#i’m finally back home so hopefully more art…….

[missattau]

recent sketches of eddsworld and kaizers orchestra……

[reidmarieprentiss]

Bridges to Belonging

Part One Part Two Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

Summary: Penelope texts Y/n, Rossi has a dinner party, Y/n and Spencer meet

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: Fluff

Warnings/Includes: mentions of virginity and sex (16+), playing never have I ever, teasing from friends, consuming alcohol

Word count: 3.7k

a/n: i am cranking this story out it is going to be finished so fast dear goddd ,, hopefully y'all like it!!! probably like 5 ish more parts is my guess

main masterlist

Y/n was settling in for the night after a long shift at the hospital, kicking her feet up on her coffee table with a glass of wine in hand when her usually dead phone vibrated. 

Hey, Y/N! 😊 It's Penelope from the BAU. Hope you don't mind me texting! Just thought I'd check in and see how my favorite child psychologist is doing. 🌟

Hey, Penelope! Of course, I don't mind :) I’m doing well, just busy with work as usual. How about you?

Busy saving the world, one computer at a time! 🖥️💪 So, tell me, are you still too busy to date, or have you finally joined us mere mortals in the quest for love? ����

Haha I guess we’re getting right into it. I suppose I am feeling ready to dip my toes back into the dating pool. But I’ve been avoiding it for a while 😅 Awkward first dates are terrifying!

Ooh, exciting! 🥳 But I totally get the fear. Blind dates can be the worst. You never know if you're going to meet Prince Charming or... well, not. 😬

Exactly! And I've been so focused on my career that I haven't really thought about dating in a while. Plus, all my undergrad flings made me a bit wary of anything serious.

Understandable. Sometimes you just need to have fun, right? But now that you’re settled, maybe it’s time for a change? 😉

Yeah, maybe you're right. I wouldn't mind meeting someone who shares my interests and gets my sense of humor.

OMG, that sounds like a dream. Let me know when you find them and send me one too. 💖

Ha! If I find one I will let you know. How does one even go about meeting new people nowadays?

Well… You remember Rossi, right? He’s having a pasta and wine night at his mansion this Friday at 8 pm!! 🎉

Pasta and wine?? Sounds perfect. Thanks, Penelope! I’ll be there, I appreciate you thinking of me :)

Anytime, Y/N! Can’t wait for you to meet the rest of the team. I’ve got a good feeling about this! 💖✨ 

—

The rest of the team? Y/n thought to herself. She had assumed she met everyone already when she went for drinks with Aaron and the team. Maybe they added a new member. Regardless, she's excited to do three of her favorite things, eat pasta, drink wine, and let rich people pay for everything. 

—

The evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soft glow over David Rossi’s expansive estate. Nestled in the Virginia countryside, the elegant home exuded both charm and sophistication, a perfect reflection of its owner. The team arrived one by one, greeted by the welcoming scent of freshly baked bread and simmering marinara sauce that wafted through the air, promising a feast of Italian delights.

As Y/n stepped into the house, they were embraced by the warm ambiance of the living room, where a crackling fire in the stone fireplace added a cozy touch. The room was tastefully decorated with leather-bound books, framed photographs, and art pieces that told stories of Rossi’s travels and experiences. Soft jazz music played in the background, the soothing melodies mingling with the lively chatter of the guests.

The dining room was a vision of elegance, with a long mahogany table set for the evening's festivities. Flickering candlelight danced across the table, casting a gentle glow on the polished silverware and delicate china. Each place setting was thoughtfully arranged, complete with fine crystal wine glasses waiting to be filled with Rossi’s carefully curated selection of wines.

On the far side of the room, a sideboard displayed an array of antipasti: olives, cured meats, marinated vegetables, and various cheeses artfully arranged on rustic wooden boards. A large bouquet of fresh flowers served as the centerpiece, adding a splash of color and vibrancy to the room.

The kitchen bustled with activity as Rossi, ever the gracious host, put the finishing touches on a variety of homemade pasta dishes. Large pots simmered on the stove, the fragrant aroma of garlic and herbs filling the air. A pan of lasagna bubbled in the oven, its cheese topping perfectly golden brown. Fresh basil and parsley were sprinkled generously over platters of spaghetti aglio e olio and creamy fettuccine alfredo, each dish a testament to Rossi’s culinary skills and passion for Italian cuisine.

In the adjoining patio, strings of fairy lights twinkled overhead, providing a magical canopy under which the team could relax and unwind. Comfortable seating areas were arranged to encourage conversation, and a small fire pit offered warmth as the evening grew cooler. The gentle rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets added a serene backdrop to the lively gathering.

The evening at Rossi’s house was in full swing. The room was alive with laughter and conversation, and the clinking of glasses mingled with the soft strains of jazz music. The warm glow from the fireplace and the dim lighting created a cozy, inviting atmosphere that wrapped the team in a sense of comfort and camaraderie.

As the doorbell rang, David straightened his jacket and moved toward the entrance with a welcoming smile. He opened the door to reveal Y/N, who stood on the threshold, looking radiant in her deep green dress that highlighted her curves and complemented her confident demeanor.

“Y/N! Welcome!” Rossi exclaimed, stepping aside to usher her into the house. His voice was warm and genuine, filled with the kind of hospitality that made his guests feel immediately at home. “I’m so glad you could make it. We’ve been looking forward to this evening.”

Y/N’s face brightened with a warm smile as she stepped inside. “Thank you, David. I’m excited to be here. The house looks wonderful.”

Rossi gave a hearty laugh. “It’s all thanks to the amazing team I have. Let me introduce you to everyone.”

With a graceful wave of his hand, Rossi guided Y/N into the living room, where the BAU team had gathered. The room buzzed with the energy of friends reconnecting after a long day. Rossi’s arrival with Y/N caught the attention of the group, and they turned to greet her with friendly smiles and nods.

Spencer, who had been deep in a conversation with Derek about a recent case, felt a shift in the atmosphere. His gaze followed Rossi and Y/N as they entered, his attention abruptly captured.

Spencer’s breath hitched slightly as he took in Y/N’s presence. The warm lighting seemed to highlight her natural beauty, and the graceful way she moved across the room was both captivating and disorienting. The rest of the team offered her friendly waves and greetings, but Spencer was fixated on her, his curiosity piqued.

Hotch, noticing Spencer’s focused attention, decided it was time for introductions. He approached Spencer with a friendly, knowing smile and gestured toward Y/N.

“Spencer,” Hotch began, his tone calm and reassuring, “I’d like you to meet Y/N.”

Spencer turned to face Hotch, his heart racing a bit. Hotch continued, “Y/N, this is Spencer Reid. He’s one of our most brilliant team members here at the BAU.”

Y/N extended her hand with a warm, welcoming smile. “Hi, Spencer. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

God, even her voice is beautiful. 

Spencer, momentarily taken aback, felt a flutter of nerves as he took her hand. “Hi, Y/N. It’s, uh, nice to meet you too. I’ve heard a lot about you as well,” he replied, his voice tinged with both shyness and genuine interest.

Y/N’s gaze was kind and her smile reassuring, making Spencer feel more at ease. “I hope it’s all been good,” she said with a playful glint in her eye.

Spencer managed a small, tight lipped smile, as he tucked his hair behind one ear and his nerves started to settle. “Definitely,” he replied, feeling a warmth that contrasted with his usual social anxiety.

Y/N leaned in slightly, her eyes meeting Spencer’s with a genuine curiosity. “So, Spencer,” she began, her tone light and engaging, “what’s one thing you’re passionate about outside of work?”

Spencer’s eyes lit up as he considered her question. “Well, I’m really into chess,” he admitted. “I’ve been playing since I was a kid. It’s a great way to exercise the mind and challenge myself.”

Y/N’s smile widened. “I didn’t know that. I used to play chess with my grandfather when I was younger. It’s a fascinating game. Do you have a favorite opening strategy?”

Spencer’s face brightened, and he leaned in a bit more, his enthusiasm evident. “Yes! I’m a big fan of the Queen’s Gambit. It’s a classic and very versatile. What about you?”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled as she shared her own chess experiences. The conversation continued, the two finding common ground and enjoying each other’s company.

Hotch observed the interaction with a pleased expression, satisfied with the introduction. He stepped back, allowing Spencer and Y/N to continue their conversation. The team resumed their chatter, though the undercurrent of excitement about the new connection was palpable.

The evening had progressed into a more relaxed phase as the team retreated to Rossi’s lush backyard. The gentle clinking of glasses and the murmur of conversation blended with the soft rustling of leaves in the warm night breeze. The group had moved outside after enjoying a sumptuous Italian feast prepared by Rossi and Penelope, and now they were settling into comfortable chairs and sofas, each with a glass of wine in hand.

Spencer, still a bit on edge but feeling slightly more at ease, had decided to join in on the wine, especially since Y/N had done the same. The rich, full-bodied wine paired perfectly with the after-dinner atmosphere, adding to the relaxed ambiance of the evening.

Derek, always the instigator of fun, leaned back in his chair with a mischievous grin. “Alright, everyone, I think it’s time for a game. How about a round of ‘Never Have I Ever’?” He looked around the circle with a gleam in his eye, clearly excited about the prospect of the game.

Emily raised an eyebrow playfully. “Oh, this should be interesting. Let’s see who’s willing to spill some secrets tonight.”

Y/N looked intrigued but a bit hesitant. “Sounds fun. I’m game.”

The group settled into a comfortable rhythm as Derek began the game. “Okay, I’ll start. Never have I ever... gone skydiving.”

A few people sipped their wine, including Emily and Rossi. “Guilty as charged,” Rossi said with a chuckle. “Skydiving is quite the adrenaline rush.”

Y/N, who had taken a sip, smiled and said, “I’ve always wanted to try it, but never had the chance.”

Spencer, still holding his glass, observed the interactions with a mix of curiosity and caution. He had never played this game before, not having ever been invited to parties in high school or college, and while he was intrigued, he wasn’t sure how much he was ready to reveal about himself.

JJ leaned forward, looking at Y/N with a grin. “Okay, your turn. What’s something we’d never expect from you?”

Y/N thought for a moment, then laughed softly. “Alright, never have I ever... been to a strip club.”

This time, the whole team, including Penelope, sipped their wine. “Oh, I mean we all have been on multiple occasions for a case,” Penelope admitted with a grin. “It’s a rite of passage.”

Spencer watched Y/N closely, noticing how easily she blended with the group, her laughter and easy demeanor making her approachable. He found himself feeling more comfortable, the game serving as a welcome distraction from his usual reservations.

As the game continued, Derek took his turn. “Never have I ever... gone on a blind date.”

Spencer, who had been carefully sipping his wine, hesitated for a moment before taking a sip. He caught Y/N’s eye and saw her smile warmly. “Well, that’s a new one for me,” she said, clearly amused.

Hotch, enjoying the playful banter, decided to chime in. “I think it’s safe to say that a lot of us have had some interesting experiences with blind dates.”

The game continued with a mix of laughter, surprises, and the occasional sip of wine. As it came around to Spencer’s turn, he took a deep breath, deciding to take a small risk. “Never have I ever... read all the books in a series before the final book was released.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, and she laughed. “Oh, I’m guilty of that too. I get too impatient for the next installment.”

Spencer felt a small spark of connection, his nerves easing as he realized they shared a common interest. “It’s the only way to avoid spoilers,” he said with a smile.

The conversation flowed easily as the game progressed, with everyone sharing stories and bonding over their revelations. Spencer found himself more relaxed, the warmth of the wine and the easygoing nature of the game creating an environment where he could be himself.

The group settled into their seats even more lubricated with wine, ready for the real revelations. Derek went first, his tone playful. “Never have I ever... been to a nightclub and partied until dawn.”

Y/N, Emily, Penelope and Derek took a sip, with Emily laughing. “Oh, I’ve done that more times than I can count. Nothing like a night out on the town to blow off some steam.”

Spencer seemed slightly more at ease with each revelation. “I’ve never been to one of those. It sounds like an experience.”

The game continued with more revealing questions. Emily, with a mischievous glint in her eye, asked, “Never have I ever... had a one-night stand.”

Spencer was visibly surprised when Y/N took a sip. Y/N gave a small, slightly embarrassed smile. “It’s a part of life’s experiences, but I guess I’ve been more focused on my career lately.”

Spencer nodded, a hint of understanding in his eyes. He was keenly aware of the fact that he was still a virgin, and while he wanted to connect with Y/N on a deeper level, he found himself struggling. She had undoubtedly had more romantic and physical experiences than he had. The thought that someone as stunning and sophisticated as Y/N would be interested in a novice like him seemed almost inconceivable. He was trying hard not to let his insecurities cloud his mood. The way she smelled—like a wet dream—was both intoxicating and overwhelming. Her laughter, so genuine and carefree, only accentuated the gulf between them. Spencer tried to shake off the discomfort, reminding himself to stay engaged.

Derek, sensing the shift in the conversation and relishing the opportunity to provoke more personal revelations, threw out another provocative prompt. “Never have I ever... gone on a vacation just for the sake of hooking up with someone.”

Penelope and Emily took a sip, with Penelope letting out a soft laugh. “Sometimes you just need to get away and see where the night takes you,” she said, a playful glint in her eye.

Y/N, now visibly more at ease and enjoying the shared camaraderie, leaned in slightly, her voice carrying a teasing edge. “I’ve always found travel is more about the sights than the romance. But I suppose the adventure can include a little... spontaneous connection,” she said, letting her words linger with a hint of allure. Her gaze flicked towards Spencer briefly, a subtle challenge in her eyes.

Spencer felt a slight flush creeping up his neck as he realized Y/N’s playful comment was not lost on him. The conversation had taken a decidedly more personal turn. “I’ve never really mixed vacation with... personal pursuits,” he admitted, his tone tinged with shyness. The idea of combining travel with romantic endeavors seemed foreign and somewhat intimidating.

As the game continued, the topics grew more intense and revealing. Rossi, with a knowing smile and a glint of mischief, asked, “Never have I ever... been in a relationship where both partners had different kinks.”

Everyone, even Hotch, took a sip, with Rossi adding, “Sometimes those differences can make things... particularly exciting.”

Y/N, engaging more openly with the group, nodded thoughtfully. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke. “It’s definitely something that can add a layer of complexity to a relationship,” she said, her voice taking on a more intimate tone. “It’s all about finding that balance and exploring what truly works for both partners.”

Spencer, taking a sip and feeling the warmth of the wine begin to loosen his nerves, found himself caught between curiosity and shyness. “It sounds like navigating those differences can be... challenging,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze remained fixed on Y/N, trying to read the subtle nuances in her expressions. The vulnerability she displayed in her words made her even more intriguing.

Y/N’s smile widened slightly, a mix of empathy and flirtation in her gaze. “It can be, but it’s also part of what makes relationships interesting,” she said, her voice soft but laced with a suggestive undertone. She met Spencer’s eyes with a confident yet gentle look, as if inviting him to share more of his thoughts.

Spencer swallowed hard, feeling a blend of attraction and apprehension. The way Y/N spoke, her casual yet intimate revelations, made him want to know more about her and, perhaps, reveal more about himself. The game had opened a door to a new level of connection, one that both excited and intimidated him.

The night had drifted into a mellow haze as the stars began to twinkle in the sky. The soft hum of conversation and clinking of glasses had subsided into a relaxed murmur as the team lingered in Rossi’s backyard, enjoying the cool night air. The rich aroma of the evening’s wine lingered in the air, adding a heady undertone to the tranquil setting.

Spencer had been engaged in a conversation with Rossi, but his mind kept drifting back to the playful exchanges he’d shared with Y/N. She had been captivating throughout the evening, her laughter and teasing remarks sticking in his mind. He found himself drawn to her energy, even as he struggled with his own insecurities.

As the night wore on, guests began to trickle out, and the ambiance of the backyard shifted to a quieter, more intimate atmosphere. Spencer watched as Y/N, her cheeks flushed with the warmth of the wine, made her way towards him. Her movements were graceful, and there was a certain confident allure in her stride that made Spencer’s heart skip a beat.

Y/N approached Spencer with a mix of determination and vulnerability. She cleared her throat gently, her eyes locking with his in a gaze that was both direct and inviting. The faint glow from the string lights above cast a warm halo around her, highlighting her striking features and the subtle sheen of her skin.

“Hey, Spencer,” she said, her voice soft but laden with an undeniable edge of sincerity. “Can we talk for a minute?”

Spencer, caught off guard, nodded. “Of course, Y/N. What’s up?”

Y/N led him a little away from the remaining guests, her hand brushing lightly against his as she guided him to a more secluded corner of the backyard. Spencer found he didn’t mind the contact too much, he might still wash his hands after. The quiet of the night enveloped them, the sounds of the party fading into the background.

She took a deep breath, her eyes searching his with a mix of hesitation and resolve. “I’ve really enjoyed talking with you tonight,” she began, her voice a touch more vulnerable than usual. “And I have to admit, I’ve been thinking... I’d like to see you again. Maybe for a coffee or dinner sometime? I’d love to get to know you better.”

Spencer’s heart raced as he took in her words. He felt a rush of warmth at the idea of spending more time with her, but the reality of his inexperience and his nerves threatened to overwhelm him. He managed a small, nervous smile, his mind racing through a whirlwind of thoughts.

“I’d like that,” Spencer said, his voice trembling slightly. “I’d really like that. I... I didn’t expect this, but I’m glad you asked.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and she reached out to touch his arm, her fingers lingering for a moment. “Good,” she said, her tone taking on a more intimate quality. 

Spencer felt a surge of excitement mixed with his usual apprehension. The way Y/N looked at him, with that blend of confidence and genuine interest, made him feel like he was worthy of her attention.

“Absolutely,” he said, feeling more confident. “Let’s definitely make plans. I’d like that very much.”

Y/N’s smile widened, a mix of relief and satisfaction crossing her face. “Great. I’m looking forward to it.”

With that, she gave him a warm, lingering smile and a light touch on his arm before heading back towards the group to say her goodbyes. Spencer watched her go, with a brand new phone number in his pocket, feeling a renewed sense of hope and excitement. The evening had taken an unexpected turn, and he couldn’t wait to see where this new connection with Y/N might lead.

[safination]

Partners in Death…And Life

Part 4: The Radio Stars’ Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes

|Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From the Radio Should be Trusted| Part 5: Glimpse of Me and You| |Masterlist| Ao3| Taglist| Parings: Alastor x wife! Reader. Tags: fem!reader established relationships, hopefully not but just in case ooc!Alastor (I'm trying my best, guys) Reader is in hell for a reason, Warnings: Very brief dissection of the human body. Kidneys Summary: After a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping... *checks notes*... the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason. It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem. It’s me. I am sorry :D. These past *checks notes* three weeks (yikes) have been really busy for me. But I’m finally posting?

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The light from the bus stop illuminates Alastor’s block handwriting. Smiles are drawn on the edges of note with different colored ballpoint pens. Dear God, it was like looking at kindergarten art, but you appreciate it nonetheless. Alastor’s instructions tell you that his house is a ten-minute walk from the bus stop.

You flip the note, studying the map Alastor drew.

A bird caws from the patches of trees across the road. There’s no living soul out here besides your own for miles.

You tighten your grip on the straps of your bag, and walk until you find yourself standing before a wooden gate. The hatch unlocks easily, and you hike up the path until you’re stepping on to the porch.

Alastor’s house isn’t much—well, it’s much more than the tiny apartment in the city that you call home, but besides that, he has a very normal looking house. You don’t know why you expect anything different. The flowers on his windowsill brighten the place, and the rocking chairs by the edge makes it homier.

You smoothen your hair, fiddling with the note. A deep inhale, and then another deep inhale, and then another deep inhale, and then another deep inhale, and then another—

Fuck it. You knock on the door.

A beat passes, and then another beat passes, and then another. Oh God, did he not hear your knock? Should you knock again? Your father always said that it was rude to knock twice, but you’re sure the knock should have been heard. Alastor was probably at the back of the house. You’re just going to knock again.

Alastor swings the door open, smiling at you. “You are right on time!”

Soft music plays behind him. The lights inside make his living-room look warm. “You said to be here by eight  . . .  so  . . .  Here I am!” you say with a light laugh. It doesn’t come out as you hope. “I’m very fond of being punctual.” Okay . . . hmmm . . . why did you say that?

You smoothen your hair, and fiddle with the straps of your bag.

 “I admire punctuality.” Alastor smiles at you.

You smile back.

He opens the door wider. “Would you like to come in?”

‘Yes.’

‘Right.’

‘Of course I would!’

All proper responses to his question. It’s a shame you don’t say them. You reach into your bag instead, and shove a paper bag into his arms. “It’s raw.”

Alastor lifts the paper bag, studying it with careful eyes until they flicker to the wet patches at the bottom. “ . . . I’m almost afraid to ask who it came from.”

You step through the door, and take off your coat. “My father, actually.”

Alastor tilts his head. “This is your father—am I supposed to cook him or something?”

“It’s venison!” you say, and run your hand through your hair. “Dad went hunting last week, and he gave me a bunch of meat and well . . . well, I thought you'd appreciate it more than I do. There’s too much for me to eat alone. And it’s always polite to give a gift when you’re visiting a home.”

Alastor secures your gift around his arms, and takes your coat. He’s smiling. You think he’s being genuine—you can’t really tell. “Thank you.”

He hangs your coat on the rack, and ushers you deeper inside his home. Alastor disappears into what you think is his kitchen, but you stay planted in his living-room floor. His house is nice for someone who lives alone. Things all have a place, they’re not necessarily organized, but it’s neat. It makes you smile.

It’s easy to see Alastor between the walls.

This is a home that’s been lived in. You count at least three portable radios in the living-room alone. There are books on the coffee table by the window, and the spines are creased as if it’s been read over and over and over again.

There’s a chair next to the window as well. It has stains, and the cushions sink as if they’ve been loved for decades. You can practically see Alastor in that chair, a warm drink in his hand. He’ll reach across, and twist the knob of the radio that already has his favorite station tuned.

Alastor strides out of the kitchen, your gift probably inside his freezer. “Follow me,” he says with a wave of his arm. “I have something to show you.”

“Oh . . . okay.”

There are photo frames lining the wall of his stairs.

You observe it as you follow deeper into this house. Some are photographs of what you’re going to assume is Alastor, and some are certificates. You don’t have time to poke around and read each and every one of them.

Alastor opens his arms, shaking them as he presents you with a door.

A single door . . . One door at the back of the house. A door you don’t know where it will lead.

You stare at him, and take one single step back. “You’re not going to kill me in your basement, right?”

Alastor laughs at you, wiping a tear for the sake of showing you. “Good heavens no! Why would you ever think that?”

“Because I’m inside a man’s house, and he’s currently leading me to the basement. A man, might I add, dumps bodies in the forest,” you tell him with a wonky smile. “I hope you don’t go around asking every lady to your murder basement.”

“I don’t, actually.”

“My goodness, you really know how to make a lady feel extra special.” You fiddle with the straps of your bag, tightening your grip to stifle the urge to smoothen your hair. “So, how do you want to do this?”

Alastor tilts his head. (It’s kind of cute.) “Do what?”

“You know . . . uh . . . . You’ll  tell me to run,” you say, then motion to the china vase behind. “Then I’ll grab this really nice and expensive looking vase and smash it over your head.”

“Please don’t.”

“And then I’ll make a run for the door.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You weren’t interested in running last time.”

“And I’m still not,” you say. “So there’s no point in killing me.”

He chuckles a bit and his glasses slide down his nose. He pushes it up. “Think of this as a gift! Or more like an offer of partnership.”

“A gift of death?”

“I've already told you I wasn’t planning on killing you anymore,” he says, sighing. “Just . . . just follow me, and you’ll see!”

You huff and cross your arms. “I detest being lied to.”

Alastor opens the basement door. The hinges creak. It appears as if darkness itself lives inside, swirling and eating up whatever light that passes through. “Yes, that’s good to know.”

You take another step back. “That’s a really creepy basement.”

“You haven’t even been inside yet,” Alastor says. He places a light hand on your back, practically pushing you down. “Now, now, don’t be so stubborn.”

You grab the door frames, and push against him to resist. “I’m not going without knowing what’s down there.”

Alastor presses on your back. “If you go down there and see what I’ve prepared, you will feel very silly for causing such a ruckus.”

You push back harder, using the door frames as support. “As first dates go, this is giving really mixed signals,” you say, trying to smile. “I hope you don’t treat all ladies like this.”

Alastor rolls his eyes. “Just the stubborn ones.”

You and Alastor are at a stalemate. He pushes. You push back. The classic dilemma of an unmovable force versus an immovable object. “If you kill me, I will haunt you,” you say, digging your feet into the wooden floors. “I will haunt you, and hide all your tacky bow ties.”

Alastor stops pushing, and you fumble backwards from the lack of his opposing force. He points his nose to the air, straightening his bow ties. “It is not.”

You frown at him. “Oh . . . I’m really sorry.”

“You should be.”

Taking this opportunity, you press against the wall like a hissing cat. “I’m sorry you actually believe that!”

Alastor pinches the bridge of his nose, and takes one deep breath. He strides to you, and the world goes upside-down when he flips you over his shoulder. Alastor carries you like a common sack of worthless potatoes.

“I really don’t like this!” you shriek, angling your head to glare at him. Alastor has a surprisingly really nice back. Like . . . a really, really nice back.

Alastor meets your eyes and smirks. “You’ll like it in a second.”

He tightens his grip around your hips, and his boney shoulders dig into your stomach. You keep your eyes ahead. “You have a really flat butt.”

He pauses for a second. “Stop looking at it.”

“I will do as I please,” you say with a huff, and go limp in his hold as you accept your fate. “It’s just all pointy. Maybe some squats will be helpful?”

“If it’s such a horror to you, stop ogling my buttocks like a pervert.”

“Now you’re just putting words into my mouth,” you say with a weird giggle. “These pants suit you well.”

He shakes you like a wet noodle. “I will drop you.”

“Please don’t.”

Alastor flips you, and your feet land safely on the ground. His basement is totally not creepy, totally not creepy at all. The fluorescent light bulb swaying around totally does not add to general horror. The blacked-out windows, and the spiderwebs on the wood make you not want to sprint to the top.

The cadaver bag on the table makes you stay.

It’s filled. You walk to the table, and observe the lump. Grasping the zipper, you pull it until the face of a dead man greets you. He’s fresh. Killed less than a day ago.

Alastor opens his arms, wide, as if to present to you. “Your studying can all be done right here!”

You stare at him, accepting the smile that creeps on your face. “Really?” you say, and trace this man’s nose with your fingers—his skin is cold. He is cold and dead, and full of organs you can poke around and observe. “You’re going to just allow me to dissect this body?”

Alastor smiles at you. “See?” he says. “You were making all the fuss, and now your smile could light up this very room.”

The laughter starts as a soft giggle that builds into excited glee. “I could kiss you right now.”

Alastor takes a step back. “Please don’t”

You roll your eyes then observe the person lying on this table. He wasn’t as big as the one before. This man still has the colors on his face, a bit pale, but he looks like he could just be in a sickly sleep. “Did you like this person?”

“Not at all,” he says. “He’d be alive if he was.”

“Then do you like me?” you say with a grin, placing a hand on your hips. “All this to get my attention, I see. I prefer being dined first, but not the worst first date I’ve ever been on.”

Alastor glares at you as he makes a face. “Ha. Ha. Very funny.”

“So quick to answer that it’s almost insulting,” you say. “Well, it was your decision to keep me alive.”

There’s a glint in his eyes that pierces your very core. The lightbulb makes a shadow pass over his eyes, and you swear his eyes glow. Every single cell in your body screams as Alastor looks down at you from his glasses with a smile and darkened brown eyes that match his well-kept brown hair. “And I’m currently debating my choice,” he says. “I do not like being mocked. I can still change my mind if I find you a weak link.”

“Oh . . . I . . . oh . . . .,” you say dumbly, coughing a little bit.  The words aren’t doing their job.

“Do you understand me?”

Basements are supposed to be cold—you definitely don’t feel cold right now. “I’m sure you can—I don’t doubt that at all.” To break your gaze on him, you turn to the dead man between you and Alastor. “This man didn’t suffer.”

Alastor’s eyebrows raise. “And?”

“I’m not a total idiot when it comes to . . .  uh . . .  hunting,” you say, tilting the dead guy’s chin to see his neck. It was a bit stiff. “There’s a single deep slice on his neck. He was probably still high on adrenaline when you killed him, but with the other body, you took your time. That guy suffered—this one didn’t”

He crosses his arms. “I don’t see your point.”

“Nevermind . . . just . . . ,” you start and smile a bit. “Thank you for preserving this body so well, but unfortunately, I think I’ll have to refuse.”

Alastor’s eye twitches as he takes a step closer to you. His shadow towers over you. “You’re refusing?”

You zip the man back into his bag. “You don’t need a partner,” you say. “If anything, bringing him back into your house is risky. If it’s my silence you want, you already have it. There’s no need for all this.”

“I never asked for your silence.”

“Yet it’s yours nonetheless,” you say. “Thank you for the gift or offer for partnership, but I’m not interested in going into business with you.”

“Is this not beneficial for you?”

“It is . . . it really is, and every fiber wants to give in but it’s not wise for me to get mixed up with you,” you tell him. “I think you’re mistaking my sin for gluttony. I know trouble when I see it, and I’m not afraid to flee from it.”

Alastor’s face twists as his smile turns into a snarl. “All you could ever want right here.”

“You obviously want something from me,” you say. “I know you’re not above using tricks to get what you want. Although, I don’t understand why you take such time out of your day to do such consuming things.”

He glares at you. “There’s always the chance that you’d say no,” he says. “And I can’t have that happen.”

“I decide if something is worth my time or not,” you say. “I will only ask once: what do you want from me?”

Alastor exhales, and pushes his glasses. “I’d like to watch you work. There’s something I want to confirm.”

You study him for a second. “That’s all?”

“Yes.”

“Then hand me a pack of gloves please,” you say. “I can show you all the things I’ve learned.”

Alastor tosses gloves to your face. It whacks you and lands on the table. You curse at him, and roll your eyes.

There’s a large container of formaldehyde under the table. You don’t know where he got it or how, but still, you take a stray brush forgotten on one of the tables, and brush the skin with chemicals. The sharp smell stings your eyes, but you’ve learned to tolerate it. Alastor scrunches his nose, taking a step back.  

Opening the window would probably be wise, but you could do that later. Your father always did hope that you’d grow out of your bad habit. But with such an exhilarating opportunity, caution is at the back of your mind.

The scapple fits into your palm as if it was made for you. Throughout this Earth, no . . .  not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.

Alastor laughs, not the breathy and light kind, but in a loud and triumphant way. His eyes bulge out, looking like they could pop out any second “It seems I was not wrong,” he says. “You have the most precious smile I have ever seen.”

“Okay?”

Alastor leans closer to you, jerking your chin to face him. “All this time I’ve seen you; I have never seen your smile as true and honest as now.”

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The bristles of the brush tangle on your feathers. It’s a struggle to smoothen the feathers at the back of your head now that you live alone.

The clock strikes an hour past noon, and work will call for you soon. It would be nice to be one time if this motherfucking brush would do its fucking job! You tug on the handle, cursing when it jerks your scalp. The smack of your forehead on the vanity table echoes around the room. The feathers bundled on the floor make you screech. That’s it. It’s over. You are not taking another second of this.

Discarding the brush, you head to the kitchen.

You grab two mugs, and take two spoonful of coffee ground and feed it to the coffee machine. With only a press of a button, you make the most perfectly perfected perfect cup of coffee. You take both mugs and take a seat on that little side table inside the kitchen.

The second mug steams with coffee.

You plop your chin on the table, unable to draw your eyes aways as you stare at it. Making a second cup is a waste of your money. Deep down to your very core, you’re aware that it’s a waste. It strikes you with the gentleness of a plane crash every single morning you make it, and every single night you have to throw it away.

Silence is your companion in this empty house. Where are the days when soft music plays on the radio? Where are the days where light footsteps walk around the carpeted floors? Where are the days of stories over dinner?  These days watching television is the only way to fill that silence.

A knock breaks your pathetic moping.

The knocking starts out soft and hesitant, until it’s replaced with loud banging.

Swiping your mug from the table, you stride to the front door and swing it open. Charlie and Alastor stand in front of you, big smiles on their faces.

Your husband pushes a small ugly statue right up your face, presenting it to you with a self-satisfied smile. “I was told it was polite to bring a gift to a person’s home,” Alastor says. “Do you like it?”

“Oh no . . . ,” Charlie says, frowning a bit. “I didn’t bring anything.”

Alastor places a hand on her shoulder. “No worries then! This gift shall be from the both of us.”

The mug slips from your hold. Charlie catches it, not a single drop spilling, and plops it back on your hand. You blink at Alastor and frown. “Why are you knocking?”

“We’re here on super serious business talk,” he says, wrapping an arm around Charlie’s shoulders to bring her closer. “Charlotte here has something to ask you.”

Charlie smiles. “Just Charlie, actually.”

You shake your head, tightening your grip on the mug. “No.”

Alastor tilts his head. “No?”

“No, this is your home,” you say, opening the door wider. “There’s no need to knock.”

Alastor and Charlie step inside, and you take a sip of your coffee—a long, drawn out sip. Alastor walks to the shelf nearest the door, placing your ugly little statue on the shelf that’s meant for all other ugly knickknacks. It blends in with all the other gifts Alastor’s given you.

Charlie’s eyes bounce around the walls, eyes wide as she looks around. “Wooooaaaaah,” she says. “This is a really nice house you guys have!”

Alastor glares at the television. “Why, thank you!” he says. “I put in a lot of care into how it looks. It seems you’ve redecorated—I don’t like it.”

“Oh, you never do,” you say. “Let’s move to the kitchen, shall we?”

Alastor’s ears straighten. “The kitchen?” he echoes. “Oh yes. Let’s go the kitchen.”

Alastor hooks his arms around yours, pulling you to the kitchen. There’s determination set in each step. You and Charlie take your seats by the kitchen table. Charlie continues to look around. You see it in her eyes as they flicker around to count each radio.

It seems you’ve made a mistake.

Alastor goes straight to the refrigerator, and swings it open.

With horror, you watch as his gaze observes each level meticulously, humming as he does. There’s not much to look at, considering the only thing inside are a couple of eggs, empty plastic containers that you’ve been too lazy to wash, last week’s takeout, and a couple of sauces and condiments.

When he finally closes it, your shoulders sink as you exhale . . . until, of course , Alastor wraps his fingers around the freezer’s handle.

“Would you like anything, Charlie?” Is the first thing that comes out of your mouth. “I think we have juice or lemonade—”

“We don’t have any of those,” Alastor says, and his gaze bears down on you. “It makes me wonder what will be inside our freezer, my love.”

Charlie smiles brightly. “I don’t need anything,” she says. “I had tea with Rosie this morning, and Alastor and I had lunch on the way here.”

“That’s wonderful to hear,” you say, chuckling nervously. “You know what? It’s such a hellish day today, and it would be a waste to spend it here. Why don’t we move to the garden?”

“No.” Alastor crosses his arm. “We are staying right here.”

You sulk in your seat, drooping a little. “ . . . okay.”

Finally, Alastor opens the freezer door. His twitching eyes and pursed lips tell you everything you need to know about how the next fifteen minutes will go. Carefully, with the tips of his fingers, Alastor pulls out one of those microwave meals you buy at the grocery. He glares at the frozen chicken nuggets and pork cutlets, and all the processed frozen food you store there for easy meals.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” you say, giving him your most innocent smile. “And I barely eat those anyway. Those microwaved meals are just there for the occasional meal, I swear!”

Without uttering a single word, Alastor opens the cabinet under the sink where the trash can stays, and pulls it out. Empty microwave meals fill the brim. He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Oh dear . . . ” Charlie winces. “That’s a lot, even for me.

You sulk deeper into your chair.

Alastor inspects the cabinets above the sink. The only things that greet him are a bunch of pots and pans. Relief pours into you . . . until of course, Alastor grabs the largest pot at the back of the cabinet and opens it, smashing any sense of relief with a metal bat.

Alastor pulls out a large pack of instant noodles. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” he asks. “I remember telling you that I don’t like you eating these.”

“But they’re delicious,” you say, pouting a bit.

“These aren’t healthy,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They’re full of chemicals!”

“Everything is full of chemicals!” you counter. “And I only had a few. The dosage makes the poison.”

Alastor opens the trash can and tosses what was supposed to be your dinner. “The plastic said it was a pack of twelve?”

You cross your arms. “And? I don’t see your point.”

“There’s only two left.”

You fiddle with the handle of your mug. “I . . . I was busy . . . ?”

“We’re all busy,” he says and you could pick out the faintest sound of static. “Not a single fresh fruit or vegetable, or any proper meats. Have I taught you nothing?”

Your pout deepens. “Do we have to do this in front of Charlie, my deerest?”

Charlie raises her arms in surrender. “Don’t look at me,” she says. “Aren’t you a doctor?”

“Yes, one would think . . . .,” Alastor trails off. His eyes land on the second mug of coffee on the table, and his neck tilts to angle until it snaps. Static scratches that air until it warps. His eyes darken to reveal radio dials. “Expecting a guest today?”

You blink at him a bit dumbly, and take a long and drawn-out sip of your coffee to try and compose yourself. It doesn’t work. “I don’t make coffee for guests.”

Charlie panics a bit. “There, there Alastor,” she says. “No need to get all crazy!”

Alastor’s antlers grow. “I’m aware you don’t. So, who is it for?”

“Oh . . . .” Dumbly blinking at him continues, and the words don’t seem to be doing their job.

Alastor leans closer, his voice morphing a bit. “I’d appreciate an answer, my love.”

“It's yours,” you find yourself saying. “ . . . If you want it, that is.”

He blinks at you. You blink at him. Charlie blinks at the both of you.

Gone are the growing antlers, and the static that buzzes your skin. Alastor stands before you with that never ending smile, perfectly normal—well, as normal as he can be. “You weren’t aware I’d be visiting.”

You frown at him. “It’s not a visit if it’s your own home.”

“I didn’t tell you I’d be coming home,” he says. “Why make one for me?”

The heat on your face makes you turn away. “Just take it, deerest.”

“Taste lovely as always!” he says, taking a swig. Your frown turns into a soft smile as your watch him drink. “But don’t think you’re getting away from this conversation.”

“It really isn’t my fault.”

“Oh, really now?” Alastor raises his eyebrows. “I’m positive I taught you how to cook nutritious dishes.”

You flick the mug, and a soft clink echoes a bit. “I still cook proper food for myself,” you tell him, showing him your saddest smile. “But . . . I find myself hating the dishes.”

Alastor twirls his microphone, and it strikes the ground with a soft thunk. “And you think saying this will get you off the hook?”

You stick your tongue out. “Is it working?”

Alastor sighs at you, and turns to the ticking clock. “We’re wasting time—go talk to Charlotte.”

Charlie smiles awkwardly. “Just Charlie, actually.”

With a triumphant smile, you turn to Charlie. “So,” you begin, “what business are we going to talk about today?”

It’s Charlies turn to sulk into the kitchen chair. “Extermination is a month away,” she says. “And Adam is heading straight to the hotel first! It’s just one bad event after another because Heaven refuses to listen, and I’m running out of options.”

Alastor steps behind you. Suddenly, a brush combs through the back of your feathers, smoothing those parts of your head that you’ve never been able to reach by yourself.  Sometimes, you think Hell gave you feathers so someone could brush it for you. A part of you warms at the fact that you didn’t even need to ask your husband to smoothen your feathers. It’s a job he’s been doing since you first spawned in hell, and it seems it’s work he’s keen on continuing.

“Extermination,” you echo. “I love the extermination. There are so many desperate and poor souls who want to keep their limbs. I get rather busy—prime deal making opportunities right there.”

Charlie winces a bit. “Oh dear . . . um . . . okay. That sounds fun? And a little violent.”

Alastor speaks up from behind you, still running a brush through your feathers. “We can from Cannibal Town! Charlie was able to convince Rosie’s people to take arms.”

“Then, what brings you to me?” you ask, stiffening your back as you try not to lean into the brush that combs through your feathers. Alastor always was better at preening you. “I’m not much of a fighter.”

“Alastor suggested that I ask for your help,” Charlie says. “He said you’re one of the few people who knows how to fix wounds that come from Angelic Weapons.”

You bat your eyes at Alastor. “Spilling all my secrets, I see.”

Alastor glides the brush over your hair, leaning close to your ear. “Oh, not everything.”

You laugh and glance at Charlie. “In front of a guest, my deer?”

Charlie cringes with the most hilarious frown.

“It’s just a matter of counteracting the holiness of their weapons,” you say, clearing your throat. “After that, it’s purely medical.”

“How is that even possible?”

Alastor trails through your feathers, and it tingles and flutters. You keep your expression emotionless. “I’m surprised you don’t know this,” you say. “Did Belphegor never tell you?”

“No, she didn’t.”

“Well, eons ago, Belphegor found out that angelic weapons are considered holy, and that’s very bad for a Sinner,” you explain. “So, she and a bunch of her team found out that if you cut off the holy site or embed a large amount of Sinner energy, one will be able to treat it.”

Alastor leans closer, butting into the conversation. “I prefer it when you cut it off.”

“Of course you do,” you say with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

“Embedding the wounds with your magic takes too much energy from you, and because of that you always come home to me with sunken eyes. That is, if you don’t pass out before you reach the front door,” Alastor tells you. “I don’t understand why you go out of your way when they’re not worthy.”

“Worthy?”

“Yes, worthy,” he says. “Had they been competent, they wouldn’t need to go to you in the first place. It only proves that they’re weak.”

You smile at his words. “I guess I never thought of it that way.

Charlie rolls her eyes at the both of you. “So, you could help us?”

You twist, turning to Alastor. “I think you’ve gotten all my feathers straightened out,” you say. “My love, can you do me a favor?”

Lightly, Alastor taps your head with the tip of his cane. “Of course, how can I help?”

“I think the plants need some watering.”

The brush on Alastor’s hand dissolves with a poof. He leans closer once again, trailing your cheek with his finger until they hook on your chin. He captures you with his stare, and you allow him to trap you. He presses his lips on your cheek, and disappears into his shadow.

You take an even longer sip of your coffee.

Charlie massages her forehead, eyes twitching. “Dear Satan, it’s like watching my parents all over again! I can leave, you know,” she says, snorting. “Give you two a little privacy?”

“Oh, don’t bother,” you tell her. “There wouldn’t be enough time.”

Her brows furrow. “Time?”

“After all, extermination is in a month,” you say, brightening your smile. “We’re going to need at least two.”

“ What the fuuuuck,. ” Charlie whispers underneath her breath, her voice a pitch higher.

“Every couple of years, there will be certain seasons where it takes six!” you say. “Sinner bodies are just so exhilarating.”

Charlie chokes on her spit, and her eyes bulge. “Are you serious?”

“Hmmm, I could be—who knows?” You raise your mug to toast, and take a drink.

“You’re joking,” Charlie says. “ . . . Right? Please tell me you’re joking.”

“My dear, is that a question you would want an answer to?” you ask. “Would you be prepared if the answer happens to be no ?”

Charlie sinks deeper into her chair. “Okay, then! Moving on, now.”

Leaning on your palm, you laugh. “My deerly beloved husband wouldn’t give all this information for free,” you say. “What did he ask for?”

“We made a deal.”

Your hands drop to the table. “Oh Charlotte,” you say. “That was a foolish mistake. You don’t know what Alastor does to the so—“

“I still have my soul!” Charlie exclaims, balling her fist. “From Vaggie! From you—his own wife! I did what I needed to do to keep my people safe . . . Sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be so reliant on Alastor,” you tell her with a small smile. “You can’t trust him.”

“He’s given me no reason no to trust him, and . . . ,” Charlie trails off. “And Alastor is my friend.”

Your smile brightens a bit. “Friend?”

“Yes?” Charlie says. “Everyone at the hotel is my friend, and he’s been a tremendous help.”

You place your hands over Charlies and give it a squeeze. “Convince me to help you.”

“W-what?”

“Alastor isn’t asking me to go play medic in the middle of a warzone.” Your brush your feathers out of your face. “If he was asking, I would say yes without a second thought because that’s who we are, but he isn’t asking me, Charlie, you are.”

Charlie hums, placing a finger on her lips as she thinks. “I heard from Angel that you and Alastor got married whe—“

CRASH!

She grips the table, eyes wide as she looks around. “What was that?”

You take a long and drawn-out sip of coffee, contemplating your choice for marriage. “Nothing to be worried about,” you say. “That was just my television.”

“Your Tv?” Charlie frowns a bit. “Did . . . did Alastor just throw away your Tv?”

You laugh, swatting your hand in the air. “Not at all!” you say. “It probably tripped out my window—those picture boxes are always so clumsy.”

Charlie raises her eyebrows. “You’re saying that your Tv . . . just tripped out the window.”

You smile at her. “You were saying something?”

She sighs, massaging her forehead. “You got married when you were alive, but continue to stay together. It’s very rare for Sinners to do such a thing,” she says. “And with all of that . . . uh . . . Alastorness.”

“It’s alright, you can just say bat-shit crazy.”

“I’d prefer not to,” she says with an awkward laugh. “So, how were you able to stay together for so long

“Are you . . . ,” you trail off, blinking. “Are you asking me for relationship advice?”

“A bit? If that’s okay,” she says. “Rosie already helped but, well, she did eat her first husband.”

“I don’t think I can be of much help.” Your lips purse. “Alastor and I don’t exactly have the most conventional marriage.”

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1927

“Do you like it?” Alastor offers you a spoonful of the simmering sauce.

You lean closer, shifting from your seat on his kitchen counter. Alastor dips the spoon in your opened mouth. “It’s spicy,” you say, lips twisting when you cough. “Is it supposed to be like that?”

Alastor tilts his head. A lock of his hair falls to the side. “No . . . it’s not.” He takes back the spoon and dips it into the pan. Alastor coughs as soon as it hits his tongue. “How many peppers did you add?”

Your legs sway, and the heels of your foot tap the cabinets below you. “I added what was written on the recipe! Exactly twelve peppers.”

Alastor twists the stove’s knob, killing the fire. “Take a look at the notebook again,” he says and reaches over your legs, grabbing his book full of recipes. “If you use these things called ‘eyes’ and ready, you’d be able to see that it says, ‘one to two’!”

“No, it does not!” you huff, grabbing the notebook from him. You read through the list of ingredients. There, near the bottom, pass the four cloves of chopped garlic, half a shallot, and a pinch of pepper, ‘one to two peppers’ is scribbled with blocky letters. “Oh . . . that’s my bad. Yeah, that’s on me.”

Alastor adjusts his sleeves, pulling it back up his forearm. (Hmm, not a bad look.) “There’s no point in teaching you how to cook this if you don’t know how to read!” he says, eyes twitching. “Go . . . Just go over there and let me fix this.”

“I already said I was sorry!”

“No, you did not!” Alastor says, throwing his hands into the air. “What you said was,‘Oh . . . that’s my bad. Yeah, that’s on me’, actually.”

“Yeah, that’s on me,” you repeat with a snort. “That’s my bad.”

“Get out of my kitchen before you ruin dinner.” He leans on the counter, crossing his arms. You hum to yourself. Alastor should pull his sleeves up more. “Go set the table or something. And wash your hair when you get home—it smells like chemicals.”

With a huff, you do as you're told.

You slide off his counter, opening the cabinet and grab two bowls with one arm and reach for the table placemats with the other.

Two sets of utensils, glass cups, and paper napkins. It’s one more set than what you prepare when you’re at your own home. Two . . . Two. It’s becoming quite the word in your vocabulary.

There’s a proper table waiting to be used in the other room, but this smaller one you’re setting, with its fraying edges and turmeric stains suit the both of you much better.

Three ice-cubes bobble at the top of Alastor’s water. It’s how he likes it. It’s funny. You don’t remember Alastor disclosing this particular information. It’s just something you noticed one day, and you’ve never stopped noticing. What else have you unconsciously learned about him, and what have you unconsciously taught him about you?

Alastor walks to the table, a large steaming bowl in his hands. He places it between the bowls, and you reach into the drawer for a ladle.

The taste tingles your tongue. It’s good. Better than anything you could possibly make for yourself.

You reach into your pocket and toss a handkerchief at Alastor’s face. It lands on between his hair. He tilts his head, shaking it, and the cloth slides on the table. “It’s yours,” you tell him, taking a spoonful of your food. “Thanks for dinner.”

Alastor studies how his name is embroidered in near letters, thumbing the music notes framing it. “Dinner was a way to thank you for this week’s meat.”

He tosses back the handkerchief. It smacks your face.

You peel it from your skin, and trace the letters you’ve threaded during your very scarce free time. “I can’t go around with a handkerchief that has your name on it.”

His smile widens. “Why not?”

“People would think I’m a fan.” You hand Alastor the handkerchief this time. “Just take it as a gift then.”

Alastor takes it from you, and places it into his pocket.

You hum into your spoon with a pleased smile. “Hey Al,” you say. “Tell me what you did today.”

Alastor takes his time chewing and swallowing his food. “As you can see,” he tells you, “I’m eating.”

“I’m bored,” you say. “Eat while you talk.”

He reaches across the table, and his fingers catch on the knob of the radio to turn it on.

Classical music plays out of the speaker. It was correct to assume that Alastor pre-sets radios to play his favorite stations. Although, you didn’t imagine that each of his many radios would have their own specific station. A different radio for different stations. You questioned Alastor about it, but he didn’t say much.

Once the bottom of the bowls has been scraped into your stomachs, you take the dishes and go to the sink.

Your nose scrunches at the sight of the piled dishes. Alastor watches you with a smile. You turn away when you notice.

Alastor takes a container from the cabinet above your head. He’s warm. Always warm.

He takes two containers, placing the leftovers inside. And there it is again, that word—Two. Not one, but two. One for him. One for you. You didn’t ask for leftovers. You’ve never asked at all. Alastor will just hand you the container like it’s the most automatic thing in this world for him to do.

You take the first of many bowls, and rinse the stubborn pieces with your hands. “There’s too many dishes,” you say. “It’s like you have one for every ingredient. Did you really need to use separate ones for each and every ingredient we used?”

He leans on the counter, slotting himself next to you.  “I don’t like mixing the flavors until it’s time to add them.”

Alastor adjusts his pulled sleeves and crosses his arms.

The bowl slips from your grip.

“Oh . . . I . . . uh . . . sorry,” you say, picking up the bowl. “I mean, you really didn’t need one for the salt and pepper. They already come in containers—why couldn’t you just, I don’t know, eyeball it?”

“Eyeball it?”

“Yeah, or feel it with your soul or something,” you say and pick up the measuring spoons to show him. “You had to measure three pinches of salt instead of actually just pinching it.”

Alastor laughs, and strands of his hair slide down to his eyes. “And how did it taste?”

Your shoulders slump when you sigh. “Good.”

He bumps his shoulders with yours. “That’s just the way I was taught.”

“Well,” you start, “your way creates more dishes for me to clean.”

Alastor pivots from the counter, and takes his place in front of the second sink. He grabs the dish you’ve already rinsed and sponges it with soap. It’s quite the system you’ve created. You grab a dirty dish, rinse it, and pass it on to Alastor who cleans it with a sponge.

The next minute goes something like this:

Alastor flicks water at your face. You ignore it.

Flick. Ignore.

Flick. Ignore.

Flick. Ignore.

The water damps your hair. You kick his leg. “Stop that.”

Alastor drenches his hand under the faucet, letting his fingers accumulate water. He flicks it at you.

The grip you have on the plate tightens. “I am going to smash this on your head.”

Alastor raises his eyebrows. He glares. You glare back. He cups his hand under the faucet like a bowl. The water pools between his hands. He throws the water at you. It hits your eyes, blinding you. That does little to stop you.

You grip the plate, swinging it in his direction.

The plate doesn’t connect with anything . . .  Sadly. You rub the water out your eyes, and find Alastor kneeling on the floor with a triumphant smile.

Alastor stands up, brushing dirt from his pants. “You missed.”

“You ducked.”

“I can’t believe you actually did that,” he says. “What if you actually hit me?”

You pass the plate to Alastor before you scratch the urge to swing at that smug smile of his. “Hey Al,” you say. “Tell me what you did today.”

Alastor closes the faucet. “You always ask me that.”

“That’s because you say it in entertaining ways,” you say. “It’s boring to wash the dishes without something to distract me.”

Alastor soaps the dish. “Your lessening attention span worries me.”

You roll your eyes at him, and flick water at his face. “Please?”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he says. “I find myself having no reason to deny you.”

Alastor’s glasses slide down his nose. He leans close enough for you to smell his perfume. He’s warm—always warm. It takes a second for you to understand. You dry your hands on a stray towel and fix it in place.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

1928.

The metal bench cools the back of your neck.

The sun blinds your eyes, but you keep a steady gaze on the afternoon beams. When was the last time you felt the heat of the sun kiss your skin? As the seconds tick by. As the birds fly above you. As the leaves fall from their stem, melting on this bench seems like a heavenly idea.

But as the clock will eventually strike. But as the birds will eventually find their nest. But as the leaves will eventually land. So, too, must you eventually go back to work.

A shadow blocks the sun.

It takes a second for your eyes to adjust. Alastor’s upside-down face smiles at you. “Good morning to you!”

With a yelp, you swing your forehead forward.

Alastor leans backwards, narrowly missing your head by centimeters. “Not the greeting I imagined, but hello to you as well,” he says. “The receptionist said I could find you here.”

You twist, turning to him with a frown. “Are you okay?”

Alastor slides over the bench, and takes the free seat next to you. His legs cross. “Why would I not be, okay?”

There’s some bag slung over his shoulder, but that’s not important right now. Your eyes trail his body. Hair? Fixed. Smile? Wide. Clothes? Perfect. “You’re at a clinic.”

Alastor swats his hand. “I was in the area.”

That classic city stench attacks your nose, but it’s just nice to feel the way your hair sways from the breeze. “You’re not going to kill me, right?”

Alastor nudges his leg with yours. “You say that every single time!”

Your smile turns smug. “I’ll stop saying it when it stops becoming funny.”

Alastor rolls his eyes, showing it off to you. “It never was.”

“It is to me,” you say and wave your hands in the air. “Just imagine this, the great Alastor had to stalk me!”

“I am great, but remind me again,” he begins, propping his arm on the bench to lean on it, “how long did you have to follow me?”

Sighing, you lean your head on the backrest to count the clouds. It’s nice to be able to see actual clouds for once instead of the drawing of children who wait. “ . . . Three months.”

“Exactly,” he says, and you hear the smugness in his words. “And I didn’t need to do any stalking—you led me straight to your house.”

You blow a raspberry at him. “Why are you even here then?”

Alastor props his legs on your lap. You push him off. He brings it back. It’s not worth fighting him right now. “I actually was in the area,” he says, and hands you the bag slung over his shoulder. “The director thought it would be a grand idea to bring the staff out to lunch.”

You unzip the bag, and packed lunch greets you. And there it is again. Two. Two. Two. One for you. One for him. Maybe both for you? “Al, tell me why I’m currently looking at two packed lunches?”

Alastor beams at you, and slides his legs off your lap. “I accidentally cooked too much today,” he said. “I thought it would be a grand idea to share.”

Your frown. “But . . . you already ate.”

“Oh . . . I was already planning on dropping by,” he says. “It was quite the stroke of luck that you’re only taking your break now, and that we happened to have lunch nearby. I thought I’d bring you a treat.”

Questions bubble on your throat. “Thank you, Al,” you say instead. You open the container and take a bite, savoring the taste. “It’s delicious.”

Alastor leans closer, and picks a leaf off your head. “That’s because I actually followed the recipe.”

You point your spoon at him. “That was just that one time!”

He smiles at you, chuckling softly. “Three actually.”

Before the clock strikes, it will tick. Before the birds find their nest, they will fly. Before the leaves hit the ground, it will fall. And before you eventually go back to work, you will eat on this bench, Alastor to your side.

He stares ahead. As you eat, you watch his eyes flicker. It goes from the kid then to a plant then to an old lady. This, you don’t question. You’ve stopped wondering what he could possibly be thinking years ago.

Alastor leans closer to your ear. “Do you see that lady?” he asks, voice low. His breath tickles your skin. “That one over there with the feather on her hat?”

You scan the people around the area, spotting the lady old enough to be your grandmother. A scarf wraps around her neck, despite the sun beaming with the afternoon heat. She lazily walks around. “What about her?”

“Do you think her name could be Edith? She looks like an Edith,” Alastor says. “She probably had three children, and married young when her parents forced her to marry this ugly but rich man she could never love.”

Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. It’s like a mantra that plays in your head. There’s no reason not to play along whatever nonsense he’s spouting. “Sure, why not?”

“But no!” he exclaims into your ear. You jerk away and shove him with an elbow. “Oof . . . .Edith just had to defy all expectations, and she chose to elope with her childhood sweetheart. He’s not the richest man, but they survived.”

“That’s sweet.”

“And to this day,” he says, “everyone still calls her, ‘Edith the Penguin’.”

“Edith the penguin?” you echo. “Now I’m just confused.”

Alastor’s eyes shine. “Because she walks like a penguin with their ass on fire,” he snorts. “Your turn, now.”

Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. And you would love to be brought lunch again.

“Fine.” You place your spoon down, and look around to the first person who grabs your attention. “That little kid over there—His name is Thomas, and he likes balloons.”

Alastor blinks at you. “And?”

You take your time chewing and swallowing your food. “That’s all.”

He gawks at you, and rolls your eyes. “It must be so boring to be you.”

“It is not!” You huff at him, and kick his leg. “I am a very interesting person, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh really, now? Thomas, and he likes balloons?” Alastor says,and points at the kid with twitching eyes. “He’s holding a balloon!”

You wave your arms, the spoon still in your grip. “So, he probably likes it!” you say. “Thomas wouldn’t get a balloon if he didn’t like it.”

“I pity your sense of imagination.”

Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. And you would love to be brought lunch again.

You swallow what remains inside the container, and pack it up. “Is this what you do when you zone out as I’m tal—and you’re doing it again, aren’t you?” you say. “You are an incredibly judgmental person.”

“It’s called using my imagination. Something you apparently don’t have,” he says with a snort. “So . . . tell me what you did today.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “That’s my question.”

Alastor shrugs, taking the closed container and zipping it inside his bag. He hands you a tissue. “Well, I’m asking it now.”

You prop your arm on the bench, leaning on it. Alastor’s hair spikes out in odd places today. It must have quite the trek to the clinic. “I’m not as good a storyteller as you are.”

He props his arms on the bench, mimicking your pose. His eyes stare straight into yours. “ I don’t need a story,” he says. “I just want to know what you did today.”

You press your palm on his face, pushing him away from your face. The sun’s heat is really getting to you. Alastor’s nose crinkles as he rubs it. “Why would you even want to know what I do?”

Alastor props his elbows on his knees, observing the people around him. “You always ask me what I did,” he says. “I want to know if there’s something special about it.:

“There’s nothing special about it,” you tell him. Was there actually? You’re not sure. “I just like knowing, and it always entertains me.”

Alastor meets your eyes with a wide smile. “Then tell me what you did today,” he says. “Entertain me.”

The clock ticks closer. The birds are already close to their nests. The leaves are already floating to the ground. You are already close to going back to work, closer to this moment becoming nothing but a distant memory. “That was my first meal of the day.”

Alastor’s eyebrows furrow and his lips twist into a hard scowl. “That’s not healthy.”

You shut your eyes and sigh. “I never said it was.”

“How would you live without me?”

Remember, Alastor brought you lunch, and it would be nice if he could bring you lunch again. “I’m going to hit you.”

Alastor bumps your knees with his. “Lovely,” he says, and you can hear the smile he’s wearing. “I’m sure it will be very painful because you’re so full of energy right now.”

Eyes still shut, you bump his knees back. “I’ve been busy,” you say. “And don’t roll your eyes at me.”

Alastor hesitates for a second. “First of all, we’re all busy,” he says. “Second, I didn’t roll my eyes.”

“You did—it was audible,” you tell him with a soft chuckle. “Anyway, there’s nothing new with my day. It’s just the usual, people to see, files to file, blood to draw, pee to get on me.”

Alastor digs his finger into your cheek, twisting it as he presses down. “Wow, you really are a horrible storyteller.”

You know what, maybe you don’t need Alastor bringing you lunch. You peek open an eye to stare at him. “I’m going to smash a plate on your head once we start doing the dishes.”

Alastor mashes your cheek like some button. Over and over and over and over again. You swat his hand, and he rubs it with a grimace. “Were you planning on dropping by today?”

You place an arm over your eyes, blocking out the sun. “Will I have to do the dishes?”

“You don’t have to specifically do the dishes.”

You comb through your hair with your fingers. “That wouldn’t exactly be fair to you.”

“If you're so insistent, we can find something else for you to do,” he says. “I mean, if you hate it so much you don’t have to do it.”

“I don’t hate it,” you say with a sigh. A church bell sounds. It echoes through the buildings and through the trees. “Al . . . I’m tired.”

“I know,” he says, and you hear how softly he chuckles. “Your eyes are drooping so low I could fill the entire ocean in them.”

“I want to sleep, Al.”

“I know.”

“I hate this job.”

Alastor pauses for a second, and he bumps his shoulders with yours. “You don’t.”

The clock hasn’t struck yet. The birds haven’t flown to their nests. The leaves haven’t reached the ground. And so too will you stay in this moment of time.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

1929

Footsteps creak on the wooden stairs. The sound is ignored, just like every other thing that isn’t relevant to you.

The dead cadaver under you has weird kidneys. The one on your palm is too small for a kidney that belongs to someone of his size. You take your scalpel, slicing it to observe the cross section.

“It’s time to stop,” Alastor tells you. Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. Him and his smile is not important right now. “You’ve been here all night.”

“Leave me alone,” you mumble. The human body continues to be amazing. The medulla is clearly outlined. The colors of its cells were so different from the cortex. “ . . . Kidneys, Alastor. He has weird kidneys. Hehehehe weird kidneys . . . ”

Alastor says your name in a way that forces you to listen.

“ . . . Oh . . . yes?” you say a bit dumbly.

“It’s nightfall,” he says, and the tone of his voice buzzes your skin. “Come on now, do as you're told. Be upstairs in fifteen minutes.”

It’s not an easy task to do as Alastor says, especially when this man’s left kidney is a whole different size from the right. However, with a frown, you slot the kidney from the opened chest cavity, and pack up the body.

You step out of the basement, and walk to the kitchen.

There’s a plate waiting for you on the table. It’s still hot. Muffled music plays from the porch, and you see Alastor’s outline through the windows. Taking your plate, you step out the front door and into the outdoors.

(Something you really need to start seeing more.)

And oh . . . he’s not listening to the radio. Alastor plays the recording of his show. It was a present you got him a few months back.

You take your seat on the matching rocking chair.

Alastor watches you settle into your seat. He turns the volume down. “Tables were invented for a reason.”

The chair rocks when you swing your legs. “It’s nice out here,” you say, and take a bite of vegetables. “The sky is much clearer. It helps that there’s no stench of piss.”

He turns to you with a small smile. “That’s because you live in the city.”

The wind blows your hair into your face. You push it out of the way. “Hey, Al,” you say slowly. “Tell me what you did today.”

“Why should I?”

You lean back into the chair, letting the rocking sway you. “Well, you got home late,” you say. “I had to use my keys.”

Alastor leans back on the chair, using the tips of his shoe to rock himself. “Yes, that was the point of the keys,” he says, humming. “It would be a shame to come home to another broken window.”

The taste of the vegetables mixed with the meat makes you smile in delight. “Are you still holding on to that?”

“Always.”

“I paid you back, eventually,” you tell him, pointing your fork at him. “Why are you still holding a grudge for an honest accident?”

On his cheek , where it’s always been and where it’ll always be, his smile strains. “You expect me to believe that a rock smashing my window was an honest accident.”

You offer him your most innocent smile. “Yes.”

“Well, I hope your windows are much sturdier then,” he says, mimicking your smile. “One of these days, I might cause an accident.”

The stars twinkle in the sky. There’s a vast amount of knowledge those gassy balls hold. Maybe your life would be less horrific if you were interested in the stars instead. “In my defense, you were late.”

Alastor pinches the bridge of his nose. “You couldn’t wait fifteen minutes?”

You take another bite of your meal, and sway happily to do a little dance. “Just . . .  okay? Just tell me what you did before I finish my meal.”

Alastor reaches into his pocket and tosses a keychain at you. It lands between your legs.

You set the plate on the coffee table between you, and hold the keychain to the light. It was a cute, little cartoon alligator. “What’s this?”

“It’s yours.”

“I can tell that much,” you say, twirling the gift between your fingers. “You never give me nice knickknacks. It’s always the ugly ones

Alastor huffs at you. “That doesn’t sound like my problem anymore,” he says. “I thought you would appreciate something that looks halfway decent one and for all.”

“I find the ugly ones really charming, actually. They’re very funny to look at,” you say. “So, where did you get this?”

Alastor clasps his hands, resting it on his stomach as he rocks himself. “Saw an advertisement. Went to the zoo.”

You scrunch your face. “That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

“Go finish your meal.”

You pocket his gift, and grab the plate on the table. “Master of storytelling right here, ladies and gentlemen,” you say, barking a laugh. “I figured you would love the excuse of hearing yourself talk.”

Alastor ignores you, reaching for his notepad instead.

You watch Alastor as he writes on his notepad. The breeze sways a strand of his hair. His lips twist when he thinks, just like he’s doing right now

Your eyes fall on your plate, to where vegetables and meat were carefully tossed together. Alastor cooked today—he always cooks.

When you finish, you’ll grab the plates, and begin the mountain of dishes. Even when dish soap stings your fingers, even when the feeling of wet food grosses you, and even when thousands of dirty dishes wait for you . . . it’s something you don’t mind.

Once this meal is finished, you and him will step inside. He’ll properly tell you about his day, and you’ll take the pan and scrub it.

Ah . . . there it is again. That word—Two.

But it’s not two of anything. It’s simply just two. You and Alastor.

“You’re frowning,” Alastor says. He stares at you from the corner of  his eyes. “Why?”

It’s weird.

Very weird.

You don’t . . . You don’t understand. How do you say the words you do not know how to explain?

It’s almost as if . . . “We should get married.”

Alastor’s laughter rings across the open land. “No.”

The inside of your cheek stings from how you bite it. You turn away to hide your flushed cheeks. “I . . . It just came out, okay?” you mumble. “I’m really trying not to be offended that you turned me down without a second thought, and with a laugh as well.”

Alastor turns back to his notepad. “Don’t be,” he says. “I’m nothing you want.”

The moonlight reflects off his brown eyes.

“Sometimes . . . ,” you begin, and a small smile appears on your lips. “Sometimes I wish you see yourself the way I see you.”

Alastor laughs at you again. “You’ve been having such thoughts about me?” he says. “What an absolute honor! I’m deeply flattered.”

“And then you say words like that, and I immediately know it’s not worth it

Alastor lifts his eyes from his notepad to peek at you. He fixes his eyeglasses. “You don’t actually think we should get married.”

To be infuriating, you take a bite from your plate, savoring each flavor with drawn out chews.

“I have no idea,” you say. “But . . . I mean, why not? There are many good reasons for me to marry you—it’s advantages for me, and everyone already thinks we’re dating.”

Alastor turns back to his notepad, shaking his head. “That’s the most absurd idea I’ve ever heard.”

“What, being in a relationship with me?”

“Yes.”

“That’s twice you’ve managed to offend me.” You laugh to hide your frown. “But that friend of yours. The feathery one from the lounge you like taking me to.”

Alastor tilts his head. “Mimzy?”

“Ah yes, her,” you say with a hum. “She asked me if you um . . . uh . . .  well, if you liked vanilla or hot and spicy.”

“If I had to answer, Id say hot and spicy?” Alastor says, and you laugh at the confusion on his face. “I got a bottle of this pepper flakes infused with old. It was quite the treat.”

“That’s exactly what I figured you would say,” you tell him.“Unfortunately for you, Mimzy was talking about sex.”

Alastor scrunches his face.

“Oh don’t make such a face, there is absolutely no need to be afraid of the prospect of such activities.” The final bite of your meal bursts with so much flavor that you revel it for a second. “Al, let’s get married.”

Alastor glares at you. “No.”

You place the plate on the coffee table. It can be  washed after this conversation. “Why not?”

He points his pen between you and him..“We aren't even dating,” he says. “And . . . I can’t express such passionate displays of affection.”

You rock the chair with your shoe. An owl hoots from somewhere beyond the trees. Huh, you weren’t aware owls lived in this area. “Don’t be a child—just say sex.”

Again, his face scrunches. “I will not.”

“It’s a really good thing,” you say, sighing, “that no one’s asking.”

Alastor searches for your eyes. He holds it. It was only ever his to hold anyway. “I’m not even sure I’m interested in romance.”

You look around, whipping your head. “I think I’m missing the part where someone asked.”

“Be serious.”

“Okay fine. This is me being serious because I am when I say that all I don’t need your romance—Al, you accepted me for who I am, and to me? That is enough,” you say with a soft smile. “You are all I could ever ask for.”

Alastor stares at the stars, his eyes capturing each one. “I can’t love you like a husband should.”

The stares are really beautiful. Each shines in their own way. Alastor sees the beauty in them, but you aren’t going to be beaten by a gas ball.

Tonight, you will be the only star Alastor should keep his gaze on.

“Alastor, look at me.”

He keeps his eyes on the stars.

Huffing, you stride to his chair, and block his view of the night sky.

You plant your arms on the armrest for support, and inch your face so close that you are the only thing he will see. “Alastor,” you say his name, voice oh so soft, “look at me.”

Oh . . . his eyes are browner than you thought. It’s a deep and dark brown that pulls you in.

“You can love me in ways that matter.” You press your forehead against his, and close your eyes.

There are more words to be said, but right now you and him stay in this moment of time. Just . . . for . . . a second.

“I will never force you to love me in ways you cannot,” you whisper. The ends of his hair brush against your skin. “Alastor, I could never reject the type of love you can offer me. I can never deny you.”

Alastor caresses your cheek with the back of his fingers. “Friends don’t get married.”

Impulsivity was such a bad habit of yours. It’s a fact that makes you bear the consequences, but consequences be damned. You take his hand, holding it in yours. The pads of his fingers have different textures. Some are smooth. Some are rough. But the whole thing warms you to the touch.

It’s unfair. He’s unfair. How could something as simple as taking his hand intoxicate?

Your lips hover over his skin, brushing it a little. Alastor doesn’t pull away. With a smile that Alastor always seems to put on your lips, you plant a soft kiss on his ring finger.

“We aren’t normal people. There’s no reason to force ourselves into a conventional relationship.” You meet his eyes with a smile. Every word you utter brushes your lips yo his skin. “This marriage will be defined however we want. You offered me a partnership in death . . . .This is me offering you a partnership in life.”

You press your lip on the back of his hand one final time, and return to your chair.

Alastor doesn’t speak.

You rock yourself with your foot, enjoying the sway of the chair.“There is that added benefit that the police won’t be suspicious of a doting husband.”

Alastor scrunches his face. “Doting husband?” he echoes. “I thought we wouldn’t be having a normal marriage.”

“That doesn’t mean a lady doesn’t want to feel special,” you say, snorting. “I’ve always dreamed of a doting husband.”

Alastor rips a page out of his notepad. He folds it with his hands.

His vets match his shoes today. The hair on the back of his head sticks out and curls. Did he take a nap today? “I could be like this every single night,” you say softly. “You and me. The two of us under the stars until our hairs turn gray.”

Alastor’s gaze stays locked on the piece of paper he’s folding. “Why me?”

You stare at him with a smile, and lean your face on your palm. “Does it need to be said?”

Alastor glances at you with those brown eyes of his. “I’m asking.”

“It’s because . . . It’s . . . I . . . ,” your trail off. How do you summon the words to describe something you don’t understand?

There’s a smug smile on Alastor’s lips. “What, is it because you love me?”

“Would it be so bad if I did?” you say, chuckling into your arm. “But . . . well, I don’t exactly know how to properly say this.”

“Just open your mouth,” he says, rolling his eyes, “and let the words do it’s job.”

“I wouldn’t mind doing the dishes with you for the rest of my life,” you tell him, and your cheeks tingle. “Maybe even past life. Can you imagine that? You and me in hell, doing our dishes together.”

There’s an odd look on his face. “Sure.”

“We can listen to the radio,” you say. “And I’ll ask you about your day, and you will tell me the wildest and most grandiose story while we clean a pot.”

Alastor smiles at you. “You hate doing the dishes.”

“I do not.”

“You do. I see it—I always do,” he says with a soft chuckle. Alastor taps his nose. “Your nose scrunches every time, yet you never ask for help.”

What expression are you making right now?

You bring your legs to your chest. “I’m willing to give up everything for dirty dishes if it means I have you as a companion for the rest of my life.”

Alastor turns back to whatever he was folding.

You hide your face in your legs, face flushed and warm. “Say something . . . please,” you say, whispering. “I just poured out my heart for you

You hear Alastor rise from his seat. He places a hand on your head. “Today’s dinner . . . ,” he says, and his voice is the softest it’s ever been. “Did you like it?”

You smile even if he couldn’t see it, and lean into his hand. “It was one of the most delicious thing I have ever tasted.”

“I wouldn’t mind making it for you for the rest of my life . . . if you’re willing to wash the dishes with me for the rest of yours,” Alastor says, and you think this is the most honest thing he’s ever told you. “It’s yours. Even if you don’t want it, this is yours now.”

You peek out of your knees. Alastor’s smile is soft. He opens his palms and your eyes flicker to them. He shows you what he’s been folding. It’s the paper of his notepad folded into a ring—a paper ring.

“Do it again,” you say with a beam that could rival the stars. “Ask me again.”

Alastor caresses your cheek, the back of his finger brushing down your skin. “Doting husband?”

“Exactly,” you say with a laugh and lean into his touch. “You catch on very quickly.”

Alastor takes your hand in his, and his thumb brushes over your ring finger. Does he feel your skin the way you feel his? He kneels on one knee and the paper ring is presented to you. “Would you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?”

You insert your ring finger into the paper ring. “The honor would be mine, my dearest.”

Alastor stares at you.

You stare back.

 The moment your eyes settle on one another, laughter echoes across the land. It’s loud and breathy, and it echoes so far that the local wildlife gets disturbed. Alastor settles back on his chair, rocking himself.

Alastor calms down first. “Oh . . . uh . . . Should we share a passionate kiss?”

The stars shine above you. Not a single gas ball can beat the brightness of your smile. “Do you want to?” you ask. “Be honest, my dear.”

Alastor hesitates for a second. “Not particularly—Do you?”

“Maybe? Sometimes?” you say with a shrug. “I could live a happy life without such passionate kisses.”

“Really?” he says, and the surprise in his voice makes you laugh. “You would be fine without one?”

“Well, since you’re so insistent, I’ll allow a kiss.”

Alastor snorts into the air. “And where and when would you want such a kiss?”

You hold him in your gaze. There’s so much to learn, so much to figure out. It’s alright. There will be time. “Anywhere and anytime, you want, my love.”

“You’re going to give me control?” he asks. “Is this not something you would want as well?”

“I’ll make this easy enough for you to understand,” you tell him, tracing the paper ring around your finger. “I demand a kiss whenever you are completely and perfectly and incandescently happy.”

Alastor hums, looking away to study the woodcarving on his chair. He picks on them. “I supposed if you need anyone to fulfill your needs I only as—”

“Just say sex, my dearest,” you say, and Alastor sinks into his chair with a huff. “That will never happen. This isn’t a friendship, my love. I am entering a relationship with you. No matter how unconventional, it is still ours.”

Alastor locks your eyes with a pleased smile. “Good.”

The rocking chair rocks you into a small lull. “My dear.”

“Yes?”

“My love.”

Alastor sighs. “Yes?”

“My dearest,” you say. “Would you want to share a bed?”

Alastor stays silent. There’s hesitation on his face. You see it in the way his lips twist. You see it in the way his eyebrows furrow. You see it in the way he leans back on his chair to stare at the stars.

“Okay then, we can circle back to that later,” you say with a soft chuckle. “How about a room—Do you want to share one?”

Alastor raises his eyebrows, staring at you with silent judgment. He is a book that you are allowed to learn. There’s so much to read, and so much still left to be read. That’s okay. There’s time. No matter how long. You have time.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, we can share a room without sharing a bed,” you exclaim, throwing your hands into the air. “We can even have bunk beds. That would be cool. I’ve always wanted a bunk bed.”

Alastor rests his face on his palm to look at you. There it is again, the breathy and light laughter. “We are not sleeping on a bunk bed.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Charlie’s smile slowly morphs into a frow that you cannot decipher. It makes sense that you can’t. Afterall, she is not the book you’ve spent your life learning to read. “You . . . You don’t actually love each other?”

There’s a frame hanging on your kitchen wall that says otherwise.

It holds an art piece you embroidered for the sole purpose of giving it to your husband. The color of the wooden frame compliments the colors of the thread as if it was carefully chosen to match. The one here in the kitchen is but one of many frames around the house. Alastor keeps every single item safe beneath the glass to to be admired.

There’s a shelf standing on the living-room carpet that says otherwise.

It holds ugly knick knacks that Alastor bought for the sole purpose of giving it to his wife. It’s a pain to dust the shelves, but not a speck of dirt touches its surface, as if it was carefully taken care of. The one in there in the living-room is but one of many shelves around the house. You keep every item spotless to be admired.

“We’re not heartless,” you say. “Alastor and I don’t have the same relationship you and your girlfriend have.”

Charlie sways in her seat, a hand rests on her chin when she hums. “ I am so sorry,” he says. “I think it’s great and all that, I’m just having trouble understanding.”

“It’s not exactly for you to understand.” You take a sip from your mug.

“So it’s not a relationship,” Charlie says. “Sooooo, is it like a really really deep friendship?”

“The lines between us are so blurry that it’s become deeper than friendship,” you admit with a small smile. “I just know that my soul is connected to him in ways I do not know how to tell him.”

“Is that really possible?” Charlie asks. “To just . . . love each other so differently?”

“Can our relationship not just . . . exist?” You lean on your palms. “Do you really think it’s so impossible for two people to just . . . to just look forward to cooking and washing the dishes together?”

Charlie’s eyes brighten. “I think I’m starting to understand,” she says. “So like—”

“Charlie . . . if I sit here and answer all of your questions, we’re going to waste time.” You play with the fiddle of your mug. “You didn’t come here for relationship advice.”

“Oh . . . yes.” Charlie sits there. Her smile slowly falls into a frown. “I’ve been thinking of how to convince you to help me, but I can’t think of a single thing to say, and I don’t want to force you either.”

You raise your eyebrows. “You haven’t exactly asked for my help either.”

Charlie blinks at you. “ . . . Huh?”

You raise your mug to toast to her. “If you want my help, just ask for it.”

Charlie grabs your hand with a tight grip. “Please, help me,” she says, voice shaking. “I don’t want to drag Cannibal Town into an all-out war without knowing there was a way to keep them safe.”

“Sure, why not?” You pull your hand away.

A loud squeal bounces off the walls.

Charlie pulls you into the tightest hug you’ve ever experienced. She hauls you with all the strength of a hellborn princess.  Your feet drag against the floor as she pulls you out of the kitchen and into the living-room.

Charlie drops you with a wince on her face. She stares at the broken window, and the obviously missing television.

You trip out of her hold.

Alastor wraps his hand on your shoulders, steading you against him until you find your balance. His touch lingers on you.

The television shaped hole on your glass window makes your eyes twitch.

Alastor steps away from you, twirling his microphone. It strikes the floor with a harsh thunk. “Oh, yes that,” he says. “It seems there was an unfortunate accident.”

“Oh, really now?” you say, placing a hand on your hips. “I would love to know exactly how that happened.”

Alastor’s smile widens, and his arms wave the air. “The clumsy boxed tripped right out the window.”

Your smile strains. “That is rather unfortunate,” you say. “What a shame, I rather liked that television. It’s been a constant companion, and never has it once disappeared on me for several years.”

Alastor glares at you.

You glare back.

“I would love to help you clean this mess,” Alastor says with that triumphant smile of his.

Would a second broken window be worth trouble if it means there would be an Alastor-shaped hole?

“Perfect!” you say. “I’m sure you still remember where we keep the broom.”

Alastor boops your nose. “Unfortunately, the cannibals will be meeting us at the hotel,” he says. “I think it’s time we take our leave. Say goodbye to my wife, Charlotte.”

Charlie opens her mouth to correct him. She changes her mind at the last minute, choosing to sulk with a wave instead.

Alastor opens the door, allowing Charlie to step out first. She strides to the flowerbeds, kneeling to observe the plants.

Alastor stills by the door frame.

He inches close enough for you to reach him. The fabric of his lapels smoothen as you adjust its fit on him.

A breeze tussles Alastor’s hair. You swipe the stray locks, brushing his hair away from his forehead, until . . . until the x that marks the gunshot catches your eyes. Frowning, you thumb the mark, caressing it with oh so soft touches. There was a time where you believed that you and him had all the time in the world. Death laughed at you that night.

Alastor watches you, taking your wrist to pull it away.

He leans closer, and picks a feather on your head. “Will you indulge me?” he asks. “There’s just something I want to ask of you before I leave.”

“Say it, and it will be yours.”

Alastor pokes his cheeks, mimicking a smile. “Just one of these from you will do—Something to power me through the day.”

With a soft chuckle, you widen your lips to show him the brightest smile you can muster. “Is that much better, my love?”

Alastor presses a kiss on your cheek. “Indeed,” he says. “You’ve been frowning for a while now.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Have I?”

Alastor boops your nose. “You have,” says. “What’s troubling you, my dear?”

“It’s nothing serious to you,” you tell him with a shake of your head. “It’s nothing worth listening to.”

Alastor taps his fingers across his microphone. “It’s not nothing. Especially when you frown like that,” he says. “If it’s serious to you, it is worth listening to.”

“Sometimes . . .I still find myself wondering how you feel,” you say, smoothening the feathers on your head “Even after being married for so long, there are times where I still do not know

“You’re not a mind reader,” he says. “If you want to know, you should just ask.”

“Alright then,” you say with a smile. “How are you feeling today, my love?”

Alastor caresses your cheek. The back of his fingers brush down your skin until it hooks around your chin. You tilt it to the side, offering your cheek, ready for him.

Alastor tugs your chin, adjusting your face until your eyes are drawn into his own. And oh . . . Has he always looked at you like this?

Alastor inches closer, his nose nudging against your own. Your heart thumps in your ear.

A minute has never felt so long as you stay frozen. It’s a whole minute  if his lips brushing inches above yours. It’s a whole minute of his finger stroking the skin of your chin. It’s a whole minute of feeling his breath on your skin. It’s a whole minute where inches of space separate your

Alastor tortures you with the simplest of sensation that intoxicated you to your very core. You don’t move away, not from him—never from him.

Your eyes close when Alastor presses his lips across yours.

The taste of this morning’s coffee is dizzying. The soft tickles of his breath make your fingers curl around the fabric of his coat. You were never a poet. It’s Alastor who was better with his words. You cannot describe the way he kisses you with sweet metaphors or soft analogies.

Alastor pulls away.

You inch closer to chase him, until self-control takes over. It splashes you with the warmth of a bucket filled with ice.

Oh . . . oh.

There are words to be said, questions to be asked. The heat tingling of your cheeks and the electricity buzzing your lips make it hard to find the words.

You bury your face into the fabric of Alastor’s chest, curling into him to hide how red your face flushes. The back of his coat crumples when you grip it.

Alastor wraps his arms around you, tightening the hug. His finger stroke your shoulder blade. “Does that answer your question?”

You inhale into his clothes. It’s warm. He’s warm. So warm that int transfers to you. “No, not at all,” you mumble. “Where did you learn to do that?”

Alastor leans back, pushing you away to search your face.He stares at you.

You stare at everything but him.

Alastor squishes your cheek, giving it a light shake. “Stop demanding things from me when you’re not going to remember.”

“I did no such thing.” You swat his hand away. “Will I be seeing you soon?”

Charlie catches your eyes. She quickly glances away before eventually looking back. You bring out your hand, folding your fingers to indicate the number two. Charlie cringes so deep she creates a double chin.

Alastor brushes feathers out of your face. “You wouldn’t need to ask if you accepted Charlie’s offer to stay at the hotel,” he says. “ I was given a room there. I think you would like it . . . but, there’s still thousands of unused rooms if you wish to stay somewhere else.”

“My deerest, are you asking me to stay at the hotel?”

Alastor’s silence makes you chuckle.

With the tips of your toes, you reach to press a kiss on his cheek. “I will see you soon.”

“You always will.”

Charlie and Alastor leave with a wave. You close the door before they reach the gate, leaning on the door. The wood does little to settle the way your skin buzzes. Demand a kiss? You would never do such a thing.

The clock strikes. It’s time to leave for work. You take your coffee mug, scrubbing it with soap. (If you drop it twice, then that’s your business.) You open the cupboard, placing your matching mug next to Alastor’s clean one.

Today . . . Today will be a good day.

For today, there’s no need to throw away cold coffee mugs.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Next Part: |Glimpse of Me and You: Part 1| First of all, you will never catch my Alastor cooking jambalaya. It’s a great dish, I know. But I refuse to fall into the curse. Part of the reason why this chapter took so long to publish, besides work getting in the way, was because I didn’t know how I would want Alastor and Reader to love each other. Like do I make it purely romantic?  But I like keeping this as canon as possible. And I know that Alastor is only canonically ace. This problem struck me until I realized that to be accepted is to be loved. So I decided to write a story that will make me happy to show you. There are so many other fics with pure romance, and I wanted to respect Alastor’s asexuality and everyone who relates to him. This is my love letter to him and to you. Also, I’m just going to put it out there, just in case someone might ask why there’s a kiss on the lips? This is a reminder that you can define a relationship any way you could want. I debated whether that kiss should be on the cheek or on the lips. A cheek kiss isn’t inherently romantic, so I could have just done this. The lip kiss just felt…correct. I wanted to showcase that the relationship between Alastor and Reader isn’t a conventional one, and that it’s fine to have one that differs from what is considered normal. So the best way would be to take something that everything thinks is very romantic and twist it in a way that it could mean something different. And thus, any kiss before and after this chapter really just means that Alastor is completely and perfectly and incandescently happy.

Taglist: @mybrainautocorrect @ray-rook @teavibesaf @valentique @qardasngan @tobyisher3 @amoraneuro @okay-babe @holymusicialmothman @lyralibra @alastorssimp @aestheticglas-blog @slaggylemon

[hetacon]

If you’re still taking suggestions, maybe legend coming home after a quest injured and Ravio completely mother henning him?

I hope you feel better soon!

You have no idea how thrilled I was that you sent this request right after the last one I'd gotten, it fit so perfectly!! And thank you for the well wishes, things are tough right now but I know that I’ll get through it as I have everything else in life

I imagined this as a continuation of the previous suggestion where Ravio feels the pain from Legend getting injured on his quest and after the fight, they get Legend patched up for the most part though he still isn’t fully healed. They get sent to Legend’s Hyrule within the next couple of days and Ravio ends up coming across them near the castle or on his way to town or something and as soon as Ravio sees them, he immediately goes straight for Legend and picks him up, insisting that they’re going home right that instant! Some of the others are failing not to laugh amongst themselves as Legend actually just lets Ravio carry him despite insisting that he’s genuinely fine, which prompts Ravio to lovingly scold him about being more careful and how Legend can’t just worry him like that, with the rest of the Chain following behind as they make their way back to the house

Also if this is not something that someone has already done before, I would like to propose the concept of strong Ravio, my boy deserves to be able to carry Legend and no one can change my mind!!

This is the final Ravioli suggestion that y’all have sent me for the time being so thank you to everyone who did, I really enjoyed these! My hand is hurting a little from the previous drawing so I’ll be sure to rest it for a bit (meaning you guys won’t have to scold me this time about taking care of myself cause I’m already doing it lol), but hopefully it won’t take too long to feel better and I can draw some more art soon!

[thedrarrylibrarian]

Christmas 2023

One of my favorite holiday traditions it to give a book on Christmas Eve. So hopefully in time for you to cozy up before bed, here is my Christmas Eve gift to you - a rec list!

Just the Two of Us by torino10154 (200 words, rated T)

"I can't believe this is our first Christmas, just the two of us," Harry said as he placed the star on top of the Christmas tree.

Christmas Brunch by @drarrily-we-row-along (583 words, rated G)

Draco wanted to host brunch for his parents on the first Christmas in their shared flat. Harry thought that seemed like a great idea.

But the week leading up to it has been a nightmare, Draco is stressed and Harry's losing his mind. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all.

For Everything a Season by @shealynn88 (1,342 words, rated T)

"Our children are a joy, Harry, but I’m glad it’s just you and me.”

Harry goes soft. “Why’s that?”

“Well, many reasons. But right now, you’re under the mistletoe, and I prefer to take my time, and the children would make an awful racket if they were here to see.”

Draco Malfoy and the Cursed Sweater by @slytherco (1,804 words, rated T)

After falling victim to Harry's stupid prank, Draco finds an unexpected partner in crime.

Underneath the Tree (You'll Find a Piece of Me) by @squintclover (4,435 words, rated M)

Harry and Draco find themselves in a holiday home amongst friends at Christmas. The Secret Santa Hermione has planned is sure to go perfectly. Surely...

Even Children Get Older by @lou-isfake (4,500 words, rated M)

It started with don't wake the baby.

Snow on the Beach by tinaakitten (4,915 words, rated T)

Over multiple Christmas Eves, Harry and Draco find their way back to each other.

Featuring cute Harry Potter obsessed toddler Scorpius.

Deliberate Denial by edaniels0221 (7,244 words, rated G)

Professor Harry Potter can't help but to deny his children's ridiculous notion that he has a crush on the gorgeous new Hogwarts Healer, but as he comes to find out, one can only be in denial about liking Draco bloody Malfoy for so long.

Löyly by @citrusses (10,323 words, rated E)

Somewhere between the steam of a sauna and the icy waters of the Gulf of Finland, Harry heals from a broken engagement and a failed career. Draco Malfoy helps.

25 Additional Scenes for Ain't That the Garden of Eden by @romaine2424 (12,139 words, rated G)

The additional scenes cover missing moments in December, Harry's election, and Inauguration.

Because Cats by @icmezzo (14,589 words, rated T)

Harry has a cat, and Draco doesn’t. Then Draco has a cat, and Harry doesn’t. Then Harry has a cat again, but Draco doesn’t. Then Draco has a cat, but Harry—OMG HOW WILL IT END.

Waking Up Slow by @sweet-s0rr0w (21,941 words, rated E)

'Twas the night before Christmas, although it’s July Draco’s a shopkeeper, no-one knows why There’s hiking and witch caves, freak snowfalls and more Bad Christmas jumpers, nosy neighbours galore Narcissa’s here too, but… something’s amiss And what’s in those chocolates that’s making them kiss?

Be sure to check out @skeptiquewrites wonderful Happy Hour Rec for this fic!

All I Want for Christmas by CaityCatt (36,509 words rated M)

Harry feels like a bit of a grinch at Christmas, but his true love has a plan to change all that.

The Coldest of Days by Anonymous (54,683 words, rated E)

At thirty-one, Harry Potter finally has it all: four incredible children, a naughty Niffler named Penny, and a brilliant boyfriend who has managed to fill the hole in his heart.

But because Harry is Harry, chaos is bound to follow. On a cold December morning, Draco wakes up with no memory of the war, his children, or his life with Harry.

That, and he’s insisting that he’s been thrown fifteen years into the future.

The Art of Thank You Notes by fictionclaw (82,286 words, rated E)

A few years after the war, Harry receives a ministry notice that Draco Malfoy’s house arrest will soon be lifted and that the wand he has kept may be sent to the ministry. He doesn’t think much of it when he sends the wand directly to Malfoy Manor with a note.

But one letter swiftly follows another and Malfoy sneaks his way into Harry's every day life without either of them minding.

Or; Harry and Draco find reasons to write letters to each other and Black heirlooms and family histories are uncovered while they figure out why that is. Lunch dates, careful friendship, confusing feelings and Draco's art included.

I hope that wherever you are, you know you have a place by my fire and a place in my heart. Merry Christmas Eve to those who celebrate, and the Happiest of Holiday wishes to all!

[wheneclipsefalls]

Ma Neteyam pt. 15

Pairing: Aged up Omega Neteyam x Alpha Male OC

Masterlist I Ma Neteyam Chapters I AO3

Warnings: swearings, violence, angst, trauma, oldest sibling syndrome, omegaverse, abo, power imbalance, dom/sub dynamics, stockholm syndrome, sexual content, etc.

Summary: It is time for Neteyam to face the music, or in this case, face Eywa.

A/N: This may have taken forever but I couldn't be more excited to finally post this! Thank you all for hanging in there. Let me know what you think<3

Neteyam idly ran his thumb over the curved carvings along the bow. It was pristine, beautifully mesmerizing with the hand carved designs running up and down the wood smoothly. He couldn’t have carved one better himself. His own bow back with the Omatikaya still had scratchings from his early teenage years where he hadn’t learned the art of wielding a knife carefully. 

“I’m afraid I’ve been slightly negligent with courting gifts and this one took much longer than anticipated.” Kxolo admitted, watching Neteyam diligently as the boy observed the gift. “Hopefully it is up to your standards, my love.” Hints of a fond smile were laced with the slightest flinch of nerves. 

“It’s beautiful.” Neteyam breathed. 

It was everything and more that the omega could have hoped for in a courting gift. The type of gift that he had spent far too many nights dreaming about alone in his hammock to one day receive from a handsome alpha such as Kxolo. It was moments like these that he found it terrifyingly difficult to not pretend their situation was normal. To pretend that Kxolo was simply another alpha who had strolled in and stole his heart through charm and traditional courting. 

And yet, that couldn’t be the case, because this bow symbolized more than love or desire to court. It showed that the Olo’eyktan was now officially trusting him with weapons. Were it a traditional courting such a trust would never need to be forged again.There never would have been a doubt in the first place that he would keep violence directed away from his lover. 

Neteyam wished that this realization alone would have been enough to keep affection from spreading  over his heart as he marveled at the tender care and effort that was put into the gift. It was disorienting and borderline painful that such conflicting emotions managed to cohabit his mind and heart. 

“It’s a start.” Kxolo corrected. “You like it then?”

“I love it.” 

“So then what is wrong?”

Neteyam could feel the radiating body heat coming from his mate as he shuffled to sit behind him, wrapping those muscular arms securely around his waist. Soothing pheromones came in gentle waves towards him, breathing in the musky scent that he knew only as Kxolo. It was no longer a thought that instigated his body’s reaction to his alpha’s face rubbing along his neck. Every reaction had become instinctual and impossibly difficult to go against. 

That is if he wanted to.

Did he want to? 

Silence hung as a heavy answer, enough to have Kxolo pressing further.

“Of course, I do not expect you to leave behind your Omatikaya bow. Perhaps I can send a good word over to your family and arrange for it to be brought over soon.”

The thought was almost laughable, especially with their reluctance to speak on the current trip Tamil was making over to the Omatikaya clan today. Neteyam didn’t need verbal confirmation to know that sending Tamil over specifically had been a strategic choice. And an even more strategic choice to keep Kxolo at home, far enough out of the range of his father's axe.

Neteyam could already feel the knot in his stomach tightening as he imagined the news being broken to his father. Neteyam had presented…and Kxolo had not stayed away. The only bright side Tamil could possibly present is still the lack of a mating bond. Even with Tamil’s calm countenance and measured words, it would not be enough to keep Jake from flying off the handle. 

Would it be enough to have his father, Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya clan, breaking peace in order to storm the village and rescue his son? Kxolo seemed convinced that it would not come to that, but the alpha always had a way of finding confidence in situations that Neteyam himself could not fathom. 

“No need…this one will do more than fine.” 

“I would be more than happy to take you out hunting, baby boy.” Kxolo paused, head swaying from side to side as he internally deliberated his next words. “Although I do recall your father once telling me that you often insist upon hunting alone at times, against his best wishes. Promise to be careful and I may be inclined to do so upon occasion.” 

Neteyam was nodding before the words had fully left his mouth. Promises of safety and caution rained from his lips and luckily Kxolo took them in stride with a chuckle and sweet peppered kisses. 

A viperwolf scattered along an overhead branch but Neteyam ignored it. A perfect hunting target and yet this newly crafted bow had only served as decoration thus far. He couldn’t even bring himself to load an arrow. Kxolo had left him alone to hunt at his leisure with an implied promise of bringing back a less solemn Neteyam. However, Neteyam knew where he needed to go-what he had to do. 

Every step on the path towards Vitraya Ramunong [Tree of Souls] felt weighted, the thumping sound ringing in his ears. He walked as if he could crumble under the true pressure of this impending moment, this occasion that could change his life. Neteyam was not one to underestimate the influence of Eywa’s conclusions. Amid his time here, however, the idea that Eywa was simply used as an excuse for this kidnapping had rooted itself deep into his mind. Never had he questioned her decisions because it had been obvious she played no real part in his current circumstance. 

That idea had increasingly become harder to hold onto and although a part of him didn’t want to know the truth, it was the right thing to do. His parents could only be held at bay for so long and Neteyam needed to know whether or not this mating would truly be worth going against them.

A mating that strong could only be one fated by Eywa. 

And yet when the shimmering vines came into view Neteyam could only feel a strong urge to bolt in the opposite direction. Perhaps there would still be time to get some hunting in after all.

He pushed the temptation aside and reminded himself that this was his responsibility. Framing tasks like that always made them easier to beckon because that was a concept he fully understood, one he was used to following ever since he was a small boy. 

The Tree of Souls was everything beautiful and more. 

How had he managed to stay away for so long?

Neteyam carefully lowered himself to his knees amongst the glowing roots. His bow was placed to the side and the omega spent more time than necessary putting it in the right place and fidgeting with his clothing. He even took time to bat away every stray hair sticking out from his braids. 

His throat constricted, feeling as if he had swallowed a yovo fruit whole as he reached behind to grasp his kuru. The braid was heavy in his hand as he brought it over his shoulder. The tendrils danced and waved in the breeze without care but even the thought of connecting it to a vine made his stomach flip. 

There was no turning back from this.

No matter the outcome he would no longer be able to sit idly in this gray area.

Fight his parents or fight the man who had captured his heart?

The dam broke. The last shreds of resistance keeping his emotions at bay burst at the seams and Neteyam could no longer fight the rising sob. The world mixed into a  blurry mess as large tears invaded his vision without reprieve. HIs lungs contracted and ached until the only sound in this oasis was his garbled sobs. 

It was complicated. Complicated and messy. 

There was simply no path that would be without heartbreak and trials. However there was more than struggle that awaited him, something deeper that raked his trepidation higher. 

Guilt.

Guilty for not trying hard enough to get home.

Guilty for pushing away a fated mate. 

Guilty for waiting so long to seek the truth. 

Surely even Eywa herself would look down upon his actions because Neteyam was raised better than this. He was the son of Toruk Makto, a Sky Person turned Na’vi legend. He was the son of Neytiri Te Tskaha Mo’at’ite who was only a young woman when she lost her sister and took her place in the clan only to then lose her father, home, and future role as Tsahik in one day. Neither had shirked away from the destiny Eywa had handed them. They had risen above their own expectations and became the people they were truly meant to be. 

They took world shattering news in stride before jumping into action and now Neteyam couldn’t even get himself to communicate with the Great Mother. 

This was not who he was supposed to be. Omega or not, Neteyam had always known he held the mantle among his siblings. What example was he setting for them?

The omega’s small hands covered his face in despair, foolishly hoping to hide his face from Eywa’s all-seeing eyes. 

“Neteyam?”

His sobbing choked into a garbled mess in his throat as he desperately wiped at his tear streaked face. It took several swipes for him to recognize Tamil’s figure in the distance.

He was back already?

How long had he sat there crying like a child?

“I-I’m sorry. I was just about t-to get back. Lost track of time.” Neteyam tried to dart to his feet but Tamil stopped him with a calm hand. 

“Mawey Neteyam. Stay.” Tamil’s voice purred forward with such tenderness and sincerity, Neteyam couldn’t help but relax back on his knees. Calming alpha pheromones radiated from him and although they smelt like stale dirt compared to Kxolo’s, the omega felt his muscles release tension. 

It was only when a small gargle sounded that Neteyam finally noticed the squirming baby in Tamil’s arms. The small child flopped to and fro as the alpha slowly sat across from him. Her eyes were the size of moons as they glistened in the glowing lights, chubby hands already reaching towards any vine she saw. 

Neteyam couldn’t pin down why if his life depended on it, but the sight of her made whatever resolve he had scrambled together break once more. The sobbing returned and no amount of self discipline could keep back is undignified crying. 

Tamil placed a comforting hand on the omega’s shoulder as he cried. 

The alpha didn’t speak. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t even urge the boy to calm his crying. 

He simply waited.

Tamil’s daughter simply watched on with curious eyes. Once the crying had become old news, she started to reach for some of Neteyam’s loose braids. A pout quickly formed on her lips when her father pulled her back from tugging on them. 

“Do you want to hold her?” Tamil asked softly. 

Neteyam nodded frantically, unsure of why he craved to hold the small child so badly. Tamil handed her over with such gentle care, Neteyam felt as if he was carrying the rarest jewel as he placed her on his lap. 

Although he tried to keep her neatly upright on his lap, she seemed to have other ideas. She could barely crawl but what she lacked in leg strength she made up for in her strategic scooting over his legs. Little huffs left her lips as she dug her nails in his legs and pulled herself forward. Those golden eyes never strayed from his swinging braids. She had a goal.

“What is her name?” He whispered, voice heavy. 

“Vili.” 

Finally her stubby fingers latched onto a braid and a delighted giggle escaped her as she tugged on it. Neteyam winced slightly but a surprised laugh replaced his sobs this time. Tears still rolled down his cheek but there was now something else to focus on. Her small body strained as she went for a specific blue bead in his hair.

“Apologies, hair is her current fixation. It is only by Eywa’s mercy that I am not already bald.” Tamil informed but there was anything but ire present in his tone. He laughed and tried to detach her vice-like grip from Neteyam’s braids. 

“It is fine.” Neteyam barely managed to get out, other hands softly stroking her thin curls. The touch snagged her attention, doe eyes looking up at him suddenly. When he repeated the action, Vili leaned into the touch clumsily. She released the hold on his braids and suddenly she was slumping against his chest, snuggling close. 

Another wave of emotion washed over him as he held the small baby close. 

“You are troubled.” 

“I…I was only…”

“It is fine, Neteyam. I would be concerned were you not.” 

Surprise flickered through him, eyes snapping up to meet Tamil’s. 

“I do not envy your position.” The alpha clarified, pulling Vili’s thumb from her mouth. 

It felt silly to be surprised by the statement but there were days where it seemed everyone took the kidnapping situation in stride,seeing it as simply a small hurdle for the new couple. Kxolo always kept a strong face, reluctant to let on his own concerns about the tension with the Omatikaya clan. 

“They are going to hate me.” Neteyam was startled to find what originated as a simple thought come out in whispered form, but since it was out, the words wouldn’t stop. “I was supposed to be finding a way to get out of here and yet all I have done is fail. No worse, I have gone against everything my parents have taught me and allowed myself to fall for the psycho that kidnapped me. I go to stop and back track….but then….I can’t. I’ve….I’ve betrayed my parents, my siblings, my clan! I’ve given over my own purity and now my parents will hate me. I am not the firstborn they deserve!”

Tears slipped down his cheeks so fast they began to drop on Vili’s head. Her nose scrunched in confusion before patting at her own head. 

Sharp teeth sunk into his bottom lips as he tried to hold back more disgraceful sobs. Although he was on the verge of breaking into a million pieces, there was satisfaction in having the words said out loud. As if they were something he no longer had to hold on his own. They were shared. 

Not daring to glance up at the alpha, Neteyam let the silence stretch between them.

“Vili had trouble breathing when she was first born.”

Neteyam quirked his eyes up finally. 

“Those were longest two minutes of my life. When she did start breathing normally I would refuse to take my hand off her chest. I fell asleep to the rise and fall of her chest. I say with no exaggeration, it was the most terrifying day of my life.” Their eyes connected, a seriousness falling over them.

“And without a doubt the greatest day I shall ever know. I thank the Great Mother for her every night.”

The tension slipped and Neteyam found himself smiling down at Vili who wouldn’t stop kicking her legs at his arm. 

“I do not expect you to understand, Neteyam.” 

Neteyam brows furrowed.

“Only a parent can truly comprehend what it means to love someone unconditionally in the way we love our children. But hear my words when I tell you there is not a single thing that my daughter could do to make me love her a morsel less. That will never change.” 

Neteyam gulped down the lump in his throat. Vili had found a new interest in the omega’s stomach, gummy mouth chomping down painlessly on his lower stomach. 

“Your parents love you. If I didn’t know it before I surely know it after today.” 

Neteyam perked up, hands already shaky in anticipation. 

“What happened? Were they upset?” 

“Naturally, but you need not over concern yourself. That is not my point.” Tamil, pursed his lips, lost in thought for a moment.

“Your parents love you and will continue to love you no matter what you do. You need not do anything to earn that love.”

The words turned over in his head on repeat. 

“But will they forgive me?” He whispered after a long pause, barely more than a breath.

“That assumes you have done something wrong.”

“Haven’t I?”

“Only one being can answer that.” He responded, ever so gently removing Vili from his lap. 

The Tree of Souls had never burned brighter, etching its presence into Neteyam’s consciousness until it could no longer be ignored. Biting his lower lip, the omega casted his eyes upwards as the sacred seeds cascaded down flawlessly.

“And if I don’t want to know?”

Already on his feet with Vili situated on his hip, Tamil paused and smiled warmly down at him. 

“You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.” 

And with that, Tamil silently began to walk away. Before leaving however, he turned once more.

“Neteyam.” He called, causing the omega’s attention to turn. “I see you.” 

Emotion gripped at his heart as he quietly whispered the same back. Tamil smiled but left without delay. 

Echoes of the forest surrounded him in a gentle ambience. Subconsciously, Neteyam thumbed at the designs along his new bow. 

It was time. 

Afraid his nerve would be fleeting, Neteyam hastily threw his kuru back over his shoulder and let the tendrils connect to the nearest vine. 

He cleared his throat, expecting to follow his usual routine of addressing Eywa, but a light blinded him before there was a chance. The words were caught in his throat and the forest scenery melted away before his eyes. Panic went to a find a grip  but then something new washed over him. 

Peace flowed through him in ripples, the same pulsations of an active Tree of Souls. It thrummed through his veins in perfect time with his heart. Only blinding light could be seen but Neteyam was calm. More calm than he had been in years. A peace that he could only vaguely remember experiencing in early childhood. 

Eywa’s love wrapped around him in the same way his own mother had held him close as a babe. There was no judgment, no retribution; just love. His worries took the back burner as he settled into the feeling, no longer letting his brain overwork itself to understand the situation. He accepted the light, accepted the peace, and opened himself up like a flower does to the sun.

Slowly his vision began to recover, revealing the familiar forest before him. However, this time Neteyam found himself no longer underneath the glow of glimmering vines. Slightly startled and confused, he took in his surroundings rapidly whipping his head back and forth. His gaze snagged on Kxolo’s form and although it was surprising to see him there, Neteyam couldn’t help but feel relieved. 

“Sempu! He broke my bow!” A small girl bursted through the trees holding a piece of thin wood. She darted to Kxolo without hesitation, flinging her small body at his calf to cling to.

Neteyam blinked, heart racketing in his rib cage as he witnessed the events. 

He expected Kxolo to be surprised, perhaps point the small girl in the direction of her real father and comfort her along the way but there was not a flicker of hesitation in his features. Instead, Kxolo let out a long sigh and fought back what appeared to be an amused smile. 

“Alright alright, mawey, sweet girl.” He easily positioned her on his hip and the small child instantly tucked her face into his neck and sobbed. She was not easily consoled, despite his efforts to pry an explanation out of her. “Come now, show it to me.” 

Finally the girl reared back to look up at Kxolo. Neteyam he had never seen a more perfected pouty face in his whole life. Her eyes were filled with tears and small lips so expertly set the omega was sure this particular expression was a familiar one to her. Kxolo, however, visibly softened upon seeing her distress. 

He examined the small strip of wood with the other hand before smiling.

“It is not broken, my love. Simply needs some mending.” His voice soothed over her but the result didn”t last long. 

“I told you!” Another child bolted from the treeline, this one at least a foot taller than her. The boy pointed an accusing finger at her. “She is always tattling on me but I didn’t even do it because it not even broken and-”

“Mawey mawey.” Kxolo reassured but that stern steel laced his voice. 

“But sempu, she is always trying to get me in trouble!”

“I am not!” The girl wailed, tears coming back at full force. 

“You crybaby!” 

Neteyam jumped in surprise because that was not a Na’vi term, in fact it wasn’t Na’vi at all. The young boy had switched to English and to further his shock the tiny girl appeared to understand him perfectly as she stuck her tongue out at him. 

“Stop it.” Kxolo accentuated each word with a pointed look.

Although it had a unique accent coating the sounds, there was no mistaking the truth. Kxolo was speaking English. Brows furrowing, Neteyam found it hard to compute the new information. It had become clear that this scene had to be in the future at some point but how? When? 

“Now now no more of that.” Kxolo spoke again in Na’vi as he swiped away the girl’s tears. 

“I want Mommy!” She cried out in English, already trying to find a way out of Kxolo’s arms. The boy on the other hand seemed to have already moved on with a simple eye roll before jetting past the Olo’eyktan. Kxolo caught him before he could slip away, hand gently holding him by the arm. The boy huffed and yanked back with all of his force but it was no match for his alpha father. 

Neteyam felt guilty admitting it, but he was tempted to laugh at the scene before him. Both children trying to pull away and run off to get into trouble while Kxolo simply held them tight and patiently led them towards the lake’s edge. 

“But then I hits em with a jet pack.” 

Neteyam looked close to see which child had spoken but neither had stopped their whining for a second. Instead his ears twitched as he heard a different voice coming from the treeline, a strangely familiar one. 

“That is not how a jet pack works, paskalin.” 

It was a bizarre thing to hear his own voice out in the open air, different from the way it sounds in his head, however nothing could prepare him for seeing a clone of himself emerging from the trees. Exactly like him in every way but this time there were two children attached to his side, one in his arms while the other got a free ride by wrapping around his leg. Looking close he could see the difference in age slightly, along with a few new ornaments in his hair but there was no denying the resemblance.

It was him. 

“Okays but mine specials.” The small boy cling to his leg urgently claimed. 

“Of course, baby.” He heard himself respond, now switching over to Na’vi. In his arms was another small child but this one had to be barely old enough to talk, thumb in his mouth while that small tail tried to wrap around Neteyam’s arm. 

“Daddy!” The tiny boy abandoned him to run over to Kxolo, thrusting a stick with a few feathers up towards him aggressively. “Look whats I mades.” 

“Wow! That is fantastic.” The last word in English was barely discernible, the Olo’eyktan struggling more with this one in particular. Kxolo eyes shot to Neteyams and he saw himself shoot the alpha a small smile in approval. 

“I knows.” The tiny boy agreed, already confident that this fact could be nothing but the simplest truth. 

Kxolo didn’t have a free hand to commend the boy so his tail wrapped around him instead. A fit of giggle burst from the boy as the tuff of Kxolo’s tail tickled at his cheek. It appeared to be just the distraction needed as the Olo’eyktan was finally able to turn and face Neteyam with a grin. 

“Yawntutsyip.” He greeted with a smirk but the small girl was already reaching for Neteyam. 

“Mommy! My bow!” She whined, thrusting the piece out. Neteyam offered a few words of comfort before awkwardly taking the bow and managing to still keep a hold of the baby in his arms. It took less than a minute to slot the string back into place and hand it back. The tears stopped instantly. 

“Time to bathe.” Kxolo purred but outrage broke loose. The older boy in his grip groaned and went to dart away causing him to set down his daughter so he could use both hands to bring him back. The girl took this opportunity to run over to Neteyam and cling to his leg, promises of never bathing again falling from her lips. 

Meanwhile the smallest boy had already left behind his art and was sprinting straight towards the lake. Neteyam’s own heart lurched for a second in panic when those stubby legs hit the water’s edge but to his relief it appeared the boy was quite the swimmer. Future him seemed to know this too as he focused his efforts on swaying his daughter to get in. 

Kxolo and their son were the last ones to get in. The Olo’eyktan had the older boy tucked under his arm, his legs dangling to the side as he pouted. Once his father had placed him in the water he went to make another break for it but Kxolo was already three steps ahead of him, shuffling back and forth to barricade the exit. 

The smallest boy giggled as he watched his older brother and father interact. 

“My turns! Catch me Daddy!” He shrieked before going to run away. The tiny boy ran straight into his older brother and bounced backwards into the water immediately. He surfaced with laughter and to Kxolo’s luck his older son had finally given up playing this back and forth game. 

The Olo’eyktan chased his younger son through the rippling lake for several minutes until the tiny boy had to climb onto a rock for a rest. 

It seemed that harmony had finally been struck as the kids giggled and chased each other through the lake. Kxolo took their smallest child and placed him into a makeshift leaf wrap by the lake, just enough water trickling in to allow the toddler to splash and play. 

Even from a distance Neteyam could easily see the way Kxolo’s eyes scanned over his future self, hands quickly coming to follow the curve of the omega’s back. 

Neteyam glared back at him playfully, tail swatting at his arm. The Olo’eyktan was neither swayed nor put out by the response. In fact, his smirks tipped upwards as he finally yanked his omega into his arms at last. 

“And you question how we got so many children.” Neteyam said.

“I don’t recall you complaining last night, omega.” Kxolo whispered against his neck. Even watching the interaction Neteyam could feel his own body shiver with anticipation. His future self seemed to share the sentiment as he blushed. This time, however, that blush was not followed by shying away or trying to hide it but rather giving his mate a playful smile and reaching to connect their lips. 

Kxolo cupped each side of his face tenderly, soaking in every swipe of their lips together like it was the last breath he would be allowed to take. 

A glimmer of teeth shone through as neither was quite able to hide their smiles in the kiss. Even Neteyam’s tail lazily swayed back and forth in delight. There was not a hint of tension or stress present in his countenance. Neteyam’s hands hooked underneath the Olo’eyktan’s battle band for grip before rising up onto his toes. Kxolo’s responding laugh was more visual than audible. 

“Ewww! Dad!” The oldest son groaned, nose scrunching up in disgust. Their daughter on the other hand began to giggle and sashay her way towards them, eyes wide and intent. When their son went to protest once more, Kxolo playfully splashed back at him and that was enough to start a full blown attack from the children. 

Chubby little hands swatted at the water earnestly, hoping that their combined forces would be enough to take down their parents. When Kxolo’s head snapped in their direction they scattered, already anticipating his retribution. With a mighty roar he dramatically charged after them, gathering them up in his arms easily as they shrieked in delight. 

The forest colors became saturated until light was blurring around him in every direction. That beam took him once more and Neteyam could no longer see the young family in the lake. 

When Neteyam opened his eyes they struggled to make sense of the visual before him. Sparkling vines swung from overhead, bathing him in their glow. Limbs heavy and head pulsing, the omega finally realized he was now laying on his back underneath the Tree of Souls once more. 

To say it was disorienting to come back to reality would be an understatement. His mind felt like it was suspended between two different times, the present and future. The real shock, however, was the deep aching in his bones as he realized this future had not occurred. At least not yet.

But that path would only form if he decided to accept a mating with Kxolo. Everything in that vision was nothing but an idea, one given by Eywa, but still just a speck of what could be. 

However, there was one fact that still remained in the present.

One that was true and had been true for a while now.

He loved Kxolo.

He was in love with Kxolo.

No other person ran through his mind on cycle. No other person made him feel so safe and cherished. No other person had ever captivated his mind body and soul in the same way Kxolo had. Intentional or not, Neteyam had fallen past the point of no return.

He thought of his future self, the way he had radiated a happiness that Neteyam had never fully recognized in himself. A complete metamorphosis. Neteyam couldn’t deny that his future had never looked brighter than in that snippet of time. 

Hope was a flame burning ever brighter. 

For so long he had felt guilty for going against his father’s disapproval of Kxolo. He had wanted so desperately to become like his parents, who fought for their future. But now he could see that they too had to go against the expectations of the clan, mother’s parents, and the RDA all so they could pursue a future that others could not yet comprehend. 

To honor his parents legacy he could only be true to himself.

Now it was his turn to fight for the future he saw. 

“I really should be at communal dinner with Neteyam.” Vamai protested, fingers lazily shifting the cut berries back and forth. 

“You are eating here.” Her father quietly reminded her. Her parents had insisted on an intimate family dinner for the night but were the tension to grow any higher Vamai was sure it would cut off her air flow until she suffocated. 

“But Neteyam has been acting strange for a couple days so I really should be there to make sure he is alright.” She explained. “Olo’eyktan would want the same.” It never hurt to throw Kxolo’s name in for good measure. 

Her father sighed before putting aside his half eaten fish. 

“If Olo’eyktan is upset about your absence I will apologize myself.” He countered and her mother laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. Vamai didn’t mean to be harsh towards her gentle mother but she couldn’t help but shrug the touch off. She was in no mood to be touched. 

Reluctantly accepting her fate, Vamai strapped herself in for the rest of a silent awkward meal. She wasn’t sure what her parents thought this would accomplish. It was not going to fix what had been done. 

“Epok says you are still not speaking to him.” Vamai’s father spoke in a smooth tone, even wafting calming pheromones her way. It was almost laughable the way they viewed her as a skittish prey ready to pounce away at any moment. 

“Well I am not related to him so therefore I am under no obligation to talk to him.” 

Her father’s composure cracked, brows knitted. 

“I take it you are still mad then.” Came his reply.

“Oh am I? I didn’t think that option was still available to me.” 

“Vamai,” Her mother tried to scold but it was more of a sigh to herself, a desperate plea to try and play nice. 

It seemed too that her father was struggling to approach the situation without things escalating. His tail stood on point and those ears were already perky and alert for any shift. 

“Settle, Vamai.” He warned but that spark of electricity was already vibrating through her. Sometimes that energy in her system flowed like a river, giving her the strength to push through physical bounds and explore to her content but other times it reacted like a live wire. It buzzed and hummed through her until she knew all those pent up emotions were going to fly out as lightning. 

Trying to keep it trapped in a box would only sour her mood in a different direction. Either it was going to come out in rage or it would flow as endless tears. She didn’t want to accept either. Doing so would push her parents to worry for her more. It was that same worry which had put them here in the first place. 

“Epok is a nice man, Vee.” Her father gently urged. “I was only trying to look out for your best interest.”

Lightning had always been her favorite. 

“So you hatch up schemes to mate us together? Going to him behind my back like that, convincing him to secure my hand? How is that in my best interest?” She shoved the leaf of berries off of her lap. 

“You have been stubborn. So unmovable from the beginning that you often get in your own way, sweetheart.” Her mother jumped in, her smooth voice such a harsh contrast to Vamai’s own distressed one. 

“That’s right. I’ve come to accept that you most likely will not want to mate with an alpha, your need to push at authority is something that I don’t anticipate going away, but that is why Epok was the perfect choice.” Vamai’s father added. 

Vamai’s jaw set so hard she could feel the aches settling into her back teeth. She fought the urge to grind them together. 

“He is strong, responsible, reliable, capable, and already shares a friendship with you. Not to mention holds a respectable status among the clan.”

“I didn’t ask for his courting profile.” Her cheeks began to flush a deep purple, the blood rushing to her head at abounding speeds. Eyes flickering to the door, possible escape had never looked more tempting. “Why would you try to make that decision for me?” 

It was evident that her father too was quickly losing his patience. Heavy breaths flared from his nostrils every time he prepared himself to speak. The civil temper in the hut was hanging by a thread and one that she was sure either herself or her father was going to snap. 

“I mean what did you think? Let us fuck enough times and I would fall in love with him?” 

It was her.

She snapped it.

And her father’s rage had boiled over. Once again her mouth had run away from her and had therefore put herself in the line of fire. 

“Vamai Te Zehu Sehu’ite, you will watch your mouth!” He towered over them standing at full height. 

It was only instinctive but Vamai still hated the way her ears pulled back and tears gathered in her eyes. Her omega was a whimpering mess and on the verge of surrendering to this fight. It didn’t matter though, she had dealt with worse. 

Although her father’s hands were balled into fists and scent wafting with anger, it seemed he too could sense her shift in emotions through that betraying essence. 

His voice softened, “I am less than pleased about the…manner of your relationship but once again Vamai it had only come to that because it was the only way you allowed Epok close to you. Every other suitor who has tried for your hand has been shoved away and rebuked by you. You must know that does not do well for a male’s willingness-”

“Poor babies.” She muttered, arms crossed over her chest as she stared at the door to their hut. 

“What your father is trying to say is that we are worried about you. Finding a mate is a joyous endeavor, but also a very important decision. It can be…painful at times to go without one, especially as an omega.” 

Vamai knew her mother was trying to speak from a place of experience but it was difficult to ever relate her own character to that of her mother. Her mother was gentle, soft spoken, kind and caring. Somedays Vamai felt as if she could not be further from the descent of her parents. 

“You act as if I will never get mated. It’s not as if I have sworn off the entire concept. Just because I don’t have feelings for a few village alphas? So what? You just said so yourself that the choice is important.” 

Her parents shared a look, one that made the electricity crackle in her veins. 

“My child,” Her father crouched down and reached to cup her cheek. Those calming pheromones prowling once more but Vamai scowled back at him. “Your path thus far has been a rocky one. One that I would have never wished upon my only daughter.”

She reeled away from his touch. 

“That’s what this is about? You know I will get mated but you don’t trust my taste.” 

Her father’s gaze snagged her own and it took every fiber in her to hold the look.

“I made one mistake! One. Is that what you want me to admit? Tenatu was a mistake! I was young and foolish and let my emotions get the best of me. I know that, believe me, I will never forget it!”

“Vee” Her mother's soft voice cooed but Vamia was already pulling away from her gentle touch.Too scrambled and on the edge of a breakdown to think, she grabbed her small pouch and shoved the weird neck comm into it before her parents could see what it was. 

“Vamai, do not be hasty.” Her father warned, but she was already parting the hut flaps.

Anxious for a quick retreat, she was not prepared to bump into a hard chest. Vamai stumbled backwards as two hands went out to steady her. 

“Oh, Vamai. Are you alright?” Epok asked, trying to help the small omega get her footing. 

She scoffed, ripping her arms from his grasp and turning back to her father. 

“What a wonderful dinner you had planned, sempu.” She gritted out, face already turning a darker shade with rage. 

She didn’t allow either male to speak, didn’t give them the time to persuade, justify, or defend their actions. It was clear that tonight she was in fact the fool. 

So Vamai did what she knew how to do best.

She ran. 

“I’m not in the mood, today.” Lo’ak grunted out, storming away from Amnu.

His father had been raging since that morning per the news. Lo’ak was surprised both of his parents didn’t jump the messenger Kxolo sent, no matter how soft spoken or gentle he was about delivering it. Regardless, that anger had shown through in training. Jake had run the warriors down to the bone, merciless with his corrections of every single infraction. Each screw up had come with a consequence, reminiscent of Jake’s military days and something Lo’ak was all too familiar with experiencing. 

At the end of the day, he was exhausted, infuriated, and craving nothing more than to speak with his feisty omega. As tough as Vamai thought she was, her insults could do nothing more than brighten his day. 

“It is true then.” Amnu said, ignoring his warnings. 

Lo’ak grinded to a halt. With a bone chilling stiffness, he turned to face the other alpha male. 

“What. Is.” He hissed, teeth already preparing to tear the male limb from limb. It had been too long of Amnu’s pursuing and nagging. 

“What they say of your brother. He is mated with that psychotic Olo’eyktan.” 

Their game of chase quickly flipped on its head, Lo’ak’s long legs carrying him towards the male in stomping fashion.

“It is not.” His five fingers splayed over the male’s chest, pushing him backwards until he stumbled slightly. “Watch your mouth.” 

Amnu held his arms up in surrender, lips turned downwards. 

“Fine. I do not protest. In fact that is good news, especially considering our deal.” 

Lo’ak could already feel his sore muscles bunching up. This was not the conversation he needed today. 

“What the hell are you on about, Amnu?” 

“I’m talking about when I covered for your ass a few weeks ago. I was under the impression you would bring home a certain pretty omega. And yet, no Neteyam.” 

“First of all, I never promised you anything. You were the one that wanted to help get Neteyam back. Secondly, your help was nonexistent considering I still got turned over within a few hours.” Lo’ak’s hands balled into fists tight enough to mark half moons into his palms. He was in no mood to be tested, even less so engage with some horny entitled alpha. 

“You know that I would treat him better than that brain dead Olo’eyktan. You and I want the same thing.” 

Lo’ak swore he heard his teeth crack from the pressure of his clamped jaw. Amnu’s confidence, however, appeared to know no bounds as he calmly pushed forward. 

“Even if he has been,” Amnu paused, lips pursed while looking for the right term. “Sullied, you could say.” 

The first swing was instinctual. Lo’ak neither needed to think nor decide to give him a right hook. The second, however, was more precise, more intentional. Both made his knuckles ache, but it was more than a worthy cause. 

“You keep my brother’s name out of your filthy mouth!” 

Amnu stumbled and poked at his now bleeding lip but his features too soon morphed in a display of fury. 

“You seem to forget that before this whole mess I was courting your brother for months.”

“Oh really? Is that what those pathetic gifts were? Truly, I thought they were some garbage toys for Tuk.” Lo’ak sneered, ears pointed and alert for the receiving attack.

And it came. 

The other alpha rammed into him, bringing them both to the ground in a tangle of snapping jaws and swinging hits. Admittedly, Amnu got his fair share of hits in, but Lo’ak’s restraint was quickly circling down the drain. It was true that Amnu had been relentlessly pursuing Neteyam but his desire was no match for the swirling emotions that had been spiraling in Lo’ak for months now. 

So he channeled it.

Every jab, tug, and punch was fueled by that turmoil. 

Every day that had been spent trying to keep that fire inside, trying to fill in as a good older brother was compacted into his anger. Amnu made some scratches, even managed to pounded in some deep bruises but Lo’ak was less than deterred. 

He rolled them over, straddling the male and pushing him into the dirt violently. Amnu growled and squirmed but Lo’ak knew how to position his body so that escape was not his to be had. He pinned Amnu’s neck down with his leg, the pressure not enough to cut off the airway but still able to cause great strain. 

“You think that beating me up is going to bring him back?” Amnu’s hoarse voice egged him on. Another hit to the jaw. “It’s not my fault you failed.” 

And that’s when Lo’ak let the floodgates open.

Lip bleeding with scattered bruises along his stomach and face, Lo’ak stomped back to his hut. The fight had dialed his adrenaline to eleven and yet it still left him unsatisfied. In the end he had been triumphant but what did it really matter? Amnu was the least of his problems. His mother and father were sure to be fighting once more as they struggled to keep their emotions in check and find a solution. His older brother was swaddled in the arms of some asshole and his own love life was keeping him up at night until his training was suffering. 

Settling into his hammock, Lo’ak had never been more grateful to have a place to call his own. It gave him the solace and time to think that he required on days like today. 

“Lo’ak.” 

He shot upright, eyes scanning the ground for the earpiece faintly making the sound. He tried not to dwell on how fast he scrambled to respond. It had been a hard day. He deserved to hear her voice. 

“Little snitch, well well well. You do know how to start a comm link after all.” He struggled to keep the words light. Vamai had a knack for creating this playful conversation between them, however he was sure she would not describe their interactions in the same light. 

“Yeah….guess so.” She responded and Lo’ak blinked. 

“What are you up to?” He hesitantly veered forward, trying to gauge her reaction.

“Nothing really.”

Lo’ak brows furrowed as he winced and pressed on his bleeding lip.

“Nothing, huh? It’s kind of hard to do no-”

“Why are you talking strange?”She interrupted. 

“Strange?” He mumbled while pressing the cloth against his cut. 

“Yes, you sound different.” 

He paused for a moment.

“Oh that. I have a cut on my lip, just a minor-”

“How?”

It wasn’t rare for Vamai to be so blunt, but Lo’ak couldn’t help but notice her sudden attention. 

“I got into a fight. Nothing major, just the usual banged up cuts and bruises.” He shrugged, laying back down on his hammock. Talking to Vamai was meant to be his escape from the events of the day. The last thing he wanted was to get into the details. 

“And you have seen tsahik.” 

Lo’ak grimaced at the idea of facing his grandmother at a time like this. The last thing his family needed was to worry about the injuries his heated temper had bestowed upon him. 

“Well, I don’t think now is a good time for that. My family is a little…disarrayed.”

The silence hung heavy for a moment and Lo’ak found the questions at the tip of his tongue begging to let loose. He didn’t want to think about Neteyam or the Olo’eyktan or any of his problems, but there was always a temptation to beseech Vamai. Surely she would know if the rumors were true. 

“I can patch you up.”

His thoughts reared to a stop. 

“What? What do you mean?” He sprung back up in his hammock, muscles aching from the sudden strain. 

“Patch you up. Heal your injuries.”

His fingers ran over the neck comm, making sure there were no missing parts that could be distorting the signal. 

“Yes I….you could.” He swallowed. “Are you offering?” 

“I suppose so.” Came her reply and Lo’ak just about nearly fell on his face as he scrambled to unwind the hammock around his legs. What had gotten into her? Most nights he was lucky to get a ten minute conversation with her and now she wanted to see him? But not only that. Heal him, take care of him.

Although a primal part of him purred at the idea of his omega warming up to him, his suspicion couldn’t be ignored. 

“Meet me at the bottom of the waterfall.”

Lo’ak hastily agreed but there was no reply. 

The waterfall, the same waterfall he had jumped down after her. The same waterfall that at the bottom of he had tasted her essence for the first time. 

The same place she had forbidden them of speaking about for weeks. 

On the ride over Lo’ak struggled to suppress his urgency. He told himself over and over that it was sure to be a joke. Vamai had been…compliant with their comm conversations but any speak of meeting up again had ended with radio silence. He told himself that she was simply playing a prank on him and that the day would once again end with another disappointment.

It didn’t stop the flutter in his stomach, however.

A flutter that had burst into an avalanche when he landed to find her petite form sitting against a tree, arranging bowls of healing ointments. 

It couldn’t have been more than two weeks since he had a waft of her perfume but a serge of primal emotion swept over him at the familiar scent regardless. It rolled forward memories of how that essence had complimented her taste perfectly, of how she had moaned out his name and squirmed against his gripping hands.

More than anything however, it brought forth the memory of her small form in his arms. The way she had slept so softly against him. 

Now, however, that fleeting tinge of peace that had been present in her pheromones was nowhere to be found. In fact, Vamai sat still. So perfectly still and stiff that it had sent chills down his spine. He tried to get a read on her scent but there was a messy sprawl to it, like a tangled web holding what lied beneath. 

“You showed.” He forced on a smile as he rounded the tree. 

Vamai stiffened and nervously shuffled the bowls into a random order. 

“I said I would.” 

The anxious demeanor immediately put him on guard. When he caught her hand that was reaching for another bowl he spoke softly. “Are you alright?”

“Don’t do that.” She shoved him off. Weirdly the aggressive action felt more like her usual self. He leaned into it, hoping to press some sort of reaction or answer that would make sense. 

“Why not?”

For the first time upon arriving her eyes met his. They burned with a formidable rage but there was a shimmer of waterworks lined over them as well. Her lips quivered and immediately, Lo’ak’s tail jerked up on alert. 

“Vama-”

“Can you please just hold still so I can do this?” Vamai snapped. 

And although a part of him stirred at her disrespectful tone, even his alpha knew how to detect an omega in distress. He sat back on his knees quietly. 

She didn’t meet his eyes while preparing the healing balm, letting her wavy hair create a curtain to hide. Vamai was stoic as she began rubbing ointment into a cut on his collarbone, but there were tell-tale signs that Lo’ak couldn’t help but focus on. Her small fingers trembled with every motion over his cut. Although it stung, Lo’ak didn’t so much as flinch. 

Her golden orbs dared a glance at his beaten features. 

“You got injured like this how again?” She whispered, eyes intensely trained on the already treated cut in front of her. 

“A disagreement.” 

“Skxawng.” She huffed, but there was a waiver in her voice. “With who?”

“Just some moronic alpha that has an obsession with Neteyam. Thought it was his place to make swift judgments.” 

Her hand paused and from his vantage point Lo’ak could just barely make out her sharp teeth nipping into her bottom lip. 

“And he looks worse than this, right?” 

“Of course.”

Vamai nodded, shrinking back into her hair once more.

“Good.” 

Her touch became softer, increasingly more gentle when running over the bruises and cuts. She avoided his face, however, tending to every other area first. It tied a knot in Lo’ak’s stomach to see her this way. Quiet. Withdrawn. Small.

Vamai was often like a ticking bomb. On some days he couldn’t help himself from chasing to set her off, to get her to reveal something of significance. Their connection was real, he knew it and there was no denying that she must have felt it too, but he could never figure out what the big hold up was. 

However, he knew on certain days that it was crucial to handle her with care. If he had learned anything about bombs from his father it was that the smallest and seemingly most inconsequential moves were that same that had them blowing you to bits. 

Breath held in his lungs, Lo’ak ever so lightly rested his palm against her lower back. At first it was soft enough to be mistaken as a brush of wind but when she didn’t pull away, he allowed his hand to flatten across the soft skin. 

He couldn't see her face, couldn’t get an accurate read on her but her scent shifted dramatically. Then suddenly she was resting her forehead against his chest. His other hand dug into the dirt as he fought off every instinct to brush her hair away and see what was really happening. 

His patience was not tested for long however.

The shaking began and then came the sobs. 

Tears rained down on his chest as Vamai crumbled against him. 

His body reacted before his brain could catch up. She didn’t fight him as he pulled her to sit on  his lap and latched his muscular arms around her. Calming pheromones drifted from him without thought but nothing could mask her own essence projecting sadness, longing, and…fear.

His brows furrowed, terrified for a moment that he had become the source of this turmoil, but then she leaned closer until her face was burrowed in the crook of his neck. A shiver ran down his spine as he once again experienced this long awaited contact. 

Cheek laid against the top of her head, Lo’ak focused on keeping his breathing consistent and calm, something his omega could latch onto. It took considerable effort as his alpha was pulled between two different desires. To coddle and to protect. Surely this onslaught of emotions had to have an origin, one that his alpha was eager to exterminate.

How long had she been feeling this way?

Regardless, Lo’ak forced himself to remain calm and keep her bundled close against him. 

He hated to see her so distressed and yet it had never felt better to have her in his arms, to finally express his adoration through a physical outlet. 

Her wavy hair tickled at his nose as her sobs quietly rang through the air. One of her small hands found purchase along his battle band and Lo’ak’s heart fluttered in his chest. Daring to push the boundaries just a little further, Lo’ak carefully pushed a few curls away from her forehead. 

Her face was still buried against his neck but he could see the tears streaks staining her gorgeously soft cheeks and lips. He took it as a good sign when she didn’t correct this action, but Vamai wouldn’t open her eyes either. He wondered what secrets hid within those golden eyes. What sorrows she held at bay. 

When the tears had ceased neither Na’vi moved. 

She fit so perfectly against his larger form, tucked away where he could protect her from these invisible dangers. Pride swelled in his chest when Vamai shifted to tuck closer and relaxed in his hold. Long fingers skated up and down her spine, fiddling with the feathered straps intricately woven there. 

Incidentally his pinky brushed her curling tail. 

To his utter shock and delight that thin appendage curled around his wrist.

He looked down but her eyes were still shut. Staring for a moment, he thought that perhaps she had drifted off but then golden eyes peaked up at him through slanted slits. Immediately they closed against and Vamai shuffled to hide against his shoulder. 

He suppressed a chuckle, knowing she would bite back at him for finding the action cute. 

Instead he allowed himself to breathe in the moment. Silence was not a common occurrence between them, something he was unfamiliar with in their dynamic but he found himself enjoying it. It gave him the opportunity to fill his lungs with her essence, allow it to imprint itself into his mind, because he was not foolish enough to believe this would last forever.

At some point Vamai would remember who was holding her and remember whatever reasons she had for keeping him at arm's length. Then he would be back to chasing her, back to wrestling the omega into facing her own feelings. It was a challenge Lo’ak was willing to face, but it came with lonely moments too. 

It would be worth it though. 

This he knew as he brushed another curl from her temple. 

Kxolo believed he had a knack for patience and keeping a cool composure. That is, before he had met Neteyam and the omega had easily turned him inside out. 

It wasn’t uncommon to hunt solo for a few hours. Two, maybe three hours was normal. But when hour four hit, Kxolo could no longer keep his nerves at bay. He raced through the forest, barreling through bushing and scaling overturned trees within his path. 

Worst case scenarios tumbled and tangled in his mind, tormenting him endlessly as he ran. 

Neteyam had been off that morning. His head had been far away from the present and Kxolo regretted ever letting the omega out to hunt alone in that state. The forests of Pandora were not for the faint of heart and definitely not for those distracted. He could only imagine what creature had found him as prey. 

Kxolo’s hand was drawing up to unsheath his knife when suddenly a familiar figure came into view.

Instantly the Olo’eyktan sagged in relief. 

“Neteyam.” He breathed. “There you are, baby boy.” 

He sheathed the dagger once more and quickly went to embrace the omega. Neteyam fell into the hug easily but his tail flickered back and forth in anticipation. Kxolo’s own tailed pointed in alert. 

Holding the boy back at arm’s length, Kxolo scanned his slim frame for injuries. 

“You aren’t hurt, are you?” He asked with brows knitted.

“I’m not.” 

Kxolo beamed, nerves finally washed away. 

“Come, I will help you bring back your kills.” Kxolo urged, taking him by the hand. 

“Kxolo”

“I must admit you had me worried, little one.” The alpha chuckled, hand squeezing the smaller one in his grasp. 

“Kxolo.”

“Yes love.” He hummed, focusing on following Neteyam’s footprints back to his hunting grounds. 

“Kxolo.” Neteyam firmly yanked on the male’s hand, causing the alpha to immediately spin on his heel to face him. The Olo’eyktan’s ears perked up. 

“Neteyam, what-”

“Mate with me.” 

Thank you all for the support and patience! As always, your feedback and comments not only mean the world to me but also motivate me to write more. Can't wait for Chapter 16!

Taglist: @tallulah477 @kayjaydee17 @itchaboi-itchyboy @theunfortunateplace @perfectprofessorloverapricot @neteyamssyulang @4ashes-stuff @creepytoes88 @young5643-blog @glass-rosette @namjooncrabs @softsnowydreamer

Please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the Ma Neteyam taglist&lt;3

[tgmsunmontue]

With our pets, a house becomes our home

5k Hangster MeetCute (Explicit, but not very by my standards). Bradley is the vet (DVM) that Jake takes Brisket to after he adopts her and moves to Corpus Christi to be a flying instructor.

I started this fic before I saw @yeagrave's art, but this post is 100% Jake's lockscreen (and those are a set of Jake's spare dog tags).

                Monday mornings generally suck. The people who have left their pets wellness until normal business hours because they didn’t want to pay the extra emergency fees. He quietly judges them. This Monday sucks more than most though, because he’s covering another vet on what is meant to be his day off. But he doesn’t want to make the admin staff have to reshuffle the thirty or so appointments that he now has facing him in a long gauntlet of monotony. Hopefully there will be something interesting that pops up.

                He deals with the standard checkups, listens to heart murmurs, administers vaccines, makes notes for the techs, gives instructions about diets he knows get ignored by owners who think they know better. He has to change his scrubs when a dog vomits on him and yeah… he wants his day off back with a deep burning passion but pushes through. He can shower and blob when he gets home and bitch and moan to his friends. They can compare Mondayitis stories and see who comes out worst.

                He steps into the waiting room, and there’s only two people left, one a woman with two kittens in a carrier, and the other a man cradling a puppy. He’s only got one left for his ticket today, and it’s a puppy so okay, at least he gets to look at a cute puppy and a cuter guy.

                “Brisket?”

                The guy blushes and Bradley can’t help his smile getting bigger as he gestures toward the consultation room.

                “Uh, hi.”

                “Hi, I’m Bradley. What brings Brisket in today?”

                “She needs a general checkup, and I wanted to register her with a vet since I moved here in the weekend… She needs vaccines I think? And to be fixed? And I wanted to ask some questions?”

                “So she’s here for the works… can I have a look?” Bradley asks and the guy blushes again, looks down at the tiny bundle who looks back at him adoringly and Bradley has a thing for guys who like animals. Couldn’t be with anyone who didn’t like animals, wouldn’t feel like he could trust them. He hands the puppy over to Bradley and he handles her gently, lets her lick and sniff at him a little before lowering her to the examination table.

                “Tell me about how you got Brisket,” Bradley says, running his hands down the little body, grinning as she happily licks his fingers, tail wagging enthusiastically. She’s very sweet. Most guys like having big dogs, so he’s genuinely curious as to whether this guy chose this dog, or if he’s here at the bequest of someone else. Girlfriend or boyfriend maybe. Purely out of professional courtesy.

                “Uh, I’ve wanted a dog for ages. Finally getting settled in one place for a while so I figured it was finally time you know? So I went to the shelter in San Diego, not really intending to adopt then and there…”

                “She’s a rescue?” Bradley says, and he’s a little surprised. Because if they’re not big dogs then they’re usually little dog breeds, so some hybrid-cross-breed that some breeder thinks will be in demand. This little thing hadn’t looked like any breed he was familiar with, but there’s so many new ones and he’s not usually up with them all.

                “Well yeah, of course. She just had such a friendly personality you know?”

                “She is very sweet natured,” Bradley agrees, because the guy is clearly besotted with his puppy, and it’s adorable. He listens to her heart and lungs, takes her temperature and soothes her through the discomfit.

                “So did you have paperwork showing what she’s already been vaccinated for? Most shelters give you adoption paperwork?”

                “Oh, yeah, they did. One second,” the guy says, pulling folded pieces of paper out of his pocket and handing them over. On the top of the paper are all the details of the dog, and then down the bottom the details of the new owner. Jake Seresin. At least he has a name now.

                “Okay, so she’s all up to date with all the vaccines, she’ll need to come back in six weeks for a booster. And we don’t do on the spot spaying or neutering, you’ll have to make an appointment when she’s a little older. Try not to let her out unattended, because we don’t want to be adding to the puppy population, regardless of the fact that she’d no doubt make gorgeous babies…You a first time dog owner?”

                “I grew up on a ranch, had lots of animals. Horses mainly. Well, beef stock. But lots of working animals, not pets. She’s my first.”

                “Well, you made a good choice. She’s got a lovely temperament. Nice and healthy,” Bradley states, laughing as she tries to chew on his thumb and he reaches for a dog toy from the jar. “Okay, so she’s going to be mouthy, she’ll want to chew on things as her adult teeth come through. You might find a couple of puppy teeth lying around but they usually just swallow them. It’s all normal. You have any questions?”

                “Uh…I… um. Made a list.”

                “Sensible,” Bradley says, and this guy’s adorable intensity is commendable, he wished more owners thought to ask their vets the questions rather than trusting Google.

                “You’ve, uh, already answered a few of them actually.”

                “That’s good, what else have you got?”

                He asks about diet and exercise, sleep and routines, anxiety and separation and toilet training and Bradley answers them all, writes down a few notes and links to some reputable websites. Recommends a puppy obedience course, steers him away from problematic dog toys which can cause more harm than good. The appointment definitely runs well over the time, but it’s his last of the day and he’s got nowhere else he’d rather be, and after the day he’s had this is a nice silver lining.

                “Anything else I can help you with?”

                “No, I think that’s it. Thanks so much, it’s really helped.”

                “You’re more than welcome. I guess I just have a question for you now.”

                “Of course, what is it?”

                “I don’t usually do this, but you want to grab a drink sometime?”

                “A drink. Like…A date?”

                “Yep.”

                “Yeah. Yeah I’d like that.”

                “Great, let me get a card.” He grabs a business card, usually reserved for when he goes to conferences, carefully prints his personal cell phone number on the back and hands it over. “I look forward to hearing from you.”

…             …             …

                Jake gets back to his house and immediately lets Brisket out into the back garden, looks at the little rectangular piece of card and puts the number into his phone before he loses it. He puts the name in as Bradley but then follows it with the flame emoji, followed by the guy with the moustache and then the dog emoji. That’s enough to remind him of who exactly Bradley is. Not that he thinks he’s going to need the reminder.

                He spends some time looking at the websites Bradley has recommended, sends an enquiry about the puppy obedience classes. He’d already made an appointment for the booster shots and for getting Brisket fixed. Definitely doesn’t want to wait that long before seeing Bradley again. He grins. Only in town for five days and he’s got a guys number. Without even trying. Phoenix told him a puppy would help him make friends, that he needed as much help as he could, maybe she was onto something.

Hi Bradley. This is Jake. Let me know when you want to do that drink. I don’t start work until next week so currently free as a bird.

                It’s not too late, and it’s been a couple of hours. He’s not going to play hard to get. He’s never considered himself hard to get when the guy is as attractive as Bradley is, and he’s never been one to play games or overthink setting up dates or hookups. He’s hoping this is maybe more than a hookup.

I’m free most evenings. Tomorrow? Dinner?

                Jake grins, likes the idea of dinner even more than a drink, it’s a good sign; sends a message back, organizing a time but asking for recommendations of where they could go to eat.

…             …             …

                They settle at a table and quickly peruse the menu before placing orders with the hovering waitstaff. They’ve made superficial small-talk about the weather and how Brisket is doing, but he’s hoping he can find out more about Jake himself.

                “So you’re new to the area?”

                “Uh yeah, I guess. I lived here a while back but am back for work.”

                “And what do you do for work?”

                “I’m in the Navy. An aviator,” Jake says, like he’s a little unsure.

                “You’re shitting me…” Bradley says with a disbelieving laugh, because he’s had a guy tell him he was a naval aviator before. Except he hadn’t been and the lie had quickly bitten the other guy in the ass when Bradley had quickly realized and called him out on it. It had been a shame because Bradley had genuinely liked him.

                “Why would I lie?”

                “Well, some guys think it’ll sound impressive…”

                “Isn’t it?”

                “Well… maybe to some guys,” Bradley concedes.

                “Not you?”

                “No. Not to me. I’m more impressed you adopted a rescue, travelled across country with it and care about your puppy than what you might or might not do for your work.”

                “Most people care that I disappear for months on end. Or have a thing against the military in general.”

                “Huh,” Bradley states, realizing that that was maybe where his hesitance had come from. “I’m used to people being away for long periods,” Bradley states. Jake raises an eyebrow. “Sorry. I’m just… I was a Navy brat. Sort of.”

                “Sort of?”

                “Yeah. Grew up on bases, spent most of my life on them. We probably know some of the same people, if you’re actually a naval aviator…” Bradley says, still giving him an out, because maybe this guy is not realising the hole he’s dug.

                “How do you figure?”

                “My dad was a naval aviator, and until very recently my godfather was also a naval aviator, although he’s recently retired. Although I don’t think the Navy will actually ever get rid of him. He’s pretty entrenched.”

                “Yeah, what’s his name?”

                “Pete Mitchell,” Bradley provides, and Jake’s immediate response makes him relax a little. That’s definitely recognition of the name.

                “Maverick? Mav’s your godfather?”

                Bradley opens his mouth, snaps it shut again. Not just recognition but more than that. He's calling him Mav. Of fucking course he knows Mav, and he hadn’t used his callsign so this guy is legitimately a naval aviator.

                “You know Mav huh?”

                “Yeah. He’s… damn. He’s fucking insane but so good. He was brought in to train us and he’s just… that good.”

                “Don’t let him hear you say that. His ego doesn’t need to be made any bigger.”

                “He deserves his ego, he’s fucking legendary.”

                “You sound like a fan.”

                “Yeah, I guess I am. He’s… worthy of fans.”

                “Yeah well, he’s my godfather. So there you go.”

                “Wait, are you little goose?”

                “Oh god…” Bradley groans.

                “You are!”

                “Yeah yeah… this is quickly losing the date vibe.”

                “Sorry, I can bring it back to that,” Jake says, and his hand is suddenly resting on Bradley’s, warm and dry, fingers stroking the back of his hand.

                “Yeah, think you better or you might strike out…”

                “Wouldn’t want that…” Jake says, and his eyes are dark and amused and Bradley feels a little thrill at being the subject of his intense gaze.

                “So, you’re an actual naval aviator.”

                “Yeah, no wonder you aren’t impressed if you grew up hearing about Mav’s exploits. Fuck.”

                “Trust me, I find you plenty impressive.”

                “Good to know,” Jake says, his smile clearly pleased. “I’m one of the new flight instructors. Have a three-year stint here and Kingsville unless they need me for something special.”

                “Nice. Do you like teaching?”

                Their conversation changes as they talk more, discussing what their upbringings were like, their families, respective careers, all of Bradley’s current animals, favorite food and drink. It’s easy, their humor similar and gently teasing at times, making laughter come easily. It’s one of the best first-dates he’s ever had and it’s not until there’s a polite cough that he looks up to see the rest of the restaurant is empty, the waitstaff having clearly cleared up and are now just waiting on them. A quick glance at his phone tells him it’s nearly midnight and his mind bugs out a little.

                “Shit, sorry. I guess we got caught up talking.”

                “It’s fine.”

                He grabs the bill, leaving a generous tip for keeping them and tells Jake he can grab the bill next time, which has him murmuring next time huh under his breath, close to Bradley’s ear as they walk close together as they step outside. There are only two cars left in the lot and he guesses the staff must park somewhere else. He walks Jake to his car, only a few yards from his own truck.

                “I had a really good time tonight…” Bradley starts.

                “Me too. Wouldn’t mind doing it again…”

                “What are you doing Saturday?”

                “Having dinner with this hot guy I just met…”

                “What a weird coincidence, so am I…”

                He shifts forward, eyes searching Jake’s face to make sure there isn’t any hesitation before placing a gentle kiss on Jake’s mouth. He pulls back slowly, his lips quirking in amusement when Jake quickly gives him another kiss back, slightly firmer and longer and he feels the flicker of warm anticipation come to life in his belly. Potential something.

                “Don’t suppose I can tempt you to come back to my place?”

                “I’m definitely tempted, but I’ve got to get home. Dogs.”

                “Oh yeah, of course.”

                “Bring Brisket on Saturday. She can meet the pack…”

                He doesn’t want to mention that Jake could also bring all her gear, as well as a spare toothbrush for himself.

…             …             …

                They’ve been messaging since dinner on Tuesday and Jake feels completely settled into his house now, he’s driven to both Corpus Christi and Kingsville to familiarize himself with the routes. He’s taken Brisket to her first puppy obedience class, figured out the most convenient grocery store. All week he’s been looking forward to Saturday, packs some things and leaves them in has car, so if he needs any of it they’ll be close at hand. If it’s effectively a sleepover backpack for him and Brisket that’s between him and Brisket.

                He pulls into the drive of the house address Bradley had given him and looks at the tall fence that surrounds the back garden, can already hear barking and he looks down at Brisket who is sitting there, ears pricking forward at the sound of other dogs. He gets out, grabs her bag of stuff and carries her toward the house, glad she at least seems curious about the barking rather than terrified. He rings the bell, eyes widening at the sudden increase in barking and then Bradley is there, smiling at him behind the wavy glass of the door. Immediately the barking ceases, although there is a small yap, and then the door opens.

                “Hi. Come on in.”

                “Hi. Uh. Are you sure she’s going to be okay?”

                “Trust me, if anything she’ll rule them with an iron paw… feel free to put her down.”

                Jake doesn’t particularly want to, but Bradley is looking expectant, as are the five dogs who are all sitting and waiting obediently. He knows they aren’t all Bradley’s dogs permanently, that he’s fostering three and dog-sitting one, but he can’t remember which one is which. Most of the dogs are normal sized, one is huge though, and he wishes he remembered which one Bradley said was his. Then a cat walks in and insolently stalks in front of the line of dogs and collapses at Bradley’s feet.

                “Curtiss,” Bradley states, waving a hand at the cat with a sardonic sigh. The fact that none of the dogs have moved, except one, the largest, whose tail had started wagging enthusiastically makes Jake feel more confident about putting Brisket down. She is nowhere near as disciplined as any of the other dogs. Hell, the cat is probably more disciplined than Brisket, despite the fact it is a cat and takes direction from no one. Understandably she runs from him to Bradley, then to the cat, then back to Jake, then takes turns running to and around each dog and prancing playfully, like she expects them to play with her.

                “I’m going to give them the release signal and it’s going to get chaotic, but just trust me okay? They’re well trained.”

                He believes it, but sure enough in less than a second there’s barking again, six dogs suddenly all barking and then they’re running and Brisket is chasing after them and Bradley grins at him.

                “I gave them the signal for outside. Brewster is too big to not be well trained, and he generally gets all other dogs quickly following his lead.”

                “What kind of dog is he again?”

                “A Leonberger. He was surrendered to a local shelter because the owners couldn’t afford to keep him. He eats a lot. He went unadopted because of the costs associated with feeding him, raft of potential health issues as he aged and because he had zero training. I’ve had him for five years now.”

                “He’s massive,” Jake says, and he knows he’s stating the fucking obvious but when Bradley had said he had just the one big dog, he had never imagined this. He’s pretty sure Brisket is the size of one of his paws.

                “Yep. But as I said, he’s very well trained. I work with him every day as well. Come on, I promised you dinner.”

                “You cooked?”

                “I did, but it’s only one of the five meals I can make, so don’t go thinking I’m accomplished or anything.”

                “As long as it’s edible.”

                He takes the offered beer, watches as Bradley dishes out some pasta dish along with some garlic bread and then directs him to sit at a high bench on bar stools rather than at the dining table.

                “We don’t want Brewster putting his mouth into our food, at least up here we have a slightly better chance of protecting it.”

                “I thought you said he was really well trained?”

                “Not when I’m eating food. All bets are off if I’m eating.”

                Jake laughs and just like it did on Tuesday, conversation flows easily. Bradley can follow his work talk easily, obviously used to Navy talk because of Mav, his own work stories are equal parts hilarious and terrifying. He’s attentive, giving Jake his full attention and he finds he likes that a lot more than he thought he would. They finish dinner, Bradley quickly stacking his dishwasher before feeding the dogs. He watches as Bradley holds their attention before giving them the signal that they can eat and he can’t help but be impressed. He’s pretty sure Brisket is only going to have to look at him and he’s going to cave to her every whim. He does try and look like he’s not a complete soft touch in front of Bradley as he feeds her, but he doesn’t think he succeeds.

                They go into the back lawn and throw balls for the dogs, starting an elaborate game of keep-away for about twenty minutes before Bradley offers him dessert. He wants to ask if it’s Bradley himself on offer but doesn’t, instead takes the bowl of fruit and ice-cream and makes himself comfortable on the sofa, apparently safe from Brewster as he’s afraid of the scent of fruit. There’s a collection of boardgames, none of which he’s familiar with so he asks about them and learns that it’s another of Bradley’s hobbies.

                When they’re finished he follows Bradley back to the kitchen, notices it’s much quieter, almost dark outside and there’s no more barking and he looks around, suddenly anxious.

                “She’s just over there…” Bradley says, his lips twitching with a smile and Jake’s not sure if he’s laughing at him or… oh. That’s fucking cute. Brisket is curled up on Brewster, she’s somehow managed to climb up the almost mountain like body and curl up on top of him. He grabs his phone and snaps a photo, and then a few more because one is never going to be enough.

                “She’s all tuckered out… You going to wake her up?”

                Jake looks up at Bradley’s tone, and his eyes are hooded and Jake feels an immediate jolt of arousal spark through him.

                “No… she looks far too comfortable. Think I need to go to bed too…”

                “Yeah?”

                “Definitely. Show me the way…”

…             …             …

                They’ve not talked about what they’re doing, not in the actual physical and practical sense. Not in terms of sex and he’s definitely been raised in a house with the rule of if you can’t talk about it you shouldn’t be doing it. Which actually only goes so far when you really don’t want to share details of your sex life with your surrogate parents, or hear anything about theirs. He does agree in principle though, and there’s only one way to find out. Conversation hasn’t been difficult between them so he doesn’t expect this to be awkward either. He shifts slightly so he can rest his head on his hand while his other hand runs up and down from Jake’s shoulder to his hip.

                “Anything you don’t like?”

                “Uh…”

                “Anything you do like? Or prefer? I’m easy…”

                “Lucky me.”

                “Can I touch?”

                “Yeah…course.”

                Bradley lets his hand rub Jake’s cock through his underwear as he kisses him, enjoys the feel of Jake’s body moving against his hand, body and mouth. Jake’s free hand runs through the hair on his chest, then his shoulders, down his arm before there are blunt nails digging into his ass; then finally a large palm rubs his cock far too fleetingly to be anything more than a frustrating taste before it starts back at the beginning.

                “This okay?”

                “Yeah, look, if you do something I don’t like I’ll say something okay?”

                “And if I do something you like?”

                “Actually, you could work on that a little bit more…”

                He kisses him hard then, grinds their hips together and palms an ass cheek in his hand, holding Jake tight against him.

                “Yeah, fuck…”

                He shifts, pushes Jake back to lie on his back and then straddles one of Jake’s thighs. He runs both hands down Jake’s naked chest, leans down to kiss him again, hands on either side of Jake’s shoulders. Jake looks good, is confident with it, Bradley can’t help but find it attractive. He shifts a little, Jake’s hands are all over, hips lifting up to try and rub against him and Bradley would tease him for being impatient but he is starting to feel the same.

                Their breathing is getting shallower, and he kisses over Jake’s collar bone, licks a little into the slight dip in his clavicle and assumes it’s a little ticklish from the way Jake laughs a little. He runs a hand down Jake’s side, his mouth moving down his chest but his eyes are on Jake’s neck and mouth, muscles taut and mouth open as he breathes harshly. He’s clearly given up waiting for Bradley to pay attention to his dick, has his own hand rubbing himself, occasionally detouring to rub Bradley’s dick as well. He moves his mouth over Jake’s pectorals, sucks gently at one nipple, wanting to know if this is something Jake –

                 “Fucking hell,” Jake exclaims, body jerking up as if electrified and Bradley pulls back immediately.

                “Good or bad?”

                “Good. Do it again …”

                Bradley grins and seals his mouth around his right nipple again and sucks, flicking his tongue over the harder nub of flesh in his mouth and Jake’s entire body arches again and Bradley can’t believe how good he looks. How good he feels.

                “Fuck, why does that feel so good?”

                “Lots of nerve endings…”

                “It was a fucking rhetorical question…”

                He snorts, lowers his mouth back and presses down with his lower body at the same time, wants to give something for Jake to grind against, push him toward climax. Jake is reading his body easily, his hips angling slightly to thrust against the juncture of his thigh and hip, hands both on Bradley’s lower back urging him closer, pulling him down and Bradley lets a little more of his weight press down. The moan Jake lets out is gratifying and he reaches a hand between them and presses harder, feels the dampness from where he’s leaking pre-come.

                “Lube?”

                “No, I like it a little, uh, rough… you go ahead though, if you want…”

                “Nope, I’m all good…”

                His lips are red and swollen and Bradley wants to make him look like this all the time. He runs a finger under the elastic of the underwear and then Jake’s hips are up and he shifts back and out of the way. Watches as Jake pushes them down and he can’t actually get them off with the way Bradley is half-kneeling over him, one thigh between Jake’s legs. He shuffles down the bed. Drags his hands down Jake’s legs, tugs the underwear off before moving back up, placing gentle kisses on knees, thighs and hips before he licks up the length of Jake’s cock, kisses the head and lets his moustache scrape against the skin gently. Jake is shifting, clearly wanting to move more but holding himself back and he’s got far too much control for Bradley’s liking.

                He wraps his hand around Jake’s cock, a little firmer than he would usually, but Jake had said he likes it a little rough. He jerks it steadily, watches as Jake’s eyes squeeze shut, mouth opening in a silent gasp and he keeps going. It’s been a while, but he knows how to multitask and he wants to hear and see what will happen next. Knows getting Jake off is likely going to make him come as well. He settles his mouth over the same nipple he’d sucked before, and it’s a little pink, and he sucks again. The resulting words from Jake’s mouth are nonsensical in between loud gasps for air and what he recognizes as his name. He doesn’t say anything, can’t really, with his mouth busy sucking intently. His hand has sped up and he’s resting a fair bit of his weight on Jake’s leg, partly pinning Jake beneath him and his cock is hard and leaking. One of Jake’s hands is fisted in his hair, holding Bradley to his chest and then his whole body goes taut like a rubber band being stretched before it snaps back and then Jake is coming all over his hand and he gentles the sucking to more gentler licks and swirls of his tongue because it’s most likely going to be a little bruised.

                 “Ungh… fuck…”

                He doesn’t bother moving very much, just shoves his own underwear down enough to take his cock in his hand and jerk himself off, hard and desperate to come, no need to try and make it last longer or hold back. He moves enough to kiss Jake and he feels a hand try to come and help him and while he appreciates the intent it isn’t something that is even a consideration right now, he’s too close and he doesn’t need much…

                “Bradley…”

                Yeah, that’ll do it. He comes with a groan, his come joining Jake’s on his stomach. He rests his forehead against Jake’s neck while he tries to steady his breathing. Their breathing is the only sound he can hear outside of his body, heartbeat pounding in his ears, waits a moment before he lets out a long shuddery breath and kisses Jake on the chin.

                “You okay?”

                “What’s that saying, ask a stupid question?”

                “Get a stupid answer…”

                “Yeah.”

                He grabs some tissues, passes the box to Jake and they wipe themselves clean and he feels fantastic, hopes Jake feels similarly. He kisses him, takes the dirty tissues from his unresisting fingers and lies down beside him.

                “Stupidly okay. You?”

                “Yeah. That sounds about right. Damned good for a first run…”

                “Mmm. Imagine what it will be like when we’ve got a few more test runs behind us.”

                “Always room for improvement.”

                “That’s very true… I’m just going to go and let the dogs out but I’ll be right back. If you wanted to stay that is?”

                “Yeah, staying sounds good. Just… uh. Brisket normally sleeps on the bed with me.”

                “Think she’s found a new bed.”

                “Lucky for me I won’t be lonely I guess.”

                Bradley grins.

…             …             …

2 MONTHS LATER

                He’s running a little late, but not by a lot. He’s messaged both Jake and Mav to say he’s running a bit behind due to a surgery requiring a bit more time. He walks into the restaurant and spies them sitting at a booth near the back, tells the hostess he’s with them and raises his hand in greeting as Mav is standing to give him a hug.

                “Bradley!”

                “Hey Mav, good to see you,” Bradley says, returning the tight embrace.

                “Good to see you too. You’re looking good. This is… Jake.”

                Bradley leans down and gives Jake a kiss, takes his time and licks into his mouth.

                “Hi.”

                “I hope you don’t meet everyone that way…”

                “Only my boyfriend Mav,” Bradley says, laughing. “You didn’t tell him?” he asks Jake.

                “Nope, one of my joys in life is keeping him on his toes,” Jake says, grinning at them both as they sit. Mav is rolling his eyes and huffing, but Bradley can tell he’s a little pleased. At least he knows now why Bradley really didn’t care about him inviting someone else along to dinner.

                “How long has this been going on?” Mav asks, looking between them with interest.

                “Couple of months,” Bradley provides.

                “You move fast,” Mav says to Jake dryly.

                “What can I say? I know a good thing when I see one.”

                “Plus Brisket loves me.”

                “She does have exceptional taste.”

                “Much like her owner. Although don’t you get the names mixed up? Brisket, Bradley and Brewster? There’s definitely a theme there…”

                Jake blinks, looks at Bradley and he just shrugs.

                “We could get a couple more pets and name them Brownie and Bruno and you’d have the whole set.”

                Jake laughs, eye brow quirks;

                “Sounds like a plan.”

[artssslut2]

Unexpected: Part Ten

Final Part!

Warnings: Graphic Birth

The days had passed slowly since you and Art got home. Not a bad slow, it was nice to relax and spend time together before your lives changed forever. You were in a better mood since Art had seemingly found the cure for your back pain; being in the water. You would swim in the ocean almost everyday to relieve the pain in your body.

Today your good mood faded because you were officially 41 weeks pregnant. That meant you were a week overdue. You knew it could happen you’ve seen it happen, but now that it was happening to you it was a whole different story. The worst part is that there is a possibility that it could last a whole other week before doctors would induce you. You were over it. You and Art had been trying to induce labor naturally, going on long walks, herbal teas, bouncing on a yoga ball but it wasn’t working.

It was nighttime and you and Art sat in your living room. You were miserably bouncing on the ball googling more ways to induce labor.

“This one says to try pineapple” Art suggested leaning over the counter reading off his computer, you didn’t reply you just stood up walked to the fridge. You took out a pineapple, luckily you had one because it was one of Arts favorite foods.

“Babe I could’ve gotten it for you.” He told you smiling a little, you again didn’t reply. You were too tired and too determined. “You know you could try to relax, just try enjoying these last few days.” Art suggested trying to be helpful but that’s not how you took it,

“Well that’s easy for you to say Art she’s not moving around inside of you all the time, or kicking you in your ribs, or making your back and feet and everything else hurt” you scoffed giving him a death stare. He got the message,

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I have no idea how you feel or how frustrated you must be.” He apologized and kissed your hair. You looked at him your eyes softened and you leaned into him a little as your way of telling him it was okay. He smiled at you and then took a piece of pineapple from the cutting board,

“Art don’t touch my pineapple!” You swatted his hand away, he looked surprised and put it back. You didn’t feel bad he knew better than to touch your food this late in your pregnancy.

“Do you really want to help me?” You asked him with puppy dog eyes,

“Of course baby, whatever you need” he told you, he was happy you asked for his help because he loved helping you.

“Okay. I’m gonna finish this entire pineapple and then we’re gonna go upstairs and have sex.” You told him casually while taking a bite of your fruit. Art was taken aback, sex was the last thing you seemed like you wanted to do, he stuttered a little before speaking

“Uh- o-okay. Um are you… sure?” He asked rather confused.

“You put her in there and you’re gonna get her out Donaldson. What,do you not want to fuck me?” You asked him, even though you were huge art still found you hotter than ever, he swallowed

“No of course I do-“

“Alright then let’s go.” You interrupted licking your fingers. Art felt his erection grow in his shorts it had been a long time since you two had been intimate he didn’t think he’d last long. He followed you upstairs to the bedroom.

You and Art had very hot slow side by side sex, the only way you really could these days. You came a few times and art came inside of you to hopefully get labor going. You couldn’t wait until you could have normal sex again.

“What a great way to celebrate.” Art said pulling out and rolling to his back,

“Celebrate what?” You asked also rolling over to face him, Art looked at you confused

“My um … birthday?” He said trying not to make you feel bad for totally forgetting. How could you have forgotten your best friends birthday,

“Fuck how could I forget! Art I’m so sorry-“ you felt yourself getting worked up, he could tell and tried to calm you down

“Hey it’s ok y/n. We have so much going on, this year has been insane don’t worry about it. It’s really no big deal I promise.” He said stroking your face gently. You tried giving him a smile,

“I’m still sorry babe. I love you.” You said kissing him “I’ll get you a present I promise.”

“You’re the only present I need my love.” He kissed your forehead. You didn’t have time to hate yourself for forgetting his birthday because you felt a pain in your stomach. Fuck. You winced. Art pulled away and looked at you.

“You might be getting a present anyways.” You said trying not to panic. Art stared blankly, “I think it worked.” Art still looked at you dumbfounded. “Art I think I’m in labor!”You said as clear as you could be, finally his face changed to slight panic,

“Well. . Um.. what do we, how-“ Art struggled to find words his face was as white as your sheets. Usually you would be the one to keep you both calm but you didn’t feel calm.

“Uhh do we have everything?” You said stuttering as well, you have almost two years of nursing school under your belt but you couldn’t remember anything important right now, art shot out of bed and went to the closet and grabbed a bag

“Yes! We have everything ready” he said putting the bag on the bed, he looked to you for further instructions

“Um.. then let’s uh… go for a walk.” You said finally finding words, now art looked really confused. His mouth hung open “So we can make it go faster. Oh and time them! Can you time how far apart they are?” You said getting out of bed and putting clothes on. Now you were in go mode,

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to go for a walk?” Art asked as he put a shirt on

“Yes these things take forever especially the first time. We can’t go to the hospital until they are five minutes apart. I don’t want to just sit here waiting around I want to speed this up.” You said finding your shoes.

“But-“ Art started to protest but you stopped him

“ART! You are going to listen to me right now! I’m so terrified right now and I need you to just do what I say okay?” You yelled with a voice crack. Art nodded his head slowly and you smiled “okay then come help me tie my shoes” you ordered and he rushed to your side to help you.

You and Art had walked around your neighborhood for about an hour. Surprisingly things were moving fast… maybe faster than you would have liked.

You were hunched over with one hand under your belly and the other grabbing arts shoulder for support, he stood right by you.

“Shit this fucking hurts… I knew it would but it’s way worse than anyone could possibly imagine.” You groaned as the contraction finished. Art grimaced, he hated seeing you his best friend and love of his life in pain. He was the biggest empath.

“Can I do anything else for you baby?” He asked pushing your hair from your face. You shook your head,

“How far apart are they now?” You asked standing up straight again. He looked at his watch

“Four minutes” he said then paused, his eyes went wide and so did yours and you looked at each other “fuck! Four minutes?!” He said looking at his watch again panicked

“Art I said tell me when it was at six!” You yelled also panicking.

“Shit I’m sorry I just- I - I didn’t-“ he couldn’t find words he put and hand behind his neck,

“Let’s go we gotta go!” You barked at him. You were a few minutes from your house, you’d have to walk back and then drive to the hospital. This was not how you had planned this, how was it going so fast?

By the time you made it back to your house and to the car the contractions were three minutes apart. Now you both were panicking. You prayed that you would make it to the hospital because no way were you having a baby in Arts car. His new car. You waited by the car while Art went to lock the house. As you stood there you felt something leak down your leg. Fuck. Your water had just broken,

“Ready?” Art said rushing to the car, he came to your side to open the door, you just looked at him with fear in your eyes “what?” He asked looking at you and then scanning your body

“My water broke.” You said a little above a whisper, surprisingly Art didn’t panic he was the one who stayed calm

“Well then we should go.” He said holding your face forcing out a smile. You felt another contraction hit you hard, it was worse than any of the others. You yelled in pain and grabbed Art to hold you up.

“Art I don’t think we are going to make it”

“What? What do you mean yes we will come on” he said trying to get you into the car but you wouldn’t.

“I’d rather have the baby here than in your car” you said firmly, you knew you were going to have the baby soon. You didn’t have time. It terrified you but you didn’t have time to be scared

“Y/n I-“

“Art! Just trust me on this please, I’m the one who’s been a nurse and is in medical school so you have to listen and stay calm.” You begged. Art took a deep breath and closed his eyes

“Let’s go inside” he said helping you walk to the house.

You barely made it to the house, half way there you felt the urge to push. The baby was coming now. Art pretty much had to pick you up to get you Inside. As soon as you got through the door you were on the floor with Art next to you.

“Fuck. It’s happening now Art” you cried,

“Okay - Okay what do I do?” He asked frantically.

“Get something to grab her with like a towel make sure it’s clean okay?” He didn’t respond he just shot up and ran to get one. He was back in seconds. You had taken your pants off and were against the wall sitting down.

“Okay, can you see her head?” You asked out of breath, you had never felt so much pain in your life. Somehow with all the chaos you weren’t even focused on the pain.

“Yes I see it. Oh my god I see it.” Art said he was in awe of the strength you had. You nodded and took a deep breath

“N-next contraction I’m gonna push again… tell me when her head is out.” You directed, Art listened to you closely, he was calm now and he was ready. As ready as a freshmen twenty year old could be, while listening to your screams of pain,

“I’m so proud of you y/n your doing amazing” he told you starting to get teary eyed. You couldn’t believe this was happening, you were terrified and so was Art,

“I love you” you said catching your breath waiting for the next contraction

“I love you so much” you felt another contraction rip through you

“Okay now” you could barely get at words, you started pushing, you yelped out in pain. You wished you were in a hospital with drugs and doctors so your boyfriend could just hold your hand rather than deliver your baby.

“The heads almost out keep going” Art encouraged “it’s out. Oh my god it’s out!” He cried. You felt like you were going to pass out but you needed to get her out, that was your only focus. You centered yourself and looked back at Art

“Okay now..” you regretted what your were about to say you knew how bad it would hurt but it was the safest way to get her out quickly “now reach in and grab her shoulders, I’m gonna push and she will come out so be ready to catch her okay?” You instructed through gritted teeth. Art nodded along with fear in his eyes. Art did as you said and you screamed out in pain, he stopped he looked like he was going to cry

“No keep going!” This was the worst pain you’ve ever felt. Art hated seeing you like this he felt so bad but he followed instructions. You screamed as the baby came out. Art caught the tiny baby in his hands and a loud cry filled the air

“You did it. Jesus y/n you did it. Thank you. Thank you.” Art cried he had never been so in love, he couldn’t believe how proud he was of you for practically delivering your own baby. He had never seen such a smart strong badass women before.

Art brought the baby closer to you and you both held her in your arms and cried.

“Art she’s so beautiful.” You sobbed looking at the life you and your best friend created.

“I can’t believe you just did that baby. That was insane.” He smiled kissing your head and touching your foreheads together. Your baby had stopped crying and you kissed her head. Art called an ambulance and you both waited while sitting on the floor with your newborn. Neither of you cared about the mess or the pain, all you cared about was your little girl. Art sat behind you holding you up as you held your baby. It was perfect.

Once you were all at the hospital, you and the baby were checked out and the both of you were healthy and safe. Art felt the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders when he heard both his girls were okay. You and Art sat in your hospital bed watching your baby sleep in his arms peacefully.

“We still need a name for her” Art cooed keeping his eyes on the infant

“We already have one” you whispered looking at him, he turned to you and realized what you were saying,

“No way. really?” He asked, his eyes lighting up. You nodded. “Sunny. Hi my little Sunny girl.” He told the baby with the biggest smile you had seen. You were slightly angry because you didn’t want that to be her name, but after hearing Art say it so much you couldn’t picture her name being anything else.

“I’m gonna marry you y/n… I’m gonna give you and Sunny everything.” He said before kissing you.

Never in a million years did you think this is what your life would be like this. You wouldn’t change a thing.

“Hey happy birthday. Both of you.” You said to your two favorite people. “Congrats on beating teen parenthood Donaldson.” You joked. Art chuckled and then kissed your forehead

“You’ll be on my level in two months don’t worry.”

[amethyst-draws09]

Chapter 3 of poppy playtime and the smiling critters saved poppy playtime (SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 3!!!)

I know that’s a big statement but hear me out.

Poppy playtime before chapter 3 had a bit of a bad rep. It was basically the punching bag of mascot horror. And can you really blame them? Hell even I thought it was bad in chapter 1.

Chapter 2 came round and it was definitely good! But the horror aspect weren’t on full play and if I recall there was a lot of controversy about it when chapter 2 came out.

But chapter 3? Oh my goodness it’s incredible. And is what really hooked me and a lot of other people in to poppy playtime. And the smiling critter’s basically branched off into there own fandom. (I’m apart of by the way)

I mean for starters gameplay. They balanced horror,gameplay,puzzles and story so bloody well in this chapter it’s unbelievable,and the pacing is brilliant!

And the horror 😨. It would be an understatement to say this was horrifying. First of all nightmare huggy wuggy just in general also we get a glimpse into the orphan experimenting in chapter 2 but chapter 3 really just goes all out on it. I mean home sweet home has some DARK connotations if you look into it and it’s terrifying how people as young as 5! We’re experimented on. I mean the main villain of this chapter catnap. Is literally an 7 or 8 year old child. And you are told constantly To AVOID playcare at all cost’s now imagine how I and basically everyone felt when at the end of the cave segment you see a Sign welcoming you into playcare 😨. And then dogday. Holy fu##ing sh#t was that so dark and brutal. HE’S BEEN CHOPPED IN HALF AND TO MAKE THINGS WORSE HE DIES BY BASICALLY BEING EATEN FROM THE INSIDE OUT BY THE SMALLER CRITTERS?!?! NOT TO MENTION YOU CAN HEAR HIM CHOKING ON THEM IN THE CHASE?!?! That is GENIUELY  such a brutal and dark thing I’ve ever seen come out of a horror game. And wow did mob have some balls to do that when they KNOW they’ve got a massive child audience. Props to them.

The final boss is such a refreshing breath of fresh air with it not being a chase segment. The boss is GENIUELY thought out well. And catnaps and dogdays death actually made me a bit sad especially with dogday.

The characters designs are So Bloody good. Examples being literally any of the smiling critters. Miss joy and so on. They fit the theme and game so well

Now I could mention other things like the cardboard cutouts of the critters or the dark implications of what happened to the bigger body critters during the hour of joy but that would make this post go on for to long.

To end it off. The artist who made the animation for the start of chapter 3 of the smiling critters and just designing them in genreal and there art should be really proud of themselves. They started such a big fandom it’s unbelievable and I couldn’t be more grateful for what they did.

Chapter 3 was such a joy ride and such a surprise to me and loads of people. When I weren’t scared or sad I was grinning ear to ear with how good this chapter was. And I’m not the only one who thinks this. Search up on YouTube Twitter Reddit etc and you’ll see so many people praising this chapter with how good It was. Not saying it’s perfect it def has it flaws like me personally thinking the other critters were criminally underused. But it was such a big step up and made poppy playtime from a mid game to an exceptional game. I and so many others are happy this exists. This chapter was such a joy ride and I personally LOVED IT. Let’s hope that they make the future chapters as good if not better than this one (and hopefully bring back the smiling critters there such good characters)

And that’s why i think chapter 3 (and the smiling critters) SAVED poppy playtime

[oldiesstationlover11607]

hellooo again!! i loved what you did with the dun!reader x tyler fic, it was exactly what i had imagined thank you!!:3 i’ll definitely be a regular here, you’re writing is TEWWW good not to be one 😁 id also love to be 🦝 anon if that works??

anyways id love to see an angsty fic, where reader & tyler are at an party or some sort of event and reader is spending a lot of time talking to her old childhood friend. and while tyler knows the reader would never hurt him, and that there was nothing going between reader and this guy. blurryface gets the best of him. so when they leave the party early because tyler has a “headache” and when the car ride home is nothing but silent, reader speaks up about it. and blurryface tries to argue with reader, paint her out to be this villain. but reader knows how to help tyler, she knows exactly how to save him from himself. i even if blurryface’s words hurt at first.

i hope i explained that correctly ☝️ but yeah just a angsty argument moment & once reader realizes she just has to save tyler from blurryface, she just reassures him until he’s safe.

again thank you so much for writing my request!!:) i have sooo many random ideas that id love to share with you, i truly enjoy your work soo much <3

- 🦝

Jealous - Tyler Joseph x Reader

Relationship: Tyler Joseph × Reader

Warnings: Blurryface, strong language (I did use swears lol), and Tyler being jealous - angst

Word Count: 2734

A/N: Hello 🦝! I'm glad you enjoyed the Dun!reader fic and thanks for coming back and requesting :) This was super fun to write bc I have an event with my guy best friend this weekend and lots of people that are going to be there haven't met him so I was able to take inspiration – hopefully it doesn't end up like this! Hope you enjoy!

We’d been planning this festival for months, 17 youth bands from Columbus, Ohio were set to play in a medium sized local venue over Saturday and I couldn’t have been more excited. Tyler had promised to  come as a guest and watch the bands. I’d asked him to have a chat with a few of the kids who I knew were fans and genuinely interested in taking their music further and into a professional sphere. 

“How’s this?” Tyler stepped out of our closet wearing a black hoodie, black jeans, and a baseball cap, doing a little spin. 

“Perfect,” I smiled, finishing my makeup in the mirror with my favorite music blasting from the speaker Tyler had installed in the ensuite bathroom for us. He fell back onto our bed, spreading out into a starfish position and staring up at the ceiling. “You look tired,” I laughed, looking at him through the mirror. 

“I am,” he responded, pulling down one of his pillows from the top of the bed. I grabbed my bag and slipped in my phone, keys, lip balm, and a comb. 

“Well you’re gonna need to wake up if you’re going to be speaking to these kids,” I said. Tyler sat up, letting out a loud groan that echoed through the bedroom. He opened his arms out to me, welcoming my presence between his knees. Resting his head against my chest, he pulled me in close enough that he was practically breathing me in. “I’m excited,” I smiled, knowing my hard work was finally paying off and that all of the kids I’d gotten to know over the last few months were getting the opportunity to showcase their art in front of people who truly understood them. 

“I’m excited for you,” he mumbled, his voice muffled through my shirt. His body heat felt comforting and the last thing I wanted was to step away. It was going to be a stressful day and any minute away from him would just make me more stressed, he was my own personal stress reliever. “We should get going,” I pulled away from his embrace and helped him onto his feet. Normally Tyler drove us places because I took control of the aux to play our shared playlist. We got into the car and almost immediately music started to flow around the car, the two of us singing as loud as we could and shimmying back and forth with the bass. The venue was about half an hour from our house and I’d gotten a couple text messages from the crew to let me know they were loading things in including camera equipment and the shared drum kit each band was going to use. We turned the corner and drove in through the back entrance, parking just to the side of the loading bay. Everywhere I looked there were people running back and forth carrying equipment and talking to the bands. It felt like just yesterday that Tyler and I were setting up for twenty one pilots’ shows together while Mark filmed everything. I missed it, I missed having a camera shoved in my face by one of my best friends–it was fun. Tyler jumped out of the car and ran over to my side, offering a hand for me and not letting go once I was down. We walked into the venue, music playing over the radio to keep everyone entertained during the long waiting hours. That was when I saw him–Luke. I stopped right there in the middle of the walkway, my breath caught in my throat. 

“Y/N?” he paused, his eyes meeting mine for the first time since high school. My heart was beating in my ribcage, the feeling vibrating throughout my body and straight into my hand, which Tyler gripped tightly. His brows furrowed as he looked at me with concern. 

“Luke?” Tyler tilted his head slightly. I let go of his hand and ran straight into Luke’s arms. “Oh my god, what are you doing here?” I gasped. 

“I thought I’d fly in and surprise you! I’ve been helping a bit behind the scenes with promotional stuff,” he looked down at me with a grin. 

“How long has it been?” Tears of joy started to well in my eyes. Luke was my best friend in elementary school, middle school, and even high school–our friendship lasting longer than 10 years. 

“Eight years Tink,” he said, ruffling my hair. ‘Tinkerbell,’ the nickname I’d adopted in middle school. I remember it like it was yesterday, the summer when our families went to Disney World together. Luke and I grew up on Disney movies and when we finally saved enough money to go to the parks we were so excited. Like the amazing friend I was, I forced Luke to stand in an hour-long line with me to meet Tinkerbell only to get heat stroke and have to step out of line. I cried and cried about how bad I felt about wasting his time but the whole time he sat by my side waiting for me to feel better before dragging me off to Walt Disney’s Haunted Mansion and forever cementing my name as ‘Tinkerbell’. 

“Sorry, Tink?” Tyler interrupted. I stepped back from Luke who chuckled. 

“Short for Tinkerbell. It’s a long story. You must be Tyler, I’ve heard so much about you,” Luke beamed, reaching a hand out to Tyler who shook it firmly. 

“Interesting, because I haven’t heard anything about you,” he mimicked sarcastically. Luke’s face dropped looking at me with confusion. He’d never come up in conversation, Luke moved out of state after high school, going to New York for business school. 

“We were friends at school,” Luke explained before looking back at me. “The kids are already here if you want to come say hi, they’re all super excited to meet Tyler.” I nodded, following him as he walked ahead. Tyler reached down and grabbed my hand strongly. Something was off, he was standing taller and felt more serious than he normally was. 

“Are you okay?” I whispered into his ear–he had to lean down to properly hear me. 

“Yep. Fine. Absolutely fine.”

“Tyler if you feel sick or something you can go home, I can stay here with Luke,” I began, rubbing the pad of my thumb against the back of his hand. 

“I said I’m fine,” he insisted. As we entered the backstage area where all the kids were he turned on a smile and went to greet everyone. The room instantly filled with cheers and squeals as he was quickly swarmed and disappeared from sight, leaving Luke and I alone. 

“Do you need any help with setting stuff up?” I asked, turning away from Tyler and trying to make myself useful. 

“Actually yeah, you could help me put together the gift baskets for the bands,” he nodded, leading me further down the hall into a dressing room full of brightly coloured baskets, bags of candy, drum sticks, guitar picks, and more gifty things. I jumped over the covered floor to a small square of carpet which was clear enough for me to stand. “So, what’s up with this Tyler guy? You told me he was chill but he was anything but that,” Luke spoke, kneeling down and grabbing a basket. He was right, Tyler was generally relaxed with the exception of a few work things with the band when he really locked in. 

“I don’t know Lou,” I ran a hand through my hair, “he normally is.” 

He shrugged and let out a sigh. “Maybe he’s jealous of my amazingness,” he bragged, fitting a pack of guitar strings next to the box of chocolates in his basket.  

“As if,” I scoffed, throwing the ring of ribbon to him. “I’m dating the frontman of one of the biggest bands on the planet and you’re… you,” I laughed as Luke placed a hand on his chest in mock offense. As Luke and I continued to fit each gift into the baskets we began to talk about the past. We reminisced on the make believe games we used to play, the popular girls in middle school who thought they were ‘all that’–who apparently these days were working at gas stations and malls–and that one time our math teacher talked about his couples therapy in class. I could barely breathe as Luke mimicked the teacher’s voice, clenching my stomach and gasping for air. 

“Oh my god, remember when he got on his knees in front of Kate and started praying for her to pass the exam?” I laughed as Luke gasped, continuing his perspective of the story. I could hear the thumping and humming of the bands playing as they started to roll out on stage–I couldn’t have been more proud. 

“What about Dylan, do you remember him?” Luke asked. We’d moved closer together as the empty baskets became perfectly full and were placed on the table I’d decided needed to be covered in pink paper.

“Shit that breakup was the worst. I was the a fucking mess,” I scoffed. Dylan was my high school boyfriend and for most of our relationship I was deeply in love with him–except for the day I caught him making out with Kathy from biology. It took me months to get over it, months of watching Disney movies and scoffing ice cream on Luke’s couch. It was so bad that our parents actually let us stay at each other’s houses. 

“I know, I was there,” Luke laughed, cutting the end of the ribbon he was tying. “I’m glad you’ve found your person though, he’s lucky to have you Tink.” Finishing another basket, I placed it on the table, finally able to move around the room as we’d finished about half of the job already. Just as I was about to go back to my spot I saw Tyler standing in the doorway. 

“Hey,” I smiled, opening my arms to him as he weaved his way around the baskets towards me. “How were the kids?” I looked up at him noticing he was picking at his hands–an anxious habit he’d formed. 

“Good,” he responded. 

“Are you okay man?” Luke asked, looking up from the bow he was tying. Tyler’s fists clenched. 

“I’ve got a headache, you know?” he gestured to his head. “I think we should head home Y/N.” I didn’t want to go home, I wanted to watch my hard work pay off and hear the music. 

“Oh I can give her a ride home after is she wan–”

“No. I–I–no,” Tyler interrupted. I stood up and interlocked my arm with his but he shrugged me off. I mouthed an ‘I’m sorry’ at Luke who flashed me a sympathetic look. I hated having to leave him, I’d missed his company more than I thought I had–all of the memories flooding back in a manner of hours. 

“Okay,” I nodded, placing the basket I had just finished on the table and smiling sheepishly at Luke. Tyler walked stiffly to the door and out to the car without a word. 

“See ya Tink,” Luke waved, “I’ll text you.” 

I ran out after Tyler towards the car seeing him already sitting in the driver’s seat with the engine running. His posture was perfectly straight and expression blank. I climbed into my seat and turned to him, placing a hand on his thigh. 

“Are you okay to drive?” I asked, genuinely concerned about what was happening to him. Either he was telling the truth and had a headache or something much worse was about to happen. 

“It’s fine,” he snapped, driving out of the lot. I reached for the aux cable to plug my phone in, hoping some music would help him feel better–it usually did. “Don’t. Please,” he spoke, his hands gripping hard onto the wheel. I nodded and sat in silence the rest of the way home, staring out the window. As each building passed us I felt worse and worse, an ever expanding pit of anxiety forming in my throat. Tyler didn’t say a word but as we got closer and closer to home he would occasionally let out a groan or wince of pain. We wheeled into the driveway and came to a stop, Tyler jumping out of the car and running into the house. Immediately I chased after him, catching the front door as he attempted to slam it. 

“Tyler!” I shouted, causing him to stop and look at me. His eyes were red–bright red. Fuck. 

“I don’t want to talk to you,” he snapped, raising his arms to cover his head. He was trying to hide Blurryface from me. 

“Blurry come on. Talk to me,” I said. 

“I don’t need to hear you talk about him. I don’t want to hear you talk about him. You ditched me the whole day to hang out with him,” he started a path of no return, we were going to have that conversation.

“Tyl–We–He’s…We’re not…” I tried to explain it but couldn’t get my words out.

“Save it Y/N. I saw the way he looked at you, the way you hugged him. God you’re such a slut,” he seethed. My jaw dropped. The same words high school bullies spat at me were coming from the mouth of the person I love the most–the person who I’d decided to spend my life with. 

“You’re awful,” I sniffled. 

“And you’re not?” he continued to push, his eyes glowing brighter than before. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to unleash hell on him but it wasn’t Tyler speaking and I knew anything I did to Blurryface would just hurt Tyler more than he already was hurting. 

“He’s gay,” I blurted. “He’s gay, there is nothing going on between us and there never has.” I wiped the tears falling from my face. It wasn’t my thing to tell him, Luke was out and everyone who knew him knew he was gay–in fact even those who didn’t know him could seem to tell. Almost instantly Tyler’s eyes turned from the flaring fiery red to a bloodshot brown, his shoulders falling. 

“What?” I could tell he felt awful, the buildup of guilt obvious on his face. 

“I said, he’s gay, and there isn’t and never has been anything going on between us. He’s my friend Tyler.” He held his hand in front of his mouth, shaking violently. 

“Oh my god. I’m awful, I–I called you a–” he started to bawl and I pulled him in close. 

“It wasn’t you Ty. It’s okay, it’s okay,” I hummed, rubbing my hand up and down his back and tears streamed down his face. Tyler buried his face into my shoulder, his body trembling with every sob.

 “I didn’t mean it. I swear, I didn’t mean it,” he choked out, his voice cracking.

“I know, baby. I know,” I whispered softly, keeping my arms wrapped tightly around him. My heart ached seeing him like this, so consumed by Blurryface’s anger and his own self-hatred.

“I can’t believe I let him do that… I can’t believe I said that to you. I’m so sorry,” he kept repeating, guilt lacing every word. I pulled back just enough to see his face, placing my hands gently on either side of his cheeks. 

“Tyler, listen to me. That wasn’t you. I know you, and you would never say those things. I’m not angry at you. I just want to help you through this.” His eyes, still red and puffy, searched mine, like he was desperately trying to believe my words but couldn’t let go of his shame. 

“But I hurt you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. I shook my head gently. 

“I’m okay. I’m here, aren’t I? I love you, Tyler. Nothing he says, nothing Blurryface does, can change that.” He let out another shaky breath, his forehead resting against mine. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that. You deserve all the love in the world, and I’m going to keep reminding you of that until you believe it,” I said, my voice firm but gentle. For a moment, we stayed there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of everything starting to lift, even if just a little. Tyler’s breathing slowly steadied, his tears drying as he leaned into my touch.

“We’ll get through this, Ty. Together.”

He nodded, his voice still raw. “Together.”

//

Requests open!

[bungiri]

FINALLY got around to doing a slight redesign for wren and figuring out how i wanna draw her SO HERE SHE IS !!!

posted some close ups way under the cut bc i didn't realize how small my handwriting is IM SORRY

if u don't know her yet here's my stardew valley expanded based farmer oc her name is wren <3 she's a half witch who isn't very good at magic, but is more capable than people tend to think.

EDIT: ok i still get likes on this as of the day i’m editing this post so i thought i’d mention that this is outdated asfk. if ur at all interested in seeing wren’s new intro page u can find it here although it’s not as detailed as this one is

the only person who consistently believes in her and has never doubted her is her father, alejandro, who is an experienced adventurer based in pelican town. he is well known in various guilds (specifically the castle village guild) for not only his physical strength and mastery of the sword, but his optimism and abilities as a natural born leader. since he's a member of the guild in pelican town, he'd often bring wren to town since she was a little girl all the way to the present day.

on the other side, wren's mother, dolores, is much more critical of her and has had high expectations of her since childhood. she expects wren to practice her magic by the book and strive for perfection. protective and often overbearing, dolores wants wren to remain in their small town without consideration for her daughter's desires. the two of them bond over their love of fashion and dolores often spends a lot of time making clothing and accessories for wren to wear by hand.

as much as i want to make this an infodump about her Lore, i don't wanna give away too much bc i wanna do vague art about it first !!! she has 2 very good reasons for running away to the farm and is quickly overwhelmed as she tries to adjust to her new life and make money. she isn't gonna quit though because she doesn't wanna have to do the Walk Of Shame back home and admit to anyone that she couldn't do it. thankfully some of the townspeople (marnie, marlon, pierre, gus, linus) are familiar with her and help her out in her first few weeks.

i don't have a clue what isaac's backstory will be like but the idea that he and wren are childhood enemies is drilled into my brain LMAO. they haven't set aside that childhood beef because when they reunite as adults they're still snarky and hostile towards each other. isaac thinks she's a spoiled nepo baby who has only gotten accepted into the pelican town guild + is being considered for castle village entry because her dad is so cherished in the scene and he thinks they can't outright say no to her. he also believes that she's not cut out for Adventurer Life™️ and that she should just stick to farming and failing at magic or whatever it is she does. wren can also be very reckless (she gets it from alejandro) which isaac believes can possibly put not only herself but other people in danger (Valid Point). wren is stubborn though and is sick of people doubting her. isaac has never been particularly nice to her in the first place so why should she listen to him fr !!! however things happen and they eventually smooch so ?!?!?? enemies to lovers.

idk what Else to add pls do ask questions if u want,, i'll definitely be doing more art of her soon

CLOSE UPS !!! not very detailed thoughts just some notes hopefully u can read it

[satoruvt]

[9:09 PM]

wonwoo, 507 words, fluff, sfw, no warnings.

a/n: life has been nothing but upsetting since ulting wonu. i love him a lot

“You’re still out here?”

You jump a little in your seat, feeling your heart rush suddenly at the sound of another person. Wonwoo’s walking closer to the fire, hands in his pajama pants pockets with a small smile on his face. 

“Yeah,” you say after a moment, trying to catch your breath after your little scare. Wonwoo hums. “I can’t sleep well away from home.”

“Me either, most of the time,” he responds.

To celebrate the end of finals and the beginning of your most conscious summer yet, Soonyoung booked a cabin out in the middle of nowhere. Two and a half weeks of nature and quiet, which was enough to get you to come along. You don’t really know if you’d call it camping, the way Soonyoung and Jun do, but it’s close enough, for now.

You’d met Wonwoo twice before you came out here. The first time at Soonyoung’s house as you were coming and he was going, and the second at your university’s art exhibition. He’d looked dreamy then, round glasses and earthy tones, thoughtful and gentle.

He’s looked even better during this trip. No makeup and fluffy hair, comfy clothes and dirtied sneakers. Soft laughter and a quiet voice. Even now, in the warm, warm light of the fire, he’s tender. You’ve spent a lot of soft moments with him over the last two weeks, sharing thoughts about books and laughing at everyone’s antics.

(And… different moments. Intimate moments. Fingers intertwining and little gasping laughs and Wonwoo’s eyes in the low lamplight in your room.)

“Weird that the trip is almost over,” you murmur, looking at the sky. The stars are so bright away from the city. “Feels like we’ve been here forever.”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo says. Crickets chirp behind his voice with the flicker of the fire, a beautiful soundtrack. “Any plans once we get back?”

You sigh, rolling your neck before looking back at him. “Work, probably,” you say, hoping he senses the pain in your voice. He seems to, given the half-amused, half-pitying smile on his face. “You?”

Wonwoo hums, tapping his leg and looking around like he’s thinking, but you get the feeling he already has his answer. Especially when he looks at you. “Seeing you more often, hopefully,” is what he seems to decide on, lips pursed in a playful smile.

You will your suddenly pounding heart to calm down, pulling the blanket you brought outside with you further up your body as a momentary distraction. “Yeah? I’m not just a summer fling?”

You mean it jokingly, and you know Wonwoo can tell. But still, he’s kind in the way he answers, “nah. I think I like you a little bit.”

You meet his eyes over the flames of the fire, something a little more still unspoken between the two of you. Sweet and simple, and important even still. So you nod, look out at the forest again in hopes it’ll do something to cool the heat in your face.

“I think I like you a little bit, too.”

[quibbs126]

And now I’m finally done with Porridge Cookie

She gave me so much trouble, I swear

This is on the same page as Blueberry Yogurt, so whenever I finish that on you’ll see the two again. Hopefully I’ll label them

Anyways, so onto Porridge, as you may recall, she is Oatmeal Cookie’s daughter

I’d say she’s around 6-8 years old, and she’s a very active young girl. She has a lot of energy and likes to go exploring in the Vanilla Kingdom, or at least around the castle and surrounding town since her mom doesn’t want her going too far. She also doesn’t have her mom’s insecurities, because I mean she’s a kid, and instead can be a bit sassy

I kind of want to have the Blueberry family move to the Vanilla Kingdom too so that she and Blueberry Yogurt can interact, but I’m not sure what justification to make to have Blueberry Ice Cream move there, since the Vanilla Kingdom isn’t really the place for a magic weapon smith. But if they were to, I imagine Porridge and Yogurt to spend a lot of time together since they’re some of the only really young kids there. And also because Porridge is a couple years older, she sees herself as the boss of the group, and Yogurt follows along with it because he’s too timid to say otherwise

Also Porridge has a dad as well, but they don’t see each other anymore. He’s probably a vegetable of some kind

Anyways, now I want to complain about designing her

So I mostly based her off of the Veggie Porridge you can make in Tears of the Kingdom, which is why she has her green color. I know it isn’t exactly how regular porridge looks, but screw it, it gives her a unique color scheme from her mom, who’s mostly yellows and browns

Her outfit was giving me a lot of trouble because I didn’t really know what I wanted to do, and it would end up either looking too much like Blueberry Yogurt or Oatmeal. I was trying to base her design off of some young Elesa designs I’d seen people make, but it didn’t look right, partly because I don’t think Elesa fit her. Then I decided to base her design off of some concept art of kids in Hateno Village as well as Malon from Ocarina of Time, and I think I got something good. It fits her more energetic and outdoorsy personality

Also I’m noticing now how Zelda based she is

Anyways, so after I finally got done with her outfit, I then found myself struggling with her hair. The problem was that it would look too much like Oatmeal’s hair when I got anything decent. Eventually I stumbled upon this hairstyle and went with it. I wanted to give her pigtails but it just wouldn’t work with her current hair

I noticed as I was coloring her that with both her and Blueberry Yogurt, I was keeping the same dough tone between the kids and their parents, which from what I can tell, doesn’t usually happen with the canon kid/parent. And with Porridge she has another parent I could draw from, but I just couldn’t think of a different dough tone to use other than Oatmeal’s

Also she was going to have white eye lines, but because it was too similar to her hair color I changed it to brown. I’m not sure if I want to keep it brown though, I might change it back

Honestly she’ll likely be prone to tweaks as I do more of the page. I’m still finding my lineart pen difficult to use back home right now, hopefully I’ll get back at using it right

Anyways yeah, this is Porridge. Probably should have given her a nicer image but whatever, I can fix it in the final product

[serpercival]

🙈 can I request charhawk idk any number that inspires u if ‘against a wall’ isn’t it 💜

Waagh charhawk - I've never tried my hand at them before so hopefully this is to your tastes! <3

charhawk + a kiss against a wall

Charles is on his usual bullshit when Hawkeye walks into Radar’s office to check on the mail. Something about a record that Honoria was shipping to him that’s been delayed for five agonizing days, and he would simply like to ensure that it hasn’t been stolen by a sticky-fingered Midwestern bandit.

“What’s so important it can’t wait a few days?” Hawkeye asks, sifting through Radar’s outbox for something to do with his hands. “Chopin put out a new release?”

Charles grits his teeth and Radar snatches away his papers. “My dear sister Honoria is reviewing an opera, if you must know,” he says. “She has sent me a copy of several of the songs to request my opinions. And this little– thief! Has likely stolen a gift, one of few earthly pleasures from home, and I simply cannot–”

“Love songs?” Hawkeye asks, moving on to flipping through the papers in the inbox. “You ever been to The Love for Three Oranges?”

Charles manages to grit his teeth even harder. “The art should not be debased with comedy so low as that.”

Hawkeye shoots up, dropping the papers all over the floor. “Debased.”

“Yes,” Charles says. He crosses his arms, uncrosses them, and won’t make eye contact.

“With comedy.”

“Indeed.”

Hawkeye takes a step forward.

Charles takes a step back.

They do it again.

“Now, Pierce, given your vaudvillian ways–”

Hawkeye takes one final step forward, and Charles lands flush with the wall. He puts a hand on Charles’ chest to keep him there.

“Charles,” he says, warmly. “I’m going to debase you with comedy right here, right now, right in front of Radar.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Hawkeye comes up on his tiptoes, just for a laugh, and kisses Charles right on the mouth.

He doesn’t expect him to melt. Or to part his lips. Or to groan like he’s been waiting for it for months. Hawkeye presses more firmly against his chest and deepens the kiss, testing Charles’ soft lips with his tongue for the briefest moment before pulling away.

Charles is flushed, wide-eyed, and slightly damp with spit. He raises a hand to his lips with an expression that Hawkeye has never seen on his face before and can’t readily identify.

Then he smooths it over, wipes the spit from his lips, and shoves Hawkeye away. “Find my record, O’Reilly,” he snaps.

Charles shoots one final, confused and frightened glance over his shoulder as he storms out of the office.

Hawkeye turns to Radar. “I should try that again.”

Radar shrugs. “Good luck with that, sir.”

[mirioho]

“Sorry, but I don’t think a wish will give me what I want”

[SR] Reyu Carrera- Fairytale Soiree

Event by @angelwishess

Voice Lines Below: ( mentions of Kyra @angelwishess and Victor @theolivetree123 + Closeups, Notes)

💼 Groovy: [Locked]

💼 Home: Everyone looks like they’ve walked out of a storybook, I guess the fairytale theme is in full swing.

💼 Home Idle 1: I’ve been exploring inside and outside the palace, I never know what to expect when I turn a corner.

💼 Home Idle 2: You know where I’m from, some say you shouldn’t eat food offered by fae…But I’m glad that doesn’t seem to be the case here. Everything is quite delicious.

💼 Home Idle 3: I actually really like the outfit they gave me, I don’t think it’s sophisticated enough for the party but the hooded cape is comfortable.

💼 Home Idle Groovy: [Locked]

💼 Home Tap 1: Kyra is quite generous wanting to share the wish she’s been given, hopefully whoever is picked gets what they want.

💼 Home Tap 2: Victor really seems to be putting on quite the campaign to get his wish granted, I respect the effort.

💼 Home Tap 3:  Just because I’m not out on the dance floor doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying myself, there’s lots to see around here.

💼 Home Tap 4: The deadline for the wish being midnight is just another fairytale cliche, huh?

💼 Home Tap 5:  My wish? I already said I won’t make one…But fine…If you insist. Going back home won’t be that easy, so if I can’t wish for that…I’d wish to somehow let my mom know I’m okay. Her peace of mind would be my wish.

💼 Home Tap Groovy: [Locked]

(Close-Up + Outfit Inspo + My rambling)

as you can see above, my vision for this outfit was pretty much taken from the outfit on the right which is one that is worn by the character she's based off in Disenchanted (which is the sequel to Echanted). I thought it would be fitting considering he wears that outfit while the world is turned to a real life fairytale and considering this event is called Fairytale Soiree, it just made sense to me to put her in it.

Now that I look at it, I think maybe the prince outfit from the first movie would've been more fitting for this event, but I'm actually saving an outfit based on that for something else.

Anyways moving on to the background, I wanted to note that I was watching Shrek while drawing and I was very much inspired by the swamp. So I kind of just made a cave with lots of green and all that. And then I added fireflies to kind of give it a more magical and pretty feeling.

And then as I kept watching Shrek, there's this scene where they come upon the dragon, but at first all you see is the green eye. And idk I really liked that and I looked at my art and thought hey maybe I'll add that to the cave since it looked too empty. But after I added it I was like hey Malleus is a dragon, it'd be funny if he was the dragon in the cave. He's not. Or maybe he is? I don't know. It's a dragon eye but it may or may not be his.

And finally, this will likely be the last Reyu art I make before I redesign her. Though it's not so much a complete redesign, so much as me organizing her profile, information, references, etc. Mostly because I was finally able to compile the templates I needed to put all that together. But she'll be pretty much the same, there will just be some tweaks...probably.

[likesunsetorange]

for @juloved who i very much adore!

and if you didn’t see her art she’s done inspired by the bodyguard au & cowboy eren, check them out! she’s so talented!

but i promise back to bodyguard au shenanigans after this, first upload hopefully this weekend (and e2l soon too)! but we can still have fun with the cowboy au still if yall would like haha

The scene before Eren had him questioning whether or not the last hour of his life had been the result of some sort of apparition his mind had conjured, or if this was truly reality. Either option wouldn’t necessarily be terrible, but he would feel particularly slighted by his subconscious if it had played a trick as cruel as this.

He watched from his bedroom door frame as Mikasa sat on his bed, none the wiser of his presence, dressed in his sweatshirt and sweats, his clothes too big for her, causing her to have to roll up the sleeves; her hair wrapped in a fluffy blue towel, a few long stray pieces too stubborn to stay tucked in; and her feet tucked into her as she tugged on the pair of socks he had left out for her. 

A smile lit across Eren’s face, feeling like it was all too good to be true—he really thought he had missed out on his opportunity. He had already cut his losses short, kicking himself internally and deeming this as something he would regret for the rest of his life. Never had he found himself so immediately transfixed on a woman before, and leave it to him to let her slip away without doing as much as asking for her number.

Eren had spent days scrolling through her Instagram, wondering what he could to contact her, but his mind drew up blank, so he concluded he’d just have to watch her from afar and hope maybe one day they’d cross paths again. He had even had Gabi teach him how to turn on someone’s post notifications, finding himself watching every little story update, his face beaming no matter how trivial they may have been—from mandatory brand posts, to pictures of her meals, and if he was particularly lucky, a picture of Mikasa. (A few he couldn’t help but screenshotting for his own personal keeping.)

He almost felt like this was a dream and he was dreading the moment he would wake up. Of all the things or people he expected to see at his front door, Mikasa wasn’t one of them. But it was the best surprise, given an insane surprise, he could’ve ever asked for.

She looked so perfectly out of place here in his home, but at the same time, she was like a missing puzzle piece Eren never knew he needed to be searching for. Mikasa was a stark contrast to the vintage decor that had been there for ages and slow and steady feel of his, with her modern day beauty and bold personality, but it made him want to keep her around all the more.

Finally done with his admiring, Eren knocked on the door frame, before walking in. “Hey, you,” he said flashing her a smile, once he reached where she sat on the bed. “I made us tea, and I’m gonna take a lucky guess and say you haven’t eaten either, huh?”

She looked up to meet his gaze, her face radiating in a way that made Eren’s heart skip a few beats. “Oh, hi—I didn’t see you,” her cheeks flushing red. “But you wouldn’t necessarily be wrong, haven’t eaten since this morning, I was… preoccupied,” she admitted guiltily.

“Running in the pouring rain… Not eating… What am I gonna do with you?” Eren said as he helped her to her feet, where Mikasa was finally able to take in his appearance, scanning him up and down before her face puffed up, almost into a pout, completely ignoring his previous sentiment.

“You changed,” she said while pointing to his sweatshirt and sweats, similar to the ones he had given her.

“You got my clothes all wet, was I just supposed to leave them on?”

Mikasa opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but quickly shut it, her face turning redder than it had already been. “Well—how about that tea?”

Eren eyed her quizzically, unsure of what to make out of her statement before the realization struck him. “Are you upset I changed?” He asked, his smile wide. Eren found how flustered she was at admitting her attraction to be cute—not even just for the slight confidence boost it gave him, but because she could show up on his doorstep unannounced, but not admit her attraction with her words.

“What? No,” she protested, crossing her arms.

“I think it’s very cute that you come all this way, and do these bold little things, just to get all shy on me now. You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Embarrassment seemed to be an understatement the way Mikasa’s face was flushed red and she was unable to hold eye contact with Eren. He couldn’t help but admire her and all her endearing little traits, Mikasa Ackerman was like a drug, he’d gotten his first taste and he feared he’d never be able to go without a constant fix now.

“Well you didn’t ask for my number—what was I supposed to do?”

“Like I said earlier, calling wasn’t an option?” He asked, referring to the mention of their earlier discussion of the topic.

“What if you thought I was weird or something? Or what if—” Her question interrupted by Eren’s lips pressing against hers.

This time, without the outside elements and wavering sense of fear there to interrupt them, Eren had all the time in the world to take in the moment. He walked them back towards the bed, setting Mikasa on his lap, never once breaking apart from her. With time on his side, he could enjoy the softness of her lips against his, bask in the sweetest sounds that came in the form of her light giggles in between stolen kisses, the way her skin felt underneath his fingers now that he had the chance to properly explore every inch of her skin.

Mikasa felt better than the nicotine fix he needed every so often—Eren might never need to smoke another cigarette again as long as Mikasa was in his life.

When he finally pulled away, he couldn’t hold back the grin he wore on his face. “I wouldn’t have thought you were weird, I would’ve been happy you called because I was trying to figure out how to call you myself.”

“You were?” Mikasa asked, her voice shy. She tucked her head into his shoulder, too nervous to meet his gaze.

“I would’ve been happy if you called, too, instead of walking a quarter mile in the rain, but I think I realize you’re a little too strong willed to be strayed otherwise,” he said, chuckling.

Mikasa took her out from his shoulder, furrowing her brows while she looked at him, releasing a huff, “Well if you would’ve just—”

Eren pressed another kiss to her lips, prompting her to stop talking, “I think we’ll argue about this forever, so let’s just drop it, okay?”

Mikasa rolled her eyes, but the faintest hint of a smile gave way to her lack of annoyance. “Whatever you say.”

“I think we can both agree that it wasn’t smart to run in the rain though—I can’t do all the things I wanted to do with you if you end up sick.”

Mikasa stood up, helping Eren to his feet so they could head downstairs. “I think you worry too much, I’ll be fi—” Her sentence cut off by a series of sneezes.

Eren shook his head, releasing a sigh. “What am I gonna do with you?”