#i need to get on a schedule that is sooner than Technically Its The Right Day In Alaska

[dailybaizhu]

baizhu’s unspoken rizz

132: his what

[tauforged]

if we assume warframes have some amount of biological function rather than being meat suits, it would only stand that in the process of becoming protoframes, the hex would not only change appearance-wise but the way their bodies FUNCTION would change as well as their behavior. I don't have solid ideas for everyone YET, BUT i'll elaborate on what i have so far below...

we don't have a lot of solid info about how cyte-09's kit would work, but being that he's a sniper-centric frame, it makes sense that quincy would start to subconsciously adapt to that 'ambush predator' function, in terms of behavior and also metabolism.

instinctually he feels safest/most comfortable when he's somewhere High Up and Isolated. he likes a vantage point, not much else to it. randomly feeling compelled to climb on top of shit and Perch even outside of patrols while just hanging out because it just feels more secure

bradymetabolic -- his 'natural' state is objectively slowed down in comparison to a normal human being, his resting heartrate is slow his body temp tends to be lower and he can go considerably longer in between meals if he isn't actively making an effort to eat on a schedule. his body is rewiring itself to be best suited towards finding a vantage point and lying in wait, staying as still as possible and expending as little energy as he can until the moment is just right.

HOWEVER, the moment something triggers him to act fast (usually in combat situations although its technically a 'prey response') his metabolism will kick into overdrive and he strikes FAST. for the brief period where he's active, heart rate and body temp shoot up and he burns through however much energy he's been storing in the interim. once the adrenaline wears off, though, he's back to business as usual. if he's in a high-energy situation for an extended amount of time, though, he runs the risk of exhausting himself, hyperventilating, or overheating.

tends to blink less than it seems like he should and picks up a habit of unintentionally holding his breath. trigger finger twitches unintentionally when he's focused on something/someone in a way that kinda resembles how dart frogs will tap their toes while hunting or how the raptors in jurassic park click their claws on the ground. develops and exaggerated freeze response -- when something startles him when he isnt expecting it, he goes completely stock still in an attempt to 'blend in' and wait out the threat.

on the opposite end, amir adopts a fucking hummingbird metabolism. he runs hot and fast and needs to eat a lot more than you would expect because his body is CONSTANTLY. GOING. he's somewhere int he middle between regular human and obligate nectar-eater -- he processes sugars WAY faster/easier than normal and is pretty dependent on them for energy in the immediate moment, although he does still have the capacity to store longer-lasting energy for later rather than having to eat every thirty minutes lest he starve to death. the more active he is, the more demand is on him, though and he is VERY fucking active. he's built to be on the move 24/7 now, and gets really antsy when 'at rest' because even when wholly idle his body burns energy like a motherfucker and it makes him restless. constantly craving sweet things because his body is demanding sugar NOW or we are going to DIE (this is not true, he's mostly being dramatic, but he DOES feel adverse effects from lack of food or water much sooner than he normally would)

can take short rests that are basically like power naps where he sleeps "normal", but when he actually Sleep sleeps he goes into a torpor state to preserve his energy, slowing down and dropping his body temp and it takes him between 20min to an hour to actually Wake Up completely. does not like doing this but while his body is meant to be constantly moving, his brain still runs on a human schedule and he Needs to get actual sleep. he needs to hard reboot every couple days or else he starts fighting demons. you know how it is.

aside from inconvenient desires to eat raw meat/random animals (imagining excal as an obligate carnivore just feels right), arthur isn't too METABOLICALLY different from the average human, but behaviorally he is fighting for his life. in contrast to quincy preferring open, elevated spaces, arthur is compelled to seek out dark tight enclosed spaces and hole up like a sick animal looking for a place to die (he's fine, but the way he's always stressing out crosses some wires in his brain and makes him Feel like he's dying)

you can tell when arthur and quincy have been getting on eachothers nerves or arguing because they will Immediately retreat to their respective territories to Sulk (quincy starts climbing on top of the stage light scaffolding, arthur is in the security office trying to find a dignified way to crawl under a table). it's objectively really funny to witness. they both do this when theyre in bad moods but when theyre BOTH doing it the chance of it being coincidence is very very low

both arthur and eleanor are VERY catlike, not really in a cutesy fun 'uwu nya' way, but in a 'bites people and knocks shit over and gets random bursts of energy at ungodly hours and feels compelled to chase things that move like prey' way . eleanor leans into this and does not care, she is biting you as a show of affection and you WILL accept that. arthur hates it and suppresses it at all times. catboy instincts calling to him like the green goblin mask 24/7

in tandem with the 'aoi's teeth are more like a squid beak and are dark in color because they're reinforced with metal' hc ive discussed before, i feel like she might feel the urge to try and Consume metallics somehow to feed that process. or maybe her constant melting down and playing with metal is how she assimilates it. not sure yet

i have not many ideas regarding trinity or lettie yet because i almost never play trin and dont have a good handle on how her kit would translate to biological functions LMFAOO im so sorry girl i love you so much but im still chewing on this one. welcome to ideas!

aaand of course, the conversation that started it all:

and the grand finale: bullying arthur

[blessedwithabadomen]

in love with the mess - day five

summary : Aubrey is going on tour and, for once, she's decided to focus on having as much fun as possible. Oli can be a little shit but he does nothing short of adore Audrey and... well, maybe Noah a little, too. Noah likes the flirting, as long as no one gets too close, emotionally. But what will happen when the three of them take it too far?

content : fluff, flirting, drinking, everyone gets a kiss

length : 4.2k

tags (let me know if you want to be tagged!) : @veronicaphoenix @cookiesupplier @lma1986 @jilliemiw86 @bngurngheart @lacktoesandtoddlerants @narcissisticbehavior81 @flowery-mess @shilohrosechicken @justeli6 @starvingarsyn @floatinglikeaswan @somebodyels3

a/n : here we go!! enjoy and feel free to comment, ask, reblog 💗

•••

day five

Something about the check-in at the hotel in Manchester was fishy and had caused a ridiculous amount of chaos that needed to be sorted out by the tour managers. I made the best of the situation and got comfortable in the lobby with my laptop, determined to get some work done ahead of time. Lia was going to be here in just a few hours and I'd promised her to free my schedule as much as possible.

Plus, I knew we would be drinking, so the ride to Glasgow tomorrow was going to be spent regretting my hangover and lying in my bunk, not doing hours of work.

The only strange thing about the day so far was that I had seen neither Oli nor Noah. Noah’s absence was to be expected to a certain extent; he was in a different band, on a different bus, with slightly deviating schedules, so the chances of running into each other could be quite low. I hadn't gotten a message from him either though. At least rumour had been going around that he woke up as good as new this morning, whatever had been beating him down yesterday had vanished completely. Oli was more surprising considering he was consistently put into an adjacent hotel room, travelled in the same tour bus and technically employed me.

Funnily enough, the question about the two missing frontmen was answered sooner than the check-in chaos got resolved. I heard the two of them entering the lobby together before I saw them. Pushing each other away, both seemed eager to get to me first as soon as they spotted me, stealing a bag from each other's hands over and over again.

“Fucking stop, I’m the one who knew to get this for her,” Oli complained, trying to keep the paper bag out of Noah’s reach, who was quicker than him and caught it behind Oli’s back.

“Yeah, and I’m the one who’s gonna give it to her!”

“Give it back, you wanker!”

Their fight came to an abrupt end as they stood in front of me looking up at them over my laptop.

“I got you something,” Oli explained, motioning to the bag.

“We got you something,” Noah corrected.

“Just because you walked next to me, doesn’t mean you had anything to do with it!”

I felt another bout of their little spat coming on, so I quickly intervened and stole the bag from Noah’s hands. Both of them quieted down immediately, watching me as I opened it up. The sweet scent of pastries filled my nostrils immediately.

“Are these…?” I didn’t finish my question as I brought the baked good to my nose, inhaling it deeply once again before taking a hearty bite ouf of its flakey goodness. I didn't know how Oli new. I couldn't remember if I'd ever told him and if I had, I was sure it was in passing only. The fact that he not only was aware of my sweet tooth but also went out of his way to satisfy it with my favourite goods caused my stomach to flip. “Thank you so much, that’s so sweet.”

“From your favourite bakery,” Oli proudly agreed. “You said you weren’t in Manchester that often and- well, I thought after yesterday-”

“Wait, what happened yesterday?”

Suddenly, Noah was all ears. I was much too preoccupied with the best thing I’d tasted in months to think about how to explain. Oli had mentioned it, Oli could solve the situation.

“Aubrey was in a right mood last night,” Oli said with grin. “A little brat.”

I almost choked on my pastry, a few flakes flying away from me as I got my breathing back under control. I shouldn’t have been so surprised. Oli was hardly known for being a prude about these things.

“And I went to sleep instead,” Noah groaned, sounding genuinely remorseful. Our eyes met for a moment. Somehow, I knew we were both remembering last night, too, me bringing him back to the hotel room, him warning me off. He looked away first, as if a little embarrassed. I wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“I’m sure you’ll find out for yourself soon enough,” it burst out of me. But I’d already learned that the combination of us three left very little room to hold back in that aspect.

Oli leaned down to me, his thumb wiping at the corner of my mouth where some chocolate had seemingly gotten stuck. He tapped my lips. It was enough for me to dumbly open my mouth and suck it in, twirling my tongue around it to get another taste. He chuckled darkly, satisfied how easily I went along with him, before pulling away, finding another bit of chocolate to swipe away, this time offering his thumb to Noah.

He was torn. Quite visibly so. The tension hung in the air as he tried to decide on which move to make now, all three of us basically holding our breaths to see what would transpire.

Then, some loud laughter from the crew erupted somewhere else in the lobby, loud enough to pull him out of it. He actually shook his head, as if that could make the thoughts disappear.

“Fuck you, Oli,” he muttered, without much force behind it.

“Yeah,” Oli laughed, licking the chocolate of his thumb himself, “I bet you’d like to.”

•••

Whoever said that time flies when you’re having fun had never felt time slipping through your fingers when you were desperately trying to get your boss to get to all things in his agenda on time while he was being an absolute arse for no reason but to amuse himself. On top of that, your best friend was blowing up your phone in excitement of getting to see you, effectively starting a countdown that only served to distract you from the work you should be doing.

By seven o’clock, I was thoroughly exhausted and annoyed. At some point, Noah had even pulled me aside to give me a much needed hug, although it had been cut short by Lia announcing her imminent arrival. Luckily, Lia did what she did best and that was raise my mood impossibly the very second I saw her.

Her arms around me felt like home. She was the only anchor I felt I still had, while I was always trying to never get too settled in one place with my work taking me all over, but we’d been friends since childhood and she’d always refused to budge. I didn’t thank her for it enough.

“Okay, catch me up asap, what’s been happening, what’s been going down, have you managed to bang anyone yet?”

I shot an apologetic smile at the two stagehands walking past as I walked down the corridor with Lia, an AAA pass hung around her neck and so excited that I wondered if she’d had a drink before coming here. With a slightly quicker step, I dragged her into Oli’s dressing room, aware he was currently hanging out with the rest of his band.

“Well, there’s been no fucking, but…”

I awkwardly started tidying up the dressing room. It came as second nature, really, trying to make sure things were in order, helping Oli out for later, not letting him drown in his chaos. I busied myself with a hoodie that I decided needed folding.

“But?! Aubrey, you’re not seriously gonna leave me starved for information here!”

“I mean, I did make out with Noah and I’ve seen Oli’s dick, so…”

Her squealing, I was pretty sure, could be heard next door and I couldn’t help but laugh. Lia was nothing if not supportive of basically anything I did.

I gave her a quick rundown of the last few days, keeping some of the details to myself while still letting her know what I’d been up to, including just about every endeavour I’d found myself in with the guys. She did nothing short of react appropriately, aw-ing and ooh-in and gasping and laughing. I’d missed having her around.

In the middle of me letting Lia know that, yes, I most definitely got cleaned up after last night’s escapade and, no, Oli and I hadn’t spoken about it yet and also, no, I didn’t think Noah knew, when the door to the dressing room flew open and revealed Oli himself.

“Speak of the devil,” Lia mused and I briefly panicked about her letting Oli know just what we were talking about, even though I knew fully well she would never betray me like that.

“I could say the same about you,” Oli replied, attempting to sound cruel but unable to hide the smile on his face.

“Why on earth would you have been talking about me?”

“Oh, I wasn’t. I was referring to the part where you are the devil.”

“Oh, you bastard!” Lia exclaimed with a laugh. “You coming out with us after the show?”

“Hell no. We got an early bus call and a four-hour drive to Glasgow. And I know what you get up to, Lia.”

My heart sank a little, even though I knew Oli was only being reasonable. We did only have a few hours in the hotel before we needed to get going again. I was going to be fine, really - I planned on not getting blackout drunk and there wasn’t too much left for me to do tomorrow that I hadn’t already taken care of. Plus, I wasn’t the one who had to be up on stage that night delivering the show of their life.

“Fucking party pooper.”

“I’m so much of a party pooper that I specifically came to get you two because Bad Omens are about to start. Managed to organise some wine for you too. Good enough?”

“Just about,” Lia mused, standing up and walking past him and out of the room with the confidence only someone who had on idea which way the stage was could have. We both looked at her leave, overly amused, until I remembered she was my friend and I should probably make sure she wouldn’t get completely lost.

Oli stopped me at the door. “You gonna stop by when you get back tonight?”

“I could just text you that I got back safe, you know. It might get late.”

He slung his arm around my waist, pulling me into a side hug, a telling smirk playing on his lips. “I’ll gladly wake up for you.”

•••

I wasn’t quite sure how we ended up in Oli’s suite - a suite! Motherfucker had a suite all to himself! - playing questionable drinking games (Truth or dare? Never have I ever? 21 questions? Honestly, it was hard to tell at this point) way past midnight and maybe it was because I was a little intoxicated - not drunk, I was still aware I had a bus ride in just a few hours - but I was tipsy enough not to question it just yet.

The evening had gone something like this: Oli had, in fact, organised two bottles of wine and exclusive seats for us during the show. Lia was blown away by Bad Omens and the way Noah sang and how she couldn’t blame me at all for crushing on him. Then, Lia followed it up by being blown away by Bring Me The Horizon and their production and the Oli’s stage presence and the fact that I had somehow not banged him yet. Especially when he effectively climbed his videographer. Didn't help with the thoughts in my head either. Both of those bottles were killed by the time the show was over.

We had briefly ventured out to Lia’s favourite bar for a few shots, but had quickly realised that talking about Oli and Noah in a crowded place full of people who had just left the very concert they had performed at, wasn’t the wisest decision. So, with some more alcohol in tow, Lia had stolen my phone and texted the two men and somehow, somehow convinced them to join us for a little afterparty. Now all of us were feeling the buzz and going along with Lia’s questionable ideas.

“Worst place you’ve ever vomited?”

“Just about every single time it happened on stage, and love, it happened,” Oli laughed. Those had been the bad times. I didn’t miss them at all. I’d trade them for this version of Oli, happy, healthy, optimistic, flirty, bloody gorgeous any day.

“Alright. No need to get into that. Noah, empty your wallet and show everyone what’s inside.”

Noah didn’t hesitate, grabbing the item from the back pocket of his trousers and emptying its contents. There wasn’t too much interesting stuff in there - ID, a credit card, some loose change in more than one currency. Lia grabbed onto the condom wrappers immediately. Three of them.

“Ultra thin, extra lube, ribbed,” she read aloud. “Damn, someone knows how to treat their partners.”

Noah blushed a little under the redness that the alcohol had already flushed his cheeks with. I was pretty sure I did the same, my mind running away with thoughts. This was good. He quickly gathered them up again and stowed them away but I didn’t think he missed the way Oli raised his eyebrows at him. Surprise enough that he didn’t say anything.

“Aubrey, who would you like to kiss in this room?”

“Who wouldn’t I like to kiss!” I giggled, taking another sip of wine, even though it was starting to get to my head. Obviously.

“Well, me, hopefully, or you’ll have to deal with my wife,” Lia laughed, holding up the wedding ring on her finger. “Anyway. What caused your last relationship to break down?”

She didn’t aim the question at anyone in particular, but Noah, sweet, closed-off Noah, suddenly had an intense urge to answer.

“What didn't,” he groaned, throwing his had back and cradling the bottle in his hands. “Touring, the distance, the groupies that don’t exist, the missed phone calls, the not being enough.” He threw his hands in the air in defeat. I thought it was the most he had revealed about himself, like, ever. “And here comes the kicker. I was talking about proposing to her with the guys and looking up rings the very morning of the day she broke up with me.”

Silence engulfed us. A comment from Folio, just a few days ago, and Noah’s very unamused answer was whirling in my head, but I was too intoxicated to make perfect sense of it right now. I just knew there was a connection.

I didn’t know if telling him I was sorry would cut it. Bit of a big deal, really, finding someone to marry who drops you like that. What do you say to that? Luckily, good old Oli jumped in pretty much immediately.

“Emotionally unavailable and obsessed with myself,” he said. “Pretty sure that’s a direct quote, too. Probably not too wrong about it either.”

Apparently we were sharing break-up stories now. My turn, I decided.

“Told her that, very theoretically, mind, I would be open to polyarmory. Because, you know, I definitely think you can be in love with more than one person. And if everyone’s happy, I’m sure there’s something great about relationships that aren’t just two people. Well,” I mused, throwing back another sip of wine to keep myself going, spilling a little on my top, “all she heard was ‘this is an open relationship without any rules now’ and went and banged someone else the next day.”

The three of us looked each other, throwing pitiful looks around, realising we were all pretty fucked up in our own ways, and suddenly broke out laughing. It almost took my breath away, the intensity of the relief of sharing these little things with people so dear to me, letting them understand me a little better, understanding them a little better in return and oh god more wine on me. These jeans would have to go straight into the washing.

“Enough tearjerker stories,” Lia announced, but there was no malice in her words. “Let’s get back to the fun questions! Worst sex experience! Oli, please, I want to hear yours.”

“Alright, first one that comes to mind right now, couple of years ago, right, I hook up with this girl, all fun and games, but it’s very fucking tame, you know? And out of nowhere she just fucking chokes me. I’m not saying I don’t like it, but that proper came out of fucking nowhere. Like. Normally, you’d ease up to it, if you hadn’t talked about it.”

Suddenly, Oli seemed to be sitting much closer to Noah than before. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination. Or the light.

“You’d have your hands on them somewhere,” Oli explained, drawing out his words, as his hand landed on Noah’s chest. He was caught off guard for a moment, but silently allowed the moment to play out. “Slowly move them up, see if they enjoy it.” 

Oli followed through. Noah was definitely enjoying it. I was transfixed on the display in front of me.

 “Get a little skin-on-skin contact.”

His fingers were tracing the line where Noah’s shirt ended, just letting his fingertips play with the hem a little. I’d never seen Oli so gentle, but it was doing things to my body. Noah’s breathing was speeding up now, chest heaving, unable to keep it hidden. I couldn’t blame him at all.

“See how they react to your hand being closer to their throat.”

Oli’s hand moved higher, carefully stroking the skin at Noah’s neck. Noah swallowed, hard, his eyelids fluttering shut. It was as if he was loosing all control over his bodily reactions. It was intoxicating to watch.

“And maybe, you know, if they don’t move away or move your hand, you can give it a try.”

And Oli did. Wrapping his hand around Noah’s throat and squeezing a little. Just the slightest bit. Just the possibility of more. And Noah moaned.

“And that’s my cue to get myself on an uber home!” Lia declared loudly, standing up and just about catching the wine bottle that had been in her lap before it toppled over onto the carpet. She was swaying a little, quite obviously the most drunk out of the four of us and I quickly made the executive decision to accompany her downstairs and wait with her. Oli gave me a nod, a satisfied smirk on his face. Noah didn’t look at me at all, but he seemed to be questioning all his life choices.

“Girl! What’s going on between the two of them? I knew you were developing… something with both of them, you didn’t tell me about the two of them with each other!”

I awkwardly fumbled with Oli’s room key as we descended on the lift. “I don’t think they know either.”

“But, do you mind?”

I looked at her, thoughtful for a moment, almost missing the time frame to leave the lift as it arrived in the lobby. Did I mind?

“No,” I answered, without giving it any further thought, just knowing. “No, I really don’t.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” Lia giggled, giving me a hug so enthusiastically it almost toppled us over. “Now go, go and get them together and then get them both for yourself.”

•••

I didn’t knock when I used the key card to get back into Oli’s room. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that I was going to be back - not only had I actively snatched the card from the desk but I had also left all my stuff in there. Still, none of us had seen the situation coming, apparently.

The first thing I saw when I entered the room was that neither Oli nor Noah were still sitting on the couch. The second thing I saw was that Oli had pressed Noah against the wall instead.

They didn’t notice me immediately, too caught up in their own world as Oli frantically pressed his lips to Noah’s. Entangled as if they simply couldn’t get close enough, one of Oli’s hands was in Noah’s hair, keeping him in place, keeping him complacent, the other running up the outside of his thigh, as Noah was pawing at Oli’s back, as if not sure what his hands were looking for, but trying all the same. My heart fluttered with… love? The door falling shut behind me caught their attention.

They didn’t jump apart. In fact, their hands were still exactly where they had left them. But both of them had turned their heads so fast it looked painful.

“Don’t stop on my account,” I grinned. “I’m very much enjoying this.”

Noah was visibly shaken up and out of breath and I wondered if that was what happened to people who got to kiss Oli Sykes, but Oli himself was in the best of moods.

“See, I heard that you went and kissed our Noah here,” he explained, slowly detaching himself from him. Noah’s body almost followed on its own account, seemingly not having enough of the other man just yet. “And I got really, really jealous. But now I’m realising that means he got to kiss you, too.”

“There’s really no need to be jealous, at all,” I replied, letting him come closer and closer, just to push him back onto the couch. Straddling his lap, my thighs on either side of his, was a logical conclusion. “You can kiss me anytime.”

There was a hint of hesitation. Something familiar in his eyes, something like home. A decade-long friendship that was begging to be ruined. I knew he saw the same in me. We’d done things with each other, things to each other, that went beyond any regular friendship. But this moment, this temptation of finally getting his mouth on mine, a kiss, felt like it weighed so much more heavily on both of us.

His hands landed on my thighs, moving up to the small of my back, giving me security and safety and all rationality be damned, I leaned down and allowed my lips to touch his.

A shockwave travelled through every inch of my being, then the tension evaporated, as if this was where I'd always meant to be. Oli was soft and pliant under me, a stark contrast to how he usually presented himself, to how he usually behaved around me even, but I indulged in the feeling, grabbing onto his arms to make them wrap around me, letting him hold me close, tightly. I couldn't stop my own hands from tracing along his torso, his neck, his face, silently mapping his body in a way I had never been allowed to before. When his tongue licked against my lips, I let him in.

The kiss became more frantic as I lost all self-control. Years and years of unfulfilled desires poured into us as I pressed myself into him. Oli tasted sweet, so much sweeter than expected, even with the beer still lingering. I could feel myself falling, deeper and deeper, like a feral animal willingly setting foot into a trap, the temptation of the bait calling too loudly to ignore.

I noticed the couch dip before my brain realised Noah was next to us. Then his hand was at the back of my head, gripping my hair and pulling me off Oli. Instantly, he had me turned toward him, Oli’s hands still on me, my body still on his lap, but now my lips were crashing into Noah’s. It was electrifying, his frantic kiss, how his lust must have built as he watched us. Oli’s mouth now at my neck, licking along my tendon, finishing it off with a soft bite.

Noah swallowed my moans easily, still holding me in place, still roughly moving my head to his own wishes. Oli was grinding up into me, his hard dick against my core making me squirm even through the layers, thoughts of what it had looked like, what he had looked like overwhelming my mind. When Noah let go of me it felt so sudden that I almost lost my balance, hands trying to find the couch table behind me as a way to steady myself. The dull noise of a bottle hitting the carpeted floor had all three of us halt in our movements.

The wine ended up on the carpet after all, like a bad metaphor for whatever the three of us had just started and might be unable to stop.

I got up from Oli’s lap, Noah also standing up as if he suddenly didn’t know where he was supposed to be anymore. The awkwardness in the room was tangible, the lines we had just crossed almost becoming visible in my mind as my tipsy brain struggled to make sense of the consequences.

When Noah and I announced our separate departures, Oli didn’t say a word, still staring at the dark red colour seeping into the plush beneath his feet. Both of us went in opposite directions in the hallway. I didn’t know if that was supposed to be a metaphor too.

[toshisurtsdottir]

Rape and Retribution - Chapter 1

Yesterday, I asked if you'd like to read my Turpin fanfic. I decided that I'd upload it, see how it goes and if it goes well I'll keep posting it :) Technically, it's finished BUT there are a lot of scenes in between that are missing which I might add - we'll see. OH AND: It's kinda fluffy?? But also pretty dark. Idk. Find out I guess haha WARNINGS (for the entire fanfic): mentions of rape, rape, mentions of violent torture, violence, death, murder, NSFW ... and many more

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Summary: Toshi Vernier has a plan for her future. To gain her freedom, she has to get in contact with the ruthless Judge Turpin. He has other plans for her.

On the bustling streets of London, a thief could easily walk past dozens of people unnoticed by any of them. Today, Toshi had no intention of stealing, however. She had something else in mind entirely, something that was part one of her big path to freedom. The young woman was dressed up in men’s clothes: grey pants, an off-white blouse and a grey vest. Her long, white hair was hidden beneath a hat that had seen better days, but it served its purpose. From afar, one might say that she was just a small man going about his business. A bit shady looking perhaps, but that was the usual.

She was stalking around the courthouse, waiting patiently for Judge Turpin to emerge. She knew he would sooner than later. She had studied his behaviour for a few days now, finding out his schedule. Right on time, the heavy doors swung open and two men emerged. The tall judge, wearing a long coat that would make anyone else who wore it seem small. It seemed to be working the opposite on him, it just made him taller. Next to him, the Beadle. Beadle Bamford was a small man, rattish and always on the judge’s heels. Toshi eyed the Beadle angrily. He was one of the men who had, once or twice, taken her father’s offer to use Toshi’s body for their own pleasure. Toshi didn’t remember how often he had had her, she usually erased these encounters from her memory. But she knew he had taken her at least once. As she stared at him, her jaw and fists clenched, she failed to notice that the Beadle had bid the judge goodbye and was now headed the opposite direction. She almost wasted her chance as Turpin made his way down the main street, nearly getting swallowed in the crowd. Toshi snapped out of it and shook her head, snaking her way through the masses of people until she could almost reach him. She would follow him until he was in a more secluded place, then she would talk to him. She had trouble keeping up with the man. People got out of his way (he was a person of power after all) but they kept getting in Toshi’s. Finally, after a few minutes of her struggling to keep up, Turpin turned into a less frequented street. This was her chance.

“Judge Turpin! My Lord!” She called out, quickly jogging up to him. Clearly irritated, he turned around, his eyes instantly fixed on her figure. His nose scrunched up in disgust and he was about to turn and walk off when Toshi spoke a second time. “Please Sir, hear me out! I have important news you must know, my Lord!” She wasn’t one to address people by their titles, or show any kind of manners, but she needed to in this situation. She knew about Turpin that he saw everyone else beneath him and wanted them to treat him accordingly. “Spit it out, boy.” He hissed, albeit he didn’t stop walking or slowed down. Toshi was already out of breath, keeping up with him and speaking at the same time was a hard task to do. “My Lord, your life might be in danger! I came to –“ she stumbled over a small rock “- to warn you!”

Turpin then stopped dead in his tracks, causing Toshi to almost smack into him. He turned around, slowly, his eyes wandering from her face down to her chest (where they seemed to linger for a while), then down to her feet and finally flicked back up to her face. “And what, may I ask, makes you think so? The scum that inhabits these streets usually wants me dead. These are not news. You are wasting my time, child.” He hissed in a low tone, his jaw clenched. “Please, Sir. I am referring to a man known as Sweeney Todd. You see, my Lord, he is not who he seems. Or so they say.” She fumbled with the buttons on her vest nervously. She wasn’t one to get nervous in front of men. Her usual feeling towards them was rage. But he was dangerous, truly dangerous. And she was playing an even more dangerous game right now. “Todd?” He tilted his head, waiting for her to go into detail. Toshi didn’t want to let him wait.

“Yes, Sir. I’ve heard people say his true name is Benjamin Barker. Lost his wife and daughter… say he’s out to get revenge, my Lord.”

The last month, ever since getting that information, she had done a lot of research on Barker and Turpin. She knew that Turpin was responsible for Barker’s ruined life. She needed to get on the Judge’s good side (a vital bit of her freedom plan) and since she had no money to bribe him (unlike others), she hoped vital information would suffice.

Turpin’s eyes remained fixed on hers, a tired expression on his face. If this news worried him, he certainly didn’t let it show. “Benjamin Barker you say?” He raised an eyebrow, his voice a long drawl.. Toshi only nodded in response, hoping that he would like the information she had just given him. “He is supposedly back in his old home currently, in Fleet Street, working as a barber as he did before.” And after a pause: “My Lord.” Something then changed in Turpin’s expression. It seemed to be a mixture of worry, anger and something that Toshi couldn’t quite put her finger on. “Who are you?” He frowned, his eyes flicking down to her chest again.

“My name is Toshi Vernier, Sir.” Clearly, her name didn’t give him more insight on her gender, as his eyes kept flicking from her face to her chest. “I’m dressed as a man, so you’d listen to me, my Lord.” She quickly added. His expression softened as soon as he heard her say that. The fact she was female somehow changed his demeanour. “I see.” A long pause followed as he once more eyed her as if to confirm what she had just said. “I assume, given your disguise and secretive manner, that you want something in return for this information.” He sighed. Toshi wondered if he was used to this kind of exchange. She could imagine that most people would approach him to gain his favour. She wondered how many people actually got it.“I might, my Lord. If this information saves your life, I would like you to remember that I was the one to give it to you.” She nodded, taking off her hat, looking up at him hopefully.

Turpin walked closer to her, causing her to back up a little. Before she could get too far away, however, he grabbed her by the collar and roughly pulled her closer to him, his face only inches away from hers.

“If I find out that you’ve lied to me, that you’re somehow involved in this, I will make sure you’ll rot in a cell for the rest of your unworthy life.” He hissed, shook her and then pushed her away from him. She stumbled back into a nearby wall. He smirked, satisfied by his action, and turned around to leave.

Toshi’s heart was beating out of her chest as she watched him leave. This had gone exceptionally well in her mind.

[betweenthings2]

talk shop tuesday!!

how’s your day been? are you working now that it’s summertime?

the first chapter of loads of crisps was so cute omg it was some much needed tenderness and fluff. (not to say i don’t love your angst and sadness) i related too hard to matty immediately wanting to adopt the kitten not thinking about the actual responsibilities that come with it lol. is this fic gonna have an upload schedule or are you gonna continue to surprise us? also did you write/come up with this fic as its own universe or is it kinda like standalone/oneshot situation put into chapters? going with that, do you see your fics (besides the big light bc we already know it’s its own universe) as their own little universes or completely independent entities? like are george and matty from the other one shots completely different “characters”?

🥤

Hi, Smoothie Anon(? Are you Smoothie Anon here? I'm going with it.)!! Thank you for the ask!! 💚💚

My day has been good--I has some orientation Zoom meetings for school, and I've been working on packing to move. I technically have a job, but I won't start actually working until wheat harvest starts here, and it's been cool and rainy here so harvest will be a little later than usual. I'm not at all upset about that--I love being a functionally unemployed freeloader =)

Thank you for the complaints about Loads of Crisps! Fictional!Matty's heart is in the right place, but he's just not really thinking things through here. At least he has fictional!George to remind him of things.

There is no update schedule as of now. It will get updated as the vibes dictate. The next chapter will be Or Something Worse, and I haven't decided if it will be fictional!George breaking his shoulder, or if I need to come up with something worse. It's my writer's block project right now, kind of like prompts often are, and my priority is Antichrist right now. I'm sure the next chapter will be done sooner rather than later, though.

Every chapter of Loads of Crisps is part of the same little universe--it's going to be a nonlinear narrative but they're all interconnected--I have a general premise for almost every chapter so I can reference future chapters as I go. Have I given this too much thought? Maybe, but the nonlinear nature is mostly because I didn't want to do the work to make it work in a linear way. The not-so-secret secret is that I'm lazy.

Excluding all of my The Big Light fics and Learning How to Lose a Thing I Never Laid a Hand On and Five, I do see all of my fics as being their own little universes. The things that are true for fictional!M+G in one are not necessarily true for others. I think it's easy to find continuity between some of my fics and I'm certainly not saying that it's somehow wrong to view certain fics as existing in the same universe, but I am, again, lazy, and want to preserve a kind of creative freedom in writing so every version of fictional!M+G are different characters in my head.

Thank you for the ask and I hope you've had/are having a wonderful day! =)

[onepoly]

The 25th Year | Week 6 | Change

Yeah, yeah, I’m technically two days late. Shut up.

This week hasn’t gone the way I thought it would. Don’t worry, nothing bad happened, I just decided to change my plans a bit.

First of all, I’m separating most of the core systems (terrain, world streaming, etc.) from the project and moving them into a Godot plugin. I’m doing this for two main reasons.

1: To make mod development easier.

2: To make development of my side project easier.

Oh yeah–I’ve got a side project now! And it’s also an open-world RPG. Yup–that’s right! TWO! I’m working on TWO open-world RPGs–by myself!

You’re probably wondering if I’m insane, and the answer is probably yes–but hear me out.

It all started when I was playing Daggerfall. On a whim, I decided to manually ride my horse to my destination, rather than use the fast travel system. On the way, I started wondering what this game would be like if it was made today, with modern technology and design sensibilities. Ideas started forming, and by the time I reached the next town, I had mentally written around half of a design document for a new game.

Its name is Endrizen, and I’m hoping to release it much sooner than I could ever hope to for The 25th Year.

Its world will be large–but not nearly as large as Daggerfall’s insane 62,000 square miles. Graphically it’ll be simple. Low poly models, basic animations, and low resolution textures whenever necessary. It’s going to use a lot of the same basic systems (terrain, open world, RPG systems) as The 25th Year, so I can share a lot of code between the two projects.

Like Daggerfall, I’ll use procedural generation to create most of the landscape, as well as the towns and dungeons. Unlike Daggerfall, I’ll be using this proc-gen world as a base to build off of. For example; towns and villages will contain hand-crafted quests and NPCs, as well as proc-gen ones.

You’re probably wondering why I’m doing this. Why start a second game? There are three reasons:

1. I want to.

2. If I work on one project for too long I start to burn out.

3. I don’t have a job.

That last one’s the most important one. Currently, I’m living at home with my mom. I’d obviously like to change this.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not expecting Endrizen to be a smash hit or anything–but I’m hoping I’ll be able to make a bit of money off it. Probably not enough to afford an apartment (especially not in this economy), but hopefully I’ll be able to help out with the bills some.

Unlike The 25th Year, I’m comfortable with releasing Endrizen in early access. As soon as I have enough for a 0.1, beta 1–or whatever I end up calling it–I’ll release it. No idea how much it’ll cost. I’m thinking somewhere between $10-$15.

I initially considered making two separate blog posts for each game, but I don’t think there will be enough to warrant that. Besides, I can barely put out one on time, there’s no way I’d be able to handle writing two blogs a week.

Instead, each post will talk about T25Y first, then Endrizen. Since I’ll now be covering two games in one post, the way I title future posts will be changing. Rather than something like “The 25th Year | Week 50 | Big fuckin pig” it’ll be more like “Big fuckin pig | A really cool rat”

I’ve also decided to create a proper schedule for myself, because I’m currently very sporadic with what I’m working on, and when I’m doing it. Some days, I don’t get much done. Others, I do a lot, but only after midnight. This needs to change.

And that’s about it. Most of this week was spent doing design work on Endrizen and separating my code out into that plugin I mentioned at the start of this blog. It’s called Enria, by the way.

I did get some proper work done, though. I can now save and load cells, I have a basic version of origin shifting working, and I’ve started upgrading the terrain shader to support actual textures–rather than just simple colors.

Sorry for this weird, somewhat rambly post. It’s currently 1:46 AM, and a big fucking moth keeps harassing me.

See you next time!

[miekasa]

the babysitter’s club (1)

+ pairing: levi ackerman + (fem) reader, featuring bright-eyed but very easily intimidated interns and part-time babysitters eren and armin who are trying their best

+ genres and warnings: modern au, parents au, fluff, yes the dog’s name is captain and he’s tiny what about it

+ summary: eren and armin are good subordinates, who happen to be pretty good babysitter, too. usually. 

+ word count: 2.7k

+ notes: this was just something fun i edited and reworked again, also to provide some more insight about dad levi and my oc kids; this focuses only on holden, who is the oldest of the bunch, but you’ll more about the rest as they go

It’s not that Levi doesn’t trust Holden’s babysitters, he just would rather watch over her himself. Moreover, he would rather have the time to spend with his small daughter instead of having to leave her in the care of someone else who isn’t you, but sometimes life gets busy, and babysitters come in real handy.

He still doesn’t understand why Erwin would schedule the both of you to attend such important work-related meetings on the same weekend; much less, to send you half-way around the world for yours, and then book Levi for damn near twelve hours on a Saturday. He would murder Erwin if he weren’t his direct boss, and a long-time friend. But shit happens, and while it’s a major inconvenience and pain in his ass to be working on a weekend, it’s good to know he could rely on the brats at the office to step up on such short notice.

“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that if anything happens, I won’t hesitate to dismember you,” Levi says calmly, closing his briefcase after triple-checking its contents.

“Of course,” Armin stiffens visibly, awkward laughter seeping through his words, “Eren and I would never let anything happen to Holden.”

To his left, Holden has already tugged Eren to the coffee table for a game of children’s Scrabble, determined to show off her new skills. Levi smiles slightly as he remembers playing the game with her last week, and how awe-struck she was to have seen Levi create a word bigger than “unattainable”—which is currently the longest word in her four-year-old vocabulary. But he’s certain she would have no trouble beating Eren.

He gives Armin a slight nod. He knows Holden is in good hands; or good enough hands with Armin, anyway. It’s not the first time the duo has babysat, and for as air-headed and clumsy Eren could be at the office, he seemed to be pretty damn good with kids if Holden’s attachment to the brunette was anything to go by.

Levi recounts that you’ve questioned on multiple occasions why Eren was so dedicated to being your PA when he seemed to have a potential career in taking care of, and maybe even teaching children. Not that he’s not a good assistant to you, but he’s certainly not as organized or detailed-oriented as Armin. Levi shrugs away the thought. Eren’s career choices are none of his business; his only concern is that he keeps his daughter safe and sound.

“Right. My card is on the kitchen island, you can buy lunch and dinner or whatever, I don’t think there’s much in the fridge,” Levi informs Armin. He looks briefly to the clock on the wall; he really should get going. “Remember to walk Captain at some point, and no matter what Holden says, he absolutely does need a leash on him. If Erwin isn’t being a complete asshat, I’ll be home by nine. (Y/N) will probably still be on her flight, so call me if you need anything.”

Armin nods enthusiastically, promising Levi that they would take care of everything. They’d better.

“Alright, I’m heading out,” Levi announces, pulling his keys from the table near the door, “Be good, Holden. Tell Armin and Eren if you need anything.”

Holden’s head perks up at the sound of her name. Elegantly, or as elegantly as a four-year-old can be, she stands from her seated crisscross position, to run over to Levi by the door. He should remind her that she should use walking feet inside the house, but he can’t bring himself to, instead crouching down to meet her height.

“Bye, daddy,” she tells him sweetly. Levi reaches a hand out to ruffle the top of her head, much to the small girl’s chagrin. She sports a grimace almost identical to his as he reaches up to try and smooth out the aftermath of her father’s affections, “Daddy!”

Levi can’t help but chuckle, reaching two fingers out to poke at his daughter’s forehead. “Be good. I’ll be back soon.”

“Mommy too?”

Levi sighs, “No, mommy doesn’t come back until Tuesday.”

“That’s four days away,” Holden’s doesn’t hesitate to express her dissatisfaction. Levi nods, a little proud of how quickly she’d calculated that in her head, “Can Eren stay until Tuesday?”

“No, Eren cannot.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Holden crinkles her nose. Levi really has got to do something about her fascination with Eren.

Holden looks backwards to where Eren is still seated around the coffee table, he and Armin watching the father-daughter duo. After reconciling with the fact that Eren does, in fact, have his own home to go back to at the end of the day, Holden turns back around, and holds her hand up, palm facing Levi. He does the same, bringing his larger palm to hers, so that her hand is pushed against the middle of his.

Not one for hugs, kisses, or larger displays of affection, Holden simply turns her palm so that her hand grabs around Levi’s as best as possible, hooking her thumb around his pinky finger—what Levi’s heard the young girl call a hand hug.

“Bye, daddy,” she repeats, squeezing his hand, “Come back soon.”

Levi bends his fingers to wrap around her hand, “I will.”

“Keep an eye on her,” Levi reminds Armin and Eren, after standing back up and gripping his briefcase in his hand, “Don’t cause too much trouble.”

“Holden never causes trouble,” Eren says in response, but his words are spoken in coos to the young girl, who’s already back at his side. 

Levi scoffs, “I was talking to you.” 

“We’ll be fine, boss, don’t worry,” Eren chuckles with an awkward blush, “We love looking after Holden.”

“I’m not your boss,” Levi deadpans, double-checking his pockets for his keys, “You’d better hope everything is fine. Call me if anything happens, I’ll be back soon.” 

With one final round of good-byes, and a wave from his daughter, Levi’s out the door, and stepping into his car with a grimace. It was just one stupid day out of his life. Besides, Holden would be fine with Armin and Eren; she always is. Levi is just grumpy that he can’t be the one to spend the day with her. 

He sighs, reluctantly, putting his keys in the ignition. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could come back to Holden. Everything would be fine in the meantime; for now, he had to focus on how he was going to get himself to sit through Erwin’s long-ass meeting. 

“Levi! Hi! Um… okay, so don’t freak out, but Armin and I are at the hospital with Holden right now—don’t freak out—because there was a small incident at lunch—don’t freak out and fire me please—but! It’s all gonna be okay, they’re already treating her and she’s doing fine now, so don’t freak—”  

“Tell me not to freak out one more fucking time and I’ll castrate Armin and feed you his balls myself.”

“You sound a little freaked out,” Eren placates, wincing and holding his phone away from his ear when Levi growls in response.

“You have five seconds to tell me what you two idiots did to my daughter and explain why I shouldn’t decapitate you immediately.”

“It’s a funny story, actually—so, um, we think Holden might be allergic to nuts…?”

“What do you mean might be, Jaeger?”

Eren can feel his heart in his throat. He eyes Armin on the other side of Holden’s hospital bed. He looks no better—color almost completely drained from his face, but Eren doesn’t think he can say much else to his boss before his knees give out from underneath him.

“Uh, well, it was a lot of technical terms, and—I—um, actually I’m going to let Armin explain!” Eren hurries, all but chucking his phone at the unsuspecting blonde.

Armin’s blue eyes look almost grey with anxiety, but before he can protest, Eren is flailing his hands and pointing fingers and reminding him that Levi will kill them both if he doesn’t start talking.

Reluctant, and terrified, Armin finally lifts the phone to his ear, stuttering out a pathetic hello, but Levi cuts him off before he can say anything else.

“Save it. Send me your location, and pray I don’t kill you when I get there.” Armin chokes out a “yes, sir,” before slowly bringing the phone down to his side.

The good news is that Holden’s allergic reaction wasn’t too severe: her throat had been irritated, and hives had emerged as a result, but it hadn’t been closing up. And luckily, Eren had the endurance to run nearly a mile and half with a four year old tucked under his arm; because with the traffic Armin observed whilst he and Captain huffed and lagged behind, it would have taken thrice as long to get Holden to the ER had they waited and called for an ambulance.

Even better was that Holden was an unnervingly calm kid, even whilst having an allergic reaction. She looked almost back to normal now, save for a few red looking blotches on her neck and upper arm; and seemed more than content to be watching a video on Eren’s phone, despite the situation. She was a little bummed out to find out that she could never eat the new ice cream she liked so much ever again, but she seemed to quickly get over it once Eren reminded her that there were lots of other flavors out there for her to try. Flavors that wouldn’t make her choke to death.

Still, Eren and Armin could probably kiss their jobs goodbye, seeing as they had nearly just poisoned their bosses’ daughter. Holden seemed to like them enough, but, unfortunately, Holden wasn’t the Ackerman who signed their checks.

At the very least, Eren doesn’t think you’ll be too upset with him. He doesn’t think you’ll be ecstatic to hear that while you were away on your already inconvenient work-trip on the other side of the globe, that he also managed to land your daughter in a hospital bed… but you were the more forgiving one. Then again, maybe not so forgiving when it comes to the health and wellbeing of your daughter. 

Eren falls back against the wall in dread. You weren’t even in the same country as him and he was worried about what you might say or do to him. Levi was probably less than twenty minutes away and fully capable of beheading him.

“You… uh, you think the Interior Branch is still looking for interns?” Eren breaks the silence, looking towards Armin, who’s taken the seat next to Holden’s bed, petting Captain robotically as the dog sits in his lap.

“I don’t think it matters,” Armin responds, “They won’t hire corpses.”

Fifteen minutes, and several run red lights later, Levi is bursting through the doors to the pediatric wing of the emergency room. He doesn’t care about the old woman at the reception yelling at him for causing a ruckus, or the other parents, doctors, or visitors eyeing him for marching around like he owned the place. Holden was in there somewhere, and he was going to get to her.

“Holden—oh, god, Holden,” Levi coos, frantic, as he marches into Holden’s room, scurrying to the side of her hospital bed. A cold hand reaches up to stroke her face. Angry, red bumps litter the sides of neck, her cheeks are puffier than usual, and the perimeter of her mouth seems a bit irritated, but Levi is relieved. She’s okay, his baby girl is okay.

“’M fine, daddy,” Holden assures him. She’s almost overly-perceptive for her age, able to pick up on her father’s out of character antics, and does her best to console him. “Eren ran with me all the way here when I started coughing and itchin.’”

Levi nods, the dark grey splotches in Holden’s eyes bringing him comfort, ensuring him that she was okay. “They gave me a shot, and I don’t like needles, but I didn’t even cry at all. Ask, Armin and Eren, they saw! Captain, too.”

“Brave girl,” Levi smiles, reaching his hand up to push her hair out of her face then leans over to press a kiss to her forehead.

Levi had almost forgotten that Eren and Armin were in the room until he hears a blundering cough from behind him. The younger boys look petrified, Eren practically shaking in his shoes, while Armin doesn’t even have the confidence to look him in the eye.

“We’re really sorry, Levi,” Eren apologizes, voice scratchy and wobbly, like he’d been the one to just get a shot, “We didn’t know—and when she started coughing and saying she couldn’t breathe, I swear, I ran here as fast as I could—”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s… fine?”

Levi sighs. Maybe he’d been a little harsh with them on the phone, letting his emotions get the best of him. He’d already been pissed off enough to not have the time to spend with Holden this weekend; hearing that she’d been hurt was just the final push over the edge for him, but it wasn’t necessarily Armin or Eren’s fault.

“I didn’t know either,” Levi exhales, reaching at hand out to pet the top of Holden’s head again, the young girl now distracted once again by the phone in her hand, “She’s never had a reaction to anything before, and neither (Y/N) or I have any strong allergies.”

Armin shuffles where he’s standing. “The doctor said she might be allergic to tree nuts. We, uh, we gave her pistachio ice cream after lunch.”

If there’s anything concerning Levi, it’s that they gave Holden ice cream before dinner, but he supposes he can let it go for now.

“Eren told me to try it, and it tasted good, daddy,” Holden interjects, “Before I started coughing, it was good.”

“Ah, well, you can’t—you shouldn’t eat things that make you feel sick!” Eren stutters loudly.

“But it was good,” Holden pouts, “And you said to try new things, Eri. I won’t know if it makes me sick if I don’t try them.”

Levi holds back his laughter. He knows that Holden definitely wouldn’t want to try the same same flavor again knowing now that she was allergic to it; she was just pulling at Eren’s leg. Levi would have to keep an eye out for the stuff anyway, especially if her oh-so-precious Eren has expressed any former love for it. 

“Um, Levi, sir,” Armin calls, pulling Levi’s attention towards the blonde, “We didn’t know if (Y/N) would have landed already, but do you think you should call her, to, um, let her know?”

Levi’s face pales three shades when he realizes that none of them had already informed you that your daughter was currently hospitalized with a new found allergy.

“You can call her,” Levi says, a shudder in his spine at the thought of relaying this information to you, “That’s your death sentence, not mine.”

[mochegato]

Even the Losers

Chapter 11

Chapter 1     Chapter 10

“What do you mean he knew?” Dick asked, taking a seat in the chair across from Bruce.  He looked around for Alfred to make sure he wasn’t going to lecture them for talking about bat business in the manor when Bruce’s newest daughter could walk in on them at any moment.

Dick scrunched his face in thought.  That wasn’t right was it?  She wasn’t his newest daughter.  She was his oldest child.  Well, not oldest.  He was the oldest.  But she was the one he had the longest.  He had her before he took in Dick.  He’d given her up and then taken Dick in soon after and honestly Dick wasn’t sure how to reconcile that.  He was eternally grateful that Bruce had taken him in and helped him, dealt with his rebellions and helped him focus his anger.  But if he’d had such patience for him, why not his own daughter?

Dick was forced off of his thought process by Bruce, bringing them back to the topic at hand.  “He knew we were going there somehow.  He just thought it was earlier than we had planned.”  Bruce sighed and ran his hands through his hair.  “He was wandering through the museum looking for us, or more specifically, her.”

Tim stared at the coffee table in front of him trying to work out how the Penguin could have known.  “Did you talk about it?  Somewhere that could have been bugged?”

Bruce shook his head.  “I didn’t really have time to.  It was all last minute.  But I don’t know about Marinette.”

“When did you plan it? Was it in your schedule?” Tim pressed.  “Because if there is a leak at WE with high enough permissions to have access to your calendar, that is a big problem.”  His eyes widened immediately.  “Not that a rogue going after Marinette isn’t!  It’s just another problem.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t say anything about it.  “Dinner…” he sighed deeply in realization.   “The waitress. Right.  We’ll have to talk to her tomorrow.”

“You think she sold information?” Duke asked.

“Or she told someone who sold it, or someone overheard her gossiping, or…” Damian listed off in a condescending tone.  

“Are you going to warn Marinette?” Duke interrupted, his brow furrowing in concern.  They should have anticipated this.  They’d taken precautions for him after the official announcement of his new status, but they hadn’t moved to protect her yet.

Bruce nodded.  “I’ll talk to her about expectations of being my daughter.  So far, this is fairly expected.  I don’t want to send her into a panic, but she should know the dangers she’s going to have to face now.”  He sighed guiltily and pinched the bridge of his nose.  This was exactly what he had been trying to protect her from all those years ago.  And the idea that one of the rogues might have taken his child to get back at him, a baby who had no chance of protecting herself, still haunted him.

Cass frowned at him.  “Not safe,” she chastised.

“I’m not saying we don’t protect her too.  I think it would be a good idea to make sure we can keep an eye on her and be able to track her so we know if she’s been taken or involved in a rogue attack.  I’ll talk to her about safety precautions, so she isn’t announcing plans where others can hear her.  She’s planning on moving into the apartment with her friends soon, so that should help at night.”

“Good,” Dick agreed.  “From what Jason said about the other day and the concierge just letting it happen, the sooner we get her out of that hotel the better.”

“What do we know about her ability to defend herself?” Tim asked.

“According to her mother, none.  She’s never had training.  Never had to defend herself,” Bruce sighed.  That was exactly the upbringing he wanted for her, to never need to defend herself.  But now, that was biting them in the ass.  Because now, she might need to be able to defend herself and couldn’t.

Damian scoffed.  “She’s weak and defenseless, is what you mean.  We’re going to have to spend our time and our energy protecting her because she isn’t capable of it.”

“She’s innocent,” Bruce corrected.  “That was the entire point of sending her away, so she could be.  And that’s supposed to be our entire job, protecting the innocent.  She is no exception.”  They all froze when the door to the sitting room cracked open.

<><><><><> 

Marinette took a calming breath.  Driving up to the manor had been impressive, entering the manor had been even more so.  The entire place was dripping with history and prestige.  All the touches looked highest class, highest quality, all well thought out and coordinated over years of design, speaking of bespoke everything. It was about as far from what Marinette grew up in as there could be.  It was somber and distant.  Sterile even in its lavish details.

And yet, it wasn’t the imposing design that had her heart racing.  She could hear voices echoing through the empty halls.  She couldn’t make out anything being said, only the variations in baritones and tenor pitches to them.

“Relax, Pixie.  They’re going to love you.  You could tell them to fuck off,” he took a quick look around when he said it before relaxing back into his motivational speech.  “And you’d still come out as someone else’s favorite too.  There’s nobody in there you need to impress.”  He patted her on the back and squeezed her shoulder.  “Just maybe stay away from Damian.  He’s a spiteful little shit.  Better than he was when he came but… just to be safe…”

He took off his jacket and motioned to hers.  “Also,” he continued as he took her jacket, “don’t say the word ‘pineapple’.”

Marinette laughed and shoved him.  “Stop messing with me.  I’m nervous enough already.”  Jason looked at her suddenly very serious.  Marinette faltered for a second before scoffing.  “Shut up.”

“I’m telling you, just don���t say it.”

She rolled her eyes.  This had to be one of the most ridiculous conversations ever.  “Okay, first, I still don’t believe you. Second, why would I?”

Jason shook his head and backed away.  “I don’t know.  It always manages to come up though.”  He pointed at her as he backed out of the room.  “Fight the temptation.  I’m going to hang these up.  They’re in that room.”  He motioned vaguely toward a room down the hall, which considering how many rooms were down the hall wasn’t actually all that helpful.  “Go ahead, they’re expecting us.”

“You’re kind of an asshole, you know that,” she called after him.

“Only kind of?  You might like me more than the rest,” he called back with a laugh.

Marinette shook her head and started down the hallway. It couldn’t be that hard to find, right. There had to be signs.  “What do you think, Tikki?” she whispered almost too quiet for anyone to hear.

“Jason’s right,” she assured Marinette just as quietly. “They’ll love you.  Just be yourself.  It’s the next door on the left.”

Marinette grinned at her and noted the light under the door.  Definitely the right door.  “Thank you,” she whispered.  “Wish me luck.”  She took another breath and bolstered herself for the next few hours.  Hopefully it would go amazingly, but even if it didn’t, she could withstand a few hours of awkward, uncomfortable conversation and looks. She survived all the Graham de Vanily parties Adrien dragged her to, she could survive this.  She nodded to herself, silently cursed Jason for abandoning her, and pushed open the door.

The room immediately quieted as Marinette walked in. Everyone turned to her as a unit, tight anxious smiles on their lips.  Marinette froze and tried to smile politely at them, but she was pretty sure it looked more frightened than polite.  The people in the room continued to stare at her almost analytically.  The intensity of the stares was unnerving and unsettling. She almost backed out of the room until she felt someone step up next to her and sling their arm over her shoulder. She looked up hesitantly but breathed out a sigh of relief when she saw Jason next to her.

“Stop being weird.  You’re creeping her out,” Jason barked at them.

Jason’s order seemed to break them out of their trance. Everyone moved at once, jumping up to welcome her or moving rapidly towards her to shake her hand, except for the youngest who frowned and crossed his arms and a woman, who must be Cass, Marinette reasoned, who just waved from her spot next to Bruce.  Marinette tensed up but didn’t back away, instead bracing herself for the onslaught.  The noise became almost overwhelming as multiple people were speaking at once and Jason shouted back, pulling Marinette away from them.

“Enough!” Bruce yelled, instantly silencing everyone in the room.  He turned to Marinette with a warm smile.  “Sorry about that.  I was hoping for a more welcoming introduction, but with this family…” he motioned to the rest of the room with a defeated sigh.  

He crossed the room to her quickly but froze when he got to her, uncertain what form of physical welcome was allowed.  A handshake seemed too formal and distant, but a hug seemed too personal for only their second meeting in twenty years, well, technically fourth, but the first two didn’t exactly count.  On the other hand, last time they did la bise, so that was more appropriate, right?  He decided to leave it to Marinette, but she didn’t seem any more certain than he did, judging by her awkward wave and quick looks to his hand and cheek.

He smiled in response.  They’d figure it out eventually, hopefully.  For now, he just needed to make sure she felt welcome.  He opened his mouth to welcome her to the manor and start introductions but got cut off by a very excited Dick.

“Oh wow, I didn’t realize how much she looks like your mother until now.”  Dick moved right in front of Marinette examining every centimeter of her face intensely.  “Her eyes look just like hers.  They could be twins.  Do you have any pictures of her when she was a baby so we can compare?”

Marinette’s face went blank as she stared back at Dick. She quirked her head to the side trying to figure out how to respond to that, or if she was even supposed to, considering despite the fact that his face was only a handful of centimeters from hers, he wasn’t talking to her.  Her quandary was answered when Jason shoved Dick away harshly.  “She has a name, Dickweed,” Jason growled.  “And she’s right the fuck in front of you, have some respect.”

“Language Master Jason,” Alfred admonished coming into the room.  “But he is correct, Master Dick.”

“Right,” Dick said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.  “Sorry, Marinette.  That was rude.  Hi, I’m Dick.”  He held his hand out for Marinette.

Marinette shook it with a smile.  “It’s okay. I’ve always wondered where I got my blue eyes from.”  She chuckled a little nervously and shrugged.  “Mystery solved, I guess.”

Bruce laid a hand on her shoulder, drawing her attention back to him.  “I can show you pictures later, if you’d like to see, or whenever you’re ready.”  He pulled his hand away and shoved it into his pocket awkwardly. “Or, at some point I, or somebody else can give you a tour of the manor and I’m sure you’ll see lots of pictures of,” he paused only a fraction of a second, uncertain how she would take the term, “your grandparents.”

Marinette swallowed almost imperceptibly, but covered with a smile. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

The pause she took to respond would be missed by most people but a room full of people trained to detect tells like that didn’t miss it.  Duke jumped up with a big smile.  “Hi,” he shot out his hand to shake hers, “I’m Duke.  It’s nice to meet you.”

Marinette smiled back at him and shook his hand.  “Hi.  It’s nice to meet you.  Sorry for ruining your introduction gala.”

Duke scoffed.  “Are you kidding me?  I hate attention.  Thank you for taking the attention off of me.”  He suddenly cringed realizing what he was saying.  “I mean… That’s not what I meant.  Sorry it had to land solely on you.  Want me to do something stupid to get the attention back?”

Marinette laughed at his attempt to cover.  For once it wasn’t her saying the wrong thing with the best intention.  “No, please don’t and don’t worry,” she waved him off with a smile, “I knew what you meant.  Not your fault.  Honestly, not as bad as it could have been.  I’ve dealt with worse.”

“You have?” Jason asked, his face scrunching in concern.

Marinette shrugged at him and turned back to Duke.  “Glad I was at least able to help a bit.”

Duke grinned at her.  “You did. You’re already more helpful than most of them,” he motioned toward the rest of the family.  “Definite contender for new favorite sibling.”  Dick let out an exaggeratedly loud offended scoff while Cass shrugged and bobbed her head in agreement.  Tim furrowed his brow and exclaimed, “Hey!”  But the corner of his lips quirking up betrayed his act.

Jason glowered at Duke and stepped between them.  “Back off!  I already claimed her.”  He turned back to Marinette.  “Now what is this about you’ve dealt with worse?  Is there someone I need to have a talk with?”

“I’m sorry for being rude,” Bruce interrupted before the conversation went down a darker path than he was hoping for this meeting.  “Welcome to the manor, Marinette.  Thank you for coming.  You’ve already met Jason, Dick, and Duke.  That is Tim,” he motioned to the teen on the couch who waved politely but awkwardly.  His eyes only flicked to hers a few times and only for a fraction of a second before flicking away, a pained look shooting through them.  

“Next to him is Damian.”  He rolled his eyes and looked away, but didn’t attack like both Roy and Jason warned her he might, so she was taking it as a win.  “Cass is there,” he motioned toward Cass, who waved again, just as kindly as the first time.  “And this is Alfred.”

Alfred stepped forward and bowed slightly to Marinette.  “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Miss Marinette.”

Marinette narrowed her eyes at him as she scrutinized his face.  “You look familiar.”

Alfred’s eyes sparkled at her recognition.  He started to say something, but whatever it was got lost when Dick interrupted.  “Wait!” He jumped in Alfred’s face.  “Is this why you took all your vacations in Paris?” he exclaimed.  His eyes widening in realization.

“It is indeed, Master Dick,” Alfred nodded.

“That’s why you look familiar!” Marinette exclaimed.  “You were a repeat customer in the patisserie.”

“I am very happy to see you back in the manor, Miss Marinette,” Alfred gave her a curt nod as a smile played on the corners of his lips.

Marinette tensed at the reminder that she may have at some point have been in the manor.  It ripped open a Pandora’s Box of questions, each one more unsettling than the last. Had she been in the manor before? Had she interacted with her f… M. Wayne when she was a baby?  Did he hold her?  Did he kiss her head?  Did he hold her for a few minutes and hand her back like she did to Jamil’s baby, feeling no more connection than she had to Remi?  Did he cuddle her to his chest and hold her close only to hand her back and walk away?  Did he feel nothing when he held her?  Did his chest feel less tight when she was no longer near him?  Did he heave a sigh of relief when he handed her back?

No. She had to stop focusing on those questions.  That was the past.  Nothing would be gained from asking those questions tonight.  He wasn’t ready to give an answer and she wasn’t ready to receive it.  He’d apologized and she’d accepted.  She would just… let the questions plague her and slowly drive her into insanity.  That was the plan.  She quickly plastered on a smile and nodded back at Alfred.  “It is good to see you again, M. Pennyworth.”

“Please, call me Alfred,” he said, his amused smile turning sympathetic seeing the change in her demeanor.  “All the children do.”

Marinette smiled back, her smile more strained than before.  Was she one of the children?  She guessed technically she was.  “Only if you call me Marinette.”

“Of course, Miss Marinette,” Alfred nodded.

Marinette raised an eyebrow but nodded back.  She understood deeply ingrained British upper class formality.  She hadn’t survived parties with Felix and Adrien for nothing.  But if he wanted to embrace the detached formality, so would she.  “Thank you, M. Pennyworth.”

Alfred raised an eyebrow but said nothing.  “Maybe we could plan for a tour of the manor and a look through photo albums at a later time.  For now, dinner is ready.”

At Alfred’s pronouncement, everyone started moving out of the room. Marinette watched them all making their way toward what must be the dining room, but didn’t move herself.  It still felt awkward to walk around the manor… again, apparently.  She didn’t move until Jason threw his arm over her shoulder and gently prodded her forward.  She gave him a small smile and threw her arm around his waist.  

She looked past him to give Tim who had also hung back a bit, a small smile. He gave her a guilty smile back and a little wave.  Marinette gave him a quizzical look, trying to figure out what he had to feel guilty about. But it looked like he didn’t want to get too close with Jason at her side.  And as much as she wanted to ask what Tim was thinking about, she was beyond grateful that Jason had taken up post at her side.  She didn’t know if she would have been able to make it through this without him.  She squeezed his waist and looked up at him with a smile.  He looked down with a questioning look that quickly turned into a smile and he squeezed back.

Chapter 12

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[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 7

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: None? I think? Please let me know if I missed something Notes: This is incredibly dialogue heavy, and I actually don't feel as confident about this chapter as some of the past ones? Hopefully y'all like it, I mean at least the ending is cute (or cheesy, depending on who you ask). PS: Not sure how many chapters there will be in total, other than at least 3 more (one of which ill, in fact, get a little h*rny again. actually, h*rnier). Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy

Chapter 7: Harmony

“We need to talk, yeah?” Daniela asked, nearly stuttering, a sort of nervous that you had never seen her exhibit before. The first thing you think is that she’s really, really cute when she doesn’t know what to do. After that you actually process what she said. Relief floods your chest, followed by warmth, and you make a mental note to thank Bela the next time you see her. In the meantime, you were unable to contain your happiness. Out of instinct you move closer to Daniela, smiling softly, quietly reaching one of your hands towards hers. There’s no hesitance in her response. Instead of taking your hand she pulls you in for a hug, opting to rest her chin against your shoulder. Admittedly you’re a little surprised, but you return the motion nonetheless. “Oh, little songbird…”

Heart racing, you softly press against Daniela, turning your head so that you could place a single, brief kiss against her exposed collarbone. For a moment the two of you just stay like that, holding each other close. When you pull away, remembering that you still hadn’t said anything, you find that Daniela is blushing from the neck up. In turn, the sight makes you blush. You can’t help but reach out and run your fingers through her hair. Though you can’t see yourself, you know your eyes are filled with affection.

“I love when you look at me like this,” Daniela whispered, not entirely meaning to voice her thoughts. Then you’re blushing harder, smile small but sweet. “Mmm, you’re just darling, aren’t you?”

“Not nearly as much as yourself, my Lady. To be in your company is to be the luckiest soul in the world. I cannot even begin to describe the feelings of which you inspire in me,” you replied, trying not to stumble over your words, barely able to process any thoughts other than ‘pretty lady likes me ahh’. Thankfully, you still remembered a few tricks from language arts class. Who knew studying the classics could make you more romantic? At least one English teacher, probably. “I’ll have plenty of time to try, though… after we talk about things, that is. Is there somewhere private we can talk? I’m not terribly eager for your mother to overhear.”

“Are you sure we can’t talk about how much you like me for a while longer?” Daniela asked, faking a pout. When you perk a brow at her antics, she shifts a little, forcing herself to be a little more serious (at least for the time being). “If you insist, my sweet thing. I’d suggest my room-” she winks at you- “but I doubt we’d stay talking for long, would we? Maybe the library? Neither of my sisters tend to go there around this time of day, and I can hardly remember the last time mother went there.”

“Well, no one from the day shift is scheduled to organize things until later this week, so… sounds like a date to me,” you chimed, enjoying the way that Daniela’s face lit up in response. “There’s just one thing I have to take care of first. Wouldn’t want my roommates to think something has happened to me, now would we?” With that said you linked your arm with your partner’s, setting off towards the servants quarters.

—————————————–

“Oh thank goodness, we were starting to get worried!” Daphne exclaimed as you quietly ducked into your room. For a second you freeze in place, hoping to whatever higher powers may be that she hadn’t seen Daniela behind you. Certainly the vampire would have moved out of sight?... Despite your assumption, you do see Daphne hesitate for a moment, gazing at the now closed door. Thinking quickly, you give a little wave to draw her attention elsewhere. Seemingly it works like a charm, with her attention returning to you, and so you release an internal sigh of relief. Now you just had to think of an excuse for why you’d be staying up late.

“It’s fine- I’m fine, really. Just had to carry something for one of the Ladies,” you lied, trying not to be specific enough to possibly contradict facts you weren’t aware of. “I, uh, kinda have to go back out, though? There are some piano books I need to find before tomorrow morning. I’ve already found a few, but apparently there’s at least one that goes over some technical practice songs, and I think D-” you almost wince, but lean into it, stuttering instead- “th-think that Lady Daniela would enjoy the variety. Not sure how long it’ll take me to find the books, so don’t stay up waiting for me. I promise I’ll still get enough sleep to function tomorrow.”

“So the lessons haven’t been canceled? That’s good to hear,” Daphne said, nodding slowly. The words catch you off guard, and you tilt your head to the side in confusion. Noticing your expression, your roommate is quick to explain. “After whatever happened yesterday… we weren’t sure if we’d ever hear you play again. Not that we know what happened, just that Lady Daniela was, well, upset, and you stopped playing sooner than usual. But I suppose if the lessons were canceled completely… I doubt Lady Dimitrescu would let you go that easily, huh?”

Again, you shift awkwardly, wondering how Daniela must feel hearing all of this. But just like that Daphne shakes her head, clearing her thoughts, and gives a little shrug.

“Don’t stay up too late, okay? I know you already promised, but we both know you’ll lose track of time if you aren’t careful. If you aren’t in bed by the time the sun reaches its peak, I swear we are gonna have words!” Both of you laugh before Daphne waves you off with a smile. Still, you wait to open the door until she (and the other maidens) has her back to you. Better safe than sorry, right?

—————————————–

Somehow the room felt different in a million ways, now that you were here with Daniela. There was something about the way she moved, freely, eyes and fingers running down the spines of familiar books. Even if you had not seen it before, it felt like the library was overflowing with magic. What I would give, you think, to see the whole world tinted in shades of her. Again you find yourself blushing as you followed Daniela towards a small sitting area. One of the chairs is practically a recliner, with plenty of space, and you realize what she has planned mere moments before she acts.

Next thing you know, you’re being pulled closer to her, practically lifted into the air. Then you’re falling back, right on top of a giggling Daniela. By the time you’ve regained your senses, you’re in her lap, held just tight enough to keep you from getting up. She’s watching your face closely, smirking with pure satisfaction.

“Are we going to be able to talk like this?” You asked, a little unsure yourself, already distracted by the soft curve of her jawline. Even as you speak you’re eying her, imagining what it would feel like to trail kisses along her skin until she was restless… Thankfully she responds before your mind gets too carried away.

“Of course we are, little songbird. Probably. If you behave,” Daniela teased, gently playing with your hair as she did. You can’t help but laugh when she suggests that you are the one who needs to control yourself. “Alright, alright, I get your point. I just… I think that it’s easier for me to, fuck, I don’t know. Relax? It’s easier for me to relax like this, holding you, getting to kiss that lovely neck of yours-” she pauses to demonstrate- “and that means I won’t freak out like last time. Or so goes my thought process, anyway.”

“In that case…” You’re sitting perpendicular to her now, still holding on tight. One hand cups her cheek, gently caressing the skin, before you lean in for a kiss. The two of you enjoy yourselves for a minute, glad to have this time together, more glad to be reassured of each other’s affection. To think that you wouldn’t even be able to meet her gaze if not for Bela’s intervention… Eventually you pull back, knowing that you did need to talk. “I care about you, firefly, and I want things between us to be real, and healthy, but I…”

The words died in your throat, a lump you couldn’t quite swallow, when memories sprung up like weeds in your brain. Communication mattered to you for a thousand reasons, and you weren’t blind to the irony of one of those reasons making you freeze up.

“I haven’t… done this before, not for real,” Daniela replied, mistaking your paues for uncertainty. “Apparently being an immortal, blood-drinking princess is only attractive in the realm of fiction. Maidens only ever seemed interested in a fleeting rush, or a fraction of a chance at an escape. They didn’t care for romance.” Now her tone gets bitter, and her eyebrows furrow. You can see her shoulders tense up, raising a little, making you try to snap out of your own thoughts for a few moments. By the time she speaks again, you’ve started to gently rub her back. “Maybe I should have paid more attention to my novels. How often does the monster actually get a happy ending?” She says the words with a hollow laugh. Still, she’s relaxed a little under your touch, even leaning into it.

“You’ve… done some bad things. Hurt a lot of people, and I can’t pretend that doesn’t scare me,” you started to say, ignoring the heartache you feel when you see Daniela’s hurt expression. “But you’re more than that. You’re soft, cute, and mischievous. More than that… I can tell that you want something beautiful. We can have that, we can make that, for ourselves, with our own hands and our own desires. But we can’t use stories as a blueprint. We can’t rely on what we’ve read, not when everything the two of us do is brand new. Not when-” you close your eyes, fighting back tears, glimpsing fragments of your last relationship- “not when I’ve already been hurt by my own misconceptions. The things we read aren’t always real, or right, or anything like what we need. What we deserve.”

“Something tells me you’re holding back a little,” Daniela murmured, barely able to get the words out. It almost looks like she’s close to crying, but her cheeks are dry, and her voice is steady. “But you’re right. What we have is better than anyone could write, anyway. You’re my little songbird, and I’m not letting you go anytime soon. Even if I have to figure out this whole ‘communication’ thing. I suppose that means I should… come clean. About a few things.” There’s a clear hesitance to her voice, like she’s embarrassed, and she’s speaking slower than usual. A blush rises to her cheeks before she takes a deep breath.

“We don’t have to talk about everything right now, if you aren’t ready. We’ve already made good progress, I think, even if half of it might be because of your sisters. Well, sister, singular. Cassandra throwing me into that wall really didn’t help anyone. Except maybe the chiropractor I will inevitably need to see,” you joked, remembering your earlier conversation with Bela.

“Hold up for a fucking second, Cassandra did what? I’m going to replace all her paint brushes with stained carpet strips, and that’s if she apologizes. Nobody fucks with my baby,” Daniela snapped, expression as serious as can be. Normally you found her anger to be terrifying. Now that she was directing it at someone else? And on your behalf?... Maybe it was a tiny bit cute. Which you tried to show, by gently bringing her in for another kiss. Of course, Daniela isn’t quite as gentle, instead kissing you hard, holding you as closely as she can. There’s a bit of possessiveness in her grip, and it makes you tense up. But as soon as you do she’s pulling back, breathing hard, eyes weighed down with concern.

“Y’know, I think she was just mad that I made you cry. And if I found out someone made you cry, I would be pretty angry. Not that I’d throw someone, partially because I don’t think I could, but still. It’s… almost cute how much your sisters care about you. Almost, just not quite,” you said, eager to draw the attention away from your reaction. Like you had told Daniela, it was okay if you weren’t ready to talk about everything. “Speaking of that, I can’t believe I haven’t apologized yet. I panicked so much, I didn’t even realize I was yelling until you picked me up. No matter how frustrated I was, I shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t, please,” Daniela interrupted, eyes closing for a moment. “I can’t believe you’re apologizing. I pinned you to the wall, and not for the usual reason!” There’s a bit of panic in her expression, and you get the feeling that she’s beating herself up inside about it. Which, based on what you had thought about what you had done, was understandable.

“Consider this: We both fucked up, and we’ve both acknowledged it now, so we could just… not talk about our regrets? At least for now,” you countered, glad to see Daniela relax and nod in response. Leaning in, you shift to rest your head against her shoulder, wanting to enjoy her proximity more. “Hey… if I’m your songbird, and you’re my firefly… are we, I don’t know… officially a couple now?”

“I was under the impression that we already were,” Daniela said, clearly a little confused. While you technically agreed with her… there was another part of you that wanted to have a little fun.

“You never asked, and I know I never did either, so…” Now you’re looking up at her, smile wide, heart beating faster than normal. “Lady Daniela, firefly of house Dimitrescu, lover of romance novels, player of pianos, keeper of my heart… Will you do me the honor of allowing me to court you? To be yours, officially, in the pursuit of affection and happiness like the village- nay, the world- has never before seen? Will you be my girlfriend?”

“How’s this for an answer, songbird?” Daniela cooed. Then she was lifting your chin from her shoulder, turning her head and bringing you closer. Your lips touch, as gentle as can be. It’s a short kiss, but one radiating with love, that ends with your foreheads pressed against each other. In this moment, you feel like you could stay in her arms for the rest of eternity. “Yes. Absolutely yes, obviously, a thousand times. I could never say no to you, especially not now, with your eyes so desperate for the sight of me, and your lips so begging to be kissed. Now, how about we celebrate, hmm?”

Just as Daphne had predicted, you end up staying awake far too late, but you were all the happier for it.

[jenniez-tv]

My first 6th month check up...

So until the end of 2021, I have been getting blood work an CT scans every 3 months.  I continued to get good results and stay free of any signs of recurrence.  I also get my endoscopy and sigmoidoscopy as well as my thyroid checked every year (which is also due in a few weeks).  I was as always super nervous, but not AS nervous as each outcome so far has been good news.  As I waited for my doctor to talk about the results, my results showed up in my chart.  I read it.. and I immediately panicked as it said that there was a a new pelvic soft tissue mass around the area of my sigmoid resection (where the connected what was left of my colon and my small intestine together).  The CT results also show that my left kidney demonstrates marked hydroureteronephrosis, which is also new.  The mass is pressing against my left ureter- the tube that connects my bladder to my left kidney.  So, my left kidney is getting blocked.. This mass is big enough to freaking put pressure on it.  A mass that did NOT show up at all 6 months ago...   I called my aunt who thank god was working today and she came down to support me when I spoke with my doctor.. Now I have my full team of doctors discussing and trying to plan my next steps.  First, I will be getting a PET scan on Friday.  I will also be meeting the urologist on Tuesday and then getting a stent placed in my urethra so that my left kidney doesn’t continue to be compromised and get fked up permanently.  Not quite sure yet which is the best approach of getting a biopsy.. as it is really deep down in my pelvis.. but needs to be done asap.  I also need to get my scopes done to remove any new polyps from last year sooner than later.  I am now freaking out that something has grown there too.. I’m now freaking out about everything.. Some of my doctors think its cancer related to my colon cancer since I have the genetic FAP.. others think it may be a desmoid tumor which is also something that people with FAP get.  Its technically not cancerous, but can grow quickly and cause other issues such as mine right now.  These things like to arise from surgical scars.. and my insides are full of that shit.  Removing it if it is that only means there will be more scar tissue for potential regrowth of the tumor. 

SO FOR A RECAP: - I HAVE A FUCKING NEW MASS THAT DID NOT SHOW UP 6 MONTHS AGO

-THE MASS IS BLOCKING MY URETHRA AND FKING UP MY LEFT KIDNEY FUNCTION WHICH COULD CAUSE PERMANENT DAMAGE IF LEFT UNTREATED.   

-I HAVE TO NOW GET A PET SCAN, A STENT PLACED, AND A BIOPSY TO SEE WHAT THE FUCK THIS IS.. WHICH IS PRETTY MUCH EITHER A DESMOID TUMOR OR CANCER RELATED TO MY FAP FROM MY GENETICS.

THERE ISN’T EVEN A GOOD OUTCOME TO THIS.  ITS EITHER CHOICE A OR B WHICH IS BAD AND BAD/WORSE.  I HAD 2.5 YEARS OF REMISSION AND NOW THAT I GRADUATED TO GETTING A SCAN EVERY 6 MONTHS AND GOT MY PORT FUCKING REMOVED THIS MASS FUCKING SHOWS UP.

I SIMPLY CANNOT DEAL WITH HAVING CANCER AGAIN.. THIS TIME MIGRATED TO MY FUCKING PELVIC AREA.  IF IT IS CANCER WHO KNOWS WHAT THE HELL ITS GROWN ONTO SURROUNDING IT AND WHAT TISSUE/ORGANS I WILL NEED REMOVED THIS TIME.  THERE IS JUST SIMPLY TOO MUCH UNKNOWN RIGHT NOW.  I DIDN'T WANT TO VENT AND TELL EVERYONE YET  UNTIL I KNEW WHAT THE BIOPSY RESULTS WOULD BE BUT I CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE.  I MIGHT NOT KNOW FOR ANOTHER 2 WEEKS OR SO, I MEAN SHIT ITS NOT EVEN SCHEDULED YET.  I LITERALLY JUST FOUND THIS OUT ON MONDAY.  I AM LITERALLY GOING BACK AND FORTH BETWEEN BAWLING MY EYES OUT AND HAVING NO EMOTION AND SAYING FUCK IT TO EVERYTHING AND REFUSE ANY TREATMENT AND JUST FUCKING DIE.  PEOPLE TELL ME TO TRY TO STAY CALM AND POSITIVE UNTIL WE KNOW EXACTLY WHAT IT IS.  BUT EITHER WAY, I WILL NEED MORE SURGERY, AND POSSIBLY MORE MEDS/PILLS I’LL HAVE TO TAKE FOREVER OR EVEN CHEMO/RADIATION.  I’M LITERALLY DONE WITH THIS SHIT.  I CANT HANDLE DOING THIS ALL OVER AGAIN.. AND EVEN IF I DO AND ALL IS FINE, WHOSE TO SAY ITS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN IN ANOTHER COUPLE OF YEARS? I DO NOT HAVE THE STRENGTH TO CONTINUE DOWN THIS PATH.  MY BRAIN IS ALREADY SO FRIED, I’M GOING TO HAVE EVEN LESS BRAIN CELLS IF I HAVE TO GET MORE CHEMO. MY LEFTOVER ANNOYING AS HELL SIDE EFFECTS THAT ARE ALREADY PERMANENT ARE ONLY GOING TO GET WORSE AND WORSE..

I don’t want to have to explain all of this to everyone so you can just pretend that I am telling/yelling all this information to you.  All of my anxiety and emotions that I have worked on and improved is now down the fucking drain.   I can’t concentrate.. I have issues with sleep even more now (sleep has not been good for a long time).  The anxiety and pain of not knowing what this is is killing me.. and to know that technically either result isn’t good either way is just another thing that is killing me inside.  All of my other progress is also going to be starting back over since I need more surgery.  I mean really, what is the fucking point anymore.  People keep telling me I’m strong. but I am NOT. I cannot and do not want to deal with everything all over again.   I really need to get a advanced directive and living will completed.  I don’t want to spend my entire life fighting this shit nonstop and not being able to do what I want.  I rather just go do whatever whenever without a care in the world since I am going to be dying sooner than later anyways. 

[moon-light-jukebox]

Switching Roles [Reid x Reader]

masterlist

Summary: Spencer has always been submissive when he's been with reader...but tonight he’s interested in switching things up. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid / Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.9k 

Category: Smut with a dash of fluff

Content Warning: Oral sex (both receiving), soft Dom!Spencer, mild over stim, unprotected sex, dirty talk, spanking. I think that’s it. Just filth, y’all. 

A/n: This idea was sent to me in an ask the other day and I forgot to write the user name down. If you send me a message, I’d love to credit you! I just have the memory of a goldfish.  Anyway, I hope y’all like this filth that I’m slightly embarrassed I wrote. 

--Switching Roles-- 

I knew my relationship with Dr. Spencer Reid would be unconventional when he got called away in the middle of our first date. He apologized profusely but I assumed I was being blown off.

Four days later he showed up outside my apartment after 11 pm with flowers and another apology.

“You could have just called,” I had said that night.

He just shrugged sheepishly. “I know, I know. I just…I just really wanted to see you.”

I think I fell in love with him the moment he handed me those flowers with a blush staining the apples of his cheeks. Everything was history after that.

The hardest part about being with Spencer was accepting his schedule. He was out saving lives and making the world a safer place, and I understood that I really did. That understanding didn't make missing him any easier.

Spencer had been gone for over 10 days and we were both feeling the effects of his absence. Phone calls and video chats could only do so much. I needed him.

He had sent me a text message about 30 minutes ago letting me know his plane had landed.

“Do you want me to come over after we debrief?”

For a genius, he asked a lot of stupid questions.

I jumped out of my seat a moment later when there was a knock at my door. He had a key; I don’t know why he never used it.

No sooner had I opened the door than he was on me. He shoved his way through the door. One of his hands tangled in my hair while the other cupped my jaw. I vaguely heard the door slam a moment before he turned us and pushed my back against it.

Very quickly in our relationship, we had discovered that Spencer really enjoyed it when I told him what to do when we had sex. I wasn't new to being dominant in the bedroom, but Spencer had never had a partner take control the way I did. Introducing Dr. Spencer Reid to the world of BDSM had been a treat for us both.

My tongue swept over the seam of his mouth, pulling a groan from him before he opened for me. His tongue slicked against mine while his hands moved down my body, brushing over my breast to my stomach, already set on undoing my pants.

When I felt the button of my pants open, I broke away from our kiss. “Hey, Doc,” I panted against his mouth.

Spencer just gave me a small smile, his thumb tracing over the lower part of my stomach. “Hey, Pretty girl. I missed you.”

“I can see that,” I rasped out, my hand coming down between our bodies to rub over the bulge in his pants. “Come on, baby.” I took a step away from him and extended my hand. His fingers laced with mine as we walked down the hall to my bedroom. I wasn’t sure what Spencer needed tonight, but whatever it was would be easier on the bed.

Once we arrived in my bedroom, I turned to face him, my arms going up around his neck, brushing through his soft curls at the base of his skull.

I was just about to kiss him again when I saw him hesitate; it was just the slightest bit, but I knew him.

“What’s wrong, Spence?” I questioned, my eyes searching his. “We don’t have to do a scene. We can just be together like this.”

“No,” he whispered. “It’s…I don’t want to…I want to do a scene but…”

I was thoroughly confused now, but I waited for him to gather his thoughts and push through his nerves.

“C-can I…”

"Can you what, Pretty Boy?" I moved my hand to brush my fingers across his sharp cheekbone.

“I want to try…can I try to be in charge?”

My eyebrows shot up. “You want to dom me?”

His cheeks were tinged with color. “I...I think so. But only if you’re comfortable with it.”

I had mentioned to Spencer before that I was technically a switch, but I didn’t sub very often. He had always been exclusively interested in being a submissive. While the shift was confusing, I wasn’t against the idea. The thought of my sweet pretty boy having his way with me certainly had its own appeal.

I rose up on my tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his soft lips. “Sure, baby.”

“R-really?!” he squeaked.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at his tone before I nodded. “Where do you want me…sir?" I didn't miss the way he shuddered at my words. Even if he was in charge, I couldn't turn off the part of myself that was aware of every single part of him. His every reaction was so erotic to me.

Something in those warm brown eyes hardened. “I want you in only your panties. Then I want you to kneel.”

Well. "Yes, sir." I quickly lowered my eyes to the floor while my fingers unbuttoned my top before shrugging it off my shoulders. My pants and shoes went next, then finally my bra. My hair was in a bun at the back of my head and I almost released it. I knew he liked to grab my hair, but if he wanted it he could take it.

I dropped to my knees by the edge of the bed, my hands resting on my thighs. Loving Spencer Reid meant I noticed things about him, things that he might not even be aware of himself. He was still a little bit uncomfortable with sex, especially the kinkier stuff I liked to do; I knew that if he saw my eyes staring up at him, he'd get nervous and start to question himself.

Usually, I liked to watch in squirm…but not tonight. Tonight, I wanted to see what he had in him, what parts of him I hadn’t seen before.

The air felt thick while I waited to see what my pretty boy would do, I think I was just as nervous as he was. I heard the breath he let out before he started moving, followed by the rustle of fabric. His tie, maybe? I thought.

Spencer walked over to stand over me, his shoes in front of my knees. "Give me your hands."

I complied immediately, keeping my eyes downcast. I had never heard his voice sound like that before. It was raspy, thick, and commanding. It made the ache I felt for him so much more powerful.

He had me press my hands together like I was praying before he wove the tie around my wrists. The knot wasn’t great, I could have gotten out of it easily, but his meaning was clear.

“You’re to keep your hands there, Pretty girl,” he rasped out while I heard the unmistakable clink of his belt opening. “I know how much your hands like to wander. Look at me.”

My eyes slowly slid up his body. His belt was hanging open, his fingers still undoing the button of his pants, the first few buttons of his shirt were undone, and his tie was obviously gone. Those messy brown curls on top of his head seemed wilder than normal. None of those things are what made my breath catch in my throat.

His teeth were digging into his bottom lip while he looked down at me, his eyes blazed with desire, but his shoulders were set with a subtle confidence I wasn’t used to seeing.

Spencer Reid looked like a God, and I had never wanted anything more in my life.

After he lowered his zipper, he reached down to touch my face, his thumb running over my lower lip. I pressed a kiss to the pad of his thumb that made him smirk. “Open.”

He pushed his thumb between my lips while his other hand freed his cock. I swirled my tongue around his thumb, my eyes never leaving his.

“Fuck,” he muttered, removing his thumb. “You’re always such an eager thing, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

My answer seemed to amuse Spencer, but he wasn’t deterred from his goal. He gripped his cock and brought it to my mouth. The head was wet with precum that he painted across my lips before his thumb gripped my chin.

I opened my lips and let him guide his cock into my mouth. He slowly moved himself in and out of my mouth at first, letting me get used to him. He was being so sweet, but the urge I felt to please him was overwhelming. I hollowed out my cheeks and started to bob my head.

One of Spencer's hands tangled in my hair while his breath hissed out between his lips. "Fuck, y/n." His head tipped back when I went further down, taking him until he hit the back of my throat. "You're so good at that," he praised.

His hips started moving of their own accord, making shallow thrusts in and out of my mouth. I relaxed my throat as much as I could, letting his cock slide deeper. I felt my throat convulse when I tried to gag around him.

My eyes were watering but I couldn't look away from Spencer. His gaze was fixed on his cock sliding in and out of my mouth, his hand balled up in a fist pressed against his mouth.

He knew how much I liked to hear him. Bastard.

With one final jerk of his hips, he yanked my hair, pulling me away from him. "Stand up," he commanded, his voice shaky but somehow still authoritative.

I stood before Spencer while he admired the mess he had made of me. Tears were smeared down my face, my lips were swollen, and my tongue felt numb.  

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed across my skin right before he brought his lips against mine. I tried to deepen the kiss, my bound hands coming up to grip at his shirt, but Spencer pulled away with a chuckle.

"Always so needy," he whispered slowly unwinding his tie from my hands. "Go lay on the center of the bed. Put your hands by your sides. If you touch yourself in any way, the next knot will be harder to get out of," he warned.

He watched me move towards the bed while he worked on the buttons of his shirt before pulling it off. Spencer wasn't overly muscled; his body was slim and well-toned, but he still had a softness to him that never failed to make my heart clench. He really was such a pretty boy. I laid in the center of my bed while he removed the last of his clothing. I didn't make it easy for him this time, I never took my eyes off of him.

“See something you like, Princess?”

I nodded my head, smiling at him. “Always, sir.”

Spencer laughed openly while he moved his body over mine, his face level with my own. "You're a brat," he huffed out before he gave me another kiss. This one was hungrier than the last, his teeth nipping at my bottom lip. My body was shifting restlessly under his, desperate for any sort of friction.

“I’ve got you, Pretty Girl,” he muttered against my skin while he kissed his way across my cheek and down the column of my throat. Spencer braced himself on his left hand while his right skimmed down my body. His thumb brushed over my nipple, pulling a gasp from me. He lifted his head from my throat to stare down at me when his fingers reach the waistband of my panties.

“Are you wet for me?” He slipped one finger beneath the fabric of my underwear, smirking down at me when he parts my folds. “You like this don’t you, baby?”

All I could do was whimper. The truth is I did like it, and I hadn't expected to.

His hand stilled. "I asked you a question, Princess."

Jesus Christ. "Yes, sir," I whined out. "I like it."

Spencer's hand moved further into my underwear. Two of his fingers sunk inside of me at the very moment his mouth closed around my nipple.

I couldn't control the way my back arched up at the sensation. "Oh my god.”

His fingers started to move faster inside of me while his thumb brushed over my clit. "How many times do we think I can make you cum tonight? Hmm?" Those long beautiful fingers curled up while they thrust into me, hitting just the right spot. "Two? I don't think we've ever had more than two." His brows quirked as he pretended to ponder his options. I couldn't answer, I could barely even think.

The sensations building inside of me already felt overwhelming. My hips moving to meet his fingers. "Please," I moaned.

“Please, what, Princess?”

My wide eyes meet his teasing brown ones. “Please let me cum.”

His head dropped back down to my neck, his mouth leaving a wet trail of kisses on my body as he moved down to my breasts again. "Cum for me, pretty girl."

At his words, the band that was tightening inside of me snapped. My thighs clamped together around his hand trying to hold the pleasure right where I wanted it. His fingers pushed against the flutters of my orgasm, working me through it while I came back down to earth.

“You’re so pretty when you cum.”

My eyes opened to see the smug, smiling face of Dr. Reid. I wanted to tease him but there's something in those eyes of his that gave me pause. This didn't feel over yet.

Spencer pulled his fingers from my pussy, apprising them before he pulled them into his mouth to suck them clean. He moaned at the taste, his eyes never leaving mine. Popping his fingers out of his mouth, he moved to grip the waistband of my panties before he yanked them down my legs.

I felt his nails rake over my skin while his head moved down my body.

"Spence," I whimpered. "I can't it's too soon."

He looked at me then, his face was slightly nervous. "You know the words."

He was absolutely right, I did.

“Are you using them?”

Do I want to? I thought. I'd never been able to cum more than once so quickly…but. "No," I said firmly.

Spencer shot me a smile a moment before he turned his head to the side and sunk his teeth into the skin of my inner thigh, causing me to yelp. "Good. Then don't interrupt me again."

Fuck that shouldn't have been as hot as it was.

He settled on his stomach between my thighs, his arms anchoring around my legs to hold me in place, his forearms on my hips. He watched my reaction when he pressed a kiss to my pussy, and he grinned when I jerked slightly.

I groaned when his tongue parted me, lapping gently against my entrance, tasting the orgasm he gave me a moment before.

My hips were already trying to shift under his hold. "Can I touch you now?"

He just shook his head, clearly amused at my needy question. I couldn't help it. I wanted to feel his curls in my hands, I wanted to hear him moan when I pulled his hair.

And the bastard knew it.

My fingers fisted in the bedsheets when his tongue flicked over my clit. "I can't, I can't," I muttered but even though I didn't think I could, my body didn't seem to agree. With every circle of his tongue, my hips moved to grind against him. He hummed against my pussy right before he took my clit in his mouth.

"Spence," I rasped out, my hands lifting from the bed for the briefest of moments before slamming back down.

He lifted his head and smiled at me, his mouth shiny with my arousal. "What, Princess?"

I thought it was torture before when he was touching me…but now that he stopped it was even worse. "I need…I need…"

His right-hand moved off of my hip to come between my legs. He cocked his head to the side while his index finger brushed up and down my slit. "You…what?"

Bastard. “I need to cum, please.”

He pressed a kiss to my thigh right above the bite mark. "You're so fucking pretty when you beg." His head moved closer and closer to where I needed him to be. "Say it again. Say it right, baby."

I tossed my head back on the bed, my entire body shaking. "Please make me cum, sir. Please. I want to cum on your face."

The room was silent for a beat, causing me to lift my head and look at him. His mouth was poised right over my pussy, his right hand back in its original position around my thigh.

"Good girl," he praised, looking into my eyes right before his face dove back into my pussy. He ate at my pussy like making me fall apart was his very mission in life.

My hips rocked against him while I babbled a refrain of his name and broken pleas for my release. Spencer finally took pity on me, wrapping his lips around my clit and sucking just hard enough to cause me to splinter apart. My vision went white as my entire body bent to his will.

Spencer's tongue flicked against me one more time before he pulled away to gaze down at me. He looked so pleased when he saw my boneless body beneath him. His arms braced on either side of my head while he laid his body on top of mine. I felt his hard cock brush against my pussy while he pressed kisses to my cheeks. "I love it when you say my name when you cum," he breathed.

I licked my lips, trying to focus on his face.

"Oh, my pretty, pretty girl," he teased. "You're almost wrecked for me." He tsked. "Where is the girl that always says that we're not done until she says we’re done? Where’s my girl?”

He was taunting me. He knew that's how he'd get me to do what he wanted. Because I still wanted him, and I never back down from a challenge.

"I'm right here, sir." My voice was hoarse from screaming for him.

Spencer smiled at me. "You've got one more in you, Princess. Get up on your knees."

My limbs felt heavy when I hurried to comply with his request, my elbows threatened to buckle when I braced my upper body on them. Spencer moved away from me, grabbing a pillow and putting is under my body.

"I know the second I put my cock inside that tight, pretty little pussy of yours you're going to collapse," he said while his hands ran over my body. "This way I can still fuck you the way I want to."

My pussy throbbed at his words. He was so…different like this.

And it was so fucking hot.

I felt the blunt tip of his cock brush against my slit, coating himself in wetness.

"Beg me for it," he teased, one hand anchored to my hips while the other is fisted on his cock. "Come on, baby. You've already screamed for me."

My head dropped down to hang between my arms. "I need it, sir. Please."

“You need what?”

“I need your cock, sir. I need it. Please fuck me, Dr. Reid.”

The honorific slipped out without thought. I usually called him Dr. Reid when he was submitting but judging by the groan that tore from his throat he liked it when I said it like this too.

Without further teasing his cock breached my opening, sliding into me in one motion until his hips hit my ass.

I tried to hold my body up, I really did. I wasn’t going to give up.

Spencer’s hand moved up my back, pushing my hair to one side. “I’ve got you, pretty girl. Put your upper body on the bed.”

His words weren’t teasing anymore, they were almost caring. He knew me well enough to know I was almost spent even though we had never done this before.

“I love you,” I whispered while I dropped my elbows. My upper body was on the bed while my ass was in the air, held there by a pillow under me and Spencer’s hand on my hip.

He leaned over my body, somehow causing his cock to push even deeper inside of me. “I love you too, y/n.” He pressed a kiss to the back of my shoulder before his arms came down on either side of me.

Then he started moving. His hips slapped against my ass while he rutted into me, our moment of tenderness long gone.

“You feel so fucking good,” he rasped out. “You always feel so fucking good.”

His hips started moving differently, his thrusts were harsher and more purposeful.

“Fuck,” I whimpered almost overwhelmed by the sensations he was bringing out of me. I felt his breath against my back, his body sliding against mine.

“You’re getting tighter, Princess. I know you can do it.” Spencer lifted up slightly until he could grip the headboard, totally changing the angle of his thrusts. “Reach down and rub your clit, pretty girl.”

I shook my head. “I can’t.”

Slap.

I yelped when his hand connected with my ass cheek. “That wasn’t a request, Princess,” he snarled, his thrusts never slowing. “I told you to reach down and rub your clit. Now.”

My pussy was already starting to spasm around him before I even brushed my fingers against my clit.

Spencer groaned. “You like that, don’t you? Such a dirty, needy little thing, aren’t you?”

"Yes, Dr. Reid." My hips started to shift back to meet his thrusts.

“I can feel it. You’re right there. Cum on my cock, Princess. Or do you want me to cum inside your pretty little pussy first?” Spencer’s voice was as dark and primal as his movements. “Because we both know how much you like it when I cum inside of you. It’s what I think about when I’m away. I fuck my fist and think about what a little cum slut you are.”

His filthy words were what finally drove me over the edge. I wasn't able to bury my head in the mattress quick enough to cover my entire scream when my pussy clamped down around his cock, cumming for him for the third time that night.

I heard Spencer’s hoarse exclamation when my release triggered his own. I felt him pulse inside of me while he gave a few more choppy thrusts.

He pulled out of me a moment later, moving my body on to my back. “Are you okay?”

Gone was the dominant man from a few moments ago. Here was my Spencer, my shy, awkward, wonderful man.

“I’m okay,” I said softly, my body shattered and sleepy.

Spencer’s eyes ran over every part of me. “You’re sure? You feel okay.”

I shook my head, smiling at how relieved he looked. Truthfully, I was relieved too. I knew Spencer would take care of me if I went into sub drop and he would do a marvelous job at that, but I was glad it wasn't something we had to worry about for his first time.

He moved to lay on the bed beside me, pulling my body against his side. “So, what did you think?” he questioned, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“You continue to surprise me, Dr. Reid," I answered sleepily.

Spencer chuckled as his fingers trace up and down the length of my spine. "I missed you."

The last thing I did before I fell asleep was smile and tell him, "I missed you too, Pretty Boy."  

-- 

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[ohdearhiddles]

request: What about a one shot where there's a really big age gap between reader and tom and one night the reader tells him that she feels like she's holding him back from settling down/family etc. and he comforts her..... basically fluff please? thanks!!

TITLE: With You

WORD COUNT: 1914

AUTHOR NOTES/WARNINGS: fluff fluff :) i have a problem with writing too much. i hope this was okay!!

The door to your bedroom opened softly, revealing a tired and disheveled Tom. He had been out all day for interviews and public events, working hard even when he was technically not meant to be working at all. His curls were more than just a little messy; he looked as if he had run his fingers through them a countless number of times throughout the day. As your eyes locked with his, he smiled. You smiled back at him, knee bouncing up and down as you sat at the edge of your bed, book in hand. 

“How was your day,” you questioned him, curling your leg underneath you in order to turn in his direction. Tom loosened his tie and sighed before plopping onto the mattress beside you.

“Long,” he responded, nothing more and nothing less. You knew that Tom was having a rough time recently from all the new interviews he had to take part in as his latest work premiered. He was always so kind when being asked questions about not just his work but his life as well. Despite his kindness, it still took a toll on him when interviewers seemed to ask all the wrong questions. From the way he was acting, he most definitely had gotten asked all the wrong questions today.

Instinctively, you reached out to run your fingers through his hair, earning a soft hum of appreciation from your older boyfriend. You knew better than to pry into what’s upsetting him immediately after he had just found a second to relax. When Tom wanted to talk, he would talk. He always did.

You maneuvered yourself closer to him, laying on your side with one arm propping your head up as the other rested on his chest while your hand remained in his hair. By this point, Tom’s eyes were closed as he enjoyed the small gesture you were displaying. As your fingers continuously ran through the locks on his head, his hand made its way onto your thigh where he, too, began administering gentle caresses. It was almost as if he was finding solace in being able to reciprocate the comfort you were providing.

The two of you sat in silence for a few more moments before he opened his eyes and tilted his chin up to look at you. “How about you?”

“Hm?” You hummed in response, not quite sure what he was referring to. “Oh, my day was alright. I just got home from work not too long ago.”

It had been only a month or so since you started your job, and it was safe to say that your employers never failed to remind you that you were a newbie. Sure, it was tough on you, but you didn’t let that stop you from getting the job done. Tom knew it wasn’t exactly easy for you at the workplace because many of your coworkers had already recognized you as a celebrity’s girlfriend, poking fun at the significant age gap between you both.

Tom was 39 years old, a bit older than anyone you had dated in the past, especially because you were still {Y/A}. Between the two of you, the age difference wasn’t that big of a deal, but not everyone saw it the way you did. At first, this was something you said you could accept. Love was about acceptance; at least, that’s what Tom would say. One year later, and these words alone didn’t seem to be quite enough to hold your worries at bay. Looking into his eyes, you could see how tired he was, and you wanted nothing more than to wipe his worries away, but you didn’t know how.

“They kept asking about you today,” he sighed, not because he was upset but because he didn’t want to worry you about it.

“What were they asking about,” you asked, not sure if you wanted to know the answer.

“Well,” Tom started, “they were asking if we were planning on getting married, how our schedules work, if you plan on being a stay-at-home mom since I travel for work.”

Your eyes wandered around the room until they settled on the buttons of his shirt. If you had kept your eyes on Tom, you would have noticed that his eyebrows had knit together at your reaction, his worry only increasing. A minute of silence passed before you realized he was probably waiting for you to react to what he was saying. If you were being honest, you didn’t know what to say. 

Was there a wrong or right answer? Were you supposed to tell him what you had planned for the future?

As your mind raced a hundred miles a minute, Tom’s hands had found your hips as he urged you to straddle his lap. With your knees on either side of him, Tom placed his right hand on the small of your back, holding you steady as his free hand pushed his body to an upright position. You were slightly elevated and his eyes were level with your neck. The position only granted him the access he needed to leave soft kisses along your collarbones and up your neck. Your fingers grasped the back of his neck when he stopped, and you took the opportunity to press a gentle kiss to the bridge of his nose.

“Y/N,” he exhaled, grip tightening around you. “Their questions had me thinking.”

You stilled, not wanting to know where this conversation was going at all. In an effort to keep him from talking, you pressed your lips to his. Of course, Tom knew what you were up to, but even for a split second he also enjoyed the distraction from an otherwise serious topic. The distraction only lasted a few seconds before you felt his hands on your cheeks as he pulled you away from him. In the blink of an eye, his expression had turned serious once again. 

“Y/N,” he tried again, this time holding your face centimeters from his own. “We’re going to have to address these things sooner rather than later.”

You sighed, leaning back from his grasp as your hands fell to your sides. “Okay,” you replied.

“I love you,” he started; his words sent shivers down your spine. “I don’t want to be the reason this relationship falls through, though.”

You tilted your head, not quite understanding what he meant, and he noticed this. He grinned sheepishly before letting out a sigh of his own. You had a feeling these sighs were only the first of many to come in this relationship.

“Your job, are they still giving you a hard time?” He questioned.

“Well, no,” you tried to say, but the look in his eyes immediately showed that he didn’t believe you. “Yes, yes they do, but it’s simple stuff. It’s not like they’re harassing me or making my life entirely too difficult. It’s just a little extra workload here and there.”

His right hand reached up to rest on your cheek, brushing the area beneath your eye. Tom smiled sadly before speaking again, “Darling, I don’t want to be the reason your job is difficult, nor do I want to be the cause of the bags under your eyes. If this continues, you’ll be working yourself to death by the time you’ve fully settled into things.”

Shaking your head adamantly, you firmly disagreed, “It’s nothing coffee and a few days of overtime can’t fix. I can handle it.”

“I’m sure you can, but,” he paused. You wish he hadn’t because your heart stopped beating the second he stopped speaking, impatiently waiting for him to carry on. “This is your dream job, yes?”

You nodded.

“Who am I to make your dream job more of a nightmare?”

“The man I’m in love with,” you answered quickly, knowing where he was going with this already. If he wanted to end this relationship because your job was getting a little too much, what was he going to do when other things started to go south? “You think you’re holding me back from loving what I do?”

It was Tom’s turn to nod. You laughed, almost bitterly, at his thoughts.

“Thomas, you think you’re holding me back?” You asked, voice rising in pitch. Standing from your spot in his lap, you let it all out. “You’re 39; you want to settle down. You want to have a family. Your family wants you to settle down and have a family. I’m not quite sure I’m ready for all that, and you want to say you’re holding me back? I can barely wrap my head around finally starting my career, let alone starting a family right now.”

Tom was standing now, worry etched into his features as he took in your distraught stance. Your hands were in your hair, gripping tightly as if you wanted to rip it out. Your eyes began to sting as tears of worry threatened to fall down your cheeks. With your chest heaving as breathing seemed to get harder by the second, you turned your back to him. You didn’t want to see him get worried over your own feelings of not being able to give him what he wants, and as much as he would like to pretend he didn’t know that you were uncertain about the future and what it might bring, he couldn’t ignore it now.

Tom’s hands reached forward to lightly grip yours, attempting to gently pry your fingers from your hair. As he wrestled your arms to your sides, he pressed his lips to your forehead, softly shushing you until you finally allowed him to comfort your mini meltdown.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured as he wrapped his arms around you. “I didn’t know you were carrying all that with you, I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, knowing that you needed to apologize for semi-yelling at him for something you shouldn’t have even gotten mad at. “No, I’m sorry. It’s just - I sometimes think maybe it’s better if you find someone else, someone who can give you that family and kids because I’m not ready. I’m not ready for marriage, and I’m most definitely not ready for motherhood.”

At the sound of your suggestion, Tom released his hold, eyes now trained on your face. When you looked up to meet his gaze, he looked almost mad. Before you could say anything else, he closed his eyes and let out another deep sigh.

“If it’s not with you, then what’s the point?” He spoke with his eyes still closed. “Yes, we have things to work out, and the future to talk about. And yes, Y/N, I want a family and I want children, but I want that with you. Don’t tell me to find another woman when I’ve already found the person I want to be with. Age, race, or whatever, none of that matters to me as long as it’s with you.”

You stared at him blankly, not knowing how to respond to his declaration. It was almost as if he was proposing to you; part of you wanted to glance around to see if he had a ring in plain view, but you knew he wouldn’t propose like this. 

“But-” you began.

“No, no ‘buts.’” Tom opened his eyes and was quick to cut you off this time. “Take all the time you need until you’re ready to take those steps. I’ll be here waiting alongside you every step of the way.”

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

Chapter 5. We have stucky, we have stevesambucky friendship, we have a new place to live and strange being a good guy because tony definitely ranted at him. Also, we're beginning the creepy part of the plot. I have decided that sam will be one of the main platonic characters in this story because I love sam.

fun fact: I used to be a creepypasta writer! Going back to my roots here, hehe.

Things had stated changing, for better or worse, much sooner than I had been prepared for - but was anyone, ever, really ready for the next big step? Certainly not me - the view that greeted me after I'd finished my shift at Jeremy's was peculiar and unexpected, so I froze, eyebrows high at the two super-soldiers parked, once again, illegally, right in front of the entrance door.

"Hi, doll," Bucky was reclined against his boyfriend comfortably, his bike standing a pace behind Steve's, who nodded companionably, a sheepish grin on his face.

"G'day," I nodded, eyeing them warily. "I think I know where this is going..."

"No, no, nothing like that," both men frantically waved their hands around, Steve coming up close to approach me slowly. "You're not in trouble. I came out here to say thanks," giving a sappy look to the grouch that was his boyfriend, Steve reached into his pocket and handed me a slip of paper. "Just, uh..."

"Those are our phone numbers. Don't hesitate to give either one of us a call if someone bothers you," Bucky took over the stammering blonde, shaking his head at the soft blush that blossomed on the good captain's face. The brunette wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulders with a shy smile of his own. "Or if you, I don't know, need someone to carry your groceries or something," he snorted. "The punk wouldn't leave it alone until we came out personally to thank you, the sap."

The laughter bubbled up from my chest as I grabbed and pocketed the paper, throughly amused and at the endearing gesture. "Sure, thanks."

"And, uh," Bucky's eyes briefly looked to the side. "We'd appreciate if you keep the status of our relationship to yourself for now. We're not, like, officially out yet."

I froze in place, mouth falling open. Surely they were aware that anybody with a functional pair of eyes could see that they were much more than 'good, lifelong friends'. "No problem, guys. Lemme know if anyone gives you shit about it though, this place," I gestured to the café behind me, "is strictly paparazzi and homophobe-free."

Steve's grin grew even more genuine. "Yeah, we heard all about it from Tony and Stephen. Said 'twas the only place they go these days."

I wasn't aware of that. "It's the paps, isn't it?" I remembered Tony's remarks.

Bucky shook his head, the metals of his prosthetic arm whirring as it recalibrated. "Not only. The public hasn't had the best reaction to a man goin' out with a man," the brunette looked away to the side, where Steve's face had fallen considerably. "And Tony's an eccentric rich man. We're jus' two soldiers. The US Army won't be too happy if we... Came out," both men were crestfallen yet determined.

I had a hunch nothing would be able to separate the two - seeing as not even seventy-odd years and brainwashing and ice couldn't keep the captain and his sarge apart, I doubted that a few government weasels could successfully do the job. Even so, it was unpleasant, to say the least, to see them deny themselves something that technically was perfectly fine in the 21st century.

I chewed on my lip, gathering my wits. "I've clocked out, I can tell you this as a friend- as a person. You don't owe the army jack shit. They do not own you, you are your own person that they experimented their German knockoff steroids on. Respectfully, fuck that shit." I firmly stated my opinion, figuring that there should have been at least someone that told Steve that he is more than his star-spangled uniform and giant metal frisbee.

The blonde scrunched his eyebrows together, fingers gripping onto his belt until the knuckles went white, the hard line of his jaw set firm.

Bucky laugh took me by surprise. "Agreed, doll. I'm too old to be hiding in back alleys and shit," he clapped on his boyfriend's shoulder. "Although I'm happy enough with just not going to prison for bein' in love with this idiot."

"Jerk," Steve's responding pout was downright adorable now that I knew the circumstances surrounding their relationship.

Which wasn't exactly surprising. As a barista, I knew my fair share about my regulars' love lives, their jobs, their kids. The tea was almost always piping hot. "Bye, boys," I smiled at them warmly, throwing a glance at the time, adjusting the strap of my bag for comfort. "Stay outta trouble!"

Steve scrambled for his bike, having noticed my pointed gesture. "Sorry, didn't mean to hold you back. There, I have a spare helmet," he gestured behind him. "I'll give you a ride."

"There's no way in Hell I'm getting on that death trap!" I shouted cheerfully, walking briskly towards my second job, hiding a laugh in the warmth of my scarf as two very offended motorcycle-loving gay fossils sped past me, making truly incredible amounts of noise. Good for them.

Odette was content to let me rummage around the bodega without showing herself more than necessary, taking her appointments and doing- well, witch stuff, I guess, only coming out to poke at the various jars for ingredients.

"Star, I have a proposition for you," right before closing time, Odette's voice filled out the store with its low drawl. "A good friend of mine owns an apartment building, not far from here actually, and one tenant recently moved out. It's a safe space for those who are different," she enunciated the last word, fixing it with a pointed stare. "She's not overly fond of total strangers coming to live there. The rent is reduced and the apartment itself is slightly bigger and more fashionable than yours..."

"Where's the catch?" I found myself interrupting her. I wouldn't lie: the reduced rent and increased size of the apartment did interest me, as well as the probability of a kinder, more involved landlord. My current one was - not the best, but such was life in the NYC.

"There are a few rules to follow, rules that might seem strange at first but they'll make sense in time. And your neighbors might be also a little... Unusual," Odette carefully studied my face for any signs of displeasure.

I sighed.

And then I sighed some more as I was signing my new lease in a few days' time, having spoken with Porter, my new landlord, and his boyfriend who had claws and fangs- after so much time spent around Odette's, I didn't even blink. The couple liked me enough to extend a secure but flexible offer and some furniture to choose from the attic where they kept the spares.

I quite liked the large, vintage couch I placed next to the wide bow windows in the living room. The floors were hardboard and well-kept, the walls a nice, homely shade of green and Porter didn't mind any new holes in them that might arise from hanging up decorations. I scheduled a thrift crawl at the next possible opportunity, happy with the "good employee" bonus Odette had given me after I sealed the deal.

My stuff was boxed up, a sleepless night and a call to a begrudging Jeremy to have a couple of days off to move; I was, thankfully, not late on my schedule and all that I had left was to rent a car to move the boxes of my things and the few pieces of furniture I had decided to keep - my haul in Porter's attic had been incredibly rewarding and my new apartment had all the basics to make it look like a warm, inviting bohemian home in a while.

My phone rang suddenly, startling interruption to the romcom I was watching as I ate my last lunch in my old apartment. "Hello?" I answered the number without looking.

"Hi, doll," Bucky's voice rang out cheerful. "A little witch told me you were moving. I thought you might need a hand?"

I blanked momentarily, the thought of enlisting two very busy super-soldiers to haul ten boxes and two endtables worth of stuff not having crossed my mind at all. "Is this the moment when you stop by my house just to unattach and put your prosthetic arm somewhere and leave?" I asked, hearing distinctive snickering - several more people were with him.

The cheer in his voice blossomed into a full belly laugh. "You're funny," he teased me. "And thanks for the idea. But no, I have a room full of men that have nothing better to do but get on my nerves. Might as well make 'em useful," his accented drawl thickened the more we spoke. Muted cheers rang out in the background.

"Uh, sure," who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth? I rattled off my address and warned them I didn't have a car, after which Bucky assured me it will be taken care of. The last remaining knick-knacks packed away, I went down to take out the trash, and returned to four people standing in front of my apartment building, all except one unrecognisable in their civilian clothes. "Hello," I waved at them, side-eyeing the tallest, grumpiest man of the bunch.

Stephen Strange was there, looking around curiously, hands in the pockets of his plain grey hoodie. I had already forgotten how normal he looked without his robes, and, frankly speaking, I preferred him like that. His title and the attire that came with it were quite intimidating.

"Hey there," a dark-skinned man who I recognised to be the Falcon, raised his hand. I had not met him yet. "I'm Sam, Sam Wilson. You must be the Star we're helping?" His quick once-over and the tilt to his lips; the ease with which he flirted had me brandishing smirks of my own. I led them all upstairs, Stephen's silence being just so loud. Sam, however, had no such reservations. "So, you're a witch, right?" Wow, subtlety was his middle name.

"Yes, I'll show you my broomstick," I deadpanned, wiggling my eyebrows at him with a grim look.

"Woah woah," Sam raised his hands as the three men behind us snickered loudly. "What happened to 'how are you? let's have dinner sometime'?"

I did my best imitation of an evil cackle as I let them through my front door. The four newcomers looked around my nearly empty apartment with muted interest before zeroing in on the pile of things in the corner: a few pieces of furniture and nearly taped boxes. Should be a walk in the park for four men.

A hand on my arm pulled me from the stupor of observing Sam, Bucky and Steve act like a well-oiled trio, bantering and teasing each other as they discussed how to best move the things.

"Look," Stephen Strange had all the appearance of a chastised puppy. "I wanted to apologize for my behaviour that day. I was out of line," the low notes in his voice made the appearance of the apology being somewhat reluctant. Tony probably put him to it after our little burger run.

Irregardless, I wasn't looking to make any enemies. "Me too, I was under stress - not that I'm using it as an excuse," to give where it's due, I nodded at the sorcerer, immediately awestruck by the easy, boyish smile that stretched on his lips.

"You are strong," he added. "If you would like to learn our ways, we would welcome you." There was a spark in his eyes, something belonging to man that respected and collected knowledge. My own respect for him grew immensely just from that one thing.

"I'll think about it," I offered amicably, however, I still leaned heavily towards a negative answer to that particular proposition. I liked my current way of life.

Strange's grin made a momentary second appearance, until Sam's voice rang loudly: "Fire in the hole, Wizard-man," causing the former to groan loudly and look at me.

"Think about your new place for a second," he spoke, briefly touching out fingertips. As soon as that was over, a golden circle with my new living room on the other side of it appeared quietly, Strange's hands immediately going back into his pockets after that. I sighed and pointed the men into it, stepping in a second after. The sorcerer wasn't far behind. "You could learn that, too, you know," he added wryly, having seen my look of mild envy directed at him.

"I think I'll be good with having the 'pissed off the sorcerer Supreme and lived' pass for now," I retorted with an eyeroll, turning around to stare him down.

He had the decency to look somewhat sheepish, at least. "I'm not like my predecessor," his words were chosen carefully. "And, to be honest, I have no clue as to why your... Boss is so hostile towards me- us," Strange looked around the room before unceremoniously beelining for the couch and plopping down on it.

"Not to be a gossip," I started, slightly intrigued. "But Odette and some lady she called ancient had mad beef," I slipped into casual language easily, trying to recall the details of Odette's, quite often jumbled, stories. "Sounded almost like territorial disputes," I shrugged. "And the apprentices Odette took on before me found themselves in all kinds of compromising situations," I chewed on my lip. "Like the Arctic."

Strange rubbed his face with a noisy groan, large hands doing nothing to mask the resignation and slight embarrassment.

I focused on the thin, red scars on his hands - they had to have been something serious, the way slight tremors betrayed the deteriorating state of the nerves in his fingers. I frowned, quickly averting my gaze before he could catch me ogling him. The fact thag Stephen kept his hands in his pockets or covered by gloves at all times didn't go over my head.

He muttered something to himself, something that sounded like he was often forced to clean up his predecessor's mess. "I see," was the only thing he'd offered me, looking slightly pitiful and apologetic.

"Well," I started, noting the last of my stuff was about to be in its rightful place, "as long as you don't toss me into the ocean, I think we can coexist peacefully."

"Tony would kill me if I'd tried," Stephen groused.

"Probably," I agreed. "Considering the fact he hit on me, for you, it would make one hell of a lover's quarrel," my hand pointed towards the kitchen as Steve and Sam carried in the boxes aptly labeled "kitchen", looking around a place to put them down.

"Tony did what now?" Stephen's tone dropped, a wry smirk decorating his lips as he eyed me through his lashes.

"Don't ask me," I raised my palms, feeling my eyes widen. "He's chaos personified and Satan only knows what he's got on his mind."

That squeezed a laugh out of the tall man, followed by a fond, sappy smile as he looked out of my large, panoramic window, probably thinking of Tony himself. There was no doubt, Stephen Strange was utterly and throughly head over heels in love with Tony Stark. Good for them, good for them.

"A-and that's it," Bucky walked in, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel I'd provided them earlier. "I took some liberties and assembled the furniture, Steve is stacking the dishes as we speak," the brunette noisily plopped down next to me, arm carelessly thrown behind me on the back of the couch.

"Oh, um," I stammered, unused to such random gestures of kindness. "Thanks a lot, you saved me a day's worth of time and a backache," I smiled, scooting over to make some room for Sam.

"No problem, not like we had anything better to do than argue which part of the Lord of the Rings is the best," Wilson rolled his eyes, elbowing Bucky none-too-gently.

Bucky elbowed back, thus starting a horsing war between the two, causing me to scoot closer to Stephen as I attempted to avoid any flailing limbs; the sorcerer and I shared an identical, perplexed sigh as to how two grown men could easily bait each other into such juvenile behaviour.

Whatever. It was kind of endearing.

Steve emerged from the kitchen dusty but smiling, having heard the commotion, and quickly herded his guys into a semblance of decent behaviour before all of three of them left, leaving me and Stephen to go back to my old apartment and give the keys to it to the guard. That was done, too, and a portal from an alley behind my old building straight into my living room had me and Strange awkwardly hovering, saying out goodbyes and waving to each other as the golden circle rapidly shrunk in size and disappeared, golden sparks scattering across my living room carpet for a short second before they fizzled out, too.

I used the brief moment of respite to find the small piece of paper containing the rules Porter had insisted I read and take seriously; figuring it might be a good idea to give them a read before beginning to unpack, I popped open a bottle of soda, holding the itemized list written in neat cursive to my face.

The further I read, the further my eyebrows rose:

"1. Keep your door locked at all times.

2. If a person knocks on your door claiming to be the mail man, do not open the door under any circumstances. You are free to ignore the knocking - it only lasts a minute or so. After the person has left, you may open the door and check for any packages.

3. If Samantha from 3B visits you and asks you to babysit, you may do so at your personal discretion. Her twins are a handful and their daily habits are not for the ones with a weak stomach, however, they mean nothin ill and will not harm you in any way.

4. Do not use the elevator between the hours of 1 and 4 AM.

5. There are no apartments under number "7". If someone claiming to be from those apartments knocks on your door and requests entry, come up with a polite excuse to decline and send me a text message. I will take care of it.

6. There is no garden on the premises of this building. If a man approaches you, claiming to be a gardener, don't interact with him and simply walk away. He will leave you alone.

7. You may meet a girl in a polka-dot dress playing in the hallways or in the stairwell. This is Lucy. Always be polite to Lucy - you won't like what will happen if you're rude to her. She does not talk but she knows limited ASL and may request to visit you. Allow her in ONLY if you have fresh meat in your fridge (beef or mutton, preferably bloody). You might want to avoid seeing her eat, however, it might be very beneficial to make friends with Lucy. She knows a lot of things.

8. If, when taking the stairs, you encounter inconsistent numeration of the floors, such as floor 2 followed by floor 5 and etc, simply walk a flight back. It will sort itself out. The building is old and sometimes it gets confused.

Important notice: these rules apply to your guests as well. Please make sure to introduce and educate them on these matters. We will help as much as we can should a situation arise but ultimately, there are fates far worse than an untimely, however swift, death.

- Porter and Lance."

A slow, creeping dread began to gnaw at my nape, curling on like a cold snake deep in chest. As if laughing at me, the warm, welcoming embrace of the green walls and the toothy, wide smiles my landlords had given me encouraged my recently found sense of adventure, all of it mixing into a cacophony of exhilaration and unease, equally steadily driving my running brain insane.

I sighed again, immediately going to the box containing my altar and the rest of the protective items. So much for peace.

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

[rebelrainfall]

you know what they say about absence

ao3 link here

Hey @cassianserso it’s me, your secret santa! I loved your prompt (Jyn and Cassian writing letters to each other), and I had SO much fun with it. I so hope I did it justice!

***

The cold air hits Jyn like a wall as the door to the transport swings open. It may be a good thing - there was barely room to sit down during this last four-hour leg of the return trip and she’s about ready to collapse. Cassian’s not in the hangar, not that she expected him to be, and neither is the U-wing. He must have left already, for what will be his first covert op in almost a year. He was so restless being grounded, hated feeling useless. She’s happy for him.

She’s less happy for herself, not that that’s a thought she has the time or will to explore.

No matter what Solo might say, there’s nothing weird about what she and Cassian are. Since those few, tense weeks after Scarif they’ve become close, and that’s all it is. They share a room because it’s convenient. They’re friends. Partners. And yeah, if someone had told her a year ago her life would be like this she would have been terrified, but things are different now. It’s good. What they have is good. She’s good at soothing that little voice that cries every now and then (more than she’d ever like to admit) for more. What he gives her is more than enough.

Jyn punches the code into the door of their room, ignoring the pounding behind her eyes. She has a day and a half before she’ll have to ship out again and she intends to spend as much of that time as possible asleep. Even the hot water in the ‘fresher isn’t enough to keep her there for a moment longer than necessary.

Cassian is definitely gone. The cot across from hers is neatly made, his least-conspicuous jacket gone from its hook. He’ll be on a mid level of Coruscant by now, if she remembers correctly what he told her. 

Her own things are almost entirely the way she left them. Her blankets are half-on, half-off the bed, her vest thrown over the back of the desk chair, but there is something different. 

There’s a piece of folded flimsi on her pillow.

There’s no introduction - her name isn’t even on it. But the note is in Cassian’s handwriting.

I was hoping you’d be back before I left and it came so close. If you arrived when you were scheduled to it’ll only have been an eight hour difference. I can’t say when I’ll be back but I think it should be soon. 

I heard from Bodhi yesterday. He says to tell you training is going well. He didn’t say as much, but it sounds like things are going well with Skywalker, too.

K wasn’t cleared to come with me for this one and he’s very upset about it, so be advised. He should be having his ocular lenses replaced in Bay 3 if you need him.

Maybe you’ll be around when I get back next time. I guess I’ve gotten used to [word(s) scribbled out] having someone else in the room at night. The silence is strange.

There’s no ending or signature, but she doesn’t need one. Cassian never struck her as one for gestures like this, and that he went out of his way to leave this for her makes her warm in a way she refuses to linger on. 

She sleeps twelve hours that night, and ten the next, and in the time between she snatches a sheet of flimsi from a supply closet to return the favour.

I’m sorry I can’t be back to see you. Trafficking rings don’t like to be kept waiting. At least I had two full nights in a proper bed, but you’re right. I miss It is too quiet here alone.

K is a little more charitable now that he can see again. I almost want to say pleasant, but we both know that word doesn’t apply to him. Don’t listen to anything he may tell you - the smoke bomb was his idea.

I’m shipping off again this afternoon to the outer rim, somewhere near Sullust. Pilot says the planet’s almost as cold as here. Bet you had a nice warm room on Coruscant, too bad I can’t stow away with you.

She leaves her note on his pillow and climbs into the shuttle with his in her pocket, like some holo-drama damsel collecting love letters. 

 Maybe he’ll be here next time she gets back.

II.

He isn’t. 

There are signs all over the room that he was here, at some point, since her. Another jacket missing from its hook, an empty mug where she didn’t leave it.

Another note on her pillow.

Just missed you again. We have the worst timing. I’m back on Coruscant, but this next stint is [word(s) scribbled out] delicate. I might be back in a few weeks, but it could be months. I hoped to see you before I left, but you’re right. The war doesn’t wait. 

Don’t let it go to your head, but I think I miss you. I still couldn’t bring K and it gets [word(s) scribbled out] boring by myself. K’s still being a grump - keep him company for me, hey? I also heard something about him attempting to create his own language to bother Skywalker’s droid, so I suggest you keep an eye on that.

There’s still no signature, but this time there’s a date. Two weeks ago. Jyn puts the flimsi down with a heavy breath. It could be months. The timing is… not great. She has an unusual stretch of downtime, more than a week, and no one to spend it with. This is the end of what she’d become accustomed to, she realizes. Now that he’s back in the field, Cassian can no longer be a daily fixture in her life. The prospect frightens her more than she cares to consider.

It’s ironic. Never thought I’d be sad to be alone.

Of course it isn’t so lonely as she might have feared. Bodhi is finally back from his flight training, a full-fledged X-wing pilot with the stories and the friends to prove it. He’s come such a long way in the short time she’s known him and his company is refreshing, even if he isn’t the man she finds her mind wandering far too often toward now that he’s gone.

She sleeps fine that week, though the nights are still too quiet. She could never miss the hum of snoring and whispers of the pathfinders at night. But alone, the dark and the quiet are oppressive in their deepness, threatening to swallow her without Cassian’s steady breathing from across the small space. It scares her, how accustomed she’s gotten to having someone else around. To having him around.

Maybe this is for the best, this separation. She hadn’t realized how much she relies on Cassian, his presence, his kindness. It’s a dangerous game, to rely on anyone. She’s always held a savage pride toward her independence, and maybe this reminder is what she needs to get herself back on track. 

Maybe.

But when she considers it, life without him seems more frightening even than the weakness of reliance. She doesn’t have to be alone any more. The night before she leaves again she sits at the desk in their quarters writing him another note.

Sorry I can’t be here, tried my best! Since you’re so broken without me. I’m never forgetting that and I’ll make sure you don’t either.

Hope you’re here when I get back. I need Bodhi needs someone else to talk to - you can only hear the same three stories about Luke Skywalker so many times and I hit my limit two days after he got back.

Heading back to the outer rim today. Those traffickers from before are gone so now we’re just cleanup crew. Getting sick of Dameron’s jokes. Not that yours are any better. 

Maybe I do miss you

III.

Four time zones on three different planets in the space of a week and Jyn’s circadian rhythm is wrecked. Thane says it’s 0500 local time when they hit atmo and she has to take his word for it because that makes as much sense as anything else.

She doesn’t see many people as she lugs her duffle back toward the barracks. It’s early enough that anyone on a night shift is still working and most of those who start in the morning aren’t awake yet. Madine’s given the crew the full day off, thank the force, and Jyn intends to take full advantage of that fact.

She opens the door and switches on the light before she notices anything different. Someone startles upright on the cot across from hers.

“Shavit, sorry!” She flicks it back off, already halfway to the ‘fresher to turn on that light instead as her pack lands on the floor with a quiet thud.

“No, no, it’s ok. I’m not - I wasn’t asleep.” Cassian’s voice is rough, but alert. “Turn on the light.”

She does, kicking off her boots, before the first thing he said registers. “It’s five in the morning! Why weren’t you asleep?”

He shrugs, squinting at her as his eyes adjust to the light. His hair has gotten longer since she saw him last, long enough now to fall in his face. A little part of her wants to comb it away from his eyes, or maybe tousle the bit by his ears. She shoves the thought away.

“Hi, by the way,” he says, ignoring her question. “Did you just get back?”

“Yeah.” She slumps down on her bed. “And hello to you, too.”

Stars, she’s missed him. Until now she hadn’t realized how much. But now that she’s looking at him… The way he smiles at her, gentle, makes her want little more than to wrap her arms around him. Kiss that gorgeous grin off his face.

Oh.

When did that start?

(A long time ago, not that she means to admit it).

He’s saying something but she missed the beginning, a little distracted.

“Sorry?”

He shakes his head. “You really are tired. I said, meet me for lunch, if you’re awake by then?”

“Sure, I probably will be.” She’ll make sure she is - like she would skip a meal with him after the six weeks they’ve just missed each other. “How long are you back?”

“Technically, I’m still a stand-by agent. So probably a while.

“I have at least a week.” Jyn drags herself back upright and heads towards the ‘fresher. The sooner she gets in the shower, the sooner she can get out and into bed. The hot water is heaven after so long caked in mud, but it still isn’t enough to keep her any longer than necessary. Once she’s out and dressed she sits on the counter to braid her hair, listening to Cassian talk about Coruscant through the open door.

“You should know, my ‘apartment’ sucked. My neighbour in the unit below smoked and it would come up through the vent and I didn’t have any windows. You would have hated it.”

“Wanna bet? I slept in a tree last night. Not a treehouse or even a platform, a hollowed-out tree.”

He huffs a laugh. “Sounds like fun.”

She finishes her hair and turns her attention to the healing gash on her shoulder, opening the cupboard for a square of gauze and a roll of medical tape. She hops down from the counter to pass them to him. “Help me with this?”

“Where?”

“Shoulder. I can’t quite reach it.”

She turns around and pulls down the strap of her tank top to show him. He hisses in sympathy.

“What did you do to yourself?”

“Fight with that stupid tree. It looks worse than it is.”

“Still.”

Settling down on his bed, he guides her to sit in front of him so he can center the gauze over the wound. His hands are gentle smoothing the edge of the tape to her skin. She hopes it’s cold enough that he’ll assume that’s what makes her shiver. He’s so careful - far more than she would have been.

He runs a hand softly up and down her back once it’s in place, and Jyn freezes. 

“There,” he murmurs, “All patched up.”

“Thank you,” she says, proud of how steady her voice is. Force, she’s pathetic. He’s her friend. This is nothing new, this touch is not new. 

If she were to lean back she would be in his arms.

Not that she’s thinking about that.

They’ve lived together for months. He’s touched her more than this dozens of times. Why is this the gesture to undo her?

Cassian clears his throat and she almost jumps. Kriff, did he notice her sudden nervousness? But then he gestures to the desk and the two cups on it.

“Caf for me, tea for you. Should be cool enough to drink, now.”

Oh, he’s an angel. She stands up to get them and then to sit down on her own cot, grateful to have an excuse to get away from his overwhelming proximity. She passes his mug across to him and takes a sip of hers, and of course it’s her favourite kind.

“Thank you. You’re getting up now?”

“If I get more done this morning I can have a longer break for lunch with you.”

Stars, has he always been this kind?

“Aw,” she deadpans, “It’s like you missed me.”

He flicks his eyes up to hers, then looks down into his own drink. 

“I did.”

She focuses on her tea, carefully not looking at him. She can’t feel this way. Not now, not ever. This is Cassian. 

“How did the rest of the trip go? Aside from the evil tree.” It’s been quiet for long enough that the question is a surprise. She shrugs. It’s ok, she tells herself. He’s her friend and that’s more than enough. She’ll love him forever for it no matter how else her traitorous heart might behave.

“Boring. Helped Kyrell’s squadron distribute aid for a while, and then we took out the last holdout cell. It was never a huge operation. That ring had maybe a dozen ships.”

“Boring is good.”

“Mm. How about you?”

“A little less boring, but I can’t… it’s classified, sorry.”

She knows he’s not brushing her off. She wishes there was something he could tell her, if only to keep hearing his voice after so long, but she’s used to that answer. So she takes another sip of her tea and tries to remember anything that’s happened. Anything she could say to make him smile.

“How is Kay?” Is what she settles on. “Did he finish that spite-project of his?”

“His language? He did, and Threepio is suitably bothered.”

“Good.”

“What’s better though - the princess caught wind of it and now she’s trying to figure out if we could work it into a code. So all the droids might have to learn it, not just Threepio.”

It was the right topic. Casisian’s lit up as he tells her about this, all the little details he knows. She finishes her tea before she has time to realize it, and her exhaustion really is starting to catch up with her, but it’s not until Cassian stands up that she gives any of that a moment’s thought.

“You should get to bed,” he says, crouching down to fish his clothes out from the drawer under his bed. “You have six hours ‘til lunch and if you’re late I’m not saving you caf.”

“Mean,” she grumbles, pulling her blankets up off the floor and setting an alarm on her datapad while he takes out a towel. She hears Cassian turn on the shower as she lays down. She’s asleep before it shuts off.

*

Jyn would not consider herself a morning person. Not that it’s truly morning when her alarm goes off at half-after noon, but that’s just a technicality. She tells herself it’s better for her sleep cycle to get up now, and go back to bed at a more normal hour, but really it’s only her plan with Cassian that gets her properly awake.

Alarm still blaring, she reaches under the bed to grab the first set of clothes she can reach. She sits up, stretches, and reaches to turn it off.

And stops.

There’s a piece of flimsi on her datapad.

Confused, she reaches for it. She talked to Cassian only hours ago, and she’ll see him soon, so why would he need to leave her a letter now?

Unless he couldn’t meet her. If he was sent off for another op, if he’s going to be gone for weeks, but no. He’d have woken her if he had to leave. He wouldn’t leave without a goodbye.

She unfolds the note, worried. Something must be wrong.

Jyn, it begins, and that’s new. She likes the way her name looks in his small, tidy writing.

Jyn,

I’m glad you’re  home. I really have missed you. So much.

There’s something I want you to know. I never planned to tell you but [word(s) scribbled out] I think I see things a little differently now. I should have waited until I saw you at lunch but I think this may be easier in writing.

I won’t waste time. I love you. You know that already, you must. You mean so much to me and I don’t want to imagine my life without you. But it’s more than that, I’m in love with you. I was never going to bring it up but something this morning [word(s) scribbled out] [word(s) scribbled out]. I can’t explain it.

If I’m right, if you want what I do, forgive me for doing this the coward’s way and let me be yours. If I’m wrong, [word(s) scribbled out] I’m so sorry. Please, please, let me down softly and I’ll never bring this up again. We can forget about it, I’ll get over myself, just let me be in your life. I had to tell you. I love you. I’m sorry.

Jyn stares down at the words on the page.

It doesn’t compute.

Not the first time, barely the second time.

Let me be yours.

Jyn puts the letter down after her fourth time reading it, only to pick it right back up again.  She takes a deep breath, forcing her mind into a facsimile of calm and tries to think logically. 

Everything she’s hardly realized she wanted. More.

He…

He loves her.

Cassian loves her. And by now he’s probably sitting in the mess wondering if she’ll show up. Assuming the worst, if she knows him at all.

He loves her.

Luckily, there’s something she can do about that.

[calligraphist-artemisia]

Scattered Blue (Part 1)

Written for the Kidge Spring Event!

Prompt 3: Forget-me-nots | True Love, Memories, Remembrance 

Summary: Alternate Universe. From the moment the first blue petal passed her lips, Pidge knew what was happening to her.

Also posted on AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune

❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀

Part One: Pidge

The small blue petal haunted her from the time she woke up to the time she laid her head down to go back to sleep. There was a part of her that desperately wanted to ignore it and what it meant, hoping it would go away if she just wished hard enough for it.

But as with all things in life, wishing did nothing without her also taking action.

Pidge covered her mouth as she coughed hard, feeling something slide up through her throat until it splattered out into her hand. She caught a glimpse of blue as she shoved that hand into her pocket to hide the evidence.

“Is everything okay?” Hunk asked in concern. He and Lance sat across from her at the cafe table they'd snagged for their weekly lunch.

“Everything's great!” she lied with a smile. “How was your flight, Lance? You transported some heavy cargo to the east coast base, right?”

Lance shrugged. “It was just a normal, boring flight. No issues.”

“Which is a good thing,” Hunk said, his tone long-suffering.

Lance agreed with a grumble that spoke strongly of his true feelings. He'd always dreamed of being more than a “simple” cargo pilot, no matter how often Pidge and Hunk tried to remind him that he was the backbone of the Garrison and served a pivotal role in keeping everything running smoothly.

“What about you?” Hunk asked Pidge. “You and Keith have been testing the new jets. That must be fun.”

Pidge's heart fluttered at the mention of Keith's name and she swallowed to try and stop the cough that threatened to overtake her. “Um, y-yeah. Yeah, it's been a ton of fun.”

Hunk and Lance exchanged alarmed looks at her unusually lackluster response and Pidge wanted to swear, but instead, she reached for her water and took several swallows until her throat was clear.

“Keith giving you problems? I could kick his butt for you,” Lance volunteered.

“We're fine, so please don't get yourself suspended trying to fight him,” Pidge said with a roll of her eyes. She set down her drink. “Our test flight went great! We're just waiting for the technical report to come back before we can go up again and there were a few minor tweaks the ground crew wanted to make to improve how responsive the controls are. Shiro's been coaching us through new drills while we wait.”

“Ugh, you're so lucky. You get Shiro as a mentor and you get to test fly the new jets. Can we trade lives for one day?” Lance asked.

“That means you'd have to work with Keith,” Pidge reminded him.

“Good point. I'd much rather trade with Keith and have you as my partner,” Lance said, sitting back in his chair as the waitress arrived with their meals.

Pidge rolled her eyes as he went about his usual routine of flirting with their waitress. She briefly considered apologizing on his behalf but figured it would only encourage him to keep going. At least he wasn't making a complete fool of himself and thus, by extension, of her and Hunk as well.

They didn't do much talking as they enjoyed their food and it was only as they got down to the last few bites and were contemplating dessert that Pidge asked Hunk how he was doing in the engineering department. His eyes lit up as he began describing their experiments with a new lightspeed engine that they hoped would be capable of drastically reducing the amount of time it took to get to the farthest planets in their solar system.

“Pretty soon you and Keith will be preparing to fly one of these! Well, uh, if everything goes the way we hope,” Hunk said, rapidly backpedaling in an attempt to curb his own enthusiasm.

“That sounds incredible, Hunk! You'll have to keep me updated,” Pidge said.

Hunk grinned back at her. “I will.”

In the end, they decided against ordering dessert at the cafe and instead walked a few blocks down to Lance's favorite gelato place where they each got a scoop in a little paper cup so they could walk and eat at the same time.

Every now and then, Pidge had to turn away and cough, though thankfully she didn't end up with any fresh petals. For the rest of the night, she didn't find a single speck of blue when she pulled her hand away and she went to bed with a smile on her face and no worry lingering in her mind.

She danced around her room with a spring in her step when morning came, taking a little extra time on her hair and putting a little bit of color on her eyelids, which she normally saved for special occasions. By some miracle, she didn't drip any of her breakfast onto her uniform and was able to leave the house soon after by catching a ride with her brother, who was also on his way to the Galaxy Garrison.

They split up after he parked in the Garrison's garage, with Matt heading over to the labs where they were analyzing new plugs taken from Saturn's moon, Enceladus, while Pidge went to the gym to meet up with her flight partner and get started on their training for the day.

Keith was already there warming up when she arrived. His black hair was tied back out of his face and he had swapped out of the heavy uniform in favor of a pair of gray shorts and a black tank top.

Pidge caught his attention with a wave before gesturing towards the locker room, silently indicating that she was going to get changed and would be out soon. Once she was dressed in her own gray shorts and Garrison-provided orange shirt she jogged out to Keith, dodging around the others who were taking advantage of the open gym.

“Hey, did you get the itinerary Shiro sent?” Keith asked the moment she was close enough to be heard.

Pidge had to take a moment to think about it. She's woken up to two messages from Shiro that morning – one was a note regarding a slight change in their schedule and the other was a list of what they'd be covering that week. She assumed he was talking about the week-long one. “I glanced it over. It looks like it's mostly what we do every week.”

“Yeah, except for Friday. Do you think I can convince Shiro to give me a pass to skip out on the annual health screening after what they pulled last year?” Keith asked.

“Doubt it, though I bet he'd go with you if you're really worried about it,” Pidge said as dread began to creep in her chest.

At their last screening, the nurse helping Keith found something “odd” in his blood and ordered him into quarantine for two weeks while they tried to puzzle it out. The Garrison medical team ran test after test, asking Keith all kinds of invasive questions, until Shiro, with the help of Commander Iverson, put an end to it all. Keith was let go, but he then had to suffer through several months of resurgent rumors about his parentage and whether or not his abilities were because he wasn't fully human.

Keith was anti-social and a little awkward, which when coupled with his innate sense of how to pilot and the fact that he out-flew even seasoned pilots on the simulator on his first try, led to a number of rumors that one of his parents weren't human or even that Keith himself was born somewhere far beyond their solar system. It was all nonsense, of course.

Pidge had her own reasons for being worried about the screening. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that they would find out about her affliction.

Hanahaki.

Just putting a name to it made it feel all the more real and terrifying.

“Hey,” Keith said, nudging her gently. “It'll be alright. I'm really not worried about anything happening again this year. They wouldn't dare.”

Pidge did her best to smile and try to reassure him that she'd also be there to stop them if they tried anything, but the weight of what was happening to her dragged her down, threatening to drown her if she didn't wrestle back control of her emotions. Her breath stuttered in her chest, a cough building even as she cleared her throat to try and chase it off. Her eyes watered.

“Pidge?” Keith's tone turned concerned and he placed one hand on her back to keep her steady.

She couldn't hold it back any longer.

Once her coughing started, it was nearly impossible to stop as something thick and slightly scratched traveled up through her throat, threatening to block her breathing, until it finally began to slide out. Pidge gagged and coughed even harder, forcing a long stem and the accompanying blooms out of her mouth and into her hands.

All she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat. Dark spots danced across her vision and she swayed, nominally aware of Keith holding her up. Pidge closed her eyes.

❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀

She woke in the medical wing.

Or at least, she thought that was where she was at first glance, but closer inspection of the wall next to her and the lack of orange décor told her that she was most likely at the Plaht City Memorial Hospital. Pidge stared at the wall for a moment and then slowly, stiffly turned her head to look around the room, which was when she realized Keith was sitting at her bedside and staring at her with a worried expression on his face.

“Wh... what happened?” Pidge groggily asked.

“You passed out,” Keith told her. “Pidge, why didn't you say anything sooner?”

She looked away from him. “Didn't want to. S'fine, Keith. I can handle it.”

“You can handle it? Pidge, this isn't going to go away on its own!” Keith's voice raised to a near shout. He blanched and ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to calm down. “You... Will you at least tell me who it is? I could go get them and... and then everything would be fine, right? Unless... you've already told them?”

Pidge swallowed thickly and glanced to the bedside table, hoping to see a glass of water there, but there was nothing. “It doesn't matter.”

“Of course it matters!”

“They don't feel the same way,” Pidge said, refusing to meet his eyes. “I don't need to ask them in order to know that.”

Keith growled in frustration and stood up. “I don't buy that for a second! Who wouldn't like you?”

“Keith...”

“Just tell me who it is and I'll go talk to them,” he said fiercely. “Or I'll bring them here, whichever works best for you. Please, Pidge, I just want to help. You're my best friend.”

Her chest clenched painfully at those words and Pidge wondered for a moment if she were about to be launched into another coughing fit, but after a moment or two, the pain subsided to mere discomfort, which allowed her to speak again.

Not that she really wanted to speak, since that meant revealing the truth: she was in love with him.

That was the cause of the Hanahaki Disease. Flowers would take root in the lungs, growing until there was no place left for them to go. The body naturally tried to rid itself of the invasion by coughing them up but there was only so long that could keep the disease at bay before it became too much for the body to handle. Sometimes, the person afflicted could “cure” themselves by falling out of love before the disease progressed too far. Otherwise, there were three ways it could end: in the death of the infected, by surgical removal, or by having their love reciprocated.

The last of those was the best-case scenario – the one that was often used in the plots of movies or cheesy romance novels. Having one's love returned would effectively shrink the flowers until they were gone completely.

Surgery was a more recent option, though one that some still chose to reject even if it meant their death. Choosing to surgically remove the flowers meant also removing any feelings they had for that person and often resulted in the complete loss of memory of them as well. No one could pinpoint why it was like that and all attempts to improve on the surgery fell flat.

Those were the options sitting before Pidge.

She didn't want to die. That much was for certain. There was still so much she wanted to see and do in the world, and though it broke her heart to think of needing to do it all without Keith, her partner, steadfast by her side, she wasn't going to give it all up. Besides, there was still the chance that she wouldn't forget about him. She was too stubborn for that. And if she could remember, maybe they could rebuild their friendship as well.

But what if she didn't remember?

Pidge slowly met his eyes.

He was her best friend too; the first person her own age that she'd ever truly gotten along with and felt comfortable around. Life without him wouldn't be nearly as vibrant. She couldn't lose him.

“Don't leave me,” she begged, her chest constricting as she forced the words out. She tried to sit up, her arms trembling from the effort, but gave up as Keith moved to help her. She shook her head and blinked back tears as she caught a whiff of his cologne, which usually inspired warm and fuzzy feelings, but instead dredged up an intense need to cough.

She swallowed, trying to force it away. She needed to talk first.

“Of course I'm not going to leave,” Keith tried to reassure her.

Pidge shook her head. “If... If I forget you, please don't leave me.”

Keith made a confused sound. “Why would you forget...?”

She could hear the exact moment he put the pieces together. The way his voice cracked was a dead giveaway just before his expression crumbled in distress. She reached out and grasped his hand. “It's okay, Keith. I know.”

He sucked in a shuddering breath. “It's not okay! Pidge, I-”

“You're not allowed to blame yourself,” she cut in. “This isn't your fault. You can't help who you like. Or who you don't like.”

While it wasn't something they'd exclusively talked about, she'd gotten the gist from past conversations that he wasn't someone interested in any kind of romance. He preferred focusing on his career and studies, which was something they'd always had in common right up until she went and fell for him.

She had to look away from him for a moment. “It's just... you're my best friend too and I don't want to forget that, but if I do then I need you to be there and make sure we stick together. I know that's a lot to ask.”

“No, it isn't,” Keith heatedly denied. “Of course I'll stay with you.”

Though Pidge mostly felt relieved by his agreeing to stay with her, there was still that sliver of worry that things could go wrong for them. But what choice did they really have?

She was saved from needing to talk about it more by the arrival of Shiro and her family, who crowded around her bed to ask if she was alright and if there was anything they could do to help. Matt seemed particularly stricken that he hadn't noticed anything wrong when he spent the most time with her, though her mom was a close second.

Once he was sure Pidge would be okay, her dad took charge of the situation and arranged for her surgery to take place that evening by calling on a few favors and using his influence as a Commander at the Galaxy Garrison. It took a little more convincing on Pidge's part, as well as some hefty backup from Shiro, to make an allowance for Keith to stay with her outside of surgery. It all happened so fast that she didn't have time to think about everything else she wanted to say to Keith, just in case she wouldn't get the chance later.

Her family stayed until the last few minutes until Shiro was able to direct them out into the waiting room so she and Keith could have one last moment alone.

And it was in those last few minutes that genuine fear struck Pidge.

She didn't want to forget him.

She didn't want to lose his friendship.

Heavy tears flooded her eyes, dripping down her cheeks without her fully realizing it. She choked back a sob as she looked at Keith. “I-I-...”

She couldn't get the words out.

Keith didn't need her to say anything. He got up so he could sit on the edge of her bed instead, cradling her against him and offering physical comfort. He refused to budge as the anesthesiologist entered and began prepping her arm for the IV which would administer the anesthetic directly into her bloodstream.

“Count backward from one-hundred, dear.”

Pidge tried, but she was still too choked up to speak and had to settle for mouthing it instead. Rather quickly, Keith's soft reassurances faded and she dropped off to sleep.

❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀

There was an annoying beeping sound that cut through her dreams, dragging Pidge back into the realm of consciousness. It was a strange, rhythmic sound – wholly different from the obnoxious screeching of her alarm clock. She groaned as she opened her eyes and had to squint against the sudden, harsh light that reflected off of crisp white sheets and plain white walls. The only spot of color near her was a single stem of purplish flowers that was placed in a water glass on the bedside table.

“Pidge?” an unfamiliar voice called her name, relief present in their tone.

Her head felt heavy as she turned it to face whoever was speaking to her. She figured it was a nurse or something – she had to be in a hospital of some kind – but instead, she found a young man with dark hair sitting in a chair at her bedside.

“You're awake!” he said, a smile blossoming across his face. “How do you feel?”

“M'okay,” she said thickly. She stared at him for a moment and watched as his smile faded. “Sorry, but who are you?”

He reeled back as though he'd been slapped, his expression dropping into something close to pure anguish. “I...” He paused and took a deep breath. “I'm Keith.”

[indecisive-v]

NINJAMUFFIN TWITTER AMA AUGUST 7 2021, EXCEPT HE'S ONLY ANSWERING QUESTIONS THAT HAVE PROPER GRAMMAR AND PUNCTUATION

ama just ended!! funkin related shit has been recorded under the cut as per usual. this time og copied text is uncolored, and purple text is paraphrased by me

Q: Do you have a favorite Friday Night Funkin’ mod at the current moment?

A: MordeTwi Magic

Q: Do you have a format in mind for the built-in mod support, or are you saving that for later?

A: depends what you mean by 'format'. stuff like charting will probably always be constantly changing until we have most levels of the game done, since we'd essentially want modding tools to be basically DEVELOPMENT tools as much as possible, and dev tools change as project goes on

Q: Favorite FNF character?

A: Girlfriend

Q: Have you tried (or are going to try) getting Friday Night Funkin' on other consoles?

A: It's totally possible, we just gotta get in contact, figure out what we're feeling it with, and get folks to make the backend for it

Q: Are you worried about the game itself being overshadowed by fan content (and by extension modding), or is it a non-issue for you?

A: we can see the grand picture of what we want out of FNF, and thats what separates us from any of the fan mod stuff

Q: What do you think of the reliance of Game Banana in the current modding scene?

A: it makes me very happy to see sans undertale over fnf boyfriend mod sit side by side on the same website as counter strike surf maps

Q: Hey, Mr. Muffin, what’s the release schedule for “new” Friday Night content looking like?

A: make stuf til its ready for an update

Q: Will there be something like an "extras" gallery where we can look at concept art and stuff?

A: if there is, it would be super cool. we dont just want some concept art image viewer in-game and call it a day.

Q: Will characters from stuff that ISN'T Newgrounds-related show up in FNF?

A: probably happening sooner than later, so yea

Q: Have you guys thought of hiring famous modders? (KadeDev, SugarRatio, etc)

A: no, we wont hire based off of fame

Q: Are you for or against Friday Night Funkin' mods and/or fangames being sold or otherwise distributed commercially (as long as they're open source obviously)?

A: Not against it, but why would anyone put up paywalls this early anyway?? Even the vanilla game is free rn so it seems kinda weird. But it's cool for em to take donations

Q: Are you okay with people going to the game’s source code, compiling it and getting the whole full game for free?

A: That's the point, my guy.

Q: Did you play test any of FNF yourself, and if so did you ever have trouble beating specific weeks or songs?

A: I've only beat Guns once or twice, but I've had others play test and do better than me

Q: If FNF hadn't gotten so popular, what would you be doing right now?

A: Still workin' on it. That was the plan, getting popular was just a surprise bonus. We'd be less focused on it though since we wouldn't have like 2 million Kickstarter bucks

Q: Got plans for FNF's anniversary? Anything cool?

A: Thinkin about it, but... monkey ball...

Q: Do you think the direction of 'let's make the hardest mod ever' will have some impact on the difficulty of the final version of the game?

A: I don't think we're influenced much by mods. We're NOT in the modding community at all

Q: Is there an fnf modder that is your friend or whose relationship with you is closer than other modders?

A: prob siivagunner crew technically

Q: Do you worry about how mods might execute ideas that you were eventually gonna do?

A: yeah, cuz usually when they do it, they dont do it as cool as we had in mind, and we'd have to show them how its done, lol!!!!

Q: How do you feel about the majority of fans that are basically children? Will the game have more mature content in the future to keep them away?

A: i think people see it as something we need to "actively combat" but genuinely i dont think any of us care. we just are going to make the game how we want to make it, and forcing these edgy things or whatev to "scare of the dumb kids XDDD" will just come across as cringe i think!!