#i am too quick to judge for someone who had their first day but like

[saudebazi]

there's something so nice about being in the very initial days of second year i can't explain explicitly

[primofate]

A Shot in The Dark (Chapter 1) Wriothesley x fem!reader

Summary: As the upcoming Weapons Master of the town, you've started to take more responsibilities in your father's shop. Little did you know that taking up this job would cause you to get thrown into the messy world of criminals and the messy world of confusing feelings for the Duke of Meropide.

Warnings: Slow burn, this is gunna be long. Like Ruthless Prince long, maybe. Nothing much happens. This is the first chapter after all. Excuse any mistakes, I am a busy mother.

Author's Notes: Tell me what you think?

Read other parts: Coming Soon

In the shop, a quiet tick-tock rang around as you stood behind the counter, drumming your fingers against the table, watching as the short hand of the wooden clock slowly inches towards the number 7.

You take a deep breath through your nose, squaring your shoulders up, holding the air in your chest for a second before puffing everything out in one go.

It was your first time alone in the shop, and while your father didn’t have a lot of customers these days, you heard that he was quite the sought-after weapons master back in the old times.

A small chime takes you out of your reverie. That was your cue that the day had to start, going around the counter with a slight hum, opening the door to the outside and flipping the store sign “Open”.

You took a moment to look around the small street of Vasari Passage. From where you stood at the shop’s entrance, you had a good view of the swirling fountain in the middle of the Court of Fontaine. There are a few other shops lining the street: the snack shop, the fruit stand, up a set of stairs was the House of Hearth and further down the street was Café Lutece.

It was a nice location, close to the entrance to the city and walking distance to food if you were too busy or too lazy to cook for yourself that day. The shop was on the ground floor, but your father and you resided above the shop, one floor up.

The apartment was rather modest. A two bedroom with wooden floors that now sort of groaned when you stepped on certain places. A dining room that also served as a living room, a 4-seater table in the middle with a fireplace off to the side. A kitchen, where your mother used to spend all her time, cooking up something wonderful for the family. And lastly, one bathroom that was strangely quite spacious with a bath and built in shower.

You pull the shop door open once again, a small ring from the tiny bell hanging above reverberating in your ears. You had only taken a few steps forward, barely even reaching the counter when the tiny bell rang again, followed by the closing sound of the door.

“Welcome to Hammer and Hand, how can I—” you twist around just as you reach the counter and there stood a very, very familiar face. “Oh, Ms. Clorinde,”

No, you had never spoken to her before. Nor were you in any way acquainted. But she was someone that everyone knew and as soon as her name left your lips you felt nervousness crash into you, as if a wave of Primordial Sea water was trying to pull you under its depths.

Clorinde regarded the shop briefly. Looking up at the shelves on the left and right. Surveying the carpet on the floor. Eyes glancing at the several chairs littered around for waiting customers. Then, she looked at you. “…I heard that there might be someone who could take a look at my pistol,” she wasn’t asking a question and she sounded as if she might be in a hurry.

“That would be me,” you sighed out with a forced smile, hands fumbling under the counter to take out a sleek, velvet-lined, black box for the Champion Duelist to rest her weapon in.

A quick click-clack of her heels, Clorinde placing the pistolet into the box and you, hovering your hands above it. “May I?”

Clorinde made a quick sound of approval, and your hands gently took the weapon, now examining it for what might be wrong.

Clorinde peered at you through her hat, just a quick look.

Truth be told, she wasn’t the kind to judge others by appearance…but you looked very, very young to be a weapons master. After a moment of silence, just the little clinks and ticks of your hands tapping on the pistol, Clorinde decided to speak up. “…I was told the shop owner was a man,” She kept her eyes on you to gauge for a reaction, perhaps wary that she might have offended you.

On the contrary, you were unphased, and didn’t take your eyes off her pistol. “My father,” you curtly answered, eyes narrowing at the frame of the gun. “He’s off on vacation at the moment…He hasn’t been on one in a while so I’m stepping in for him for a bit,”

Clorinde made a sound of understanding. That made more sense. “…Everyone needs a vacation,” she said in a different tone to what she used earlier, almost as if she was striking up a casual conversation.

This caught your attention the slightest bit, eyes involuntarily dragging up, meeting hers, then awkwardly breaking the gaze in a split second, going back to the weapon.

“There seems to be a problem with the firing pin, Ms. Clorinde,” you lay the pistol back on the velvet box, then take out a number of small trinkets and tools that would help you open the weapon.

You didn’t talk as you worked, Clorinde was mostly impressed by how much you knew of a weapon you just met, and how your hands were almost as steady as hers when she took aim.

“…You use this often?” She hears you ask and she takes a moment to reply.

“…You could say that,” again, she replies in a short manner.

You let out a little hum in thought. In the next 5 minutes you spend some time taking out different types of firing pins. You explain what each one does. One valued speed. One was a chunkier, sturdier type. One was absorbent of elemental energy, so on so forth. Clorinde explained what she usually used the pistol for, and what attribute she valued over others.

With that, the firing pin was easily replaced and the pistol felt as good as new in her hands.

“My sincere thanks,” Clorinde nods her head, and for the first time that morning sent a small yet satisfied smile your way.

“My pleasure, Ms. Clorinde, do come back if there’s anything else wrong with it, or if it doesn’t feel right in your hands,” you keep your back straight and tense until the Champion Duelist walks out and the door creaks closed. You puff out another sigh of relief, shoulders slumping and yourself crumpling on the counter.

“Of course my first customer has to be a celebrity!” You freak out on your own, cheek pressed against the table and trying to replay the whole interaction in your mind. If you had said anything weird or awkward, if you had stumbled over your words at all—a little CLINK had you scrambling straight up and smiling at the door yet again. “Welcome to—”

“I just came back to warn you,” Clorinde was only halfway into your shop. She paused for a moment, wondering if she should have said anything at all. “You might get a few more…odd customers in the next few days,”

She didn’t explain herself, and you were thoroughly confused. What exactly was her definition of “odd”? The Duelist had already left before you could say anything, not that you could think of anything to say anyway.

The rest of the day had actually been quite slow, despite Clorinde’s warning. A few gardes came by, an aspiring duelist, a collector…Nothing as surprising as your very first customer of the day.

From 7 in the morning it had turned into 7 in the evening. The short hand of the clock started yet again inching closer to the number 7…it was then, yet again, that the door rattled open and in came a rather grand looking young man, different from all the other customers of the day.

Wriothesley had a greeting at the tip of his tongue. “Hey old man,” or something of the sort. Except, he didn’t see an old man at the counter. “Uhh…” he started, looking around the place as if he was lost.

Something about this man seemed familiar, but you couldn’t place your finger on it.

“If you’re looking for my father, he’s on vacation at the moment,” You help him out, knowing that he probably wasn’t expecting to see you manning the shop. Your eyes dropped to the gauntlets tucked under his arm. “Were you wanting to get those looked at?” Head jerking forward to signal towards his gauntlets.

Wriothesley stood like a deer in headlights in the middle of your shop, now looking more surprised than ever. His eyes narrowed and his hand came up halfway to point at you shyly “You’re Y/N?”

You were taken aback, eyes evidently widening. “…Yes…? Do I…know you?” It was your turn to squint your eyes at him. His black hair was a little unruly, his build was of a seasoned fighter’s. The coat draped on his back gave him a sense of importance, and the way he carried himself screamed of confidence.

No. No lightbulbs came up to give you a clue.

You could only smile sheepishly when he didn’t offer an answer and you had to speak up in the silence. “I’m sorry, I don’t really recall where we met,”

It was only then did he chuckle and finally stepped forward to meet you at the counter, placing his gauntlets atop it. “I don’t blame you. Anyway,” he brushed away the subject quickly and proceeded to tell you that his gauntlets had been feeling a little “clunky”.

You, in all your consciousness, felt horrible that you didn’t recognize someone who seemingly knew who you were. The man, however, seemed like he didn’t want to breach the subject anymore.

“Hmm…?” You bring your hand up to your chin as he finishes complaining about his gauntlets. You scour over them with your eyes and notice a few marks on the glossy finish of it. “This looks like…it’s been damaged,” you rub a finger over the area you’re talking about. “…by…a pistol…” An image of Clorinde passes through your head. "...Are you…a criminal?” You look up to your current customer, a mix of worry and intrigue etched on your face.

Wriothesley blinks, and suddenly bursts into short laughter. “Me? Not recently no,” he answers with a chuckle on his lips.

Then why would Ms. Clorinde shoot at you? Was your first thought. He cuts through your thinking quite fast.

“You can tell this is a pistol mark?” Wriothesley didn’t hide that he was impressed.

“Specifically Ms. Clorinde’s…” You take your hand away from his gauntlet, now wary of your visitor. “Why would she shoot at you?”

“You can even tell it’s Clorinde’s?” He barked out another set of laughter, running his hand through his hair in the process.

“Well…She came by this morning and I had a good look at her pistol, so…” You didn’t elaborate that Clorinde’s pistol was a special kind, it was easy to tell that the marks left on his gauntlets was definitely from her pistol.

“Oh did she?” He seemed to be a very chipper guy. Everything you said, he was somewhat amused by it. It was then that he dismissively waved a hand. “It’s alright, we were just…sparring. I’m the one who told her to come ‘round to your old man’s shop. We went at it too hard and…well, more customers for you,”

“Uh huh…” you start, still unsure. “Well, in any case, I’d like to have your name, please? It’s just good manners to know your customer’s name,” You smile a bit, and quickly add under a whisper “or in this case, my potential killer's,”

Wriothesley hears you, another chuckle emanating from his chest. “It’s Wriothesley,”

Something clicks in your mind. A very, very far off memory.

“…Oh!” One of your hand involuntarily shoots up to your mouth, at the same time your eyes widen, you stare at him “Wriothesley!?” You look him over, up and down, then back to his face. “You…You grew up a lot!”

“So did you!” He has a sincere smile on his face, arms crossing and looking rather proud.

“Oh, oh my Archons,” your hands fumble to find each other and you gather yourself once again, straightening up “I didn’t realize it was you, I’m so sorry. Oh and you’re the Duke now, right? I’m SO sorry, I didn’t mean to call you a criminal—or a killer!” Your words start to skim over each other in your embarrassment and desperation to explain yourself.

Wriothesley gives somewhat of an awkward and guarded smile, if only you knew, “It’s not a problem, just…call me Wriothesley,”

“Right... Right! Erm…” You focus your attention back to his gauntlets. “So these are, uh…just needs a bit of polishing and erm…” You’re still trying to gather your racing thoughts. There were bits and pieces of memories coming back to you that were connected to him. Most of them were from your father, and you quickly recalled that you’d met the Duke as a teenager, just a few odd times, really not a lot. “I have a suspicion as to why you think it’s getting clunky…”

You reach under the table again to look for a tape measure, “Do you mind if I measure your hands?” somehow getting most of your brain and thinking back, you ask him to extend one of his arms out and he complies rather easily.

As usual, you quietly work. Taking various measurements of his wrist, fingers, arm length and the sort.

“…You’ve gotten really good at this,” he remarks, just to fill in the silence. You maintain your concentration and mumble back absentmindedly.

“Mmhmm…Well, I did study this in school…and my father has taught me a lot,”

Wriothesley had wanted to comment that yours was still an extraordinary skill. He didn’t think that you’d be so good at assessing weapons and finding solutions for it, he dare thought that you were getting even better than your old man, but he kept quiet, seeing your concentration.

“As I thought,” you breathe out, rolling the tape measure back into a circle. “Your gauntlets are a tad bit small on you now…you’ve probably gained a bit of muscle, or something,”

“Oh,” was all he could let out, not expecting the answer to be so simple.

“I can resize it…but…” you glance at the clock. 7:32 pm. Way past closing time. “…You can leave it with me and pick it up tomorrow or…come back with it tomorrow? I imagine you might not want to part with it, even just for a night,” You don’t know what the duties of a Duke are, but if he was in charge of Meropide… you guessed that the one thing he really needed with him was his weapon. “I mean, it still fits you, it’s just… not in optimal shape.”

“I understand,” he moves to take the gauntlets back with him, but gives you an appreciative nod. “I’ll come back tomorrow morning then,”

“Okay,” you whisper, holding his gaze, the edges of your mouth turning up the slightest bit. “See you tomorrow then,”

Wriothesley keeps your gaze for only a few moments longer before he gathered his weapon and tucked it under his arm again. He then returns your smile, briefly. He steps away to turn, his coat swaying with him. “See ya,” he throws a hand back as a goodbye and as he exits the store, it is suddenly quiet.

You stand there for a moment to replay the interaction. The quiet helps you organize your thoughts. You can’t help but think that he had grown up to be a good man, and there was no denying that he was good looking—anyone with eyes could see that—you hum a bit, and keep the thoughts to yourself.

You close the shop up, feeling rather good of how the unexpected events of the day unfolded, and went to sleep easily.

Chapter 1: End

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[dashofmonsters]

Dreamers & Delusions- Pt. 2

Merman x Female Reader

"I'll have to go into hibernation if it gets too cold or if I can't find something to do. The acclimation program already knows about my kind and our issues with the cold so they have accommodations for winter," he explains.

"Well I hope it doesn't get too cold then, would be a bummer if I couldn't come see you," you smile at him.

Tao's eyes go wide for a second before he clears his throat, "Yes well it would indeed be a bummer... Especially since we have just decided to be friends."

"Right?" you beam.

You and Tao talk and talk almost to the point where it's just about silly things or what he's struggling with during his acclimation. You find out he's a very literal person who has issues the most with slang, metaphors, and emotes. He lives in a rental that's about a couple miles away from the beach and he usually walks to work or the local grocery store since he can't fit into normal vehicles.

After a little bit of work though you find out an even more endearing side to him, he likes to try his hand at cooking ever so often. Though he prefers his meat raw, he likes the idea of charring the outside and adding bits of flavor. He was a little embarrassed to admit it but you found out it's because his father was supposed to show him how to create a feast to impress a mate per tradition.

You didn't press as to why his father didn't teach him seeing he was already uncomfortable enough to admit it. So you decided to share a bit of something uncomfortable about yourself.

"My mom never taught me how to do a lot of basics that most parents are supposed to teach their kids. I had to watch a lot of how to videos and make myself look like an idiot if I messed up or didn't know something. A lot of people assumed I was stupid or had no common sense. I just didn't have a point of reference and I hated being ignorant but I was judged for my short comings and no one ever helped," you admit.

Tao nods and gives you his first, though very small, smile.

"Is that why you are forgetting things constantly?" he asks with the slightest smirk.

"Yeah...sure," you feel a bit embarrassed by his question, but you'll never confess that you 'forgot' those things just as an excuse to talk to him.

"I see, I will take that into account that due to your upbringing that you just don't think about these things and I will stop being annoyed by it," he nods.

"You were annoyed," now you feel a little hurt.

"Of course I was, but no more than I usually am," he shrugs.

"That doesn't sound fun," you grimace. "You can't just be annoyed all the time."

"I'm not annoyed when I'm at home," he says.

"Lucky," you laugh.

"Why? Are you unable to be at peace at home too?" he gives you a look of genuine concern then.

His number one thing seems to be peace. He's a no nonsense guy who just wants to go about his day with no hiccups. His life honestly seems perfect compared to your at times.

"Only when I'm sleeping or about to leave for work. Peace... that doesn't come easy to someone like me," you frown.

Tao studies you then as he drops to your eye level. You should feel super uncomfortable but for some reason you don't mind. He stares hard at your face and scans it until he nods.

"You do look very tired," he says.

You can't help but to laugh at his observation, "Tao, I'm going to let you in on a secret: I'm always tired."

"That is unhealthy," he scowls.

"Yup and there's nothing I can do about it," you shrug.

"Yes there is, you could go home and sleep," he says, almost ordering you to do so.

That's when you can't help but to crack up. It's horrible that this is how you cope, but it is.

"If I went home to sleep right now, my grandmother would give me an earful about being lazy," you laugh.

Tao doesn't laugh, he doesn't smile, doesn't do anything except stand up slowly and prowl over to you.

You shut up real quick thinking something is wrong until he picks you up. You yelp, being carried in one arm at his hip like a sack of rice.

"What are you doing?!" you squawk as you sway when he shifts to carry you princess style.

He doesn't say anything until he sets you down onto your tie dye towel.

"Rest, I'll make sure no one bothers you while you're here," he says.

You can't help but feel a mix of emotions then. Your eyes water a little but you swipe away any moisture before a tear falls.

"Thank you, that's probably the sweetest thing anyone has said to me in a long while," you smile at him.

And Tao in all his Taoness, just nods.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tao really meant it when he said no one would bother you while you were on the beach.

The day after he said that, you had what was possibly the best beach nap you've ever had thanks to Tao brining you a beach chair with your name on it. Literally.

At first it felt weird that he'd go that far just for you to get a beach nap but you guessed it might be some cultural thing and as far as Tao said, you're his only friend. You thanked him and didn't think much of it until the day after that.

A group of teenagers were playing volleyball a little too roughly and one of the guys fumbled and the ball got you right on the head even though you did your best to dodge it. The boys tried to apologize but Tao gave them an earful about respect and being more spatially aware.

That too was normal for Tao though he was a bit harsher than usual. Unfortunately it got worse.

Yesterday was a blessed off day. No work, your grandmother was out thrifting to her heart's content, and all your bills had been paid. You were excited to head to the beach but that excitement was short lived.

The first thing you noticed was that your chair was pulled a little closer to the guard tower. Next was that Tao wasn't in the tower but leaning against the ladder like he was expecting some shit to hit the fan any second. And finally, the group of muscle hunks posing as they flexed for the cameras.

Apparently some magazine decided this spot was the perfect location for some weird gym rat protein powder ad photo shoot and to make matters worse, they tried to rope Tao into it.

Before you sat down though, Tao made a bit of a scene by scooting your chair even closer to the tower while making eye contact with one of the big buff dudes.

You told him he was being a bit extra to which he said he was only being cautious as they had been eyeing you since you started walking down the beach. You rolled your eyes, ready to tell him that there's no way they'd be interested in you until he thrusted a binder in your direction.

It was a detailed list of ingredients, dishes, and recipes commonly enjoyed by all saltwater merfolk with a few dishes his kind liked the most. You had almost forgot that he said he'd make this list for you so when he gave it to you, you almost cried.

You thanked him and started fanning through the pages and noticed his hand writing was especially nice on dishes that his people particularly enjoyed. You gave him a quick side eye and smiled.

These are probably his personal favorites, you think.

As you started to skim through the recipes with the neatest hand writing a shadow fell over you.

It was one of the buff guys.

He gave you the most generic social media fake ass grins ever and you couldn't help the eye roll. He started to introduce himself but was hardcore interrupted when Tao drove him into the ground like a fucking bull.

Tao and the buff guy started hashing it out until his bros came and peeled him away from the fight. It was the first time you really really saw Tao's teeth. Sharp and pointy like a shark's and then there was the spike like fins on his lower arms and legs. He looked like a mad dog ready to rip someone in half.

You heard one of the photographers comment on how territorial some of the fair folk can be with places or people they claim as their own.

If that was the case, then you guessed it might have to do with your friendship with Tao. If it wasn't, then he's about the get a stern talking to.

~~~~~~

"He was bothering you, I don't see why you're upset with me," Tao says after you lectured him about yesterday.

"I'm upset you dingbat because shit like that can get you sent back to your home realm! Do you think I want my friend to get deported over shit like that," you poke his arm, but it ends up being a jab.

Tao opens his mouth then closes it. He looks around a bit then let's out a long sigh "I'm sorry. I really don't know what's come over me. After I moved here, I didn't have my shoal. My sponsor checks on me maybe once every three months since he's been busy working with another merman who's been trying to get his pass here. I guess the loneliness drove me a bit crazy."

Now you feel bad for making him feel bad but you hope your gift will more than make up for it. You worked all morning long on it, double checking to make sure the meat was ready and perfect right before you left the house and that the sea greens were cooked and seasoned just right.

"Well moving past that, I brought you something," you take out the lunch box and show it to Tao.

He looks down right shocked as he goes to reach for it. He carefully removes the lid and his eyes stare hard at the contents.

"You made this... for me," his voice is soft and quiet and you can hear the pain behind it. He hesitates for a moment then takes a slice of the thin cut beef and pops it in his mouth. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back and swallows. He's quiet for a minute and you're afraid you messed up and he's too nice to tell you other wise.

"Tao if it's bad you can just tell me, I can take the criticism," you tell him, ready for the critical blow.

Instead he tilts his head back down and opens his eyes. The whites are now all black which makes his yellow irises pop even more so.

"My friend, if this was bad I would have spat it out," he grabs two more slices and then a few more practically stuffing his face like a kid who was caught with a bag of candy.

You watch as he eats everything, savoring every bite like he hasn't had a decent meal in ages. His harsh features soften as he takes the last bite and licks his fingers clean. For some reason you focus on him as he rolls the sauce off of his fingers and onto his tongue.

Bad lonely thoughts, Tao is our friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

"So was it good?" you ask, though you can probably guess the answer by the clean plate.

"If I was mermaid being offered a feast, I'd allow you the honor to continue courting me," he jokes.

"Oh what an honor," you laugh.

For the first time since you've met him he laughs back. You can't help but stare at him and feel a smile build up that hurts your cheeks.

"Thank you, really. I have tried and tried to create something that tastes like home but it was never quite right. It was either too salty or I over cooked the meat or the greens were under cooked somehow. This is pretty close to the flavors of my shoal. I didn't realize how much I missed this," he looks down at the empty lunch box with a mix of emotions.

Something in you feels for him. You haven't had a taste of home in forever but your problem is that you're pretty sure that it would make you physically sick instead of homesick. Home never felt like home, here didn't feel like home until you met Jessica and Tao.

Jessica made you her to die for pie for you birthday which you almost threw up from over drinking when she took you bar hopping for your birthday. Tao gave you an amazingly detailed binder of saltwater mer foods and recipes.

You can't think of anything better than food that brings all sorts of peoples together, human or the fair folk.

"Well, I can't do it all the time but I can at least make you a boxed lunch once a week, how does that sound," you smile at him.

"If it weren't for the fact that you're human and my friend I'd think you were trying to court me," he laughs. "But yes, that sounds good."

You play slap him and he laughs again.

~~~~~~~~~

"For the last time Jes, there's nothing romantic going on between Tao and I," you roll your eyes as Jessica gives you her biggest grin.

"Uh huh, sure girl. Maybe you don't see it that way, but guys don't risk getting deported for just friends and not just once. This is what, the second offence? He's lucky that he's, oh what did you say? A combination of a bookish mafia boss, the inspiration for the statues of deities and all around hotty mchot hot hot," she wriggles her brows at you before popping another slice of gum in her mouth.

You snort laugh, "I did not say that last one Jes."

"No, but you were thinking it," she raises a brow and twirls around till she's behind the counter.

"Listen, I can find him physically attractive and still not want more than a friendship. Plus he hasn't come onto me so I'm pretty sure he's not into me like that," you sigh and continue cleaning the table you just cleared.

Jessica hums something and clicks her tongue, "Girl you do know he's not human right? That he might have been coming onto you from the get go without you realizing it? Shoot for that matter he might not even realize it himself."

That has you curious now.

"What do you mean by that," you look over you shoulder to see Jes twirling a red curl.

"Oh you know, that the fair folk believe in fated mates and things like that," she gives you a cheesy grin and blushes a little.

You do know about the fated mates thing, it's one of the reasons a lot of fair folk, especially the guys, flocked to this realm in droves once the rift border opened up. With the fae it was pretty easy to tell once the bond clicked which wasn't always immediately. Their calm and calculated appearance would become wild and untamed. They would get quickly territorial and easily violent towards anyone who came close to their mate. A mark would usually show above the heart and a matching one would appear on their mate once their bond was consummated.

As for merman, no one had any idea what to look for since they just started coming this side as of a few years ago.

"Yes, I'm well aware about that. So what does that have to do with him not know if he's coming onto me," you ask.

"They know it deep down and act on it sometimes. They don't even realize they're courting you half the time or that they have this desire to want to be with you. It's hardcore ingrained into their DNA or something, I don't know. But it sounds to me that he is indeed into you. You're both just too oblivious to see it. Unlike Artek," Jes grins at the mention of her wild fae lover's name and sighs.

And suddenly her weird school girl crush behavior makes sense.

"Jes, did you and Artek.... Wait a sec, are you and-"

Jessica folds down her top just enough for you to see part of a swirling mark above her heart. She shakes in place with the goofiest smile you've ever seen on her.

"Just found out last night. Oh and he did not want to let me go," she places a hand on her forehead and feigns being scandalized. "But I have to go to work. He threatened to come in and tear Mikey a new one if he so much as thinks he can schedule me during my bond week," she give a vicious grin then.

The fae took about a week to celebrate their mate bond here, which was a much shorter version of their actual month long festivity of it. Mates were so rare on their side for some reason but here it was becoming as normal as two humans getting married. It just happened, but it was equally special if not more so.

Regardless, you were happy for Jes. Mikey tried to take everything from her in their divorce but got next to nothing after a detective brought in proof of his multiple affairs. That's why he's such an ass to her here.

"So, when's your bride feast huh? Gonna go all out," you turn to her and cross your arms.

Jessica goes into great detail about what she wants to do for the rest of the shift. That Artek has invited his large ass family this side to celebrate and that he's already started sourcing materials for their marriage bed. It was more than obvious that she's over the moon and can't get over the fact that she's found the one after years of dealing with a heartache.

Mikey tried to shut her down but several of the fair folk patrons snapped at him saying that it's a blessing that her and Artek found one another and he shouldn't discourage her happiness. His flustered face was priceless.

~~~~~

"Hey grandmama, I'm home," you shout as you slide your shoes off at the door.

Your grandmother's house is unusually quiet for this time of day when she's usually scrolling through her phone while listening to her soap operas. You look around and the livingroom is empty and so is the kitchen. You're about to call her when you see a note on the fridge saying Gayle has whisked her away for margaritas with the girls.

"Fuck me sideways and call me bob," you rake your fingers over your face in frustration. As much as you can't stand her normal antics you loath her when she's drunk. If you're lucky, Gayle will have her spend the night at her house until their hangovers wear off. If you weren't, there's a nice beach with your name on it.

Typically you'd go there after work but you're tired and you have the house to yourself right now. So you stretch and crack open the fridge and start preparing for a blissful night of snacking and binge watching some of your favorite shows.

~~~~

Hours pass and you get a text from Gayle that she's taking your grandmother home with her since she's had one too many and sends you a pic of your grandmother trying to put a dollar bill in a male strippers strap.

"Thanks for the mental scarring Gayle, just what I needed," you text back to her knowing she'll get the joke.

Gayle was a close family friend and was more like a grandmother to you than your biological one was at times. She was sweet and caring with a crazy sense of humor and infectious laughter. You sometimes wish you lived with her but she travels too much and she likes her alone time just as much as she like partying.

You squirm in your grandmother's recliner and grab a bag of chips getting ready for the next show until you hear a frantic knock at your door.

The bag flies out of your hand due to your shock reflex and you place a hand over your heart.

The knocking continues as you rush to the door to check through the peephole. You can't see nothing.

"Who is it?" you ask.

"It's me, are you ok," you hear Tao's voice.

You pause, not remembering if you ever told him where you live aside from the general direction. You slowly open the door and look up at him. He looks worried out of his mind.

"Tao, are you ok? You look like you've seen a ghost buddy," you ask him.

His hair is all messed up and he's breathing fast and hard, trying to catch his breath and his tan skin looks like he worried himself sick.

"You didn't come to the beach today. You've been coming everyday except when it rains. I thought something happened," he frowns.

"Oh uh well, no I'm fine. My grandmother is out tonight so I thought I'd enjoy a night in since this rarely happens," you explain.

"I see, ok... That's good then. As long as you're alright," he nods and sighs as he leans against the top of the door frame.

A crack of thunder peels off in the distance causing Tao to flinch. He looks even more worried then.

"Sounds like rain," you comment.

"Yes, I... I should get going then, I don't want to accidentally transform back to my other form while walking home. It'd be very inconv-"

Before he finishes that thought lightning bursts through the sky and the little misting sprinkle turns into a torrential downpour.

Tao groans and looks resigned as he's about to turn to leave but you quickly stop him.

"Hey you can stay here for tonight if you want to wait out the rain," you tell him.

He looks to you like that's possibly the dumbest thing you could say.

"That sounds inappropriate," he glares at you. "Inviting an unmated male into your house is never wise."

"Tao we're friends and adults. I'm pretty sure I can trust you to keep your hands to yourself unless you've had ulterior motives from the get go," you cross your arms and stare up at him.

"It is still unwise," he nods, being firm.

"Oh so then you do have ulterior motives," you raise a brow.

"I never said that," he grimaces.

"Then there's no problem if you don't. Come on, get your ass in here," you open the door all the way and beckon him inside.

You hear him groan as he accepts his defeat while walking in. He struggles with the low ceiling, well low for him as he shuts the door.

"Is this your first time in a human house," you ask, leading him to the livingroom.

"Yes, it's very uh small and compact," he notes.

You get the compact part as your grandmother is a bit of a tidy hoarder, the small thing, that's probably due to his height.

"Well mi casa su casa. Well more like mi abuela's casa su casa, but still, make yourself at home," you say then try to offer him something warm to eat and drink.

Tao tries to deny any offers but you snap back saying it's rude to deny your hostess the honor of taking care of her guest. Tao eventually resigns and you bring him a warm cup of tea. As you go to the kitchen to make him something to eat he asks if he can watch you. You agree and start pulling ingredients left and right.

You get fully into the zone as you start preparing the food. You glance over at Tao ever so often just to see that he's fixated on your process. As you start cooking you notice the whites of his eyes turn black again. He sniffs the air and his pupils dilate.

"Want to try a bite," you offer him a piece and he takes it with no hesitation and scarfs it down. His nails which are sharp and pointed seem a bit longer and more pointier now. His expression looks more predatory than normal and some of his spikey fins have started protruding.

Guess that means he's really hungry.

"Give me just a few more minutes and dinner will be ready ok," you tell him as you continue on with his meal.

Tao just nods and stares daggers at pan. You feel like if you let him he'd lunge at it with reckless abandon and eat everything in record timing.

After a little bit you scoop the meat into a bowl and hand it to him. He looks at it and takes in a deep whiff before carefully grabbing a bite. He looks like he's holding back going ham on the food and you're wondering if he's trying not to scare you by going into some weird merman feeding frenzy.

"Hey if you need to eat however you want to eat, go ahead. I can just uh go into another room if you want some privacy or someth-"

Tao grabs a handful of the meat and stuffs his face with it. His pupils nearly engulf his irises making his eyes look pitch black. He tears into the strips of meat like a crazed hungry animal. The juices and sauce start dripping down his arms and you roll your eyes at the mess.

"I'm going to get you a towel, that stuff'll get sticky after a while," you say as you walk towards to laundry room.

Tao grunts and consumes some more meat.

As you get to the laundry room you smack yourself over the head for having another bout of terrible lonely girl thoughts.

Tao, smack.

Is, smack.

Just, smack.

A, smack.

Friend, smack.

You should not be even more attracted to him after that feeding frenzy trance thing he just went in and yet you can't stop thinking about it.

"God, does that mean I'm depraved," you question yourself. "Or does this just mean I'm weird and anything goes right now in my lonely haven't had sex in ages mind?"

Probably a bad mix of both...

You sigh and grab a towel and turn only to be met with a brick wall.

"Oh hey, are you done," you ask, praying that he didn't hear you questioning your sexual sanity.

He nods and cocks his head and points to the towel.

"Yeah, um here," you hand it to him and he slowly but carefully cleans himself off.

"So there's a guest bedroom in the back. Bed is probably a bit small for you even though it's a king size. It gets cold at night since my grandmother has the a/c on a schedule so I'll bring you some extra blankets," you tell him as you turn to go show him the room.

He quietly follows you and steps slowly into the room, smelling and inspecting it. You leave him be while you go grab a large comforter and a few throw blanket for him. When you come back he's already curled under the covers with his feet barely sticking out. As you go to lay another layer over him he snatches you and pulls you into the covers with him.

You flail about for a bit until you hear what you're pretty sure in a purr. You kick up the covers to see Tao asleep now and honest to gods purring. He pulls you in closer and just cuddles you. He's mentioned a few times that when someone gets cold that his shoal will form basically cuddle piles to stay warm. Maybe that's it and maybe he's also really homesick. He said he can never go back though...

"Just this once, jeeze. Not letting you go into a feeding frenzy next time I give you food," you snort laugh and try to relax against Mr. Brick wall.

Tao shifts a bit till he's holding you close enough that you can hear his heartbeat. He moves the covers and extra blankets back up and slowly drifts back to sleep.

You're a little jealous of how fast he can nod off but eventually you start dozing in and out.

He's probably going to flip the fuck out about this in the morning. Well, we'll deal with it then...

[asa-do-your-thing]

Set me on fire

18+ MINORS DNI Lord Eddard Stark x F!Reader 2.5 k Warnings: P in V sex,, por w/o plot, smut duh, virginity, wedding night, fingering, doggystyle, kind of dom/sub dynamic, Older man / younger woman, as always no proofreading no nothing

ok I had serious Ned Stark brainrot tonight, I needed to write something short and sweet

"Thank you my Lord, for this. For everything. And most importantly, for letting me kiss you, all these weeks ago," Emma said gently as they stepped inside Lord Stark's chamber.

Ned's eyes drank her in when she entered the room, his breath catching a bit at the sight of her gown and her wedding hairdo. She really was a vision, both now and as his wife. The thought of her being his wife now still left him in awe, thinking back to the past weeks... and how long and agonizing they had been.

“I am the one who should be thanking you...” He gave her a wry smile and stood next to the bed, waiting for her to get closer.

Emma giggled and slowly took off her new, Stark cloak. She would not make this - their wedding night - quick and easy for him. "Well, then, I guess that you are welcome. I was afraid that you did not like me at first and wanted me to marry Robb or Bran..."

When her cloak fell onto the ground, Ned's eyes could do nothing but trace the shapes underneath the wedding gown. He would never get enough of her, that much he had realized during all these weeks. All the cold baths in the world wouldn't have done any good.

“I admit I was uncertain at first, Lady Tyrell...,” he mumbled, his eyes still focused on her body.

"Lady Stark now, my Lord. I decided to leave my House in the South for good," She said and slowly took off her veil and took the ribbons out of her hair. She liked to play this slow game of seduction with him. "But now I know why Robb was so... desperate. You were this close to taking me against a tree on the day you had proposed to me."

Ned tried to give her a stern look, but was too distracted by her luscious curls to pull it off. He just couldn't help but imagine how they would look spread out on his pillows....

"I... was in a moment of weakness, Lady Stark.” A smile tugged at his lip as he said 'Lady Stark', the sound of her new name rolling of his tongue pleasantly. “Perhaps I will have to punish you for this insolence...”

"Oh! My Lord..." Emma blushed furiously and tried to erase the image of Ned bending her over his knees, instead gently stepping out of her dress and kicking off her slippers. "If that is my Lord Husbands wish, his command, then who am I to oppose it?"

The sight of her standing there in her stockings and her shift, so beautiful and willing, was enough to make the blood in his body boil and he could do nothing but drink her in with his eyes. He stepped closer to her and started to undo the buttons on his doublet, never once taking his eyes off of her.

“You would be happy to take my punishment... wouldn't you, my girl?”

Using her pet name only between the two of them intensified their intimacy. No one else referred to her as 'my girl' except for him. He used to worry about being judged for marrying someone over ten years his junior, but calling her his girl fueled his passion and desire.

“Yes, my Lord..." she breathed out, biting her bottom lip in anticipation. "I would even offer myself to you... if only you would come closer. But you'd be just as happy to dole it out, wouldn't you?"

Ned's breath was still shallow as she stepped closer to him. “Oh, definitely...” He stepped closer, closing the last of the distance between them and wrapping his arms around her hips, pulling her gently against him. “You have been a very bad girl, you know,” he said in a low voice, before leaning down and placing a kiss on her neck.

"Have I?" Emma whispered and gently untied his breeches, tentatively laying a hand on his hardness. "Tell me, lord Husband, what have I done?"

"You have been teasing me all these weeks, Lady Emma...” he said, burying his face in her neck. “And now, I think, it's my turn to tease you...” He said, before letting go of her and moving towards the large four-poster bed.

Emma was slightly taken aback but smirked as she followed him. He thought he could outsmart her? “Oh, my Lord Husband, I am up for any challenge you might throw at me.” A blush spread over her cheeks, knowing that she was still a maiden and that Ned must’ve had so much more experience, but she decided to squash her nagging thoughts before they could form earnestly.

“As… as long as you are gentle,” she added quietly before letting her shift fall, so that she was left in her thigh-high stockings.

Ned hesitated when she mentioned him being gentle, a twinge of guilt forming at the back of his mind. He had been with other women before, but she would be his second wife... and her first ever. He turned around, looking at her with tenderness in his eyes. “I... I will be as gentle as possible, my girl.” He said, the endearment coming out tenderly as he removed his doublet and breeches, revealing his hardened state.

“I... I trust you, my Lord.” Emma moved closer to their bed, her heart hammering in her chest. “I am yours. I... I know that it might hurt..."

"Shh..." Ned said soothingly, joining her on the bed and pulling her close to him. "I will be as gentle as I can be... but it might still hurt a little at first, I'm afraid." He admitted, toying gently with her hair. "However... after that it's over and I can, well...” He trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid but the smirk on his face said enough.

Emma nodded gently and spat on her hand and guided it to his length, just like she had been told to do and Ned groaned instantly. “Do… do whatever you wish, Ned, I… I trust you,” she whispered with a blush, before she laid down, her curls falling around her pale, freckled, bare skin.

Ned's hands trembled slightly as he traced her body with his fingertips, following the soft contours of her hips and stomach before resting on her thighs. He watched as his wife parted them, giving him access to her most intimate place. He could feel his pulse racing as he looked at her shapely legs and the soft curls between them. The scent of lavender filled his nostrils, mixing with the natural musk of arousal that came from her body. He leaned forward and lightly brushed his lips against her, tasting their combined essence. His hands moved slowly upwards, teasing every inch of her skin as he moved closer to her core.

Emma arched her back, wanting him to touch her more forcefully but she held herself back, knowing he would take the lead. "Please..." she whispered, wanting to beg for him to continue but not wanting to sound like a needy bride.

His fingers circled around her entrance and dipped inside gently, feeling how wet she already was for him. He groaned softly against her skin and slid his middle finger inside her slowly, feeling the tightness that surrounded him. Ned watched as she closed her eyes and bit down on her lip, trying to contain herself. The sounds she made were creating a symphony of pleasure and pain that resonated within him. Her body was warm and inviting, opening up for him slowly as he pressed deeper into her, stretching out those untouched folds.

“You’re mine, only mine… I’ll fill you up with my children… Fuck you over and over, making your pretty, perky tits bounce around…,” he whispered gently into her ears and felt her clenching around his fingers, evidently close to her release, to which he quickly pulled his fingers out and rested them on her hot, sticky mound.

Emma pouted and continued her strokes with her small hand around his cock. “Is… unfair…”

Ned chuckled lightly and kissed her, moaning quietly at the way her hand squeezed him. “You’ve teased me all these weeks, my girl. Be patient…”

He guided his length to her opening and gently pushed inside, feeling the resistance as he entered her for the first time ever. He could feel her tightness around him, like a vice gripping him as he pushed further, inch by agonizingly slow inch. Their breathing was ragged, heated, intertwined with the soft sounds of their moans when he finally buried himself completely within her.

The pain was immense, but Emma bit on her lower lip to not cry out. It hurt so much, more than she thought it would, but she also felt a strange impulse to feel him move inside of her and know that she was now officially his.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Ned panted out and rested his forehead against hers. “I want this to be… special.”

“I… I’m alright... more…” Emma encouraged him softly, before wrapping her legs around him, her inner heat practically screaming for more. “More, my Lord… I can take more. Please…”

It was so lewd, but Ned loved it. Ned loved her, loved her youthful glow,, the way she called him ‘my lord’, her fervour, and most importantly the way her cunny gripped him. “More? My, I haven’t even… started, my girl,” he mumbled and slowly started moving, groaning at the way a beautiful blush spread over Emma’s cheeks and chest.

Emma tightened her legs around him, gripping his waist firmly as he began to move, and she couldn't help but moan his name softly into the dimly lit room. The pain ebbed away, replaced by a different kind of fire, one that she craved more of. His hand found her breasts, cupping them roughly as he continued to thrust into her, taking her virginity boldly, aggressively.

Ned was lost in the moment, somewhere between sanity and reality.

He never thought this day would come, that he would be here, with her, on their wedding night, consummating their marriage. But here they were and he couldn't be happier. The feel of her walls clenching around him sent jolts of pleasure through his body and he knew that their children would feel at home here. He would fill her up so much that she wouldn't want any other man but him. He would show any- and everyone that she was his. Ned groaned, picking up the speed as Emma arched her back more for him to take.

Her nails dug into his back as she clung to him for dear life, feeling herself on the brink of something monumental. "Ned... I... I'm close," she panted out breathlessly before he claimed her mouth once more in a messy kiss. He angled her hips upwards just a little bit more and hit a spot within her that made her see stars behind her closed lids.

"There we go… there... just like that… come for me, my girl…," Ned encouraged her and gently laid his thumb on her impossibly soft, warm pearl, stroking it gently while continuing to hammer up into her. “My beautiful… beautiful…. girl….”

She saw stars.

Emma tensed up and tried her best not to scream too loudly, but with the new, added stimulation, it was hard not to. Though not long after this blissful feeling had subsided, Ned pulled out of her and gently turned her around and pulled her up onto her elbows and knees, gently spreading her buttocks up for him to admire. Not long after, she felt the familiar heat against her entrance, though he waited. A gentle, yet hard slap against her arse pulled her out of her reverie.

“Fuck, you’re so tight…”, Ned whispered as he slowly pushed himself inside her, trying not to come too quickly. Her buttocks wiggled too beautifully, to perfectly against him - it was perfect agony. “M-may I?”, he asked quietly as he wrapped his hand around her throat, but her broad smile and small nod answered his question for him.

“Yes, please… I-I want… more,” Emma moaned out, feeling him hit places she didn’t know even existed, yet she wanted more and more of him. “Fill me up…”

And so, he gave her more - rough, explosive thrusts that had them both moaning and gasping for air. His hand tightened around her neck gently, not enough to asphyxiate but just enough to create a heady rush of pleasure and power.

He grabbed her hips and pulled her back, slamming himself into her over and over again, his grip on her neck tightening with each thrust. The mattress creaked from their vigorous mating, but they didn't care. All she could feel was him, all he could think of was her as they both rode each other to completion.

Ned came first, with a roar, spilling his seed deep inside her womb. Emma felt every drop of his warmth escaping into her and knew this was it. This was where she belonged - with him, in their bed. She followed suit moments later, screaming out loud as her walls clenched around him and she experienced her second orgasm of the night - mind-blowing and earth-shattering. Her legs trembled as she tried to regain control of herself, breathing heavily against the pillow.

Ned carefully pulled out of her and laid next to her, not quite ready to let go of her just yet. He gently wiped the sweat off her brow and kissed every inch of skin he possibly could before resting his head on the crook of her neck.

"I love you..," he whispered softly in her ear.

Panting heavily, Ned lowered himself down to rest his forehead against her head once more, still buried deep inside of her. Their heartbeats drummed in unison. "Welcome to our wedding night," he breathed out between kisses on her neck. He pulled out slowly, watching as a small pool of blood formed where he'd taken her virginity. It was both beautiful and terrifying in its own way, knowing that this moment would forever be etched into their shared history.

As he moved to lay beside her, he grabbed a damp cloth from the bedside table and cleaned them both up gently before tugging a fur over their naked forms.

The air was cool against their now heated skin as Ned held Emma close to him, his chest rising and falling steadily with each breath. "You did well today, my girl. You were perfect, just like I knew you would be.”

Emma hummed and snuggled closer to Ned. “Thank you. Let us hope that I can give you a pup soon.”

Blushing, Ned pressed another kiss on her head. “I… yes. Of course.” He did not regret marrying her, he thought retrospectively, and gently held his small wife up against his chest. “As many as you want.”

[fan-goddess]

Teat of Family Wealth

Authors Note: Short af but I thought of it on my work break. Enjoy the drabble I guess

Taglist: @valeskafics, @omgbrcat @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @blue-serendipity

Warnings: None apart from the occasional swear mixed in. Oh, and probably ooc Michael but who gives a shit?

Felix Catton, is a rich cunt sucking directly of the tit of old familiar wealth, and somehow, he doesn’t even know it.

Though to be fair, you yourself have no idea how you managed to wind up being his friend. Considering that compared to all his other mates, you were probably considered poor. Even though compared to all the non-rich shits in school, you were probably seen as well off.

You’d met Felix on the first day of Oxford, wandering around blindly looking for your introductory class to English. And of course knowing your luck, Felix Catton walked right up to you asking if you were lost, and to your gratitude at the time, you were grateful as he directed you were to go. Even blushing at the fact he insisted on putting his number in your phone, just so you could text him if you ever got lost again.

Though from there, you have no idea what happened. As the next thing you knew, you were trailing along after Felix and hanging out with his friends like some sort of fucking puppy, too afraid to leave the comforts of what it knows and go see the world. You knew you were being absolutely pathetic. A desperate bootlicker practically whining for some sort of attention and validation from someone deemed powerful in this world.

It was probably though why you found it so easy to recognise yourself in Oliver Quick. Another desperate nobody that was all but begging for some attention from the so proclaimed ‘big dogs’ of Oxford.

Though his eyes, those were different from yours. His held a type of longing that was directed only at Felix. Compared to his, your eyes looked like you wanted to kill him.

You don’t know how he met Felix, but by the way he came over to the table in the pub after Felix had called him over was nothing but eager. Oliver had been quick to move, grabbing his drink and practically skipping over. Even though you know you saw someone with him at the table earlier.

“Oh wait are you with anyone?” Felix asked, strangely empathetic as he stared at Oliver. Oliver turned around, and you could clearly see the person he’s just been sitting with in a confusing but funny looking shirt awkwardly waving to him, obviously wondering what the hell happened when he’d gone.

“No, they just left…” Oliver replied, ignoring the poor boy who slowly drops his hand and his head, obviously sad at the sudden loss of his drinking partner and so called friend.

It was so sad to look at, that you move to quickly finish your pint, and stand, offering Oliver your seat as you walk away. You can’t hear if anyone objects. If anything, they probably don’t care about you enough or even at all to even notice.

“Hey! How I roll guy!” You yell, and to your surprise, he actually turns around and gives you a judging glare rivalling even Heras.

“What?” He grunts, his brows furrowed as his eyes rake over your whole body, as if he had the ability to see every one of your insecurities.

You take a deep breathe, oddly nervous. “Oliver Quick is a bootlicking cunt and quite honestly, you deserve a much better friend than that puppy.”

There’s silence between you two, that’s only broken by the odd drunk fuelled talk coming from the direction of the pub, and eventually, by a small hum coming from the guys lips.

“You’re not wrong…” He says, smiling as he no doubt thinks over what you just said. “Though, I suppose the same could be said about you. Don’t you hang desperately on the rich buff arms of your own bff Felix Catton?”

“Felix is as much as my friend as I am friends with my own shit.” You bluntly say, and to your surprise, he begins chuckling, even slowly beginning to physically shake with laughter, while you stand there awkwardly waiting for him to stop.

“Can’t say you’re wrong comparing good old Felix to good old fashioned excrement!” He grins, finally calming down and fixing his glasses which had gone wonky in strangely enthusiastic laughter.

“Wanna grab a pint on me?” You can’t stop yourself from saying it. This guy in front of you, as brought more of a good conversation than any of the people in Felixes friend group ever could. At least this guy laughed at your sense of humour. The others just exchanged awkward looks and fake laughs.

“Sure, why not?” He shrugs, walking in some random direction and leaving you to stand in the path on your own.

“Where are you going?!” You shout, cupping your hand over your mouth while you grin at this unexpected turn of events.

“The pub! First rounds on you bootlicker!” He shouts back, an equal looking grin on his own face that to your surprise, you can’t help but find strangely pretty to look at in this lighting.

“Yeah yeah Roll boy!” You shout, slowly beginning to run after him as he huffs out another low chuckle. Maybe this would be the start of a good friendship? Or maybe this would be your doom? All you knew, is that you really needed to learn this guys name before you buy him his drink.

[writer-in-theory]

inspired by a conversation i had with @serenity-lattes over a fic i'm writing

--

"Hey, Steve, why didn't you tell us you had a brother?"

There were a lot of things that Steve still didn't know about his family. He didn't know his great-grandparents moved to the United States from Italy until he had to do an ancestry project his senior year, and he'd just learned last week that there were others on his mother's side with hearing loss like him. Still, Steve knew that despite all the secrecy, there was no way he had a secret brother.

"I don't have a brother," Steve told Robin as much, coming back into the living room to see Robin and Eddie huddled over something. "What makes you think that?"

"Harrington, I think dear ol' dad's lying to you," Eddie teased, handing over the paper they were staring at.

Birth Certificate

This is to certify that Robert Steven Harrington Jr weighing 8 lbs. 13 oz. was born on the 13th day of December to Robert and Theresa Harrington in the year of 1967.

"How the hell did you find my birth certificate?" Steve balked, watching his best friend and boyfriend stare at him like he had two heads.

"Your birth certificate?" Robin repeated, eyes drifting back down to stare at the paper in his hands.

"Who else's would it be? Am I missing something?" It wasn't too uncommon for Steve to miss the joke, especially with people as quick-witted as Robin and Eddie. Still, this one seemed particularly confusing to even the others, with all three of them staring at each other in complete cluelessness.

"No, no, no," Eddie spoke up then, snatching the certificate out of Steve's hands and holding it up to the light like that might make reading it easier. "There is no way I'm dating a Robert."

Wait...

"You thought my legal name was Steve?"

Was that all this was? Steve didn't fully understand the big deal, especially since he'd never once gone by his legal first name. Even as a kid his parents were calling him Steven, eventually caving and calling him Steve as he wished by the time he entered middle school. He thought everyone had known by now, what with Tommy choosing to call him 'Robert' whenever he was upset with Steve.

"Why would I think anything else? Steven Harrington, how could you not tell me!" Robin shouted, playfully hitting his shoulder when all he did was laugh.

"Robert Harrington," Eddie corrected, immediately pulling a groan from his boyfriend.

"Uh uh, you're not calling me that," Steve decided, taking the certificate back and tucking it away in the drawer where they'd found it. Tomorrow he'd have to dig through the house and hide anything else he didn't want them to see, including any pictures his mother might have left lying around.

"How about Junior?" Robin tried, bursting into laughter at Eddie's responsive cackle. "I mean, who knew someone would go by a nickname of their middle name?

"Are you two done yet?" Steve groaned, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling.

"Aw, c'mon, Robbie, you love us." That was Eddie judging by the arm quickly slung over Steve's shoulders and the kiss planted firmly on his cheek. "I just can't believe you didn't tell us that Stevie isn't your name."

"Stevie has never been my name," Steve laughed, stepping away from Eddie's hug and laughing when the man's arms reached out to hold onto him tighter. "I'll take it over Robert."

"I knew you loved it, baby," Eddie teased, laughing at Steve's expression.

Then Steve grinned, turning to face Eddie so he could lean in close. Right as Eddie licked his lips in anticipation of a kiss, Steve patted his cheek and said, "Baby, you didn't even know my name."

He and Robin laughed until they could hardly breathe, but Eddie was the one laughing when he had the entire Party calling Steve "Rob" the next morning.

[putschki1969]

Kalafina 「sprinter」 (Yuki Kajiura LIVE Vol.#2) - Unreleased and Unedited

Update 24/09/07: The original YouTube "video" was made private so I can no longer link to it. Instead, I am including the audio which I downloaded last night from the video. Please note that even though I keep calling the original upload a "video", it is just an audio track with a picture.

Update 24/09/08: The video on YouTube is back up again. I don't notice any obvious changes so I'm not sure why it was put on private in the first place. Check it out HERE.

Update 24/09/09: Check out my UPDATE POST here. New information has been revealed that in my opinion proves that the track on YouTube is fake.

Thanks to @gslin (@gslin on Twitter) for the heads-up! A mysterious account on YouTube (@FJS_Official => which is definitely not "official" but pretends to be judging by their name and handle; The account has since changed their handle to "@FJS_Channel") has uploaded an interesting audio a couple of days ago. It is presumably from Kalafina's front act performance for "Yuki Kajiura LIVE Vol.#2" held at Shibuya O-EAST on July 31, 2008. Wakana, Keiko, Hikaru and Maya (who was still a member back then) sang 4 songs in total:

oblivious

Kizuato

ARIA

sprinter

Official footage exists of their "ARIA" and "Kizuato" performance (included as bonus content on the "Seventh Heaven" album) but up until recently, I think everyone believed that there were no live recordings of "oblivious" or "sprinter" featuring Maya (please correct me if I'm wrong in that regard).

When I initially saw the video on YouTube, I thought that this whole thing was fake. I feel like these days, any tech-savvy person can layer different audio tracks and make it sound like a brand-new live recording with a few tweaks here and there (especially if you factor in the growing popularity of AI). I mean, all you'd have to do is mix the original studio recording with Maya's vocals (or Maya's unofficial karaoke performance of the song) with one of the many existing live recordings of "sprinter" and voilà, you'd have created something like the above audio.

However, after listening to the audio a few times, I'm having a hard time recognising any specifics of the live performance. I'll admit, I'm not 100% familiar with every single "sprinter" performance since it's not exactly among my favourite songs but from what I can tell, Hikaru sounds a lot shakier than in any of the "official" live recordings that are out there. So yeah, this might indeed be "unreleased" and it appears to be as raw/unedited as it gets. I did a quick research but couldn't find anything on this topic so I don't think this has been posted before...

As @gslin has mentioned on Twitter, the sound quality is exceptionally well, too good for a bootleg (possibly recorded in an official manner close to the PA system?)

The video description says that it is a sound source preserved at Sony Music but I have my doubts about that. I wonder how the person who runs the account would just get access to it and be allowed to post it on a random YouTube channel. Sounds a bit fishy to me. If there are actually people out there who can get their hands on unreleased Kalafina audios, there would be more of them floating around (someone give me all those Christmas live sound sources!!!!).

But who knows, anything is possible. Maybe the venue had some of these sound sources stored (no idea if this is a common practice)? Shibuya O-EAST could have gotten rid of them (made them publicly available) after they rebranded the venue in 2021.

[weight-gain-stories-lena]

MELISSA TORN BETWEEN SHAME AND DEVOTION

Female Feedee and Male Feeder

-Part 1-

Melissa was a 19-year-old girl with soft curves that hinted at the warmth of indulgence—round cheeks, fuller arms, and a slightly rounded belly. She wasn't huge, but there was no denying the gentle puff of her figure, a stark contrast to the slender, health-conscious world around her. Her wardrobe consisted mostly of comfy oversized sweaters and leggings, garments that she wore with pride, even though her mom, Rose, often sighed as she passed her daughter’s room.

Rose, always trying to keep Melissa on track with healthier choices, was constantly worrying about her daughter's love for sweets and greasy foods. Melissa would often sneak into the kitchen late at night, eating chips and candy while binge-watching her favorite shows. It wasn’t that Rose didn’t love her daughter—she did, deeply—but the constant concern about her health made it difficult to see Melissa's joyful indulgence without anxiety. Their relationship had always been loving, but the gentle nagging was ever-present, a silent tension that hovered in the air.

One evening, Melissa's life changed when she bumped into Mark. He was 26, a charming guy with a crooked smile and messy brown hair, standing outside his small barbershop, which he had opened just a year ago. They exchanged a few words, and soon he invited her in for a quick trim. As she sat in his chair, she couldn’t help but notice how his eyes lingered with appreciation on her figure, something that had become so familiar to her but rarely acknowledged by others.

Mark, unlike most men she had known, didn't see her weight as an issue. In fact, he seemed to love her curves. He complimented her on her fuller frame, expressing how he found her “real” and “beautiful.” Melissa was taken aback but thrilled by the attention. His easygoing attitude toward her body made her feel more comfortable in her own skin than she had in years.

Their relationship blossomed quickly. Mark never judged her eating habits—if anything, he would joke about their mutual love for pizza and chocolate, encouraging her to enjoy herself. At first, Melissa felt like she had finally found someone who accepted her, someone who didn’t scrutinize her every choice. As a result, her eating habits became even more relaxed, her indulgence in sweet and greasy foods growing more frequent.

But Rose noticed. The weight gain was subtle at first—just a few pounds here and there—but over time, it became more noticeable. Melissa’s favorite sweater, once loose, began to hug her body a little too tightly. Her cheeks were rounder, and her clothes fit differently. Rose, worried and feeling helpless, finally spoke up.

“Melissa, you’re gaining weight again,” Rose said one day, her voice tight with concern. “I’ve tried talking to you about this before. You’re not being careful with your health. You can’t just eat whatever you want all the time.”

Melissa’s stomach clenched, but she stood her ground. “I’m fine, Mom. Mark likes me the way I am. And he supports me. Why can’t you?”

Her mom’s eyes flickered with a mix of frustration and hurt. “I just want you to be healthy! I’m your mother, I have to look out for you. You don’t even realize what you’re doing to your body.”

It wasn’t just the weight that bothered Rose. It was the way Melissa had stopped listening, stopped taking care of herself. The fear of her daughter’s health was suffocating, and with every compliment Mark gave her, Rose felt more and more helpless.

The tension grew. What had once been a calm, albeit concerned, relationship had transformed into one filled with guilt and sharp words. Rose’s worry turned to anger, her frustration bubbling to the surface. One evening, when the issue came up once more, Rose’s voice cracked under the weight of her emotions.

“You’re just letting yourself go, Melissa!” she snapped. “You’re not even trying to take care of yourself. Mark is encouraging you, but he’s only making it worse. Don’t you see?”

Melissa’s face flushed with a mix of hurt and defiance. “Maybe I don’t want to change. Maybe I like who I am now.”

The silence that followed was thick. Rose felt a sharp pang in her heart, but Melissa stood with her arms crossed, a shield of defiance around her. The weight of the argument hung in the air, heavy with unspoken feelings.

Melissa had found acceptance with Mark, but in doing so, she had lost something with her mom. The love between them was still there, but it was now tangled in the complexity of choices, expectations, and differing views on what it meant to be truly loved.

As she sat with Mark later that evening, eating a chocolate bar and laughing about something silly, Melissa couldn’t help but feel torn. She loved how Mark saw her, but her mother’s words haunted her. She didn’t know what the future held, but one thing was certain—she was no longer the same girl she had been before she met Mark, and neither was her relationship with her mom.

-Part 2-

Melissa found herself spending more and more time at Mark’s apartment, a cozy space right next to his barbershop. It was small but perfect, with warm lighting, a worn-out couch, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee always lingering in the air. There, she felt an unexpected sense of belonging. Mark never once judged her for indulging in her favorite foods. They’d eat takeout on his couch, laughing over pizza, fries, or whatever dessert was their latest obsession. Melissa had never felt so free.

As their relationship grew stronger, she grew more comfortable with her body. Mark adored her curves, often whispering sweet things about how beautiful she looked when they’d cuddle on the couch, or when she’d wear something a bit tighter than usual. His compliments were like a balm, soothing the insecurity that had always crept into her thoughts. She felt like she could breathe there, in his presence, without the weight of self-doubt constantly bearing down on her.

But as Melissa grew more comfortable with Mark and his support, the distance between her and her mother, Rose, grew wider. Rose’s words became harsher, sharper, and more frequent. She called more often, her tone colder each time. “Melissa, I’ve seen you on social media,” Rose said one day, her voice tight. “You’ve gained more weight. It’s not just a few pounds anymore, it’s getting out of hand. Don’t you care?”

“I’m fine, Mom,” Melissa replied, her voice strained with the familiar defensive tone. “I’m happy, and Mark loves me just the way I am. Why can’t you just support me?”

But Rose’s worry was suffocating. She couldn’t understand how her daughter, once so lively and active, could let herself slip further into unhealthy habits. It wasn’t just about weight for Rose—it was about health, about Melissa’s future. But with every passing week, it felt like Melissa was slipping away, growing further into a lifestyle that Rose couldn’t accept.

One evening, after a particularly heavy dinner at Mark’s—burgers, fries, and ice cream—Melissa was lying on the couch, stomach comfortably full, with Mark’s arm around her. She couldn’t help but smile as she glanced at him, his gentle eyes warm with affection. She didn’t feel the shame she might have once felt around others. Here, she felt like she had permission to be herself, in every way.

But as she scrolled through her phone later that night, she saw a message from her mom.

**"Melissa, I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself. You’re making a choice to destroy your body. This isn’t the life I want for you. You need to start taking care of yourself, before it’s too late."**

The words stung, even though they were not new. She’d heard them in different forms over the years. But something about them felt colder now, sharper, more final. She felt a pang of guilt as she read them, but it was quickly replaced by the sense of calm that came from Mark’s presence beside her. She didn’t want to fight with her mom, but she also didn’t want to give up this feeling of acceptance and ease that Mark provided.

Mark noticed the shift in her mood. “Everything okay?” he asked gently, his hand resting on her leg.

Melissa sighed, setting her phone down. “It’s Mom... she’s upset again. She keeps saying I’m destroying my body.”

Mark frowned, his brow furrowing in concern. “Don’t listen to her. You’re beautiful, and you’re not destroying anything. You’re living your life, and you deserve to enjoy it. Don’t let anyone make you feel bad for that.”

Her heart warmed at his words, and she leaned against him, closing her eyes. She didn’t want to argue with her mom, but in this moment, it felt easier to stay here with Mark—where she was accepted, where she could eat what she wanted, wear what she wanted, and just be. She didn’t feel the pressure to conform to someone else’s standards.

But deep down, a part of her knew her mom wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t just about the weight. It was about the distance growing between them. The more Melissa embraced the freedom Mark gave her, the more she felt a rift forming with her mom. She had always been the person who cared for her, guided her, but now it felt like Rose was slowly being pushed out of her life, replaced by Mark’s presence, which, while comforting, was also a constant reminder of her choices.

Rose’s phone calls became more frequent, her words more desperate, but Melissa started to avoid them. She didn’t want to face the reality her mom was trying to push on her, the harsh truth that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t being as healthy as she thought. The longer she stayed away from her mom’s concern, the easier it became to pretend everything was fine.

Yet, with every passing day, the guilt gnawed at her. She loved Mark, and she loved the way he made her feel, but part of her still missed the warmth of her mom’s concern, even if it came wrapped in frustration. She didn’t want to let go of the safety net her mom had always provided, but she wasn’t ready to give up the comfort Mark had introduced her to either.

The battle within Melissa was only just beginning, torn between the love she had for Mark’s unconditional acceptance and the love she felt for her mom, whose concern had become unbearable. She wondered how long she could keep both worlds in balance before one would inevitably topple over.

-Part 3-

As the weeks passed, Melissa’s weight continued to climb. She had never been the type to obsess over numbers, but one day, stepping onto the scale at Mark’s apartment, she saw that she had crossed the 100-pound mark. Her body felt fuller, her curves more pronounced. Her once-loose tops now hugged her belly, which had grown rounder and softer, hanging just slightly over the waistband of her jeans. Her pants, once her favorite, no longer fit. The buttons refused to close, and she found herself shopping for larger sizes just to feel comfortable.

Yet, with every change in her body, Mark’s admiration only grew. He loved the way she looked—he always had. He would often comment on how good she looked in her smaller clothes, the tightness of the fabric accentuating her curves in a way that made her feel desirable. His words became a constant source of comfort, erasing any lingering doubts she might have had about herself. His appreciation was genuine, and it made her feel seen in a way she had never felt before.

One evening, as they relaxed in his apartment after a long day, Mark leaned in, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. "I have a little something for you," he said, grinning.

Melissa raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What is it?"

Mark pulled out a small bag from his kitchen counter and, with a flourish, revealed her favorite treat—four blocks of butter, coated in a thick layer of chocolate powder. It was a guilty pleasure, a snack she used to indulge in every now and then when she was younger. But with Mark’s encouragement, it had become more of a regular habit. The butter was rich and creamy, the chocolate powder giving it an almost sinful sweetness that made her heart race every time she tasted it.

“You’ve been doing so well, enjoying life,” Mark said, offering her the treat with a playful wink. “You deserve a celebration.”

Melissa hesitated for a moment, looking at the buttery blocks coated in chocolate. It was decadent, and her mouth watered just at the sight of it. She knew she shouldn’t indulge too often, but with Mark beside her, she felt as if everything was allowed. He never judged her, never made her feel bad about it. And in that moment, she didn’t want to say no.

With a soft sigh, she took the treat, savoring the first bite. The rich flavor exploded on her tongue, and she closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the blissful indulgence. It felt so good, so right in the moment. She smiled at Mark, who was watching her with that same adoring gaze, as if she was the most beautiful thing in the world. She couldn’t help but feel happy.

But deep down, a small voice of doubt began to whisper. She had always loved these snacks, but now, they seemed to take on a different meaning. Each bite felt like a small step away from the healthier habits her mother had once tried to instill in her. Rose’s words echoed in her mind: *"You’re making a choice to destroy your body."*

But Mark’s voice, soft and reassuring, drowned out those thoughts. "You look amazing," he said as she finished the last piece of the butter-coated treat, his eyes full of admiration. "You’re perfect just the way you are."

Melissa smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest at his words. She didn’t want to feel guilty for enjoying her body, for enjoying her life, even if it meant embracing her growing figure. Mark loved her for who she was, not what she weighed or how she looked in clothes. She felt safe in his arms, and that safety made it easy to forget the growing tension with her mom.

Still, as the days passed and her clothes began to feel more uncomfortable, Melissa couldn’t entirely push away the creeping thought that maybe, just maybe, she had gone too far. She could no longer fit into her favorite jeans, and even some of her tops were beginning to stretch at the seams. The changes in her body were becoming harder to ignore, but Mark’s constant support and admiration made it easy to bury those worries deep down.

She spent more time with him, continuing their little celebrations of food and laughter, pushing aside the unease that began to stir within her. Her mom’s calls became more frequent, and the distance between them grew wider, but Melissa wasn’t ready to confront that just yet. As long as she had Mark, she didn’t feel the need to face the consequences of her choices.

For now, in Mark’s embrace, with his reassuring words and indulgent treats, everything felt right. The world outside—her mom’s worry, the changes in her body—felt far away, as if she was living in a world that only existed for her and Mark. It was a world that was easy to get lost in, a world where indulgence was the norm and she was loved unconditionally, no matter what size she was.

-Part 4-

Melissa had been avoiding her mom’s calls for weeks, but there was no escaping it this time. Rose had left a message, asking her to come by and pick up a few things from the house. It wasn’t uncommon for Melissa to swing by, but this time, she felt a knot in her stomach. She hadn’t seen her mom in a while, and her weight had become a more sensitive subject with each passing day.

As Melissa walked to her mom’s house, her steps felt heavier than usual. Her jeans, which had always been a bit tight, now strained against her growing hips, and the top she wore barely stretched over her full stomach. She felt herself wobbling more than walking, her body feeling foreign and uncomfortable in clothes that used to fit just fine. Still, she told herself it was just a quick visit, and she would get out of there fast.

When she arrived, Rose opened the door with a forced smile, her eyes quickly scanning Melissa from head to toe. “Well, you’ve really let yourself go, haven’t you?” she said, her tone sharp.

Melissa tried to smile, but it felt forced. “I’ve just been busy, Mom. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Rose didn’t respond with kindness. Instead, she walked toward the closet, pulling out some of Melissa’s old clothes—clothes that no longer fit her. “I’ve kept these for when you’d be ‘back to normal,’ but it looks like you’ll never fit into them again. How could you let yourself get so big?”

Melissa’s face flushed with embarrassment as her mom began mocking her size. “You can’t even button up your pants anymore, can you? Your stomach is hanging out, and your clothes are so tight they look like they’re about to pop. This isn’t healthy, Melissa.”

Each word felt like a slap in the face. Melissa wanted to ignore it, to shrug it off like she usually did, but this time it hit harder. It was as if the small voice of guilt that had been whispering in her mind for weeks finally had a voice, and it came from the person who loved her the most—or at least, she thought she did.

Her heart raced, and she fought back tears, but they welled up nonetheless. She didn’t want to break down in front of her mom, but it felt impossible to hold it in. With a shaky breath, she turned away, heading toward the door. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore, Mom. I’m going to go.”

Rose didn’t stop her, but she didn’t have to. The words had already been said, and the sting of them echoed in Melissa’s mind as she left the house.

As she walked back to Mark’s shop, her chest felt tight with emotions. She couldn’t get the image of herself in those old clothes out of her mind. She could still hear her mom’s mocking words ringing in her ears. "How could you let yourself get so big?"

By the time Melissa reached Mark’s shop, the tears were spilling over. She pushed the door open, barely managing to keep herself together as she stumbled inside. Mark was standing behind the counter, sorting some tools, and he immediately looked up when he saw her face. His smile faded as he saw the tears in her eyes.

“Melissa?” he said softly, stepping toward her. “What happened?”

“I... I just...” She couldn’t form the words, overwhelmed by the emotions rushing through her. “Mom... she... she said horrible things.”

Mark’s face softened with understanding, and before she could say more, he pulled her into his arms. She melted into him, letting the warmth of his embrace offer a sense of comfort she desperately needed. He gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing away the tears.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered, his voice soothing. “You don’t have to listen to her. She doesn’t know you the way I do. You’re beautiful, Melissa. You always have been.”

He kissed her softly on her cheek, her face warm and soft against his lips. She could feel the love in his touch, his embrace strong and steady as she let herself cry. She didn’t have to say anything—he knew. Mark always knew when she was hurting.

He held her for a while, letting her cry it out, before pulling back slightly to look her in the eyes. “I love you, Melissa. All of you. You’re perfect just the way you are. Don’t let anyone make you feel less than that.”

Melissa sniffled, wiping her eyes. “I just don’t know how to deal with it anymore. I feel like... like I’m not enough. Not for her, and maybe not even for me.”

Mark shook his head, his expression serious. “You are enough. You’ve always been enough. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, especially not her. She doesn’t see you the way I do.”

Melissa leaned into him once more, finding solace in his words. The tension in her chest began to ease, the harsh words from her mom slowly losing their power. Mark’s acceptance was like a balm, soothing the raw places in her heart.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest. “Thank you for loving me, even when I feel like I’m not worth it.”

Mark kissed the top of her head, holding her close. “You’re worth everything, Melissa. Never forget that.”

And for the first time in weeks, as she stood in Mark’s arms, she felt like maybe she didn’t have to be anyone else. Maybe she didn’t have to meet her mom’s expectations, or anyone else’s. Mark’s love was enough, and for the first time in a long time, it felt like it might just be enough for her, too.

-Part 5-

Mark couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Melissa hurt again, especially at the hands of her mom. Her tear-filled eyes, her body trembling with hurt—he couldn’t stand it. He made a promise to himself that he would do everything in his power to make her feel loved and happy, no matter what anyone else thought. And, if that meant keeping her satisfied with the foods she loved, then that’s what he would do. After all, her happiness was all that mattered to him.

So, over the next few months, Mark's way of showing his love became more indulgent. He knew what made Melissa smile: the buttery croissants fresh from the bakery, the creamy milkshakes with extra whipped cream, the greasy fries with cheese, and of course, the decadent snacks she had come to crave—like her four blocks of butter coated in chocolate powder.

Whenever Melissa came over, Mark would have something special waiting for her. He’d surprise her with her favorite comfort foods, making sure she never had to worry about anything other than enjoying the moment. He made sure the days were filled with laughter, food, and love, the kind of carefree joy that Melissa had longed for but had never fully experienced in her own home. With Mark, she didn’t feel judged or pressured to change. He loved her exactly as she was.

As the months passed, Melissa’s body grew fuller. Her once-gently rounded belly became a prominent curve, and her hips expanded, making it harder for her to move comfortably. It wasn’t that she didn’t notice the changes—she could feel the tightness in her clothes, and she noticed how she had to take longer breaks when walking around. She’d even catch herself struggling to bend down, or when trying to get up from a sitting position. But there was no room for shame in Mark’s presence. He would always compliment her, calling her his "sweet fatty" and teasing her about how cute she looked when she waddled slightly or when her belly poked out from her shirts.

"You’re my gorgeous girl, every single inch of you," he’d say with a wink. He adored how her soft body felt against his when they cuddled, how her fuller frame felt warm and comforting. He loved the way she looked when she sat at the table, eating her favorite foods, without a care in the world.

Mark was incredibly careful not to make her feel bad. He didn’t bring up her weight, or the fact that she was becoming less mobile. He didn’t make her feel guilty for enjoying herself, even though, deep down, he knew that the lifestyle he was encouraging wasn’t the healthiest. But he refused to let her feel anything less than loved and cherished, even if it meant feeding her more than she needed.

Melissa, for her part, felt a sense of freedom she had never known before. The food wasn’t just about filling her stomach—it was about the joy of not having to deny herself. She had always been the kind of person to feel guilty after indulging, but with Mark, guilt didn’t exist. She could eat what she wanted without being judged, and with each bite, she felt more loved, more accepted, more like herself.

The weight came on steadily. Melissa had trouble fitting into clothes she once loved. Tops became tighter, and her jeans no longer fit at all. She would giggle and shake her head when she saw herself in the mirror, but there was no real discomfort. She was genuinely happy in her own skin, despite the changes.

“Doesn’t matter if I’ve grown a little,” she’d say with a laugh. “I feel good. I feel loved.”

And she did feel loved. Mark made sure of it every single day. He’d greet her with kisses on her soft cheeks and her full lips, teasing her playfully about how her clothes couldn’t keep up with her growth. He was always there, always supportive, and always ready with the next treat or indulgence that would make her smile.

She could tell that she was becoming less mobile, but that didn’t bother her. When she couldn’t walk around as easily, Mark would carry her, or they would sit on the couch, wrapped in blankets, sharing snacks and enjoying each other’s company. They would watch movies together, laughing at silly things, and the world outside their little bubble felt so distant.

In this life, with Mark by her side, Melissa felt truly cared for. The weight was something she no longer feared; it was part of her journey, part of her growth as a person. She had learned to love her body in a way she never had before, and she was happier than ever. She felt like she belonged, just as she was.

The only thing that sometimes lingered at the back of her mind was the distance between her and her mom. Rose’s harsh words, her concern about Melissa’s health, still echoed in the back of her mind. But every time that doubt crept in, she would remember Mark’s smile, his unwavering support, and the simple truth that, in this moment, she felt truly happy.

She wasn’t sure what the future held, or whether she would ever reach a point where she needed to reconsider her choices, but right now, in this moment, Melissa knew one thing for sure: she was loved, and that was enough.

-Part 6-

Melissa’s 20th birthday was fast approaching, and as each day passed, her body seemed to grow bigger and bigger. Her belly, once a soft curve, had become massive, hanging low enough that it nearly brushed the floor when she stood. She had long stopped wearing regular shoes, unable to tie them anymore, and had switched to simple slip-ons that didn’t require any bending or effort. She found herself waddling more than walking, but she didn’t mind. Every step, every movement, felt like a part of who she was now, and she loved it.

She had always gravitated toward the comfort of familiar clothes, and her old blood-red shirt became her daily uniform. But now, the shirt was so stretched that it barely covered her enormous chest, leaving her breasts and nipples exposed. It no longer fit like it used to, but that didn’t matter to Melissa. She adored the way it looked on her. It made her feel like herself, like the person she had become over the last few months—full, confident, and unapologetically herself. Her pants were a different story. The buttons had long since popped off, and the seams had torn between her massive thighs. Still, she wore them proudly, relishing in the freedom that came with being comfortable in her own skin.

Mark continued to be her biggest support, always praising her for how beautiful she looked, no matter how much her body changed. He loved her curves, her softness, her fullness. He would often tell her how incredible she was, how perfect her body was, and that nothing about her needed to change. And for the most part, Melissa felt at peace, content in the little world she and Mark had created together.

But as her birthday drew nearer, something lingered in the back of her mind. Her mom, Rose, had been distant, and Melissa could feel the tension building. Rose had been sending messages, asking her to visit, but Melissa had been avoiding her, knowing the conversation would be difficult. She knew Rose would disapprove of how she had changed, and Melissa wasn’t sure she was ready for the confrontation.

The day of her birthday arrived, and she woke up to find Mark waiting with a small cake, his face beaming with joy as he celebrated her with all the affection she could ever ask for. He made her feel special, loved, and beautiful, even as her body continued to grow. But then, the doorbell rang. It was Rose.

Melissa hesitated before opening the door, but she knew it was inevitable. Her mom had insisted on coming, and Melissa couldn’t push her away any longer. Mark stood behind her, his calm presence offering her some comfort as the door creaked open.

Rose stepped inside, her eyes immediately landing on Melissa. The sharp disapproval was there, as it always had been. Rose took one look at her daughter, and her lips curled into a frown. “Melissa, what on earth happened to you?” Her voice was thick with concern, but it was the kind of concern that felt more like judgment. “Look at you. You’re a mess. You’re so... so big.”

Melissa felt a lump form in her throat, but she tried to stay calm. She didn’t want to fight, especially not on her birthday. “Mom, I’m happy. This is how I am now.”

Rose shook her head, a sigh escaping her lips. “Happy? This isn’t happiness, Melissa. This is destruction. You’ve let yourself go completely. How do you think you’re going to live your life like this? You can’t even tie your shoes, let alone do anything that requires real movement. You’re just... giving up.”

Mark, who had been silent up until this point, could see the hurt in Melissa’s eyes. He couldn’t let her mom speak to her like that. He stepped forward, his voice firm, yet controlled. “That’s not fair, Rose. Melissa is happy. She’s healthy in her own way, and if she feels good about herself, that’s all that matters.”

Rose narrowed her eyes at Mark, clearly taken aback by his words. “You’re just enabling this,” she snapped. “You’re feeding into this unhealthy lifestyle. You’re encouraging her to eat more and get even bigger. You’re helping her destroy herself.”

Melissa felt a sharp pang in her chest. Her mother’s words, once again, stung. She had tried to avoid this moment, but now it felt like everything was unraveling. She wasn’t just fighting with her mom anymore. She was fighting with herself, with the choices she had made, and the person she had become.

Mark didn’t back down, though. He stood by Melissa’s side, his voice unwavering. “No. I’m supporting her, Rose. I love her for who she is, not for how she looks or how much she weighs. It’s not about food or size—it’s about happiness. And she’s happy. Isn’t that what you should want for your daughter?”

Rose’s expression twisted with frustration. “She’s ruining her life. You’re making it worse. Do you really think this is okay? This isn’t healthy, Mark. It’s wrong.”

Melissa’s heart was racing now, the tension in the room thick and suffocating. She wanted to scream, to tell her mom that she was happy, that she was okay. But the words caught in her throat. She wasn’t sure if she believed it herself. Could she really keep doing this, keep living like this? Was this really the right way for her to be?

Seeing the pain in her eyes, Mark gently placed a hand on Melissa’s shoulder, offering silent reassurance. “I want what’s best for her. And right now, she’s not asking for your judgment. She’s asking for your understanding.”

Rose’s face hardened. “I can’t watch this anymore, Melissa. I can’t stand by and let you destroy yourself.”

With that, Rose turned and stormed out of the apartment, leaving the two of them standing in silence. Melissa felt the weight of her mother’s words press down on her, and for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t sure how to feel.

Mark remained by her side, his hand still resting on her shoulder. He said nothing, just allowing the silence to stretch between them. Eventually, he broke the stillness, his voice soft but firm.

“You’re not destroying yourself,” he said. “You’re living your life. And I’ll be here, always, no matter what. You’re beautiful, Melissa. And I’m proud of you, just as you are.”

Melissa felt the tears well up again, but this time, they weren’t tears of doubt. They were tears of gratitude. She didn’t need her mom’s approval. She had Mark, and that was enough. She was enough.

-Part 7-

After that fateful birthday, where her world had seemed to unravel under the weight of her mother's harsh words, Melissa’s body continued to grow at a startling pace. Each day seemed to bring new changes, and with them, new sensations—both physical and emotional. Her feet, once able to fit into slip-on shoes comfortably, had now grown so large that they no longer fit. Even the softest, most stretchy socks were tight, with the fabric cutting into the rolls of her feet. She had to rely on shoes that barely fit at the ankle, leaving her swollen feet exposed and uncomfortable. But she didn’t care. She was used to discomfort in some ways now, and it didn't bother her the way it might have once.

Her once beloved blood-red shirt was no longer a shirt—it was a ragged piece of fabric, barely held together at the sides where the seams had ripped wide open. The fabric struggled to cover her body, with her breasts hanging low, spilling over the sides of her belly. Her stomach had grown so massive that it reached the floor completely, pushing out in front of her like a soft, round cushion that kept her pinned down when she sat. She could hardly stand without feeling the immense weight shift with her every movement.

But for all the physical discomfort, Melissa couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. She had always feared her body growing too large, but now that it was happening, she found herself relishing in it. Each new pound, each new curve, felt like a victory. She wanted to grow even fatter, to let her body expand even more, and the thought filled her with a sense of pride and excitement.

Mark, of course, was right there with her. He adored her body just as it was, and with every new change, he was there to support her. He told her how beautiful she was, how perfect her body looked, how her softness felt like heaven to him. He loved how her belly pressed against him when they hugged, how her fuller frame made her even more stunning in his eyes. To Mark, Melissa was perfect, and with each passing day, his affection for her only seemed to grow.

The more she grew, the more she reveled in the attention Mark gave her, the more she found herself wanting to indulge in the foods she loved. She ate without restriction, enjoying every bite, knowing that with every indulgence, she was becoming even more herself. She didn’t care about fitting into the world’s idea of beauty or health. She cared about feeling good, feeling loved, and feeling happy in her own skin.

The struggle to move became more pronounced. Melissa found herself barely able to leave the couch some days, her massive belly making it difficult to get up. But Mark was always there, ready to help her, ready to make her feel supported. He would lift her, guide her, and even bring her meals to her in bed, letting her enjoy the life she had created with him.

As the pounds added on, Melissa felt herself growing less and less mobile. Sometimes she could barely shift in bed without assistance, but she didn’t feel trapped. She felt empowered. This was who she was now, and she was happy with it. She wasn’t ashamed of her body; she wasn’t ashamed of her desires. She wanted to grow, to expand, and to love herself in the process. With Mark by her side, there was no need for doubt or fear. She was loved, exactly as she was.

Even when her body seemed to push past all limits, Melissa embraced it. She embraced the softness, the roundness, the way her skin stretched to accommodate each new curve. She reveled in the freedom of letting go of expectations. Her red shirt, now more a joke than a piece of clothing, was a symbol of the new Melissa—unapologetic, full of life, and growing into her own skin. She no longer worried about the opinions of others, especially not her mother. She had Mark, and that was all that mattered.

Mark encouraged her every step of the way, seeing beauty in every inch of her expanding body. He would tell her how stunning she was, and how he couldn’t wait to see how much more of her he could love. And Melissa, in return, was more than happy to let herself grow as much as she wanted. Each inch, each pound, felt like a gift.

Her growth, her happiness, and the love she shared with Mark formed a perfect, unshakable bond. Melissa was no longer afraid of who she had become. She loved every part of herself—just as Mark did. The more she grew, the more they both loved it, and the more she felt at peace in her own body.

For the first time in her life, she wasn’t just surviving. She was living. And that was all that mattered.

-Part 8-

As the days turned into weeks, Melissa’s body continued to expand at an almost unbelievable rate. She was now so large that she could no longer leave the comfort of Mark’s apartment. Her once-beloved blood-red shirt had become little more than a stretched-out scrap of fabric clinging desperately to her body. It barely circled her thick, blubbery neck, the rest of it hanging loosely over the mountainous rolls of her shoulders and back. Her pants, already ripped beyond repair, had finally burst open completely, the seams unable to contain her massive thighs and hips any longer. Now, all that remained were a few tatters clinging to her, barely covering anything at all.

Her feet, once delicate, were now so swollen with fat that each toe resembled a stubby column, big enough that it looked as though they could fit into individual shoes. Walking was no longer an option—her size had made movement almost impossible. Even shifting slightly on the oversized cushions Mark had specially ordered for her required immense effort, leaving her huffing and puffing for air, her entire body jiggling with every movement. Her once soft, melodic voice was now accompanied by a constant wheeze, the sheer weight of her body making every breath a challenge.

Melissa was fully aware of the state of her clothes. They were dirty and sweat-stained, clinging to her body in a way that made her smell of grease, food, and the faint musk of effort. But she didn’t care. She couldn’t care. Getting dressed, or even attempting to change into something else, was an impossible task now. The thought of squeezing her massive frame through even the loosest clothing felt laughable. She simply remained as she was, content in her stretched-out, worn-down garments that had become as much a part of her as her own skin.

Mark, of course, didn’t mind. If anything, he loved her even more as she grew. To him, she was a queen, a goddess of size and indulgence, and he adored every inch of her. He made it his mission to keep her happy, bringing her trays of fat-dripping, calorie-packed treats to keep her satisfied. Whether it was buckets of fried chicken, plates of greasy burgers, or her favorite butter-coated snacks, Mark never let her go hungry. He’d feed her himself when her arms grew too tired to lift the food, wiping her face with a towel between bites and kissing her cheeks lovingly.

“You’re perfect, Melissa,” he’d whisper to her, his voice soft and full of adoration. “Every inch of you is a masterpiece.”

And Melissa believed him. Despite her struggles to breathe, her inability to move, and the overwhelming size of her body, she felt loved. She felt seen. Each bite, each new pound, was a testament to the life she was living—a life of indulgence, freedom, and unconditional love. She no longer cared about the world outside Mark’s apartment. She didn’t care what anyone thought of her, not even her mom.

Rose, however, had grown colder with each passing day. Though she occasionally visited, her words were cutting and laced with disdain. When she looked at Melissa, it was as if she couldn’t even see her daughter anymore—only the mass of her body, the evidence of what she believed to be a life spiraling out of control.

“Melissa, look at yourself,” Rose said during one of her rare visits, her voice sharp with frustration. “You’re... you’re barely even human anymore. You’re trapped in your own body. How can you live like this? How can you let this happen?”

Melissa, her cheeks flushed from both embarrassment and anger, struggled to respond. She knew her mother’s words shouldn’t bother her—she had Mark, she had happiness—but they still stung. Rose’s judgment felt like a weight pressing down on her chest, heavier than anything else.

“I’m happy, Mom,” Melissa managed between labored breaths. “I’m... I’m happy with who I am.”

Rose scoffed, shaking her head. “This isn’t happiness, Melissa. This is a death sentence. And you’re letting that man—” she pointed a finger at Mark, who stood silently beside Melissa, his expression calm but tense—“enable this madness. You’re killing yourself, and he’s helping you do it.”

Mark finally spoke, his voice calm but firm. “She’s not killing herself. She’s living her life the way she wants to. Melissa is happy, and that’s all that matters.”

“Happy?” Rose spat the word like it was poison. “How can she be happy when she can’t even stand up on her own? When she’s stuck in this filthy state, huffing and puffing just to breathe? This isn’t love, Mark. This is cruelty.”

Mark’s calm demeanor began to crack. He stepped closer to Rose, his voice rising slightly. “What’s cruel is you coming here and tearing her down when she’s already been through enough. Melissa doesn’t need your judgment. She needs support. If you can’t give her that, then maybe you shouldn’t come here at all.”

Rose’s face hardened, but she didn’t say another word. She grabbed her bag and left, slamming the door behind her. The room fell silent, save for Melissa’s heavy breathing. Tears welled up in her eyes, and Mark was quick to kneel beside her, taking her hand in his.

“Don’t listen to her,��� he said softly. “You’re beautiful, Melissa. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

Melissa sniffled, her tears spilling over as she looked down at Mark. Despite everything, she felt safe with him. She felt loved. And as he pressed a soft kiss to her hand, she realized that no matter what her mom said, this was the life she wanted. She didn’t care if the world couldn’t accept her. Mark did, and that was enough.

-Part 9-

Over the years, Melissa’s body became the stuff of myth and whispers. She had long outgrown her painfully tight old clothes, which had eventually torn apart entirely, leaving her enveloped in her own massive, soft flesh. Her legs had swollen to the point where her fat spilled over and entirely covered her feet, which had not taken a single step in over six years. Her arms had become thick, immobile lumps of fat, hanging uselessly at her sides. Even lifting her hands to her face was impossible now. She spent every moment of her life completely still, save for the slight movements caused by the rise and fall of her immense chest as she fought for every breath. Her wheezing was so loud and constant that it could be heard from Mark’s shop next door, but to Mark, it was a melody—a sound he adored because it came from his beloved goddess.

The people in town began to talk, as they often do. Melissa had not been seen in years—seven, to be exact. To them, she was a mystery, a ghost. Some whispered that she had disappeared shortly after her 20th birthday, vanishing without a trace. Others speculated darker fates, fueled by gossip and imagination. Some said she had run away, ashamed of her size. Others believed she had passed away in secret, unable to bear the weight of her choices. Her mother, Rose, added fuel to the fire by telling anyone who would listen that Melissa had died shortly after her 20th birthday—a lie born from shame and grief. Rose had distanced herself entirely from Mark, unwilling to confront the truth of her daughter’s life.

But Mark knew better. He knew the truth. Melissa was alive and thriving—in her own way. She hadn’t left; she hadn’t passed away. She was right there, in the apartment next door to his shop, a monument to indulgence, love, and the life she had chosen. She couldn’t leave, of course. Her body had grown far beyond mobility, her massive form dominating the living space. She lay surrounded by custom-built cushions and blankets, her enormous body taking up most of the room. Her breathing was labored, her wheezing constant, but she was alive. And to Mark, she was perfect.

Mark loved her more with every passing day. To him, Melissa wasn’t just a woman—she was a goddess, a being of unparalleled beauty and magnificence. He adored every inch of her, every fold, every curve. He spent hours simply watching her, marveling at the way her body seemed to grow before his very eyes. He loved feeding her, bringing her trays of the richest, fattiest foods he could find, watching her savor every bite. He loved the sound of her heavy breathing, the way her body shifted and jiggled with even the slightest movement. To him, Melissa was the epitome of perfection.

And he loved the town’s whispers, too. He loved hearing the rumors, the stories people told about Melissa. She had become a local legend—a mystery no one could solve. People would come into his barbershop and talk about her as if she were some mythical figure, wondering what had happened to the young woman they once knew. Mark would smile to himself, knowing the truth but keeping it close to his heart. Why should he tell them? Why should he share his goddess with anyone else? Melissa was his, and he was hers. The world didn’t need to know.

Melissa, for her part, was content. She had Mark, and she had her life. She didn’t care about the whispers or the rumors. She didn’t care that she couldn’t move or that her body had grown beyond all recognition. She was happy, in her own way. She loved the feeling of fullness, the sensation of her body growing bigger and softer with each passing day. She loved that Mark adored her, that he saw her not as a burden but as a queen.

Together, they existed in their own little world, separate from the prying eyes and judgment of others. Melissa had become a legend in town, but to Mark, she was more than that. She was his everything—a living, breathing testament to love, indulgence, and devotion. And as she lay there, her body growing larger and softer with every second, Mark couldn’t help but smile. She was his beautiful blob, his goddess, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

-Part 10-

It had been so long that Melissa had lost all concept of time. Days blurred into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. Was it 10 years since she last left the world outside? Or was it 12? Maybe even more? She couldn’t say, and truthfully, she didn’t care. Time no longer held meaning for her. Her days were spent in an endless cycle of indulgence—eating until she drifted into a food coma, sleeping deeply, and waking up only to start again. Her perception of reality had slipped into a hazy fog, and even when she asked Mark how long it had been, he would only smile playfully and kiss her forehead.

“Why do you need to know, my goddess?” he would whisper, his voice soft and adoring. “All that matters is you’re here, with me.”

The truth, though, was staggering. It had been 19 years since Melissa had disappeared from the world outside. Nineteen years since she had crossed the threshold of Mark’s apartment and let herself fully embrace the life she had chosen. In that time, her body had grown to such an immense size that it now filled nearly half of Mark’s apartment. Her massive form spilled across the floor, her rolls and curves pressing against the walls, her belly an enormous mound that rose and fell with each labored breath. She was no longer capable of moving, her limbs buried under layers of fat so thick they were all but immobile. Even her head was partially engulfed by her own body, her neck hidden beneath the folds that surrounded her.

Her breathing, once merely heavy, had become a constant symphony of loud, wheezing gasps. Each breath echoed through the walls of the apartment, a reminder of her immense size and the strain her body was under. To anyone else, the sound might have been unsettling, but to Mark, it was music. He loved hearing it, loved knowing that it came from his beloved goddess. It was a reminder of her presence, her existence, her growth—and it filled him with pride and adoration.

Melissa could no longer feed herself, her arms too buried under the rolls of fat to lift even the lightest morsel. But Mark was more than happy to do it for her. Every day, he prepared her meals with care, piling trays high with the richest, most indulgent foods he could find. He would sit beside her, holding the food to her lips, watching as she ate with slow, deliberate bites. He loved the way her body quivered with every swallow, the way her breathing grew louder and more labored as she filled herself to the brim.

“You’re perfect, Melissa,” he would say, his voice full of reverence. “My beautiful goddess. My queen.”

Melissa would smile as best she could, her cheeks so round and full that even the smallest expression took effort. She didn’t need to speak; she didn’t need to say anything at all. Mark understood her completely. He knew that she was happy, that she was content. She had everything she needed—him, her food, and the life they had built together.

The town, of course, had long since forgotten her. People no longer whispered about the girl who had vanished years ago. To them, Melissa was nothing more than a memory, a fleeting thought that had faded with time. Even her mother, Rose, had stopped talking about her, choosing to bury the pain and shame of her daughter’s disappearance. Melissa was a ghost, a relic of the past. But to Mark, she was alive. She was real. She was his everything.

As Melissa’s body continued to grow, Mark only loved her more. He loved the challenge of caring for her, the intimacy of their bond. He loved the way her presence filled his apartment, both literally and figuratively. She was his world, his purpose, his greatest joy. And as her breathing grew louder and more labored with every passing day, he found himself cherishing her even more. Each wheeze, each gasp, was a testament to her existence—a sound that reminded him of how far they had come, and how much they had built together.

Melissa no longer thought about the world outside. She no longer wondered about what could have been or what might have happened if she had chosen a different path. She was exactly where she wanted to be, with the man who loved her more than anything. Her body may have grown beyond comprehension, but her heart was full. She was happy. And in the end, that was all that mattered.

-End-

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

An Offer You Can't Refuse- Part 3

Part 2

Hero did not win. They woke up back in their bed, a few bruises blooming across their body, with the beginnings of a black eye. They groaned, sitting up.

“Ow…” Hero mumbled.

“How are you feeling?”

Hero jolted, and immediately regretted it, as that only served to aggravate their angry bruises. They turned their head- ow- and saw Supervillain sitting at their bedside. Their brows were knitted together, and their mouth was drawn in a thin line. Oh, Hero had really screwed up now.

“I, um,” Hero stammered, “listen, if you’re going to kill me- please just make it quick-”

Supervillain’s expression softened. They held out an ice pack to Hero.

“I’m not angry with you, Snow Angel,” he said, “though I am a bit upset you ignored my instructions.”

Hero cautiously took the ice pack and held it up to their swollen eye. They used their powers to make the pack a little colder.

Supervillain grabbed a glass of water and two small pills off the nightstand. Hero eyed the pills warily.

“they’re not drugs,” Supervillain said, “just pain relievers.”

Even if they were drugs, what choice did Hero have? They took the pills and swallowed them with the water.

“I’m afraid your little stunt has forced my hand- I’ve had to increase your security,” Supervillain said, taking the empty glass from Hero, “but before we get into anything else, let me apologize.”

Hero blinked in surprise.

“I gave my men strict orders that you are not to be harmed under any circumstances,” Supervillain said, “the henchman who apprehended you seemed to have forgotten that. You won’t have to worry about them anymore, however. The only thing they’ll be doing now is fertilizing my plants.”

Hero’s face went pale. So now someone was dead because of them.

“Oh, Snow Angel,” Supervillain sighed, “what am I going to do with you?”

“You could start by telling me why the heck you brought me here in the first place!” Hero shouted, “I can tell you right now I’m not going to be your living weapon!”

“Who said you were?” Supervillain asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Hero sputtered in disbelief.

“It’s very heavily implied- it’s- it’s- if it’s not that then what for!?”

There was an all-too-convenient knock on the door, and Supervillain was more than happy to take the opportunity to go open it and forget about Hero’s question entirely. A henchman walked in, pushing a cart full of breakfast food inside. Supervillain thanked them; the henchman nodded and left the room. Supervillain sat back down at Hero’s bedside and set a tray from the top shelf of the cart in their lap.

“That isn’t drugged either,” Supervillain said, reading Hero’s face.

Hero’s eyes bounced from the tray of food, to Supervillain, to the food, to Supervillain, and finally back to the food. Hesitantly, they took a very, very small bite… and melted.

“Good, isn’t it?” Supervillain smiled.

“Mhm…” Hero agreed.

Their mouth was in heaven, and before they knew it, the plate was empty.

“Judging by the state of this-” Supervillain held up the cleared plate, “-someone was indeed hungry. First you sleep for almost a whole day, then this. It’s a good thing I bought you when I did, you’ve been neglecting yourself.”

“Wha- I have not been neglecting myself!” Hero protested.

“Hm,” Supervillain hummed, “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Supervillain took the tray up, setting it back on the cart and pushing it to the side. They got up, holding their hand out to Hero. Hero eyed it with a puzzled expression.

“Wouldn’t you like to see the grounds?” Supervillain prompted.

Hero blinked. Yes, actually, they very much would. If they knew the layout of Supervillain’s home, the easier it would be to escape it. Hero took Supervillain’s hand and slid on some slippers that had been left out for them. Supervillain smiled and led Hero out of the room.

Part 4

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[gaarasfiance]

Cardigan

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem Reader (version of jason isn’t mentioned but i wrote it with his original storyline death from Batman: A Death In The Family, not a later, retconned version)

Warnings: angst but also fluff, reader is a famous singer, use of Y/N, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, lmk if i missed any), swearing, makes references to other songs (Lover by Taylor Swift, Lucky People by Waterparks, and Favorite Record by Fall Out Boy), i reread this like 8 times but i couldve missed things so don't flame me if theres any fuck ups in there lmao

Word Count: 4,175

A/N: (yes i know cardigan is part of the teenage love triangle songs, yes i made it into somewhat fluff because i fucking wanted to, whats it to you? I was just listening to cardigan (by taylor swift if you were unaware) in the shower and had this beautiful idea of like what if rather than it being about getting cheated on, i make it about the reader experiencing Jason’s death (and resurrection)? also i color coded the dialogue which is something i normally don't do soooo fun little touch i guess.) (originally posted may 22, 2023 on an alternate account)

IMPORTANT NOTE: Italics mean it’s a flashback, bold and bigger means it's a song lyric, regular text means it's happening in real time. (with very obvious exceptions) Cool? Cool. also, real quick, THE FLASHBACKS ARE NOT IN PERFECT CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER!!!!

“HELLO GOTHAM CITY!” The crowd roared in excitement. Y/N was excited too, it was her first show in Gotham in a long time. This was her first tour in a long time. Of course, she let the public think that it was just because she was a teenager focusing on school, not because when she was 16 her first love the love of her life had been brutally murdered…

“It’s really nice to be playing a hometown show, and since this is my first one in forever, how about I play you something brand new?” Screams erupted in the audience, people pulling out their phones to get the first recording of a brand new song. 

“This one means a lot to me, it’s about someone very special to me, and how he came back to me when I needed him most. This is a quieter one so I'm gonna need you all to listen, and please don’t judge me if I cry during this. Alright, this one’s called ‘cardigan’ everybody!” 

Rows and rows of people buzzed with excitement as the music began to play.

~

Vintage tee, brand new phone

Y/N and Jason walked in, strutting about as if they were models in the new vintage tees Y/N had bought for them at the thrift store just days before. They strolled about the mall, eventually making the stop to get Jason a new phone, he had dropped his from a rooftop on patrol the night before. Oops. 

“Jay, baby, you can’t just use Bruce’s credit card without asking all the time” Y/N smiled, knowing Jason wasn’t going to listen to her 

“Says who? Besides, I told him I was taking it. If he didn’t want to pay for me to get a new phone, he should’ve given me a secure pocket in the suit for it like I asked.” Jason shrugged. He wasn’t atrociously rebellious at all times, but he knew Bruce had more than enough money for him to get a new phone, and to treat his girlfriend, and best friend, when he wanted to. “Plus, if I didn’t take his card, I wouldn’t be able to spoil you, would I?” He wrapped an arm around her waist, pressing a kiss to her temple as they walked out of the store.

High heels on cobblestone

Y/N’s heels clicked loudly against the cobblestone walkway as she made her way to the entrance of the Wayne gala, arm linked with Jason’s. 

“Are you sure I look alright? I’ve never worn a dress this fancy Jason. Should I even be at a Wayne gala I mean–” Jason cut her off.

“Sweetheart you look perfect. And if anyone tells you otherwise I will personally ask Bruce to kick them out.”

“Jay, you can’t do that.���

“According to who? I have adopted Wayne privilege and you’re the one who’s Bruce’s favorite”

“I am not Bruce’s favorite!”

“Yes you are, princess.”

He dragged her into the gala, excited to spend a night with her, and after that, her first Wayne gala was nothing but history, as she attended every single one at her lover’s side.

When you are young they assume you know nothing

“That boy is a delinquent Y/N! I doubt you even know anything about him, has he even told you how he came to meet Mr Wayne?” Y/N’s father shouted. He’d never liked Jason, despite him being Y/N’s best friend for years before things ever became romantic. She used to be able to avoid it, but when her mom moved out of state for work and Y/N wanted to stay in Gotham… well this was her only option.

“Yes dad, I know how he met Bruce! You realize I knew him long before he was adopted by Bruce Wayne right? That I didn’t just go for him because he was rich? You assume because I’m young that I know nothing!”

“Clearly you don’t know anything if you would choose to be with a boy who is a thief! He tried to steal Mr. Wayne’s tires!”

“He was trying to steal them because he was living on the streets and needed money to fucking eat, Dad! Clearly you’re the one who knows nothing here!”

She stormed out of the house, furiously texting Jason and trying to will away the angry tears. 

Sequined smile, black lipstick

Y/N grinned at Jason, her black lipstick fresh as they prepared to go to a party. Bruce had cleared Jason of Robin duty for the weekend and they’d decided to take time to enjoy being normal teenagers. 

“What do you think?” She asked, still smiling

“I think… I’m really tempted to kiss that lipstick right off of you”

“Come do it then.”

Sensual politics

“Do you ever think about sensual politics?” Y/N looked up at Jason, her head in his lap as he read a book.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘sensual politics’?”

“Like the politics of being flirtatious or like building a relationship with someone, but like also kind of a play on sexual politics and people’s perception of the difference’s between men and women and the politics of it, you know? Like they’re both very different things but you can name them the same thing”

“And you’re calling that sensual politics?”

“Yes, what about it?”

“I wish I could understand what’s going on in that brain of yours. You’re such a nerd, princess”

When you are young they assume you know nothing

“Jaybird, if you hurt her, I hope you know I’ll have to break your legs” Dick shrugged as if this was common knowledge.

“I won’t hurt her, Dickwad. She’s the best thing to happen to me.”

“Okay, but you’re young and stupid, anything could happen.”

“Just because you knew nothing when you were young doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

But I knew you

Years ago, Y/n was 11 and Jason was 10. Y/N was on her way home from the school when she saw someone she recognized. 

“Hey! You’re the boy from the library! You showed me my favorite book!”

Jason flushed, unaware that she’d remember him, or that she’d take the recommendation he’d once given her seriously

“Yeah uh, hi. My names Jason, Jason Todd.” He stuck his hand out to shake.

She placed her hand in his and shook. "Y/N."

Dancin' in your Levi's

Y/N and Jason slow danced in her room, her record player spinning some old collection she’d snagged from Wayne manor.

“I was unaware that Levi’s were ballroom attire, Monsieur.”

“And I was unaware your bedroom counted as a ballroom, Mademoiselle”

Drunk under a streetlight, I

“Jason you’re drunk.”

“No I’m notttt. Please Y/N pleeeeaaassseee be my girlfriend.”

“You’re drunk Jay, if you weren’t then you’d remember I already am.” She laughed, watching her lover shoot up in excitement

“Really? That’s so cool!”

I knew you

"Y/N what do you think? Do you think he'd like this for his birthday?"

"Why are you asking me? You're his brother!"

"Yeah but you know him better than anyone else"

Hand under my sweatshirt

"Jason Peter Todd get your cold ass hands out from under my sweatshirt!"

"What do you mean princess?" He dragged his freezing cold hands further up her back

"Eek!"

Baby, kiss it better, I

Y/N carefully finished wrapping the bandages around Jason's waist.

"I can't believe you got stabbed!"

"Kiss it better?"

"Dork." She pressed a kiss to his bandages, before making her way up to his lips.

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan

Under someone's bed

You put me on and said I was your favorite

“What’s got you down princess?” Jason quirked an eyebrow, the moment Y/N entered the manor there was an unhappy energy on her, like she was faking her smile. He knew her all too well. “Come here”. He opened his arms to her, gesturing that she should come lay with him on the excessively large couch (rich people bro) and she happily obliged, latching onto his side like a koala with her head on his chest.

“It’s just… I don’t know, sometimes I feel like an old cardigan, under someone’s bed. Just… forgotten.”

“I could never forget you. Sometimes people lose things that are important to them. If you’re an old cardigan then I’m finding you and putting you on because the whole time you were my favorite.” He pressed a kiss to her hair.

“How poetic” She could feel his chest shake as he laughed.

“What can I say? I’m a man of literature. Speaking of which! Do you want to watch Pride and Prejudice?”

“Again?”

“Yes, AgAiN”

Y/N looked up at her boyfriend, beaming. “Always.”

A friend to all is a friend to none

“You can’t keep acting like nothing is going on Jason. You love her, so why are you friends with someone like the asshole who ruined her reputation?”

“Dammit Dick, I didn’t even know that he was the one who did that until a like week ago!”

“And you’ve hung out with him twice since then! A friend to all is a friend to none, Jaybird.”

Chase two girls, lose the one

Surely all of Gotham had heard them arguing from their favorite spot on the roof of the library.

“Jason I understand that you want to go meet your birth mother, but why does that mean you have to not be in touch for an undetermined amount of time? I don’t understand why finding her means leaving me!” Y/N hadn’t meant to shout. She wasn’t actually mad at him. She understood why he wanted to go, but that didn’t make him leaving hurt any less. Why should she have to lose contact with him, let him run off to another continent without any knowledge of if he was okay?

“Sweetheart I’m not leaving you, I’m just trying to find my mom…”

“Yeah, at the expense of me! Jay I will never prevent you from doing something this important to you but that will not change the fact that this hurts me. That I’ll be lying awake at night not knowing if you’re okay or if you’re even going to want me when you come home! Not even being able to ask Bruce if you’re okay because you plan on doing this without his knowledge! For fucks sake Jason do you realize how that would feel?”

“God dammit Y/N why can’t you just be happy for me?”

“Because you’re LEAVING ME. You know what, go ahead and go Jason. You’re choosing to chase two girls and you’ve lost this one.” She made her way down, trying not to let her hands shake from all the emotional turmoil, at least not until she was on the ground again. There was no way she would know how much she’d regret saying that to him.

When you are young, they assume you know nothing

“It’s your first heartbreak Y/N, you’ll get over it. It was teenage puppy love, something was bound to happen.” Her father had no clue. It had been days and she hadn’t heard from Jason. Last she checked with Alfred, Bruce had followed him out to the middle east somewhere. 

“This was, this is so much more than that. You’re doing it again, assuming that because I’m young I must know nothing.”

“Clearly you don’t know anything.”

But I knew you

“When were you gonna tell me that you being a literature nerd was knowledge Dick wasn’t supposed to get his hands on?” Y/N gave him a look. The look that says ‘i didn't know this was a secret so you can't be upset i spilled’

“Shit, princess, please don’t tell me you told him… he’ll never let me live it down!”

“Oops?” She shrugged. He started to say something else but she kissed him before the words could escape. “It’s alright Jay, it makes you a romantic. And it means I know you better than him.”

Jason smiled. “I guess you’re right…”

Playing hide-and-seek and

“Do you wanna play hide and seek?”

“Sweetheart, aren’t we too old for that?”

“Who said that? Come onnn"

“Y/N.”

“Hm?”

“You know I can’t say no to you.”

Giving me your weekends, I

“You know we don’t have to spend every weekend together right? You can hang out with your friends or your family if you want.”

“Why would I do that when I could give you all my weekends?”

I knew you

"How did you know to tell Bruce I wanted adjustments on the Robin bike?"

"Because I'm just cool like that. And i know you. Now come on, let's take it for a spin!"

Your heartbeat on the High Line

Y/N pressed the side of her head to Jason's chest as a stranger took their photo on the High Line. The trip to New York had been spontaneous, something they'd decided to do for spring break.

After taking her phone back from the kind stranger and thanking them, Y/N turned to her dear boyfriend.

"I could hear your heartbeat you know."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, you'd think it was our first date or something." Y/n grinned.

"Because you make me feel... I don't know, like Pip if Estella was actually good for him?"

"Did you just reference Great Expectations at me as a way of expressing your feelings?"

"Maybe?"

"Kiss me."

Once in twenty lifetimes, I

Y/N often thought of how her mother had once told her that true teenage love like the one she had with Jason only came once in 20 lifetimes. Although, in retrospect maybe it's twice in two lifetimes, or once in one, for the partner who didn't die.

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan

Under someone's bed

You put me on and said I was your favorite

"Would I still be your favorite person if I was a worm?"

"Well no cause you wouldn't be a person anymore, but you'd be my favorite worm-"

"You know what? I'll take it."

"You'll always be my favorite."

To kiss in cars

"Jason Todd, you are a menace to society."

"What? How?"

"You brought me out to Bruce's Rolls-Royce to make out."

"So?"

and downtown bars

"Who would've thought the boy wonder had a fake ID?"

"Maybe his girlfriend who's cousin made it for him"

"What? Which one?"

Jason smirked at her, knowing it was going to eat her alive not knowing yes im projecting how nosy i am onto the y/n "Sorry princess, that stays a secret"

Was all we needed

You drew stars around my scars

"Jason, it's just an old scar from scraping my knee a little too deep, it's no big deal!"

He continued drawing small stars around any scars he found on her, gently dragging the red marker along her skin. "I didn't say it was!"

But now I'm bleedin'

When Jason hadn’t come back, Y/N had done one of the only things she promised him she would never do: taking up vigilantism. She told Bruce it was only temporary. She told herself it was only temporary. But the longer she was in the game the more attached to it she became.

"FUCK!" Y/N yelped as she sat on her bathroom counter, pressing a damp rag to her wound, carefully wiping it off. "God dammit, I used to be patching up Jason's stab wounds, not getting stabbed..." She picked up her phone, dialing the only number she cared to call anymore.

"Yeah, Dick? Can you come over real quick? Need you to make sure this stab wound doesn't kill me..."

The audible "WHAT" echoed throughout the bathroom, despite the phone not being on speaker.

'Cause I knew you

"How'd you know I'd be here?"

Y/N found Jason at their spot on the roof of the library after Dick informed her that he'd had a particularly rough argument with Bruce.

"Because I know you better than anyone else."

Steppin' on the last train

Jason dragged Y/N towards the last train of the night, what they never knew would be their final date before everything went astray.

"Come on! The last train is the best one!"

Marked me like a bloodstain, I

The image of Jason, dead, being carried away by Bruce was forever marked in Y/N's head. He was dead. There was nothing else to say.

I knew you

Speaking at Jason's small memorial was never something Y/N saw herself doing.

"I uh- I really don't know what to say. You all always said I knew him better than anyone else, and I just wish I could've known the way to prevent this."

Tried to change the ending

Y/N tried so hard to change the ending of her story. Make it so she wasn't just the girl who lost herself in grief. But until unless she saw Jason again, nothing was going to happen.

Peter losing Wendy, I

As she sat there writing 'Cardigan' it occurred to her that Peter losing Wendy was a choice, and her losing Jason never was, but it fit. Their love was a magic only to be found in Neverland.

I knew you

"Hey Red, do I know you from somewhere in civilian life? You seem familiar..."

"No way, too new in town, sorry."

She knew she knew him. She just couldn't place why...

Leavin' like a father

Even though she'd told him just to go, Jason still stopped by Y/N's house before he left to find his mother.

"Please don't leave me, Jay." She cupped his cheeks, pressing his forehead to hers as tears streamed down her face

"Don't cry, baby, I'll be back before you know it."

Running like water, I

Of course, Y/N hadn't known the identity of the Red Hood the first time she'd spotted him. All she had time to think was wondering why such a large man, with guns nonetheless, ran from her like she was out to get him.

And when you are young, they assume you know nothing

"Why do people love to assume that because I'm young I must know nothing about love or heartbreak?" Y/N had asked one day. No one answered. No one knew. They only knew that they were all too aware of just how much she truly knew about both of those things.

But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss

"I want a blue jay on my forearm. Full color. Can you do that?"

Y/N had walked into the tattoo parlor like she owned the place. She needed a way to let him permanently linger. The kiss of a needle in her skin the only way to physically represent him.

I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs

"What if I had made him stay?!"

"Y/N there's nothing you could've done that would change things."

"But what if—"

"There was nothing any of us could do."

The smell of smoke would hang around this long

"Thought you told me that you quit smoking years ago Red."

"Yeah, well, old habits die hard."

"Rough day huh?"

"Yeah. Girlfriend from before all this almost saw me in the library today. She doesn't know about me."

"About you being a vigilante?"

"She thinks I'm dead."

"You know, maybe I'll do this and be totally mistaken and realize i'm delusional, but I swear to whatever fucking god is listening if i tear off that domino mask and Jason Todd is under there I will be pushing you off this rooftop."

"If I've been hanging out with Y/N this whole time I'm throwing myself off."

'Cause I knew everything when I was young

Y/N was playing a show in Los Angeles, touring at age 15 was insane, but then again, she never thought anyone would listen to her music.

"Alright everyone, I may be young, but I also consider myself to be quite versed in romance, who knows, maybe it's my lovely boyfriend, or the fact that I'm a hopeless romantic, but either way, this one's called Favorite Record!"

Even at a young age, she'd known everything she needed to about love, because it encased her every moment she spent with her favorite person.

I knew I'd curse you for the longest time

She sat at Jason's grave in the Wayne family plot for more hours than she could count, swearing at his headstone

"God dammit! Why didn't you come home? Why didn't you come back to me?" Sobs wracked her body. "I was waiting for you to come home."

Chasin' shadows in the grocery line

Every once in a while Y/N would see someone and think someone was him. Maybe it was her brain's sick way of coping. She reached towards the stranger in front of her.

"Excuse me-"

But when he turned around Jason was gone. It was just another high school boy who had vaguely reminiscent hair.

I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired

A knock came on Y/N's bedroom window. She opened it warily before the Red Hood came clinking in.

"Thrill of letting me think you were dead over?"

"Y/N please-"

"Did you sit and watch as I grieved? Stand by while I lost my mind because I thought I'd lost you?"

"Sweetheart, just let me explain–"

"Don't fucking 'sweetheart' me. Get out. Get out of my fucking room."

And you'd be standin' in my front porch light

"Get off my damn porch Jason." He was standing in civilian clothes, shuffling his feet nervously as if he was a little kid again.

"Not until you let me explain!"

"Fine. You get to come in for five minutes. See if you can explain to me how there is any way you can justify this."

And I knew you'd come back to me

Y/N sat with her jaw slack in shock after hearing Jason's story. How saying he died wasn't even a lie, how he'd been brought back, the madness he'd experienced, the resentment for nobody killing the Joker. (she flat out told him she would've if she thought she could do it without getting herself killed in the process)

"i'm such a fucking asshole."

"No you aren't"

"No you went through this whole traumatic experience and I've just been a dick to you!"

"And it's been totally justified! You should've been the first person to find out I was back. Honestly I'm surprised Dick or Bruce didn't tell you..."

"I'm going to ignore the urge to castrate both of them and just be happy you came back to me."

You'd come back to me

"I'll always come back to you."

And you'd come back to me

"Make sure you come back in one piece?" They were on the same mission, much to Jason's dismay, but they had to be split up.

"When have I ever not come back to you?"

"...."

"Don't answer that."

And you'd come back

They'd made it out of that atrocious mission. It all worked out in the end but it certainly had taken longer than they planned.

"hey, you came back in one piece, just like I asked."

"I always do, just for you."

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan

Under someone's bed

You put me on and said I was your favorite

Y/N heard Jason coming in. His duffel bag clunked loudly against their closet floor, and she assumed he changed out of his gear at a safehouse before returning to their apartment. She flipped over the edge of the blanket, making room for him to crawl in bed with her. Once sufficiently comfortable behind her, arms wrapped tightly around her waist, Jason spoke.

"Hey Y/N?"

She turned around in his arms so she could face him. "Uh oh, you didn't call me any kind of pet name, just my name, whats up?"

"Nothing I just... I just wanted to let you know you're still my favorite."

~

The tears were flowing freely by then. The audience screamed, cheering at the sweet song. “My favorite person didn’t get to be around for a while, but… he came back to me, and that’s all that matters. Now that's enough crying, I’ve got some much more fun songs, ARE YOU READY GOTHAM CITY!?” And with that, the show went on.

Hours later, Y/N made her way backstage, where she was immediately enveloped by the arms of a mystery man. She wasn’t scared though, she knew who it was. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he spun her around. 

He sat her down gently, beaming. “You wrote a song about me?” “Jay… baby a lot of my songs are about you.” 

“What?”

“I’m going to ignore the fact that you managed to not know that even though I’ve told you before.”

“I just assumed you weren’t serious!”

“... You really think that Lover or Lucky People or Favorite Record, could have possibly been about anyone else?”

“And if I just like hearing you say it?”

“Then I’ll tell you forever.” When their lips met, it was a promise, one that this, this feeling in this moment, was real, and that it wouldn’t ever go away, because they knew everything when they were young. 

[starlightwayfinder]

I'm curious- do you have any particular thoughts or headcanons about the wayfinders' relationship with Eraqus? Like we know Terra saw him as a father figure, do you think he would have taken on Eraqus' last name? How do you think Aqua and Ven feel about him? How did they each process his death? Are there specific memories you think they have of him, like a special day or event?

You don't have to answer all of these haha, but I would love you hear your thoughts :3

For some reason, the kh original characters don’t have last names even in my imagination, so not so much for that one. With Terra, I think he considers Eraqus his ‘father’ in the sense of having that role in his life, but he still wouldn’t want to accidentally imply that they were literally related (that closely, anyway. I am open to the idea of them being more distantly related though!) So even if that was an option open to him, he wouldn’t want to—just out of respect and a desire to not be misleading.

I imagine that Terra was Eraqus’ first student, and when Aqua arrived, he became pretty competitive in an attempt to impress Eraqus. It took a little longer for Terra and Aqua to become friends thanks to that attitude, but Aqua was able to hold her own regardless. Eraqus was strict and probably too hard on them from an emotional standpoint, but never unloving. He knew they were still kids, and he knew from his own training that they were bound to get into trouble one way or another. So minor things like that didn’t concern him as much, so long as he felt that their hearts were in the right place. (Especially regarding a loyalty to light, of course.) He was definitely confident in their abilities and was originally going to name them both masters without an exam, so I’m sure he had a lot of trust in both of them. I think they mostly trusted him in return, but felt so much that they didn’t want to disappoint or be judged by him, that they kept their fears and doubts to themselves and didn’t seek help from him when they probably needed it. Ironically, kind of a parallel to his relationship with Xehanort, right? It’s not that he didn’t care or want to help them though, he was just afraid. And trying to prevent.. you know. An apocalypse. He’s unfortunately quick to oppose any trace of what he perceives as darkness—which drives people away and ..into the darkness. 

I lump Terra and Aqua together more than Aqua and Ven, since Ven is kind of unique. While I’m sure none of them liked lying to him, they were all kind of ‘in on it’ when it comes to Ven’s history. Eraqus of course being the one who knew the most: that he had connections to the X-Blade and potentially even the Child of Destiny prophecy. I think there’s some fun complexity in Eraqus dreaming of being the one to defeat the darkness in khdr, only to waver and decide that maybe he didn’t want to be the one to make that choice. Then he ends up almost killing the person who (**supposedly**) would have the power to do that. 

As for how Ven reacted, I actually don’t think he’s necessarily bitter about what happened? If anything, he went along with it more than he should’ve. For example, he even told Terra that Eraqus was right and to just step aside and let him be destroyed. It’s the moment that cemented in his mind that he should let Terra and Aqua put an end to him later—because even someone who he trusted and considered to be good like Eraqus thought he was too dangerous to be left alive. I’m not saying that’s *right*, it definitely opened the door for his low self-esteem problems to creep back in, but it’s just how Ven sees it. Kinda like I said in my headcanon post, he’s more willing to assume the blame is on *him* than a result of the fears or anger of the person against him. It’s a parallel to what happened with Lauriam too. But Eraqus did realize his mistake when he died the first time, and when he comes back he gets a chance to hug and apologize to Ven. Ultimately I think Ven just wants to feel that Eraqus didn’t fear him to the point of *hating* him, and that moment helped to eased those doubts.

Of the three students however, I think Ven is left with the most questions. Every memory now has to be viewed through the lens of knowing that Eraqus knew secrets about him. In the novel, Eraqus thinks something along the lines of ‘Ven is fine for now, but if he recovers his true self he’ll be an unknown variable.’ I could see this mentality influencing Ven to resist discovering more about his past out of a fear that he’ll lose his “current” self. Especially if he figures out the Strelitzia situation out of context. He’s also admittedly more free to explore the worlds and do what he wants now that Eraqus is gone, which is good, but kind of sad to realize all the same. The novel implies that Eraqus let Terra and Aqua accompany him to other worlds while Ven was left behind, and Ven tells MX that he asked all the time to see other worlds and was refused. That was probably the biggest conflict between them, and I could imagine him still being upset about that, even with the context of knowing about the X-blade. I think it’s a little extreme to truly consider the land of departure his prison (especially since even in khdr younger students weren’t allowed to leave Scala), but all the same, I’m sure he found it unfair to be treated differently than Terra and Aqua. 

Terra is probably the most at peace with his death, but I imagine he still wishes for his guidance. In the character files, he doesn’t feel forgiven by Eraqus yet, but I think he at least knows Eraqus trusts him to take care of the others and the Land of Departure going forward.

Aqua misses him, and feels the pressure to step into his place and begin training students again despite her personal struggles. She never doubted his love for the three of them in BbS, but she’s also compassionate to Terra and Ven’s worries about that sort of thing. She wants to honor and defend his memory without invalidating their experiences. In short: it’s complicated. 

As for memories, I’m sure they took days off from training and had nice holidays spent together! Terra and Aqua probably have pleasant memories of those rare and special instances of getting to go to other worlds together, and Ven would like to reminisce about the quiet evenings spent outside hearing stories about their adventures. Overall; I think the good experiences outweigh the bad ones, even if now they’re all a little tainted by grief. All of them can find solace in knowing that he had a happy death that fulfilled his dream (and got a chance to say goodbyes to them too.)

[bentleysbeetle]

Hey Beetle, my front tyre is flat and I'm out of miracles for the day. The guy from the repair shop wants to charge me £47 to change both tyres, because they don't have the same brand as my back one in stock. Now, I think I can get away with cycling with two different tyres, but it would be better if I found a repair shop with the same tyres instead. What do the cards say? Would really appreciate the input.

@totally-a-sheep

//Beetle secretary again: I am still translating seeing as Beetle has not un-become a cat since last reading//

Oh no!!! Hi Luc!! That sounds tough, I got my tarot cards as quick as I could!!! I'm doing a simple read for you, 3 cards. The 1st one is the past, the 2nd one is the present and the 3rd one is the future.

First you got the two of swords!! They have their points up so that probably means 2 punctured tires!!! but you actually got it upside down, so that means before you had two NOT punctured tires. Which I think is true. Right?

UM. THE SECOND ONE IS DEATH. THAT MEANS YOU ARE DYING D: Maybe... Oh gosh..... Maybe you had an accident when your tire went flat and now you have a concussion and you're going to die :( I'm so sorry Luc I love you so much I'm gonna miss you

Okay uhhh... In better news, there is a knight with a wand, and he's on a horse! But he's upside down though... Ummm... I think he means travel, since he's on a horse, and the wand could mean it's a magical journey? So you are going to NOT have magical travel. You will have very little travel, and the travel you will have is bad. So whatever your intuition is telling you to do about this: DO THE OPPOSITE!! OR ELSE YOUR BIKE WILL BE HORRIBLE! and maybe you'll continue dying!!!! :(

Um... Please don't die!!! Wear 3 helmets maybe?? I love you! :(

//Serious reading under the cut!//

//Alright. Let's get on with it Luc, here's your more serious answer.

A two of swords in reverse usually means suspicion. It's like, lack of trust, treachery (my booklet mentions in partnerships specifically), and you know, be careful of people looking out to manipulate you. This one fell out as I was shuffling the deck, FACE UP. It was the only card to do this. I think this is a sign. Your tire going flat was NOT a coincidence. This? This was SABOTAGE. By SOMEONE YOU TRUST!

The second card. Oh my god okay it's a lot different than it sounds. It signifies change, things ending and beginning, hindsight, it represents opportunities, the card represents a necessary end to something. Your tire was meant to go flat, Luc. Because now? Now you have all these opportunities. You could have a dual tired bike, like some cursed version of a penny-farthing, you could get brand new fancy tires, or you could go back to usual! The world is your oyster, and this is your sign to make Oysters Rockefeller. Or Oyster Omelette. Whatever squeezes your lemon. This is the start of a new tire era, Luc.

Okay, I wasn't TOO off with the travel stuff, because the knight of wands represents creativity and progress! However, in reverse it represents... Falsehood, and lack of progress >:O! The knight of wands is someone who will talk a lot about a project, but do nothing about it! He's a representation of judging people by their actions, and not their words. Now, I'm taking this as a sign that you should probably be a bit wary of the people from the various repair shops. This first guy for example, why didn't he give you a discount because he didn't have your brand of tires in stock? That's not *your* fault! Covering a small expense like that is totally a worthy investment, after all next time you need a tire change you'd know that guy has your back! Instead you have to pay more?? Consider your options here! Consider your options and go to someone who actually sounds trustworthy! Hope this helps <333

[siderealscribblings]

It was said that dynasties were made and lost over tea cakes, and the owners of Le Cygne knew it. 

The restaurant was designed for discretion as much as it was designed for ambiance. Each table was conveniently out of earshot of its neighbors, and waiters were hired for their tight lips as much as their table skills. The fact that Emmaline had suggested such an establishment was not a coincidence; this was as much a part of their conversation as anything that was said. Furina was just hoping this wasn't another doomed marriage proposal she would have to awkwardly decline. Furina was used to pink-faced young men she had never met profess their undying love for her; perhaps it was only a matter of time before Fontaine's ladies tried where the gentlemen had failed. 

Whatever her intentions were, Emmaline gave her plenty of time to ponder as they spoke. Furina learned that it took about forty-five minutes of polite but meaningless small talk before her guests got to the point of their visit. Everyone wanted something from her and as the font of all blessings, Focalors was compelled to oblige her subjects' humble requests. But no one ever just asked; that would be too gauche. Not until they had discussed weather, the latest court trials, the latest operas, what authors were in vogue, the exhibition of Liyuen art, and twenty other unrelated things first.

Sure enough, by the time the jam tarts were delivered, Emmaline was getting to the thrust of her visit. 

"Lady Furina, I hope I could ask for your guidance on a personal matter," Emmaline said, dunking a palmier in her tea. 

Right on cue, Furina thought, glancing at the clock behind Emmaline's head. "A personal matter, Mme. deLacroix?"

"I wanted to get your insight as someone very familiar with the Iudex," Emmaline said. "I'm sure you recall that he recently ruled in favor of Madam Celia in that ugly real-estate dispute?" 

"Of course; Neuville-er, Iudex Neuvillette is the most perceptive gentleman," Furina said, clearing her throat. "As expected of my chief subordinate, he saw the facts of your case clearly as I did. You have no need to thank us; justice served is our greatest pleasure." 

"Your Eminence is an inspiration to a young lawyer like myself," Emmaline chuckled. "All the same, Madam Celia is very grateful to be able to live out the rest of her days in the house she and her husband built. The Iudex was very kind to grant her wish…and I feel compelled to personally thank him."

Personally thank him? Furina thought. Did she really ask the Archon to lunch for gift ideas ?

"Thanking Neuvillette is a very difficult task to accomplish, mademoiselle," Furina chuckled. It was one Furina had struggled with decades; how to properly thank her greatest agent, accomplice, partner (friend?) in a way that he would accept. Neuvillette did outstanding things in the course of duty and was quick to brush off his accomplishments as "part of the job." 

("A god is entitled to bestow favor on those who serve her faithfully," Furina had once pointed out. "And a good subject would receive such favors gracefully.")

("I'm sorry to be such a poor subject in this regard," Neuvillette said, lips twitching as Furina failed to suppress an indignant huff.) 

"All the same, I was raised to show adequate appreciation when someone has done a kindness for me," Emmaline said, Furina's brow twitching at the word adequate . "And, frankly, I was quite surprised to find the Iudex to be a remarkably kind man. My grandfather said he was harsh and unforgiving as a judge during his time before the bench." 

Well he was , Furina thought, remembering how Neuvillette could barely restrain his annoyance at the cases he oversaw when he first ascended to the Iudex's bench. "Time has granted him wisdom and perspective on the law…and of course, I did prod him to be more open-minded."

"I am sure the God of Justice would make for an excellent tutor for a chief justice," Emmaline said with a teasing smile. "Although, I confess, I find the prospect of the Iudex being prodded by anyone rather amusing." 

"Only one person in the realm is capable of such a feat; one of my library of duties," Furina chuckled airily. 

"One, I'm sure, you perform with your usual grace," Emmaline said, taking a thoughtful sip of her tea. "Still, it is no exaggeration to say he saved my client from living the last of her years in a poorhouse and I'd like to offer a small token of appreciation in thanks." 

A…token of appreciation? Furina thought. No, if she was bribing him she would have done it before the trial…what is she driving at here?

"Hmm…even trickier," Furina said, taking a small bite of her tart to give herself time to maneuver. "Neuvillette has rather…interesting tastes. Not exactly a man that can be mollified with a bottle of whiskey or gold bracelet, unfortunately. His only real vices are his morning swims; when he moved into the Palais, I commissioned for him a pool made out of marble from Liyue and filled with water from Loch Urania. Heated by special pipes and lit by glowing stone from the seabed of Inazuma; I daresay it's the only one of its kind."

Focalors would brag about her magnanimity, Furina reasoned, though it felt a little childish to throw such a grand display in Emmaline's face. 

"That may be out of my price-range," Emmaline laughed, regarding Furina over the rim of her cup. "The Iudex is a strong swimmer then…I can imagine he cuts as striking a figure in water as he cuts on land." 

A striking figure? Furina thought. Obviously; Neuvillette could cut a striking figure in pitch darkness. He commanded people's attention when he entered the room and even Furina found herself straightening up a little when she knew his eyes were on her. And when he was in the water-

Furina licked her lips, trying to refocus her attention on the woman in front of her. "Quite the strong figure, er, swimmer ." 

"My brothers and I would dive for 'sunken treasures' as children at our family's island estate," Emmaline said fondly, a mischievous glint forming in her eye. "I wonder if he's ever explored the caves beneath the Great Fontaine Lake; I'd be happy to give him a tour should he ever find the time in his busy schedule." 

Oh… oh. 

Realization slapped Furina in the face, the coy crook of Emmaline's lips speaking volumes. Now all the lingering looks, teasing jabs, and pointed remarks she sent Neuvillette's way during trials made total sense. Emmaline's legal ambitions were grand, but they paled in comparison to her romantic ambitions. Emmaline wanted to get acquainted with Neuvillette…and wanted Furina's permission before she approached him. 

Read More...

[hollywoodsargeant]

Pretty random question, but what are your favourite things about Logan? Like some cute facts/things about him that you like and feel like people should know

I think a lot of people judge him too quickly, he deserves more love and appreciation :((

this is an excellent question anon... clearly i have a lot of things i like about logan. i really like logan. in case if this blog was not enough. BUT. i will yell about a few random things since you asked (+ i agree people are very quick to judge him. give my boy a chance. i cannot tell you how many times i've seen people say stuff like "i wrote him off at first but he actually seems sweet" STOP WRITING HIM OFF THEN!) anyways. Favorite Things

there's a lot of insanity going on here i love logan so much did you know

first and foremost. i love how much he loves his friends... and just how outwardly he loves in general... the "heart on his sleeve" thing does come from somewhere. given really any opportunity he Will talk about his friends and his family and every time it Kills me like :( whenever someone mentions how long he's been racing oscar he talks about it and there's one where it's mentioned he was teammates with oscar back in f4 and he's like "well actually before that too!" idk. surely you know how i feel about logan and oscar but logan has emphasized their friendship more than once and always stresses how they've gotten along so well forever and even being title rivals in f3 never came between them... my little loscar heart...

and still on that. him and kyle. i love kyle kirkwood (indycar driver + friend of logan) if you were not aware and he does the same thing where someone will bring him up and he's like "yeah kyle's my boy!" it makes me so...... put him in his indy 500 top 3 prediction bc he's his buddy and knows he's good was asked Just about key lime pie and had to say "well my friend kyle makes a really good key lime pie" even after he just said he never really eats pie? idk man. he just loves his friends <3

AND HE LOVES WHERE HE'S FROMMM like yes a bit in a patriotic american way and maybe i only like that because i'm american but he is such a hometown guy he clearly loves and misses florida and all the people he still knows who live there. have you seen his 10 things i can't live without interview that video is basically just 8 minutes of logan sargeant loving florida. and he's so cute in that video i love that video but he can and he will talk about being from florida at any given opportunity (+ very much harps on how much he enjoys being out on the water) and i'm sure some people think it's annoying but personally i find it very endearing... and putting the flag on his helmet he is just a proud guy. i care him. he's said he wants to race the indy 500 too which also gets the indycar fan in me but he wants to race it bc it's iconic and idk most f1 drivers don't want to do the 500 bc oval scary (real of them) but logan is like. no i'm Going to do it one day. it's the biggest motorsport event and i will do it. I WILL NOT REST UNTIL HE DOES.

this one is a bit more stupid but i am forever amused by just how much of a younger brother he is. maybe i just relate to him bc i'm also the youngest of two (and my sister and i have pretty much the same gap he has to dalton) but he is so little sibling energy, especially with alex. he's a little menace. particularly evident in the monaco road trip video where alex tells him to lie and he goes along with it while also trying to make alex do it for him (he's so me) and the sandwich challenge where he whines every time alex gets in his way. i know benny's kid calls him his older brother but he is so little brother it's unreal. on the brother note this fucking idiot cracked his rib karting with dalton and that's also hilarious

I DON'T KNOW MAN. i love listening to him talk. i love all his weird little quirks like how much shoulder he puts into his walk and how much he fiddles around and can't sit still and the way he almost seems to make himself smaller?? this guy is nearly six feet tall but he carries himself like a much shorter man i think it's endearing. i'm really endeared to his smile and his smiling habits (see my thesis it's a whole thing) and also all his other weird mouth ticks he has several i love that he always seems to want to be close to people (he's very touchy. if you pay attention) i love how weirdly shy he is (likes sunglasses bc you can hide behind them) i love his incessant need to have perfect hair all of the time like see the monaco video i linked earlier where he's riding in a convertible trying to fix his hair DUDE IT'S NOT GOING TO HAPPEN i love. Him.

man. i just think. that i love logan. he is my favorite for a reason. and even if he is a bit of a rah rah american (i lit listed his americanisms as one of my favorite things i enjoy them) i am slightly tired of him getting written off as just being The American or not having a personality like he's definitely more private about certain parts of his life compared to other drivers but that doesn't mean he lacks personality. maybe he is a little more softspoken too which might not help but it is there!!! he is not a piece of cardboard you just aren't giving him the time of day!!! giving him enough time of day to say he's boring but not enough to actually realize he's not

[night-market-if]

Hey! I recently found this and just got done with the free demo, and while I look forward to play the full thing I just had to come here and sign my praises for the pacing with Milo.

As someone who in real life is a real quick judge of emotional connection, it’s the first time I’ve read an IF where the slight interest happens at the same time as I realise I want to romance them. While I know one can argue the chapter 2 kiss is questionable at best (for as many times as I read it I still feel bad picking it as a canon choice, even though I love it oh so dearly.), for me the fact that the moment I read ‘Pleasure District’ I thought “Oh, I hope we get a flirt option about that, I already want MC to kiss him so bad, please let MC make a flirty joke about it.” and then there was, in fact, a whole kiss.

So just, having Milo, MC, and I all go “Yeah, that was a bit intense, but not complaining.” was just, I don’t even have words for the delight. In fact I sat with it for a few minutes and reminded myself there would most likely not be another kiss until at least the last third, if even in the first book at all.

And then chapter 3 came with its “c’mere”, dancing in the streets, and a second (or first) kiss, so utterly soft and tender? I know I am blabbering, but I am not exaggerating when I say that is by far my favourite romance (Interactive or otherwise) that I’ve ever read. You know there’s something or probably many somethings weighing on his shoulders, there is so much to Milo one doesn’t know and that he may never wish to share, but there is also so much innate trust and joy—It’s so well written. I wish I had the eloquent words to say this properly and professionally, but all I can say is it makes me so fond, and so patiently curious for the day I learn what troubles him.

I’ll shush now, though, as this is already way too long. I just felt you deserved to know, even if it’s incoherent, that you’re a wonderful writer of romance and friendship and worldbuilding and character—and I am very much looking forward to getting my little grabbers on the full book and learning what the night market has in store.

Thank you! I am so happy to hear that you've enjoyed what you read so far. And I do try to really focus on character development and world building. That is incredibly important to me.

With only having read the demo, I can say that you are in for a very wild ride on your Milo romance. But, there is a lot of depth and layers to that romance and a lot of really kind moments as well as heartbreak. Going into book 2 I'm trying to keep the same momentum with that level of characterization.

Thank you again for all your kind words. I love reading the long rants that come in. It makes me feel like I'm on the right path. :)

[allthelittlecreepycrawlies]

For identity. Something humorous. NHS finding out who this MY person that came out of the blue really is (he introduced himself as da-ge's new commander and that's it) after fishing for info and someone giving him the full gossip. MY is worried he's going to be prejudiced now but NHS just says something silly like "more pleasing to the eye than Jin xiong", or "a jin without a snooty pout what a miracle" or anything of the sort that leaves MY reasured.

This is probably less funny than you intended, but I couldn't resist making Meng Yao Suffer a little. His (justified) paranoia of public opinion is too fun.

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

Though his new sect leader mentions something about introducing him to his younger brother when they reach the Unclean Realms, there is no one waiting for them that he could immediately identify as a member of the inner family.

"That brat. Probably wasting the day in the markets or the back hills," Nie Mingjue huffs. "Ah, well. You'll cross paths with him soon enough; he's always getting in the way in some fashion or another."

Night falls.

Dinner passes.

He settles as best he can into his new quarters, but as he lies down to sleep, he finds himself unsettled by feeling of being watched.

It goes away almost immediately, but he still finds sleeping more difficult than usual.

---

Morning arrives.

Breakfast passes.

He begins his new lists of tasks with a gusto driven by a desire to prove Nie-zongzhu had not been wrong in raising him up to his new position.

He tackles paperwork and does his best to, if not make friends, at least convince the captains and senior disciples it is in their best interest to work harmoniously with him.

It isn't until lunch that he realizes he still has not yet met Nie-gongzi.

"He does his best to keep to himself," one of the servants he has won over says jovially. "The less he shows his face, the fewer chances Zongzhu has to throw him into a training class. You'll trip over him eventually."

He eats dinner in his new office, having had enough of the judging gossip for his first day.

And then he feels it again; the weight of being watched.

This time, he quickly looks around the room, but there is still no one to be seen.

He had put aside the rumors of the Unclean Realms being heavier with ghosts than any other sect would permit their ancestral home to be. Perhaps he should not have been so quick to do so.

He sleeps huddled under the thick blankets that night, chilled by more than just the weather.

---

Morning arrives.

Night falls.

For three more days, he feels like ghosts are clinging to his back, unable to find who is keeping such close tabs on him and followed from hallway to hallway by whispers no one dares speak in front of their sect leader.

And then, as he is brushing down the horse he'd borrowed to deliver some missives, he whips around at the prickling on the back of his neck to find out that, this time, there is a boy his age or a little younger watching him from the stall door.

The braids, the delicate silver guan holding them, and the bright green eyes immediately identify the newcomer, and he involuntarily sucks in a breath, all of his etiquette lessons momentarily deserting him at finally meeting the elusive Nie-gongzi.

Before he can recover his wits, or even bow, Nie-gongzi suddenly grins at him and folds his arms, leaning over the stall door. "Now that I've actually seen you, I don't really see the resemblence."

Dread creeps up the back of his throat. Of course Nie-gongzi would have heard about that, if not before he'd arrived, than in the gossip flying under the sect leader's notice. "I- I do not- I am unsure what Gongzi alludes to," he says, stumbling over the obvious lie.

Nie-gongzi's grin only widens. "I've met Jin-zongzhu, you know. You must take after your mother like Jin-xiong does, because you're way too cute to belong to that overfluffed chicken."

The laugh escapes him involuntarily as the bubble of tension that had been building in his chest just collapses.

Night falls as they walk to the main building of the sect, Nie-gongzi cheerfully chattering away about specific people and things he still needs to be introduced to.

So this is his mystery ghost, he thinks. And he also thinks they will get along just fine.