#it fits his grubby little mind perfectly

[hannagoldworthy]

So. This got photographed, because I finally blocked the IP address (bye Felicia) but I can’t stop laughing at how little this “anon” has bothered to disguise her writing style. Oh, this asker uses the word Kenobist like it’s a clever insult and writes like Sheev Palpatine having a quick fap over his own perceived superiority between meetings, just WhO cOulD iT bE?

(Golly gee whiz, Domina, that “block” didn’t last very long. I’d bet my left buttcheek you don’t know where the block button is, just as you don’t know how to work the tag or content filters.)

But thanks for confirming that you’ve never darkened the doorstep of any university with a decent engineering department, if any university at all. Nor have you ever spoken with an engineer, because if you had, you’d realize that a decent majority of engineers have Big Himbo Energy. The engineering fraternity house at my college looked like the house in Flubber before the dean made them take their little machines down. I briefly dated an engineering student with a 4.1 Honors GPA who bought a shitbox car and souped it up to drive in drag races on weekends; I broke up with him after the first date because he drove the car up to my parents’ house and showed it off to my entire family while it was literally smoking and leaking oil on their driveway. A meteorologist - basically a weather engineer - who worked with my father once ran out, bare-headed, into a storm of golfball-sized hail because, and I quote him verbatim, “HOT DAMN I WAS RIGHT, LEMME GET A SAMPLE!”

And…you’re saying that’s NOT Anakin Skywalker? “Modified the Twilight until it was practically unflyable for anyone but him” Anakin? “Ran face first into a lightning attack because he didn’t think his strategy through” Anakin? “Did not realize his wife was pregnant after regularly SpaceTiming her for months, lifting her up and twirling her, AND full-body hugging her” Anakin? “Had a prophetic dream where Padme was still having labor pains after giving birth to one baby and interpreted that to mean she was dying and not GIVING BIRTH TO THE OTHER TWIN” Anakin? THAT Anakin, from the high canon Lucas movies, which you have most definitely watched front to back?

You underestimate the power of your own blorbo, Domina. Anakin Skywalker can be both a mentally unstable himbo AND an engineering prodigy, and in fact, HE IS. And I would think that his number-one stan would be the first to point out that those two very different facets of his personality lend depth to his character. But, then again, I am talking to the idiot who drags Obi-Wan Kenobi into every conversation, even in other fandoms, and then accuses everyone ELSE of being obsessed, so I suppose I should not expect that very basic level of perception from you.

Oh, and also? Thanks for that extra boost of motivation! Now my plans to get my computer fixed have been moved up, because I intend to write even MORE Himbokin Skywalker, just to spite you! Mission Failed Successfully, HUZZAH!

[xhanisai]

Operation #8654

AO3 / FFN

Pairing - Adrinette

Prompt - ‘Operation #8654′

Summary -

Adrien swore that he tried everything that he could think of to pay attention to what his lovely Marinette was chattering about but it was just so hard.

So hard to keep his eyes off her rosy lips that had a smudge of chocolate on the bottom lip as she continued to talk animatedly. Lips shaping in perfect 'o's and 'ah's and it was driving him absolutely insane.

He would've used his thumb to softly wipe it off for her but he feared that his hands might be slightly sticky from the ice cream and from his nervous sweat. He totally didn't wanna put his grubby hands all over Marinette's perfect face.

.

Using the few working brain cells he possessed, Adrien did the next best thing.

~(x)~ . . . If the amused Nino was still directing a cheeky and Cheshire cat-like grin once again towards the frustrated blond teen along with a silly little snicker, Adrien tried his utmost best with his everything not to pay any mind towards his bespectacled best friend; for he was on a mission. A mission of high importance and one that held the weight of his entire heart and soul! That is right. Yes, yes. The fate of the world and the universe (and every single thing that the silly teenage hero in disguise could think of) rested on this extremely critical duty alone. . #8654 of operation 'Get Marinette to like me!' . And right now, right this very instance? He has spotted that she has 'lost' her fuzzy pink gloves and that her small hands were quite bitterly cold, the spectacularly talented designer breathing air into her pinpricked fingers with a semblance of hope of keeping them warm (which was evidently failing much to no one's surprise). And by 'lost', he means that he may or may not have nicked them when she wasn't looking just for a little while. He wasn't going to keep them forever! Even if they smelt like her familiar bakery scent of spiced vanilla and chocolate chip cookies! Adrien even promised out loud that he would absolutely give them back! But anyways, it is time for him to gather all the courage he could ever muster and step up and keep her cute hands warm by holding them with his own! This is sure to work! Nino's cheeky smile be damned! ~(x)~ He was holding her hand! Mission accomplished (albeit surprisingly)! . Adrien continued to wear his sweetly blissful and adoring smile, his larger hand curling around hers tenderly within his coat pocket and their fingers tangled with one another. It took him literally everything not to vibrate (purr) out of unadulterated excitement from the way their hands just fit perfectly! Or should he say "Purrrrrfectly~?" The way that Marinette's cheeks lit up in the cutest shade of tickled pink and made her bluebells shimmer like priceless gems. The way that a shy, kind smile presented itself on her perfect, rosy lips that looked like the softest thing in the world. The way that she gently leaned into him after he beckoned her to do so by holding her closer which then caused her sweet bakery scent to fill up the tight proximity between them. Oh yes~ Mission accomplished indeed. Take that Nino! ~(x)~ There was some chocolate smeared on her lips from the delicious ice cream they shared. . Adrien swore that he tried everything that he could think of to pay attention to what his lovely Marinette was chattering about but it was just so hard. So hard to keep his eyes off her rosy lips that had a smudge of chocolate on the bottom lip as she continued to talk animatedly. Lips shaping in perfect 'o's and 'ah's and it was driving him absolutely insane. He would've used his thumb to softly wipe it off for her but he feared that his hands may be slightly sticky from the ice cream and from his nervous sweat. He totally didn't wanna put his grubby hands all over Marinette's perfect face. And her voice was music to his ears! So no, he can't just interrupt her midway just to tell her she has chocolate on her lips because that would definitely make her cave back into her flustered and tongue-tied demeanour and that can't happen! Not when this is one of the few rare times where she was quite comfortable in his presence and was so close to him! Using the few working brain cells he possessed, Adrien did the next best thing. . "-And the texture of the skirt was just so incredible! I never thought about using that fabric before so- mmmph!?" Marinette was suddenly met by her adorable blond companion pressing his supple lips firmly against hers without a beat or a word. Heat immediately rampaged through her body like an inferno and practically caused her blood to boil with joy and pleasure as he pressed even harder. Kiss. Suck. Lick. Suck. Kiss. One of his hands grasped the back of her neck whilst the other was on her fingers, giving both a tender squeeze and virtually ridding any oxygen or thought processes left in her being. If she was dreaming, she prayed that she never woke up. Finally, after what seemed to be the best one minute and forty-two seconds in her life, Adrien pulled away (and the sounds of their lip parting quietly was branded to her brain). Though, he remained just close enough for their lips to brush if either were to speak. "...There, I got the chocolate off~" ...What chocolate!? . . . ~(x)~

[lovelybarnes]

dad- l. laufeyson

pairings: loki laufeyson x doctor!mom!reader, mentions of tony stark, natasha romanoff, steve rogers, oc, and thor odinson warnings: a child, y/n is a mom, dad!loki who is probably a little ooc but i hope that’s okay, y/n is a doctor but there’s no real detail, it’s just alluded to, mentions of an absent father, mentions of adoption about: requested! They’re dating and she has a toddler from a previous relationship that ended badly. Loki treats the baby like she’s his own and brings her to the compound once in a while to show off ‘his’ baby. The little one adores Loki and started calling him dada, making the soft side of him comes out. And also the very protective side. He eventually asks reader if he can officially adopt her to be the father figure. Since reader never put down the fathers name on the birth certificate, they put Loki’s down. a/n: thank you so much for requesting! i hope you liked this!!

tiny fingers splayed your cheeks wake you up, wet lips pressing continuously on your nose as familiar laughter rings in your ear. your nose scrunches, prying your eyes open to meet the mirror image of them in front of you. at the grin that splits daisy’s face, a smile sneaks up on your lips, too, “hey honey,” you say quietly, brushing away a strand of hair that falls in her eyes as your daughter’s warm hands hold your face.

“hi mama,” daisy replies, snuggling into your side, “pancake day,” she informs happily, a chubby finger reaching to trace the slope of your nose.

you tilt your head at her, raising an eyebrow, “really? who says?”

daisy doesn’t get a chance to reply, the crack to your door widening when loki steps through it, balancing a large plate stacked with pancakes and fruits in one hand. “loki!” daisy cheers, sitting up to reach for the food. you sit up, too, cocking your head at your boyfriend as you observe the platter.

“you made food?” you ask, eyes scanning the little cubes of cut-up strawberries and bananas before looking back up at him in pleasant surprise.

loki ducks his chin, “you were asleep. and today is pancake day. i simply could not disappoint daisy,” he explains, letting daisy take a piece of banana to shove in her mouth.

you gently run your fingers through her hair, a soft smile tugging at your lips, “hey, dais, let’s go eat at the table and watch some cartoons, hm?” at the sound of cartoons, she nods quickly, bouncing off of the bed to tug at loki to follow her, the god not making a peep when her grubby hands leave a smear of banana on his wrist. you watch as they head to the kitchen, listening when loki turns on the television and flips it to her favorite show without her needing to tell him. you take a second to remind yourself that the god in your house, sneaking homemade whipped cream--because store-bought whipped cream is not fit for her--to your daughter, is the same god who, not too long ago, physically recoiled at the mere mention of midgardians. you stand when you hear daisy’s voice calling you over when you take too long to follow, peeking around the corner to see loki cutting her chocolate chip pancakes into little squares. “any left for me?” you ask, your body burning hot when loki turns to look at you, a twinkle in his clear sea glass eyes.

“good morning, darling,” he greets, his lips kissing your cheek when you come closer to him, an arm wrapping around your waist. “pancake?” he offers, showing you a plate with two perfectly shaped pancakes, whipped cream piled high just the way you liked it and berries surrounding it in the way you always tried to do but were never able to. you pecked his lips, smiling against him when you heard your daughter protest loudly.

“what are we watching today?” you ask her, fingers taming the mess of bedhead that sits atop her head. she turns to the television after shoving pancake into her mouth, pointing at the image, “clifford,” she says simply. you sit next to her, exhaling, “that’s a good one.” daisy nods, “i want a dog,” she states after a second, “like clifford.”

you glance at loki, “finding a big red dog is going to be a little hard, sweetie--”

“i’m sure there’s one in asgard, if not, there must be one somewhere else,” loki shrugs, squinting at the show, “i’ll find one. worry not.”

you shake your head, chuckling, “maybe a normal-sized dog, daisy.” daisy pouts but nods.

the sounds from the television are the only ones for a few moments until you speak up, “oh, i completely forgot, i have to go meet with some big shot hospital reps for almost the whole day today, do you mind taking care of daisy?” you ask loki, an apologetic look on your face.

“of course not, she can accompany me to the compound today,” loki reasons, not missing the excited look that crosses daisy’s face.

you brighten, “that’s a great idea!” you turn to your daughter, who has smeared red on her cheek and a strawberry in her fingers, you huff a laugh, wiping it away with one of your fingers, “what do you think, dais? wanna go visit the other avengers with loki?”

she nods immediately, hurrying to swallow the fruit in her mouth before turning to loki, “can i wear your cape again?” she asks enthusiastically, patting wildly at your arm, “loki lets me use his cape!”

your eyebrow raises as you look at loki, “does he, now? i thought no one could even touch it?” you tease, appreciating the pale blush that takes over the snow of his cheeks as he shrugs, clearing his throat.

“there are always exceptions to rules,” he states.

-

“i love you,” you say, pressing a kiss into daisy’s hair, she parrots the phrase back to you, leaning further into loki’s arms when you pull away. “i love you,” you continue, kissing loki’s lips, “thank you again,” you whisper, feeling him chuckle against you.

“it is my pleasure,” loki assures before kissing you again. you pull away after a second, smacking your lips on daisy’s forehead as another goodbye.

“i’ll be back later, have fun, okay?” you request before finally walking out the door to head to work. you don’t see daisy’s pout as she lays her head on loki’s shoulder, balling her hand in his shirt. a soft smile tugs at loki’s lips, looking down at her to ask her if she’d like to go to the compound now.

a little while after she nods at his, he finds himself clicking her seatbelt in, making sure she’s safe in her booster seat before he begins to drive. he knows he could easily go there with a flick of his hand, but the travel makes daisy nervous, and, besides, she prefers to ride in the car with him, singing along to the playlist of the songs loki found himself liking in midgard.

daisy squeals when loki pulls into the driveway of the compound, jumping out of the car when he unbuckles her to hurry loki up. she pulls at his pant leg, growing more excited by the minute when she sees the red white and blue of steve’s shield flying behind the compound. “i do not understand why you like that thing so much. so boring,” loki grumbles, grabbing her hand and opening the door.

“ah, there she is!” thor’s voice booms nearly the minute loki and daisy step in, daisy’s grin grows wide, looking back at loki before running to thor. “uncle!” she squeals, oblivious to the way loki freezes when she says the simple word. thor carries her in his arms, holding her up like simba.

“my favorite niece! i brought the hammer for you today!” thor exclaims, sitting her down on one of his arms before holding his other hand out. loki looks to the side, realizing his brother is calling for the hammer with his daughter in his arms, quickly stepping over to him to take her away just as said hammer flies into his open hand. he twirls it, before handing it to daisy in loki’s arms, still keeping a hold on it as she wraps her small fingers around the hammer.

“brother…” loki hisses quietly, refusing to upset the little girl in his arms but wanting nothing more than to knock some common sense into his brother. “i would like to remind you to not do that while daisy is near you.”

daisy barely looks up at her name, too entranced with the intricate carvings in the hammer, ��oh, she’ll be fine,” thor shrugs, clapping loki hard on the back, “i am very careful, brother.”

loki purses his lips, “yes, i remember how careful you are.”

“hey! reindeer games and little grey!” tony cheers from around the corner, natasha catching his words from the kitchen and heading for loki. loki can spot the captain in the hallway. “haven’t seen you in a while, kid,” tony tells daisy, ruffling up her hair, “thought you ditched us.”

loki rolls his eyes, concentrating on daisy, who reaches for the electric blue in tony’s chest, murmuring “pretty.”

“isn’t it?” tony brags, tapping a nail on his arc reactor, “built it myself. you want one?” daisy agrees enthusiastically, but loki makes sure to send tony a glare that tells him if he even dares. loki will finish the job in new york.

“how’s the doc?” natasha asks, coming cilently from the kitchen with a bag in her hand.

“y/n is good, she’s at the hospital right now.”

“hey, dais,” natasha starts, her green eyes sparkling, “you remember the toys you wanted from the mall last time we went?” daisy nods. natasha holds up the bag in her arms, “you wanna go see what’s in the bag?”

daisy’s eyes go wide, and she turns to loki, “can i dad? please?”

loki chokes down the uncharactersitic lump in his throat so he can nod, putting daisy down so she can grab natasha’s hand. when they’re out of hearing range, steve raises an eyebrow at loki, “‘dad’? that’s a big one.”

“yes,” loki clear his throat, “she had never called me that before.”

the other men exchange looks, before thor claps loki on the back with a beamng grin, “congratulations.” loki has never felt luckier.

-

it’s a few hours later, when you’re back at home, exhausted and sprawled on the couch next to loki with daisy sleeping on your and loki’s lap. “how was your day?” you ask quietly so you don’t disturb daisy.

“as excellent as a day with the avengers can be. i took daisy to the compound, everyone adored her, natasha spoiled her…” loki trails off, the clear cut reminder of the events of that day bright and new in his mind, “she called me dad,” loki finishes, allowing himself to look into the deep nooks and crannie of his brain that urges him to tell you what he’s been thinking about for far too long. there’s a second of silence.

“she’s never said to you that before,” you finally say softly. loki shakes his head, “she’s slipped up before, though. sometimes she calls you papa when she talks about you.” loki turns to you, searching your features for a lie he won’t find. “you are her father, loki. you’re way more of a father than her biological dad ever has been. you’re her dad, she loves you.” there’s more silence, the question you’re implying hanging in the air, waiting to be grasped and asked.

“would you adopt her?--” you grasp.

“i would like to adopt daisy--” he grasps.

you stare at each other before quiet laughter bubbles from your mouth, a nod tilting your chin, “you know, i never put her biological father’s name in her birth certificate.”

“we could go tomorrow,” loki offers, admiring the beaming smile that brightens your tired face.

“we should,” you agree, staring at loki for a few more moments before connecting your lips, looking down at daisy and brushing away some strands from her face when you pull away. you nod, meeting loki’s eyes again, “tomorrow.”

[jiminrings]

umm maybe this is me projecting bc i am messaging you during my break but for a drabble request, yoongi in a retail setting???? 😐😐😐😐 oc could either be a co-worker or a regular customer who asks too many questions 😔😌

retail-type beat

drabble week: day three

drabble week masterlist

pairing: customer!yoongi x retail worker!reader

wordcount: 3k

glimpse: "hi! almost thought you were hiding from me for a second. anyways, is this sweater wool or cotton?"

feedback + support mean the world to me!!

the last time you checked, work doesn’t start until nine

you kNEW it doesn’t start until 9 in the morning, so clearly that’s why you’re just wearing slides instead of your sneakers

the company uniform is either black or purple (it has to be from what the store is selling though so you can get to choose) with of course!!!! a lanyard!!!!

and you know this, because you’re still wearing your slides from home because it isn’t opening time yet

“goddamn it, i forgot to bring my slippers,” jin moans the moment he walks to see you, looking down on your feet that only reminds him he’d be stuck in his cool yet painfully uncomfy sneakers

he’s probably the only co-worker that you’re truly close with, not feeling the urge to sell him just to get a free day

“i told you to get the sneakers that nurses use!!”

hands-down one of the best purchases you’ve ever made

retail’s hard and it’s not exactly the best-paying job!!! thankfully the franchise owner is a bit more generous so that’s why you get slightly-higher hourly pay

“i would if they looked a little more seasoned,” jin snorts and stubbornly crosses his arms, “i might sacrifice my pride and buy some compression socks.”

OOOOOH THOSE ARE GOOD TOO

makes you feel like ur walking on air

but lol no seokjin isn’t ready to buy those just yet

he’ll settle on some blisters and putting salonpas patches because they look cooler that way, thank u very much <3

jin yawns, talking about finding a steam iron somewhere to replace a blowdryer so he could break in his shoes

“you wipe the glass this time.”

oh right he absolutely hates wiping down the glass — even before opening!!! even when there aren’t any grubby kids that would soil it instantly with their equally as grubby hands

you don’t mind it honestly

you might honestly like it

you prefer wiping the glass a hundred times over than steaming clothes

there is nOT a single thought in your head when you spray on the solution to the glass, rag and squeegee tucked between your fingers when-

maybe you should’ve hOLY FUCKING SHIT

it’s not opening!!!! it is nOT nine o’clock in the morning!!!!

you know that the shop you’re working in is pretty fucking famous and it’s located on one of the most populated streets ever BUT THERE’S ALREADY SOMEONE

although the bucket hat seems familiar from a distance and-

oh it’s just yoongi

yoongi?

yoongi’s already here????

:O

yoongi, the guy in question, is an always customer!!

no, not a regular customer — an always customer

he comes every week and maybe even twice within that period

he’s a nice talkative customer who likes asking questions and even occasionally guides the other customers on what to buy and where to find it

he’s yoongi!!! of course that’s expected of him

he’s been going here long since you ever started working here, and jin keeps iNSISTING that he’s been here more frequently since you started like a year ago

but doesn’t he come at eleven in the morning?

“woah, yoongi’s already here? — doesn’t he come at eleven in the morning?”

?!!?!!

“i was just thinking the exact same thing.”

jin bangs the glass with his fist and you automatically wince and frown

you dO like cleaning the glass panes!! you didn’t say you liked cleaning them a second time :(

“YOONGI!”

“YES??”

you push jin’s fist away to wipe at the smudge his hand left

“IT’S NOT OPENING YET!”

“I KNOW!!”

wow they’re uh

they’re really loud

sometimes you forget how seokjin could be since it’s been awhile since you heard him yell

lol no one’s been shoplifting recently so you haven’t been hearing him

a mind-blowing idea is for jin to come outside and talk to him in a normal talking voice, so your ears would stop ringing

“HEY! WHAT IF YOU JUST ENTER EARLY IN?”

“REALLY? IS THAT EVEN ALLOWED??”

"YOONGI, EVERYONE ON THE FLOOR KNOWS YOUR NAME. NAMJOON EVEN GAVE YOU A CUSTOMARY BIRTHDAY GIFT, AND WE DON'T GIVE CUSTOMARY BIRTHDAY GIFTS TO ANY OTHER CUSTOMER!!"

namjoon, who technically should be called mr. kim because no one really thinks to call the franchise owner with their government first name, is actually pretty cool

but he's too busy these days and haven't been visiting because he's too busy tending to his newly-opened coffee shop

as if the money he earns from opening his franchise in a day alone isn’t enough :0

"IF YOU SAY SO?"

you’re the one who hikes up the roll-up door in the slightest, enough for only yoongi to enter and not encourage anyone else to nOT enter when it’s still not opening time!!!!

he only has to crouch a little but he still has to dust his thousand-dollar pants as if he crawled through mud

his cream-colored slacks with a large black hoodie that has a giant bear embroidered on the middle of it and mules

... you don't hate his outfits

pretty cute, actually

it's yoongi!!

you'd never catch him lacking!!!

you don't even have to envision him rocking the shit out a paper bag

one time, he came in the store wearing the WRINKLIEST brown linen jumpsuit that no iron could possibly fix and he still pulled it off

toon-teen-ten!

oh god that’s the sound of the intercom

and the sound of the intercom equates to jungkook

... as in jeon jungkook who’s the floor manager and his constant top one goal for every month is to endearingly annoy seokjin

he’s young and mischievous!! but if you were to ask him, only you and jungkook are the people in this floor he’d actually get drinks with outside the shop

“seokjin come to the lingerie department right now, please.”

you see the thing is :D

“now this is just funny

there’s walkie-talkies for everyone here!! jungkook likes intercoms, and seokjin like yelling!!

“WHY ME AGAIN?? I’VE ALREADY FOLDED-“

“there’s a literal rat and i need yOU to catch it!! you know that i hate rodents!!”

him and jungkook are forever gonna be on this eldest-youngest brother dynamic and while jungkook pouts and shared the extras that he gets, jin is the one who kills the bugs :D

10/10 totally fair

fine then!! he’ll catch that goddamn rat

that leaves you and yoongi. alone.

“why did you come so early this time?”

you ask out of courtesy, genuinely baffled too because you know that yoongi’s a creature of habit

yoongi’s eyes pop out, head fervently shaking no

“i’m typically not the type to do that, no.”

???

is he-

are you-

are you both talking about the same thing

yoongi’s face flushes in embarrassment, his mind just then registering what you were actually saying

“o-oh! it’s because last night, i dreamt of the sweater i saw here last week!!"

oh right

typical :D

"need me to find it for you or do you already know the aisle?"

you align the folded shirts by the corners as you pass, looking at yoongi briefly while he trails behind yoh

“not unless you pulled it out already."

he's hoping that dear god you haven't

the black sweater with the moon aND buildings on it and when you turn on the flash, the windows of said building reflect it right back???

he SHUDDERS just by thinking about it

it’s gonna go with everything!!! an instant boost of serotonin every time he sees it

"for you, yoongi?" you shake your head, a small smile on your face that he only sees every once in a while, "i'd comb through the entire stock room."

wait

that’s sweet :((

“i’ll hold you to that.”

you know what??? you're less cranky when it's only him, and a couple of hundred people less

your smiles aren't for customer-service and you don't have misplaced clothes hanging from your shoulders and your walkie-talkie isn't talking in latin

or when no one’s asking you to reach something from the top shelf

or when you’re on the way to the intercom because a kid got separated from their mother

or when someone’s approaching for a refund for a shirt who has a stain that’s 100% no doubt customer error

his feet immediately move on its own because he’s memorized the outline of this too many times

there it is!!!

the sweater he’s dreamt about is already on his hands, only a handful few left

the piece is considerably more expensive than majority of the items here, so that’s why they’re all spaced-out instead of being clustered altogether

yoongi rarely goes to the dressing room, regardless if it's a full-house or not!!

he could just look at an item and immediately tell that it’s made for him ta know

he's beyond sure that this sweater fits him perfectly, but he may want to be here a little longer

yoongi may have say inside one of the fitting rooms and spent a little time in it just to sit on the chair inside, not fitting the sweater at all

he's gotten his item SO quick and he wished he could've just walked slower or pretended to not know where it was!!!

he wants to spend a little more time here

you don't hate yoongi!!! but sometimes he could just be... yoongi

he's quite talkative and strikes it whenever, making you unguarded

he could be overbearing but like an overbearing kind of nice

yoongi’s nice!! he’s the type to ask a lot of questions sure, but he’s also the type that would point the other customers what to buy and where to find it

he’s the type to find an obvious faulty stitch on a shirt, but he’d just quietly exchange it instead of asking for the manager

he’s the type you wouldn’t want to stand behind in line because it would take a long time for him to finish, but he’s also the same one who buys giftcards with generous amounts for family and friends

yoongi’s kind of cool and that’s cemented on your mind

"what do you got for me?"

he materializes out of nowhere, spooked because you thought he already ringed up and was out of the store already

it just happens to be ten minutes before opening and you’re doing last-minute arrangements on a new spread

well, yoongi most certainly is still here and his attention’s piqued

“we have... a new collection."

you clear your theory, awkwardly gesturing because you’re more than aware that yoongi hasn’t seen this either

“yeah, i know that. but like, what's going on??" he gestures to the displays and racks, squinting his eyes, "what's the theme? what's the material?"

:O

uhm you haven't read the brief about this

you aren't even sURE if there is one!!

doesn't everyone make up something on the spot in retail

or atleast that’s what seokjin tells you

“the theme," you clear your throat, scratching your temple before gesturing towards the full rack, "is everything."

“everything?

yoongi’s eyebrow is raised, not expecting that answer at all

you look back to the new feature, and nOW that you think about it,, there's no cohesion at all

“y-yes. the shop was going for the theme of uhm, everything... all at once — yeah, that's it. everything all at once."

it’s a nice way to put it when not one bit of the new collection goes together

“hmmmm. i like it,” yoongi nods solemnly and tilts his head, “and the material?"

"the material?"

you repeat, eyesight not the best so you can’t really tell anything off the bat or uh aNYTHING really

"t-the material is shirt."

they're all shirts!!! that’s it

yoongi grimaces in disgust, the first time you’ve seen of it

“what?? you can't say that.”

he outsretches his hand to the nearest article, holding it up by the hanger

"this, right here, is satin. see how it shines like silk, but doesn't feel like silk?"

uhm yes

you have a gist of what he’s saying but yes

yoongi picks up a pink button shirt this time, flipping it inside out

"this, is silk charmeuse. look at the inside, is it smooth?"

okay where is he going with this

he urges you to put your hand on the fabric and uhhh you didn't sign up for this???

it looks smooth, sure!! end of discussion

"yea-..."

“it's not. it's rough. it is smooth, but it's dull. silk charmeuse is still silk, but the backing it has is different from the lustrous part."

okay yoongi

you’re starting to feel uncomfortable and it has to do something with the tone he’s using on you

“can't believe you didn't know that!! how about this," he plucks out a shirt with a tiny print at the middle of it, "cotton or polyester and rayon?"

"i don't-"

there’s an itch in your neck that you want to scratch, a tell-tale sign that you just wANT to remove yourself from this situation

“come on!! it's a dead giveaway!!"

:((

why is he being like this?

toon-teen-ten!

“y/n, panty section please. jin almost got bit by a mouse and he needs comforting. two minutes until opening, people!!"

jungkook speaks at the right moment, and jin’s little incident is enough of a reason for you to bolt

yoongi's still looking at you but you can't afford to embarrass yourself further

“bye. happy shopping."

huh?

yoongi’s face falls when you leave as cold as that!! typically when you were going to show him out (when it’s regular shop hours), there’d be a smile :((

there's not even a customer service smile :(((

yoongi goes to the only cashier that's open so far and it happens to be far away from you and a teary seokjin

seokjin's fine he didn't even get bit!! that much he could say

but are you okay? uhhh you kinda went cold on him by the end and he thought he started on a good note

yoongi doesn't visit for another week and you don't find yourself counting the days until you meet him again

you did not have a devil wears prada moment where anne hathaway has an epiphany for fashion knowledge

you just felt belittled at a job that isn’t exactly what you wanted anyways

needed, yes. but wanted? not exactly

you know that basic knowledge about clothes is required in a retail job like this and you have it!! you do!!!!

you’d know more if only there were actual available resources for employees to know!!! nobody besides yoongi asks anyways

you’d know if you have time to yourself and aren’t working two jobs trying to make ends meet and tHEN you could pull up a book or something!!!

you’d know if your life is as lax as yoongi’s and could have the budget to buy new things for yourself every single week

“jin, i need to ask you something.”

he hums as called, looking at you briefly until you get on with it

“do you know the difference between silk and silk charmeuse?"

he shrugs casually while you're sitting inside one of the closed-off fitting rooms to catch a break, sharing a burger because the store’s packed-packed

why did you ask him? it’s too easy

“one's made by worms, and the other's a pokémon."

that,.,., could not possibly be righti* it brings you a laugh and you honestly don’t even try to correct him

it’s 11:15 and you kNOW it’s time to resume your shift, straightening your shirt because atleast one (1) person would hound you when they see a familiar red lanyard

oh you’re hounded alright

“hi! almost thought you were hiding from me for a second.”

yoongi????

oh

you haven’t seen him for a week and you don’t know what to feel in all honesty

"anyways, is this sweater wool or cotton?"

wow

you're quite speechless as he holds up the item

really?

this thing all over again???

why are you even surprised

the only thing that yoongi gets your customer service smile, fishing your hand from inside the sweater to show him

“70% wool."

that's it???

NO GOOD MORNING????

you're mad at him, aren't you?

he knew it :((

he knew something was wrong but he just didn’t know what

he’s gonna fix this!! he will

which is why the very next day, he takes the day off from his work and comes to the store at a time he knows you’d surely be there

you're on cashier duty and you like it actually :D

you have an option to sit and the way you’re just gonna scan pricetags (and occasionally enter the code if it doesn’t work) is really appealing

“good morning!"

you’re about to grab the items from the basket laid on the counter and your eyes could only see the very familiar hand

the same one you’ve seen go through racks and racks

yoongi??

he sets his items one by one, buying himself more time

the first one is the same exact sweater he came to wait for before opening

“you already bought this."

you tell him even before you could hold it back, looking back at him briefly before you scan the tag

“i know. i just wanted to see you."

oh

oh

yoongi threw a bunch of other items (individually) so it would be a longer talk, but you scan each item quickly that he’s grabbing things from the counter

hand sanitizer!!! hair ties!!! keychains!!!! yeah he needs them

“i'm sorry that i tend to spring shit on you most of the time. you don't need to know the difference between silk and silk charmeuse."

you only chuckle then, a meek smile on your face

"it's okay, yoongi.”

“it's not."

... it’s not?

yoongi fidgets, opening and closing his mouth like he’s nervous!!! he’s never had his credit card cancelled but he could only feel that this type of jitterness is more than the former

“can i make it up to you? no lanyards, no baskets, no customer service?? i don't wanna fuck things up with you."

“don't feel obligated-"

“i know i could be a condescending ass who expects people to automatically know fabric and whatnot, but i wanna make it up to you."

alright yoongi’s a really good apology-maker

you mIGHT be even flustered a little

“you're holding the line, yoongi.”

“i cleared my schedule."

“i haven’t!!!!!” - guy in the back

“dinner at my place at 8. i-i promise to make your hard-earned break after your shift worthwhile!!!"

hmmm

maybe that wouldn’t hurt

“okay. just because you're holding the line."

“fine by me."

:))

yoongi transfers all the items he bought, all but one, to his tote bag

he hands back the paper bag to you, scribbling his address on the back of the receipt before he does

he lingers a little while at the counter, the people behind him ALREADY switching lanes to the one seokjin’s just opened beside you

it's the sweater that he has too

yoongi scratches the back of his head, this time being the meek one

“what? m-matching sweaters for our first date. s'cute."

[its-a-humanriot]

Common Language, pt. I

(This is the beginning to a bunch of Fallout 3 works I have knocking around my brain. I’ll post bits and pieces here and then post the full work to ao3 once it’s done)

(pt. I) / (pt. II)

---

Charon realises very quickly that he does not understand his new employer very well.

In the first instance, this is very literal.

Not many words were exchanged during her introduction as his new employer and him subsequently blowing Ahzrukhal’s brains all over the walls of the Ninth Circle. It’s not until after they make a very rapid exit and they are out in the quiet of the museum atrium catching their breath that he really pays any attention to her. Not much about his employer’s appearance immediately seems wildly unusual – she looks pretty healthy for a wastelander, if somewhat pale, and probably one of the youngest people to come through Underworld in several years. Her face is grubby with the expected dust and dirt of travel under her mop of short curly brown hair, slightly pink from sunburn across her nose and a clean strip of pallid skin around her eyes from the goggles that now hang around her neck (the look of it reminds him briefly of some small animal from before the war, though he can no longer recall its name). Although they look relatively well maintained, her armour and rifle have clearly been scavenged at least third-hand, and a faded red bandanna is tucked around the collar.

Charon takes all this in with a practiced eye, trying to evaluate what kind of person he is now bound to – as satisfying as it is to know that Ahzrukhal’s head is now spread all over the Ninth Circle, it has come at the cost of knowing his opponent. The girl in front of him does not look wealthy to be spending the number of caps he knows Ahzrukhal would have asked for his contract, nor hardened enough to have carried out whatever unscrupulous task he would have accepted as alternative payment. He can’t quite pinpoint it, but something doesn’t seem right. When she opens her mouth, his instincts are proved right.

“Well, fuck. I came to Underworld to cop a flop and a sling and hang loose for a while, maybe zee out for the night, and buddy up with you. I was not expecting to have to beat feet with a dead body behind us.”

Her accent is like no wastelander he has ever heard, and he doesn’t understand half the things that come out of her mouth. Charon can’t claim to be up to date with young people (as so few of them come through Underworld and most of Ahzrukhal’s associates were people who should absolutely not be allowed anywhere near children) but even among the various communities in the Capitol Wasteland there is usually a fair amount of common ground. This – whatever this is – is something else entirely.

His well-practiced poker face seems to keep his confusion hidden at least up until she turns to him with an uncomfortable smile on her face – she certainly has cleaner teeth than a lot of wastelanders, and not even any missing that he can see – and sticks her hand out in his direction.

“This isn’t how I was expecting to have this go but, uh, I’m Billie. Nice to actually meet you properly, Charon.”

He stares at it. A lot of people would avoid unnecessary physical contact with ghouls, even if they weren’t outright ghoul haters, and certainly none of his previous employers have ever tried to engage in something as cordial as a handshake. When he doesn’t react, she leans in a little sheepishly. “…I think you’re supposed to shake hands when you meet someone new, right?”

His stare moves up to her face. She looks about as confused as he feels. What rock has this kid crawled out from?

“What?” It’s hardly the first thing that he means to say to his new employer now they have time to talk, but this whole interaction is leaving him feeling entirely unfooted. She tilts her head at him and looks even more awkward, her outstretched hand dipping slightly before she withdraws it entirely and starts to comb it through her hair instead.

“Uh…I’m not used to meeting new folks? A couple of people have told me what passes for manners above ground but honestly, I’ve not had so many chances to try it on people who weren’t trying to vent me first.” Her face twists in an embarrassed grimace. “Is it the accent? I’ve been told it’s a little hard to understand. I can try, uh something else,” She drops her hand, brushes some stray curls out of her eyes and clears her throat. She offers her hand again and manages to take him by surprise yet again: saying clearly in an almost perfectly pronounced pre-war Transatlantic accent “Hello Charon, my name is Billie Morgan. Pleased to meet you.”

The sound hits Charon like ice cold lead in his stomach, a noise he hasn’t heard in decades beyond the occasional old holotape. It rings in his ears as fresh as it was then with all of the other memories he’d tried to bury - the cloying surgical smell of the lab in his nose, the claustrophobia of the sim pod – Scanning vitals… Welcome subject: 2875, identifier Charon. Beginning training simulation in 3, 2…

A hand touches his arm and the tension in his body spikes – Charon finds himself staggering backwards into a defensive stance. His hand, still moving on instinct, gets as far as the handle of his combat knife before his conditioning kicks in with a short shock of pain – the subject cannot harm the employer – and the opposing reactions form a strained stalemate and force him to a standstill, buzzing with adrenaline, as his presence of mind returns. His employer is now a few feet away, her brown eyes wide as she raises her hands.

“Woah, okay. Won’t do that one again. Sorry.” The artificial enunciation is gone and her original accent has returned, but she is speaking more slowly and clearly than before. He can’t tell if she’s just doing it to try and pacify him or if she is consciously trying to make herself easier to understand. Now that he has the frame of reference for it her natural inflection definitely has something pre-war about it, but it’s hard to pinpoint. “Easy there, big guy. I’ve got no scrap with you and I’m not gonna hurt you. Okay?”

Charon has at least a full foot of height on this kid, and while she looks healthy she does not look strong – the idea that she would be able to hurt him in a close quarters fight is almost laughable. Slowly, he forces himself to let go of the knife handle. The tension in his shoulders stays where it is.

“I am unable to harm my employer. Physical violence on your part invalidates our contract.” The default line gives him something to fall back on for a moment while he straightens back up to his resting position.

“That’s…something.” She doesn’t look reassured, but she drops her hands. “So we’re shiny? Cause you looked real ready to stab me for a second there.”

“I am unable to harm my employer.”

“…Right.” She appears to wait a moment for clarification that does not come before continuing. “So about your contract – it’s kinda hard to read and I didn’t really get the full shakedown before you greased Ahzrukhal so I don’t know what your rates are. I’m a little low on caps at the moment but I can pay you some upfront and then I can earn a bunch back from whatever scavving we do in the next few days to get you the rest of your cut, then we can work out an arrangement. Sound okay to you?”

“I do not require payment.”

“So what, I keep you watered and fed and breathing and we’re square? Seems like a pretty cheap deal to me.”

“I do not require protection and you are not required to provide for me, though several previous employers have chosen to do so.”

“Wait.” Her brow creases. “What does the contract say?”

“The holder of my contract is my employer.” The words come readily to his tongue after many decades of repeating them. “My employer has my services in combat and in any other duties as they see fit and I am honour bound to do as they command for as long as they hold the contract. The contract prevents me from harming my employer while I am in their service. Physical violence by the employer against me invalidates the contract.”

She stares at him hard for a long moment before she speaks again with horror in her voice.

“You’re a slave?”

“I belong to no one.” The response is automatic, the only protest he is able to make. The words taste sour in his mouth.

“You’ve just told me that you don’t require payment of any kind and that you have to do what I say. If that’s not being a slave, I don’t know what is.” She turns away and pulls on her curls for a moment while she paces before turning back to him, her face stormy. “If I’d know that skeezer was a slave owner on top of everything, I might’ve taken a pop at him myself before you ventilated his face. Fuck.” Her eyes widen again. “I bought you from him.”

“If you find the terms of my contract objectionable, you may pass it on to another.”

“I object to you being bound to the contract. Passing it over to someone else doesn’t fix that.” Pulling a face, she pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs, then pulls his contract out of her pocket. She looks over the worn paper for a moment, then a takes a single step closer to him and thrusts it in his direction. “Here.”

The ebbing tide of the adrenaline rush in his veins suddenly leaves all at once, and he is left staring at his employer’s hand again. There must a misunderstanding here. Again.

“You wish me to…hold the contract for you?”

She rolls her lips together before making deliberate eye contact with him.

“I want you to have it. Permanently, free of charge. The contract belongs to you - no more employers to boss you around.” Turning her eyes skyward for a moment, she takes a deep breath. “I’m hoping that greasing former employers of yours isn’t like a tradition or something, cause I kinda like being alive out here in the fresh air despite everything. And I have someone I really, really need to find.”

He stares at her for a long moment, stupefied. She stares back, with an expression that is perhaps supposed to be comforting despite the fact that her hand is shaking slightly. After the events at the Ninth Circle, she doesn’t have much reason to suspect that anything else will happen apart from her apart from the inside of her skull being spread all over the atrium.

“I cannot accept.”

At the sound of his voice she seems a little calmer, and gives him a warmer smile.

“Sure you can. No charge, no nothing, just like I s-”

“You misunderstand. I am physically not able to accept.”

“What?” The look of confusion is back.

“I am not able to hold my own contract. It is stated clearly in the contract terms.”

“You didn’t say that thirty seconds ago!”

“The contract terms are long. I paraphrased.”

“You paraphrased.” With a furrowed brow she pinches the bridge of her nose again with the hand holding the contract dropping to her hip, though her mouth pulls up at the corner – whether it’s from amusement or concealed frustration, he’s not sure. She takes in a breath, then drops her hand. “Right. Okay. And if I destroy the contract?”

“I am compelled to stop you from doing so, through any means necessary.”

“Even if you harm me? I thought you said you couldn’t do that.”

“Preservation of the contract takes priority over the life of my employer, though I must also take all possible actions to preserve your life.” Comforting people is not a talent Charon considers to be in his skill set. From the look on his employer’s face, he evaluates that this is still true.

“There must be a section in the contract for how it ends though, right? Surely no contract is gonna be able to hold you forever.” The naivety of the comment grates on his nerves more than he expects. Maybe it’s the aftermath of the adrenaline rush and the bewilderingly abrupt turn that this already baffling interaction has taken, but Charon’s response come out with more of a bite than he means it to.

“It’s not that simple, smoothskin.”

“But you don’t want to be bound by it, right?” Seemingly undeterred by the epithet or the warning in his tone, she continues earnestly. “If we just-”

“I said -” His voice is sharper than he would ever dared let it be speaking back to Ahzrukhal, louder than he has spoken in so very long, and he wrests control of himself back too late – his voice echoes back to him from the polished granite walls so that it rebukes him as much as it does the kid in front of him. Her eyes are wide, shoulders bunched up to her chin level, and he realises that he has unconsciously drawn up to his full height. The echo hangs in the air for a moment, and when it dies his words are back to their normal volume, even if the tone is strained: “ – it is not that simple.”

The moment continues to stretch out thin and the young woman doesn’t move or answer – just keeps staring at him. The silence leaves him feeling as unbalanced as the conversation did - worse now that he feels exposed in the wake of his outburst. Charon takes a rattly breath and fills his ravaged lungs to their full extent as he winds himself back under control – shoulders down, arms by his sides, he reverts to his typical guarding stance. When he speaks again, it in the direction of the young woman’s clenched hand rather than to her face

“For good or ill,” Charon says towards the faded scrap of parchment “I am in your service.”

[theartofdreaming1]

The Hunger Games Reread, Chapters 1-3; a scene from chapter 3: Madge gives Katniss her Mockingjay pin

You can find my long, rambling thoughts on the first three chapters regarding this week’s prompt under the cut:

heart:

The bread and the dandelion are such fitting symbols for Peeta and Katniss and perfectly encapsulate the basis of their relationship and what inherent values connect these two! 

Bread = genuine act of kindness:

Genuine acts of kindness are pivotal moments representing who they are. Because the books are from Katniss’ perspective, her acts of kindness are often barely acknowledged by herself; the fact that two chapters into this book Katniss is already volunteering herself to participate in a literal fight to the death for her sister speaks for itself, of course. Also, basically anything involving Prim - not drowning Buttercup, her affectionate teasing (“little duck”) - clearly shows what a generous and kind person Katniss is. And despite acting like she does not care about people that are not in her inner circle, we often catch glimpses of Katniss caring for the people in district 12 and feeling for the plight of its inhabitants.

Peeta burning those loaves of bread on purpose to give to Katniss, despite the painful consequences for himself (what did his mother hit him with?!) is also just a perfect example of how seemingly small acts can have big, meaningful consequences.

I also love how through their genuine acts of kindness, both Peeta and Katniss become incredibly powerful, lasting symbols of hope (Katniss volunteering for Prim lays the foundation for her becoming the Mockingjay, Peeta giving Katniss the bread causes her to forever associate him with warmth, strength, and... well, hope). Unlike the antagonists of the story (Snow/Coin) who artifcially craft/exploit already existing symbols for their uses (the roses/Mockingjay), Katniss and Peeta never intended for their acts to have such a big effect - but this is exactly why they are so powerful: genuine kindness has a much bigger impact than any artificiality/machinations can ever hopw to achieve

Dandelion = finding/seeking hope

Dandelions are bright, determined, but also very useful and can provide you with food - all these traits can be found in both Peeta and Katniss or are, at least, traits they value (Katniss isn’t necessarily the most chipper person, I guess, but she is drawn to genuinely kind, optimistic people). 

mind:  

It really hit me this time around how Katniss joking around with Gale with the berries in chapter 1 (”Happy Hunger Games!”) is a big forshadowing moment for how Katniss is going to win the Games (and in more ways than one: not just by being a victor, but also by forcing the Game Makers to allow for two victors to exist)! 

I have read the books only twice so far (always at breakneck speed, in 2-4 days) and am now listening to the audiobook for the second time (until I can get my grubby hands on my own printed editions)

soul: 

I always really liked Madge and the quiet warmth and fierceness she brings into the story. When she gives Katniss the Mockingjay pin before she has to leave for the Capitol and Katniss suddenly realizes that Madge actually is her friend 😭 Since Madge was also always more of an outsider due to her social status and had her sick mother to care for, I think it’s pretty safe to say that Katniss also completely underestimates (as she is wont to do) how important she is to Madge... I’m really sad that Madge didn’t even make it into the movies!

[wiypt-writes]

Riding On

Ch24: The Wheel Fell Off

Summary: There are some perks to having your own, personal mechanic…and Fliss isn’t the only one who notices.

Warnings: Bad language.

Pairing: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: So I gotta give a shout out to @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​  as she came up with a few gems of dialogue for this!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 23

And the wonder of it all is that you don’t realise how much I love you.

July 2020

Frank looked around at the team assembled in his office for the daily Stand-Up and nodded. “Okay, so I’ve nothing else to add, anyone got any other business before I call it?”

“Are we far behind on the repair time KPI for the Dolphin Tour fleet?” Mick, the finance manager looked at Frank and he shook his head.

“No, a day or so. Tim says he’ll have made the time back by Friday so we’re good.” Frank replied. “I’m not concerned. It shouldn’t have an impact on the incentivisation payments”

Mick nodded and Frank waited for a second. When no one else spoke, he dismissed the team and turned to his computer, leaning over to check the rest of the meetings and tasks for the day. He was midway through a very complicated spreadsheet detailing incoming repairs and timescales when his phone rang.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He greeted Fliss, leaning back in his chair a little. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, well, no. I was in the menage harrowing the surface and the wheel fell off the Quad Bike.”

“What do you mean the wheel fell off?” Frank pulled a face, scratching at his temple.

“Well, you know how it had four wheels? Now it has three,” came the sarcastic response.

“Dickhead.” Frank shot back and Fliss’ laughter hit his ears.

“Well, what did you think I meant?”

“You know what, I’m sorry I asked.” He rolled his eyes. “I suppose that means you want me to come fix it?”

“Yeah but it can wait until later if you’re busy, we managed to get it out of the way. Dad’s here snagging the extension to the tack room so he had a look and he says the bolt has sheared off so he can’t put it back on without a spare and I don’t know if you have any lying about in your Man Cave.”

“I will do from when we changed the wheels last year.” Frank clicked into his calendar to double check his schedule and smiled. “I’ve got no meetings this afternoon so I’ll come home at lunch. I can do the stock inventory at home.”

“My hero.”

“You know, if you carry on being sarcastic you can shove it up your ass.”

“I wasn’t being sarcastic!” Fliss laughed. “You know I love the fact that you can fix all this shit for me.”

“No you love the fact I get filthy fixing all that shit for you.”

“Well yeah, that’s one upside to you being good with your hands.”

“One?” Frank grinned, leaning back in his chair. “So there’s more?”

“You know it Sailor. I gotta go babe, my next client is here but I’ll see you soon, and if you can’t don’t worry it’ll wait.”

“I’ll sort it. Love you, sweetheart.”

“You too.”

True to his word, Frank left the office at midday giving his team the instruction to call his cell if needed. Once home, he parked up, headed inside to change out of his office attire and pulled on a pair of worn, light jeans and a t-shirt. Once done, he grabbed his shades, went into his work shop and picked up his tool box along with a couple of spare bolts and wandered over to the yard. As he walked, he stopped for a moment to take in the building work and smiled. The extension to the office and tack room area was complete, giving Fliss a huge extra space to organise all her tack and equipment. The paint and plastering had been completed a few days before and the fittings had all been finalised yesterday which was what Bill was in there snagging, making sure it was all as they’d specified. The storage units and racks were all on order and due to arrive at some point tomorrow so Frank knew he’d most likely be busy fitting them in the evening, not that he minded. He loved being able to be involved and help out.

The diggers were in place, hollowing out the additional riding paddock at the bottom of the yard, this one slightly smaller than the current one, but would give more than enough additional space for people to ride, and the hedge along the bottom field had been cleared to lead out to the additional three acres of grassy space they had acquired, with a new gravel path to be laid as a walkway once the post and rail fencing was done. They’d also asked for trenches to be dug for water pipes to avoid the stable hands having to lug buckets and tanks up to the horses.

All in all, it was coming along really well and on schedule, the whole thing set to be completed by the beginning of August, well in time for their wedding, which was now just ten weeks away.

Frank made his way onto the main yard, Fliss waving at him from where she was teaching in the paddock and he waved back, wandering into the newly-constructed building as Bill was busy pointing to something on the wall.

“Yeah, that needs patching up.” He nodded as the guy besides him produced a packet of small stickers in the shape of yellow dots. He placed one on the area Bill was clearly not satisfied with and Frank looked around, noticing a number of them in various places in the room. Bill glanced over at him and smiled. “Hey, son.”

“How picky ya being, Bill?” Frank smirked and Bill let out a snort.

“Nah, the actual building and electrical fittings are all sound.” He gave a nod. “This is just cosmetic. The door frame is chipped, this plaster here is rough and there’s some patches where it’s too thin but other than that it’s good.”

“I’m glad you’re doing this as I wouldn’t have noticed any of that.” Frank mused, leaning in a little closer to examine what it was that Bill had spotted, and the older man shook his head.

“Well, I have over thirty years in the trade and my eyes are still pretty sharp.” Bill chuckled. “Anyway, what are you doing here? Don’t tell me she dragged you out of work to fix that Quad!”

“It’s no problem. Got nothing on this afternoon so I can work from home.”

“She’s got you wrapped round her little finger.” Bill shook his head and Frank arched an eyebrow.

“I could say the same for you.” He accused. “And with Mary too for that matter. And Verity. You’re a soft ass for your girls, Bill and you know it.”

Bill shrugged. “Guilty as charged. Some would argue I’m a soft ass for my boys too, all of you.”

Frank smiled back, his neck feeling a little warm as the sentiment of Bill’s words sunk in and he took a deep breath and jerked his head towards the door. “I best go do what I came to do before her majesty accuses me of slacking.”

Bill chuckled. “It’s in the barn,” he informed, waving him away and Frank emerged out into the hot, midday July sun and strode round to the rear of the yard. The Quad bike and offending wheel were indeed stored in the barn, which was slightly cooler than the outside and Frank dropped his tool bag to the floor before he knelt down to take a look. Bill had been right, the bolt had snapped but it was an easy fix.

Or so he thought.

Ten minutes later, after a lot of cursing, heaving and straining he’d finally managed to work the broken bolt loose. Standing up, he cracked his neck and back, tossing the broken item into his bag with a contemptuous glare as he wiped his sweaty forehead and reached for the wheel. Thankfully, that was easy and took him two minutes to fit, and once he was happy it was sorted he pushed the quadbike out to make sure it was on properly.

“Did you fix it?” A small voice asked him and Frank glanced up to see a little girl, who can’t have been much older than four, stood looking at him as she grinned, her dark pigtails poking out from underneath a cap.

“Sure did.” He smiled.

“It was funny when it fell off.” She giggled. “Fliss screamed and then she swore.”

Frank snorted. “Yeah, she has a potty mouth.”

“Alicia!” A woman spoke and Frank turned to glance up at a slim, dark haired lady, dressed in a pair of bright, beige jodhpurs and a tight, baby-blue polo shirt, both items of clothing looking like they’d never come into contact with a horse at all. “Don’t run off!”

“I just wanted to see if the wheel was back on.” The little girl protested and the woman rolled her eyes.

“I’m sorry.” She smiled, flashing off a set of perfect white teeth from behind a set of glossed lips. “She’s so nosey.”

“Kids for ya.” Frank smiled, shaking his head.

“Don’t I know it?” She laughed, a perfectly manicured hand flying to her chest as Frank straightened up, wiping his hands on the back of his loose fitting, slightly grubby jeans. At that point, Joanne came round the back of the barn and she smiled.

“You ready for your lesson, Leesh?” She looked at the little girl who gave a cheer. “Come on then, Fliss is waiting.”

“This is the best Phys-Ed ever!” The little girl grinned and shot off after Joanne.

“Phys Ed.” Her mom rolled her eyes. “Damned private tutor education. I swear, I could kill my ex-husband for suggesting this.”

“You don’t ride yourself then, I take it?” Frank asked and she shook her head.

“No, but when she decided she wanted to, I thought I should make an effort. I think it’s what they refer to in the business as possessing all the gear, but having no idea.”

Frank gave her a smile. “Yeah, well, when my girl decided she wanted to learn I wasn’t particularly keen either but, well, she’s hooked now.”

“Oh, your girl rides too?” The woman flicked her hair back over her shoulder and Frank studied her for a moment, her painted on eyebrows and heavily bronzed face arranged into a genuine look of interest. He realised then that she had absolutely no idea who he was. “Does she do that here?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” He chuckled.

“Huh.” The woman scanned him up and down a little, her eyes blatantly flicking to his left hand. “Maybe it isn’t such a bad thing coming here after all.”

Frank took a deep breath, recognising the flirting for what it was and he gave her a little smile. “Well, I better get on.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m sure Fliss has a list of a hundred other jobs for me to so.”

“So, are you like her mechanic or something?” The woman continued and Frank looked at her, his face remaining straight.

“Something.” He gave her another nod and moved to walk back onto the yard, trying not to laugh.

“Oh, well, we’re new here. We’ve not been here long. I’m Michelle.” She offered, following him.

“Nice to meet you, Michelle.” He looked back over his shoulder as she paused a few steps behind him.

“I err, I didn’t catch your name.”

“That’s because I didn’t give it to you.” He stopped, turning to look at her, a smirk flicking across his face. She bit her lip and grinned back.

“Are you gonna?”

At that Frank let out a bark of a laugh. “Frank. Frank Adler.”

“Nice to meet you, Frank.”

“You too.” He smiled politely, as he slid his aviators back down from the top of his head onto his eyes, before he realised they were dirty. Taking them off he pulled the bottom of his shirt up slightly to wipe at the lens and when he returned them to his face he caught Michelle’s focus was still on his waist line. Her eyes flicked up to his and she shrugged a little.

“Sorry.” She wrinkled her nose. “Can’t blame a girl for looking, huh?”

Frank blinked, glad his eyes were hidden, a little shocked at her forthcoming nature, before he let out a snort.

“Well I’ve done my fair share of looking in the past, not any more though. My fiancée would have my balls hung up on the wall.”

“Oh, erm, sorry, I didn’t, wow.” She blinked and ran her hand through her glossy hair. “That’s embarrassing.”

Frank shrugged. “I’ve been in far worse situations, believe me.” With that he turned, and as he began to walk along the side of the paddock he looked up to see Fliss was watching him over the fence, her hands on her hips. Her eyes were hidden behind her wrap-arounds but he could tell from her demeanour she wasn’t best pleased. With a groan he approached the white post and rail that ran round the ménage and leaned on it.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Her tone was friendly enough, despite her frosty body language, as she walked over towards him. “You get it fixed?”

“Yeah, took me a while to get the bolt off but it’s all good.”

“Thanks.” She slid her hat up a little and wiped at her brow with the back of her arm. “Fuck, its warm today.”

“Well, take your clothes off.” Frank grinned. “It’ll help you cool down.”

“Pervert.” She snorted, before she nodded behind him. “I see you met Kim.”

“Kim?” Frank frowned. “She said her name was Michelle.”

“Yeah, but Joanne calls her Kim Kardashian.” Fliss wrinkled her nose. “On account of the botox and fake boobs.”

“You two are bitches.” Frank scoffed and Fliss shrugged, before he frowned. “Hang on, her boobs are fake?”

“Keep talking, Sailor.” Fliss slid her glasses down and glared at him over the rims and he let out a laugh.

“Baby, I’m joking.” He looked at her and she gave a hum as she pushed them back up her nose as he leaned over the fence a little. “Come ‘ere.”

Fliss stepped towards him and Frank dropped his head to press his lips to hers. “Love you, baby.” He ginned, flashing her his best cheeky grin.

“You can’t get round me that easy.” She shot back and Frank shrugged.

“Who says I’m trying to get round you?”

“I know you, Adler.” She scoffed, stepping back. “Look, I gotta get on so I’ll see you at home. You wanna pick Alex up tonight?”

“Sure, I’ll get him. Is Mary getting the bus home from Summer Camp?”

“Yeah, I told her one of us would pick her up but she insisted.” Fliss shrugged and Frank smiled.

“Okay, I’ll see you in a couple of hours then.”

“Yeah, love you.”

“You too.”

*****

It was gone five before Fliss had finished at the yard. She’d hardly had time to breathe, let alone think about what she’d seen that morning, but that said, it was there, nagging in the back of her brain. She bid Joanne a good night, before she headed down the little path to the house. She was hot, sticky, uncomfortable and ready for a cool shower and a very large glass of white wine. As she walked down the drive, she passed her newly acquired white Hyundai SUV and stopped as she caught her reflection in the tinted rear mirror.

“Oh, Jesus.” She mumbled, moving closer to take a better look. Her skin was the colour of a fucking beet, her hair was all over the place from where she’d removed her cap and tossed it on her desk, her polo shirt was full of all sorts of stains and she was pretty sure she could smell herself and her riding britches were hung a little low on her hips, her soft stomach visible beneath the tight cotton of her top.

And then, from nowhere, came the image of fucking Michelle and her fucking size two figure, with her fucking perfect tits, model smile, stupidly glossy hair, and impeccable eyebrows and straight nose…

Fliss hastily pulled her pony tail out, fluffed out her sweat-damp hair and retied it, before she smoothed down her top as best she could and headed into their yard and through to the utility room, Thor trotting behind her.

“Hey!” Frank greeted her from where he was led on the rug, building some form of tower out of a set of large, brightly coloured blocks as Alex sat next to him, his little hands curling round a few of the bricks. The baby looked round and made an excited noise at the sight of his momma, and shuffled a little onto his knees and hands, crawling towards her.

“Frank, I stink.” She held her hands up in warning and Frank hastily rose, quickly picking Alex up off the floor before he could get much further towards her.

“A little dirt won’t hurt him.” He shrugged.

“Yeah, but I look and feel like I’ve been rolling on the muck heap all day so I’m going straight for a shower.”

Frank chuckled as she gave Alex a quick kiss on the head, moving out of his way before he could grab hold of her. “Well, I think you wear the dirty, stable hand look well, Honey.”

“Sure.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll be back down in ten, do you mind starting dinner? I was gonna do a quick chicken salad.”

“Course.” Frank nodded, looking at her for a moment and she simply smiled back.

She could feel Frank’s eyes burning into her back as she headed out of the family room into the hallway, trudging up the stairs. As soon as she was in their bedroom she stripped off her sticky, dirty clothes, tossed them onto the floor and climbed straight into the shower, turning it to an adequate temperature. Tipping her face up into the stream she let the lukewarm water cool her slightly, as she blinked back tears of frustration.

Michelle had at least had the good grace to look a little sheepish when she’d realised exactly who Frank was, but fuck, it had still pissed Fliss off to the point she’d wanted to smash her face straight into the floor. And more to the point, Fliss felt annoyed that it had riled her the way it had. It wasn’t exactly like it was an unusual occurrence, everywhere they went Frank seemed to attract female attention, he was gorgeous, but today had been on her home turf, somewhere she was Queen Bee, and to have someone else buzzing around her hive in such a way made her feel uneasy.

Real uneasy.

With a deep breath she washed her hair, sorted herself out and turned off the shower before she wrapped herself in a towel and headed back into the bedroom. As she was brushing out her hair, her phone went off and she picked it up, snorting at the message from Steve which showed a baby-grow with the words, “party at my crib, 3am, bring a bottle,” on the front. She sent him a quick response, pondering for a moment at just how fast Sian’s latest pregnancy seemed to have gone, she was approaching her sixth month now, and seemed to be glowing just as she had with the twins. Mary had been very happy when they’d announced they were expecting another boy, declaring proudly that made her Bill’s only granddaughter, something which, according to her, made her special.

And of course, none of them had corrected her, because it was the truth.

Tapping her nails lightly against the surface of the vanity unit, Fliss scrolled down to her message conversations and found the one to Bonnie, sending her a quick text to ask if she was free. She set about her quick face care routine, before she braided her damp hair, and then her phone began to ring.

“Hey!” Bonnie greeted her. “I’m driving so thought I’d call you…erm, I’m not doing anything in particular, why?”

“Well, I know Si’s outta town on business so I wondered if you fancied company for a few hours?” Fliss replied, keeping the details as sketchy as she could. “Me and a bottle of white? God knows I could do with one after today.”

“That bad huh?” Bonnie chuckled. “Sure why not. I’m not working tomorrow after all. Did I tell you I had many weeks off?”

“You might have mentioned it.” Fliss replied, laughing a little. “You teachers have an easy ride.”

“Fuck you.” Bonnie shot back and Fliss snorted.

“I’m joking, well I’ve no lessons until later tomorrow so I can have a few.” Fliss scratched at her temple. “What time works for you?”

“Well, I’m just on my way to have dinner at my mom’s so, I can pick you up on the way back?” Bonnie offered. “Be about seven ish?”

“Perfect.” Fliss smiled.

“Awesome. We can get down to some Hen Party planning!” Bonnie’s voice was laced with excitement. “I found this awesome villa in Miami that will accommodate everyone.”

“Can’t wait to see it.” Fliss smiled.

After a little more conversation, Fliss placed her phone back down and dressed in a pair of denim shorts, a khaki green boat necked short-sleeved top and shoved her feet into a pair of flip-flops. She took another look in the mirror, scowling once more at her reflection, before she rolled her eyes and headed downstairs.

She walked into the family room and smiled as she saw Mary was sat on a stool at the island whilst Alex was sat in his high chair, munching on a piece of cucumber. Frank was busy tossing things into a salad bowl, and he turned to smile at her as she greeted them all, dropping a kiss to Mary’s head, then Alex’s in turn.

“Feeling better?” Frank asked as she slid her arms round his waist, pressing her face into his t-shirt.

“Yeah, much. God, it was disgustingly hot out there today.”

“Yeah, that’s one thing I don’t miss about working on boats, the lack of air conditioning.” Frank chuckled as she stepped back and moved to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of wine.

“My face feels burnt, but I don’t know how that’s possible.” She shook her head, thanking Frank as he reached into the cupboard and pulled down a glass for her. “I had a cap and shades on.”

“It doesn’t look too red.” He looked at her and she took a large gulp of wine, giving a satisfied sigh.

“Been waiting for that all afternoon.” She closed her eyes, savouring the taste before she opened them again. “Oh, that reminds me, I’m going over to Bonnie’s later, just for a couple of hours. Hen Do planning, that okay?”

“Course it is.” Frank nodded. “You want me to drop you off?”

“No, she’s at her mum’s so she’s going to come get me. I can Uber back.”

“I’ll pick you up.” Frank looked at her. “We can take the kids and Thor down to the beach for a little flashlight walk on the way back.”

“Flashlight walk?” Mary suddenly spoke, excitement lacing her tone. “The last time we did that it was so cool, we saw all those hermit crabs and the dolphins!”

“Don’t be so nosey.” Frank looked at her and she shrugged.

“You weren’t exactly whispering.”

He rolled his eyes and turned to Fliss who chuckled. “Sure, sounds good. I won’t be long, just a few hours.”

Frank shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, not like Mary needs to be up early and Alex will probably sleep the entire time anyway if he’s in the carrier.”

She gave him a small nod before she set about helping Frank with their dinner. It wasn’t long before it was ready, and they decided to eat outside. Mary chatted away, filling them all in on what she’d done at Summer camp, Frank listening, but all the time keeping one eye on Fliss who seemed to be taking it all in, but wasn’t saying much.

They finished, cleared their dishes away and Mary headed upstairs for a little while, whilst Fliss took Alex for his bath before she brought him back down, ready for bed to give him his bottle which Frank had ready.

She passed him over as Frank made his way to the sofa, dropping down to feed their baby, and Fliss watched for a moment, before her phone beeped.

“Bonnie’s outside.” Fliss stuck it back in her pocket and turned to Frank as he gently shifted Alex so he was a little more comfortable, his small hands curled around the bottle as he drank his milk.

“She not coming in?”

“No point, we’re only going straight back out.”

“Right.” Frank nodded as glanced back down at Alex. “Are you okay?” He asked, looking up at her and Fliss nodded back, a little too quickly, the way she always did when she was trying to hide something and Frank took a deep breath. “Liss…”

“I’m fine.” She shook her head. “Just a little wiped after today, that’s all.”  Frank sighed and Fliss narrowed her eyes as she turned towards the kitchen. “Don’t sigh at me like that.”

“I’m not sighing at you like anything.” He replied as she pulled out a bottle of wine to take with her. “Just wish you’d tell me what the problem is.”

“I don’t have a problem.” Fliss rolled her eyes. “I’m just going to Bonnie’s for a few hours. Is my life that sad that whenever I socialise it always has to be because I have a problem?”

“I didn’t say that.” Frank replied, calmly.

“Good, because that’s not why I’m going.”

Knowing he was beat, and that if he pushed it any further they were going to end up in a full scale argument, Frank nodded. “Okay then. Have fun, call me when you’re done.”

Fliss blinked, almost as if she was waiting for him to push her again, before she simply shrugged and leaned over to gently run her finger down Alex’s chubby cheek. She then turned to Frank gave him a quick kiss.

“Love you.” He pressed his lips to hers a little deeper, before she stepped back and he was pleased to see her smiling.

“Love you too.”

Frank watched her go, taking a deep breath as he glanced back down at his son. A few minutes later, Mary bounded into the room and Frank looked up at her.

“Did you hear back from the vets, you know about Cleo?” She asked.

“Yup.” Frank grinned, “wanna read the email?”

“Dur!” She grinned and Frank pulled his phone out form his pocket, scrolling with one hand to the email that had arrived earlier that afternoon before he handed it to her.

“Dear Mr Adler,” Mary read, “I’m pleased to inform you that Sandybrook Cleopatra has passed her five-stage-vetting, bla bla bla,” she skipped on a few lines, “negative worm count, negative for equine influenza, rhino-erm, what’s that?”

“Pneumonitis” Frank read as she turned the screen to him. “I’ve got no idea, some disease, obviously.”

“And Streptococcus Equi, oh I know that one. That’s strangles.” Mary nodded.

“Whatever you say, Stack.” Frank smiled.

“As such, please see attached the completed and fully executed Export Health Certificate. Upon arrival in the USA, your animal will require a further three days quarantine which you must organise ….bla bla bla!” Mary grinned up at him as she handed him his phone back. “So that’s it?”

“Yup!” Frank nodded, as he glanced down at Alex who was now turning away from his bottle, signalling he was done. ”Everything’s done, Jo’s sorted the stuff with Department of Agriculture at this end, el ponio is being collected by the UK transporter tomorrow morning and will be on a flight later that evening.” He paused to rearrange Alex over his shoulder to burp him. “So, if all goes according to plan, she’ll be arriving here after her quarantine mid-afternoon on Fliss’ birthday.” He nodded, before he mumbled. “Thirteen thousand bucks lighter.”

“Thirteen thousand!” Mary spluttered. “Holy shit!”

“Hey, watch your mouth.” Frank looked at her sternly as Alex gave a loud burp. Frank turned his head to look at him. “Better out than in, Bean.”

“Sorry but, Dad, that’s a lot of money. I thought they did you a deal and knocked half off her price because it was Fliss?”

“They did.” He shrugged as he stood and carried Alex over to his pack and play. “She still cost me three. The rest is the cost of the vetting and the transport. But, Poppa B and Nanny V have said they only want half back and Uncle Steeb is chucking in a couple of hundred towards it, so it’s kind of like a joint present.”

“She’s worth it!” Mary grinned and Frank chuckled, heading to kitchen area.

“The horse or Fliss?”

“Mom, of course.” Mary scoffed, hopping up onto a stool at the breakfast bar.

“She sure is.” Frank agreed as he opened the fridge. “But I’ll be telling her that’s her birthday this year, birthday next year, Christmas and first wedding anniversary present all rolled into one.”

“First anniversary?” Mary looked at him. “You ain’t even married yet!”

“I know but now I don’t have to think about buying her anything for like twelve months.” He shrugged, smirking to himself as he leaned down for a bottle of beer, knowing he was talking utter shit. There was no way that was gonna fly, and he didn’t even want to try for the simple reason he loved buying Fliss stuff that made her smile. Still, it was fun trying to watch Mary decide if he was joking or not.

“What about Mother’s Day?” She asked after a moment.

“She aint my mom,” Frank looked at her, “as the eldest the responsibility for that falls to you.” He twisted the lid off the beer as Mary narrowed her eyes. “You want a beer?” He waved the bottle at Mary.

“Really?” Her eyes grew wide.

“No, just wanted to see how much crap I could tell you that you’d actually believe.” He smirked. Mary blinked, before she let out a low groan, realising she’d been had.

“You’re such an idiot.” She shook her head, and Frank watched, chuckling to himself as she bent down, picked Fred up and stalked to her Den, Thor hot on her tail.

*****

“So, I thought,” Bonnie grinned, turning the laptop to face Fliss as they sat at her kitchen table, “that this one sounds perfect. It sleeps up to twelve, has a pool, hot tub, is a short walk to the beach, not far from down-town and also literally a five minute walk to the hotel we stayed in, where we can get a really good deal on a Day-Spa package. And, we can also get someone in on the Saturday to do a grill and cocktails for us, if that’s what you wanna do.”

Fliss gave a small smile, and Bonnie frowned. “Or, not. Sorry, is it not what you wanted? I thought-“ Fliss sighed, her hand laying on Bonnie’s arm. “No, that…” she took a deep breath and smiled, “it sounds perfect, Bonnie. Honestly it does.”

“So, why are you making me feel like I’ve given you a dog turd on a plate and told you it’s your dinner?”

At that Fliss choked on the mouthful of wine she’d taken and looked at her best friend. “You know, for a teacher, you really have a way with words.”

Bonnie chuckled, as Fliss shook her head. “I’m sorry, it’s not you. I’m just feeling a little…actually, I don’t know what I’m feeling. Pissed off, maybe?”

“Why, what’s happened?” Bonnie looked at her.

“Just…oh, you know what, it’s nothing.” Fliss brushed it off, necking the remainder of the wine in her bottle. “Can I get a top up?”

“I’ll get it.” Bonnie nodded and stood up from the table. A moment or two later she returned, and held the bottle up. “You speak, and I’ll pour.”

Fliss blinked, realising she wasn’t going to get away with it, so she sat back and blurted everything out. How she’d felt seeing Frank with the bimbo at the yard, how she was feeling a little insecure over how she looked because she’d once upon a time been that groomed, perfect looking person. And the more she talked, the more tumbled out about how she felt sometimes that Frank was way out of her league before Bonnie shook her head and cut her off.

“Are you listening to yourself?” She scoffed. “Jesus Christ, I haven’t heard anyone talk this much shit since Simon told me he was gonna run a marathon.”

“Hey, you asked what was wrong.” Fliss looked at her, her temper flashing a little. “I’m just telling you!”

“Yeah, and I’m just telling you, you’re a fucking moron.” Bonnie shook her head. “Fliss, you’re beautiful. Honestly, like, if I have kids and end up with your figure after, I’ll be over the moon. But that aside, Frank loves YOU. Not the way you look, or the way your hair is styled, or the way your eyebrows are painted on, he loves you.”

“I know.” Fliss nodded, sniffing a little. “I know he does, and I know he’d never cheat on me, I get that. I just, oh I don’t know, I don’t know why I feel like this. I can’t explain it.”

Bonnie side eyed Fliss as she topped her glass up before she sat down at the table, taking a deep breath. “Do you think this has anything to do with your ex?”

Fliss frowned, shaking her head. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, you told me he used to put you down about how you looked, compared you to other women he, well, fucked behind your back.” Bonnie trailed off. “I don’t know, I was just thinking maybe that deep in your mind, you kinda still think you should have a face caked in make-up and boobs pushed up to your chin.”

Fliss gave a snort at Bonnie’s description before she shrugged. “I don’t feel like that, not really. I’ve never bothered about anything like that whilst I’ve been with Frank. But something about her just pissed me off, more so because she was doing it right there in my own back fucking yard.” Fliss took another slug of wine before she bit her lip. “Maybe you’re right, maybe it’s because she reminds me of that past life.” She tapped her nails against her glass. “But, I was fucking miserable, and now I’m not, so why would I even bother about some bimbo flirting with my man? It’s not like he did anything or was gonna.”

“So, basically, we’ve come to the conclusion that this woman is a tramp and you’re an idiot.” Bonnie nodded and despite herself, Fliss laughed.

“Yeah, sounds about right.”

“Hmm,” Bonnie sipped her wine. “Okay, I’m glad we got that sorted.” She took another sip before she gently reached out and squeezed Fliss hand. “You got nothing to worry about. Frank adores you, to be honest, me and Simon always say it’s kinda gross the way he’s always like looking at you with stupid doe eyes or touching you whenever he can.”

Fliss smiled, a fond look crossing her face as she knew what Bonnie was saying was true. Any chance Frank got he would touch or cuddle her, and it was never in a dominant way like it had been with John, it was because he simply wanted to, it was his love language. “Yeah, he’s touchy.”

Bonnie smiled and sat back as Fliss took a deep breath. “But you should talk to him, tell him how you feel.”

Fliss shrugged. “Maybe, like you said, I’m being an idiot.” She gave her friend another smile before she nodded back towards the laptop. “But, now for the fun stuff. Show me what you got planned for our weekend of debauchery in Miami, Maid Of Honor!”

**** It was a little before ten when Fliss called Frank to say she was ready for pick up if he still wanted to come get her, which was a dumb question, because of course he did. He packed the kids into the car, and drove the fifteen minutes or so to Bonnie’s and Fliss clambered into the passenger seat, her cheeks flushed a little from the wine. After giving him a quick kiss, she turned to smile at Mary who beamed at her, her head torch already in position, Thor’s flashing light up collar sitting pretty around his neck as he perched in the middle seat between her and Alex who was in the baby chair, fast asleep.

They drove down to the Public Access, the same stretch of beach they would be married on in a matter of weeks, and all climbed out, Frank gently settling Alex in the carrier that hung over his chest before he offered Fliss his hand and they headed onto the moonlit sand. They walked in silence for a while, the air finally cooled enough to be enjoyable, Mary running ahead of them, Thor gambolling in and out of the waves, giving a little bark of enjoyment as he chased the surf.

“He’s gonna be soaked when he gets back in the truck.” Frank groaned and Fliss laughed.

“Should have come in mine, he could have sat in the trunk.”

“He can ride home on the flatbed.”

“Don’t you dare.” Fliss nudged Frank with her elbow and he chuckled, his arm sliding round her shoulder as he pressed a kiss to her head.

“You gonna tell me what’s bothering you now?” Frank asked as they continued to stroll up the beach.

“Nothing.”

“Lissy.” Frank spoke sternly and stopped to face her. She let out a sigh, her hand reaching up to smooth over Alex’s hair as he lay slumped against his dad’s chest.

“I’m being an idiot, I know that. But seeing you before, at the yard I just…”

It was Frank’s turn to sigh as he shook his head. “Honey, I-“

“No, I know what you’re gonna say but, I just, well, she was there looking like a fucking model and then there was me, and I used to be that size, and I used to be that person, that looked half decent, you know? I can’t remember the last time I actually wore any form of make-up bar a bit of tinted moisturiser or mascara, or when I last straightened my hair, let alone painted on my damned eyebrows! And then she’s flirting with you flashing her perfect teeth, and her perfect fake boobs and her line free brow and plump lips, all full of fillers and botox and-“

“You want Botox?” Frank cut her off mid rant and Fliss let out a groan.

“No I don’t want fucking Botox, Frank!”

“Well shut up talking about it then!” He laughed. “Look, I don’t want that fake shit either. Do I look like the type of guy who wants someone who is just one step away from being a Malibu Barbie? Fuck that!”

“You look like the type of guy who should want a Malibu Barbie.” Fliss replied, somewhat sullenly. “You don’t see the looks you get every time we go out.”

Frank rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You know, girls like that are ten a penny down on the boardwalk. But you’re the one I took sailing.” “Thanks a backhanded compliment.” Fliss narrowed her eyes and Frank laughed, cupping her face in his hands.

“Look, Sweetheart, I love you.” He shrugged simply. “Because you’re beautiful, inside and out and because you’re my Lissy.” He pulled her face up to meet his, placing a soft kiss to her lips, his nose sliding against hers.

“I know, I’m sorry.” She sighed. “I wasn’t mad at you, just feeling a little low I suppose.”

“You know I get it too.” Frank smiled, dropping his hands to take hers. “You think I don’t notice the looks you get when we go out?”

“I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.” Frank assured her as he entwined their fingers together. “But I don’t care. Because I know you’re mine, and I’m yours. So please don’t think for a second I’d even think about anyone else that way.”

He dropped a soft, slow, deep kiss to her lips and when she pulled back, she smiled.

“Sorry, I know, I was being an idiot.”

“Yeah.” He nodded in agreement and she chuckled as he returned his arm to round her shoulders and they continued walking, the sound of the waves against the shore a perfect back drop to Mary’s excited shouts and Thor’s little barks.

“When you said you said you wouldn’t think about anyone…” She started and Frank was pleased to note her voice was full of mischief, his playful Lissy was back.

“Well,” he wrinkled his nose, shrugging a little, “maybe if Rihanna came knocking then I’d have to give it some serious consideration.”

“To be fair I’d give it some serious consideration, too.” Fliss mused and Frank arched a brow, teasingly as he looked down at her.

“Yeah?”

“Damned straight. I’d do her, she’s hot.” Fliss shrugged and Frank’s face split into a dirty grin as he stopped them both, using the arm round her shoulder to spin her into him as best he could with their son placed between them.

“Now there’s an image!” His voice was loaded with suggestiveness and Fliss laughed as his lips brushed hers.

“Pervert.” She whispered, her hand once more sweeping over the back of their sleeping baby’s head.

“Only for you.” He smiled, before he looked up, considering something. “And Rihanna.”

**** Chapter 25

[wallwriterstuff]

These Violent Delights ||Alec Volturi x Female Reader||

Part 3 of a request for @tiger-khans-blog​

Part 1 - Obsession  Part 2 - When You’re Lost I’ll Leave My Gaslight On 

Warnings: Yandere!Alec, obsessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships and implied non-con later on. This is possibly one of the darkest fics I have ever written so please be aware if controlling behaviour, gaslighting etc. is triggering to you, do not read this fic. 

This fic in particular contains graphic descriptions of violence and injury further down. 

Words: 5543

Summary: With no idea what is and isn’t real anymore you’re beginning to lose your mind and suspect your loving mate isn’t all he seems to be. Desperate for some semblance of sanity you try one last time to clear your head, and the consequences are dire. 

Demetri had suspected that there was something more going on beyond the surface. Y/N Swan was quite a sweet little thing and he had missed her greatly, but he respected her decision – as had Felix – to create some distance between them so she could learn to get along with Alec. Now Demetri was wondering if she’d ever made that decision at all. With increasing frequency Alec had burst into his room or the throne room with the declaration you were missing, and Demetri had immediately put his gift to good use. In almost all the situations Demetri had prepared for the worst, perhaps he’d find you kidnapped or injured somewhere after an outing gone wrong? But every time he’d found you you had been perfectly fine and dreadfully confused as to why he was there at all.

You were always doing quite mundane things. He didn’t even need to track you half the time to tell Alec you were at that little café whose pastries you adored. Sometimes you ventured further out, wanting to see the leaves changing colour in autumn in the park nearby. Other times you were literally right on their doorstep, drawing on the edge of the fountain. On those occasions Demetri stayed with you, letting you have a few minutes more of freedom, because he had started to notice a disturbing pattern – every time he found you you looked more and more lost. You had adamantly refused to accept Alec had not seen your note the first few times, but the doubt slowly crept in until you were entirely unsure of what you had or hadn’t done. Alec was never violent upon your reunion, playing the part of the concerned mate perfectly. He was always so relieved to have you back, but the boy seemed oblivious that you were obviously suffering.

You had lost that spark you used to have in your eyes, and your posture had become more slumped over. You were meeker, agreeing to whatever was put forward to you without question more often than not. Demetri was sure he could tell you the sky was purple and you’d whole heartedly agree, even if the blue was staring you right in the face. Your withdrawn personality didn’t seem to trouble Alec but it bothered him greatly. He wasn’t sure how it had happened but you were a shell of your former self, an anxious, meek little thing who looked nowhere near as happy as she should given she had found her mate. He had caught you in the kitchen once, tired from a day of studying Italian with Marcus as you had become want to do, berating yourself for dropping a pan on your toes while cooking. To say he was surprised to hear your cursing your ‘clumsy human hands’ was an understatement.

No, no Demetri was beyond suspicious, especially when you began to go ‘missing’ more frequently, looking more and more desperate each time he found you further and further out. You had fought him the last time he found you, pounding against his chest and begging him to not take you back. His concern had brought him in all good faith to Alec’s door while you slept one night.

“What can I do for you?” Alec asked, head tilting curiously. Demetri frowned.

“It’s about Y/N. I have some concerns, Alec.” He answered. Alec’s frown immediately depeened, his eyes growing darker.

“What concerns? Is she sick? She seemed fine when I left her to sleep.”

“No, no nothing like that, though I fear her mind may not be healthy. She seems…anxious, desperate to be out of the castle. Is there something going on Alec?” he asked. Alec’s already dark eyes turned black, the red leeching out of his irises so fast Demetri was almost shocked. His expression was cold as an arctic wind and his voice held little room for argument when he answered him.

“That is of no concern to you, she’s shared her worries with me already. You overstep Demetri, she’s my mate and I’ll care for her how I see fit.”

“I simply want to know if there is anything I can do to help. It’s no secret we care for the girl to Alec, let us help.” He frowned.

“What she needs from you, Demetri, is to be left the hell alone. Stop filling her head with poison. I know you talk at the fountain. She’s upset because you suggested she might be allowed to visit her family one day. They haven’t written to her in months, the false hope crushed her. Leave my mate to me and stop poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.” He snarled quietly. Demetri hissed quietly, his irritation flaring.

“What are you talking about? A letter arrived for her Tuesday gone.” He received a door to his face as his answer, the wood actually splintering a little with the force Alec slammed it with. He knew you had been getting letters frequently from the Cullen’s and your sister, he had seen some of them when the secretary was sorting the mail out, so why hadn’t you been getting them? If you were in such a deep spiral surely it was a contributing factor. The only thing he could think of was that the secretary hadn’t delivered them. But why? he flitted straight to her desk without another moment to spare, finding her packing up to leave for the evening. She jumped at his sudden appearance.

“Demetri, I didn’t see you there, how can I help you?” she was a new girl, the fourth one in the past two months, and he didn’t care to remember her name. His head tilted.

“You received a letter the other day for Y/N Swan did you not?” he questioned, leaning against her desk. She frowned, nodding.

“I did, I gave it to Alec to deliver, did it not reach her?” she asked, looking somewhat anxious now. Demetri paused, letting his mind work it over. So, Alec had been supposed to deliver that had he? How many more had he gotten his grubby little hands on? Demetri felt a quiet sense of horror dawn on him. It made a lot more sense suddenly, why you weren’t getting any of your family’s letters. Alec had taken them all to keep you from getting in touch with them. Was your silence towards himself and Felix the same? Orchestrated by Alec so not even you knew the real reason the three of you no longer spoke?

“Not on this occasion. Not to worry, thank you for your help, sweet thing.” He shot her a charming smile to mask his sudden anxiety and disappeared as quickly as he came, heading straight for the throne room. Maybe you hadn’t been going mad at all, maybe Alec was the one driving you insane…

“What is the meaning of this intrusion?” Caius growled, beyond annoyed with the way he had flung the door open in his haste. Demetri grimaced.

“My apologies Masters, but I need to talk to you urgently.”

You had to get out this time. The walls of old buildings scraped at your hands as you bolted down one alleyway after the next, swinging around corners and doing your best to stay upright as the cobblestones did their best to trip you. You couldn’t take it anymore. Your anxiety was at an all time high, panic attacks in the morning a common thing as you dreaded the day ahead – another day of disappointing Alec in all your human imperfection. There was no one you could turn to for comfort either, not with Demetri so busy all the time. He was less of a friend and more of a guard, dragging you back each time you left as Alec had promised you his duty as a guard entailed. The worst part was that you knew your feelings of inadequacy were completely unnecessary because you weren’t the one in the wrong, Alec was.

It had become more and more obvious he wasn’t letting you leave the castle, and sneaking out when you could became your one chance to see sunlight, to have any sort of freedom. When you’d tried to ask him about it he’d brushed you off again, telling you you were being silly and reminding you of all the times he’d taken you out to the Gardens, all the gifts you’d been given as apologies for missed opportunities to venture out into the world…but he’d been lying as long as you’d known him. Maybe he had learned to control his urges, but not his darkest impulses. Alec had wanted you all to himself and he had managed to succeed with his lies and deceit. It had been a complete accident, when you came across the mountain of lies he’d told. You had been waiting to surprise him (having stayed up to wait for him to finish his guard shift) when you spilt a glass of apple juice down your shirt. His closet was the closest place to find a replacement and it would hardly be the first time you’d taken a shirt of his.

The shrine in his closet was just too much.

Everything that had gone missing lay at an alter dedicated to you. Tears blurred your vision as the flash of ivory and familiar, scribbly writing permeated your mind once more. Letters – Bella’s letters. Your sister had never forgotten you. Alec had simply made you think she had. You had been right all along, the bundled-up letters proved as such, he had always been a monster. Selfish and ugly all the way to the core, Alec Volturi had never been your Prince Charming. How many other lies had he told? He’d isolated you until all you had was him, till you relied on him to get you through your day. No more. You tripped over your own feet, vision blurred by tears. The ground rushed up to meet you, a sharp sting ripping through your knee as you cried out, catching yourself with your hands before you could smash your face into the stone. Gasping for air, you tried desperately to fill your lungs, the rising hysteria making it difficult to steady your breathing. What if you couldn’t escape? Demetri always found you and he’d drag you back there, you knew he would. He couldn’t be allowed to find you, not this time, you had to keep moving and –

“Signorina?”

Your head snapped up, body scrambling to right itself despite the deep throbbing in your knee. A young man not too much older than yourself was slowly coming towards you, hands raised and expression concerned. He had a sort of roguish charm about him, tousled dark hair and equally as dark eyes (too lose to Alec’s angry onyx to be of any comfort) set in a tanned face. He had more colour to his skin than Alec could ever hope to have. With the sleeves of a plain white shirt rolled up to his elbows, top buttons undone and smart pants on, he must have been coming home from a shift as a waiter perhaps, maybe a barista in one of the fancier coffee houses in town, but you didn’t trust him at all. How could you trust anyone when the one person you had relied on had been a lying, manipulative, deceitful little –

“S-stay back.” You stammered, scrambling to get to your feet now. The tear in your skin oozed fresh blood, dampening your skin and making you whimper. It wasn’t that it hurt necessarily, though it did sting terribly, it was more the fear that you knew what lurked in the shadows of Volterra and if anyone smelled that…well, Demetri was a hundred times more likely to find you now, wasn’t he?

“I don’t mean you any…erm…ah…hurt?” he tried, his accent thick and his English clearly not at the level of fluency. If you were in a better state of mind you’d be at least grateful he tried, however he was still approaching you and you didn’t enjoy his proximity when you needed to move. You had to keep going, had to get to a bus stop or a train station, something! Was there even a place like that in Volterra? There had to be right? You took a step away from him, your leg failing you so you half fell, half limped forward. His arms were around you in an instant and you screamed, wriggling desperately to fight him off.

“Let me go! Let me go!”

“Merda! Smettila di lottare!” (Shit! Stop fighting!) he cursed, tightening his grip on you. Legs flailing, you threw your head back in a desperate attempt to get him to let go, your skull protesting as bone crunched beneath it. His arms dropped and you darted forward, only for your knee to give way once more. With another loud curse the boy was on-top of you then, glancing around wildly to see if anyone had noticed your scuffle yet. His weight atop you was almost suffocating given how much trouble you had already had breathing, and tears filled your eyes as you wriggled to try and be free of him.

“Get off of me! Help!” you screamed. Blood dripped from his nose onto your cheeks, hot and thick and oozing slowly down your cheek. “Stop it!” Strong hands encircled your wrists, pinning them harshly to the stone beneath you. It dug into your spine uncomfortably and it became very clear very quickly you were not escaping this boy.

“Stop!” he snapped, muttering a few choice words in Italian you had heard Felix use once or twice. His expression was contorted into a mask of pain, his nose swollen but not broken and his body holding tight to your own to keep you from moving. Your struggling was only serving to make you brush against him though, and it was clear the effect it was having on him was not helping him decide to let you go. If you had been in your right mind, you would have understood this boy was only trying to help, stop you moving to ensure you didn’t hurt yourself further, but in the moment your reality was warped and far too terrifying for you to see sense.  

“Fuoco! Fuoco!” (Fire! Fire!) Your father had always taught you to tell fire rather than help, it attracted more attention he said. You didn’t attract the kind of attention you wanted. The boy was thrown off of you in a blur of movement, his body smashing into the brickwork of the house across from you. You heard the bones shattering, his ear-piercing scream ringing in your ears as a black cloak obscured his attacker. With or without the cloak you knew who it was, the smaller, lean stature, the ferocity with which he tore into his victim. You whimpered, eyes turning away from the poor boy. There was no way to help him now, not when Alec was busy popping his bones through his skin like one might spear a sausage with a cocktail stick at a party. Rolling to your front, you tried desperately to get your trembling limbs to cooperate, your hysterical screaming echoing off of the walls.

You had barely limped three steps when the screeching behind you abruptly cut away into a gurgling sound. Ice cold hands found your shoulders and you whirled desperately to try and fend Alec off, only to freeze at the sight of the poor, mangled boy behind you. His actions may not have been good, but he didn’t deserve to be folded in on himself like a human pretzel, bones poking out of his skin and blood gushing from an open wound on his throat. He was drowning in crimson, choked by the same saccharine liquid Alec was licking off of his thumb now, onyx eyes boring into your own with his usual apathetic expression hiding the pure mania in his eyes.

He hadn’t even fed, he’d killed the boy for sport.

“See what happens when you go out alone little human?” he asked. The bile rose in your throat too quickly to stop it and Alec obligingly held your hair as you turned to the side and threw up at your feet, hot acid burning the back of your throat and stomach churning violently. Panting, you kept your wide-eyed stare fixed on the cobblestones. Even then it wasn’t enough, a trail of blood slowly seeping its way towards you, descending downhill like some morbid snake writhing between the stones. You couldn’t keep the tears away this time as Alec’s breath, metallic with the scent of another man’s blood, sent a wave of dizziness over you.

“P-please…please d-don’t…I can’t…” your head spun, too many thoughts and feelings crashing and colliding and rendering you a stammering mess before you finally grew mute, your body growing cold. Alec held you tenderly, like you were the only thing in the world to him that mattered, his embrace as soft as cotton but cold, as though death itself had shrouded you. In the distant parts of your mind you recognised he was talking to you, but you didn’t dare listen. He was the serpent that tempted Eve, a voice of velvet spinning spider webs to ensnare you. Dimly, you noted that the boy’s blood was running past your toes now.

Was this how it ended for you? Had Alec finally had enough of your obedience training? Clearly it hadn’t worked. You felt filthy to the core for enjoying his embrace, but his arms were strong and held you when your legs couldn’t anymore, his honeyed words a balm to your aching soul, promising his own brand of everlasting love - the same brand he’d gotten you hopelessly addicted to. Even his scent made your head swim, fresh linen that should be so crisp and clear, refreshing, just drowned you further. Nobody would come for you now. Alec had finally gotten you in his grasp just as he wanted and you were far, far too tainted for anyone to save. The wounds his love had inflicted too deep, festering and rotting you from the inside out, and the worst part was, you had let it happen.

You had accepted every kind word, every smile, every present, every touch, as a gift bestowed on you that you were unworthy of. So blinded by the dazzling display of redemption were you you hadn’t seen beyond the surface of the superficial affection he laid at your feet, too enamoured with all he had become to see the old monster lingering in every smile and darkening of his eyes. Alec had never changed, he had simply wore you down, so when his frozen fingers pushed your jaw upward and to the left you didn’t fight, because deep down you knew you’d never stood a chance.

“It’s alright Y/N, you’re only human,” he whispered, “You can be forgiven for that…”

“How?” your voice cracked. Forgiveness seemed impossible. If Bella or your father or anyone you loved could see you now you knew forgiveness would not be the word on their lips. How could you be forgiven for letting yourself fall so far? How could you be forgiven for being the reason that poor boy didn’t go home tonight? He had chosen to try and help you and it had only gotten him brutally murdered. The only thing Alec had ever been right about was that you were only human. None of the terrible things that had happened to you or anyone surrounding you were your fault. The blame lay solely at Alec’s feet.

“By acknowledging your flaws and becoming something more.”

Somehow, despite all the evidence before you, you really hadn’t expected him to bite down. Some part of you still thought he was above that maybe. It was like lava pouring straight from his mouth into your veins, filling your wound until it spilled over and shot down your arms, through your torso, scorching your nerve endings. It spread rapidly and you couldn’t bite back the bloodcurdling scream that left you. Alec held you tight as your body jerked, trying to escape the inescapable, the agony was all internal, a fire consuming you from the inside out.

“Alec! Alec what did you do!”

“What I had to to protect my mate!”

“Good god Alec…”

“Look at this mess.” The voices were indistinguishable, heightened and then muted, blending and yet distinctive. Your vision was too blurred to figure out the faces behind the cloaks swarming you, ripping you from one cold embrace to the next. Everything was too hot and you couldn’t escape it, no way to tear yourself out of your own body as it was flooded with acid.

“Shhhh, shhh little human.”

“Demetri get her out of here before she draws attention to this scene.”

“D-D-De-“ you barely got half of his name out before another scream broke through your throat. You didn’t have the strength to hold it back, couldn’t feel the grip your friend had on you. The world was slipping away inch by inch as you drowned in a pool of molten fire, the surface disappearing and taking you with it. Maybe this was hell? Maybe your weakness had earned you a spot in eternal fire and torment and this was only the beginning of a very long forever?

“Just give in Y/N, let go, just let go.” Somewhere through the pain you were sure Demetri had said this to you, and you battered heart didn’t know how to take it. It beat erratically, every frantic thud hoping beyond hope it would take you closer to a reunion with Bella, with the Cullen’s, with anyone you held dear. Did Demetri just want you to fall unconscious or did he mean you to really let go? What did you have to wake up for in Volterra after all? Alec would never let you leave, that much was clear now. You tried to hold onto these thoughts, really debate them and use them to ground you and keep you there, but they scattered like ash with the rest of you as the fire built to a raging inferno and melted everything you ever were.

The intense agony was all you knew now. What else could you do? Trapped in your head your only option was to count the seconds between one wave and the next, each drowning bout of flame lapping at your soul, disintegrating who you were piece by piece. By the time the fire had started to recede you weren’t sure how much time had passed, if time even had meaning. You were amazed your heart had held out under the assault of venom. It started at your extremities, like something in your chest was winching the fire back in, but as the sweet and numbing relief of the cold crept in at your toes the fire in your heart burned hotter. A grunting sound was the first thing you’d heard beyond the screaming in your head for a while, and you realised it was you, desperately fighting back the cry building in your throat as the white hot core in your chest blazed through the last of your humanity.

By the time you slumped back down, your consciousness drifting back to you slowly, you were struggling to remember how you had gotten in this predicament in the first place. Where were you? Who was around you? You wanted Bella, oh you wanted your sister so badly. The air around you felt heavier on your skin, saturated with sharp scents that overpowered your nose and made your tongue tingle when you opened your mouth for that first gasp of air. Your eyes were next to snap open, immediately focusing on the cracks in the wooden beams and the stone ceiling, the dust mites floating in the air. There was an assault of noise next, voices chattering and laughing, birds twittering, cars honking and more, so much more. Hands flying up to your ears, you noticed how it felt different to move, more fluid somehow, and the bright shine in the corner of your eye mad you sit up and move your hand back towards the light.

It glittered. Your hand was crystal, reflecting light and throwing it against the walls where it shattered into rainbow patterns, dazzling your too focused eyes.

“Y/N?”

Danger. Danger danger danger danger danger –

“Felix, give her time…it’s alright young one, we are not here to harm you.” Another foreign voice. You moved so fast everything should have blurred, your body twisting and turning  agilely as you shot off of the soft mattress and hit the hard wall with crushing force, stone chipping and falling around you while you dug your nails into the natural rock of the wall. The noise that ripped from your throat was threatening, air rushing up from your lungs and pushing out between your teeth. It shocked you enough to make you freeze, brain scrambling to catch up because there was no way that noise had come from you. Wait, who were you again? Who were they? The voices seemed familiar, but different, their faces to. The men were beautiful in a way nobody should ever be allowed to be, the flawless planes of their faces also reflecting diamond light across the walls as one slowly crept closer to you. Another hiss of air escaped your throat, warning him to stay back.

“Now who needs to give her time.” Felix, that’s what he’d called him…Felix! Your mind dredged up the murky images on demand, and you couldn’t help but frown as you tried to clear the image in your head. It was like watching the memories flow through dirty water, Felix and Demetri helping decorate your room with you, avoiding you in the corridors, no longer talking to you because Alec –

Alec!

“No.” you whispered, startled again into standing up straight, hand flying to your throat as a foreign, bell-like voice rang out. Demetri paused, letting your wild eyes take in the room.

“He is not here Y/N, the Masters’ are punishing him for his…indiscretion, by making him miss your awakening.” Felix chose his words carefully as Demetri slowly continued forward. It was so hard to focus, so much noise, so much to see, so many thoughts spinning rapidly through your mind. It worked faster now, you noticed, your brain working at top speed in a way you knew you’d only achieve with a substantial amount of caffeine if you were still human. Thoughts of Alec consumed you. Where was he? What had become of the boy he had murdered? Would he be kinder to you now you were no longer human? No longer imperfect…

“Y/N, try to focus, I know there is a lot to process right now.” Demetri sounded apologetic almost and your eyes snapped to him.

“I want to go home.” You whispered. Even as you said the words there was an uncomfortable tug in your gut, like something sharp had nicked at your intestines almost. The idea made you uncomfortable.

“What you need right now is to feed.” Demetri amended, his hand gentle on your arm. His words started an inferno in your throat. It was like the worst sore throat you’d ever had multiplied ad infinitum, the burn scorching from top to bottom while your gut twisted horribly. You weren’t just hungry, you were starving.

“Of course that’s what she needs, what newborn doesn’t?” the voice was smooth, so hypnotic you couldn’t help but relax, silently pleading to hear more. If your blood hadn’t already frozen over, you swore it would have upon seeing Alec again. He held what you assumed was the secretary in his arms, given her smart attire, but it was difficult to focus on little else other than the thrumming of her pulse, the tattoo in your brain even more hypnotising than his voice had been. Neither Demetri nor Felix could catch you as you dipped beneath their arms and snatched the body straight out of Alec’s hands, desperate to stop the burning in your throat.

“Y/N don’t!” Demetri’s voice sounded far off, almost like you were listening to him through cotton wool. The sound of blood flowing, a heart thumping…it was far far louder. Your body moved on autopilot, teeth clamping onto soft flesh. After that first burst of sweet, hot blood, your mind went completely blank. The taste was sublime, so intense on your tastebuds like nothing else had ever been. It soothed the fire in your throat some, a torrent of red dousing the flames and soaking your skin. When you could no longer take mouthfuls of the saccharine substance, a needy whine bubbled up in your throat, the tap running dry far too soon for your liking. Your throat still itched.

“Shhhhhh, I know, I know. Do not worry my love, we’ll find you more.” That voice, that hypnotic voice…with the fire in your throat calmed somewhat it was clearer in your ears, helping to ease your desperation and focus your mind some. The fingers in your hair were gentle, the occasionally brush of their skin against yours warm and inviting. You leaned into the tender touch gratefully. There was a scent too, the most intoxicating, fresh linen and pine scent, a hint of something smoky lingering underneath. Inhaling deeply, you let strong arms pull you into a firm chest, taking in lungfulls of that heady scent and letting your turbulent thoughts calm to the rhythm of the fingers running through your hair.

“Alec…”

You gasped slightly, eyes snapping open from your half-lidded gaze. The name had filled you with fear, trepidation, but the sensations surrounding you right now…you were in a safe, hazy little bubble, it was difficult to feel the fear you thought you should. You had totally forgotten he was even in the room and it was no small shock to you that he was the one holding you, that he had created this internal sense of tranquillity you were drowning in.  

“I will not let my mate starve, the Masters’ and their punishment be damned.” The smooth bass of a sprightly young voice that filtered in your ears was so similar yet so different. Alec’s voice was nothing short of mesmerising and when you looked up at him his face was just as distracting. Smooth, flawless skin, pale as the moonlight on ocean waves, stretched like an unblemished canvas across high cheekbones and a strong jaw. You could trace the perfect curve of dark eyebrows with your finger, run your hands through the soft tresses of dark hair that framed his face and brushed his eyes. Crimson red eyes peered into your own, softened by adoration and desire.

It was as if your very heart burst forth from your chest to reach out to his. You never wanted anyone else to look at you the way Alec did. Suddenly, nothing he did had mattered, because you were the imperfect one before. This man before you…you saw it now with your new eyes, saw his God-like status for what it really was. You had been unworthy until now. He had elevated you to the same status, was able to love you deeply now.

“Alec.” You breathed his name like it was a quiet prayer. His fingers moved from your hair to your jaw, slowly tracing over your cheekbone with his thumb.

“Welcome back. You are…you’re breath taking.” He gently lowered his forehead to yours and you pushed back lightly, desperate to envelop yourself in the warmth his skin now radiated.

“Really?” you whispered.

“Of course.” Alec promised. You closed your eyes, drowning in his heavenly scent.

“Y/N…you’ll need to feed some more. Perhaps we can then contact the Cullen’s and see about getting you home. We don’t usually allow newborns to stay in the castle.” Demetri spoke up finally, shattering the peaceful quiet surrounding you. That pinching sensation in your gut was back again, your eyes widening. Alec had finally accepted you! You were finally good enough and Demetri just wanted to – to send you away? No. No absolutely not. Any thoughts of going home that you had once entertained were long gone. You couldn’t leave now, not when you had to show Alec how grateful you were, how you were better now like this.

“Do I have to go?” you whispered. Alec shook his head.

“Of course not Y/N, your place is here, with me.” His lips were so soft on your own, a shiver rolling down your spine at the rightness of it. He was your perfect fit. You were made for all of his light and dark, to bear the brunt of his best and worst. You hadn’t been before, but you were ready now, ready to survive his obsession.

These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,

Which, as they kiss, consume. The sweetest honey

Is loathsome in his own deliciousness

And in the taste confounds the appetite.

Therefore love moderately. Long love doth so.

Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. Friar Lawrence, Romeo and Juliet, Act 2 Scene 6, by William Shakespeare

[harmoni-me]

hello it’s me again! thank you for fulfilling my request i just loved it. can you please do a continuation? like- reader starts receiving these anonymous love letters and gifts, this drove the boys (and the reader) to confess their feelings in the end. angst to fluff

Wow, thank you! I’m so glad you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it! This one is even longer than the last, so please have fun reading this one!

Nagito Komaeda x Sweetheart Reader x Kokichi Ouma Pt. 2

Crunch

Huh? What in the world-

Last time you remembered reaching into your school duffle bag, all you had in it was a comfy change of clothes for when gym activities rolled around, and a wet bottle of water that was dripping with condensation, but…

You didn’t remember an envelope, not in the slightest.

A nervousness started to boil over from your head to your heart, face heating up as quickly as hot coals on a cold evening. Is this… what you thought it was?

You’re stomach dropped at the realization, plunging into the depths of your being, as a realization struck.

This…this was probably not who you thought it was from.

In retrospect, the sting would only sink in deeper if only a single letter was given.

You weren’t satisfied, and that made you feel like you were scum, too dirty to even bother to be dealt with.

Even feeling a great amount of resentment to the silly thing, it’s not like you weren’t going to open it. You weren’t heartless when it came to the topic of possible confession. I guess you could say that the author of the letter made you feel something you haven’t felt in a while.

It’s was pure, unbridled, bitter jealousy. Jealousy that engulfed your vision, clouding all sense of realism.

Why could someone so anonymous have more guts about dealing with their crush than you? This person, who you didn’t even know, had the heart of a lion to sit down, write out something deep and personal, and somehow get it to you.

You were jealous, because you would never have the heart to do the same.

Once the bell rang to signal the last period of the day, you begrudgingly stood from your desk, knowing what you had to do. You had to open it, it would be extremely inconsiderate if you didn’t.

While you were walking in the hallway to somewhere slightly more secluded, you slipped the letter out of your bag. It was pure white, and it wasn’t made out of anything fancy. The opening was sealed by a simple piece of clear scotch tape, and when turning the message over, on the back was large, red letters that spelled your name in delicate cursive. You really wanted to get this over with.

“BOO!”

“OH MY GOD-“ You jumped out of your skin, dropping the envelope in your hand, causing it to flutter to the floor.

“Nehehe! I got you so good!” A purple-haired brat giggled at your jump of fright, rounding the corner he was hiding behind. His eyes then wandered to the envelope that was laid flat on the tiled floor, his eyebrows rose, and a smirk slowly carved his way onto his face.

“Oooo, what’s this little thing, hm? An invitation? A secret message?….”  Kokichi knelt down to pick up the letter, fitting the paper between his middle finger and index finger. He got up all in your face, an evil smile plastered on his face, reaching all the way up to his eyes. He got closer to your ear, voice dropping, and his breath hot against your ear.

“Maybe…a love confession? Aww, how sweet…” Kokichi hummed, pleased by the steamy expression your face turned when you were embarrassed. Then, as suddenly as the actions before, Kokichi hopped backwards, grasping onto the letter with both hands, raising it aggressively high in the air.

“Ahhh! The anticipation! What’s inside, what’s inside, what’s inside?!” Kokichi kept on blabbering, waving the envelope all over the place, as if he was a child on Christmas Eve, shaking a wrapped gift to see if they could guess its contents.

When you saw the best opportunity, you quickly snatched the letter back from the naughty boy’s grubby little hands, huffing with a blush on your face once you retrieved what had been addressed to you.

You leaned your back against the hallway wall, which had now been abandoned. Slowly, you sunk yourself down to the ground, not once taking your eyes off of the red lettering that spelled your name in flawless cursive. You noticed upon close inspection that the lettering was a little smudged at the ends, most likely from Kokichi’s roughhousing with it.

A rough thump rang out next to you, making you look over with not much interest. Kokichi, in all of his nosy glory, had sat right up next to you against to wall, head shoved all in your business.

“Come on! Open it already! The suspense is killing me!” Kokichi was vibrating from waiting so patiently....to what extent Kokichi could be patient, that is.

You sighed, giving up. It was most likely anonymous anyway, so Kokichi won’t even know who to target ruthlessly on for the next month.

You let the tip of your finger slide into the opening of the letter, breaking the tape to the prized information. You carefully slipped out the neatly folded piece of paper, which was a thicker, almost card stock like texture.

Even before opening it, you could feel the emotion that radiated out of the paper. You suddenly had an image turn in your mind, of a person looking to be your age, carefully writing every word down as perfectly a flawed human could. Though, you could imagine them also grasping at their hair, crumbling up previous attempts, over and over again, as if disposing of their emotions, yet rebirthing it to be conveyed better each and every time.

It made you feel that much worse, knowing  that the writer’s feelings are in no way reciprocated. You couldn’t, because the feelings to give back were already stolen in their entirety. By two other people, none the less.

Ironic how one of your two fattest crushes you’ve ever had in your life was basically huddling into you right at this moment, wanting so desperately to know what the paper read.

When finally did unfold the letter, you were met with beautiful, curvy handwriting, not a spelling error or smudge could be found.

. . .

To the one who my heart yearns for the most,

I’ve lost track on how many times I have written this letter. For reference, the bin next to me is now filled to the brim and was completely empty just two hours ago, but that’s not important, is it?

Let’s get the obvious things out of the way, shall we? I adore you. Though I’m keeping this anonymous, I want you to know that my heart has grown ten times it’s size ever since the day I met you. Every single attribute about you I hold as a precious keepsake within my mind. Every time you do anything, say anything, I want to keep it all to myself. I want to lock the sound of your voice, and keep vivid pictures of your smile fresh within my memories.

You, (Y/N), have made me feel things that I  thought I had become numb to. I was unapproachable. A man that was blinded by his own psychotic desire to be used, that’s what I was.

You might think I’m exaggerating, but I believe you’re my guardian angle, sent to be due to God’s pity. Now that I’ve written it down, that was stupid, but I’ll keep it, because it’s the truth.

You saved me from myself, causing me to unsurprisingly fall in love with the one who made me realize I was a human, standing among other flawed humans, all having different lives, hopes, talents, aspirations...

Your kindness, no, your everything gave me so much room to simply breathe, and realized what I was doing to myself and to others.

Now that that’s out of the way, I would like to mention something I’ve...conjured.

I’m not very great at using my words, so that’s why I’ve poured everything into this letter, but you deserve to know who I am.

I’m scared, and if you do see me, I might not be able to get a good amount of words out but

In two days from now, after school, I want to meet you. I was thinking on the school rooftop? If you decide to come, I’ll be there waiting.

. . .

Wow

Who...who was this guy? And why...

Your eyes were brimming with tears, glossy from such words. This could be anyone, yet, what did you do? You were friends with many people, but not like this...you don’t think?

You suddenly felt something warm wiping away your now falling tears, gliding over your cheeks to brush away your liquid sadness.

“Hey, don’t cry...it’s not a good fit for you.” Kokichi then used his bandana to gently dry your puffy eyes and crimson cheeks. You looked up at the boy, who had the tiniest smile present on his face. It was almost as if that was how far the smile could go.

The sun broke through a window across the hallway, landing on Kokichi and his facial features. You looked into his eyes, but something was off.

Those eyes, they reflected a lot more light than they usually did, as if they were simply water in a pond. Was he-

“Well, that sure was something, huh?” Kokichi turned around, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve, trying to be discreet. You noticed though, but decided to not say anything.

. . .

When you thought things couldn’t get worse, you had totally jinxed yourself the next day.

You wanted to get your water bottle out of the your school duffel bag during class, because humans have to drink every once in awhile, but when you did...

Crunch

What...what even was that?

You honestly didn’t even want to bother until the end of the day with how you were feeling right now.

You were slumped, once again, in an empty hallway, browsing your phone and looking at funny cat videos to raise your vibrations. At least they made you smile.

“Is there a kitten nearby?” A voice had pierced the atmosphere. You looked up, it was Nagito standing over you, a face of half wonder and half concern delicately painted on his features.

You looked downcast, and you hated hiding your emotions, so it was plainly evident to Nagito how you felt in that moment, and he was heartbroken.

He placed his belongings next to you, along with himself, comfortably hugging his knees into his chest. He turned to you frowning a bit.

“You...only watch cute animal videos when you’re sad. Is... there anything wrong?” Nagito questioned, wanting to help you as much as you’ve helped him.

“It’s kinda personal, but your company already makes me feel better, so it’ll all be fine.” You gave the white haired boy a little smile, showing just how genuine you were.

Nagito hummed, nodding in understanding. He was playing it cool in front of you, but he really wanted to punch the person that made you feel like this.

It’s funny, because he probably has an idea of who...

“Oh, yeah, the thing...” You mumbled, reaching over to dig around in your duffle bag. When you felt the crunchy texture, you pulled it out, revealing something something that you honestly weren’t expecting.

It was a large pink lollipop, and it was in the shape of a heart.

It was probably as big as your head, and there was a clear, wrapper-like foil around the treat, preserving it for the consumer.

“Where did you get that?” Nagito raised a brow, because it was quite ridiculous how absurdly large this lollipop was. It was a funny sight though, seeing you side to side with with a sweet that could easily cover your whole face.

“I... think someone game this to me?” You thought, smiling a bit at the silliness of the situation.

But your mind wandered... was it the same person who wrote the letter? Then again, you didn’t think it would make sense with someone like him getting, well, this. Especially after writing something so deep and personal. This just kinda seemed incredibly random.

Either way, you started to unwrap the lollipop, wanting to eat some of it, even though you were most likely not going to finish the thing.

Resuming the cat videos, you repositioned the phone between you and Nagito. The boy took a glance, watching as he saw a fluffy white kitten get scared from playing a note on a piano, making him chuckle.

“You wanna watch somethin��� else, Nagi?” You asked Nagito, making him perk up in attentive nature. His smile conveyed so much care for you, as if you were his most prized gift he had ever received in his life.

“I’m bound to enjoy anything you would like, (Y/N)! Please, pick whatever you would like!” Nagito waved his hands, signaling not to worry about him, after all, you were the sad one out of you two for the moment.

“Ok! We’re watching Gordon Ramsay yell at people!” You promptly spoke, grabbing the phone and setting up the Hell’s Kitchen episode.

“Don’t mind me asking, but who is that?” Nagito questioned genuinely, making you gasp in surprise. How?

“He’s one of the best chef’s in the world, but he’s super strict with his employees, so it’s kinda entertaining. You’ll see!” You exclaimed, scooting yourself closer to Nagito, propping up the phone. You leaned into his side, taking a little nibble from your lollipop.

Nagito’s eyes kept on darting from you to the screen, having trouble with containing his emotion with you simply leaning on him to watch a show about...a vulgar-mouthed chef.

“Hm? What’s the matter?” You looked up at him, face inches apart from his. He didn’t respond, too nervous to trust his mouth. Lucky for him, you cut in.

“Oh! You want some?” You stuck the untouched side of the lollipop to Nagito’s mouth.

His brain and heart were on fire, and not a lick of logic was left. He pressed his lips against the candy, and sucked on a small portion.

It was your favorite flavor...he liked it way better than artificial grape soda, by a long shot.

After licking to his satisfaction, Nagito locked his teeth into the part he had been abusing with his mouth, biting off a piece for to-go.

“I need to go to the restroom, ok? I’ll be back.” He said, getting up from his seated position, making his way and entering into the boys bathroom at the end if the hallway.

You don’t know if he knows, but boy, you were blushing up a storm. He literally just gave you an up close and personal presentation on how his tongue did it’s work. Now, you didn’t really care for dirty thoughts, but after witnessing that, you couldn’t help it...

You looked down at the lollipop, now with a small chunk of it gone missing from the main snack. You examined it, and realized something so blatantly obvious, it was embarrassing.

Rapped around the white stick of the lollipop was a piece of yellow paper, and without much thought, you unraveled it.

It was a note, but it was short, and written it blue colored pencil.

. . .

Found this at a candy store, and bought it because you looked sad the last time I saw you. Seeing you sad makes me sad and stuff so yeah. I’m not signing my name here or anything, cuz that would just give away the surprise! But I’ll confess to you properly in person, cuz I’m better at talking. Meet me tomorrow after school, on the roof!

. . .

Huh?

Was this...the same guy? No, no it’s really couldn’t have been. The handwriting was different, the spelling was off, and they seemed a lot more laid back. Also, the author of the letter clearly stated that he was better at conveying is precious feelings by writing, while this one said they were more than happy to spill their own feeling with their voice.

So, you’ve got two secret admirers now...and both of them want to meet at the same place, and the same time.

Maybe this was all just some twisted, elaborate trick by a group of thugs, wanting to lure you in, then gang up on you like street cats when they found a lowly mouse to pray upon.

You’ll never know, unless you sucked it up and went tomorrow.

. . .

Well, there you were, on the roof after school the next day.

No one was there.

The sky was as clear as your blank mind, which you had forced to stop thinking about the world around you, and what you were doing. The breezed tickled your face, as if the wind tried to replicate the feeling of tips of grass grazing on ones cheek.

The only noise was the muffled chattering from students below, creating the perfect background noise to just...relax.

Until you heard yelling.

It was coming from the stairwell that lead up to the roof. You didn’t move a muscle, it was probably just loud, rambunctious students.

But it just kept on going, and going, on and on like a hyper parakeet who had a shot of expresso.

Well, since your admirers haven’t shown their faces for the past fifteen minutes, there’s nothing better right now than to snoop on the possible drama rumbling around in the stairwell. Might make a good story to tell someday, you never know.

You made your way into the stairwell, only to be met with very familiar voices, but you quickly made your presence unknown to them, hiding behind a wall.

“Kokichi! I told you not to not to get yourself involved!” Nagito raised his voice a little, but not to the point where it was just pure anger talking. Kokichi stood, fists balled up in pent up frustration.

“I know you did! And it was stupid that I did, but-“ Kokichi yelled, desperation in his voice.

“Then WHY? You knew I wrote that letter, hell, you were there helping me write the damn thing, but you go and do this?!” Nagito’s heart was the one talking at this point, because you’ve never heard his voice twinge in such genuine emotional pain.

But now you knew who wrote the letter, it was Nagito.

That didn’t sink in as hard as it was supposed to, until-

Wait, Nagito?

“Y-you don’t understand!” Kokichi responded, clenching his teeth from emotional agony.

“I do understand, and I just want to tell you that you’ve went way too far on this sick joke-“

“IT’S NOT A JOKE!” Kokichi cried out, a rasp in his voice becoming evident.

“Then what is it, Kokichi? Spill it. You know how important this is to me, and I don’t like yelling at you.” Nagito was stern, his voice dominating the purple-haired boy.

“Because...I-I...” his voice broke in sadness and so, so much regret. He suddenly huffed, opening his mouth to wallow out.

“B-BECAUSE I LOVE THEM TOO!” Kokichi sobbed. Thick, wet tears rolling down his swollen cheeks. Nagito was shocked, not saying a word. Nagito’s frown deepend because of the wallowing boy in front of him that he cared so much for. Yet, like always, he could never find the words to wrap Kokichi in warmth and apology. The thought made Nagito’s eyes begin to water.

Look what you did, you hurt him, you absolute scum.

“B-but *hic* I-I-I’m s-so *hic* s-selfish...I...” Kokichi hiccuped, trying his absolute best to get his words across.

“I’M SO FUCKING SELFISH, BECAUSE I LOVE YOU TOO, NAGITO KOMAEDA....y-you b-b-big jerk...” Kokichi wailed, a river of tears poring, falling to the concrete floor; the droplets staining the ground in a darker shade of grey when they landed.

“O-oh my god...K-Kokichi...l-“ Nagito started, hands shaking violently. This was bad, this was really bad.

And you knew that.

So you ran. You ran so fast out of your hiding spot, down to the two people in this world that you cared about the most.

And before you knew it, you harshly brought the both of them into your arms, causing the three of you to to collapse onto the ground.

You let it all out. You bawled into their arms, letting out your cries. Whether it was just from sadness, or of relief, that didn’t matter. You cried, until your eyes went dry, and all of your tears were soaked into the boys’ shirts.

. . .

After a bit, all was silent, except for the breathing of you three all mixing together. Your bodies were intermingled, assuming the best position for comfort and care.

You needed to say something, anything. You needed to tell them, or else everything will fall apart.

“I can’t choose.” You put it simply, the two other boys perked up, tear stains prominently showing on both of their faces.

“(Y/N)...” Nagito mumbled.

“I desperately need the both of you. So badly. I want to love you two so much I want my lips to hurt from kissing you two so much by the end of each day. I want my hands to cramp from holding both of you two’s hands so much.” You proclaimed, letting out everything that has been building up in your heart.

“I want to wake up with the warmth of two. I want to spend my days and nights with all of my love coming from two. And...I want to try each and every new thing life brings me, with the love of two.” You gasped for air, sighing out of your mouth, regulating your breath to its normal pace.

“I understand if you don- mphf!” You were promptly shut.

Kokichi had placed his lips on yours, causing a jolt of passion to ignite your soul. The feeling was delicate and new, but it was incredibly lovely  You promptly kissed back, feeling a joy you’ve never felt before in your life.

The two of you parted with the kiss when the both of you felt soft lips gently peck both of your foreheads. It was as soft as a feather, yet it made the two of you go so incredibly soft.

You and Kokichi looked up to see Nagito, a small smile on his face. One of his hands reached up to your left cheek, while the other hand made its way to Kokichi’s right. He then lovingly dragged his thumbs across both of your cheeks, smile growing wider, while his face became rosy.

“There’s...so much I want to say but...I hope my actions can at least convey how my heart wants to treat the two of you.” Nagito said, his voice dropped, but in a more of a endearing tone than anything. The boy was still smiling like this was the happiest day in his life.

“I think it would be fun if we all had a slumber party as our first date.” Kokichi giggled, nuzzling into Nagito’s long, slender fingers.

“That sounds like fun, I think it would be delightful.” Nagito playfully pinched Kokichi’s cheek lightly, causing Kokichi to giggle, smiling wide.

“But we do have one thing to take care of first...” Nagito glanced over to you, chuckling.

You were fast asleep within the palm of his hand. It made him fall in love all over again, to be honest.

Nagito and Kokichi worked to untangle themselves from your limbs, trying not to wake you. They then promptly proceeded to place you on Nagito’s back, in a comfortable position so you could keep on sleeping soundly.

“You up for taking our little Cutie back to her place?” Kokichi snickered.

“Of course, love. Only if you would accompany me? Nagito stuck out his hand, waiting for the warmth of another.

“You’re lucky I really like you, clover.” Kokichi hastily grabbed his hand, weaving their fingers together.

As they began walking out to the main exit gate, Kokichi spoke.

“You know, I said a lie earlier I didn’t like. I don’t just like you...I actually really love you. The both of you. That’s something I could never lie about.” Kokichi pledged, the evening orange sky bouncing off of his face. Nagito squeezed the shorter males hand lovingly.

“I love you too, Kokichi. And not just you also, but the both of you. My heart will be forever loyal to the two of you until I rest in my own grave, remember that.”

[simplybakugou]

Shut Up and Kiss Me

↝ Working side-by-side, Bakugou felt himself become encaptivated by you the more he spent time with you. After a failure of a first date, he can’t help but be drawn to you even more under the unruly night sky.

PROMPT: “Can I kiss you?”

⋆ PAIRING: prohero!bakugou x female!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: swearing ⋆ WORD COUNT: 5019

A/N: Here’s my submission for the @bnhabookclub​ event! I changed the prompt a little to “I wanna kiss you” to fit Bakugou’s character a little more. Here’s the link to the event!

✐posted 05.16.2020✐

Bakugou, one of the most self-assured pro heroes in the world had never felt so emotionally flustered until he met you. He always found himself observing you whenever you were at the agency, even if it was rare that the two of you were in the building at the same time. You were a rookie hero who was excited as well as determined to make your way to the top. You had a strong quirk and if there’s anything Bakugou recognized, it was a suitable rival. Through numerous training sessions and working your ass off, you slowly climbed up the rankings and eventually became the number two hero, working at the same agency, one that Bakugou owned himself. 

On that particular day, Bakugou had finished a mission earlier than expected, luckily dodging any reporters who always invaded his personal space and pissed him off. He had gone back to his agency, wanting to change out of his hunk of metal of a costume and return home to get some rest. He couldn’t ignore the disappointment he felt when he scanned the room and didn’t see you around.

Nonetheless, he continued walking down the street, thankful that his agency wasn’t located in a socially attractive area like other top notch agencies. As he turned down the street, something caught his eye and he couldn’t help but stare at the sight. 

There you were on the corner of the intersection, looking practically unrecognizable. Bakugou had never seen you without your hero costume on, usually ending up as a sweaty mess with your hair tousled and your costume ripped and torn at times. But there you were in a dress and heels, makeup perfectly painted onto your skin, and your hair pinned neatly. You were practically radiating an aura that commanded everyone to have their attention drawn to you. Bakugou never really cared about looks but seeing you now looking more beautiful than any person he had ever seen, he couldn’t help but stare. 

With looking so stunning, that aura of yours attracted the attention of others other than Bakugou. He felt his fists tighten when from across the street as he was waiting for the light to change, a grubby man approached you, smirking as he looked down at you. 

“I’ve never seen such a pretty little lady in these parts of town.” He grinned even wider at you. Even passerbys couldn’t recognize you without your costume.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring him. “Get lost, dickwad.”

The man narrowed his eyes at you, reaching down to feel you up. Right as Bakugou felt his body move towards you instinctively to help you, you turned around, twisting the man’s wrist in your own. The impact sent him falling down, hitting his head on the stop sign behind him. Bakugou couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a sense of relief knowing you were strong on your own, not having to rely on anyone to protect yourself. 

As you began crossing the street, Bakugou absentmindedly crossed the other way, not wanting to run into you. He didn’t understand why at first but he didn’t want you to know that he was watching you. He saw that you were heading towards the agency and he began going through the shortcut that he often would go through if the press would hover outside of the building at times. Bakugou was able to get to the building before you did and he let out a sigh of relief, beginning to unlatch the gauntlets around his wrists. 

“Hey, Ground Zero, great work out there today,” Haru, one of the secretaries from the front desk stated.

Bakugou nodded in response, moving to the back to quickly change out of his hero costume. He wanted to leave immediately and not have to run into you on the way here. He began to recall the way you were dressed and how you looked, closing the door behind him to not only change out of his costume but also hide the blush that was evident on his cheeks.

A few moments later, you pushed open the doors to the building, going towards the front desk. Haru looked up, surprised that you were here so abruptly as well as your change in attire. “(H/N), what’re you doing here? It’s your day off.”

You sighed. “I know. But I’m bored out of my mind so please give me work to do.”

The other receptionist, Aiko, looked you up and down with a grin. “Ooh, I see someone’s all dressed up! Did you go on a date? Was that why you wanted a day off?”

You rolled your eyes at her. “No, my mom made me go to some shitty brunch with her boyfriend’s family. They’re all pestering me so I got out of there and now I have nothing to do.”

“I can go through some reports and see what you can do,” Aiko said with a wink and you thanked her.

“Man, can’t believe our two biggest heroes are in the building. You guys are usually never here at the same time,” Haru commented, looking at you in awe.

You raised your brows, perking up immediately. “Ground Zero’s here?”

Haru nodded, pointing down the hall. “He’s in the back.”

You smirked, pulling out your phone and typing something in your web browser as you made your way to the back. You pushed open the door without any warning and Bakugou, who was in the midst of changing his pants, was taken aback, his face burning up as you stared at his half naked body. Only his briefs were covering him and he held his pants up to shield his legs from your eyes. “What the fuck?!”

“Just wanted to pop in and say ‘hello.’ And to show you this.” You held your phone up to an article covering your new ranking. “I’m in second place now. So just you wait; I’ll be number one soon enough!”

You slammed the door behind you as you made your own dramatic exit, leaving Bakugou utterly speechless and stunned. Just when he believed he couldn’t be more intrigued, you proved him wrong once again. You reignited his burning desire to be the best, wanting to show you exactly why he was the number one hero in the first place.

Since that day, you worked twice as hard as you did before and with your handwork, Bakugou wasn’t going to let you beat him so easily. He had to make sure to work twice as hard as you did, ultimately leading to him staying on top. As time progressed, you were often asked to accompany Bakugou on various missions and with the time the two of you spent together, you became close. 

“I can’t believe I’m still ranked number two,” you grunted in annoyance as you walked with Bakugou side by side back to the agency.

Bakugou smirked. “Hah, like I was just gonna let you surpass me without a fight. Dream on.”

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest and pushed open the large glass doors. Bakugou made his way all the way to the back like he usually did while you stood in front of Aiko’s desk, pouting profusely.

Aiko snickered, recognizing that look of defeat on your face. “Let me guess: the rankings came out and you’re still number two?”

You clenched your fists, slamming them on the counter in frustration. “He’s just too damn good! I don’t know how to beat him!”

“Come on, you can’t tell me you thought it would be easy, right?” Aiko sneered playfully. “He does work with you, too.” You stuck your tongue out at her as she got up to go to the filing cabinet. 

“(H/N)? Could you fill out a report from today’s patrol?” Haru asked in a tone lower than normal.

“Sure!” You said, grabbing the clipboard from him and filling it out on the counter in front of his desk. Being drawn to your work, you didn’t notice Haru fidgeting in his seat as he took shy glances at you. Although you weren’t aware of it, Bakugou sure was as he came out of the back room, glaring at Haru from a distance as he looked at you nervously.

“(H/N), I was wondering if you were busy this weekend?” Haru asked, rubbing the nape of his neck as he began to sweat apprehensively. 

You looked up as you were writing, tapping the ballpoint pen against your chin as you began to think. “Hm, I’m pretty sure I have Saturday off and I’ve got nothing to do. Why’d you ask?”

Haru let out an anxious laugh. “Oh, you know, I was wondering if you wanted to go out--”

“She’s going out with me,” Bakugou butted in, leaning down on the counter in front of Haru’s desk, a frown printed on his lips. 

“I am?” You asked in confusion in unison with Haru’s, “She is?”

“You’re gonna have to try another day ‘cause she’s all mine Saturday,” Bakugou grumbled, loud enough for you and Haru to hear. He pushed open the glass doors in aggravation, mumbling incoherently under his breath as he left. 

You stood stunned as you watched his figure become smaller and smaller. Haru snapped you away from your thoughts, whispering, “So are you really going out with Ground Zero?”

“Hm?” You turned your head to face him, smiling widely. Seeing as his social skills were pretty low to begin with, you were intrigued with the thought of spending time with Bakugou outside of the work setting. “Yeah, it sounds fun! It’s not everyday I get to go out with Bakugou instead of Ground Zero!”

***

Bakugou never knew the day would actually come where he would be able to take you out. Despite being the proud man he was for everything hero related, he was hesitant to approach you with the intention of taking you out. And now the time had arrived where Bakugou, in his own unique way, managed to ask you out. 

However, Bakugou had no idea where to start planning a first date. His friends, specifically Kaminari, Kirishima, and Sero gave him different ideas, ultimately not being helpful at all for Bakugou. In the end, he decided to make his own plan, no matter how shitty it may end up being. The most difficult part about all this was that Bakugou didn’t really know much about you, having to rely on the help of Mina as she was a woman herself and had the most insight out of his friends. With her help, Bakugou based his planning on Mina’s interests.

Bakugou started off the date with dinner at a restaurant, a recommendation made by Mina herself. However, to Bakugou’s disappointment, the food was probably one of the worst things you’ve ever consumed in your life. Despite this, you didn’t want to be rude or make Bakugou upset by addressing the awful food. Bakugou knew you were just trying to be nice and nevertheless, he didn’t want this to ruin your evening. He strived to redeem himself with the rest of the night.

“What movie are we watching again?” You asked as Bakugou handed you your ticket.

“Some rom-com. I wasn’t sure about which movie you would wanna watch so I guessed and chose one.” Bakugou shrugged. In actuality, Mina had been talking nonstop about this movie and had begged Bakugou to show you it, guaranteeing that you would love it. He didn’t want to admit that he had Mina help him out to plan this date since he had no idea what to do.

You and Bakugou gave in your tickets and went into the theater you were instructed to enter. As you chose and sat in your seats, the screen began changing to the title sequence of the movie.

As the movie continued into the last quarter, Bakugou couldn’t help but feel bored out of his mind. Everything about the movie was awful: the cinematography, the directing, the acting… it was simply a shitshow. Finally, the movie had come to an end and so was Bakugou’s misery as he forced himself to sit and watch the movie in its entirety instead of running out and hiding in the bathroom. The two of you got up, making your way out of the theater.

“How was it?” Bakugou asked, throwing out the empty bucket of popcorn.

If possible, you actually hated the movie more than Bakugou did. But similarly to the dinner, you didn’t want to hurt his feelings, especially since he planned out this whole evening. “It was… good.”

Bakugou sighed. He knew that you were just trying to spare his feelings but he didn’t want to call you out either. The one time he actually plans something like this out and it completely blew up in his face. You smiled sympathetically at him, throwing your empty buckets of popcorn out as you exited the theater. It was evident that Bakugou, who was quite obviously talented in other areas, was lacking experience in planning an amazing night out for a date.

As if the night couldn’t get any worse, the minute the two of you stepped outside, you heard numerous screams from a few blocks down. Low and behold, a giant rock-type villain was attempting to rob a bank and even had hostages in both of his hands.

“We can never just get a fucking day off,” Bakugou muttered. 

You chuckled and the two of you began making your way towards the site, running in the direction of the chaos without a second thought. You threw your shoes off to the side, cursing at yourself mentally for deciding on wearing a skirt and heels. But you couldn’t help yourself; you wanted Bakugou to see you on a day that you weren’t a sweaty mess. To your misfortune, it seemed that your perfectly pinned hair and makeup would be ruined within a few minutes.

Bakugou didn’t hesitate to maneuver himself towards the villain using his quirk for mobility and sending a blast to his face. The villain screamed, letting go of the hostages as he began wailing and covering his eyes. You jumped up and caught both hostages, safely setting them down to the ground.

They looked up at you in awe, two teenage girls who had met their first pro hero. “Thank you, (H/N)!”

“Don’t mention it! Now get back before you get hurt!” You called out as you maneuvered your body upwards using your quirk.

“Get behind him!” Bakugou yelled towards you. You nodded and moved to the villain’s blindspot, Bakugou following suit. The two of you sent blasts at his neck, causing him to fall onto his face with a thud. You held down one of his arms and Bakugou held the other, waiting for the police to arrive. The small crowd that was watching in awe began to cheer and clap, all of them getting excited to have gotten the chance to see the top two heroes in action. Truth be told, after spending numerous missions with him, you began to understand Bakugou’s fighting style and incorporated your own moves to suit his as well and he did the same, too. Alone, you were both strong in your own ways and can manage yourselves efficiently. But together, you were a force to be reckoned with.

Finally the cops showed up, piling out of the cars and taking the villain into custody. They thanked you and Bakugou repeatedly and you returned their thanks while Bakugou watched as they took care of the villain. You waved at the crowd as Bakugou started walking in the opposite direction of the crowd, patiently waiting for you to follow. You caught up with him, letting out a sigh once you were away from the commotion.

“It’s too bad tonight didn’t go like we wanted,” you said, frowning at the state of your now tattered clothes. You could already feel your makeup being smudged and your hair tousled, not bothering to fix it now. The pain in the soles of your feet only increasing with every step you took with your bare feet. You could even feel bits of gravel stabbing at your heels.

Bakugou paid no attention to his own attire, taking off his button down due to the various rips and tears and sticking to his black tank top underneath his clothes. “Even if that villain didn’t show up, tonight was still a fucking shitshow.”

He glanced down at your bare feet and bent over to remove his own sneakers. You shook your head. “No it wasn’t! I mean the food could’ve been better and the movie wasn’t as good as we expected but I still had a great time!” 

Finally taking notice of his removing his shoes, you rose a curious brow at him. “What’re you doing?”

Bakugou scoffed, shoving his sneakers into your hands and started making his way towards your apartment where he had picked you up from when the night started. “You think you can walk home fucking barefoot?”

You let out a small smile, thanking him as you bent over to slip his shoes on. Although they were obviously large and difficult to walk in, it was better than walking without any material protecting your feet. You caught up to him as Bakugou shoved his hands into his pockets. “Plus you don’t have to spare my feelings. There’s no point in lying, I know that tonight was a fucking mess.”

You looked towards him as he had his signature frown etched onto his face. “It doesn’t matter what we do. I always have a great time when I’m with you, Bakugou.”

Bakugou felt a tug in his chest as he glanced over at you, looking away immediately once making contact with your (E/C) eyes. You laughed at his reaction, taking notice to the slight pink tinting of his cheeks. “It’s still weird for me to not call you ‘Ground Zero.’ I mean, you’re still my boss technically.”

“We’re co-workers, I’m not your boss,” Bakugou insisted. “It’d be weird for a boss to be going out with his employee.”

“Either way, it’s odd, but just because we’re heroes doesn’t mean we can’t be friendly.” You glanced over in his direction, watching as he continued to trudge down the path towards your apartment. He could feel your eyes on him, not wanting to acknowledge them as he felt himself grow nervous under your intense gaze. “Speaking of, why did you become a hero?”

“Simple,” Bakugou started, “I wanted to become the best, the indisputable best.” He glanced over to you, smirking. “And I’m gonna keep it that way.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “We’ll see about that.”

“And you?”

“Why I wanted to become a hero?” You reiterated, Bakugou nodding as the two of you turned the corner. “I’ve never really told anyone this but to make it straightforward, my sister was hurt in an altercation with a villain when we were kids. She wasn’t hurt too bad but she was hospitalized for a few weeks. Ever since then, I’ve vowed to save as many people as I can, sort of like I’m trying to compensate for not being able to save her all those years ago.”

Bakugou glimpsed at you, his attraction towards you only increasing with this new found information. Although his desire for becoming a hero seemed subpar compared to yours, he admired you even more than he already did for taking a situation that wasn’t even your fault and turning it into your driving force for your profession.

“And now you’ve saved more people than any other hero,” Bakugou said.

You shrugged. “I’m trying to at least.” 

The conversation took a turn as you continued to talk about your personal lives, getting to know Bakugou in a different light. It was odd to see him talk about himself in a manner that wasn’t related to heroism. You had grown accustomed to hearing the various news stories about the brash number one hero that wasn’t as kind-hearted or catered for the crowds like All Might or other previous pro heroes but you never really cared for that. Being a pro hero wasn’t about one’s ability to present themselves in an attempt for the general public or media to like them but to use their quirks to help and protect as many people as they can. And Bakugou has done just that, protecting and saving people left and right without looking for any critical acclaim from anyone. 

He really was the indisputable best. 

The walk to your apartment finally came to a close as you stood in front of your complex, turning to face Bakugou. “I know you think that today was shitty but I don’t think it was at all. And I mean that.”

Bakugou scoffed. “Whatever. You can say that shit all you want, but I know how today went.”

You chuckled, shaking your head at his stubbornness. “I just liked getting to know more about Bakugou. Ground Zero’s cool and all but Bakugou’s pretty interesting if you ask me.”

You slipped his sneakers off, raising them up in front of them. “Thank you for these. I know most people say that you’re an asshole or they say all this crap about you being inconsiderate but I think tonight showed me that you’re actually a sweet guy. I think I’m liking Bakugou Katsuki more and more.”

Bakugou felt his face heat up, looking off to the side in an attempt to not let you acknowledge his blushing as he took his shoes from you. “Shut up, don’t say dumb shit like that.” He turned around, feeling like he would explode if he saw you for more moments than he already had. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You laughed again, waving as he knelt down and slipped his shoes back on and began to walk away from the building. You couldn’t help but watch on as his figure grew smaller and smaller, finally deciding to go inside once he turned the corner. A sigh you didn’t know you were holding in escaped your lips, your feet aching from the momentary period of time spent running after the villain barefoot. Ignoring the pain, you made your way to the bathroom, frowning at the sight of your physical appearance. Just as you predicted, your hair and makeup were a mess, streaks of black blotting around your eyes and locks of hair knotted together as your neatly pinned hair had fallen apart. Your clothes that you had spent so much time figuring out were a tattered mess and you felt slightly embarrassed for a moment for looking like this in front of Bakugou. But that embarrassment dissipated as quickly as it came as you knew Bakugou has probably seen you looking like a sweaty mess more than he has seen your appearance on your best day.

You removed your makeup with a wipe and let your hair loose, the locks cascading down your shoulders. Just as you changed out of your clothes into something more comfortable, the sound on rain droplets pelting your windows echoed from the outside. Within a few minutes a downpour hit the city and you sighed, thankful that you had gotten inside before getting caught in the mess outside.

That was when you realized that Bakugou was still outside, on his way to his own house. He was also most likely getting drenched. Without thinking twice, you grabbed two umbrellas and ran out in an attempt to spare Bakugou from the harsh weather.

***

Bakugou’s phone began to buzz in his pocket, groaning incoherently as he saw Mina’s name on the screen requesting for a video call. He answered it begrudgingly, Mina, Sero, Kirishima, and Kaminari’s faces popping up on the screen.

“Well if it isn’t the romance master himself,” Kaminari teased.

Bakugou rolled his eyes at him. “If you idiots are here to just fucking make fun of me, I’m gonna hang up.”

“No!” Mina called out. “I just wanted to know how it went. Did my suggestions help?”

“No they fucking backfired on me,” Bakugou huffed. “The food tasted like fucking cardboard, the movie was the shittiest thing I’ve ever seen, and to top it all off, a villain popped up outta nowhere and fucked everything up even more. I just walked her home and now I’m going home.”

Mina frowned. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out well, I really tried hard to help you out!”

Kirishima patted her shoulder. “I’m sure it’s not your fault, and Bakugou and (H/N) just don’t have the same tastes as you do. But cheer up, man, I’m sure she had a good time.”

“Yeah, (H/N) seems like a chill girl,” Sero added.

“Whatever,” Bakugou let out a sigh, “I’m just glad it’s over. I didn’t wanna embarrass myself more than I already did.”

His friends said goodbye, trying their best to cheer him up before he hung up and shoved his phone back into his pockets. Bakugou felt defeated, not knowing how to rightfully come across with his feelings without being too direct. You were the only person he’d ever met that caught his attention immediately after the first encounter. Since the beginning, he found himself wanting to spend more time with you but after spending time with you outside of work, he was afraid that you wouldn’t want to be around him after the failure of a first date. Despite hearing you say how much you enjoy being around him and how you didn’t care what it was you were doing with him, Bakugou couldn’t help but feel as if you were only saying those things to make him feel better. He felt like he failed you.

Before Bakugou could even think about other ways the night could get worse, a drop of water pelted his nose. He looked up at the gray sky, the clouds rumbling as the water droplets increased in size, speed, and amount as it started pouring. This is just fucking great…

Bakugou didn’t bother running or seeking shelter as he was drenched in a matter of minutes. He was only a few blocks from his house and just as he was about to turn the corner again, Bakugou stopped at the sound of his name being called. He spun around, bewildered at the sight of you running towards him with an umbrella over your head and another opened in your other hand. 

Once you caught up to him, you raised one of the umbrellas over his head, breathing heavily to attempt to catch your breath.

“(H/N)…” Bakugou muttered, still in shock to see you again so soon. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I saw that it started pouring and I just thought about how you didn’t have an umbrella so…” Your voice drifted off, gesturing to the umbrella.

“You didn’t have to…” Bakugou mumbled and you laughed.

“I came because I wanted to. And because I wanted to tell you again that I really did enjoy tonight.” You smiled. “Knowing you, you’re probably beating yourself up over dinner, the movie, and not to mention that villain showing up, but I don’t care what we do. I like being with you, no matter where we are.”

Bakugou felt his heart beating out of his chest as he stared at you. He brought his hand up to grab the umbrella from your hand, his own fingers curling around yours and around the stem of the umbrella. You gasped inwardly at the sudden contact, your own heart palpitating vigorously. 

In the darkness of the night sky and the droplets pouring down from the gray clouds, Bakugou’s crimson eyes shined against the dullness of your surroundings as they pierced right through you. “Listen up ‘cause I’m only gonna say this once.”

Bakugou’s fingers gripped yours as he took a deep breath. “I like you, (F/N).”

Your eyes widened as Bakugou muttered your name through his lips. It was the first time he had addressed you by anything other than your hero name, let alone your first name. You smiled gently. “I like you too, Katsuki.”

Your lips parted as you began to speak, talking about how much you admired him and his ambitious ways. But Bakugou couldn’t hear a word, just watching your lips moving. Despite the bleakness of the weather, your skin was practically glowing, the same aura radiating off of you like it always had. Your locks were slightly wet from the rain as they hung against your shoulders. But your lips, red and plump, were the only thing Bakugou could focus on.

“Shut up, would ya?” Bakugou murmured. You were taken aback, staring up at Bakugou as he sighed once more and abruptly said, “I wanna kiss you.” 

You were puzzled, wanting to ask why until you sucked in a breath as his warm lips planted themselves on yours. The umbrella hovering over your head fell to the floor with a thud along with the umbrella in Bakugou’s hand. The rain pelted both of you, drenching you within seconds but neither of you paid any mind to it. Bakugou’s warm lips compensated for the coldness in the air and he snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your hands held fistfuls of his tank, being completely drawn into his touch. 

Bakugou pulled away, a blush tinting his cheeks as he looked down at you, your own face heating up from the aftermath of the kiss. You giggled, brushing away some blonde hairs that were stuck to his forehead. “You know I brought two umbrellas for a reason, right?”

Bakugou smirked, picking one up and holding it over your head. You smiled, grabbing the other umbrella and closing it, wanting to be close to Bakugou huddled under one umbrella rather than two. Although the night hadn’t gone to plan and wasn’t what Bakugou or what you were expecting, it was safe to say that both of you left that night feeling more satisfied than you could’ve ever been.

[akindofmagictoo]

manuscript search tag game

I have been return-tagged by @lunarmoment​! thanks!

my words are map, mirror, modern, memory 

map (Hurricane) 

Tempest smiled and glanced back down at the map. Theo went to leave. 

“Theo? Can you find your hometown on a map?” asked Tempest. 

He turned back. “Why?” 

“I’m curious, mostly. I expect I’ve never been there.” 

“We don’t really see many pirates.” He knelt by the map, looking for England, then pointed to roughly where he thought Wavemeet was. It was pretty rough; the best he could do was indicate which coast it was on—south-western. 

“It’s a little hard to point out anything much on that map, of course,” said Tempest, as though she’d read his mind. 

Marisa put in, “There’s a ton of maps in that chest we stole last month. I still haven’t gone through them all. If there’s one of England—” She slapped her forehead. “I keep forgetting we’re not on the Hurricane. Grimmur better keep his grubby little hands off my maps.” 

Tempest let out a half laugh. “See what other maps the Firebird has aboard her. If you find one of England, tell us.” 

mirror (Hurricane) (Aella has some... unpleasant nightmares) 

Anvindr was nowhere to be seen. She turned in a slow circle, every footstep echoing loudly in the empty room. The knife was still in her hand, its carved handle rough beneath her fingers. She raised her hand to the ready position; her next step turned her to face the door from which she’d come. But it wasn’t her hand. The skin was far too pale, too lined. Her heart skipped a beat. 

There was a mirror beside her. Had it always been there? She turned to it, and the face that stared back at her was not her own. 

It was Anvindr’s. 

She raised a hand, watching the way the reflection moved perfectly with her. Goosebumps prickled over her skin. She grabbed the mirror and tried to pull it from the wall. It didn’t budge, stuck more surely than seemed possible. 

modern (Dragonsong) (I love how much Cole loves his wife) 

“ [...] This is… I imagine Ebele has a theory.” [Cole] grinned at her. 

She smiled wanly. “You know me too well.” 

“Come on, then.” 

“I think it’s because the spell is so old. It doesn’t quite… fit us properly. I suppose magic would have changed somehow over the centuries, so it isn’t really right for modern mages. Normally, we get a bit of a burning under our skin, but this is definitely different.” 

memory (Hurricane) (this one’s a long one, but it’s good for context. I love Marisa trying to tease a very oblivious Theo) 

Marisa sat down beside him, wearing a grin so broad it could not bode well. “I know why you came.” 

“What?” 

“Why you stuck around with us instead of staying in Kings Cove.” 

“Did Aella tell you about the Plenty Cedar?” 

Her grin slipped. “What?” 

He fished in his pocket for his papers, which had dried off nicely when he’d left them in the sun. After all this time, he was surprised he still had them. He was still amazed he hadn’t lost them in the attack on the Lady Clara. 

Marisa glanced at the topmost sheet of paper. “It has gold leaves?” 

He nodded. 

“The papers are a nice touch, but you don’t strike me as the kind of person to come all this way looking for something shiny. Now, me, on the other hand…” 

“It’s a sapling that increases the yield of the area of ground in which it’s planted. My town’s crops are failing and no one knows why.” 

“I see.” 

“This is the last thing left that we can think of that might help.” He hadn’t expected to find himself explaining this to Marisa, of all people, but she’d asked. Kind of. “And I thought Grimmur might have it, but…” 

“Sounds like the kind of thing he’d nick,” she said. “But what do you mean ‘but’?” 

“I can’t be sure.” He explained the rest of the evidence he had: the possible memory of the leaf in Grimmur’s pocket, and the fact that he’d come essentially from the direction of the island on which he believed it was found. When he said it out loud, it sounded even more flimsy than it already had. Too many hypotheticals.  

“Right. So I think there’s something else to all this.” Her grin was back. “And I think it’s that you like Aella.” 

I will tag @ashen-crest @zmlorenz @ellatholmes and @teriwrites to find stand, stare, stain, sting 

[bellesque]

Respite

The Mandalorian x Reader

Summary:

There are three things the Mandalorian can’t have at the same time, or at all:

An excursion with the kid.

No one tracking him.

A brief window for him to let his guard down.

In other words: peace.

But maybe, just for one day... he can.

Read on AO3.

Rating: T

Word Count: 5.8K

Warnings/Tags: Fluff, Daddy Din, Softness, Light Angst like it’s barely there, me just trying to make things make sense just shhh ignore science and some canon for the fluff

A/N: yes, i couldn’t help myself. oops. y’all know i’ve been obsessing over this show lately, lemme just ease into writing for mando too okay okay great

- - - - - - - - - -

So. Holding a little baby ball of green wrapped in scratchy brown wool was not something you thought you’d be doing today.

Not that you plan your days particularly. No, but you had some idea of how it would go. Tinker a little at the shop, maybe bargain with the offworld Jawas outside the city. Come back home for a bite to eat and then maybe tinker some more.

Cruise through hyperspace, this baby with the hugest fucking eyes in your arms? Never in your wildest dreams would you have thought this is what you’d end up doing.

His pointy ears perk skyward as he stares up at you, cooing softly in question. Shit, what does it want? Does it need anything? You’re not exactly sure what you’re supposed to—

“Put the kid down.”

Maker, your heart almost jumps out of your chest. The modulated voice isn’t angry. It’s not impatient, but it’s not patient either. It’s quiet at the same time loud enough for you to hear through the iron that encases it. It’s stoic, emotionless, intimidating…

Fucking scary is what it is. Is what he is.

You’ve heard the stories. About the Mandalorian as a people. To see one? Be in the same ship as one?

Well, if you were back home, you’d be considered a legend just alongside them actually.

You bounce the baby gingerly, so minutely it’s almost like you don’t move your arms at all. Maker, you’re confused. You don’t know what it is, why it looks aged at the same time so adorable, and you don’t know what it needs.

Which brings you back to the Mandalorian, whom you’ve known for approximately—oh, about an hour or so now, and his change in verbal directive. “I thought you said—”

“I know what I said. Put him down.”

Who are you, really, to argue with him? All things considered, it’s his ship, his rules, and his baby. Apparently.

There’s no way he’d be all green and bug-eyed underneath all that armor right?

You ignore the burning question that stations itself on the tip of your tongue, instead bending down to set the baby on its feet on the metal floor of the Razor Crest. The baby coos again, wobbling its way towards the pilot chair where its dad sits.

Stars, how is it so fucking cute?

You’re a little too intrigued by the way the baby moves: his whole body leans heavily towards one side with every waddle forward. Slow, purposeful, adorable waddles. It’s amazing how he just doesn’t teeter off too much to one side and fall in a heap of wool and large ears.

The baby manages to soundlessly end up by the Mandalorian’s feet, tugging at him with its stubby three fingers. The Mandalorian’s helmet turns briefly, glancing down at the green creature that helplessly reaches for something too far up the console. Too far for his little grubby hands to reach.

He audibly sighs as he scoops up the baby in one hand, settling it onto his lap while it continues to make grabby hands at something.

“I meant the pram.”

“O-oh,” is the only pathetic thing you can say. You shouldn’t feel embarrassed, but it stubbornly makes its way into your system anyway. This wasn’t a job you signed up for. In fact, you don’t know exactly why you’re here. The Mandalorian simply looked you up and down after you made a few repairs to his ship, and asked quite bluntly, “You good with a blaster?”

You blinked, twice, just enough time for your mind to catch up and process what he just asked. “I’m sorry?”

“Can you shoot?”

“Um.” Eloquent. “I’ve tried, a couple times, bu-but—”

He expertly threw the blaster rifle at you, which you struggled to catch perfectly. Him, as intimidating as ever, jerked his head to the side. “Shoot,” he said simply, raising a gloved hand to point at a canister several feet away. “Right there.”

And you did. By beginner’s luck, the canister split open.

Which, for some Maker-forsaken reason, warrants your presence on this ship. Are you a babysitter? His… partner for a day? Extra help? Maintenance? You had one job: tune up his Razor Crest. That’s it. You should be back home. Tinkering. Fixing. Bargaining.

But you’re here. A backdrop to a mysterious bounty hunter and his equally mysterious baby.

“I can put him in the crib,” you offer a little nervously.

The Mandalorian says nothing. He sits, stoic and silent in the pilot’s chair, the baby cooing periodically in his lap as he plays with the tiny metal ball the Mandalorian hands him. You swallow. He doesn’t even have to look at you for your palms to start sweating.

And it doesn’t help your rising nerves that you don’t know why you’re here. You’re not a quarry—right? Oh, shit, is there any way you could be and you just don’t know it?

To venture forward and say something, or continue to stand several feet behind him in silence. Have your questions answered, or just wait until he deems it the right time to provide you with them. It’s a mental battle that has you chewing on your lip and glancing skittishly at the glowing buttons around you.

Eventually your nerves win out, unable to take the quiet that stretches out seemingly into lightyears. “Um. So… what do you… need me to do?”

The Mandalorian takes a beat to respond. He presses a few buttons on the console, and mutters a curt, “Hold onto something.”

You’re glad for your quick reflexes, because as soon as he says so your fingers latch onto the nearest metal bar just as you lurch forward in hyperjump. The impact leaves you a little dizzy, swaying on your feet as you struggle to regain your bearings when you exit hyperspace.

He swivels to face you, standing from his seat and regarding you with… subtle interest, maybe? Or maybe he’s just amused at how you’re still swaying in your spot.

The baby fits snugly into the crook of his arm, and the image of this broad man covered head to toe in beskar with the tiniest little thing tucked into the bend of his elbow is so bizarre that you physically have to bite back a question: Are you green too?

“I need you to cover me,” he says eventually. The baby gurgles and looks up at the metal visor. “Just for today.”

“Cover you how?”

His helmet tips down as he glances at the baby in his arm. “Make sure no one’s following me. If you see someone, shoot.”

“Now hold on,” you interrupt. Finally you’ve regained your balance, and apparently, your voice. “I only shot that canister once.”

His pauldron lifts as he shrugs with one shoulder. “Once is enough.”

“I don’t think I can get lucky a second time.”

“Look,” he says, and there’s something in his voice that quells the arguments forming in your throat. Desperation, maybe? Just a hint? A little urgent, a little… pleading? It’s a little hard to decipher, between the general lack of emotional lilt in his voice and the synthetic warp of his helmet. “I can pay you. Handsomely. Just watch my back, only for today, and I’ll take you home right after.”

You consider it—well, not like your consideration changes anything. You’re already on this forsaken ship, hurtling towards who-knows-where, so might as well. A little extra something never hurt anyone. Especially you.

You need the credits. Bad. The shop’s been struggling a little, and if you’re being honest, having the Mandalorian come in was the best thing to happen to you financially in weeks.

Okay. Okay, maybe you could do this. Watch his back. Just for today, like he said. You nod, mostly to convince yourself rather than to affirm him. “Okay,” you say aloud. You watch as the Mandalorian descends the ladder with one arm, still cradling the baby in the other. “So where are we going? A bounty, maybe? Someone who needs some good Mandalorian-style telling off?”

 --

It surprises you entirely when you land on the Forest Moon of Endor.

Really, there’s nothing here. Except for Ewoks. You have absolutely no clue, no idea what could possibly attract the Mandalorian to this place.

Except maybe, you think as the baby stumbles through the lush forest as fast as its little legs can take it—maybe this is why.

The Mandalorian hasn’t whisked you off to some exciting, gunslinging adventure. Not a bargain, or a job.

He’s brought you here for a day of nothing.

Granted, it’s not like you’re actually a part of it. You’re an awkward, outside-looking-in kind of spectator, eyes flitting nervously from vine to vine and grip tightening on the blaster whenever you hear even the slightest snap or crunch of nature. The gentle breeze carries the light laughter of the baby to your vicinity, and he holds your attention before your eyes focus on his guardian (dad?) a few meters away.

He’s… quiet. As usual. But for some reason, despite the seemingly impenetrable fortress of beskar and your inability to get a read on him, you can just tell, clear as day. It’s a soft sort of silence.

The chrome visor is undeniably trained on the little green baby as it chases after something that crawls on the grassy earth. The sky is a dusty blue, painting shadows over the Mandalorian and his tiny companion.

Serene. Peaceful.

You don’t know how long it takes until your tense muscles begin to relax from the calmness of Endor. Your breathing evens out and you set the blaster on your lap as you sit yourself on a large rock. It’s… nice. No pressure. Just a day with a kid and his dad doing absolutely nothing.

Peaceful.

While your body loosens up, the Mandalorian continues to stand across from you in soft stoicism. Based on his body language, his fight-or-flight response isn’t at the fore, but it’s ready to be pulled out at a moment’s notice.

But he’s, for the most part, present. Watching. Observing. Admiring, if the gentle tilt of his helmet is any indication.

You wonder, fleetingly, what it must be like to be him. To follow in the ways of the Mandalore. What he has to give up, what he has to live with.

His helmet snaps up to look straight at you. You jump.

He walks over to you in long strides, and you can’t help but feel like prey. Maker, he could have a smile on his face, could be the least intimidating person in all the galaxy—but the way he walks, all bulk and purpose, makes you feel like a rabbit in a snare.

You nod your head in the general direction of the baby, hating the way your heart thumps loudly against your sternum when he approaches. “So. Endor? For this?”

“Yes.” He moves to stand next to the giant boulder you’re perched on, holding his posture straight as ever. Your eyes flicker from his helmet to his chest plate, and this time your questions burst at the seams.

“Isn’t that heavy?” you blurt.

His head tilts slowly to face you, and you hastily turn yours away. Your cheeks burn. Scary. Fucking scary.

“Y-your armor.” He doesn’t have to say anything. Somehow with the look he’s giving you, shielded at the same time piercing, gets your mouth moving. Like a bounty trying to negotiate. You can’t look at him. You can’t. You’ve made a fool of yourself, asking such a dumb, rhetorical question that continues to hang in the air. “I-I was asking, if—if—”

“The beskar becomes a part of a Mandalorian. It’s worn with pride.” There’s a pause, and you can see in your peripheral that he frees you from the weight of his gaze and returns it to the giggling child. “But. Sometimes.”

You nod in short, slow jerks, trying to empathize with him. “You ever take it off?”

“No. Not in front of people, at least.”

“Even the helmet?”

“Especially the helmet.”

You’re pushing it. Testing the limits, the boundaries of his silence. For all you know he could snap like a twig from your probing.

… Maybe one more.

“But why?”

The Mandalorian exhales, his chest visibly expanding and compressing as the sound seeps out of the modulator, long and drawn out like the silences you’ve spent with him. “This is the Way,” he murmurs.

The Way. The tone in his voice, though barely noticeable thanks to the filter, is enough to remind you that he is a man underneath all that metal. You feel a little… bad for him. Covered head to toe in armor, never able to take it off.

So you kick off the rock, without a real solid plan in mind, and hold out your palm to the Mandalorian.

He cocks his head to the side. You imagine he’s giving you the wariest of looks inside the metal that sheaths him. “What?”

“I’m going to go.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know, I’ll scout or whatever it is you call it. Just—what is it—secure? Yeah, that. And you,” you glance around, searching for the baby, “are going to get some downtime alone.”

He visibly tenses, and the stark contrast of his hardness and the thriving, dancing foliage amuses you just a little. Cracks that hard shell of intimidation you held for him moments ago.

“The kid—”

“I’ll look after him,” you cut in. Maker, he’s so protective over the little bean. You wonder what this bounty hunter had to go through with him to warrant such concern. “It’s why I’m here, right?”

You can tell he’s considering it. Just when you think he’s going to accede, however:

“It’s too dangerous.”

“I’ll fire two warning shots into the sky if anything happens,” you promise. Your mind’s working a mile a minute—stars, you don’t know why you want to help him, ease whatever burden he faces—but you try to come up with solutions and answers where you’re able. “I’ll skirt this perimeter, far from you. I’m handy with a blaster, remember?” You hold it up for emphasis. “And, and—you can stay on the ship. Or in a super secluded corner, I’ll slip you some food and you can take off your helmet—”

“Stay here with the kid.”

“Huh?”

He takes a step backward. “Don’t let him out of your sight.”

The Mandalorian disappears into the dense woodland without another word.

The baby gurgles at your feet, gripping the hem of your pant leg as it looks up at you once again. Imploringly, almost as if to ask, Up?

You scoop him up into your arms and sit back down on the boulder. “Think your daddy’s gonna have a good time on his own?” You scratch his ears, his eyelids drooping into inky semicircles at your actions. You soften. “You’re cute. No wonder he likes you.”

You get the feeling he doesn’t like anyone else as much.

 --

It’s well and truly dark when the Mandalorian comes back.

The evening creatures have started up their symphony to welcome the night, a gentle accompaniment to the rustling of the leaves and the faint, distant gush of water. The baby slept in your lap for a bit as you battled your own stupor, and he woke up with an energetic babble to continue exploring the small patch of forested, open space the Mandalorian landed you in.

He doesn’t scare you as much when he comes back. Maybe it’s the way he walks, a little less battle-ready and a little more eased, or because you’ve gotten past that image of him just being some steel-plated bounty hunter. Either way, you greet him with a smile.

“Okay?”

He nods, one short dip of his head. “Thank you. For taking care of him.” He turns to watch the baby attempt to catch something that… most probably isn’t there. “I’ve secured the area. Scanner says there’s no one here but us for another thousand mile radius.”

“That’s good to know.” You rise to your feet. “Ready to head back?”

“Actually,” he starts, the word dragging slow and easy, “I was thinking we could head back tomorrow.”

Well. That certainly surprises you.

“It’s… nice here,” he admits quietly, almost like he doesn’t want to say it. But you understand. Sitting in silence here in one of the less populated parts of Endor has been therapeutic for your soul. You didn’t realize how hectic your daily life back home truly was: fast-paced, requiring you to be two steps ahead to survive. Here, you’re able to be free from the need to stay on your toes, even just for a moment. Maybe the baby’s carefree energy is contagious, but being here, alone with him, has already done wonders for the invisible weight on your shoulders.

“It is,” you agree. One contemplative inhale; two more. Should you ask? Maybe you shouldn’t.

Ah, fuck it.

“So… since we’re staying one night,” you swallow, “do you want to, maybe, watch the suns rise?”

Mando looks at you. At least, you think he does. The hard lines of his helmet make you feel that his personality is the same way: sharp, cutting—he’s probably the type of guy who always looks people in the eye. You imagine he’s looking straight into yours. He stays like this, still as a statue, while you make it a point not to buckle from the attention. You wish you knew what he was thinking, how he was looking at you. Just to know if you’ve missed the mark and suggested something downright preposterous.

“Yeah.” His shoulders relax after an excruciating, lengthy moment. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

You breathe out a soundless sigh of relief, wind you didn’t realize you were holding gushing out of your lungs, and you beam weakly at him. “Okay. Great.”

“Get in the ship. We can rest a bit, get up in time for the suns to rise over the horizon. Then I can take you home.”

Ah. Home. Something inside you sinks at the thought as you climb into the cockpit, pulling you back to the harsh reality that your life is. Surviving. Working. It’s not that you don’t love what you do, it’s just… this is such a welcome reprieve. You aren’t exactly ready for it to end, even though this trip wasn’t meant for you at all.

At least both of you are on the same page.

You and Mando make camp on a relatively open field on a ridge that overlooks Endor’s teeming lush vegetation. Not much is different here, it’s still trees and plants and earth, but with the baby’s giant bug eyes full of wonder and zeal, it’s as if you’ve landed somewhere else.

A small fire crackles to life, and Mando throws a branch into the flickering flames. He settles back on his haunches and you sit cross-legged next to him.

There’s really just. Something about him. Something that intrigues you, pulls you in just enough, not too close to the fortress he’s built for himself but still, close enough for you to want to know more. You have questions. Still, so many. You gaze at the chrome visor, the fire’s reflection dancing off it in steady flickers.

Steady. Controlled. The possibility of bursting into a large, engulfing wildfire ever-present. You wonder if that’s him—if the Mandalorian is like fire.

“You should get some sleep,” he says after a while, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb the peace that blankets both of you. “You look tired.”

Right on cue, you stifle a yawn. You couldn’t exactly take a nap and watch over the baby, and it’s beginning to take its toll on you. “What about you? You gonna sleep?”

“Maybe.”

Silence. The embers glow within the logs, a pretty, warm orange that makes you vaguely remember the suns you’ve seen before on other star systems. It coaxes you into a state of relaxation, your heartbeat slowing and your eyelids growing heavy. The walls you put up for yourself crumble just the slightest as you let your guard down. Just a little. Perhaps the fire has the same effect on him. What are the odds of him humoring you with another answer?

“Do you… sleep with it on?”

One second drags into many more. The fire crackles. The crickets chirp. The baby gurgles.

“Mostly.”

You don’t pry further. There it is again, crawling up your gut, that mild feeling of secondhand guilt coupled with a little secondhand sadness. And just very steadily creeping in at the edges—the inexplicable need to give him a taste of something he’s probably haven’t had in a long time.

“I can sleep out here. With the baby. You can sleep in the ship, so you can…” The tail end of your statement goes unfinished, fading out into just another crackle of the fire.

But he understands. There’s a weight in this silence this time, pulled with gratitude and perhaps a little awe. You don’t consider yourself a believer in the Force, but. You can feel the wave of subtle relief that radiates from him. Like… like no one’s asked before, and he’s too honorable to ask for something like some time to himself.

“Thank you.”

Your chin dips forward, the same time you feel your cheeks warming—from the fire or something else entirely. You don’t exactly want to name it. “You’re welcome.”

A pause. “Will you… be okay?”

“Tough girl like me?” You give him a sleepy half-smile. “I’ll manage.”

You think you’ve just gotten used to him, acclimatized to the way he keeps you at arm’s length simultaneously trying to maintain a certain degree of chivalry—but what you think you know of him is tossed completely out the window when he stands and pats you on the shoulder.

It’s brief. Just a second, nothing more; casual in itself yet somehow it holds the weight of a star system. To you, at least. The Mandalorian are warriors. They should not know softness… but they do. This one does.

He retreats into the safety of the Razor Crest, his silhouette fading into nothing more than a shiny glint, but the mystery of him shines brighter in your mind’s eye than ever before.

∎∎∎∎∎∎

“Mando. Hey, Mando. I can call you that, right?”

You bounce the baby on your hip, significantly more confident in your movements than you were yesterday. He’s taken a liking to you, you think. He lights up with giggles when you raise the pitch of your voice and scrunch up your nose to amuse him. You can see why the Mandalorian likes him.

You’re quickly growing fond of the little womp rat too.

The Mandalorian straightens. He looks at you in question. You don’t know how you can tell—you just do.

“Suns’re about to rise. Stop checking that thing and let’s sit down.”

He taps his vambrace a couple more times before his arm drops to his side. “Habit. Don’t come crying for help if there’s an ambush we don’t know about.”

You roll your eyes, scratching the baby’s whiskery forehead. “Sit. C’mon.”

You plop onto the ground for emphasis, and the Mandalorian follows in a far more bulky, yet somehow graceful, manner beside you. Endor is still colored a pale indigo, the first few rays of sunlight barely peeking out from the horizon.

You’ll be quiet this time, you promise yourself. No more prying questions, no more trying to wheedle information out of him. Just peace and quiet, a change of pace from the brutal noise of bounty hunting he’s used to.

“I actually… shouldn’t have done. What I did.”

You wait for him to continue; you get the feeling he’s talking more for his benefit than for yours. He’s not trying to fill the void with needless chatter. This is different.

“Picking you up and taking you away from your job. It was wrong of me. I’m sorry.”

You shrug. Truthfully, you don’t mind as much as he thinks you do. “I needed a change of scenery. I’m guessing you did too.”

���I did.” He straightens. “But. Still.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Now, you count the seconds until he starts speaking, just to keep your mind from initiating the conversation. You get the idea that if you start talking, asking more questions, saying random things you notice about the changing color of the sky, whatever spell he seems to be under—being freer in his words, the beskar fortress opening just a tiny crack for you—will be broken.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight—

Eight whole seconds.

“I’m not even supposed to be doing this. Staying in one place for too long is… dangerous.”

“For you, or the kid?”

“Both of us.”

“Just a few more minutes,” you encourage lightly. “Until we see the suns completely.”

And there it is, that tip of the strong lines of his helmet dipping low, a finality in the gesture that renders you mute. An acknowledgment. Silence.

Golden beams of light begin to bleed over the tops of the terrain, the trees turning from a shadowed teal to a full forest green. But… slowly. You don’t realize how slow sunrises are until you’re actually watching one. The giant star inches its way up over the sleepy Forest Moon, its second half just barely noticeable and following suit. It’s kind of fun to try and figure out where one sun stops and the other begins.

“It’s been a while,” Mando starts, voice pleasantly low and modulated and throwing you for a loop completely, “since I… last watched a sunrise.”

You pick at the wool covering the baby. “Really? When was the last time?” You bounce the kid to keep him from fidgeting in your lap, a constant rhythm to lull him into a tranquil disposition.

Mando leans back against both his arms, head going to one side in thought. “I was a foundling. I can’t remember much of it—just the feeling. How warm the sun was. Everywhere. It was… it was blinding. I think.”

You gaze at him. The threat of heaviness hangs between you, and you attempt to keep an air of lighthearted conversation before it can drag you down into a pit you’re not quite ready to jump into. “And now? Too many bounties to hunt?”

He turns his gaze to the horizon. “Something like that.”

The morning breeze caresses the tendrils of your hair, fanning out behind you while the baby reaches in vain to capture a tiny insect that flies past.

Stars. Something in his answer shakes you. Not an earth-splitting, roaring kind of shake—it’s a quiet rumble, enough to rouse one who was sleeping. Enough for one to go, “What was that?” and wonder if what they felt was real.

He’s a bounty hunter. He shouldn’t be sitting here, with you—with a kid, for Maker’s sake—watching a sunrise on Endor. All beskar, all tough, he probably fought tooth and nail to survive. He’s probably killed more people than you’ve seen at the shop. His silence is probably calculating after years of hunting. Distrustful of strangers, always strategically two steps ahead. For him, it’s probably killed or be killed. That’s probably second nature, hell, first instinct maybe, for him. Probable. Not fact. Still—you get the feeling you’re not quite off the mark.

But for him to mention the last time he saw a sunrise.

He’s scary. Stoic, emotionless, intimidating…

But he was someone before he put his armor on.

Metal maketh a Mandalorian. But also, not really. Of course there’s more to it. But it’s all you and most see him as: just some metal bounty hunter chasing coin. It’s easy to forget there’s a man underneath, warm and alive and likely just as human. Does he allow a smile underneath his helmet? Does he hold his laugh back, does he let his tears fall freely?

And then somehow, gazing absently at the lazily rising suns, its warmth spilling over the horizon, something guts you. A realization. One not so outrightly jarring, but it hits you with surprising force nonetheless. It wriggles its way to the tip of your tongue, somewhere between a question and a statement that you fight to withhold.

You don’t doubt that he’s seen the sun rise. Has he taken the time out to sit here, like this, and watch? Probably not. But you don’t doubt he’s seen it.

You doubt that he’s seen it since he swore the oath.

The baby brings you back to the present, his gentle grip on your forearm rousing you from your deep thought. You glance at him, and then to the Mandalorian beside you. He’s absolutely set in his seat, still and silent like he always is. You wonder if he’s always been like that. Or if without the helmet, it’s a different story.

You have too much respect for him—fear, yes, but mostly respect—to ask him to take it off with you next to him. So instead, you scoot gingerly, careful not to jostle the baby too much, until you’re sitting with your backs pressed together.

You feel the slightest shift of metal against your hair as the Mandalorian turns his head partially to the side. A silent question.

You’re nervous. You don’t know why the tiny action has your heart thumping. Your fingers pick at the wool once more. When you speak, your voice is small. “I… you can—um, you can. Take off your helmet. I won’t look. Promise.”

The wind whistles in your ears, and you wonder if it carried your voice away. Or if you’ve just insulted him. Oh, Maker, why do you have to be so fucking impulsive—

“The suns are rising here. On this side.”

“I-I know,” you trip, “but you know. Endor. Binary star system, all that. But we’re on the Forest Moon, right? So—so I’ve heard stories that—”

“You want to watch the suns rise.”

You huff, a little exasperated. What exactly are you frustrated about? That he’s deflecting so much? That you’re stammering every two seconds? That you’re trying to do something nice but you feel it’s going completely over his stupid metal head?

You exhale and try again. Sure enough, climbing inch by inch, another celestial body begins to rise up into your eyeline. “They say Endor—the planet, I mean—sometimes acts like a second sun.”

“Endor has two suns.”

Maybe you’re crazy, but you swear you hear a smile somewhere through that warped voice filter.

“I mean—” your cheeks are heating up now, “they say you can watch the suns rise on both sides if you’re on its moons. But one of them’s not really the sun. Duh. Endor just. Reflects the light, so it looks like the sun. Or-or something like that.”

“And you see it?”

“Right now? I do.” You bite your bottom lip, briefly debating if you should vocalize what you’ve been thinking just now. “I just… have you ever seen a sunrise? Without that thing on?”

Oh, you’ve done it now. If you were toeing the line before, now you just straight up cross it, ignoring any and all boundaries. Maker, you’ve literally just met him. But here you are, running your mouth and doing uncharacteristic things.

But he’s surprised you multiple times too. His kid. His awkward softness. Or at least, his willingness to try for it.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. “I-I wasn’t thinking, and—”

Something thunks against the hard earth. A fraction of a tilt of your head to the side, and a brief glint of metal twinkles out of the corner of your eye.

You’ve never straightened so fast.

Your heart continues to thump, a staccato that has your nerves skyrocketing. Don’t look. He’s trusting you. Don’t look.

You never expected the steel fortress to crack even just a little. But here, right now, he’s opened a fucking gate with you.

You’re too afraid to even speak right now, afraid that it will burst whatever precious moment you two are both sharing and experiencing separately. You feel the Mandalorian inhale and then exhale, equally long and deep, as he sags against you.

Tired. Relieved. Heavy. Eased.

Unmodulated.

Vulnerable.

After a few moments your taut muscles begin to loosen and you nestle as much as you can into the armor on his back. His head gently bumps against yours, and you stiffen.

The baby coos in your arms. You relax minutely.

You spend seconds, minutes, possibly even hours sitting back-to-back with the Mandalorian in companionable silence. Endor isn’t as blinding as its suns are, but it’s still incredibly pretty to watch its reflected light crawl over the horizon. You sit and watch until the light spreads over the entirety of the Forest Moon, until your shadows slowly disappear, in awe of the absolute tranquility of it all. It just feels right, even with his beskar pressed against your back and the baby babbling from time to time. It shouldn’t, but it does, and your heart fills with warmth that spreads through your veins, like the sun’s a beacon of warm feelings and you’ve just absorbed it all. You close your eyes. And you commit this moment—this singular, uninterrupted moment that’s forever yours—to memory.

“This is nice,” you whisper.

“Yeah,” he quietly agrees, “it is.”

∎∎∎∎∎∎

It kind of really fucking breaks your heart when you exit the Razor Crest and enter the shop with a bag full of credits.

Of course it had to end. What were you thinking? That somehow, the Mandalorian was going to offer you to stay? What would you even do?

After you and Mando shared such an intimate (at the same time, not) moment together, it’s kind of… strange to be back where you started. In the shop. A good distance apart.

About to say goodbye.

“Thank you,” he says, his modulated voice ringing familiar and foreign at the same time.

“My pleasure.”

Awkward. It’s not strained, but… it’s off, considering this morning. The intimacy of such an innocent moment. Do you… hug? Do Mandalorians hug?

He glances at the ship. “I should get going.”

“Your ship’s all good. I, uh, checked once we landed.”

“Thank you.”

Gratitude. Always, with him. Your cheeks burn.

He turns to walk up the ramp, and before you can stop yourself your mouth opens before your mind can protest.

“Hey Mando—”

He stops, turns to face you. That piercing gaze. You just know it. You smile, hoping he smiles under his helmet. You really, really hope he’s smiling under there.

“Be safe.”

He waits a beat. Then another. And then—

“You too.”

Your heart drops, just a little, but you keep your smile on your face and your eyes trained on the Crest as the engines power up. And then he’s off, taking his kid with him along with the memory of his brief period of respite with you.

Maybe another day, when the last thing you’d think you’d be doing is holding a little baby ball of green wrapped in scratchy brown wool, will be the day he comes back.

The chances of that are slim. But still, you’ll take your chances.

You like those odds.

[stina-is-a-punk-rocker]

stephanie perkins: ‘anna and the french kiss’

SPOILERS AHEAD!

Then again, if you’ve read any YA book, ever, it’s fairly obvious what’s going to happen.

I was going to go easy on this book; I really was. It’s really unfair how media aimed at a female demographic is seen as frivolous and vapid, and more often than not bashed and bullied when it comes to reviews. “People actually enjoy this crap?” ask the powers that be. “It’s worthless! Pulp! Dreamy-eyed nonsense only complete nimrods could ever like!”

And I take offense to that. There’s nothing wrong with liking romance or happy endings or stories about cute European boys. I was ecstatic when I stumbled across Anna and the French Kiss upon a chance trip to the bookstore. The cover was… meh (Century Gothic? Really? There were no other fonts?). But I’d heard nothing but praise about the book, and I was prepared to stay up all night and into the wee hours of the morning to finish it.

Admittedly, I was far from impressed upon the first reading. The characters were unlikable, the plot would’ve worked better for less shitty characters, honestly fuck these characters am I supposed to like them, fuck Anna, fuck Étienne, fuck Bridgette, fuck Toph, fuck Dave and Meredith and Amanda and Seany and every other stupid character in this stupid book.

The second time around, I expected to not hate it as much as I did when I first read it. It’s happened- I hated Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda when I first read it, and when I read it again, all that red-hot anger simmered down into an overall dislike. I thought To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before was trash at first, and then I read it again, and it got promoted to recyclable waste matter.

I found Anna and the French Kiss horrendous the first time I read it, and then I read it again, and… yeah, it’s still pretty awful.

Le Sommaire:

Anna Oliphant is a seventeen-year-old wannabe film critic who is #NotLikeOtherGirls – so she’s exactly like every other female YA lead. To her credit, she never explicitly says she’s special… everyone around her does.

She has a pretty meh life in Atlanta, Georgia with her mum and little bruv Sean- and then her dad decides to ship her off to France for her final year of high school. I’m not judging Anna for bawling her eyes out on her first day; I’m a huge mummy’s girl myself and I’d probably (definitely) do the same.

Meredith is Anna’s next-door neighbor, who does that thing which only happens in YA where she’s like “Oh, newbie? Let’s be friends!” (Or maybe it does happen irl and I tend to make a bad first impression which is why no one has ever approached me.)

Meredith’s friends are: Rashmi and Josh (who are a couple), and Étienne St. Clair. Guess which one is the love interest.

Étienne is cultured in that white person way where he’s half American, one quarter French and one quarter British. A true international.

But- *gasp*- American-British-French boy has a girlfriend, Ellie.

Anna has an absolutely gorgeous punk rocker (yum) boy with sideburns (yikes) back home named Christopher. Also, Christopher’s nickname is ‘Toph’ instead of ‘Chris’ because he too is #NotLikeOtherGirls. Anna tells us that nothing will happen between her and Étienne.

Anna is wrong.

Meredith has a crush on Étienne. So does the Regina George of the school, Amanda.

Étienne and Anna have some moments ™.

♫ Everyone else in the room can see it, everyone else but Anna ♫

I tear my hair out in frustration.

Several other white boys vie for Anna’s heart. Anna remains blissfully unaware (♫ that’s what makes you beautiful ♫). Étienne (who is still dating Ellie, mind you) is unreasonably agitated by this.

Étienne’s mum has cancer btw, which excuses all the shitty things he does, because he’s just a poor, misunderstood boy.

Ellie dresses up as a, quote unquote, ‘slutty nurse’ for Hallowe’en, though- so it’s perfectly okay to dislike her (even though, in the first interaction she had with Anna, where Ellie meets Anna and Étienne, after Étienne takes Anna to the movies, Ellie is perfectly sweet).

Anna, however, is NOT a slut. Amanda is, though. And Rashmi’s cold. And Meredith’s desperate. And Emily’s a slut, too. And her friend Bridgette from Atlanta is a traitor. Anna has an intense case of internalized misogyny.

Anna’s friend Bridgette from Atlanta is screwing Toph, and Anna throws a fit.

Étienne and Anna have some more moments ™.

A truly chaotic series of events befall Anna. She somehow winds up dating Dave (one from the harem of white boys who likes her) to spite Étienne, she gets into a fight with Amanda, more drama ensues, there’s a hint for a spinoff, Étienne and her kiss, Meredith sees and feels betrayed… several misunderstandings and more bullshit later, Étienne and Anna wind up together, because true love conquers all.

Mes Réflexions:

(If the French is off, blame Google Translate.)

Usually, it takes me half a page of my notebook to scribble down my thoughts about the book I’m reading. This motherfucker took me almost an entire page.

Granted, a solid 30% of those notes are me throwing insults at Étienne, but still. ‘STOP STOP STOP YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND YOU DICK’ counts, right?

(That was #17 in my notes, by the way.)

For the record, I like Stephanie Perkins’s writing. It’s not as over-the-top and unnecessarily introspective as Jenny Han’s in To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, and the interactions between Anna and her classmates were natural and not the “How do you do, fellow kids?” style of Becky Albertalli’s Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda. The pacing is decent- I didn’t feel like it was too rushed; not the insta-love trope most YA romances unfortunately fall prey to.

And yet. AND YET.

Anna: “What’s your problem?” Amanda: “You.”

Same, Amanda, same.

Anna Oliphant is one of my least favorite leads in a book, ever. Étienne’s even shittier. And it’s not like Nick or Amy Dunne from Gone Girl, or any of the main characters from The Secret History, where readers pretty much unanimously hate them. You’re meant to relate to Anna, you’re meant to find Étienne charming and dreamy. I literally had to put the book away and calm myself down several times- especially in the last quarter of the book.

One of my main gripes with Anna is how… dumb she is. I guess Anna’s “Oopsies, silly me, I don’t know French!” is meant to be relatable to the readers. And some parts (like her not knowing how to order food because she can’t speak French) are plausible, but- sis, you didn’t know how to spell oui? And my idea of a cinematic masterpiece is Kung-Fu Panda, but even a dumbass like me knows that France is the film appreciation capital of the world. And yet Anna, a self-professed film freak, doesn’t?

Of course, Anna’s gorgeous, but she has no clue, because of course she doesn’t- even though she has multiple guys falling head over heels for her.

I’m in a short skirt. It’s the first time I’ve worn one here, but my birthday seems like the appropriate occasion. “Woo, Anna!” Rashmi fake-adjusts her glasses. “Why do you hide those things?”

Étienne is staring at my legs. The scales covering them throb under his intense gaze, and the pincers sticking out of my thighs start clicking rapidly in arousal. My hooves shiver in ecstasy.

… sorry, that’s not funny.

Her friends think Anna’s weird for wanting to write film reviews (which is the most contrived thing I’ve ever heard) instead of being the next Margot Robbie or whatever, but of course Étienne doesn’t and he thinks it’s not weird and cool and that Anna is such a special snowflake.

(Man, I sound like Amanda.)

And then we have this spiel by Anna about how she got into film critiquing (?), because we the readers need to know how special and #NotLikeOtherGirls Anna is.

To this, I say, “Piss off, you pretentious fuck.”

Of course, Anna’s a virgin and she’s never gotten drunk before or worn short skirts- she’s not a slut, she shaves below the knees only.

And would YA really be YA without several hearty helpings of internalized misogyny?

First up, we have the bimbo; the Barbie doll archetype whose only goal in life is acquiring the main guy (who is quite obviously uninterested in her), and making life hell for our protagonist. Amanda Whatsername (is she ever given a surname?) has this coveted role in Anna and the French Kiss. She’s blond (because of course she is); the first time we meet her, she’s in a, quote unquote, ‘teeny tank top’, and she also ‘positions herself for maximum cleavage exposure’. She’s always flipping her hair, getting her grubby paws on Étienne, giving Anna the stink-eye, being homophobic and a grade-A bitch.

Meredith goes batshit when Anna and Étienne kiss, and is very pouty and unhappy during prior Anna x Shittiene moments. Honey… he’s just not that into you. Rashmi’s the Ice Queen reincarnate and halfway to bitchdom. Anna doesn’t go as hard on them as she does on literally every other female her age in the book, though.

Rashmi looks at me for the first time, calculating whether or not I might fall in love with her own boyfriend.

Anna, hate to break it to you, but not everyone’s a possessive fucking weirdo.

About Cherrie, her ex-boyfriend Matt’s new girlfriend:

And maybe Cherrie isn’t as bad as I remember. Except she is. She totally is. After only five minutes in her company, I cannot fathom how Bridge stands sitting with her at lunch every day.

Her lifeless laugh is one of her lesser attributes. What does Matt see in her?

Even Bridgette, Anna’s best friend from Atlanta, isn’t immune to Anna’s anti-female propaganda. She’s screwing the guy Anna used to like, and Anna, the hypocrite, throws a huge fit.

For context: Bridgette and Toph are in a band called the Penny Dreadfuls (why is it with YA books and horrible band names? ‘Emoji’ from Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda was bad enough), and Anna + Matt + Cherrie go to a bowling alley to see them perform. After the performance, Toph announces that he’s sleeping with Bridge, and Anna confronts Bridge… onstage.

“… You’re welcome to move in when I leave again, because that’s what you want, right? My life?”

She shakes with fury. “Go to hell.”

“Take my life. You can have it. Just watch out for the part where my BEST FRIEND SCREWS ME OVER!” I knock over a cymbal stand, and the brass hits the stage with an earsplitting crash that reverberates through the bowling alley. Matt calls my name. Has he been calling it this entire time? He grabs my arm and leads me around the electrical cords and plugs and onto the floor and away, away, away.

Everyone in the bowling alley is staring at me.

I duck my head so my hair covers my face. I’m crying. This would have never happened if I hadn’t given Toph her number. All of those late-night practices and… he said they’ve had sex! What if they’ve had it at my house? Does he come over when she’s watching Seany? Do they go in the bedroom?

I’m going to be sick.

Give me a goddamn break.

Anna, about Ellie:

To my amazement, Ellie breaks into an ear-to-ear smile. Oddly enough, it’s this moment I realize that despite her husky voice and Parisian attire, she’s sort of… plain. But friendly-looking.

That still doesn’t mean I like her.

“Anna! From Atlanta, right? Where’d you guys go?”

She knows who I am? St. Clair describes our evening while I contemplate this strange development. Did he tell her about me? Or was it Meredith? I hope it was him, but even if it was, it’s not like he said anything she found threatening. She doesn’t seem alarmed that I’ve spent the last three hours in the company of her very attractive boyfriend. Alone.

[about Ellie’s Hallowe’en costume] Slutty nurse. I don’t believe it. Tiny white button-up dress, red crosses across the nipples. Cleavage city.

If I didn’t like Ellie before, it’s nothing compared to how I feel now. It doesn’t matter that I can count how many times we’ve met on one hand.

I fantasize about their break-up. How he could hurt her, and she could hurt him, and all of the ways I could hurt her back. I want to grab her Parisian-styled hair and yank it so hard it rips from her skull. I want to sink my claws into her eyeballs and scrape.

It turns out I am not a nice person.

YOU DON’T FUCKING SAY.

Emily Middlestone bends over to pick up a dropped eraser, and Mike Reynard leers at her breasts. Gross. Too bad for him she’s interested in his best friend, Dave. The eraser drop was deliberate, but Dave is oblivious.

One of the juniors, a girl with dark hair and tight jeans, stretches in a move designed to show off her belly button ring to Paul/Pete. Oh, please.

And I’m meant to like this character? I’m supposed to root for her?

I’m not saying every girl in the book should be perfectly sweet and friendly- that’s just not realistic. But when Anna has something judgmental to say about every other young female character… maybe she’s the problem.

In fact, the only girl I recall getting a pass is Isla Whatsername. And why do you think?

Brilliant.

And now we have the amalgamation of almost every fanfic boyfriend trope from 2014, Étienne St. Clair. Brown-eyed Harry Styles. I can’t fucking wait.

Étienne could’ve discovered the cure for cancer, or abolished poverty, or volunteered at animal shelters in his spare time. He could’ve been the most virtuous guy around (fret not; he decidedly isn’t). And I still wouldn’t’ve thought of him as the man of my dreams because HE HAS A BLOODY GIRLFRIEND.

I mean, which girl doesn’t want her boyfriend to say:

“I cheated on her every day. In my mind, I thought of you in ways I shouldn’t have, again and again.”

Fuckin’ smooth, bro.

“No matter what a terrible boyfriend I was, I wouldn’t actually cheat on her. But I thought you’d know.”

Such a gentleman!

“So you can keep dating Ellie, but I can’t even talk to Dave?”

Étienne looks shamed. He stares at his boots. “I’m sorry.”

I don’t even know what to do with his apology.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. And this time, he’s looking at me. Begging me. “And I know it’s not fair to ask you, but I need more time. To sort things out.”

And this gem:

“If you liked me so much, why didn’t you break up with her?”

“I’ve been confused. I’ve been so stupid.”

*me, banging pots and pans together* F U C K Y O U

“Ellie’s not like you, Anna; she’s a slut and a whore even though I’m the one who’s been thinking about another girl inappropriately and I’m the one who gets my knickers in a twist when another man glances in your direction because my masculinity is extremely fragile and I’m a total hypocrite and a dickhead.”

I mean, he didn’t actually say that, but that’s the gist.

WHILE DATING ELLIE: he gets Anna a book of sexual love poems, he calls her attractive (“Any bloke with a working prick would be insane not to like you.”) multiple times, he gets jealous whenever another guy so much as breathes in Anna’s direction and constantly interrupts such interactions, he’s been ditching his friends for his girlfriend but suddenly decides he prefers a new girl over said girlfriend, he thinks bread pudding tastes good- in conclusion, he is a Massive Fucking Prick. Though in hindsight, him and Anna deserve each other. They’re awful.

I had loads more notes taken down (Anna using Dave; “The important thing is this: Dave is available. St. Clair is not.”); the implication that cheating is okay because Ellie is bad or whatever, even though the sudden change in her character seems contrived because she was perfectly okay with Étienne and Anna hanging out before; how my blood boils whenever I read an American book and American girls are like “oOoOh AcCenT!!!1!!1!!”; me reading “DAVE SAYS YER A SLUTBAG” in Hagrid’s voice; the sheer atrocity of the name ‘Étienne St. Clair’ (sounds like a caricature of a French person)… but this ‘review’ is already pushing 3k and I can’t be fucked to expand on any of those points.

Verdict (which is apparently the same in French):

Who needs Christopher when Étienne St. Clair is in the world?

Speak for yourself.

[queenofbaws]

I really like that hill uses multiple strategies of therapy. hes a passive wall when josh is going off on his own tirade, hes communicative and friendly when expressing his specific thoughts and interpretations, and hes comforting and understanding in the way that josh needs physically and emotionally (not looking at him crying but also telling him how hes wrong about himself). its super easy to block in a therapist in a story to one facet, but i love his three dimensional self and therapy room

sdkfjksdjf WELL HERE IT COMES - THE POST-FIC WORD BARF YOU’VE ALL (not) BEEN WAITING FOR!!!!

just for the sake of anyone who miIIIIGHT still be planning on reading t(a) and who isn’t aware of all my twisty-turns yet, i put the other ask you sent (and my rambling about dr. alan j. hill and my own writing, lol) under the cut!!!

be warned: LOTS OF MENTIONS OF MENTAL HEALTH STUFF. JUST LIKE. SO MANY! YOWZA!

let me tell you more about what i liked about dr hill in that last chapter. when he plops the document down because he printed it to make notes on the paper?? golden, loved it (i too have a printed file of the complete fic and an epub, you stellar star). How was it to take apart your own story within a story and reflect it back not just on how you wrote josh, but the games og story as well??

okay, so for all this, i need you to picture me lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. i am gesturing a LOT with my hands. with that in mind...

i suspected hill was gonna end up being a bigger part of the story than i’d initially thought PRETTY EARLY ON, but lord help me by about the second therapy session i think it REALLY sunk in that like, okay. here we go. in the game itself, hill is...well, he’s something, all right. a framing device, sure, and one used to really weasel your “fears” out of you, but really he’s this just...malevolent, unpleasant, unnerving force. when a hill session starts, you sort of tense up a little, right? because this guy is GOING to yell at you. you’re making shitty fucking choices, you’re being a hypocrite, and he’s going to smile that self-righteous smile at you and it’s going to sting.

but then if you play your cards right as sam, you get into the basement. and you find josh’s phone. and you see this perfectly polite, innocuous text message from the REAL hill, and it’s just sort of like oh. oh. and by the time you reach the very end of the game, you realize that this strange, unpleasant man in his vest and his wrinkled shirt is just...well, he’s just josh, in a way, and i really, really, REALLY wanted to make sure that was a major part of the story as a whole. hill is introduced to us as “the analyst,” and the main antagonist (at least of act 2) of the game is introduced to us as “the psycho,” and since i’m a literal psychologist who’s had to sit through literal years of psych theory and history, god help me, the moment i realized they fit together as a sort of superego and id, i was just down for the count.

i HAD to make hill a main character. i HAD to. and GOD I’M SO GLAD I DID.

like i said, i’m a psychologist! and ud is, among other things, a very psychological game. i had to rub my grubby fingers all over it, BUT i wanted to do that in a very specific way...namely, i wanted to try and fix a lot of the just...real shitty handling of mental illness in that game lol. josh’s “canon” endings never, ever, ever sat well with me, for a lot of reasons really, some more obvious than others, so when i really dove into what i wanted t(a) to be as a whole, i knew that framing stuff differently was going to be a HUGE factor.

enter hill.

in the game, we’re presented with a list of therapists josh has seen, past tense. but we don’t meet any of those people. we don’t see their offices. we don’t hear josh talk to them or interact with them. all we know is hill. all we know is the other side of that desk. to ME, what that meant was (video game logic aside), hill must be somethin’ special. he’s in josh’s head - literally and metaphorically - and he’s a big ol’ presence in there. he’s LOUD. he’s opinionated. and, at the risk of going full-throttle on the whole psychoanalysis shtick i’m already about knee-deep into, he’s ALIVE. he is JUST as alive, and just as solid as any of the other characters - maybe even MORE SO than a few of them.

so i was left to reverse-engineer the guy a little bit. we know what he sounds like in JOSH’S head, and we know what he sounds like in text message, so where do we go from here?

there’s a line in one of their sessions where hill explains to josh that sometimes finding the right doctor/therapist is all about “fit.” that’s something that was DRILLED into our heads while i was studying psych - that you can be the best fuckin therapist in the world, but if you don’t connect with your client on some level, you’re only going to be able to do so much. i wanted hill and josh to “fit,” i wanted to be sure there was a REASON that hill was so alive and vibrant and strong in josh’s head. so shaping him sort of became a what-would-josh-need game, and like you mentioned in that first ask, uh...well, josh needs some specific things. someone who wouldn’t shy away from the darker/spookier aspects of his life and how his mind works for sure, but also someone who knows how to push back in the right way and at the right time. someone who you can see a little bit of josh in, and maybe...someone that JOSH can see a little bit of himself in too.

i do not say this lightly - writing hill became...one of my absolute favorite parts of t(a), and now that the story’s over, i really do find myself missing writing about his and josh’s sessions the MOST. don’t get me wrong, i miss ALL of it!!! but writing hill really was its own thing. he’s just sort of this angry paper doll in the game, and getting to build him - the REAL him - into a living, breathing person was just SO much fun, and writing in his voice was a BLAST, and hearing that you enjoyed READING it is just skldjfskdjfs it’s just so wonderful.

AS TO THE OTHER ASK!!!

i had an IDEA of what i was going to do vis a vis the ending(s) of the fic pretttttttty early on, but admittedly, that final chapter, (the end), was the last one that occurred to me. originally the fic was going to have two endings, a “good” end and a “bad” end (bet you can guess which is which, womp womp), but then i realized, uh...fuck, the “good” ending WASN’T a “good” ending at all. it wasn’t even a LITTLE “good.” not in the sense you WANT a “good” ending to be, anyway, and that was one of my main issues with ud in the first place - there IS no “good” ending for josh. there just...ISN’T! and so i started thinking...why is that?

why is it that JOSH doesn’t get a “good” end? why is it that even though we have, more or less, BEEN josh throughout most of the game without realizing it, that there’s no way this story ends well for him? why is it that he loses his sisters, battles his own mental illness and grief, and no matter what you do or how you play or what decisions you make, the end is always a bad one for him?

and then i thought, well...sure makes a lot more sense if he’s the one writing it, doesn’t it?

picking apart the game’s events was one thing - picking apart ANY game’s events is sort of just what i do in my spare time (as i’m sure you’ve picked up on ;P hehehehhehehehehe) - but picking apart my own story, especially josh’s whole deal, was sort of the most fun i’ve ever had??? it became this recursive sort of thing, an ouroboros, a snake eating its own tail, where i took SO MUCH JOY in planting little things into early chapters that SEEMED like they would be foreshadowing for the events that took place in the lodge...only to be able to say in the end “NOPE! OTHER WAY AROUND!!!” it gave me a reason to explain some of the, uh, hmm, more creative directions the game took in terms of writing, as well as some of the character choices/dialogue, and i do need you to know every time i got to plant one of those little nuggets, i was in fact grinning maniacally and twiddling my fingers like a cartoon supervillain.

in that way, i want to say hill was...hmm...not a self-insert by ANY stretch of the imagination (oh god at least i HOPE not), but sort of a stand-in for me, or you, or anyone else who read the story and played the game. in that final chapter when he lays the story down in front of josh and categorically goes through everything he did and why he did it and how that doesn’t make him a bad person, just one who’s struggling...i wanted it to be that moment where you reached through the screen and finally shook him by the shoulders or gave him a hug or - let’s be real, fucking BOTH - like you’ve been wanting to for so many chapters. and more than anything else, i wanted him to do what a good therapist is meant to do: help shed some light on what you’re feeling and why you’re feeling that way...and then show you that no matter what, there’s still hope for what comes next.

i am POSITIVE that is about 10,000 words more than you were expecting, but i mean...that’s sort of what i do. XD god i hope even a third of that shit made some kind of sense.

[melodiesofblueroses]

𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨

→ 𝘔𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

(In honor of that ur+ card that won’t be coming home)

♡ 𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: Mammon loses a bet with (MC) and is forced to dress up as a bunny butler for a day

♡ 𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: Fluff

♡ 𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 2.0k

♡ 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴 𝘶𝘱: f!reader

It all started with what was supposed to be a small, harmless bet. And that’s exactly what it was, but to Mammon, it was just another tactic for his brothers to exploit him. I mean, come on, a bet to not steal something for a single day? Ha, what a sick joke. He is the Avatar of Greed, that bet was practically impossible for him to win. When there’s an opportunity to make money, his body acts before his brain could process what was going on (his brothers would often argue that he couldn’t think at all). There would be this indescribable desire when he thought up of some money-making scheme, a burning sensation that would physically hurt to resist, a feeling of greed. It was almost as if Mammon’s body was manufactured to respond and act correspondingly whenever he felt the slightest desire to want something, one of the many reasons he couldn’t stop stealing. He just needed to get his grubby hands on some cash.

“Do I really gotta do this?” There was a slight annoyance to his voice, but it was very clear that Mammon was more embarrassed than anything. The way he averted his eyes, the slight pink that colored his cheeks, and the small shuffle he did was more than enough blackmail material. Ugh, and his brothers were all teasing and recording this moment. He was the second eldest dammit! Where was the respect?

“Come on, you lost the bet,” Asmodeus sang, finishing up the touches on Mammon’s outfit. “You’re such an idiot. You made the bet with (MC) knowing that you wouldn’t be able to resist.” Mammon scoffed and crossed his arms. The only reason he agreed to the bet in the first place-besides the fact that (MC) suggested it-was because the reward was tempting. If he had won, Mammon would’ve been treated to a special kiss from (MC) plus a few hundred Grimm that (MC) had laying around her room somewhere, but the latter was of lesser value. How could he say no when he would receive a kiss from his human?

“I never thought I’d see the day,” he heard Lucifer mutter quietly to himself, seeming to enjoy this occasion a bit too much. That sadist. 

“Aw, don’t be shy Mammon,” (MC) chimed, a sweet smile gracing her features. “You look great in that suit. No wonder you’re a top model!” Although she sounded so sweet and kind, there was a slight mischievous undertone. Ah, so she was enjoying this just as much as his brothers. “You’re pulling off the bunny butler just perfectly.” (MC) then proceeded to stroke the little fluffy tail that came with the outfit, an action that just made Mammon blush harder. His not-so-secret crush was so close to him, how could he keep his cool? 

“Ha, your face is so red,” Leviathan commented, quickly snapping a photo followed by a small ‘ding’ from everyone’s phones. Great, he had just sent that photo to everyone. Mammon was sure to become the laughingstock for the next few centuries. 

“I’m slightly amused that you chose for him to dress up in such a provocative manner,” Satan grinned, hand on his chin as he seemed to analyze Mammon. “It’s rather fitting for him, actually.” 

“Yep, I thought it’d be fun. A nice change of pace, ya know?” (MC) giggled after her response and proceeded to fix the lopsided bunny ears. Mammon’s heart broke ever so slightly, a bit sad at the fact that (MC) seemed to be teaming up with her brothers in tormenting Mammon. She could’ve chosen any other punishment, but nope, (MC) just had to choose Mammon dressing up as a bunny butler. 

“How long do I haveta keep this on?” There was an imminent scowl on his face as Mammon played with the silver rings on his ring and middle finger. This was so embarrassing. 

“Hm, how about the whole day? You gotta be my butler after all.” The cheeky grin that followed made Mammon a bit irritated, and he had a sudden urge to slap her, not that he would ever dare to lay a hand on (MC). It was all metaphorical talk. 

“You already have a pact with me. What’s the point?”

“It’s kinda amusing seeing you dress up.” There was no malice in her voice, but the words stung a bit nonetheless. Here Mammon was thinking that (MC) was different from the rest of his brothers, but nope. She loved to tease him just as much as the next guy. At least her teasing was a lot more toned down compared to others he was used to. 

Alas, the preparations were soon finished, and Mammon was sporting a rather seductive, if you will, look. The bunny ears and tail added a bit of cuteness to his outfit, but the form-fitting white shirt and yellow-accented black vest along with black pants and small black bow from behind his neck upped his sex appeal. He looked like one of those handsome casino workers that everyone couldn’t help but stare at. The attention may have been a bit much, but of course, Mammon didn’t mind it at all. The attention satisfied his greedy nature a bit, so perhaps losing the bet wasn’t all that bad. 

Soon enough, everyone went their separate ways, all except for Mammon who was stuck following (MC). She was, shockingly, pretty lenient and didn’t order him around too much, besides the occasional run to the kitchen to go fetch a drink, which she ordered to be served on a silver platter to add a bit to the roleplay. 

“Ah, it’s nice to have my own personal butler for a bit,” (MC) sighed, sounding a bit too content. She was currently sprawled out on her bed, watching some video from Deviltube while Mammon stood near the dusty table that lay in the back. Her room was basically used for storage before (MC) was considered for the exchange program, so there were tiny knick-knacks and the like lying around. (MC) seemed to be enjoying herself, which pleased Mammon. He wanted nothing more than for her to be happy, even if it came at the cost of his dignity. 

As much as Mammon loved (MC), he couldn’t deny that he didn’t feel all too comfortable in his current outfit. Sure, he was a model, but none of the other demons ever caught his attention, so it wasn’t as if he was embarrassed to dress rather alluringly. (MC), on the other hand, well, she was special, and Mammon grew so shy around her. He wasn’t the type to be straightforward with his feelings and show off when he found someone he liked, so his current predicament was not in his favor. But this was (MC), so he would have to suck it up and deal with it. He should be used to it by now. 

(MC) caught on to his rather tense figure and motioned for him to come and sit beside her on the bed, sitting up and making room for him. When he came over, she immediately snuggled into him and wrapped the two of them with the blanket that lay on her bed, as if the two were already an established couple. This action made Mammon blush and tense up even more. Being so close to his crush was obviously a dream come true, but hell, Mammon basically blanked out whenever he and (MC) shared a touch. It was as if his body shut down at that moment, processing nothing but the percieved contact. He wasn’t headstrong, as much as he kept up that act. (MC) noticed how he couldn’t relax and frowned a bit, straightening up in order to face Mammon. 

“You know, if you feel uncomfortable I can just call off the bet.” Now, Mammon was a bit shocked to hear this. I mean, just a few moments ago he was pondering on whether or not (MC) had teamed up with his brothers in an attempt to further humiliate him, yet here he was, being proven wrong yet again. How was (MC) not an angel at this point? She sure had the heart of one. 

“N-No, it’s fine.” His words came out a bit jumbled, and Mammon averted his eyes so as to avoid (MC). Oh how she was just so adorable. “You won fair an’ square, and besides, the Great Mammon doesn’t need any pity ya know.” As hard as he tried to make it seem like he didn’t care, it was so clear that Mammon would love to get out of this fit. I mean, unless (MC) begged for him to stay in it and perhaps confessed her undying love, but who knows. The fact of the matter is that Mammon wasn’t confident, a bit shocking coming from such a high-end model. It wasn’t as if he had a problem with the outfit itself, more so that he wasn’t sure if (MC) found joy in seeing him flustered. It all boiled down to (MC)’s feelings about him. 

“It’s just that, I love you, and I’d never want to make you do something that you’re not comfortable doing.” Immediately upon hearing this sentence, the both of them froze. While (MC) was freaking out over the fact that she just mindlessly confessed to Mammon, the flustered demon was trying to process the fact that she just reciprocated his feelings. Was this a part of the bet? He wasn’t aware of this bit of the deal then. Either way, it felt good to hear that coming from her. If this was some cruel prank, would he be able to freeze time and live in this moment? All he wanted was to feel loved for a few mere seconds. 

“Do you, ya know,” he rubbed the back of his neck while trying to find a way to say what he wanted to say without sounding too awkward. “Do ya mean it?” (MC) seemed to pause for a few seconds, the faintest of blush coloring her cheeks. She nodded though, smiling a bit which immediately made Mammon’s heart beat faster. There it was, the answer he had been waiting for all this time. 

Whether it was in the heat of the moment or not, Mammon’s body acted before he could even think, and before long, he had connected his lips with (MC)’s in a rather heated kiss. He wasn’t even thinking in the moment of what he had just done, just pleased with the fact that he could finally kiss (MC) after all this time. She had felt the same way as him, and nothing would make him happier. He was always greedy for her affection, her touch, and at long last, Mammon could finally fulfill those desires. 

“You’re so desperate,” she teased once they pulled away, looking away as to hide the prominent blush that had festered. There was a slight smirk however, as if she had just gotten the brightest of ideas. Mammon raised a brow at this, excited to say the least for what devious plan she had in mind this time. “Hm, is that all this bunny can do?” Ah, she was using the bet to her advantage, not that Mammon minded in the least bit. Oh no, he in fact quite enjoyed that devious tone and those lust-filled eyes. Now, he was no avatar of lust, but Mammon was still a demon, one of the princes of hell mind you. He often got worked up at times too. 

A smirk played on his lips. Oh ho ho, Mammon was just getting started. Gone were the days of his shy lovestruck self. Whether it was the passion and intensity of the atmosphere or not, Mammon grew more confident with each passing second, abandoning that shy side of his for this moment. Before long, he connected their lips once again, the two of them falling onto the bed. He had imagined this exact moment countless times, growing a bit more restless each time Mammon was trapped in his daydream. But now, he was able to make this dream a reality. He was going to savor every moment. This was one bet he was rather proud of losing.

[redstainedsocks]

The Pet Store Pet

I’ve been perfectly content being a reader of all the Box Boy Universe content – first posted by @sweetwhumpandhellacomf and then @shameless-whumper – happily just enjoying the fics people have been tirelessly putting out (though I’m sure I’ve missed a few out there, you’ve all been busy!). Partly because I’m new around these parts and partly because I had no ideas of my own.

And then yesterday this one ask and reply from @ashintheairlikesnow pretty much slapped me across the brain with a fully formed idea… so now I have this fic, and several character ideas and a plot. So I guess this is me adding my hat to the ring?

TW: dehumanization, modern slavery, memory loss, loss of identity

Kit watched the clock hands turn and listened to the radio, ignored the quiet shuffles of the products on the shop floor and went through his mental checklist for the day.

Cleaning was done. Restocking done. The cash box was out — ready for the money from the till to be transferred in — as were the account books. The front window display had been straightened and the front step swept clear of leaves and rubbish.

The products had had their midday water and the evening “meals” were ladled out in the back, ready for them once they were put to bed. The back entrance was clear for the late-night shipment that was due.

Had he missed anything else? He looked down at his hands and saw how grubby they were and a thrill of panic shot through him. Was there time to clean them before the owner — his owner — came back? Hopefully, maybe. He had to try. He rushed to the back room and scrubbed until his hands were red, heard the tinkle of the bell on the shop door at the same time his owners footsteps clunked down the stairs. He scurried as quickly as he could on quiet bare feet but his owner reached the front of the shop first.

The customer only wanted a new leash and the transaction was done and over in minutes as he stood and cursed his slowness in the dim doorway that led to the back of the shop.

“Kit!” His owner sounded impatient, a layer of fury underneath the one syllable name. He closed his eyes in a moment of weakness, taking a second to enjoy the calm behind his eyelids, before slinking from the backroom and around the counter.

His owner pulled him close by the ring on the front of his collar. “Were you slacking off?”

“No sir, just checking on something in the back, sir.”

His owner made a disgruntled noise and surveyed him up and down. “Well. Everything seems to be in order. Close up, will you? Brandon’s coming round ready for that new shipment and I wanna set up for a card game.”

Kit nodded. The restriction of the collar tugged on his neck, the ring still hooked on his owner’s finger.

“You just need to do the money sir, I can’t.”

“I know, don’t tell me how to run my own store.” He was shoved sideways and the corner of the counter dug into his hip.

His owner grumbled through the process of sorting the money, locking away the credit card reader and putting everything into the safe upstairs. Kit busied himself tending to the other pets, the unsold ones, the litters his owner liked to call them.

Turn around was always slow and they were usually here for a few weeks before being sold. Every day he would bring them from the crates out back and put them on display, pretty them up in the hopes a sale would be made. Putting them away again was harder. Crueler. He felt dirty with it, closing them up in cages — crates — every night, cramped and squashed on rusty bars in a too-cool room.

At least on the shop floor they had cushions and gilded cages to lounge in, were given soft collars and pretty accessories to wear to entice customers. Out back was bleak, void of colour and comfort.

Most of them went without a fight now, the punishment — corrections, he reminded himself — received for fighting back enough of a deterrent. He unleashed them one by one and supported them to the back. Some with limbs gone numb from hours in the same position, some muddled after the doe eyed reverie of staring at nothing all day. He let them stretch, use the bathroom, held their hands as he guided them into their crates. Some looked at him pitifully, mournful, pleading. He tried to reassure them.

“Any day now, someone will come in and want you. Any day, keep being good. Look there’s food, you can sleep. Nothing else to worry about, hmm?”

He was their keeper, and their charge, and their comfort and he envied them. They’d be gone soon, he would not. Not that this was a bad life for a pet, there was stability in the sameness of the shop, the customers and the constant new products that they advertised.

But… but that was the hard thing. He watched pets come and go, never knowing if the life they were going to was a good one, or a safe one; if they’d be hurt or touched or loved or loathed or or or, his mind always throwing up new nightmarish possibilities. He’d look at the customers and try to imagine them in their homes with a pet at their feet and see if he could glean any insight into what kind of owner they would be.

He had no idea whether he was ever right. He didn’t understand humans at all, couldn’t fathom why they wanted pets, why there was any status in it or anything to like about it. His only real knowledge of people were his owner, owners friends, and the customers. He never spent enough time with the latter to really get what people were like outside of the interactions between buyer and seller, and the former… they just seemed to tolerate him for his usefulness and be constantly irritated by his failings.

And he hated them for it. He wasn’t supposed to, probably. And he didn’t ever do anything about it, but it festered inside him. Soured him. He wondered why anybody would bother with such an ungrateful, wilfully obstinate being living in their house.

And then there were the others. The Box Boys (and Babes, and Buddies) the proper pets, the ones with real shine and promise. He saw the adverts on T.V or heard talk of them on the radio, how revered they were, how plush and sophisticated their lives were. With their pristine delivery boxes and high end accessories, tailored training, stunning looks. The way the company had the best reputation, the highest honours, everyone knew they were offering the best quality of product and the most thorough training.

It was infuriating, to be on the wrong side of the divide between the products. To be less. To be messier. To be brutalised more regularly because his training didn’t cover the things his owner expected of him. He remembered very little of his initial training, just dark rooms and beatings and the sharp-bright sting of electricity that obliterated everything so they could start from the ground up. Start with kneel, and obey without question, and be afraid and really… not a lot else.

His owner could pretend to his middle class clients that everything was above board, everything sourced reliably and safely, but he knew it was all a lie because the leaflets they pushed on people with spiel about good facilities and happy pets… he printed those off himself on the printer upstairs and he knew he’d never been anywhere like that.

But the private trainers they could recommend to people — for a hefty price—  they were all too real and all too good at their jobs. He knew that from experience, his Owner had used their services enough times to get him in line that he shuddered at the mere thought.

“Kit, are you done yet? Get your ass up here.”

The shout startled him and he soothed the last pet into her crate and clanged the door shut too loudly, made her jump and he apologised under his breath.

He took the stairs two at a time and slowed down just as he pushed open the door to the office space above the shop.

“Brandon will be here soon, but I think there’s time for your daily meditation before he gets here.”

“Yessir,” he bowed his head and sucked in a lungful of air. His meditation, as his Owner liked to call it, was just a time each day that he was supposed to kneel, leashed, and ruminate on his place — so that he wouldn’t forget, even when he walked around on two legs with his head held high and his manners neatly presented for the customers — where he really belonged.

“Any problems today?” His owner asked from the small kitchen counter.

“No, sir. Everything was quiet.” Two pets had fallen asleep in the store front, but there hadn’t been any customers in the shop who’d noticed, and they’d woken without fuss a couple of hours later so he didn’t feel the need to mention it.

“Good, good. Shirt off, you won’t be needing it.”

He took off the tight fitting tank top that was his “uniform” and folded into the small wicker basket that contained all his belongings. Or, more accurately, all the belongings that his owner set aside for him to use. He kneeled in place at the foot of the large floor bed that served as his space in the building, and clasped the metal rod into place between his collar and the hook embedded in the wall. It was a short restraint, he almost had to press his nose to the wall to not strangle himself and he had to stay kneeling with a straight back to be remotely comfortable.

He placed his hands behind his back and tried to slip into the mindset his owner wanted him in. Cool hands circled his wrists, left smooth worn leather behind and locked the cuffs together.

“Sir?” He said, voice higher than usual with surprise. Usually the short leash was all that was expected of him during mediation.

“Just want you lookin’ good for Brandon, you know how he admires you.” His Owner ran a rough hand over his head and scratched at his short hair, and then knocked him aside, playfully. He choked briefly before he could right himself. “Did you eat yet?”

No? Of course, no. He hadn’t had time, he’d been run off his feet. “Na-huh. Sir.”

“Well, either you’re gonna go very hungry or we’ll have to feed you later if we remember,” his owner chuckled. “Could make you eat right off the floor, that’d be a show for Brandon wouldn’t it?”

Kit had no idea why his owner wanted to impress Brandon so much, he was only the body-mod guy they used for tattoos and alterations. He was only coming over to put barcodes on the new shipment. But his owner was always desperate to make a good impression when Brandon was around; laughed too loud, drank too much, let Brandon touch whatever he wanted…

He shook his head and realised he hadn’t answered the question. “Sorry, umm, yes?”

Owner laughed again, “Look at you, already getting deeper into your meditation. Carry on little Kitty, I need you on best behaviour tonight.”

[Part Two]