#hm what other tags have we got in storage…

[amethysts-prompts]

Prompt #231

“Get. Up,” Villain said. “You’ve suffered bigger wounds. And if you don’t get up, I’ll destroy anything that’s left of this world.”

Villain took a breath. “Please,” they said. “Please get up. Please don’t die on me.”

******

Main blog: @amethystpath-writes

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just a Girl 5

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible cheating, low self-esteem, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you move in with your sister when your luck turns for the worst.

Characters: Walter Marshall, possible Andy Barber

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

You stand in the open garage, gangly and out of place. You hear the back door snap again and sense Walter as he strides through the open gate. He comes up beside you and presses his arm against yours. 

“Here,” he holds out the stemless glass of wine, “figure one of us should enjoy it.” 

“Oh, thanks, I...” you stifle the complaint that you don’t drink. You suppose one won’t hurt.  

“Not much for wine,” he wiggles the can in his hand. You can smell the hoppy beer from there, “so, I was thinking shelves right across the back wall,” he spreads his fingers in a gesture across the breadth of the garage, “what do ya think?” 

“Right, er, what kind of shelves.” 

“I got storage in the basement. Mostly beer glasses and the like. Some car models. It’s gonna be a little bar or whatever. Need somewhere to chill,” he nudges you with his elbow, “’specially since I’m making lots of new friends.” 

You glance over at him from the corner of your eyes and step forward. You go to the wall and touch it. They’ve been newly put up and finished. Sturdy. You knock on it so you can hear where the anchoring is. 

“Could do,” you mutter, “when did you do these?” 

“Just finished them. A regrettable winter decision,” he chuckles, “don’t forget to try the wine. I’m sure your sister wouldn’t want it to go to waste.” 

“Oh, yeah,” you shift, standing on an angle to him. You raise the glass and take a sip, your face scrunching up at the acrid but sweet flavour. 

“You really don’t drink, do you?” He scoffs as he nears. 

“Never really saw the use in it,” you shrug. 

“Should be clearer after living with the jackass Barber,” he snorts, “you seem like you could use the escape. Must be awkward pent up with the newlyweds.” 

“I guess...” you rub your neck. “So, the shelves, how tall--” 

“We can talk business tomorrow,” he interrupts, “I’ll get dinner on. How about you come hang on the deck while I cook?” 

“Sure, er,” you turn to him stiffly, “I could help.” 

“That’s sweet,” his eyes flick up and down, “but I invited you. You sit back and relax and enjoy the wine. It gets better the more you drink.” 

You clamp your lips shut and follow him back through the open door. He hits the button for it to close and directs you through the gate. You head up onto the deck and look around as you clasp the glass in both hands. 

“Sit,” he insists as he points to the cushions on the wicker frame. “I’ll get this going...” 

You take his command. You sit in the very corner of the patio couch and cross one leg over the other. You have a habit of trying to make yourself as small as you can. Next to him, it's easy. 

You sit and shrink as he moves around. He lights the barbecue then disappears inside once more. He brings out a plate of burgers and some veggies to grill, along with foiled potatoes to bake. He returns one more with the bottle of wine. 

“In case you want a top up,” he winks. 

“Thanks,” you murmur. 

He picks up his beer and sips as he goes to work. He puts the potatoes on first and closes the lid. He turns to lean on the railing and watches you. You drink to keep yourself busy. 

“So, you hear Jack White is coming to town?” He asks. 

Your eyes flit to him then away, “yeah.” 

“How about you tag along?” He offers. 

“Oh, I can’t--” 

“My treat,” he interjects. 

“It’s nice but...” 

“But what? You’re a fan.” 

“Sure, but er, it... would be too much.” 

“Hm, who says so? Seems like you got too many people in your ear. I wanna take you out. We can get some dinner too.” 

“Oh, would that... are you... asking me out?” You blanch. 

He guffaws, “uh, already did. You think I brought you over for your thoughts about shelves? It’s a bonus.” 

“Uh. I didn’t think... oh.” 

“Oh? I thought I was pretty forward. Why are you here if you’re not into it?” 

Because you told me to. Because you made me. Because I can’t go back. 

You shrug, “guess I misunderstood.” 

“You��re cute, you like good music, and I like you.” 

“You do?” You frown. 

“Don’t act so surprised,” he scoffs and nears the couch, he sits next to you. Close. Too close. “The other women around here, they talk too much. You’re calm, quiet. I’m too old for all that. I know what I want.” 

You nod as your throat tightens. 

“And you need a man, not a boy,” he tickles your side and swigs from his beer. 

You fidget. A chill ripples over you. You’re reminded of another instant, another touch that made you unsure, another man who told you what you wanted. 

You wince at the sliver of a memory and the glass slips in your hand. You garble as it tips before you can right it and it splashes onto his shirt, soaking the sleeve and down the side. He retracts in surprise. 

“Sorry,” you squeak, “I’m sorry, Walter, I didn’t mean to.” 

He stands and puts his beer down. He chuckles and you squirm, preparing yourself for his rage. You stare at him as you straighten the wet glass. 

“I’m really sorry, I don’t know what happened.” 

“It’s good, just some wine,” he peels his shirt over his head and your eyes widen at the reveal of his thick torso. You gulp as you can’t help but notice the thick muscles and dark trim of fur. “You get any on you?” 

“Uh, no, I don’t think so,” you look down, thankful for the excuse to tear your gaze away from him. 

“I’ll go grab a fresh shirt,” he says. “Can I get you anything?” 

“N-no,” you stammer out and stand up, “I’m sorry.” 

“Relax,” he nears and rubs your shoulder, “it’s adorable when you get all flustered but I’m not mad. Pour yourself another glass.” 

You keep your eyes down and nod. He brushes by you, too close for your liking, and you go to the round glass table. Adorable? You don't know if you've ever been called that.

You take the wine and pour from the long neck. You don’t know what else to do. You’re so nervous. Maybe the alcohol will help. You’ve heard it called liquid courage. 

You pick up the glass again and go to the railing to look off into the green yard. You didn’t notice the hot tub before. His yard is just as well kept as any. As you try to distract yourself from what he said, your mind resists. 

He likes you? You’re not that stupid that you don’t know what’s going on. You’re only unsure. He’s moving so fast and you hardly know him really. He doesn’t really know you and yet he acts like he does. 

Even so, you don’t feel like you can deny him. You try, over and over, and he just bulldozes over you. Still, you can’t name one thing he’s done that’s been so wrong. 

The back door snaps again as Walter appears. He pulls down a tee shirt and smiles as he shakes out his hair. He combs his fingers through his curls. 

“Thought I got this mop under control,” he chortles as you watch him over your shoulder. He grabs his beer from where he left it and approaches, “so... you checking out the hot tub?” 

“Oh, uh, no, just... the flowers--” 

“My daughter deals with those,” he says, “you wanna hop in after dinner? Get in a soak?” 

“Erm, I don’t think so. I don’t have a suit.” 

“And?” 

You blink at his suggestion. Naked? You look down at the wine and gulp another mouthful. 

“You keep drinking that wine and think about it,” he taps your butt and backs up, “I should get those burgers going.” 

You keep your eyes ahead of you, staring off across the lawn as your heart races. What do you do? You can’t go back to your sister’s house, not after your run-in with Andy. You’ll just have to stick it out and hope he forgets about the hot tub. 

[anchirayce]

To Behold the Golden Sun Ch. 2

This takes place after the events of BG3. Basically, a smol adventure about Tav and Astarion arriving at Tav's childhood city to search for a way to have Astarion walk in the sun again! Drama ensues!

Rating: T - Sexual themes, strong language

Warnings/Tags: Tiefling racism, alcohol use (responsible, suggestion of misuse), suggestion of non-con, suggestion of child abuse, typical canon violence, slight angst, hurt/comfort, slow burn(I mean it, it's slow), Astarion might be ooc, but hopefully not!

Tav couldn't always run away from his past. He knew this from the moment he started to help Astarion find a way to walk in the sun again. He wanted to stay away, but spurred by another failure, a memory of eld came to him. A whisper of something said, something promising. Hopefully, this little spark of hope was what he and Astarion were looking for.

Chapter One: Here

“Hm, cosy.” Astarion said, observing the empty space. The room was currently being used as storage. Filled with extra barrels of grain and other preservatives left to age in jars.

I removed my armour and settled. “This was Kavek’s room.” I said to him, scooting the bed out from the desk.

“May I ask, who Kavek was?” I brushed the dust off and laid down our furs and bedrolls.

“He was my best friend. We got into so much trouble.” I laughed lightly as Astarion removed his chainmail.

“Did he force you to play hero to his wild side?” Astarion teased lightly.

“No, no.” I smiled fondly. “He was the one who got me out of trouble.”

“You? But you’re mister-goody-two-shoes.”

“Oh, I was indeed not. The Hollow caused me to get into so many fights, I had to teach myself healing magic to keep Kavek and I alive. The church eventually noticed and trained me to be a cleric.”

“The Hollow…?” Astarion’s prodding was gentle. And I nodded, leaning forward.

“I hope you don’t see it, Astarion. I pray to Selune that we can just avoid it…”

“What is it?”

I tried to gather the words, “it’s an underground cavern. Where a small village of feral tieflings are forced to breed, and be raised to be used as sacrifice. Basically a cattle farm…”

“And you were born there?” I nodded.

“I managed to get out by hiding on a supply wagon. It was by the grace of the moonmaiden that no one found me that night. I was brought to the surface and managed to run away before I was found. It was so overwhelming. I--” I swallowed back memories. “I thought I was going to die that winter. I was so cold, and hungry. I think I was in the gutter for a week before Kavek found me.”

“He saved you?” I grinned, painfully remembering how he died.

“Gods, I loved him so much, and I miss him even more." A smile managed to break through my heavy mood. "He was sweet on a girl, her name was Lin. She was pregnant with his child when the Warden discovered me. The church fought for me, kept me in sanctuary on the grounds, and Kavek stayed with me that night. So they attacked Lin instead.”

“Gods…” Astarion gasped. I nodded.

“We found her body not far from the church. I have never heard such a wail of agony before. I hope to the Gods that I never will again.” I sniffed loudly. “I turned myself over that day. And then I was forced back into The Hollow, forced to…” A rough gag emerged and I covered it. Tasting the tart wine at the back of my throat. “I was forced to be with women who would just lay there in these chairs. I was forced to share my talent for healing. On people who were basically dead.” Astarion leaned on my shoulder, placing his cold hand on my forearm.

“I was there for a whole year, then Kavek and Rowen came for me.” I laughed sardonically. “Kavek was beyond furious, I swore he was trying not to kill me himself. When we left the city all he did was scream at me. It made me feel alive again.” I closed my eyes against Astarion’s gentle touch. “Rowen stayed because she was a guard, but Kavek and I ran. For weeks, until we made it to Baldur's Gate. Then we were abducted.”

“How did he die?” I took a long inhale.

“Dragons managed to explode the part of the nautiloid where his pod was located. I couldn’t save him…” He burned to death. The fire made him claw at the tempered glass. But he just baked.

“He seemed like a good man.” His words brought me back.

I nodded and adjusted my head so I could breathe in Astarion’s scent of perfume. “You would have hated him.” I mumbled through his wispy and ticklish locks. His hair had grown but still was beautiful.

My love tutted, “I grew to like you. And that complex you took from Kavek.”

“I’m so very glad you did.” Astarion pulled me onto the bed, I sat up to remove my shirt; the fabric was too much on my skin.

"Can I hold you, love?" He asked and opened his arms. I wanted nothing more and crawled onto his chest. Trying to be mindful of my horns as I nestled against him and wrapped my tail around his ankle, taking care to not extend it too far for fear of pain. I slipped a hand past the hem and rested it on his skin. He hummed and removed his shirt entirely so I could rest against his coolness.

It took a long while for me to find my words. But when I did I spoke softly. “I think getting closure for myself is impossible. I have no memory of someone to blame, and so why focus on it?” My love was quiet, he probably searched for a reason for my rambling thought.

“I…” Astarion inhaled, “I think I understand. I suppose, I feel like you deserve the same closure I was able to obtain.”

“I don’t really need it. I’m just glad to be here with you.”

We stayed like this for hours. Astarion eventually waved a mage's hand and brought his pack and books over to him. I opened my eyes and relished his soft touch that traced my whole arm and back.

“Thank you…” I said against the easing silence of the chill.

“Hm?”

“For listening.”

He huffed a sarcastic scoff. “Don’t expect me to do it again. I have to look out for myself, you know.” I chuckled lightly and sighed as I kissed his neck.

"Read to me?" I asked. He leaned a kiss against my forehead as he adjusted and cleared his throat. The lines from his chest soothed me, his melodic voice was deep and calm. Even if the poems were lost on me, I felt comfortably safe. Slowly blinking until I fell asleep.

A knock sounded against the door. I sat up and moved Astarion from my chest. “Good morning.” I greeted.

“Likewise, Tavalin. I’m going to head out. I just wanted to let you know, you are welcome to anything in my home. My room is off limits in case you two want to get, um--”

“Astarion and I won't have sex.” I said and leaned against the doorframe. “Real quick though. Do you have any extra water? We have a shit ton of laundry to do.”

“Yes, in the back there’s a well and river not far off.”

“Thank you, Rowen.”

She nodded curtly and I returned to the room to stretch. I crawled onto the hardwood bed and brushed strands of Astarion’s hair from his beautiful face. He seemed to be asleep instead of meditating, but woke from my touch.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” I whispered, he hummed and drew close, wrapping his arms around my chest.

“It’s fine. I’ll just bite you tonight, when you’re sleeping. As revenge.”

“Please, we both know you don’t have the heart to wake me.” I remarked, “I’m going to go do laundry. Do you want me to wash anything else?”

“The clothes on my back.”

“Then strip.” I said and kissed his temple before detaching myself from his grip to gather our large pile of clothes. I tied them up and snuck a few glances of Astarion before I left.

“Darling. There’s no need to sneak. Your gaze is all I want.” He twirled.

I chuckled. “Hmm, do you now?" He grinned and pulled on my nightshirt that I hardly wore.

How lucky Rowen was to have a well spout. Even if it was shared with a back courtyard. I could hear the small river she spoke of as well. I took my time, washing the wood smoke soaked clothes and our armour. Afterwards I waded into the river to rinse myself with the new soap. I returned to the house and found Astarion sitting at the table and offering me a cup of fragrance so alluring that I could drink its scent for days.

“Thank you for making me tea, my love.” I took a long gulp of the rare cinnamon soaked warmth.

“Thank you for doing laundry.” He replied, he sat with his back to the hearth.

It was honestly nice to have such a few lazy days to ourselves. But not knowing what to do was kind of driving me insane. It was something I'm still trying to become used to. There was always something with my companions, or to do around camp. But with the two of us there was hardly anything.

"Tav. Darling, you have that look." Astarion warned glancing up from his book.

I groaned, "I know...I'm so bored!"

"Go check if my clothes are dry, dear." He offered.

"They probably won't be." I sighed and stood. I returned with most of them still damp. But threw them by the fire so Astarion didn't have to suffer the chill.

"Give me your knife." I said as I sat on the floor.

"What are you getting up to?" He asked, not denying my request. I took to carving my talons back. I struggled with my right hand and with a small tut Astarion took over.

"Why cut them back?" He asked.

"I don't want to claw you."

"You've never clawed me." He scoffed. I raised my brow.

"On purpose." He rolled his eyes and finished up by throwing the shavings into the fire. By noon his clothes were finished. And just in time for Rowen too. Who came back an hour later to a warm pot of stew.

"You made me food?" She gasped.

"You've been so helpful to us. It's the least we can do." I grinned.

"I've allowed you to spend the night?" She laughed.

"You've given us shelter from the sun. Free of charge. You've allowed us to use your fire and wood. And you're helping us obtain something that might not even exist."

"Tav doesn't know how to say you're welcome plainly. It becomes a problem." Astarion teased, continuing to fold and organise our laundry.

"I can tell." I smiled as I closed the lid. We sat at the table and I helped Astarion finish up.

"Where do we start?" I began.

"I think the church." Rowen sighed. "I know, I don't like parading you around either. But there are rumours the priest knows a back passage into the Library."

"Father Garret?" I gasped. "How?"

"I don't know. That's why we're going to ask him."

"Can we at least do it tonight?" I asked. "I want Astarion by my side."

"That should be fine. And probably easier since mostly everyone will know who you are."

"Am I really that obvious?" I scoffed.

"To me. Yes."

"Well, I guess we'll see how much trouble we can get into."

For the rest of the day I helped Rowen around the house. While Astarion repaired and tatted anything worn. Around dusk we gathered up our gear and set out. Astarion kept close to me, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

The church was quiet and smelled of soothing incense even from outside. It brought back so many good memories. We let Rowen go to the door and who answered was Father Garret, a high-elf cleric, he taught me everything I knew.

"Rowen! What brings you here tonight? Are you in need of healing?"

"No, but we need help. Can me and my friends come in? We need to talk…"

"Certainly, all are welcome in the Home of Selune." We followed Father Garret to a private room. I wanted to take my scarf and hood off to escape the heat but I rather not blatantly reveal everything either.

"Please. Everyone make yourselves comfortable." He offered and turned.

I inhaled sharply, trying to gather enough courage to speak with him. "Settle down, Tavalin. Make yourselves comfortable first and then we will discuss everything."

I slowly began to remove my winter gear. While Astarion removed only his cloak, trying to hide beneath his scarf. A cup of tea was set in front of us. I took a small sniff and found it to be laced with kluathgrass. I signalled to Astarion to not drink it.

"Tavalin, you don't have to the drink tea. I know you will speak true." Father Garret stated, taking my cup. "Why did you return?" He asked as he turned.

"I--we need help."

"With what? I will help you anyway I can, my child."

"It's complicated…but promise me you'll not harm Astarion."

"Why?"

I caught his gaze and reassuringly, he placed a hand on my thigh. "If it allows us one step closer." He added.

"Astarion is a vampire spawn. We are looking to cure him in the best case scenario. But otherwise, a way to walk in the sun is good too."

"Fascinating!" Father Garret gasped, coming to his feet. "May I study your features?"

"I suppose?" My love leaned into me.

He sat at a respectful distance, Astarion wasbunsure what to make of it as he removed his scarf. But once I sat behind him and held him, he seemed to relax, somewhat.

"I am uncomfortable not knowing what your intentions are." He cleared his throat.

"I simply wish to see a vampire up close."

"Are you going to ask me to bite you?" I prickled at the memory of that drow.

"Oh by Selune’s blessed light! No!" Father Garret laughed, embarrassed by the prospect. "And by how Tavalin is holding you, I doubt he would agree to allow you to bite an old man like me." I didn't realise I was glaring. And laughed awkwardly.

"I-I suppose there's no harm?" Astarion sat up, my hand moved to his thigh as I studied Father Garret. He instructed Astarion to open his mouth and show him his fangs.

"Tell me, how often do you feed?"

"Every day. I drink from animals."

"How often on humans?" Father Garret glanced at me.

"Look, Father Garret. We need your help, and having to re-explain every detail ever is starting to become exhausting. And we're limited on time." I interrupted.

"Very well. A cure for vampirism." He turned and settled in his seat.

"There might be such a thing in the vault. Maybe another lead in the libraries…no. Too obvious." He mumbled.

"The vault? At the Lord's mansion?" He nodded. I shook my head in disbelief. "How are we going to get in?"

"The Winter Ball."

"A ball?" Astarion gasped delightfully, I couldn't help but grin.

"We can sneak in and find the vaults and pray to Selune that nothing goes awry." Astarion snorted, muttering about my sour luck and penance for trouble.

"How do you know what we need will be there?" I asked.

"I don't, not entirely. But there is an auction for every ball. If the dice is thrown in our favour; then there might be a chance it's already there…" He paused. "Astarion, do you know how old you are?"

"I am unsure." He said.

"An amulet of darkness might be the best. If we’re lucky, we might be able to find a Wish spell."

"What does this amulet do?" The countless false leads came to my mind. Astarion laced his cold fingers through mine.

“It shrouds the user in a cloak of darkness. I don’t know the details, I know it exists. And it might be there.”

"It is worth a try, Tav." My love’s hope was less fragile than mine.

“Of course it is.” I agreed and leaned to his ear. “I’m not giving up on you Astarion.” He kissed my cheek.

"Excellent." Father Garret smiled. "I shall provide you two with something to wear. And we shall discuss plans at a later date. If you need to rest here, you may. We have plenty of space and dark rooms."

"That would be nice, I hate to leech off of Rowen."

"Company's nice. But my home isn't the safest and sometimes I have buddies over." She said through a yawn.

Father Garret stood and we followed him out. Saying our farewells to Rowen as we trailed behind him. He led us down into the basement. I knew this place, they were private rooms. Quiet, hardly used. Safe…

"Gods." I sighed, finally stripping off my armour and just melting against the soft bed. "A ball."

"Not excited darling?"

"Not entirely. It's really not my scene."

"Ah, well, maybe I can teach you?" I grinned. “Obviously I cannot cram you with decades of knowledge, but I could show you how to dance.” He returned my now smile with a clever grin.

"I would like that." He pulled me to my feet and he positioned my hands. My tail swished nervously, pain pokes through my spine as he told me what to do. I was quick to catch on and soon Astarion moved on to the more in depth turns of ballroom dancing.

I swooned with the distraction. His humming was clear and concise and I yearned to learn the tune so I could add to it. But for now I leaned against him and we stopped with a simple embrace.

"Tav, could you tell me more about this place?"

"It's ruled by one man, I have never seen him but Father Garret has told me that he takes multiple wives. None of which have been seen again. Beside the first lady, who always hosts the balls." Astarion hummed with concern. Adjusting his grip to rest on my hips.

"Apparently he hoards treasure worse than Lorroakan. But every year he throws a grand ball that people all over the Sword Coast attends and no one is seen leaving…"

"Who's allowed to attend?" I pulled away and looked at him sadly.

"Humans, Elves, Dwarves. The pure races…" I cupped his cheek and he leaned into it.

"Pure races." Astarion spat, "not inviting gnomes; that's understandable. But the other races? Why?" I shrugged.

"Tieflings are devilish in nature. And I'm guessing the other races aren't elegant enough."

"You are the most elegant man I've ever met. Aside from myself." I chuckled and suddenly dipped Astarion.

"You've rubbed off on me." He laughed as I brought him up and twirled him.

"My, my Tav! Careful now or I'll be swept off my feet again!" He was breathlessly smiling, I loved how his fangs glanced through. I kissed him and leaned my forehead against his.

"I'll try to sneak into the party with you, I won't leave you alone."

"What am I going to do without my personal butler? I perish the thought." Astarion tutted.

"My Lord and Liege, I am a humble cleric and servant of House Ancunin."

"For my frail and meek body requires attention!" He arched dramatically, raising his arms to his chest and forehead. I laughed and his own melodious voice reached my ears.

“If only you could be my consort.” He pouted and kissed me before I could respond. I picked him up as he continued to bombard me. I couldn’t deny him the pleasure as I fell back. I tried to get a word in once or twice. But he was quick to stop me. I eventually wrapped my leg around his waist and flipped him.

“Allow me to get a word in, sir!” I panted and leaned over him, he smiled at me cheekily. He leaned towards my neck, and I pulled myself away from the habit.

“Wait.” I whispered. He backed away instantly, concern etched through his eyes.

“If that is what you want. I would happily be your consort.”

“Darling, I haven’t proposed…I was just--” His expression changed, he seemed confused but also nervous.

“But I am.” I said. “Astarion, I’m terrified of what might happen in the coming week. I’m terrified of losing you. Will you marry me?” He suddenly sat up and I kneeled to the ground.

“You’re…serious?” He studied my face, my heart hurt from how fast it was beating.

“Yes. Astarion Ancunin, will you marry me?”

“I--” He gasped. His red eyes trying to blink back tears. “What makes you think something is going to happen at the mansion?” I shook my head.

“I’m hoping that we find a Wish spell. But people don’t come back from that mansion. And if we are to die there, I want to be your husband.” I grinned at him. His chest rose and fell, he didn’t need to take breaths, but he couldn’t help the action. I took his hands in mine again, kissing his elegant fingers.

"You don't have to say yes. But know that I want this, and I hope that you do too."

He inhaled sharply, taking my chin. “How could I say no?" I stood and pushed him back into the bed, he crawled back. His lips never leaving mine, I pulled away his shirt, lowering my touch to be rid of his other garments. I took a moment to stare at him and smiled as he beckoned me forward with his beautiful red eyes.

Chapter Three: Here

[cinnamokittykat]

Puppy Love Chapter 5: Baking Together

Warnings: Awful Google Translate German, Abusive ex

Tags: Fluff, Hybrid! AU, The characters bake together, Lilith has a daughter

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

The day began bright and early for the duo as they walked to the bakery. They had a long day of ingredient prep ahead of them. The pantry was to be stocked, butter to be browned, and frosting to be made, along with a multitude of other food-related tasks.

Lilith unlocked the bakery's front door before running by the road to wave down the delivery driver. The big truck stopped and backed into the pebbly driveway with many loud beeps. A man with a clipboard hopped out and walked up to Lilith.

"Guten Morgen, ist diese Reihenfolge korrekt?"

He points to the clipboard, then opens the back of the truck for her to look. She squints, then nods.

"Danke, sir."

"Wunderbar. Benötigen sie hilfe beim entladen?"

"Nein, ich habe ihn."

At this point, König appeared behind the man, who, upon feeling his looming presence behind himself, nearly jumped out of his skin.

"J-ja, ich muss einige dinge an meinem truck erledigen!"

He scurried off into the driver's seat of the truck, leaving König and Lilith alone again.

"Let's get these inside, then we can start cooking, alright?"

"Sounds gut."

He then proceeded to pick up 2 very large sacks of flour and throw them over his shoulder like they were nothing. The woman parted her lips in amazement. She wondered if he could pick her up just as easily. With someone his size, he could most definitely just treat her as he pleased...

Lilith grabbed a dolly and started wheeling pallets of berries toward the bakery. With König's help, the ingredients were put away in less than 30 minutes, and she was thankful. It meant more time to cook. She thanked the delivery driver once again and signed off on the order.

"Let's get cooking, big guy."

Lilith managed to find a spare apron in the storage closet, and it fit König surprisingly well. It was a standard issue kitchen uniform, as König had declined the black one with "two seater" and arrows printed on.

"Here, uh, use this hairnet on your tail... there. Perfect! We are ready!"

"What do we do first?"

"Well, I have to brown butter for cookies so I can get them started."

"... browning butter?" He asked, clearly confused.

"Yeah, it adds depth of flavor," Lilith explained. "König, have you ever baked before?" She continued.

"Nein, my mother did a lot, I just never got a chance to learn... It seems so complicated, what if I mess it up?"

"Well, I can teach you, I won't make you do anything complicated today."

"Okay."

"You can start helping me by unpackaging all of that butter and putting it in this pot."

She gestured to a large yet shallow metal pot, then began to process a pallet of strawberries. König watched her work swiftly but delicately with each strawberry, removing the leaves and hull in one fell swoop of the paring knife before tossing them into a bowl.

He got to work, pulling the foil off the butter blocks and listening to the plunk! of them falling against the metal. Lilith turned the stove on and began to stir the butter around until it was melted and bubbling.

"Now, this is where it needs to be watched closely. It can turn from browned to burnt in seconds."

The man nodded, just happy to listen to her explain things. He could tell she was not only skilled but invested in the culinary arts.

"What will this be used in?" He inquired.

"Around 3/4 for chocolate chip cookies, and the remaining butter will be used in my rice krispie treats."

König's head tipped to the side, his ears perked up.

"What are those?"

"Hm?"

"Rice Krispies?"

"Oh, so there's this cereal made with puffed rice, a lot of people will melt marshmallows and mix it with them to make these treats that are both crispy and chewy. But don't get that cheap stuff from the American stores here, mine are better." She explained with a smile on her face.

"I am sure they are then."

By then, the butter was browned, and Lilith scraped the pot with a rubber spatula while König tipped it over a huge container.

"This has to cool, so in the meantime, I'm gonna start frosting."

For the next hour, they worked side by side, König doing the simpler things like cutting fruit for jams while Lilith completed more technical tasks such as making frosting and toasting ingredients. When she pulled a tray of pleasantly burnished marshmallows out of the oven, she had to smack König's hand away so he wouldn't burn himself trying to swipe a taste.

"Bitteee..." He looked at her with his best puppy-dog eyes.

She reached up to pet him quickly before reminding him that he needed to wait for the final product.

"Whiny puppy..." Lilith whispered to herself, unaware that König could pick up those words, and they shot straight downward within him.

"You do understand I am 10 years older, Lilith?"

She ignored him and began mixing the ingredients for the Rice Krispie treats. Toasted marshmallows, browned butter, and even the cereal was toasted. The aroma wafted through the metallic industrial kitchen. Working quickly, she pressed the mixture into a greased sheet pan and sprinkled salt over it.

"While that cools, wanna see the special fall menu?"

"Ja, bitte."

She pulled out a binder full of laminated pages and loose notes, flipping through it until she landed on a stained page labeled "Fall/Halloween."

"I'm proud to say that a lot of these were my ideas! The apple cake was still my grandmother's, but the pumpkin cupcakes, red velvet 'vampire' cupcakes, ghost cake pops, and apple cider donuts were all recipes I developed or designed!"

"Are these all your pictures?" König wondered out loud.

"Yeah!"

She went on to explain all of the little details in her recipes, like how the "blood" on the red velvet cupcakes was actually a berry coulis and not red icing or how she kept having the frosting stick to the paper when she tried to flatten it to make jack-o-lantern faces for the first time.

To tell the truth, she loved having the undivided attention of someone to explain her passion. Instead of just looking off to the side or straight up telling her they didn't care, König looked at her with his beautiful eyes and absorbed every word. She wondered if he had anything he was passionate about like this.

He was so wonderful to look at, too; the way his shirt outlined his arm muscles was captivating, and she got just a hint last night about what he looked like under the hood. He had the softest hair I've ever felt. Long, too, perfect for grabbing while he-

"Lilith, is everything alright?"

"Huh... yeah!" Her face reddened; she didn't realize she had zoned out.

He's not interested, you fucking cow. She thought to herself.

"Anyways, let's make cookies, hm?"

"Ja."

The cookie-making process went by quickly, although König was splashed in the face with flour from the mixer once and had to shake his hood off outside.

"Now the dough is going to sit in the fridge to develop flavor overnight! The frosting is made, the cakes are cooling, so I think we can rest. Let's go back home, okay?"

After a short rest, Lilith started boiling a pot of water on the stove and taking sausage out of its casings to saute.

"What are you making?"

König tipped his head to the side and sniffed the air.

"Sausage and broccoli pasta. Is that okay?"

"Ja, anything you make ist good, Lilith."

She beamed internally at his words.

After Lilith finished the kitchen, she flopped down on the couch, finally off her feet for the rest of the day. She took out her phone and panicked when she saw 9 missed calls.

"I'm so sorry, I was prepping the bakery all day, Mark."

"Pick up."

"Hello?"

"Hello."

"Lilith, pick up."

"We need to talk."

Mark is calling...

She picked up the phone and held it to her ear.

"Lilith, fucking pick up when I call you next time."

"Mark, I told you this morning, I was prepping the bakery."

"Whatever. I need you to take Holly."

"What? We agreed she was going to stay in school in the US for now."

"I need you to take her."

"Why?"

"Um, well, I just uhhh, got a new job, and I won't be around as often."

"So you're going to ship our kid across the world?"

"Will you just help me the fuck out? You're the parent too, Lilith."

She sighed. How was she going to manage the bakery with a 5-year-old?

"Mark, I'm running a business, I'm scared I won't be able to take care of her."

"Well, that's too fucking bad, maybe if you took some time off from whoring around after work, you'd be able to. Besides, the tickets are already booked. $1000, Lilith."

A chill ran up her spine. Memories of how he would accuse her of 'whoring around' came flooding back. Right before he would confess to cheating. And now, she had to figure out how to handle her beloved daughter while running the bakery.

"... Alright, Mark. Sure. When does she arrive?"

"3 weeks."

"And you'll be coming with her, right?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Can I please talk to Holly?"

"Yeah, sure, HOLLY!" He hollered.

The camera turned on, and she watched as her little cream-colored Siamese kitten ran into the room.

"MOMMY! MOMMY! I GET TO SEE YOU! I GET TO SEE YOU, MOMMY!"

Lilith smiled. Her daughter stared into the camera with joy in her heterochromatic eyes. One was light blue, like any other kitten, and the other was green and shaped like a cat's eye.

"Yes you do, sweetheart, I am so happy to see you!"

"Yayyyyyy, I'm so excited, mommy!"

"What do you want to do when you get here, Holly?"

"Hmmmmmmm."

She tapped her finger to her mouth, her lips curling into that unmistakable 5-year-old smile.

"I wanna... I dunno!"

"Alright, sweetheart, we'll just figure it out when you get here."

"Okay, mommy!"

Just then, König called out to Lilith, asking her some question about cups.

"Mommy, who is that?" Holly demanded.

Right, she would have to explain that to Holly.

"Ah, sweetie, he's a new friend of Mommy's, you may meet him eventually!"

"Okay Mommy!"

Mark spoke up once again.

"Alright Holly, I need the phone back now, go play with your dolls!"

"Ok!"

The door slammed, and Mark made his opinions heard.

"So, you are whoring yourself out to any man who's drunk enough to sleep with you?"

"It's not like that, and you know it! He's helping at my bakery!"

"Uh-huh, whatever, goodbye."

He hung up the phone as soon as he was finished speaking. Lilith sighed and rubbed her temples. Mark was the biggest mistake she had ever made; the only good thing that came out of it was Holly. The 5 years of marriage with him were soul-crushing.

Just then, she felt a weight in her lap. Upon looking down, what stared up at her were the familiar begging eyes of König.

"You are sad, what is wrong?"

"... Nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

Lilith brought her hand to her lap, and König bonked his head into it.

"Are you asking to be pet?"

"Bitteee!"

He pushed his head into her hand again, and Lilith began petting him softly.

"Did I help you enough today?"

"Yes, you were a very big help, König."

The man smiled under his hood, and his tail wagged furiously behind him.

"A good boy, even." Lilith laughed to herself, the whole situation being humorous to her still. She had a 6'10" veteran German Shepherd laying on her, begging for affection like a cat.

König heard those words and almost ascended to heaven.

"You mean it?"

Lilith chuckled, mildly surprised at his response.

"I suppose so."

"I guess I have always needed purpose in life, sorry."

"What are you sorry about, König? I'm happy to validate you!"

"Danke, Lilith..."

His eyes went from half-lidded to closed, and Lilith turned on a show while the man dozed off for the night.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

"Guten Morgen, ist diese Reihenfolge korrekt?" - Good morning, is this order correct?

"Wunderbar. Benötigen sie hilfe beim entladen?" - Wonderful, do you need help unloading?

"Nein, ich habe ihn." - No, I have him.

"J-ja, ich muss einige dinge an meinem truck erledigen!" - Y-yes, I have some things to do in my truck!

[hirazuki]

Tag game: Tour my bookshelf!

Thanks for the tag, @general-illyrin!

An estimate of how many physical books I own: Including those in storage, probably over 800 by now. Those physically with me, currently, in my apartment: 267.

Favorite author: It's a tie between J.R.R. Tolkien, Paul Scott, and Dorothy Dunnett. They are my holy trinity ♡

A popular book I've never read and never intend to read: Hm, probably one of the YA ones floating around, with the courts and roses in the titles? Or the book with Gideon and Harrow. Those just don't appeal to me, particularly in terms of writing style ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (idk specifics, sorry y'all, I don't really keep up with literature past like. mid-ish 20th c, and even that's super late for me. It's 18th/19th c. gothic all the way for me XD)

A popular book I thought was just meh: Mmm, again, I don't really know what's popular tbh despite working in a library lmao; if it doesn't concern The Hyperfixations, it literally does not register in my brain XD. So probably some assigned reading in school, like Catcher in the Rye or The Great Gastby. I was an extremely unimpressed teen/young adult with most of the 20th c. American literature we were given to read.

Longest book I own: Of the ones in my apartment at the moment, just doing a quick visual scan, it looks like it's The Dictionary of Mythology; though tbh, I suspect my BHS probably has significantly more pages, despite it looking so tiny in comparison. But I'm too lazy to actually go look XD

Longest series I own all the books to: Depends on what we mean by "series." If it's strictly linear plot, then I think it's The Lymond Chronicles, by Dorothy Dunnett. If it's just same universe/same characters, it's definitely Agatha Christie's novels. If we're including comics as part of books? It's Lucky Luke, sitting at 82 issues yes I have all of them XD

Prettiest book I own: A New Treasury of Poetry, it has a beautiful cover and includes really lovely plates interspersed throughout the collection.

A book or series I wish more people knew about: Ahaha, none! I used to have one series, but then; well. Let's just say that, while I am firmly against gatekeeping, I can't help but notice that popularity sometimes does spoil some things ^^;

Book I'm reading now: Re-reading The Silmarillion, and making my way through History of Middle-Earth and Nature of Middle-Earth.

Book that's been on my TBR list for a while but I still haven't got around to it: The recently published Fall of Numenor is next in line for me to read.

Do you have any books in a language other than English: Yup, plenty in Greek, some in Spanish, and a handful in biblical Hebrew.

And lastly, paperback, hardcover or ebook? Oh, paperback for sure. I can't stand ebooks for my own personal use -- it's a great concept and I love the accessibility it provides, but it's just not for me; unless I'm reading fanfic, I require a physical item in my hands in order to be happy. Hardcovers are gorgeous, but I primarily read lying down on my back and they are very cumbersome in that respect. Paperback is cheaper, lighter, and there's far less guilt attached if you're a messy reader like me (pen/pencil notes, folded pages, reading in the bathtub/on the beach/while eating lunch or dinner, art/craft projects involving glue and paint everywhere in the apartment, keeping tons of plants on the bookshelves, etc.).

Tagging, no pressure: @ruiniel, @baked-hylian, @cruelfeline, @dear-kumari, @nomadicism

[theofficersacademy]

                              Sirius   Randal   Kurthnaga   Lyon                          Leo   Forsyth   Cecilia   Deirdre  Sylvain                             Valter   Maria   Chrom   Ares   Micaiah

TEAM TAG: #KEruins2023 BASE CAMP PROGRESS: 60%

WEEK TWO: The calm before

Your skirmish with the Aukes leads to a tentative victory, though it is not won without loss. Fallen comrades are carried ‘home’ in your arms, but they are mourned preemptively - for as soon as they are lain to rest, their eyes blink awake, and they look right as rain, as though nothing had happened to them at all.

Hm.

Well... Can’t complain, right? They could be dead dead after all.

Anyroad, following your fight at the abandoned warehouse, the ruins have fallen oddly quiet, aside from the odd hum and click of passing sentries. Perhaps you’ve driven away the other scavengers, or maybe they were simply passing phantoms in the ever shifting landscape comprising the dreams you’ve so willfully invaded. One way or another, you’re alone now...

Well, with the exception of one brazen can thief and your chipper friend the Mechanic who’s seen fit to show his face again, that is.

Food consumed: 35 cans.

Places & Things of Interest

your apartments - your camp is starting to come together! No longer do you have to stare through a gaping hole in your second floor room at the dreary view outside. Instead, you can hang out with your dormmates in the privacy of your refurbished lodgings. Blankets and cots, analog early alert systems, yummy cans upon cans of beans and other delights... What’s not to love? Oh, and the Mechanic has offered to show you how to work the odd round panels in your rooms that heat up food on command. If that ain’t the height of luxury...

the crater - all remains quiet. As the new week progresses, however, it’s hard not to note the increasing number of machinery taking up residence within. They mill about aimlessly. There’s an odd hum in the air...

the crane -  the Mechanic is surprised, no, shocked that no one’s really used it for much yet. He wants to show you a fun game you can play with it...

abandoned storage - the Aukes have promptly vacated in the wake of your attack. Perhaps it will be worth revisiting soon?

the blank journal - is not completely blank, it turns out. Thumbing through the pages reveals a lone, cryptic journal entry near the middle of the book. Hm...

▊▊▊▊▊  �� :

          We begin moving. There is nothing left for us here. We head east towards ▊▊▊▊▊▊▊▊ .          I hoped I would never have a reason to return there. But past the fog is an abundant land filled with generous people. Them sheltering us is our best chance of building our lives back. The others go along with it, thankfully. ▊▊▊▊▊▊▊▊▊and I share leadership of the group—neither of us know what to expect, but so long as we have each other, I know we will get through this. 

the Teleporter - It seems this can be used to send objects somewhere, and also to receive them... but where are they going? Who is it on the receiving end? ... Of note, every time the strange machine is used, its light appears to dim just a little bit more...

NPCs of Note

the Aukes - Where have they gone...? Perhaps it is for the better that they’ve disappeared, but one has to wonder at their sudden change in attitude when they’d been so hostile not long ago.

the Mechanic - He’s turned up out of the blue, looking frazzled but none the worse for wear. Where the heck has he been, you ask? Oh, that’s right, he never showed up for your scheduled meeting, did he... Um, well, about that... First, it started with the nasty lil bugger what stole his tool belt. Can’t well fiddle without a fiddle, right? So he had to go and get it back. And then it turned out that his venture took him a little further out than anticipated, and so, like, he got a bit lost, you see. And then-- (His tale continues on for some time.)

Aphie, the Can Thief - a sassy child who cares not for your lame jokes. She would like to take your measure, see if you are actually worth sticking around with. She’s got high standards, you see. She knows all the best vantage points in town, and all the nooks and crannies.

Tasks

Setting up base camp (continued) - every 1 post = up to 7% of progress, capping at 100% - requires an equivalent 7 planks of wood, plates of metal, dormant/live cores, or a mix of the above per post - Rumour has it reaching 100% may yield something beneficial... But as things are, you’ve adequate enough lodgings to survive the remainder of your time in this dream. (Presumably.)

The Mechanic promised you something Real Cool and he still plans to deliver! That’ll be seven live cores please.

Scavenging / Dismantling / Hunting / Foraging - see week one tasks - not necessarily a priority - up to you if you think you’ve enough!

Crafting: - Aphie and the Mechanic peer over your randomly stockpiled materials with an appraising eye.  “You could make stink bombs with these,” Aphie points to the small game and the bundles of herbs. “Or maybe a potion or two...” The Mechanic doesn’t seem particularly inclined toward plants, but does light up at your assorted metal and dormant cores. “They may be dormant but that doesn’t mean they’re devoid of life. And even the dead cores have their use... Wanna see?” - 3x bundles of herbs + 1x questionable small game = 1 vulnerary (?) - 2x bundles of herbs + 2x questionable small game = 1 stink bomb - 5x assorted metal + 2x dead cores = 1 shrapnel trap (chance of injury = 1d10, 1-3 = -2HP) - 5x assorted metal + 2x dormant cores = 1 battery, after a fashion - who knows, perhaps there’s more to come!

[jaskwritesthings]

I have a Dream x Hob prompt. I would love a fic where Hob talks about being in or having had a relationship with a man, dude's hundreds of years old and I refuse to believe he never tried this, and Dream is just lowkey being jealous. Maybe he knows why, maybe he doesn't either way he's just mad someone else got to know Hob in ways he hasn't. Would love it even more if Hob just gushes on without realizing that Dream isn't just being all regular dark and broody, he's in Advanced Darkness and wants a name and that name's worst nightmares. Thank you. I would just love to see our emo boy being all jealous.

tags: none

(ao3)

“You appear to have a fondness for this magazine?” Dream said as he admired the framed covers hung up on Hob’s walls. The style was new to him, more sketch-like than the art he’d seen before his imprisonment. The mixture of men, women and children looked like dolls in some ways, almost all of the individuals had ruby red cheeks and the faces were familiar enough to suggest a single artist behind all of the pieces. A faded handwritten tag named the artist as ‘J. C. Leyendecker’ below each print. 

“Hm? Oh, that. No, no interest in it, but the man who made the covers, old flame of mine. Damn good artist, couldn’t help but collect his pieces. Got a few originals tucked away,” Hob offered up just as easily as he did every aspect of his life for Dream.

Dream felt a flicker of something dark in his chest, it lashed out like the thump of a cat’s tail, a warning of its ire, “He drew for you?”

“Anything and everything, not just me. But he did paint me once or twice, can’t really loan those ones out to a museum though. People might catch on a bit, you should see what they say about Keanu Reeves,” Hob chuckled as he handed Dream a cup of steaming tea he’d been preparing as Dream snoped around his flat. 

“You remember this artist fondly?” Dream questioned softly, no longer admiring the work.

“Joseph? Very, I always try to remember the ones I love. Gets difficult over time, wish I’d never pawned Eleanor’s portrait, can’t really remember what she looked like anymore,” he sighed sadly, an old grief that Dream recognised in himself.

“I’m sorry,” Dream offered though he knew from experience the words were never quite enough.

Hob smiled, it wasn’t as bright as some of his previous ones, tinged as it was by an old ache that had never fully healed, “Not your fault, learned from my mistakes anyway. I try to keep some things from old loves.”

Dream turned his attention from his friend to the artwork proudly displayed in his living room. There was little else of note in the room that Dream could guess at having belonged to someone other than Hob. To hold such value in Hob’s heart, the relationship must have meant a great deal to the immortal. The dark thing in Dream’s chest thrashed its tail more, a growl growing deep within it. It unsettled him how the fact of this relationship could upset him so.

“You loved him dearly, to keep his works in your home,” Dream pointed out.

“I did. We parted well, not always the case. Plus his work is beautiful, not really a hardship to hang it up,” Hob admitted with ease, why wouldn’t he. Why was Dream expecting him to hide his love affairs as though they were something to be ashamed of? He never had. Nor should he have to hide them. But it still set him on edge, a strange anger bubbling under the surface.

“You do not keep the trinkets of others here, just his,” Dream said and even he could hear the coldness of his tone, the accusation he had no right to lay out.

Hob appeared oblivious to this new mood as he sipped his own tea, “I try to keep with the fashion of the times. Minimalism is a hard one to shake, glad we’ve moved on from the white interiors, right pain to keep those clean. Clutter’s coming back in so I’ll probably bring some more stuff out of storage, not everything mind you, some of it’s too fragile. These are prints, good way to have him here without wrecking his originals.”

“How long were you together?”

“Only a few years, I didn’t stay in America long, England’s home for me,” Hob smiled fondly, though for the memories of his former lover or of his homeland Dream couldn’t guess. A voice within him that sounded too close to his siblings whispered spiteful things he didn’t want to examine too closely.

“Such a short time, yet a lasting impact,” Dream said, aiming for an aloof air and knowing he fell short by quite a distance.

“I seem to have a fondness for the quiet brooding ones,” Hob teased a touch tentatively as though worried he had a right to tease Dream anymore. 

“You found him not long after our parting,” Dream surmised and he wished he could take back the words as Hob’s face dropped into something colder at the reminder.

“You mean after you threw a tantrum and ran out on me making me think I’d never see you again?” Hob reiterated as he left Dream’s side to flop down on the overstuffed sofa. His absence left a cold bitter wind in its wake and Dream shrunk just a little into the folds of his coat.

“I have apologised -“

“And I have accepted that, as I hope you will accept the fact that I needed more than one friend that I only saw every hundred years,” Hob pointed out and the truth of his words irked Dream. He was right as he had been in the White Horse Inn all those decades ago. It didn’t appear it was getting easier to accept that he wasn’t always right. 

“I do not begrudge you your friendships,” Dream said, settling down into one of the armchairs, it hugged him and pulled him in. He shouldn’t be surprised by such comforts. Hob was a hedonistic creature, greedy for life and all it offered. His home reflected that in a way, comfort and warmth in equal measure. A sanctuary against the ever changing world that he could retreat too.

“But my lovers?”

Dream paused too long before offering a begrudging, “…nor them.”

Hob appeared unconvinced, rightly so, “Joseph was a good man, we loved each other.”

“I am glad,” Dream said, a pale offering that landed as heavy and as welcome as a brick.

“You hate him,” Hob said, lips twitching in amusement.

“I do not -“

“Calliope isn’t my favourite muse,” Hob interrupted and it was such a sudden change of subject that it took Dream a moment to process the absurdity of the statement.

“You dislike Calliope?” Dream asked slowly as though ensuring he had heard Hob correctly. Hob nodded.

“For the same reason you want to burn my art prints,” he explained and clarity snapped into place like a missing jigsaw piece.

“I do not wish to burn them,” Dream attempted to defend but it was a weak attempt.

“No?” Hob asked, almost laughing.

“…Perhaps replace them,” Dream admitted in a whisper he wouldn’t repeat if asked.

Hob heard him though, he seemed keenly aware of Dream in a way few were. He leant forward, elbows on his knees, as he fixed Dream with a warm, hopeful look. Dream suspected they had moved on from discussing art prints, “You can’t replace them. Any of them really. But you can join them if you’d like.”

[bibliocratic]

How about Jon Martin and the cursed trip to IKEA?

Thanks for the prompt! :D

I’m sure this absolutely could have been read as like ‘IKEA is not-so-secretly a Spiral domain’ but this non-Euclidean hell-hole is of mortal making I’m sure of it.

(I love and fear you IKEA, never change <3)

 --

“I simply don’t see the reason why we’d ever need them.”

“If we have guests over!”

“We’ve never had guests over.”

“One day we might!”

“And over for what?”

“I dunno! Dinner or something, make a night of it.”

“Martin, neither of us can cook.”

“Well, we could learn.”

“Alright, fine. Pushing that to one side for the moment, my question is why do our hypothetical guests require a different set of fancier cutlery? What’s wrong with the ones we’ve got at home?”

“I mean, nothing really, just… well, it’s a thing, isn’t it? Having some nice stuff to bring out if people come round.”

“Will we be moving on to the fine china aisle next?”

“Maybe! Ha, ha, don’t give me that look – Why not splash out a little? At worst, we just have more forks and some extra knives.”

“…Alright, fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Before I come to my senses. But I reserve the right to refuse guests the good cutlery if they’re undeserving.”

“What, are you planning some rigorous questionnaire they’ve got to pass first?”

“Absolutely. Come on then, the fine china awaits.”

--

Alfonse has never really been one for home improvement. He’s got a rolled-up stick of posters that he’s dragged around from his old room to student digs to slightly nicer student digs since he was a teenager, their corners creased and dotted with blue-tack stains. He’s had the same chipped plate, chipped bowl, chipped cup set since uni, and has been belligerent about swapping them out for anything less likely to shatter the next time he puts it in the dishwasher. But it’s their first flat together, and it feels real, and grown-up, and kind of scary, and he thinks that it’s important to get this part right, to set their life together off with a different start than the other places. Meaning that now, somehow, they’ve got a squeaky-wheeled trolley full of pillows and a cheese grater and storage containers that aren’t see-through plastic boxes and honest-to-god frames for his Quentin Tarantino posters. He’s finding himself entertaining the rather luxurious thought of buying a large and leafy potted plant to brighten up their cramped living room.

Tom is in his element here, and he’s put on his ridiculous reading glasses that Alfonse says make him look like Dame Edna, peering over their chunky glittery frames to inspect the ballroom’s worth of lighting they’ve found themselves amongst. He’s humming as he does so, making notations with the pint-sized pencil they collected at the door. Alfonse is entirely content to let him take the reigns on this one.

He idly people-watches for a while, making noises of interest at another floor lamp when it’s expected of him – the students clearing out the kitchenware section, lugging around the straining blue blags, the parents with children who have been swayed by the toys – before he catches sight of a man circling the desk lamps. Glancing down at his phone, gnawing on his lower lip with some discontent before he glances up and around the terrain before frowning. He swings his phone in an arc, giving the hope of it a hopeful tap, muttering a comeoncomeoncomeon under his breath.

His mobile gives a chirpy buzz, and the man almost hits himself in the ear with the force of answering.

“Where are you?” Alfonse overhears. “I can’t… Jon… Jon, you’re breaking up, yeah, the signal’s… Jon. I’m by the lamps… The lamps. Lamps. I’ve got the trolley, yes, yes – you… hello?”

Alfonse hears a very emphatic fuck’s sake before he decides to go back to Tom and leave the man suffer in private.

--

Sinead’s planted herself on one of the sofas in the well-lit display areas and has committed to not budging an inch for at least ten minutes. The fabric is a cheery yellow, and it suits the colour-coordinated pretend living room, but she’s not sure she’d choose it herself.

She’s getting a headache. Mel’s off with her nephews and nieces over in the kid’s bedroom section and she just needs five more minutes before she can look at another floral wallpaper or toy car bed.

She’s disrupted from massaging her temples by an irate-looking man with some rather intense eyebrow game throwing himself down on the half-egg-shaped armchair nearby, letting forth a truly impressively disgruntled sigh.

“You look like you’re suffering,” she offers, because she is and she wants to know someone else is too, and he nods peevishly and gives another irritated noise.

“I didn’t realise there’d be so much drama involved in buying a sofa,” he grumbles.

“Amen,” she agrees. They share a quiet moment of strung-out solidarity as they sit moulded into the seat cushions.

“… What’s that one called?” the man asks after a moment of stewing in his own mood.

She shrugs but picks up the tag and squints at it.

“Brathult? With one of those… those A’s that have the little bobble hat. Apparently, it comes in yellow, blue and green.”

“Comfortable?”

“Not bad.”

“Hm.” For a while he goes silent. Then he points out two sofas tucked into different displays and artfully layered with appropriate throw pillows; the first, a stocky black number set upon a sleek wooden frame that serve as its legs, the second, a dense cuboid of cushions currently being looked over by in fastidious detail by a tussle-haired man wearing a t-shirt covered in lots of small cartoon cacti.

“Between that one and that one,” her companion in furniture-based suffering says. “What do you think?”

Sinead studies them carefully.

“The second.”

He huffs. It was clearly not the answer he wanted.

“Why?”

“Not sure. I guess, yeah, it’s not as flashy, but the cushions look deeper. And there’s more width there, even just looking at them.”

“But the first one has all that space under it to store things.”

“Yeah, but you just know it’s going to build up with dust, and you’d be having to get the hoover under it all the time. It seems a bit finnicky.”

The man gives a considering nod.

“You’re right.”

He hefts himself up and calls over to the other display room: “Martin!”

The tussle-haired man whirls around.

Her companion holds up his hands. “You were right. The second one.”

The tussle-haired man looks smugly victorious. Sinead tries to hide her smirk at the sight.

--

Andy’s heaving the flat-pack box for a small bookcase into their trolley when they hear a conversation bleed through from the other side of the huge metal shelves in the warehouse part of the store.

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it.”

“It’s coming down on my side – woahwoahwoah – ”

“It’s – Christ, swing it this way a bit – ”

“I’ve not – Jon, I’ve not got – it’s – Jon, it’s slipping.”

“Put it down – DOWN – yes, that’s… Right. Let’s… let’s just have a moment. Catch our breath.”

“God, why’s it so heavy? It’s not like it’s even that big!”

Andy pops their head around to the other side of the shelf. Two men are puffing and sweaty, the colour on their faces blooming with exertion. Between the two of them is the long and bulky cardboard box they are clearly trying to manhandle into their trolley.

“Do you… um, do you need a hand?” they ask.

The shorter one waves a polite but dismissive hand before they manage to wrangle some air into their lungs.

“We’re good, thanks.” He says. The taller one raises an eyebrow.

Andy knows well enough to leave them to it.

--

“Hmmm! You weren’t lying about the meatballs.”

“I know right, like, what’s the secret?”

“Probably E-numbers.”

“Don’t ruin these for me, Jon!”

“Haha, alright. Help me out with the chips?”

“You finished?”

“The hot dog was enough, I’m getting full.”

“Pass them over then…. You know, I think we did alright with our spoils today. And it wasn’t so bad, all told.”

“We have to get this all in the car yet.”

“God, don’t remind me.”

[cotccotc]

genre/s: felix x barista!reader (gender neutral), fluff, angst, coworkers to lovers au, bakery / barista au (feat. baker / bff!minho, (strict) manager!chan, barista!jeongin, and baker!seungmin)

wc: 6.9k 😎

warnings: many mentions of food (specifically sweets such as cupcakes, brownies, cookies, etc.), some swearing, arguing, probably very poor editing oops <3

a/n: this is part of the @districtninewriters​​ “dear skz, with love” event :D THIS IS ALSO THE LONGEST FIC I’VE EVER WRITTEN AHHH i’m really really proud of it !!! i hope u love it besties !!!!!!!!

it was a frostbitten february evening when you met the boy at the bakery.

you were seated upon the counter, back turned to the deep brown door through which you’d first entered months ago, eager to apply for a barista position. minho sat across from you on the cashier stool. he was always better with the baked goods. you were a great team. the two of you were bored; a familiar feeling that accompanied weeknights at the bakery-cafe. people tended to arrive either in the morning time or late in the afternoon, and very seldom later. plus, your manager trusted the two of you enough to lock up on your own. and so, the two of you would be left to your own devices for a few measly hours a night per week.

“i bet you couldn’t make a batch of sugar biscuits without instructions,” he teased with a snarky grin. he was right. that was more his thing than yours.

so, you retaliated. “i bet you can’t do the same with a mocha frappe. or even simpler: an iced americano.”

“please!”

“oh yeah? step right up, biscuit boy,” you retorted with a giggle, gesturing to the coffee maker that sat beside him. there were multiple in the shop, and truth be told, he had no idea which was used for what types of beverages.

confidently, he grabbed a cup from the stack on the table behind him, striding over to one of the machines. he then took a look at all the knobs and buttons, clearing his throat. you chuckled. with his finger ghosting over one of the buttons, he turned back toward you to check for your reaction. “not even close,” you remarked. he clicked his tongue, turning back toward the coffee maker. “just a hint,” you added, “the first step isn’t coffee.”

he simply looked up, bewildered. he turned back toward you, dropping his hands to his sides and parting his lips into a circular expression of disbelief.

suddenly, the sparkling tone of the door chime behind you caught both of your attention. peculiar. nobody was usually around at that hour. as minho put his cup back on the table, you hopped off the counter, turning toward the front of the store.

in walked one of the most strikingly handsome boys you think you’ve ever seen. if not the most handsome. an angular face; fair, slightly pink-tinted skin decorated with the most endearing assortment of freckles. they were almost reminiscent of the chocolate sprinkles minho used to top off the cupcakes situated inside the glass counter case. his hair was a vanilla blond and long enough to delicately cascade over the side edges of his face. cherry red lips that parted upon his arrival, chocolatey brown eyes staring right back at yours. he was astonishing.

“how can we help you?” minho asked him, stepping forward. he couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes seemed to be bugging out of your head. he had to stifle a chuckle or two.

the boy’s eyes lingered on yours for a moment. or maybe you dreamed it that way. regardless, he walked up to the counter, inquisitively placing his hands behind his back and bent over to glance at the contents of the case. “hi! uh…” he seemed sweet, though his voice was much deeper than you’d expected. it was unique. he was unique. and in quite a rush, as well. “...shit,” he cursed under his breath. he seemed to have startled himself with his expression. he looked back up at you, then at minho, a tight-lipped smile and strawberry-pink blush appearing on his face. “sorry,” he said.

minho finally let out a chuckle. “no worries. what’re you looking for?” he was always so good with the customers. smooth yet considerate, witty, yet firm. you always aspired to be a little more like minho when it came to customer service.

“do you have any of the salted caramel cupcakes left? they seem to be gone.”

“ah, we seem to have run out of those. could i interest you in a peanut butter cupcake instead?”

the boy shook his head. “no… she likes caramel.”

she. there was a she.

“may i ask what the occasion is?” minho asked.

“it’s my mom’s birthday, and she’ll be home from work soon... hopefully. i would’ve made my own gift to her but i didn’t have the time…”

“enough said,” your coworker assured him. “does she like chocolate? we have a few salted caramel brownies in the back.”

he almost gasped. “that’s perfect!” he paused. “um… how much is that? i-is it more than the cupcake, or…?”

minho glanced through the glass at the tag beside the brownie tray. “nope. less, actually.”

the boy let out a short sigh of relief. “great. thanks so much.”

“ah, it’s nothing. one sec,” minho said before walking into the kitchen to grab the brownie from the fridge. an awkward silence ensued between you and the boy.

“a name for the order?” you blurted. dumbass, you thought to yourself.

“i’m… the only one in the store…” he replied.

heat rose to your cheeks. “i… um… it’s protocol-”

“felix.” he cut you off before you could embarrass yourself further. he could tell you were nervous.

a unique name as well. of course.

“coming right up, felix,” you murmured, a hint of sarcasm in your voice. both of you chuckled.

minho came back out to the counter holding a small blue box with the cafe logo on top. “you’re all set! that’ll be…” he pressed few buttons into the cash register before continuing. “ten thousand won.”

“perfect.” felix grabbed his wallet out of his coat pocket. he pulled out a few bills from the black leather case, handing them to minho with a small smile. he was excited to surprise his mother, and happy that it wouldn’t cost as much as he’d thought it would. and you found it adorable.

minho took the money, ringing felix up and inserting the bills into the register. he handed felix the box, which made the boy’s face light up even more. it was hard for you to suppress a similar countenance. “i hope she likes it. have a good night!” minho said, closing the register. he crossed his arms and leaned on the counter as felix waved to the both of you and began walking back toward the door.

“thanks so much. you too,” he said, giving minho a small bow.

with his hand on the door, he glanced back at you once more. you smiled. he returned the expression. and just like that, with a brief gust of cold air sweeping through the shop, the boy was gone.

“you, uh… you know we only take names when there’s a line, right?” minho teased as the door shut, the chime letting out what seemed to be a pitied laugh. 

you held your hands up to your forehead. “ugh, i know! i’m such an idiot,” you replied, letting your nerves go with a chuckle. he patted you on the shoulder, laughing with you.

in between laughs, he remarked, “he really made you that nervous, huh?”

“you could tell?! oh, great… wonderful!” 

the two of you carried on for a moment, making light of the otherwise mortifying exchange. but finally, minho glanced at the clock and asked, “would you mind locking up tonight? i’ve got a date.”

“ooh!” you cooed, taunting him. “a date... who’s the not-so-lucky lady?”

“what joke book did you get that one from, hm? i had no idea you even knew how to read!” you gave him a playful punch in the arm for his sarcastic dig, causing him to giggle. yet, he answered your question, saying, “it’s a girl i met on the train home from school the other night. chaeyoung.” he looked off to the side, seemingly entranced. “she’s really witty and smart… and gorgeous. like... gorgeous.”

“ah, yes… so gorgeous that it causes men to leave their posts… and friends…”

“if i bring you back some takeout, will you quit being an ass?”

you pondered the question for a moment. and, while you’d be bored as hell in his absence, closing up the shop wasn’t much of a hassle on weeknights… and, well, you could always go for a free meal. “...pleasure doing business with you, lee minho.”

“thank you. as with you,” he commented in return. he took off the periwinkle blue, involuntarily worn apron which you’ve both been made to wear, revealing what you hadn’t even noticed was a dressy outfit. well, dressier than usual. he’d opted for a pale blue button-up shirt, tucked into black skinny jeans, all tied together by a chic black belt and a pair of black loafers. not to mention the small silver hoop earrings and matching necklace. you had to admit, he did look dapper.

he quickly strode to the back of the kitchen at which there resided a small storage room where you and the other employees usually dropped off your belongings. he grabbed his backpack and put on his long black coat, quickly making his way back up to the counter and walking around to the front of the store. “catch you tomorrow! thanks again.”

“takeout! don’t forget!”

“i couldn’t even if i tried,” he retorted, opening the door. the two of you waved to each other before he took his leave. 

moments later, the door opened once again. you figured minho must’ve forgotten something. looking up, you began to ask, “what’d you forget this ti-”

it wasn’t minho.

it was felix.

he paused in his footing, little blue box still in hand. you jumped just a little. he noticed. “s-sorry… i just, um…” he looked off to the side. “i guess this is a bit of a long shot... considering the two of you seem to be more than enough staff… but…” he paused again, taking a moment to straighten his posture and scratch the back of his head. “is there any chance you might be hiring… any time soon?”

the answer was no. undoubtedly. he was right in thinking that you, minho, and the other employees were perfectly capable of handling the cafe. though some mornings and weekends were a bit tight, the team made it work. if this was anybody else, you could’ve easily said no.

yet, he persisted. “i can bake! i like to think i’ve been getting better at it… and i can clean as well.”

you couldn’t turn him down. you simply couldn’t. not with those kind eyes locking themselves with yours, the enthusiasm in his deep voice, or the hastening beat of your heart. “i’ll talk to my manager!” you affirmed. you smiled, causing a similar reaction out of him. an idea popped into your mind. if only for a moment, you thought it was the best you’d ever had. your eyes averted themselves to the pale yellow note pad and ballpoint pen on the counter, used to take orders from seated customers. “here,” you said, reaching for the pen and paper and handing it to felix. “if you’ll give me your number, i can text you with any updates.”

he walked back up to the counter for the second time that night, taking his number down on the pad. as you watched him intently, eyes fixated on his concentrated face, you silently praised yourself for being so brave. especially after the whole name debacle. your heart was at its wits’ end. “there,” he said, placing the pen down on the counter and sliding the notepad back to you. “i really appreciate it.” he sounded so genuine. he flashed you another smile. he had such a grand, bright, toothy smile. it would stay in your memory for days, weeks, even months to come. you can still recall it now.

“it’s no problem,” you responded. “...i really hope your mom likes the brownie.”

“thanks. i’m sure she will.” he turned to walk toward the door. you almost turned away as well, excited to examine the style with which he’d written on the pad, until he spun back around once more. “oh! one more thing… can i get your name as well?”

the question came as a bit of a surprise. you nodded to him, letting out a short giggle. “y/n.”

he grinned again. it was smaller that time; a bit more subdued. effortfully so. “ah. well…” he began walking backward, eyes connected with yours as he headed toward the door. “goodnight, y/n.”

“goodnight, felix.”

and thus, your pursuit for a job offering began.

your manager, chan, was reluctant to accept your proposal for him to give felix an interview. however, you made note of how eager he’d seemed that night and the skills he’d mentioned having. you also mentioned how he’d been so enthused to find out the price of his order. and so, after a couple days’ worth of mulling it over, chan finally gave in.

you weren’t supposed to be at the cafe when felix was being interviewed. however, your saturday afternoon shift had just ended, and the place was essentially empty. well… apart from you, chan, felix, and then jeongin, who wandered in from the storage room to find you eavesdropping from behind the wall separating the kitchen and the dining area. 

“y/n?” he asked. “what are you-”

you inaudibly shushed him, motioning for him to come closer and hide with you. he did so.

“chan’s interviewing someone,” you whispered to the boy.

“ah…” he responded, his tone hushed. “so why are we hiding?”

“because we’re not supposed to be listening.”

“so why are we doing it?”

“because i want to know how it’s going.”

“so why can’t you just-”

you shushed him again. he obliged, covering his mouth with his hand.

from the other side of the wall, chan asked, “so felix, do you have a resume?”

“uh…” felix stammered. you could hear the nerves in his voice.

“let me put it this way,” chan offered instead. “do you have any prior working experience? at another cafe, another store, a completely different place...?”

“oh! yes. i’ve bagged groceries at the supermarket on third street for the last few months. that’s where my mom works. but i’d much rather work here, if i’m honest...”

“ah. okay.” chan nodded, jotting down some notes in his notebook. “so y/n told me you could clean...”

before chan could finish, felix proudly exclaimed, “i can! i do a lot of cleaning at home.”

“perfect.”

the interview went on for a few more minutes. jeongin let out a few silent chuckles every once in a while, mocking your state of concentration. but who could blame you? you just wanted to make sure felix got the position. he seemed to need it.

you totally weren’t in it for his smile… the freckles… the adorable creases that formed at the edges of his eyes when he grinned with that sweet, genuine, toothy grin of his… no, not at all…

nevertheless, he got the job.

“i love this apron,” felix had said to you on his first day. he was quite fond of your uniform. everyone else in the shop hated them; what, with the pale blue color, white pinstripe pattern, and the ‘one-size-fits-all’ design. yet, in every sense of the phrase, it fit felix perfectly.

“i’m glad someone does,” you replied. he laughed.

“when i got the cleaning job, i wasn’t sure i’d get to wear one. but i’m happy i do.” he smiled at you, his pearlescent teeth on full display and face aglow with joy. 

after about a week of training, felix became a natural at his job. though it wasn’t much, he took great pride in his work and enjoyed taking any opportunity he saw to do a little extra sweeping, some more dish washing, and even some dusting here and there.

he also fit right into the employee dynamic. every once in a while, you’d find him playing hand games with jeongin. or, sometimes, minho would discuss baking with him, as he often noted his affinity for it.

“have you ever tried using oats in your chocolate chip cookies?” felix asked. it was monday night. and, as per usual, the shop was devoid of customers.

minho looked puzzled. “oats?”

“yeah. it adds a little nuttiness. it’s really, really good.”

“huh… i’ll have to try it out sometime. i like to add a bit of coffee grounds to the flour when i make mine.” then, he leaned in to whisper, “don’t tell chan, though.” felix let out a nervous giggle.

“don’t worry,” you said to him. “minho’s only kidding. i’d never let him touch my coffee grounds.” this made all three of you laugh.

after the laughter died down, felix looked at the clock. it was four in the afternoon. “well, my shift is over,” he said. you were disappointed. hanging out with felix had become a bit of a highlight for you. he always carried himself so kindly. he had a bubbly soul, and a pure twinkle took residence in his eye whenever he smiled. you couldn’t help but feel light and airy while around him.

“hey, i’ve been meaning to ask,” minho started to felix. “do you bike here?”

the other boy was confused. “no. why?”

“oh… then, do you walk?”

“yeah. it’s only a few blocks,” felix responded, shrugging.

“do you need a ride?”

felix paused to think. “don’t you need to stay here? to lock up and everything…”

“i’ll come right back.”

you chimed in, suggesting, “i can close tonight.”

“you sure?” minho asked you. “i don’t have any food to bribe you with this time.” you both chuckled.

“it’s fine by me,” you said.

minho thanked you, stating once again that he owed you. the amount of times you’d done this for him was countless. but you never seemed to mind. and so, off they went. you were glad felix had integrated into the friend group so well. you supposed that he was just that loveable.

when it finally came time for you to close up shop having not received any other customers for the night, you waltzed into the storage room to grab your things. however, you noticed something strange sitting atop one of the shelves that hadn’t been there that morning.

an envelope. with your name on it. and a tupperware container filled with a single slice of what looked like chocolate cake.

your heart flinched. you were shocked. flustered, flushed. confused… but endeared. you hesitated. shakily, you tore open the cream-colored envelope’s seal, careful not to rip too much. you wanted to preserve its crisp smoothness.

“y/n,” the note said...

“a gift to you,

a chocolatey treat,

a token of thanks

for being so sweet.

~ me”

your heart fluttered. you ran to the kitchen, opening the container and grabbing a freshly-cleaned fork from the metal sink. you dried it off on your apron before excitedly digging into the dessert. it was more of a brownie than a cake, you realized, with melted chocolate chunks stuffed inside. it tasted amazing.

you began wondering who this mystery gifter could’ve been. it couldn’t have been minho… it simply couldn’t have. the two of you were much too close. and he was always more confident than anybody you’d met. if he liked you, you would have already known. besides, things seemed to be going well with him and chaeyoung. no… this had to be someone else. jeongin, perhaps. he did always made such high praises about your cappuccino-crafting abilities. you looked to your left and right, peering around the kitchen for signs of life. but alas, you were all alone in the cafe. 

then it hit you.

of course...

felix.

you recalled the first time you met. when you had him jot his number down on the piece of paper. you remembered his handwriting; the way some characters curled on the ends, the rounded shape of his letter e, the squiggly line he used before he signed his name… it was felix. it had to be.

and you were ecstatic.

the next day, you entered the shop to find a full house. it was a saturday morning, after all. you enjoyed the breakfast rush, mainly because you got the chance to show off your coffee-making skills. you made your way to the kitchen, greeting jeongin at the counter on your way in. you said hello to minho and seungmin as well, who were busy stand-mixing and hand-folding various types of batter. they were a great team, especially on mornings like those. though they tended to bicker about ingredients and proportions, the sweet treats they’d concoct always turned out excellently.

finally, felix emerged from the storage area, duster in hand. when he saw you, however, he froze. with his eyes wide and cheeks beginning to flush, he greeted you. “h-hi, y/n… good morning!”

you let out a bit of a giggle. does he know that i know? you asked yourself. granted, the mysterious gift giver signed off as ‘me,’ so you couldn’t say you were positive… but this reaction told you otherwise. “morning!”

he nodded, smiling nervously. he gestured to the storage room. “the shelves in there are all dusted now.”

“great! i think i’ll… um…” you pointed to the room, slipping past him to stash away your belongings and put on your apron.

“yep! you… do that…” he muttered as you walked away.

however, when you walked in, you found something peculiar displayed upon the shelf.

another envelope. and another container.

you turned back toward the door to find felix peeking in. you chuckled. “so it was you!”

he stepped to the side, coming into full view. “how’d you know?” he asked.

“i just… had a feeling.” you grinned.

he paused, a tight-lipped smile spread across his face. “well, open it.”

you placed your coat and bag on one of the shelves below. you then opened up the envelope just like you had the previous night: meticulously, yet enthralled. it read,

“another dessert

for a person so sweet

will you honor me kindly,

and go out with me?

YES / NO

~ me”

once you looked back up at him, felix commented, “you were supposed to circle one…” he then began rambling. “i thought you didn’t come in until later. you don’t have to say anything right now, or at all, and-”

though you thought it adorable, you cut off his nervous prattle, stating, “yes.”

his eyes grew even wider, his strawberry tinted lips forming a circular shape. “you mean…”

“i’ll go out with you, felix,” you confirmed.

his face lit up. and yours did, too.

thus, one date became two, two became four…

by the end of february, you were officially a couple.

you were a perfect match. each of you complimented each other so well, rivaling the bittersweetness of a good cappuccino when paired with a light and fluffy slice of cake. like minho, felix’s baking abilities and knowledge never ceased to amaze you. you explained the ins and outs of coffee brewing while he told you all about how he bakes his tasty treats. he even showed you some of the recipes his mom handed down to him from generations past.

his mom sounded so wonderful… yet, a part of you felt so sorry for her. felix’s dad left when he was young, and she’s always had to fend for herself and her son all on her own. however, when she was let go from her office position the previous year, things began to spiral. she took up two jobs: one at the local grocery store and another waitressing at a restaurant in the next town. she was always so busy. but felix understood. he tried helping out, especially by working at the supermarket with her that fall. nothing seemed to get any better. 

that is, until he landed his job at the cafe.

felix constantly thanked you for helping him out. chan paid him a considerable amount more than what he’d received at the supermarket, which helped him and his mother out greatly. anything would. aside from telling how lovely, smart, witty, and gorgeous you were, felix’s mission in life was to remind you how you’d saved it.

one monday, you entered the storage room on your break to find a sight all too familiar. a handwritten note and small sliver of baked loveliness, all wrapped up in a metaphorical bow of allure and intrigue. nevertheless, however, you were still just as giddy as the first time you’d received one of felix’s treats. suddenly, you felt a finger graze along your shoulder, moving your hair to the side as an arm wrapped itself around your waist. two warm, pillowy lips made contact with your cheek, gently pecking the skin. felix.

you let out a giggle. “is this for me?” you asked, facetiously.

“of course,” he muttered beside your ear, his tone low, entrancing, and chill-inducing. he kissed your cheek again, holding you close and swaying you from side to side. “it’s another brownie. try it,” he suggested as his chin settled upon your shoulder.

you did as he said, biting into the small slice of fudgy goodness. to your surprise, chunks of melted caramel oozed out of the dessert, cutting through the rich chocolatiness of the brownie with a tangy edge. you hummed in satisfaction. “a salted caramel brownie,” you noted, swallowing your bite.

he chuckled. “i figured i’d finally try it out, maybe give some to my mom… do you like it?”

you placed the sweet back into its container and turned around in his arms, wrapping yours around his neck. you smiled. “i love it, lix. thank you.”

he grinned back at you. pulling you closer by the waist, he sealed the space between his lips and yours with a kiss. his lips were always even softer and more captivating than the texture of his confections. sweeter, too.

after his lips left yours, he gazed into your eyes, holding you close. “open the note, love.”

you excitedly spun back around, doing as instructed. opening the crisp white envelope seal and pulling out the folded sheet of paper, you read its contents.

“a caramel kiss

for you, my love.

i can’t give you the world.

but i hope i’m enough.

~ felix”

you paused. you were puzzled. visibly so, you figured, since when you turned around the look on felix’s face shifted.

he took your hand in his, rubbing small circles into the skin with his thumb. he kept his head down as he spoke. “i wish i could do more. i wish i could take you out to nice places, bake you batches of your favorite sweets, get you real gifts…”

a sharp pain struck your heart. “lix…” you murmured. “i don’t need any of those things. and as far as i’m concerned, these are ‘real gifts.’ they come from your heart. that’s as real as it gets.”

“i know, love, but…”

you placed a hand on his cheek, guiding him to look back up at you. “you don’t even have to do this stuff for me. i know that you care.”

he gave you a forced, shy smile. “okay. i’m glad.” he placed his own hand on top of yours, warm fingertips pressing gently against your skin.

“felix! y/n!” chan called from the kitchen. it was saturday night, and the last of the day’s customers were taking their leave. you were standing by the coffee-makers, in the middle of telling felix about the time you’d bested jeongin in a macchiato-making contest during a breakfast rush. 

both of you turned toward the kitchen door, concerned. chan poked his head out. “can you come here a minute?” he looked serious. something was wrong.

nevertheless, the two of you obliged. holding hands, you made your way to the kitchen, led by chan to the cooling racks. “what’s up?” you asked.

chan cleared his throat before shoving his hands into his pockets. “i have reason to believe that one of you, or both, has violated protocol.”

you quickly grew confused. felix’s hand tightened around yours. you glanced at him, noticing how his face flushed pale. “uh…” he stammered. 

“early this morning, seungmin pointed out that we’re low on cocoa powder. now, that’s odd, especially considering we had three cans of it yesterday. now we only have two.” you both nodded at him, following along. “...so i took a look at the camera footage.”

felix let go of your hand. “c-cameras?” he stuttered. you were even more confused.

“yeah. the cameras,” chan confirmed, looking felix dead in the eye. “i watched the footage from yesterday. and the day before.”

felix gulped. “you… you did….”

“what the hell is going on?” you asked.

chan let out a bit of a sigh. “y/n. were you aware that felix has been taking ingredients from the kitchen?”

your heart dropped.

you glanced at your boyfriend. he glanced back at you. he then bit his bottom lip, averting his eyes down to the floor. you looked back at chan, calmly answering, “no… i had no idea.”

“is that true?” chan asked.

“yes.” you then turned to felix, face ablaze. “it’s true.”

“then in that case, you can go for the night. i’d like to talk to felix. alone.”

after one last unreciprocated look at your boyfriend, you quickly rummaged through the storage room, collected your things, and left. you stood outside of the cafe, waiting for whatever might happen next. your stomach was doing flips. you couldn’t possibly believe what you’d heard.

minutes elapsed. it felt more like hours. all you could think to do was lean up against a lamp post and watch the gloomy clouds shift overhead. the sun was close to being fully set, casting a deep purple tint over the whole street landscape. and it looked as though it was about to rain.

after what felt like an exorbitantly long time, felix emerged from the shop. the door closed behind him as he bolted down the steps and onto the pavement, that familiar chime sending a chill through you. it sounded almost eerie that night. out of place. taunting.

“lix,” you called. you walked behind him, despite his quickening pace. but he wouldn’t stop or slow down. “lix,” you exclaimed again. no answer. finally, you grabbed his arm, realizing his apron was gone, and shouted, “felix! slow down.”

he scoffed, stopping dead in his tracks. “he fired me.”

you stared at him, blankly. once again, you couldn’t believe it.

“i tried to do something nice, and he fired me.”

“do you think it makes me feel any better?” you asked. “you getting yourself fired so you could make me little brownie experiments?” you paused, taking a deep breath. you were outraged. more so with yourself. you should’ve asked how he was finding the time or the resources to be doing what he was doing. you should’ve known. “i thought you needed this job. when were you gonna tell me you were a thief?”

“a thief?!” felix’s eyes seemed to be bulging out of his head. he was surprised at your verbiage. he’d never seen you upset like this. “y/n, i’m not a thief.” you rolled your eyes. his cheeks flushed crimson. a prickling sensation began around his eyes. a stinging, almost. tears. he looked down at his sneakers. tattered white converse. the same ones he wore every day to work. the same ones on which he’d splattered a few droplets of brownie batter during his latest attempt at making you a gift. now, it just looked like a stain of mud. “i didn’t just take cocoa powder. i took eggs… some milk… a couple cups of flour here and there… my mom got demoted at the restaurant. she works the bar now. she thinks i asked for the stuff. so yeah, i did need this job! i do need it. i just fucked up...” under his breath, trying not to give into the tears that prodded at his eyes, he remarked, “‘little brownie experiments’... that’s all they ever were to you? little brownie experiments...”

you realized what you’d said. of course that’s not all they were to you. they were everything to you. but that isn’t what you’d said. “lix… i-”

“you know what, you’re right,” he muttered, shifting his weight back and forth on his feet, hands clasped behind his back, and eyes rapidly blinking to avoid the inevitable. “they probably weren’t even all that good.”

you took a step closer to him. a drop of water fell onto your shoulder from above. “no.. no, that’s not what i-”

but, as quickly as you approached him, he stepped back. he locked eyes with you once again. his eyes were glossy; tainted with the aftereffects of a broken heart. suddenly, a steady stream of drizzling rain began to fall from the night sky above you. felix’s lip quivered. yet, with a furrowing brow, he continued. “you know what, maybe this was all a mistake.” his voice cracked a bit; frayed at the edges. “maybe i should’ve gotten a different job. at a place that would pay me enough to be able to buy my own shit and pay my mom’s bills.” the rain fell harder now, coating his hair and dragging it down over his face. you didn’t even feel it as it completely drenched you as well.

seeing him like this affected you just as much as your words did him. guilt. the panging, crushing weight of guilt laid heavily upon your heart. “felix…” you whimpered, tears of your own beginning to cloud your line of sight. though, you could still see clear enough to watch him shake his head, turning around and beginning his ascent up the avenue. clear as ever. even despite the pitter-patter of evening gloom.

sopping wet, you marched back into the shop. you ripped off your apron, throwing it down upon the counter. you then walked back behind it to start preparing to close up for the night. all you wanted was to go home.

that is, until you spotted an envelope tucked beside the cappuccino maker.

a creamy white envelope, with your name and a heart inscribed on the back. and a tupperware container. a single teardrop descended from the corner of your eye, resembling the droplets of rain that covered your form. you carefully took hold of the envelope. you gently tore it open, making sure not to rip it, just like you’d done the very first and subsequent times.

“another present

for my love;

my dear y/n,

sent from above.

~ felix”

a drop of rain fell from your hair onto the page, dampening his name. the black ink began to run, the letters seeping into each other.

you could no longer control your tears. you took a seat on the floor, back resting against a leg of the table upon which the coffee makers stood. the metal was cold. but you paid it no mind. with your head on your knees, legs bent and arms wrapped around them, you cried. audibly. you couldn’t believe how you’d spoken to him. you should’ve known that he didn’t have the money to bake you these little presents on his own. you should’ve realized from the moment he confirmed it was him. at least, that’s what you thought to yourself as the tears expelled themselves from your system. 

he just wanted to make you something special. yes, he broke the rules. yes, he stole from the cafe. and yes, he knew it was wrong. but he just wanted to make you something special. it was the only way he believed he could. and you wish you’d seen that. not just so you could’ve prevented it, but also so you could’ve appreciated it even more. so you could’ve seen that not only was he working overtime to make you something you might enjoy, but that he was risking his job for you and his mother. it wasn’t a perfect gesture - not by a long shot. but he meant well. he always did. and you didn’t even give him the chance to explain.

you loved him.

after a few moments of solitude, you regained your breath. you sniffled, looking down at the note. you then stood back up, taking hold of the container. its contents looked delicious. but you couldn’t consume it. not even if you’d been hungry. so, you dumped it into the trashcan beside the table. and, with a deep, shaky breath, you ripped up the letter and envelope into tiny pieces. it was a bittersweet feeling, letting go. but you had to do it. and so, home you went.

a week passed. things never really changed at the cafe once felix left. weeknights were still as slow as ever. maybe even slower. you missed him.

minho emerged from the kitchen one evening to find you wiping down the cappuccino maker with a coffee-stained rag. it was the third time you’d done it that day. twice more than you were getting paid for. and of course he noticed. “how’re you holding up?” he asked.

you barely glanced up at him, busy rubbing the same spot on the metal machine over and over. this stupid stain just wouldn’t budge. each time you’d gone over it that day, you couldn’t seem to make it go away. it plagued your mind, infiltrating your subconscious when you least expected it until you finally decided to go back to it for the second time, then the third. it was a real mood killer. though your mood hadn’t been very lively when the day began, either. “‘m fine,” you replied through gritted teeth, brows angled inward as your focus remained on the task at hand.

“are you?” he questioned, playfully. he leaned on the counter behind you, crossing his arms and watching you scrub. “you’ve been going at it with that thing for hours now. what’d it ever do to y-”

“i’m fine!” you interjected. you then paused, both in speech and action. suddenly, you were aware of how fast you’d been rubbing the machine. as well as how loud your voice had raised itself. you turned around. “...sorry.”

he gave a pitied smile, crossing his arms. “it’s ok. i’m fine,” he replied, mimicking you. it made you chuckle. he was glad it did. “is, uh… is this a bad time to ask you to lock up? i’ve got a.. uh…”

“a date?” you supposed, unfeeling.

he cleared his throat, glancing between you, the clock above you, and his shoes. “yeah,” he confirmed. “with chaeyoung. would you mind?”

“not at all.”

“you sure?” you nodded. “alright… i owe you one… or ten...” he joked, untying his apron.

“no you don’t,” you murmured, eyes drifting to the side. you almost turned back around, heart set on getting to that stain, until you felt his hand on your arm. you glanced at each other for a moment. he looked sad. sorry. he pitied you. and you hated it. yet, as he took you in his arms, wrapping you into a tight, benevolent hug, you became a little less tense. a little less angry. you hugged him back, burying your face into his shoulder. this was the first time you’d ever engaged in such a gesture with your coworker. sure, you were friends. and sure, you’d talked about some deep stuff on nights like these with nothing better to do. but this was different. meaningful. sweet.

after a moment, minho remarked, “you know i miss him too, right?” he sounded mockingly peeved. “he was your boyfriend but he was my friend.”

you looked up at him, confused. “you’re not still friends?”

he chuckled. “no! he’s avoiding me the same way he’s avoiding you.”

laughing with him, you responded, “shit… i’m sorry, minho.”

“you have nothing to apologize for.” he let go of you, hands remaining on your sides for a moment. “you both messed up. it’s not all your fault.” you nodded to him, a reluctant, close-lipped smile upon your face. he glanced up at the clock again before pulling his apron off. “i’ve gotta go. thanks again for locking up, y/n.” he walked past the counter to the front of the store. “i’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” he added, pointing at you while striding backwards toward the door.

“see you tomorrow,” you replied, waving to him. “have fun.” you still sounded a bit bitter. you couldn’t help it.

“thanks,” he said. the chimes twinkled as the door closed. it haunted you.

and with that, he was gone. nothing but you, your rag, and that unnerving coffee stain for another half-hour’s time.

you heard the opening and closing of the door behind you once again. with a sigh, not even bothering to turn around, you blurted, “we’re about to lock up for the night.”

no response. odd. maybe they didn’t hear you. you tried again, raising your voice a bit but continuing your attempts to clear up the stain all the while. “i apologize, but we’re closed for the night-”

“one salted caramel brownie, please.”

a familiar voice. a familiar, low-toned, nostalgia-inducing voice. the voice that, at one time, softened for you… close enough to your ear to make your stomach tie itself in knots. the voice that made you giggle, the voice that called you “love”... the voice that cracked when faced with the realization that it was never to be heard by you again. you spun around.

a familiar face, too.

felix.

his eyes gazed into yours. somber, silent.

“y-you...”

“hey.”

tags: @magglesx, @crscendoforsung, @stayndays, @hanniiesuckle17, @leggomylino, @freckledberries, @pixielix, @skzctnightnight, @serenityswords-main​, @childofthecosmos, @changbinniee​, @kpopscape​, @skzwriternet, @hyunsins, @sleepylixie, @ncityluvvs, @vera-liscious (send a 🍓 in my ask box to be added for skz !)

©️ cotccotc 2021 ~ all rights reserved. do not repost my work on tumblr or other platforms.

[harrypotter-imaginess]

Etsy Store Here l Ko-Fi l Commission Info I Instagram I Zine

Part 1 Here / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / <This is Part 4!>

A/N: This has been sitting in my notes for a few months so I thought I would post it. Check out my 'Weasley Suprmeacy shirt here!

- You glance down at your watch, this is about the time Charlie said he would meet you at the clocktower

- You look up at the tall, looming tower

- This is the only clocktower at school right?

- There’s not like, another one somewhere

- No, Charlie would have specified if there were another one

- Right?

- You’re on the verge of scrambling to ask someone if this is, in fact, the only clocktower on school grounds

- When you hear a voice call your name

- Charlie jogs over to you, hunching over as he catches his breath

- “Have...you...been...waiting..long?” He manages between heavy pants

- “Not too long, is everything alright?”

- He looks like he’s about to pass out

- “Snape *huff* let us *huff* out late.”

- You haven’t had Snape yet, today was a softball with transfiguration and charms

- “Shall we?” Charlie asks extending his hand towards Hagrid hut, still hunched over

- “Um, why don’t we sit for a bit, I’m in no hurry”

- Charlie flushes red

- “That’s probably for the best”

- The walk down to Hagrid’s hut is just as magical as it looked in the movies

- Enchanted stones that scaled-down a hill, to a small valley where his cottage lie. A robust garden of pumpkins and vegetables, vines all tangled together, and beside it was a very happy dog

- “Hello there!” You squeal as he bounds over to you and Charlie, you offer your hand for a friendly sniff and instead you get a slobbering lick on your hand, and several more on your face when Fang pushes you onto the ground

- You’re laughing, giggling as he licks every inch of skin he see’s

- “Easy boy, it’s nice to meet you too”

- It only ends when you see a large shadow loom over you

- You look up to see a scruffy, rather tall, man, holding that massive dog like he’s nothing but a puppy

- “Now Fang, no ones going to like yer it yer bathes them in drool, sorry about that”

- That’s Hagrid

- You’re meeting Hagrid!!!

- You’re so stunned you barely register Charlie helping you back onto your feet

- “It’s no problem,” you reassure “I mean, who wouldn’t be happy at a welcome like that”

- Hagrid grins

- “I this one Charlie”

- “Well that’s good because this is our new recruit” he grins

- “Well I like them even more now”

- They give you the low down, basically there’s a lot of magical creatures out in Hogwarts, and just not enough hands to take care of them

- “It’s not about food, they find all of that no problem, but they need company otherwise one day they won’t like coming near us at all”

- You nod, alright you get that

- Besides you love playing with animals

- “It’s a slow process building a friendship, so take yer time” Hagrid nods

- “Most of them are pretty good motivated so after feeding them for a few months they start to warm up to you” Charlie adds

- “I’m sure it’ll be no problem given how yer get along with Fang”

- You notice that they seem to reassure each other more than you

- Well that’s kinda weird but whatever

- Charlie introduces you to a rather handsome boy named “Barnaby Lee” who teaches you all the best places to find creature food

- “There’s some in the corridor, and in the storage room by the great hall”

- He’s nice, but he’s a little dumb

- “Have you seen my pen?”

- “Um, you mean the one in your hand?”

- “Oh, yes! That’s the one!”

- You’re kind of surprised he’s in Slytherin

- “They’ve got a few bad apples, Merula is always pushing that boundary, but I think you’d like it.”

- “I don’t know how I feel about having a dorm in a dungeon” the words slip out before you can stop them and Barnaby laughs

- “I thought that too actually, but there are no chains on the wall or anythin’ it’s mostly a lot of fancy vases and the fires always lit with green flames”

- Hm green flames huh

- “I kinda want to see that”

- Barnaby grins

- “You will by the end of the year”

- It’s sort of weird, knowing you can’t get attached to anything because this might not be your home for the next seven years

- If you can survive that long anyway

- Still, you get caught up in it

- Playing pranks with George, Fred, and Lee

- Taking care of magical creatures with Charlie, Hagrid, and Barnaby

- Getting scolded by Professor McGonagall

- “Why did you transform your rat so that it could fly?” She asks, fingers rubbing her temple

- You shrug

- “I thought it would be funny”

- Being scolded by the prefects in your house that you’re going to lose them house points

- “Is this sabotage?” One of them hisses

- “No I’m just stupid” you reply warning slack-jawed expressions from them

- “Sorry about that” you add with a shrug

- You’re so busy trying to keep up with your schoolwork and occasional mischief that you don’t realize times almost up

- Gryffindor sends you off with a party, a rather boisterous one

- “You can forget us now that you’re going to Hufflepuff alright,” Lee says, clinking your glass of butterbeer against him

- “We’ll be awfully offended if we find out your scheming with pretty boy Diggory” George adds with a playful bump to your shoulder

- “Just might have to hex him if he tries to poach our most talented member” Fred adds and you laugh

- “Oh you’re laughing now, but don’t be surprised if you wake up one day and see Diggory sporting pink hair”

- You laugh even harder at that

- Professor sprout leads you to the Hufflepuff common room the next morning

- “The password is butterscotch,” she tells you, watching as the door unlocks and lets you in

- Standing behind is an entire group of children who all cheer when they see you

- Before you know what’s happening they’re carrying you inside on their shoulders

- The door closes only somewhat concealing muffled cheers

- Sprout shakes her head

- “Children will be children I suppose,” she says, smiling as she walks away

Tags: @parascape​ @imdoingathingmom​ @smileygirl08​ @awesomebooklover17​ @taferris @28cnn @atomicsoph

[give-grian-rights]

Bets Against The Void c5

@petrichormeraki bet you forgot I even had this fic ! Thank you again for the gift that is Whitelist AU, which feels like a lifetime ago (For Tommy it was !)

Chapter 1 Here

Last Chapter Here

Next Chapter Here

and AO3 Crossposted!

Ask to tag and give me a headsup on any typos ! c!Tubbo in my interpretation is they/them and blind.

The Hobbit Hole was more than Tommy expected. Birch-and-spruce windows poked out throughout the hillside, a round entrance carefully carved from the wood. Poking his head inside, the blond’s eyes darted across the spruce-built interior skeptically.

“..Thanks.” Tommy halfhartedly grumble, pulling his hand off the entrance. He warily stepped in, his hand resting on the doorway entrance for a moment as he investigated for potential traps.

“You’re..Sure we can just- stay here?” Tubbo asked once more, their head turned back towards the dirty blond stood aside the messy front garden.

“Of course, I swear, I don’t need another place to hoard stuff! Chances are, I’ll only be out here if I finally get around to moving my villagers out of their old setup.”  The older brit confirmed once more, his tone light. “Seriously, it’s not a big deal. Promise.”

Hesitantly nodding, Tubbo offered an appreciative smile his way before they turned back towards Tommy. “How’s it looking, then, Big Man?” They hummed, tilting their head.

“Fuckin’ cool as shit-” He glanced around, apprehensively surveying the ground for any traps.

“It needs a bit of cleanin’ up,” Stress chirped, sending a lighthearted glare towards Grian as he stuck out his tongue with a snicker. “We’d all be happy to help.” She finished, with a warm smile.

Tubbo politely nodded. “I think we’ll handle it. Thank you, again.” They ran their hand over the wooden arc in the entrance.

Grian shook his head. “Really, don’t worry about it. Stay here. Get settled. Either of us may be over to check up. Across the lake’s my neighbor, Scar, who you might see. But he shouldn’t come around here.” 

With a bit of exasperation, ready to be left alone, Tommy wordlessly nodded as he bounced his leg. 

Clearing his throat, Grian nodded. “Alright, then we’ll be out. We’ll see you two soon. Cya, Stress, thanks for the help!” He dipped his head towards the short brunette, who grinned bubbly back.

“See ya! Bye, loves.” Stress cooed, before deploying her glowing skeletal wings and ascending off with a quick poof of smoke.

Instinctively when the item had come to her hand, Tommy had thrown his arms around Tubbo’s ears- an action that didn’t go unnoticed by the sandy brunett man.

Grian simply put his hands up pacifying, as Tubbo was shrunk back curled, shielded away from where the brief poof was. “They’re duds, almost all fireworks here are duds.” He had calmly spoke, his tone soft. “I’ll come back to check up on you guys soon, ‘n make sure you have the supplies you need. You have free reign of that base!” Were his parting words, before he trotted off into the woodland.

Tommy uncurled himself from Tubbo. “You good, Bigman?” The blond tilted his head.

“Yeah,” Tubbo chuckled halfheartedly. “It doesn’t really.. Scare me it just- it startles me? Hearing it? ‘Cause I don’t really have time to prepare myself for the noise..Even if it’s not the same as- the kind from. Then.” Their voice wavered for a moment, before they took a shuttering breath. “Yeah, I’m fine, Man.”

“..Mhm..Alright.  Well, this set-up is better than just ‘bout half the shit on’ the SMP.” Tommy diverted the subject, sweeping his foot over the top of the floor, watching the small streak it left beneath a thin coat of dust.

Tubbo tilted their head. “Really? It smells..Very dusty-” They sneezed into their arm, sniffling. “I.. feel like it might need a bit of work, yeah?”

The blond boy shrugged. “Yeah.. We can see ‘bout gettin’ a towel wet or something and wiping all ths shit down?”

Humming in agreement, Tubbo felt around, listening to the words their Comm robotically had been reading off.

“I’ll see ‘bout findin’ shit. They’ve gotta have wool in some of these chests,”

With a bit of digging,  the two teens had gotten to work. Not everywhere in the practically abandoned place was dusty or dirty. A small lush crevice was fresh and clean- or, relatively so. Bright feathers had littered the area around it. A path from a window seal, which had been opened, and to said crevice was nearly spotless of debris outside of such molting feathers or a few leaves.

Now without dust on the outside, the two messed with the chests, rummaging through what could be found.

..Which was a lot. Just not in the places they had expected.

Out of the chests they had searched through, they managed to find almost a doublechest full of various stacked enchanted books-

“How..How did he just leave all of this here?” “Well, he has enough he defenitely won’t notice a few gone!”

A totem of undying in a michalanious chest-

“Woah.. WHAT THE SHIT..” “Dude… This is.. A gamechanger”

A golden apple held by an item frame-

“Finders keepers! This counts, its on a chest.” “Sick!”

Bafflingly, a diamond in the food chest-

“What the actual shit. WHAT THE ACTUAL SHIT-” “What? W- WHAT? WHY?”

Two enchanted, nearly broken bows with enchants- “Better than nothing, I’ll see about combinin’ them unless you feel like pinnin’ the tail on the donkey.” “..Sounds like a good plan, yah.”

And in the middle of the room, a chest with an enchanted diamond axe-

“..Fuck. Wow- There’s just a wholeass enchanted axe! What the fuck is the point of the itemframes if theres no system here?”

“Whats it enchanted with..?” “..Fortune? What a waste. Uhh, some efficiency, too.”

There wasnt much in the main storage room, but they werent quite willing to push their luck and explore too far. At least not until they got some food and set up some sort of gameplan.

The two teens distributed some of the loot they scavanged, damaged iron armor going to Tommy, a shovel to Tubbo and a spare shovel to Tommy, The totem of undying to Tubbo, and the two diamonds they scavenged turned into a diamond sword for Tubbo as well, with the axe and golden apple going to Tommy.

They turned their focus to food. The two sat beneath the support pillars against the walls, taking the time to eat  a handful of watermelon slices.

The wall of chests ahead of them had been broken, exposing the opened window with feathers trailing from it. It was an oddly live scene in the otherwise abandoned wooden hole.

Neither of them quite enjoyed the feeling of being holed in, or the small nature of the wall-home. Nor did either teen mention it.

Tommy explained the varying entrance ways from the mainroom. They had decided on splitting up soon, letting Tubbo find a place to dig out a room for the two of them, with Tommy going off and rummaging through more chests.

Tubbo found a dead-end room beneath a spruce-log room on the second story, and had begun trying to carve it out, as the other teen worked through more and more chests.

The blond eventually worked his way outside and into yard infront of the entrance, rummaging his way through the bits and pieces- the best so far, being another golden apple which he happily held onto.

Half way through his second chest, something caught his attention- or, more like, he caught something’s attention.

A blue, yellow-cheeked bird had fluttered around him, its head quirked curiously as it stared him down. Tommy shrinked.

“What the fuck do you want?” He squinted at the parrot as it lowered itself down onto the top of the open chest, hopping along the edge.

“F⚍ᓵꖌ!” The bird cooed in responded incoherently, chirping at him.

Tommy paused, eyes lighting up in realization. “Oi! You’re the one that flies into the house, huh?” 

In response, it turned it’s head away, nodding. “Hobbit!” It shrilled.

As Tommy had opened his mouth to respond, the hobbit himself, Grian, had flown down, sweeping down with a soft thud.

“Sorry! Uh, Professor Beak has a little spot in there. He likes to go n stay there most days, its a lot cozier than the mansion,” The older Brit chuckled apologetically, putting out his hand for the parrot. 

The blond boy snorted. “‘Professor Beak?’” He’d raise a brow.

The named bird chirped, stepping onto Grian’s wrist without hesitation. “Professor Ellen Taurtis Beak!” It cooed, its voice mimicking that of Grian himself.

It was… A strange display, to be sure.

Sheepishly, Grian hummed, running his spare hand through the bird’s feathers. “They may try ‘n break back in, they’re a pesky bird like that. I’m sorry for bothering you, though. You two doing good?”

“..Hm,,Yeah, thanks. Are you..Like, fuckin’ aware of all the stuff you’re leavin’?” Tommy eyed the strange man, folding his arms.

Grian merely gave a shrug. “Not really? But that just means they’re nothing important. If they help you both get started, they’re yours.”

Huh. Well, that was easy enough.

“..Right. Cool. Bye.” Tommy watched the man, as he easily nodded, striding off with his bird held by his chest.

The blond let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

“..This place is fucking weird.”

[agodth]

So uhm yeah... my first fic ever. I’m nervous. Please be kind, this is my first time posting my writing ever and I am not a native speaker...Please tell me what you think in the comments >_< I really need feedback. Also, not putting this in the sky tag.

Numbers couldn’t describe how long the Vault Kid has been dwelling inside the dark tower now. If you asked them for the reason why, they would tell you that the surrounding areas are too unsafe for a one-star Sky Kid like Zephanir. But in reality, part of them has given up. They didn’t want to leave the Vault and lose the feeling of safety that these tranquil halls gave them. Due to being isolated from other people for so long and only accepting essential interactions, they weren’t used to being around anyone anymore. Maybe in the past they would have been comfortable with having friends but nowadays, they value their seclusion more than affection.

Their new friend, who likes to call themselves their new sibling, was a fascinating exception. Not only did Agodth manage to befriend the Vault Kid, they also introduced them to another found sibling: their big “brother” Ciyas. Unfortunately, Ciyas lacks the “special” aura of Agodth that Vault Kid seems to like, making him just another regular Sky Kid in their eyes. This has prevented them from opening up to him more.

 Now, despite liking silence and solitude, Vault Kid wasn’t exactly the happiest Sky Kid… They would often end up sobbing quietly while in the safety of their hidden room in the archives or just staring into the void, seemingly in deep thought. Usually, there was no one who would be there for them in moments like these. Even Agodth didn’t visit the Vault regularly. And Ciyas simply hadn’t been able to: He had never managed to cross the Golden Wasteland. All he ever does is hunt crabs in the very first area and avoid the Krill that guards the destroyed diamond factory. Luckily, the chaos moth would accept a uber- request anytime. Not that they were very good at ubering… but at least they always tried their best to help wherever they could. And so, they were the one who lead Ciyas to the Vault for the first time, making it possible for him to use the portal in home space to get back to the otherworldly tower whenever he wanted.

It was pure coincidence that he planned a trip to this impressive storage of knowledge the same day that Vault Kid was outside their room to take lessons from the Spirits. But being sleep deprived as always, paying attention to them was rather hard. This severe lack of sleep and the frustration after not being able to listen to their “teachers” only lead to tears again. Of course, they tried their best not to cry where anyone could see them but they secretly wished that someone would see their tears and hug them for just a moment… …which would have cause another problem: Zephanir did NOT like being touched. It was quite a confusing situation: Simultaneously craving the warmth of a hug and not wanting to be touched. So instead, they decided to find a secluded area in the Vault, to meditate and reflect on the day so far.

They stayed there for a while. Long enough for a certain crab hunter to travel all the way through the Vault and find said secluded spot.

 “Hey, sibling!” He was excited but wasn’t really sure how to address them. Perhaps a bit awkward but he hoped they would recognize his voice. Which they did but… they ignored him regardless. So he came a bit closer.

 “How long have you been sitting here?” Yet another attempt at starting a conversation and it seemed to work.

 “I don’t know. What time is it?” From inside the Vault, Zephanir often didn’t even know if it was day or night.

 He could hear in their voice, that they were sad but he tried to stay cheerful in hopes that Vault Kid would cheer up, too.

“I’m not sure. I must be afternoon by now.”

 “Hm… not as long as I thought then.” It was futile. They wouldn’t cheer up.

 Ciyas knew he had to try something else to help Zephanir escape their own thoughts for a bit so he sat down next to them and changed his tone from happy and carefree to calm and serious. “Don’t you want to leave?”

 Vault Kid turned away from Ciyas a bit. Being close to a stranger made them uncomfortable after all. “No.”

 It was painfully obvious that they were suffering and Ciyas considered helping them his duty as their new brother. So he tried again.

“Wouldn’t you rather go and see the flowers and the sky again? Or the snow? Wouldn’t you rather have a snowball fight in the Valley?”

 That last question caught their attention and they turned to him, their glowing eyes wide open. “Yes…” they whispered.

“But… I haven’t left the Vault in years.”

 “We don’t have to tell anyone!” He reached out his hand but kept it at a safe distance to let his sibling decide if they wanted to grab it or not.

 They didn’t. But they got up and nodded at him. Seems like they made a decision…

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

More Hermong Us requests! I have a lot, feel free to ignore the ones that don't inspire you if the spam gets to be too much

The round from the latest stream where Brody and Tango are lovers, and Brody kills in front of Tango and he has to go through all the stages of realization/freaking out/trying to calm down/deciding to cover for him, just in time to speak up at the meeting...I can't even remember if they won or not, but I love the whole sneaky pact dynamic of an impostor-crewmate lovers team so much and I know you'd write it so well :)

i feel like i need to clarify that even though it’s called the “lovers” role, this is not shippy in any way :) it’s not meant to be read as ship so please dont tag as ship

…

At the end of the first meeting of the round, when Skizz and Impulse’s bodies were reported and nobody was ejected, Tango trots after Brody and catches up with him in storage, linking arms with him. “Heeeyyy,” he says in a singsong voice.

“Hey,” Brody responds warmly. What’s up?”

“I think you know what’s up,” says Tango, making an exaggerated kissy face.

Brody snickers and pushes his friend’s face away. “Don’t do that, man. We’re not supposed to let people know we’re the lovers, remember.”

“What, are you embarrassed for our friends to find out about our looooooove?”

“Ooookay, I’m going now.”

Tango grins as he watches Brody pick up speed and round the corner, before heading into communications to do his task. He loves teasing his lover partners. Considering the lovers role is quite high-risk, it can be tense at times. So Tango likes to mess around a bit more.

He completes this task and has just finished the shields task when another body is reported.

Tango stays silent throughout the subsequent meeting, letting his thoughts drift away. There’s only six people left; a double kill would end the game. And it’s not like Tango’s seen anything that would be of use.

“If nobody can stand up for you, I’m voting you out,” Brody is saying. “Tango?”

Tango blinks, glancing up at his friend. “Hm?”

“Can you vouch for Etho?”

Tango’s gaze flickers to Etho, who’s watching him pleadingly. “Sorry,” he says quietly. “I haven’t seen him.”

“Then I’m voting Etho,” Brody says. “I suggest you all do the same.”

Even though he hasn’t paid much attention to the meeting, Tango decides to trust his lover and votes for Etho, who votes for Brody. But it’s not enough to save him.

After Etho’s been ejected, Tango quickly heads for security to finish his penultimate task: the final wiring task. Now he only has one more: a task in electrical that he’s been putting off for as long as possible. Once that one is finished, he decides he’ll go find Brody and stick with him. He trusts Brody implicitly.

As Tango rounds the corner outside of lower engine, he spots Brody himself coming out of electrical. His lover doesn’t stop, but he does give a friendly smile and wave.

Smiling back, Tango starts to head into electrical but stops dead as the strong scent of blood hits him like a brick wall.

Then his eyes land on Evil’s dead body lying in front of the lightbox.

His stomach drops and he hurriedly dashes out of the room, running back the way he came. He darts into security and sits down heavily against the wall, hardly able to breathe as he digests what he just saw.

Brody JUST came out of electrical. There’s no way he’s not the killer.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god-!” Tango gasps out over and over. He’s freaking out and he has no idea what to do.

Brody got Etho ejected. He’s killed at least one person, likely more. Tango is the person who reported Impulse’s body during the first part of the game… What if Brody is the one who put it there?

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get long to calm himself down, as Evil’s body is reported a few seconds later.

Tango takes a deep breath as he realises Brody must’ve returned to self-report. Astro and Joker are the only two left. He knows Astro is safe, so the other imposter must be Joker.

Joker and Brody. His lover.

Tango knows it’s just a game. But the lovers role has created a bond between Tango and Brody that feels so raw and real, as if they really are soulmates. And to find out now that his lover is the killer…

“I found Evil in electrical,” Brody reports. “I saw no-one around.”

Tango’s brain is scrambled.

“I was in reactor doing my last task,” says Joker. “The counting one.”

WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO I DO-

“I was all the way over in weapons,” Astro says. “I was looking around for dead bodies.”

I know what I have to do.

“I-I was with Brody when we discovered the body,” Tango blurts out before he can stop himself. “I can vouch for him.”

He briefly makes eye contact with Brody, who gives him the smallest of frowns.

“In that case, it must be Joker,” Astro says. “Right?”

Tango momentarily stops breathing. This is it. Brody has a choice to make right now; will he choose his imposter partner or his lover?

Finally, Brody responds, “Yeah, it’s gotta be Joker.”

“What? No!” Joker glares pointedly at him. “What are you doing? We’ve been together so much this game.”

“Sorry, but Astro’s story checks out and I was with Tango. Nobody else it can be.”

Joker furiously opens his mouth to reply but he happens to glance over at Tango, who steadily meets his gaze, and stops dead, clearly realising what’s going on. Realising too late that he doesn’t have a chance.

“I hate you both,” he snaps. “Astro, you’ve been totally duped and I feel sorry for you. Mmn, actually, no, I don’t.”

Confident in the knowledge that everyone else has already voted, Tango sidles closer to Brody and links arms with him. He knows that Brody is a killer, but he still feels the urge to be close to Brody, to seek comfort from him. Maybe it’s their many years of friendship, maybe it’s their platonic bond made stronger by the lovers role. Either way, he knows they’ve won this round.

Astro spots this and sighs. “Ah. I should’ve known.”

“Yeah, you should have,” snaps Joker.

Astro shoots him a scowl. “You’ve been in this situation before, Joker. You know that if you’re the fourth person in this scenario, you have zero chance of winning. And frankly, I’d like at least ONE crewmate to win.”

Joker scowls back at him for a moment before sighing. “Fair enough.”

He votes for himself, creating a unanimous decision.

Back in the lobby, Tango glances over and happens to meet Brody’s gaze. He can feel that the lovers bond has disappeared.

“Nice job staying alive,” Brody chuckles.

Tango opens his mouth to reply but Joker interrupts, “Dude, you’ve no idea how close you were to getting killed, there. The only thing that saved you was Brody going “mm mm, mm mm” at me.”

“Like “bad idea, bad idea”, yeah,” laughs Brody. “Sorry, Joker.”

Joker grins back. “No worries.”

“Honestly, I was undecided about which one of you to betray until that final meeting, when Tango said we were together even though we weren’t. You must’ve been aware that I was the imposter at that point, right?”

“I only realised it JUST then,” responds Tango. “When I stumbled onto Evil’s body in electrical just seconds after I saw you come out of there. I realised you had to be the killer.”

“And you still decided to cover for me?”

“It was my only chance of winning, really. I couldn’t risk you getting ejected cuz then I’d die too.”

Brody grins and nudges him. “And that’s the only reason, hm?”

Tango frowns at him. “Huh?”

“It wasn’t cuz you didn’t want your beloved lover to die?”

After a moment, Tango rolls his eyes amusedly. “Okay, maybe it was a little bit that. A tiny bit.”

Brody’s grin widens. “Uh huh. Anyway, when you covered for me, that’s when I decided I was gonna stick with you.”

“For better or for worse,” teases Tango.

Joker rolls his eyes and makes a disgusted noise. “Bleh. Guys, you’re not "lovers" anymore. No need to act like it.”

“I think Joker’s just jealous,” Brody responds, grinning.

“Jealous? Of having a fake lover who murders people in cold blood? Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Oh, I cannot WAIT for the round you get to be lovers with someone,” Tango laughs.

Brody gives Joker a light punch on the shoulder. “I’d feel sorry for his partner, honestly.”

“I hate you both.”

[whumblr]

Training

Home is where the hurt is: Part 1 - Continued from Part 9

Tagging: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @hurtmebeautifully @rougenoirofthepurpleterror @barbed--wire @susiequaz12 @mnmlover2002

-

Jay leaned over on the sink, examining his face in the bathroom mirror. A nasty bruise was forming right on his cheekbone. His fingers tapped lightly around the discoloured skin and he winced a little.

“What’s this?” A cold voice sounded next to him, making Jay jump. He hadn’t noticed Zayne, who had been waiting for him in the living room and now stood watching in the open doorway across the bedroom.

“Please just let me know you’re here instead of sneaking up on me,” Jay huffed and turned around, making sure to turn his face right, away from Zayne.

“Show me,” Zayne ordered. In two steps, he entered the bathroom, got up close and grasped Jay’s chin between two fingers.

Jay fell back, his hands behind him clutching onto the edge of the sink trying to create some distance. He waited for the chuckle, the sharp pain that would follow as a thumb would press hard into the bruise, the gloating of seeing him in pain. Instead he heard a soft hiss and growl. Jay looked up in surprise and found Zayne’s eyes flashing in anger.

“Who?” Zayne simply asked.

“What? No one, no it’s not what you think!”

“Don’t lie to me, Jay,” Zayne growled in his most dangerous voice.

Jay tilted his chin out of his grasp and looked him in the eyes. “I swear, it was just a training accident. I messed up while sparring because…” Annoyance showed in his eyes and his tone turned accusing. “Well, you can guess where my mind has been, I’m sure.”

“Sparring?” Zayne questioned, his doubt apparent, but he still stepped back to give Jay some space. “Since when do you, what, do you have self-defence training or something?”

“I’m not discussing this with you.” Jay wrung himself past Zayne out of the confining bathroom. Zayne wasn’t having it, though. He pulled Jay back by his shoulder and slammed him into a wall.

“You’ve been training so you can fight me off, is that it?” He pushed his forearm hard against Jay’s throat, pinning him in place. Jay just glared at him.

“Since when?”

“After you… since last time we…” Jay struggled to find the right words. “Two years ago,” he settled on, knowing well that Zayne would catch his drift.

Zayne smiled and pushed away. “I didn’t know that our week together made such an impact, Jay. So you couldn’t stomach the fact that I beat the everlasting shit out of you, hm?”

His question was met with silence. Jay would argue that ‘beating the everlasting shit out of him’ was in fact an understatement, but he kept his mouth shut.

“Yet you haven’t tried it out.”

Zayne knew perfectly well how he’d driven Jay into a corner. Any attempt of resisting or fighting back would be retaliated on others and Jay wasn’t risking any of it. Besides, the moments that would have been perfect, heck that actually required him defending himself, hadn’t offered him the luxury of moving let alone using his skills. Fear had that little side effect.

“You know sparring can only get you so far, right? I think we should test out your skills… after all, that’s why you started training, am I right? To be able to hold your own against me. It’s kinda cute, actually. I’ll give you this one for free.”

“I’m not fighting you here and no, we’re not taking this outside.”

“Ugh,” Zayne grunted in frustration and dramatically turned away. “Kind of you though,” he said over his shoulder, “that you’re willing to let an opportunity where the cops are called on me slip through your fingers.”

He turned back to Jay slowly with a sly expression and a more tempting offer.

“Tell you what. If you win, I’ll leave you alone for a week.”

Now those words got Jay’s attention and while he did his best to keep his face blank, Zayne could clearly see he was, reluctantly, mulling it over.

Jay turned away from him with a sigh and grabbed his keys.

“There’s a storage room downstairs. We can try there.”

On the outside, Jay stayed cool, even a little grumpy being forced into this. On the inside though, he was sure he could hear church bells and a soft Hallelujah chorus echoing in the back of his mind. It was a bit of a gamble but a week (a week!) of freedom was too good to pass up. Hell! If he could prove to both himself and to Zayne that he could fight him off, life would certainly be a lot brighter. He would—! His mood soured instantly. He would just be brought down back to earth when Zayne would threaten to kill his friends. Well, he’d just take that week of bliss then.

He led Zayne downstairs to the main hallway of the two-story building, Zayne bouncing down behind him with a soft hum and an annoying spring in his step. Upstairs, Jay had a bit more room than his downstairs neighbour. The ground floor held another apartment like Jay’s, but also a shared space for storage.

“I bumped into your neighbour once, you know,” Zayne said. “He asked what the noise was about.”

Jay’s heart almost stopped as he unlocked the door to the storage. “What did you tell him?”

“Apologized for the loud sex.” Zayne shrugged. He grinned as he noticed Jay’s appalled face. “Better than the truth, right? Shut him right up, too.”

Jay grunted something. Luckily, they wouldn’t need to use that cover too much. Hank worked nightshifts so by the time Jay got off work, he was already gone. A little detail that Jay would never surrender to Zayne. It would only spur him on to get Jay to scream more or louder.

A click of the lock, a creak of the door. Zayne’s footsteps echoed through the mostly empty room, dust flicking up with every step.

It wasn’t much of a room. More like a concrete box. The only thing actually stored was an old bulky sofa that neither the occupants nor the landlord was willing to drag outside. Jay could store his bike here, but it was easier to just park it outside or in the shed. He only parked it here when he had a week off.

Zayne turned on his heels. To Jay’s irritation he looked way too excited about this.

“I’ll let you have the first shot, doesn’t that sound fair?” Zayne didn’t adopt a fighting stance, just stood there, his arms down. Only his expression betrayed a lust to fight.

Jay’d rather be on the defence, as that was what his classes had been teaching him. Defend. Deflect. Disable. But whatever. The second shot would probably force him to defend anyway and he wasn’t going to let a first chance to punch Zayne in his smug face slip through his fingers.

He slipped the keys into his pocket, but hesitated and kept them locked in his fist. The memory of his teacher came to mind, telling him to use any object you have. He let the keys slide between his fingers and pulled back out of his pocket.

Zayne noticed the keys poking out of his fist like tiny little blades and, with a little nudge of his head and a smirk, agreed.

“Go ahead. Use that. I’ll show you how useless it is. I don’t mind beating it into you.”

Confident shit, aren’t you. Fine! Jay was about to lunge forward but caught himself. Attacking in anger wouldn’t help. Instead, he took in his target, still wide open for that first attack. But there was something brewing underneath and Jay knew that if he missed, the tables would quickly turn.

His fist tightened around the keys as a plan formed. The feeling of the cold metal already scratching painfully against his fingers told him not to try to get a hit in like this. It would just cut his hand open. But, he could use it as a distraction and still get that smirk off of Zayne’s face.

He leapt at Zayne swinging his keys with the full intent of gauging his eyes out. Zayne swerved and dodged. Jay grinned as Zayne moved exactly as he hoped and he brought his other fist up to catch Zayne as he swerved towards him. But before he even got that far, a blow to his stomach cut off his assault.

It wasn’t a brutal blow but unexpected. It still knocked the air out of him and Jay fell back a step coughing. Zayne quickly stepped in and grabbed his right hand, squeezing hard against the keys still pressed between Jay’s fingers.

Jay yelped as the metal ridges nicked the skin and crushed against bone. His own grip on the keys slackened, but Zayne kept squeezing his hand around his until…

“Let go! Okay! Let go!”

The keys fell to the ground with a soft jingle. Zayne kicked them away as Jay hunched over, but it wasn’t necessary. Jay just groaned and cradled his now bleeding hand. Okay, so that had been a bad idea.

“Told ya it was useless.”

“What about that free shot?” Jay grumbled.

“Gave it to you, dodged and that was the end of it.” Zayne waved it away.

Ugh. Would’ve been such a nice chance. Maybe he could get another opportunity in. Jay straightened up but Zayne didn’t give him the time to get his head straight. Jay startled and stumbled back as Zayne strode towards him.

“Don’t you back away from me, Jay. Show me what you’ve learned.”

Fuck. Jay caught himself, the taunt lighting a new determination in him. An anger.

“Fine, then. Bring it!”

Jay dodged, swerved, side-stepped, and deflected. All conscious movements of what he had learned until adrenaline took over. A light euphoria hit him. He could do this! He was fighting him off. Zayne couldn’t touch him. But just defending wouldn’t get him his price. His week off. He needed to take a risk, needed to turn the tides.

So when he saw his opening, he moved right in to get past Zayne and go for a jab to the back of the neck. Zayne however, spun around with him, smiling down on him. Jay grit his teeth. Oh, no you’re not. He swung his fist back side-ways as Zayne slipped past and—

The grin on Zayne’s face widened. His hand shot out, grabbed Jay by the throat and used his momentum against him, pushing him further back. He sealed the deal with a kick to the back of his legs and Jay’s world swirled.

No! Not yet!

Jay landed full on his back with a gasp but immediately rolled away before Zayne could pin him under his boot.

He sprang to his feet. Needed to get a final blow in while Zayne was still unsteady. But his swing was too wide. Zayne easily blocked. Grabbed his wrist and twisted it hard to his back. Zayne’s other arm hooked around his neck, pressed Jay against him and--

A blade nudged against his Adam’s apple and Jay froze.

“Now what, Rambo?” He practically heard Zayne’s grin through the words.

“That’s not—“

“Fair? Well, do something about it then.”

Jay tensed up further when he felt the knife draw a tiny little cut. He knew what to do. Create distance from that accursed knife. Pull it away. Better a cut to the chest than to his vulnerable neck. But his hand pulled uselessly against Zayne’s arm and his body refused to cooperate.

Fuck’s sake, he knew Zayne wasn’t going to slit his throat. He knew that! So why—why wouldn’t his body just—

The cold steel disappeared and Zayne threw him to the ground.

“I win.”

Jay pushed himself up to his arms and knees, his hand instinctively reached up to his neck to check for damage.

“You got some moves, Jay, I’ll give you that. But what your class doesn’t teach you is pushing through the fear.”

Two years. Everything he learned these past two years, even the mindset he had tried to develop… That learning all this would help. That he wouldn’t let it happen again. He would be prepared this time.

But when push came to shove, he is held back by fear.

The fact that Zayne was just playing around didn’t help either. Just curious about how Jay would handle this instead of worrying about himself in a fight. Testing him even.

His fist tightened, leaving soft stripes in the dust. What did it even matter? Even if he could use what he learned, Zayne would just twist his arm by threatening everyone around him. He couldn’t win.

“Okay, fine. You won. What do you want?”

“Nothing. Like I said, I gave you this one for free. This was more than enough.”

For some reason Jay didn’t feel like he was given this without any cost. The one who got what he wanted was, as ever, Zayne. Leaving Jay in the dust. Literally.

“Just tell me a little something.” Zayne stood back, waiting for Jay to scramble to his feet. “That training, did it help? At first?”

At first? Those first couple of weeks after he was released from hospital? Wounds healed, scars settled, yet going out of his mind with fear?

“Yes.”

It had helped. To gain back a smidge of control of his own mind. Even though, he realised now, it may have just been an elaborate placebo. But yes, taking the lessons had helped reduce the fear in his mind, kept the nightmares at bay and helped him to go through dark nights on his own without having to fear if something, someone, was still coming.

Zayne walked past him with a pat on the shoulder. “Then just keep going.”

-

Continued here

[sleepingcrisis]

Made this for @like-a-festival or founders week!

This is just the day three prompt (a day in the park) anyway hopefully this makes up for no age swap content!

***

"To the park! To the park! To the park! To the park! To the park!" Kojiro practically skipped as he tugged Kaoru along.

"Slow down! You have bigger legs then me!" Kaoru whined. "Freaky monkey," he muttered with a huff.

"Don't call me that! Four eyes!" Kojiro shot right back and flicked the center part of Kaoru’s rounded glasses.

At the age of 9 years old Kojiro and Kaoru made there way to the park. They went to the park despite Kaoru being an indoor kid. They made their way to the park despite Kojiro having homework he should really catch up on.

The two went to the park, hand in hand, and met a friend.

"I wanna play tag," Kojiro mentioned as he pushed Kaoru on the swing (a common occurrence for them when they went to the park because Kaoru didn't want to play tag).

"You can't play tag with two people," Kaoru mentioned in a very matter-of-fact way.

"So if I find someone else then we can play?" Kojiro asked.

Kaoru rolled his eyes. Of course Kojiro would say that. He carefully jumped off the swing (nearly stumbling in the process) before he went over to Kojiro.

"I can't even keep up with you in tag," Kaoru said with a shrug.

"That is a lie and you know it!" Kojiro huffed all defensively. He took Kaoru’s hand once more.

Hand in hand they went to find a friend.

It was a perfectly well known fact that Kaoru liked holding hands, and because he had mention this once over apple juice at school, Kojiro opted to hold his hand whenever possible. Sometimes they would walk hand in hand, other times it would be their pinkies locked together, and sometimes Kaoru would just hold onto one of Kojiro’s fingers. Rarely were they not making some sort of physical contact, and they liked it this way.

They search around the park until they spot a blue haired boy talking with what looks like his mom (she wasn't his mom but they don't know that). By the way his foot gently bounces on the ground it is obvious that he is waiting for the all clear to go.

"We should ask him," Kojiro whispered.

"Why is that?"

"He looks around our age!" With that reasoning in place they make their way towards the blue haired boy and, without waiting if his conversation with his aunt is done, Kojiro taps him on the shoulder.

"Can you play tag with us?" Kojiro asked. Kaoru feels his face heat up in embarrassment and hides himself behind his friend's larger frame.

"Oh uh—" the boy looks to his aunt for permission. With her nod he smiles slightly and nods eagerly to the green and pink haired boy.

A tradition sparks from this. Every Saturday they meet at the park. The blue haired boy isn't always there but Kaoru and Kojiro stop by anyway and wait to see if he will show up. When he does show up they play tag or some other kind of game. It doesn't even cross their minds that they don't know his name. Until one fateful Saturday...

"Look what I got!" The blue haired boy pipes up and shows them this piece of wood with four wheels attached.

"That is a skateboard," Kaoru mentioned. It causes the question blooming on Kojiro’s tongue to die and Kaoru smiled a bit at his superior knowledge.

"Now I will be 'Ainosuke: The greatest skateboarder there is'!"

"Your name is Ainosuke?" Kaoru asked.

"Oh—" Ainosuke felt his face warm. "Yeah, I thought I had told you two— wait what is your names?"

"I'm Kojiro!"

"I'm Kaoru." They both speak with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

"Hm..." Ainosuke trailed off.

"What's wrong?" Kaoru asked and wondered if there was something wrong with their names.

"Nothin' I was just thinking about how I brought my skateboard but I don't want you two to have to sit and watch and I guess I don't want to skate alone," he explained. Face brightening in embaressment.

"Oh," Kaoru and Kojiro both make the noise. Kaoru squeezes his hold on Kojiro’s finger in a silent communication.

"Well then we can learn with you! Give us a bit and we can be better then you anyway!" Kojiro decided.

"You two don’t even have boards—"

"Which is why you are sharing until we get some," Kaoru cut him off.

"Okay!" Ainosuke agrees easily enough.

***

Ainosuke has always been a sentimental man, having keep sakes and treasures that remind him of what once was.

"Mr. Ainosuke? I found this old board when cleaning out the storage room, what would you have done to it?"

The voice of his assistant cuts through.

Ainosuke looks over and there it is. A board scratched beyond recognition. He carefully takes it from Tadashi and flips it over to look at the bottom. Engraved sloppily in the wood of the skateboard is 'we will hold your hand if you let us'. It had been the pinnacle of poetry back then (with Kojiro trying to argue that it didn't even rhyme).

Ainosuke felt his shoulders shake and spasm while his chest tightened... he wondered if this was still true.

"Send it to Sia la Luce please," Ainosuke muttered.

Tadashi looked confused but nodded and took it back all the same.

"Yes sir."

[marvel-wlw]

Another Survivor (2/?)

Claire Redfield x Ada Wong x OFC

Requested by: @blackwidowfan517

Request: Maybe for part 2 of Another Survivor it could about Maya and Claire entering the hallway from the Reception area where they found two dead officers that were killed by a Licker before continuing on until they arrived at the West Office where they took care of the zombies and explored the office. Maya would find her desk and solve the puzzle to unlock it and found an upgrade part for the Samurai Edge. (Maybe add a scene where Maya finds a spade door and made a comment saying, "Huh...what a weird fucking door.") And as they explore around other rooms, Maya and Claire would get to know each other better and Claire would learn that the jacket Maya was always wearing had originally belong to the reader. (Maybe add a flashback scene where the reader gave Maya her jacket?)when they arrived at the men's locker room only to find that the path to the shower room is blocked off by hot steam and Maya would make a comment saying, "Aw, come on! Seriously, who's the jackass that fucked this place up?" And Claire would find a portable safe box and she would try to solve it but has no luck until Maya quickly solved the puzzle and opened the safe box. When Maya and Claire head up to the 3rd floor, that was when they saw a glimpse of the Licker passing by the window and on the way down the hall that was when Maya had noticed a note left by David regarding the Licker and she would read it. And when they entered the storage room, that was when Maya found another note written by someone else, which would cause Maya to frown a bit when she realized the note was possibly written by Chief Irons as she kept the note with her before leaving the room with Claire as they entered the Library where Marvin would contact them via radio, telling them to meet him at the Main Hall. (Maybe add a scene where Claire was about to check out the room that leads to the Main Hall on the 3rd floor but the bridge that leads to it broke down cause Claire to fall but Maya quickly managed to grab her by her wrist before pulling her up to safety?)After getting the Unicorn medallion and the red book, Maya and Claire would head back to the Main Hall where they learn from Marvin that Leon was outside in the Courtyard waiting by the gate on the East Side.

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from Resident Evil.

Part one

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from Resident Evil.

Tag list: @casey-anne-j ​​ @softgamerking ​​ @morbid-gaymer ​​ @geekycatlover ​​ @rainydaysrnevergrey​​ @natalia-helena-alianova-romanov @alphalesbianwolf ​​  @dykse​​ @autumnjackson4​​ @1-danid ​​ @dynnealberto  @natasharomanoffswife ​​​ @aquariuslavenderhoney ​​ @spywidownat @nctxrejects

You Want S.T.A.R.S.? I'll Give You S.T.A.R.S. series.

A/N: I hope you guys like it! 😊 This gif isn't mine, credit goes to whoever made it! Also italics will be used for flashbacks or thoughts and also notes.

Maya slowly walked ahead of Claire, gun held in front of her just in case. They enter the hallway from the Reception area, what they saw made them freeze as their blood ran cold from the sight.

As they slowly made their way closer Maya knelt down next to the body of one of the two dead officers.

"Oh god." Maya whispered in horror. She stood up and looked at the dead officer that was hanging from a pipe. What the hell could've done this?

Taking a few deep breaths Maya and Claire continue on. After they climbed through the window and landed in another hallway they quickly take out some zombies in their way.

Once the coast was clear Maya let's out a sigh. She looked over at Claire. "You okay?"

Claire nods. "I'm okay, you?"

"I'm okay." Maya gives Claire a small smile.

Maya looked around and noticed the West Office. "Let's check of the West Office, see if we can find anything."

Claire nods in agreement. The two of then carefully enter the office and taking out the two zombies in the room. Once the zombies were taken care of Claire and Maya walk around the office.

That was when Maya found her desk. She tilts her head to the side slightly as she noticed there was some sort of puzzle that she she had to solve to unlock her desk.

Sighing she grabbed the note and read it. Once she did she quickly solved the puzzle and unlocked her desk. When it was unlocked she found an upgrade for her sister's Samurai Edge.

She smiled and put the upgrade on her Samurai Edge. Maya began to walk around the office a bit more and that was when she noticed the door that most likely lead back to the main hall.

But the door had a spade symbol on it. She tried to open it but it was locked. "Huh... what a weird fucking door."

xxxxx

As Maya and Claire explore around the other rooms, they both got to know each other better.

"Nice jacket." Maya said to Claire.

She smiled. "Thanks, Chris gave it to me." She looked over at Maya. "I like your jacket too."

Maya looked down, she smiled. "Thanks, (Y/N) gave it to me. It was her jacket."

xxxxx

Maya took a deep breath and knock on the door to her sister's apartment. Both Hailee and (Y/N) had shared the apartment but when Hailee was killed (Y/N) was moving in with Jill.

Maya understand when you were moving. Too many painful memories, even though they were all good memories, it would've been hard to stay in the apartment.

(Y/N) opened the door, she gave her younger sister a small smile and let her inside. Maya could tell she had been crying by how red and puffy her eyes were.

Once the door was closed (Y/N) went over to Maya and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I wanted you to come over because I wanted to give you something."

"Sis, you don't need to give me anything." Maya tried to tell her.

(Y/N) just gave her sister and smile. "I want you to have this and I'm not taking no for an answer." She grabbed the gift and went over to Maya, she held it out to her.

Maya looked at it before looking back at (Y/N), she nods and motions for her to take it. Sighing she took the gift, it was in one of those boxes you would get from a clothing store.

She slowly opened the box and gasped when she saw what was inside. She looked at (Y/N) before taking out the jacket. It was (Y/N)'s favorite jacket, there wasn't a moment she hadn't wore it.

"But sis, this is your favorite jacket... I can't accept this." Maya tried to hand it back to her.

(Y/N) shook her head. "Maya I want you to have it, please."

She knew there was no way out of taking the jacket, sighing she put on the jacket to try it on.

She looked at (Y/N) who had a smile on her face. "See Maya, it fits you perfectly!"

xxxxx

Claire and Maya slowly make their way into the men's locker room only to find the path to the shower room is blocked off by hot steam.

"Aw, come on!" Maya groans. "Seriously, who's the jackass that fucked this place up?"

While Maya was opening one of the lockers Claire had found a portable safe box. She tried to solve it but she didn't have any luck.

"Hey Maya take a look at what I found." Claire called over to Maya.

Maya walked over to Claire, curious as to what she found. "Hm, let me see if I can solve it."

Claire hands Maya the portable safe box. After a little bit Maya was able to solve the puzzle and open the safe box.

When they make their to the third floor Maya had noticed something on the desk. She went over to it and saw a spade key.

"This will definitely come in handy." Maya grabbed the key and handed it to Claire.

Claire and Maya walk through the door but freeze when they saw something pass by the window. After a few seconds they continued on.

When they went down the hall Maya had noticed a note. She went over and read it. It was by someone named David.

To any survivors,

Consider this a gift for anyone still unfortunate enough to be alive.

Keep your eyes peeled for thise creepy fucks that looked like they were skinned alive- "lickers," we call 'em. They're blind as bats, but their hearing more than makes up for that.

So long as you don't run around like a total idiot, guns a-blazing, you should be able to slip right by them... probably.

Either way, make like my grandma and creep around as slow as possible around 'em, yeah?

Anyway, not that I wanna go, but duty calls. That, and I've got a friend to avenge. - David

"So those things are called Lickers. Good to know." Maya shows Claire the note.

The two of them walked into the storage room. By the look of the room both Maya and Claire to scrunch up their noses.

Walking through the room Maya had found another note. But this note was written by someone else.

Damn those corporate assholes! They cut me off! After all I've done for them! But if that's how it's gonna be, so be it. I'm gonna have a little fun of my own as the world goes to shit.

I boarded all those filthy pigs up in a steel pen, and set some C4. All I gotta is detonate it and it's "sayonara suckers!"

But it's no fun if it's over too soon, so maybe I'll give that one raving loon something to really squeal about.

Yeah, maybe I'll give him a little toy and tell him, "Kill the guy next to you and I'll spare the others." I wonder what he'll do.

You yell about "justice" and "pride" but how many times did you go against me, your own superior?

Yeah, you're such a good cop... So good you had to die.

Man is this fun. I need some music for this.

After reading the note Maya frowned a bit once she realized the note was possibly written by Chief Irons. She decided to keep the note with her.

Soon after Maya put the note away, her and Claire left the room and entered the Library. Suddenly the radio went off and they heard Marvin. He told them to meet him back at the Main Hall.

Claire walked towards the door on the left. "I'm going to check of what's behind this door real quick."

It all happened so fast. As soon as Claire set foot on a certain part on the floor it broke. Causing Claire to fall but Maya was right behind her and she quickly managed to grab her by her wrist. Maya quickly pulled Claire to safety. But Claire ended up landing onto of Maya, their faces were so close together.

"Y-You okay?" She asked Claire, Maya started to become flustered by the position they were in.

She nods, blushing. "Yea... yea I'm okay. Thanks Maya."

Maya blushed even more. "D-Don't mention it."

After Maya helped Claire stand up they both went to get the Unicorn medallion and they also found a red book. Once they had those two things they started to head back to the Main Hall.

"Hey you two." Marvin greets them, trying to hid his pain. "Look at this."

Claire and Maya look at the camera feed and they're really relieved to see Lean. "Well shit. He finally made it." Maya said.

"You two know him?"

Claire nods. "That's Leon Kennedy."

Marvin nods. "Ah, the other rookie. I thought he looked familiar." He move a bit. "He's at the gate on the East Side."

After Marvin told them how to get to the East Side gate Maya and Claire give each other a smile before making their way to meet up with Leon.