#it seems so bad even on toast or in water of course they’ve made it even worse!

[heylittleriotact]

OMFGHHAHAHAHA - NO!!

Also:

If he’s dosing this shit like vitamin c chewables, Rook is absolutely going to stage an intervention😂

Vintage Vegemite ad, from The Man Who Invented Vegemite by Jamie Callister.

[gosecretscribbles]

Rise August Day 5: Prison Dimension

Summary: Leo's triggers from the Krang and the Prison Dimension do not go unnoticed.

A/N: Trigger warning for triggers, literally. Leo experiences triggers that cause anxiety, blackouts, and minor flashbacks.

One minute and forty-seven seconds.

He did, in fact, sustain life-threatening injuries, and there were some complications when a cut on his shell got infected. But it wasn’t as bad as what could have happened. So he was fine.

He might have died in the Prison Dimension. That would have been bad.

He might have not died in the Prison Dimension. That would have been arguably worse. The Krang somehow lived in there for hundreds of years. Yet Leo had seen no sign of life or water in there. So maybe the dimension itself preserved its inhabitants indefinitely. Leo could have been trapped in there forever. He hadn’t been.

So he was fine.

1. The Fridge

It was a cold morning. It shouldn’t have been, but somehow the floor chilled his feet into little bony ice cubes the moment Leo got up. He wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and shuffled to the kitchen. Mikey was already up, of course, making a buffet of French toast and bacon.

“Morning, sleepy head!”

“Your early morning cheerfulness disgusts me.”

“I control the food.”

“Therefore I shall refrain from eating you today.” He ambled over to the fridge. He wanted to get some juice while he waited for breakfast. Maybe heat up a piece of last night’s pizza. He reached an arm out, opening the front of his blanket cape, and pulled it open.

Cold air hit the front of his plastron and everything turned gray and empty. Leo shut the fridge too hard and did not breathe.

“Leo?”

“Something stinks,” Leo said, pinching his beak. That was it. Something smelled bad and that was why his voice sounded weird, because he had to pinch his nose. He backed away from the fridge. “Did you throw Monday’s fish bones in there and forget to tell us?”

“No?” Mikey stopped mixing batter and went to the fridge. Leo made a beeline for the door and had just passed the table when Mikey spoke again. “Oh, hang on, Barry’s brownies are in here! And they’ve gained sentience. Yikes. I’ll take them back when I have my next lesson with him. Huginn or Muninn will eat them.”

Leo spun and grabbed a chair, pulling it out with a flourish. He was going to sit the whole time, obviously.

“Papa Defenestration strikes again,” he sighed, stretching his arms out on the table. “Can’t even get a glass of juice in my own home because of his mad scientist shenanigans.”

“Oh, please. We’ve lived with Donnie our whole lives, we’re all used to mad scientist shenanigans.”

“I would argue, but you control the food.”

“You bet your shell I do!”

2. Barry’s Vines

Leo sliced a hole in space as casually as he’d slice a pizza and stepped through it into Barry’s courtyard. The old goat still lived in April’s apartment complex, but since he’d been dubbed a hero for helping defeat the Shredder, it was safe for him to come back to his old lair. It was a good spot to train Mikey’s prodigious mystic powers.

Sure enough, Mikey was standing in the center of a large crater. Multiple chains floated around him. They ended somewhere, but somehow Leo didn’t see where. They didn’t go beyond the crater but still stretched and stretched without ever looping back on themselves. It was giving him a headache.

“Mikey!” Leo called. “You’re late for pizza and Hueso’s making judgy comments in my general direction!”

Mikey didn’t seem to hear him. Barry didn’t seem to hear him, either. He was standing like a rock on the other side of the crater.

“Again,” he called.

Mikey’s spots were already glowing with power and his scales seemed to glisten. That was weird. Was he perspiring? Mikey didn’t have sweat glands. Leo started to step forward to take a closer look when the air around him flashed with heat. Another chain whipped into view. The addition also seemed to cause a loss of control. All the other chains suddenly lashed like angry snakes, whipping wildly and striking everything within the crater. Leo had stepped a split-second too late.

His foot was already over the edge of the crater. A chain curled towards him. He couldn’t change trajectory. He ducked. He felt it whizz overhead, felt it crisp his scalp. It struck the ground beside him. He lost his balance and opened his mouth to yell just as something thick and pink whipped itself around his waist.

He wasn’t sure what happened next. Mikey was standing in front of him, eyes wide. He was holding his swords. The vine – several vines were in pieces around him. Barry stood behind Mikey. His face was blank but his eyes looked straight through Leo.

“Don’t touch me. With the vines,” Leo bit out. “Had enough of those when you threw me off the roof.”

“Always the roof with you,” Barry said, but his tone was rote and he was still looking at Leo with his stupid sharp eyes.

“C’mon,” Leo muttered, grabbing Mikey’s wrist. “Raph and Donnie aren’t going to wait forever and I don’t want to eat vegetables again.”

“Uh. Okay.”

Leo sliced open another portal and pulled his brother along.

3. Splinter’s Sewing Machine

This one wasn’t fair. Splinter kept his sewing machine in his room. Leo was in Donnie’s lab. He liked going there and just existing when he couldn’t sleep at night. It was a little bubble of time and space for just him and Donnie. It was private and normal and safe.

Splinter’s sewing machine had broken. Donnie had taken it to his lab to fix it. Leo knew what a sewing machine sounded like. He walked in, took one look, and settled in his spot in Donnie’s chair. He curled up with a medical textbook and Donnie flicked on the desk lamp without looking. That’s what Leo came here for. That wordless, automatic understanding. Leo didn’t know. How could he know?

And then Donnie closed the sewing machine.

The scrape of metal on metal cut through Leo’s spine and he saw Prime walking towards him, the metal of his suit echoing across an infinity of broken steel and stone. He came back just in time to catch his book from falling. Donnie hadn’t turned. It hadn’t even been a split-second. It wasn’t a flashback.

“…replacement part,” Donnie was saying. To Shelldon. He’d been sleeping at his charging port, but the noise must have woken him up. “Could have it here by next week, unless I fabricate a new one.”

“Ohhh, let’s make it purple!”

“Indulgent chuckle. Of course we will. Let me take some measurements.” Donnie pulled the case back open. Leo dropped the book.

“Could you soak that thing in some WD-40?” he gritted out.

Donnie rolled his eyes. “Lubricant won’t fix a bent hinge. I’ll probably just end up replacing that, too.” He let go of the case to grab a part. The case creaked shut.

Leo shot to his feet. “Cut it out!”

Donnie stared at him. Leo’s scales went cold. Donnie wasn’t supposed to look at him like that, not here, but before he could say anything, Donnie turned to Shelldon.

“Shelldon, please add metal friction stress to the list, notes A-E sharp.”

“On it, dude!”

Leo looked back and forth. “What list?”

“The Code Blue list!” Shelldon said cheerfully. “The fridge, subnote any sudden gust of cool air; Barry’s vines, subnote anything pink and prehensile; isolation, subnote unintentional or undesired isolation; applied pressure, subnote chest or plastron; absence of weapons, subnote weapons beyond easy reach; metal friction stress –”

“You can’t do that,” Leo bit out. Every word felt like it was being punched out of him. “You can’t. Have a list.”

“Why?” Donnie asked.

“Because taking data collection on other people’s trauma goes way past self-soothing! How about that, Donnie?!”

Because he hadn’t even noticed some of the stuff on that list. Because some of that stuff didn’t happen where Donnie could have recorded it. Because it meant his brothers were talking about him behind his back. Because they were looking at part of him he couldn’t admit even existed before he was ready to see it himself.

“It is very much not about soothing myself. Do you want to hear my list?”

“I – what?”

“Everybody’s got one,” Shelldon explained. “They’re color-coded for optimum organization.”

“No.”

“Alright, yeesh.”

Donnie sighed. “Shelldon, take the measurements and assemble the materials for fabrication. I’ll create a template for the parts tomorrow. I have to get my dum-dum brother to bed.”

“I’m not tired.” He was exhausted, and so wired he was sure he wouldn’t sleep for hours.

“Fine, then you can lay on my shell and acknowledge my self-sacrifice. I’m giving up coffee and precious work hours for this, you know.” He grabbed Leo’s wrist and tugged him toward the door.

“There’s no list,” Leo said.

Donnie stopped and glanced at him. They were still inside the lab. The unspoken rule of automatic understanding still applied. Donnie nodded.

“There’s no list.”

They went to Leo’s room. He was right, he was too wired to sleep, so they watched skateboarding videos until their eyes got dry and grimy and then kept watching anyway. It wasn’t the same as the lab but the scrape of wood on concrete was enough to cover the sounds in Leo’s head.

@sariphantom

[red-jaebyrd]

She Made Everything Better

Summary: Dick has his first cold since moving into the Manor with Bruce. All he wants is the one person he can’t have – his mom. Bruce does his best to fill the void as well as helping an ill and still grieving boy find safety and security in his new guardian.

For @ckbookish

There are many things that Bruce wasn’t prepared for when he took in 8 year old Dick Grayson. Little things like enforcing bedtimes and daily baths; to big things like no swimming in the pool alone and making sure Dick stayed off the front foyer chandelier…or any chandelier in the Manor. The other was taking care of a sick child.

Dick had only been living in the Manor for six months and had yet to come down with any kind of illness. Considering all the stories Bruce had been told by well-meaning co-workers of their kids coming home frequently with colds; he considered himself fortunate that Dick had remained cold-free.

Until one morning when he could hear faint coughing coming from the bedroom down the hall.

“Bruce,” Dick cried, dragging out his name followed by a series of more wet coughs.

Oh no, Bruce thought to himself. Those coughs didn’t sound good at all. He followed the cry and coughs to Dick’s room and saw the boy laying down on his bed bundled in blankets and surrounded by discarded tissues. His cheeks were flushed, his nose was red, and eyes were glassy.

“Hey buddy, what’s wrong?” Bruce asked, sitting on the edge of Dick’s bed.

“My head hurts, my nose won’t stop running, and I’m coughing,” Dick answered, pulling his blankets up to his chin.

Bruce quickly went through a mental checklist of what the boy might need while dealing with a cold. By the looks of the boy’s flushed cheeks, he likely had a fever. What was that saying, ‘feed a cold, starve a fever’; that didn’t sound right to Bruce.

Dick coughed and then groaned, snapping Bruce out of his thoughts.

“Why don’t you drink some water. It’s important to stay hydrated,” Bruce suggested, walking over to Dick’s nightstand and handing him his water bottle.

“No,” Dick whined with a pout pushing the water bottle away. “Water tastes gross, and it hurts when I swallow.”

“Understood,” Bruce said, a bit bewildered by Dick’s whining. Set the water bottle back onto the nightstand. He sat on the bed in front of Dick reaching to feel Dick’s forehead with the front of his wrist. Dick shivered at the contact. “You feel warmer than usual. I’ll be right back with a thermometer.”

“No,” Dick moaned, reaching his hand out for Bruce from under his blankets. “Don’t leave me.”

“I know you’re feeling bad, Chum, but I need to get a thermometer to see if you have a fever,” Bruce soothed, sweeping Dick’s sweaty bangs from his forehead. He smiled, taking Dick’s hand in his and squeezed it gently. “I’m not leaving I’m just going to your bathroom to get the thermometer.

Bruce walked toward the en-suite bathroom in search of the thermometer but came up empty. He searched all the cabinets, and they didn’t even have any children’s medicine, just polysporin, hospital grade antiseptic and, tons of band-aids. Bruce could have sworn they had children’s Motrin, but sadly there was none.

“Hang on, I’ll be right back,” Bruce said, closing the bathroom door and making his way toward the bedroom door.

“No, don’t leave,” Dick pleaded, reaching out frantically to Bruce this time with both hands. His eyes welled up with unshed tears. Bruce shoulders slumped and he sat down one the bed again, taking Dick’s cold hand in his and rubbing soft circles with his thumb.

Bruce furrowed his brow in concern at Dick’s behavior. It was extremely unusual for Dick to be this clingy and demanding when it came to Bruce. The two did spend more time together now that Bruce had changed his schedule a few months ago. Dick did like to seek attention from his guardian in the most heart stopping ways imaginable. Bruce quickly recalled the first and last time Dick backflipped off the second landing stairs nearly giving Bruce and Alfred a heart attack.

As Bruce had gotten to know Dick, he had learned that the boy liked being with people; liked spending time with Bruce and once Dick had got his fill of ‘peopling’, he’d be off outside or in his room playing alone. The boy liked attention, but he was far from clingy.

“Dick, I’m not leaving. I’m just heading to the intercom near the door to speak to Alfred,” Bruce explained, using his free hand to gently card his fingers through Dick’s hair and resting his hand on the boy’s cheek. “I’m not leaving.”

“Okay,” Dick sniffed, letting go of Bruce’s hand to rub his face with his blanket.

Bruce wrinkled his nose and handed Dick a fresh tissue from the discarded box on his bed. He then headed to the intercom near Dick’s bedroom door and pressed the button hoping Alfred was still in the kitchen.

“Alfred, I need a thermometer. Can you bring one to Dick’s bedroom, please.”

“Right away, Sir,” Alfred answered promptly.

Bruce turned and gave Dick a small smile, but the gesture wasn’t returned. He expected as much considering how poorly the boy felt. It warmed Bruce’s heart to know that Dick found security and safety in his presence. A little hand reached out to him from under the blankets. It made Bruce chuckle, so he made his way back to the bed and sat down taking Dick’s hand. Dick slouched low against his pillows blinking tiredly at Bruce.

“I wasn’t going to leave you. I told you I wasn’t,” Bruce reassured, trying to tuck Dick’s duvet around him with one hand and failing. Dick let go so Bruce could finish with both hands. “Do you want anything to eat?”

Just as Dick was going to answer Alfred arrived with a thermometer and a fresh box of tissues. He handed the thermometer to Bruce and set the tissue box on Dick’s nightstand. He then proceeded to collect the dirty tissues and deposit them in the trash bin.

“Will that be all, Sirs?” Alfred asked, moving the bin closer to the bed so it stayed within Dick’s reach near the nightstand.

Bruce stayed sitting on the bed and gave Alfred a rundown of all the supplies that they would need while Dick blew his nose. As usual Alfred had a pen and notepad on hand and wrote down everything.

“Anything else? Master Dick, would you like something to eat before I go?” Alfred asked, tucking the notepad and pen into his front jacket pocket.

Dick didn’t answer Alfred right away. The boy looked lost in his own thoughts, but mostly he looked tired. Poor guy, Bruce thought to himself, he must be feeling so out of it.

“Dick,” Bruce whispered, gently squeezing Dick’s hand to get his attention. Once the boy’s glassy eyes met his, Bruce took that as a sign to continue, “Are you hungry?

“Oh um –“ Dick stammered, and started playing with the hem of the duvet. “Would – would it be okay to have toast with cinnamon on top, please?”

“Certainly, young sir. I’ll get to it straight away.” Alfred replied and left the room closing the door behind him.

Bruce proceeded to take Dick’s temperature and just as he suspected after the thermometer beeped; he frowned looking at the number on the screen. Dick had a fever. Bruce was trying to remember if he should call a doctor right away or if he was supposed to wait two or three days if nothing improved. He’d likely call Leslie today just to be sure.

“Is it bad?” Dick asked, bringing the blanket up to his eyes.

“Well, it’s not good, 102.2, buddy. We’ll keep an eye on it. Make sure it goes down with meds. If not, I’ll have to call Dr Thompkins,” Bruce clarified, turning the thermometer off and setting it on the nightstand. “So cinnamon toast?”

“Mom would always give it to me whenever I got sick,” Dick swallowed thickly, looking down at his blankets. “She – she said the cinnamon had healing properties that would help make me feel better.”

“I’m sure it did,” Bruce said, brushing Dick’s bangs away from his face. “Moms are good like that aren’t they?”

Bruce tried to give Dick a smile, but it felt stiff on his face as he fought against the lump forming in his throat at the memory of his mom making him chicken noodle soup whenever he got a cold. He remembered loving the noodles and the broth but like all kids his age, Bruce hated the chicken and veggies. Over the years the soup was something that Alfred had tried to replicate, but to no avail. It just wasn’t the same. It wasn’t his mom’s soup.

“My mom would –,” Bruce sniffed and then cleared his throat, but before he could finish his sentence; Dick’s face crumpled, and he started sobbing.

In the short time that Dick had been staying at the Manor, he had only cried a handful of times. Even after a nightmare, tears spilled down silently. Dick was always quick to wipe the tears away before Bruce could fully envelop him in a hug. Always pulling away from the embrace claiming he was fine as the tears continued to fall down his cheeks. Bruce had never pressed as he never felt he had the right words to say. Because ‘I know how you feel’ and ‘I’ve been there too’ didn’t really seem like great words of comfort.

But maybe they were the exact words that Dick needed to hear.

“Oh Dickie, come here,” Bruce offered, his arms outstretched and his own eyes filling with unshed tears. He gathered Dick in his arms and settled him on his lap. The boy practically melted into his embrace.

“I don’t feel good, Bruce,” Dick bawled, his breaths hitching from crying so hard. “I want – I want my mom.

The last sentence was said in a whisper in between sobs. Dick’s fingers tightened as he clung onto Bruce in a desperate hug.

“I m-miss her,” Dick mumbled, trying to catch his breath and failing. “I miss how – how she made everything better.”

Bruce’s heart sank; his own tears finally falling down his cheeks. She made everything better. It echoed in brain and he couldn’t deny that the boy was right. Of course, Dick missed his mom; it made sense that he missed her. Every child who felt ill wanted their mom to be the one holding them, taking care of them, and making their favorite comfort foods; not some stranger they’ve barely known for six months.

He hugged Dick a little tighter and sighed. They had come a long way these past six months, dealing with Dick’s anger and trust issues that had only been fueled by Bruce’s incompetence and neglect in the guise of protection. While necessary changes to his schedule were made to fit Dick into his busy life and it had changed the dynamic in how they interacted with each other; the change still didn’t do much to help Dick feel safe enough to talk to Bruce about the loss of his parents. Until now, so naturally Bruce took advantage of a missed opportunity.

“I know you do. I know you miss her so much and I’m so sorry,” Bruce empathized, resting his cheek on the Dick’s head and rubbing small circles on his back. “I know – I know how you feel, chum. I really do. I’ve been where you are and it – well it sucks.”

Dick nodded in silent agreement and continued to cry.

“I know it feels like – it feels like the pain is so much bigger than you, but one day it won’t feel so big and overwhelming,” Bruce comforted, wiping away his own tears with his free hand. “And – and while the hurt won’t go away completely. It will get better in time. For you, that I promise.”

Bruce continued to hold Dick as his body calmed from his crying jag. The boy’s breaths slowly regulating from shuddering gasps to hiccups. Bruce was happy to finally be able to provide such comfort to Dick after so many months of him pushing him away. His feelings were never hurt from the boy’s rejection, Bruce understood firsthand that type of vulnerability and transparency in grief can be scary, especially in an unknown environment.

He had hoped that their conversation today would help pave the way to more talks and further healing for Dick. Bruce was confident the boy would be alright, but these difficult conversations had to be something that Bruce initiated and participated in as well.

“Any time you want to talk ab out your mom or your dad; come find me, okay?” Bruce offered, giving Dick a reassuring smile. He wiped away Dick’s remaining tears with his thumb. “Even if it’s in the middle of night. Understand?”

Dick nodded, his breaths finally evening out.

They sat on the bed in companionable silence. Bruce hummed a tune he remembered his mom singing whenever she was knitting or just needed to fill the silence. He could slowly start to feel Dick’s body going boneless against his chest with exhaustion; his breaths gradually getting deeper with sleep.

Just as Bruce was about to close his eyes a knock on the door startled him and woke up Dick.

“Here is your toast, Master Dick,” Alfred announced, setting a tray on the other side of the bed. “I also added a few digestives and the last juice box until I can get the apple juice you requested.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Dick sniffed, still clinging onto Bruce.

Bruce brought the tray closer to Dick so the boy wouldn’t have to move from his place of comfort.

“You are very welcome, young sir. If there is nothing else you require of me, I shall leave to retrieve the necessary items.”

An hour later, once Alfred returned with the medicine, Bruce was pleased to finally be able to give the boy some much needed relief from the headache and congestion. Dick still wouldn’t let Bruce leave, so Bruce suggested they move to the media room to watch a movie.

Bruce covered them with a blanket thin enough to make Dick comfortable, but not too thick to spike his fever. Dick settled himself right up against Bruce’s side, draping a thin arm around him and using Bruce’s chest as a pillow. Dick fell asleep ten minutes into the movie. Bruce stayed watching the rest of the movie, carding his fingers gently though Dick’s hair relishing the closeness and comfort he was finally able to provide his hurting foster son.

[withcolebrock]

Full of Surprises

Corpse Husband x Fem!Reader

Requested: yes!

Summary: Corpse finds out that Y/N secretly knows who he is and his music

Warnings: Swearing, lmk if anything else :)

Word Count: 1,624

Author’s Note: Hello! First corpse piece! I’m trying something new with this piece, just posting it at a different time tehe. I hope you guys like it, I think this is a pretty cute little platonic/flirty friendship corpse and reader tehehehe

~~~

It was a small temporary thing; only for a couple months. She needed a place to stay during pilot season and her friend Dave knew exactly where she could go. He knew his friend Corpse lived near the area and he was needing help on the rent. Dave had been good friends with Y/N and Corpse seperately for a long time. Of course when he heard Y/N needed a place to stay and Corpse needed help on rent, he offered the idea to the both of them. Since they were both desperate  They’ve met a few times prior at Dave’s house but the whole thing felt awkward.

She walked up to the door and hesitantly raised her hand up and knocked. It took a few long uncomfortable seconds before the door was pulled open. She smiled up towards him, as she met his eye. Her heart began to beat faster. He smiled nervously as he showed her into the house. “Hey,” he mumbled.

He shut the door behind her as he shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets. “Hi,” she smiled as she looked over the small apartment. It was small and well put together.

“So-uh, this is my place,” he said nervously, he let out a laugh. She laughed along with him, the awkward tension began to dispait.

“It’s nice, I like it,” she smiled towards him as she continued to shift her gaze around the apartment.

He started to show her around the apartment. The main living area was open concept, so he just walked aimlessly in a circle through the kitchen, dining area, and the living room. He opened the fridge to show that there wasn’t much food in it, “I don’t cook, I’m really bad at it, so sorry about that,” he giggled as he pushed it slightly watching it shut on it’s own. She laughed along.

“Don’t worry, I can cook for you,” she let out, her face smiling widely. He continued the tour, showing her his room. His room was extremely clean, besides the few empty water bottles. They didn’t stay long in his room, instead he walked passed a closed door heading towards the guest room; where she would be staying.

He pushed open the door, “This is your room, and you can do whatever you want in there, like, I don’t know, throw a rug in there,” he sighed as they both walked into the room. She giggled slightly. She was glad that the apartment was simple. She rested the suitcase in front of the bed.

“Thank you for the little tour,” she smiled as she looked up to him. He smirked as he nodded slightly. His eyes widened as he quickly stepped out of the room.

“Just real fast, I would really appreciate it if you didn’t go in this room. It’s just-I-uh yeah,” he stuttered as he rested his pointed finger on the door. He forced a smile, but she can tell that he was worried. It didn’t bother her, this whole idea of the secret room. It was his apartment and of course she was going to respect that.

“No problem, I completely understand,” she smiled widely as she shoved her hands in her hoodie pocket. He slowly leaned his body away from the door as he rubbed his hands together nervously.

“Do you want me to help you unpack?” he asked, his heart beating fast. Nodding her head, she walked backwards back into the room she would be staying in. She knealed down and began to unzip the small suitcase filled with enough close for the next few months. He stood beside her, waiting for her to hand him the clothes. “Wait, I never asked you what pilot season meant,” he laughed, “I just was like ‘I don’t know what that is but sure,’” he explained. She giggled while handing him a few of her t-shirts. He walked over to the closet and began to hang them up.

“It’s basically where a bunch of networks are trying out new shows, it’s exciting especially for new actors and stuff,” she explained excitedly. Every so often he would shift his gaze towards her, noticing how much her face lit up when she spoke. “Except half the shit doesn’t get picked up by the networks,” she mumbled afterwards as she laid out a hoodie and shorts she was going to wear later. Chuckling, he reached for another piece of clothing from her.

After they unpacked all of her stuff, they ordered pizza and they sat down to watch TV together. They talked for hours, simply getting to know each other. She would go in grave detail about what she was hoping to get out of the next few months, he would sit and listen to every detail. He loved that she was easy to talk to; he was grateful because the next few months would have been extremely awkward.

She didn’t ask too many questions about his personal life, yet something was starting to click. She recognized him, she never noticed it before but as she sat down next to him she realized how she knew him. She should’ve realized it sooner, from him being friends with Dave but she didn’t. She recognized his voice through his music.

After spending hours of them sitting together and learning about each other, the fact didn’t really matter to her. He didn’t want her to know about it and she didn’t bring it up.

~~~

The past couple of weeks had been great, herself and Corpse were getting along great. Their energies and jokes were always bouncing back and forth between each other. They spend hours at night together watching TV, mostly reality TV because they find it hilarious. She really enjoyed her time with him and she believed he was feeling the same way.

Corpse was up late working, she heard him around one in the morning leaving the room he told her not to go into. After everything he’s done for her, she thought she would do something nice for him.

After waking up early she left the apartment and headed to the store. It wasn’t much, but she thought he would appreciate it. She spent a few hours filling her cart with different types of food, to stock the house. Mostly so she can spend time with Corpse to teach him how to cook. Especially after a brief instant where he burnt toast, she couldn’t comprehend how. She teased him about it for hours.

It was a short drive home as she listened to her playlist on shuffle. She shoved her phone in her back pocket as she kept her music playing. She grabbed as many grocery bags as she made her walk into the apartment. It was nine, early for Corpse, she hoped all the groceries and her other plans would be done by the time he woke up.

After a few minutes, she had put all of the groceries away and she began to start cleaning the kitchen. It wasn’t messy, it just needed a few dishes cleaned and other simple stuff. Her phone began to play one of Corpse’s songs, she almost turned it off but she realized that he was asleep and wouldn’t know.

She placed the clean plates in the cabinet as she sang along to his song, Miss You!. She shut the cabinet as she turned around to walk towards the fridge to see Corpse standing behind her. Her eyes widened as her mouth dropped. He stared at her with his eyebrows knitted together harshly with his arms crossed over his chest. She rushed to her phone to shut it off.

“You know who I am?” he asked, he sounded hurt. He didn’t know how she found out, but it was starting to make him upset. He loved when people in his real life didn’t know what he did, he felt safe and comfortable with the idea. A billion ideas started flooding his head, what if she releases what he looks like? There goes every ounce of privacy he had.

“I’ve listened to your music way before I even thought about living here, I promise. I mean I didn’t even make the connection until the night I moved in,” she explained quickly. He stayed silent as he took a small step towards her, “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Her voice started to get quieter. She avoided his gaze as she kept her gaze to the floor.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, “You haven’t told anyone how I look right? It’s just really important to me to keep all that private I guess,” he let out a dry laugh to cover his nerves.

“Of course not, I would never hurt you like that,” she said. She lifted her head to meet his gaze, she watched as his features softened. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you-”

“No I understand why you didn’t, and I respect it,” he took another step closer to her, she felt her cheeks flush slightly. After a few long seconds of silence of soft eye contact, he lets out a small giggle. He shifted his gaze to the floor, “So, which song is your favorite?” she chuckled while rolling her eyes playfully.

“Miss You!, I really like the beginning,” she explained, he smirked as he shook his head.

“You don’t seem like the type of girl to listen to my music,” he let out as he walked over to the fridge. He pulled it open seeing the variety of food in there, his mouth dropped. He pointed to her and then back to the fridge several times, she giggled.

“I’m full of surprises,”

[navegandoaciegas]

Little doll

Pairing: dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: stockholm syndrome, manipulation, controlling!Bucky, unhealthy relationship, mentions of violence in the past (no graphic description), smut, vaginal sex, oral sex (both male and female receiving), vaginal and anal fingering, slight praise kink.

Summary: You used to be a strong-willed independent woman, but after a whole lot of training, you’ve finally become Bucky’s perfect little doll for him to own, love and take care of. 

A/N: I had this idea in mind today and wrote this in a couple of hours for @jtargaryen18​ ‘s 4k writing challenge. Congrats! I hope it’s decent lmfao 

There is no graphic violence or non-con in this story, but it’s stated/hinted pretty heavily that these things did happen in the past. Reader has no physical description. 18+ only. English is my third language so sorry for any mistakes.

7.09 am

There’s a pulsing ache between your legs and a hot breath fanning over your neck that sends tingles down your spine.

“Baby?” you mumble in a daze, still half asleep, moaning and clutching the sheets when you feel a finger tease your entrance.  

“‘Morning, sleepyhead.” Bucky murmurs, peppering your cheeks with small kisses. 

You can’t fight back the smile that spreads on your face and you slowly pry your eyes open, finding your husband already looking at you in adoration. He lets his lips move downwards, nipping the skin of your throat and sucking little bruises there. A moan escapes you when the hand that was kneading your breasts pinches one of your nipples while his fingers keep sliding in and out of your pussy, sending jolts of pleasure all over your body.

You’re burning up, feeling a familiar pressure build up in your core already. You’ve been together for years, but you’ll never get over how good he is at this.  

His hands are everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The hair on his chest and lower abdomen rubs on your sensitive skin, and you can’t get enough of all this. You never will. 

His name is on your lips like a prayer as you beg him for more, for that sweet release only he can give you. He complies, spreading your legs and settling between them. He trails open mouthed kisses down your body, slowly bringing his face to your awaiting cunt. The anticipation of what he’ll do to you is killing you slowly. He licks a strip of your dripping pussy and dips his tongue in your folds, pushing as far as he can go.

“So sweet.” 

He groans against you when you grab a fistful of his long hair and the vibration goes straight to your core, making the knot inside you tighter. You grind your hips against his face, fucking yourself with his mouth and crying out loud in pleasure. 

“So wet, so needy, all for me.”

He draws circles on your swollen clit and crooks a couple of fingers inside of you, hitting that sweet spot that makes your toes curl and your back arch even more. 

You’re writhing underneath him, desperate for a release.

“Please, faster.” you moan, bucking your hips wildly.

“Beg for it.” he demands, jerking four fingers inside of you.

His bruising touch, the vibration inside your cunt, his soft kisses. It’s all too much and still not enough.

“Please Bucky, please let me cum all over your face, please, please, I’ll be good for you.” you beg like the cockslut you are.

He sucks hard on your clit, and that’s all it takes to tip you over the edge, body shaking uncontrollably and vision going white. .

You’re spent, panting on the bed and feeling the familiar burn that his beard leaves behind on the soft skin of your inner thighs. Your walls flutter around nothing, and somehow you want more.

“Such a good girl for me.” He looks at you through half lidded eyes, lips red and swollen, face covered in your slick. You taste yourself on his tongue when he dips down and slants his mouth against yours, reigniting the fire inside of you.

“Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want to come again, all over my cock? Yes?”

You whine, feeling yourself grow hotter than before. “Yes, please, fuck me.”

He thrusts inside you, slowly at first, faster once he can sheathe himself fully without feeling any pain. You’re still sore from yesterday, but the familiar stretch of his thick cock is so good that you ignore the burn. You only feel him and the pleasure he’s giving you.

“So perfect, made for me, my sweet girl.” he grunts in your ear, and the praise sends jolts of electricity directly to your cunt.

Your hands are roaming over his hard muscles and your walls are clenching down on his cock, impatient for another orgasm to wreck you.

The room is filled with the lewd sounds of him fucking you, his balls hitting your ass, the squelch of your arousal, and he’s so vocal with his moans and grunts that you could come hard just listening to him.

His pace is more frantic than before. Your walls are milking him as he pounds into you relentlessly. Just when you thought you couldn’t feel more pleasure, Bucky dips his hand behind you, fingers covered in your slick teasing your back entrance and pushing inside you, finding no resistance in your relaxed state. His pubic bone hits your clit repeatedly and you’re so full of his cock and fingers and him that you see stars.

“Cum pretty girl, cum all over my cock. Show me how good you are.”

He snaps his hips harder against you and you cry out when the pressure in your core releases, jolts of pleasure shooting from your cunt to the rest of your body, vision going blank. 

He swallows your cries with his mouth, and the feeling of you clenching around him is enough to send him over the edge too. His thrusts become sloppier and he cums hard, holding onto your waist with a bruising grip and biting down on your bottom lip.

He collapses on top of you, and you relish in the feeling of his hot release filling you up.

“Love you.” he mumbles, caressing your cheeks.

“Love you more.” you whisper with a smile, scratching his scalp the way that makes him purr like a cat.

You stay impossibly close for what feels like hours, Bucky still inside you, encompassing your whole body, until the alarm clock goes off and he lifts himself up with a grunt. He stares in fascination as his cum slowly drips out of your cunt and onto the sheets.

“Don’t wanna go to work today, doll.” he whines, clinging onto you again and pouting like a child, “Wanna stay in bed with you.”

You chuckle, because he’s always so needy in the morning, and push him off you.

“We’ll stay like this all weekend, I promise. Now go get ready.”

-

The smell of freshly brewed coffee invades the kitchen and your senses. You love the fragrance, even though you aren’t allowed to drink it. Bucky says it’s bad for a dainty doll like you. You remember you used to be addicted to caffeine before; it was the only thing that kept you going during your long, strenuous shifts at the hospital you worked at as a nurse. Bucky provides for you now, so you don’t have to worry about that exhaustion anymore.

You drink loose leaf herbal tea these days.

You smile when a ray of light shining through the window hits the diamond ring on your fourth finger, projecting a kaleidoscope of colors on the walls. The eggs are sizzling in the pan, the bread slices are toasting in the oven and you can hear the faint noise of Bucky taking a shower.

You arrange the table the way he likes it: buttered toast and scrambled eggs on a plate, yoghurt and cut up fruit in a little stained glass container, a steaming mug of coffee, a tall glass of ice cold water and fresh flowers in a vase; the paper towel goes to the right side of the plate, with a fork and a knife with the sharp side that faces left on top of it. You nod in satisfaction at the spread and remove the strainer from your teacup.

Bucky greets you with a peck on the lips and a bright smile. He pulls the chair back for you, ever the gentleman, and sits on the other one, “Any plans for today?”

“The usual, y’know. I may go for a walk at the park, if that’s okay with you?” you hesitate on the last part, giving him a hopeful smile. You love to collect the wildflowers in the meadow and feed the ducks at the pond. Plus, walking is good for your health, and Bucky has you exercise at least once a day anyways.

“Of course you can, princess. Do you have enough birdseed or do you need more?” he asks, chewing a mouthful of eggs and toast, “I’ll give you extra money if you want to get it.”

You’re grateful he agreed. Truth be told, he hardly ever denies you anything now that you’ve learnt to behave. “Thanks, but it should be enough to last me another week, I think. Is Steve coming for dinner tonight?”

He shakes his head and sips on the coffee you made him, just the way he likes it: two sugars, one splash of full fat milk, a sprinkle of chocolate powder. “No, I think the punk’s staying home with Sharon tonight, ‘member her?”

You nod. You do remember Sharon. They’ve been dating for a while. She is a nurse like you used to be. Would Steve make her keep the job? 

Bucky doesn’t seem to notice your pensive mood and checks his phone as he finishes the last of his strawberries. “God, it’s 8.35 already. I gotta hurry sweetheart, don’t want to be late again like yesterday.” he says with a mischievous smirk.

You feel warmth creep up your face at the memory of the reason why he was late, and you clench your thighs shut as you recall the image of you bent over this same table you’re at and him pounding into you from behind. He wouldn’t leave unless he gave you one more, and then another, until you were shaking and crying in pleasure. 

You both get up. He grabs his jacket and backpack, you hand him the lunch you’ve packed for him. He pulls you in for a sweet kiss, holding you by the waist. You taste the coffee lingering on his tongue and it reminds you of another life.  

He pulls away and nuzzles your hair, hugging you tightly. “I’ll miss you.” He mumbles in your ear, inhaling the calming scent of the lavender shampoo he’s chosen for you.

“I’ll miss you more. Have a good day at work.”

“Thank you, have fun at the park. Behave.”

You wave him goodbye from the front porch and stand there until his sleek black car disappears in the distance. You sigh, missing him already, and get inside, ready to start your day.

-

9.00 am

Bucky is a business manager at Stark’s IT company and his job is a 9-5, Monday to Friday, which means every week day you start your chores after he leaves.

He likes the house spotless and you never want to disappoint him. You shudder at the thought of what happens when you do. Thankfully, it hasn’t occurred in a while. Only bad girls get punished, and you hate punishments too much to be one.

You start downstairs: you open all the windows to let the fresh morning air inside and get to work. You vacuum and mop the floors, disinfect the kitchen counter and empty the dishwasher, sanitize every surface in the bathroom until it’s squeaky clean and smells like Bucky’s favorite lemon scented detergent. Then you move upstairs: you wipe down all the furniture, scrub the ensuite, change the soiled sheets and sort through the hamper, separating whites and colored.

You hum as you work, proud of yourself because you’ve perfected the cleaning routine in your time with your husband, so now it only takes you an hour and a half now to do the entire house.

You grab the basket of dirty linen and clothes and head downstairs to do the chore you hate the most: laundry. The basement where the washer and dryer are makes you quiver in fear when you think of it, but you haven’t found the courage to ask Bucky to move the appliances upstairs yet. Sometimes you still have nightmares about your time there, and Bucky has to hold you and rock you all night to calm you down.

It’s where you spent the first six months after he took you, locked up all alone. He’d visit you every night, but you didn’t appreciate that. You feel guilty now for all those times you fought him, especially the one time you managed to break his nose with your elbow and sprinted upstairs. He caught you just one step before the front door. God, you were so stupid. You’re lucky he got to you in time. What would a girl like you do without a man like him?

As punishment, you spent a week locked in a wardrobe, with no food and barely enough water to survive. You stopped fighting after that, and when he got you out you sobbed on his shoulder and let him hold you and bathe you. You slept in his bed that night, and all the nights that followed in these 3 years. 

Bucky never meant to hurt you, only take care of you, but you were too stupid to understand that back then. You understand now.

-

12.55 pm

It’s a beautiful spring day, the sun is bright and there’s a light breeze blowing from west. 

You think of how you weren’t allowed to leave the house until a year and half ago. You missed the outdoors. But Bucky is a fair man and he lets you go wherever you want now that he can trust you. He even takes you on weekend trips wherever you desire. Maybe if you’re good enough, one day he’ll buy you a car, so you won’t have to walk everywhere.

You still have a tracker implanted in your forearm, but that’s for your own safety.

You spread a blanket underneath your favorite tree; from your position you can see both the water and the meadow, and that lovely wooden bridge over the pond too. 

You’re basking in the sun as you reflect on all the new hobbies you’ve picked up now that you don’t have to spend the better part of your days in a hospital.

You embroider, you try out new recipes, you read, you do yoga, you paint and draw, you collect flowers and leaves and you dry them up in your botanical journal. You’ve become quite good at taking care of the garden in these past few months, and the roses you’ve planted are growing nice and strong. Sometimes you go for a swim in the ocean, some others you go shopping. The house is entirely decorated in your paintings, and you often give them to Bucky’s friends and family too.

You don’t have friends or family anymore. You only have Bucky.

You never thought you would enjoy these activities so much, just like you never thought you could be so free. Of your job, of so much pain and sorrow, of the hardship that comes with free will, of the choices you make that weigh you down until you can’t sleep anymore.

Who knew having your freedom taken away would be so liberating. Not you. 

You have Bucky to thank for that. He always knows what’s best for you.

-

5.29 pm

Bucky’s been thinking about you all day and as soon as he’s clocked out, he couldn’t come back home fast enough. He smiles when the front door opens and he’s hit by the smell of freshly baked cookies. You really spoil him too much.

You run into his arms as soon as you realize he’s back, hugging him tightly, mumbling about how much you’ve missed him.

You’ve made dinner for him, just like he expects of you. Homemade basil pesto pasta, grilled salmon, oven roasted vegetables, white wine for him, tonic water for you because alcohol is bad for little dolls, white chocolate chip cookies for dessert.

You chat about your days over food, and when you’re both done you clean up while he changes into more comfortable clothes.

He has a reward for you, since you’ve been so good lately, but he wants you to earn it.

“On your knees.” he commands, and like the perfect doll you are, you comply.

You look up at him with your innocent doe eyes and Bucky knows he could come at the sight of you so beautiful, so obedient alone. His hands work swiftly as he pulls down his sweats and gets his already hard cock out. 

“I want to fuck your mouth.” he says, tracing your lips with his red tip, “Open up, doll.”

You do as he says. You take him in your mouth and his eyes instinctively roll back at the feeling of your wet tongue licking a strip from base to tip; your cheeks hollow around him, sucking him off, one hand pumping his length and the other massaging his balls.

He aches for more, so he grabs a fistful of your hair in what is probably a painful grip, judging from the way you gasp, and he takes that as an opportunity to slant himself inside your mouth until he hits the back of your throat. He shoves himself deeper and deeper until you can't breathe, your face is red and your eyes full of tears. You steady yourself holding onto his thick thigs as he keeps fucking your mouth harder, balls slapping your chin.

Saliva is dripping down on your face as you’re choking on his cock, and those gagging noise you make vibrate against him, making this all the more pleasurable. He knows you won’t complain anyways, no matter how much he abuses your mouth or your cunt.

He knows you’ll always comply. He’s made sure of that.

With a last thrust in your mouth he pulls out just in time to paint your face with his hot spurt. You look perfect with tears streaming down your cheeks and his cum all over you.

“You did so good princess.” he praises you, and you smile up at him, “Go get cleaned up now, we’re watching a movie. You choose.”

You beam, and he knows you’ll choose one of those Disney movies you like so much.

Good girls always get a prize.

-

11.00 pm is your bedtime. Little dolls need their 8 hours of sleep.

You’re already fast asleep, and Bucky looks in complete devotion and adoration at your form. You’re so pretty, so perfect, so completely his.

You’ve been so good lately that he hasn’t had to punish or discipline you in more than six months.

You’re no longer the stubborn woman you used to be, the one that broke his nose and resisted all he’s put you through for months. You’re finally a little doll for him to own, love and care for. His little doll to dress up and play with. He’s especially happy tonight, because he knows you’ll love the reward for being so good this time. 

It’s only taken Steve two years, because Sharon wasn’t as strong as you, but he’s done now.

Bucky knows how lonely you can get. Tomorrow you too will have a friend, another little obedient doll like you to play with.

-

read my other dark!bucky fic here

I hope you liked this! If you did, please reblog and let me know what you thought of it. 🥺

[eepypigeon]

What Should Have Been

I’m not really a writer but I can’t get the scene out of my head.

I am writing this while I have covid. it is what it is.

It’s kind of written weirdly don’t worry about it. simply I am anti- dialogue/hj

(if you enjoy it please let me know though I crave validation)

Inspired by the song “Here's a Health To The Company” by the Longest Johns. (no real reason)

TWs- drinking, corruption, curses,  coughing/sickness, fainting

714 words

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The Riptide crew all threw a small celebration one evening on the Albatross (’Millennium Chipper’). They are planning something very big and something equally stupid for the next day. Jay and Chip just about managed to convince Gillion to take the evening to drink and have fun with them instead of endless preparing. They’re as ready as they’ll ever be, they said. There's nothing else to do but wait. They’re sitting by a small fire they’ve made, the atmosphere is light despite the looming storm they’re heading into and the buried feeling that this might be the last pleasant night they’ll have for a long time.

It's not long until Chip pulls this somewhat ornate glass bottle out filled with a reddish-brown liquid; He picked it up a while ago and was waiting for a good time to try it. Seeing as they could all feasibly be dead soon, now's as good a time as ever. raising the bottle, he said a toast. One that was heartfelt, hopeful. One that was perhaps a little gushy but he can't help it, seeing the face of his closest companions sitting around the light of the fire. He had the biggest grin on his face. Arlin’s boy didn't do so bad. 

 There was a cheer of approval at his little speech, and he took the cue to pop the top of the bottle off and take a swig- his face scrunched as this burning sensation went down his throat. Thank god it tasted good, it had a bigger kick than what he was excepting. His reaction earned a bit of a chuckle from some of the others, and of course, Jay could not hold back a snarky comment at how poorly Chip seemed to handle it.

“Oh, then you give it a shot!”

With that, the bottle was passed to Jay. She kept strong eye contact with Chip as she took the bottle and went to gulp it down. as the liquid got in her mouth. There was almost a look of panic and regret as she did her best to keep the staring contest going as if she was proving something. With her eyes slightly watering, she barely managed to keep her face composed, as just as it did for Chip, it burned down her throat and into her stomach. Powerful stuff for sure.

 Chip looked on with a stunned look. Alright, weird flex, but sure. Sort of impressive. Not a second after the liquid was swallowed and people looked on in amazement did she crumble under the fiery sensation of the liquor. Laughter erupted at how quickly she broke. 

“Can I try?” Chirps in Ollie. There was an argumentative murmur between the crew for a moment but quickly people caved and Ollie ended up with the bottle in his hand. “Just a sip!” Chip asserted. He did just that, the drink barely touched his lips and he immediately recoiled in disgust “blegh!” Chip visibly lets out a ‘phew’, snatching the bottle back quickly 

Chips' eyes met Gillions. It only seemed right to let him have the next swig. It took very minimal convincing for Gillion to try it himself. “Well here it goes..!” He gave a small nervous smile before he threw back the bottle, taking a hefty gulp, very much underestimating just how strong this would be. He almost immediately erupted into coughs with comedic exclamations of his discomfort.

 As usual, everybody was laughing. until they weren’t.

Gillions coughing lingered longer than excepted. In fact, it got a little worse. His breath no longer would catch properly, spluttering and wheezing into his hand. The smiles which were lit by the campfire quickly faded into mixed looks of concern and confusion- is he choking? 

“Hey-hey-hey, buddy, You alright? Gil?” Chip had started to reach out though Jay beat him to Gillions side. She patted his back in some attempt to relieve him of whatever was wrong. 

Another cough, another splutter. and all their eyes landed on the fist which he had kept over his mouth. It shined with an inky black spray. little droplets which dripped down his blue skin.

Gillion looked up to see both his friends sharing the same alarmed expression in their faces.

“Shit-” Gillion just about heard Chip utter, before the world spun around him. His eyes rolled back, falling on the deck with a

thud.

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

eyo i dont really know what this was, just an idea ig??

if you want to rewrite/add to the idea yourself go right ahead lol its free for the taking

[floatinginwords]

Saved by the Devil (11/?) - Tommy Shelby

Summary: You go to the garrison and hang with some of the shelbys.

Paring: Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader (not romantic yet..but i swear we are getting there thank you to those who are reading who are bearing through it all.)

A/N: Took me two nights to write but it made me really excited for the upcoming chapters...almost had a heart attack when my laptop froze and i couldn't remember whether or not i saved the doc thankfully i did. So enjoy and please have a lovely night

The young boy led you through the streets of Birmingham. He was quick around the corners, almost blending in with the shadows on the walls as if it was second nature. The two of you end up in front of the same bar that Thomas had patched you up. The Garrison. Silently the two of you walked in together. You awkwardly sit down near the bar. The boy takes off his cap and stands by the door. He just watches you.

 “You gonna babysit me, kid?” You cock an eyebrow up, hoping that that wasnt the case.

He doesn’t answer. Guess that trait runs in the family.

 You  shrug and hop off the chair, deciding that you wanted a glass of water. You go behind the bar, looking for a faucet.

 “You’re not suppose to go back there.” Finn says.

 “Your brother owns this place, eh? Tell him to charge me later.” You say toasting to the air, greedily gulping down the entire glass.

 The silence envelopes you again. And you begin thinking, regretting not going home last night. You remembered everything you said. And you hate that you did. You hoped to yourself that he wouldn’t bring any of that stuff up. You didn’t need any further embarrassment.

Finn moves to sit down on one of the chairs.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be, kid?” You ask feeling bad if the kid was just stuck here with you.

But before he could ask, another figure walks through the door. It was the older woman from before. What did Thomas call her? Polly.

She stops walking as she notices the presence of others immediately. She sees Finn first, then you behind the bar. Her eyes send daggers to you. You notice her eyes are red and puffy.

 “You again?” She sneers.

 You swallow. Usually you weren’t very scared of people but this woman had you quaking in your skin.

 You open your mouth, to say who knows what when Polly decides to disregard you completely. “ Finn, what the hell is she doing here?” She asks the boy.

 “tommy said to bring her here.” Finn answers.

 “And where is he?”

 The boys eyes glance to you then beck to his aunt. Polly seems to catch on to whatever he was trying to say with his eyes because she nods.

 “Okay, finn go on now.”

 “Tommy told me to stay here.”

 “Well im here now.” She says this time her stare directed toward you.

 Finn huffs and rushes out the door, leaving the two of you alone. Polly doesn’t take her eyes off of you. Even as she sits and takes off her jackets, her eyes were trained on you the entire time. She takes a cigarette out and lights one end, her shoulder relaxing just a bit as she sits back.

 “You gonna be the new barmaid?” She sighs.

 “Excuse me?”

 “Just tommy has a bit of a type.” She exhales a ring of smoke.

 You walk away from the bar at her words and sit back in your seat. “No, im not a barmaid.”

 “A whore then?”

 “Not even close.”

 She smiles at you but its not a kind one. Its condescending. As if shes laughing at you instead of with you.

 “Then what are you?”

 What you wanted to say was none of your business, why do you even care, what’s your problem with me. But you held your tongue back. Trinity would cheer you for your self-control. Usually, your mouth ked you to all kinds of trouble. And right now, you didn’t want that. Especially with a Shelby.

 You can feel her stare as she continues to stare at you. You dare to meet her eyes and for a moment its as if your having a staring contest across the room. And then her eyes widen.

 “(y/fn) (y/ln)…”She whispers as if she just finally recognized your face.

 You tilt your head a bit. You certainly did not tell her your name. You don’t remember that. You wait for polly to continue as you watch the women lift a hand to her mouth mockingly.

 “You know you look just like your father.” You can see the smirk behind the hand.

 “How’s Michael doing?” You ask already regretting saying anything.

 ‘So much for holding my tongue’ you think to yourself.

 The woman strides over to you fast, knocking down her own chair in the process. Shes quick as she grabs a pocket knife out of her bra and holds it under your chin. You don’t flinch or make a move. Though you were shitting your pants, you make the effort to not seemed intimated by her. But the crazed look in pollys eyes tells you she doesn’t care about that.

 “I could slit your throat right here right now and leaving you choking on your own blood. Don’t ever say his name again. Got it.” Polly threatens. You can feel the knife poke a bit more harshly under your skin as she speaks.  

 “I believe you,” You say not wanting to anger her more. You definitely did not want any more issues with anybody else, especially with a Shelby, “I’m sorry.”

Polly looks at you stunned, as if an apology was the last thing she would expect from your mouth. She slowly lowers her knife from your throat and steps away from you. You both say nothing.

It feels as though the silence last for years, until the door swings open again, revealing Thomas Shelby. He steps slowly, hands in pocket, with a neutral expression on his face.

 “Ladies.” He says, moving past the two of you, heading toward the back.  

 Polly rolls her eyes as Tommy disappears. She glances one more time at you before she leaves herself. You sigh as soon as you’re sure shes gone. Your feet move to follow wherever Thomas went. You find him on the phone, leaning against the wall. His eyes meet yours, they doont leave yours as he speaks into the phone.

 “Yes, Ill be there sometime this week. Need to see how my horse is doing, of course.” You can hear Mays giggles on the other end.

 You wonder what they’ve done together. You can see the hint of mischief behind his eyes. And the flirtatious giggle May is sounding off on the line. You know something must have went down between the two of them. Or at least something was bubbling. A wave of nausea rolls off you. You dismiss it as an effect from not eating anything.

 He hangs up the line and looks at you, with an eyebrow raised.

 “How was the meeting?” You deiced to ask, feeling shy under his gaze.

 His chuckles as he places a cigarette between his lips. “Not gonna ask about the phone call?” He says teasingly.

 “No, why would I?”

 He shrugs before lighting up the cigarette and taking a drag. He offered it over to you. You take it without thinking pressing it to your lips when a thought crosses your mind.

 ‘This Is like an indirect kiss.’

 You try to press that thought to the back of your mind, not wanting to think about that with him. But even so your gaze lifts up his lips and you cant help but notice the soft pink color they are. You wonder if he kiss rough or delicately.

 “You’re thinking pretty hard there.” He says interrupting your thoughts.

 “You never answered my question.” You say thankful for the distraction from your lustful thoughts.

 ‘I must still be drunk’ You think.

  “it went fine.” He says

 “Youre not gonna tell me anything are you?”

 His lips twitches as he takes the cigarette right our of your hands. “Its time to set our plan in motion.”

 “Our?”

 “Yes. Our.”

 “Okay do you need me to do anything.” You say eager to help with literally anything.

 “Just one thing, Be at Epsom.”

 You sigh on the inside wishing your role was a bit bigger and sooner. Epsom wasn’t until next Friday. But you took what you could get.

 “Sounds good.” You say not wanting to argue.

  “It’s a date.” He smiles

Read pt.12

Tags

@babylooneytoonz  @captivatedbycillianmurphy @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat  @evelyn-4034   @ms-dont-care  @owenniasstars 

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Today in Tolkien - September 22

Considering starting this up again for the autumn, since it covers events during a few different periods of The Lord of the Rings. Should have started about a week earlier, really, but I can work with this.

September 22 is, course, Bilbo’s and Frodo’s birthday. It is the date of the Long-Expected Party, Bilbo’s departure from Hobbiton, and Frodo’s inheritance of Bag-end and the Ring in the year 3001 of the Third Age; of Frodo’s last full day in Bag End before the Quest of the Ring in 3018; of Bilbo’s 129th birthday-party in Rivendell and Saruman’s arrival in the Shire in 3019; and of Frodo and Sam meeting the other Ring-bearers in the Shire for departure over the Sea in 3021.

Tolkien has a great deal of fun writing about hobbits. For example, at the Long-expected Party:

Practically everybody living nearby was invited. A very few were overlooked by accindent, but as they turned up all the same, that did not matter…Bilbo met the guests (and additions) at the new white gate in person. He gave away presents to all and sundry - the latter were those who went out again by a back way and came in again by the gate.

And:

“Hear! Hear! Hear! they shouted, and kept on repeating it in chorus, seeming reluctant to follow their own advice.

This day is important; it is (until, and with the sole exception of, Sam, who had it only a few days), the only time anyone has managed to voluntarily give up the One Ring, and it is not easy even for Bilbo.

September 22, 3018 is much less openly eventful:

Thursday, his birthday morning, dawned as fair and clear as it had long ago for Bilbo’s great party. Still Gandalf did not appear. In the evening Frodo gave his farewell feast: it was quite small, just a dinner for himself and his four helpers; but he was troubled and felt in no mood for it. The thought that he would so soon have to with his young friends weighed on his heart. He wondered how he would break it to them. [He’s in for a surprise!]

The four younger hobbits were, however, in high spirits, and the party soon became very cheerful in spite of Gandalf’s absence.

…When they had sung many songs, and talked of many things they had done together, they toasted Bilbo’s birthday, and they drank his health and Frodo’s together according to Frodo’s custom. Then they went out for a sniff of air, and a glimpse of the stars, and then they went to bed. Frodo’s party was over, and Gandalf had not come.

Gandalf, at this point, has been rescued from Orthanc by Gwaihir (on Sept 18), and is endeavouring to tame Shadowfax. Also today, the Ringwraiths reach Sarn Ford - the south boundary of the Shire, with a bridge across the Brandywine - and drive off its guard of Rangers.

The next year on the same day is when Saruman enters the Shire and starts his campaign to destroy it. (I’d think he’d picked that day on purpose, if he had any means of transport besides his own two feet, but he didn’t at that point.) From Farmer Cotton’s account in “The Scouring of the Shire”:

“…But since Sharkey came it’s been plain ruination.”

“Who is this Sharkey?” said Merry. “I heard one of the ruffians speak of him.”

“The biggest ruffian o’ the lot, seemingly,” answered Cotton. “It was about last harvest, end o’ September maybe, that we first heard of him. We’ve never seen him, but he’s up at Bag End; and he’s the real Chief now, I guess. All the ruffians do what he says; and what he says is mostly: hack, burn, and ruin. There’s no longer even any bad sense in it. They cut down trees and let ‘em lie, they burn houses and built no more.

Take Sandyman’s mill now. Pimple knocked it down almost as soon as he came to Bag End. Then he brought in a lot o’ dirty-looking Men to build a bigger one and fill it full o’ wheels and outlandish contraptions…but…there was no more for the new mill to do than for the old. But since Sharkey came they don’t grind no more corn at all. They’re always a-hammering and a-letting out a smoke and a strench, and there isn’t no people at night even in Hobbiton. And they pour out filth a purpose; they’ve fouled all the lower Water, and it’s getting down into Brandywine.

This is the ironic completion of the earlier observation that Isengard, thinking it was setting itself up as a rival to Mordor, had in fact only made itself a little copy of it. Saruman, having lost everything else, is still unwittingly copying Sauron: his attempt to ruin the Shire is the corruption of Númenor writ small, taking a people that he resents for its role in his defeat, and a situation that was already headed downhill, and hitting the gas to making it worse.

The same day two years later, Frodo and Sam meet the last riding of the Ring-bearers, to the Grey Havens.

They camped in the Green Hills, and on September the twenty-second they rode gently down into the beginning of the trees as afternoon was wearing away.

“If that isn’t the very tree you hid behind when the Black Rider first showed up, Mr. Frodo!” said Sam pointing to the left. “It seems like a dream.”

It was evening, and the stars were glimmering in the eastern sky as they passed the ruined oak and turned and went down the hill between the hazel-thickets.

…There was Gildor and many fair elven-folk; and there to Sam’s wonder rode Elrond and Galadriel…Riding slowly behind on a small grey pony, and seeming to nod in his sleep, was Bilbo himself.

…Bilbo woke up and opened his eyes. “Hullo, Frodo!” he said. “Well, I have passed the Old Took today! So that’s settled. [Hardly fair, Bilbo; the Old Took didn’t have supernatural help!] And now I think I am quite ready to go on another journey. Are you coming?”

“Yes, I am coming,” said Frodo. “The Ring-bearers should go together.”

So today is, really, at the same time, the beginning and the end of our story.

[awanderingdeal]

Never too late - 6 - 7

A continuation of Leo and Regulus’ attempts (antics) to give Regulus the childhood he never had.

CW: Food talk

Please message me if you feel I need to add any content warnings

Rating: T

Previous and future chapters can be found on my masterlist

Credit for the sweater universe and the characters within it go to @lumosinlove. What a hero.

[This is currently unedited, and I'm not that happy with it, but also my writing mojo has decided it is vacay time so it is what is it]

6. Go to camp! You’ll make friends for life.

“Le! Did you order something?” Finn called, appearing in the doorway of the kitchen carrying a large box.

“Yeah, it’s the t-shirts,” Leo nodded, scraping the onions he’d just chopped into the pot. “Put it on the island for me please, babe.”

Finn looked down at the box, making a show of testing its weight before he looked back at Leo with wide eyes, “This seems like...a lot.”

After adjusting the temperature on the stovetop slightly, Leo washed his hands and made to inspect the delivery. “Err, yeah. Potts got wind of the plan and got all excited. Half the team are coming now,” he smiled sheepishly.

“Of course that happened,” Finn threw his head back with a laugh. “You might as well make it a thing.”

“A thing?” Leo repeated, throwing Finn a bemused look.

“Uhh huh,” Finn nodded.

“I’m gonna need more, babe,” Leo said, lifting one of the shirts out of the box and running the material through his fingers, humming a note of approval.

“More shirts? There’s like 50 here,” Finn frowned.

“No, love,” Leo laughed, shaking his head “More on what a ‘thing’ is.”

“Ohh, got you,” Finn chuckled, leaning against the counter. “I just meant, if half the team is coming anyway, you might as well invite the other half. Get the kids involved. You know, a thing.”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Leo cocked his head.

“Well, I did go to Harvard,” Finn shrugged, rooting around in the fruit bowl to find a suitable pear. One that wasn't too big because Finn got bored of flavours quickly and could never finish them. One that wasn't too soft, because he hated the sticky mess on his hands. In the early days of their relationship, Leo had been excited for the adventures that were going to come with his boyfriends, but he hadn't been prepared for how much the little nuggets of information he would discover about them would mean to him. The satisfied smile that appeared on his Finn’s face as he procured the perfect one was infectious.

“Such big brain energy and yet he still can’t load a dishwasher,” Leo retorted, motioning to the stack of crockery that had been abandoned on the counter.

***

“I have no idea why I put up with you,” Regulus scowled, covering his eyes with his hands. “Okay, I promise I can’t see.”

“Because I’m your best friend, obviously,” Leo replied, making a stupid face to ensure that Regulus was, in fact, telling the truth, and began to lead him towards the back door.

“Obviously,” Regulus drawled. “Do I get a choice in this best friend business?”

“Well, you can try and resist it if you want, but I am incredibly loveable and inevitably you will have to succumb to my charm so you might as well just deal with it,” Leo said.

Regulus gave a resigned sigh, “I suppose as best friends go you aren’t too bad.”

Leo laughed, punching Regulus lightly in the shoulder before telling him to watch out for the step up into the back yard.

“I hope you know that if I break my neck, you will be paying for -” Regulus started.

“Wegggie!!” Harry shouted through a mouthful of graham crackers that James had been trying to buy his silence with.

“Is that?” Regulus pulled his hands from his face, his eyes going wide at the scene in front of him. Leo had to admit he may have gone a little overboard with the execution of the summer camp. What had started off as a few classic summer camp activities had turned into a carefully planned extravaganza. There was a climbing wall and he’d hired an events team that taught archery. Between the games of dodgeball and capture the flag, there would be time for tye-dying, friendship bracelet making, water balloons, tug of war and much more. Of course he hadn’t skimped on the food either: burgers, pizza, vegetable sticks, taco salad and hot dogs; there was a long buffet table laden with an endless supply.

Regulus pulled Leo back inside, tugging him further into the kitchen so that the crowd of Lion’s players and their families couldn’t see them. “Leo, this is too much.”

Leo looked at Regulus trying to read his friend, but the other boy was infuriatingly closed off. “Look, if you really don’t want this, I’ll go and tell everybody to enjoy themselves and we can get out of here.”

Regulus huffed out a breath, “It’s not that I don’t want to...it’s...it’s weird everybody being here. They are obviously just here because you asked them and I feel like an add on.”

“Okay, let me stop you right there,” Leo held up a hand. “You practically live at Kris’ house the amount of time you spend there with Avie. Celeste loves you like a seventh? eighth? child...honestly, I’ve lost track of how many children they’ve adopted at this point. You and Olli…”

“Alright, alright,” Regulus interrupted, “I get your point.” He cocked his head slightly, “Huh, I guess I didn’t realise how much I’ve settled here.”

“You need a second to process that or are you ready to go have some fun, because I think Harry might eat all the s’more supplies if we wait much longer.”

***

Leo leaned into Logan’s shoulder, smiling as he watched his boyfriend show Katie how to toast her s’more in the bonfire that crackled in front of them. He was admiring the softness of the French leaving Logan’s mouth, when Regulus plopped himself onto the large log they were sitting on, a sleeping Aveline clinging to him.

“Hey, Reggie,” Leo greeted, turning his soft smile to his friend. “You alright?”

“I’m good. I just wanted to say thank you,” Regulus nodded, shifting Aveline into a more comfortable position. Leo noticed that Regulus had added another 3 new friendship bracelets to his haul since he had last got a moment to catch up with him. “For all this. This day has been amazing. All of it. I’m not sure if summer camp would have been my thing really, but I never really got to do fun family garden parties either and this has been incredible. ”

Any reply that Leo was about to make was disturbed, by Aleandra dumping a water balloon over Marc’s head right in front of them, their loud screams causing Aveline to wake with a cry.

7.Decorate your room! Paint the walls, buy new bedding and pick some new accessories! Make it your space.

"Well," Leo set a pile of magazines on the bed with a soft thud. It was a little old-school, but he was adamant that it was easier to come up with a complete picture this way. "What do you like? You don't have to know exactly, but we can't go to Ikea without any idea." He let out a soft snort at the unintentional rhyme.

Regulus looked up at him, wide eyed, as if he'd just asked him to supply the solution for world peace. "I don't know," he shrugged, toying with the sleeve of his shirt.

"You must have some thoughts."

"I don't know," Regulus snapped. "I've never had to make these decisions before. There was no point liking anything, because our parents would do what they wanted either way." He spat the words, and despite how it made Leo feel he knew the anger was a sign of some sort of progress. Not even a few months ago, his friend had spoken about his childhood like it was just a different form of normal.

"I'm sorry," Leo apologised, climbing onto the bed next to Regulus.

"It's not your fault, is it," Regulus shrugged, tucking his knees to his chest.

"I shouldn't have pushed you for an answer," Leo clarified, moving the magazines out the way and dragging his laptop from the bedside table. “Look, how about we go through Pinterest and you can pick some pins you vibe with. I’m sure we’ll find a trend.”

“Yeah,” Regulus breathed, shuffling closer to Leo. “Yeah, okay.”

***

“What the hell, there’s more,” Regulus said in awe as they rounded another corner to be confronted by rows of rattan baskets.

“I think we’re nearly at the end.” Leo looked up from the map he was trying to follow, almost stumbling over the cart when Regulus came to a sudden halt.

“These are nice,” Regulus mused, picking up a walnut coloured weaved basket. “My towels will look nice in these.”

“I’m sure they would,” Leo chuckled. He shouldn’t have been so surprised by how quickly Regulus had gained an affinity for interior design considering how he had taken to honing his clothing style with such ease.

“Oh! But these are nice too.” Regulus turned to show Leo another basket, that was identical in every way except for being perhaps a shade lighter.

Leo groaned. They had been in the store for over 3 hours and the cart was overflowing. His friend was adamant he was going to pay his own way and considering the short amount of time he had played for Slytherin along with the legal fees to end his contract early, the man was having to learn to budget to be able to afford college. Leo had suggested that doing a couple of interviews would leave him with a fair buffer, but Regulus had wanted to put as much space between hockey and his new life as possible. Leo was supportive, but Regulus seemed to be having trouble getting out the habit of buying everything he wanted.

“Right, pick one and then close your eyes. We need to get out of here.”

***

“Up a little on the left,” Leo instructed, shaking his head as Regulus lifted the left side of the photo frame considerably. “No, not that much.”

“That’ll do.”

“It’s not straight!”

“Neither are you and you don’t see us complaining,” Regulus huffed as he adjusted the frame again.

“You’re just jealous,” Leo threw one of Regulus’ new cushions across the room, hitting him squarely in the back of the head.

“Eww,” Regulus deadpanned. “And please do not throw my things,” he glared, hugging the cushion to his chest.

Leo was about to make a comment back, but he was interrupted by Sirius clearing his throat in the doorway.

“Got you a present,” Sirius said, holding out a large bag.

“Sirius.” Regulus crossed his arms over his chest, his face set into a disapproving stare. “I told you -”

“Think of it as an early birthday present,” Sirius interrupted.

“My birthday is not for another 4 months.”

“Just take it. I promise I’ll let you do this the way you want, but you’ve got to let me buy you things every now and then too. That’s what big brothers do.”

Regulus sighed, crossing the room to take the bag from Sirius. “Thanks,” he muttered, the corners of his mouth lifting despite his best efforts. The smile spread further as he laid the mustard coloured herringbone throw he’d been salivating over in the small boutique they’d visited a few days prior.

“You’re welcome,” Sirius nodded. “Looks good in here, by the way. We’ll have to find you an apartment in New York that will be big enough to fit it all in.” he commented, walking away as he finished his sentence.

“I’m paying for the apartment!” Regulus called after him. Leo barked a laugh as Regulus ranted about stubborn humans on NHL wages. Regulus poked a finger at him. “You can be quiet. I know this was your doing.”

[fundead-sp]

Chapter 6 - Discovery

Craig T.                  12/16/25

I’m so tired. I want the power to come back on already. Tweek’s been getting more paranoid by day. I’m worried. He’s been staying up in my room more than going downstairs. I usually bring him food and coffee when he needs it. Clyde’s been missing for a while. Everyone’s worried about him. I don’t think they’ve cared about Malkinson much though. 

I want everything to be okay.

—------------------------------------------

Craig sighed as he brought up some plain bread and water for Tweek. They couldn’t make any coffee or toast due to the power being out. Tweek didn’t seem very well since he hadn’t had coffee. 

Craig always wondered what it was that Tweek liked so much about the coffee. He didn’t think it was the actual coffee, he thought it was something that was inside of it. Tweek was addicted to it like it was some drug.

“Here Tweek, I’m sorry that we don’t have anything better. The power being out isn’t helping either.” Craig apologized, handing the stuff to Tweek.

“It’s- ack- fine. T-Thank you Craig.” Tweek replied, taking a sip of the water right after. 

Craig sat down on the floor and tried turning his phone on, and only to his luck, his phone had died. Now he had no way of contacting the others. Maybe there was a battery around somewhere. 

“Tweek, is your phone still alive?” Craig asked, turning to Tweek. 

Tweek looked up from some book he was looking at and looked at his phone, trying to turn it on.

“Nope, it’s dead. T-This wasn’t going to last long anyway since- gah- my phone wasn’t fully charged when I got here.” Tweek responded, he sounded disappointed. 

“That’s okay, maybe we could see about my parents' phones. And Tricia’s iPad.” Craig suggested, standing up. 

“W-Where are you going? Ack-” Tweek asked, he sounded a little worried. 

“I’m going downstairs to check with the rest of my family. You know, about the phone situation. Maybe we can get in contact with Clyde for once.” Craig said. Tweek had been worrying about Clyde even more by each passing day. And missing him. 

The two had become best friends, whenever Tweek wasn’t hanging out with Craig, he was hanging out with Clyde. Or Token, but mainly Clyde. Poor Tweek. He just wanted his best friend back.

“Rrgh..okay..” Tweek replied. Craig smiled at him slightly before leaving his bedroom. He heard some strange noises coming from downstairs.

It sounded like the sounds Malkinson had been making before he..you know. Got hit by a car. 

This heavily concerned Craig. Since, of course, when Malkinson had been making those noises, he didn’t seem..there. Like, mentally. Nor physically, his whole body was falling apart.

As he walked down the stairs, the noises got louder. It smelt so bad, what the hell could stink up the whole house? It was like the smell from outside when he walked out and found Tweek.

“Mom..? Dad..?” Craig called out.

There was no response.

“Tricia..?”

There was still no response. 

Craig slowly walked down the stairs and peered around the wall that was able to overlook the living room. He could see Tricia standing in the middle of the room, just..looking at the wall. She didn’t seem like herself. Normally she���d be on her iPad, but she’s just standing there. 

Craig walked down the rest of the stairs and rushed towards Tricia. He grabbed her by the shoulder and turned her around.

Craig never expected what he was about to see. 

Tricia’s eyes were so light, Craig didn’t even think she had pupils. They were just gone. Tricia’s skin was so pale, it looked almost green. She also didn’t yell at Craig when he got her attention.

“Tricia..?” Craig’s voice was almost shaky sounding. 

“Tricia what happened-”

Before Craig could finish his sentence, Tricia gripped onto his wrist and made some weird growling noise. Craig’s eyes widened and he immediately swung his arm to the side.

Tricia was sent flying into the couch, which obviously aggravated her. Or whatever the hell she was had been turned into. 

Craig throwing Tricia into the couch had brought some attention to some..other people. 

Out of the corner of Craig's eye, he could see a figure that looked just like his mom. Craig quickly turned around to see his mom, except she looked just like Tricia. She just had a few different rotting features. 

Laura had a few chunks of skin falling right off of her body, some of her dress was ripped up. Her hair had a bunch of matting? At least that’s what Craig thought it was. She definitely had some kind of knotting or matting going on in her hair. It was so disturbing, and Craig never wanted to see anybody like this again. 

Craig’s eyes had widened. He didn’t want to put his hands anywhere near the rotting corpse in front of him, but he didn’t want it near him at all. 

Craig looked around himself and found a pillow on the couch, quickly grabbing it. 

He hit Laura with the pillow and ran into the kitchen from around the couch. Though, the pillow didn’t do shit. 

Running into the kitchen might’ve not been the best idea as well, as the only place to run if he were to be cornered was into the garage, and Craig didn’t want to put Tweek at risk of getting hurt by one of these things. 

Looking at it right now, Craig was pretty fucked. 

Chapter 6 - Discovery - End

[libsterslobsters]

What Is And What Should Never Be Pt. 2

Summary: After the reader reveals the reason for her odd behavior, a lot of changes take place. How will she and Bucky adjust to the newest development in their always complicated life together?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem!enhanced! Reader

(Reader can see shards of the future at random, understand every language, and process information abnormally quickly as well as being a super soldier)

Warnings: light angst, fluff, light smut, mentions of vomiting, pregnancy

*************************************************

“I’m happy about this.” The words are murmured against her shoulder. It’s a little ridiculous; they’re two full-grown adults who’ve been together for years, not teenagers in the first blush of romance. And yet, he’s still kneeling next to her and she’s working her fingers through his hair like this is a proposal.

“Me too.” She finally finds her voice, but it’s shaky, teary. “I’m also scared, Buck.” She can see shards of the future, for pete’s sake! That should give her a head’s up about life’s events, and yet somehow, she never imagined them here. She’s been running since the first time she realized those “daydreams” of hers come true. And when she met him, well, kids seemed like the last thing their lives would have room for. At this point, maybe she should just expect the unexpected.

“Me too.” At least she’s not the only who’s unsure of how to proceed.

Eventually she has to end the moment and return to the real world. The real world where kitchens don’t clean themselves. Placing one last peck on his forehead, she nudges him out of the way with her knee. It’s comical, the mild pout that settles on his lips as his eyebrows shoot up.

“Huh?”

“The dishes. We should probably clear them away, or else they’ll be a bitch to wash tomorrow morning.”

“Language, Doll.” Did he really just..? His right hand which, somehow, is still resting on her waistline gives her middle a gentle pat. “Can’t have the baby coming out swearing like a sailor.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Bucky, the baby doesn’t even have ears yet.” At least, she doesn’t think so. She really needs to do some research.

“No?” The smirk on his face clues her in that a (probably terrible) joke is about to be made. “Then why don’t you go on up to bed? You need your rest so you can get a head start on making them. I’ll handle the dishes and join you in a little while.” She’s right; it’s terrible. But she’s not going to protest if he wants to clean up.

“Alright.” While he’s doing that, she’s going to google which week of pregnancy babies develop ears. And maybe change into something more comfortable.

In the confines of their bedroom, she considers the delicate nightgowns and lacy underthings she has tucked away from special occasions (or really any time one of them needs cheering up), but ultimately doesn’t like the look of any of them. Not tonight. Not after the distance that’s been between them for the past week, where she was so at war with herself that every time he touched her, it sent a stab of panic and guilt through her heart. No, this is a return to normal, reassuring themselves that they’re still okay, it’s just another bend in the road. After all, she thinks to herself as she climbs into bed and arranges the sheets to rest over her body beguilingly (a small part of her doesn’t want to just lie there naked in case he’s somehow disgusted by her now, although she knows it’s a foolish thought), she won’t look like this for much longer, so she may as well make the most of it.

Any concern is erased when he walks through the bedroom door and immediately freezes, carefully eyeing his way down her partially hidden body from head to toe like so many times before.

“I really did mean just rest, you know.” All the while, he’s tugging his shirt over his head.

“I know.” She nods, a slight smile on her face. “But it’s only a little after seven. There’s still plenty of time to rest later.”

He settles on the mattress next to her, leaning so close that she can feel his shallow breaths on her cheek.

“Are you sure?” It’s sweet, and she does appreciate the consideration, but it’s been long enough, and she’s almost certain he needs this as much as she does.

“Of course I’m sure.”

It’s gentler than usual, more whispered, “I love you’s”, soft gasps and deeper moans. Almost as if they’re rediscovering each other, both trying their damnedest to push every last hot spot that they’ve discovered over the years. This isn’t just sex (not that there’s anything “just” about anytime they’re together), but a way of reminding each other, “You’re safe. I know you, and you know me. You’re cherished. I’m not going anywhere.”

Afterwards, in the quiet of the afterglow, their bodies still pressed together with his chest to her back, he asks,

“When did you start to think-”

She doesn’t wait for him to finish. It’s obvious what he’s referring to.

“The food poisoning.” Which in hindsight, she feels pretty stupid for even considering. “I really did believe I’d eaten something bad-” It’s subtle, so subtle you might miss it, but she catches the quiet sigh of relief he lets out knowing that their promises hold true, they’re still completely honest with each other. “-until I remembered that I haven’t so much as had the sniffles since Nat put the needle in my arm.” It’s been years, but she still sometimes forgets that she doesn’t have to worry about things like the flu or her shopping bag being too heavy anymore.

“And, when it wasn’t better the next day…” She trails off, absentmindedly playing with his hand where he’s still got his arm thrown over her waist.

“I thought that was kinda weird too.” He chuckles quietly. “Now I really wish I’d made you stay home that day so we could’ve figured it out together.”

She doubts that either of them would have immediately jumped to the conclusion that she’s pregnant (they take precautions, even if those precautions aren’t fool-proof), but decides to go with the lighter option and concentrate on-

“Make me?” She cranes her neck to see his face. “And how were you planning to do that? Tie me to the bedposts?” His lips quirk up into a smirk.

“Now there’s an idea.”

“Watch it, Barnes.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

Bucky’s a light sleeper, so he wonders how he missed it before. But now that he knows it’s coming, he’s immediately awake when she slips out of bed and bolts toward the bathroom. It appears that super serum is powerless against morning sickness.

It’s a few minutes before she’s in any position to speak, much less sit up from her crouch over the toilet bowl, and in that time, he’s swept her hair up out of the way and started rubbing gently between her shoulder blades. When the sickness finally does ease up that she can lean back against him, he asks,

“Is this why you’ve been getting up before me?” He may not have heard her, but when his alarm went off, there was no way he could miss her side of the bed being empty and cold.

She groans quietly. “What do you think?”

He thinks she looks exhausted and so very small, curled in on herself on the cold bathroom tiles. With all the things he’s done in his life, guilt’s a familiar face, but it’s never been as heavy as it is now, seeing her suffer. It’s just part of the process, he knows that. It may not have been the topic of polite conversation back in his youth, but it still cropped up when mothers and grandmothers came together and talked. She’ll feel better eventually, but for now…

“I think I’m gonna read the room and shut up.”

She laughs tiredly. “Good answer.”

Several more minutes tick by before she tells him that she thinks it’s over for now. He really wishes she’d let him carry her back to bed, but when he suggests it, she rolls her eyes and teasingly calls him a mother hen. Still, once she’s safely tucked back under the covers, he goes downstairs in search of crackers and a glass of water. His phone is still on the nightstand charging, so he can’t do a quick search of what else is good for nausea, but decides to throw in some dry toast as well.

By the time he’s back upstairs with his tray of home remedies, she’s asleep again. A huge part of him wants to just let her rest, but he knows he should probably get her to choke something down.

“Come on, Doll. Wake up for me.” She’s not as light of a sleeper as him, but the words in combination with him brushing back her hair make those delicate eyelids flutter.

“Wha-”

“Let’s get some food in you, and then I’ll let you go back to sleep. Promise.”

She doesn’t look too happy about it. In fact, her breathing is growing heavy again. She’s going back under.

“Sweetheart, please. You need to at least have some water. If you’re dehydrated, it’s not good for you or the baby.” That seems to be the magic word. With a groan, she sits up, still rubbing lightly at her eyes.

“I forgot…” She mumbles as she accepts the glass of water and slowly begins to drink. She forgot…? Oh. Well, she’s only known for a little while, and frankly, he’s still trying to wrap his head around it.

His wife is pregnant. That’s not a phrase he ever thought would apply to him (correction, he mentally amends; he used to hope for that one day, but after mad scientists experiment on you, well, an apple pie life seems unlikely). In a few months, there’s going to be another person living with them. One made out of them both, who’ll rely on them for safety, security, and love. She’s up to it, he’s absolutely sure. But him? He’s got a lot of baggage. He’s killed people. He’s missing a fucking arm, for goodness’ sake! How could he ever-

“You’ll be a good dad. You know that, right?”

She’s slurring a little, still half-asleep, and he’s a tiny bit concerned she’s going to go under and choke on that cracker she’s nibbling at. Still, she’s looking him square in the eyes, a small smile on her face. Maybe she saw a glance of the future which showed her what he’s thinking. Maybe she just knows him that well. Either way, he’s not sure of it, but-

“I know you’ll show me how.” She’s almost back under, so he brushes a few stray crumbs from her lips with is thumb and tucks the covers back around her shoulders. “And so will she.”

“She?” Her eyes are closed even as she asks. “You think it’s a girl?”

He’s not sure why he thinks that, or more, why he feels it, but he does.

“Yeah, Doll.” With a quick kiss to her forehead, he collects the now empty glass and starts towards the door. “I think it’s a girl.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

“Doll, aren’t you supposed to see a doctor at some point?” So close. She was so close to falling asleep (which seems to be all she wants to do lately) after marking the last paper in preparation for Monday morning. Still, it’s a valid question, and one she’s thought about herself.

“At some point, but you’re not supposed to go in until the eight week mark.” At least, if google is indeed correct. He nods and goes back to half-heartedly staring at the tv show in front of them.

“When is that, by the way?” She opens her mouth to tell him it’s not for a while, but then she realizes that… oh boy.

“Um…” When was the last time she had her period? It’s not like she keeps up with it. They weren’t trying to have a baby, and they were reasonably safe (in hindsight, maybe not as safe as they thought), so it didn’t seem necessary. He’s staring at her intently, expression growing more and more concerned with every second she doesn’t answer, so finally, she has to admit-

“I don’t really know. Do you have any idea?” She’s expecting the answer even before he says it.

“Not really.” 0 for 2. That sounds about right.

“Shit.”

“Shit.”

For a brief, hysterical moment, she thinks about scolding him for his language since he did it to her earlier, but that thought gives way to the more pressing matter: how pregnant is she? Not that there’s varying degrees. Knocked up is knocked up, and it’s pretty damn clear she is.

He’s the first to recover. “Okay. Let’s count.” Counting. Something she can do.

“Not in the last twenty-eight days, or else the test wouldn’t have worked…”

They spend a solid ten minutes trying to figure it out, but neither of them can narrow it down any further.

“We’re idiots!” She’s nearly shouting out of frustration with herself and whoever up there has it out for them. Seriously, just this once, couldn’t things be easy? “We’re actual idiots!”

“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” The pressure of his hand around hers calms her just a tiny bit.

“Okay.” She nods. “Not idiots, but we do have crappy memories.”

He offers her a crooked smile. “Hey, I’m over a hundred years old. My memory’s supposed to be shot. What’s your excuse, Pretty Young Thing?”

“Baby Brain.” Is that even a thing this early on? Then again, is she early on? She has to be, right? Otherwise the morning sickness would be over. And she’s not showing.

He chuckles. “You’re gonna be using that one a lot, aren’t you?”

The layers of stress are beginning to melt away. She nods.

“You have to admit, as far as excuses go, it’s a pretty solid one.”

Ultimately, she decides it’s best to make the call Monday morning, but schedule it for at least another week out just to be sure. They don’t want to go in and be lectured for jumping the gun, after all.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“Can you just confirm your name and date of birth for me?” That has to be the sixth time she’s been asked that since they walked into the OB-GYN’s office. He really would have thought they’d have it down by now. Still, she recites off the information from her place on the exam table.

“Great.” The technician smiles brightly. “Now, if you can lift up your shirt and roll down your pants, we’ll start the ultrasound. This is just to give us a better estimate on your due date and make sure everything’s looking good with baby, alright?” She must say something in response, but Bucky can’t hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears. This is it. They’re about to actually see their baby for the first time and hear the heartbeat. He’s not much for prayer, but he silently pleads with whoever might be listening that she’s fine, she’s healthy.

The screen is gray and grainy for the most part. So far, it doesn’t look like much. “Fluid looks good. Placenta’s where it should be, and-”

Does the tech have to push down that hard? Can’t he be a little more gentle? Surely it’s not necessary to use that much force when you’re trying to get a read on-

“-there’s your baby.” His mind immediately empties, instead focusing on the blurry image on the screen.

It’s a blob, and if he’s being honest, kind of looks like a tadpole that’s just grown arms and legs. The head is huge, and at the center is a flickering light.

“That’s the heartbeat. Would you like to hear it?” Again, she must say something, because an impossibly fast rhythm fills the room. There’s actually a little person in there. How can something so delicate with a heartbeat like the beat of hummingbird wings, already have such a huge place in his heart? How is it possible that he suddenly can't imagine life without that brightly flashing blob currently growing in his wife's womb?

He’s in a bit of a daze throughout the following appointment and exam. The doctor informs them that they're at 9 weeks and 5 days and gives them a predicted due date. After a far too invasive physical exam (at least to his mind, but she doesn't seem to think a thing about it(, they're given an appointment a month out, a prescription for prenatal vitamins, and sent on their way.

Once they’re in the car, a stack of brochures clutched in his hand and an envelope full of pictures in hers, he finally musters up the courage to speak.

"Looks like we really did it this time, Doll. She’s actually in there."

"Hey, at least it's not twins." She smiles as she speaks, but it’s a little uncertain. “Are you sure you're okay with this, Bucky?”

He thinks about telling her how completely in awe he is that he had anything to do with making something so tiny and perfect, how he's overwhelmingly in love with someone he's never met, not to mention how he's that much more in love with her, and he didn't think that was possible, but for now, he goes with-

“Yeah. I’m okay with it.”

Closing the gap between them, he presses their lips together in a kiss. This is just another bend in a long, winding road, but he has a feeling it’s the best one yet.

[kuzuhinasecretexchange]

Work Title: cryptic shells, orange juice, and candid talks

Author: @fieldofsunflowers8

For: @serpenteaus

Pairings/Characters: Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko/Hinata Hajime, No Additional Characters

Rating/Warnings: Teen Rated, No Content Warnings Apply

Prompt used: “postgame mundane shenanigans”

Author’s notes: hi! i apologize for this leaning towards the shorter side, but this was a lot of fun to write! i really hope you like it :D

Hinata swings around his cabin at the same time he always does, knocking and waiting patiently as Kuzuryuu heaves his ass out of bed.

  It’s a really minor routine, in truth. There’s nothing super interesting about that repetitiveness– coming around at 8 AM, walking with him to the dining hall, bantering with him over some toast while they talk to their other friends, and spending the rest of their day working on the island or just relaxing. It’s the same shit every day, the same shit they do unless it’s like, someone’s birthday or something, and it should probably bore Kuzuryuu at some point.

  It kind of doesn’t, though. In a sense that Kuzuryuu isn’t going to complain about seeing his boyfriend in the morning, or getting to vibe around the island with him, even if it’s similar to what they’ve always done. All of them find ways to keep things interesting– accidentally, like Komaeda, or on purpose, like Imposter– and the island always feels dynamic.

  They’ve been through a lot. Having a kind of stability, yet one that shifts according to what they want Jabberwock to be, is sort of relieving. Kuzuryuu rarely got that relief in the past, and he sure as hell isn’t going to pass it up now.

  Kuzuryuu makes his way over to the door, unlocking it. Hinata looks a bit more disheveled than usual, dark brown hair messy and growing a bit long, shirt half buttoned and his hands in his pockets, but he still gives Kuzuryuu a smile. “Hey,” Hinata says tiredly, “woke up late. How are you?”

  Well, that explains it. Hinata likes routine, too, on most days (and sometimes he hates the tedium of it, but hey, Kuzuryuu can accommodate that too). “I’m fine. Just got up ‘nd shit. Let me brush my teeth and, like, get dressed. Is it hot outside?”

  “Well, we’re on a tropical island,” Hinata deadpans, “so I would assume so. Bit cooler, since it’s November, but that’s how it always goes.” 

  Kuzuryuu nods, throwing open a dresser and changing into some shirt Hinata gave him a while back. Everyone on Jabberwock has a bad tendency to not remember who owns what clothes, so sometimes Komaeda shows up to lunch in Mioda’s skirt, or Koizumi ends up with Owari’s jacket, or Sonia nestles into Tanaka’s scarf. Nobody really minds, though– they’re all sort of a family, after all. 

  And, y’know. Kuzuryuu likes wearing Hinata’s clothes. Not that he would, like, outright admit that to him, but. Hinata has a nice scent of sandalwood and citrus, and Kuzuryuu thinks, as his boyfriend, he has the right to indulge in it. 

  ‘Course, Hinata still has to point it out smugly. “That’s my shirt, isn’t it?”

  Kuzuryuu gestures to the pattern on it– sunflowers, or something. Bit flashy, but Kuzuryuu can cut him some slack for it. It looks really nice on Hinata, either way, so. “Who else would have this shit?”

  “Maybe Komaeda,” Hinata suggests while Kuzuryuu opens the bathroom door, pulling out the green toothbrush (there’s a spare blue one, for Hinata, in case he stays over) and putting on some mint toothpaste. “He’s picked up gardening, hasn’t he?”

  “Him and Owari, yeah.” There’s a lull in the conversation, as he can’t exactly talk with toothpaste in his mouth, but he picks it up where he left off after he finishes. “Not sure how Owari got into it, actually, ‘cuz gardening never seemed to be her gig.”

  Hinata leans against the wall. “The food, probably. Even though Komaeda’s luck keeps fucking up the strawberries, according to Hanamura. I wouldn’t really know, I don’t swing by there much, y’know, but. Probably for that.” Kuzuryuu nods, sliding on some pants and picking up his phone. Hinata straightens, already moving to nudge the door open. “Ready to head out?”

  “Don’t know what else I’d be doing.” Hinata just snorts in lieu of a response, gesturing for Kuzuryuu to walk out first before closing the door behind them.

  Hinata’s right, it is a bit cooler. It’s a subtle kind of difference, one that comes from knowing the island like the back of his hand, being able to tell when a storm’s about to hit and give them a shit ton of rain, or when it’s about to be super fucking arid, enough to give at least one dumbass heatstroke (fucking Souda and his stupid ass machine work, in the middle of the sun, with metal, and no water, for hours, in the fucking sun). It comes with time, basically.

  And it’s sort of a neat thing. It should be boring, once again, but, eh. He likes it. 

  He thinks about that, sometimes.

  Then Hinata makes an awkward gesture in an attempt to subtly ask to hold Kuzuryuu’s hand, and he stops focusing on the weather and all that bullshit, and more on his stupidly endearing boyfriend. 

  Kuzuryuu intertwines their fingers and mumbles, “You can just ask to hold my hand, dipshit.”

  “You looked like you were thinking about something,” Hinata defends mildly. “So I didn’t want to, uh, just. Jar you straight out of that?” 

  It’s pretty considerate of him, Kuzuryuu considers, even though it’s kind of just inefficient, like the weird waffling they did when they first got together. Which is always really funny to think about in retrospect, because, like, the two of them have always been close. Back in the simulation, they got along decently well, and in the miserable months after waking up, the two of them would stay the night with each other all the time, doing scattered things across the island to distract themself, hugging each other when the days got shitty. 

  It only really made sense, then, that they had some kind of charisma between them back then. It only took everyone waking up and shit calming down, managing to get some kind of therapy across the shitty telephone lines that the Future Foundation got them, for them to even think about that shit. But, hey, they got there in the fucking end, with the help of the others, like, trying to get them past the yearning into an actual confession.

  (Kuzuryuu still remembers the humiliation of Souda and Komaeda– fucking Souda and Komaeda– being the ones that helped him talk to Hinata about it. Souda, who is the definition of running himself in circles, romantically speaking, and Komaeda, who wouldn’t know how to confess to someone normally if a walk-through manual slapped him in the fucking face.

  … Not that Hinata’s help was much better. Sonia and Tanaka were pushing for him to confess to Kuzuryuu with a fucking shell. Like, just a cool looking shell, that they thought would appeal to Kuzuryuu’s fiery energies, or something.

  Hinata still ended up giving Kuzuryuu the shell, for the record. But Kuzuryuu was a lot more invested in kissing his new boyfriend, at the time. It’s still… somewhere in his room. Just, as a little memory. Or something like that.)

  Hinata squeezes his hand again, and Kuzuryuu jolts back to reality. He laughs at himself a bit. “Sorry, I was just, like, thinking about the shitshow that was us trying to get together, all that time back.”

  He tilts his head, olive green eyes softening. “How come?”

  “Because you trying to hold my hand was awkward as hell.”

  The soft eyes are immediately hidden with an eye roll. “Fuck off.” 

  Kuzuryuu snorts, nudging him with his shoulder before they continue walking to the dining hall. “Seriously, though. That was such a fuckin’ week, wasn’t it? Hell, I still think about Komaeda looking me straight in the eyes and calling me an idiot.”

  “I’m still not entirely sure that one happened,” Hinata jokes. “Like. I know Komaeda is kind of… a lot, but the fact that he just called your ass out, then and there, is so much. Then again, Sonia called me a dense motherfucker, so.”

  “You are a dense motherfucker.”

  “I am not a dense motherfucker.” Kuzuryuu shoots him a look, and Hinata sighs. “Okay. Sometimes, I am a dense motherfucker. But I did know you liked me! I just can’t, uh, interpret half my emotions at any hour of the day.”

  The Kamukura effect, Kuzuryuu calls it in his head, but he doesn’t, like, verbally say that. Not that it would be an issue– Kuzuryuu is kind of adjusted to Kamukura suddenly fronting, and the two of them get along decently well, but. Y’know. It’s just kind of a weird thing to say, he thinks. “Yeah, I mean, that’s fair. We were still pretty fresh out of everything, I can imagine you had more going on.”

  “Yeah.” 

  Kuzuryuu shoots Hinata a look, taking in the slightly pensive expression, before impulsively standing on his toes to kiss his cheek. His face erupts in a blush, because Hinata isn’t the most accustomed to physical touch, still, and Kuzuryuu takes the chance to say, “You aren’t stupid, though. You’re, like, really fuckin’ smart. And I get it. We all do.” 

  Hinata glances away in some failed attempt to hide his expression. “Thanks,” he mumbles, but he squeezes Kuzuryuu’s hand, so. He knows that the other gets what he’s getting at. He’s just flustered, sort of adorably, but Kuzuryuu would never admit that. He is not a sap.

  (Well. Hinata’s eyes sometimes remind him of the times long ago, back at home, where it was sunny and he felt sort of okay, actually. And he has nice hair, y’know, falling into his eyes but nice to touch. And he’s nice, like, a real sweet guy with a closed off heart that you can still sort of trust. And he reminds Kuzuryuu of the sunshine, just, entirely. 

  … So maybe a little bit, but, hey. One of them has to maintain the romantic coherency around here, and if they have to pass the baton of sentiment, so be it.)

  “You’re contemplative today,” Hinata remarks.

  “You spend half your time brooding and getting lost in thought, and you’re getting on my ass?”

  Hinata laughs, which makes Kuzuryuu’s scowl soften. “Fair enough. Sorry.”

  “You’re fine.” Kuzuryuu sighs. “Just. Thinking about us, again.”

  “That’s, uh, pretty sweet of you. Or just really, really sappy, I guess.”

  “Shut the literal fuck up.”

  “It wasn’t an insult.”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” They’re at the dining hall, now. As Hinata opens the door for them, the sound of the others becomes pretty apparent. Hanamura in the kitchen as usual, Tanaka and Souda’s voices distinct amidst the sound of everyone eating. There’s probably a few people missing– Komaeda and Owari come to mind, since Owari eats food unreasonably early sometimes, and Komaeda tends to show up when fewer people are there– but, since Hinata and Kuzuryuu got up sort of late, the rest are probably there.

  It’s… nice. Another one of those expected things, mundane as all hell and probably boring to literally anybody else, but Kuzuryuu likes it. Likes the way things flow, likes the routine, likes it all. Even when it’s, yeah, sometimes decently repetitive. 

  Hinata gets the door for them again– chivalrous dumbass– and Sonia immediately issues them a, “Good morning, Hinata-san, Kuzuryuu-san.”

  “What’s up.” Kuzuryuu lets go of Hinata’s hand to go and grab some food, his boyfriend engaging in an actual conversation with Sonia and Nidai. Kuzuryuu would like to later, no shit, but he’s hungry and Hanamura’s food calls to him. He gets himself some orange juice (that Hinata will probably steal from him, prompting an aghast orange juice and coffee, at once, are you fuckin’ serious? but, eh. Better than grabbing, like, milk or something). He also grabs some food, toast with some kind of spread Hanamura would give them the details of, before taking a seat.

  Souda slides across him, leaving whatever conversation he had been having with Tanaka to the wind. “Hey there, soul bro! How we vibing?”

  “Fine.” Kuzuryuu says with a shrug, instinctually scooting over as Hinata sits next to him.

  Souda gets out another, “Soul bro number two! How are you?”

  “Doing fine, Souda,” Hinata steals Kuzuryuu’s juice from the get go, so he kicks him under the table. Hinata stifles a laugh. “Tanaka’s giving you a death stare, though.”

  “Ugh, dammit. Prick’s been getting on me over crystals, or some shit.” Souda gets out of the chair, already walking back over to probably start another argument with no other pretense. It’s early enough in the morning that Kuzuryuu doesn’t second guess the weird interaction, though Souda has a tendency to start and end conversations in the worst, most abrupt way.

  He’s off, watching Souda and Tanaka go at each other while Koizumi sits tiredly near them, looking as if she’s debating whether to interfere or leave before Tanaka throws out an archaic insult, when Hinata moves to grab his hand and squeeze it. Kuzuryuu turns to look back at him, eyebrow raised. “What’s up?”

  “Uh, nothing, really,” Hinata replies, and Kuzuryuu almost looks away again before he blurts out, “I love you.”

  Kuzuryuu flushes, trying to roll his eyes to counteract it, but the awkwardly fond expression on Hinata’s face gives the impression that his plan didn’t work. Still, he keeps his voice casual (if not a bit softer, dammit Hinata, fucking contagious sentimental hours) as he replies, “Love you too, dipshit. Give me back my fuckin’ juice.”

  “Of course.” Hinata takes one more swig before giving it back, and it’s almost a quarter empty, so maybe Kuzuryuu should have let the bastard keep it, but, eh. He’s too busy focusing on the I love you thing, which they’ve said fairly often throughout their relationship, but, still. He used to think– and Hinata must have, too– that it needed to be saved for big occasions, like birthdays or anniversaries or the days that come particularly rough. But, Kuzuryuu thinks that they’re worth hearing any day, even the particular slow ones, like these.

  Later, they’ll probably go off to work around the island, separate for a bit to apply their talents wherever needed. Kuzuryuu will talk to his friends, hang out with Pekoyama a bit as she trains, and probably spend too much time contemplating to be productive.

  But, it’s still a nice day. Slow, and a bit chilly comparatively, but a nice day.

  And, hey. He can roll with that, he thinks. That they’ve earned their share of peaceful days after everything.

  He shoots a glance over at Hinata while he’s eating. His face is neutral as he fiddles with his sleeve and thinks about something, either entirely random (like the light fixtures, or something), or a topic a bit more serious that he might bring up to Kuzuryuu later. He’s come a long way, in being open with that, but also with just… everything. Both of them have. Hell, the reason they could get together was that growth, getting through it all, that bullshit. All of that shit, to get here.

  And, to be honest? Despite all the shit they went through, the shit that Kuzuryuu wished they didn’t have to go through, wouldn’t have gone through again no matter what…

  … he’s pretty fucking happy that the two of them are here.

  Together.

[milkybunbuns]

smile → kita.s

I’ll make you smile - 3

w/c: 1.2 K

warnings: swearing, raging at atsumu and tricking him owo

SMILE MASTERLIST

-

you sat in the back corner of the classroom, staring out the window, with the sun illuminating your face, patiently waiting for your desk partner to turn up. it had turned out that this year osamu was put in a different class, so you got atsumu as a worse replacement. from what you knew, the only thing that identified them as twins was their looks and their love for volleyball, otherwise, you wouldn't really be able to tell that atsumu was osamu's twin. osamu was the sweetest foodie who was mostly kind to you, but sometimes he did do a bit of teasing. atsumu, on the other hand, was crazy, loud, attention-seeking, rude and mean. how were they even related?

"morning y/n-chan", osamu entered the room and plopped down beside you.

"huh? osamu what are you doing here? aren't you in class 2-3?"

"about that, they made me change classes since they accidentally mixed up mine and 'tsumu's marks."

"oh that's great! now i don't have to sit next to that annoying piece of shit, the gods have taken pity on me."

"don't you feel a bit bad for 'tsumu though? he's so handsome, smart and beautiful and is obviously the best twin."

"uhm, are you okay osamu?"

"yeah, i'm perfectly fine, what makes you think that?"

"you're acting really odd, complimenting atsumu? you sure you're not sick?"

"of course i'm not, but i want to say that I've loved you for a really long time, ever since we met last year."

"uh-"

"'TSUMU, GIMME BACK MY ONIGIRI!!"

"huh? What's happening, why are there two osamu's?", the three of you stared at each other, before the gaze was eventually fixed on the 'osamu' sitting beside you. 'osamu' started to sweat intensely, murmuring things other his breath. you could barely make out a 'please, i'm too young to die.'

3..

2..

1..

"ATSUMU/'TSUMU!!! YER IDIOT!!!", both you and osamu yelled in unison, tackling atsumu onto the floor and repeatedly kicking him.

"AH AH AH, PLEASE, I'M SORRY! PLEASE FORGIVE ME!!", his pleas were ignored as his carbon copy and yourself continued the assault, making sure to get him all over.

"NO, NO, NO, STOP IT. I'M SORRY. PLEASE."

"PLEASEEEE!!!!"

"I'LL BUY YOU FOOD!"

"WHAT? IS THAT NOT ENOUGH TO SATISFY YOU TWO!?"

"NO!!"

"OKAY OKAY FINE! I'LL TREAT YOU BOTH TO AN ALL YOU CAN EAT BUFFET AFTER SCHOOL!", with those words, the assault stopped, as atsumu panted, taking a few moments to catch his breath. rip his wallet.

"yer better not pull a stunt like this again", you frowned at his pathetic state, arms crossed over your chest.

"yeah, or we won't be afraid to do this again", osamu stated, ripping atsumu's grey wig off his head and rummaging through his bag for the stolen onigiri.

"ughh, i can't believe i got fooled by this bastard."

"at least we get free food, isn't that right 'tsumu?"

"yes yes! of course, whatever you want!"

"great..."

----

volleyball practice had ended and it was time for the promised buffet. osamu, being a great genius, had decided to go ahead and invite almost everyone from the volleyball team to the buffet, saying that it was a 'toast to yui before she left hyogo'. of course, 'tsumu would be paying for everyone and there would be no way that he could say 'no' since it would be absolutely disrespectful to turn down guests. even though atsumu was a huge jerk, there was a limit to that jerkiness.

that's how it all led to what was currently happening. atsumu had no clue that he had invited every second and third year from the volleyball team.

"samu'! why did you invite all of them? i'm going to go broke!", atsumu whispered hurriedly in his twin's ear."

"of course, that's the point of this."

"what! how can one be so mean!?"

"shush, keep it down. you don't want the guests to hear."

"i thought this was just going to be me, y/n-chan and you."

"well, since you're so reluctant on them coming, why don't you kick everyone else all out?"

"i can't! that's just rude and they've already arrived."

"well deal with it then."

"come on 'samuuu, please pay for yourself at least?"

"hm? I'll think about it depending on your behaviour."

"what the heck? are you my mom or something, i'm not a baby."

"well, you sure do act like one."

"hey! rude."

despite that little shenanigans, the dinner went relatively smoothly, with atsumu on his 'best behaviour', which was also terrible.

----

"y/n-san, you need to eat more", kita looked over at you, who was currently on their phone on social media with a basically empty plate in front of her. on the plate there were a few pieces of chicken and one slice of lettuce.

"don't worry about me kita-senpai, I'll eat later."

"it's my job as team captain to make sure everyone is healthy, including our new manager."

"ah thank you, but honestly you don't need to worry about me, just enjoy your time. 'samu and 'tsumu will get food for me."

"i can't, i need to make sure you get a good meal", kita used a spare pair of chopsticks and put some of the food from his plate to yours. he gave you a few pieces of assorted sushi, a bit of rice and a few vegetables, "it's important to have a balanced diet. that", he pointed at what you had chosen, "is not balanced at all."

"thanks, kita-senpai for the food", you smiled at him, "you seem to know a lot about being healthy."

"my grandma teaches me about it."

"i have a question for you."

"proceed?"

"do you ever smile?"

"i have, but that was a long time ago."

"well, then it's my job to make you smile. being happy is an important part of being healthy!"

"y/n-san, what makes you think i'm unhappy with my life?"

"i've never seen you smile, you always have that stoic look on your face. it looks...distant..."

"i love all my teammates, i would never trade them for the world."

"if you're happy kita-senpai, you need to express it more. smiles make this ugly world brighter y'know?"

"alright, if that's what you would like to do, then I won't stop you y/n-san."

"thank you kita-senpai, I'll take it upon myself to make you smile before you graduate."

"i look forward towards it."

"let's enjoy this dinner for now shall we?"

"certainly."

"toast to yui!", you smiled, raising a cup of softdrink/tea/coffee/juice/water (whatever drink you want, just no alcohol cause the reader would be underage in this story hehe)

"toast to yui!", the others repeated, raising their cups to smash, sorry, tap against others.

a few sniffles were heard, "I'M GONNA MISS YER GUYS, EVEN THE MIYA TWINS STUPID ANTICS", yui burst out in tears, hugging everyone tightly. suddenly, you felt guilty, finally realising that yui was going to be leaving soon and that you would never see her again. the happiness you had put up around her broke, tears freely flowing down your cheeks as you gripped her even tighter. yui still wouldn't be leaving for a good, 3 days? so fast, huh? a week really passes quickly, doesn't it. you could feel the guilt eating at you, for all those times you had rejected yui's offers to take you around. maybe, if you accepted  them, you would be able to spend more time with her. but now, in three days she would be leaving. you were determined to make those 3 days, the best days of her life.

previous - next

[clumsyclifford]

good morning 💕 (morning for me anyway) so firstly waking up to a new spidey au part is amazing & then a cute jalex prompt is even better 🙈 also i'm very excited to listen to the happy recs 😊

anyway since i had a night of too many vivid dreams i'd like to request "33. Kiss in a dream" with lashton, please? -fiancee

good morning! except you sent this at almost 4am for me and now it’s 9pm so not really morning either way but i accept the sentiment. i’m very happy u liked the fics and i hope u like the recs <3 AND i hope you like THIS fic. i fell down a rabbit hole of 5sos family instagrams so we also get a jack scene because, you know, i love him. xoxo

-

“Had a weird dream last night,” Luke yawns, trekking into the kitchen. Jack’s sitting on the counter, looking at his phone with a mug of coffee in his left hand. 

“Yeah?” Jack says. He doesn’t look up. “What about?”

Luke frowns. He probably shouldn’t have mentioned it, but whatever. It’s just a dream. “Have you ever kissed someone in a dream?”

Now Jack does look up, grinning. “Oh shit, really? First dream kiss! Congrats, Lukey, that’s a big deal.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Luke says defensively. He doesn’t want it to be a big deal. He has weird dreams all the time, and those aren’t big deals. Just because in this one he’d kissed his friend, doesn’t make it a bigger deal than the one where he’d been invisible in a broken-down elevator with Green Day.

“Who’d you kiss?” Jack prods, then takes a sip of his coffee. “Someone I know?”

Luke blushes. “No,” he says, except he’s always been a terrible liar.

“It totally is,” Jack says. Luke turns away, reaching for the loaf of bread on the counter and pulling out two slices. “It is! Who was it?”

“I don’t want to tell you,” Luke says, putting the bread in the toaster. 

“If I guess it, will you tell me?”

Luke sighs. “Fine.”

“Calum.”

“No, oh my God!”

“Well, I don’t know,” Jack says, holding up his hands in surrender. “Uh, Calum’s sister?”

“No.”

“...Michael?”

“No.” Luke makes a face. “Michael? Really?”

“I’m just going down my mental list of your friends,” Jack says. He gives Luke an impassive look. “There aren’t that many of them, you know. I’m bound to get it eventually.”

“Maybe it wasn’t one of my friends,” Luke challenges.

Jack waves him off. “No, it definitely was, or you’d have told me. Okay, who haven’t I said. Calum, Michael…Ashton? Was it Ashton?”

Luke reddens. He turns back to the toaster. “No.”

“It was Ashton!” Jack crows. “Hey, no shame, mate! Ashton’s cute.”

“He is not.”

“You don’t think Ashton is cute?”

Luke splutters. “He’s — that’s not the point! Stop it,” he says, pointing a finger at Jack. “I didn’t ask to dream-kiss him, okay? I’m not in control of my dreams.”

“They’ve got to come from somewhere, though,” Jack says. He grins. Jack always grins like he’s going to make fun of Luke, whether or not he actually is. “It’s fine, bro, you can want to kiss Ashton if you —”

“I don’t want to kiss Ashton!” Luke insists.

“You wouldn’t have dreamed it if you didn’t,” Jack says.

“That’s so not true! I dream weird shit all the time that I don’t actually care about.”

“Yeah, but it’s a kiss, Luke. That’s not just some random weird shit. That’s a real thing you actually dreamed about doing with a person you know. Your friend.” Jack gives him a meaningful look. “Who you think is cute.”

“This is why I don’t tell you this kind of thing,” Luke says, scowling. “It was just a dream.”

Jack shrugs. “If you say so. I don’t care.” He takes another sip of his coffee. Luke makes a face. He can’t fathom that Jack actually enjoys coffee. It smells awful. “Are you going to tell him?”

“Tell Ashton?”

“Yeah,” Jack says. “If it was just a dream, you might as well. If someone snogged me in a dream I’d want to know.” Luke supposes he’d want to know, too. Jack has him cornered, too, because if he says no, of course I won’t tell Ashton, Jack will point a victorious finger — so it wasn’t just a dream after all! But he really doesn’t want to tell Ashton, because that’s a weird thing to tell. And even if he prefaces it with this doesn’t mean anything at all, I just thought you’d be interested to know, it’s still weird. Ashton will think it’s weird.

(Also, maybe Luke has a small crush on Ashton, maybe. And he really doesn’t want to jeopardize their friendship, which is still so new.)

“Sure,” he lies. “I’ll tell him.”

Jack shakes his head and drains the last of his coffee. “You will not.”

“Why would you ask if you’re just going to argue when I say I will?” Jack laughs. “Whatever, Luke, fine. Let me know what he says.”

“I will,” Luke says stubbornly, forgetting that this is a lie. He’s not going to tell Ashton, right? He can just make something up. Yeah, he said good for me, and everything’s aces! Yeah, right. Jack’s seen through every single one of Luke’s lies this morning. Luke should invest in lying lessons, or else he’s not going to get very far at all.

“Good,” Jack says, hopping down off the counter. “And it’s your day to take the trash out, don’t forget.”

“I know,” Luke says. Jack puts his mug in the sink.

“Have fun at band practice,” he says as a farewell, and then retreats from the kitchen, maybe to go do homework or, more likely, play Fifa. Luke scowls at his back. There’s a reason he doesn’t share embarrassing shit with his brothers (Jack, specifically) anymore.

He reaches for Jack’s mug and rinses it out so the coffee doesn’t dry at the bottom, then grabs a plate for his toast and retrieves the Vegemite. The dream is exiled to the back of his mind, and he doesn’t think about it the rest of the morning.

(Doesn’t think about how much he’d like to remember exactly how it had felt, because all things considered it’s not like he’s ever going to get closer to kissing Ashton, and already the details are slipping through his fingers, until all he can remember is the warmth in his chest from knowing that someone like Ashton could have ever wanted to kiss someone like Luke.)

-

“Okay, we need to take a break,” Michael declares, setting aside his guitar. Michael’s not the boss of them, but Luke is inclined to agree. He’s getting bored of playing “I Miss You” over and over, and anyway he needs water. “Five minutes.”

“Five,” Ashton repeats, firmly. “And then everyone back here.”

“Sick,” Luke says, also putting his guitar down. “I’m getting water, anybody want?”

All three of his bandmates raise their hands, and Luke sighs. “I can’t carry four cups of water.” “I’ll help,” Ashton says, leaping to his feet. Calum coughs, and Ashton shoots him a look. Luke just smiles gratefully, and together they head to the kitchen.

“I really like that song,” Ashton says as Luke reaches for four plastic cups from the cabinet. 

“Me too,” Luke says. “Fun chords. And the ending is cool.”

“Yeah,” Ashton says, although he probably wouldn’t know fun chords from boring ones. But Luke appreciates the effort. 

“It looks fun to do on the drums, or,” Luke makes hitting gestures with his hands, “the cajón. You know.”

Ashton mirrors his movements, laughing. “Yeah,” he says. “It is, yeah.”

“Alright, look.” Luke scowls, but Ashton just pats his shoulder, and the look disappears pretty quickly.

“It’s fine,” he says, taking one of the cups out of Luke’s hands and thrusting it under the tap. “Tap water is fine, right?”

“Unless you see someplace else to get water,” Luke says, making a show out of glancing around the room. Ashton rolls his eyes. The smile doesn’t disappear from his lips. Luke likes that about Ashton, that he’s always smiling.

“So how are you?” Ashton asks. “I mean, aside from rehearsal? How was your morning? How were you yesterday?”

“One question at a time,” Luke jokes. “Fine, all fine. I mean, I didn’t sleep much last night because of homework, and then Jack was making fun of me this morning, but you know.”

“Making fun of you for what?”

“My —” Luke breaks off. He can’t stop now, or it’ll seem very suspicious, but they’re getting dangerously close to uncharted waters. “Just a weird dream I had.”

“Ooh, I love weird dreams,” Ashton says conspiratorially, handing off one full cup to Luke and swapping it for an empty one. “What was it?”

“No, it wasn’t that weird,” Luke tries to say, but Ashton’s face starts to fall, and Luke doesn’t want to be responsible for that. “I mean, it was just — I kissed someone, in my dream. Which was really strange. I’ve never had a dream-kiss before.”

Ashton raises an eyebrow. “Get it,” he says, and Luke ducks his head, laughing through the nerves. His face is surely burning red by now. “Who’d you kiss?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Luke says emphatically. Attempting to change to subject, he adds, “Anyway, that was right after I found out I was adopted and Billie Joe Armstrong was my real dad all along.”

“Did you kiss Billie Joe Armstrong?”

“Ew, Ashton, I just said he was my dad in my dream!”

“Well I don’t know what kind of freaky shit your mind comes up with!”

“No,” Luke says vehemently. “It was a friend, oh my God.”

Ashton immediately looks more interested. “A friend?”

Fuck. “Well,” Luke says diplomatically, “more like just a person that I know in real life. Not necessarily a friend. Could be someone from school. Or, like.”

“So a friend,” Ashton says, a teasing smile on his lips. “I can see why Jack made fun of you for this. Why don’t you just tell me who it was? I won’t laugh, I promise.”

“You will laugh,” Luke says. “I don’t want to tell you.”

“Come on,” Ashton wheedles. “What’s the worst that could happen? Can I guess?”

“No,” Luke says, because that’s exactly how Jack had gotten him this morning, and he’s not going to make the same mistake twice. “Nothing bad will happen. It’s just weird, and I don’t want to say.”

Ashton rolls his eyes. They’ve filled all four cups of water now, and there’s no reason for them to linger by the sink, yet Ashton looks like he’s not planning to move. “You don’t have to tell me,” he says. “I just thought you could. Because we’re friends. You know. If you really don’t want to, then I’m not going to make you.”

Luke stares at him, guilt rolling around his stomach. That’s not fair. Ashton’s totally manipulating him, and Luke knows that, and it shouldn’t be working, and Luke wishes it weren’t working, but it is.

Fuck. It totally is.

“Fine,” Luke sighs. “I’ll tell you, but promise you won’t make it weird?”

“I won’t make it weird,” Ashton swears.

Luke worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He picks up a cup and takes a long drink from it. “Okay, well, it was you,” he finally says, looking down at the tiles of the kitchen floor so he doesn’t have to see the look on Ashton’s face.

A beat.

“Me?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” Another beat. “That’s nice. How was I?”

Luke looks up. “Don’t make fun of me,” he says.

“I’m not!” Ashton says quickly. He cracks a smile but it’s a little uncertain. “I just want to be sure your first dream-kiss was an enjoyable experience.” Luke groans. “This is weird,” he says. “You’re making it weird.”

“I’m not trying to.”

“Well, you are. I take it back. Pretend I never said anything.” Luke takes his cup of water and moves past Ashton, but Ashton grabs his arm.

“Luke, just calm down a second. Sorry if I sounded like I was making fun. I’m just, um, I guess I’m just wondering —” He clears his throat. “Like, maybe it would be nicer in real life than in a dream?”

Slowly, Luke turns, fingers tightening around his cup. “What? Like, kissing in real life?” 

Ashton is blushing. Luke’s never seen Ashton blush before, but he’s definitely doing it now, cheeks turning patchy pink as he rubs a hand across the back of his neck. “Well, I don’t know. Yeah. I mean, it’s not really fair that you got to have a dream about kissing me and I’ve still never kissed you, in dreams or otherwise.”

“What?” Luke says dimly. “You don’t want to kiss me.”

“Well,” Ashton says, “I can pretend I don’t, if you want. I just thought — I’ve never kissed anyone in a dream that I didn’t want to actually kiss in real life, so I figured —”

“Yes, I want to kiss you,” Luke says boldly, over the sound of his heart battering his chest. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Ashton says, frowning. “I wouldn’t joke about this, what kind of person do you think I am?”

“I know, I just, um, you’re you? And I’m me,” Luke says, gesturing between them like this is some big revelation. “So I’m taking a moment to process.”

“Oh,” Ashton says. “Well, take all the time you need.”

Luke stares at him. It occurs to him that Ashton is waiting to kiss him, and that thought fills his whole body with butterflies. “Okay, I’m done,” he says, even though he’s not really, and could spend hours trying to reconcile the idea of Ashton as a person with Ashton wanting to kiss Luke and probably still come up empty. 

“That was fast,” Ashton says. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Yeah,” Luke breathes, setting his cup of water down on the counter. Ashton smiles and shuffles closer. He presses both palms to the sides of Luke’s face, and Luke’s eyes flutter shut, soaking up the heat of Ashton’s hands against his skin. Already this is better than his dream, a hundred times better. 

Then Ashton presses their lips together, gently, and all thoughts of Luke’s dream dissipate, replaced by real Ashton, actually kissing him, in real life, in Michael’s kitchen. He’s pretty sure his hands are shaking from the excitement.

Ashton pulls away and smiles, and Luke smiles back, then ducks his head, feeling far too nervous to look Ashton in the eyes.

“So?” Ashton prompts, which makes Luke look up again. “Better than the dream?”

“Oh,” Luke says, smiling like an idiot, “so much better.”

Ashton looks pleased, and Luke hopes he dreams of kissing Ashton again tonight, just so he can wake up and remember that he’s actually done it for real. 

[the-dark-lord-chaos]

Thank you @1littleshippergirl1 for the ideas. I went with the second one, but I may try to do the Christmas one around the holidays (or even sooner if I feel like it honestly).

On Sunday, Harry woke up with the beginnings of a fever, a headache in full swing, and a ministry function fast approaching, a function in which he was supposed to escort Tom as his bodyguard. The headache and fever were rather irrelevant to Harry when he was to hold responsibility for Tom’s safety and well being for hours on end, so he got up as usual without any misgivings, to prepare for the day.

When Harry made it downstairs he was met with Tom making his usual coffee in the kitchen, along with a breakfast that looked like it would be rather filling, and Harry felt his stomach protest with a lurching violence at the thought of the meal.

“Good morning.” Tom said.

“Morning.” Harry resisted the urge to cough, voice feeling scratchy, and instead took a sip of water. “You’re actually eating breakfast today?”

“It’s of my opinion that you should eat a proper meal before a big event.”

“Don’t they serve food there?”

“Of course they do, but I’ve gotten food poisoning from Cauldron Hedge before and I don’t care to repeat the experience.”

Harry took a piece of toast and sat, averting his gaze from the rest of the food. “It’s a brunch event isn’t it?”

Tom nodded and frowned at Harry’s food choice. “You’re usually quite ravenous in the morning. I thought you’d enjoy the large selection, but I can make something else?”

Tom turned, already preparing to grab more things from the fridge, and Harry caught his sleeve with a smile before releasing it; he didn’t want Tom to get sick.

“It’s alright. Don’t worry about me. I’m just not as hungry today, honestly people will start thinking you’re the one guarding me.”

“I am guarding you.”

“Oh shut up, you blocked a curse once.”

“That still counts does it not. A single curse meeting its mark is all it takes. People would do well to remember that I am not helpless.”

Harry laughed before he could stop himself, and his head complained at the sound; Harry put a hand over his mouth to placate both Tom and the pain.

“No, of course you aren’t. If someone tries to attack you thinking you aren’t fully capable of defending yourself and more, they’ve already buggered themselves. Sorry just the idea of you being some distressed politician is too laughable.”

Tom didn’t look amused. “Quite.”

Harry sipped his water and ate his toast with waning amusement before he was fighting a grimace, consumed by the mounting pain in his head. Feeling ridiculously fuzzy minded, he took another drink of his water as if it would wash away the pollution in his thoughts, and he stood, needing a headache reliever before he did anything else.

“Harry? Are you okay? You look pale.”

Tom’s voice pushed across the air in a strange dissonance of succinct vowels and warbling consonants, the words warbling as if wading through a pool, and Harry stumbled into the edge of the table, a throb that should have been sharp tingling around his hip, and Harry braced himself without grace on the back of a chair, unfocused. Hands came up to cup his cheeks, and with a jarring shift, Harry’s eyes converged to rest on Tom’s face.

“Harry. What’s wrong? For Merlin’s sake you feel hot.”

Harry bat Tom’s hands away. “I’m fine, just a head rush.”

Tom scoffed. “You’re burning up. The definition of fine must have changed in the years I lost my sanity.”

Harry crossed his arms and backed away, trying to look like he was casually leaning against the wall. “I’m fine! I just have a headache.”

“Oh? Your headache is making you dizzy and feverish too?”

“No… you just have cold hands.”

“You’re a bad liar, dearest. Stand up straight.”

Harry scowled at him. “Am not! And I feel like leaning against the wall thanks.”

“You’re only proving me correct, so hush. I have a theory and I need you to stand up straight.” Tom edged closer.

Harry pressed himself further against the wall. “I think I’m alright here.”

“You can’t stay there forever.”

Harry’s face fell into stubborn determination and he glared at Tom. “Watch me.”

“No.”

Tom took Harry’s arms by their crossed elbows and pulled him up in a firm yank, and Harry’s feet stuttered, unsteady, and then Tom was wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulder and tugging him even closer, the other arm around Harry’s waist. Tom spoke quietly into Harry’s ear. “As I thought. What happened to those lovely reflexes of yours, hm?”

“Would you believe you simply sweep me off my feet?” Harry mumbled into Tom’s shirt.

Tom chuckled, and laced his fingers with Harry’s. “It would seem that you’re ill, dearest, and that just won’t do. We’ll have to stay home.”

Harry pushed against Tom’s chest with all the efficiency of a clawless cat. “No, no! Tom we should go. This is important.”

Tom held Harry tighter, dragging a hand through messy hair, humming something soft, and Harry fell boneless with a soundless exhale. “M’ your bodyguard.”

Harry felt lips press to his cheek, his temple, and a kiss that was barely a breath of pressure to his nose, and then he was lifted fully into Tom’s arms, said man walking in long strides back to their bedroom.

“That may be so, but I am your husband; nothing and no one is as important as you, and I say you require bed rest.”

Harry’s back was met with something soft, and before they closed, his eyes with Tom’s faint smile.

“Sleep well dearest.”

Mind muddy beyond repair, Harry giggled a clumsy sound through closed eyes. “Will you wake me with a kiss?”

A soft laugh sounded over Harry, falling in a quiet wave around his face like a blanket, and Tom tugged small and gentle on Harry’s hair before soothing it with a push of his fingers over Harry’s scalp. Harry could feel Tom’s smile from where his lips rested on Harry’s cheek.

“It’s a promise.”

[creepy-spooghetti]

A Hapless Endearment [Creepypasta x F. Reader]

Chapter 4 - Take Me Away, A Secret Place

———

The morning eventually comes, and it brings the bright, cheerful sunlight with it, much to Y\n's relief. The golden rays shine in through her window pane, forcing her to press a hand to her eyes and give herself a chance to adjust to the light invading her vision. She's kept herself awake for the whole rest of the night, starting from when she woke up from that horrific nightmare at around eleven-thirty and absolutely, under any circumstances, refused to go back to sleep.

Troubling subjects have been laying heavy on her mind for the past six hours, and no matter what she does to rid herself of them, it never works. At least, it hasn't yet. She's tried scrolling through the internet, watching YouTube videos, she even started another painting, though she only managed a few brush strokes before she scrapped it altogether and fell to the floor in a tired rage.

She isn't going to deny the fact that she's mentally exhausted, from both the lack of sleep and anxiety that's been creeping through her nerves the entire day thus far. After around two hours of laying in bed, she decided to get up and go downstairs for a glass of water. Then she decided against it, mainly due to the fact that she already had a perfectly good bottled water sitting right beside her bed. She considered wandering down to watch some TV, or eat some food, or virtually anything she could do to get her mind off of what had happened, but also blew off that idea fairly quickly.

She didn't want to be the reason for her grandparents waking up, especially because of a stupid little dream. Even though she, herself, knows that it wasn't just a 'stupid little dream'. Whether it has a deeper meaning or not, it terrified her, and that's all the convincing she needs to not want to have one like it, or one even worse. She just fears that she would be scolded for having such childish agitation over something that, in all reality, can't even physically hurt her.

Well... the things in her head can't hurt her. But what she saw... was that really in her head? Sure, one could blame paranoia, panicked delusions, a tired, frantic state that made her hallucinate something that wasn't really there. Like sleep paralysis, though she knows for a fact that she wasn't experiencing sleep paralysis.

So what was it? Maybe a strangely-shaped tree bent by the light in the right way to make it look scary? Some type of humanoid animal? Or perhaps it was just her imagination playing tricks on her, after all? She isn’t entirely sure, but she does know that whatever it was, it was unsettling and very out-of-place.

And then there’s the nightmare. That is the second time in barely three days that she’s had a nightmare like that. Sure, bad dreams are no stranger to her; she’s been experiencing them since she was a little kid, though they became more common after her life started to fall apart. But none of them were like that. Her mind had never been in such a gut-wrenching, sinister state before, and it deeply concerns her.

What would make her think up such a scenario? Her cousin, one of her very best childhood friends, being dead? Right before her very eyes? She’s thought, maybe it has something to do with the odd conversation that she shared with her grandfather just a day prior? But he didn’t say anything that should ever make her think anyone was murdered. Especially Wyatt.

Although it’s still a mystery to her, she knows that nothing like that could’ve happened during her long absence… right? If it had, someone would have called her dad to inform him, then he would have told her. He isn’t the best person or the best father by any stretch, but surely he wouldn’t keep her in the dark about something so horrific, right?

She’s tried to forget about it, even though she knows that it’s likely going to be something that sticks with her for quite a while, and she’s tried to calm herself down. It was just a dream. Nothing more. She hasn’t anything to worry about. It was just a startling vision that her mind created to scare her. It’s all the stress finally getting her, that’s all.

A feeling of dread and terror has settled inside of her stomach, and though it has faded considerably since she awoke, it’s still there and very present, plaguing her mind, repeating the nightmare over and over again in her head, making her miserable. As if it’s saying, “The worst has yet to come”.

She will ask Nana and Pops. She will get to the bottom of why her aunt, uncle, and Wyatt never, supposedly, come down to visit. Once she gets them to answer, finds out why her grandpa was acting so suspicious yesterday, gets it through her head that it isn’t as bad as she’s made herself think it is, then maybe, just maybe, she won’t be bombarded with such terrible thoughts each time she tries to sleep.

She blinks, adjusting to the bright, bulbous orb that slowly appears from behind the trees, and watching as the stars fade away, the moon following close behind them. The sky changes from a deep, royal blue to a vivid maya in the span of only a few minutes.

Her eyelids feel heavy, and even without checking the time she knows it has to be around six-thirty to seven in the morning based on the low place that the sun rests in the sky. She leans her back against the wall, letting out a soft, distressed sigh and allowing her eyes to shut for but a brief moment. Any more and she would drift back off to sleep, and she doesn’t want to do that. Not any time soon. Not until she’s been reassured that nothing like what her dream suggested actually happened.

Rubbing her eyes to rid herself of the drowsy feeling still messing with her senses, she sits up fully in her bed, finally able to convince herself that now would be a good time to go downstairs and start her day. Quietly, of course, so she doesn’t wake her grandparents.

Maybe she can make them breakfast like Nana has done for her so many times, recently and in the past. She’s never been a very skilled cooker, but she can make simple things like scrambled eggs, bacon, and French toast. What’s the worst that can happen? Okay, she can set the kitchen on fire, or make the stove explode, or overcook/undercook everything and give the residents of the household food poisoning, but she prefers not to think of those unlikely—but possible— outcomes.

With a small mental protest, she wearily rises out of bed, walking over to her closet to find some decent clothes for the day and changing into mentioned clothes before heading toward the bathroom, although somewhat cautiously. She’s still on-edge about the events that took place mere hours ago, and she figures that she probably will be until she can get another, more light-hearted subject on her mind. Like making breakfast for two people she loves. It sounds like a fool-proof plan to her, and she fully intends to stick to it.

She isn’t exactly sure what time they wake up, but her guess is somewhere between seven-thirty to eight, or even eight-twenty-five. The hall is still considerably dark, thanks to there being no windows around to light it up a bit, and it makes her nerves spike as she hurries to the targeted room.

Once there, she closes the door quietly and turns on the light, her eyes falling on the mirror straight in front of her, and she leans against the sink, studying her reflection with a blank mind. Her hair has most definitely seen better days, though that’s something easily fixable. Her eyes are the problem.

They look almost completely drained of energy, and the dark rings right beneath them make it clear that she didn’t rest well the night before. She dips her head down after turning on the faucet and splashes cool water against her face, hoping to get rid of some of that ‘I just woke up and I’m exhausted’ look that her reflection stares back at her with.

Her eyes get wider and already, she feels more alert and aware of her surroundings; the exact thing she was wanting to accomplish. She then does everything she deems necessary before she goes back out, snatching her phone from off of her bed and her Bluetooth wireless earbuds, and trekking down the stairs, taking joy in the fact that natural, bright light is shooting through the windows and illuminating the majority of the main floor.

She spots Marshmallow sitting atop a chair, seemingly content grooming himself and only sparing her a short, unphased glance as she appears at the bottom of the staircase. Smiling lightly, she makes her way over to him and squats to his level, currently not caring if she interrupts his self-given bath, stroking his head in greeting and giving him an affectionate kiss on his cheek.

“Hey, little buddy,” she says, her voice lowered as she gingerly scratches his chin. “You having a good morning?” His mouth latches around her finger, not hard enough to make her bleed but she’s certain his sharp teeth will leave indents for a few minutes once they’ve left. She pulls her hand back and rolls her eyes. “Yeah? Me, too.”

She stands back up and straightens her posture, catching a glimpse of the front door before she looks back down at him curiously.

“You ready to go out?” She points at the door, and he seems to get the gist of what she’s saying because he releases a meow of protest and stretches his body out. “Well, I know it’s early.” She crosses her arms. “That doesn’t mean you can’t go hunting or whatever.” Marshmallow jumps from his position on the chair and walks toward his empty food bowl, looking back at Y\n expectantly. “Oh, c’mon. You’re perfectly capable of going out and getting your own food.”

She’s met with a loud and, frankly impatient, meow, and she huffs but begins her small journey to the pantry nonetheless.

“Fine, fine. You win.” When she arrives, she gazes idly through the various cans of food, bags of flour, and boxes of cereal and rice and beans, trying to locate the bag of branded cat food she knows has to be in here. “Last time I was here, they kept it in this room…” She mutters to herself, bending down to look beneath the shelves. Her eyes land on a red and white bag, the top ripped open and a metal scoop resting inside.

Instantly recognizing it as her desired item thanks to the large cat head printed on the front, she takes the handle of the scoop and dips it farther into the brown pebbles of cat food, walking back out soon after and dumping it in Marshmallow's bowl. He lets out a satisfied meow and sticks his nose into it briefly, as if checking that it isn't fake, before seeming content enough and beginning to eat it.

Y\n pats him on the head and returns the scoop to its rightful place inside of the pantry, closing the door behind her and going to the kitchen. She turns on the overhead light, enabling her to see a lot better than she could previously, and grabs different ingredients from the fridge, including a carton of large eggs, cheese, water, vanilla extract, syrup, and a pack of bacon. Then she moves to collect salt and pepper, a loaf of Sunbeam bread, cooking oil, a whisk, a mixing bowl, three separate skillets, and three plates.

Happy that Nana has all of the stuff that she needs in order to create this easy and, hopefully, good-quality breakfast, she puts in her earbuds, turns on some music, and begins by mixing up the scrambled eggs and putting a few strips of bacon on a skillet. Not having made breakfast in quite a while, she's a bit rusty, and it takes a few moments to remember what exactly she's supposed to do, though she gets the hang of it pretty quickly, and in around thirty-five minutes, she has the food all ready to eat and is washing up the used dishes after dividing everything up and pouring them onto plates.

I wonder when they'll get up... she thinks, glancing at the food then at the staircase that leads up to their bedroom. Breakfast will get cold if they don't come down soon. As if on cue, she hears a set of heavy footsteps from upstairs as they stop by and go into what she assumes to be the bathroom. Drying her hands, she grabs two of the three plates, walking into the dining room and setting them on the rectangle table before going to get the third one. As she passes the door again, she sees Marshmallow sitting and pawing at its surface, not-so-subtly implying what he expects of her.

She inwardly sighs and looks down at him with a raised eyebrow, resting a hand on her hip. "Really? Now you want to go out?" She receives a 'meow' in response, and she rolls her eyes but unlocks the door nonetheless, Marshmallow standing and backing away to ensure he doesn't get hit by it swinging open and then waiting for her to push the screen open. On his way out, he rubs against her leg and lightly flicks his tail in her direction, a gesture she takes as appreciation before he jumps off the porch and disappears around the corner of the house.

Around that time, she hears a door on the second floor open and that same pair of footsteps walking closer to the staircase, and she turns her head to look behind her, seeing her grandpa cautiously making his way down, making sure to hold onto the wooden rail for support. She shuts the door and plasters a smile across her face, stepping forward to greet him once he reaches the floor, though he speaks before she can.

"Hey, hummingbird!" he says, glancing at the clock hung on the wall beside the door to check the time before meeting her gaze. "What are you doin' up? It's only seven-forty-eight." Her smile turns slightly timid and she holds back a yawn, instead opting to keep her response simple so she doesn't make him worried and shrug her shoulders.

"Uh, well... I just, thought I'd get up early. Make breakfast..." Then her eyes widen and she signals toward the dining table on the opposite side of the living room. "Oh yeah, I made breakfast! Is Nana gonna be up soon, too?" He shakes his head in the negative, giving Y\n a friendly pat on her shoulder and walking toward the table.

"Nah. She didn't sleep very well last night, she probably won't be up for a couple of hours yet." Y\n glances at the plate of food laying on the island in the center of the kitchen, feeling a pang of pity erupt throughout her chest. She grabs it and places a sheet of plastic wrap over it diligently and puts it on a shelf in the fridge, hoping that Nana will feel like eating when she does finally get up.

She fills two glasses with milk and brings them back into the dining room, giving one to Phil and the other she keeps, taking a seat in one of the four identical chairs placed around the table. "How come? Was she having bad dreams?" Part of her wonders whether or not her grandma is suffering the same symptoms as herself, though she seriously doubts it. But it never hurts to ask, she supposes.

"Heh, no." He takes a bite of eggs, taking his time to finish his reply, and she takes his silence as an opportunity to begin eating, as it seems like she won't have to be in any hurry to say anything for a few moments. She has to admit, she didn't do a bad job with making the food. The eggs could use a bit more salt, but other than that, she's quite proud of how it all turned out, especially since she hasn't made a proper meal in several months. "Just aching joints, mostly. That and stress."

She lifts her eyes curiously at this, and he continues looking down at his plate, taking steady bites and not seeming to acknowledge her questioning gaze, nor what he had said. After around thirty seconds of silence, she breaks it, wanting to know what would possibly be stressing her grandmother out so much that it interferes with her sleep. "What do you mean stress? Is there something wrong?"

Only now does he meet her eyes, his face morphing into one of realization, and he furrows his eyebrows. "Well, yeah..." His voice wavers ever-so-slightly, and it's so precise that even Y\n almost doesn't notice it. "I mean, w-with your parents, and everything."

"Why would my parents stress you guys out?" She can tell that at least part of his statement isn't 100% true, though she doesn't want to pressure him and instead be easy with it. After all, if he wants to tell her, he'll tell her. "They're my problem, not yours."

"Darlin', if your parents aren't treating you right, that makes them our problem, too. Especially your dad." Perhaps she just isn't used to people willingly getting involved in her personal life, but those two sentences sound so strange to her. They also sound touching, so much so it makes her heartbeat speed up. "We're not going to stand aside and let you be neglected and mistreated."

She swallows, trying to keep the tears threatening to spill out of her eyes at bay, and takes a shaky breath. "Well... thanks, Pops..." Her tone is soft and genuine, probably the most genuine it's been in quite a while, and she sends him a grateful smile. He briefly returns it, turning his attention back to his food and continuing to eat.

A couple of minutes pass, and silence is all that's heard as the two enjoy the meal, Y\n's mind swarming with thoughts. How could she have forgotten how pure her grandparents are? How has she gone nearly half of her life without their wholesome influence? How could her father just get rid of almost all connections with them and act like they don't even exist? It's a totally shameful thing to do, and that fact is only just now making itself apparent to her. How could he? After they raised him? After they gave him and Aunt Darcy all of their love? How could he just stop talking to them like that?

It's bad enough that he refuses to visit with them, but then he goes and forces her to do the same thing? How could her father be so utterly selfish that he abandons what should be two of the most important people in his life? It doesn't make any sense to her. Then again, her father hasn't really made much sense since all of this pointless drama started, so she guesses it won't get much more sensible from here on out.

At least her aunt still treats them like her parents. Or... she did the last time Y\n was here. It's unknown what she does, now, which makes the dream she had flash into her mind. Just what happened between her aunt and her grandparents? Taking a composing breath through her nose and biting the inside of her cheek somewhat nervously, she speaks, again. "Pops... can I ask you something?"

"Anything, Y\n. Ya don't have to be shy around me." She averts her gaze to a wall, gathering her thoughts and attempting to form a coherent sentence.

"Well... you said, yesterday when I asked about Aunt Darcy, that you'd tell me later." She tries to keep her voice raised enough so he can hear her well, as his ears aren't 'what they used to be', as he's told her. "And... well, it's later, so..."

She sees him stiffen and stare down as if trying to sort through his thoughts, and she waits patiently, if not anxiously, for his response. It's clearly a serious matter that he feels hesitant to discuss, but surely it can't be anything like what her dreams suggested, right? No, absolutely not. She would've been informed a long time ago if something like that had happened. They probably just lost touch. Maybe they moved far away from here and they feel sad talking about it.

"Y\n..." He catches her full attention when he starts, and he almost seems to crumble under her apprehensive gaze. "I think you should wait and talk about this with your grandmother. I'm afraid I'm not the best, uh..." He rubs the stubble on his chin and releases a humorless laugh. "I don't explain things very well."

"Please?" She really doesn't want to resort to begging, but she has to know. If her mind is going to be put to ease, it needs to know that her dream is nothing more than that; a dream. What she saw isn't real, and it will never be. So she can relax and enjoy the rest of her vacation with her grandparents. He opens his mouth like he's about to further argue his point, but she beats him to it. "I don't care if you're not good at explaining things. Just tell me? Please?"

He stares across the table at her for a good minute before finally letting out a defeated sigh and sliding his now-empty plate to the side in order to give him room to rest his arms comfortably across the wooden surface in front of him, muttering something about how 'she'd have to know eventually'.

"Look, Y\n..." He looks like he's currently straining himself for the correct words to say, and she doesn't take her eyes off of him. "...around a year and a half, two years ago..." He meets her e\c orbs, his own holding great pain and hesitation. She subconsciously squeezes the fork within her hand, her lips parting slightly in anticipation. What happened? Did they get into a fight? Did Aunt Darcy and Uncle Marvin get divorced? "...Wyatt disappeared. And... and Darcy and Marvin were murdered."

Her breath hitches as her mind tries to comprehend this newly-delivered information. No, no... that couldn't have happened. All of it was a dream, nothing more. Her mind didn't predict anything. It couldn't have. No, Pops has to be joking... but what if he isn't? She leans forward in shock, eyebrows raised and heart skipping a beat as she forces one single word out of her mouth. "Wh-what...?" It comes out as a whisper, and he runs his fingers through his white, thin hair.

"I-I really shouldn't be telling you this."

"How...?" She fights the tears in her eyes and gulps, nervous to hear his answer. He only shakes his head.

"That's too descriptive, I don't think you need to—"

"Were they stabbed? S-strangled? Shot?" She isn't sure why, but she wants to know. Despite how painful it will be. She tilts her head in distress and considers the way he stares at her, seeming to contemplate what she said. Her eyes are pleading, desperate, and her bottom lip quivers vaguely.

"They... they were stabbed. Probably by the javelin that Marvin kept in the living room, because it was missing, a-and the wounds were... messy, they said." She drops her fork and shoves her plate aside, resting her elbows on the table and burying her face in her hands as she comprehends all of this. How could this have happened? These are things that are only supposed to take place in movies, on crime shows, not in real life. It isn't supposed to happen to her family.

"And... and Wyatt?" Her voice is muffled and quiet as her stomach quickly becomes queasy.

"Nobody knows. He just... vanished." Her heart gets caught in her throat and she releases a small sound similar to a whimper. "There are theories that he... that he killed them and then took off to get away from the law." She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut and gripping strands of her hair.

"H-he wouldn't. He loves them..."

"I know. I think that's an absurd theory, myself." He rests a consoling hand on her arm in an effort to bring her comfort. She barely even registers the touch and focuses on the thoughts running rampant through her mind. How could her aunt and uncle be dead? How could her cousin be missing? How could anybody think he had anything to do with it? "I knew this would be a lot to handle, I'm sorry, darlin'."

"Wh-why didn't I know about this?" She lifts her head just enough to meet his eyes, her voice unsteady. "If it happened that long ago, why was I kept in the dark?"

"Trust me, we tried to tell you. We tried to tell your dad, your mom, but neither of them listened to us. They ignored our calls, wouldn't let us get on the phone with you. You deserved to know, and I'm sorry it's taken us this long to tell you." She can't stop her hands from shaking as a tear rolls down her cheek.

"Y-you mean Dad... Dad didn't care that his sister was dead?" Bitterness and a form of disbelief lace her voice as her eyes seem to bare holes into the table in front of her.

"He didn't want to believe it. I think he convinced himself it didn't actually happen and refused to acknowledge any of it." A rich, overwhelming fear washes over her and nearly makes her throw up as she bites her lip, so hard it almost draws blood, though she doesn't pay attention to the pain. Her eyes narrow in on Phil and she removes her hands from her face to get a better view of him, and so her voice wouldn't be indistinct.

"You... you're not joking, are you?" He shakes his head slowly, and goosebumps form along the skin of her arms.

"No... I'm so sorry. I know you were close with them..."

"I, uh..." She stands to her feet, grabbing her dishes and not having the stomach to finish her breakfast. "I'm gonna... go. Out, f-for a walk." As she walks around the table and past Phil, he lightly takes hold of her wrist to get her attention, and she glances down at him with glossy eyes.

"...I didn't want to scare you, or make you feel so bad, Y\n. I just... didn't want to lie to you."

"N-no, it's okay," she says, though her tone implies otherwise. "Thank you. I-I wanted to know." Before he can say anything else, she easily pulls away from his grasp and heads toward the kitchen, dumping her scraps in the large trash can before washing the dishes, putting them in the drainer to dry, pocketing her phone, and going toward the front door once again. "Um, if Nana wakes up  before I'm back, please tell her that there's food in the fridge."

Not waiting for a reply although not exactly expecting one, she exits the home, shutting the screen behind her and speed-walking toward the white gate. She finds herself in a hurry to get some privacy, be in solitude so she can express herself more clearly without fear of being judged. Though tears now stream freely down her cheeks, she tries to hold them back until she's concealed in the thick greenery of the forest, and she takes the very same path she did yesterday, and many times before, this time not paying attention to what she steps on and what she doesn't.

She stumbles several times over the thorny plants and uncut weeds until eventually making it to a tamer area of the trail, wrapping her arms around herself and letting out squeaky sobs. Is it just a terrible coincidence? Her dreaming about Wyatt dying then finding out his parents was murdered and he's missing? Or is there something deeper going on? She can't seem to think past the fact that her aunt and uncle are dead, or the fact that her cousin just seemingly vanished without a trace and has yet to return.

Since she's arrived here, her dreams have had a menacing, eerie atmosphere to them, though she assumed it was just the stress of everything manifesting itself into the form of something specifically created to put fear in her heart. She didn't think they meant anything more, not so much so that they invade her mind during the day, every day, without end. But... was she wrong?

How can they be gone? Just like that? Her eyebrows furrow and her eyes narrow in both incredulity and anger. And how could Dad know but not tell me? I'm his freaking daughter, for goodness sake! And they're his sister, his brother-in-law! His nephew! How could- how could he just act like nothing happened!?

A pathetic whimper escapes through her lips and she shakes her head, quickening her pace and keeping an eye out for a connecting path in particular that she and Wyatt used to take to get to the river. They used to take that path, together, when they were kids. That would never happen again. Because he's missing and probably won't ever come back.

Oh God... this means Nana and Pops are the only ones left... She sniffles and sucks in shallow, sharp breaths as she comes to this realization, slowing down absentmindedly. She was my only aunt, he was my only cousin, Marvin was my only uncle... they were my closest relatives that actually gives a crap about me.

Seeing as how her mother's parents disowned her when she was only seventeen because she got impregnated by a man who was, at the time, twenty-two, she never got to meet them and didn't hear too much about them, outside of insults and general hate. Her mom's sister, Giana, didn't visit a lot, and when she did she was always snobby and selfish, and it was apparent to Y\n that she didn't really care for her niece very much. She was clearly only after the money that Y\n's father and mom had at their grasp.

In other words, her mother's family left much to be desired. At least her dad's side of the family loves her, which is something she's beyond grateful for. But now part of them is gone. Only her grandparents remain. Does her father even care about that? Has he ever stopped and thought, 'ya know, maybe I should stop acting like a scumbag and spend time with my parents before it's too late', or 'I should be there for my sister's funeral'? Doubtful. If he did it was a mere idea that he quickly brushed aside and labeled as 'ridiculous'.

Y\n wouldn't be so angry with him had he at least let her still see them, at least a couple of times a year, maybe on holidays, but that simply isn't the case. If she had been allowed back here years ago, she would've been able to spend quality time with all of them before that horrible event occurred. But now it's too late. All thanks to her selfish jerk for a father.

She releases an infuriated scream and turns to kick the nearest tree, causing a bird that was sitting on a branch previously to fly away in alarm, likely thinking that it's under attack and wanting to get away before it gets hurt. She could care less about the winged creature at the moment though and continues to kick the tree a total of three more times before collapsing on her knees in a sobbing, shaking, and heartbroken heap.

Even if she tried, she'd be unable to keep her negative emotions to herself. But she doesn't want to. She wants to cry, cry until she can't anymore. Nobody's around, she's completely alone. What harm will it bring? Salty tears slide down her face and hit the ground with a tiny splash each time, and she leans forward and rests her forearms on the grass beneath her for some sort of stability.

She can hardly believe this information, no matter how many times it runs through her head. It seems surreal, almost like a dream. But this isn't a dream. Right? It would be amazing to wake up and find out that Marvin and Darcy were alive and well, and Wyatt was still here, living a happy life. But that scenario is very unlikely to be true. Still, she hopes. Maybe it's all in her mind. She pinches the skin on her arm and instantly winces, waiting to wake up in her bed. But she doesn't.

She crashes further to the ground and her pained wails become louder. Why them? Why some of the sweetest people in her life? Why did they have to go? Why couldn't it have been a bad person? Someone whose only goal in life is to make others suffer? Why couldn't it have been her own parents instead of Wyatt's? As terrible of a thought it sounds, she can't seem to make herself think any differently.

Who would do such a thing? Who would murder somebody with a family that they love, that loves them in return? Have they no empathy? No compassion, no remorse, whatsoever? Clearly not. A sudden snap of a twig draws her attention and she cranes her neck to the side, gazing through swollen, glassy eyes and trying to see past the trees and find whatever is the source of the noise. Seeing nothing and brushing it off as an animal or her imagination, she turns back toward the ground, attempting to gather her bearings to continue her walk in peace.

After a couple of minutes, she catches her breath, calms herself down enough to be somewhat aware of her surroundings, and leisurely rises to her feet, wiping the remainder of the tears away with the back of her arm and beginning to walk forward, once again.

She spots a familiar trail, shrouded by even more briars and thick plants, that she remembers to lead to her and Wyatt's old 'Hangout', as they used to call it, where the water is just clear enough to be considered 'clean', where a small mountain covered with boulders rests, where a large oak was planted beside the river many years ago and made the perfect place to sit and play cards, share stories, or just stare down below into the beautiful scenery and beyond.

That was the way it used to be, almost eight years ago, and that's the way she hopes it is, now. Maybe it will be just like a painting frozen in time. Maybe it hasn't changed at all. Guess I'll find out...

She struggles to swat away the plants and duck under branches, looking extra closely for low-hanging spiderwebs that happen to be in the direct path of her head. Her heart aches, there isn't a doubt about that. But below that aching, below the pain, there's anger. Pure vexation, all directed at her father. Yes, she knows he wasn't the one who killed them, but he's the one that kept her from seeing them. Perhaps she should focus all her negative energy around the actual person who caused their deaths. But she can't, not right now. The real villain, in her eyes, is the man whose self-centered personality, along with his total disregard for other peoples' feelings, made the last of her childhood and beginning and middle of her teenage years miserable.

Her mother isn't innocent in this either, with her cheating on her own husband, disacknowledging that her daughter even existed most days anymore, and overall disloyalty toward her family makes Y\n angry. Makes her strongly dislike her. But Y\n's mother had almost nothing to do with these family issues, no. Her father caused that all on his own. She's sure the only reason her mom didn't communicate with them is because he told her not to.

Y\n recalls turning to her mother for answers when she couldn't get anything out of her dad, and she only responded with, "You'll have to ask your father", or "I'm not the one you should be questioning about that". Every single time. So she stopped, after all, what's the point in asking about something if all you get is vague, useless answers in response?

She looks back when she gets the sudden feeling that she's being followed, and flinches in surprise when she meets the chestnut eyes of a fairly normal-looking boy, with messy brown hair and an innocent-looking face. He seems to be around her age, perhaps a couple of years older, and he puts his hands up in defense as if taken off-guard by her startled reaction.

He's taller than average, and she takes a cautious step back when he begins speaking. "O-oh, I'm sorry. Didn't mean to scare you." His voice is deep and has a mature sound to it, and she furrows her eyebrows in slight suspicion. Who is this guy? How long has he been there?

"Were you... following me?" Her tone holds wariness, and he sends her a friendly smile to show her he means well, though she gets the feeling that maybe it isn't as sincere as he makes it seem.

"Uh... yes? But—you don't have to get creeped out or anything, I'm not a stalker." She raises an eyebrow and takes another step back, trying to make as much distance between herself and this random person as she can in case he were to try and attack. "I just moved here and was exploring around, then I saw you walking around and figured I'd say 'hi'."

She considers his posture, his appearance, his upright demeanor, before meeting his eyes again, her muscles relaxing and deciding he seems genuine enough, though she won't let her guard down completely. She isn't extremely concerned about the way she must look to him, and he isn't commenting on it, much to her relief. "...Really? Where do you live?"

"About a mile north from here." He nods his head in that direction and sticks his hands into his hoodie pocket habitually. "My mom thought I should get out and get familiar with the area."

"And how do you like it?" She tilts her head, crossing her arms over her chest protectively. He shrugs.

"It's nice. Pretty quiet most of the time, but it's a good area to unwind, I guess." She nods in response, and he takes a step closer, something that doesn't go unnoticed by her. "What about you?"

"I'm here visiting some family while my parents are away on business." She said the term 'family' instead of 'grandparents' without even thinking about it, something that makes her chest tighten when she realizes that very thing.

"Cool. You been here before?"

"Not since I was a kid."

"How come?" She narrows her eyes up at him and her voice hardens slightly, not willing to give a stranger a lot of personal information about herself. Maybe it's the fact that she hasn't interacted much with anyone outside what was necessary for quite a while and it's making her feel overly-cautious about meeting new people, but something about this person seems strange. She can't quite put her finger on it, all she knows is that she feels weird around him.

"Family issues." There's a certain tension that begins to form between the two of them, and she shuffles on her feet uncomfortably, not sure if this guy wants to maintain some type of conversation with her. She was never the best at reading people and knowing what they were thinking. A few moments pass.

"So... where are you going?"

"Um..." She glances behind her, to the unconquered trail that she was taking before he appeared, and jabs her thumb backward to show him. "There's a river and a tree and stuff down there, I was just seeing if it's the same as I remember it being."

"I don't mean to be the annoying know-it-all, but..." He uses his eyes to signal around them in an obvious manner. "There are trees everywhere." A huff exits her nose and she rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, well. There is one tree there that's more special than the ones here." He chuckles lightly and nods.

"Fair enough. Mind if I tag along?" She presses her lips together after hearing this seemingly harmless request, thinking it over. "Hey, I know that face. Don't worry, I'm not gonna slaughter you or anything when we get there."

"Heh, no, I wasn't—" She runs her hand through her hair and grapples for words that won't make her seem paranoid or stupid.

"You were." He grins mischievously, walking closer to her, and she steps to the edge of the path in response, still not fully trusting of this evidently nice individual. "It's okay. Look, I'll even go first so I can't stab you in the back." She bites the inside of her cheek and watches as he passes her effortlessly and stops a few inches ahead. "You were following the trail, right?" She nods. "Then c'mon and we'll 'get familiar with the area' together."

"I'm already familiar with the area," she says, hesitantly following behind him when he starts walking.

"Okay, okay, then let me get familiar with the area and you will just... stay familiar with the area, I guess." She can't stop the amused smirk that etches itself across her face as she falls in place next to him, though keeps a fair distance between the two of them. As 'fair' as the distance can be, at least. She's content that she's found something that will hopefully distract her for a little while just so she won't have to think about the current horrors of her life. "So what's your name?"

"Y\n." She briefly meets his eyes and repeats his own inquiry. "What about you?"

"Nice to meet you, Y\n. I'm Jack."