#i wanna like tea so bad but i fear its impossible

[dogmouthhorse]

hey. anyone got thoughts and/or recommendations 4 tea 4 someone who gets nauseous from even the smell of regular tea

[yanderart]

   Once you found Shouto on the Anti-Purge forums, it felt so wonderful to be understood. So comforting to finally have someone you could rely on...

So, when you got a letter notifying you of your selection for the Annual Purge later on, of course you went to seek his help.

Should’ve known better than to trust strangers online, though.

My fic/portrait convo for the Yandere Purge Collab, from the Lovesick Discord. And please check the rest of the m. list for other amazing works set in the same AU!

Under the cut is the actual fic (Todoroki x Reader, nsfw, dark themes, 10k), as well as the respective TWs. Hope y'all enjoy 🥀

-------

Tws: Usual yandere ones (stalking, manipulation, delusion). Dub-con/Non-con. Non-consensual Drug Use, aka Aphrodisiacs. Death threats and sexism (from randoms on the forum, not Todo). 

-------

   You couldn’t think straight —hadn’t been able to since waking up again. All you could recognize amidst the fog currently obscuring your thoughts was the longing, prolonged, and tangible in its hold over your being.

You felt hot all over, the flames licking at your skin burning brightly as you squirmed from your place, eagerly attempting to get closer to the cold reprieve emanating from the man that held you. 

“Tell me what’s wrong, Y/N." One of his hands was steering you on his lap, the other one gently massaging your shoulders in a comforting motion. “I can only help you if you do."

If your judgment had not been overcast by the desire pushing away your self-awareness, then perhaps you could’ve heard the faint hint of amusement in his voice. Perhaps you would’ve thought to look up and finally encounter the content shine of his heterochromatic eyes.

“I feel…" speaking was laborious, your tongue impossibly weighty and your mind swirling with thoughts that escaped any semblance of coherence. “I feel hot all over. It hurts.”

The hand positioned around your waist went to search for one of your clenched ones, easily engulfing it in his grip as he nudged the side of your face with his chin rather tenderly. A gentle encouragement for you to stay attentive, anchoring you to the moment despite your dazed mindset. 

“Show me then,” his low timbre tickled your skin, sending another wave of excruciating heat to wreak havoc inside your body, “Let me know where it hurts.”

With a stuttering sigh, you proceeded to press both of your hands to your lower stomach, gulping audibly before bringing them further down. Dancing just short of your underwear while your eyelids fluttered shut. 

You knew your actions were out of character deep down. Even recognized the shadow of wrongness that distorted the current scene. You weren't supposed to do such things, weren't supposed to feel like that…

But the reality was that you were so excruciatingly warm by that point, and his palm felt so deliciously cold. 

When you heard the dreadful siren going off in the distance, the instantly recognizable sound of the Purge starting at last, you were already too far gone to think of anything else but the fingers brushing against the thin cotton of your panties, so close to the evidence of your need soaking through them. 

Your parents had told you not to trust strangers online once upon a time. You should’ve really taken their advice more to heart.

。。。。。

   But first, perhaps a little tracing of your steps is in order —some necessary context to fully understand the extension of your plight. 

You see, earlier that day you had woken up full of a peculiar mix of drive and determination. It was indeed Purge Day, the single day of the year you had grown to fear the most  ever since childhood, and yet for once you found yourself oddly relaxed, filled to the brim with resolve instead of your usual nerves. 

Which was already an unexpected turn of events, considering you had just gotten a letter notifying you of your selection as one of the accursed Darlings of the Night. 

A gentle reminder that, if caught, your life would stop belonging to yourself for an entire dreadful year. 

Because a Yandere had their sight on you now, or so the notice had informed you in impeccable typography. Anxious fingertips memorized the slight raise of inked words, inspecting every single detail the letter carried.

You had imagined a monster ready to pounce just outside your door then, fitting enough to be the carrier of your bad news. A preternaturally grotesque being, built from all the Yandere themed horror stories you had heard throughout the years.  

And yet there you were, feeling safer in that instant than you had in years; Because this time you had a plan. He made sure to give you one you could easily follow.

Just like he later made sure to welcome you in with a kind smile and awfully persistent hospitality. 

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

You should've known better than to accept.

。。。。。

   In the present, fingers were now dipping under the elastic of your panties, ghosting across feverish skin and encouraging your whimpers to grow louder. 

"Is this what you want, then?" The man's breath tickled one of your ears, rough digits gathering your slickness with practiced ease. And he sounded genuinely concerned too, as if your discomfort was not a consequence of his own machinations. "Because I wanna ease your pain, baby. Give you what you truly need."

He barely even touched you yet you were already struggling not to crumble, the desire governing your mind mixing with the new sensations to create a new delirious kind of torment. 

Continuing to tease you, the man was relentless in his torture, barely even brushing over your neediest spots. A gentle press of his palm to stimulate you for a moment before pulling back, much to your shameful frustration; Better than nothing, but not close enough. 

In his own way, though, he was urging you to speak up. Expecting you to demand what you truly wanted. 

Yet as a retort, all you could come up with was gasping out his name, dripping from your lips like honeyed prayers as your hips fought to buck up against his hand. 

 A sound you afterward repeated a hundred times over. Chanted until its melody became engraved on your tongue and the man was finally caving in, sliding his fingers inside with a smirk. 

He had known you'd end up caving, had planned for it for months now, and yet nothing had prepared him for the actual view.

。。。。。

   Shou, actually, had been his username when you first met him. Once upon a time recited with a genuine smile and an eagerness to please, such a far cry from the anguished whines it would later lead up to.

You started frequenting the forum he inhabited a few months back. A place which happened to be a hidden corner of the internet for people who did not just stumble upon it, but actually sought it out. A part of the web where its occupants challenged societal norms and, against what society had tried to condition you all into thinking,  chose to voice their taboo Anti-Purge sentiments instead. 

Sentiments perhaps born either due to the inherent discriminatory nature of the holiday (why was it that Yanderes were accommodated for, while Darlings barely got a warning before they were made prey?), a need for contrarianism (when opposing open kidnappings, assault and other debauchery became an act of rebellion), or just a tenuous moral high ground which made it unbearable to stomach. Whatever the reason, it was your first time encountering such a density of like-minded peers.

Despite attempting to commit yourself to being a lurker, deciding to never post or reply to others, your days had still quickly become consumed by the need to read each and every topic. You were simply fascinated with this new dark corner of the web. 

That was, of course, until the aforementioned Shou became the main focus of your attention, a dash of intriguing brightness to break the monotony of your existence.

And like moths rushing to the flame, your curiosity would be your undoing.  

There was something about him that pulled you in (along with many others from the community, which tended to flock on his posts whenever he grazed the forums). His username was clearly just a nickname instead of a carefully crafted pseudonym; profile picture just an image of the back of what you all assumed to be his hair, dual-toned strands catching the light in a hypnotic way.

Truly, his disregard for anonymity within those parts was a bigger statement than you were expecting, almost as commendable as it was dumbfounding. There was the nature of his postings too, never subtle about his inclinations or ideas. 

   How to disarm and reutilize Purge Traps. 

   Most effective ways to incapacitate a violent assailant.  

   Government lies and why they matter. 

   Faking a BOPC (breach of purge code) and getting away with it.

There was little method to the madness that was his forum activity, besides the hint that he was evidently more knowledgeable about the subject than most. Plus the fact that he was proactive about his advice, actually seeking to teach others to fight back instead of just hide away and hope for the best. For another self-proclaimed Darling, Shou was ruthless with his methods —it was hard not to admire him.

And admire you did, keeping tabs of his sporadic bursts of activity and speeding to try and interact with him whenever you caught him online. You were, to voice it simply, simply star-truck by him (and perhaps becoming a bit of a fangirl). 

Because whoever Shou was, it felt like he understood you. And so, against every ounce of your common sense or natural paranoia, you had finally decided to break your golden rule and reach out for the first time since you joined the niche forum. 

And not to just leave a vague comment agreeing on public discourse, but to actually send him a private message. In your defense, how were you supposed to know the chains of events your actions would start?

   Do you actually believe what you post?, had been your lame conversation starter. 

Luckily for you, he did not leave you hanging. You made sure to send the message while he was still active, one of the few days a week you knew he devoted to his presence on the site (and wasn't it slightly creepy, how you had taken the time to learn his schedule by that point?)

   I wouldn't be here if I didn't, dry, to the point and leaving you embarrassed to have even sent the first question. 

Yet for some reason, something about Shou reverted you back into a middle school kid seeking to impress a way cooler senior. 

Perhaps it was what he symbolized (a change for the better), what he appeared to be (everything you wish you were) —whatever it was, your fingers were frantically typing a reply as soon as his appeared on your screen. 

   I just think it's amazingThe things you know

   How you share them with everyone

   The way you see through the lies

   I just think you're— , your digits hovered over the keyboard as you were about to type out the last sentence before quickly deleting it. Even in your excitement, you knew how obsessed you'd sound if you started complimenting him personally in your very first conversation. 

So instead you sent your thoughts on his posts and awaited his answer with bated breath. A few minutes ticked by this time, your anxiety making you count down the seconds in mortified silence, slowly weighted down by your doubts until your notifications for the forum were going off again with a distinct ping. 

   I've seen your replies around. I think you're great too. 

Whatever your hang ups for praising him directly had been, he clearly did not harbor any. As the prongs of nervousness alleviated their hold over your body, you struggled to see any problems with it either…this was a person you had come to idolize, and they thought you were great?

Your smile, while still anxious, was considerable while you quickly responded. 

   I'm just a n00b. Learning from the pros. 

A moment of thought, biting your bottom lip as you decided whether to add a second message or not. Fuck it, you told yourself. 

   I wasn't even supposed to be posting anything, but you made me wanna reach out. 

Was that too forward? Oh god, it was, wasn't it? You must've sounded creepy, must've sounded desperate and…

   That's cute. Did my ramblings teach you anything? 

An actual squeal left you then, sounding like it came from an altogether different person. You were an adult, with a career and responsibilities… Yet somehow, this stranger online indirectly calling you cute made you more excited than you were comfortable admitting.

   Ofc. I didn't even know what a BOPC was before. Didn't know most of the purge traps you mentioned, either. 

The spaces between replies were getting smaller, the conversation turning fluent as you both seemed to be staring straight into the screen, waiting for the other to finish typing. 

   So you really are a n00b then. 

Shit, did you fail some sort of forum etiquette by admitting that? Somehow, the need to impress Shou was more palpable than ever. 

   And you clearly know your stuff. Makes me wanna up my game. 

Be more like you, you left unsaid. 

   So am I your senpai then? 

Your fingers froze just above the keyboards, eyes scanning over Shou's last message and reverted back to staring at his profile pic for a solid minute. You would've squealed again, if you weren't so taken aback. 

   You make it sound like I am, his second message lit up your screen, coming in quickly after your rare pause in replies.

   I don't think that's bad, though. Third message from him, and you were close to fainting now. 

   Then in that case I suppose you are. You wondered whether Shou wouldn't think you were pathetic admitting that, or whether he had been honest by saying he didn't mind... 

   I've also noticed you agreeing with some of my more polarizing views. 

A welcomed change in topics. 

You thought to ask him which ones (most of his posts tended to have a polarizing effect, with people finding him either too radicalized or not radicalized enough), but before you could formulate the question you saw the twinkling circles symbolizing he was typing up another sentence.

   Do you actually believe them? And now it was his turn to spit your words back at you. 

   Well, yah. You make compelling arguments. 

   Color me impressed then, the start of his new retort left your mind spinning. Never met a n00b like you before. 

After his declaration, you found yourself writing and rewriting your answer, hesitating on your word choice, and yet pure elation coursed through your veins. 

He said he's impressed with me, your brain kept supplying on loop. You had no way of knowing just how much of a lasting impression you were leaving. 

   I don't wanna stay one tho. I'd like to jump a few levels. Improve.

Barely a moment's notice before his last message provoked a noticeable hitch in your breath. 

   I can help you with that. 

Which, as short of a reply as it was, left you giddier than would’ve been healthier to admit. 

Perhaps it could be chalked up to your work shifts growing more monotonous and tiresome, your social life becoming a faint echo of what it used to be, or just the regular wear and tear from a too-plain existence —a routine where you didn’t tend to engage with life, but just passively watched it go by.

Whatever the true reason was, that night you went to sleep with such a wide grin that the apples of your cheeks had started to hurt from the exertion, infinitely excited after getting to talk firsthand with someone you had already come to admire by that point. 

It almost made you self-conscious, knowing just how much it all meant to you, how such a small gesture on his part happened to mean the world to you. 

But there was really no reason to feel ashamed or overzealous over your own reaction. If you could’ve seen Shou, you would’ve known you weren’t the only one smiling.

。。。。。

   Almost as open of a smile as the one adorning his features right now, currently hidden from your view as his fingers set a maddening pace. Tortuously slow at first until his knuckles started brushing against your opening with each thrust. 

All you could hear now were the wet sounds of your arousal facilitating his movements, motions whose only purpose seemed to be to drive you more rambling and disoriented by the second. 

"Is this what you want? What you need, perhaps?" His usually calm voice was uncharacteristically affected as he gasped against your ear, the torture he was making you endure clearly getting to him as well. 

You were much too preoccupied with the waves of pleasure and warmth overflowing your body to give a proper response, but your lack of one did not deter him. 

If anything, your needy gasps and whines were the only encouragement he required. 

"Don't worry, Y/N. I'll take care of you, make you feel good."

By that point, the hand that had been petting your hair had found its way to your sopping heat too, calloused pads circling around your pearl while the man continued feeding you his eager promises. 

"I get you, baby. Just like you get me." So close, your entire body taut and ready to snap. "And you want me to take care of you too, right?"

You weren't conscious enough to understand the implications, your impaired judgment prohibiting you from reading further into the meaning of his words. He sounded so encouraging, so deceivingly tender despite stuffing you full of his fingers as you squirmed on his lap. 

All you could do was nod furiously.

And later on, when your senses sadly returned, dedicated yourself to lamenting over which of your actions brought you down this unfortunate path. 

。。。。。

    Perhaps, your consciousness supplied, it had been the fact that you opened up so readily. That you had dared to share with a supposed new friend, things that should’ve better stayed hidden in the first place.   

But goddamn it, you felt downright honored that he even considered you worthy enough to entertain in the first place. From the very first second, Shouto already had the upper hand. 

During the first few conversations, the topics you two discussed were all closely related to the purge and your mutual hang ups with it. Concise and carefully typed out messages were exchanged, discussing opinions you had never expected anyone to be interested in hearing—not from you, at least. 

But then, as the weeks slowly progressed, the subjects of conversation began shifting to both of your lives, to your occupations, hobbies, and, directly against the forum's policy for privacy, the people you two were outside the confines of your online corner. 

Even without actually exchanging any real data or supplying him with your name or age, you found yourself starting to open up more and more with each day.

You told him about your grueling office job, the friends you hadn’t seen or texted in weeks, and the reality of an apartment which more closely resembled a containment cell than a home…

Revelations that you had kept hidden for so long, which now came pouring out without regard for how mortified they made you feel. You were conscious of the limits blurring between you two the further you kept going, of how you were telling him things best left unsaid, cramped and buried in a hard to reach place. 

And yet, for some obscure reason, everything Shou represented made it impossible for you to resist the temptation to speak up, to demand to be heard for the first time in an eternity of quietness. 

You’re pathetic, is what you expected him to say in return. Pathetic, weak, meager, and worthless. Anticipating him, somehow, to echo all the doubts and deeply held fears you carried inside. 

   Most of my friends don’t understand either, was instead the response you  received. But most people don’t see what's wrong, what needs to be changed. You feel lonely because you do.

It wasn’t clear what you would’ve wanted to hear beforehand, the things you had fantasized someone would reply if you ever gathered the courage to share your anxieties. Whatever those expectations had been an eternity ago, they now vastly paled when compared to what your new friend was dangling in front of you. 

It felt like he was giving an excuse for things you had always perceived as personal failings. If what he said was true, it would mean it wasn’t your social ineptitude that kept people away, your uselessness, or uninteresting personality.

It would mean the shadows around you could still be dispelled somehow, exorcising the silhouettes of a suffering that had become a regular companion in your day to day life.

Brandishing a courage that only anonymity could give you, your fingers were a blur on your keyboard as you tried to ignore the rapid heartbeat in your chest, the fear, and exhilaration from opening up for the first time in forever. 

Something you would later regret a thousand times over.

   And you do too, and it wasn’t a question, a nervous comment or a stuttered retort. With the aid of the text format, you could look as confident as you knew you weren’t. You understand as well. 

You understand me, was the tacit meaning behind it. The prickling of unshed tears made it so you were furiously blinking, fighting against the downpour despite your eyes refusing to leave the screen for longer than an instant. 

   I do. More than you realize.

For all intents and purposes, your first mistake was indeed opening up. 

And your second one was being naive enough to let him in. Seriously, why hadn’t you heeded your parent’s advice about stranger danger?

。。。。。

   ...If they could only see you now, coming apart at the seams and with the name of your tormentor being the only word you were able to string together. 

"Such a beauty, and all for me," his praises accompanied you through the rough orgasm ripping through your body, lips kissing your forehead in stark contrast to the digits still pumping inside your heat. "Let me hear your voice, baby. Let me hear how beautiful my name sounds on your lips."

And you obeyed, because what other choice did you have. Mindless, broken, and oh, so needy. 

You continued to audibly moan as your climax unwound, crying out his name in absolute reverence while Shouto's smile deepened against your skin. The chill of his touch was still as soothing as ever, calming down the embers of a lust that refused to completely die down.

When he finally pulled his hands from your core, you felt excruciatingly empty. But you were not given enough time to wallow in your despair, because who you once considered your friend was then grasping your face gently between his hands, leading your gaze to meet his—forcing you to witness the intensity and adoration present there. 

"My Y/N."

Even in your deeply intoxicated state, the last few dredges of your senses supplied just how utterly abhorrent the situation was. 

The sirens signaling the start of the Purge had died down a while ago, drowned out by your own cries of pleasure, but you could still see the remnants of the government logo still plastered all over the TV, its bright glow bathing you both in an eerily scarlet ambiance. 

From the same weak place of coherence, a shiver of fear managed to break through your stupor. 

"You're going to continue to be a good girl for me, aren't you?" 

When he kissed you then, slow and almost ironically hesitant despite what had just transpired moments before, you couldn't begin to tell your body to refuse. Much to your own horror, you were soon eagerly kissing your tormentor back. 

。。。。。                                                      

   The second mistake leading up to your downfall, on the other hand, took a little longer to occur. It was after a few more weeks of conversation. You vented and talked way too much, while Shou listened intently and even rewarded you with a few crumbs of advice of his own.  

So wrapped up in your new seemingly innocuous friendship you were in, you failed to recognize the magnitude of an event that should've sent you scrambling to shut off your monitor. A warning so loud it would've put the Purge sirens themselves to shame. 

You see, with Shou's help, you were slowly becoming more of an active user around those parts. You didn't just stick to replying to his posts or lurking until he shot you a private message anymore; no, you were now officially a contributor, deciding to step out of your anonymity to share what you thought was a fairly interesting article. It was a rather long-winded thinkpiece on the morality of Darlings’ treatment after the Purge had ended—the reality of that year spent in captivity that most people tended to just brush under the carpet, all in the name of making the entire ordeal more palatable to digest. 

In all your eagerness, however, you had failed to realize a very crucial detail, which was that the article was a whole two days old. Already an ancient text by forum's standards, apparently. 

So with that in mind, of course you should've expected the hate, an outpouring of bitterness fit for a community of loners and acidic underdogs. You were on an anonymous forum on one of the darkest parts of the internet, somewhere most sane people actively stayed away from—Clearly, a rookie unwittingly reposting something was the perfect target for a lot of your bitter comrades. An excuse to finally take out all of their pent up frustration.  

   Fuck1ng pleb, thanks for copy-pasting the same post for the 55th time. 

   This is why we shouldn't let newbies post. Look at this mess @mods.

   Time to hang it up, n00b. And by “it”, I mean your f****** neck.  

   i bet ur a girl, [Username]. u type like a b1tch. 

And the icing on the cake for internet interactions, a myriad of wall spamming "KYS" being plastered all across the comment section, bold and daunting as they filled your notification box with the repetitions of hate. If you weren't so sure of your safety behind your screen, perhaps you would've felt intimidated. 

As it stood, you were just embarrassed, mortified at the fact that you had seemingly botched your only attempt at leaving a positive first impression. If anything, it only seemed you had given everyone a common enemy to pick on for once...

Or that was, at least, until Shou happened to log in at exactly that precise moment. You knew he was usually busy around that day and time (he never actually told you whether he had a job, but you had surmised as much from your past chats), so his instantly recognizable profile picture and username popping up had you genuinely gasping at first. It was one hell of a coincidence, but you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief at what looked to be your savior.

   Everyone, stop getting your panties in a twist. This is why no new users end up staying, the environment is abhorrent. 

It was vague enough not to betray the fact that you two weren’t just strangers anymore, as well as keeping Shou’s reputation as a lone wolf from completely shattering.

And a comment which, surprisingly, instantly dulled most of the incoming messages your post was being flooded with. 

People respected him there, his status as a renowned user giving him a genuine sort of power and hold over the rest of the community. One of the first things you had recognized on the forums was the distinct hierarchical structures amongst its users, and there Shou might’ve as well be granted the title of mayor for all the weight his every sentence carried.

Or at least they did with the majority of the community. As in every place where large numbers of people gathered, there were always a few rotten apples just begging to be tossed. 

   and ofc ur whiteknighting for her, Shou The Great. shes sucking ur dick under evry single post u make

You cringed, studying the bitter user that had decided to be a contrarian and easily recognizing him from unsavory past encounters you witnessed. Although, if you were completely honest, this time you couldn't exactly say his words didn't carry a certain degree of validity.

Shou had told you he was glad that was the case with you, that his post resonating with anyone was one of the main reasons why he hadn't just disappeared from the site completely. But in reality, saying you weren't subtle about your agreement with his ideas would be an understatement. 

You were like a puppy skipping behind him, trailing his interactions and always ready to write an eager comment backing him up. Yet you had never thought others actually paid attention to your mostly one-sided interactions, the occasional meager downvote or emote being the only thing that made you aware your comments weren’t just lost in the sea of spam Shou’s posts were usually showered in. 

For the longest time, your support had just felt like leaving letters for the man to find. Letters you hadn’t even been sure had reached their target until a few weeks back...

Suddenly, the sharp sound of Shou's incoming reply drove you from your tribulations.  

   Well, maybe if you weren't such a crude man you wouldn't be permabanned from starting topics yourself. Although I doubt anyone would be sucking your dick either way, shitty ideology considered. [Image attached]

A grimace was quick to grow on your face as you aptly studied the picture Shou decided to close his reply with.

It was a screenshot of what looked to be someone's post history, a rather extensive list with alarmingly offensive titles such as "Why male darlings should be spared", "The purge is a form of cuckoldry" and “Feminist agenda: female yanderes and their biological advantage [Repost]". Almost all of them exhibited a tragic downvote ratio right as well, besides the red symbol signaling the posts had been archived by senior users or mods.

For someone who also loathed the terrible holiday, it was almost admirable how the man managed to be almost as detestable as the criminals you all rallied against. 

But even so, what disturbed you the most wasn't the clear bigotry of the user, but the fact that that screenshot couldn't have been taken from public records. A user's post history was hidden, just another measure on the site’s part to keep people from recognizing too many details about each other and possibly endangering themselves. 

No, it could only have been taken from inside the account. And judging from the other guy's quick reaction, you weren't the only one who came to that realization.

   how the fck did u get that

   I knew u were friends with the mods. fcking rats 

By that point, everyone else had stopped clogging the comments and, you assumed, instead opted to settle down and attentively observe the events transpiring. Apart from the emote reactions and the rapidly rising number of upvotes on Shou’s comments, you had all become a passive audience to the public ridicule.

Although you couldn’t help feeling slightly disjointed by Shou’s behavior. Below your wicked sense of pride at having him defend you, there was still the whispers of your gut telling you the man was going a little too far, his actions spelling a more sinister meaning than just “having a friend’s back”.

   You've been here for years, Minoru. Surprised you haven't yet noticed how much of a pest everyone sees you as. 

Minoru? You did a double-take, going back to read the username of the guy Shou was arguing with. But he just had a randomly generated number as a pseudonym, same as you and most others, and with just a picture of some anime sneezing girl to distinguish his profile from the rest. No trails or signs of what could Shouto be referencing to.

Nothing but an option you preferred not to consider. But it couldn't be, could it? your friend wouldn’t...

   fucking delete that right now, man.

   this isn't a joke, DELETE THAT. 

Only that the abrasive and desperate reaction told you everything you needed to know. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, shock mixing with equal parts horror and amazement you couldn’t even begin to try and disentangle. Because right that second, you were witnessing your friend breaking the forum’s number one rule with a front-row seat to the spectacle. 

And he was doing it all in your name.

   Then maybe think twice before you go out of your way to harass newbies. Or have you had too much time on your hands after being fired, is that it?

It was vague enough not to represent any kind of threat... if not for the context of the site. And yet you all knew the hidden message behind it, the warning for whoever Minoru was to understand Shou knew much more than what he was letting on. That he could expose much more than he was currently alluding to. 

   y are u even doing this, shou? y do u care wtf happens to this noobslut anyways?

Shou's reply took barely a moment to appear, lighting up your screen and, despite the slightly morbid nature of his protection, coaxing out a smile to adorn your lips. It was like a balm being applied to your worries, quieting down most of your incipient concerns in favor of rejoicing. 

   They're a friend. 

For fuck’s sake, you even screenshotted that for posterity. Somehow, him acknowledging the new bond you two had openly felt like a milestone. 

When a mod came in to archive the post and give everyone involved a stern warning later on, you were already way past your previous doubtful sentiments. 

Instead, the last thing you did before going to sleep that day was to open up your private conversation with Shou and send a quick yet heartfelt message of gratitude his way. 

Months prior, you wouldn’t have ever thought you’d be thanking anyone for semi doxxing another human being. How rapidly things were changing, though, and all while you got lost in the thrill of mattering.

   Thanks for sticking up for me. It meant a lot, you typed feeling slightly lightheaded, drunk on the idea that anyone would think you worthy of having your back.

You thought Shou went offline after dishing out his not so thinly veiled threats, but somehow he was back again in an instant, the sound of notifications going off shaking any remnants of your exhaustion.  

   Anything for you, [Y/N]. 

You were so tired, it didn't occur to you that you hadn't yet shared your real name with your friend either.

That night, for once, you fell asleep with a twinkle in your eye and the image of Shou's multicolored locks dancing against your eyelids. Imagining, ever so briefly, your fingers trailing down the back of a neck you now had memorized from analyzing his profile picture. 

And, while you slept with your phone clutched to your side, you also failed to notice the peculiar sound of your own camera going off, the soft glow from the red light beside your lense bathing your features in its subtle illumination, flickering against your eyelashes and the lingering grin on your curved lips. 

You truly looked angelic like that. 

Suffice it to say, Minoru never bothered you again after that day. In fact, his name disappeared from the site not too soon after. 

。。。。。                                                   

    But now, to continue the grueling task of giving a context for your inevitable end, it is necessary to jump a month further into the future, barely a week from the excruciating present. 

Because it was then that the last strike finished nailing the coffin of your proverbial undoing, burying you under the weight of your own ignorance.

You got your notice in the mail on the Day of Announcements, an inconspicuous letter lacking any further distinction beyond a scarlet government seal emblazoned across its front. But even before you opened and read the message, you already knew of its contents—easily recognizing the image before you from several of the varied posts you had seen floating around on the forums lately.

   Purge Notice!!! Help needed Urgently. 

   Just got my letter. Do I stay hidden or fight back? [Open poll]

   Third time getting mine. AMA about my methods. 

The range of how you had seen other users reacting to their own selections was diverse, with some of them being more experienced while others, such as you, had just gotten their first letter ever. If things played out differently for you, then you were sure you would've been another one of the numerous panicked voices, awkwardly trying to maneuver their way out of their new situation.

And maybe, then, your odds wouldn't have been so completely fucked from the start. 

As it stood, as soon as you laid eyes on the notice, the first thing you thought of was how quickly you could boot up your computer and open the forum’s private messages. Because, for the first time in forever, you were overwhelmed by the feeling of someone else being there for you. 

Shou was your friend, had earned that spot fair and square after months of listening to you venting and sharing deep discussions; faster than you could even realize it, and so it was only natural for you to seek his help once the news of your selection for the new yearly Purge reached you. 

He had even threatened another user for your sake, for fuck’s sake. So, really, what harm could come out of relying on someone you were sure was trustworthy?

Maybe it was too late by that point for you to snap out of it, but it was almost amusing seeing you being so easily deceived. 

Just another reason why you needed him, certainly.

 。。。。。

    Already told you I'd have your back, had been his immediate reply barely an instant after you attached a candid photo of your hand holding up the envelope. Whatever you need, I’m here.

His lack of hesitation was palpable through your screen, heart hammering in your chest as you were faced with a kindness you had thought yourself undeserving of not long ago. 

As soon as you closed your mailbox, you had immediately raced to send him the message, completely foregoing telling any of your other friends or family members when you doubted they would even understand you in the first place. Shou had been right when he told you people just didn’t want to see the truth, even if it slapped them right in the face, leaving dark imprints in the shape of their narrow mindedness.

But he was there, he was letting you know as much, in his own words. And for what felt like the hundredth time in the past few months, you felt incredibly lucky to have stumbled upon the Forums in the first place, to have traced whatever fortunate path had led you to find him—the one person able to distinguish you in a world you always thought you blended straight into. 

   Thank you, Shou, for everything. And at that moment, you really had been truthful, so much so that there were tears prickling at your eyes, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude drowning you with its intensity.

Indeed, your final mistake had been your desperate need for acceptance. A need that had, in the end, cost you everything.

   You can call me Shouto now. No use for nicknames anymore.

Amidst the chaos of your life possibly crashing down all around you, somehow his revelation put a trembling smile back in your face. 

   Then allow me to repeat: thank you, Shouto. 

   Np, Newbie. Told you I'd help you level up, didn't I? 

His teasing managed to garner a small stuttering laugh out of you despite the dreadfulness of your situation. 

But you couldn’t help it. Somehow, every reply Shouto sent you only served to wrap the illusion of safety tighter around you. So tight in fact, that you should’ve started worrying about suffocating. 

。。。。。

   On the other side of the screen, the man with the multicolored hair couldn’t help but keep staring at the picture you had sent him earlier. 

He was transfixed, eyes almost unblinking as they refused to separate from the image. The way your fingers tentatively held the letter up for the picture was simply adorable to him. Beautifully naive. 

It wasn't like he hadn't seen your face before, like he hadn't already memorized the texture of your skin and the everlasting trace of a frown always threatening to dampen your mood. He read your expressions like poetry, every mole and scar furthering the securing of his interest. 

But this was the first picture you had actually chosen to send him out of your own volition, the final symbol of a trust he had worked so tirelessly to earn. Used to catching prey as he was, the man wasn’t entirely sure when you had turned from a game into a priority, from a priority into the only thing he could even make himself care for.

And it didn’t help that it was his letter you were holding, too. His formal declaration of pursuit. 

With time, Shouto was sure you would find it in yourself to appreciate the beauty of such irony. 

But, for now, what he really needed to do was buy some tea. Couldn’t have your own stubbornness ruining your first encounter, could he?

。。。。。

   In the coming weeks, your friend aided you and even coached you as you jointly planned for the horrific holiday, not only suggesting ideas but tracing the safety measures needed for them to succeed. You really had no reason to doubt him by that point.

That evening, after you finished letting Shouto know you were back from work, you made sure to pack all of your supplies into an inconspicuous bag you had acquired for the occasion. Whoever your Yandere was, it was best to not give any hints of your new acquisitions, just in case they were already stalking your movements. 

Shouto had helped you devise the list, mentoring you in your selection of weapons as well as self-defense arsenal—what brands of pepper spray to get, which ammunitions were most efficient and reliable, even what kind of clothing was the least troublesome if the need to escape ever arose. If you had been sure he knew his craft before, now you were surprised at just how vast his wisdom genuinely was. 

After the last few finishing touches of preparations, you were already on your way to the direction you had both agreed on (supplied by him, approved by you). There were several hours until the start of the Purge still, but the adrenaline swimming through your bloodstream was already considerable. 

Shouto had suggested you visited him for the Holiday, quoting how the measures in place for his home made it nothing short of a fortified vault, impossible for any outsiders to break into (and for anyone to break out of, but let's not get ahead of ourselves). 

With that in mind, how could you have refused his offer? Your place was barely an excuse for an apartment, windows that didn't entirely close, and feeble doors that could be easily broken into. Even if you weren't partly driven by the curiosity of meeting your new internet idol turned friend, it would've been foolish to decline. 

So in a few hours, you were sporting a nervous smile on your face as you parked your car in front of the largest apartment complex you had ever encountered. It was luxurious in a way you had only seen staring back at you from a television screen, marble, and gold accents giving you the impression you were about to step into a drama set instead of visiting an online friend. 

Before the surrealism of the entire situation could begin to set in, however, you noticed the young man sitting on the ample stairs of the building. He had an air of effortless elegance, tall and lithe, yet sporting a black turtleneck which hugged his frame and made it clear just how much sheer strength hid behind his movements. 

And he also sported the same peculiarly colored locks you had already memorized from the last few months, the light softly reflecting on them proving to be an even more impressive show when admired live. 

You were dazzled for an instant, wondering if, somehow, this entire thing was a prank and the Shou from the forums had just schemed his way into making a fool out of you in front of a handsome stranger. Way too convoluted, yet entirely too plausible to your bewildered self. 

Until the man lifted his eyes—as beautifully dual-toned as his hair, and catching sight of you standing just beside your recently parked vehicle. 

"Y/N," he was sharply climbing to his feet as he called out your name, the shy hint of a smile in his lip contradicting the monotone cadence of his tone. "Good to finally meet you."

You had first been under the impression that the Shou you knew was cold, the way he interacted with others on the site reminding you of an emotionless robot at times, but the man addressing you seemed like he was ripped straight out of a stereotypical rom-com. 

Maybe he'd be the aloof, tormented heir? Which, in your fantasy drama land, would make you the nearly illiterate and poor love interest. Your feelings of inadequacy only grew at the comparison.

Almost cute, how that had been one of your greatest worries once upon a time. How foolishly eager you were to be liked back then.

"Shouto." The name still felt somewhat strange on your lips, even after he had insisted you started calling him that. "It's good to meet you, too."

He was by your side in an instant, taking your bags from you swiftly and shutting the door to your ride. From this up close, it became considerably harder to disguise your staring. 

Even the scar which covered his left eye, a splash of reddish textured skin, somehow came across like yet another enhancer of his appeal. An underlying harshness which you couldn't help but be intrigued by. 

"Your hair looks even better in person."

And leave it to you to once again find a way to screw first impressions. You were chastising yourself a mere second after the words left your mouth. 

But Shouto only sent you that same hint of a smirk your way, his eyes appearing genuinely pleased at your praise. If he thought you were a weirdo and was regretting ever inviting you to his house, then he was a good enough actor for you to be fooled.

And fooled you he did, but with completely different intentions. 

"You look just like in your pictures," came his serene retort not long after.

Which you assumed was a joke, keeping in mind that the only photo you had ever sent his way had been of the Purge letter you received a few days ago.

Laughing lightly, you tried to ignore the nerves tugging at your chest before catching up with him on the steps of the building. 

As you giddily barged straight into the open jaws of the beast, it once again struck Shouto how utterly unsuspecting you were. How you trusted him so wholeheartedly.

He couldn't wait to see it all come crashing down.

。。。。。

   Inside his honest to god penthouse, your previous feeling of insufficiency only became more severe. 

The interiors were decorated sparingly, albeit fashionably. Filled with different muted shades and being unexpectedly traditional in the way they were designed. It was a stunning abode, even if you couldn't help but mentally point out how utterly unlived in it appeared.

There was not a single cup, shoe, or book out of place, everything perfectly polished and organized to the point that you felt hesitance as your sock-covered feet continued making their way through the place.

"Make yourself at home," Shouto told you most matter-of-factly. If you weren't so sure of his intentions by now, perhaps you would've thought he was being sarcastic. 

Without any of your belongings to distract yourself with, you instead gravitated towards what you could see of the kitchen through one of the sliding doors. 

It was very modern despite the rest of the aesthetic the penthouse sported, shiny stainless steel and spotless dark countertops. It should've looked out of place when paired with the carpeted floors, wooden furniture, and sparse pieces of classical Japanese art…

Yet somehow, it strangely fits. Just like his owner, you supposed, thinking back to the oddities that amounted to his unique brand of appeal.

And you really needed to stop thinking of your friend like that. 

When you heard the door to the apartment being audibly locked with a resounding click, you instantly stopped your fingers grazing the smooth countertops. Your instincts flared up with worry for a moment, right before you forcefully willed yourself to calm down.  

After reminding yourself of the true reason why you were there, the exhale you released next was one of clear relief. 

"Want something to drink?" Shouto appeared in your line of sight again, hands buried in the pockets of his pants and looking like the picture of composure. 

You felt embarrassed once again, knowing he had given you a free pass to roam but still somewhat self-conscious about intruding on his space. 

"You don't need to make me anything. I'm fine." Your timbre was apologetic, not used to slipping into the role of a guest just yet. 

He seemed strangely dissatisfied with your answer, closing some of the distance between you with a presence that had you almost flinching back for a second. 

There was an intensity in his gaze, something which you could not quite yet place. 

"But I want to be a good host. So let me." He appeared very serious about it, too, with his face growing stern as his peculiar eyes bore into yours. 

Not wanting to cause further distress, you imagined relenting would be the best course of action. 

It was like you were molded to be the perfect Darling, so wonderfully meek and gullible.

"Okay then. Water is fine."

Yet Shouto shook his head, still somewhat dissatisfied with your answer. 

"Tea it is." His phrasing allowed little space for argument. "I know you mentioned liking a few brands before, so I took the liberty of stocking up on them."

A surprising burst of laughter broke through your anxious feelings then, drawing Shouto's eyes again from the particular cabinet they had drifted to as he mentioned the beverages. 

He looked at you puzzled, an unasked question written all over his otherwise blank expression, and so you decided to reply from the surge of unexpected amusement you were experiencing. 

"It's only a night, Shou," you didn't even realize you had slipped back into his nickname, too entertained by how much he had apparently overdone his hospitality. "There really wasn't any need for you to go buy my favorite teas."

His eyes blinked quite slowly your way, his expression back to his vacant mask before a smile reappeared.

"I wanted you to feel welcomed," he supplied as he approached the cabinet he was eyeing before, dedicating himself to searching for whatever kind of flavor of tea he had in mind. 

In response, you just shrugged your shoulders with another chuckle. 

"And I didn't get you anything. You're making me feel even more out of place."

"Nonsense," he cut you off in that deadpan way of his, hands rummaging through the most ridiculously vast tea collection you had ever seen. And then he added, decidedly quieter, "today is supposed to be about you, after all."

Too bad you didn't pick up on it. 

When he ushered you back to the salon with barely a wave next, pointing at one of the cushions arranged around the short-legged table, you decided to follow his suggestion and wait there while he finished brewing the drinks. By now, you understood the futility of offering any kind of help when he was still so intent on properly welcoming you. 

So, curious as you were, your eyes continued to inspect each and every inch of the apartment, drinking up all the pieces of info you could observe, that you didn't even think of the potential dangers of letting a stranger fix you a cup while you weren't looking.

Unbeknownst to the other, you were both actively counting down the seconds until the Purge started, minds lost to your own inner turmoils from opposite sides of the suite. 

And for entirely different reasons, you were both filled with anticipation.    

。。。。。

   Meanwhile, finally back in the present after retracing the steps that guided you there, it was becoming increasingly hard to compartmentalize the chaos brewing inside you.

Shouto’s lips were the personification of hunger against yours, an inescapable gluttony to mark and consume every single inch of you he could encompass. 

After a hint of understanding returned to your body post-orgasm, your vision and the sensations you endured were becoming disturbingly vivid. It was impossible to conceive anything beyond his hands ridding you of your flimsy camisole, palms cold in comparison to the heat you felt, splaying against your sides and slowly making their way up the sensitive mounds of your chest.

“All mine, baby.” You barely registered his teeth nipping at your bottom lip until a shock of pain snapped you out of your trance.

He bit you, and quite harshly too, but when you tried to instinctually pull back his response was to hold you even tighter. Before you could attempt to voice your complaints, his tongue was darting out to clean up the droplets of blood he spilled. 

“Out of all the Darlings I’ve played with, you’re the only one I’ve ever even considered keeping, you know?”

And now that had you freezing, even amidst the cloud of desire still muddling your cognizance. His arms pressed you closer still, forcing you to bury your face against his chest, completely unphased by the bloody mess your mouth had morphed into.  

Had he tricked others before then? Was that the reason why he was even on the Forums in the first place? 

You wanted to ask him what he meant, wanted to demand explanations for a phrase that had dread closing around your neck like a noose. But whatever he slipped into your drink to keep you so awfully responsive and pliable, also appeared to make forming any complex sentences incredibly hard…

Shou, ever the receptive one, caught onto your change in demeanor rather aptly. His face nuzzled your hair softly, humming a calming melody as if you were a scared child who could be so easily reassured. Meanwhile, his hands hadn’t abandoned your breasts, still tenderly kneading them with a touch bordering on worship.

“But I’m glad you weren’t my first, baby. Means I could be all ready for when we met.” He rocked you both as he rested his back further on the sofa, opening his legs wider below you and forcing you to settle closer to his clothed groin with a whimper. 

Your arms reached out to grasp his shoulders while you tried to stabilize yourself, the strain of his erection resting snuggly against your still sensitive slit. 

"Helped me to know when to pull back," he kept confessing, purposefully thrusting into you while he kept lovingly massaging your chest, fingers twisting your hardened peaks to coax a new kind of mewl to be uttered against his skin. "Wouldn't want you to break now that I've finally found you."

The fact that your bodies seemed to fit so perfectly, even in your impaired state, was not an irony lost on you. 

Abruptly, Shouto stopped fondling your breasts in order to maneuver your face again, both of your stares meeting in a vehement standoff before he continued. 

“I’ll make this as close to perfection as I can, I promise you.” And you got a direct view of the vulnerability in his uniquely colored eyes, the nature of his words clearly heartfelt despite the atrocities they alluded to. 

As you heard him drag his zipper down, the hand clutching your jaw trembling in anticipation, you couldn’t help the new wave of warmth spreading through your body, negating all the fear and anxiousness warring inside you in order to shamefully expose your baser desires.

Now that whatever had been clouding your  judgment was pulling back slightly, your thought process had begun to snap back into place, overflowing you with a terrible sense of shame at your own reactions.

He gave you something earlier with your drink, you were sure of it, and yet you couldn’t help but still be horrified at just how much you were enjoying it. Once you felt the flushed head of his cock placidly rubbing against your thigh, the sounds leaving your mouth weren’t ones of complaint, peril or dissent.

Quite the contrary, actually, and it only made Shouto grow bolder.

As the hand clutching your face grew tenser, gripping you with force before tugging harshly, you got the hint. Now painfully following his lead, it wasn't long before the previous pressure against your legs was now resting directly against your cunt. 

The pre-cum already gathered on him mixed in with your still oozing arousal, smearing the span of your outer lips as he lightly teased you one last time. 

You were so mortified by that point, that if he had offered to end your embarrassment right then and there with one of the several weapons you knew he kept, you would’ve been very inclined to accept. 

“... I didn’t even think there was such a thing as 'The One' before, actually.” You hadn’t even realized the man was still talking, ardent whispers getting lost on the intensity of the situation. 

His eyes were searching your face, a satisfied twinkle lighting them up as soon as you returned his stare of your very own volition. Perturbed, you wondered if his delusion made him see anything beyond a twisted mix of lust and fear reflected back at him. 

“But I now know just how wrong I was, Y/N.” So sure of himself, tone back to the stern cadence you previously associated with him for a moment, gripped by a gravity befitting of his obsession. “Indeed, I think you were always meant to be my darling… don't you agree?”

To your credit, you did struggle to speak up, to gain back the control over a body which had stopped listening long ago. Too bad you only managed a single pitiful word out.

“Shouto…”

But before you could even fathom attempting a better response, he was breaching into you, sheathing himself with an ease you wished you could overlook, turning your voice from an anguished plea into outrageously labored moans. 

You had once thought Shou had been interested in you because he somehow perceived you as anything but pathetic, but you were beginning to think it had been your weakness which drew him in all along. 

So deliciously frail, that even a predator like him had been driven with an urgent need to protect you. To break you down, just so he could be the one to build you back together.

As he started fucking you with shallow thrusts, hips bucking up from the sofa while he tenderly guided you until your body was mimicked his motion on its own, you couldn’t help but be the most disturbed at his oddly affectionate ways. 

As awful as it sounded, now that your mind had awakened from its stupor all you wanted was for him to bend you over and abuse you, manhandle you and mistreat you in a way which unequivocally screamed assault. You wanted bruises painting your skin, proof that you hadn’t just willingly given up and facilitated your own ruin. 

He was humiliating you despite the pretty words he decided to disguise it as—showing you how easily he could own you and even make you enjoy it, drug-addled drink or not. 

But as his mouth latched around one of your hardened nipples, sucking generously until his name was once again fast on your tongue, you also couldn’t deny the crystal clear responses you were giving.

You could attempt to lie to yourself later, could swear it was all a delusion born out of the deranged man's mind, but the particular brand of your screams was unmistakable.

When your own hand reached down to facilitate your release, you knew you were already acting beyond what you could've previously attributed to the drugs. Toying with your bundle of nerves, you rested your forehead against Shouto's shoulders, tears from the pleasure mixing in with the subjacent agony of your guilt. 

Why did it have to feel so good? And how far did the drugs truly affect you? Or had they just peeled back your inhibitions perhaps, baring you until all you had were dark desires and no self-control to contain them. 

You still tasted blood inside your mouth when your walls started clenching around his cock, the coppery flavor entirely too vivid on your tongue. Hearing his own choked groans gasping against your chest, you felt his mouth abandoning your bud with a pop before his kisses were trailing a path back up—eager in their search of your face, your lips. 

You were still cumming by the time a lascivious kiss connected you two again, unwinding in his grasp until his hands were the only thing keeping you whole. 

“Even if I wasn't taught how,” he began promising while his rhythm grew frantic, barely resisting the allure of your core fluttering around him. “I promise I’ll love you, Y/N. Love you so good, you won’t ever want to leave when the next Purge comes.” He was getting increasingly excited by his own words, imagining a future where you did not need the aid of a little cup of tea to eagerly kiss back. “I’ll fuck you every day, fill you up and show you just how much I care. How much you matter.”

Faced with his degenerate promises, all you could do was gasp out his name one last time, perhaps seeking to express your reticence, perhaps oddly excited by the image he was painting. 

You indulged him in the pitiful sound of your whimpers molding around its syllables, and it wasn’t long before you were coaxing him to join you with an orgasm of his own.

He actually came inside, you recognized inwardly after the aftershocks of enjoyment now quieted down to a lull, a new type of dread quickly following the realization. His cum was still shooting in hot ropes, stuffing you to the brim with the intent and purpose of a man bent on marking you, owning you.

But Shouto was so loving as he kissed you time and time again, painfully reminding you of just how nice he could be for you, how gentle and attentive. It made the lines between your tormentor and a traditional lover blur even further, the confusion clouding your sense not merely born out of narcotics any longer. 

You had been so preoccupied with a monster outside your house once. A creature ripped from the kind of movies that were ripe with cheap scares and considerably cheaper thrills. 

But monsters never were like that in real life, were they? As the man continued to cradle you in his arms like the most vulnerable of creatures, you were suddenly struck by how glaringly obvious things should’ve been from the beginning. 

Because your Yandere’s obsession had not come with claws and a row of sharp teeth. No, it came instead with a suit of deception to hug its frame, the bait of acceptance, and the promise of a reliable ear to comfortably listen. It arrived with whispers that assured you that you were not alone, that it was not you who was flawed, but the world for not welcoming you. 

It dangled everything your little heart desired, so by the time you were reaching out, you were simply too distracted to notice the dangers of the abyss you were throwing yourself at.

Luckily for you, Shouto had made such a void his home. And for however long it took you to consider the darkness as your own, his was a kind of hospitality that no amount of your struggles could ever hope to wear down. 

And if the worst came to pass, if you kept stubbornly refusing and fighting despite your odds? Well…

   He could always brew you another cup of tea.

-------

Well, I can finally rest now 💀

This monster of a one-shot took me a lot longer than expected, so I ended up being a lil later to the collab that I would’ve liked. Either way, I’d really appreciate hearing any feedback or opinions on either the fic or art (or both?)... I swear that’s what keeps me motivated ;___; 

So fr, thanks to everyone who takes the time to let me know your takes! y’all are the bests of the best 🖤 And speaking of bests of best, special thanks and gratitude to the actual angels who helped and gave me feedback for both the art and/or fic @reinawritesbnha , @drxwsyni​, @wootato, @snappysnapo and @coyambition. Don’t catch me seeing y’all drop your crowns bc it’s on sight  😠 👑

[aseioh]

Of Stars and Moonlit walks pt.2/?

Notes: Some housekeeping first. Donna for the purpose of this story will be based partly on her unused content from the game as well as some canon info. This means that she has a darker background than the one that was used in the game proper as I would really like to incorporate those into this story.

Another thing is that as you’ve probably read from the previous chapter. The characters here are slightly out of character, I’m afraid this is entirely my problem as I’m not used to writing stories

----

Chapter 2: Dinner with a show

Dinner with the Dimitrescus’ was never a quiet affair, in fact it is the very definition of a happy family dinner. The three daughters vying for their Mother’s attention, retelling their afternoon adventures. Alcina sitting at the head of the table patiently listening to everything her daughters tell her, her smile so much different from the usual smirk or predatory grin she sports during the meetings with Mother Miranda and the other Lords.

It made her look softer; Motherhood seems to suite her like her gloves.

At the back of Donna mind, she remembers her childhood before things went bad. Sunday roast dinners made by Mother, Father sneaking from behind to leave a kiss on her Mother’s cheek. Yes, everything seems so simple back then.

The dining room itself is small and cozy, Donna guesses that this room is where the family usually dines compared to the cavernous dining hall that exits into their courtyard.

Across the table Bela has been silently studying their mysterious guest. Of course she has been joining her sisters retell their afternoon escapades in the garden and how they had manage to scare the new maids. But throughout dinner she has been subtly glancing at Donna.

The women certainly is interesting, so quiet compared to her doll that you would have imagined that the chatty doll is the Lord and the woman is the puppet. But she had listened to her Mother’s lesson unlike her two sisters. She knows who Donna Beneviento is, what the woman is capable of.

What an interesting study, I wonder what is behind that veil.

‘She must be pretty.’ She thought as she swirls the wine in her glass.

“So Angie, wanna play hide and seek? Bet you can’t find us! We’re very good at that game” Daniela challenges Angie. The moment that the youngest sister saw the moving doll she has become utterly fascinated by it.

It was obvious that Angie was the greatest doll Donna possesses, as she has mostly used the doll as an extension of her psyche. That said, the doll seems to be capable of autonomous actions based on the way she flitters around the room inspecting various stuff that catches her attention.

“Ha you’re talking to the greatest hide and seeker! Hehehe, alright. Let’s play” Angie exclaimed hopping up and down Donna’s side.

“she really is one of a kind huh?” Cassandra muses.

“Yes, my Father built and gifted her to me on my birthday, we’ve been inseparable since. When I’ve received my gift from Mother Miranda I’ve decide to share some of my psyche with her. In a way she is an extension of myself, albeit a rather excitable one at that.” Donna explains as she looks on fondly at Angie.

As Alcina stands up from her chair and offers her hand to Donna “Yes well enough of that melancholy dear, shall we retire or will you join me for a short night cap.”

“And girls if you are going to play with Angie make sure that you don’t cause too much noise. God knows we need some rest after today.”

“Yes Mother!” the three answers in unison

“You guys hide, and I’ll seek” Daniela announces as she grins predatorily. The ‘preys’ have already scattered before she even finished her sentence. After counting to ten she proudly bellows “READY or NOT, HERE I COMEEE!!” with that she disintegrates into hundreds of flies intent on ‘hunting’ her preys.

----

Adjourning to another room the two Lords sit in front of a roaring fire. Alcina casually cupping one of her finest vintages, while Donna content on sipping her tea.

“Donna when I asked you to join me for a night cap, I didn’t expect you to drink tea” Alcina chuckles at Donna’s preferred drink.

Donna having removed her veil as she was alone with Alcina responds by standing up and taking the crystal decanter by the table. She pours a fingers worth of aged whiskey into her cup. Smirking she raises her tea laced whiskey to Alcina and gulps down a mouthful.

Seeing this Alcina roars into laughter. “You really can surprise anyone” Wiping a stray tears from her eyes “and that is why anyone who underestimates you meets their end.”

“At that I can only blame them” Donna answers. The two fell into a companionable silence, the silence only broken by the occasional cracking of the fire.

“Tell me Donna, how is your project with Heisenberg. I do hope the man is not running you haggard. I know that it concerns Mother Miranda’s plan but you shouldn’t run yourself to hard. Let Heisenberg sweat a bit”

“Thank you for your concern Alcina, but you shouldn’t worry. Believe it or not Karl and I are very efficient with our work, and yes, I let him do all the heavy lifting. I’m just there when he needs a second opinion on the new ‘soldat’ hardware.” Donna levels Alcina with a grateful smile, who knew that the tallest and blood thirsty Lord of the village have a soft spot for her ‘siblings’.

“Yes, yes I’m just worried that Mother Miranda has been running you ragged. Lord knows she’s been going full tilt with her so called ‘plan’.

“Actually Alcina, may I ask you for a favor?”

“Depends, does it involve the depletion of our whiskey stores?” At that Alcina couldn’t help but give a short chuckle.

“Very funny. But no. I would never deprive Karl of his favorite drink.” Donna shakes her head, pin it to the back of her head ‘Alcina is a funny half-drunk.’

“No, I was wondering if you would allow me to tour your greenhouse. I would love to see your plants and roses.”

“Is that all? Of course, I’ll ask Bela to take you tomorrow. She’s usually the one to tend to my roses, she’s picked up the hobby after reading some books and my roses have never looked livelier.”

“Thank you.”

-----

A knock on the door alerts Donna that her companion for the day has arrived. From what Angie has relayed to her last night, the girls had fun with their game with Angie being declared the ultimate victor followed closely by Cassandra. Apparently being a small doll makes it near impossible to find her inside the huge castle.

“Good morning Donna, shall we go to the greenhouse?” Bela extends her arms towards the hallway as they make their way to the greenhouse.

“You look pretty today Bela! I love your dress, it suits you so much it brings out your eyes!” Angie says as she turns her head to face Bela. Donna who has been carrying Angie had to think hard on not dropping the doll or stop walking.

Bela for her part slightly blushes at the compliment. “You really think so Angie?” Angie enthusiastically nods her head, fearing that it might fall off Donna decides to intervene.

“Angie’s right Bela, you look really beautiful today.” At that Bela’s blush blossoms like one of her Mother’s roses. “Thank you, Angie, Donna”

“I must say though, your hands are beautiful Donna, they look so soft-“ Bela stops herself before she could say more and embarrass herself further. ‘Really Bela, her hands are pretty, Mother Miranda above what are you a child!?’ she chides herself.

Not knowing how to respond to such a compliment herself, Donna instead slows down her walk and whispers, “Thank you, Bela” Although Bela doesn’t seem to hear as she was busy chiding herself.

Thankfully the two arrive at the Castle’s greenhouse without any hitch.

Entering the great building Donna is surprised by the sheer number of plants that the building houses. Exotic plants that can only survive in tropical climates seem to thrive even in their Romanian climate. At the center of place is Alcina’s roses, the bushes so lush its as if each rose were painted there. Truly they were the main attraction of the greenhouse.

“They’re beautiful, and is it true that you yourself tended to these flowers?” Donna enquired as she caresses the petals of a rose amazed at the softness of it.

“Well, yes. I read in the library on the optimal way to care for the roses. I though that I could try my hands on caring for them. To ward off boredom of course, Mother said that we should look for hobbies and stop terrorizing the hired help” Bela explains as she tries not to blush on how Donna touches the plant.

“I don’t think it’s just that Bela. You have a big heart. You’ve managed to grow something from this barren and frozen place. You gave it your time and love and in return, they bloom for you.” Donna says quietly voice soft it’s as if the wind itself is talking.

Bela blushes furiously and is left speechless. ‘this is the third time she’s been made to blush! What the hell Bela get a hold of yourself’.

Donna sensing that she has said too much tries to back paddle. “I’m sorry it’s just how I see here. I hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable.”

“No thank you Donna, really that’s the sweetest thing anyone has said to me.”

Thankfully the awkwardness of the place changes when Cassandra barrels through the greenhouse. “Lady Beneviento, may Angie play with us again? We want a rematch with her. This time we’ll definitely win” She says with fire in her voice.

And even though her sisters have said that she can sometimes gloss over and ‘cannot read the room’, Cassandra knew for certain that something has happened. It might be the blush her elder sister is sporting or the subtle twitch of Donna’s hands.

But there are more pressing matters at hand, a Champion needs to be dethroned. Therefore she filed the weird atmosphere around Donna and Bela for another time.

At the mention of the challenge Angie becomes animated and hops off to run into Cassandra. The three leaves Donna alone to ponder the situation inside the greenhouse.

Perhaps her stay at Castle Dimitrescu would be full of surprises after all.

----

Another note: I’ve also been made aware that Donna may suffer from Agoraphobia. I’m sorry that I haven’t taken that into consideration when writing this story, in this case Donna just suffers from a slight fear of unknown people and will not talk at all if she’s in front of new people (which won’t technically happen in this fic)

[whumpzone]

Tomas and Rowe - Part 8

this chapter was a trial and a half to clean up but the support from you guys gave me the final boost i needed! youre all the best

also… no harm to people with eyebrow piercings. i personally really like them lmao. i just needed an example of something that would be considered a bit ‘out there’ in your typical boring office :’D

Masterpost

taglist: @sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @oceanthesarcasamfox @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk @ghostcomit (just ask if you want to be tagged!)

CW: pet whump, dehumanisation, alcohol + descriptions of being drunk, swearing 

- 

‘’Ah, fuck,’’ muttered Tomas, his eyes hovering over the calendar pinned to the fridge with a magnet. Rowe looked up from where he was kneeling on a thin cushion- a compromise since he wouldn’t sit on the furniture.

‘’Master?’’

‘’You know when you get so used to seeing something that you stop really looking at it?’’ he said as he picked up the two freshly-made mugs of tea and walked over to Rowe, ‘’Turns out my old workmate is coming over for drinks tonight. Totally forgot.’’

He set Rowe’s mug on the floor beside him, looking over his shoulder at the paper he was writing on. ‘’Good work. That R is backwards though, watch out for that. Easy mistake to make.’’

‘’Th-thank you, Master, I’ll do better.’’

‘’You’re doing fine,’’ he said, patting his shoulder gently. Rowe flinched, as always, but only slightly. ‘’I’ll have to see what the booze situation in the fridge is. I hope I don’t have to go to the shop. I just made tea.’’

‘’Is he coming for food too, Master?’’

Tomas shook his head, looking at Rowe. What the fuck am I going to do with you tonight?

Ever since he had seen those cuts on Rowe, standing out against the myriad of fading bruises, scarring wounds and old burns, he hadn’t been able to let him out of his sight for very long. Luckily, Rowe hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. Tomas supposed it was perfectly natural to keep your Pet near you, ready to submit to any command or punishment demanded of them.

‘’Nah. If it’s alright, Rowe, I’d like you to stay downstairs while he’s visiting. I might need you.’’

…

Master wants to show me off, thought Rowe proudly. Finally, this was something he understood. He was trusted to entertain Master and his friend! This was a chance to prove what a good Pet he could be.

‘’Of course, Master.’’

‘’You don’t mind?’’

Master Tomas asked the strangest things sometimes, Rowe thought. Not that he would ever dare question his Master. But he didn’t understand the point of asking for his opinion like it mattered. Still, he was good at giving the right answer and making Master happy.

‘’No, Master.’’

Sure enough, he smiled, and gave Rowe another pat on the shoulder. Rowe tried not to squirm too much- Master couldn’t have known that he was touching Rowe right where Kasia had cut him, and the pain was a good reminder that no matter how happy Master seemed with him, he wasn’t to get complacent. He did his best to smile back, and Master looked even happier.

When his old master hosted parties, it was always understood that Rowe would serve everyone present. Anyone was able to give him orders, regardless of whether or not his master was in the room. He could only assume it would be the same here.

After they’d eaten, Master went upstairs to ‘get himself looking presentable’, as he described it, and Rowe tidied up. Catching himself in the mirror by the staircase, Rowe swept his hair out of his eyes and brushed down his shirt with his hands like he’d seen Master Tomas do on occasions. Master’s friend was due any moment, so Rowe settled himself down at the back of the room, and focused on being blank, obedient, and well-behaved.

-

Out of the corner of his eye, Rowe could see Master straightening his shirt one last time before going to open the front door. He heard various pleasantries being exchanged, and the door clicking shut.

Rowe wouldn’t dare look up, but he couldn’t ignore the way the footsteps suddenly stopped as Adam entered the house.

‘’So what have I missed since y- whoa, you have a Pet?’’

‘’I- uh,’’ Master began. Rowe’s eyebrows twitched. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it was impossible to ignore when it was the only sound he could hear. ‘’Not really, I mean, okay, I might have. He’s not really a Pet, per se, I mean, he’s-‘’

‘’Mate, that is obviously a Pet. Don’t be embarrassed!’’

Master sighed. ‘’Okay, yeah, I’ve got a Pet.’’

Was Master ashamed of him? He shouldn’t have even listened, but something in him sank nonetheless. A pair of feet appeared on the floor before him, and then a hand grabbed his cheek, pulling his face up. He kept his eyes on the ground meekly as Adam looked him over, turning his face side to side.

‘’A real-life Pet. Never thought you were the type, Tomas.’’ Adam peered over Rowe’s shoulder. ‘’Err… no collar? He must be, uh, well trained.’’

His voice was heavy in sarcasm and questioning, and Rowe felt like he’d done something really, really, bad.

‘’He is.’’ Master Tomas said. A warning, Rowe thought to himself. He didn’t need to be told twice. He wouldn’t do anything to upset his owner on an important night.

‘’How on Earth did you afford one? Is it second-hand?’’

‘’Yeah. It was an- uh, impulse decision. I bought him off Kasia.’’

‘’That lowlife?’’ Rowe could practically see Adam’s raised eyebrow in his tone.

‘’Hey, he’s my friend!’’

‘’Come on, Tomas, we’ve all heard the rumours. He could well have sold you a defect.’’

‘’Don’t be rude. And don’t call him a defect,’’ Master Tomas gestured to Rowe, and it took everything in him to not flinch. Tonight was a test, he reminded himself. ‘’He’s right there.’’

There was a pause, and Rowe’s eyes flicked up just enough to see Adam giving Master a very disrespectful look.

‘’It’s only a Pet, mate. You’re spending too much time indoors if you think it’s gonna get hurt feelings.’’

‘’Whatever.’’ Rowe was probably mistaken, he was only a Pet after all, but something in Master’s voice sounded… shaky.

Adam laughed, and tightened his grip on Rowe’s face. ‘’Hey. You’re not listening, are you, Pet?’’

Rowe shook his head desperately, wishing the attention would shift onto something, anything else. He could feel Master’s eyes on him. Adam released his grip and patted Rowe’s cheek roughly.

‘’Go and sit down, Adam.’’

‘’Don’t have to tell me twice. I’ve been looking forward to getting some drinks in me.’’

‘’Yes, yes, hint taken. Coming right up,’’ Master laughed tightly. Rowe dropped his head back down, but Master’s feet lingered in front of him for a few seconds. Long enough that a prickle of fear ran through him. What? What is it? What have I done wrong? Is Master displeased? Do I look ugly? Is that why Master is ashamed of me? I’m not a defect, I promise. Please don’t throw me out.

Eventually, all Master did was ruffle Rowe’s hair, and walk over to join Adam.

…

The night drew on, and the neat lines of empty bottles by the sofa grew longer, and wonkier. Tomas’s head felt ten times as heavy as he slumped back, holding his newly-finished bottle of cider upside down in triumph. Adam cheered and quickly finished up his lager, clinking the two bottles together and messily trying to line them up with the rest on the floor.

‘’What else have I missed at the office?’’

‘’Ahhh…’’ Adam grunted as he thought. ‘’Georgie pierced Dennis’s eyebrow after he lost a bet.’’

‘’Oh my god.’’

‘’He looks awful!’’ Adam cried with far too much force. He fell back laughing at his own loudness, reaching for another bottle but grabbing thin air. ‘’Wuh- got any more beers mate?’’

‘’I….. think so?’’

‘’Pet!’’ Adam shouted suddenly. Tomas would have jumped if he wasn’t so drunk. Rowe appeared by Adam’s side, dropping to his knees once more. Adam batted a hand around in annoyance. ‘’Don’t bother kneeling mate, you’re just about to get back up again.’’

‘’Sir?’’ Rowe asked evenly. Tomas watched Adam warily.

‘’More beers.’’

Rowe nodded and rose gracefully. Adam turned to Tomas as he left and snorted.

‘’Its not bad, I’ll give that to you. I wish people at work called me sir.’’

‘’He’s not an ‘it’,’’ Tomas mumbled, rolling his eyes.

‘’Huh?’’ said Adam, leaning in. Before Tomas could answer, though, Rowe returned with two bottles in his hands. Tomas faltered. He knew the opinion people like Adam held on ‘Pet libbers’. Some people even considered trying to treat a Pet like a human akin to abuse. Went against their ‘natural role’, apparently. Tomas thought it was a load of shit.

‘’I said people at work call you a thick bastard,’’ said Tomas, reaching over Adam to grab the drinks from Rowe, nodding at him while he did so. Rowe retreated back to the corner of the room. Adam grinned at Tomas’s joke and playfully snatched the lager from Tomas.

‘’Well they’re about to start calling you… fucking… Pet having wanker,’’ slurred Adam, howling and fumbling with the bottle opener.

‘’Fuck you,’’ Tomas laughed, wagging a finger at him. ‘’One more crack outta you sunshine and I’ll give you an eyebrow piercing.’’

Adam snorted and the two of them fell about.  Adam’s head slumped to the side, and he suddenly sat straight up.

‘’Where’s your Pet gone?’’

‘’Out of our way, idiot.’’

‘’Dude, I never even thought I’d see a Pet. At least let me have a bit of fun with it.’’

‘’What does that mean?’’

Adam ignored him. ‘’Pet!’’ he called, trying unsuccessfully to snap his fingers. Rowe again appeared and knelt among the discarded bottles.

‘’You’re drunk,’’ Tomas groaned.

‘’So are you. And I wanna put my feet up.’’

Rowe complied without hesitation. He got on his hands and knees in front of Adam, keeping his back straight and not making a sound as Adam roughly slung his legs over him.

‘’Wow, he already knew what I wanted. I bet you do this shit all the time,’’ Adam said, raising the bottle to his face. Tomas looked between Adam and Rowe. He knew Rowe’s back was still healing from the wounds his old owner had given him. Should he say something? Rowe’s face didn’t betray any pain- he looked blank, and calm, and Tomas considered how humiliated he might be if Tomas tried to step in and protect him. He’d take it as his Master not thinking he’s useful.

‘’He just-‘’ Tomas mirrored Adam, taking a drink, although his head was beginning to pound and his eyes kept closing by themselves. ‘’He mostly just helps with chores and stuff.’’

‘’Are you for real? I thought the whole point of a Pet was that you didn’t have to do any chores.’’

‘’A Pet does whatever their Master wants,’’ slurred Tomas, unsticking his lip from the inside of the bottle neck. ‘’And I want him to just- fuckin’- help.’’

‘’I’ve wanted to ask this all night,’’ Adam interjected suddenly, ‘’and now I’m drunk enough to.’’ He rolled onto his side, his feet still weighing on Rowe, and pointed his lager at Tomas. ‘’Do you- oh, I’m so embarrassed- do you torture it real bad like those people on the news? Cause, listen, no judgement if you do, I actually have a lot of stuff annoying me and it seems like a great way to get it off your chest, so…’’

Tomas grimaced. ‘’I do not.’’

‘’Alright, alright, I figured you weren’t like that. You’re a diplomatic guy.’’ Adam leant forward and slapped Rowe’s head roughly. ‘’You’re a lucky mutt! Now, let’s have another drink.’’

Adam dragged his feet off Rowe’s back to let him get up, while his latest empty bottle rolled along the floor. Tomas glanced at the clock. It was two in the morning.

‘’Here, are you tir-‘’ he was cut off as Rowe, on his walk back to Adam, caught his foot on a rogue bottle and fell crashing to the ground, the bottle in his hand smashing and beer foaming everywhere. Tomas and Adam staggered to their feet, Tomas pushing past him to pick Rowe up off the floor. He almost fell over himself; standing up suddenly had made him realise just how drunk he was. He could hardly see as he held Rowe’s elbow and lifted him up.

‘’Rowe, you good? Did any of the glass cut you?’’

‘’N-no, I’m s-s-so sorry M-Master-‘’

‘’Butterfingers!’’ howled Adam, delighted. ‘’That is gonna be a bitch to clean up. Cute nickname too. Rowe? You’re soft as hell.’’

‘’He’s hardly got butterfingers you pisshead, my whole floor is covered in bottles. I’d like to see you not trip.’’

‘’Calm down,’’ scoffed Adam, now satisfied that Rowe didn’t have any exciting injuries. He sat back down heavily. ‘’How’re you gonna punish it?’’

‘’Ugh, fuck off.’’

‘’I’m serious, mate. There’s glass everywhere.’’

Tomas’s head was ringing, his vision was blurry at best and he was pretty sure he was going to throw up.

‘’Why are you so keen to get involved?’’

‘’Because frankly Tomas you’re acting like a fuckin’ wetwipe,’’ Adam snapped, ‘’I mean, Christ, I’ll do it if you can’t.’’

Tomas had hoped Adam wouldn’t reach the point in the night where the booze made him aggressive. There was no way he was letting him hurt Rowe. An idea came to him. He knew it was a bad idea. But he was so drunk, and so desperate to sleep, that he couldn’t think of any other option.

‘’Oh I’m going to punish him alright,’’ he slurred. Rowe froze under his grip. He led him away from the glass, to the clear floor behind the sofa. ‘’I just didn’t know if you wanted to stay or not.’’

‘’Mas-Master, I-I-I’m sorry, I’m s-s-orry, please f-forgive me-‘’

‘’Be quiet, Rowe,’’ he said firmly. Rowe fell silent with a whimper.

‘’Pfft. You said you don’t torture your Pet.’’

‘’I said I don’t-‘’ Tomas fumbled with his words, ‘’-I said I don’t do it to let off steam. Rowe, take your shirt off.’’

Adam’s smile faltered as he saw the state of Rowe’s chest. Tomas tried to ignore the way Rowe was quivering below him. So there are more cuts, he noted hazily. I will deal with that….later.

‘’Turn around. Let Adam see your whip marks.’’

Rowe obeyed and Adam’s face fell.

‘’What the fuck?’’

Tomas pushed Rowe as gently as he could and Rowe sank to his knees immediately.

‘’I think I’ll find the biggest shard of glass that he just smashed and reopen some of these cuts here,’’ Tomas said, staring hard at Adam. He took a fistful of Rowe’s hair, trying his best not to yank it too hard, guiding Rowe’s head back. He could see the whites of his eyes as stared up at him in terror. ‘’You’re lucky I’m too drunk to take my belt off,’’ Tomas said to him. ‘’Since I can’t whip you, I’ll have to improvise. Adam, you got a lighter?’’

Adam didn’t answer. He stood up, taking a shaky step backwards.

‘’No lighter? No problem. I can just turn the hob on and hold his arm over it. Can’t I?’’ he let Rowe’s hair go and he bowed his head forward, trembling. ‘’Can’t I, Rowe?’’

‘’Y-yes, Master,’’ Rowe whimpered.

‘’You’re fucked up,’’ Adam said.

‘’You said it yourself, mate, that’s gonna buh- be a bitch to clean up. So you staying to watch or not?’’

‘’Fuck that. It’s late. I’m off.’’

Adam grabbed his coat and left without another word. Tomas watched him leave, then stumbled to the front door and locked it behind him.

‘’Thank fuck he’s gone.’’

He grabbed a bottle of water and gulped it down desperately. He would have given anything to just pass out, but the thought of leaving Rowe as he was didn’t even cross his mind. Looking over, he saw how hard he was trembling. His eyes were tightly shut, and he was still kneeling obediently with his arms behind his back. He looked achingly vulnerable.

‘’Rowe-‘’ he started, walking towards him. At the sound of his voice Rowe cried out, collapsing onto the floor with his hands propping him up. As Tomas drew closer, he weakly pulled himself away. It broke his heart to see him so scared. ‘’Rowe, it’s okay, I-‘’ oh god, he was so drunk. Rowe scrambled away from him until he was curled in the corner on the room, his knees tucked up under his chin and his arms hiding his face. Shit.

‘’Rowe, Rowe, I know how that sounded, but please listen,’’ he began, knowing there was no way in Hell Rowe was in any state to listen to reason. Rowe only curled further into himself when Tomas sat down beside him.

‘’I-I’m so- s-so sorry, Mas-Master, I’m s-sorry p-p-please forgive me, pl-please f-forgive me it w-will never happen ag- again I swear, I swear Master, I’m s-sorry, please I’m so sorry…’’ he whimpered, his voice barely audible.

‘’Rowe,’’ he said weakly. Rowe whined in fear and Tomas had never felt more inequipped to handle him. He felt like someone had grabbed his head and was pulling it around with every little movement, making the room spin.

‘’I’ll d-d-d-do anything, anyth-thing just p-please, please f-forgive me, I know I d-don’t deserve it I’m a w-worthless Pet I do-don’t deserve a-any mercy, Master, but please, please, I’ll do anything, I’m sorry, pl-please punish me-‘’

Tomas frowned. He had thought Rowe was so desperately afraid because of the punishment. ‘’Rowe, please, look at me.’’

An order was an order. Rowe lowered his trembling hands just enough to let Tomas see his wide, twitching eyes. ‘’I’m sorry, Master,’’ he whispered. ‘’I was careless.’’

‘’You weren’t, you were obeying an order, it wasn’t your f.. wasn’t your fault. I didn’t mean it.’’

‘’I w-was stupid and I didn’t pay pr-proper attention and I-, I’m sorry, it w-was unacceptable, please- please punish-‘’ Rowe faltered, covering his face again. His last few words were no more than a whimper. ‘’Please punish me, Master.’’

I am a fucking idiot. I am a fucking idiot. What the FUCK was I thinking.

‘’Sit up, pal, sit up. No more kneeling tonight- your legs must be aching. Sit cross legged like me.’’

Normally this would have resulted in at least ten minutes of negotiations, with Rowe protesting, convinced Tomas was issuing him with a test of obedience. But tonight, he complied without a word. Tomas realised he could ask Rowe to stand on his head right now and he would do it without a second thought, if it meant not angering his Master any more.

. . .                                                                                                                  

Rowe had never felt the floor drop away from him the way it did when Master Tomas described his punishment.

He had finally pushed Master Tomas’s infinite patience too far. He had already got away with so much- all his crying, pleading, flinching away, struggling with the simplest order, actually injuring Master, screaming every night. No Pet owner should have to put up with such disobedience.

Master’s kindness was a privilege, and Rowe knew he could revoke it at any time, he knew that everything he had, his bed and food and gentle touches could be snatched away if he did anything to displease his Master.

But then Master had been so forgiving, and gentle, and Rowe had started to think that maybe this could go on forever. But he had fucked it up, he had embarrassed Master in front of his guest, he couldn’t even complete a simple task, Master had given him so many chances and still Rowe had fucked up.

I’ve done it now. I never deserved a Master like him. He’ll toss me out. I’ll be put down for sure. No Pet gets tossed out twice. I’m going to be beaten raw and thrown out.

He couldn’t bear to open his eyes. Instead he listened helplessly as Master walked to the kitchen- to pick out the best bit of glass, Rowe assumed. The fall played over and over in his head: if he had only looked where he was going, if he’d walked slower and been more graceful and less twitchy, if he’d taken another route around the empty bottles. It occurred to him that by the time the bruising on his head formed, he’d either be shivering on the streets, or dead.

He heard his name and irregular footsteps approaching him and Rowe still jumped when Master spoke. Why couldn’t he stop being so pitiful?

Looking up, he saw that Master Tomas’s eyes were half-lidded, and tinged red. Drunk eyes. A drunk Master was always the most frightening kind. A drunk Master couldn’t be predicted. Rowe’s hands hit the floor and he dragged himself away, hardly knowing why. This is why I should be properly restrained, he thought weakly. Maybe he just wanted to draw out the punishment, to put off the far worse fate awaiting him once Master was done.

‘’Rowe, it’s okay, I-‘’

Rowe’s body hit the wall and all he could think to do was curl up and beg. He hadn’t even realised Master was speaking to him until he interrupted him. His stomach flooded with a deep, freezing terror.

‘’Rowe, please, look at me.’’ Master ordered, forced to repeat himself, and this time Rowe managed to shut up and look. His heart was pounding as he let Master see his miserable, apologetic eyes.

‘’I’m s-so sorry, Master. I was careless.’’

‘’You weren’t,’’ said Master. His usually soft voice had a rough, intoxicated edge to it. And what did he mean? ‘’You were obeying an order, it wasn’t your f… wasn’t your fault. I didn’t mean it.’’

Mean what? Why wasn’t Master grabbing Rowe and forcing his face to the ground, screaming at him for even daring to disobey him after what he’d already done? Why wasn’t he cutting him? Rowe suddenly remembered to look at Master’s hands. No glass. Maybe Rowe would have to pick it out himself.

‘’I w-was stupid and I didn’t pay pr-proper attention and I-, I’m sorry, it w-was unacceptable, please- please punish- please punish me, Master,’’ he begged, hiding his filthy, insolent face.

Master was speaking, he realised, and he’d missed half of it, oh god oh god, he couldn’t keep his breathing under control and he knew he should be kneeling but something in him wouldn’t let him move and he was going to get chucked out and he was so so sorry-

‘’-legs must be aching. Sit cross legged like me.’’

Rowe obeyed without hesitation. Whatever Master wanted. Maybe this was important for his punishment. He felt like he might throw up.

‘’Fuck, I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m not angry. Look at my eyes- I’m not angry. I just wa- I just wanted him to leave. He was being a fucking twat. I am- I’m so drunk, Rowe. I’m so drunk and I handled that so badly and it wasn’t right. I just wanted to frighten Adam off. But I know it frightened you as well. Is that a fair assum- assump- is that fair? Are you quite frightened right now?’’

‘’Y….yes, Master.’’

Why was Master asking this? Was it not enough to see him trembling, on the brink of tears? Was it not enough to be almost stripped bare, open and exposed before his Master, submitting his body to his owner to punish as he saw fit? His mind was whirling with ways he could explain Kasia’s cuts, dreading the time Master asked where he had got them. He felt so useless. The punishment hadn’t even begun yet and already he was about to cry. His old master would add an extra beating if Rowe cried prematurely.

‘’I won’t hurt you. I promise. In fact-’’ Master reached for Rowe’s t-shirt, like he’d read his mind, ‘’-put this back on, please. Don’t get cold.’’

Rowe obeyed, his hands trembling almost too badly to take the t-shirt from Master’s hand. Master would have to cut him through his t-shirt, then. Perhaps then he’d beat him for ruining his clothes. Master could do that, he could do whatever he wanted. Rowe was just grateful to have his awful cuts covered up. Perhaps- he dared to hope- perhaps Master was too intoxicated to see properly? Perhaps he hadn’t seen them?

Then he remembered that it didn’t matter, anyway. Master was throwing him out. The remembrance was like a stone suddenly sinking into him.

‘’Rowe- why are you frightened?’’

What game was this?

‘’B-because of th-the punishment, Master.’’ He knew that being afraid of a punishment would only get him hurt worse, but he would take any pain, any pain at all, to stay as Master’s Pet. Rowe couldn’t even mention being tossed out. Stupidly, childishly, he didn’t want to say it out loud. Didn’t want to make it real.

‘’But aren’t you used to punishments like this? Do you get this scared every time?’’

‘’N-no!’’ Rowe burst out, pressing his head to the floor, trying to find something in his training to fall back on to navigate this. He couldn’t give Master any more reasons to throw him out. ‘’No, Master, no, I d-don’t, I c-can be good, I can t-take it well, I c-c-can be blank and quiet a-and not m-make a fuss, I promise!’’

‘’It’s okay, it’s okay. I know that. I know how good you are,’’ Master said. Rowe couldn’t understand why his tone sounded so soothing. ‘’But what I wan… want to know is- why is this time different? What’s scared you this time?’’

Before Rowe could even think properly, he whimpered out, ‘’Please… please don’t make me s-say it, Master.’’

Master Tomas’s eyebrows drew together. His eyes blinked open, and he stared at Rowe hard, like keeping his eyes open was a real effort. Rowe felt powerless, cowering in his Master’s gaze. But then the moment passed, and Master closed his eyes and put a hand on Rowe’s arm. Rowe waited for the moment where his Master’s grip would turn painful, but it never came, and when Master took his hand away Rowe found that the absence made him ache.

‘’Rowe. Rowerowerowe. I… I’m sorry. I am not a mind reader. You are gonna have to tell me what else is spooking you. Is it… are you scared of Adam coming back?’’

‘’N-no, Master.’’

Why did Master insist on Rowe saying it?

‘’Then what? How about this- if you tell me what’s wrong, I won’t punish you. How about that.’’

No punishment. Master would go straight to throwing him out. This was what he got for being disobedient. As if he had any right to argue with Master. Rowe scrambled to his knees and ground his forehead into the floor.

‘’Please- please, Master! Please, I d-deserve to be punished, please p-punish me, please!’’

‘’Rowe!’’ Master’s voice cut through him. Rowe had never heard his Master shout like that. He whimpered, keeping his head down. ‘’Rowe, you want to be a good Pet, yes?’’

Rowe nodded desperately.

‘’Then,’’ Master sighed heavily. He sounded so fed up with him. ‘’Then I need you to start cooperating, okay? We can- we can do this slowly. Sit up for me. Good. Now, I know you don’t want to, and if I could avoid it I would, yeah? But you have to tell me what’s wrong. You have to.’’

Rowe felt tears pricking his eyes. ‘’I don’t… I don’t want to be thrown out, Master,’’ he whispered.

There was a long pause. Rowe felt heavy with dread. Was Master going to laugh at him? Or would he order him into the cage he arrived in without another word?

‘’You think I’m going to throw you out?’’

‘’I-I’m a use-useless Pet, Master, I’m sh-shameful and I ca-an’t even follow a s-s-simple task and you don’t-‘’ Rowe began to cry as he forced himself to say it. In a way, it felt cathartic to get it out. ‘’-you don’t n-n-need a broken Pet. I’m no- no good for a-anything, a-a-and you g-gave me so many chances, I’m no good…’’ he choked on a sob and finally, blissfully, broke down entirely. ‘’I can’t e-even answer m-my Master without crying,’’ he moaned. ‘’Serving y-you is a privilege and I haven’t done anything to- anything to earn it.’’

…

Rowe’s raw, vulnerable cries had pulled Tomas out of his drunken haze. The fog in his head was lifting as Tomas began, uncomfortably, to sober up.

‘’What will happen if I throw you out?’’

Rowe looked at him fearfully, and Tomas realised too late that a Pet owner would be expected to know that. This must feel to Rowe like Tomas cruelly reminding him of his fate.

‘’I’ll- I’ll be put down, Master.’’

‘’Ah. Right. Right… okay, Rowe, I know you’re listening. You’re very good at that. I need you to know what I’m saying is all the absolute truth, okay?’’

‘’Yes, y-yes, Master, of course,’’ Rowe replied miserably.

‘’Firstly, I won’t hurt you. I won’t. I made up a punishment to freak Adam out. I’ve never hurt you before so I won’t start now, okay?’’

‘’Okay,’’ Rowe sniffed, glancing up at him with huge wet doe eyes. ‘’Okay, Master.’’

‘’And secondly, I’m not going to throw you out. I care about you, okay?’’ Tomas decided to phrase this in a way Rowe could understand. ‘’If I were going to throw you out, I wouldn’t have spent so much time teaching you to read, would I?’’

Rowe stayed silent, weeping softly, until Tomas pressed him and he choked out an agreement.

‘’Okay. And I wouldn’t have made sure you were eating each day, if I didn’t care about you. If I didn’t want you to stay with me and get better.’’

Get better. Something flashed in Rowe’s eyes and Tomas knew he’d struck the right chord. He was making him good, like Rowe always begged for.

‘’And now that I work from home, you can be my top priority.’’

‘’But I’m…’’ Rowe sobbed, his voice cracking. ‘’I’m j-just a Pet, Master.’’

‘’Nah. You’re Rowe. You’re important to me. I couldn’t just toss you out, you understand?’’

‘’Tha-thank yo-‘’

Before he could finish Rowe was in floods of tears once more, clutching his face and curling in on himself. Tomas’s heart broke and without thinking he pulled Rowe into a hug, the first since he’d got him.

It felt surprisingly normal to be holding his crying Pet, taking care to avoid touching the worst of his injuries. Placing one hand by his shoulder because by now it felt familiar. Slow, gentle movements, keeping his hands flat, keeping his arms loose enough to not constrict him.

‘’It’s okay. I’ve got you.’’

‘’Thank you, yes, I’m yours Master.’’

Tomas smiled weakly. Hundreds of tiny misunderstandings every day, and yet they were coping somehow.

And then Tomas’s body finally gave up and he slumped over, asleep.

[thatmultifandomhoe]

Knitting You a Home - 8

Pairing: Wolf Hybrid Namjoon and Human Reader

Word Count: 2,731

Genre/Rating: Hybrid AU - Established Relationship - Angst - Fluff - Smut - Rated PG-13

Overview: Things have changed for you and Namjoon. It’s been a year since the two of you got together, and despite a rocky start, it was impossible to deny the bond and love you shared for each other. But ever since Hoseok had been separated from his Mate, Namjoon has been withdrawing himself from you and doesn’t come home until late at night.

With questions far larger than either of you imagined, you can’t help but wonder if he’s let his past and old fears come back to haunt him. You had shown him that it was possible to have a home and be loved once before, but will you be able to do it again?

Warning: Talk of nightmares - discussion of Hybrid abuse - implied mentions of drinking, drugs, hybrid mills - abandonment - Underground fights.

Music Playlist:

Main Master List:

Knitting You a Home Master List:

Mated Love is Never Easy Series Master List:

Sneak Peak - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - ?

©thatmultifandomhoe 2021. Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

You weren’t expecting Namjoon to come home at a normal hour. To keep yourself busy after Luna headed out, you plated all the goodies you made and cleaned up the kitchen, softly humming the entire time as you refrained from baking any further.

When dinner came and went, you had curled yourself up on the couch. The blanket you were knitting was long enough to cover your knees, but it still had a long way to go. In the living room there were two large windows looking out the front yard, a picture-perfect view of the tall oak and evergreen trees that surrounded your neighborhood.

The sky overhead turned pink as the sun began its descent, washed out burnt orange lights streaked the sky until it reminded you of peaches. If Namjoon had been here, he’d find a spot outside on the grass and watch until the sky was overflowing with stars. By then the fireflies would be out and he’d want to stay, mesmerized as they sparkled on and off until you went out with a shawl wrapped around your shoulders and a teasing grin to try and coax him back inside.

The knitting needles had stopped clicking a while ago. You were so lost in thought that you set the project back in its basket and stood up, tugging your sweater around your body as you made your way over to the window.

In the summer the sun didn’t set until eight at night, dragging out the painted skies for as long as nature allowed for it. Glancing around the room, an old book sat on top of an end table, the cover flipped open to reveal thinly aged paper. It made you smile softly as you picked it up, flipping through it to find the small black typed letters of poetry written long ago.

He was such a lover of words, always amazing you with how wide his reading interests ranged from, to how he even viewed life and the world. After everything that he went through, he still spoke about the world like it was a gift.

Screaming echoed in the house as you shot up in bed, chest heaving as you threw back the blankets to hurry to Namjoon’s room. Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t have entered without knocking, but this wasn’t the first time he’s had the nightmares during his stay with you.

It had been over a month since the storm, and while Luna had said many times that they weren’t as over-packed at the Homeless Center, you didn’t have the heart to tell Namjoon that he could go back. At least here he had a bed – a real bed and not a cot – his own room, new and clean clothe,s and home cooked meals. Even if the Center wasn’t over crowded since the storm had long since passed, it would still be loud and crowded, the very things that Namjoon didn’t need right now.

Turning on the lamp on his night stand, you crouched over Namjoon to gently shake his shoulder. He was breathing heavily as he gripped the blankets underneath him, beads of sweat dotting his forehead and tears formed under his eyelashes, dripping down his cheeks.

"Wake up Namjoon,” you called out, briefly scratching his ear as it twitched. “It’s just a bad dream hun, it’ll be all over when you wake up. I promise.”

He painfully cried in his sleep, body flinching when you touched him, but you didn’t stop trying to wake him up. It hurt to see him suffering like this and you knew, had he gone back to the Center, no one would have attempted to wake him once they realized this wasn’t a one-time occurrence.

“It’s gonna be okay Namjoon, you just gotta wake up.”

It took a little more coaxing on your part, but with one final shake Namjoon gasped as his eyes opened wide, searching around the room until they landed on you. He didn’t look away and he didn’t rip his arm away, a positive sign in your book since he had been doing that the previous times you woke him from a nightmare.

He never told you about the nightmares. Instead, he simply apologized and said to not worry about them. There was just one problem, you did worry. You worried because you knew that whatever was haunting him had been happening for years and every morning afterwards, there were dark circles under his eyes.

You worried because over the course of the last month, you’ve grown to care about Namjoon.

The clock on the nightstand said it was three a.m. Knowing that you weren’t going to be falling asleep anytime soon, you straightened so you were no longer leaning over Namjoon and let go of his shoulder.

“Want some tea?” You gently asked, realizing that the two of you had been staring at each other without speaking, long enough to make your cheeks blush.

Namjoon glanced at the clock too, momentarily coughing into his hand as he tried to catch his breath. You weren’t expecting him to say yes, he declined each time you previously offered after his nightmares. Knowing that, you still asked because a part of you hoped that one day, he’d trust you enough to open up to you.

“Sure,” he spoke, his voice hoarse from crying.

Your eyebrows lifted in shock, surprised that he had agreed. You didn’t let that deter you though, instead you gave him a small smile. “Okay. Come on out when you’re ready.”

Namjoon nodded once and you left shortly afterwards, closing the door behind you to give him privacy. Internally, your heart was leaping around, happy that he was appearing to come out of his shell, even if it wasn’t in the greatest circumstances.

Once you reached the kitchen, you moved out of habit, used to making late night drinks for Luna, but when you reached for the tea, you hesitated. You didn’t know what type Namjoon liked to drink. He only ever had coffee in front of you.

Leaving the orange mug empty for now, you prepared yours with instant coffee, knowing that it wouldn’t impact your sleep. As the hot water poured into the mug, you rifled through the tea bags you had, fingers pausing on one labelled Chamomile. Luna tended to favor this one when it was an especially stressful night, claiming that it helped calm her down.

Namjoon’s cries echoed in your mind and the next thing you knew you were plopping the tea bag into his mug and pressing brew for the hot water to dispense. If he didn’t like it, there were plenty other teas for him to choose. Leaning back against the counter, you softly smiled as he walked into the kitchen, his footsteps silent against the hardwood floor.

He glanced at the Keurig behind you, eyebrows scrunching up as he tilted his head at the smell. You didn’t recall making this one since he’s moved in.

“It’s Chamomile,” you softly explained, watching as his feet shuffled closer to the table. “It’ll help you relax. I thought you might like that after your nightmare.”

The corner of his lip twitched and a faint smile became visible. “Yeah, that sounds pretty good right about now.”

Hearing the Keurig finish, you turned back around to retrieve his mug, grabbing him a spoon and the honey bottle as well. “You’re gonna wanna dunk the bag a couple times,” you suggested, placing it in front of him. He raised an eyebrow at the honey and you shrugged as you retrieved your coffee before sitting across from him. “I wasn’t sure if you liked it sweet or not.”

“Thank you,” taking the honey, he poured a small amount in and stirred, carefully avoiding hitting the sides of the mug. “I…I really appreciate all that you’re doing for me.”

“It’s not a problem. I know things haven’t been easy for you.”

“But you didn’t have to help me.” He spoke, holding his mug in both hands. “You didn’t have to offer up your guest room, or be patient with me and share your meals, but you did.” Licking his lips, he raised an eyebrow at you. “And you didn’t have to let me stay this long. The storm ended weeks ago and the Homeless Center isn’t as chaotic, but you haven’t even mentioned that.”

Your eyes widened, feeling caught in the act when he softly smiled before taking a sip out of his drink. “How?”

“Luna called while you were away at work on day. She was wondering why you hadn’t told me that I could go back.”

Damn technology, you thought, shrugging as you tried to hide your embarrassment by pulling your knees up on to the chair and to your chest.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he softly asked. Lowering his mug, the spot between his eyebrows furrowed as he patiently waited. “Why didn’t you tell me to leave?”

A part of you wished you were able to play dumb and pull it off, to coyly act like you had no idea what he was talking about. Namjoon would know immediately though. His ability to pick up on your emotions hadn’t gone unnoticed in the time he’s lived with you.

The words escaped you for a moment, so you shrugged once as you tried to form the right thing to say. It only lasted a few seconds, because when you met his gaze, it flowed naturally. “I didn’t want you to leave,” you found yourself telling him, unable to say anything but the truth.

He blinked in surprise, leaning back in his seat as the silence took hold again. It wasn’t uncomfortable though. You didn’t mind it, figuring he was assessing your emotions to find the truth in what you said.

As he gathered his thoughts, you rubbed a hand across your eyes in an attempt to ease the headache from lack of caffeine.

“I told Luna it was better for that little Hybrid to be abandoned now because it’s true. It’s a shitty thing to experience when you can remember it.”

Tonight, was perhaps the most that you’ve heard Namjoon speak, and you were surprised with where he was directing his attention towards. Ideas swirled around with what he was talking about, about where this was going to lead, but you remained quiet as you focused on him, allowing him to speak at the pace he wanted to go at.

Namjoon ran his thumb around the rim of his mug, taking a deep breath. “I’ve lost track of all the owners I’ve had. There hadn’t been as many when I was younger, but as I grew up, grew bigger and taller, I got sent back to the Adoption Centers until one day, one of them got lazy and dropped me off at the Homeless Center. I was maybe, fifteen then.”

“Even with all the constant changes, I always knew I was a Hybrid. None of my owners ever let me forget that. They put me in small rooms, sometimes I didn’t even have a room but a closet or a mattress on the floor.” Lifting his gaze, he gestured around the kitchen with a bittersweet smile. “Everything in this room alone, to be able to have a cup of tea and not be afraid of the consequences, was once a dream for me. Still is sometimes.”

Shifting in your seat, you set your cup down on the table, having lost interest in the coffee that you usually loved. Because you were watching him, you were able to see his fingers tighten briefly.

“It was bad,” he simply said, not meeting your gaze this time. “There’d be days where I wasn’t allowed to eat, where I was expected to clean up after everyone and keep the house spotless and if I didn’t, well…sometimes not eat eating was better than their punishments. Almost forgot my own name with one owner. She only ever called me Hybrid.”

A rock settled inside your heart at what he was implying, and suddenly it made sense. The way he flinched at your touch, how you always had to encourage and reassure him that it was okay to eat and have more. Your eyes watered up and you bit down on your lower lip, unable to control the way your emotions seemed to fly around.

His ears flickered in your direction, finally looking at you again. He gave you a sad smile, leaning forward and shakily raised his hand, hesitating only once before running his thumb across your cheek. His touch was gentle but it only reinforced what you were thinking. How could anyone hurt someone as gentle as Namjoon?

“Don’t cry for me,” he whispered, doing it again to the other cheek. “It’s in the past, we can’t change what happened back then.”

Your bottom lip wobbled, leaning into his palm when he cupped your cheek, both drinks long forgotten as you closed your eyes, absorbing his touch. He wasn’t done with his story and for some reason, you knew that it wasn’t going to get any better.

“My last owner wasn’t any different. Like the rest of them, he felt like he was entitled because he had money to waste, and thought he was better because he was human and I was a Hybrid. But unlike them, he participated in the Underground.”

Frowning, you almost leaned back to get a better look at Namjoon, but when your cheek stated to slide out of his hand you stopped, choosing to stay in his touch. “The Underground?”

He gently tapped your cheek with his thumb, slowly nodding. “There’s the good part of it, and then there’s bad side. The good is mostly known for the music and art scene, but that’s not what most people think of. The Underground is mostly known for its bad side; the drugs, gambling, the Hybrid Mills and such, but everyone just calls it by one name since the lines blur together.” Namjoon shrugged, still rubbing your cheek as if to keep you calm. “One of the popular events are the fights, and as long as I was able to stand on my own two feet, he had me in them every night.”

You may not have known or understood what the Underground was, but with a little thinking it didn’t take long to understand what Namjoon meant.

“I was big and as a Wolf Hybrid, I had an advantage over some of the others. We…none of us wanted to fight, but if we didn’t, the consequences were worse than had we just lost.” Sighing, Namjoon lowered his hand from your face, his gaze falling to the floor once again as his shoulders slouched.

“My last fight had been against a kid, barely even eighteen and shaking. The crowd was screaming and whoever his owner was was threatening him…all I could do was stare at him, wondering who the hell I had become. For a split second I had considered it, it would have only taken one punch, and immediately I was disgusted with myself. The fact that I had even thought about it made me realize that I was no better than the human who owned me.”

You blinked as your mind resurfaced from the memory, pulling your fingers from the book cover as you stumbled backwards. Even now, there was still an ache when you thought about the life that Namjoon had been forced to live, the things he had to do to survive until he was able to escape. It had been a damn miracle that he ended up at the shelter that Luna worked at and she had called you when that storm came in.

Sighing, you plopped back down on the couch and turned the TV on, hoping to ind on a show that could manage to keep you awake for the next several hours.

Please Joonie, you thought, gently laying a hand on the Mate Mark that you treasured and wore with immense pride. A life with Namjoon was what you wanted, what you still wanted, but it was starting to feel like the two of you were heading in two different directions and all you wished for was to find the spot where things began to change. But you could only go so far, do so much, by yourself.

Please come home. Please.

[sledgefuweek]

Each year we take a close look at the prompts for Sledgefu Week, for those who may be stuck for ideas or not quite sure about what the prompts could entail. Below the readmore are all seven prompts, as well as a short write-up exploring what they mean and some ideas to help get the creative juices going. Enjoy!!

Sickfic

This is a really popular and well-known fanfic trope that I feel probably needs little explanation, but I’ll write a little bit about it anyway! It essentially covers fic where one character is ill and the other cares for them -- it could encompass any kind of illness at all, (including chronic illnesses) and there’s a lot of room to get creative with it. You can go for angst, hurt/comfort, or fluff: it’s just a really good general prompt that I think works nicely to kick the week off!

It suits for Sledgefu pretty well, considering Snafu’s canon mild hypochondria, as well as the fact that Eugene’s dad is a doctor. It could be fun to lean into it: make Eugene play doctor for an actually-sick Snafu, and it could be just as fun to subvert it! There’s really endless options for canon fic: shrapnel wounds turned bad, heat-sickness, seasickness, illness from bad food or bad water or any kind of tropical disease you can think of (malaria is a big one!). You could make one of them (or both) a medic; you could genderswap them and write the gay field nurse fic this fandom sorely needs. And of course if you choose to branch out into modern AU you can begin to think of what might afflict them outside of a war setting: has Eugene been working too much and come down with a cold? Are they hungover, and need mutual care (and lots of takeout)? A lot of the time sickfic focuses on one character doing the comforting and the other character feeling unwell, but there’s nothing to say they can’t both be feeling shitty! I think we say this every year but there’s really no rules at all, you do whatever you feel inspired to do. With Sickfic, just be mindful to tag anything that others might be affected by eg. vomiting, blood, needles, etc.

Tarot

I feel like Tarot is pretty well-known to the Sledgefu fandom, or at least to those who like to write Snafu or his family a little witchy. In case you just have a vague idea of what Tarot actually is and what its purpose or origins are, I’ll explain it as concisely as I can! Tarot decks started life in Europe as playing cards, but eventually began to be used for divination. It’s made up of four suits, or the Minor Arcana, (Wands, Cups, Swords, and Pentacles) as well as a twenty-two card Major Arcana (the imagery of which you’re probably very familiar with). Commonly, tarot decks and tarot reading is used as a means of communicating with the higher self, deities, or with the universe. They can be used as a way to see the future, answer questions, or to give/receive advice. There are different ways of reading them too, depending on how one lays out the cards: I don’t want to make this too wordy, but if you’re curious I encourage you to check out this site to learn more!

For writers, there’s a lot of places this prompt could take you! Probably the most obvious will be fortune teller fic; a classic. Lean into Snafu’s Louisiana roots and have him telling fortunes in the depths of the French Quarter, or go against the grain and have Eugene reading cards and palms and tea leaves as a practice passed down through his family. Or maybe more casual: modern AU Sledgefu flirting through amateur tarot readings with a deck picked up from a junk shop. If you read Tarot and have a connection to it, you can express that through writing! It’s a pretty open-ended prompt, especially if you consider some of the meanings of the cards; you could even write a story inspired by that! The Hermit: Snafu withdrawing, leaving Eugene on the train to spend the next few months in solitude, working through things. The Moon: Snafu and Eugene hitting a rough patch, hiding things from each other. The opportunities really become endless once you start taking the readings of the cards into account! And for visual artists, this must be such a fun prompt: I feel like it’s so a visually rich, whether you’re re-drawing the cards to encompass Snafu and Eugene within them, or making a collage based around some of the things mentioned above: fortune tellers shops, witches cottages, etc.

Trinket

Every Sledgefu Week we tend to have a couple prompts that are a little more open to interpretation, and this year’s ‘Trinket’ is one of those. It might be difficult to try and think of something to base a whole fic or piece of art around, but we really encourage you to let your imagination run wild! There’s already some great trinkets in the show itself: Eugene’s ring, the lighter that Gunny Haney gave him, Snafu’s stolen gold teeth, or their dog tags. Think of small, special objects that you might have: what imbues them with comfort or meaning? What makes you love them? You could have Eugene giving Snafu his ring, or have Eugene musing over war and death and loss while smoking a cigarette lit by his lighter. If you’re into Modern AUs, how could these objects carry through to modern day? Once you start thinking about it, the ideas start rolling in. Feel free to invent special trinkets for them: or maybe trinkets that they hate and want to get rid of, trinkets that remind them of bad times. Trinkets that remind them of each other, or family, or war. So much meaning can be held in the things we own, and I think it’s such a lovely concept to explore!

Crossover

So this prompt was born from the sheer number of suggestions we had for various movie, TV, and book AUs. We didn’t want to put them all to the poll and risk a lot of you feeling disappointed over the one you wanted not being selected, so thought it’d work best to condense them into a ‘Crossover’ prompt so everyone could do whatever they liked. So this is a very very broad one! It would be impossible for me to really go through the prompt and highlight some things that you could do for it, because you can really do anything you want to! Anything! It encompasses movies, video games, TV, books, musicals... if something tells a story, you can do a crossover. So if there’s ever been a film/book/etc. AU you wanted to do for Sledgefu Week but couldn’t quite get it to match the prompts, now is the time!

Vacation

A pretty self explanatory prompt, and one that I think can appeal to people who prefer canonverse and those who like modern AU too! Do you want to send Snafu and Eugene on the holiday of their dreams, or are they gonna be bickering in a gas station over who gets control of the map? Is Snafu gonna drive across a couple states to surprise Eugene by visiting? Is Eugene gonna do the same? There’s a lot of scenarios you can apply to the backdrop of them vacationing, and a lot of emotional journeys you can take them through! And for the canonverse crowd, you have the extra addition of letting them go have fun on an R&R, or taking a road trip post-war, visiting 1950s Paris... you can really do whatever you like!

Historical

This was another prompt like ‘Crossover’ that came from a lot of various suggestions that all boiled down to a similar thing: different historical events or periods. So like Crossover, I won’t linger too long on it (this post is long enough already) except just to say again: do whatever you’re inspired to do! There’s no rules here, you could even take everyone out of the Pacific and put them over in Germany: give them a different experience of war. In fact, you can do that with any war if you wanted to! Wanna do a M*A*S*H AU but made something else for Crossover? You could do it here! Want to put them in the 1920s? You got it. In the 1850s? Yeehaw, they’re cowboys now. 1969, Summer of Love? 1600s, make Snafu a prince? Literally the world is your oyster!

Horror

Past Sledgefu Week prompts have included things that could come under the horror umbrella (Supernatural, for example) but didn’t necessarily have to be made 'horrific’. For the ‘Horror’ prompt this year, we want to see frightening! Disquieting, uncomfortable; creations that either cross over with existing horror franchises, or lean on horrific things you come up with yourself. Horror movies, or TV shows, or books or podcasts or pieces of art all seek to elicit a sense of fear: this can be done by tapping into common phobias, or nightmares, those things which are universally and almost instinctively scary. We want to see things which lean into that, in whatever way you want to do it! 

I’m no horror media expert (not by a long shot) but the opportunities for this prompt are really vast simply because horror has so many subgenres to work with. You could go gothic horror; Dracula, Frankenstein, Wuthering Heights (a personal favourite AU -- Eugene soaked out on the moors, searching for Heathcliff-Snafu? Divine). Or you could go to the opposite end of the spectrum: Jennifer’s Body AU, Final Girl AU -- there’s no set way to do horror, in fact you could even bring horror into canonverse if you don’t like AUs. Think the Terror: some unknown beast lurking beyond the borders of their camp on Pavuvu, or Okinawa. Or you could even take the prompt entirely literally and explore the horrors of war and the toll it takes on them both. Please don’t feel stuck into needing to do Scary: horror is about fear and revulsion and dread, and these feelings don’t necessarily need to come from a haunting! (This is also a prompt ripe for monsterfucking, just FYI).

                                                - - - - - - - - - -

So that’s the prompts for this year! They’re all really really great, and have a lot of potential to make some fantastic stuff :~) And to reiterate something I said right at the start, there are no rules here! I think every year we normally get at least one person unsure whether their idea will be okay for the prompt they’d like to make it for, so I just wanna say here: don’t second-guess yourself! As long as it can be linked back to the prompt in some way or another (can literally be the vaguest way possible) you’ll be absolutely fine. We don’t vet submissions at all, especially not for their content relating to the prompts. All we ask is that you remember to stay respectful in what you’re writing, and when the time comes to post it, you tag and warn appropriately :~)

On the subject of writing respectfully, we’d like to just take a moment to link the document on mindful writing re: race and gender that was made last year. Please take a look at it, even if you read it last year! It’s always good to keep these things at the front of your mind, as fandom is a community sport and we want to keep it fun and safe for everyone involved! So thank you if you’ve made it this far through this whole post, check out the doc, and enjoy the rest of the run-up to Sledgefu Week!

[therainroguefanfiction]

✰ A Love So Strong (Denki Kaminari)

Genre: Crack, Fluff, AU, Magic

Word Count: 4,043

Pairing: Reader x Kaminari

World: Boku no Hero Academia

Author’s Note: This fic is just, uhhhh… a clusterfuck of fuckery. Yeah, that’s it xD I wrote this for a dear friend, @smol-enby​ , as a thank you for the Yaku fic they wrote for me, which you can find here – go read it because it’s amazing and it’s about Yaku buying Y/N their own fucking Taco Bell, enough said. Special shoutout to @euphylli​ for beta-reading this trainwreck and to @miniiqui for being a willing member of the cult of rain and resident drink-bringer in this fic lol

And yes, I put myself in the roll of goddess of rain, you wanna fight about it?!?! (it’s a running gag in our discord server okay don’t feckin’ judge me)

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

Your eyes slowly fluttered open, staring up at the dark ceiling above you, shadows dancing under the light of the fireplace. Try as you might, you couldn’t seem to recall where you were or how you had gotten there – or why you were currently lying on the floor. You pushed yourself into a sitting position, feeling the warmth of the faux bear rug beneath your fingers.

To the right sits a large fireplace, the flames crackling as they ate away at the logs fueling them, mingling with the soft pitter-patter of rain against the roof. Two plush chairs sat across from one another, slightly angled toward the fire. And that’s when you realized that the chair on the right was currently occupied.

With a gulp, you scrambled to your feet, searching for anything you could use as a makeshift weapon, but the only thing you found was a small plush of a kawaii taco sitting on the table behind you. The movement caught the person’s attention and they slowly turned toward you, green eyes illuminated by the dancing flames.

“Ah, you’re finally awake.” The voice belonged to a female, reminding you of a rainy day in Autumn. It was quite calming, but you still kept your guard up as she stood, their plump body outlined in shadow.

You squinted, but were unable to make out of their features. It was as if they were made of shadow like the criminals from Case Closed, a simple black nothingness to prevent giving away their identity. When they stepped around the chair, moving ever so closer, you took a step back, butt bumping against the table as you grabbed for the taco, squeezing it tightly within your hand.

“Stay back!” You ordered with a shaky voice.

The woman halted, tilting her head to the side. “Fear not, my dear mortal, for no harm shall befall you here.”

“Who are you?” You demanded, surprised by your ability to keep your voice level as you held the taco out in front of you. “Where am I?”

She smiled – a lazy, content smile. “I am the goddess of rain and you, my dear, are within my realm. The realm of rain.” With a simple flick of her wrist, the soft pitter-patter suddenly became a violent downpour, pounding on the roof like a stampede of animals.

Your eyes widened, the taco falling from your grasp and bouncing once before coming to a stop beside the rug, its kawaii face flat against the wooden floor. Surely this was just a dream… right? Gods and goddesses weren’t real and… an entire realm dedicated to rain? It seemed like such a silly idea, cooked up by a madman or someone in a food-induced dreamstate. Yes, you were most definitely dreaming.

The woman seemed to send your thoughts, holding her arm out toward the two chairs behind her. “You cannot be harmed within dreams, so, won’t you indulge an old woman’s request and join me for a fairy tale on a rainy day?”

You hesitated but, determined to prove to yourself that this was, in fact, just a dream, you squared your shoulders and approached the chair on the left, keeping your eyes on the woman and making sure you didn’t expose your back to her as you fell into the chair. It wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as you had expected it to be by judging from its aged appearance.

With a contented hum, the woman reclaimed her seat on the right, the fire dancing within her eyes. “Before we begin, would you care of a snack? Some Dr Pepper, perhaps?”

“Uhh… how about some apple juice?”

“But of course.” She snapped her fingers and a beautiful young girl materialized behind the two of you. “Qui, be a dear and fetch our guest some apple juice, won’t you?”

The girl giggled, showing off her sharp fangs. “Of course, mother! Back in a flash~” And in a puff of white smoke, she was gone as quickly as she had come.

“You have… children?” Your brow furrowed at the spot the girl had just been. ‘This is just getting weirder and weirder. I really need to stop eating before bed.’

“Yes, well… all those that pledge their loyalty to me by joining the cult of rain are considered my children.”

“You have a cult?” You cried in disbelief, feeling yourself shrink back as your mind brought fourth various bad images about cults you had seen in real life in movies and on TV. Your head was seriously beginning to hurt.

“But of course, I -” A muffled explosion made the house tremble and you jumped in surprise, heart racing as the woman merely heaved a heavy sigh, bringing her hand to her face and mumbling under her breath. “Honestly, Qui said she was going to work with him about getting that temper of his under control.”

Qui suddenly reappeared, soot staining her clothes and skin but the smile upon her lips was even brighter than it had been before. She bounced over to you, leaning down as she held the tray out to you. “There may be a bit of soot in your drink but don’t worry, it just adds to the taste!”

You sweatdropped, picking up the cup of apple juice with a shaking hand. “Y-Yeah… thanks.

She twirled on her heel, offering the tray to the woman, who picked up the second cup with a smile. “I protected your drink, mother! I know you don’t like caramel flavored Dr Pepper!” She giggled, holding the now empty tray behind her back. “I’ll be going now, I hope you decide to join us. It’s really lovely here~” With a wink, the girl vanished into smoke once again.

“Yes,” the woman sipped her soda from the tea cup with a content hum. “Would you be interested in joining the cult?”

Of course you weren’t. Who in their right mind would want to join a cult? It seemed highly suspicious and you had clearly been singled out. With a frown, you inquired, “Why me? What makes me so special that I deserve to join your… family?”

“Is it not obvious?” She questioned with surprise.

You shook your head no.

“Every one of my children have one thing in common.” She said simply, offering you a closed-eye smile. “Each of them are absolutely beautiful inside and out. Though they may be mortals, they are each a god or goddess in their own right and have earned not only my respect, but my adoration, as well. When you think of them as a mere cult, you may think they are simply part of the hive-mind, following blindly, but they all chose to be here. I do not hold them here against their will, though I do offer them what they most want.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You wondered, more to yourself than to her. It sounded way too good to be true and life had taught you many times that if it seems too good to be true, it most likely is.

“Every member is granted one thing upon their entrance into the cult of rain.”

“One thing? Like what?”

“Whatever your heart desires.”

You scoffed at the idea, your mind immediately thinking of him, but you knew that was impossible. Even so, you jokingly asked, “Even bring an anime character to life?”

“That’s right.”

“Yeah, I though -” your eyes widened as her words sunk in. “Wait, what?”

She sent you an amused look as she sipped her drink. “You heard me correctly. There’s a surprising number of members that have requested the very same thing! Why, young Qui that was just here – upon my offer to join, she wished for a character named Bakugo. He was the cause of that explosion just a moment ago. He’s quite a handful, but he is such a good cook.”

“B-Bakugo?!” You nearly spilled the drink as you leaned forward. “From Boku no Hero Academia?!”

“Oh, you know it? I shouldn’t be surprised, it’s quite popular these days, isn’t it?” She hummed, her green eyes lifting to the ceiling as she recalled the various requests she had gotten from her members. Several of them had been from that very series.

You swallowed hard, scooting to the edge of your seat as you released a shaky breath. “So… if I join this… this cult of yours… you can make Denki real?”

“Kaminari, hmm?” Her eyes sparkled with interest as they fell upon you. “A fair choice. He’s quite handsome! Tell me, is this your desire? What you truly want?”

You didn’t hesitate, nodding your head frantically. “Yes! I’ll do anything to make him real.”

She chuckled, setting her cup down on the small table beside her. “Tell me, dear Y/N, will you accept the cult into your heart and devote yourself to the realm of rain?”

“Yes!”

She leaned back in her chair as a black cat jumped from the second floor, landing right on her lap. His golden eyes looked at you for a moment before he settled across her thighs, purring in content as he started to fall asleep. Her hand gently rested on his back, rubbing across his silky fur.

There was something oddly familiar about that cat, but you couldn’t quite place it. Was it the golden eyes? The spiky tuft of fur that hung over his right eye? Or something else entirely?

“Sit back and relax, dear Y/N, and allow me to tell you a tale. I think you might enjoy it.” Her green eyes sparkled with something you couldn’t place, but you did as she commanded.

Setting the cup on the round table beside your chair, you slid backward until you were flat against the soft back of the chair. Your heart was racing within your chest, head full of only thoughts about Denki.

The woman lifted her right hand, palm toward the ceiling, and a small green-blue orb started to materialize, hovering above her skin. It glittered under the firelight, seeming so magical to you. You couldn’t look away, as if your eyes were permanently glued to the object. She smiled, flexing her fingers as the ball started to expand, growing larger and brighter until it started to encompass the whole room.

Your head started to feel hazy, eyes heavy as they started to slide closed. It felt as if you were slipping into a dream and no matter how hard you fought, you couldn’t stop the darkness that was beginning to creep into your mind. The last thing you saw was the woman’s closed-eye smile before the darkness overtook you.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

The smell of chicken nuggets tickled your nostrils, rousing you from sleep. You blinked a couple of times to clear your vision, slowing sitting up on the queen-sized bed. While you didn’t exactly remember your dream, you remembered it being very… strange. And the more you tried to recall it, the more your head hurt.

Shaking your head to rid the last bit of sleepy fog from your brain, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, your feet falling against the plush white carpet that covered the bedroom floor. The smell lead you through the house toward the kitchen and you peaked around the corner, curious about the loud clanging that was being made inside.

Denki hummed loudly as he stood in front of the sink, washing the leftover dishes from the night before. The microwave was also humming as it heated up a plate full of chicken nuggets because the blonde was incapable of using a stove without the risk of burning the house to the ground.

You had been dating Kaminari for several months now but… every single time you looked upon him, you were filled with such a strong sense of happiness that it made you want to cry. It was like there was some magical spell over him that directly effected your emotions. You didn’t understand it but you really didn’t want to. He made you happy, and that was more than enough.

With a warm smile, you stepped up behind him, arms sliding around his slim waist. “Good morning, Denki.”

His mood instantly perked up upon hearing your voice and feeling your body against his. He shut off the water and turned around so he could bring you into a bear hug, threatening to lift you off of your feet. “Morning, Y/N! Did you sleep well?”

You thought back to the strange dream, but you still saw it through a blur as if you were wearing an older person’s prescription glasses. Shaking your head, you offered him a smile, your hands rubbing against his back. “I slept well, I always do when I’m in your arms~”

His cheeks darkened at your flirty tone, a goofy grin coming to his lips as he buried his face in your neck. “You always tease me, Y/N, it’s not fair~”

With a chuckle, you pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “You make it too easy, babe.”

The hum of the microwave died as it started to beep loudly, making him pull away from you and bound over to it. “Breakfast is ready!”

“Denki, wait -” But you were too late.

He thrust his bare hand into the microwave and grabbed the plate, only to yelp as the heated ceramic burnt his hand. He dropped it as a surge of painful heat crawled across his flesh, the plate clanking as it fell back to the circular glass. You cursed, rushing into action as you took his wrist in your hand, tugging him back over to the sink and running his reddening skin under the cold water.

“You should be more careful,” you scolded lightly, your finger ghosting over the red skin of his fingers. “It doesn’t seem to be too bad, but I’ll put burn creme on it just to be safe. Keep your hand under the water.”

With a pout, he nodded his head, golden eyes following you as you exited the kitchen to find the burn creme that was located in the bathroom cabinet. Upon returning, you gently pulled his hand from under the water, patting it dry with a paper towel before applying the creme to the reddened areas. He winced in pain, bottom lip jutting out farther.

You honestly felt bad that he had gotten hurt, but he was just so damn cute when he was pouting like that. You couldn’t help but reach forward, capturing his bottom lip between yours. He responded instantly, grabbing at the back of your neck with his uninjured hand, groaning against your lips.

When you tried to pull away, his grip tightened and he leaned forward, not yet wanting the kiss to end. “The food is going to be cold,” you commented against his lips, nibbling at his lower lip, so plump and soft.

“Don’t care, just want you,” he mumbled back. At that moment, his stomach started growling loudly, resembling a bear growling within a large cave.

You giggled at the red spreading across his cheeks. “You may not care, but your stomach does.”

“Fine~”

You grabbed a kitchen towel and carefully pulled the plate from the microwave, setting it onto the kitchen table. “Which condiment do you want, babe?”

He tapped his chin in thought. “I’m feeling like a ketchupie mood.”

“That’s not a word,” you chuckled, grabbing the bottle of ketchup from the fridge before returning to the table.

Denki huffed as he sat down across from you. “It could be in another language!”

You highly doubted that, but you decided to keep that comment to yourself. “I was thinking, why don’t we go on a date tonight?”

He instantly perked up at the thought, nearly dropping the chicken nugget he had picked up. “Yes! You should let me plan it, though.”

“I… are you sure you want to?” You didn’t want to be mean, but the last time he had planned a date for the two of you, he had somehow managed to short circuit the entire mall, thus getting you both banned from life. And it was the only place that housed your favorite pasta restaurant!

“You don’t think I can?” He frowned, nudging the nugget into the ketchup like a sad child. “This is because of the mall incident isn’t it? You destroy the power to a mall one time, I swear -”

“I trust you,” you announced firmly. “Whatever you plan, I’m sure I’ll love it.” And you truly meant it because you knew whatever he planned, even if it ended in disaster, would come from his heart. He would plan it hoping to make you happy, and that’s what warmed your heart the most.

“Great, I’ll get to planning!” He grinned, hopping out of his chair only to pause, grabbing another chicken nugget and shoving it into his mouth before heading further into the house.

You chuckled, cleaning up the mess that had been left behind. It was a nice day outside, so you decided to head into the backyard and check on your children – four little bees that had been named Bob, Moth, Laura, and Fuck. Though the names were quite unusual, they had been chosen by your closest friends so, of course, you had to keep them.

The bees were part of your little family and they loved you dearly as if you were the queen of their hive because, in a way, you kind of were. You smiled as Fuck landed on your finger, its leg tapping against you as if to say, ‘I love you.’

With a smile, you gently ran your index finger along the length of its body, watching as its wings started to flap and it took to the sky, returning to its siblings.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

“Is the blindfold really necessary, Denki?” You complained, not liking the fact that you couldn’t see where you were walking. What if a piece of concrete was sticking up? You wouldn’t be able to see it. What if a stray cat suddenly decided to run through your legs as you went to take a step forward? You wouldn’t be able to see it. What if –

Denki’s hand gently squeezed your own, his voice soft. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you, Y/N.”

Your heart leaped at the words, giving him a nod that you weren’t sure he could see as you chewed on your bottom lip. Night had fallen, offering a cool breeze as the two of you walked down sidewalk away from the city. Though it caused you to take longer to reach the destination, he was meticulous about warning you of any cracks in the pavement and stopping to kick rocks or twigs out of the way so you wouldn’t step on them. The sounds of the city started to fade the further you guys got and you could hear the chirping of cicadas getting louder the further you got into the countryside.

“Okay. I’m going to remove the blindfold.” He released your hand and you could feel him reach behind you to untie the cloth from your head. It fell away and you slowly opened your eyes, which widened at the sight before you.

The two of you were standing in a field outside the city, far away from the bright lights and sounds. The night sky was clearly visible above the trees, a rich navy littered with bright stars that were scattered like spilled glitter. Sitting atop the soft grass was a red and white flannel blanket with a wooden picnic basket. Candles were set up at each corner of the blanket, flickering softly in the breeze.

Denki chewed on the inside of his cheek as he watched your expression carefully. Your eyes were shining under the starlight, a smile lighting up your face. To him, you had always been the most beautiful person in the world, but somehow, under the nature-made light of the stars, you looked so much like a goddess. He couldn’t believe how lucky he had gotten that you fell for him. “Do you… do you like it?”

“I love it!” You snapped out of your daze, throwing your arms around his neck. “It’s so incredible, Denki. Thank you so much.”

His mood brightened at your praise. “Of course! I even made us some sandwiches.” His hand slid down to yours, gently tugging you over to the blanket. The grass was soft beneath the blanket, as if you were sitting on a bed of pure cotton and, while he had added far too much honey mustard to the turkey sandwich, it still tasted amazing because it was made by him.

You glanced at the blonde as he chewed on his sandwich, eyes trained on the sky. He was unbelievably attractive and, while he had moments of unbelievable stupidity, as well, he was such a loving boyfriend. You loved him with every fiber of your being and you knew he felt the exact same way about you. Was this what it felt like to find your soulmate? You didn’t know, but you were sure that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with this man.

He noticed you staring and blinked, tilting his head to the side. “Is there something on my face?”

You shook your head, feeling a bit embarrassed that he had caught you staring at him. “No, sorry.” Your eyes slipped up to the sky, widening as you noticed something quite familiar that you had studied a couple years ago. “Oh, Denki, look! It’s Orion’s Belt!”

Denki’s eyes moved to where you were pointing, but he only saw a jumble of stars. Was it supposed to look like an actual belt? He tilted his head this way and that, but he still couldn’t see it.

“Did you know that the three stars across the middle of the constellation are also the placement points of the Three Pyramids of Giza in Egypt?” Your finger traced across the three, a bright smile coming to your lips as you continued. “If you were to draw a line straight up from of those pyramids, you’d land perfectly on each star of the belt if you’re looking at them projected on the celestial sphere!”

His brow furrowed as he tried to keep up with the words leaving your lips a bit faster than normal to mirror your excitement of the topic. If he were to be honest, he didn’t have a clue what the hell you were saying to him, but he didn’t have the heart to tell you that because of how happy you looked as you continued to talk about the stars. Not only that, he really didn’t want to make himself look stupid. So when you glanced at him, he just smiled and nodded as if he wasn’t completely lost.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

The goddess of rain smiled down at the crystal ball floating before her, the image of Y/N and Denki enjoying their picnic filling the orb. “Hmm, it seems that he was perfect for them after all. Perhaps it was fate that led them to me, though I do loathe giving fate that kind of credit.”

Qui giggled from behind her mother, standing on her tiptoes so she could view the orb. “They’re super cute together and now I’ve got another sibling!”

The goddess chuckled, waving her hand across the orb. It shattered, lightly raining down to the floor before disappearing. “Yes, it seems our family is growing quite strong as of late.”

A sudden explosion rocked the home.

Her eyes landed on Qui with an exasperated sigh and the younger girl giggled, rubbing the back of her head. “I’ll just… go calm him down before he blows up the kitchen.”

“Yes, please do so.”

With a grin, the young girl vanished into a cloud of smoke.

The goddess returned to the fireplace, picking up the black cat and holding him protectively to her chest as she claimed her seat. Her fingers lightly scratched his ears, making the cat pur in content. “Our family is growing steadily, Kuroo. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Kuroo’s golden eyes met hers and he released a mreow of approval, his tail swishing back and forth.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

[aw-eather]

Heather Watches SG1: s2ep22 Out of Mind and s3ep01 Into the Fire

Ah two of my all time favourites. Maybe even THE favourites. They’re just SO good. Also my shipper heart cannot take it but we love torturing ourselves here so lets go. 

I’m gonna try and do enough that y’all get at least one post a day and scheduel them to go up periodically :) 

This go very long so I hope it posts properly. 

Ooooh mysterious tank

I mean honestly this was suspicious from the get go

Don’t trust this guy

JACK

YOU’RE ALL WET JACK

Is he? 

Are they dead tho? Are you sure? Cause that sounds fake... 

You see, the year is now.............. 2077

CREDITS

Teal’c looks all big and scary but really he’s a precious boy

End credits

TERYL ROTHERY

honestly that device looks very Star Trek

Missed opportunity to make a 69 joke

Girl he has been asleep for 79 years he probably remembers shit all 

Good boy, answer nothing. Don‘t trust the random men that woke you up

thats not sarcasm, I don’t trust them either 

“the rest of the facility” riiiiiight

Wizard of Oz reference

38 teams is a lot of teams

MMMMMMMM sounds FAKE

DON’T TRUST HIM JACK

General whats his face just dropped something on the ground

STARGATE

Jack is handsome

Me: I’m gay

Jack O’Neill: Yeah sure ya bethcha 

Are ya just? What makes ya think Jack can help? he’s been asleep for 79 years

Tok’ra mind probe

Benefical alliance my ass, what did they ever really do for the Tau’ri??

Except promise to send a ship when they “had one available”

So thinking of Sam right now would be BAD Jack. 

NOX

I LOVE THE NOX

WHAT CUTIES

look at them, they’re so sweet

Jack stop thinking and showing them shit 

Could be a great weapon but the Nox are peaceful and beautiful and I love them

LITTLE GREY ALIENS WITH THE LITTLE GREY BUTTS

Thats a big ship

This is the only “look at all the shit we’ve managed to do so far” episode that is actually any good

Why don’t we meet the Furlings?

I wanna meet them 

They sound fluffy

I love the baby asgards look at ‘em so cuuuuute

Kathrine! You’re great girly

“Touch it” *Jack touches it without knowing what it does, could die*

Jack waving his gun to touch the molecules seems like a bad idea

Yeah let him rest stop bullying him

purple goop

stop the pruple goop Jack

purple goop is never a good thing

Oh look... ANOTHER tank

DANNY BOY

Please cover your nipples

I don’t wanna see your man nipples

A third tank... funny that

SSSSAAAAAAMMMMMM

Funny how none of them are ACTUALLY dead

LIES WE’VE JUST SEEM THEM

Get these people some clothes

leaving her wrapped in a blanket is rude

Blanket looks like a mat tbh

BRATAC

SKARRA

Daniels hair is so bad in this episode I’m not sorry its HORRIBLE 

He has a SHIELD Jack

FUCK YEAH JACK THROW THAT KNIFE YAS

HATHOR

I love Hathor hosts

She’s great honestly

Sam and janet and the girls kicking ass is the best

RIP Hathor 

No seriously Daniel’s hair is BAD

Teal’c

JANET

ah yes, unusual 

Teal’c is so passionate and caring about his friends I love him so much

THREE FUCKING WEEKS?!?!?!?!

janet is such an angel you can’t convince me otherwise

Are they tho? 

Yeah he would but Teal’c with do anything for his F A M I L Y

Well he will leave

Aw Teal’c I love you with my entire heart

That zoom in on the patch is nice 

YES JACK STOP THE GOOP

Nice kick! 

BYE TEAL’C I LOVE YOU

AWW THIS EXCHANGE IS SO NICE 

AW THE SALUTE BABE NO THAT HURTS MY HEART ITS SO SWEET

#SorryNotSorry but Jack looks so fucking good in this outfit 

Like... he looks sooooo good

God I am questioning my sexuality left right and centre today

But seriously can he dress like that more often? 

Go get ya girl, Jack!

Oh look... not the SGC 

WHO WOULD HAVE EVER GUESSED

Serpant and Horus guards! :O

STOP THINKING BABE

THEY GONNA FIND YOOOOOU

SAAAAAAAAAM

BEAT THIS GUYS ASS AND SAVE. YOUR. GIRL

O U C H THAT WOULD FUCKING HURT

SHOULDER TOUCHING 

SHOULDER RUBBING

SHOULDER TOUCHING 

SHE IS TOUCHING HIM

I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD FOLLOWED BY A MEMORY OF HIM NEARLY DYING 

SHE’S STILL HOLDING HIS SHOULDER

STARING AT HER NAKED BACK

TRYING NOT TO STARE AT HER NAKED BACK

HE IS SO IN TROUBLE 

HE FANCIES HER SO MUCH 

I MEAN SAME

she also looks good but like he looks better???

GRABBING

WALL HOLDING

HANDS TOUCHING SHOULDERS

PINKY CURLED IN SO HE DOESN’T TOUCH BARE SKIN

COULD HAVE MOVED BUT ISN’T MOVING 

THEY WANNA HOLD EACH OTHER

DEAR GOD

sorry I’ll stop with the caps

I just physically cannot with those two

i love them so much

and i hate how they were treatd

Hathor you idiot, 

SUANNE

LOL Jack 

Servants in the royal court? Yeah sounds great

Rude Jack

lol the pat on the shoulder Jack you dick

uuuuuuhhhhh didn’t notice before how HOT IT IS WHEN HATHOR RUNS THE IDC REMOTE UNDER SAMS CHIN AND THE LOOK SAM GIVES HER I-

ACK SNAKE

I hate them the same way Jack does tbh

they make me squirm

Give it to Daniel. Why is Daniel the only one that never has a snake in him... wait... 

sorry but I just wanna talk with the national captions institute... 

Alright! On to Into the Fire! 

DAVIS

MAJOR DAVIS I LOVE YOU

MY FAVOURITE

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH EVEN IF THINGS DO FALL TO SHIT WHENEVER YOU’RE THERE

Dramatic zooooom on Hathors name for E M P H A S I S 

CREDITS

I love how Hammond is like EVERYONE is saving SG1

How DARE you, Daivs. They are THE team, rude!

I love that everyone steps forward because everyone loves SG1 but also everyone knows you don’t leave anyone else behind. 

I love Hammond

MARTIN WOOD :O

He is a great director

Ew snake

Jack still looks fucking good 

Jack now is not the time for sass 

Give it to Daniel. No one cares

Sam is like “I’m not scared bitch bring it”

Of course it wants Jack

Poor Jack

Why is it always him?? 

You tried, buddy

Sam’s hand on his CHEST PLEASE JUST GET MARRIED

TEAL’C 

BRATAC

Sam literally hates watching Jack in any pain 

Poor Jack

Hathor fuck off

What exactly was the point of ripping his shirt? It makes no difference to the snake going in the back of HIS HEAD

Ew

oh gross

i hate it

I hate it so much

ugh the chills I currently have

Suanne Baun is super pretty though

YAS TOK’RA LADY

WE RESPECT AND LOVE YOU

Another Wizard of Oz reference 

Sorry Daniel looks so bad

its the hair honestly, the little dorky fringe

Sam’s hair, on the other hand *chefs kiss*

Yeah but he’ll be fine, Tok’ra lady saved the day <3 

YAS GIRL

NOOO Poor Tok’ra lady

Sorry fam, I forgot her name lol 

Sam pulling that jacket on, Sam in a jacket thats a little too big for her , Sam in a white shirt.. Sam

Yeah they are Teal’c. 

Dead and false and dead... or is he???

Hand dance

Energy barrier is in the way, boys continue to shoot

oh no shooting towers of death are never a good sign

And of course Daniel got hurt so we have to baby him for the rest of the fucking episode jfc just sit him down somewhere and Sam and the rest of the teams can do the hard work... again

Cool Tok’ra tunnels are Cool

Lol Daniel being sassy (oh its just a deep, bleeding gash, it’ll be fine) lol sorry he is funny when he’s sassy

I’m sick of your army already, Hathor

OOOOH a barrier 

Hammond is awaiting 

Why do they give them such short time periods to do shit? Like they know things go wrong literally ALL THE TIME 

Like “hi you have 24 hours to go into a SECURE, GOA’ULD FACILITY, RETRIEVE THREE SG MEMBERS AND GET OUT. PIECE.OF.CAKE”

6 hours is a long time to sit on your hands and do nothing tho. Ah well might as well go and save the boyfriend

The president can suck a rotten potatoe

Davis, you can’t really argue with him, he outranks you about 4 times

Sam’s sleeves are too long and baggy and its SO CUTE

GO SAM

SAVE THE DAY

BUT SAVE YOUR BOYFRIEND FIRST 

Hammond visiting Chulak 

because he’s an angel baby

and the best dad ever to his four kids; Major Dr Science Space Baby, Sassy Grumpy Fruit Loop and Sam Carter Loving Space Baby, Warrior Gentle Giant Space Baby and Annoying, Doesn’t know shit, Archaeologist Space Baby.

Yas Teal’c, spill that tea

I will join you, bb

Hammond in a toga will also join you cause he a babe

and he needs your help cause Davis said No. 

HAMMOND OF TEXAS IS MY FAVOURITE THING EVER I LOVE IT 

Sam: I’m gonna go and shut this shield down

Sam: but not until I have tried to save my Future Husband. 

Poor Tok’ra lady

Hand on chest again

Fucking Hathor man

Go away boo, you’re ruining the moment 

Stop hurting Sam

YAS JACK FUCK YES I LOVE THAT

I love his response to it too

Like the shock and fear

This hug goes on a long time

I know he’s cold or whatever but like... 

and I know he’s in shock and so is she a bit

he’s doing it for her as much as him

but they’re STILL hugging

They literally never do this again

Its so sweet because after this its just... nothing? Like POV happens and then Upgrade and Divide and Conquer and they go ah fuck we can’t hug anymore so all we get is platonic shoulder holding and using shoulders as pillows. The closes we get to a hug is Death Knell and emotional trauma Threads. I want a REAL hug

And he holds her arms for ages and helps her up

Wow they’re so fucking in love this hurts

“Found ‘em” Jack stop so cute

C4! Who’d have thought it

Ah shit they’re surrounded 

He still looks good

They BOTH look good 

They make a great couple 

Nope, not really but its what ya got so you’re gonna have to deal with it

This general guy is a bit of a dick

Thats right Sam, don’t listen. Good job, Danny boy.

Only 1? Thats not a lot of time

Get out there, Jack! Buy that time

Gun Bum! (if you know Sanctuary, you’ll get it)

He’s really not doing a great job of pretending to be a Goa’uld

Its really not impossible 

ex-goddess lol 

“She’s Gone. She is no more.” I’m honestly shocked people didn’t shoot him more often 

I love him tho

Thank god, thats good timing

Hammond is IN. HIS. ELEMENT 

There is no way she heard hiom say now but she still knew. I love them. I love how well they know each other and they’ve only known each other a little over two years

Time to KICK SOME ASS

JAFFA YAS

ooh coming in from behind, sneaky

YEEHAW

OH HAMMOND YOU PRECIOUS BABY

Sam going straight to Jack and it looks like she goes to put her arm around him. 

I hate them ffs

Bra’tac and Human fuck me thats so cute

Sam’s smile when they see Teal’c and Hammond is Gorgeous

and Hammond patting her on the back! stop! I love Space Dad and his idiot Space babies. 

Final Thoughts:

Seriously guys this is my favourite Final and First eps of a season. 

100% one of my favourite two parters, if not my all time favourite two parter

Great direction, good story, excellent bad guys, good acting, just enough suspense with out being too drawn out, something for everyone, comes of the back of a fun as fuck episode (1969), Hammond has a big part, Davis is there, lots of cute Sam/Jack and of course, Daniel’s Elf Hair. 

Also the Tok’ra are actually useful in this one which is SHOCKING 

Lemme know your thoghts friends, I’m excited to hear them! 

[celtics534]

Harry, Baby, Hurry Through the Window Tonight

As promised, the hinny Christmas fic! Huge thank you goes out to @gryffindormischief​ and @thedistantdusk​ for being awesome and helping out with this cute story. Written for the SIYE challenge.

Another Muggle AU based from the prompt:Okay, he’s not Father Christmas, but he did have a very good reason for breaking into the house.

Also Read On: FF.net and AO3

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ginny flicked on her bedroom light at the second loud crash. She had bolted out of bed when the first thud echoed from the kitchen. Because the cat had been snuggled beside her, Ginny had no idea what or who it could be; she lived on her own. 

 She rose off the mattress slowly, hoping to avoid making the old frame creak. Grabbing the cricket bat from beside the bedroom door, she cautiously stepped out into the corridor. She didn’t live in a large flat. Just a few basic rooms, such as a kitchen and toilet. Hell, the kitchen was only separated from the sitting room by a small island tabletop.

 The house was dark, but Ginny knew the layout of her ground-floor flat well. She stepped over the dumping spot for her team kit, which never seemed to make it into the laundry bin at first. She then dodged the recently arisen Christmas tree near the sofa. The kitchen was cast in a half-light from the streetlamp outside, giving Ginny a view of a dark shadow crouched near the sink. 

 Not giving it a second thought, Ginny raised the bat up high bring it down as hard as she could on the figure. 

 "Fuck!" The figure spun on its heels, keeping low to the ground but now raising arms to cover its head. Ginny brought the weapon back up high, more than ready to swing again when the man made a stop gesture. "Wait. I can explain."

 "So can I." Ginny brought the bat down to his shoulder with a satisfying smack. "You broke into my house."

 The man --and now Ginny knew it was a man -- nodded as he crawled sideways, trying to get out of her swinging zone. "Yes I did, and I'm sorry about that, but it was the first place I found with an unlocked window!" 

 "Were you looking for an easy score?" Ginny followed him as he scooted across the floor, her bat at the ready. "Because if so, you’ve got another thing coming!"

 "Easy score?" She saw the man blink as he passed in a long beam of the street light. His eyes made her pause. They were hypnotic green. He shook his head wildly. "No! I wasn't coming to rob you. I was trying to get away."

Ginny held her pose, bat ready for the next swing, but her brow furrowed. "Get away from what?"

 The man kept his hands up, his palms showing. "Can I stand up to tell you? The floor is rather uncomfortable."

 She considered saying no; she didn't want him to have any advantage. But instead, she nodded. When he rose onto his knees, Ginny kept her voice low and menacing like Bill had instructed her all those years ago; it kept fear in her opponent. "You make one wrong move and I aim for the side of your head. And I don't miss."

 His eyes went wide as he nodded. "Fair enough." When he got to his feet, Ginny couldn't help but give him  a once over. Not only were his eyes entrancing, but he was fit. Really fit. Messy black hair stuck up in odd, strangely appealing angles on the top of his head, which somehow worked well with the scruff growing on along his jawline. Fuck. If robbing houses wasn't his career, then he must be a model. 

 Don't go there, girl, Ginny scolded herself. Now was not the time or place. The man was a full head taller than her so she had to look up in order to see his eyes;she wanted to be on guard for any changes, not just because they were so… provocative. 

 "So I guess I'll start with my name." He gave her an awkward yet way-too-endearing smile. "I'm Harry."

 Looks and a name to match royalty. Fuck, Ginny! She pushed her ridiculous musings aside. "All right, Harry." Ginny gestured with her chin towards the stools that sat by the island. "Why are you in my flat?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 "So just to get this straight." Ginny pointed the uneaten half of her reindeer-shaped biscuit. "This bloke at the pub thought you were making a move on his girl, but really she had made a move on you. So you ran away because he had mates ready to beat you up. You choose a random road and decided to try and hide in one of the flats. The first few windows were locked but mine wasn't, because I'd burnt dinner last night and needed to open the window to let the smoke out." She quirked a brow. "Does that about sum it up?" 

 Harry nodded, taking a sip from the chipped mug that Ginny had given him. This had become one of the weirdest days of his life. It had started with that handsy girl in the bar, and now he was having tea and biscuits with the woman who's flat he'd broken into. After he'd started his tale, Ginny had started the kettle, and now thirty minutes later, they sat together like best mates. 

 Really though… Harry couldn't help but like Ginny. She was inquisitive, funny (based on the comments made during his storytelling), and not to mention she had one hell of a swing. And none of that even started to cover how fucking attractive she was. At first, he'd considered letting her keep swinging that bat at him if it meant he could stare at her.  

 "So there is just one thing that I don't quite understand." Ginny licked at her upper lip, removing a few stray crumbs. Harry had to force himself to focus on her words rather than her movements. "Why did you try to open windows? That just seems like an odd choice to make."

 He nodded. She made a good point. "Honestly... I heard their voices yelling down the street and I just went into a ‘get the fuck out of the way’ mode. I didn't really think. It was a first instinct." 

 Ginny smirked an all too sexy smirk. "Quick on your feet there, Harry." 

 Was it normal to get aroused from someone saying his name? Harry swallowed hard, hoping his cheeks didn't give away his current -- thoughts. “Well, I mean...” His hand came to rub the back of his neck. “They don’t let just anyone become a bobby.”

 “Hmmm.” Ginny’s smile became mischievous. “That true. Gotta be careful with who you trust with handcuffs.”

 Harry, who had just taken a bite from his biscuit, started to choke. He coughed, clearing his lungs of the offending cake. 

 Ginny laughed, reaching across the small table to pat his back. “Really, I should be asking to see your warrant card.” 

 Through sharp intakes of breath, Harry reached into his trousers pocket and pulled out the little wallet he kept his card in. He flipped the cover off, revealing his horrendous photo. Ginny examined it for a long moment, taking in all the information, before nodding in satisfaction. “I guess you’re safe from my bat.” She winked. “For now.”

 “Much obliged,” Harry said through large breaths. 

 She smiled at him, leaning back into her chair. They sat in comfortable silence, the sounds of merry crowds milling outside filtered by the thick flat walls. Harry tried to keep himself from staring at Ginny, but it was a nearly impossible challenge. His eyes flickered between the freckles that spread across her cheeks and nose and the few strands of hair that remained out of the messy ponytail falling over her dark brown eyes… her bewitching eyes. Pull it together Potter!

 He cleared his throat, nodding towards the last biscuit on the plate. “Wanna split it?”

 Ginny cocked her head, squinting at him in consideration. After a moment she smiled and nodded. “I guess in the Christmas spirit, I’ll share.” She broke the wafer in half and handed one side to Harry. “But just so you know, normally I wouldn’t share.”

 “Well, then I feel honored.” Harry bowed his head at her before taking a bite. 

 She snorted, biting off the top of Santa’s hat. “So, now that you’re a wanted man, what’s your plan for the night?”

 Harry shrugged. “I guess I could go back to Remus’. I was supposed to meet an old college friend at the pub but he never showed, and”-- he checked his phone-- “never even texted to tell me what happened.”

 Ginny shook her head. “Some mate you have there.”

 “He probably got distracted by his girlfriend.” Harry rolled his eyes. “His excuse will be something along the lines of, he won’t see her for a week.”

 “Wow, your mate and my brother would get along swimmingly. Sometimes I think my brother will follow her in the loo -- and not to do anything that would get them on Santa’s naughty list. He just because he can’t be apart from her.”

 Harry laughed. “Joined at the hip?”

 “To say the least.” Ginny shook her head. “But back to you, my friend. What’s Harry’s new big bad Christmas Eve.” She glanced at the clock above the stove. “Make that Christmas Day plans?”

 “Oh, you know, going gallivanting across London. Find the blokes from before, challenge them to a duel to the death, win, impress all the women that have gathered around our battle and then find my future wife in the crowd. You know, a normal Christmas miracle.”

 Ginny stared at him for a moment, her mouth agape, before she started laughing so hard her shoulders shook. 

 Warmth spread through Harry’s chest as she laughed. Fuck, she had an adorable laugh. 

 “You, my good sir,” Ginny spoke through the tail end of her guffaws. “Have high holiday hopes.”

 He shrugged, hoping to feign nonchalance, but really his head was concocting a holiday fantasy around him and her. “What about you then?” His voice dripped with sarcasm, that the smile on his lips diluted. “What were you doing home on this fine eve?”

 Ginny brought the tea mug up to her lips, taking a sip before replying, “If you must know, I was already in bed. I have a long drive tomorrow morning and I wanted to leave early.”

 “Where are you going?” Harry tried to keep his tone casual while his mind played through different scenarios, all of which ended with her meeting her ruggedly handsome boyfriend for Christmas tea and having their own little present exchange. 

 “My family always gets together for presents. Typically I would be there tonight and we’d watch Love, Actually, but I had to work today so I figured I’d just leave tomorrow morning.” Ginny’s smile became wistful. “I thought about watching before bed tonight, but --” She shrugged.

 “It’s not the same,” Harry spoke quietly, knowing exactly what she meant. He knew what it was like to put off traditions that had once been an integrated part of the holidays. Ever since Sirius had…   

 When she locked eyes with him, Harry was certain there was more than just understanding passing between them. Her gaze seemed to ignite something inside him, making his whole body tingle. 

 “Would you like to watch it?” Ginny’s laid-back tone didn’t match the ardent look in her eyes. “I have the DVD somewhere around here.”

 Harry nodded. “Yeah, that sounds nice.” 

 Ginny beamed at him, making his heart race like he’d run a marathon. She stood from her chair and gestured towards the sitting room. “If you can figure out the entertainment system, I’ll make us some popcorn.”

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 Ginny pressed her nose into the warm pillow, refusing to let go of the satisfying feeling of being snuggled up in such a pleasant blanket. When the tip of her nose collided with something hard, her eyes opened in confusion. All she could see was green. Her pillowcase wasn’t green…

 She pulled away from Harry’s shirt, quickly becoming aware of her surroundings. Her sitting room sofa, a throw blanket, Harry’s back against the back of the sofa, his arm resting over her hip. Ginny was too shocked to move. What the fuck had happened last night?

 As if it were a film, her mind replayed the previous night. Settling down to watch Love, Actually, talking throughout the movie, scooting closer to share the blanket, how her head had used his shoulder as a pillow. 

 Okay, Ginny forced herself to take calming breaths, which didn’t really help anything seeing as it just filled her lungs with Harry’s woodsy scent. How does he smell so good? She mentally shook herself. Not the time, Ginny!

 Slowly, she lifted Harry’s arm off her. As gently as she could, Ginny rose off the cushions, hoping not to wake Harry. Ginny picked her phone off the coffee table, checking the time. She had just over an hour before she wanted to leave for her parents’ house. 

 Ginny considered her options. She could wake Harry and kick him out, wake him up and talk with him, or just leave him and make herself some breakfast. It wasn’t a hard decision, as her stomach growled loudly. 

 It didn’t take her long to scramble some eggs and toast. As she took the kettle off the hot mat, a groan came from the sitting room. Ginny considered her options again. Deciding it would just be easier to keep everything natural, she grabbed another mug from the cupboard. 

 When Harry’s head stuck up over the back of the sofa, shivers ran up Ginny’s spine. She’s always had a thing for messy dark hair, and mix that with everything else Harry had going for him… I swear to God, if you don’t calm the fuck down, girl.   

 “And here I was gonna bring you breakfast on the sofa.” Ginny laughed as Harry nearly fell off the cushions to look at her. His charming green eyes blinked rapidly. 

 “I -- uh --” Harry’s voice was alluringly rough, and Ginny had to contain another shiver. He cleared his throat. “Not that your sofa wasn’t comfy or anything, but why did I sleep on it last night?”

 Ginny snorted. “Because I wasn’t gonna let my almost robber sleep in my bed.” 

 Harry started at that. “That’s not what I --” 

 “We fell asleep watching the film last night,” Ginny interrupted, hoping to avoid giving Harry a heart attack. 

 “We --” Harry stood from the sofa and made his way over into the small kitchen. “Oh, right.” He stopped in beside the table, his forearm resting on the back of the chair. “Well, happy Christmas. I didn’t have time to get you anything, sorry.” 

 Ginny laughed. “Seems we’re both forgetful. Will you settle for a good breakfast?”

 “Best present I’ve received all year.” 

 It shouldn’t feel so natural, Ginny thought as Harry set the table with utensils from the drying rack. She shouldn’t feel comfortable with him eating at her table. Fuck, she definitely should not want to crawl back into his arms. But there was something about Harry that was just -- magnetic. 

 They ate, chatting about nothing and yet everything. She brought up how excited she was to spend Christmas with her little nieces. Harry smiled as he told her about getting to spend the holiday with his old university mate. They talked well after their plates were clean. Ginny knew it was getting closer to the time she needed to leave, but she didn’t want to. 

 It wasn’t until they were cleaning the plates together (her washing, him drying), that time became real again.

 “What time are you leaving?” Harry asked as he placed the dry fork into the drawer she’d shown him. 

 Ginny looked at the clock. “I should have left five minutes ago.”

 “Oh.” Harry’s tone was casual, but Ginny swore she saw his shoulders drop. “I guess I should get going, then.”

 Ginny wanted to say no. She wanted to ask him to stay, which was completely ridiculous. And yet, she wanted him to be there when she returned from her parents. Ginny wanted to curl back up on that sofa and watch another film… or not watch a film. 

 She was so distracted she didn’t notice that she’d been scrubbing the same plate for entirely too long until Harry’s hand came over to stop the motion. He’d moved in close, his eyes full of concern. “Are you okay?” 

 He was so close she only needed to lean up in order to connect their lips. It would be so simple, she even started rising onto her toes before something stopped her. She pulled back, clearing her throat. “I’m fine. Just thinking about the day.” 

 Harry nodded, his cheeks turning pink. “Right.” He put the flannel down on the counter before grabbing his coat off the back of the kitchen chair. He turned back to her, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Ginny, I -- I --” He sighed. “Enjoy your Christmas.” Then he was gone, closing the front door behind him with a gentle click. 

 Ginny put her head down on the kitchen counter, regret coursing through her entire body. Why the fuck hadn’t she at least gotten his number? She lifted her head to see it was well past the time she should have left. Sighing heavily, she went to go gather her presents. She needed to get going or face her mother’s wrath for being late. 

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 Harry tried to flatten his hair for the sixth time in ten minutes. There was no reason for his nerves. He was just stopping at his mate's childhood home for a bit. Harry just wished Ron had told him about the trip to Devon. When Ron has asked him to spend the holiday with him, Harry had mistakenly assumed he'd meant at his flat. 

 "Knock it off." Ron laughed as he turned down a long dirt road. "I told you, my mum's gonna love you, despite your inability to comb your hair."

 He sent Ron a rude gesture, which just made the redhead laugh harder. The drive curved every which way, making Harry grateful he didn't get car sick. After a few minutes of winding this way and that, they pulled up in front of an old farmhouse. The foundation was off-kilter, making the rest of the building lean, but Harry loved it. It had such a homely charm between all the Wellington boots on the front porch and the chickens roaming the side garden. 

 Ron parked the car between a Land Rover and old Ford. He reached into the back seat, pulling a bag full of wrapped gifts. "Just a little something for everyone." Ron shrugged off Harry's inquisitive look. 

 They made their way through freshly shoveled paths that lead to the front door. Without knocking, Ron walked into the house calling out greetings. Harry followed behind him, looking around at all the framed photos and comfy sitting room furniture. Three men chatted while a blonde woman tended an infant.

 "Ah, you must be Harry." A pleasant voice spoke from the adjoining doorway. A balding man held out his hand. "I'm Ron's father, Arthur." 

 Harry took the offering. "Thank you for having me." 

 Arthur's smile was just as calming as his voice. "Of course! Molly and I have been excited to meet the famous Harry Potter. Let me introduce you to everyone." Arthur placed a warm hand on Harry's shoulder, guiding him through the room. "There's Bill, Fred, and George over in the chairs there." He pointed to the group of men, two of whom had identical smirks. "Fleur, who is married to Bill, and their youngest, Dominique."

 Fleur looked up from the baby and smiled at him. Arthur roved over to the doorway he'd come from, which lead to the kitchen. While the sitting room has been peaceful with a crackling fire, the kitchen was a storm of activity. 

 "And this is my lovely wife, Molly." Arthur beamed at older woman mixing some sort of batter. "Molly, Ron's friend Harry is here." Molly stopped mixing, placing the bowl down on the counter before wiping her hands on her already covered apron.

 Harry expected a handshake or maybe a pat on the shoulder as a greeting, but Molly didn't do anything in halves. She pulled Harry into a bear of a hug, making him worry about his ribs cracking. “Lovely to meet you, Harry.”

 “You too, Mrs. Weasley.” Harry choked the words out. 

 When she released him, Harry took a deep breath. “Call me Molly, dear.” She looked over her shoulder at the well-scrubbed table where two women sat. “Oh, you haven’t met Angelina and  Alicia. They’re dating the twins.” The two women gave him a welcoming grin as they continued rolling dough. “I would introduce you to our daughter, but she’s out with Vic.” Molly glanced up at the ceiling with an annoyed look, that was negated by the smile on her lips. “I asked her to help me and then like magic she was minding the little one.” 

 Like a summoning the back door opened wide, letting in a cheering little girl. “I won, Aunt Ginny.”

 “That you did, girl, that you did!” That voice. Harry’s heart jumped into his throat, he recognized that voice. Ginny walked in, her smile wide as she looked down at her niece. “But next time you won’t be so lucky.”

 Harry knew his jaw must be on the floor, but all he could do was stare. That morning all he’d wanted to do was kiss this woman, but then she’d backed away. He hadn’t wanted to push her, so he’d backed off. But fuck! She had been in his head all day. The way she seemed to heat his entire body with just one look, and how perfect it had felt when her head rested on his shoulder. Harry regretted it the moment he’d walked out her front door, he’d even considered turning around but there had been a voice in his head saying maybe it was just one-sided. That maybe she’d had pulled away from him because she didn’t want to give him false hope. 

 But when their eyes met in that kitchen, Harry could feel it again. That raw heat, mixed in with shock. Ginny’s mouth fell open. “You!”

 “Ginny!” Molly scolded. “That’s no way to greet someone.” 

 Ginny turned towards her mother, blinking rapidly. After a moment she took a deep breath. “You’re right, Mum.” When her focus came back to Harry, he swore his heart skipped a beat. “So, which one of my brothers is your old uni mate?”

 “Ron.” Harry was shocked that words were able to get past his tied tongue. “I -- uh --” He was very aware that everyone in the kitchen was watching them: Arthur and Molly with confused smiles, Angelina and Alicia with grins that were more impishly amused. 

 Ginny seemed to notice the eyes on them as well because she pointed a thumb over her shoulder towards the back door. “Care for a tour around the garden?”

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 Ginny couldn’t stop glancing over at the man walking beside her. The entire drive over she’d cursed herself for letting him leave that morning, and now he was at her parents’? She didn’t believe in the idea of fate or destiny, but the moment she’d looked into his gorgeous eyes… Ginny started re-thinking her theory. 

 "So --" Harry cleared his throat. "Don't have your bat on you, right? Because I know how you respond when someone arrives unannounced."

 "What?" Ginny had to reel her mind back to the present. "Oh, right! Well, I always happen to keep a spare in the boot of my car.” She stopped in the middle of the cleared path and pulled Harry to halt by the hand. When his eyes locked onto hers, warmth spread throughout her body like wildfire. She sent him what she hoped was a coy smile. “But if you’re telling me I may need it." 

 Harry tugged her back as she pretended to head towards her car. His pull was more powerful than she’d expected and Ginny fell right into his chest. Harry pulled back, his cheeks red from more than just the cold. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to -- I, uh --” 

 Ginny couldn’t take it anymore. What was the point of avoiding -- whatever this was between them? Her mind drifted back the film they’d watch the previous night. “So is this the moment I casually mention I wanna marry you, have loads of sex, and have your babies?” 

 If Ginny had thought his cheeks were red before, Harry put a tomato to shame at that moment. His mouth fell open as he stared at her. She could see the wheels turning behind his eyes, his memory placing the line. He closed his mouth, a hesitant smile crossing his lips. “How about we start with the second thing on your list and make our way from there?”

 “I think...” Ginny wrapped her arms around his neck, bring him to her eye level. “I can live with that.” She pressed her lips to his. It didn’t take long for Harry to respond. His fingers pressed into her hips with a tantalizing pressure. With his body pressed tightly to hers and his scent (that addicting woodsy smell) filling her lungs, everything else seemed to disappear but him. 

 “Ginny? Oh!” Molly’s voice was the first thing to break through the fog Harry had created. Ginny pulled away to see her mother standing by the back door. In retrospect, she and Harry should have gotten out of sight of the house, but she just hadn’t been able to control herself. 

 Molly gave them what was supposed to be a sheepish grin, but instead her entire face glowed with delight. “I’m so sorry. I just wanted to know where she left my pie pan, but I’ll just go rummage through the cupboards. Just pretend I was never here.” And just like that, Molly was back in the house. 

 Ginny snorted. Her mum had never been one to see her children in their relationships. She’d expected to be told to get inside and get to work, but instead, her mother had --

 Harry blinked at her, his brow cutely creased in confusion.“What’s so funny?” 

 “My mum just encouraged me to keep snogging you.” Ginny shook her head, unable to hold back her amusement. “She once made Ron stop holding his girlfriend’s hand.” Her eyebrows creased. “But to be fair that girl was crazy, and everyone knew it. I guessing mum just didn’t like her.” 

 “Oh.” Harry’s confusion cleared, slowly replaced with a bashful smile. “But you think she likes me?” 

 Ginny leaned up to kiss him again. “I know I do.” She reluctantly pulled out of his arms. “Hey, you’re staying for supper, right? Would you like to stay for supper?”

 “Would you like to stay forever?!” 

 Ginny turned to the sound of her mother’s voice. Molly was hanging out the kitchen window watching the scene like an enthusiastic film watcher. All that was missing was the popcorn. “Mum!” Ginny yelled across the yard. “What are you doing?”

 “I said to pretend I wasn’t there, not that I wouldn’t be there.” Molly’s mischievous smirk was clear even from a distance. “What do you say, Harry dear?”

 “I --” Ginny turned back to Harry who was shaking, from what could only be silent laughter. “Oh, don’t encourage her,” she complained. 

 Harry laughed out loud this time. He pulled her back into his warmth, his mouth inches from hers. “And what will you do to stop me?”

 “Ah!” Ginny moved her fingers up to play with the little hairs at the base of his neck. “My bat isn’t my only method of persuasion.” Harry’s breath hitched as she ran her nose along his jaw. Just as her lips hovered over his, she stepped away. “But it is one of my favorites.” She turned and started towards her car. 

 Looking over her shoulder, Ginny laughed at the dumbfounded look on Harry’s face. Then he shut his gaping mouth and began chasing after her. As he caught her around the middle, his nose pressed into her neck. She spun in his arms and his mouth pressed to hers in a scorching kiss. Ginny had never been happier to have someone break in through her window. 

 She pulled back, nuzzling her nose to his. “I’ve got to say, Harry. You’re the most satisfying burglar I’ve ever had.”

 Harry snorted, “Just wait until I steal your heart.” When he brought his lips back to hers, she had to admit he was off to a good start.

[justanotherwitchygirl]

My Opinions

So I have had some questions on a few things and they come up quite often in conversation I guess this is for anyone who is interested in my opinions because I do not speak for all of this community! Everyone has their different beliefs and views! Also wanna bring up the fact that I will leave this post open for discussion! Tell me your thoughts as well because I'm a pretty open minded person and as are a lot of folks I talk to! Share those thoughts!

Curses, Hex, "Bad Magic"

I get this question probably more than I would like to. People asking if I believe in or practice these things. Me personally I believe that where there is a action there is a reaction. This can be true for science and in our day to day life. Something I like to leave people with is think about a day you went to work or school with a bad outlook on your day. Morning started rough and you just had problem after problem. Often good things are happening but we neglect to see them and then as the day goes on and on everyone around us starts to be weighed down by our bad energy. Now think about the good days. Think about when you walk into a room just beaming and everyone looks your way and smiles back at you. There is a obvious "karma" if you will surrounding everything we do.

With that in mind I tend to stay away from these practices because I feel that even if it's in retaliation to a negative thing that was done to me I feel it would come back to me eventually. I tend to wish the best upon these people and send good spells and plant positive sigils on their person because they are the people who need the positive energy to put in the world.

Now! All this being said I do not shun or associate people who do practice these things with any negative kind of labels. I genuinely like to listen and speak to these people ESPECIALLY about these practices. I think that there is something fascinating that pulls me to look into these practices but never actually practice them myself. I think that everyone is entitled to their own practices and so long as you are not wishing death or a intense physical suffering on someone I think these practices are a interesting thing.

Religion

Wow is this one of my least favorite things to talk about. I'm gonna try my best to keep this short and sweet and as... biased as I can. There are two big topics that I get asked about with religion. Any guesses as to what they are? Let's talk about them!

Paganism. Number one. First and foremost. This is what actually steered a lot of people I know away from the idea of witchcraft because a lot of the air surrounding Paganism (for those who do not research or see much of it) is that it goes hand in hand with Devils worship and Satanism and Black Magic and Voodoo and all the negative things you could label with old witchy folklore. So I'll just say I do not think that you have to practice all aspects of Paganism to be a witch. I think some of the practices and beliefs overlap here which I feel can cause a confusion. I do not (and I really hope this is an obvious statement) that Paganism is anything like it is projected many times into the world. In fact no matter what you believe I encourage you to go do some research on it because I have been fascinated by a lot of false statements that were believable that are false or just twisted into something they are not. I think it's something that at the least makes for an interesting read if you're not interested in actually practicing!

Christianity. Here we go. Number two. So do I think you can still be a Christian and practice magic? Sure. However, I was raised for most of my life in a Christian household. I went to church every Sunday and sometimes Wednesday and learned the Bible pretty well... I mean I could use a refresher I'm sure and I'm not saying I know everything... but there are some conflicting things here. The Christian faith does have a lot of negative spread around witchcraft and so you could of course practice whatever you want just be aware that there are going to come of things in the Bible that are going to conflict your practices. That being said I don't personally think it's impossible.

I think with witchcraft in today's world you have a lot of options. You've just gotta do what makes you happy and stick to it. I see this community like many others flock to what those who are "most popular" and "more knowledgable" and have been practicing for longer think and do. There isn't anything wrong with this but I hate to see all those fellow witches conform to something just because someone said it was right to them. Remember to find your own voice and believe and practice how you want!

Being "Closeted"

Another dreaded topic of mine. If you are a "closeted" witch because that's how you wanna practice there is NOTHING wrong with that! I do openly practice some things like Tarot and Sigil work but don't necessarily tell everyone I chant a spell when I brew myself a morning cup of tea. Or go and start conversations about keeping rain and moon water in my home at all times because you never know when its gonna be time for a spell! I've had many people ask me about small "quirks" or things I do and I don't always just come right out with,"Oh I'm a witch!" Not even my fiance knows I use the label "witch" or practice any kind of witchcraft. It's not something I'm open to with a label but I do often talk about some of my practices.

Magic for Personal Gain

Now I'm not talking about warding off negative energy by sigils or anything like that. I'm talking here about seeking out or writing a spell that is specifically for upgrading physical appearance, getting more money without work, or any other "selfish" gain.

I don't really believe that using a special spell is gonna make me prettier overnight... that just isn't how this works, however, I do believe that they can be used in smaller ways. Instead of "making myself prettier" I may use a spell to make me stand out so a catch a particular person's attention. I may find a spell to help give me confidence for the job interview I have rather than just "making money from nowhere."

In any sense I do not think that magic will work in the magical ways of fairy god mother like actions or in a overnight fashion. Spells are going to take time and most of the time some actual work.

Also I just think that its selfish and more of that "bad energy" to wish for things like that in a overnight sense as well. You've gotta want to work for something for a desire to be strong enough... in my opinion.

And there you have it! Just a few opinions for you to read through and think about and maybe even elaborate on. But I do want to say the biggest take away here is that it is my belief that as long as you are not doing a direct harm to someone then do what makes you happy. Life is too short to worry about others and have fears and regrets. Live like no one is watching. Believe what you want and don't believe what you don't wanna believe. Be kind and live on!

Thanks for sticking around!

[endofjunee]

📖 sweet, sweet fate by @bottomlinsons Harry’s lived with a NSFW soulmark for almost twenty-five years now. When he finally meets the man responsible, he gives him a little piece of his mind. 🌷 Everywhere And Nowhere by @2tiedships2​ Niall took a seat and said, "Apparently Louis' downstairs neighbor is a fan of giving Louis creepy gifts. Maybe I should go introduce myself and tell him that Louis actually prefers food." "What has he given you?" Liam asked.Louis shrugged as it were no big deal. "There was a rabbit's foot keychain on the door a little after he left from introducing himself and there was a small teddy bear sitting by my door tonight. Obviously I can't prove it's from him, but they seem to have his scent. I could be wrong though." "Wow," Liam said, looking deep in thought. "That's old school." "What's old school?" Niall asked. "Giving creepy gifts?" "I've never known an alpha to do it, to be honest, but he's courting you." Louis couldn't contain his look of disbelief directed at Liam. "He's courting me. Like some sort of romantic shit they'd do in the 1800s or something?"

📖 all we can do is keep breathing by @avocadolouie “Harry, I-I’m so sorry…” Louis stutters out, trying to keep his voice level and even, to portray a depiction of strength, but with the way Harry is looking at him, staring at him like he has a personal passage way straight to Louis’ soul, it’s so hard, nearly impossible. That simple opening phrase, that short introductory acknowledgement that is often rushed out so easily, painlessly, at a safe distance. Giving a doctor the ability to portray empathy without true emotion, without feeling the full brunt and sheer force of the underlying pain itself. But Louis feels it, he feels the crushing agony laced behind the phrase, he feels the weight of the painful words slipping from his lips, the cause and effect that the three-word expression holds. The distantly empty “I’m so sorry” that doctors throw out in self-preservation, isn’t at all empty for him. Louis recognizes it, he understands it, he feels it.  Or, a fated story of two broken and battered boys who barely survived the unimaginable and how the love of one little brave girl defies all the odds and somehow puts them back together. 🌷 Baby Honey by @bringmetheharry “Lou, did you see these little baby tea boxes I found yesterday?” He tossed one towards Louis and watched as it thumped Louis in the head. Louis groaned and reached for the little box, rolling it around in his hands, “If you’re about to make a joke about me. I strongly suggest you don’t.” Harry frowned and bounced his tea bag in the water watching the liquid darken, “M’ not! I just thought the baby tea boxes were cute.” Louis’ eyes narrowed and he looked at the tiny boxes, and back at Harry. Harry watched, he could see the wheels turning inside of Louis’ mind. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Louis looked at the box once more and back at Harry Or, After four years of Marriage, Harry discovers he is expecting. He could go home and hand the ultrasound photo to his amazing husband, Louis. Or… he could have some fun with this. Only Louis catching on to all the hints Harry is dropping. Or is he? 📖 Do You Wanna Ride by @phd-mama When Liam’s attractive new business partner wins riding lessons with Harry, hilarity ensues. 🌷 Tainted Saints And Velvet Vices by @toomanylarrytears A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they’re forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue. 📖 the act of making noise by @suspendrs “Oh,” Harry frowns, waving him off. “No, I could never. I respect myself too much to sing for a living.” It feels like a slap across the face, but Louis does his best not to stiffen, blinking once and then frowning. “What?” “Those people are always so miserable, you know?” Harry says, hopping down off his stool and straightening his sweater. “There’s so much pressure on them, and they have to work so hard to keep up appearances, I can’t even imagine how difficult that is. I can’t even stand to listen to pop music today, let alone watch TV or read the magazines. It makes me so sad, thinking that those people, you know, the ones who actually went into it with heart, they only ever just wanted to make music and instead they got turned into things on leashes being paraded around to make money for other people,” he says. “Anyway, you can have the stool.”  Or, Louis’s famous, Harry has no idea who he is, and they get snowed in together at a ski lodge in Vermont. 🌷 Laundry Room by @thelovejandles The third Wednesday of the new year, Louis finds himself in the laundry room, just as he was the last Wednesday and the one before that. He’s doing pretty well with his New Year’s resolution. The only problem so far is the company he finds in the laundry room. It seems that it’s just him and one other boy who’ve chosen late Wednesday nights as prime laundry-doing time. That wouldn’t be a problem except for who the other boy is. He’s seen this boy around; it’s hard to miss the long-legged, long-haired dream that lives in Louis’ complex. He likes to wear very sheer shirts and very high boots; he is incredibly fucking gorgeous and yeah, Louis’ noticed him but he’s never spoken to him. Until tonight, apparently.  Or, Louis and Harry are both students living in the same apartment complex. They end up having the same laundry night and time. Louis can’t stop staring at Harry and he can’t figure out why Harry consistently points out Louis’ inside-out shirts, and his untied shoes, and messy hair. Enter slow burn-ish flirting, banter, awkwardness, and a lot of laundry. 📖 your rainbow will come smiling through by @hazkabaan When harry isn’t working at his stepfather’s cafe, he’s trying to make swim captain and trying to finish all his coursework on time. when he’s not doing any of those things, he’s talking to the boy he met on the oxford hopefuls subreddit. when they decide to meet, he’s elated. he finally gets the chance to meet the boy he’s been crushing on! when the day comes to meet his prince, he learns that his online crush is none other than louis tomlinson, captain of the football team and friend of his terrible stepbrothers. now harry has to decide whether telling louis the truth is the right choice or if it’s better to just let sleeping dogs lie.  Or, a cinderella story au 🌷 Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now by @allwaswell16 Louis is having a personal crisis, a third Valentine’s Day being single. Unless he meets someone this week at the high end department store he works at, he’ll be stuck going to Niall’s Valentine’s Day party–again.  Or, the one where Harry mistakes Louis for a mannequin. 📖 Falling For Me Won’t Be A Mistake by @all-these-larrythings Harry is married to his job and so overworked that he doesn’t know how to stop. All it takes is a forced Hawaiian get-a-away, the warm tropical breeze of the island, and the most beautiful, elusive man he’s ever seen to make him remember what living is like outside of work. Well, that, and the little souvenir he accidentally takes home with him. 🌷 Latching Onto You by @reminiscingintherain “Wait a sec,” Harry interrupted. “Zayn and Liam?” “Yeah, my best mates, who are getting married?” Louis said slowly, slightly baffled at the question. “This is a gay wedding?” “Is that going to be a problem?” Louis asked, his voice losing its friendly edge and taking on a decidedly icy tone.  Or, the one where Louis wants to book Harry Styles to perform at his best friends’ wedding. 📖 Face Your Fears by @sadaveniren Harry is a single father, pretending to be a beta after his alpha mated him and left him. He’s getting by just fine raising the twins when Louis walks into his bakery. Too bad him and Louis will never be a thing. 🌷 streetwise hercules by @bottomlinsons “I said,” Louis’ voice is venomous, “who the fuck is this?”  Right.  This is Harry’s part.  Or Uni AU, where Louis pretends to be Harry’s boyfriend to scare away his one night stands. 📖 Counterbalance by @louandhazaf Harry Styles loves two things: teaching ballet and racing motorcycles. Those two worlds collide when his greatest rival on the track, Louis “Tommo” Tomlinson brings his tiny siblings to Harry’s class. 🌷 cut your teeth on my heart by @turnyourankle (WIP) Louis has worked as a security officer for years, but he’s handed his first opportunity to be team lead. The assignment is nothing like what he expected. Harry has spent years trying to distance himself from the pressure of the Twist name and legacy. But it’s going to be hard to avoid when his mum hires him a bodyguard. 📖 wild love twisting all over for you by @angelichl Harry and Louis meet on the set of a video.

[theyrealllegends]

Careful (Roger Taylor x Reader)

Chapter Summary: You’re not the only one who’s developing feelings but Roger is too, trying to have you close to him at first, but then he’s trying to forget you over way too much scotch. This is how both of you get sick and he takes care of you again. 

Author’s Note: It’s Roger’s POV in this chapter, yeeet! (Please don’t @ me I can’t tell you why and if you don’t like it I’ll never attempt it again, I promise)

Words: ~2k

Warnings: I’d rate this mature because (and this is a spoiler) someone’s masturbating aaand there’s drinking again and eventually someone has to throw up

Chapter 4

Previous Parts: Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3

I couldn’t fall asleep that night because Tiffany never left my head: her reddish-blonde curls, her incredibly green eyes, her lips for fucks sake - I needed that. I craved being close to her, to feel her, to hear her breath like I’d never wanted anything else. The boys had noticed that I was hitting my drums harder than I usually did while messing up their rhythms and I knew that they knew that something was off but they wouldn’t mention it if I got myself under control before our next gig tomorrow night. I just didn’t see how that was possible, when I was now here, lying awake and only the thought of Tiffany’s voice made my whole stomach feel light, in the best way possible. I had no idea how long I’d been staring in the dark but I was seriously contemplating to go out and either get drunk or find some girl to do whatever it took to distract myself. I just couldn’t let myself think about what I’d do to her if she hadn’t been this innocent little princess I saw, every time I looked at her. Even though only my refusal to think of that was enough to give me a hard one, already. I swallowed hard as I carefully touched myself and I stopped trying to shake the thought of her because I knew I couldn’t while I was masturbating - what would it feel like to bury myself in her body, feel her skinny, yet strong legs wrap around me and see her losing herself in my thrusts. God, I just wanted her to feel as good as she made me feel when I got into the kitchen to a prepared breakfast, when I didn’t feel like a dumbass because she’d make me study and when I managed to make her laugh. I gripped on my own hair at the thought of her laugh, trying to imagine it were her tiny hand and her skinny fingers pulling on the strands while I held back a moan. Tiffany Abberforth was the most precious human being on this planet and I’d have to protect her with my whole life, I knew that for a fact. 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“You wanna join me tonight?”, I asked her, when I met her in the kitchen the next morning. Probably I was being selfish to try and get her out of the comfort of our flat, but I wanted her to be closer to me anytime. She was reading some book like the smart girl she was but she put it away as soon as I tried to talk to her. 

“Where are you going?”

“The boys and I have a gig and I thought - since you’re freed now - you might like…?”

“Are you trying to make me drunk two out of three nights in a row?”, she called me out in a joking tune and it made me smile to see her that relaxed. 

“Of course not, but I’d like you around me two out of three nights in a row.” Damn, she had no idea what she did to me when she blushed. She looked down at her hands, seemingly battling herself to a decision. “No pressure, Tiffy, if you’re there, you’re there and if not I’ll still play for you.”

“You know it’s not because I don’t want to hear you play, right, Rog?”

“Do I?”, I asked and leaned my head to the side a little too let her know I wasn’t completely serious. 

“I can’t see myself enjoying your show in a huge crowd at all, it scares me, especially since I wouldn’t know anyone watching you, too and I - “

“You can join us for our rehearsal on Friday, if you prefer that.”

“That’s perfect”, she immediately agreed and I felt great about it. It relieved the thought of being rejected, at least. 

“We can have dinner after, if you’d like.”

“We always have dinner, Rog.”

“No, I mean, you and me - and the boys if we can’t get rid of them - having dinner in a restaurant, if you’d like.” Now I was the one blushing, I feared, as she looked at me in surprise. 

“Yeah, I think I’d like that”, she said after a moment and I smiled at her. 

“Me too, Tiffy.”

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

I knew I shouldn’t really - even though there wasn’t anything exclusive about Tiffany and me, there wasn’t a “we” if it came to anything else than talking about our shared flat situation, but I still felt guilty and like I wasn’t supposed to let all the girls approach me after our gig. 

“Hey there, sweet boy”, one of them purred, “How you doing, love?”, the other one said and “You did so amazing!”, I heard a third one while they really gave me a hard time to move forward, just trying to get to the bar behind Brian. Their hands were all over me and I was glad I didn’t wear something too showing or open, even, and it wasn’t that I didn’t like it, I just felt like it wasn’t fair. I wasn’t looking for anything they had to give me, instead I was trying to figure out which of them reminded me the most of Tiffany, really, and I knew that was just wrong. 

“Thanks, girls, but let me have a drink first, would you?”

Of course I ended up buying the three of them drinks and I hated to admit it, but it was kind of a given that I went outside “to smoke”, only to make out with one of them, finally letting go of the thought of Tiffany’s emerald green eyes. I didn’t enjoy the night at the girl’s place - as if the universe wanted to punish me, really, for drinking myself into a state where I didn’t only forget about the girl’s - or Tiffany’s - name but also about my own, to a state where I didn’t care about anything anymore, trying to find relieve in it. I couldn’t even remember the sex for the love of god, only assuming it was good, by how the girl was cuddled against me, how our clothes were all over the floor. But the mattress woke me up, squeaking and poking into my back, which didn’t make the pain in my head any better. I just stumbled to grab my clothes and left, unable to look back at the girl or respond when she called for me, only heading for the door. I didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the hole situation getting the best of me, but I didn’t make it really far without throwing up and horribly cursing myself. I’d done dumb things but they didn’t really compare to last night. 

Also, when I got home, there was light in the kitchen. It was an early morning and I knew, Tiffany was one to get up before sunrise but couldn’t that girl let herself get some rest once? She was reaching for the medicine cabinet, when I stepped into the kitchen, feeling her eyes on me and suddenly realising that I could easily be covered in my own vomit, if I was as unlucky as I felt that moment. 

“You need help?”, I asked nonetheless and the worry in her eyes got wilder as she heard my hoarse voice. 

“Where have you been?”

“I couldn’t tell you her name, even if I wanted to and I really shouldn’t have gone”, I tried to explain, unable to lie to her, or stand her quizzing look another second. “I feel sick, man, I had way too much scotch last night.” What would I do next, call her “mate”? This is really a great way to safe your ass out of this situation, seriously, keep going, Taylor, you’re doing great. 

“Makes two of us, though”, Tiffany murmured and stepped away, acknowledging that she was a bit too tiny to reach the pain killers. I reached up, to hand them to her, unable to look her way - mostly because I was really aware of the bad taste in my mouth and I didn’t want her to smell me in the end. 

“What’s wrong, love?”, I still asked, scared that she wasn’t alright. 

“I get sick after every exam period, really and here I am, coming down with a fever.”

“Then, hush, to bed!”, I said, grabbing her to make her move and tug her in, before I could escape into the bathroom. “I’ll make you tea and get you soup, you just stay there, you hear me?”, I rambled in the process of getting her into her bed. I started brushing my teeth, while I went into the kitchen to put some tea water to a boil and looked through the cabinets for soup, realising I’d have to pick some up at the store. That wasn’t half bad in the end, because it forced to make myself look somewhat decent and I could get new cigarettes, cheese and toast at the store too, so I could at least eat some terrible breakfast when I came back to find Tiffany asleep. 

I prepared the soup as it said on the pack and carefully carried it to her night stand, before I sat down next to Tiffany and softly ran my fingers over her face to make her wake up. Her skin was really clean and soft, but it felt hot to a point that I wished I knew a doctor, a better one than myself, for sure. 

“Wake up, sweet girl, you need to get your soup down, so you’ll get better.” She smiled at me weakly and tried to move to a sitting position, so she could cuddle against her bed’s headboard and slowly eat the soup I held for her. I watched her eat in silence while I sat next to her, my legs crossed on her mattress, realising I should turn her heater up for a start. The tea water had gotten cold while I was gone so I reheated it, to finally make the tea she needed and I looked at her in her bed critically, while she sipped it. “Tiffy, do you want me to get you more pillows?”, I asked because it was kind of impossible that I had more pillows than she did, right? She giggled at me and moved her head for me to come closer. 

“Rog, you’re acting like my mom - worse, actually, because she doesn’t consider you sick as long as your bones aren’t broken.”

“But -“

“I just need to rest, don’t worry”, she didn’t let me interrupt her. “You should go, so I don’t infect you.”

“I won’t leave you alone, unless that was your attempt to kick me out.”

“No, it wasn’t”, she explained and I felt relieved. She didn’t seem to be angry at me or the way I’d spent my night and that made me feel a little less sick. 

“Good, then”, I said and slipped under her covers. Her eyes were on me, looking a little shocked, otherwise just intensely focused on me, as I moved towards her to rest her head on one of my arms and spoon her. “You fine, love?”

“Yes, but you don’t have to -“

“But I want to”, I whispered into the back of her neck. 

“Thank you”, she murmured, shifting around a little to get the most comfortable.

“I was worried, when you didn’t come home.”

“I’m so sorry, Tiff”, I told her again, honestly. “I really shouldn’t have gone.”

“Glad you realised that”, she mumbled and it made me chuckle a little. Her breathing became slower and deeper when she feel asleep and I hummed one of the songs, the boys and I were working on, to fasten up the process, until I eventually fell asleep as well. 

Tags

@crazyweirdocalledfriday @discodeakyy @blondecarfucker

Let me know what you guys thought 💕💕

[thedistantstorm]

The Fledgling Diaries: A collection of stories about Marc, Devrim, and Suraya. Part 1 of 2 involving a sick Suraya and her concerned parents.

Previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

The day definitely didn’t start out like this. She had gone to school like normal. It was more boring, and she felt tired - a little - but not like this. Marc had come to get her at the end of the day, and the walk home felt like it was twice as long. She doesn’t think she’s done any of her homework, either. She’s supposed to read to Dev and Marc ten pages of her book. It’s about a family of ants, or maybe caterpillars? Bugs? Some kind of insect.

Marc had told her to sit on the couch, that he would bring her a snack. That was the last thing she remembered.

She lays her head back against the couch - she’s laying down now, news to her - around the same time a hand finds her forehead. The lower pitch is definitely Devrim, she realizes absently, turning her head into the touch. His hand slides down her cheek and he strokes her from temple to jawline very carefully. She groans and opens her eyes just a little when his hand stills.

“Hello, Suraya,” Devrim smiles down at her, a little, sad thing that makes her chest feel tight. “Feeling a bit under the weather?”

Little hands scramble to push herself up, and she shakes her head in the negative, not wanting to bother him or Marc. She sways to stay upright, and Devrim chuckles softly when he steadies her with a firm hand and slides onto the couch where her head was, offsetting a few pillows. There’s no fight to have her rest her head against his leg, only a little gumble when the couch dips at her feet.

Marc slides another blanket over her and rubs a hand down her shin and foot over the blankets as he settles.  “Easy, sweetheart,” He whispers, mindful of the headache he’s sure she has. “Let us know if it’s too loud for you, okay?”

Devrim’s hand finds her forehead again, and she’s out before she can even hum in the affirmative.

She wakes feeling like she’s underwater. Everything around her moves in fuzzy, hazy shapes, murky, half-garbled words. She’s both hot and cold, shaking and sweating. When she doesn’t feel like there’s something pulling her down, down, down, she feels like her tummy is being stabbed and pushed on to the point where she thinks she’s going to burst.

Everything comes in fits and starts, gasping, panting breaths and strange nightmares that she couldn’t tell apart from being awake, and shaky-pains that felt like they were all over. She bolts straight up - Dev’s clearly fallen asleep on the couch, but her gasp brings him to with one of his own.

Marc swoops in, coming down the stairs in sleep clothes, hoisting her up against him without much effort. “Princess,” He slicks back her sweaty hair. “We’re going to have to take your temperature. You feel like you’re burning up. I think you’ll need some medicine.”

She shakes her head.

“It’s okay,” Marc tells her. “We have the good kind, it tastes like strawberries.”

She sighs, but keeping her head up is too much of a fight, and she lets her head slump onto his shoulder as he brings her into the washroom. He pulls the thermometer out of the medicine cabinet, and instructs her to open her mouth around the time Devrim comes to linger in the doorway, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.

Another tiny refusal meets Marc’s request. “‘M fine,” Suraya insists. “I’ll go to bed,” She says quieter.

“It’s alright to be sick, Suraya. Even Marc and I get sick sometimes.” Even at Devrim’s concession, she shakes her head.

Marc glances at Devrim over Suraya’s mop of unruly hair. Devrim nods.

“Will you let Dev take your temperature?” Marc asks quietly.

She shakes her head into Marc’s shoulder.

“Why not?” Devrim takes a step into the room, removes the thermometer from Marc’s hands. “I promise you won’t be in trouble for being sick, my dear. We’re worried about you.”

“‘M not sick, I’m fine.” An out of focus series of blinks accompanies this very sad defense, and Devrim sighs.

“Suraya, you will do as I tell you,” He intones with authority, eyes clearly remorseful as her snap open wide in surprise and fear. “Open your mouth, please.” His voice brokers no argument and she shakes against Marc.

“No,” She says. “Not sick.”

“Suraya!”

She shakes her head, pushes her face into Marc’s collarbone so that the thermometer cannot be put into her mouth by force. Devrim looks at Marc who sighs. “Suraya, let your Daddy take care of you. Please. We just want you to feel better.”

“Feel fine.”

“No you don’t, sweetheart. You’re sick.”

“No no no no no,” She babbles. “Not sick. Not sick.”

“You’re ill,” Devrim whispers, lips brushing against her hairline, though his clearwater eyes look up at Marc’s dark ones in a mix of fear and anguish. “Please let us take care of you, that’s all we want to do.”

“Sick kids are bad,” She says.

“Our sick kid is good,” Marc counters. “You are a good girl,” He tells her. “The very best. Isn’t that right, Dev?”

“Absolutely,” Marc’s husband agrees, without a second’s hesitation. “You are ours, and you are good. Please let us take your temperature and give you medicine.”

“Wanna cuddle,” She says softly.

“After you let us take your temperature. Fair?”

She looks over at Dev, teary-eyed. “‘M not in trouble?”

“No, Suraya. You are not in trouble.” He reinforces this, saying, “You are good, and you are ours.”

She rests her head on his shoulder again, but lets her mouth hang open just a little, and even though she gags when Dev slides the thermometer into her mouth, she doesn’t fuss. Marc rubs her back and hums some melody she distantly recalls. The thermometer is out of her mouth before she knows it, and her eyes drift closed before she can see Devrim’s frown as he analyzes the results.

“No sleeping yet,” Marc says, nudging her cheek with his nose what feels like hours and not seconds later to the sick child. “C’mon, sweetheart. Got to wake up and take some medicine, then we’ll let you sleep.”

Suraya groans and blinks heavily. It takes a minute for the girl to understand what’s being asked of her, but she does accept the medicine in the dropper that Devrim holds to her mouth. It’s better than most medicine she’s had, but it’s still bitter and burns a little. When it’s all done, she reaches for Devrim with a sad, sleepy gesture.

Marc chuckles. “Want your Daddy?”

“Mmhmm,” She agrees. It sounds almost like a whine. Devrim’s eyes soften marginally as Marc shuffles her over to him and watches her latch on.

“It’s alright,” He tells her, when she pushes her face against his neck. She’s terribly feverish, her forehead hot against him, “Daddy’s got you, love. You’re safe.”

Her nods come with trembling hiccups, and Marc watches sadly as Dev rocks her until she stills. “I’ll take the day off,” Dev offers. “Squad can get by without. You have a meeting you can’t miss.”

“You sure? You’ve never missed a day.”

“Marc, darling,” His eyebrows go up, “I assure you it’s quite alright. Something about leaving her… bothers me. Not that you couldn’t handle it, I just-”

The smile that Marc gives him is brilliant. “You’re her Daddy,” His husband says. “And you’ve just recently gotten back from being away for a while. I think you’ve earned the right to hog her for yourself. I’m not mad,” He affirms. “I’m glad she has such a wonderful father.”

“Two wonderful fathers,” Devrim amends.

“Agreed.”

-/

“Alright,” Marc says, straightening his tie. Devrim kisses him chastely, still in his pajamas. He sets aside his mug of tea to give his husband a hug. “Call me if anything changes. Or if you need me to come home. Or if she gets worse.”

“I will,” Devrim promises. “Don’t be late for work. She’ll be fine.”

Suraya had only settled down an hour or two before, and its after draining his mug and cleaning the kitchen that Dev settles into the recliner in the corner of Suraya’s bedroom and allows himself to doze. It’s not long after he falls asleep that there’s a stumbling sound that jolts him awake, followed by little gurgles and retching from down the hall. Devrim takes off at a tear, finding her on the floor in the washroom, glassy eyes watery and both hands holding her stomach. She’s managed to contain her throwing up to the toilet - an easy clean. He’s grateful, even if he’s still floored by how mindful she is, even when sick(and a sick child, at that).

“I don’t feel good,” Suraya says, when his hand slides down her back and she winces. “My stomach hurts.” She moves back to stand, but her hands don’t leave her belly. “Worse than yesterday.”

“Your stomach hurt yesterday?” Devrim asks. “Did you eat anything?”

She shrugs. He looks down at her seriously, and she dips her head once to the first question before shaking her head to the second, the motion making her dizzy enough that her eyes roll back and she staggers. Devrim grabs her, and she recoils despite being unconscious.

He calls the pediatrician immediately, and physician’s response is to take Suraya to a hospital immediately, especially since her temperature hasn’t gone down. It’s mostly a precaution, taking into consideration how impossibly stubborn she is about sharing how she feels. Devrim makes the mistake of looking up her symptoms on his tablet while he’s on the phone with doctor, and it takes every fibre of his being not to call Marc at work to demand that he come with.

It’s nothing, he tells himself. This is a precaution.

Except there’s a nagging feeling in his gut that says otherwise.

To Be Continued...

[kilmameri]

I saw @solange-lol doing this and it seemed fun so I wanted to do it too. Please do it yourselves too and tag me to it if you like, I won’t be tagging anyone. I’ve added my comments in chunks so theyre easier to delete. this is mostly me writing random garbage which isnt needed but i wanted to do

Rules: bold the statements that apply to you, italicize your aspirations

AIR: i have small hands • i love the night sky • i watch small animals and birds when i pass them by • i drink herbal tea • i wake to see dawn • the smell of dust is comforting • i’m valued for being wise • i prefer books to music • i meditate • i find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

What kinda aspiration is having small hands tho? :DD I love the night sky the most when it’s warm an dark, often when im like, on a trip. its not often both dark and warm where i live :D and i Love birds. today waiting for the bus i almost forgot where i was when i watched birds fly in flocks over us. theyre moving back here for spring! :D

also like,, waking early is so over appreciated. and i see the dawn plenty bc the sun rises at like nine o’clock in winter if at all like,,, i get that its more constant to ppl who live closer to the equator and actually means something. i would wake up to see the dawn tho for the stillness of the world tho if it was with someone but only in daydreams bc why get up early when u can stay up late? that last one abt truths like lmao we get it u deep but yea i love trivia

FIRE: i don’t have straight hair • i like to wear ripped jeans • i play an organized sport • i love dogs • i am not afraid of adventure • i love to talk to strangers • i always try new foods • i enjoy road trips • summer is my favorite season • my radio is always playing

i love curly hair. i have really thick and stiff straigh af hair and i sometimes wish it had Even Waves bc id love to look more messy-cute ya know? bc now its all clean partings, no stray hairs. it looks too formal for my taste and id like for it to have some personality. i know i could just curl it with an iron or get it done but yea,,, i dont care That much

like im constantly told im crazy brave and i guess this applies to me? like i Did move at age 16 to my own in a city i have never been in with no one there who knew me and just,,, didnt even care. i tell others what ive been up to and they ooh and aah and im like?? but yea it does feel nice to be considered adventurous

also i love weird foods and am Not picky. in ninth grade home ec my kitchen needed to design a three course meal and dear fucking god was that a mess. we had one vegetarian lactose intolerant peep, one who didnt eat random shit like onions and bell pepper bc they taste bad (???) and so if a recepie had even a slightest bit of that he insisted it be left out or didnt even listen to the full recepie. and one who like,,,, would Not eat any foregin food. he wanted Potatoes and sausages. im like??? this is the final home ec test? this is supposed to showcase our skills,,, and you want boiled potatoes and plain sausage? what a mess lmao

WATER: i wear bracelets on my wrists • i love the bustle of the city • i have more than one set of piercings • i read poetry • i love the sound of a thunderstorm • i want to travel the world • i sleep past midday most days • i love dimly lit diners and fluorescent signs • i rewatch kids’ shows out of nostalgia • i see emotions in colors not words

i moved to a city abt uhhh? half a year ago and i love it here :D theres nothing better than walking in the centrum with the pidgeons and street artists and ppl having a good time chatting and shopping

i used to sleep past midday but i try to not so much bc that worsens my mood a lot bc i feel really isolated spending so much of my time alone. but it is my natural way of being so i guess thats how it be sometimes

EARTH: i wear glasses/contacts • i enjoy doing the laundry • i am a vegetarian • i have an excellent sense of time • my humor is very cheerful • i am a valued adviser to my friends • i believe in true love • i love the chill of mountain air • i’m always listening to music • i am highly trusted by the people in my life

bad eyesight ://. i do kinda enjoy doing household chores when i have something to listen to or a call to be in but that hasnt been the case lately. i am not vegetarian but sometimes i do go days without eating meat by accident which i dont mind but like,,, yea. its bc i eat like, bread, noodles, cereal, and then there might be something vegetarian at school that i eat bc it looks like the tastiest food there

idk abt my humor? its kinda spicky, insulting to some. but i dont mean it its like friendly banter. but i put it on with ppl who arent friends of confy with that sometimes and i dont mean to honestly

AETHER: i go without makeup in my daily life • i make my own artwork • i keep on track of my tasks and time • i always know true north • i see beauty in everything • i can always smell flowers • i smile at everyone i pass by • i always fear history repeating itself • i have recovered from a mental disorder • i can love unconditionally

never really liked makeup, too much work for a thing i cant really tell is even there. the flashy types of makeup i dont like so much. also im already cute af

ive been told im organized as hell by my peers and i dont get it. thats just?? how i naturally do things. it like,,, is Impossible for me to put things in their wrong places. if its hard to put where it belongs then i dedicate a “pending” spot for it in a place thats easy. and i hate notebooks and instead use a binder filled with loose leaves that i can edit as much as i like :3

thanks for reading, hmu if u wanna say something abt the things i wrote. ill read it

[goodlucktai]

Nishinatsu 25+21??

two-part drabble game25: being somewhere you’re not supposed to be+ 21: “they’re wrong about you.”

i got 2 requests for nishinatsu + 21, you guys know me so well (ꈍ◡ꈍ)♡ 

x

Somehow, they got off on the wrong station. Kitamoto’s voice is loud where it’s coming out of Nishimura’s cellphone on speaker – not quite frantic but certainly agitated, because it’s late and it’s getting dark, and Nishimura and Takashi are more than a little lost. 

“Just,” their friend says, “find someplace and stay there, okay? Like, an internet cafe or something. We’ll get off at the next station and double back.”

“Tell him we’re sorry,” Takashi puts in quickly, anxious at how upset they’ve made him. Nishimura just rolls his eyes. 

“It was an accident,” he says instead, with deliberate enunciation, like it’ll change Kitamoto’s perspective to hear that excuse for the fourth time. “Jeez, Acchan, lighten up.” 

Before Kitamoto can reply to that the way Takashi can guess he would like to, Tanuma takes over from the other end and says, “Natsume, you left Ponta,” like the fat cat is a shield or a talisman he wandered off into certain danger without. Despite himself, the note of worry in his friend’s voice over so small a thing makes Takashi smile.

“Keep an eye on him for me,” he leans in to say, and he doesn’t know if he’s talking to Tanuma about Nyanko-sensei or perhaps the other way around. “I’ll see you soon.” 

It isn’t unsettling to be out in the dark. Takashi has spent a lot of nights by himself in parks or the woods or just walking through empty streets, and it’s never really bothered him. There are just as many monsters around when the sun is out, after all, that’s something he knew as a child. 

So when they pass under a flickering streetlight, and the shadows jump and stretch like a living thing, and Nishimura shivers a little and presses into his side, Takashi just smiles.

“Cute,” he says mildly, purely for the sake of Nishimura’s deeply offended squawk, and the way he blushes so hard it’s easy to see even in the low light. And then Takashi can’t help laughing at him, and that only makes it worse.  

“You’re a jerk,” Nishimura mutters, not nearly as annoyed as he would like Takashi to believe. “Hold my hand, you jerk.” 

So they head down the street hand-in-hand, and Nishimura jumps at every innocuous nighttime noise, and Takashi is still smiling as they round the corner and almost walk headlong into a couple of strangers. 

“Oh, sorry,” he says automatically, and the man lifts his head from where it was buried in his phone and – 

Oh. Not strangers. Takashi goes tense before he can help it, staring up into a pair of faces that haunted him for months after he left their care. His breath stutters. 

“S- “ He swallows and tries again. “Sorry. We’ll just – “ 

“I don’t believe it,” the woman says, sounding surprised in an unpleasant way. She’s a cousin, he thinks. Her name was – Kotone? He can’t remember, she didn’t like when he called her by her name. What was he supposed to call her instead? Obasan? 

He’s floundering. His chest hurts. 

“What the hell are you doing back here?” her husband says. Kenta, and his voice is – a nightmare, given shape and sound, and Takashi ducks his head before he can think better of it. 

The years fall away and fall away and he’s seven years old again, small and scared under their cold eyes. The air between them is tense, and they seem to be waiting for an answer from him, so he says, “We got lost.” 

“Of course you did,” Kotone says, world-weary. “You never change, do you? Good for nothing kid.” 

Takashi stares, unseeing, at the pavement beneath his feet. 

He’s lived in Hitoyoshi for two years now, has found a loving family, made friends with wonderful people, cultivated the kind of reckless courage he needed to ask Nishimura out on their first date nearly six months ago. He has more now than he ever has. His days are warm and sunny and infinitely precious, like pages torn out of some fairy tale book.

But he still has nightmares.

Sometimes he dreams that he never left those dark places that plagued him as a child. Sometimes he dreams he’s still with Kenta and Kotone, that he still has to wear long sleeves to school and go to bed hungry, that he stays out long after the street lights come on and plays with stray cats in empty parks until a concerned passerby makes him go home. Sometimes he dreams Shigeru and Touko don’t want him anymore, or can’t keep him anymore, and he goes back to that cold house because no one else will take him, and he loses all the wonderful things he has now.

And yet – despite how many bad dreams he’s had that started this way, despite all the variations of this same scenario that he’s envisioned in his lowest moments – this one is almost immediately something new. 

Because Nishimura is jolting a step forward and his expression is so angry it takes Takashi’s breath away. It cuts through the dark cloud of noxious fear in Takashi’s brain like a bolt of white lightning. 

“What did you say?” Nishimura demands, his voice too loud in the still of the night. They’re in a residential neighborhood, all but standing in front of someone’s home, and Takashi knows what it sounds like when he’s only going to get louder. “Good for nothing?”

It’s like they didn’t notice him beside Takashi until he spoke up, because Kotone and Kenta both shoot him startled looks. 

“Hey, tone it down – “ Kenta starts, eyebrows furrowing, but Nishimura is having none of it.

He was terrified of every dark corner a moment ago, but he’s fearless now, standing between Takashi and two of Takashi’s biggest fears like it’s the only place he belongs. 

“Say it again,” he says, scowling up at them. He never let go of Takashi’s hand, and his grip is so hard it almost hurts. Speechless, Takashi holds on just as tight, like he might fall if he lets go. “Go ahead. I wanna hear everything you have to say about Natsume, so start from the beginning. How old was he when you knew him? Ten? Eight?”

Something uncomfortable is settling on their faces now, and Kotone glances over her shoulder, as if expecting a judgmental neighbor to be watching the altercation from a row of hedges.

“Tell me,” Nishimura goes on, heated and fierce, too loud, all but filling the empty street. “Tell me what he did that was so terrible. Tell me what he did that made you hate him.”

“That’s enough,” Kenta says, sharp, trying to wrestle back control of this rapidly spiraling conversation. “Didn’t anyone teach you to respect your elders?”

“Nope,” Nishimura says with mean glee. “My big brother only taught me to respect my betters. Tough luck.”

Takashi stops breathing. Even Kotone’s face goes slack with shock at this russet-haired slip of a boy’s daring. Kenta’s mouth twists into an ugly frown, but at about that time a light goes on in the house nearest them. Kotone grabs Kenta’s arm, her desire to leave transparent. 

Heart in his throat, Takashi tugs Nishimura back and away from them as they shove their way past. “Go back to wherever you came from,” Kenta spits out, and then he and his wife are gone. 

Nishimura is trembling in the circle of Takashi’s arm. Takashi thinks he’ll have bruises on his hand tomorrow, an imprint of this moment, of how hard Nishimura held onto him. When he risks a glance at his boyfriend, he’s startled to find tears in Nishimura’s eyes. 

“They’re wrong about you,” he says, and his voice breaks. The brightest thing in Takashi’s whole life, and he’s crying, pressing the heel of his free hand into his eyes, like he can push back the wetness there if he digs in hard enough. “Natsume,” he sobs, helplessly angry, and Takashi pulls him in as close as he can. 

Shaken, but for a different reason than he might have been otherwise. 

“You’re – impossible,” he barely manages, wide-eyed and wondering. “I can’t believe you.” 

The gate behind them opens with a whine, and a middle-aged woman leans out with a look of concern on her face. She glances behind them sharply, and back again, and says, “Are you boys okay? I heard shouting. Was someone giving you trouble?”

“They’re gone,” Takashi tells her. A few more reassurances send her reluctantly back inside, and Takashi can focus on the task at hand. He rubs his hands up and down Nishimura’s back, trying to coax him back. “Right, Nishimura? They’re gone, we’re okay.” 

“Don’t comfort me,” Nishimura snaps wetly, rubbing harder at his face with his sleeve. “I’m – I should be – that’s my job.”

It should be impossible after what just happened – and if someone asked Takashi ten years ago, he would have told them so – but somehow, despite himself, Takashi laughs. It starts shaky, but it finds its feet as it goes, and it leaves him smiling. 

When Kitamoto and Tanuma find them an hour later, seated outside at a late-night cafe with a bubble tea and a plate of soft cream buns split between them, Nishimura’s eyes are still puffy and red-rimmed, but they’re watching a video on his phone that has them leaning on each other in their laughter, so their friends roll their eyes and assume the sorry state they’re in is their own fault. 

And if Nishimura holds onto him a little tighter than usual on their way back home, it’s not so strange. Everyone knows that Nishimura is afraid of the dark, and that Takashi is indulgent enough to hold his hand. 

[depression-in-the-fire-nation]

Hobo Woodman Ozai

Does this AU have a title? I don’t know. Do you know, @sky-kiss​ ?

Either way, I am ashamed of how poorly edited it is, but. Just. Read around the bad parts :D

Continued from here

***

The subject came up one day over breakfast, which the girl shovelled enthusiastically into her mouth while babbling on and on about a school somewhere.

“Her manners are appalling,” Ozai said.

Two pairs of amber-coloured eyes looked at him coldly. He sipped his tea in dignified silence.

“Calm down, dear,” Ursa said gently.

It was truly amazing how quickly her mood swayed from one extreme to another when Ozai and their daughter were in the same room. With care and patience, she instructed the girl on how to sit and eat properly, as befitted their station – the reality of their current circumstances, after all, did not change it in the slightest. When Ozai was concerned, however, the warm voice and gentle smile were nowhere to be found.

He weathered Ursa’s glare with a smile of his own. There was more to be said, but it had to wait until later, when he cornered her in their tiny kitchen.

She was washing the dishes. Her skin, once flawless, now bore the subtle signs of physical labour. A part of him longed to feel it beneath his fingers, each callous and imperfection that marred its beauty. He resisted the pull, knowing his touch would not be welcome.

“Which school are you sending her to?” Ozai asked.

Ursa set down a wet plate and picked up another, dipping it in soapy water.

“I’m going to buy a house in Ba Sing Se,” she said. “We will have to move for the winter either way.”

Ba Sing Se. The impenetrable walls which held Iroh off for hundreds of days, and which Azula so cleverly bypassed. Safe from the turmoil of the war, prosperous, crowded – but stagnant, set in its old-fashioned ways. Like everything else in Earth Kingdom, the city did not seek change or improvement. The people had no desire, no will to better their lives. This was no place for a Fire Nation princess.

“She would be better off if you educated her yourself,” Ozai said.

“I am. But she needs the company of children her own age,” Ursa said.

“Peasant children,” Ozai imbued the word with all the contempt it deserved. “Our daughter should be schooled in the Capital—”

The plate in Ursa’s hands came down with a loud clang.

“My daughter, dear husband. Do not forget that you banished us both from the Fire Nation.”

He was no longer fooled by her steady voice. She turned to look at him, breath-taking in her rage.

“I saved you from execution,” Ozai said.

“How merciful you were,” she said, cold. “Truly. I shall forever praise your generosity.”

Even from a distance, he could sense the disturbed flow of her chi. The fire she longed to hurl at him sparked at her fingertips, while his own remained numb and lifeless. Yet for her the gift was no more than a practicality. Ozai supposed it served her well in her exile, as means of protection for herself and the child. Also as a danger that could expose her identity to any onlookers. Nevertheless, Ursa was never taught to hold it in the highest regard, as a blessing bestowed only upon the select few. Of which Ozai was no longer a part of. Under her tutelage, the girl would grow up the same.

The thought was intolerable.

“Zuko would welcome you back with open arms,” Ozai said. “Only your own stubbornness is keeping you away.”

He had dug his nails into an open, festering wound on Ursa’s conscience. She paled, her pained expression betraying more of her feelings than she wished to.

“Stubbornness has nothing to do with it,” she said.

“Call it fear, then. Whatever it is, it doesn’t change the fact that you’d rather keep the girl away from her true heritage.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Ursa laughed bitterly. “Look around you. Look what became of you, and of me. This is her heritage now, Ozai.”

“You give up so easily,” Ozai said.

All of a sudden, she looked tired. No more than a peasant woman, washing her own dishes, repairing old clothes, working odd jobs to keep her daughter fed. And he did this to her; he alone. A long time ago, he took the daughter of a disgraced rural magistrate and made her a princess. Just as swiftly, he knocked her down.

She would hate to hear the truth put that way, so he kept his mouth shut. Something showed in his face, however, because he was treated to an angry look, and then an indifferent shrug.

“You lost, Ozai,” Ursa said, turning away from him. “Learn to live with it. I did.”

***

He wasn’t going to.

Day and night, he trained and worked and then trained again. It helped keep his mind at ease, all the rage and frustration which made it impossible to think channelled through physical strain. The girl could not hope to keep up, but she did her best.

He was perhaps unduly harsh with his instructions. Ursa was too soft-hearted to instil proper discipline in the girl. Ozai was met with refusal, defiance, and tears. And yet, every day at sunrise, their daughter was there, glaring but ready to learn.

“Mamma says I won’t be able to practice firebending in Ba Sing Se,” she explained.

“And yet you want to go,” Ozai said.

She nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! Mamma says I could go to school. She says there will be lots of other kids to play with. Last summer we went to Omashu, and they had a big marketplace and we played games and—” she chattered on. “Mamma also says I can pick a name for myself!”

That made Ozai pause.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, see,” the girl said. “She says it’s safer to use different names in different places. In case we were being followed.” She frowned. “She never said who followed us. Or why.”

“Your mother’s paranoid,” Ozai said. Although it did explain why his spies lost track of Ursa’s movements so quickly.

“What’s ‘paranoid’?”

She looked up at him with earnest golden eyes. Ozai frowned.

“You have scrolls, don’t you? Look it up.”

“But—”

“Resume your form. Now.”

Grumbling, she complied. Over time her movements became more fluid – a far cry from the choppy mockery they used to be. She still lacked the ease and grace Azula displayed from an early age, but she showed promise.

***

Winter was approaching them. With it, Ursa’s departure to Ba Sing Se.

He wasn’t planning to follow, of course. There were people loyal to him back in the Capital. With time, he would gather enough supporters to challenge Zuko’s unlawful seizing of the throne. The opportune moment would come soon enough, when the people recognized a teenager’s inability to lead a nation and began to blame him for all the misfortunes that befell them. But when the time came, he would have to be ready.

Ozai found himself moving closer to the burning fireplace, the sight of the dancing flames resonating with the deep, hollow ache in his chest. He would move as soon as he recuperated his strength.

Ursa pretended not to notice his melancholy, focused on her task. She had earned some coin through copying scrolls, her calligraphy neat and elegant. Next to her, the girl was playing with ink, most often drawing dragons and sticky figures. Today, however, she was putting down blocky, uneven characters, more Earth Kingdom than Fire Nation in their design.

“Hmm. Fang. I wanna be called Fang,” she declared suddenly.

“Why?” Ursa asked, amused.

“Because it was the last Fire Nation Avatar!”

Ozai raised an eyebrow.

“The previous Avatar was called Roku. Fang was his dragon,” he said coolly.

The girl looked at him with a quizzical expression.

“That makes no sense,” she said. “Why would they choose a human Avatar if they could have a dragon Avatar?”

Ozai stared at her.

“This… isn’t how this works. At all.”

But his words fell on empty ears. The girl bounced on her feet and grabbed his hand, her palms comically small next to his.

“Come on! Let’s practice more firebending. I’m gonna be a dragon!”

She would bother him endlessly unless he gave in. Ozai sighed and stood up.

Ursa was looking at him with an odd expression, eyebrows raised, her brush frozen an inch above the parchment.

“She falls asleep quicker when she’s tired,” Ozai said, then pressed his mouth shut. He did not need to explain himself to Ursa.

“If you say so,” Ursa said, fighting a disbelieving smile.

***

A few days later, when he was overseeing her training, Fang slipped.

Her balance was off as she went through a more complicated move she had been trying to master. Ozai told her so, frowning with disapproval. Instead of getting up and starting over, however, the girl looked up at him with tears shining in her eyes and clutched her ankle.

“It hurts,” she protested.

“The pain is in your mind,” Ozai said. “You must learn to control it.”

“No, it’s not, it’s in my leg,” she said, sniffling. “And it hurts. I wanna go home.”

“We are not done for today.”

Tears were streaming down her cheeks, her pathetic wails carrying through the forest. Her ankle was perhaps a bit swollen, from what Ozai could see.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.

“Very well. You may go,” he said.

She tried to scramble up, but as soon as more weight was put on her injured leg, she dropped down again onto the ground, crying harder.

“I can’t,” she said. “Mom!”

“Quiet,” Ozai hissed.

If Ursa heard her, he’d be dead.

With no other option, he walked over and gathered the child in his arms. Her crying subsided slightly, giving way to sniffled, and she rubbed the tears from her eyes.

“Huh,” she said. “Your beard is weird.”

“Quiet, I said,” Ozai said.

“Okay,” Fang replied.

She didn’t weigh much, and thankfully remained still when he carried her home. When they entered, she even managed a feeble smile, reaching for Ursa who stared at them both with a stricken expression.

“She lost her balance,” Ozai explained, positioning her on her bedroll. Then he took one look at Ursa’s face, and added: “I’m going hunting.”

Just in case, he didn’t come back until late evening.

***

Soon enough, Fang was running around as always, although she wasn’t permitted to practice any bending. Ursa hasn’t said a word to him since the accident.

Alone, Ozai went back to practicing with the swords. Even despite the silence and the solitude, he found it difficult to concentrate. It seemed that everywhere he looked, he could see Ursa’s accusatory glare.

There she was, this time in person. She stood beneath a tree, hands folded over her breast, eyes narrowed.

Ozai spun around, the swords cutting through the air with a loud whoosh, and then embedded them both in a nearby tree.

“Do not damage my property, please,” Ursa said coolly.

He retrieved them easily, their handles now an easy and comfortable fit in his grip.

“Fight me,” he said without looking at her.

“No.”

“We both need practice,” he said.

“You most certainly do,” she replied.

Ozai tossed one of the swords in her direction. Instincts took over, and Ursa’s hand snatched it up from the air. When he smirked at her, Ursa shifted into a fighting stance. She circled him around the clearing, sword held at the ready. Then she attacked.

He had the advantage of strength and bulk, but she played it cleverly, turning his blows against him with an unforeseen skill. Exile had necessitated that particular ability; Ozai was pleased to see his wife was able to defend herself.

The two swords were not separate weapons, but parts of a whole. Turned against one another, they were less effective. After days – weeks – Ozai was thrown off by the lack of blade in his free hand. Ursa recognized this, concentrating her attacks on his left side, vicious, all the rage bleeding through her blows.

She risked tiring herself if she fought like this. Her arms trembled with the effort, and Ozai broke through her defences with sheer strength, watching as she winced every time she had to block a direct blow. Ever pragmatic, however, she shifted into a more defensive stance again, letting him do most of the work, dancing around on nimble feet.

He would not let her escape. The two blades clashed together, grinding, throwing sparks onto both their faces. Ursa was gritting her teeth, painfully beautiful; he felt her strength waning.

All of a sudden, the pressure was gone. Too late he saw through her ruse, a vicious kick to his legs and a blow to his stomach tipping him off balance, the momentum of his own attack propelling him forward. Ozai came crashing down on the ground.

Clever. Too clever to let her guard down, even now.

Ozai flashed her a smile, all teeth, and then sprung back up, this time giving her no chance to resort to dishonourable tricks. With one forceful blow, he knocked the sword from her hand and then snatched it up, twisting her around and crisscrossing the blades around her pale neck.

“Do you yield, Ursa?” he asked, pleasantly.

She was trapped, wholly and completely, between the wall of his chest and her own swords. He could see irritation flashing in her amber eyes, face reddened from exertion, the air leaving her lungs in quickened breaths.

Long years have passed since he last held her like this. A sense of honour kept him loyal to this woman, despite her continuous impertinence, even outward treason. He could have taken another wife, a lover, to keep him company; he didn’t. With Ursa so close, he felt the stirring of an old hunger coursing through his veins.

“You enjoy this,” Ursa said.

“As do you,” Ozai said.

Ursa hummed. “I am about to enjoy this more.”

She came up fighting, this time with fire instead of crude weaponry. The heat scorched his skin, flames licking the blades. Ozai bared his teeth and pressed onward. On a shorter distance, she would not be able to execute her moves properly. Aware of this, Ursa leapt away from him, fire dancing in her outstretched hands.

He was risking much, unused to evading flames. Humiliation was the price he had to pay, however. Ursa would extract it, merciless, unafraid; he supposed he owed her that much.