisherman's Wharf and returned to their home on Sable Square. Heather entered first, finding Hazel on the sofa watching TV. "Hey, how were the kids tonight?"

"They were great! Ashy said you guys usually read him two bedtime stories but he fell asleep after the first one, and Lava hasn't woken up since I put her to bed. I got to watch Moonlight Massacre after all! How was your night?"

"It was nice! We went looking for a man we didn't find, but we met someone else while we were there..."

Conrad walked inside the front door as Felix floated in behind him. Heather stood, and Hazel looked up from her phone in quiet awe. "Felix Psyded, Esquire. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss."

"Hazel Moody-Nesbitt," she replied. "Heather's cooler younger sister. You're, like, really a ghost!"

"Since 1915." He warmly tipped his bowler hat. "May I say, you're stunning like your sister."

"You may say! But I'm married."

"Of course the lovely Nesbitt women would all be spoken for. Though I hope your husband is friendlier than Sargent Gordon."

Hazel laughed. "My wife is sweet, but Conrad's great! Are you the one guy in the world he doesn't get along with?"

Heather sighed, sliding over to make room for Conrad on the sofa. "They got off on the wrong foot."

"Well, why'd you bring him home? I know you love strays, but I didn't think that meant sims who've been dead for over a century!"

"They've promised me a plate of ambrosia in exchange for my services."

Hazel gaped. "When you guys said you were doing this challenge I just thought it was, like, a team building exercise. I didn't think you were really going to resurrect anybody!"

Heather shrugged. "Well, why shouldn't we? We went through all that to learn how to do it, so we might as well help someone with unfinished business while we're at it."

"So is that it, then? No one dies, they just get to live again with ambrosia?"

"Not everyone's unfinished business is to live again. Some die so old, with bodies so used and broken, living again isn't worth it. Even some of the younger ones. Everyone is different and fascinating in their own way, which is why I took to studying ghosts and their stories in the first place."

"He's going to help us figure out if Conrad met a ghost out on Deadgrass Isle."

Hazel grinned as Conrad stood to shoo one of their chickens back outside. "You're fighting crime by day and paranormal activity by night? Holly was right, Conrad. You're basically a superhero."

He blushed, and Felix turned a dour look in his direction. Ending the tense conversation in the living room, Hazel left to return home.

Heather and Conrad left Felix on the sofa and headed to bed. But before they'd changed into pajamas, she blurted her question with concern. "What's going on with you? I've never seen you snappier with anyone than you were tonight with Felix. Like I brought home two ghosts tonight instead of one."

"He was kind of acting like a dick."

Heather nodded. "And you met him there. That's not like you. Is it George Brindleton again?"

"No, George has been quiet. He and his wife spend a lot of the winter in Sulani every year." He could see Heather found this insufficient and kept talking. "I'm just dealing with a lot. I know I wasn't really myself tonight. There's this one case I can't crack and it's making me a little crazy."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I do, but I can't say much about it."

"I know. Confidential. But I want to give you whatever you need to be able to keep your work life at work, and not take the stress home. Not even for me and the kids, because you're so good to us. That's not the issue. I'm worried about you, and I want you to talk to me. The night we got engaged, you promised you would always tell me how you're feeling."

Joining her on the bed, he held her hand against his chest. "When I've finally solved the case, I'll tell you everything. I promise."

She grinned. "Not every gory detail, I hope."

"Do I ever? I don't want to think about the case tonight. I don't want to think about the ghost in our living room. All I want to focus on the rest of the night is you."

They made love before Heather fell asleep in Conrad's arms, (at least temporarily) satisfied by their conversation. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: I debated whether or not to bring Felix Psyded and his lore into this generation because there's a university generation much, much later in this challenge, but Felix was the first ghost that showed up to Ghost Night, sat right next to them and was immediately enamoured with Heather. So my mind spun with a bunch of possibilities for him and I went for it, even though he's mentioned in urban legends for UBrite students and those obviously won't be canon to my timeline anymore.

The In Bloom challenge doesn't have anything related to Felix in the challenge rules, even in the university generation, and Reaper Rewards didn't even require use of the ambrosia Heather made. But I wasn't going to do all that and not fully finish what they started. They're not really the type to lure sims into a cowplant just to test whether ambrosia works, no one in my save needed to die and be brought back, and I have a plan now for Felix! @pixeldistractions mentioned a possible prequel flashback and I'll never say never, but setting up an early-20th Century photo save will take a while if I do it, so no promises. I am invested in him getting a happy ending to his second life, however!

[celli-ohs]

I Can't, I Have Rehearsal

pairing: socially awkward!park sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

synopsis: What happens when you get seated right next to the most handsome boy in your entire grade? Well you thought it'd be a great excuse to get to know him better, but the guy won't even talk to you! After a mishap in the science lab, you come to find out that Park Sunghoon, the cold-hearted prince of EN High, isn't in fact rude, he's just afraid of women.

before you read: character profiles

warnings: language, cooties, wild subplot, loser enhypen

word count: 3.78k

taglist (open): @ancnymcnzjy

note: part 1 of my and scene! series, loosely based off en-drama.

Log 3: Wednesday - March 6th, 2024

The blaring screams of his alarm clock has Sunghoon jolting from his sleep. “Oh my god,” He gasps, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “It was all just a dream!” He says relieved.

Jumping out of bed, he hurriedly gets ready for the day. Once clean and changed, he walks to the kitchen, opening a packet of natto to indulge in. 

“Yeji! Don’t forget to comb your hair,” He hears his mother scold as she enters the kitchen. “Oh, Sunghoon, you’re up?” She sounds confused. 

“Yeah, I’m walking with the guys, just like every morning.” He shrugs her off. She doesn’t say much after that, only rushing his little sister around the house, helping her get ready.

“I’m off, see you later.” Sunghoon waves goodbye as he heads out. “Have a good day!” His mother smiles. 

“He’s having a good morning for someone who locked himself in his room last night.” Yeji grumbles. “Your brother is… a teenager Yeji, let him be.” Her mother tries to keep a positive mindset. 

“Will I be like that when I’m a teenager?” Yeji asks, looking worried. 

“You better not, your brother is enough trouble as it is.”

In the past ten minutes no one has said a single word. Sunghoon can’t seem to figure out why though, his eyes searching for the answer. 

Finally, Jungwon clears his throat. “Sunoo,” He calls out. “How did your audition go? For the theater club?” 

The other boy suddenly sighs. “You won’t believe it- they rejected me!” Jaeyun looks completely shocked, eyebrows furrowed together. 

“I know! And then they had the audacity to ask me if I could instead be a prop decorator when I’m meant to be on stage!” Sunoo groans.

“That’s mean,” Heeseung frowns. (He keeps popping up out of nowhere, he’s like a ninja, it’s starting to actually scare Sunghoon).

“But then something happened on my walk home,” Sunoo hums, rummaging through his pocket. “Some guy stopped me when I was getting ice cream, he said to call him and I could become an idol!” Sunoo flashes the fancy business card in front of all his friends. 

“Is that real?” Riki swipes it, observing both sides of the cardstock. The card gets passed around, and everyone gets a good look before it’s returned to Sunoo.

"Belift Lab? What kind of stupid company name is that?" Jungwon scoffs as he reads the card.

“Do you guys think I should do it? Being an idol sounds fun.” Sunoo smiles. That is until Jaeyun shakes his head. “Sure yeah you’re famous, but don’t you want to be an actor? That’s pretty different.”

“True, you could be training for years before you debut, or maybe you don’t debut at all,” Jungwon adds.

“Riki A’s older brother almost became an idol, he says he trained for like almost 3 years.” Riki comments.

“Oh gross, I think I’ll just stick to acting.” Sunoo tosses the card into a nearby trash can. 

“Was he from a good company?” Sunghoon asks. Sunoo shrugs. “Don’t know, I've never heard of them.”

“Sounds sketchy, probably good you didn’t say yes.” Jungwon agrees. 

As the six of them continue on their walk to school, there’s the familiar sound of a thud behind them, causing them all to turn. 

“Fuck, I got my pants dirty,” Jongseong grumbles as he stands up, dusting himself off. “You’re late,” Sunghoon teases, making the other boy roll his eyes. “I’m early actually, and I have been this whole week.” Jongseong argues.

“It’s only Wednesday.” Sunoo points out to him. This has Sunghoon confused. “What do you mean? It’s only Tuesday.”

The boys all stop, turning to Sunghoon with crazed expressions. “Sunghoon, it’s Wednesday,” Jaeyun shows his calendar on his phone.

He takes a closer look, stepping forward. Right there on Jaeyun’s screen it lists the date: Wednesday, March 6th. 

“No.” Sunghoon stumbles over his words. He looks up at his friends. “That means yesterday-” He chokes up.

“Dude are you high?” Riki asks, concerned. “Do you not remember what happened yesterday?”

Yesterday. Tuesday. March 5th.

He went to school, and then he went home. Yeah. No. Maybe?

Because then that would mean that what happened wasn’t a dream-

“You left home early, remember? Actually you ran out, Jaeyun had to drop your stuff off.” Jungwon clarifies, and suddenly everything clicks.

After humiliating himself in front of you and his entire class, Sunghoon didn’t even think about dashing out of the classroom. To be honest, he just kept running, past his homeroom, past the front doors, and right out the school gates down the street. 

“Sunghoon!” Jaeyun shakes him by the shoulders. “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t respond, brain shutting down.

Sunghoon has to be wrestled into his seat. Jaeyun and Jongseong hold him down, trying to convince him to apologize to you. 

“Just say you’re sorry,” Jongseong holds him firmly down by the shoulder. “Yeah! I’m sure she’ll understand.” Jaeyun tries to stay positive.

“Please, please just let me go. You guys are my friends, can’t you just-” “We’re doing this because we’re your friends you idiot.” Jongseong argues. 

Sunghoon tries to argue, but is swiftly shut up when Jaeyun suddenly announces your arrival.

“Hi Y/n! You’re looking nice today.” Jaeyun sounds overly enthusiastic as he compliments you, his arms are not so subtly trying to get Sunghoon to turn your way.

“Hey Jaeyun,” You sound unsure as you get closer. 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Jongseong.” Sunghoon’s other friend greets you.

“Hi,” You say quickly before clearing your throat. “Um, Sunghoon, do you think we can talk really quick? In private?” 

Sunghoon shakes his head no, but his two friends decide to take matters into their own terms. 

“Oh, he’d love to! Right, Sunghoon?” Jongseong stares him down. Sunghoon clenches his jaw and rigidly nods. 

He’s released by his friends, and like a robot, follows you out of the classroom. He’d try to make a break for it, but he could feel both Jongseong and Jaeyun’s eyes following him down the hall. 

You lead him to a corner by the janitor’s closet, it’s a lot quieter as it’s away from the rowdy crowd of teeangers.

He stands far from you, not able to get closer than 10 feet. But you begin to close the space in between you, forcing Sunghoon to back up. Except he instead ran into a wall and found himself cornered by you.

“I was worried you wouldn’t show up today.” You begin to speak, stepping back and keeping a respectable distance. Sunghoon is as stiff as a board, eyes trained onto his feet. 

“I wanted to say I’m really sorry for what happened yesterday.” You suddenly apologize. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I had no idea you were scared of girls, Jaeyun told me after you ran away.” 

His best friend of the past eight years, Sim Jaeyun, revealed his most deepest darkest secret?! He felt so betrayed.

“But I want you to know I want to help you.” You say, and suddenly Sunghoon is looking at you (more like the outline of you, he still can’t look at you directly) with wide eyes. 

“I mean we’re seatmates and club members, we should be able to help each other out.” You begin to explain. “And Jaeyun kind of asked me to help you.” You add sheepishly at the end.

Sunghoon was seriously going to get his revenge on that kid.

“So what do you say?” You ask, rocking back and forth on your feet as you patiently wait for his answer.

Sunghoon felt trapped. On one hand, his looming fear of women was stopping him, but on the other hand provided a (very scary) solution to his big problem.

“H-How would you help me?” He coughs out. “I was thinking we could start by being friends? Maybe work on the small stuff.” You offered.

The small stuff, yeah, he could deal with that, right? 

Eventually, he nods, causing you to clap your hands together. 

“Great! This is going to be easy, I promise!” You grin.

It was in fact not easy.

All morning you would try to get Sunghoon to give you as much as a look in your direction, whispering to him random questions and facts to try and start a conversation.

When lunch finally arrived, Sunghoon had never run so fast to the cafeteria before in his life.

“I’m gonna kill you Sim Jaeyun!” Sunghoon is seething as he sneaks up behind his friend. Jaeyun’s signature smile vanishes, and is replaced with fear. 

“Sunghoon please-” “You told her?!” Sunghoon leads Jaeyun to sit down at their table. 

“How else do I explain why you suddenly dipped in the middle of class? I could’ve told her you had to take a massive shit, but I didn’t!” Jaeyun argues, tugging Sunghoon off of him. 

Hmm, touche.

“This was for the greater good, we all agreed on it.” Sunoo suddenly adds in. Sunghoon turns to his friends in shock.

“You guys voted? With Heeseung?!” He points to the (technically his) senior. Heeseung stared wide eyed, looking slightly guilty.

“We voted because you’re getting out of hand. Dude, my older sister ran into you at the supermarket the other day with your mom and when she said hi, you hid behind the cans of soup display.” Jungwon reveals.

“I thought she wouldn’t recognize me.” Sunghoon winces from the embarrassment.

Heeseung (awkwardly) claps a hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Sungho.” “-Sunghoon,” Jaeyun whispers to him the correction.

“It’s okay, Sunghoon.” Heeseung pretends to have never made his mistake. “Everything will be alright.”

Sunghoon turns to him, lips thin. That one look has Heeseung’s arm falling back to his side. 

“Come on Sunghoon, stop acting like this. You already agreed to let her help you anyways.” Jongseong argues. The boy sighs, rubbing his face in despair. Even Sunghoon can’t believe he still agreed.

“I take it back, can you guys tell her I’d rather be a hermit for the rest of my life and never want to see another woman again?” Sunghoon asks, looking stressed. 

“Well don’t look now, but I’m pretty sure that’s her coming our way.” Jungwon points out, sipping his drink as he nods to his right. 

The younger boy proves to be right, you’re making your way through the crowded cafeteria, holding your tray of food as you walk confidently towards Sunghoon and his friends. Unfortunately for him, Jaeyun traps him down to his seat before he can run again.

“Hey Sunghoon,” You smile, waving as you stop at the head of the table. Jongseong kicks his shin, forcing him to respond. 

“Hi,” He grunts. The other boys snicker, finding all of this amusing. 

“I was just wondering if we’re still having Calligraphy club today after school?” You ask. 

Oh crap. With everything that happened today, Sunghoon had totally spaced out and forgotten what he’d promised the day before. 

“He wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Riki grins at you. The youngest sticks his hand out to you, giving you an enticing smirk. “I’m Riki B by the way, you like younger guys?” His question earns him a slap on the arm by Jongseong.

As Riki gasps from the pain, you chuckle awkwardly. “So I’ll see you after class then? At the old library?” You check, facing Sunghoon again. He stiffly nods, still not looking at you.

“Cool, see you!” You finally leave, going to eat a few tables away. Once you're gone, Sunghoon feels as if he can breathe again. 

“She’s pretty.” Heeseung giggles, earning quiet but strong agreements from the other boys. “You sit next to her?!” Sunoo sounds surprised, mocking the boy in question.

“Okay, shut up. All of you.” Sunghoon glares, his ears turning red.

“Don’t worry Sunghoon,” Riki begins to chuckle. “I won’t actually steal your girl, I’ve got my eyes on someone else.” He teases. “Just don’t get too butt hurt when she falls for my good looks and charismatic charm.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, deciding to ignore the youngest. 

“Speak of the devil,” Riki suddenly laughs. “Yo shortcake!” He stands up in his seat, hollering at someone.

A girl in the sea of students spins around, first looking confused, then angry as her eyes land on the tall boy. She promptly flips him off, before stomping away with her friends. 

Riki laughs, finding the situation funny. “I’ll see you guys later, with my new girlfriend.” He says confidently, dumping his food in the trash to go chase after the poor girl. 

“Oh this is gonna be good,” Jungwon begins to chuckle, pulling out his phone before following his friend. “Send me the video!” Sunoo shouts and Jungwon gives him a thumbs up. “I pray for that girl,” Jaeyun shakes his head.

“She’s gonna need a miracle to get rid of him,” Jongseong agrees. “Same way Sunghoon’s gonna need a miracle to get out of Calligraphy club today.” Sunoo comments.

This was always one of Sunghoon's favorite parts of calligraphy: the setup. Being able to prepare and organize before he wrote felt calming in the sense that it was a comfortable pattern. He opens his box, revealing his multiple brushes and supplies safely packed inside. 

Relishing in the silence, Sunghoon carefully takes out sheets of paper, placing them to his right. Using water from his designated calligraphy water bottle, he pours a small amount into his shallow ink stone. 

Like a machine, Sunghoon begins to sternly rub his ink stick against the stone, breaking it down and mixing it with the water to create the dark opaque ink. He sets this to the side once finished, taking a piece of paper, and flattening it out with his paper weights.

With a deep breath, Sunghoon feels his heart calm down to a trill. This was the most relaxed he’s felt all week. 

“So that’s how it’s supposed to look, huh?” Your voice interrupts his thoughts and suddenly Sunghoon is reminded of why you’re here in the first place.

Across from him you sit, copying him as you begin to set up your own supplies. You do so messily, but nonetheless, you get the job done looking satisfied.

“Okay! I’m ready whenever you are.” You clap your hands together, eager to start. Opposite to you, Sunghoon is silent as he begins to dip his brush into his ink, carefully calculating his brush strokes as he writes, quoting a poem he enjoyed. 

“So, are you actually scared of catching cooties?” You ask, not so subtle. Your abrupt question has him frozen.

“Cause if you are, has anyone told you that cooties aren't real? It’s just a thing kids say-“

“I know.” He interrupts. “I just…” He loses the words, grimacing instead. You two grow quiet again, the tension in the air is thick.

“What are you writing?” You eventually speak up again. 

“...It’s a quote from the poem ‘Flowers That Bloom When Shaken’ by Do Jonghwan.” He explains.

You nod. “Well I’m drawing a cat playing in a field.” You suddenly hold up your paper, showing him your art. 

If he thought your calligraphy was bad, it was safe to say you weren’t an artist either. “Looks like a second grader made it.” He mumbles. You huff, grabbing a new paper.

As you both return to writing in silence, Sunghoon is able to focus and finish his piece, setting it to the side to let it dry properly.

He notices you suddenly stop writing, setting your brush down as you lean back into your chair. You sit with crossed arms, observing him. This has Sunghoon feeling like his skin was crawling. 

“Sunghoon.” You call out. “Let’s play a game.”

He pauses. “I don’t like games.” 

“Too bad, this is a fun one.” You assure him. You sit upright again and lean against the table.

“We’re just gonna ask each other questions, and we have to answer them.” You say it like it’s so easy.

“What if I don’t?” He fidgets. 

“Every question you answer, you get to go home five minutes early.” You prompt. Sunghoon’s eyes flit across the room to the door. Leaving early sounded nice.

“We get three questions each, okay?” Sunghoon slowly nods. You clap your hands together, excited. 

“I’ll go first,” You clear your throat. His heart begins to race, palms getting sweaty, and mind running wild at what horrible grotesque questions you could ask him. 

“For my first question…” You hum. “Why do you like calligraphy?” 

That wasn’t what he expected you to ask him.

“I-” He chokes, blinking as he tries to formulate an answer. “I… feel calm when I do calligraphy.” He answers slowly. “I can focus better, and I can relieve stress.” 

“See? Wasn’t so hard was it? Now for the next question, maybe try looking at me and not the table.” You tease, and he begins to feel embarrassed. 

“Now you ask me a question.” 

Sunghoon shifts in his seat. There’s been something that’s been bugging him all day.

“Why-Why did you agree to help me?” He steals a quick glance at you, before opting to focus on the bookshelf behind you.

“Don’t get upset when I say this,” You mumble. “But you looked really scared yesterday at the science lab. I got worried when you ran off and didn’t come back. I thought I did something wrong.”

You were worried… for him? You two barely knew each other and yet you still stressed over him deserting you in the middle of class. Even more confusing, you thought it was your fault. 

Sunghoon feels his heartbeat slow down.

“Okay, my turn again.” You clear your throat. “Are you scared of like all girls? Or just some of them?” Your curiosity seems to have gotten the better of you. 

Sunghoon tilts his head to the side. “I’m normal around my mom and my sister. Family for the most part I'm fine. But I have trouble around everyone else I guess.” He sheepishly admits. 

“I see.” You nod, and as you turn slightly, he catches a glimpse of your pouted lips. You seem to be deep in thought. 

“My turn.” He speaks up, already prepared with his next question. You wait attentively.

“Why did you join the calligraphy club?” 

You shrug at his question. “We visited my grandparents for the new year. My grandmother gifted me a set. I wasn’t gonna use it originally but then my friend convinced me to join the club. You guys know each other, his name is Kai. He said you were really nice and that you’d teach me.”

Sunghoon knew Kai alright. Kai was very close to his calligraphy club senior Soobin. The boy would often hang out in the club room last year when Soobin was around. He had no idea you two were friends.

But what really caught Sunghoon off was how highly Kai regarded him. They didn’t speak much, as both were pretty introverted. The fact that their little interactions were good enough for you to believe your friend was surprising to him.

“Thanks.” He nods, feeling a bit better about himself.

“Okay, my last question.” You drum your fingers against the wooden table. “Why are you scared of girls?”

If Sunghoon was being honest, he had a feeling you’d ask him this. He’d expected it earlier on, but there was no doubt you’d want to know how his fear started.

His words clump up at the back of his throat, refusing to come out as you wait patiently. He glances at the door and is reminded why he’s doing this in the first place.

“You can take your time, don’t feel pressured to tell me everything if you don’t want to.” You assure him, sliding back into your seat.

Your words help calm his nerves, and Sunghoon nods as he takes a deep breath. 

“I wasn’t always scared.” He says after a moment. “But when I was seven, I got bullied by the girls in my class.”

“Everything used to be normal, but then one day I came to school and all the girls were whispering about me. They wouldn’t play with me, talk to me, they’d just watch me from afar and gossip.”

“And it was just me, none of the other boys in my class had it happen to them. When I tried to ask one of the girls during recess, she screamed at me to leave her alone.”

“After that, I just stopped talking to girls. I feel like I can’t understand them, I don’t know what they’re thinking, what they’ll do, or what they say. Even now, everyone’s always whispering about me like I'm disgusting.”

There’s anger in his voice as he finishes, and Sunghoon realizes his fists are clenched. He releases them, swallowing thickly as he tries to relax. 

He slumps in his chair, hiding his face in his hands. Despite how horrified he was right now, he felt a bit relieved you now knew his secret.

“Please don’t tell anyone this. You’re one of the few people who know.” He admits. 

“Okay, yeah. I promise.” You say softly. Your voice brings him some sense of tranquility.

“Why don’t we go home?” He nods solemnly, and the two of you clean up.

You two don’t speak again until you’re outside, the brisk March air hitting you both in the face, a large contrast to the warm temperature from inside.

“Thanks for telling me all of that back there.” You say, gripping your school bag as you two walk side by side (albeit a few feet in between you both, Sunghoon still wasn’t used to the idea of close proximity).

“Jaeyun probably would have told you anyway, that snitch.” Sunghoon mumbles. Hearing this makes you laugh. Something about it makes his ears turn red, and it's not from the cold.

“Oh!” You gasp, jumping up. “We forgot, you still have one more question to ask me.” You remind him.

Sunghoon begins to think, not sure what to ask. Unconsciously he turns, more focused on hearing your answer to realize he’s actually looking at you.

“How do you actually plan to ‘help’ me?” He raises a brow.

You look up at him and smile, giggling to yourself. “You’ll just have to wait and see!” 

You skip ahead of him before waving goodbye as you head down a different street on your way home.

Sunghoon doesn’t wave back, instead, he stands there in the cold as your figure eventually disappears. It’s then does he realize his friends were right.

You are pretty.

Log 2: Tuesday - March 5th, 2024 | Log 4: Monday - April 1st, 2024

I Can't, I Have Rehearsal masterlist | and scene! series masterlist | kpop masterlist

reply/comment for taglist!

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Abuse ~ Part 2

MAIN MASTERLIST / MARVEL MASTERLIST

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

< Part 1

Word Count: 4,080ish

Summary: You start to heal from Josh's abuse. Logan is there every step of the way.

Warnings: abuse (mental, physical, emotional), rape, injuries, triggers, PTSD

Notes: Seriously, do not read if this will trigger you. You are in charge of what you consume.

As soon as you could, you retreated to your room at the mansion. Clearly, someone had slipped into your apartment and grabbed some objects and clothing. You had stayed in the room occasionally, but it was weird to think that it was now your home. Nothing was how you liked it, making you feel more out of place than you already did.

Thoughts began to creep into your mind. What if you just went back to the apartment? There was a sense of normalcy there despite the abuse. Besides, you were becoming a burden. You could easily see that. Everyone was eyeing you and walking eggshells around you. You hated it. Maybe if you just—

“Hey,” Logan’s voice was quiet as he leaned against the doorframe. Nevertheless, you still jumped and spun around, heart racing. “Sorry,” he pushed himself off the frame and stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets. “Didn’t mean to scare ya. Just checkin’ in.”

“I’m fine.” You cringed at how quickly and unbelievable that answer was.

Logan nodded, letting out a small grunt in acknowledgment of your answer. He stepped further into the room. You shakily took a step back, starting to feel cornered. Logan quickly took two steps back.

“Can I do anything?” He asked. You knew that he genuinely meant it; Logan would never ask if he didn’t.

“I think you’ve done enough.” 

It sounded meaner than it should have. You were grateful for Logan’s help, but you were hating yourself for being so weak that you had to call for it. Logan knew not to take your words personally. Jean and Charles had a long talk with him about how you might act throughout your healing process, including blaming yourself and others.

“Can you go?” You turned away, trying to hide the tears quickly escaping your eyes. “I… I want to be alone right now…”

“Okay… Let me know if you need somethin’.” 

Logan turned around, glancing back for another quick look at you before shutting the door behind him. He hated the idea of leaving you alone. He didn’t understand everything about what you were going through, but he understood how mean your own mind could be about yourself. He was constantly trying to prove his own destructive thoughts wrong. But Logan wouldn't let you go through that alone, not if he could do anything about it.

~~~

No one was shocked when you didn’t come down for dinner. Logan loaded up a plate of food and grabbed a drink before heading up to your room. Knocking on the door, he waited a moment for you to answer. When you didn’t answer, Logan used his senses to try to see if you were still in there. He could hear you breathing. It was steady, like you were asleep. He knew that you needed your rest, but you also needed to eat. No one knew when the last time you ate was. 

Slowly, Logan opened the door and slipped inside. He set the food and drink on your desk before coming around to the side of the bed you were facing. Logan knelt down as he studied you for a moment. He didn’t know that you could ever look so relaxed and peaceful. Since he met you, you have been in a relationship with Josh. He wondered who you were before that and if you would become that person again. 

“Y/N,” he whispered. “Wake up, sweetheart. You need to eat.”

“Hmm,” you groaned, slowly waking.

“There you go, darlin’. I brought the food to you.”

“Not hungry,” you grumbled, turning your head away from Logan. Your stomach growling gave you away.

Logan chuckled. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Just go, Logan.”

“Not until you eat. Come on, sit up.”

“Fine.” 

You sat up as Logan grabbed the food. When Logan handed you the plate, you couldn’t help but stare at it and think of Josh. He would have commented on the portion sizes and that you needed to be careful not to gain much weight as it would embarrass him. Logan could see your mind freeze and figured it had to do with Josh.

“Eat,” he urged.

“I… I can’t,” you shook your head.

“You haven’t eaten all day.” You simply shrugged in response, looking down at your lap. “Y/N,” Logan tried to catch your gaze. “He is not in control of you anymore. Eat.”

“But—“

“Eat.”

With a scowl, you began to eat. Simply within the first bite, something inside you began to feel better. Logan watched you, making sure you at least got a few bites in your system.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled between bites. “I’m sorry that I’m being a burden. I—“

“Stop that,” Logan quickly interrupted. “You’re not a burden.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Said who? John?” You looked away. “That dipshit didn’t know what he was talking about.” 

Logan wanted to tug your head back to look at him but he knew he needed to be careful when it came to touching you. There were things that needed to happen on your terms, despite anyone else.

“Sweetheart,” he sighed, trying to get your attention, but it didn’t work.

“I’m done eating,” you told him quietly, still looking away. “Thanks for the food. You can go now.”

“Y/N—“

“Just go. Please.”

Logan picked up the plate as he stood up. “Get some rest. I’ll be checkin’ in later.”

“You don’t—“

“Not worth fightin’. It’s gonna happen. Let me know if you need anything before then.”

You were left alone, wishing that you could fully give in to Logan’s kindness. But a voice in the back of your head sounded too much like Josh, preventing you from allowing Logan to take care of you.

~~~

Logan wasn’t joking around when he told you he would check in on you. Like clockwork, he was checking on you every hour, even throughout the night. He wasn’t much of a sleeper anyway. 

You practically lived in your room for the next two days. Ororo and Jean visited a couple of times, but mostly, Logan kept checking on you. He would bring you water, snacks, and food. Most of the time, Logan was silent in his doings, letting your mind have its way. But when you refused to eat meals, Logan wasn’t allowing it. It was practically the same fight as the first night, every night. Even up until you would ask him to leave.

It was the early morning hours when you decided you wanted ice cream and finally left the confines of your bedroom. You silently hoped no one would catch you as you snuck into the kitchen. You were grateful when you got there without running into anyone. Opening the freezer, you were surprised to see multiple tubs of your favorite type of ice cream. On the closet tub, there was a sticky note. You grabbed the tub to get a closer look. You could easily recognize the handwriting as Logan’s. It wasn’t the neatest, but you could easily read the small note: One scoop at a time.

You let out a small huff and a smile. There was no way that Logan came up with that on his own. Rogue had to have helped him with it. But it warmed your heart anyway to see his note. Logan wasn’t one to let people see the softer side of him, you were clearly the exception right now. You took the tub, grabbed a spoon, and headed back up to your room. What you didn’t notice is that you were being watched. Logan was standing near another doorway to the kitchen, watching you carefully. He couldn’t help but smirk at your reaction to the note and was glad to see you venture out of the room. If that one note got that reaction from you, Logan was definitely going to leave more around.

In the morning, you decided you needed to get out of the mansion for a while. Throwing a light jacket on, you opened your door and paused when you noticed a water bottle and a protein bar on the floor with a sticky note over the two. You picked up the items to read the simple ‘eat’ that was written on the note. Slipping the note into your room, you kept the other items with you as you walked outside. 

The morning air was sharp but refreshing. It felt good to get out of your room and get some fresh air. Something about it helped ease the weight you felt over your mind and heart, though only slightly. You opened up the protein bar and took a bite out of it as you continued your stroll through the school gardens. Turning a corner, you noticed Logan standing near one of the fountains. His eyes were focused on you like he had been waiting for you. You paused your movements as he came over. You couldn’t help but note how warm his flannel looked over him and how deep his hands were stuffed into his pockets.

“Mornin’,” he greeted, stopping in front of you with enough space for you to make a move to leave.

“Morning,” you mumbled.

“Mind if I join you?”

You shook your head in response, and Logan quickly fell in line beside you before the two of you continued walking. As much as you felt guilty about Logan taking care of you, you were grateful that the silence that fell between the two of you wasn't overbearing. The two of you walked around aimlessly for most of the morning until you decided to hide away again. You thanked Logan quickly before disappearing into your room.

For the next week, you kept the same routine. The beginning of the day held your on-the-go breakfast and a walk through the gardens with Logan. The middle of the day was spent wallowing in your room. The end of the day was spent with Logan forcing you to eat dinner. He had even started to eat dinner with you as well.

One morning, you finally decided to speak more than a few words as the two of you walked through the garden.

“Why do you keep trying to take care of me?” You asked, keeping your eyes on the trail in front of you. “You don’t have to, you know. I can figure things out on my own.”

“I care about you,” he replied easily. It took a lot for Logan to admit that, but in talks with Charles, he realized that he may need to be more open with you to help you. “And helping you is something I want to do, not something I have to do.”

“I’m not worth all this trouble, Logan.”

“If I didn’t think you were worth it, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Logan—“

“No.” Logan moved to stand in front of you, stopping you in your tracks but still keeping a good distance to respect your space. “You’re not a burden. You… You, Y/N, are worth more to me than I could ever explain. I will not let you go through this alone and let that dick’s voice that's still in your head bring you down. Got it?” You looked away and gave a slight nod. “Good.” Logan was aching to touch you, for both your sakes. “Sweetheart, I need to know if it's okay that I come closer and touch you.”

You took a sharp inhale at his request. No one, especially Josh, had ever asked your permission for anything like that. You wanted Logan closer, but you didn’t know what kind of touch he was talking about. You simply nodded, wanting to see what Logan was going to do. Logan could see the hesitation in your eyes as he took a step closer.

“Let me know if you need me to back off,” he said softly, taking another step forward. 

You watched as Logan’s hand slowly reached forward and took your hand. His eyes remained locked on your face to make sure you were still okay with his movements. His thumb ran over your fingers as he carefully held your hand. Your heart picked up its pace, but only because you didn’t remember a time when a man’s touch was so gentle. 

“You good?” He needed to check.

“Mhm,” you hummed with a nod. “Could you… keep holding my hand as we walk?”

His lips lifted up ever so slightly. “Anything you need, darlin’.”

~~~

Slowly, you began to spend more and more time out of your room. But you were never found far from Logan’s side. He had surprisingly become your beacon of light and was constantly aware of your needs.

“Have you thought about starting to teach again?” Jean asked one night at dinner. “Your kids miss you, and it might do you some good.”

“Maybe next week,” you responded. You needed a little bit more time to dwell on it all.

“Hey! It’s Y/N!” Pyro exclaimed, coming into the room. His loudness made you flinch and immediately put Logan on high alert. Pyro plopped down beside you, too close for comfort. You leaned back into Logan as Pyro playfully hit your arm. “You really need to—“

As your heartbeat began to race, Logan took matters into his own hands. He quickly reached around you with one arm, careful not to touch you, and released his claws, pointing them at Pyro’s neck

“Back away, bub,” Logan growled.

“Woah!” Pyro leaned back, hands up in defense. “I was just—“

“Back up.” Logan pushed his claws closer to his neck. 

Pyro scrambled back, especially as he noticed tears stream down your cheeks. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to do anything.”

Logan’s claws slid into place as you leaned further into him. Logan’s harsh eyes quickly softened as he turned his attention on you. He still didn’t touch you, not wanting to push you further.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, not caring who was watching the scene at the moment. “What do you need?”

“T—To—leave,” you stuttered, eyes squeezed close.

“Do you think you can walk?” 

“N—No…”

“You good with being carried?”

“Please.”

As swiftly and gently as possible, Logan hoisted you up in his arms and carried you to your room. You buried your head in his neck, allowing Logan to feel the tears escaping your eyes. Logan could hear your heartbeat start to slow, but the tears were still coming. Once he reached your room, he tried to set you down, but you clung to him.

“Hold me,” you whimpered.

Logan wasn’t about to tell you no. Hell, he would do anything you asked of him as long as it meant you were okay and happy. He sat on the bed and held you closely. He didn’t move his hands, wanting this to be whatever you were comfortable with. Logan held you until your tears passed.

“Logan,” you mumbled into his neck. “I’m sorry—“

“Not your fault, sweetheart. That stupid kid needs to be more aware of people's boundaries.”

“Thank you for being here for me.”

“Easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Easy?” You pushed back and focused on playing with the edge of your shirt. “Josh always said I was hard… difficult and needy.”

“That man was a liar, sweetheart. And not worth letting you waste any more time on him.”

“It’s hard… we were together for years… I… I loved him…”

“I know, but you deserve better, Y/N.”

“Maybe…”

“You’ll get there, and I’ll be there, whatever you need.”

~~~

It had been three weeks since Logan saved you from the apartment. and no one had heard from Josh. No one had mentioned it, but everyone was silently waiting for Josh to appear and wreak havoc. 

“Are you sure you’ll be alright? You can always wait to go after my meeting with the Professor,” Logan worried.

“I’ll be fine, Logan,” you told him. “Besides, I was going to make a visit to my class after the walk.” Logan clenched his jaw, not liking the idea of leaving you alone for long. “I’ll be okay. I’ll shout if I need anything. I’m sure you’ll hear me from Charles’ office.”

“Fine. Shout if you need anything. I’m serious.”

“I know.”

You shot him a brief smile before turning around and heading to the gardens. You weren’t there long before a voice had you going cold in your tracks.

“Hello, Y/N,” Josh’s voice slurred from behind you. 

Within moments, you felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest. You couldn’t get yourself to turn around, squeezing your eyes shut. You weren’t surprised to hear Josh walk around and stand in front of you. Your lungs clenched as air refused to circulate through you. Josh’s hands harshly grabbed your upper arms and shook you.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, bitch!” He exclaimed. Your eyes involuntarily snapped open. “I’m taking you home. Now.” He started dragging you.

“No,” you rasped. “No!” You began to put up a struggle, only making Josh’s hold on you grow harder. “Let go! Let go of me!”

“You’re forgetting your place, Y/N. When we get home—“

Josh was suddenly yanked away from you. The loss of his grasp had you falling to the ground. Looking up, you saw Logan holding onto Josh’s collar with one hand and hand his other aiming his claws under Josh’s chin.

“I’m only going to say this once, bub,” Logan growled, more anger in his tone than you had ever heard. “Fuck off. If I ever catch you near Y/N again, these claws will be the last thing you feel.” 

Logan shoved Josh away and moved to stand protectively in front of you, still glaring at Josh. Both sets of claws were out, Logan’s arms ready to attack at a moment's notice. Josh glanced at you briefly before Logan took an intimidating step forward. Then Josh ran off. Logan didn’t turn around until he saw Josh go through the gate. Once he was sure Josh was gone, he spun around and knelt in front of you.

Before any words could get out of his mouth, you had launched yourself at Logan, clinging to him like your life depended on it. Logan wrapped his arms around you loosely, not wanting to push you too far.

“Please,” you cried. “Hold me.”

Logan’s arms instantly closed around you tighter. “I’ve got you, sweetheart… you’re safe. I won’t let him hurt you ever again.”

~~~

The encounter with Josh left you shaken and basically back at square one. Logan wasn’t happy to find out that Josh’s grip on your arms had caused matching bruises. But he wasn’t going to let you see that. Instead, he helped you find a long-sleeve shirt to wear.

Months went by and slowly you began to heal parts of yourself again. Logan was there every step of the way, like he had promised. You eventually returned to teaching and other regular routines in the mansion. And you kept the new ones, like the morning walks with Logan. 

It didn’t surprise you as you began to realize that you were forming feelings for Logan. You had talked to a therapist about it, worried that it was a trauma response, but they had walked you through things, and you were sure your feelings were real. You didn’t want to rush into anything. It helped that it was clear that Logan would take things at your speed. However, it was hard to keep it slow when he started complimenting you so often, and there was no doubt in his eyes that he didn’t mean his words.

“Hey, beautiful,” Logan greeted as he met you in the garden.

“Hey,” you responded, easily slipping your hand into his. 

The two of you began walking around the gardens, completing the same path you did every morning. 

“I’ve been thinking,” you began.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” Logan said, proving that he was listening to you.

“Would you… ummm… would you accompany me to Charles’ birthday party tomorrow night?”

Logan couldn’t help but smile at you with great pride. “I’d love to, darlin’.”

~~~

Logan met you at your bedroom door the night of the party and silently offered you his arm. He smirked when your arm laced through his. He led you down to the party, and you began mingling with the mostly familiar guests. You were grateful for Logan’s arm as all these people around you were making you anxious, but he was your anchor. Eventually, the two found yourselves against the wall, enjoying some drinks.

Lost in conversation with each other, you weren’t prepared for someone to bump into you, causing you to spill your drink all over Logan. A sudden wave of desperation and guilt washed over you.

“Oh my gosh!” You exclaimed, already started to tear up and tremble. Your hands came up to hover over Logan’s ruined clothes. “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry! Gosh, I’m so stupid! I should have—“

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey,” he stepped closer to you, trying to get your eyes to focus on his eyes. “Look at me, sweetheart.” Your eyes frantically snapped to his. “I’m going to grab your wrists and lead you upstairs, okay?”

“Okay,” you squeaked. 

Logan did as he warned and loosely took your wrists in his hands and began guiding you upstairs. You fully broke down as soon as you were in the privacy of your own room. You pulled yourself from Logan’s grip and stumbled back.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” you rushed. “I know that you’re mad and that I—“

“No one’s mad, sweetheart,” Logan told you calmly. “It was all an accident. You’re okay.”

“But I ruined your shirt.”

“This can be washed. It’s okay.”

“It’s… okay?”

Logan’s heart was breaking for you. You may never get Josh’s influence out of you for good, but Logan would try to show you how Josh should have treated you.

“It’s fine, Y/N,” he confirmed. “It’s just a shirt.”

“I’m sorry,” you continued to cry. “I thought that I was doing better.”

“You are, sweetheart. You are doing amazing.”

“Then why did this trigger me?”

“Sometimes it happens, and that’s okay.” He held his arms out. “May I?” You stepped into his arms, letting him envelop you. “You’re doing amazing… healing is a slow process. Things are going to trigger you, and that’s okay. We’ll work through it.”

“Thank you for sticking this out with me.”

“Always.”

~~~

A few weeks later, the others began teasing how much like a couple you and Logan were. Neither of you talked about it with the other, and you both defended it with the others, though neither of you minded the idea of being a couple.

The two of you were standing alone on the balcony one night, enjoying the stars, when your focus shifted to Logan.

“Logan?” You quietly called.

“Hmm?” He hummed, glancing your way.

“Can you kiss me?”

Logan fully turned to face you now. “Are you sure, Y/N?”

“Yes.”

Logan stepped closer. “Where,” he paused to swallow, “where do you want my hands?”

You shrugged. “I’m okay with wherever… I trust you.”

Slowly, Logan’s hands came up to cup your cheeks. The two of you leaned in and hesitantly touched lips. The kiss was slow but caused your heart to race and feel like you were on fire in the best of ways. It wasn’t a long kiss, Logan wanting to pull back before you got overwhelmed.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Logan chuckled, keeping a gentle hold of your face. “You don’t gotta thank me for everything, sweetheart. I’m just trying to treat you right.”

“All the more reason to thank you.”

He gave you another brief kiss. “I don’t want to rush you, but I have a question.”

“Yeah?”

“Can I be your boyfriend?”

You could have melted right there. For a rough guy to everyone else, Logan was truly the sweetest to you. “I’d like that… I’d like that a lot.”

“You’re being honest? Not just saying that because I asked?”

“It’s the truth.”

“Good. I’m gonna kiss you again.” As Logan leaned in, you pulled back.

“You don’t need to warn me before you touch me… I can handle it.”

“Sweetheart, I’m doing it out of love, and I will continue to do it to show that you always have control over the situation.”

“How are you this… good?”

Logan chuckled. “Only for you, baby, only for you.”

[tethrras]

a soft place to land

vittoria de riva x lucanis dellamorte. 2.7k. fluff, hurt/comfort, flirting. click here to read on ao3.

-

Vittoria is no stranger to loneliness.

It keeps her bed cold and her nights quiet. Sometimes she’s grateful for it and other times the longing for something more, the same longing she’s felt since childhood, threatens to strangle her. But she’s a Crow, and Crows can’t afford connections like that, so she doesn’t complain and instead spends long nights sharpening her blades in silence. Sharpening blades or, when she feels longing’s hands tightening around her neck, sitting in the window of her apartment in the canal district and watching the civilians of the city go about their lives.

“Her” apartment isn’t her apartment at all. It’s an abandoned apartment overlooking the market that no one has lived in for what seems like a decade, if not longer. She found it after one of her first contracts, and it’s the only place in Treviso that she can escape to without feeling the need to look over her shoulder for Viago. On nights she can’t sleep and doesn’t want to think or train, she scales the surface of the tower and settles in the window, letting the heartbeat of Treviso lull her into something that might resemble sleep. Visiting the apartment is what she misses most about home, and after seeing what happened to Minrathous, after hearing about what's happening in the South, she wants to visit it again. Who knows if - who knows when - it’ll be the last time?

She intends to head for the Eluvian with little fanfare - the others don’t need to know about her trip - but when she reaches the bottom of the staircase in the library, she finds Lucanis sitting on a chair with a cup of coffee in his hand and a book open in his lap. He looks up at her as her footsteps slow to a stop.

“De Riva.”

“Dellamorte.”

Vittoria shifts her weight from one foot to the other as a slight smile creases Lucanis’s lips.

“You’re going out.” He appraises her armor with a raised brow. She should’ve cleaned it earlier like she had meant to…

“I am.” Vittoria rests her hand on the hilt of her sword. “But I won’t be gone for long.”

“Where to?”

“Home,” she answers, then, “Treviso. Ever since we got back from Minrathous…”

He glances down at his lap then. “I know.”

She can tell he feels as she does - guilt for what happened to Minrathous, to the Shadow Dragons, to Neve, but gratefulness that the same - or worse - didn’t happen to Treviso. It’s a poor consolation, but consolation at all is priceless in times like this. 

Vittoria clears her throat. “Would you…”

“Would I what?”

“Um. Nothing,” she insists, shaking her head. Of course he wouldn’t want to come with her - he’s clearly in the middle of something. She’s not sure she wants company, either. “Anyway, I won’t be long. If anyone asks for me -”

“Were you going to ask me if I’d like to come with you?”

“... No.”

“Then what were you going to ask?”

She knows very well that Lucanis didn’t know who she was before she rescued him from the Ossuary, despite the two decades that she has spent with the Crows. It continues to surprise her that he understands her better than Viago ever has after only a month or two. No wonder he’s such a good assassin - he’s very good at reading his mark. She clears her throat. “Alright,” she confesses. “I was.”

“I thought so.” He stands up, takes a long sip from his teacup, and then places it down on the saucer. “Let me get my things. I will meet you at the Eluvian.”

He doesn’t leave her waiting long, and they travel home through the Crossroads in companionable silence. Vittoria can’t help but glance over at him from time to time. While he didn’t notice her in the past, she certainly noticed him - she even thought she had been in love with him once, though she’s sure now that she didn’t know what love meant. Or means. But he and Illario had a life that all Crow recruits wanted for themselves, and Vittoria had been one of them. The acclaim. The attention from the Talons. The inherent talent. When she was younger, she thought that having the attention of someone like Lucanis would’ve made her life easier - easier than the attention from Viago, anyway - and she strove for years to get that attention. She grew out of it eventually, and then, of course, he died, and whatever leftover feelings she might have had died with him. But now, the fact that not only is he alive, but that she was the one to save him… Sometimes it doesn’t feel real, and she always catches herself looking at him to make sure he’s really here.

“We’re not going to the Diamond,” she says when the two of them reach the Treviso Eluvian. “If you wanted to check in with Teia and Viago...”

“Hm. Then where are we going?”

“I have a place in the city that I go to. I consider it… well… a home. Of sorts. I wanted to make sure it was still standing, after…”

Lucanis nods. “I understand. But maybe we can check in with Teia and Viago while we’re here…” At Vittoria’s wince, he gives her a smile. “Or not.”

“Thank you.” There is a part of her that loves Viago, however complicated and repressed that part is, but the last thing she needs right now is a lecture.

“Of course. No one understands the desire to avoid Viago as well as I do, believe me.”

She steps through the Eluvian with Lucanis on her heels. 

Most of the Crows are asleep for the night, so the two of them meet no resistance at the Casino, and from there she leads him through the familiar streets in silence. It’s a short walk, though, and soon enough she’s standing at the base of the apartment building and refreshing herself on her usual footholds. She hasn’t been here since before she saved Varric all those months ago, and she would hate to fall to her death from the building that she’s scaled more than any other - in front of Lucanis, no less. To her relief, the tower doesn’t seem to have suffered in the face of the dragon attack. She glances back at her companion, who is staring up at the surface of the building the same way she had been moments ago.

“It’s not as tall as it looks,” she reassures him.

He meets her gaze. “Good thing I have wings.”

Vittoria has been climbing her whole life. As a child, she would spend hours scaling trees until she reached the top and could settle down in the branches with a book or wooden toy that she had stolen from one of her siblings. By the time she was six, she could scale the tallest tree on her family’s farm in one breath. When she first arrived in Antiva, it was the only thing that made her suited to the life of a Crow - everything else, the fighting and the thick skin and the iron stomach, came later. So climbing is second nature to her, and in no time, she’s heaving herself through the window and rolling onto the floor of her apartment. Lucanis follows. They stand up from the ground, dust themselves off, and meet each other’s eyes.

“This is it.” She says it more awkwardly than she’d meant to, and winces at herself. She thought she’d gotten over her infatuation with him - she doesn’t dwell on those old feelings when they’re working together side-by-side, killing Antaam and Venatori and Sentinels - but now that it’s the two of them, alone in an abandoned apartment with no gods or dragons for miles around, that soft spot of her heart feels rubbed raw. She turns away from him. “I’ve been coming here for years,” she says again. “I’m glad to see it’s still standing.”

Lucanis looks around curiously, and Vittoria does, too, to familiarize herself with the apartment again. There’s a bookshelf with a few books in it - books that she bought from the market herself, but can’t remember the contents of now - and a collection of knives sitting on a stool next to a well-worn whetstone. Above the stool is a series of scratches on the wall, each scratch representing one of her successful contracts. There must be more than a hundred scratches, but she’s not sure if he’d consider that a high or low number, so she resists the urge to call attention to it. 

On one side of the room is the window from which she can see the market, and on the wall opposite is the window from which she can see the whole of Treviso spilling over the hills on the horizon, its silver spires sparkling in the moonlight. Lucanis lingers here, standing still for a long moment. When he speaks, it shatters the silence.

“I have never seen Treviso like this.”

“I haven’t seen it like this for a long time.”

She brushes past him and sits on the edge of the window. It’s what she would do if she were alone, after all, and that’s what she had been coming here to do - to be alone, to calm herself and soothe her nerves of steel. Even though she knows she won’t be able to do those things now that he’s here with her, she’s still going to pretend that she can. And it’s easy, because for a long, long moment, neither of them move. It's only when she turns her head to look at him that he sits down on the windowsill across from her, stretching his legs out until his feet are nearly in her lap.

She used to dream of this. Of sitting across from Lucanis, fighting alongside him, of him knowing her name and… knowing even more than that. When she was little, she always imagined what she would tell someone if they asked her about her childhood in Ferelden, and for some reason, sitting across from him, she feels the words leaving her mouth before she can think about it. “When I arrived in Antiva, all I could think about was how different it was from Ferelden. I hated it at first.” But even the word hate doesn’t capture her feelings, because she spent most nights in the year or two after she arrived sobbing in her bed until the other recruits realized that hitting her hard enough could convince her to be quiet. “But I can’t remember what Ferelden looks like anymore. I can’t remember my family. All I know is Antiva, Treviso, Salle. The Crows. Viago. If Ghilan’nain’s dragon had…”

Vittoria glances over at Lucanis. He seems focused on something in the distance, but she notices him shift in his seat and straighten up when she looks for long enough.

“Did you recognize me?” She doesn’t know why she asks him this, but she does. “In the Ossuary?”

Lucanis shakes his head. “I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I didn’t think you did.”

“But I wish that I had.” He turns to face her. “I don’t know how I never noticed you before, truthfully.”

“And why is that?”

He smiles again, and she resists the urge to glance back out the window. “You are an impressive woman, Vittoria.” 

“Well.” She clears her throat. She doesn’t know what “impressive” means to him, if it means what she thinks it means or what it should mean or if it means something else, but her face flushes nevertheless. “I’ve worked hard to be.”

At that, his smile sours. “You know… You take very good care of us. Of the team. But I hope you don’t think that we can’t be there for you the way that you - ”

“I didn’t invite you here to give me a motivational speech.”

“Ah. You didn’t invite me at all, remember? I had to tease it out of you.”

Her face flushes even more at the word “tease”. 

“I just mean that… If there is anything I can do for you, any difficulties you might be facing that I don’t know about… please tell me.” He sighs. “I know that I can’t do much, all things considered, but I can try to ease some of the weight off your shoulders if you let me. I have wings, you know. I can take it.”

“Please.” Vittoria waves her hand at him to dismiss the thought. “You keep me fed - that’s enough.”

“Mm.” He crosses his arms over his chest and nods. “And you do eat a lot more than the others, that’s true…”

“Hey!” She kicks his foot. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing! It was merely an observation.”

“Watch it, Dellamorte.” She gestures to the open window. “You’d hit the ground before Spite realized what was happening.”

“Please don’t say his name right now. I don’t want him to ruin the moment.”

There it is - another word that might mean something to him but also might mean nothing. She didn’t realize that whatever’s happening between them right now could be considered a moment… but at the same time, she has started to notice that he’s been giving her more attention since she saved him and the Crows from the dragon. He sits beside her at dinner, keeps close to her side in fights and in their travels through the Crossroads… and what had he been doing tonight, sitting in the library of the Lighthouse instead of the kitchen? 

She tells herself that it doesn’t mean anything, though. It can’t mean anything. Vittoria could never live at Lucanis’s side. He’s in line to become First Talon, and his family has been a part of the Crows for hundreds and hundreds of years. No matter how much training she does, no matter what she does, Vittoria won’t ever feel like she belongs to the Crows or like the Crows belong to her. She doesn’t think she’ll ever rid herself of the fear that one wrong move will be the end of it - of her life here, or of her life at all. And she feels the same about Lucanis. If she pushes her luck too far, who can she trust to watch her back the way she trusts him? She needs to focus on finding allies right now. Not a lover.

If he was interested in her at all. Which he isn’t. He can’t be.

“We don’t have to talk, you know,” she tells him, more for her sake than his. If her face flushes any more tonight, she might burst into flames. “We can just sit here and… look out at our city.” 

“Our city.” Lucanis turns away from her and rests his head against the window frame, settling in and looking more at ease than she’s ever seen him. And while watching him in motion is enough to drive her to madness, seeing him at ease might be even worse. Watching his chest rise and fall with long, measured breaths. Watching his eyelashes flutter like he’s trying to keep himself awake. He is a beautiful thing, Lucanis. She’s sure being loved by him would be a beautiful thing, too.

“Before we stop talking, then, let me say one last thing: thank you for saving our city.” His voice is softer than a whisper, so soft that she has to lean in to hear what comes next. “And even though I didn’t know you before, I am glad that I know you now.”

As allies. As friends. As teammates. While she knows that’s all he means, it’s still something. Vittoria smiles at him. “Me too.”

True to his word, Lucanis doesn’t speak again for the rest of the night. Neither does Vittoria. (Neither does Spite.) They watch the sun rise over the mountains surrounding their home and then decide that it’s time to return to the Lighthouse to rest before they see the First Warden. But if things go well, if she somehow figures out a way to stop the gods, then she might bring him back here and tell him all the things that no one has ever thought to ask her about. He might even want to know.

[sequinsmile-x]

Weary

Guilt rolls in his gut when he gets the door open and he is met with the sight of his frazzled wife, her hair in a haphazard bun on top of her head, dressed in the clothes he’s fairly sure she was wearing three days ago with milk stains on the shoulder of a shirt that used to be his.

AKA - the one where Aaron comes home from a case to find his wife and their newborn baby girl worn out from a lack of sleep.

-x-

Hi besties,

I am exhausted after being back at work for the first time since my surgery. I've only been working in the mornings but I am worn out...I'm not entirely sure my brain was even switched on when I wrote this. I just opened my laptop, opened a Google Doc and started to type.

I really hope you enjoy this. It's just some soft hotchniss (softniss hehe) that I think we all deserve <3

As always, let me know what you think!

-x-

Warnings: None

Words: 2.2k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Aaron hears Alice crying through the front door, the baby’s wails piercing through the thick solid wood as if it were made of nothing more than plasterboard. The guilt he’d been battling the last few days, which had simmered low in his gut whenever he thought about his wife at home alone with their newborn and Jack, comes back with a vengeance. A spark of it catching fire in his veins as he digs through his pockets to find his keys, desperate to get into the house and help in a way he hadn’t been able to do from two states away. 

He’d hesitated in the first place, not sure he wanted to leave Emily and the kids at home only a month after Alice had been born, but Strauss had given him no choice. He had taken the first two weeks of his daughter’s life off of work, and had allowed himself to sink into the happy, exhausting, bubble he and Emily’s home had turned into. Going back to work at all had been hard, his heart in a vice as he walked out of the house for the first time for longer than simply going to the store to get milk or bread, but going away on his first case three days ago had been harder. He’d called every night, smiled at every picture Emily sent him of the kids together, and missed them all more than he could put into words. 

The guilt rolls in his gut when he gets the door open and he is met with the sight of his frazzled wife, her hair in a haphazard bun on top of her head, dressed in the clothes he’s fairly sure she was wearing three days ago with milk stains on the shoulder of a shirt that used to be his. She has Alice in her arms, her body tense as she tries to soothe the newborn, her posture getting visibly tighter with their daughter’s continued cries. Emily had sounded tired whenever they spoke. A croak to her voice that had once meant hangovers and late nights with the girls, her head in his lap as she lamented that last shot of tequila as he offered to go buy fast food for her, or the end of a long case when they’d slink into bed together, her face pressed against his neck, already half asleep before he tugged the covers over them. 

He wonders if she’s slept at all whilst he’s been gone, if he should have pushed more whenever she insisted she was fine, but he couldn’t change that now. All he could do was help her, to look after both of his girls in whatever way they needed him. 

“Hi sweetheart,” he says, smiling as he steps towards her, his heart aching when she looks at him with tired eyes, never stopping the way she’s rocking side to side in an attempt to soothe Alice. One hand on the tiny baby’s back and the other cupping her head, her thumb tracing back and forth over her temple in a way they’d learnt calmed her down when she was just hours old. 

“Hi,” she chokes out, her eyes shining as her voice cracks. She’s as on edge as he’s ever known her to be, barely holding herself together, and he drops his go-bag to the floor, all of his focus on her, “You’re home.” 

She sounds so relieved it breaks his heart, makes the pieces she’d put back together herself facture, guilt and regret slipping into the gaps as he wonders why he didn’t just tell Strauss no when she told him he needed to return to full duties. 

He shakes it off, pushes away however he’s feeling right now because whatever she’s feeling is infinitely more important. Her usual emotional control was long gone, left somewhere in her first trimester when she started to cry at anything. It frustrated her to no end, made her angry at herself whenever she’d get emotional over something she deemed ridiculous, and he knew he had to tread carefully. 

He didn’t want to upset her any more than she already was. 

“Yeah,” he says, stepping towards them, “I’m home,” he leans in and kisses her forehead and then kisses the top of Alice’s head, catching Emily’s thumb at the same time. He places his hand on Emily’s back and rubs a circle on it. He feels more than hears her sharp intake of breath and he knows he’s only seconds away from both of them being in tears, “Do you want me to take her, sweetheart?” 

She sucks in a breath and then blows it out, her cheeks puffing with it as she looks up at the ceiling, a failed attempt to stop tears pushing past her lashline, “I’ve been trying to get her down for hours,” she says, her lips pressed together as her chin trembles, “It’s been like this since you left. She won’t sleep. Jess came to get Jack a few hours ago, he’s sleeping over at hers tonight so at least he can get some sleep,” she sucks in a breath again and it catches on her ribs, the ache of it something that rattles in her chest, “I’m so tired, Aaron.” 

He kisses her forehead again, “Let me take her, okay?” He says gently, still rubbing circles on Emily’s back as she finally stops swaying side to side. She nods, too tired to fight him on the request, to insist that she could do it because she wasn’t sure she could. She kisses Alice’s head, whispering an apology against her dark hair before she hands her over, “She’ll be due a feed soon, right?” 

She nods, her arms tight across her chest, her arms aching both from now being empty and from what felt like holding Alice nonstop for days, “Yeah. I kept trying to nurse her to see if that was why she wouldn’t settle but she just wouldn’t latch.” 

“Is there milk in the fridge?” He asks, shifting from side to side like she had been, and Emily wraps her arms around herself even tighter when it works almost immediately, Alice’s cries quietening down to a whimper as if all she’d wanted all along was her father. 

“Some. I pumped this morning,” she answers and he looks up at her, his smile so kind and soft she almost bursts into tears. She struggles to suck in a breath, her lungs stuffed full of sadness and every bad thing she’d been thinking about herself the last few days, “Haven’t really had a chance since.” 

“Why don’t you go and have some time to yourself?” He suggests, “I’ll try and settle Little Miss Hotchner.” 

She wants to argue again but can’t, all of her energy focused on holding herself together, on the way Alice was practically silent now, her fist in her mouth as she self soothes for the first time in hours. 

“I…I might go shower,” she says, pointing over her shoulder to the stairs, “I don’t remember the last time I did.” 

Aaron nods, “I’ll meet you up there, okay?”

“Okay,” she replies, looking at them once more, her gaze lingering before she turns around and disappears up the stairs, the drag of her tired feet against the floor echoing throughout the hallway. 

He sighs when he can no longer see her, and he looks down at Alice, her dark wide eyes meeting his, “You really put Mommy through it the last few days, huh?” He says, kissing the top of her head as he heads to the kitchen, “We’re going to make sure you have something to eat and then get some sleep,” he kisses her again, “And then I’ll make sure Mommy does the same.” 

___

He settles Alice into her bassinet with the same level of care and anxiety he’d have if moving an active bomb. He holds his breath as he lays her down, sighing happily when she stays asleep. He steps away, making sure he grabs the baby monitor as he goes even though he knows he won’t be far enough away to truly need it. He pauses when he makes it to the door of the ensuite and knocks before he walks in. 

He hadn’t heard running water at any point even though he knew Emily was in there, so he half expects to find her sat on the floor, asleep and propped up against the wall. Instead, he finds her sitting on the closed toilet seat, her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands, her sigh audible as he gently closes the door behind him. 

“Is she asleep?” 

He nods, even though she doesn’t look up, and then kneels in front of her, ignoring the crack in his knees as they hit the tiled floor, “She’s asleep,” he says, reaching for her hand and linking their fingers together, running his finger back and forth over the pulse point on her wrist, “I thought you were going to shower.” 

She laughs humourlessly, “I was going to but…I don’t have the energy. The thought of washing my hair made me cry…” She shakes her head at herself, wiping a stray tear from her cheek, “So I sat down for a minute and lost track of time I guess.” She sniffs and shakes her head, her lips pressed together as she tries and fails to hold back a sob, “I don’t think I’m any good at this.” 

He squeezes her hand, “You don’t think you’re any good at what, sweetheart?” 

“Being her mom.”

He barely has time to register what she’s said, the insecurity he’d seen thrumming beneath her skin since he’d got home lingering in the air between them, because she bursts into tears. A sob catching in her throat as she leans forward into the embrace she knows he’ll have waiting. He wraps his arms around her, holding her close as he rubs his hand up and down her arm. 

“You’re an amazing mom,” he says, kissing her temple, “Alice and Jack are both so lucky to have you.” 

She scoffs and shakes her head as she pulls back to look at him, “I can’t even get my baby to sleep,” she furiously wipes tears from her cheeks, “I tried for hours and she just settled immediately for you.” 

“Sweetheart,” he says, cupping her cheek to encourage her to look at him, “You’re exhausted. She was too. And you were both overwhelmed and making each other more unsettled. It happens and it doesn’t make you anything less than an incredible mom,” he rests his forehead against hers, “Alice loves you. So much,” he smiles as he squeezes her hand, “We all do.” 

She blows out a stuttering breath, not entirely sure if she believes him, and she shakes her head, “I’m just…I’m so tired Aaron.” 

“I know you are,” he says, kissing her before he stands up, “Which is why I’m going to help you shower, hair washing entirely optional,” he smiles when she does, her lips pressed together as she tries to capture it, “Then whilst you get ready for bed, I’ll go downstairs and get you something to eat,” he wipes a stray tear from her cheek, “And then after you’ve eaten you can sleep. I’ll keep an eye on Alice until she next needs to be fed,” he tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear, “That’s when you’ll have to step in I’m afraid. I used the last of the milk in the fridge earlier, and I lack the equipment to feed her myself.” 

Emily chuckles dryly and reaches out for him, stroking her thumb over his jawline as she cups his face, “What did I do to deserve you?” She says, her lips shaking as she desperately tries to stop crying, “I didn’t even ask how you are, or how the case was. You just walked straight into chaos.” 

He smiles and kisses her forehead before he stands, “The most beautiful kind of chaos,” he says, offering her his hand to help her up, “The real question is, what did I do to deserve you?” 

She rolls her eyes at him, the tightness in her chest easing for the first time in days, “Why don’t we just agree that we’re both lucky to have each other?”  

He stamps his lips against hers, “I can agree to that,” he says, “Now,” he says, “Hair wash, or no hair wash?” 

She scrunches her nose up, “No hair wash tonight,” she yawns, too tired to even try to hide it as she nods towards the shower, “I’m worried I’ll fall asleep in there even with your help,” she smiles at him, “So, just a shower tonight. Maybe you could help me wash my hair tomorrow though?” 

He kisses her, his smile pressed against hers, and then he pulls back, taking a moment to revel in her beauty. Stained t-shirt and tired eyes and all. “Tomorrow it is.”

[onboardsorasora]

Wanted some soft boys today. Also totally misread an anon ask from months ago lmao, this isn't what our bestie asked for but hopefully this is ok as well. Also, I haven't reread this so hopefully it reads well and there's no mistakes

Part 1 | Part 18

Max woke slowly, overwarm with hot breath puffing onto the crook of his neck. For a microsecond, in what felt like the time between all five red lights going out and the green lights illuminating, Max thought Adult Daniel had returned.

Because Daniel always ran warm, especially since he liked to bundle himself as a burrito in his sheets. But the face pressed into his skin was still small, delicate. It was still Little Daniel.

Max smiled fondly and reached a hand to stroke through wild curls. He frowned however, when he found them to be flattened, soaked with sweat. Max bolted awake, taking in the flush on Little Daniel’s skin and how uncomfortable he looked even while asleep. He pressed his palm to Little Daniel’s forehead and recoiled when his skin felt almost searing. Little Daniel whimpered a little.

Max realized instantly that he was running a fever and he felt the fright bubble up within him. 

Grabbing his phone, he did the first thing that came to his mind, call Grace.

She picked up after 3 rings, Max didn’t know what time it was in Perth. To be honest, he didn’t know what time it was right now in Monaco. But he knew that Grace had his number saved as important, so she would always answer his call. Especially now.

Her fond, soft smile melted into worry when she saw his scared face.

“Max what’s wrong?” She asked immediately.

“Daniel has a fever, I think.” Max rushed out, immediately turning his camera to show the miserable ball of child on the bed. Grace cooed.

“Have you taken his temperature? How high is it?” She asked and Max scratched his head sheepishly, he honestly hadn’t thought of that.

“My first thought was to call you, to be honest.”

“You made the right decision Max.” Grace smiled softly at the phone, even though the camera was still pointed towards Little Daniel. Max could see her in the little screen. “Now, do you have a thermometer? They normally put one in those first aid kits you buy in the grocery store.”

Max got to work, following her instruction on how to take Little Daniel’s temperature and what the numbers meant. He was running a fever, but it wasn’t high. Not enough to warrant a hospital visit. Max never felt more relieved.

With Grace’s help, got Little Daniel in more comfortable clothing, and helped him drink some juice while he waited for his rush grocery delivery order to arrive. He might have ordered all of the children’s electrolyte drinks the store had in stock, but that was no one's business.

“Maxshy, I’m tired.” Little Daniel mumbled. He’d been miserable all day but Max counted it as a win that he was alert and seeking comfort. He’d spent some time talking to Grace, letting her know that he didn’t feel nice. Max’s heart clenched the whole time.

Grace let them go when Little Daniel promised to try and take a nap. He had put the phone down and immediately climbed his little body onto the couch and sprawled himself over Max who was definitely not proud of the cooing noise he’d involuntarily let out. 

“I know Bub, do you want to watch a race and then take a nap?” Max pressed some hair back from Little Daniel’s forehead and watched as the curls sprung back into place. Little Daniel shook his head and Max raised a brow in surprised confusion. Little Daniel was always asking to watch races, he never declined an opportunity.

“Want to watch da show. Maxshy Show.” Little Daniel clarified and Max’s heart clenched. Recently Max had shown Little Daniel one of the Dutch cartoons he’d grown up with and he’d watched it intently even though Max knew for a fact he didn’t know what they were saying. It was probably clear enough by their actions.

“Ok Bub, we can watch it. Do you want to watch any specific episode?” He reached for the tv remote. Little Daniel shook his head into Max’s chest and watched as Max found the show in question.

They watched two episodes before Max felt Little Daniel go completely lax against him. His soft snores a welcome sound. Max slouched further onto the couch, careful not to jostle his precious cargo and let the background sounds of his childhood lull him to sleep as well.

[brotherwtf]

I just know john can read gale so so well and whenever gale is in his head or trying to hide the fact that he’s sick or tired or sad john just KNOWS and he does things for him and takes care of him and holds him without gale ever having to ask for anything and gale feels so safe with john.

oh for sure for sure, Gale has a master's degree in bottling up his emotions because he was always taught that emotions were bad™ so John has learned to read him like a damn book

when Gale is stressed he holds himself in a tighter way, tends to scrunch up his shoulders and ball his fists more, his jaw is clenched and he chews on toothpicks and gum more, can go through a whole pack of gum a day if he's having a bad traumatic day, will sometimes get snippy with John and try to push him away when John tries to help but John knows to bully through it, knows if he leaves Gale alone it will only get worse, usually forces him to sit or lie down or something to relax and will massage him, or sometimes he'll just lay down on top of him, a nice grounding weight to bring Gale back down to earth

oh man Gale will hide a sickness like no other, he could be actively losing his leg and he would swear he's fine, he'll be alright, and John will seethe with anger because he's not alright, he has to do a similar thing to when Gales stressed, literally forces Gale into bed and keeps him there until he's all better, will feed him soup and keep him warm, will read or talk to him for hours and hours on end until he can see Gale's eyes droop and fall asleep. John would do that every day until Gale felt better, and he'd do it for a thousand years if it meant Gale was going to be okay

even if Gale doesn't grow to ask for help, he's not sure that will ever get through that thick skull of his, but he does grow to accept John's help. He knows John wants to help, wants to make sure he's okay, and he's willing to accept the little things if he thinks it will make John feel better. Some weird fucking Pavlov psychology where he's like "John helping me will help him so I'll let him help me so it helps him" because he's a fucking freak like that (affectionate)

[starcraftt]

i was finally home. to stay ── .✦

AUTHOR'S NOTE : i'm obsessed and that's okay. REASONING : i got bored nd had cooked up some ponyboy headcanons so jst decided to make all of them some. ^^ <3 WARNINGS : none of these are probably accurate i dunno man it's late?? like,, really late and i have school tomorrow i'm sorry. :( </3 ( no actual warnings that i could think of !! )

RANDOM OUTSIDERS HEADCANONS !!

゜✦゜₊⁺  ✦゜₊⁺   ✦゜₊⁺  ゜゜✦゜₊⁺  ✦゜₊⁺   ✦゜₊⁺  ゜゜✦゜₊⁺  ✦゜₊⁺   ✦゜₊⁺  ゜゜✦゜₊⁺ 

𝐏 𝐎 𝐍 𝐘 𝐁 𝐎 𝐘

|| 𝐂 𝐔 𝐑 𝐓 𝐈 𝐒

— Ponyboy wouldn't like puddles. I feel like he just doesn't like rain in general, so he can stay in and read, but I feel like if he had to go out, he would hate stepping in puddles or passing through them. ( iykyk and i'm crying lmao )

— PONYBOY CAN DRAW AND I FEEL LIKE WE ALL FORGET THAT SO, i feel like you could find him drawing what he imagines book characters to look like, or objects in the books??

— Ponyboy is a perfectionist but only on some things.

— OML Soda has totally walked into their room to find Ponyboy c r y i n g on his bed, and after Pony calms down, Soda asked what he was crying about only to find out it was about a book.

"are you kidding me pony" "i'm sORRY"

— has a weird addiction to horror movies despite hating them and they give him nightmares i cant. they're his guilty pleasure because darry always says the cause of his nightmares were the horror movies he watched.

𝐒 𝐎 𝐃 𝐀 𝐏 𝐎 𝐏

|| 𝐂 𝐔 𝐑 𝐓 𝐈 𝐒

— Sodapop actually isn't that bad at spelling, he just forgets a letter here and there. Like, he'll misspell 'missing' as 'mising', but the next time he writes 'missing' he'll spell it right. his mind is just too distracted and i feel that.

— SODA HAS TOTALLY TRIPPED IN FRONT OF A GIRL AND TRIED TO PLAY IT OFF SO CHILL.

"meant to do that" coughs

— Soda 100% tries his best to help Darry with the bills and such, hating to see his older brother weighed down with all the stress. Never thinks he could do what Darry does nd admires him lots.

— actually kinda enjoys being on the side of watching his friends mess around like?? Sodapop loves knowing that his friends all get along nd -- agjshshshjgshshs

— he supports it fully if/when the steve is the one attracting the girls one day, never the jealous one.

— LEGIT THE BEST WINGMAN.

"hey, what's up?"

(probably evie or smth) "oh, hey." her friends around her giggling at sodapop because he's cute. <3

"so, you see that guy over there?" gestures wildly over at steve. "yeah he kinda needs someone to dance with." casually leans against the wall like he's flirting with her as he winks subtly.

𝐃 𝐀 𝐑 𝐑 𝐘

|| 𝐂 𝐔 𝐑 𝐓 𝐈 𝐒

— Darry would totally be one of those people who seem like they instantly know how to do everything but I feel when he used to have free time he'd jst randomly learn random things.

"darry you know how to juggle??"

"yes."

"darry you know how to cartwheel?"

"yes."

"darry you know how to read??"

"pony --"

— hates supernatural things, ghosts actually scare the shit out of him im not kidding.

— but when he watches horror movies he's just sitting there blankly while pony is trying to not scream at his side. and when they walk out and ponyboy's jst all shaking nd stuff darry's just like: "broski you okay?"

— loves organization for no reason, it doesn't help him have a clear mind or anything he just . . . goes into pony and soda's room . . . . . and organizes,,,

𝐓 𝐖 𝐎 - 𝐁 𝐈 𝐓

|| 𝐌 𝐀 𝐓 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐖 𝐒

— Two-Bit ( doesn't get enough love ) probably had a childhood crush on Minnie Mouse.

tries not to admit it or is boldly proud of it. depends on who he's talking to.

— Two-Bit doesn't cry over real life things, but he would totally sob over a Mickey Mouse episode or something.

— Legit the smartest ever but doesn't attempt at school and this is why he was held back.

— TOTALLY USED TO HAVE A STUTTER WHEN HE WAS YOUNGER.

— you could NOT understand this boy it was that bad.

until his mom made him start reading to her aloud and it got better. 👍

— actually has once almost passed out from wheezing laughing too hard.

— drama queen and we love him.

𝐉 𝐎 𝐇 𝐍 𝐍 𝐘

|| 𝐂 𝐀 𝐃 𝐄

— Rip Johnny Cade, you would've loved child protective services.

— Johnny probably has tried his hand at creative writing nd he totally enjoyed it. Hates writing essays nd shit though.

— PLS PONYBOY WHEN HE HEARD JOHNNY WRITES A BIT FORCED HIM TO SHARE SO NOW THE TWO HAVE TIMES WHERE THEY BOTH SHARE RECENT WRITINGS AJGHHSJ ponyboy fr johnny's hype man because he knows how hard writers are on themselves (most of the time) </3

"i wrote this one yesterday idk man i don't like it"

"what the fuck johnny this is amazing??"

— johnny has and forever will create characters based on people from the gang. just someone from the gang casually inspired a part of the character. he didn't use to be so subtle about it though.

scribbled down character sheet with jst the basics - 'james thomas: funny guy and the only thing that comes out of his mouth are jokes'

"johnny is this two-bit"

"no."

— leGIT, he once saw someone at school doing a sick secret handshake and convinced ponyboy to make one up with him.

— he probably once didn't like dallas because ponyboy admitted randomly how he didn't like dally and johnny just kinda went with that.

𝐃 𝐀 𝐋 𝐋 𝐀 𝐒

|| 𝐖 𝐈 𝐍 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐍

— Dallas Winston cries at seeing spiders and you cannot change my mind with this. When he's around someone though he tries to play it off so cool though.

— he gets cuddly when he's drunk and johnny is most normally the prime target for hugs.

— says he hates kids but also hates seeing kids cry and will probably try and do something to make them feel better so they'll just stop crying.

— used to have a lisp on the word 'world'.

— genuinely loves any affection but is not willing to give it himself.

𝐒 𝐓 𝐄 𝐕 𝐄

|| 𝐑 𝐀 𝐍 𝐃 𝐋 𝐄

— Steve,,, i feel like he doesn't actually enjoy Mickey Mouse, he just watches it when it's on because it's something to watch and he knows if he admits it, Two-Bit would hit him and then cry.

— literally can sing the greatest ever but you never catch him doing it. not even soda knows so you know it's secret.

— cannot focus at work when it's just soda and him, all giggling and messing around until a customer walks in and bro just shuts up as quickly as he can without making himself laugh again.

— steve totally used to legit bully the fuck out of ponyboy when pony was like, five. he's toned it down. it's not that physical anymore.

— steve, and i cannot stress this enough, is such a fucking simp i cant.

— the best best friend. i feel like he'd try and act all 'tuff' and stuff, 'forget' what soda or one of the curtis gang mentioned wanting before getting that exact thing for them on a gift-giving holiday. he saved up so he could get them that. :(

[anguishedlurker]

Chapter two coming UP, on Ao3 HERE as well.

~

So at first she'd lost her new notebook, which was all sorts of awful. She just got that, dammit! And had wrapped something up in record time, too!

She knew she'd left it on her nightstand, she couldn't be convinced otherwise either, but where did it go!? She was gone five fucking minutes!

All that wasted time and effort, with the haunting sense she wasn't alone. And in Amity, that meant so much more than it should!

But whatever. She could deal. Or at least pretend to until she could harass her brother, the most likely culprit for this. She hoped it was burning his eyes, sticky fingered little....

So she'd crawled back into bed and curled up, and set aside the steaming rage to be hashed out at the dinner table over cereal. Mom usually wasn't well humored to her making things public, but dad was still mad enough about the riding lawnmower that he'd be ready to take reasons to pile-drive the no electronics mandate for even longer. Wrong move, turd.

And curled on her side, she fell asleep after some not that set aside rage. The reckoning would be afoot come six am.

But she'd woken up suddenly, or at least... she thought she did. Maybe. Unlikely, now that she thinks about it.

All she'd heard as the folds of her comforter revealed nothing was chuckling, before a voice she felt like she should know spoke.

"Pardon the interruption, but I think this story needs its star actor, yes?"

Suddenly, she was thrown in someone's arms.

Under different circumstances she'd aim towards making fun of their clothes, but, well...

It was undeniably a well put together fantasy costume. The sort of thing she'd pick out for one of the guys, if they'd have the intelligence to get her help for any costume parties.

Though, it was definitely sparking a familiar mental image right now...

Arms were wrapped around her, hoisting her back upwards enough to get her feet under her and peel back from them a little bit.

Which is about where it all made some sense.

His hair was messily styled; the right balance of non effort while still being meticulous to the trained eye. His fur pauldrons framed his startled look as the cape swished back with all the sudden movement.

And above all else, he was holding her...

Officially, pinch her. This was too much to wake up to.

Or not, given the scene... 

It was straight out of her notebook. She was the only being in existence that knew what was in there, and this wasn't something her brother could rig up. He'd be a freak to try doing something like this, besides.

It's not like you can slap a white wig on Mikey or Dash and call it good, this was clearly Phantom in front of her, and this simply had to be The Evergreen Field!

Phantom- the prince- shifted from her, looking  over her form extremely carefully.

Right, right, it's weird and strange for some random girl to appear and be enthused at him.

Hell, what were his lines? It can't be that hard.

"Ma'dam, I do believe that's a new one." Phantom tittered, just so slightly breathless.

"An entrance for the age. Although... perhaps..." He trailed, shifting his arms up to her hands.

"Lady Manson may well keep the top spot." He clicked, seemingly extremely put off.

That... wasn't it, but it was close enough!

"Oh sir, how curious that makes me of this wild lady Manson!" She quipped, giggling.

Hey, no, wait. She knows that last name. Why's that name in her book?

Maybe... She's read before that the brain will pull from people and things it knows in sleep, so that's gotta be it.

Because if this is real... 

Frightening thought..

~

("I know you can hear me. You wouldn't dare not be listening in to my thoughts if  only to make fun of me more. We can discuss this, and come to some sort of peace.")

("Don't you like it, child?  She seems so fond  of you, it'd be a shame denying her her fantasies!")

("I know you know I know, you're making fun of me and that is bait. Ha ha, make me flip over being the valiant white knight prince in one of your stories, get her outta here you damn creep!)

("Oh child, this one isn't mine. I took the liberty of polishing it up some , but this story is all hers... Won't you make her dreams, her fantasies, come to... such life?"

Smug bastard speaking in riddles, struggling to finish his own goddamn sentences.

Or... No. Wait. This cannot possibly be this straight forward. Oh, what a mess this is!

His tongue was only slightly unstuck though, meaning he was still going to have a very bad time with speaking normally.

But god, her surprised enthusiasm was clearly waning to concern and fear.

""Ma'dam, I do believe that's a new one. An entrance for the age. Although... perhaps... Lady Manson may well keep the top spot."

No, no, no! That should've been ,,I haven't seen an entrance like that since a friend of mine crashed the chandelier into a ball"!!

Not that that was an entrance, but still!

("Unhand my tongue, wretched puppet master.") He spat, cringing as Ghost Writer cackled. Not even his projected thoughts were safe?

"Oh sir, how curious that makes me of this wild lady Manson!" She laughed, bouncing back to enthused and looking at him like there was no danger going on right now. For a split second her smile tightened, but it was gone as fast as it appeared.

"A fair lady friend of mine, who's of no relevance presently. Did the fall hurt?" He pressed, trying to ignore how the words tripped over his lips ever so lamely.

He was super gonna kill Ghost Writer a second time for this one, mark his words!

"Nope! I'm a-okay here, mister Phantom." She grinned, pleased with his attention. Fucks sake…

"Such a fall could certainly harm any-"

"Sheesh, lay off! It was just onto you, sir." She laughed, shoving him lightly and peeling off of him to look at the sunlit field.

She swayed slightly, her own eagerness to stand up properly and keep on staring, thankfully dragging her eyes off of him and looking excited at the damn horse.

This was going to be a big migraine, and it hadn't even really started! The anglerfish would be better right now, at least innocents wouldn't be with him!

("I'm completely innocent of all crimes, and you need to let her go no matter what you think you're going to accomplish.") Danny shot at Ghost Writer, gritting his teeth into the absurd grin Ghost Writer was clearly typing onto him for this.

The clicking of the typewriter halted, Danny's hopes indulging a doomed little dream before whatever overwrought wit Ghost Writer had could be dropped onto him.

("Nah.")

Nah? Just nah? Uncreative much!

The keys resumed, and the smile on his face didn't get to drop as Paulina went and stumbled over her own feet, stand- ("You did NOT give her kitten pumps in a fucking grass field! You did NOT in fact do-")

("What of it, child? Besides, this is her choice! It's what she imagined herself dressed in!") Ghost Writer snapped back instantly at him, the type-writer pausing seconds after as Paulina seemed to freeze on the spot with Danny's hands moving to steady her.

("Why do you know women's heel types, devil child?") Ghost Writer asked.

While he sounded sincere in asking this, Danny didn't trust that information to stay as idle curiosity. His own words could and would be used against them both to who knows what sorts of effects.

"Madam, are you certain you feel alright?" Danny tried pressing, ignoring Ghost Writer with a pointed mental shove between them.

("Suit yourself child. It won't get you out of this to be oh so petulant to me.") Ghost Writer huffed, continuing to write.

"Yup!" She chirped back, smiling like there wasn't a manic reality altering ghost puppeting this whole strange situation.

The horse very conveniently made noise, and Danny faintly wished Sam was here to be a better social example than his pathetic attempts could ever be.

But then there'd be more swearing and violence if she had actually been with him, so maybe it was better in the short term that she wasn't to cause them hell.

"Well my lady, if you insist on your good health then we should be quick to exit this place, before something else happens here." He said, sharply gesturing to the horse. 

("I can fly and carry her ya loser.")

("Bold of you to try and debate the horse.")

"Ahh, but we haven't really done... Yeah, sure." Paulina said, cautiously agreeing. 

Feet! Lift! From ground! Fly! Fly, goddamnit, fly fly!

“Do what? I find there little to have done.” Danny asked blankly, watching her wobble.

Too many lectures from Sam about the variety of girly shit her mom had tried to put her in left him with far too much knowledge about death traps, formally known as the dreaded high heels, to let him be comfortable with her wobbling around in a grass field. His limbs refused to obey his attempts to reach out to Paulina to help though.

“I find it’s not really important now.” She snipped, approaching the horse to mount it.

To Paulina’s credit she had clearly ridden horses before this weirdo kidnapping, not struggling as Danny looked away.

“You seem embarrassed, my good sir. Why’s that?” She asked, clearly only half serious.

Time ticked slowly as Ghost Writer rewrote his totally witty comeback to her.

“While a pretty dress, I find that they’re bad for hiding a woman's undergarments.” He grit out past Ghost Writers influence.

Paulina slowly turned red and nodded.

(“Is it too crass to say I don’t want to see her underwear in full brazen sight? This horse is absurdly tall compared to us and it’s pretty logical to say.”) Danny pressed Ghost Writer, greatly annoyed.

(“Prince charming cannot say the word panties.”) Ghost Writer staunchly informed him, rude too.

(“Okay. But I wasn’t-”) +

(“Don't lie to me.”)

Danny did not grace that with an answer, watching as Paulina shifted around.

(“Okay, genius, now get me on the horse.”)

(“Can you not ride? I thought that you’ve been on-”)

Danny gave the mental equivalent of a hard stare, not one for this nonsense.

His limbs moving on their own never got any easier than the first instance, the anglerfish a distant memory of a better run in with Ghost Writer.

“Now my lady, might I now ask your name?” Danny asked, letting Ghost Writer take charge.

(“Two ‘now’s? Run out of words?”)

(“Shove it, you brat.”)

Paulina was busy wrapping her arms around his waist as they mocked each other, not yet giving an answer for her name.

“It’s just Paulina, my good sir Phantom.” She muttered through his over fancy clothes, sounding family embarrassed to say it.

“Pretty enough. Prettier most names.” He reassured, making the horse start forth.

“Thank you for your kind words, but I don’t think-” She attempted, squirming as she spoke up.

”Pretty enough to announce to the ball.” He continued, cringing as he realized.

Today was gonna be so, so painful.

I've been Isekaied into Paulina's Novel?!

Welcome to the fic for the EctoImposion 2024 event! I was paired with @thebooo-merang for this wonderful fic, and you should go check them out! And check out the ao3 posting HERE

After an incident with Box Ghost solicits a fight with Ghost Writer, Ghost Writers out for revenge. And Paulina has a convenient little fanfiction that Ghost writer could use. Now Danny just has to survive it, with a starstruck Paulina in tow.

The first chapter doesn't especially need warnings, as everything remains cannon typical. It's under the cut!

~

"Get back here!" Danny shouted, ready to be done with wit for today.

"I, THE BOOOX GHOOOST, WILL-"

"Piss off Ghost Writer!" Do you just break into random lairs in search of weird boxes!?" Danny screeched, trying to dive after a flying notebook.

"I, THE BOX GHOST, WILL-" Box shouted over Danny, waving wildly as he went and sending even more boxes and books flying back and forth.

"RUIN WHAT LITTLE TRUCE I'VE GOT GOING WITH HIM!" Danny cut back, struggling to grab books mid-air with one arm and blast Boxy into submission with the other.

"THE BOX GHOST HAS NO NEED FOR LECTURES ON YOUR INTERPERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS! PREPARE TO BE DESTROYED!"

Danny was gonna kill him this time!

~

Boxes and books rained over the town, causing havoc and mild property damage to the unprepared. Paulina could only huff and puff as she bolted across the open street from shop to shop, trying to find somewhere to camp out while Phantom dealt with the box menace, trying to keep an eye out for whatever storefront Star had managed to find for herself.

Another keeper kept their shoulder into the door as she pushed, and bitterly she cursed them out. She probably didn't get any sympathetic glances through the wood door, but whatever! Rude ass motherfuckers locking out innocents while there was an attack!

It was tempting to keep under the eave, but beyond being mere cloth too much was getting tossed around- plenty enough room for something to slam in sideways and get her then!

God! One good day is all she wanted right now.

Though a few more after wouldn't go amiss...

There! The geek shit shop was probably going to let her in! Maybe!

She didn't care, actually, she'd punch through the glass if she had to! Take that, losers!

First, she needed the mental psyche up to dart across the road again. Three, two, one, go!

The owner, or possible customer, waved behind the glass as she ran.The door opened and closed near instantaneously on her entry.

The sound of Phantom yelling at The Box Ghost dampened as the bell rang, and the store owner gave her an uneasy smile and gestured towards the windowless back. 

“Everyone’s in the back. Might be cramped by now, but there’s a lot of shelves to sit behind.” He nervously informed, eyeing the glass windows.

The casual thumbs up sent him away as she bent slightly to wheeze out the adrenaline.

Yeah, cheer takes some stamina, but adrenaline really messes up her rhythm!

Breath caught, it was time to pack in with the other unlucky idiots back here. With care and precision she marched over behind the popular shelf, examined the bodies packed like sardines, and picked a new shelf to hide behind.

This one was packed with books instead of weird anime figures and dungeons and dragons minis, the spines a cold comfort as she sat down and started staring.

The titles on this sort of crap were so weird… 

But she supposed Star seemed to enjoy them, Star's rants echoing clearly in her head. 

She wouldn’t admit it with a gun to her head, but after enough of those rants… she may or may not be able to pick out a few of the series on display.

Sue her, she's a sucker for some of the romances even if they were trashy a lot of the time. And Star's collection at this rate was pretty impressive, to the point Paulina was convinced she was the only reason a store like this could keep afloat in a town like Amity.

The other nerd shit probably helped it keep alive, though. More screaming outside, this time sounding like it was from The Box Ghost in rage. Good. Phantom could pummel that no good fool to goo for what it mattered.

... Ugh. The fight could easily take a long time; Box Ghost might be weak, but he clearly had a lot of material to use this time. But whatever. Here she is in a castle of weeb books. Maybe some could be a good distraction.

~

"No! Not you!"

"Yes, me! Did you think you could trash my library and get away with it!?" Ghost Writer roared, trying to come up from behind.

"It wasn't me, it was-"

But Box Ghost was already gone, the leftover boxes of books now floating to the ground in a suspiciously gentle manner.

Coward. The thought wouldn't leave as Danny shifted the books he'd been trying to save around, awkwardly offering the armful to Ghost Writer. 

Ghost Writer loomed ominously.

~

All at once the outside world went quiet, some shouting occasionally coming close enough to hear, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief loud enough to drag Paulina from her pile of books.

Five more minutes would've been great to finish the book she'd had in hand, not that it mattered...

Now she needed to find where Star ran off to without her, the books carefully left behind in a pile.

Phantom and a ghost she couldn’t recognize quipped back and forth, the day still significantly quieter than it had been fifteen minutes before. The area remained strewn with books, the ghost gesturing to some on a roof.

Now, she could walk around the district lost and confused looking for Star... Or just sit back down on a nice ledge and wait for Star to come to her while watching Phantom.

Phantom made an odd twist in the air as he shouted, still a little too distant to make out properly.

Yeah, watching sounded so much safer and calmer. One hop later and she was perched on top of one of the lower walls purporting to be defensive.

Fat lot of good they did...

Phantom and his assailant came closer, lending her a nice view of what was going on.

Maybe she shouldn't be here, but it seemed to be more arguing than fighting, so whatever.

"While I'm sorry my NOT PARTNER didn't have a spine, you can have yours back!" Phantom shouted as they passed overhead, throwing a book at the weird ghost.

She had to huff out a clipped laugh as the ghost was whacked, even as the ghost elected to bolt as it realized its inferiority.

She could just hear the stunned silence from Phantom, right before he cried out "Get back here!" 

Truly, a foolish thing to think it could stand up to the town hero.

With a certain lack of ceremony, the book the from the fight fell onto her 

"Ouch!" She yelped, one hand raising to rub her scalp as the other fumbled for the offending book.

The whole thing might be a sign it's time to get up and go. Still...

"Raining books is a new one." She muttered, far too late for the comment to be witty but all the same a perfectly serious remark on the latest weird shit Amity came up with.

She cautiously eyed the book in her hands, looking for any oddities. You could never quite trust some of this stuff...

It was just a notebook. Nothing special about it, besides being a trophy for today. The decoration and signature on front was incomprehensible to her, an initial she didn't recognize against the slightly plain front.

Caving to curiosity, the book opened easily. Not that she’d expected anything else. 

It revealed... nothing. Nothing at all. None of the pages had any sort of writing in them.

Well she can't be begrudged for snooping- it's her prize right now. An apology for getting assaulted in broad daylight. This G-W could just deal with it, and the spat was already away from her, so it's not like she was going to be in more danger sitting here.

The blank notebook continued to be uninteresting, and she couldn’t help her annoyance as she shut it. There wasn’t a damn thing to pay her back for getting hit.

Or... well...

She could feel her lip work up into a slight smirk.

I have been wanting to write a new Phantom fic...

The thought was clear as day to her, even as she couldn't wait for the night. What better way to celebrate this particular trophy?

~

Ghost Writer was forced to watch on in abject misery as he realized his collection had been tossed around like a toddler’s toys. No respect whatsoever from the box obsessed lunatic for the actual contents of the boxes.

The nerve! The audacity! To treat his writing like this! The ghost may well need a lesson in manners.

But first, Phantom.

Sure, the boy wasn't the sole force at work- but undeniably the lunatic never would've gotten close to his manuscripts if Phantom hadn't been snooping around in his library.

But don't think he's lost the plot of getting his own books tossed at him! The tactical retreat was nothing more than an admission of lack of home turf!

Nothing to do with not having his typewriter or any notebooks activated!

Ahem... So the child would need an appropriate punishment as well.

Sometime after he collected his books

The whole lot of them, all across town! Lunatics.

It was easy enough to threaten people away from his scripts, but nonetheless annoying and time consuming. Go here, show up there, yell to get their grubby mitts off his stuff. 

Ugh.

The annoyance was the cost of getting everything back. though. He pointedly ignored Phantom’s continued patrolling, likely looking for whatever trap Ghost Writer would end up creating.

Easy enough to stay low and out of sight in the meantime. Whatever he was about to do, it wasn't a ‘now’ plan. Such things take planning, and unfortunately it's not the season to stick the boy back into Christmas stories.

So he was collecting his books, and chasing fools away from them. The cost of love, he supposed.

Still, he was being forced to waste hours upon hours taking his books out of the hands of fools. Having such a collection was not currently a point of pride; He’d have to figure out what went where later.

Slowly but surely his boxes filled back up as he found his manuscripts. There was his old horror story from the eighties, there was his attempt at something akin to a superhero comic, there was his dabbling in... well he couldn't remember either, but if he sat to read it right now it'd take hours for him to finish the book. No reading for him.

Finally, it was time to find his blank notebooks again. He'd be forced to admit that he simply cared less if these ones vanished mysteriously, for a blank notebook was nothing more or less than a possibility.

Most were alright, scattered down the streets carelessly. Some had been picked up and put back down to be examined by wretched hands at a later date.

There was an exception though, something swaying as if held at the edge of where he could feel things. Curious, for how late at night it was getting, but that'd just mean he needed to scare another pathetic mortal off his books.

The pull and search brought him to a cracked window in the suburbs. Nothing meaningful crossed his path, though it was good to be wary; The boy was likely still patrolling, and no doubt Ghost Writer's appearance had put him on edge. As it should.

Slowly rising up to look through, invisible to the mortal eye, he could hear a girl rambling slightly. 

His look through the window was enlightening, the girl curled onto her bed as she wrote with ink that even from this distance sparkled with glitter.

"And then Princess Paulina lived happily ever after with Prince Phantom, aaannd the end." She whispered, pleased with herself.

Barely pausing, she snapped the book shut and laid it on her nightstand, moving to stand and stretch.

Shouting called her away, which was plenty convenient for him even as she huffed and puffed out of the room.

It was child's play to take the notebook back, even with it defiled by mortal hands. It wasn't a toy to be left with creatures that didn't understand what could be done with such tools.

The cover had already been decorated with a couple of stickers and a flowing cursive he couldn't bother deciphering at this second.

Phasing back out of the room and coming to rest back outside of the window, he flipped the cover open.  The inside was decorated similarly.

Oh, yes. That was glitter pen. The pages were coming away bedazzled with runaway glitter.

This book was most certainly going to have to be put in its own container, but for right this second the name on the inside was of modest curiosity.

Paulina Sanchez in bold strokes, fancy flourishes forgone in favor of legibility. If found, return to owner, do not read.

Well now he just had to, didn't he? It wasn't like the rest of the books were going anywhere, the grand total of three he still had to find now could rest safely.

Or well... No, he could spare the time now> What would the boy do, if it blows up on them both? The books shouldn't even be in the town anyways, and it was most certainly his fault thank you very much!

He quickly leafed through the beginning burning through thanks to his superior-ness and a speed reading class he'd attended before.

... hmm.

Hmmmmm.

He'd recently been complaining about what to do with the boy, no?

"This could work." He spoke to no-one, clapping the book shut. For now.

~

Barely past sunrise, Danny squinted at the sky and grumbled. Damn malicious blob ghosts, eating billboards.

Not that he cares about the billboards, but first it's a billboard and then it's drywall.

"Catch!" Got shouted, an object (presumably) sailing from behind him.

Snapping too and turning, he could see Ghost Writer grin manically in glee as a book opened wide.

All he could do was choke out an "eh?" as he reflexively reached, the book splayed open and glowing. Illustory pages floated up and off, and he had a really bad feeling about what was coming next as the world around him went white.

~

Coming to under Ghost Writers writing was not a fun thing to experience, see. One did not simply fade into one of his chaotic and weirdly random worlds. You blink and then suddenly you're just there!

Danny was there, wherever there was. Somewhere was currently a bright grass field, with a decorated horse beside him.

Which he would grant was a better entrance than the last time he'd been flung into one of Ghost Writer's many insane stories.

He would never forget that anglerfish...

But almost just as fast as he got here there was another stupidly bright light, and someone was falling into his arms, briefly bundled into his chest before quickly popping back up to look at him.His tongue was stuck in a way that implied Ghost Writer had ideas about what he should or shouldn't be saying at this time, but that didn't stop the extremely strained noise he gave when he realized the person was Paulina, looking VERY enthused.

[thesecondface]

found myself belligerently staring at google maps today looking at some massive unnamed seamounts off the coast of scotland and thinking surely these must have been named. surely. if only because they are so big.

anyways they ARE named (this is the site for the naming of bathymetric features; pity google does not have an option to view these: https://www.ngdc.noaa.gov/gazetteer/ ) and look at what I found on the rockall plateau:

also quite appallingly from my quick 3am skim of google scholar there seem to be very few morphometric studies of sea floor features and even fewer geomorphological maps. would be SO interesting to do especially as these sorts of studies – based off morphology alone – are excellent for comparative planetology, except of course on Earth one can ground truth observations with (comparatively) easy sampling. This would be particularly useful for Venus – the higher atmospheric pressure suppresses vesiculation, so you get less explosive volcanism (lavas >> pyroclasts). Submarine volcanism would provide a pressure analogue to that. Pressures are 92 atm at the Venusian surface, which is about the same as volcanism 1km underwater on Earth – remembering that despite 3-4km depths here these seamounts have sunken, and so do not represent the water depths at the time of formation (hotter more buoyant crust during volcanism; cooling and subsidence after etc etc).

and LOOK at this beauty, the Edoras Bank – a chain of seamounts (sunken and eroded volcanoes) following a lineament. It's a shorter scale alignment than, e.g. the Emperor Seamount chain (c.2000km tracking plate motions over a stationary plume) so it's possible that the difference by an order of magnitude accounts for different genetic processes e.g. fault-controlled volcanism. Need to find a paper or something to find out.

And look at this, zoomed in – TONS of parasitic seamounts and guyots. Of course, on Earth things are very much shaped by erosion (on Venus the effects are much smaller). Also very interesting that there is one very sizeable seamount and a chain of smaller seamounts trailing on. Reminds me of pit crater "tadpole" chains on Venus (though that's a negative relief feature, while this is positive).

I'm rambling and really this has not much of a point (started with oh look, tolkien names and ended with venus rambles). Feel like I want to maybe in my spare time start digitising bits of this. Morphological mapping of the seafloor and whatnot on QGIS may be just the fun I need when procrastinating. also it's now 4am goodnight.

[spotaus]

Me frfr ^

I've been reading a fic today as a treat for finally being on vacation, and when I say I've just been entranced I mean it. (Also. The fic in question is @ancientschampionau 's well, Ancients & Champions fic lol! It's captivated me >:])

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: January 16

"Coast of Carolina" by Jimmy Buffett

[chloelouygo]

Vent journal time babeyyyy

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 54

Chapter; Highlights

Before battle tomorrow-before they might stand a chance of actually saving Anielle.

He was still working through all that had transpired these months he'd been gone. The battles and losses. Where Dorian had gone with Manon and the Thirteen. Chaol could only pray his friend was successful-and that he didn't take it upon himself to forge the Lock.

Needing to unravel all he'd learned, he'd left Aelin and the others near the Great Hall to find whatever food they could, immediately.

Part of him half wondered if the mare knew that his back ached, that he needed his cane, but that he chose to be here.

He ran a hand down her ebony mane, then patted her strong neck. "Ready to trample some Valg grunts tomorrow, my friend?"

Farasha huffed, angling a dark eye at him as if to say, Are you?

Chaol smiled, and Yrene laughed softly. "I should head back to the hall," his wife said.

"See who needs help." But she lingered. Their eyes met over Farasha's powerful back.

He came around the horse, still mindful of her biting. "I know," he said quietly. Yrene angled her head. "Know what?"

Chaol interlaced their fingers. And then laid their hands atop her still-flat abdomen.

"Oh," was all Yrene said, her mouth popping open. "I- How?"

Chaol's heart thundered. "It's true, then." Her golden eyes scanned his. "Do you want it to be?"

Chaol slid a hand against her cheek. "More than I ever realized."

Yrene's smile was wide and lovely enough to fracture his heart. "It's true," she breathed.

"How far along?"

"Almost two months."

He studied her stomach, the place that would soon swell with the child growing inside her. Their child. "You didn't tell me, I'm assuming, because you didn't want me to worry."

Yrene bit her lip. "Something like that."

He snorted. "And when you were waddling around, belly near bursting?"

Yrene whacked his arm. "I'm not going to waddle."

Chaol laughed, and tugged her into his arms. "You'll waddle beautifully, was what I meant to say." Yrene's laughter reverberated into him, and Chaol kissed the top of her head, her temple. "We're having a child," he murmured onto her hair.

Her arms came around him. "We are," she whispered. "But how did you know?"

"My father," Chaol grumbled, "apparently possesses better observational skills than I do." He felt, more than saw, her cringe. "You're not angry I didn't tell you?"

"No. I would have appreciated hearing it from your lips first, but I understand why you didn't want to say anything yet. Stupid as it might be," he added, nipping at her ear. Yrene jabbed him in the ribs, and he laughed again.

Laughed, even though every day they'd fought in this battle, every opponent he'd faced, he'd dreaded making a fatal mistake. Had been unable to forget that should he fall, he'd be taking them both with him.

Her arms tightened around him, and Yrene nestled her head against his chest. "You'll be a brilliant father," she said softly. "The most brilliant one to ever exist."

"High praise indeed, coming from a woman who wanted to toss me from the highest window of the Torre a few months ago."

"A healer would never be SO unprofessional."

Chaol grinned, and breathed in her scent before he pulled back and brushed his mouth against hers. "I am happier than I can ever express, Yrene, to share this with you. Anything you need, I am yours to command."

Her lips twitched upward. "Dangerous words."

But Chaol ran his thumb over her wedding band. "I'll have to win this war quickly, then, so I can have our house built by the summer."

She rolled her eyes. "A noble reason to defeat Erawan."

Chaol stole another kiss from her. "As much as I would like to show you just how much I am at your command," he said against her mouth,

"I have another matter to deal with before bed." Yrene's brows rose.

He grimaced. "I need to introduce Aelin to my father. Before they run into each other." The man hadn't been near the hall when they'd arrived, and Chaol had been too worried for Farasha's well-being to bother hunting him down.

Yrene cringed, though amusement sparked in her eyes. "Is it bad if I want to join you? And bring snacks?"

Chaol slung an arm around her shoulders, giving Farasha a farewell stroke before they left. Despite the cane, each step was limping, and the pain in his back lanced down his legs, but it was secondary. All of it, even the damned war, was secondary to the woman at his side.

To the future they'd build together.

As well as Yrene's conversation with Chaol had gone, that's how badly things went between Aelin Galathynius and his father.

Yrene didn't bring snacks, but that was only because by the time they reached the Great Hall, they had intercepted his father. Storming toward the room where Aelin and her companions had gone for a reprieve.

"Father," Chaol said, falling into step beside him. Yrene said nothing, monitoring Chaol's movements. The pain in his back had to be great, if he was limping this deeply, even while her magic refilled. She had no idea where he'd left his chair—if it had been crushed under falling debris. She prayed it had not.

His father snapped, "You fail to wake me when the Queen of Terrasen arrives at my castle?"

"It wasn't a priority." Chaol halted before the door that opened into the small chamber that had been vacated for the queen and knocked.

A grunt was the only confirmation before Yrene’s husband shouldered open the door enough to poke his head inside. "My father," Chaol said to whoever was inside, presumably the queen, "would like to see you."

Silence, then the rustling of clothes and steps.

Yrene kept back as Aelin Galathynius appeared, her face and hands clean, but clothes still dirty. At her side stood that towering, silver-haired Fae warrior-Rowan Whitethorn.

Whom the royals had spoken of with such fear and respect months ago. In the room, Lady Elide sat against the far wall, a tray of food beside her, and the giant white wolf lay sprawled on the ground, monitoring with half-lidded eyes.

A shock to see the shift, to realize these Fae might be powerful and ancient, but they still had one foot in the forest. The queen, it seemed, preferred the form as well, her delicately pointed ears half-hidden by her unbound hair.

Behind her, there was no sign of the golden-haired, melancholy warrior, Gavriel, or the utterly terrifying Lorcan. Thank Silba for that, at least.

Aelin left the door open, though their two court members remained seated. Bored, almost. "Well, now," was all the queen said as she stepped into the hall.

Chaol's father looked over the warrior-prince at her side. Then he turned his head toward Chaol and said, "I assume they met in Wendlyn. After you sent her there."

Yrene tensed at the taunting in the man's voice. Bastard. Horrible bastard.

Aelin clicked her tongue. "Yes, yes, let's get all that out of the way. Though I don't think your son really regrets it, does he?" Aelin's eyes shifted to Yrene, and Yrene tried not to flinch under that turquoise-and-gold stare. Different from the fire she'd beheld that night in Innish, but still full of that razor-sharp awareness.

Different-they were both different from the girls they'd been. A smile curved the queen's mouth. "I think he made out rather well for himself." She frowned up at her consort. "Yrene, at least, doesn't seem like the sort to hog the blankets and snore in one's ear all night."

Yrene coughed as Prince Rowan only smiled at the queen. "I don't mind your snoring," he said mildly.

Aelin's mouth twitched when she turned to Chaol's father. Yrene's own laughter died at the lack of light on the man's face. Chaol was tense as a drawn bowstring as the queen said to his father, "Don't waste your breath on taunts. I'm tired, and hungry, and it won't end well for you."

"This is my keep."

Aelin made a good show of gaping at the ceiling, the walls, the floors. "Is it really?"

Yrene had to duck her head to hide her grin. So did Chaol.

But Aelin said to the Lord of Anielle, "I trust you're not going to get in our way."

A line in the sand. Yrene's breath caught in her throat.

Chaol's father said simply, "Last I looked you were not Queen of Adarlan."

"No, but your son is Hand to the King, which means he outranks you." Aelin smiled with horrific sweetness at Chaol. "Haven't you told him that?"

Yrene and Aelin were no longer the girls they'd been in Innish, yes, but that wildfire still remained in the queen's spirit. Wildfire touched with insanity.

Chaol shrugged. "I figured I'd tell him when the time arose." His father glowered.

Prince Rowan, however, said to the man, "You've defended and prepared your people admirably. We have no plans to take that from you."

"I don't need the approval of Fae brutes," the lord sneered Aelin clapped Rowan on the shoulder.

"Brute. I like that. Better than 'buzzard,' right?"

Yrene had no idea what the queen was talking about, but she held in her laugh anyway.

Aelin sketched a mocking bow to the Lord of Anielle. "On that lovely parting note, we're going to finish up our dinners. Enjoy your evening, we'll see you on the battlements tomorrow, and please do rot in hell." Then Aelin was turning away, a hand guiding her husband inside. But not before the queen threw a grin over her shoulder to Yrene and Chaol and said, eyes bright—with joy and warmth this time, "Congratulations."

How she knew, Yrene had no idea. But the Fae possessed a preternatural sense of smell. Yrene smiled all the same as she bowed her head-just before Aelin slammed the door in the Lord of Anielle's face.

Chaol turned to his father, any hint of amusement expertly hidden. "Well, you saw her."

Chaol's father shook with what Yrene supposed was a combination of rage and humiliation, and stalked away. It was one of the finest sights Yrene had ever seen.

From Chaol's smile, she knew her husband felt the same.

"What a horrible man." Elide finished off her chicken leg before handing the other to Fenrys, who had shifted back into his Fae form. He tore into it with a growl of appreciation. "Poor Lord Chaol."

Aelin, her aching legs stretched out before her as she leaned against the wall, finished off her own portion of chicken, then dug into a hunk of dark bread. "Poor Chaol, poor his mother, poor his brother. Poor everyone who has to deal with him."

At the lone, narrow window of the room, monitoring the dark army hundreds of feet below, Rowan snorted. "You were in rare form tonight."

Aelin saluted him with her hunk of hearty oaten bread. "Anyone who interrupts my dinner risks paying the price."

Rowan rolled his eyes, but smiled. Just as Aelin had seen him smile when they'd both scented what was on Yrene. The child in her.

She was happy for Yrene-for them both.

Chaol deserved that joy, perhaps more than anyone. As much as her own mate.

Aelin didn't let the thoughts travel further.

Not as she finished her bread and came to the window, leaning against Rowan's side. He slid an arm around her shoulders, casual and easy.

None of them mentioned Maeve.

Elide and Fenrys continued eating in silence, giving them what privacy they could in the small, bare room they'd be sharing, sleeping on bedrolls. The Lord of Anielle, it seemed, did not share her appreciation for luxury. Or basic comforts for his guests. Like hot baths. Or beds.

"The men are terrified," Rowan said, gazing out at the levels of the keep below. "You can smell it."

"They've held this keep for days now. They know what's waiting for them at dawn."

"Their fear," Rowan said, his jaw tightening, "is proof they do not trust our allies.

Proof they don't trust the khagan's army to actually save them. It will make for sloppy fighters. Could create a weakness where there shouldn't be one."

"Perhaps you should have told Chaol," Aelin said.

"He could give them some motivational speech."

"I have a feeling Chaol has given them plenty. This sort of fear rots the soul."

"What's to be done for it, then?" Rowan shook his head. "I don't know." But she sensed he did know. Sensed that he wanted to say something else, and either their current company or some sort of hesitation barred him.

So Aelin didn't push, and surveyed the battlements with their patrolling soldiers, the sprawling, dark army beyond. Baying cries and howls rent the night, the sounds unearthly enough that they dragged a shudder down her spine.

"Is a land battle easier or worse than one at sea?" Aelin asked her husband, her mate, peering at his tattooed face.

She'd only faced the ships in Skull's Bay, and even that had been over relatively quickly.

And against the ilken who'd swarmed them in the Stone Marshes, it had been more an extermination than anything. Not what awaited them tomorrow. Not what her friends had fought on the Narrow Sea while she and Manon had been in the mirror, then with Maeve on the beach.

Rowan considered. "They're just as messy, but in different ways."

"I'd rather fight on land," Fenrys grumbled.

"Because no one likes the smell of wet dog?" Aelin asked over her shoulder.

Fenrys laughed. "Exactly because of that."

At least he was smiling again.

Rowan's mouth twitched, but his eyes were hard as he surveyed the enemy army.

"Tomorrow's battle will be just as brutal," he said. "But the plan is sound."

They'd be on the battlements with Chaol, readying for any desperate maneuvers Morath might attempt when they found themselves being herded and crushed by the khagan's army.

Elide would be with Yrene and the other healers in the Great Hall, helping the injured.

Where Lorcan and Gavriel would be, Aelin could only assume. Both had peeled off upon arriving, the latter taking watch somewhere, and the former likely brooding. But they'd probably be fighting right alongside them.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, Gavriel slipped into the room. "The army looks quiet enough," he said by way of greeting, then unceremoniously dropped to the floor beside Fenrys and hauled the platter of chicken toward him. "The men are rife with fear, though. Days of defending these walls have worn on them." Rowan nodded, not bothering to tell the Lion they'd just discussed this as Gavriel ripped into the food. "We'll have to make sure they don't balk tomorrow, then."

Indeed.

"I was wondering," Elide said to none of them in particular after a moment. "Since Maeve is an imposter, who would rule Doranelle if she was banished with all the other Valg?"

"Or burned to a crisp," Fenrys muttered.

Aelin might have smiled grimly, but Elide's question settled into her. Gavriel slowly set down the chicken. Rowan's arm dropped from Aelin's shoulders. His pine-green eyes were wide. "You."

Aelin blinked. "There are others from Mab's line. Galan, or Aedion—"

"The throne passes through the maternal line-to a female only. Or it should have, Rowan said. "You're the sole female with a direct, undiluted claim to Mab's bloodline."

"And your household, Rowan," Gavriel said. "Someone in your household would have a claim on Mora's half of the throne."

"Sellene. It would go to her." Even as a prince, Rowan's own heritage connecting him to Mora's bloodline had thinned to the point of being in name only. Aelin was more closely related to Elide, probably to Chaol, too, than she was to Rowan, despite their distant ancestry.

"Well, Sellene can have it," Aelin said, wiping her hands of dust that was not there. "Doranelle's hers." She wouldn't set foot in that city again, Maeve or no. She wasn't sure if that made her a coward. She didn't dare reach for her magic's comforting rumble.

"The Little Folk truly knew," Fenrys mused, rubbing his jaw. "What you were."

They had always known her, the Little Folk. Had saved her life ten years ago, and saved their lives these past few weeks. They had known her, and left gifts for her. Tribute, she'd thought, to Brannon's Heir. Not to... Gavriel murmured, "The Faerie Queen of the West."

Silence.

Aelin blurted, "Is that an actual title?"

"It is now," Fenrys muttered. Aelin shot him a look.

"With Sellene as the Fae Queen of the East," Rowan mused.

No one spoke for a good minute.

Aelin sighed up at the ceiling. "What's another fancy title, I suppose?"

They didn't answer, and Aelin tried not to let the weight of that title settle too heavily. All it implied. That she might not only look after the Little Folk on this continent, but with the cadre, begin a new homeland for any Fae who might wish to join them. For any of the Fae who had survived the slaughter in Terrasen ten years ago and might wish to return.

A fool's dream. One that she would likely not come to see. To create.

"The Faerie Queen of the West," Aelin said, tasting the words on her tongue.

Wondering how long she'd get to call herself such.

From the heavy quiet, she knew her companions were contemplating the same. And from the pain in Rowan's eyes, the rage and determination, she knew he was already calculating if it might somehow spare her from the sacrificial altar.

But that would come later. After tomorrow. If they survived.

There was a gate, and eternity lay beyond its black archway.

But not for her. No, there would be no Afterworld for her.

The gods had built another coffin, this time crafting it of that dark, glimmering stone.

Stone her fire could never melt. Never pierce. The only way to escape was to become it—dissolve into it like sea-foam on a beach.

Every breath was thinner than the previous one. They had not put any holes in this coffin.

Beyond her confines, she knew a second coffin sat beside hers. Knew, because the muffled screams within still reached her here.

Two princesses, one golden and one silver.

One young and one ancient. Both the cost of sealing that gate to eternity.

The air would run out soon. She'd already lost too much of it in her frantic clawing at the stone. Her fingertips pulsed where she'd broken nails and skin.

Those female screams became quieter.

She should accept it, embrace it. Only when she did would the lid open.

The air was so hot, so precious. She could not get out, could not get out—

Aelin hauled herself into waking. The room remained dark, her companions' deep breathing holding steady.

Open, fresh air. The stars just visible through the narrow window.

No Wyrdstone coffin. No gate poised to devour her whole. But she knew they were watching, somehow. Those wretched gods. Even here, they were watching. Waiting.

A sacrifice. That's all she was to them.

Nausea churned in her gut, but Aelin ignored it, ignored the tremors rippling through her. The heat under her skin.

Aelin turned onto her side, nestling closer into Rowan's solid warmth, Elena's muffled screams still ringing in her ears.

No, she would not be helpless again.