#homemade is fine. which doesn’t quite track here but you get it

[tacit-semantics]

FINALLY beat radical rescue it has been one billion years oh my god

[wondersofdreaming]

Third time’s the charm

Characters: Henry Cavill x 3rd person female reader (the reader in this story has been described as someone with long brown hair, hazel eyes and not very tall)

Word count: 1.705

Warnings: Fluff. Insecurity. Doubt. Chasing. Jumping. 

Author’s note: Thank you @radaofrivia​ for your guidance and your help <3

Go read her stories right here: Rada’s masterlist

Sentences in square brackets are Kal’s thoughts. Sentences in italics are Henry’s thoughts.

I do not own any characters in this short story, except the reader who is a figment of my imagination.

MASTERLIST

Feedback is appreciated.

It was a lovely day. The sun was shining brightly in the clear blue sky. Not a cloud present. The birds were chirping in the trees, and people were chatting away around him.

His hulking size of a fluffball dog was trotting happily beside him. Kal’s long tongue was sticking out between his sharp fangs, panting and drooling all over the uneven pathway.

He watched as a couple walked past him. They were smiling, and the woman was laughing at a joke her boyfriend had just cracked. It made him long for a special someone in his life he could crack jokes to, a someone who would laugh at his sense of humour, someone with a genuine laugh.

Henry filled his nostrils with the fresh air. He felt the vibrations of children's laughter through the ground. His heart was yearning to hear the giggles of his own flesh and blood, and it clouded his already saddened mind.

He hadn’t noticed that Kal had been sniffing the ground. His ears perked with interest as his nose found a scent that made his mouth water. Kal galloped across the park without warning, making Henry lose his grasp on the leash.

[Something smells yummy!]

“Kal!” Henry yelled at the black and white dog, but it was too late. Kal was already out of sight, following his nose to whatever had caught his attention. Henry wandered around the park. His heart was beating so fast it felt as if it would jump out of his chest. A million scenarios ran through his mind: What if something happened to Kal? What if someone dog-napped Kal? What if Kal hurt someone?

Henry searched all over the park but to no avail until he heard a loud scream coming from behind a group of trees. Shit!

The run towards where the scream came from felt as if it took forever. Time was standing still as he neared the trees. He first noticed the bushy tail, then the rest of Kal’s body, standing atop a woman who was loving up all the licks Kal was giving her. She managed to push the large dog off her body, while her delicate hands were giving him scritches all over his fluffy fur coat.

“You’re such a good boy,” he heard her sweet silvery voice say, then a bark came from his wayward dog.

[Yes, Kal is a good booooy… oh yeah, right there. More scritches!]

Henry let out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding in since Kal went missing. Thank god!

“Kal!” Henry yelled over the sound of giggles coming from the woman. He started walking towards them but stopped in his tracks like a deer in headlights when the woman looked up. Her hazel eyes shone with excitement, and the grin on her perfectly succulent lips made his heart skip a beat. Henry felt like he had been struck by lightning, suddenly unable to move as he watched the dark-haired angel stand. She dusted off the dirt from her jeans and walked towards him. She seemed unharmed even after having been hammered by Kal, who probably weighed more than she did.

“You must be this dog’s owner. He really scared me, when he suddenly jumped on my back,” she giggled a melodious sound.

Henry’s brain finally started working again, the gears turning behind his eyes as he was processing what she had just told him. Kal; his sweet mild-tempered fluffball, who wouldn’t hurt a fly; had jumped on this woman’s back, and yet she was still smiling and loving up the bear without being afraid. It didn’t seem she knew who he was, as he didn’t see the recognition sparkle in her eyes.

“I am so sorry that he jumped on your back, he normally doesn’t do that, I don’t know what came over him,” Henry knew he was babbling, he knew he needed to shut his mouth, but the words kept vomiting out between his lips.

“It’s okay. I wasn’t that scared. Besides, he is such a sweet dog, I don’t mind being jumbled,” she looked into his eyes, and his heart did a somersault as she smiled again.

“Be a good boy for your owner, Kal,” she told the bear, and then she was gone.

Henry was standing cemented to the place. He didn’t know what had just happened. Kal barked at him, his tongue dangling from between his lips; he was smiling.

“Well Kal, you sure do have great taste in women, but you should stick to the four-legged kind,” Henry reprimanded him softly. Kal wasn’t happy. There was a reason why he had gone rogue and run away from Henry. So, before Henry could pick up the leash, Kal darted through the bushes to find the mystery woman. Not again!

[But I didn’t get to know what smelled so good!]

Henry, having gotten out of his trance, followed his dog once again. Why was his dog so keen on pursuing that woman? It was starting to annoy him. Panic was beginning to make itself comfortable in his brain, what if the woman had something that would make Kal follow her on purpose? What if she was pretending not to know him, so she could steal his dog and ask for an insane ransom?

He rounded a corner just in time to see Kal jump on the brown-haired beauty, again.

“Oh, it’s you again, Kal,” she said with amusement hinting in her voice. Kal barked and went to sniff her jacket, burying his snout deep in her right pocket. He came back out with a bag of peanut butter cookies between his teeth.

[TREATS!]

“Kal! Stop! You pig, what are you doing?” Henry raised his voice sternly at his furry friend. He grabbed Kal’s collar and pulled him away from the lady, making Kal drop the bag of biscuits to the ground. Kal lunged forward, which made Henry think he was going to jump the woman again, so he moved between Kal and the lady, and gave his companion a hard stare, as to say not happening, pal.

“So that is what you were after all along,” she said and picked up the bag.

“I am so sorry, miss, are you alright?” Henry asked while jogging towards the two. She gave him an amused smile.

“I’m fine. He didn’t scare me as much this time. Apparently, he just wants some doggie biscuits. May I give him some? They’re homemade and don't contain anything that could harm a dog.”

“Oh, yes, of course, but he shouldn’t be rewarded for leaping on other people. I swear, he has been trained not to do that,” Henry was rambling again. He was spewing out nonsense while the gorgeous woman was telling Kal to sit before she rewarded him for listening. She even asked him to give her paw, which Kal did immediately, a rare thing as he only wants to listen when he’s in the mood, kind of like a cat. She is way too nice to want to abduct Kal.

“Good boy, Kal.”

[Miss with the treats is super nice. Hey human, can we take her home with us?]

“You said those were homemade, did you make them?” Henry asked.

“Oh, yes. I have a dog myself who is a picky eater. I’ve tried all kinds of doggie treats, but she would spit them out. I had no choice but to experiment on how to make dog biscuits,” the woman told him while she gestured for Kal to lie down, which he obeyed instantly.

“And does she like the homemade treats?”

“She gobbles them down like I didn’t feed her for a week. She’s becoming quite the diva.”

They talked a bit more about her dog, who was a rescue labradoodle, and about how it had changed her look on store-bought dog treats. It was healthier to make them yourselves, and people in her neighbourhood, who had dogs, had been asking if she would sell the biscuits to them. She had then started her own one-man company, making dog treats, and her most popular item was the peanut butter cookies. They were shaped like the femur bone, which was the most popular form for dog treats.

“I’m Henry by the way, may I ask what your name is?” Henry asked her carefully. She smiled brightly at him, and it chased all the dark thoughts he had earlier away from his mind. She told him her name, which was elegant and so fitting a person like her. He had been expecting the penny to drop when he mentioned his name, but she was oblivious as to who he was, which in turn made his heart leap with joy inside behind his chest.

She looked at her wristwatch and gasped.

[Oh boy…]

“Crap, I have to pick up my dog soon. It was nice talking to you, and please don’t let this beautiful boy out of your sight,” a chuckled left her lips as she walked away once again.

Kal licked his mouth for the crumbs that might have gotten stuck on the fur around his snout. He then looked up at Henry with an annoyed look.

“What?” Henry asked with a sigh. Kal tilted his head to the right. “I can’t just jump on her like you do and then ask for her phone number, that would just scare her away.”

Kal looked towards the woman, who was getting further and further away from them. He then let out a bark, and with a waggle of his puffy tail, he demanded that Henry make a choice before it was too late.

[You’re blowing it, human!]

Henry sighed and crouched down. 

“What should I do?” he asked the bear-like dog. Kal tilted his head to the side, looking at Henry as if he was crazy.

[Marry her! I want more treats!]

“You like her as well, don’t you, bear?”

Kal stood and bumped his head to Henry’s back, as to tell him to start moving, which made the human mountain chuckle, getting the hint from his dog. He released Kal from the leash and whispered: “Go get her.”

Kal licked his master’s face and darted towards the woman with the gorgeous brown curls.

[kim-miyeon]

ONE

Pairings: Lee Felix x Female Reader

Genre: VictorianAU!

WARNINGS: 18+, marriage, adultery, (Warnings vary on chapter.)

Word Count: 4.1K

m.list | prologue | two

London, 1963

The sound of the magazine pages  flipping slowly and the static of the small radio playing “Sally Go ‘round the Roses” was all that could be made out in the moment as the two girls laid in the bed opposite each other. 

“I’m bored Susan!” Margaret moaned and threw a pillow at Susan’s head as Susan turned and scoffed. 

“Margaret quit it! You almost ruined my Beatles magazine!” Susan grabbed the pillow and threw it back to Margaret who huffed.

Susan returned to flipping through the magazine as Margaret began to stare at the ceiling, pondering on what activities the two teenage girls should do on their Tuesday afternoon.

It was the beginning of their winter festivities. School had been out for not only a few days but Margaret and Susan were inseparable. Having been best pals since birth, the two had spent many hours laughing and crying and being incredibly mischievous as well. Which brought Margaret to her brilliant idea.

“Let’s go to your grandmother’s library.” Margaret sat up quickly as Susan turned to her friend in disbelief.

“You must have gone mad.” Susan responded, in any manner but excited at the idea. “You know we are not allowed there.”

“And why not? Because it is your grandmother’s wing of the home? She will never know this house is so incredibly large, how would anyone know?” Margaret cocked her eyebrow and Susan bit her lip. 

A more luxurious life of those in the upper class. That’s the world that Susan was born in.  Born into a family that had wealth and status, Susan had been exposed to every part of luxury. She lived in a comfortable home and it was large enough to house many people, which her mother always utilized for their large gatherings. But she knew ever since she was young that her grandmother’s library was a place that she was not allowed in alone. Her grandmother cherished her collection of books and always wanted to preserve them. But as much as Susan wanted to say no, the seventeen years of curiosity of what lied behind the doors of her grandmother’s den could not hold her back. Especially being one who cherished books and fairytales, what could be behind those doors would lead Susan into a world she always dreamt of.

“Come on Susan, your mother is out and your grandmother is taking a nap, they won’t know!” Margaret persuaded and Susan groaned.

“Fine.” Susan threw her legs over the side of the bed as Margaret shot up 

Susan and Margaret walked down the hallways of the large home, cocking their necks at every turn to be sure no no one knew of their whereabouts. The home felt so empty with each passing corridor, and the tall windows had their curtains drawn to keep the winter air away. The two girls turned the corner of the hallway to enter Susan’s grandmother’s wing of the home. Almost immediately could one see the large Kona dark wooden doors that led to a world unknown. Susan halted in her tracks and Margaret looked back as she had stepped ahead. 

“Are you okay? Do you want to head back?” Margaret asked and Susan shook her head. Both girls could feel the error in their choices to be here.

“I am just nervous, my heart is pounding in my ears.” Susan laughed unconfidently and Margaret sighed, trying to stay with the plan.

“It is a library, not a death chamber.” Margaret grabbed on to Susan’s hand and pulled her friend towards the large dark stained wooden doors. As they approached the library, Margaret outstretched her hand to the door handle and pushed her hand down to open only to find a sturdy opposing force.

“It’s locked!” Margaret groaned and Susan looked at her friend who was upset about the failed mission. But then fear ran through her veins when she heard the sound of a far too familiar snicker behind her.

“Of course it’s locked, dear…” Susan and Margaret turned around to find the owner of the voice, “I wouldn’t leave my library open when I am not present. I may be old, but I am no fool.” 

“Grandmother!” Susan exclaimed nervously to the elder woman, “I thought you were taking your afternoon nap!”

“The universe has a funny way of working, doesn’t it girls?” Susan’s grandmother spoke and walked further to the girls, holding keys in her hand.

“We weren’t meaning to be sneaky Grandmother, we were only curious.” Margaret spoke and Susan’s grandmother chuckled.

“I suppose young girls' curiosities get the best of them.” Margaret watched as Susan’s grandmother took the key to the library and inserted it into the lock. “I suppose it is time to share a bit of my world with you.”

Susan and Margaret watched as Susan’s grandmother pushed open the door, and the enchantment of how beautiful the library was struck the two girls. A scale so grand and modern. Books high up and two levels that overlooked below where a small dark wooden desk sat. Loose paper scattered across the desk with dull pencils nearby. Susan thought about the many days and almost nights her grandmother spent in her library and what on earth she must be studying.

The three ladies walked further into the library and Margaret gasped in awe.

“It’s so beautiful here.” Margaret sighed and Grandmother began to chuckle. 

“It’s my life’s work in one place, a sacred thing. Something two mischievous girls should not be around.” Grandmother smiled at the girls who smiled back. 

As the women slowly stepped further into the room, Susan’s gaze never retracted from the busy desk. Her eyes locked in on a very rubbish looking journal that sat open. Margaret and Grandmother carried on their conversation as Susan drifted off to the desk. She rounded the edges and dragged her fingertips along the dusty wood. Tilting her head to look at the journal clearly she saw a damaged old photograph of a young boy. Susan reached out to grab the small photograph and bring it closer to her eyes. He was standing not too far from the camera, it was hard to see the background but one thing that was clear was his smile. He had a beautiful almost breathtaking smile, it stole Susan’s breath for a mere minute. His hair, laying across his face, made it unable to see his eyes. But Susan could tell he was a gorgeous man. 

“Grandmother,” Susan called out and looked at the photo one last time before she turned her attention to Margaret and her Grandmother, “who is this boy?”

“Oh.” Grandmother’s voice hinted of sadness when she saw the photo, “his name is Felix. A young lad from many years ago.”

Grandmother walked closer to Susan and Susan looked down at the journal that had been opened. 

“Was he your friend?” Susan asked as she scanned over the words that were written in the journal. 

Grandmother stood next to Susan and she sighed as Susan looked back at her grandmother.

“He was not.” 

“Then why do you have a photo of this boy? Who’s journal is this?” Susan carried on in her curious mind as her Grandmother began to sigh as Margaret walked over to Susan to look at the photo of the boy.

“Inviting you into this room comes with the responsibility of telling you stories of years far before you.”

“A love story?” Margaret asked simply and Susan looked at the journal that was lying on the desk. Tracing her fingers over it.

“The journal belonged to a young maiden, who lived in this very home years ago.”

“Tell us about her.” Susan reached over her grandmother’s hand and her grandmother sat in the chair at the desk as the two other girls sat on the floor staring up at Grandmother.

London, 1898

The streaks of the sun splashed on the skin, as you laughed. Picking your feet up and trying not to tumble in the large field as you two ran. Your vision, covered in the hues of green and yellow, matching the weeds on the ground and as you look down you saw a hand in yours. Gripping you in the most odd mixture of gentle and security, wanting you to be free and yet holding you near. His hand was the softest, skin almost an illusion for there were no imperfections. At the edge of his wrists sat the ruffles of his shirt, white and stained with dirt and sweat. You trailed your glass beaded eyes up the clothes arm that is pulling you into the fields. Once you came to the collar of his neck you admired the length of his blonde locks as they rested near his shoulder, blowing softly in the air. You heard his faint deep chuckle and he turned softly to the side to take a glimpse of you. You saw his eyes connect with yours, feeling the intense spark fuel you and almost stole your breath. If this was love, you never wanted anything less.

If this.. was..

The deep rich smell of smoke ran through your nostrils as you fluttered your eyes open to the small lit candle resting on your night stand. The sharp light of the morning sun struck the room as Adelaide, your maiden, drew the curtains for you.

“Good morning Milady” Adelaide spoke cheerfully as she pulled in the window to lock. You peeped at her and smiled as you rose up and yawned.

Your day typically always began at 7:30am. Adelaide was no stranger to being on time, especially during weeks like this. 

“Good morning Adelaide. How did you rest?” You asked as Adelaide grabbed a pitcher of water and walked over to your bedside where a large bowl had been placed. Rosemary leaves had been placed at the bottom and you watched Adelaide pour the hot water over, feeling the steam hit your face and sighed in pleasure.

“I rested well, thank you. Did you sleep well with everything going on?” 

Adelaide walked behind you and went to grab the toothbrush and can of homemade soap and sat it down near the bathing rack.

“I tried at least.” You mumbled as you watched Adelaide keep moving to finish her morning duties.

“It isn’t an easy week I suppose. I will go and fetch your cup of tea this morning while I let you freshen up on your own.” Adelaide smiled at you as she made her way out your door and you went back to freshen up.

You grabbed the towel and soaked in it the water as you felt the warmth of the water relax you. Squeezing the excess water off the towel, you pulled the sleeve of your undergarment and wiped the skin.

Adelaide’s reminder of what this week meant for you was excruciating. For the past five years you had known this day would eventually come, but you had always hoped that if you had believed hard enough, it would never come. Time could pause and you could live happily.

You grabbed your hair and bent down to lay it in the water as you coated your hair in the warm liquid. You heard Adelaide’s footsteps approaching the door and you squeezed the water off your hair. 

“Your mother is awake.”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance “Lovely. How does she seem?”

“Refreshed.” Adelaide shook her head in a sad way to you. 

You turned to her quickly, “Is it too late to run away? You wouldn’t say anything, would you?”

“You know I wouldn’t.” Adelaide grabbed your hands, squeezing them.

“Where to run is the issue.” You sighed and looked at yourself in the mirror. 

“Would you run to the states?”

“It would be fun. Imagine working and making my own money. Choosing my own life. Anything would be a more rewarding life than this. To be brought up to wed and bear children? To have a mind for everyone else besides your own?” You went on as you fumbled with your fingers as Adelaide began to help you stand to dress. Slipping your garments off as she helped you step into your gown.

“It’s the idea of feeling free, to do what I want, not what others want of me.” You continued as Adelaide turned you around and pulled the strings of your corset.

“To bear a day where I dress myself” You mumbled to yourself and Adelaide puked in the strings tighter making you yelp as she laughed.

“Are you stating that you do not want me to dress you?” She smiled and you sighed as she finished.

“It is your job to do so, but you were created for more do you not think?” You turned around to face Adelaide and she shrugged a bit.

“I suppose. I enjoy my job and I have a place to sleep and eat.” She softly said and you bit your lip in agreement.

“I will head down while I give you time to awake.” She smiled and began to head for the door.

“Thank you Adelaide.” You smiled as you turned to the mirror. 

“My lady” you heard Adelaide call out one more time.

“Yes? “

“I know this is a difficult week and things may not be the way you want them to, but know that I will always be by your side, as you are for me.” 

With that Adelaide left you to be alone in the room. Her words made you sad and yet filled with content. Marriage wasn’t a plan you had set yourself up for. It wasn’t something you wanted. You craved the feeling of being loved by someone not because of status and wealth, but because they say you and all your flaws. But you held a responsibility as the eldest, as your father’s daughter, to do what is necessary for the family and for your country.

But your mind drifted back to your dream. The boy. A man so unfamiliar but you felt as if you’d known him for years. Your heart ached feeling like you had fallen for an image of a man, created by your mind. But it felt real, he felt so real to you. 

A knock at the door brought you back to reality as you cleared your throat. “Come in!”

“Milady, your mother is requesting you for breakfast.” Adelaide peeked in as you looked at her and nodded in understanding.

As the door shut you turned to the mirror and took a deep breath in.

“Be strong, Y/N.” 

The halls of the home were long and made one weary as they strolled down. Your heart panicked with the unwanted anticipation that waited beyond the doors to the dining room. You could smell the aroma of the feast that called for you, already knowing that your mother has planned a rather larger gathering than you were expecting. Closer and closer as you approached you heard the laughter of people you knew the sounds of and once you reached the door that was guarded by your family's security men, you saw the faces of those you wished to not see.

“OH! My darling! The bride to be, you look marvelous this morning! Just GLOWING!” Your mother exclaimed and wrapped her arms around you squeezing you tightly in a hug. 

“Good..morning.. mama..” you tried to choked out as you were wrapped in her tight embrace. She pulled back and tidied up your dress and hair. 

“Beautiful as ever.” She smiled and you half smiled back before you noticed your father and your future in laws chatting a bit behind.

“Father, Sir Thomas and Mrs. Thomas, what a lovely surprise. I was not aware you would be joining us this morning.” You courtesy politely to them.

“Oh dear please, call me Lois.” Mrs. Thomas outstretched her hand to you, waving to tell you to stop your courtesy. You lifted your gaze to your future in laws and then to your father who was smiling at you in a sense of pride.

“I wasn’t aware you’d be back to join us this week, sir.” You quaked our to your father who smiled.

“I couldn’t miss my daughter’s wedding. Sir Thomas and I came back for the engagement ball tonight and the ceremony this weekend.” Your father spoke as he turned to his elder and you smiled softly in understanding.

This marriage wasn’t for you. It was for them. To raise your father’s rank by providing a woman to wed the son of the Field Marshall. An eligible bachelor that many women would have died for and yet you have known him your whole life. This arrangement has been in motion your whole life. 

“Is Gregory here?” You asked in more of a trembling tone. Mrs. Thomas chuckled a bit.

“Oh she’s nervous. Yes dear, he should be back soon.”

You mentally rolled your eyes as you had a keen feeling where your loving fiancé could be. You smiled and pulled a chair from the dining room table. 

“Please sit, Lois.” You offered as Mrs. Thomas sat.

You walked over to your mother where you reached out to grab a chair and one of the servant lads grabbed it before you.

“Here, Milady.” The man said and you looked at him and smiled. 

“Thank you James.” You whispered as he smiled softly to you, his dark hair falling towards his face. Sitting down you watched as the servant lads went to through the kitchen doors to grab the meal for the morning.

You knew it wasn’t normal for the young lady in the house to know the names of all you served, but you did. You never looked at the workers as being below you, they were people who deserved respect. So you treated them as such, like a friend. Like Adelaide, who is only a ladies maid but she is your closest friend.

You heard the sound of a child laughing running to the dining room as you saw your mother exhale frustratingly. Soon the young girl ran into the dining room, hair a mess and her dress not tightened. Barely had her shoe in her foot with a stocking while the other foot was bare. You giggled to yourself as the young girl ran past your mother who tried to fetch her and you heard Adelaide’s voice from afar.

“Clarissa!” 

Clarissa halted in front of you and you smiled at her, “Good morning y/n!” 

You embraced your young sister and kissed the top of her head as she pulled back and you noticed Adelaide had entered the kitchen standing next to your mother who was fuming.

“Now Clarissa, what did I tell you about your morning routine?” You started and Clarissa sighed and looked down at her feet.

“To respect Ms. Adelaide’s request and help.” Clarissa mumbled and you smiled gracefully.

“That is correct, now run along back to your room to finish your routine so that way you can join us for breakfast.” You ruffled her hair a bit as she looked up at you in admiration, smiling before turning back to Adelaide and retreating to her room.

“AND she’s good with children, oh dear, imagine.” Ms Thomas exclaimed to her husband implying a future where you would bear her grandchildren. You smiled most uncomfortably at the thought.

“Oh Gregory is here!” Your head snapped to the left side of the room as you spotted the man who you had to wed in a weeks time. His skin was flushed but glowed at the same time as you noticed his hair was a tad bit ruffed up. He wore his military uniform and presented himself in a poised matter. He was attractive, you could not betray that your eyes enjoyed the sight of him. But his heart was not as beautiful. You knew where his intentions were and were completely aware that they had been four inches deep in another woman just now. 

“I hope I am not late,” Gregory began as he turned to you and played his act most perfectly, “how honored am I to have the most beautiful fiancé,” 

Gregory spoke as he walked towards you and you stood from your chair to greet the man as he rushed quickly. “No need to stand my love, you have all waited long enough,”  he turned his attention to a servant lad, “Boy! Bring us the food at once!” 

Gregory sat next to you as you watched him. The smell of sweat and perfume reeked off his hair and neck and it made you boil with disgust. He looked at you for a moment and smiled. His orbs shined a sinful mixture of blue and grey as his dark strands of hair laid on his head miraculously well. He was a painted god, a devil in disguise as you knew. 

“You look beautiful.” He whispered close before placing a burning kiss to your cheek and you smiled at him.

The background noise of your elders conversing and the aromas of the food being brought out caught your attention. You took hold of the glass of water that sat across you as you took a sip from it. You felt the presence of a servant lad behind you as he placed your plate in front of you. You swallowed the water as you looked up to the boy and smiled.

“Thank you Langston. Do you mind grabbing a simpler plate for Clarissa as well? Oh! And some juice instead of tea?” You requested and the servant lad smiled and nodded.

“Will do Milady.” He said as he retreated back to the kitchen. 

You looked down at the plate, loaded with eggs, beans, ham, bacon, fish, and bread. There were sweeter treats placed in the middle of the table for all to share. This was typical, this meal was typical. You knew that there were less fortunate people in the country and you were living in a world full of the rich and selfish. 

That’s why you cared for the workers here. You saw the world differently than your family. You didn’t want life to be handed to you but rather felt pride when you worked hard for the things you wanted. That’s why this marriage was something you loathed. Gregory’s status and your father’s would blossom. More money, more luxurious parties, more of everything. The price to pay was your hand. You knew it wasn’t uncommon for some women to wed a man they do not love. But you wanted to fall in love. Something Gregory could not provide you.

You came from your thoughts when you heard the sound of Clarissa’s heeled shoes running towards the room once more. She was in a much better state than before and she hurried next to you as you and a servant lad helped her into her seat.

“Thank you Harry, but I can handle it from here!” Clarissa stated as a matter of fact and you giggled looking up at Harry who laughed a bit. 

“I can’t believe you all started eating without me!” Clarissa exclaimed at you crossing her arms.

“I had to request that the kitchen make you something special! I haven’t started eating quite yet.” You leaned to her and she smiled as she rolled her eyes. Before the both of you knew it, you saw a small hand with a plate of food placed in front of Clarissa with a side of freshly squeezed orange juice. 

“Here you are milady.” 

The voice of the lad hit a nerve in you that rushed your blood cold and skin so hot.. It was a deep, husky, charming voice. Something that could scare you but in a stranger way made you feel safe. Clarissa smiled at the boy and you took the opportunity to look up at him to thank him. But your eyes were met in a sudden pause to reality. 

Hair a soft pale blonde, skin soft to the look and to be more when touched. All you could see was the side of his face as he retreated away. Much like the dream this morning. Much like the boy you saw in your mind. 

Your heart beat was pounding in your ears as you fell completely in awe as the boy retreated back into the kitchen. You didn’t know him and you knew everyone in this home. Was he real? Was that the boy? Is your mind playing tricks on you? All you knew was that your body felt on fire, but your heart was aching. Who was that boy?

“Y/N!”

Your mind snapped back to where you were again, and all eyes on the table were on you. You looked at your mother who had called your name.

“Y-Yes?” 

“Love, are you alright? You look like you have seen a ghost?” Your mother exclaimed and you inhaled deeply to yourself remembering what you just witnessed and felt and you thought to yourself.

I might have just did.

Taglist: @exonations @sunshine-lixie @beaann  @yumi-xox​

Author’s Note: Hello everyone, after a much needed hiatus I have returned with my second series! I know I am posting on a Friday but I will be posting on Thursdays as usual!  Also THANK YOU for 400+ Followers!!! I am genuinely shocked by the love I have received from all of you! I am so excited for our new journey together and I can't wait to read your responses!! With love- KMY

UPDATE: Postings will now be on Fridays due to my schedule now! Thank you❤️

[glxssylaufey]

Mischief Maker - Chapter 1

a/n: PLEASE READ THE FIX TEASER BEFORE READING THIS :) i hope you all enjoy!

summary: loki x reader ; The reader is already faced with problems regarding Loki. Meanwhile, Tony plans a party.

word count: 3,461

warnings: minor bad language, mentions of drinking

taglist: @alex-sulli @delightfulheartdream

“Have I overcooked the steak again, Y/N?”

You didn’t quite realize that you were spacing out until Wanda’s voice had snapped you back into reality. You lift your head to find a mix of confusion and concern in her eyes.

“Oh not at all, it’s perfect.” you reassure her, poking at the dinner she had prepared for you that night. Wanda was a kind soul. She knew that ever since this morning you were on edge, so she thought that a homemade meal would help remedy your uneasiness.

“It’s okay if you’re not hungry.” Wanda assured you after a bit of silence. “I know you probably have a lot on your mind.” she spoke softly, feeding herself more food from her plate.

“Do you think I made the right choice?” you questioned, pushing your plate aside because you indeed were not hungry. Wanda continued to chew, allowing herself time to really think of the circumstances. What you did not expect was for her to stay silent even after her mouthful of food was swallowed. Normally when Wanda remained silent after receiving a question, it was not good news.

“Well it is true, people can change.” she suggested with a shrug. “I think you’re going to be just fine.”

You don’t blame her for avoiding the question because after all, you didn’t even know if you made the right decision agreeing to watch over Loki.

You opened your mouth to say something but was cut off by loud pounding on the door to Wanda’s room. You hopped to your feet, a low groan escaping your lips. What could possibly be going wrong so early into the ten days? When you opened the door, you were faced with a distraught Sam Wilson, frantically tapping his foot. Once his eyes meet yours, he gives you an exasperated look.

“What are you doing?!” he queried loudly. His tone was as if he caught you doing something unspeakable.

“Having dinner?” it came out almost like a question. “Is there something you need, Sam?”

“Yeah, I need you to do your job and get Loki out of the movie room.” he demanded, taking a step back to allow you out of the doorframe. At first, you didn’t quite understand what he was talking about, yet you followed behind Sam regardless.

~

When you reached the movie room, you were faced with exactly what you had expected. Some juvenile situation that could easily be solved if you weren’t dealing with such hot headed men. When you walked into the room, you found Loki laying with his legs sprawled on the couch, his eyes glued onto a book he held in one hand. His body effortlessly took up the entire couch, considering his impressive height. You were relieved, at least he hadn't stabbed anybody. At least not yet. Next to the couch, Bucky stood with his arms crossed glaring down at the seemingly peaceful god.

“What’s the problem, James?” you asked.

“Well, Sam and I were going to watch a movie.” he explained as if it were obvious. “But your little friend here is taking up the whole space, even though we reserved this spot tonight.” Bucky’s words caught Loki’s attention and he slowly raised his head from his book to look up at you. When he saw that you were who Sam retrieved to save the day, he rolled his eyes. That seemed to be common for him.

“She is not my friend.” Loki spat coldly. “And I was already here first.”

“But we already reserved the spot, I’ve told you this about six damn times.” Sam whined with aggravation in his voice. You sighed, mentally face-palming yourself at how childish Sam and Bucky were being. Though you opted to take their side because you knew you would never hear the end of it if you didn’t.

“Loki, you can always move to a different room where it might be quieter anyways.” you gently propose. You made sure to choose your words carefully in order not to agitate him. When his head shot up to look directly at you, your heart dropped to your stomach. You swallowed a lump in your throat, hoping you didn’t upset him any further.

“This room has the best lighting for my reading. I do not want a separate room.” he claimed, seemingly speaking more to Sam and Bucky rather than you. You panicked for a moment, feeling like you’ve run out of ideas. Thankfully, you were a quick thinker.

“I think I might have a better spot for you.” you quickly remarked. You held your breath as you awaited his response, hoping you sounded enticing enough to get him to leave the room with you. Much to your relief, Loki stood with a huff after planting his bookmark in his book.

“Lead the way.” he challenged in a sarcastic mood. You give a simple nod before turning to walk out the door with the God of Mischief behind you. As you walked out, you heard Bucky yell an exhausted “thank you” to which you just waved your hand in the air to dismiss him.

While walking down the hallway, you mustered up enough courage to slow your steps in order to walk beside Loki rather than in front of him.

“I’m really sorry about those two, I know they can act like they own the place sometimes.” you apologized, hoping to lighten the mood. Loki merely just shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter. As long as I’m given a good spot to continue reading as you promised.” he replied plainly. This of course only made you second guess your pick of a location. You continued to walk with Loki until you both crossed paths with Natasha, who immediately looked curious as to what you two were doing.

“Everything alright, Y/N?” she asked, turning to face you.

“Just peachy.” you replied, forcing the smile on your face. “I’m taking Loki outside. He needs a quiet place to read.” you explained. Natasha did no further questioning and thankfully neither did Loki. He didn’t seem to have a problem with being led outside.

“You two have fun.” she spoke with a chuckle. “By the way, don’t forget we have another one of Stark’s parties to attend tomorrow night.” her reminder caused you to stop in your tracks. Stark’s parties were always flashy and extravagant, the type of thing that you felt completely turned off of as of recently.

“Of course.” you scoffed. “Thanks for telling me.”

“But do you know if… you know.” Natasha gestured towards Loki. You quickly caught onto what she was hinting at. Would Tony even allow Loki to step foot into the party? You sigh and look up at Loki who seemed confused as to what you two were talking about.

“I don’t care what Tony says. Loki shouldn’t be locked away in his room.” you declare, setting your foot down. Your statement only seemed to intrigued Loki.

“Should I be concerned?” he asked, looking to the both of you.

“Not at all!” you exclaimed quickly. “Now let’s go before it gets dark out.” you began speed walking towards the door hoping Loki would follow behind you. Thankfully, he continued to walk without any more questions. Once you both finally got out of the doors to the compound, Loki took a deep breath and looked around. It wasn’t until now you realized he probably hasn’t gotten much fresh air since arriving here. Though much to your dismay, Loki didn’t let the events with Natasha go unanswered.

“Will you tell me what you and Agent Romanoff spoke of now?” he asked, genuine curiosity laced in his voice. You decided not to protest. He deserved to know, after all. You gave yourself a moment to compose your thoughts so your explanation came out efficiently. You both continued to walk.

“Tony likes to host these huge parties from time to time to let all the Avengers have a break from their work and just have some fun with one another.” you paused, not knowing how to word the next bit. “I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that Tony isn’t very fond of you.”

“Of course I have.” he stated, almost in offense. “And I suppose he wants me locked away in my room as you said?”

You just simply looked at him and nodded, relieved he caught on quick. As you both continued to walk toward the hill you always painted on, you decided not to speak and allow Loki time to dwell on the situation.

“Well thank you.” he finally said. “For not wanting me to be hidden away.” he added quickly. Due to reasons you can’t explain, you blushed at Loki’s gratitude. Hearing kind words from him was refreshing. It had actually caught you off guard with how quickly he could switch from overbearing to gentle so fast.

“You’re welcome.” you replied with a warm smile. Once you two finally reached the top of the hill, you let out a sigh as you looked around. It was perfect. The two of you had the perfect view of the sunset which was glowing a beautiful orange and pink ombré. A gust of warm wind gently rushed through the air, giving you a sense of comfort. When you turned to look at Loki, you found he was also admiring the scene displayed in front of him. As you studied his face, you noticed there was just something about the way the sun hit his face that made him seem so normal. Maybe even human. When he turned to look at you, you jumped a little after being caught blatantly staring at him.

“Do you come up here often?” he questioned, taking a step towards you. To avoid any sort of eye contact, you let your head hang low to watch your feet kick at the grass lightly.

“Yeah, it’s my favorite place to come when I want to be alone.” you explained to the ground. You hoped that he wouldn’t be able to tell how nervous you were to be alone with him. Of course, he did.

“Do I frighten you, girl?” he pondered, tilting his head to the side to make an attempt to look at your face. His question made your breath hitch, though you would never let him notice. You brought your head up to look at him once more, but was startled to find that Loki was standing just a mere foot away from you. You cleared your throat quickly to reply.

“No.” you lied. You knew good and well that he intimidated you possibly more than anything else in the Avengers tower.

“You know, I wouldn’t blame you if you were.” he assured you. “I’m sure your friends have fed you all the awful stories about me.”

“I was there when it happened, so I already knew about the incident.” you informed him, hoping you didn’t come off as rude. Loki hummed in response. There was a moment of silence between the two of you, making the air feel awkward.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person though.” you spoke truthfully. You hoped to give him any sort of comfort to counteract the heaviness of the moment. Loki continued to stare at you before nodding in appreciation.

“I’m grateful.” he answered with certainty. You smile and turn back to face the sunset that has now faded to a beautiful pastel pink. Feeling a sense of self-consciousness come down upon you, you suddenly decide that you have overstayed. Even if you were technically in a place that was very much yours.

“Well if all you were looking for was a place to read, I’ll leave you be now.” you said, turning back to face Loki. What you did not expect was Loki to give you a confused look as if you weren’t supposed to leave.

“Don��t you want to watch the rest of the sunset?” he asked, waving his hand towards the sky. His recommendation made your cheeks burn up. Gods, why was he making you so flustered? You took a step back towards where you were previously next to him.

“I’d love to.” you replied sweetly. That was the first time you saw Loki, the God of Mischief smile. It was quick and simple, nothing more than a smirk. It made your heart warm up nonetheless.

~

Loki continued to tell you of the sunsets on Asgard while the two of you sat on top of the grassy hill. It soothed your mind to hear how comfortable Loki was talking to you. You sat and was a good listener to Loki, enjoying all the descriptions he gave you of his home. In return, you told him of your artwork and how you were actually a painter when you weren’t being an Avenger.

“You’d find the art on Asgard to be quite astounding then.” he said at one point. “Thor has told me much about you. He never told me you were a painter.” you raised an eyebrow at Loki’s statement.

“Thor has talked about me?” you asked with a smile. Loki paused for a moment to think, lightly groaning in frustration.

“Of course. That’s all the oaf does is talk.” Loki swore. There was a small sigh that did not go unnoticed from Loki. It soon became apparent that Loki wasn’t very adoring of talking about his brother. You quickly decided to change the subject.

“Well I can always show you some of my art work if you’d like.” you suggested. Loki remained silent, making you worrisome. You wondered if you had overstepped with recommending him some of your paintings. After a couple of seconds, Loki finally turns to connect his eyes with yours.

“I’d like that.” he assured you softly.

The two of you talked until the sun had fully vanished into the night. The both of you walked back to the tower in silence, neither of you quite knowing what to say. The moment you had walked back into the tower, you were approached by Tony who had some sort of list in his hand.

“Y/N! Just the person I wanted to see.” he announced. “Listen, I have to discuss the party with you. Um, Reindeer Games, if you don’t mind?” Tony said, rudely waving Loki away in the other direction. Loki simply glared at Tony before stomping off to wherever he decided to go next.

“You know, there’s no need to be rude.” you said to Tony quietly.

“Oh what, you two are like best buds now?” he teased. You didn’t respond, letting Tony get his laughs in. “Anyways, I wanted to ask if you’re interested in making a little bit of cash.”

You quirk an eyebrow at Tony, already having a bad feeling about where this is going.

“What do you mean?” you ask, utterly confused. Tony just smiled and unraveled the list he held in his hand, revealing a whole index full of people’s names you had no clue existed.

“I have a whole bunch of rich assholes coming tomorrow that are completely loaded. So, being the nice person I am, I thought I’d ask if you had any pieces of art that you’re willing to put prices on for these people.” you groan, listening to the proposition that was very much a Tony Stark idea.

“You want people to bid on my art?” you plainly summed up everything Tony said.

“You’ll get every penny!” he threw his hands up in mock defense. “I just need some kind of big event to get people to show up.” You rolled your eyes.

“Tony, I can’t. I’ll be busy enough making sure Loki doesn’t get into any trouble at the party.” you explained. You were hoping your words would go right over Tony’s head, but of course it didn’t. Nothing ever gets past him.

“Oh, no. Oh hell no, he’s not coming near my party! I don’t need him scaring away my guests.” Tony exclaimed. There it was. The big demand from the man himself that will forbid Loki from acting as a normal person. Or god, per say.

“Why not? He really does seem like he's changed.” you tried to persuade him, but as you expected, your pleas fell upon deaf ears.

“Don’t care.” Tony said with a matter of fact tone. “Please just do me a favor and go through some old paintings. It doesn’t have to be huge, just something that’ll make rich people feel richer.” he ordered while walking back to his lab. With that said, it seemed like you really didn’t have much of a choice. You began to walk back to your room, already thinking of a plan to allow Loki out of his room during the party. After seeing the amount of people on the guest list, you deemed it easy enough to sneak him into the party.

Third Person POV:

Loki banged on the doors to his brother’s room desperately. As he knocked, he looked around to make sure nobody would catch him pounding on the door like a madman. Once the doors finally opened, Thor’s eyes lit up to find his brother had come to visit him.

“Oh, brother! What a surprise this is!” Thor practically shouted with a smile. Loki didn’t bother with returning the enthusiasm. “Please come in.” Thor requested, opening the door wider to allow his brother entry. When Loki walked in, his nose scrunched at the mess of Thor’s room. There were clothes everywhere with several empty beer bottles scattered about. Not to mention all the various candy wrappers that decorated the floor.

“By the norns, has our mother raised a pig?” Loki ridiculed his brother in disgust. This of course didn’t phase Thor due to the fact that he’s dealt with Loki’s judgement even as children. As a matter of fact, he expected it when Loki walked in.

“Last time I checked, no.” Thor replied with a smile. “Now, what is it you need, brother?” Thor asked. Loki looked his brother in the eyes for a good moment before speaking again. Loki often did this to be sure Thor was actually listening.

“It’s about Y/N.” Loki finally admitted. “She’s so different.” Loki said almost in puzzlement.

“Whatever do you mean?” Thor asked, tilting his head to the side.

“She was unceasingly friendly to me today, without even asking anything in return.” Loki explained, confusion written on his face. “I want to repay the kindness to her.” Loki stated confidently. Thor chuckled lightly, happy to see that someone was showing his brother kindness.

“Ah yes, Y/N is a very sweet girl.” Thor confirmed happily. “Have you taken an interest in her, brother?” Thor suggested with a wink. Loki’s eyes widened in anger at Thor’s teasing and he hit his brother firmly in his broad chest.

“Of course not! That is absurd!” Loki blurted out. “I simply just want to return the favor after she was kind to me, that is all.” Loki corrected Thor.

“It is not such a far fetched idea, brother! She is a very likable woman.” Thor shamelessly stated. This made Loki think back to earlier when he told Y/N of Thor speaking of her. He recalled the way her eyes sparkled when he mentioned Thor speaking of her. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that it was Thor that Y/N had affections towards. After all, what woman wasn’t completely head over heels for his brother? Loki rolled his eyes at the thought.

“Just tell me what I should do to repay her for being so pleasant to me.” Loki said with irritation deep in his tone.

“Stark is holding a party tomorrow night.” Thor said with a snap after a bit of contemplating. “You can ask to treat her to a drink.” Thor suggested. It seemed like the perfect idea. That was until Loki remembered your conversation with Natasha.

“I can’t.” he said simply. “Stark is prohibiting me from going to his little get together.” Loki snorted. Thor began to brainstorm ideas. He was happy that someone was finally showing warmth to his brother and he did not want anything to get in the way of it.

“Then I shall sneak you in!” Thor exclaimed with his typical mightiness. Loki rolled his eyes at his brother’s over-confidence.

“And how do you expect to do that?” Loki challenged, crossing his arms.

“I will find a way. Surely it can’t be that hard.” Thor affirmed with a beaming smile. “C’mon brother, you’re the God of Mischief! Surely something like this is right up your alley.” Thor made a good point. Loki knew it would be easy enough to fool the Midgardians. After some consideration, Loki smiled at his brother.

“What do you have in mind?”

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS Para-Selene Vol.3 Mukami Kou [Track 3]

Original title: 拒絶

Source: Diabolik Lovers Para-Selene Vol. 3 Mukami Kou [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Kimura Ryouhei

Translator’s note: I’m not a Kou stan but I can really feel his pain here. :c He is trying his hardest to get the MC to remember but his emotions keep on getting the best of him. Kou isn’t the best at dealing with rejection in general, let alone from one of the few people in the world he actually cares about. I’m really curious to see how he will overcome this crisis and use the power of TRUE LOVE to win his girl back. uwu

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 3: Rejection

Kou slowly wakes up.

“...Oh...Huh? Where am...?”

*Rustle*

“The living room...? When did I...? ...Right!! M-neko-chan! Where is she!?”

He looks around in panic.

“She’s not here...I guess I really pushed it too far. I didn’t think I’d get that angry either, to be honest. But...It wasn’t an act. She has actually lost her memories. She had forgotten all about me, and the moments we spent together. Just earlier today we were laughing and having a good time over at the greenroom, so why!? ...I have to go look for her! And bring back her memories!”

*Rustle*

“...? The moon...There’s still two of them...Honestly, it makes me gag...!”

He leaves the room.

*TIMESKIP*

*Thud*

“...I finally found you! So this is where you’ve been.”

You turn around and try to run.

“Wait, don’t run...! About earlier, I kind of let my temper get the best of me and...I’m truly sorry! I’ve calmed down now so...Let’s put it behind us...I wouldn’t want you to be scared of me forever either. Okay?”

You frown.

“So...Have your memories returned?”

You shake your head.

“I see...Not yet.”

You start backing away again. 

“...!! Don’t run! I won’t do anything! ...Well, I guess that doesn’t sound very convincing after I snapped just earlier. ...Right! Why don’t we have dinner together? To commemorate putting our differences aside, I’d love to have some of your homemade vongole bianco!”

You tilt your head to the side.

“Right, you don’t remember. It’s my favorite dish. You’d often make it for me. If Ruki-kun was here, we could ask him directly but...Speaking of which, I wonder where everyone went? I don’t think they had plans to head out tonight? If you can’t remember how to make it, I’m sure we’ve got a recipe laying around somewhere. You can use that as a reference! I’m sure you might recall some things while cooking.”

You reluctantly nod.

“...Judging by the look on your face, you still don’t quite trust me, do you? I can tell you’re only listening because you don’t want to get yelled at. ...Well, I guess that works for now. I’m sure you’ll understand once we enjoy a meal together! Um...If I recall correctly, Ruki-kun keeps his recipes...”

*Rustle*

“Ah! Found it! ...Here you go!”

Kou hands you the recipe.

“Say, can I watch from here? I promise I won’t interfere!”

You give him permission.

“Thank you~ Please make us some delicious vongole bianco, okay?”

*Flip*

“Hehe~ It’s been a while since I’ve watched you cook. I’ve been busy as of late, so most of the time dinner is already served by the time I get back home. ...Ah! Tell me if there’s anything I should help you with! I can handle easy tasks like mixing ingredients together.”

You decline his offer.

“Is that so? ...Okay then.”

*TIMESKIP*

“...Say, M-neko-chan? Have you remembered anything?”

You shake your head.

“Not yet, huh? In that case...”

*Rustle*

“Hehe~”

You squeak.

“No need to be so surprised. I only embraced you a little, see?”

You point out that you’re cooking.

“It doesn’t matter that you’re in the middle of cooking. I felt like holding you in my arms after all. ...Look, your hands have stopped moving. You need to keep going, no?”

You tell Kou you can’t cook like this.

“That’s not true, is it? I’m sure you can still cook even like this. ...Ah! Are you perhaps nervous because I’m hugging you? Fufu~ You’re so cute, M-neko-chan. However, I’ve done this countless of times before, so do you really need to get so tense? Say? You liked it when I squeezed you tight like this, remember?”

You frown.

“Hm...This won’t do the trick either, huh? I guess they really won’t return unless there’s some sort of strong trigger. ...Say, since the first attempt failed, want to try a different method? This time, I’ll suck you gently...~”

*Smooch*

“From here, fufu~”

You start to panic. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel good. It might help bring all of your memories back! Mmh...Nn...”

*Sluuuuurp*

“Hah...The taste of your blood hasn’t changed one bit. You’ve got that dreamy look in your eyes as always too, so I wonder why your memories are the only thing still missing? ...Say? Why did you forget?”

You shrug.

“I see. You have no clue, huh? Well, I honestly don’t care why it happened as long as you remember everything. Say...I already sucked from your neck plenty earlier, so why don’t we try a different spot this time? Your shoulder...For example?”

*Rustle*

“Mmh...”

Kou bites your shoulder.

*Sluuuuurp*

“Hahn...Hey...Don’t move...You don’t want it to hurt, do you?”

*Sluuuuurp*

“I want you to feel good...Don’t you remember? I mean, you love that sorta stuff after all...”

You whimper.

“Geez, M-neko-chan, you’re tearing up~ Does it feel that good?”

You shake your head.

“No...? That’s strange...I meant to be gentle though...You’re all tensed up. Couldn’t that be why it hurts? Come on, ease up a little. Just focus on the pleasure, okay?”

You try and escape his grip.

*Rustle rustle*

“ーー Oh come on, don’t struggle! Hahn...Mmh...”

You continue to protest.

*Thud*

“...!? Why...!? I’m giving you the sweet pain you once loved so much!? So why don’t you want it...?”

You push him away as Kou loses his balance and falls to the floor.

“Argh...! Ugh...”

*THUD*

“Ah...I scraped my hand...”

You suddenly feel bad, offering to patch him up.

“It’s fine. You don’t need any treatment. It’ll heal in no time anyway...M-neko-chan? Do you dislike my touch that much? Are you that scared of me? ...I guess you are. After all, I’m nothing but a stranger to you right now.”

He slowly gets up.

“You are no longer...the same person who fell in love with me.”

*BZZZZZZT*

“Ugh...Ah...Again...”

You take a step forward. 

“Stay away...!! ...Right now, having you worry about me doesn’t make me happy at all...! What is going on!? ...Fuck!”

He collapses once more.

*Thud*

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

[starrypawz]

ooooh I love these prompts!! Mamihlapinatapei!

Unusual Word Prompts AO3

Some minor references to alcohol, otherwise have some good old fashioned yearning, obsessing over hands and food as a love language content

If you could ever describe hunting a Leitner as routine, this was it.

The book (Spiral aligned from what limited information Gerry had found. Similar limited information claimed that for victims of the book the line between the real world and the fantasy universe within blurred and something about dragons, maybe?) had been tracked down to a small bookshop.

And as it turned out the owner didn’t really know anything about the value of obscure out of print fantasy novels. (Or much about fantasy novels in general, Romances on the other hand) They’d be more than happy to hand it over for the princely sum of fivr quid and he’d also left the shop with a good deal on a few hardback Discworlds he didn’t have.

More importantly, no other “interested parties” had interfered once he and Nemo had left the shop and in a convenient nearby alleyway it had easily taken to his lighter.

Gerry had sighed with relief, hands in the pockets of his trenchcoat as he stomped the smouldering book out under his combat boot before he toed the ashy remains to check it’s been burned to his standards.

“Done?” “Done” “That was … easy?”

“I know?” Gerry had grinned and Nemo had tried not to think too hard about that grin, “That hardly ever happens,” He’d chuckled and Nemo had also tried not to think too hard about that chuckle.

“So…” Nemo had shoved their hands into their hoodie pockets, “What do you want to do now? “Saw what could be a good pub around the corner,”

“We could,” Gerry had shrugged, “Or we could go back to yours and I could cook you something?”

Nemo had snorted “You? Cook?” and raised an eyebrow

“What?” Gerry had feigned shock, “You don’t think I can?”

“I…” Nemo had paused, caught their lip, “What do I get if I say yes?”

“I can cook a pretty good spag bol if I say so myself,”

“Spag bol huh?” Nemo had grinned, “Homemade sauce?”

Gerry had chuckles, toed his boot into the gravel, “Not quite there yet, Tesco Finest?”

“Tesco Finest?” Nemo had tutted, “Not Waitrose?”

Gerry snorted, “I think they’d kick me out if I stepped in there,”

Nemo had cleared their throat, “The Daily Mail reports that Mavis Barker-Finch, sixty-eight, recently retired who lives in a house in Kensington worth one quarter of a million pounds had a terrifying encounter last night at her local Waitrose where she saw an awfully suspicious ruffian in the pasta aisle,”

“Exactly,”

“Alright you’re on,”

Nemo now sits on the kitchen counter. Watches as Gerry makes short work of a pepper with a knife that doesn’t match the other knives.

But then none of the kitchen knives in here match anyway.

But that seemed to be the overall theme of this kitchen. The various utensils that had been gathered so there was a chance a particularly determined person could at least make an attempt at cooking were largely mismatched. Some of the originals had been lost in the line of duty such as the spatula that had nobly lost it’s life early on in the stir fry incident of Fresher’s Week (Which had also proved that yes don’t worry this house had a functioning fire alarm)

Gerry gives out a pleased noised seemingly satisfied with his handiwork and reaches for a tomato. (There’d been a brief debate in the vegetable section about if there were tomatoes in the fridge, and if so which one of Nemo’s housemates claimed ownership of said tomatoes or if they were communal tomatoes and actually lets play safe and no we probably don’t have basil)

Gerry turns back, tomato in hand to find Nemo swiping a piece of pepper.

“Hey!”

“What?” Nemo grins as they swallow it quicker than he can react, “I’m just checking,”

“And?”

“Seems fine,” Nemo sticks their tongue out, “It’s a pepper at least,” “Good,” Gerry chuckles and smiles and Nemo tries not to think too hard about it and turns their attention to watching Gerry dice a tomato.

“You know… you guys should sharpen your knives,” He doesn’t look up, “I mean this works but it’s not very sharp,” He pauses, “Sharper knives are actually safer,” “They are?”

“Yeah,” Gerry keeps working and Nemo finds their attention keeps drifting to his hands. It’s not the first time Nemo’s noticed his hands. He has… nice hands is that weird to think? “You need less pressure with a sharp knife, which means it’s less likely to slip-”

“Right,”

There’s a little nudge at the back of Nemo’s brain that reminds them that they did actually know that.

But then most of their attention seems to be on his hands as they watch how even with a slightly blunted knife he makes easy work of the tomato. And not for the first time Nemo notices his hands are slender, long fingers that in some other life would only be intended for touch soft things and be used for delicate tasks.

Some of the black nail polish has chipped since Nemo painted his nails for him a few nights ago. They’d spend the evening cuddled up closer to each other than strictly necessary under the same blanket and Gerry had been making fun of some low budget horror movie they’d found in the local Blockbuster whilst sharing a two litre bottle of coke and a bag of Cadbury buttons. And Nemo had maybe spend a little more time holding onto his hands than strictly necessary as they had worked. He’d been wearing a couple of rings today that Nemo had noticed he fiddles with sometimes and for now they sit in the pocket of Nemo’s jeans for safe keeping. There’s a faint red mark around his pale wrist where he’s kept a hairtie all day and said tie is now keeping his hair which almost hits his shoulder blades now off the back of his neck.

Nemo finds they keep noticing small details like that. Like the faint marks on his hands that show that in this life that his hands don’t only get to touch soft things and be used for the delicate tasks they seem designed for. And how they’ve cleared the blood and grime from his hands more than once by this point.

Nemo’s thoughts then shift to how his hands have felt in theirs and they’ve lost track already of how many times they’ve held his hand by this point and how when they were in the Tesco earlier their fingers had brushed and he’d wound his around there and-

And-

Nemo blinks a couple of time as they find him holding a diced piece of tomato near their face.

He chuckles “Check this for me?”

Nemo chuckles back and takes it from his fingers although for a brief impulsive moment they think of taking it from his fingers with their mouth.

Nemo swipes a few more pieces of tomato and pepper whilst Gerry works. With a grin he offers Nemo a slice of mushroom which they turn down.

Gerry then grins and eats it himself and Nemo pulls a disgusted face.

“You ate mushrooms last night,” Gerry sighs.

“Yeah, cooked,” Nemo prods him.

Gerry chuckles and Nemo tries not to think about how it makes their heart flip a little when he does that, “Fill the kettle up for me?”

The hob was a bit temperamental and Nemo had to show Gerry the trick to get the back left burner working, the extractor fan had complained a lot but did it’s job of making sure the fire alarm didn’t go off and the lid on the jar of sauce proved to be a bit stubborn and Gerry had found Nemo sneaking shredded cheese from the bag whilst he was distracted but before long the pair of them sit at the kitchen table, maybe closer than strictly necessary.

“Can’t believe you held out on me like that,” Nemo playfully tuts as they put their cider down. (There’d been a brief debate about if they should’ve brought wine, but as traditional as it was it was decided neither of them like wine enough to commit to the experience thatmuch)

“Hey got to keep a little bit of mystery right?” Gerry grins back over the top of his can.

Nemo lifts their can, “Prince of Darkness, artiste, music aficionado, paranormal expert and master chef,”

“Yeah,” Gerry’s chuckle short and sharp, “Real Renaissance man me,”

“So how long have you kept that up your sleeve?”

Gerry squirms in his chair a little, feels his cheeks warming for reasons he suspects but doesn’t want to unpack a little at the soft little smile Nemo gives him not to mention the praise “Couple of years, realised man can’t live on pot noodles alone you know?”

Nemo chuckles.

“Like I knew how to boil an egg and stuff like that you know,” Gerry swallows, “I could manage to not set the kitchen on fire,” He snorts as Nemo giggles, “Yeah I know me not wanting to set something on fire right?” Swallows and rubs the back of his neck, not sure why he feels so self conscious about admitting to this “Anyway I just… started teaching myself you know got left alone more often so why not right?” Gerry shrugs. He chuckles swallows again and looks at Nemo, pale blue eyes soft and cheeks slightly pink, “You’re… actually the first person I’ve cooked for?”

“Really?”

“Didn’t do too bad right?” Gerry chuckles.

“You did great,” Nemo smiles, “I don’t think anyone’s cooked for me before,” Nemo catches their lip, “I mean as in not anyone I’m related to, and I guess here before you know-” Nemo shakes their head and sighs, “I-”

“I know what you mean?” Gerry pauses, “I think?” “Good I’m glad one of us does,” Nemo smiles, “I mean feel free to cook for me anytime,”

“Oh the spag bol was just the start,” Gerry grins, “I’m a dab hand at veg curry too,”

Nemo’s eyes widen, “You make the curry I’ll buy the samosas?”

“Deal,”

“Got dinner for tomorrow too,” “Yeah,” Gerry laughs, “Haven’t quite learned the art of portioning out pasta,”

“Don’t think anyone’s quite learned that,”

[15-dogs]

Can I request a Neville imagine with prompts #4 and #7 from list 3? Like Neville with an outgoing Slytherin girlfriend maybe? Thank you!💚💚

love is forever |n.l.|

pairing: neville longbottom x fem!reader

summary: neville has been acting stranger than usual about your upcoming party

warnings: none

guide: (Y/N) = your name, prompts bolded (“I asked if you were having a party. I didn’t tell you to have a party.” and “Wait, no, don’t take kissing away from me!”)

word count: 1.7K

“I asked if you were having a party. I didn’t tell you to have a party,” Neville hissed at you. 

You simply rolled your eyes and shook your head, continuing on your way. Neville ran after you, stumbling on his own feet as he pushed through the crowds of people that you invited to your party that upcoming weekend.

This was nowhere near the first time something of this sort had happened. Like a couple months back when someone said that a Slytherin should enter the Triwizard Tournament. You took it as a personal challenge, putting your own name in. Neville was furious. He ranted for the whole night about the possibility of your name getting drawn and how that comes with the possibility of losing you. He froze, realizing that his voice had come thick with emotion from his admission. That night, you two kissed and were inseparable ever since.

So what would make Neville think that you were one to back down from any wandering thought?

“(Y/N)!” some Ravenclaw called out from across the hall. Your head snapped up and the girl continued, “Party on Saturday, right?”

“Yes-”

“No!” Neville interjected. You slapped a hand over his mouth, a grin still on your face.

“Don’t listen to him, party’s on for Saturday night. I’ll see you there!”

The girl waved at the two of you before sauntering off. Once she was out of sight, you removed your hand from your boyfriend’s mouth and tugged him down a corridor.

“Are you mental?” you asked. “What’s going on with you, Neville? You’re acting so strange. Do you have a problem with parties?”

He shrugged dismissively. “Reckon I don’t like them all that much.”

“Care to share why?”

Neville suddenly became shy under your gaze. His brow knit together and he scuffed his shoe against the tiling as rings of blush clouded his cheeks. “I don’t know,” he said. His voice was so quiet that it could barely be heard.

“Why doesn’t that feel entirely truthful to me?”

“I...I-”

“Hey, (Y/N)!” a familiar voice called out. “Oh, hey, Neville!” Your eyes snapped up to meet your roommate, who was peering down the end of the hallway. “We have class in, like, two minutes. We should probably head out.”

You nodded solemnly and she turned the corner, waiting for you out of sight. Neville waved hesitantly at her as she disappeared.

“I’ll see you after class, love,” he said, leaning down for a kiss. You put a hand against his chest, stopping him in his tracks. “Huh?”

“No way, no! I’m not giving in that easily.”

Neville was dumbfounded. He blinked in surprise before slowly leaning in again. You scoffed and stopped him once more.

“What?” he mumbled.

“No,” you stated definitively, “no more kissing until you tell me what’s really going on, Neville.”

“Wait, no, don’t take kissing away from me!”

You fought the urge to place a final peck against his lips as he donned an adorable little pout that had you weak in the knees. No, you had to stand your ground.

You eyed the end of the corridor, spotting your friend glancing anxiously around the halls as the number of students dwindled. You eye contact with your roommate who tapped her watch and you nodded before returning your gaze to your boyfriend.

“Sorry, Neville, but I have to go. Talk to me when you’re ready.”

And you left him there, feeling like you didn’t do the right thing at all.

—

Just because kissing was out of the picture, didn’t mean spending time with you wasn’t. Neville was constantly trying his hand at flirting, which he never really was good at. When you first started dating, you asked how you hadn’t noticed his attempts before. Apparently he had thought he was flirting with you for months now.

However, Neville had really stepped up his game. After being with you for almost three months, he knew what made you tick. His hand splaying on your lower back while you chatted with your friends, running his thumbs over your knuckles, bringing you his favorite plants which he had been caring for in the Herbology greenhouses— all of it was entirely too tempting.

Little by little, your resolve had been chipped away by Neville, but it finally crumbled a week after you had made your decision. You couldn’t stand it anymore, feeling as if you were just a bit too hard on your boyfriend.

You slid in next to him at his desk in the library, your hand curling around his. He slowly looked up, his eyes filling with pure panic as he scrambled to put his things away.

“W-what are you doing here?” he stuttered out.

You cocked a brow at him. “I’m here to talk, but mostly to call off my ban.”

“Your ban?”

“On kissing.”

The tips of Neville’s ears reddened as he let out a quiet, “Oh.” 

He leaned forward towards you as the words escaped his lips. He reached a gentle hand up to frame your jaw, planting a careful kiss to your lips. You smiled contentedly into the kiss, finding that the universe was right and just again.

Neville pulled away a moment later with a soft, “I missed that.”

You hummed in response. “Me too, Nev, but we should talk.”

Neville began to busy himself with his papers to avoid meeting your eyes. You groaned, sliding your hand from his up to his face, pulling him by the jaw to look at you.

“Why won’t you tell me what’s going on? Do you really hate parties that much?”

Neville’s eyes darted back and forth as he tried to come up with an answer. “Y-yes. I don’t like parties that much.”

You frowned and moved backwards, relaxing into your chair. “If they really bother you that much, I won’t go.”

“No, no, no!” he hurriedly assured. “Don’t do that! You can go to your party, it’s okay!”

You raised a brow at him. His jumpiness was confusing you. You knew he could be jumpy, it wasn’t totally out of the ordinary, but this seemed different, like he was hiding something from you.

“Okay,” you drawled warily, “I’ll go.”

You gathered your things and stood up, glancing at your boyfriend from the corner of your eye. As soon as you turned, he reached out to you, grabbing you by the wrist. You gasped as you looked down at his pleading eyes.

“Would you spend the morning with me? It’s okay if you don’t want to, I just thought that it would be a fun date, but it’s fine if-”

“Neville-”

“-you don’t want to. I mean, I understand that you have more-”

“-Neville-”

“-fun things to be doing that night, but I thought that if it were the mornings-”

“Yes, Neville, I would love to!” Your shouting got a few glares from some studying students around you and a loud shush from Madam Pince but you didn’t mind; his rambling was comically adorable, him always making you smile. But as you thought for longer about it, you always remembered he would ramble when he was nervous— what did he have to be nervous about?

Neville blushed and nodded shyly, letting go of his grasp on you. “Okay,” he murmured, “Saturday morning, then.”

“Saturday morning,” you confirmed, a laugh on the tip of your tongue as you left the library, wondering what had caused him to start up that nervous habit again.

—

The week came and went, leaving you anxious as ever for Saturday morning. Neville had instructed you to meet him in the kitchens which led you to assume that you would have another baking date again. Although, that was quite disastrous last time around. Fun, sure, but a mess, indeed.

As you approached the portrait, your heart hammered in your chest. You hesitantly tickled the pear, the pathway in revealing itself. However, as you stepped in, your breath was taken away. 

Neville adjusted a vase of flowers on the table which was covered head to toe in other romantic things: cards, chocolates, plates of homemade cookies (which clearly someone helped him with). He jumped at your gasp, turning around to see your delighted face.

“Did I forget Valentine’s Day?” you asked as you walked up to his embrace, kissing him on the cheek. “I thought that it was January right now?”

“Oh, it is, it is! I just…” Neville stepped backwards and gestured to a small, homemade banner that had pressed flowers and watercolor lettering on it. “...happy 3 months? Is this stupid, I feel like this is stupid-”

“Was this why you didn’t want to go to the party? Our 3 month anniversary which, wow, by the way, I forgot.” You chewed your lip, shame bubbling up in your stomach. “I feel terrible, I should’ve remembered.”

Neville rushed to your side in an instant, shaking his head with wide eyes. “No, it’s fine! Really, it’s fine! Ginny, actually, told me that girls want to celebrate anniversaries every month so I just...went with it.”

You chuckled as you walked over to your seat, Neville having pulled out the chair for you. “Well, you sure know how to make me feel special. Tell Ginny I said thanks.”

You eyed the display of sweets in front of you, your gaze falling on a card with your name on it. You glanced up at Neville, silently asking if you should open it. He nodded with confidence but was fumbling with his own hands. You carefully picked up the card as Neville began to ramble again.

“This was Luna’s idea. She said that Ginny did it for her. Apparently Luna really liked it, so I hope you do too. Luna decorated the banner as well-”

You gasped as your eyes scanned over the cursive text. Your heart swelled with joy as you reread the words over and over again. Finally, you glanced up at your overly-anxious boyfriend, whispering a breathy, “I love you, too.”

“You do?” he asked. You nodded, biting your lower lip to contain your smile. “Blimey, you do! I love you so much. So, so much.”

You dropped the card which contained his admission to take his gentle hands in yours. “I love you, too. A stupid amount, really.”

And as you sat there, confessing how you truly felt about each other, you knew that a party could wait. Parties were temporary, love was forever.

[senyuuno]

"I Don't Hate It"-Kenma, Suna

KOZUME KENMA

How could you just stop like that? You've been doing it long enough to make him used to it...why is it right now?

He's been quite unsociable since your first year. You were a trasferee that time and you came to him and greeted since his seat is just at your back, guess what? He just nodded in response and looked down.

However, at the start of the second year you were shocked to see his hair dye and much to your delight you ruffles his hair. That's been your doing everyday as you greeted-"Ohayou, Kozume-kun!" And rushed to him.

One time you came to him by surprise and ruffled his hair from behind. He was pushing you lightly and you just laughed it out. No can do.

Today, he thought it was the usual day of you ruffling his hair so he decided to be as observant as he is to make you miss your jump. He casually sat on his chair and pulled out the PSP from his pocket and started his game.

He flinched when he heard your voice greeting your friends.

"Good morning, Kozume-kun!" He positioned his arms "X", and you were puzzled at the sight.

"I'm clean though," you pouted.

You slowly went to your seat. Your back facing him. His arms rested on his desk as he keeps staring at you. What? Aren't you gon'na do it? As his thoughts wander, the teacher went in and proceed to his lessons.

"Kozume-kun, hi!" Again.

"Good morning!" Again.

"Why?" He was rather shocked by his own. Wait, what?

"It's morning. So, good morning?" You densely thought for it deeply. He pursed his lips tight after telling you not to mind it.

One week had passed. They were at practice and Kenma could still not get it out on his thoughts, YOU, rather. He sighed.

"Oya. What is it right now?" Kuroo asked him. It was not new that Kenma always sigh but this one is different. His forehead formed a crunchy one while staring hard at the volleyball net.

"Nothing," Kenma answered.

"Kenma-san! Set for me while we have time," Lev bubbly jumped him.

"No way. Break means break," he said and opened his phone. While looking for a game to play, Lev whined in the background.

"Ah! Could it be finally...our first girl manager!" Yamamoto shouted. Kenma doesn't care about the fuss though, not until he heard your voice.

"Ah no. Nekomata-sensei wanted me to fill in for today. He said he could use some help."

Kenma stared at you while you were surrounded by Lev, Yamamoto, and Yaku who came to greet you. Wow. So you could make a face like that. This is the first time he stared at your giggling face. Soon afterward, his best friend noticed the way Kenma clicked his tongue.

"Where's Sensei?" You asked.

"He was called at the office. Probably he'll be here soon," it was Kuroo who answered. Your face lights up when you see the aloof setter beside him.

"You're here!" You beam a smile to him and he just looked away. You pouted.

"Ahh! You're tall! And you are supposed to be a year below me?!" You were amazed by Lev's height and he proudly showed it off to you, rewarding him a kick at the back from Yaku.

"Wanna touch my head?"

"That's Y/N-san for you, Lev!" Kuroo added to the background. Again you chuckled.

When he sits down in front of you so you could reach his height, you were more than happy to do it. But instead of just either patting his head or flicking his forehead, you ruffled his hair.

"Hah. So Y/N huh. She was from your class, right? The one who always-"

"Tsk."

"Did you just click your tongue-" Kuroo wasn't able to finish his sentence when he lazily walked at you and grab your arm to stop you from ruffling Lev's hair.

"Eh? Kenma-san? Want to touch my hair too?"Kenma just looked at Lev with his disgusted face and Yamamoto laughed his ass out.

Kenma drag you to the back of the gym and you surprisingly did not utter any word. He stops on his track and looks at you.

"So it was Lev this time, huh?" His voice was low and it was straight directed at you. But you were just staring at his hand which was still gripping your arm.

"Kozume-kun, you're fine with it?"

"What?"

"I mean, you don't want me to touch your hair but is it fine if you're holding me like this? " He suddenly loosens his grip and flushed at the sudden realization.

"Rather, was it that you just hated whenever I ruffled your hair?" You were clueless the whole time! He thought that you were avoiding him.

"I don't." He whispered.

"Did you say something?"

"I said I don't hate it. " He then again whispered while averting his gaze but enough for you to hear it.

"Really?! I thought you hated it! I was worried for nothing." You reached for his hair and ruffled it while laughing. He did not flinch anymore or push you. He actually kind of feels relief.

"Wan'na go eat some apple pie at the newly opened shop?" You asked him. A slight smile formed on his face while your hands still ruffle on his hair. Good thing you couldn't see him.

"That sounds good."

--

SUNA RINTAROU

What does Suna think when you always gave him food? It's either during break or lunch.

He does not care less. But when you gave something to him everyday, he finds it creepy. First, you do not know each other that well. It's just that there's a time you helped on cleaning the gym, and later on, you were involved in their casual talks at you.

"Suna, this is the first time I haven't seen your delivery girl," a classmate stated. Suna shrugged in response.

There is no volleyball practice at this time since their midterm exam is one week away, he was invited to have a study group with the twins.

"Man! 'M hungry again. Wan'na eat some sushi onigiri fast," Atsumu rumbles. Right. All these papers make Suna tired.

"Tomorrow. " Osamu said.

"Yeah! Hope I could eat peacefully." Atsumu.

"'Yer actually the one who stole m'share."

"Shut 'yer trap, those were mine'n the first place." Before the both of them could dig each other out, Suna threw each one of them a crumpled paper.

Another day had passed. And then another day. Until it was the fourth day.

SUNA can't deny the fact that he already missed your cooking. It was all homemade after all, you mentioned it to him once. So for today, at lunch, he decided to go to your classroom.

"Suna-kun!" He gave the girl who called her a lazy look before searching for you.

"Eh? Suna-senpai!" The other girls started to circle around him and he started to get annoyed by the murmurs.

"Could it be that you're looking for the Miya's?" One girl asked.

"The both of them are at the rooftop, I guess. At this point in time, they said they wanted to enjoy their lunch."

"Where's-" before he could ask where you were, he has begun to feel suffocated and he just left. Since he couldn't find you at all, he decided to have lunch with the twins and get some of their food.

Just after opening the door on the rooftop, he was greeted by the sight of you and the Miyas happily eating your lunch.

"Oh! Rin, you have tah taste this'n." Atsumu said while stuffing food on his mouth.

You look at your back and you saw him standing there, with his brows shot up. You ignored it and smiled at him, urging him to have some food.

"Could'ya cook sweets tomorrow, Y/N-chan?" Osamu asked you. Y/N-chan? Since when did you get close to the Miya's?

"Eh? I'm not good with sweets though," you said then chuckled after a short while.

Suna looked at your smiling figure before joining you. He sat close to you, which you did not mind at the very least and that somehow made him annoyed.

"Ah right. I got one for you too, Suna. " You said as you opened the bento box and gave it to him.

"Mine?"

"Well, the other day I was supposed to give it to you but..." You looked at the twins who were busy eating their food.

"Mhm! Can I have a second?" Atsumu raised his chopsticks.

"They ended up eating all of them. Sorry." You said. It was the sweetest line he heard for the day.

You continued eating afterward and he was about to start his when Atsumu stared at Suna's bento. Suna intensely glared at him, with his threatening eyes.

"Y/N-chan~" Atsumu.

"Yes. Yes. Here," you gave him half the content of your bento. Since Osamu was looking at Tsumu like someone who hasn't eaten for ages, he also gave you a puppy look.

"Seriously, Samu?" You still gave him the last, while sighing.

Suna called your name and looked at him. A piece of cleanly sliced meat was in front of you.

"Here's a reward for your cooking,"

"-which I thought I was annoying you." You said before eating the meat. It's tastier than yours.

"Nah. You could keep cooking for me." He stated.

He took the eggroll and stuff it in front of you-"Again." He said. You opened your mouth to accept it. This is great. He smiled at his actions and at your response. It seems that you did not mind it.

"Rin, Y/N-chan..." Atsumu said.

"Are ya...dating?!" They both said devastated.

Your face flushed. Does it look like that? As you were about to answer. He licked the end of the chopstick and took another slice of egg roll as he brings it to his mouth.

"No...." He answered them.

"Not yet," he added and smirked.

"No way, you sleazy fox!" Atsumu rumbled.

***END***

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

So due to popular demand I watched episode 2 of Walker for you guys. Part 2 of 2

The pilot was more interesting and it wasn’t interesting. But let’s continue, maybe it’s gonna get better.

So my cookies are ready now! I ate the smallest one to check if they’re good. They are. At least I have my cookies.

Apparently now they have to take a horseriding test. Walker puts the saddle on a horse. But he gets emotional. The flashback music starts. If I see more of these I will develop rabies symptoms. I’m sorry this is what we’re talking about. This is Geneviève Padalecki’s role in this show.

Walker gets on the horse. He touches the bad and the flashback sound effect plays. Rabies. “Walker are you okay?” Ramirez asks. He nods. I’m Fine Lie #9000.

No, wait. He gets off the horse. Dude it’s called handling a loss badly and they have therapists for that. Please go to therapy. There are literal professionals trained to help you with that.

He takes off his hat, which lets you know this is serious.

He goes at the bar run by the lady who was with Emily when she died. He is no longer a ranger until he passes the test. We are happy about it because he is not in the psychological conditions to be a law enforcement officer. Oh, wait, we’re supposed not to be happy about it. Honestly, I’m not sure. Is he supposed to be relatable, or are we supposed to think that he’s screwed up and should not be a cop or a parent right now? Because he’s ostensibly the latter but maybe the intentions of the writers are the former.

He says that James thinks he’s “not quite right in the head”. Mmm… are we supposed to think James is being exaggerated? Because it’s true. He’s not in the conditions to do this job… he needs to get professional mental health support, period.

They reminisce about Emily and Walker repeats the same things that made him think there’s more to the case than it appears, like the way her eyes were closed. The bartender confesses she closed her eyes. Well. That was anticlimactic.

In the meanwhile, Liam the gay brother meets his partner for lunch. He’s attractive. Liam would also be if he weren’t dressed and hair-styled like that. I dunno. The partner wants them to move to New York. They joke about dying of queso.

Augustus goes to take pictures with his mother’s camera and has a glowy flashback of his own. “He’s sensitive. He keeps a lot inside, like his father” his grandma comments to her husband. They talk about Walker fixing the house. “He wants to pick up where he left off” she says. I am hurting inside. Did they write this with the Supernatural pilot script open on the desk!?

Ramirez keeps working the case. Turns out, the horse that died wasn’t the horse it was supposed to be (a famous racing horse). Someone swapped the horses? I don’t care, actually. I’m gonna skip the case details.

Walker eats tortilla chips with queso. And begs Ramirez to let him work on the case because that’s all he knows how to do. That’s stolen from a couple Supernatural episodes when they talk about hunting, but okay.

“You know how you can see a horse’s soul in its eyes?” …no, but okay.

They’ll need to find the mysteriously disappeared horse… which is loose! In the hospital! No, not in the hospital. Just on a road. Best shot in the show, big dark horse walking around Austin.

They need to go find the horse. Obviously Walker volunteers to get the horse. “Might not be a ranger, but I’m still a cowboy”. I’m crying this is so cliché.

You know Walker is cool because he gets out of the truck without using the little step.

It’s so deep.

Oh my god. He. He follows horse dung. It’s. It’s literally a plot point. He tracks the horse following horse poop.

He finds the horse, feeds him a lil sugar cube, puts the reins on him. It’s a beautiful horse. Can’t the show be about this horse?

Billionaire bad guy (owner of the horse, set the fire to pretend the horse was dead because lots of bets were placed on the horse, but the horse was lightly injured so couldn’t win) driving towards his plane to catch his plane to escape. James and Ramirez do a car chase.

Bad guy lackey shoots at their wheels so their car stops. But Walker arrives on the horse, gets Ramirez on the horse and they ride the horse to the bad guys’ car. Ramirez gets on the car and punches the bad guys unconscious.

For some reason (I mean, budget limitations) the fighting sequences are very quick. I would have watched more of Ramirez kicking billionaire bad guy’s ass on a moving car. But it’s fine, I mean, if this show had a bigger budget they’d spend it on more cowboy hats, so it’s fine.

Walker, James and Ramirez celebrate at the bar. Apparently the bad guy’s lackey that was supposed to get rid of the horse loved the horse too much and set him free in Austin. Mood.

There’s still a third of the episode still to go, though. Drama will ensue. Indeed Liam arrives and is super pissed off at Walker for missing lunch, which he forgot because he was busy with his lil tests.

Liam says Stella didn’t show up to the game. Walker says he know where she is and gets Ramirez to come with him.

Indeed she’s thrown a party at their house. Walker asks her what she’s doing. “Being a disappointment I guess” she answers. He asks her why she missed the game. She says that it shouldn’t be so easy to get a second chance after messing up - like him. He’s like, a second chance? It’s not like a stopped being your father. Except… you did? You disappeared from their lives entirely. He calls her out for damaging the house and she’s like, it’s not even our home anymore but I’m supposed to treat it like a museum? Honestly her scenes are the only interesting thing in this show. He says he’s back now, but she says that being back isn’t enough, what makes a parent is *doing parent things*, supporting the kids.

“I wish uncle Liam had gotten custody of us when he tried” she eventually drops the big bomb. Ouch.

He’s super pissed off, takes off the hat dramatically, and drives back to Liam. He gets off the drunk and immediately assaults Liam. “You tried to take my damn kids!”

I’m flabbergasted. They. They just wrote a plotline where a gay man tried to ~steal a straight man’s children~ like it was a good idea. I mean! Liam getting custody of the kids would have been a VERY GOOD IDEA but what, we’re supposed to think he was wrong? I am so confused because I can’t tell if we’re supposed to be on Walker’s side or not. He is NOT in the condition of being a parent. The kids SHOULD be under the custody of their grandparents and/or uncle. Not because he’s traumatized by loss, but because he’s not trying at all. He keeps saying he’s trying but he’s not. He gets aggressive too easily and it could be dangerous.

Anyway the brothers have this physical fight which isn’t by far the most embarrassing thing in this show so I’ll let it slide. “You had no right!” Walker says, to which Liam replies that he gets it was rough but “you went dark! That was negligence!” Which is absolutely right and he should have gotten the custody of the kids. Liam mentions that their parents also agreed on the thing, and Walker yells “these are MY kids!” which is appalling, because being the biological father of some kids doesn’t make it okay to disappear on them for months and being mad if someone else stepped up to be their parent in your absence. “I didn’t want them to be orphans, did you!?” Liam yells back.

“I would never _take_ them, I wanted to protect them,” Liam says, and says more very reasonable things. “Even now you’re not here.” Walker yells that he is here (again, being physically in Austin doesn’t make you a parent, like Stella said), Liam replies that he’s chasing ghosts.

He brings up the things that don’t add up again, like the poker chip. I’m afraid that the narrative will prove him right, that there WAS something there and he was right to follow through the case despite everyone else telling him he was being delusional and that he should let it go and focus on the family. It would be actually good if it turned out that there was nothing there, that it was all coincidence (like the friend closing her eyes) and that he just chased ghosts for real, but I’m afraid this isn’t that kind of show. I think they’re playing it straight, that they’ll make Walker be right, and it will suck.

A note: now that he’s fighting and yelling and being angry, Jared is actually acting properly, which I don’t know if it’s a good thing or creepy.

Actually Liam says something very reasonable now, that answers will not actually satisfy him, her being gone will never make sense emotionally. The poker chip isn’t going to bring her back. He will lose everything if he keeps searching for something that isn’t there.

Now that Walker has calmed down, Jared returns to doing Jared mouth things. Oh no! Augustus watched them fight.

Oooh. Augustus gives him the present Emily was going to give him for father’s day. Poker chips. “She kept a few of the chips so she could show people” (what? But okay). Another of the mysteries was actually not a weird conspiracy at all. I suspect the narrative will make us believe there was nothing there to just pull a twist afterwards. It would be interesting if Walker were indeed looking for nothing, but I doubt that’s what they’re doing. They’re playing the tropes too straight.

Meanwhile Ramirez comes home to her boyfriend preparing a homemade dinner. She says she’s happy he’s there, and that scares the crap out of her. She wants to get both the job and the relationship right. They’re really cute and I hope their relationship doesn’t get drama-fied for drama. A healthy relationship where two partners figure out how to navigate it together, with normal minor bumps along the way they face together, would really be a good thing for the show to portray.

The next morning, Walker is making breakfast when Stella enters the kitchen. She doesn’t speak to him but gets on her phone so he starts texting her. They have a moment. He was looking for him mug and she gets it out for him. She says it reminded her of him being gone so she’d put it away. They do a bonding activity (bringing a memento from their old house to their new one), she cries, he hugs her.

Back at the ranch, Walker’s father has made him a new saddle. Gramps Walker is rough around the edges but has a hidden wisdom.

The emotional moment is kinda broken for me by the big Texas flag they have inside the house. I suppose it’s just how Texas is but it’s still funny for that very reason.

Augustus for his school project has put together a video from old family footage. Lots of flashback, but this time with a regular song and not the rabies sound effect and with the soft lighting but not the most extreme glowy effect, so it’s kinda okay.

Jared makes emotional faces and the episode’s over.

Well, at least the dead guy having been to prison wasn’t really relevant and the bad guy was a billionaire. An improvement from the previous episode.

I’m not going to give views to the youtube trailers, but I’ve been told in the next episode a new character will be introduced that is a childhood friend that is ~the Han Solo to Walker’s Luke Skywalker. *single tear of sorrow* They’re trying SO HARD to be Supernatural and they’re managing to pick the least interesting concepts of Supernatural to do so. Can’t wait to see Fake Dean. Also we haven’t seen Walker lasso a person either. I suppose I’ll have to watch more of this.

Honestly, it’s mostly boring with Stella being the only interesting part and Ramirez and her boyfriend being cute to watch. Walker is so unlikeable. You want him to get his shit together for the sake of the people around him, but not really for his sake. He should go to therapy but he is a manly cowboy man so obviously he won’t go (but I will be impressed if they actually have him see a therapist. It would be interesting to have a manly cowboy man see a therapist. But will they do it?) The idyllic flashbacks of Emily are so overdone and it’s only the second episode! Everything is cheesy.

This traditional Texan ranch aesthetic meets Austin city would be interesting if played in a way that genuinely questions the values of old, but the show doesn’t really, it uses the gay brother and the immigrant friend and the Latina cop and the Black boyfriend as props but the narrative itself doesn’t really do anything with the traditional Texan family thing. Unless they really pull the rug from under the audience’s feet and make some big twists regarding the way the narrative is presenting itself, there’s nothing really interesting or useful in the show. I’m afraid they will solve their problems by Wanting To Do Better and Sticking Together As A Family, which is just a conservative fantasy of how to fix problems.

By the way, the cookies were really good and my family loved them too.

[reyesstrand]

let your heart be light

tarlos & firefam dynamics / teen+ / 2.6k

To be fair, TK wasn’t sure what to expect for his first holiday season in Austin. But he has his dad, he has his team, he has Carlos—and it’s enough.

@911giftexchange for @teaamfreewill — i hope you enjoy this AJ, and have a happy holiday season!!! 💗

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3!!

“It just doesn’t feel right without snow.”

Paul looks at him with that ever-present, all-knowing look in his eyes, before letting out a sigh and nodding. “You’re telling me, New York.”

“Like,” TK starts, fully aware that he’s gravitating into rambling status at this point, but he can never stop himself. He rests a foot on the bottom rung of the shopping cart, leaning his weight against the handle as Paul analyzes the nutritional facts on two different brands of steel-cut oats. “It doesn’t feel like the holidays without at least one storm that makes you question your existence.”

Humming in agreement, Paul puts one package back on the shelf and tosses the other in the cart, before hesitating and grabbing a few more of the pale-blue bags before they're good to move on to produce. When there's a comfortable lull in conversation, both of them crossing items off the list his dad's very carefully crafted for the bi-weekly shopping trips, TK lets his mind drift to holidays past.

His parents wanted him to grow up with both the tradition of celebrating Hanukkah and Christmas, but as he grew older, Decembers tended to blur into every other month. He'd always call his mom if he was working late, smiling down at photos she'd send him of her attempts to perfect her grandmother's recipe for sufganiyot, always making his stomach rumble. And, even if she was out of the city at the time, she'd always send him a box of homemade pastries and a card with a lengthy message inscribed inside that'd make him feel warmed from the inside out. And his dad would always make him at least come for a dinner on the twenty-fifth, even if dinner was just takeout eaten straight out of the cartons while they watched the Christmas parade he always recorded.

They were simple traditions, but they were theirs.

In Austin, TK's slowly getting used to calling it home. The snow thing had been the first to strike him, because while he's seen his fair share of strange Texan weather, not waking up to white covering every surface and bitter cold nipping at his skin has been throwing him for a loop. 

"Earth to TK," Paul says, tossing him a bell pepper. TK catches it, rolling his eyes playfully at his friend. "We should start figuring out a place and time for the Not-Christmas dinner."

"Carlos offered his place," TK says, without thinking. Paul just grins at him. 

"That seems to be going well, huh?" Paul asks, hip-checking TK as they walk side-by-side to the checkout. TK feels his face go warm, though he busies himself with adjusting the rolled sleeves of his black t-shirt, printed with the 126 crest over his heart. Paul just musses up his hair before ducking out of grasp for retaliation, sidling up to the cashier and offering his big smile at her while she begins to ring them up. "I'm happy for you, kid. We all are." 

TK does smile at that, because it's the one shining light in all of this. He hadn't been sure what a holiday season with a new boyfriend would be like, especially when every single one of his friends were also friends with said boyfriend, but they've all been relatively tame. No shoving them under the mistletoe yet, which TK guesses is only a matter of time. 

"Anyway," Paul says, and TK sticks his hands into his pockets, suddenly glad Marjan isn't here to poke at his pink cheeks. 

"Anyway," TK agrees. "Carlos did offer to let us use his place, though. He suggested the twenty-second, so that way people could still go see their families." 

"The twenty-second it is," Paul smiles, already typing the date into their group chat, followed by five question marks. Because Carlos thought ahead for these things, TK knows they're all already going to be on one of their twenty-four-hour off periods; Carlos works that morning but will be home by noon, and as long as TK has detailed instructions, he won't have a problem starting the food early. 

A small knot forms deep in TK's chest, even though he knows there's still two weeks before the proposed group dinner. He just thanks the cashier after paying with the credit card his dad gave him before they left the station an hour ago, and they head back out into the sunny, barely-cool, snowless, December afternoon. 

***

TK's just hanging up with his mom, absently kicking at a rock in the lot just outside the bay doors, when he feels someone creep up behind him. 

He doesn't even blink, though, because he smells sandalwood and tangy citrus and is smiling before he feels familiar arms settle around him. He tells his mom I love you, too, and stuffs his phone in his pocket and leans back into Carlos' touch, for half a moment, before turning in his arms and pressing their foreheads together. 

"Did you know you're impossible to shop for?" 

TK grins, and presses a quick kiss to the corner of Carlos' mouth before pulling back enough to look him in the eye. "What a welcoming statement after not seeing each other for twenty-seven hours." 

Carlos rolls his eyes affectionately, and tightens his hold around TK's middle. "I missed you, Ty." 

"I missed you too," TK grins, cupping Carlos' face between his palms and finally closing the distance between them properly. "But I do take offence to that. I'm perfect in every way." 

Carlos huffs a laugh against his mouth and presses in for one more kiss, before scraping his blunt nails against the fine hairs at TK's nape. "Believe me, I know, sweetheart." 

He feels a pleasant ripple shoot through him, and TK's struck again by the fact that he gets to have this. He's close enough to see the flecks of gold in Carlos' warm brown eyes, and he wonders how it's only been three months because he feels like he's known him forever. He thinks of decorating with Marjan today and the sudden pang of homesickness that he couldn't quite explain. 

"You okay?" Carlos asks, because he can read even the most microscopic of his expressions like the back of his own hand. TK covers it up with a smile. 

"Yeah, of course," TK brushes his thumb along Carlos' jaw, before standing back, dragging his hand down the length of Carlos' arm so he could grab his hand and tangle their fingers together. "Come on, I'll buy you dinner." 

"My prince," Carlos plays along, hand over his heart, but there's still a look in his eyes. He runs his thumb over the backs of TK's knuckles, and when TK squeezes his hand tighter, he gets a small smile in return. 

***

They'd realized sometime between Thanksgiving and the first of December that they'd have to celebrate as a team, this year. 

The non-denominational, coined-by-Mateo "Not-Christmas Dinner" idea was agreed upon pretty quickly, and TK is beyond excited to start creating new traditions with his family. But he's struggling, is the thing. He wouldn't ever mention it to anyone because he hates stressing them out, and though he has no urge to do anything stupid because for the first time in a while he's happy—like, really fucking happy—he can't help but to feel like everything has to be perfect. 

It boils down to this: he misses his mom like crazy, even though she stayed with him and his dad for a couple weeks back in September when he was still healing. He's finally getting back on track with his dad, after long nights of hashing things out about his childhood. And he and Alex never did much for the holidays save for giving each other a couple gifts because they could never work out how to spend an equal amount of time with both of their families—which, in hindsight, is yet another element of the two and a half years TK lost to the man he thought was his soulmate—but now with Carlos he just wants things to be special. They already have plans to visit Carlos' mom and sisters on Christmas Eve, and Owen had lovingly coerced Carlos into a Strand family dinner on Christmas Day. 

It just feels like a lot. 

"Hey, are you okay?" Marjan asks, bumping his shoulder with hers as she strolls into Carlos' kitchen. The twenty-second kind of crept up on TK, and now he's here, attempting to hold down the fort while Carlos makes a last-minute trip to the store. His kitchen's a homey space, and, like the rest of his boyfriend's place, it's tastefully decorated with garland and candles and little angel statues that have been passed down through his family. There's a photo of the two of them on Carlos' fridge, pressed together at a pumpkin patch they'd spent a date night at back in October, and TK gets a little lost in the memory. Marjan has to nudge him a little harder to get him to snap back into it. "TK?" 

"Oh, hey," TK smiles at her, and goes back to making sure that the green beans don't stick to the bottom of the pan. She claims a burner of her own to keep her tagine warm, leaning back against the counter with her arms folded over her chest. 

"You're spacing out a bit," Marjan says, and when TK keeps his eyes trained on the vegetables he swore he could handle, she just makes a small noise and places a hand on his shoulder. "You've been a little quiet lately."

There's a pause, where neither of them say anything, before Marjan drops her voice a little and adds:

"Hey, you know you can talk to me, right?" 

"I'm just—" TK shakes his head and bites at the inside of his cheek, turning down the heat to try and kill more time.

He doesn't know how to tell her—and the rest of them—that he's both so thankful for this family he's found and so, so terrified of messing it all up. Thankfully, he doesn't have to; there's a knock at the door and Marjan offers to get it, leaving TK alone with a soft smile. He sighs, and closes his eyes for a long moment. 

***

After food has been served, and gifts have been exchanged, they all sit around Carlos' living room. The conversations overlap like they always do, and TK sits comfortably under the glow of the light from the tree and the warmth of Carlos' arm thrown over his shoulder. He's slowly picking at a piece of Grace's pecan pie, and he knows he should just let himself get lost in the moment, but he can't. He taps his foot at a staccato beat against the floor, and even when Carlos throws him a questioning look and settles his hand on TK's knee, he doesn't stop. 

He finally excuses himself ten minutes later. 

Carlos' place has a nice little backyard area, where they've all gathered for parties and after-work hangouts countless times. It's a little chilly as the sun's gone down, and TK sighs out loud and sees his breath puff out in front of him. He smiles just a little, and kicks his foot against the porch, dropping down onto the steps. 

He's expecting Carlos to come after him; or maybe Marjan, or his dad. Instead it's Grace who settles down next to him, a hand splayed over her four-month pregnant belly. 

"Honey," she starts, and TK ducks his head. His eyes burn, and he roughly sniffs. "TK. You don't have to hide whatever you're thinking from us." 

He takes a deep breath, and scrubs a hand down his face. And then he says: "I don't want to bring down your mood." 

Grace gives him one of her warm smiles. "TK, every day I'm reminded why you and my husband get along so well." 

TK rolls his eyes and gently nudges her arm with his shoulder. 

"Now tell me what's wrong," Grace says, and TK rubs the back of his neck before he starts talking. 

He tells her everything. About how the holidays usually meant bickering with Alex. How it meant celebrating with both of his parents, sure, but also dealing with awkward dinners with their new significant others. About how he hasn't felt this good since he was a kid and he doesn't want to fuck it up. 

"You could never fuck it up," Grace tells him, squeezing his hand that she's been holding between both of hers. TK meets her eyes and finds nothing but sincerity, nothing but the warmth and reassurance that always seems to be there. "Never. And know that all of us in there don't care about perfect as long as we have you, as long as we're all together. Now, I'm going to send that beautiful man of yours out here so you can talk to him, because he's been worried." 

At that exact moment, they hear the telltale creak of the door opening; both of them glance over their shoulders and spot Carlos. 

He moves to leave, lifting a hand in apology. "Sorry to interrupt—" 

"I was just leaving," Grace says, getting to her feet and squeezing TK's shoulder for a brief moment. When she disappears back into the house, Carlos takes her spot, and wordlessly presses a lingering kiss to TK's temple. 

"Ty," Carlos starts, and TK stops him in his tracks with a kiss. 

"I'm sorry for being distant, lately," TK murmurs half against his lips, because even though he knows that Carlos has seen him pretty close to his worst he hates the thought of pulling him down; of making him unhappy. "I'm just—it's been so long since I've had this. And I've never had someone like you. I was so worried about not messing things up that I got in my head." 

"Hey," Carlos whispers, getting TK to look him in the eye. "Please don't apologize, okay? We're all healthy, and here together—that's what matters, right? That I get to have you by my side through it all?"

Could you blame TK for surging forward to kiss him again? 

When they part, TK whispers: "Thank you." 

"What for?" Carlos asks, eyes glinting with confusion. 

"For being you," TK says, knowing how it sounds. 

Carlos shakes his head, moving to lace their fingers together. 

They move in unison to press their foreheads together, and TK whispers, "I love you so much. I just needed you to know that." 

"Of course I do," Carlos says, smiling into it when he kisses TK before speaking again. "I love you too. And I don't want you to feel like you have to—to hide what you're feeling." 

TK just lets himself have what he wants, what he needs in the moment, and it's this: Carlos' mouth against his, again and again. 

***

They re-enter the party ten minutes later, and all eyes are on them when they slip into the living room. 

TK opens his mouth to make some big declaration, but Marjan catches his eye, and then Paul. Then it's his dad who dramatically clears his throat and points above the two of them. 

Because, of course, there's mistletoe fastened to the doorway above them. 

"I hate you all," TK mutters, to which Judd yells lies! and Paul yells something about getting on with it. So, TK does; he presses his palms to either side of Carlos' face and grins at him before closing the distance between them. There's a whoop from someone for effect, and then when they pull apart Marjan pulls him down next to her on the loveseat so he can be thrown into a conversation about fighting mall elves they'd had to deal with during a call yesterday. 

Looking around the room, he realizes he had nothing to worry about at all. And, to be fair, TK wasn't sure what to expect for his first holiday season in Austin. But he has his dad, he has his team, he has Carlos—and it's enough. 

[poetic-emptiness-fanfic]

Something There

The name of this fic is from a song Something There from Beauty and the Beast.

Characters: Hande Kuura, Reidunn & Lydik - Reidunn and Lydik belong to @vikinglumberjack

The first meeting of Hande and Lydik!

No content warnings.

Words: ~4 000

Hande enjoys spring: it's that time of year when nature comes back to life after months of slumber. A smile creeps across her face while she's walking towards the marketplace, not only because of the warmth or budding flowers and leaves, but because today she will meet her best friend after a long time. Reidunn has returned from her months-long journey to Longyearbyen, so of course they had to arrange a meeting.

It doesn't take long for Hande to spot the redhead from the crowd. She starts to wave at her friend whose face turns to meet Hande's eyes. They both smile to each other and Hande takes the huldra into a warm hug.

”Dunna, welcome back! I've missed you! How was your journey? Any news from your family?”

”Takkâ, Hande! I've missed you, too! It was fine, sometimes the weather was a little stormy on my way back home, but I was happy to see my family again. They're all fine, thank you for asking! They sent their love to you – they had hoped you would come with me again.”

”I'm glad you didn't experience anything too harsh on your way home! I would've loved to come with you, but you know how it is: Nadia needs me with this mental health clinic project,” Hande chuckles before she continues, ”That's what you get when you say an idea out loud and the Countess actually ends up liking it.”

Reidunn pats her friend on the shoulder, reassuring Hande it was great, that Vesuvia is going to have an important institution thanks to her. The magician quickly brushes it off, changing the subject to Longyearbyen. The huldra decides to indulge Hande this time, and tells about all the things she's done during her stay at her childhood home. They keep sauntering the marketplace until they stop at Selasi's bakery to grab some pumpkin bread. They're sitting on a table, enjoying the warm weather and each other's company.

”So, Dunna, it seems that you haven't just come back to Vesuvia. What have you been up to, or have you just rested after the journey?”

”I've tried to rest, yes, but I also had to make some arrangements. I need to make some space to my new roommate.”

”Oh, you have a roommate now? That's so nice! How did you end up with this situation?”

”He's a friend of mine. I haven't seen him a while, but when I was at Longyearbyen, he approached me and asked if he could come with me to Vesuvia.”

”How neat! What's his name? Is he a Fosna?”

”His name is Lydik. No, he is not a Fosna. He's a fae – a Nøkken, actually.”

Hande's eyes widen and her posture becomes stiff. Reidunn has a Nøkken as a friend? One of those scary, human-eating water creatures? For all of her life, Hande has been warned about them, how they lure their victims to the water to drown them. She also knows some people in Hjalle who have lost their loved one to a Nøkken. And now there's one living in Vesuvia...

Lost in her thoughts, Hande whispers, ”Näkki maalle, minä veteen...¹”

”What is it, Hande?”

Hande turns her gaze to Reidunn, still a little absentminded, ”Oh, it's a Forestian spell, to banish a  Nøkken from water if you're going to swim.You need to throw a stone into the water while saying those words and then a creature needs to go to the shore and can't go back unless you let it return with another spell. I... Why do you have a Nøkken as a friend? They're monsters, they've only caused harm in Hjalle – I've heard too many stories of disappeared people whose steps lead to water and not back. People didn't even find their bodies to bury...”

”Oh, I'm so sorry to startle you, Hande! I forgot how that could be upsetting for you. But it isn't what you think, Lydik isn't like that! Actually, he saved my, Guivi's and Bilzi's lives when we got lost as children.”

”Oh?” Hande looks surprised, but also intrigued, ”I didn't know that could be possible. How did it happen, may I ask?”

Reidunn starts to tell about her adventure with her siblings and how Lydik had taken them under his wing. How he had showed kindness to the children by entertaining and protecting them during the night. The huldra can see her friend relaxing a little, although the magician still looks astonished.

”Wow, that really is something else,” she says, ”I've never heard of a Nøkken who has saved human lives instead of taking them. Sorry, Dunna, it seems like I judged too harshly.”

Reidunn reaches for Hande's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, ”It's okay, Hande. I should have warned you first.” The huldra seems to think for a moment and then smiles to her friend, ”If you want, we can go to my place. Lydik's there so... I've told him about you and I think it would be nice for you to meet.”

”You have?” Hande sounds surprised. She gives a little smirk for Reidunn and adds, ”I hope you've told only good things, and haven't frightened him by telling that I'm a Nøkken discriminator.”

The huldra bursts into laughter at Hande's latest remark. Reidunn is also relieved – she doesn't want to upset Hande, and it could be troublesome for Lydik if her best friend would decide to dislike Lydik without actually getting to know him. The duo raise from their seats and head to Reidunn's home.

***

Reidunn lets Hande enter first to her herbalist shop-apartment. The magician is greeted by music – fiddle music, to be exact. Hande stops in her tracks, starting to listen the sound that comes from upstairs. A melody is swaying and gentle, and has lots of short glissandos in it. The magician can hear a tuning of an instrument differs from her own violin: it sounds warmer, raspier and more ”homemade”. A shy smile rises on her face and she closes her eyes, taking in the whole experience.

Hande's friend can hear the music, too, which fills her mind with worry. Oh no, it's Thursday! Reidunn approaches the magician quickly, fearing she'll be traumatised after this incident. Before she's reached Hande she becomes a little baffled: Hande isn't walking towards upstairs. The huldra slows down and circles to meet the face of her friend. The magician's eyes are still closed, taking in the pleasant melody. Reidunn can see how Hande picks out the tune with her fingers against her thumb, like it's the fingerboard of her violin. Reidunn relaxes immediately. Phew, Hande isn't in trance. The huldra decides to wait for the song to end before she'll speak, for she doesn't want to startle her friend.

When the song ends, Hande opens her eyes and smiles at Reidunn, ”That was beautiful. How did you do it?”

Reidunn thinks for a moment before she opens her mouth, ”It was... Hande, don't freak out, but it was Lydik.”

Realization hits Hande and she feels dumbfounded. It the Nøkken is playing the fiddle, then why...

”Why am I not in trance?” Hande places her hand on her forehead, as if to feel if she has fever. The magician had no idea about this ability of hers. Reidunn seems as much surprised as her but then answers, ”I am not sure what may be the reason of this, but it seems like you're immune to Nøkkens' music.”

The magician, still a little confused, ponders out loud, ”I guess quite a few can do that – maybe it's related to families that have had magicians in their bloodline? There's nothing special about me in addition to that...”

Reidunn looks at her friend, giving her a wistful smile, ”That is a rare ability, I've never heard of anyone who is able to resist Nøkkens' playing. Not any human, at least.”

Hande isn't sure what to say – this ability of hers has taken her completely off-guard. The magician decides she doesn't have the time to muse about it too much – she will have time to think about it and ask from her family later. Now she can see the humorous side of this incident and chuckles to Reidunn, ”That kind of hospitality, eh? Trying to trick unsuspecting guests with his beautiful playing! How rude.”

The huldra looks a little confused, not sure whether her friend is joking or not. Her tail swishes nervously before she answers, ”No, Hande, it isn't a trick. I just brought a friend home. I'm sorry, it's Thursday and for some reason Lydik plays instinctively on Thursdays, and I didn't realise to warn you.”

Hande approaches her friend, hugging her lightly, ”It's okay, Dunna. I was only joking. How could you know he's playing right now? Besides, this was spontaneous visit, so Lydik doesn't know I'm here, either.”

Reidunn relaxes, her tail calming down as well. The huldra can't help but admire Hande's abilty to see humorous side of situations even soon after she has been nervous or baffled because of them. ”Would you like to meet him?” Reidunn asks with a warm smile on her face.

Hande answers her friend's smile with a smirk, ”Weeell, maybe this once. And if something goes wrong, I can always incant him inside of a water orb!”

Reidunn lets out a giggle and leads Hande to upstairs. Lydik is still playing his fiddle, apparently unaware of the company he's going to get. Hande is still a little nervous, but her curiosity is taking over – it's not every day you get an opportunity to meet a fae, after all. She waits behind Reidunn when the huldra knocks on a door that apparently leads to Lydik's room. The fiddle playing ceases and Hande hears a low grunt behind the door. Reidunn turns to Hande, ”For your information: Lydik can't speak, but I can interpret his communication to you. He understands what we are saying.” Hande nods after which Reidunn opens the door.

Lydik has put his fiddle away and turned to see the comers. Whatever Hande has expected to see, it wasn't this: a thin creature almost twice of her height with green skin, only loose pants covering his body. The Nøkken has yellow-green, wavy hair with twigs poking out of it, straight nose, elf-like ears and green, glowing eyes that reminds Hande of alligators.

A yelp, ”Ei perkele, hän on pitkä!²” escapes from the magician's mouth while she instinctively takes a step back towards the door. Her back hits the door and her brain catches up with her reactions. Don't be stupid, startling because of his height! There's nothing he could drown me with, and besides, why would he try to kill me, Reidunn's friend.

Hande's body is filled with embarrassment. ”I... I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to... I... I just got a little startled of how tall you are. I don't know why, but I get this stupid inferiority complex every time I am near someone who's much taller than me...” she stutters, trying to meet the Nøkken's eyes despite of their huge height difference.

Reidunn observes the situation a little worried: she can notice how Lydik has tensed a little, probably willing to hide, and now also Hande is nervous and starting a tangent in order to hide it.

”It's not because of you, it's completely on me... I've never met a Nøkken before and half of my family has always warned me about your kind... Reidunn told me how you helped her when she was a child, I really don't have anything against you, I'm so, so sorry...” Hande continues her rambling, unable to stop the flood of words. Her mind races, like she's on the back of a kelpie, unable to get off while the creature gallops towards the water. Great, now I'm thinking of horses...The last thing I need to do now... The magician starts to wringle her hands and she wants to do is to flee the scene, but she feels like her feet are glued on the floor.

Lydik is watching this new acquaintance in confusion. He isn't sure what he's supposed to do. He can sense the woman is nervous, even a little scared, but isn't sure if it's because of him, or like she claims, because of her. He glances at Reidunn pleadingly and the huldra goes to comfort the woman, who still hasn't stopped her nervous talking.

”Hande, it's okay. Just breathe,” Reidunn says calmly while rubbing her friend's back. Her best friend's voice helps Hande calm down – she feels safe, accepted. Reidunn has always had this skill of making Hande feel comfortable, since the beginning of their friendship. She is Hande's pillar of strength, always there for her, like Hande is for Reidunn. Little by little tha magician's breathing stabilizes and she's able to collect her thoughts. It doesn't make her feel any better about her messing up, but at least she's stopped rambling.

”Well, that was awkard... I'm so sorry, I don't know why I get this nervous in new situations... It seems like I'm socially rustier than I used to be,” Hande raises her gaze to meet Lydik's eyes once again, ”Please, let me try again: My name is Hande Kuura and I'm delighted to meet you.” Hande places her right hand above her heart and bows at the Nøkken in order to greet him.

Lydik is still a little confused, but his body relaxes. He glances at Reidunn who is still by Hande's side. The huldra gives him a nod – it's okay now, even Lydik himself can sense the woman next to Reidunn has calmed down. He cocks his head, but then he gives Hande a small smile while mimicking the magician's gesture. After his greeting he pews at Hande.

The magician looks questioningly at Reidunn, not sure what that sound means. ”I think Lydik is trying to say he's also delighted to meet you. Pew is a friendly sound,” Reidunn interprets.

Hande answers to Lydik's smile. ”I heard you playing, it was beautiful,” Hande says sincerely after a moment of silence. The Nøkken's smile turns into a friendly grin, revealing his sharp teeth. The magician doesn't get startled by that, ironically enough.

”You look different than I imagined,” Hande states looking pensive.

Lydik cocks his head again. This time Hande realises he's asking a question. She thinks for a moment, but then decides she can say her thought out loud, ”Well, to be honest, I expected to meet a huge pile of alga with scary eyes,” she gestures to his direction with her hand, giving the Nøkken a bashful grin, ”This... It is a positive surprise. My expectation would have been way too creepy for me to handle.”

Lydik looks at Hande for a moment, but then he starts to chuff. This yellow-haired woman is funny indeed. His chuffing increases which creates a confused look on Hande's face. The Nøkken notices that and approaches a shelf nearby. He starts to tap some kind of rhythm onto it with his finger. Reidunn follows him carefully while Hande's confusion seems to increase.

When Lydik stops, Reidunn nods and turns to face her friend, ”Lydik used Morse code. He said that he would've thought that sharp teeth would be more creepy than some algae with eyes. He found your remark funny, by the way: that chuffing noise means he's laughing.”

Hande chuckles, surprised by the fact Lydik is laughing at her sayings. ”Morse code, you say?” the magician asks creefully, ”I need to learn that, so I can understand what you're saying.”

A realisation hits Lydik who starts to look confused once more. Still by the shelf, he starts tapping, looking at Reidunn questioningly.

”Oh yes,” Reidunn exclaims, ”Lydik asked how you're fine although he played, Hande,” the huldra turns towards Lydik before she continues, ”Well, it seems like that Hande is immune to Nøkken music. It didn't affect her at all, and Hande didn't even realise at first it was you who was playing.”

Hande nods in affirmative, ”I don't know how, but it seems like Reidunn is right about my immunity”. Lydiks turns to meet Hande's eyes. He looks like he's impressed. Once again the Nøkken taps and Reidunn interprets, ”He says: Woah, I've never met someone who could do that.”

Hande lowers her gaze to the ground, feeling embarrassed for the attention she's getting. In the hopes that Reidunn will indulge her, she tries to slightly change the direction of the discussion. ”Well, your playing did affect me, though. Like I mentioned before, it was very beautiful. I just wanted to stay and listen for a while. I play a violin myself, so it's nice to meet someone who can also do that,” she says wholeheartedly with a friendly smile on her face.

Lydik's impression brightens and he gives Hande a wide smile with some cheerful pews. He places his hands in front of him and then he draws his hands to the opposite directions in the air: his left hand upwards and right hand downwards. The Nøkken's fiddle and bow appear in his hands from thin air.

Hande smiles at Lydik looking impressed, ”That's a neat trick! I have to settle for a case and then glare at anyone who almost kicks it.”

Lydik chuffs and then gestures to his instrument, asking if Hande wants him to play again. The magician's smile softens when she replies, ”Please.”

Lydik lifts his fiddle onto his shoulder. He doesn't need to think for long what he wants to play. The song is faster than the previous one, something one would dance to. Most of the time Lydik concentrates on playing, but from time to time he glances towards the women in his room. Reidunn is swaying with the music and Hande taps the rhythm with her foot. The Nøkken notices Hande's face is lit up with a pure delight, not an empty smile what those people in trance would have. He finds it fascinating, intriguing even, and he wants to play even better because of that. Lydik really likes seeing that look on Hande's face.

After the song ends Hande starts applauding, Reidunn following suit. Lydik is confused, because he isn't sure why the women are clapping, but judging by the smiles on their faces, it is something positive. He smiles a little sheepishly and makes his instrument disappear once again.

Hande notices Lydik's confused expression and hurries to explain, ”Oh sorry, I'm so used to doing this I didn't realise it might be new to you. People start to applaud to a person if they've enjoyed their performance, usually something related to music, but it can be dancing, a speech or something like that. You really are playing well, thank you for this performance.”

Pleased with himself, Lydik grins widely to Hande. A chuckle escapes Hande's mouth, but it's a kindhearted one, so neither Lydik or Reidunn thinks anything of it. The magician seems to think for a moment, before she opens her mouth again, ”Lydik, have you made your fiddle yourself?”

The Nøkken nods in affirmative and Hande's face lits up again, ”That's wonderful! Unfortunately I can't make violins, but my uncle Paavo – he's the brother of my mother – has made mine. From what wood are your fiddle made of?”

The room is filled with Hande's questions, Lydik's tapping and Reidunn's interpreting. The atmosphere is completely relaxed which fills Reidunn with relief – she has been a little nervous when she noticed that her friends were uncomfortable, but now that they have warmed to each other, both of them are able to show their best sides which the huldra enjoys to watch. Lydik's expression grows brighter and brighter, now that he's able to talk about one of his passions with someone who actually understands the details.

After Hande has learned that Lydik has used Nøkken magic to make his fiddle waterproof she starts to wonder about differences between Nøkken and humans in general. The magician keeps eyeing Lydik curiously, trying to determine what kind of skin does the Nøkken have. Only if she could touch it... No, it's not appropriate to touch others! But what if I ask permission first? No! Hande tries her best to listen Reidunn, but she's buzzing with curiosity and it gets harder and harder to contain herself. She must know.

Before Hande can decide whether to open her mouth or keep silent, Lydik's eyes lock on hers. Ugh, he must've sensed I was ogling... She gives him a bashful smile which the Nøkken answers. Feeling a little more courageous, the magician blurts, ”Can I touch you?”

Reidunn turns to watch Hande, looking extremely surprised. Lydik's smile turns into an expression of confusion once more which causes Hande to wince. ”Ugh, sorry... That came out wrong... I meant to ask, if I can touch your skin, to try how it feels like? It seems like the texture of your skin is different from human skin... Of course you don't need to let me if you don't want to, my curiosity just took the best of me...”

Before Hande can start another ramble, Lydik holds out his arm to her, smiling encouragingly to her. Hande holds her tongue and glances at his arm, a little hesitant. ”Are you sure?” the magician asks to which Lydik only nods. Slowly Hande reaches out her right hand towards Lydik's arm. She lightly strokes his hardel with her forefinger a few times. ”I didn't expect it to be this soft,” she states absentmindedly, ”It feels like a skin of a lizard... Interesting...”

Sensing Lydik's pretty intense gaze on her, Hande becomes extremely self-conscious and lets go of Lydik's arm. The magician clears her throat and thanks Lydik for letting her inspect his skin. Then she looks like she just rememberd something and exclaims, ”How rude of me! I kept touching you like a test subject, but didn't offer the same for you. If you want, you can touch my arm.” While saying the last sentence, Hande holds her arm to Lydik in turn.

Lydik isn't quite sure what Hande meant with ”test subject”, but he touches Hande's arm, mimicking her previous movements. The magician's skin feels smooth under his fingers and only soft arm hair offers some texture to it. Lydik notices how the hair on Hande's arm rises up and her muscles tense up a little, so he stops stroking, cocking his head once again.

”Oh, it's okay. I just am not used to new acquaintances touching me,” Hande says bashfully, ”To be honest, usually I don't like being touched at all, if the person is not a close friend of mine or a family member. I was ready to make an exception because of my intrusiveness.”

Lydik is still watching Hande, feeling a little puzzled about how to response to her latest remark. He didn't feel the woman had been intrusive, she has asked permission. This has been the first time someone has asked permission to touch him before doing that, except for Reidunn. Hande has been nervous, yes, but she's also been kind and friendly to him, even though she has learned to fear his kind, if rightfully so.

Lydiks smiles at Hande and gives a clumsy pat on her shoulder with some pews. Reidunn swallows up a giggle and states, ”I think Lydik tries to say he likes you, Hande.”

Hande answers Lydik's smile. ”Thank you, Lydik,” she says sincerely, but after that her smile turns into a mischievious grin, ”I think you're okay... for a Nøkken.”

Everyone stays silent for a moment, but then Lydik starts chuffing which causes Reidunn and Hande to burst into laughter, as well. The atmosphere is full of warmth, and it looks like a magician and a Nøkken have found a friend from each other.

TRANSLATIONS:

¹ ”A Nøkken onto the ground, I into the water...”

² ”Holy shit, he's tall!”

[morgana-ren]

Imagine being at a Halloween party thrown by Dabi and someone in a Leatherface costume keeps following you. It turns out to be Shigaraki. You comment on how his human skin mask is cool and how it looks so real, and oddly looks like Bakugo's face. He laughs, tosses it away and leads you to a field of pumpkins, where he non cons you, while Spooky Scary Skeletons plays in the background.

Okay listen, I know this was probably sent in 200 percent as a joke, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to sit down for an hour and make it work. It’s been a weird week. I can make weird work. 

Like imagine kinda knowing Dabi before the league goes super big. You don’t know too much about him, but he’s a friend of a friend and so on and he’s got the dangerous bad boy appeal alongside those haunting blue eyes, so all ya friends hover around him. So lets say you get invited to his spooky-dooky Halloween party he’s throwin’ in an old warehouse. It’s sort of his last hurrah cause it’s a lot harder to try and bone civvie girls when you’re a wanted villain with your face on the news attached to a criminal group, so he’s gunna throw it back tonight and take what he can get, you feel?

So you and ya friends get all cute and dolled up in your costumes and head out to this bash that’s taking place on the wrong side of the tracks in some godforsaken warehouse. It’s in the industrial zone, which is comprised of nothing but abandoned buildings, squat houses, and old warehouses. You’re pretty sure he just found one and broke the chain on the door and called it a night. That should be your first clue, but fuck it, what’s life without a little risk?

Anyway, a few hours pass and admittedly, you’re a lil’ drunk. That being said, you could swear this dude in a leatherface costume is stalking you. Maybe not stalking you, per say, but he’s definitely trying hard to be where you are. It’s not like he’s easy to confuse with anyone else; his costume is super unique, and if you’re being honest, a little disturbing. It legit looks like that kid Bakugo from the Sports Festival but forcefully mutated in with the classic Leatherface look. Whoever it is, they’ve definitely got an edgy sense of humor. It should spook you, but it’s Halloween for fucks sake! At least they’re putting some effort in! It’s no coincidence that you see him literally everywhere you go, so maybe he likes you?

Maybe he’s cute under that creepy mask.

It’s worth a shot (get it, shot?), so you let him follow you to the bar and sit down next to an equally empty seat, hoping to give off the vibe of ‘quit being creepy and come talk to me.’ 

A few seconds later and surprise surprise, he sits down right beside you. No sense in pretending this is anything other than what it is, so you turn right to him and offer to buy him a drink. 

He stares at you for a minute, beady pupils surveying you beneath that godawful mask he’s donning before he nods. He doesn’t tell you what he wants, so you just order him whatever mixture of gasoline and fruit you get. He just stares at you while you sip at your own drink, and you can’t help but laugh. His eyes are fuckin’ intense, and while you’re already a little tipsy, it’s pretty clear he’s dead sober. Luckily, alcohol gives you a charming ice breaker. 

“It’s probably a little difficult to drink with that terrifying thing on your face, but I really appreciate your dedication to the look.” 

Behind the holes of the mask, his eyes crinkle near the edges. You can’t tell if he’s smiling or snarling, but he’s definitely reacting to what you’re saying. He must’ve decided that he likes you, because he finally reaches behind his head and loosens whatever makeshift strap that’s tangled in his silver, ‘fake’ blood matted hair. 

As he lets it fall away from his face, you study what’s underneath. He’s a little rough around the edges, a little chapped with dry skin and more than a few blisters on his pale lips, but he’s cute and the costume has you intrigued. For all you know, it could be liquid latex. The guy seems pretty dedicated after all. It makes you wonder what is Halloween paint and what’s his actual skin. You kinda wanna lick him and find out.

Shut up, alcohol. 

“It’s homemade.” He rasps out, voice cracking and strained like he hasn’t spoken in days. After a sip of his own drink, he slips a subtle smile as he sees you eying the grotesque costume piece. “I’m glad you like it.”

It’s gross to say the least. Whatever it’s made out of, it’s certainly not plastic or rubber like most masks. It smells atrocious, especially coupled with the must and cheap booze of the warehouse, and it makes you a little queasy as it flops around in his lap a little too lifelike for your liking. It even has pores, for Christ’s sake. Tearing your gaze away from it isn’t easy, but if you look much longer, you’re not really sure what your stomach is gunna do, so you turn your attentions to the owner instead. 

“Are you making a statement or just not a fan of the would-be hero types?”

He giggles a little even though you’re not entirely sure what you said was funny. “I guess you could say it’s both.” 

You sit in an awkward silence, sipping at your drink for a few minutes before another wave of alcohol induced courage lights a fire under your ass. If he won’t talk, you sure as fuck will.

“So, are you a friend of Dabi’s or-” He scoffs, loud and hard, lip curling in distaste. “No. I’m unfortunate enough to know him. We work together.” 

“Really? I always wondered what he did for a living.” 

It takes him a second to realize that’s you’re prodding, and a minute longer to come up with an answer. “I guess you could say we’re sort of... activists or something.” 

“Is that so? He never really struck me as the generous type.”

“He’s not.” He grins like a fox in a henhouse, mischievous and sly like he knows something you don’t. “And I’m not either.” 

“Then why be an activist?” 

His smirk fades, and he nurses his drink, flicking his eyes away from you. “I dunno.”

“What kind of activist are you? Like social or environmental or-” 

“Uh-” He clearly wasn’t expecting this line of questioning. “Political.” 

“Oh, that’s cool! What kind of politics are you guys into? You seem like the anarchy sort to me, but I don’t wanna judge-”

“Are you always this nosy?”

His sudden hostility takes you back a little. Sure, you’re drunk and annoying, but that seems a bit excessive. Maybe this isn’t the tree you want to be barking up tonight. 

“Sorry. I was just trying to get to know you.” 

You turn your body away from him slightly, returning your gaze to the rusted metal behind the makeshift bar. You can see him glaring you down out of your periphery but opt to ignore it. Regardless, he stares for a few more moments before downing the rest of the drink you apparently wasted your money on.  “Well, don’t.” 

Whatever, man. It’s a fucking Halloween party. You can find a different jerk-ass to hook up with, one who at least pretends to be nice until the night is over. Dicks are a dime a dozen in a place like this, and the ‘super mysterious, if I told you, I’d have to kill you’ bullshit charade he’s playing is grating on your nerves. Part of you wants to tell him off for being so rude, but the other part is telling you to just shut up, project your disinterest, and wait for him to leave.

You huff a small sigh, blowing the air out of your puckered lips as you roll your eyes behind closed lids. Your side of the conversation comes to an abrupt halt, and suddenly everything in the room is more interesting than he is. Yet even with the uncomfortable awkward air around you both, he doesn’t leave. He just continues scanning you over as you do your best to give him the cold shoulder. So he really thinks there’s any sort of comeback from that, huh?

Apparently he does. He’s not very good with social hints either. You’ve almost tuned him out when you feel a bony hand clutching your upper arm. 

“Hey, come with me. This place is boring and I’ve got something I want to show you.” 

You turn, shooting him a disbelieving glare, but he’s already slid off his bar stool and is pulling you along with him. He doesn’t bother to wait for your answer, weaving through the crowds and dragging you behind him even as you try to wiggle your arm out of his grasp. Had you been in your right mind, you might have screamed or shoved him and told him to get lost, but your liquor marinated mind makes it difficult. He’s kinda right, after all. This place has gotten boring. All your friends left you behind an hour ago to go find their own conquests and dancing by yourself gets pretty lame after a minute. It’s not like you had anything better to do. 

Alright, fine. Follow the rude guy. He seems pretty adamant about it anyway. 

You try to justify it by telling yourself maybe he’s just super socially awkward or doesn’t have much experience with girls. He could also be one of those super brash, brutally honest people that just says whatever comes to mind. Maybe he didn’t mean it in a mean way. A trailing history of terrible taste in men leaves his unbridled rudeness with a bad taste in your mouth, but it wasn’t like you were planning on seeing him again after tonight. Ride the dick and then ride off into the sunset. 

You both dodge through the groups of people together as he yanks you towards the very back of the warehouse. The couple of doors he leads you through have a fairly prominent ‘Do Not Enter’ sign cautioning at eye level, but he doesn’t seem dissuaded, pulling you through the heavy doors despite the clear warning. A few hallways and dim, empty corridors later and he’s ushering you into something resembling a claustrophobic courtyard outside that joins the warehouse with a few of the surrounding buildings.

It’s very dark outside, and aside from the slight shine of ugly yellow tinted streetlights peeking through the alleyway, you can’t see much of anything. You can’t imagine what on Earth it is out here that he wants to show you, but you doubt you’ll even be able to see it. Anxiety starts to bloom in your chest as your drunk mind starts to realize that you’ve followed a stranger out into a very dark, very isolated area.

“H-hey, I never got your name.”

He laughs softly, coming up behind you and gripping your shoulders in a way that feels all too tight. Steering you forward, he leans in, feet falling in line with your steps.

“You’re right. My bad, that’s awfully rude of me.”

He pushes you forward in a way that seems a bit intense for having just met before latching his hands lazily around the base of your neck and pulling you into his chest.

“I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t know what Dabi does for a living, or else you never would have been stupid enough to follow me out here.”

Okay, it’s Halloween and all, but his brand of prank is starting to feel a little too real. The macabre costume and total boorishness should have been the insight you needed to come to the conclusion that this guy just isn’t quite right in the head, but between the alcohol and your desire to give him the benefit of the doubt, it just never quite clicked for you.

“It’s Shigaraki, by the way. My name. I’m sure you’ve heard it before.”

His wet breath on your neck isn’t the only reason you get shivers. You have heard that name before, only never spoken so casually. His fingers tighten around the tensing muscles in your throat as you swallow down a bombardment of emotion. Panic. Fear. Realization.

There’s a million and ten things going through your mind right now, the foremost of which is why. You aren’t a hero, nor are you a particularly fervent hero supporter. You’re not related to any heroes, and frankly, there’s no one further from the social/cultural hub that is hero society. Isn’t that what this guy gets his rocks off to? At least from the news snippets, that’s the impression you gathered.

You want to ask him why you. Maybe its a selfish question but it’s a question none the less, and one people tend to ask when their place on the mortal coil is being threatened. Yet, no matter how you try to spit out the words, your tongue stills in your dry mouth and refuses to cooperate. The pounding in your chest is giving way to a headache and a serious case of sick, and you swear between the loud pulsing of blood in your veins, you can hear him giggling behind you.

You think maybe that’s a strong enough cue to leave. You can ask him why when you’re separated by a thick layer of glass at Tartarus.

You know, it’s easy to sit back in the comfort of your own home and laugh at the clumsy heroine in any given horror movie who fumbles away from the killer like a newborn fawn just discovering its own lanky legs, but you’re quick to understand just why that troupe is so popular. It takes you a moment to gather the courage to turn on your heel and shove him hard on the chest, and even when you manage, it’s so weak and pathetic that it barely knocks him off balance. It only just gives you enough space that you can dart in the opposite direction. Where you’re going, you have no clue, but it’s not on the forefront of your mind as you pound pavement beneath your shitty costume shoes and shout “Stay away from me!�� like some cliche damsel in distress.

Your adrenaline fueled getaway is short lived. A few seconds after beginning your feverish sprint away from what you know to be a very dangerous young fellow, the front of your foot catches on something and sends you toppling to the ground only a few feet from where you began your initial rush. Your fall is less than graceful, and the shriek that emits from your throat before your body thuds to the dirt like a sack of potatoes is far less sexy than anything in any horror movie. The bag you’ve been clutching, filled with nothing but the bare essentials and a half empty flask, is flung from your fingers. Your assailant doesn’t slow-walk towards you in a menacing manner while wielding a knife, but practically jogs over, wheezing with nasally laughter as he grabs you by the hair.

“I bet that went a lot better in your head, huh?”

A lot of things went a lot better in your head, to be fair. That scene. This night. Your life in general. But the little pity party you’re throwing yourself does little to garner his sympathies. No amount of hiccuping and crying fat gobs of tears that leak from your lashes and down into the Halloween makeup it took you hours to do elicits any response from him but what he had already planned on.

His laughter finally dies down and the fingers threaded through your hair manhandle you to your knees before roughly casting you down onto something. Something hollow yet sturdy greets your sensitive, liquor addled stomach as he forces you down and bends you over it. It feels slightly waxy, yet organic to the touch, and seems to wobble around slightly the more he kicks and prods you into a position you’ve seen one too many times in those shitty free pornos.

Pumpkin. It’s a fucking pumpkin.

You can smell the leaves and grass and sodden soil as he positions your hips up in the air, shucking off the costume apron he’d been wearing. Dirt embeds under your finger nails as you struggle to drag the rest of your body over the pumpkin to make your escape, but the hand that isn’t currently fumbling with his zipper is still tightly anchored in your hair, holding you in place. He hisses out a few words warning you against struggling too hard, his quirk is uncontrollable after all.

He makes quick work of the cheap costume bottom, inhaling a ragged breath and digging his jagged nails in a little too tightly to your skin when your ass becomes bared to the cool night air. The sight of you must’ve made him impatient, as he settles for simply yanking up your top along your back to expose your tits instead of going through the effort to try and get it off you. If what you’ve heard is true, he could simply dust it and be rid of it, but he doesn’t seem like he’s in the most centered form of mind right now, and it doesn’t appear like it’s your death he’s after.

No, it seems like he’s after something much more intimate than death.

Your mind is acutely aware of what’s about to happen, but it’s trapped in your paralyzed body, unable to force your heavy limbs to move with the weight of the panic. He’s freed himself from his pants, knuckles bumping against the cleft of your ass with every jerk of the cock that you thank God is hidden from your vision. After a few rigorous pumps, he withdraws for a moment before spitting and dribbling his slick saliva into the palm of his hand, coating his cock and using it as a makeshift lubricant.

When he’s finished making spitting sounds that make your stomach church, he lines his hips against your reluctantly spread legs and you feel the hot, thick tip prodding against the tautly pulled walls of your entrance. It’s enough to renew your childlike kicking and whining, babbling and pleading for him to stop. Regardless, he pays you no mind, opting only to yank his hand from the roots of your hair. It stings and he takes several strands of hair with it, but you don’t have time to focus on the pain as his fingertips dig into the fat of your cheeks, flexing and forcing you to look up at him as he hunches his wiry frame over yours.

It’s hard to see through the haze of tears that blear your vision and thick black makeup caking around your eyes, but you can make out that he’s smiling. If you can call it that, that is. Cracked lips wet and parted, breathing hot, moist breath down onto your forehead. Lips curled upward in a nasty, smarmy grin. A slimy tongue trails along his teeth as he practically drools down onto your shoulder like you’re a thick cut of venison and he’s a rabid wolf ready to sink in his canines.

“You know, I never cared much for Halloween,” His hips cant forward ever so slightly and begins to push the tip inside your unwilling hole. Slowly, slowly at first, but soon with more force. It hurts, morphing from a dull ache into an intense sting the more his girthy length is stuffed snug inside between your thighs. “But Dabi was right- it’s a lot more fun when you dress up.”

To punctuate the end of his sentence, he pulses his hips forward, sinking himself all the way inside and watching with a sick sense of glee as your face contorts in pain. He rolls his hips experimentally against your backside a few times, hissing in slight discomfort at the bittersweet tightness that strangles his flesh inside of yours. It stills him only for a brief moment, long enough for you to truly grasp the horrendous sensation of your body molding to accommodate something too large for it to have been ready to take.

However uncomfortable he may be, it’s nothing compared to what you’re feeling. It seems like a cruel joke that the wanted villain who set his sights on you that night would also have a monster cock, but Halloween was always the devil’s little prank show. He’s crammed it inside you with no regard for the damage it might do, pain radiating in the deep of your stomach as his cockhead is scrunched firmly against the wall of your cervix. Your fingers dig deeper into the dirt, but not to escape. You’re aware you’re too firmly impaled on him for that to be an option, so you settle for trying to give yourself any sensation at all that will lessen the unholy tear of your already sensitive pussy.

Eventually he decides he’s had enough of memorizing your pretty, anguished face, and his movements begin anew. Hips pistoning in a building rhythm, flesh of his thighs slapping obscenely against your bare ass. The protruding stem of the pumpkin grates into your abdomen, forcing pained, breathy ‘ah’s from you with every powerful hump. The anguishing drag of his cock assaulting your insides begins to blend together one after the next, and you do your best to block out the animalistic grunts and a sickening moans he emits with every thrust.

Eventually he lets your face go in favor of sinking his fingers just below your waist to anchor you in place as he pounds away, and you take the opportunity to drop your head in defeat and clench your eyes shut. He’ll get bored of you or he’ll cum. It’s what comes after that you should really be worried about. By the sounds he’s making, he’s far from losing interest. He seems to be getting a bit carried away, muttering something along the lines of “take it, slut” and needing to celebrate holidays more often.

That’s when you hear it.

Spooky, scary, skeletons send shivers down your spine

At first, you think it’s a joke. Like you’re having some sort of twisted nightmare and reality has finally decided to throw you a bone to lead your consciousness back home. But his manic fucking never stops and neither does the pain.

Shrieking souls with shock your soul, seal your doom tonight

A few blinks to clear the fresh wave of agony and one hand digging into the side of the pumpkin to stable yourself enough against his rutting to search for the source of the noise. There’s a glowing light a few feet from you, flashing and vibrating but just out of reach.

Your phone. It’s your phone. Your bag had landed not far from where he had you pinned, and your phone had been thrown from the bag.

Your new October ringtone plays through the damaged speakers, flashing your best friends face on the screen. She’s looking for you, probably wondering where you went. She’d never find you here. No one would.

We’re so sorry skeletons, you’re so misunderstood

Help is so close, yet so far away. Your sobs begin anew, feeling his cock pulse as he whines something about breeding his pretty little bitch into your ear. He’s cumming inside you, papping his hips against you in a shallow, offbeat rhythm. You can feel it, hear it squelching and leaking down your thighs. He came. Inside you. And judging from what few words you can make out between your agonized cries, he has every intention of doing it again.

You just want to socialize but I don’t think we should

[i-drink-and-i-write-fics]

Family Man

Chapter 3: The New Family

Summary: Reader is hit by an important holiday.

Your room was getting darker by the hour, but you made no move to turn on a light. It almost seemed fitting to sit in the dark. Matched your mood.

How did you not know? You were always so good at tracking time. Always so careful. The holidays had been your job when it was just you and Josh. He would work like crazy and you would do the shopping and cooking. You preferred it that way. When your parents were alive, your mom always had tried to help you in the kitchen. And while you love her and missed her, it had always felt claustrophobic having someone else in there with you. As if they were always in your way no matter how hard they tried.

So Josh would work and you would cook.

You sighed as you leaned against your bed, your butt slowly becoming numb from sitting on the floor. It was the missions that had done it: made you lost track of the days. And sure, you were slowly starting to see the Avengers as friends. But holidays were different. The holidays were family affairs.

“No need to rush with the equipment, kid.” Tony had told you earlier that day. “Evil may not take a day off, but we do.”

“What are you talking about? We always have a few days off between missions, Stark.”

He stopped and blinked at you. “Are you- are you serious?”

You paused in your actions, taking in Tony’s shocked look. “What?”

Sam had popped up behind you and stuck a balloon to your head. This had been a running gag for the Three Stooges every since you had confessed to helping Nat and Clint that one fateful night.

“It’s Thanksgiving tomorrow, Balloon Bandit!” He said with his signature laugh.

“Wait, it is?” Your jaw dropped.

“Yeah, didn’t you get the email?” Bucky joked as he walked in with Steve.

With that small exchange came the tightness in your chest. You put your equipment bag down and excused yourself, running to your room.

And there you had hidden since that morning, trying not to cry over your first holiday without Josh.

There was a knock on the door followed by the voice of your best friend. “Hey, Kiddo. We’re almost done here. Do you need a ride into town?”

You forced yourself to keep a steady voice. “No thanks, Hawkbutt. I’m staying here.”

There was a long pause. “You’re going to what?”

A sigh. “Stay here. I got rid of my apartment once your circus convinced me to stay.”

“Oh hell no. Nat!” His footsteps quickly ran from your door. You had no idea what thoughts sprouted in Clint’s head, but you didn’t think anything good would come from it.

You weren’t given long to contemplate before there was angry pounding on your door. “Get packed, Kiddo! We’re leaving in five!”

“Nat, I already told Birdbrain I’m staying here.”

“Like hell you are. Be out here in five minutes or I’m breaking the door down! And I won’t need Tin Man’s tools! So get packed! And bring a jacket!”

Of course, you weren’t stupid enough to argue with Nat once she got in one of these moods. So you quickly packed a weekend bag and grabbed your brown leather jacket. You had no idea where you were going, but you guessed it beat sitting in an empty compound for the rest of the week.

In the common room, it was clear everyone else on the team had left except Nat and Clint. “Alright, what’s this all about?”

Nat ignored your question. “Nice jacket. Very Indian Jones vibe.”

“Thanks. It was Josh’s.”

Clint and Nat exchanged a look before Clint spoke up. “Yup, this is the right choice. Let’s go, Kiddo. The Quinjet awaits.”

“Wait, what?”

No further explanation was given as the two dragged you onto the jet. The two remained cryptic during the entire flight, asking what types of food and drinks you liked, ignoring any questions you had on where you were going. And outside the jet, the scenery changed from busy cities to smaller towns, until finally giving away to farmlands.

Clint landed the plane in a field by a farmhouse that seemed cut off from everything else. “Ok, all you hitchhikers. We’re here!”

“And where the hell is here, Barton?” You stood up from your seat and grabbed your bag.

“You’ll see,” he winked as he and Nat exited the jet.

Sighing, you followed after them. Outside the air was crisp with the promise of autumn air, the trees surrounding the field halfway between orange, brown, red leaves, and some completely bare of any leaves. There was a barn off to one side where you could hear a few animals stirring, no doubt being kept inside to keep warm. The farmhouse was a faded yellow with a huge wrap around porch, with a porch swing on one end.

Clint was already at the door and Nat looked back at you from the porch steps. “Better hurry up, ____. Or there won’t be any food left.”

You furrowed your eyes in confusion but followed after. Inside the house was a chaos of kids running up to greet Clint and Nat as they stepped further into the house. You hung back as they got their hugs in before a woman stepped in to hug Nat and kiss Clint. This must be his wife, Laura. Which would make the brood his.

The room became awkwardly quiet as everyone finally noticed your presence. You cleared your throat and waved. “Hi. Sorry to intrude. I had no idea where I was being dragged to.”

Recognition flashed in Laura’s eyes. “Oh, you must be ____! I’m glad you were able to join us after all!”

You looked at Clint and raised an eyebrow. He looked away sheepishly. “They, uh, weren’t given an option. But I couldn’t leave them to spend the week alone.”

Laura just nodded her head and came over, her hand reaching out. “I’m Laura. I usually hug when I greet people, but Clint told me you may not be ready yet.”

You shook her hand as your face grew warm. “Um, yeah. Sorry again to intrude on your family time.”

Laura smiled. “Honey, you are family now. Nat comes to every holiday since she also doesn’t have any family and now you’ve been welcomed in. Clint told me everything and I can’t stand the idea of someone not enjoying any homemade food or family time.”

Your face grew hot and your eyes shot down to your shoes. “Uh, thanks. I wasn’t expecting that.”

Laura gently reached over and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Why don’t you come with me into the kitchen? We’ll get you a drink and maybe you can lend a hand with dessert?”

“Uh, yeah. That would be great.” In the kitchen, she handed you a glass of wine. “Thank you. What, uh, what did you need help with?”

Laura blushed. “I’m embarrassed to say, but I forgot to make dessert. Would you possibly make something?”

“Yeah, sure. I love to cook. Is there anything I should know?”

“Only one thing. Our youngest, Nathan, is allergic to pumpkin so as long as it doesn’t have that you’re fine.”

You smiled at Laura. “I think I have an idea.”

As you slowly moved around the Barton’s kitchen taking inventory and grabbing equipment, Clint sat at the table to have a quiet conversation with Nat and Laura.

“Sorry this was so last minute, Laura. We had no idea they didn’t have any plans until today. They still has a hard time opening up about Josh in regards to certain things.”

“It’s quite alright, Clint. With what you’ve told me about them, they needs all the love we can give.”

Nat smiled over her glass of wine. “Whatcha making over there, KIddo?”

You glanced up with a smile. “Sorry, you’ll have to wait for Thanksgiving tomorrow to find out.”

Clint’s jaw dropped. “Oh, that’s just cruel.”

That night, Laura lead you upstairs and into one of the bedrooms. “Sorry, we don’t have more guest rooms, but I promise the bed is very comfortable.”

The room was nice with one bed in the middle and a dresser across the room. A rocker sat next to the closet. It was very quaint.

“Where will Nat sleep?”

“In Cooper’s room. We’re having the boys double up.”

“Oh,” you put your bag down by the bed and felt embarrassed that you had caused one of the kids to move rooms. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to misplace anyone by being here.”

Laura looked at you, her eyes softening. She slowly approached and placed her hands on your shoulders. “It’s nothing the boys can’t handle for one weekend. You’re family now and we want to give you the space you need to feel comfortable here at your own pace. Because this home is yours as well. Anytime you need space from the team, our door is open. No questions asked.”

Your face cracked and Laura instantly pulled you in as you cried. “But why? You don’t even know me.”

“I do. Because Clint does. He told me everything and if you hadn’t been an adult, I would have told him we were adopting you. I will not have a sweet person like you out there on your own. We can’t ever be Josh, but we hope we can fill the hole a little bit.”

You pulled back and Laura gently wiped your tears away. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Now get some rest. We have a big day of eating tomorrow.”

You laughed and then sniffed away the last of your tears. “Will do.”

The next day, Laura was busy in the kitchen and wouldn’t let you help, insisting you had done enough by making the dessert for later. So you wandered around the house until you ended up outside where Clint was teaching his daughter how to use a bow and arrow while his boys were chasing each other all over the vast field.

“Sleep well?”

You looked over to find Nat on the porch swing. Nodding your head, you sat down next to her. “Laura was right: that bed was really comfortable.”

Nat handed you a glass. “Eggnog?”

You raised an eyebrow but took the glass. “Isn’t it a little early?”

She laughed quietly. “First of all, there are no rules on a holiday. Second, this is the kid-friendly kind. We safe the bourbon one for after the kids go down.”

“Good call.”

Clint looked over to watch you both laugh. “Hey, is that the glass Laura brought out for me?”

“No idea what you’re talking about.” You took a deliberate sip as you looked at him.

He narrowed his eyes as you and Nat busted out laughing.

The morning went quickly and soon you were back inside gathering around the kitchen and the dining table. You made your way over to Clint and handing him a glass of eggnog.

“Peace offering.”

He chuckled. “Accepted.”

“Thanks for dragging me out of the compound. I’d probably be sulking in my room right now, wondering if it was worth it to steal Bucky’s snacks.”

Clint belly laughed at that. “Not gonna lie, that would have been hilarious to hear about from Nat. And see the pictures of you running from him.”

“Traitor.”

“Seriously though, kid. I’m glad you came. You’ve become like a sibling to me and Nat and I would never forgive myself if we had left you alone.”

There was a pause from you. “I’m still not telling you what the dessert is.”

“Damnit!”

The meal went quicker than you expected and soon you were bringing out your contribution.

“A pie?” Clint looked at you incredulously. “You hid a pie from us?”

“Not just any pie.” You plopped a slice onto a plate and handed it to him. “Caramel apple. Our mother’s recipe. She would make this every year for us.”

It was quiet around the table before Clint spoke up. “Thank you for sharing this with us.”

You gave him a soft smile. “It’s like you said: we’re family now.”

[kurlyfrasier]

Spaghetti Girl (Part 1/3)

Dean x Reader

Synopsis: Ok so I had a really good description but lost it so.....yeah. Can’t think of words right now. Will add synopsis later...This is one of my favorite SPN fanfics I’ve written, so please read!

Word Count: 1668

Warnings: none

You were a nerd. A total, complete, full-on nerd. As bad as Sam. Maybe even more so. He could barely keep up with what you guys were talking about. Some book? A show, maybe? Dean didn't know for certain. What he did know is that he wished you would talk to him about it. Share your joy with him, not his brother. He even started reading a book you had mentioned to Sam last night. A Walk To Remember. He knew it wasn't your favorite book, but he also knew it was the only book you liked by- whatever the guy's name was. When Dean had gotten to the point where the male lead found out his girlfriend was sick, he slammed the book shut and raised it as if to throw it across the room when he remembered he had borrowed it from you. He set it beside him to glare daggers at it instead.

What if it was you who was sick? What if you knew you were dying but weren’t telling him? Dean's eyes started to blur. In this life- a hunter’s life- you could die any second. What if he never gets to tell you how much you mean to him? What if he never gets to spoil you like you deserve? What if- 

That was it. Tomorrow he was going to start spoiling you. Tomorrow you would know how important you are to him. 

Well, it was tomorrow night and nothing had changed. You and Sam had your heads together whispering about who knows what while he sat on the other side of the room, fists clenched, eyes green with envy. Sam and you didn't even like each other. You were too similar, Sam said. Saw each other as siblings, Sam said. Does that mean you see him the same way? Just a brother? Apparently the annoying brother 'cause you barely ever look at him. He would know. All he ever does is look at you. That did it. You were going to start paying attention to him and you were going to start now. 

"Guys," Dean cleared his throat after no response and spoke louder, more demanding. "Guys!"

Both of you jumped. Sam looked annoyed while you just stared stunned. 

"You hungry? I was thinking of-"

"Oh, don't worry, I haven't forgotten about dinner. I was gonna start it in a few, but if you guys are hungry I can-" you started to get up.

"No," Dean almost shouted. "I mean-uh, I wanted to make you-I mean... I wanted to make you guys spaghetti. Yeah." Dean didn't give either of you a chance to respond before walking out of the room. 

"That was weird, right?" You asked Sam. "I mean, I don't think I've ever seen him cook since I met you guys."

"Yeah… Usually he just grabs us greasy burgers and beer," you both eye each other. "I'll go check on him."

"That's probably best."

The clanking of pots and pans could be heard as Sam strode closer to the kitchen. "Dean," no response. "Dean," he said a little louder. Still no response. "Dean!"

"Ah-" Dean jumped in surprise, which was unusual in itself. “What!”

“Is...everything okay?” Sam asked cautiously, not sure what was going on in his brother’s head.

“Yeah man, everything’s fine. Just tryin’ to remember where the stuff for spaghetti is, that’s all.”

“Okay, except you haven’t cooked anything since y/n’s been around. Heck you didn’t even cook before that. You made cereal and sandwiches.”

“Yeah. So?” Dean was unsure how to go about telling Sam. Did he even want Sam to know? Could- would Sam help? “What’s your point Sam.”

“My point. Dean. Is that you’re acting strange. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothin’. Just thought I’d be nice for once.”

“For once?” Sam paused and took a step closer. “Dean, you save lives. Almost every day. That’s more than nice.”

Dean sucked in a breath, turned the stove to boil, and turned around. Facing his brother head on. Here goes nothing. “Not hers,” he mumbled, barely audible.

Sam’s face scrunched in confusion, wondering if he heard correctly. Her? Then it dawned on him. Eyes wide, he spouted, pointing reflexively in the direction of the war room. “You mean y/n?”

“Maybe,” Dean looked away. This wasn’t going quite how he had hoped. Not that he knew what he hoped for.

“Wait. Wait wait wait. Let me ask you something. Did you know spaghetti is her favorite?”

“Is it? I mean, I just thought it was easy to make, you know? Boil water, heat up a can of sauce, add meat-”

“You did know!” Sam beamed. He had finally caught his brother out. He could barely believe it. Dean liked you. No. Like was too small of a word and he knew it in his gut. He had more than a crush on you if he was making your favorite meal. It meant he’d been paying profuse attention to you. Then another thought popped in his head. “You have her book, don’t you. I bet you even read it.”

“Now Sam,” Dean’s head shot up. “Don’t go accusing me of reading. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“You did. You read it.”

“Not all of it,” he muttered.

“She’s been looking for it all morning. She thinks she lost it. You should go tell her where it is. She’d appreciate it.” Sam smirked, folding his arms across his chest.

“I’ll give it back to her tomorrow.” Dean turned back to the stove, attempting to stave off the conversation.

“So you’re just going to let her think she lost it on a hunt until it magically reappears tomorrow? Dean. That’s the opposite of thoughtful.”

“I don’t want her to know I read it, okay.”

“Why not?”

“I was gonna… you know… bring it up in conversation,” Dean shrugged, like talking books was a normal, everyday thing for him.

“Dean.” Sam paused, he had to attempt to be tactful about this. Apparently his brother was sensitive about you. “If you’re doing what I think you’re doing, then maybe you could at least admit the spaghetti was for her. Or maybe- I don’t know- have a conversation about something you both enjoy. Maybe even ask her to help you cook-”

“I can cook, okay. And that’s the point of reading the book. Conversation.” Dean said, his back still turned to his brother, now adding noodles to the boiling water and meat to the pan he’d be adding sauce to. His homemade sauce. The sauce their father had taught them to make. The sauce he made at 3am that morning.

“Okay...Dean, there’s obviously something else on your mind-”

“Yeah, where’s the mushrooms. She loves mushrooms.”

“Cabinet on your right.” Sam didn’t even want to know how he knew you liked mushrooms. “Now tell me, what’s really going through your head. Why are you suddenly trying to get her attention?”

“It’s not sudden.”

“It is to us!” Sam was exasperated. Sometimes Dean could really make him want to punch something for no good reason. Tact and patience were officially out the window. “You’ve barely talked to her since we’ve met her! You always have her go with me when we separate on hunts. You put her in separate rooms from us at motels. You never let her go get the food when we’re out, or groceries for here for that matter. You won’t even voluntarily go near her. What has happened in the last 24 hours for you to suddenly make her spaghetti?”

“Because I don’t know what to say! I don’t want her to get hurt! What if I get distracted worrying about her if we partner up on hunts and I slip up! I don’t want to see those beautiful y/e/c eyes tear up if something bad happens! It would break my heart. What if someone grabs her while we’re sitting around in the motel, or here, while she’s getting groceries! Every time we’re in the same room I can’t help but want to kiss those pretty lips, touch that pretty hair, grab that sexy ass, hug her so tight,” his voice trailed off, sounding defeated. “What if she was sick? Huh, Sam? What then? Then I realized, in this life she could die any second. I don’t want to waste it, but I don’t know where to start. I just want to spoil her like she deserves.”

Sam cleared his throat, eyes glancing anywhere but at Dean. A sad attempt at shaking off the shock and the fact that Dean doesn’t know. Granted, he had just found out himself that morning.

“What is it?” Dean asked, eyes squinting in suspicion. He could always tell when Sam was hiding something. He claimed it was a big brother thing when they were kids.

“What? Um, nothing. Why? I’m just shocked, that’s all-”

“Don’t play dumb with me, little brother. You,” he shoved a finger in Sam’s chest. “Know. Something. Tell me now or so help me-”

“She is sick, Dean.”

“Don’t lie to me, Sam,” he growled out.

“I’m not lying. She has MS. Multiple Sclerosis. It’s a-”

“I know what it is Sam!” Dean’s chest heaved. Everything turned red. His mouth clenched shut, fists closed. Heavy footsteps sent him searching for you before he even knew where he was going. “Watch the food,” he demanded over his shoulder.

Why hadn’t you told him? You could’ve had an attack at any moment. What if you were in the middle of fighting a vampire, werewolf, skinwalker, your regular everyday creep- anything- and suddenly your body didn’t do what it was told. You could have died!

He stopped dead in his tracks the moment he caught you dancing with your headphones on. What were you listening to? The world got its color back, his breathing became more even, and his fists relaxed as a small smile played at his lips. What was he going to do with you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2

[screpdoodle]

Duality - Chapter Ten (The Grumbletown)

Kaos struggled to fully unfold the gigantic map in the cramped space he and Glumshanks were holed up in. The two sat crouched at a low, wooden table. It looked to be homemade, with knobbly legs and indented sides. A lone lamp was strung from the slanted mud ceiling, wooden cross beams seeming to be the only thing keeping it up. Even Kaos felt slightly cramped as he wrestled with the huge slab of crumpled parchment, twice the size of the table he sat at, if not more. The sound of crackling fire, rambunctious trolls and electronic music outside was muffled by the poorly fortified clay walls, flecks of dirt falling down from the ceiling with every thump of the beat. Kaos’ attention wandered as he watched stout silhouettes run past the clouded windows, followed by a loud CRASH as one of them came catapulting through the glass, rolling across the floor before coming to a stop, beady eyes spinning in their sockets. The troll shook their head, locked eyes with Kaos, then scuttled out of the room through the unlocked front door, leaving it open behind them. Kaos huffed, then slid off of his stool, peering out into the chaotic street. Trolls of all shapes and sizes looked to be having the time of their lives; some were sprawled out across barrels (the ones they weren’t smashing at least), enjoying bottles of ‘soda’ and other treats Kaos didn’t quite recognize. Others were chasing each other around the winding dirt paths, or chasing what Kaos assumed to be the previous residents of the commandeered village - Rats. Kaos didn’t mean that as an insult, no, they looked like literal rats, with matted grey fur, long snouts and worm like tails. Judging by the architecture, the assumption seemed to track. Kaos pulled his head back in as someone threw a cart of wrinkled produce against the wall, the wooden cart splintering and fruits splattering into a multicolored mess of foul smelling slop. Kaos slammed the door shut, looking back to Glumshanks, who had managed to tame the wild map.

“What in Skylands are they even doing out there?” Kaos asked, brushing a few hanging roots out of his way as he walked back to Glumshanks’ side.

“Christening.” Glumshanks answered plainly, sighing. “They do this every time. Make a mess of the place to show ‘dominance’... or something. ‘Cause running out an entire settlement doesn’t do that already, I suppose.”

Kaos frowned, then looked down at the map, trying to pick out any details he might recognize now that he could more easily look over it. But the more he looked, the less he seemed to recognize. Noted landmarks and island formations he had first thought were possible leads were nothing but red herrings. How had he gotten himself so lost?

“If this one doesn’t work, I should have a few others.”

“No no, I’m sure this one is fine. I can’t have gone that far from home.” Kaos waved Glumshanks off, squinting at the map. He tapped one of the sepia-toned islands, frowning. “This is where we are, right?”

“Uhh, I think it’s here actually.”

“Troll. I’m pretty sure I know the location of a place I’ve never been on a map in a language I don’t know.”

“...please tell me that was sarcasm.”

Kaos just looked up, a deadpan expression on his face, before looking back down without another word. He scanned the map once more, mumbling incoherent words under his breath. This wasn’t right. Kaos winced, rubbing his temples as he felt a throbbing pain start creeping its way in, followed by the feeling of a damp rag pressed against his forehead. Kaos opened one eye, looking up as he watched Glumshanks gently dabbing the dried blood away, a concerned look on his green face.

“What do you think you’re doing, troll.”

“Cleaning the wound?” He phrased it more like a question, rather than a clean cut statement.

Kaos furrowed his brow, but didn’t object, simply squirming in his seat as Glumshanks began inspecting the small, albeit quite bloody, cut in his forehead. It didn’t quite hurt, but the sensation wasn’t all that nice either.

“...Maybe if we go back you can find the route you took?”

“That’s just the issue, troll.” Kaos slouched in his seat, resting his chin in his hand and elbow on the table. “I didn’t take a route. One minute I was in my backyard, the next I was here. I remember falling, but that’s about it.”

“Maybe you fell off the edge?”

“Impossible. I was nowhere near the…” Kaos trailed off, then sat forward with a start, the gears turning in his mind. “Glumshanks, are there any islands above this one?”

“A few, but-”

Before Glumshanks could finish his sentence, the sound of splintering wood cut through the muffled ruckus of outside, the sounds flooding in as the two looked over to see the door hanging off of its hinges, a clearly intoxicated Thropp staggering his way inside. Kaos instinctively got up off of his chair, taking a step back. Glumshanks just sighed, looking down.

“So, this is the-” a small hiccup interrupted Thropp’s sentence, “the boghole mama sent you to claim? Man, and I thought the other ones were bad. At least they had real walls.”

Thropp trailed his massive fingers across the clay wall, scraping a good amount of dirt off with his yellowing fingernail. He let out another hiccup before finally setting his beady eyes upon his brother, a tipsy smirk twisted across his face. He lumbered forward, paying no mind as his bare feet stepped over the shards of broken glass that lay across the ground, towering over Glumshanks. He hadn’t seemed to have noticed Kaos quite yet, despite him being right there.

“It was the best one I could find.” Glumshanks mumbled, trying to muster up an air of confidence, albeit to no avail. “You know how hectic it can get. Especially since you tend to be one of the ones causing most of it…”

Glumshanks’ voice grew quieter at the last part. Thropp’s ears twitched, but he didn’t seem to register it. At least not enough to care.

“You better hope there’s enough room in here, or you’ll be sleeping in the ‘doghouse’ again.” Thropp sneered.

If Kaos had thought his breath smelled bad before, it was nothing compared to the stench now. Sour and sickly sweet, like decay. Kaos couldn’t help but cover his nose, the smell all too familiar to him. At this movement though, Thropp’s eyes darted over to the small human, finally noticing him standing there at Glumshanks’ side. It took Thropp a moment to recognize him, the two merely standing there, locked in an unofficial staring contest.

“What. The hell. Are you doing here.” Thropp seemed to sober up almost immediately, his voice taking on a deadly tone.

“Well, cleeaarly ruining your ‘school project’ just wasn’t enough for me, so I had to hunt you down and ruin your homelife too.” Kaos explained, sarcasm dripping from every word he spoke.

“Kaos, I’m not sure if now is a good time to-”

“I knew we should have dealt with you on that- hic- that stupid ship!” Thropp raised his voice, raising his hands up. “At least I have a chance to fix that mistake now!”

Before Kaos knew what was happening, Thropp slammed his fists down, Glumshanks grabbing the small human out of the way at the last second. Kaos squeaked, his heart pounding in his ears. Thropp barely took a second to collect himself, his glare burning holes in Glumshanks’ skull.

“You dingweed!” He spat, slurring his words. “You two talked like, what, once?? And you’re already head over heels for this twerp! You wouldn’t believe how much he yammered on about you, human!!”

Kaos blinked, opened his mouth to ask what exactly Glumshanks had talked about, but before he could even get a word out Thropp threw a right hook at the two of them. Kaos ducked, pulling Glumshanks down with him. Thropp's fist slammed into the side of the staircase, the entire house practically shaking, bits of clay and dirt raining down. Kaos scuttled out of Thropp's line of sight as he quickly shook off the pain of his bloodied knuckles, shouting something Kaos assumed was in trolltongue. Glumshanks quickly scrambled to his feet, dragging Kaos up with him, practically carrying him to the door before his brother could come barreling after them. The two ran out into the night air, the pathways lit by smoldering embers, the trolls outside too busy partying to notice the scene that had unfolded. All but a few, at least. Glumshanks looked up from trying to catch his breath as a large troll came towards them, heavy feet thundering down the crowded street, three smaller trolls in tow. Three smaller trolls Kaos recognized almost immediately; the three lackeys Thropp had dragged along on the ship, the three ‘other brothers’. Which meant the one in the middle was…

“Glumshanks, thurhaakum duruth gorotu ishoing?? gu’vuth shrakeebag hakookinor azverywheruth guoum gorou!” The stout troll ran forward, the three others clambering along behind her, cooing and cackling about how Glumshanks was apparently in ‘hot water’ and how much trouble he was in.

“Mama, I-”

Glumshanks started, only to get cut off by the woman yet again, grabbing him by the sleeve and dragging him back towards the house, paying Kaos no mind whatsoever. Ascral, Haldir and Zhoark trailed off at the sight of him, on the other hand, words turning into hushed whispers as they followed their mother to the door. Kaos hesitated, then followed after them, a curious tilt to his head as he tried his best to listen in.

“I usholmar gorotu ushug ashtazag shrakzag ushhuth gulouse! gorotu dol-noiz ushhiakun athlacuth guakun ishangerous, thurhaakum thuroulmar thuruth ishug guir gorotu duloakum hakost, inium thurorse!!” The mother’s voice was sharp. He couldn’t understand a word she was saying, but Kaos could tell she was... less than pleased. Glumshanks kept trying to speak, but couldn’t get a word in edgewise. It was almost amusing, if not a little sad. They didn’t even seem to notice the door barely hanging on its hinges, simply walking inside as if they did this every day. The trio of smaller trolls threw their knapsacks to the ground as their mother dragged Glumshanks to the table, sitting him down as she continued to lecture on about ‘ushhuth gumportancuth iniir guamilzag gobalueakun’, whatever that meant. Thropp had passed out in the little alcove beneath the loft, his soda-induced stupor leading to a sound slumber. Kaos was amazed he was able to sleep through the shouting, but then again, if he had grown accustomed to his homelife, maybe this was normal for Glumshanks’ family too? Kaos stood in the doorway, watching the trolls acting like they had lived in this house for their entire lives, the chaos from outside now filtering into the lantern-lit room. Zhoark, Haldir and Ascral raced each other up onto the loft, laughing and jeering as their mother verbally berated her stringbean of a son, grunting and snarling as she threw her hands around to punctuate her sentences. Kaos couldn’t help but watch, picking up on details he hadn’t noticed before; like her graying ginger hair tied in a messy bun, the dirtied apron wrapped around waist, the fact that despite her tone, her cool grey eyes were soft, worry creased across the wrinkles in her face rather than anger. Kaos furrowed his brow, then tensed when he heard her voice trail off, gaze now locked on him. She said something to Glumshanks, then quickly walked around the table, standing before Kaos with her arms crossed across her chest, staring down the bridge of her nose at him. Kaos took a step back, looking over his shoulders as if expecting her to be looking at someone else there, before mustering up a hangdog smile.

“You.” She spoke sharply, jabbing a finger at his chest. “Thurhaakum ishug gorotu ashpeauku.”

“Mama, he-” Glumshanks cleared his throat. “Guluth ilabag ininlzag ashpeauku gulumabag.”

The woman looked back to Glumshanks, scrunched her face up, then gestured to the table. “Ashiakum. Ashiakum.”

Kaos just blinked. Before he could figure out a way to respond, she had taken him by the sleeve, dragging him to the table and sitting him down with more force than really necessary. Kaos winced, then rubbed his shoulders, his discomfort creeping up his spine like a clutter of spiderlings. Glumshanks merely offered him a sympathetic smile.

“Kaos, this is our caretaker, Oyana.” He gestured to the troll woman. “Mama, this is Kaos. He’s my, uh-”

“Ishug gorotu azaakum ashugarbaakum.” She interrupted, paused when she noticed Kaos’ look of utter perplexity, then spoke again. “You. Eat dinner?”

“...yes?” Kaos didn’t quite understand the question, but before he could ask her to elaborate, she had already shuffled off into the back room, closing the moth-eaten curtain that covered the doorway behind her. Kaos let his posture slump, breathing a sigh. “Well, your mother sure is... something.”

“Hm? Oh, she’s not my mom.” Glumshanks rested his chin in his hand, his arms resting on the table.

“But you call her mama? Is this, like, a cultural thing I don’t understand or…?”

“Kinda. I think she’s the equivalent of a human grandma to us? Something like that.”

Glumshanks traced his finger across the table’s surface, drawing little swirls in the light layer of grime that covered it. In the back room, Kaos could hear the clanging of utensils, firelight crackling out from beneath the loosely hung drapery. Up in the loft, he could hear the trio talking in hushed grunts, saying things he could barely hear, let alone understand.

“...I guess I’m staying for dinner?” Kaos managed a laugh. “I’ve never had troll cuisine, so this should be fun! Then maybe after we can give that map another look, eh?”

“Yeah, fun.” Glumshanks chuckled, a hint of sarcasm sprinkled over his words, though he cracked a smile nonetheless.

Kaos grinned back, letting his guard slip, if only a little. From the kitchen, Oyana called Glumshanks’ name, causing him to jump up with a start, calling back before rushing into the kitchen, probably to help with the cooking. Kaos sighed. The pounding techno music outside was almost a comfort now that he was used to it. Thropp let out a shuddering snore, then fell silent again, the three upstairs sniggering at the noise. Kaos looked out the window, to the islands past the edge of the village. He needed to get home, but staying here a little longer couldn’t hurt, right?

***

Kaos folded up the comically large map best he could, eventually giving up and thrusting it against Glumshanks’ chest, letting him deal with the crumpled mess of parchment. This was the spot. Kaos stood before the well, then looked up, glaring at the empty night sky above. That couldn’t be right. He had fallen from one well into another, so surely, his home had to be above this one. Kaos huffed, trying to wrack his mind for any possible landmarks he may have passed, something to jog a possible path to take. Anything to prove he was merely misremembering what had happened. He winced, holding his temple, the bandages Glumshanks’ mama had fixed in place scratchy against his fingertips. Had he really hit his head that hard?

“You’re sure this is the place?” Glumshanks cleared his throat, a frown on his face.

“It has to be. How many odd, intricately carved wells could there be in a single area?”

Glumshanks adjusted his worn jacket, then took another look at the map, peering at it from different angles to try and see if they were missing something. Kaos grumbled under his breath, pacing around the well, his hands folded behind his back. This wasn’t adding up.

“You said you were in a forest, right?”

“Yes. A two-toed greeble stole my scarf so I chased it right into those lumberous leviathans’ lair.”

“Lumberous-”

“The trees, Glumwad. Keep up with me here!”

“...riiight.” He looked down at the map again. “There should be a forest not too far from here, if you follow the path you should come to it in no time.”

Kaos paused his pacing, ten pulled the map down to his height, peering at the section Glumshanks was on. Sure enough, it seemed to portray a densely wooded area, though none of the surroundings seemed to spark a feeling of recollection. Still, it was at least a start.

“Well, I guess I’ll head that way then...?” Kaos tried to hide the hesitancy in his voice, to no avail.

Glumshanks looked up the way of the tread path. “If you want, I can walk you there, but Mama wants me back before ‘moonset’, so I can wash the dishes… and make the beds…”

“Let me guess, if Thropp doesn’t have his pillows fluffed he throws a fit?” Kaos snickered.

Glumshanks managed a dry laugh. “More or less…”

Kaos frowned, then wacked Glumshanks on the arm playfully. “Well, we’ll just have to have you back by moonset then, eh?”

“Before moonset.” He corrected.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. You’ll be back to do your menial labour before you even know it.”

Kaos turned, putting on a brave face as he started down the beaten trail. He lingered as he passed by the well, still slightly suspicious of its carved walls, though he did his best to shrug the feeling off. Now wasn’t the time to let his active imagination get in the way. He picked up the pace, trying his best to keep in stride with Glumshanks, who was managing to overtake him even with his slower, meandering speed. Curse those long legs. It didn’t take long for the two to notice the foliage getting denser, the previously vacant planes of boulders and browning, patchy grass now overtaken by thorny roots and dense, red bushes. Kaos hopped over a small break in the island, his frown worsening. He had a faint sense of familiarity, but it felt like he was grasping at straws. It was a few moments before Kaos noticed the troll was no longer by his side. He paused, then looked back. Glumshanks stood at the edge, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“I… I should be heading back.”

“Yeah- yeah of course. Don’t wanna keep them waiting.” Kaos laughed awkwardly, his spine prickling.

“Stay safe, okay? Don’t go getting eaten by a Gargantula or anything.”

“No promises.”

Glumshanks gave a small, tense wave, Kaos trying his best to reciprocate before turning to face the forest. Knowing Glumshanks wasn’t by his side, the trees seemed to loom over him, branches reaching and leaves rustling like razor blades ready to slice at him if he got too close. Kaos took a step forward, then looked over his shoulder, watching Glumshanks walking away, his heart sinking further with every step the troll took. Kaos took a deep breath, turned to face the path ahead, then began walking.

“Wait!”

Kaos was nearly bowled over as Glumshanks came racing up to join him, branches and dry leaves crunching beneath his bare feet. The troll skidded to a stop, wringing his hands together.

“I-I’m sure Thropp can survive without me for a little longer. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help out?”

Kaos smiled, his eyes lighting up. “A piss poor one, that’s what.”

Glumshanks laughed breathlessly, then ducked under a low hanging branch, walking along into the looming shadows. Kaos took a moment, then followed, keeping his hand on his rusty pruning shears. Just in case.

[crocodilenialledfics]

You’re all I need (the air I breathe)

ten - in which Stella gets a boyfriend 

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love-at-first-sight, falling-too-fast, uni au that will make your heart ache (in a good way)

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It’s cold but it reminds Stella of when she was younger playing outside with Ludo. Their mother watched from the kitchen window because sometimes Ludo forgot how much older and bigger he was than Stella. That was something Stella also didn’t realize.

Their mother would have hot chocolate waiting for them and some sort of baked good. Later, Stella realized that baked goods only came if mum was really stressed. Or sad. Baked goods came a lot after dad passed away. But Stella would never complain about a homemade chocolate chip cookie.

For a moment, Stella thought about bringing Niall home. Letting him meet Ludo if she could manage to track him down for longer than ten minutes. And she’d let her mother embarrass her with stories of a younger Stella that felt like a lifetime ago. All of that felt like a dream that Stella didn’t have the courage to conjure up.

Because after all this time, Stella had been looking for a label between them. Louis was right, she liked to define everything. She liked to have all the answers to the worlds toughest questions, starting with, what are we?

November was hinting like maybe it would steal the bitterness from December. Stella knew this because her cheeks burned from the wind and she couldn’t get over the way it felt when Niall picked her up just to get her feet off the ground so he could kick the ball.

It made Stella laugh, the kind that made her lose her balance. She was off kilter, laughing into Niall’s jacket as they fell to the ground. Niall’s own laugh sounded like music to her ears and his arms were tight around her waist.

Stella rolled over, to look at him, eyes absolutely shining. Niall’s cheeks were equally as pink, maybe even darker. Stella pressed a kiss to his ice cold lips with tongue. It was the kind that got Niall to lose all the thoughts in his mind.

Stella was better than that, though. She knew better. She pulled herself from Niall, jumping to her feet to get the discarded ball. Niall let out a boisterous laugh at her cheap trick. He was right behind her though, not willing to go down without a fight.

They were friends, Stella let herself remember when they finally called it quits. It was a tie. They were friends who hung out a lot more than friends usually did. So maybe they were best friends.

Because Stella told Niall about how her father died when she was young and she didn’t understand but she knew her mother was never the same. The house was never the same and Ludo was never the same. That was something she never even told Veda. So they were best friends.

Best friends who kissed a lot, who held hands, who stole glances without caring who was watching. Stella thought she liked that better than boyfriend. Every boyfriend she’d ever had broke her heart in two.

“What are you thinking about?” Niall finally asked as they sat on the futon in his room.

“Nothing,” Stella shook her head, picking up her cup of coffee. The warmth of the room made Stella feel better. She felt like she’d finally caught her breath.

“You sure?” Niall asked, eyebrows furrowing. He could tell more about her than he’d like to admit.

“Yeah,” Stella nodded, still not quite meeting his eyes.

“Stella,” he murmured, a hand on her thigh.

Stella was gone, looking up at him. Her cheeks warmed all over again. It wasn’t a hard conversation to have but Stella felt so full that she’d burst.

“What is it?” He asked, voice soft.

“We’re friends,” Stella murmured.

“Best friends,” Niall supplied because even he knew that word wasn’t quite right for them.

“Best friends,” she echoed. She wouldn’t point out how that word was reserved for Louis and Veda almost exclusively. It made her feel like that word wasn’t right either.

“Is this what I think it is?” Niall asked, turning to face her. “The talk.”

“What talk?” Stella asked, trying to play pretend. She wondered if she was doing a good job.

“The what are we talk,” he explained. “The point where how things have been isn’t enough-“

“No,” Stella had to stop him. “It has been enough.”

“Just because things have been enough, that doesn’t mean you can’t ask for more, Stella,” Niall explained in a way that made sense. “You deserve everything you want.”

“I don’t know what more means,” Stella told him. “I just...” she trailed off letting out a sigh. “We’re best friends but-“

“But Louis and Veda are your best friends too,” Niall cut her off. “I know,” he laughed. “I saw your face when I said it.”

Stella pursed her lips, letting out a sigh in the way she did when Niall proved his knowledge of her. Niall laughed, shaking his head, “do you want me to be your boyfriend, then?”

“I don’t know,” Stella mumbled, eyebrows wrinkling.

“Well, Stella,” Niall told her, amused. “You’ve been my girlfriend for like two months and you didn’t know it.”

“Two months?” She echoed, almost incredulous.  

“Yeah my friends from home have been asking when they can meet my girlfriend,” Niall told her, as if that was an explanation.

“Well....” Stella trailed off, eyebrows furrowing. “I’ve been calling you my friend. To everyone.”

“I know,” Niall emphasized, laughing. “But we are friends. Best friends, maybe, in different ways than your best friends.”

“We are friends,” she agreed.

“And you don’t like the word boyfriend?” Niall asked, trying to connect the dots. That’s what Stella always was. A one million connect the dot that even if Niall finished it, it would still be unfinished.

“I don’t know,” Stella shrugged, fingers tangling into her cardigan. “It’s just a weird word.”

“It could be a good word,” Niall suggested. “If you had a good boyfriend, it could turn until a really good word that you’d want to use a lot.”

“You want me to call you my boyfriend,” Stella concluded with a laugh.

“Yes, Niall chuckled. “Maybe a little.”

Stella let out a sigh, nodding, “fine.”

“Fine?” Niall echoed, incredulous. “That’s all you’ve got to say for yourself after calling me your friend to our friends faces and then snogging me the way a girlfriend does?”

“Yes that’s all I have to say,” Stella laughed as he pulled her closer to him. “I don’t have to explain myself.”

“Maybe you could text everyone and tell them that I’m your boyfriend,” he suggested, arm sliding around her waist as he draped her legs over his lap.

“I don’t think I’ll do that,” Stella laughed.

“We could throw a couples party at Zayn’s and go together and then everyone would ask are you guys dating and you would say yes.”

“Maybe not that either,” Stella laughed.

“We could change our relationship status on Facebook.”

“Thats even worse than the party,” Stella mused.  

“We could get matching shirts that say something about dating on them.”

“Or,” Stella laughed, “the next time Veda interrogates me about if we’re dating I just tell her that we are that way there’s no party and no matching shirts.”

“Fine,” Niall decided. “I’ll settle just this once.”

Stella let out a laugh, shaking her head, “you sure know how to get what you want.”

“Always,” he grinned. “I got you, didn’t I?”

Stella didn’t want to think of the implications of a sentence like that. What that meant. How that made her feel. Stella kissed him instead, soft and sweet.

“Homework,” Niall reminded her, pushing his fingers through her hair.

There was an essay she’d been putting off for days. Maybe it was Niall’s fault that she had been. She didn’t know. But she kissed him again, this time with a bit more intent than before. Homework could wait. She had a boyfriend now.

Stella had a boyfriend that liked to kiss as much as she did. Hands in his hair, his hands on her hips. Stella felt brave, straddling him. Niall loved her there. He kissed her back eagerly, hands sliding into her back pockets.

Nialls fingers beneath her t-shirt and Stella felt herself beginning to think about more. About his lips on other places besides her lips. About his hands everywhere. The thought made her breathless, pulling away for air. The flush on her cheeks was incriminating, she just knew it.

Niall gave her a smile, thumb brushing over her bottom lip. Stella’s eyes fluttered and she felt a moan in her throat. This time, she swallowed it with a sigh. “Stella Bella,” he murmured. “What I’d give to see what goes on in your mind.”

Niall knew what she was thinking and Stella knew he knew. Her smile was guilty maybe. Or maybe it was just sweet like honey, the same as it always was. Either way, when Stella kissed him again, she let the moan fall from her lips so that maybe he’d be thinking the same things.

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