#just joking but I love the idea...I love letters being passed and kept

[ghcstcd]

if Dewdrop hasn't received love letters over the 15+ years he's been with the church, then all hope in romance is lost

[itskattkm]

I put a spell on you

Based on a request: I just read your baby fever thing and thought it was really cute. I liked how Wednesday slowly began to tolerate the idea of a child with R.

This doesn't have to be a contribution if anons of request, but could you do a short where R and Wednesday actually talk about having a kid, getting a surrogate or whatever voodoo magic the Addams family has, and then just having a heart to heart on it?

Wednesday Addams x Fem Reader

Warnings: cheesy, short smut, GiP, ritual, spell, family plans, Wednesday turning into a softy, sloppy writing, not really proof read

A/N: here it is my dear anon. Sorry for the long wait and I think it turned out way longer than I planned. Hope you enjoy it. More request are open :)

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You and Wednesday had been a couple for a few years now. You two met back then in Nevermore Academy where she basically saved the whole city. You both became a couple after tiny stolen moments between the two of you. Never would you have considered that Wednesday saw you as one of her friends. You always kept your distance but you were there if your friends needed you. So in the end you became a more important person in her second case then you actually planned and one thing came to another.

Years passed Wednesday became a well known writer but also solved the craziest crimes and caught the darkest killers just for fun. You were home in the big Victorian house you had bought with her once you two got married and moved out of the apartment you lived once’s. Wednesday was currently in her writing time. Something she still held onto. Even more after she really became a writer.

You walked slowly into her office. Hearing the sounds of her typewriter bitten one letter after another as she was working focused on her next novel.

“You’re planing to stay up all night?” You asked softly. Approaching her from behind. Looking over her shoulder and watching the words she kept hitting into the typewriter. "Mhm." Wednesday answered without looking up. "I can't get my last chapter just right." She typed a little longer. "Would you mind getting me a cup of coffee, querida mio?"

You hesitated but the fact she called you “her love” made her monotone voice sound so much softer. It was giving you some chills. After all she was Wednesday Addams. It was hard being her girlfriend sometimes but the little affection and hidden hints she gave you from time to time, they were your everything. So you made your way to the kitchen and made her an espresso with three shots as she liked or well… preferred. As you came back with the coffee and placed it on her table. Looking at her your face slightly flashed by the dimmed light in the room.

"Thank you... love" Wednesday smiled - literally her unique and rare Wednesday smile "I appreciate it. Really." She took a sip of the coffee.

"What would you do without me, hm?" She asked in her typical ironic and dry manner.

She typed some more. You chuckled about that dry joke, you should have been the one to ask her that. She wasn’t in the position to do that. Your chuckled died down in the new silence and Wednesday went back to writing. Hesitant you tried to start a conversation, ignoring how fast your heart was pushing suddenly and hoping she wouldn’t see the heat in your face. You knew her writing time was important. You may were her wife so Wednesday didn’t go hard on you when you interrupted her but still. It made you feel nervous some times.

“Wednesday can we talk?” you managed to whisper. She stopped typing for a moment and looked up, her dark eyes looking right through your soul. She was silent for a very long time before asking "Talk about what?".

began slowly and carefully “It’s been a while we had time to talk or do something together and I was thinking about something we talked about some time ago…”

Wednesday said nothing for an instant. She was silent. But then she put down the cup she had been holding as you talked.

She let her hands rest on her lap, turning fully in her chair to look at you.

"Yeah? What is it? What is it you want to say, my dear?" Wednesday asked in a very soft, comforting voice. She was clearly open to anything you might want to say. You sighed loud like you were holding so much back inside of you and took a chair nearby before sitting down beside her.

“We talked once about having kids….” My throat tightening as soon as those words left my mouth.

Wednesday blinked at the word 'kids'. She was silent for a long moment before she answered. "Yes. We did talk about that. I remember." Wednesday said very carefully. "Kids? You want children?" Wednesday asked, her voice was very low. “Well…” no more words left you as you got more nervous now. Slightly intimidated by her as mostly.

“Well… we have or jobs. Our house. We’ve been together for six years and married for two. I…” you shrugged your shoulders feeling almost dizzy, not sure what to say. How to make your point.

“I don’t Wanne wait to long Wednesday” you said softly, almost scared. Like you didn’t knew if it was okay to say this or even talk about this. But you knew you felt the urge too… maybe it was something in your nature. Your body saying that you were ready or maybe you were so madly in love with that woman that you wanted little versions of you both.

Wednesday leaned back in her chair again. She was quiet for a very long time. You waited patiently for her to say something but she only blinked. Wednesday looked at you "I'm afraid we can't have kids." Wednesday said in a very serious tone. "No children. At all. Ever." Wednesday repeated. She looked you in the eyes, her face expressionless. You leaned back as well and nodded your mind turning immediately into an auto pilot mode. But you had to admit That this was your fear as well. After all you both were woman, how was that supposed to work? For sure there were ways but deep down you knew that adoption wasn’t an option in the Addams family. Or anything else at all. You stayed calm on your face a wide understanding smile, but truth was you couldn’t hide the sadness you were sure that the smile made it even more obvious that this was going right through your heart. More than you wanted to admit.

Wednesday took your hand while you were silent avoiding her gaze, nodding and still smiling. "I know. You'd make such a great mother." She paused.

"We'll have a great life together, querida mio. I promise." Wednesday said reassuringly. "But no children. Okay? Are you okay with that, my dear? I know how much this means to you." Wednesday asked, looking at you. Her face showed genuine compassion.

You kept nodding, feeling like one of those dogs with a jiggling head for the car.

“yeah…” your voice near to break. You caressed her hand before getting up without looking at her. “Goodnight then… don’t work too long okay?” You added and left to your shared bedroom. Wednesday watched you leave. She couldn't say any more but she wanted to say something. When your bedroom door was shut she went back to work. She tried to write something again - but she couldn't. Instead she put the coffee cup aside and got up. Walking to your bedroom. She opened the door and went in quietly - slowly closing the door behind her.

You were already lying in bed holding yourself together. Staying quite. Pretending to be asleep. Wednesday sat down on the edge of your bed. "You're not asleep, my dear." Wednesday said. Her voice was very soft, that kind of soft that made you feel goosebumps all over your body but not this time. She laid a hand hesitant on your leg.

"I'm sorry for tonight." Wednesday said slowly. She hesitated for a while but then she leaned over you. Slowly she touched your neck and began to rub it in circles. Wednesday was calm and patient. She wanted to make you feel better. You were moving slight signaling that you didn’t felt like it now and wanted to be alone.

"Let me make you feel better." Wednesday said. "Please, Y/N. Let me help you." Wednesday spoke quietly and almost shy.

She went on to lightly and slowly rub away your worries on your back until you could feel her gentle touch. Wednesday was doing anything she could to make you feel comfortable again. She was trying to say sorry with her affection.

“Just leave it…” the words left you numb.

Wednesday didn't answer - she just kept rubbing your shoulder and neck for a little more while. Knowing you loved being touched on your neck. It always made you calm down, managed to make you feel better after nightmares. Wednesday wanted to show you how much she meant her apology. She wanted you to trust and love her again cause she felt like you didn’t wanted to feel anything of that at all right now. But she also didn't want to pressure you. "I'm sorry." Wednesday said again. She hesitated. "I love you." Wednesday whispered.

Her words having so much power over you. You felt conflicted. A tear rolled down your eye. She couldn’t see cause your back was facing her as u stayed quiet and tried to sleep or at least act like you were sleeping. Wednesday noticed that you weren't asleep. She could tell that you were tearing up. She wanted to keep you calm. So Wednesday laid down beside you and spooned you. Held you. She stroked your arm to comfort you. She wanted to keep you from falling apart because she knew how hard you could be to yourself sometimes.

The next day you woke up before Wednesday. You got changed, prepared breakfast. Today you wanted to visit her family since her younger bother Pugsley was celebrating his engagement. Wich meant you needed to go to the Addams mansion and would be part of the big family reunion. Wednesday woke up shortly after you, seeing you already got ready for today.

"You didn't need to cook me breakfast." Wednesday said slowly.

“It’s literally the only thing I’m actually good at…” you said trying to joke but you didn’t laughed or smiled. She hesitated. "Thank you, my dear." A genuinely smile on her cold lips.

"I'm sorry for last night..." Wednesday said in a very quiet tone and added after a short time "I love you, sweetheart.”

“Let’s not talk about that” you whispered and sounded colder then you meant to

You gave her a small kiss on the cheek.

“Now hurry… we’ll be late” you added.

"Okay." Wednesday whispered back.

She did get ready, quickly brushing her hair and putting on clothes to look good, appropriate for the family and mostly for you. "Let's go." Wednesday said, trying to push everything away for today. But the thought of yesterday wasn't gone. But she wanted to push it away for today. After a while Lurch came and picked you both up. You were sitting in the back of the car. Not really talking. When you made it to her family’s mansion you were greeted by her father Gomez and mother Morticia with much love as usual. Your parents in law. You loved them as much as your own, maybe even more. Let’s be for real.

Wednesday stayed quiet as she held you close to her. She may wasn’t a person for physical touch but you were different. And after moments like yesterday Wednesday felt weak. Addicted or cursed. Cause she couldn’t face seeing you like that. So those were moments where she longed for physical touch with you. She felt her black heart pound harder, happy that her parents gave you the same love and affection, you deserved it, you were family now. But Wednesday still felt a little out of place. She felt like she was the odd one out today more than usual - in her own family. She still couldn't shake off the feeling about yesterday's talk.

Inside of the Addams mansion you looked for Pugsley and his fiancé Mary. As soon as your eyes found them, you had a genuine smile for the first time since last nights events. You greeted them and wished them the best, having slight small talk and all.

After a while you found yourself with the rest of the Addams family and more in the big dinning hall. All different types of creatures and human beings. Outcasts and normies. They were all celebrating the engagement of her brother with Mary. But you could feel that it wouldn’t take long till people would start asking you and Wednesday dozen questions.

Right now you were talking with her grandma. Wednesday was happy about the engagement even tho no one could see it in her dead pan eyes. She was still silent. She stayed by your side. For the whole time, her family and their guests had their eyes on you.

You were the only one who noticed that Wednesday didn't really wanted to talk. Like most of the time. She didn't wanted to engage in conversations. She just sat by your side her mind a mess.

But it was nothing new, you were always the talk active at events while Wednesday kept being her anti social self. She surely did the usual deadly pranks with her brother and talked a lot with her uncle fester. But yeah. It was actually normal. But today Wednesday stayed with you the whole time. She was almost clingy. A very rare thing. She didn't want to go anywhere without you. She was always by your side, but at the same time - she still was in silence. She answered some questions directed to her but she looked very uncomfortable with everyone giving her the looks. And you felt this. You didn't need words to know how Wednesday felt right now. It pained your heart for her but also you didn’t wanted to feel anything right now cause you knew why.

“So y/n… when can we see the breed of you two?” Said Wednesdays grandma and you immediately froze. You weren’t sure if this was a joke or just a coincidence. So you smiled weak and left Wednesday and her grandma alone, finding a fake excuse to leave the conversation. Walking out of the mansion to be alone.

Wednesday suddenly turned red. Wich was even more rare than her smiling. Not because she felt embarrassed but because she saw how you felt about her grandma's question. Wednesday was always afraid of family questions. Of others asking about babies and families. Because she knew that it was something that she could never offer to anyone. Wednesday never knew how to react when someone mentioned children. Wednesday stayed silent and looked after you, hoping for anything that could make it better - for you. She looked away completly when she couldn't answer the question after you left.

Mortica had her eyes on the two of you the whole night and saw what happened, so she approached Wednesday and her grandma asking “Everything alright? Why did y/n leave?.”

"I just..." Wednesday started to speak - trying to stay calm. She tried to find something that would make everything okay. "Grandmother... She just asked us something... I couldn’t answer." Wednesday said very nervously. She still looked away in shame. She tried to stay calm. She was ashamed that she was the reason of all of this. She was ashamed because she couldn't give you the family you deserved. Morticia looked confused at her daughter and then at her mother in law “What was it about?” Asked Morticia even tho she already knew the answer.

"She... She asked..." Wednesday said shyly. "... She asked why we didn't have any children yet..." Wednesday replied as silent as possible for a second. Wednesday kept her avoiding the gaze of her mother and grandmother. Wednesdays mother tilted her head she didn’t saw the problem in that “And?.”

"Well... There isn't going to be any children..." Wednesday said softly. She looked up, still a little quiet and nervous. "We can't have any." Wednesday repeated, now more seriously. Morticia smiled wide she understood what the problem was.

Hesitant she touched Wednesdays shoulder without really touching it and said “My dear death trap… you know you can. You’re an Addams. And you’re my daughter. You have the powers of witch craft. You can have children with y/n… it’s not a problem at all that you both are women”

Wednesday froze for a moment. Her eyes went wide and she blushed. This wasn't what she expected at all and for the first time she felt actually dumb, dumb for not thinking about this herself. She suddenly felt shy to tell her mother more about your relationship. She looked at her mom again, still quiet. "W-What..??.." Wednesday said in confusion. Wednesdays grandma laughed “You didn’t considered to use a ritual?” She asked like it was the most normal thing. "A ritual? No... I never thought about that..." Wednesday said. She blushed even more and looked away. Her heart was racing. She couldn't believe it.

Wednesdays mother smiled genuine

“There are rituals that make it possible for you two to have your very own child…”

She sighed with a loving smile on her lips and looked around. “You should look for your wife and have a talk…” she added.

Wednesday looked up at her mother in awe. No. With respect. She couldn't believe what her mother had said. Could a ritual actually make it possible for you to have children? Wednesday was speechless.

She excused herself and made her way to the Addams library trying to find this ritual. She didn't took too long. Very quickly she found a small book. It had been written almost a century ago but it was exactly what she was searching for. Wednesday put the book in her bag but she could already hear the doors open behind her. She went silent. She was very nervous. The book could change everything...

“There she is my favorite niece!” said Fester with big eyes, electricity sparkling out of his fingertips and greeted Wednesday. She looked at uncle Fester and immediately tried to hide the book deeper in her bag and acted cool. "H-Hi..." Wednesday said softly but nervously. She was freaking out inside - and even a little bit scared. She didn’t wanted to talk with her family about you and hers problems in marriage or well… bed. But she wouldn’t consider it as a problem in bed. In bed was everything more than fine.

“Where’s y/n? I haven’t seen her since a while” asked Fester. "Uhm- she went to get some fresh air for a moment. She's outside." Wednesday answered, trying to seem unreadable. "She'll be back soon..." she hoped. She wasn’t sure were you were but she saw you leaving the mansion.

Fester looked at Wednesday with a knowing cheeky smile and said “She’s at the Addams graveyard”. Wednesday realized that uncle Fester knew. How long was she already outside? How long did she take to find the old book? Wednesday tried to say something but just nodded. She tried to find the right words. She tried to be careful with her words. “Uncle Fester... You know pretty much about spells and rituals, right?" She still tried to stay calm.

“Is this about something specific?” He said teasing and gave Wednesday a wink while chuckling. She blushed for a second. She couldn't believe that he knew - but he knew the whole time... Wednesday looked at him. Her eyes told everything. Even without her speaking he already knew everything about her relationship and how she felt. "Uncle Fester - I need you help." Wednesday said quietly. Fester smiled wider. "I... I found an old book..." Wednesday said. She looked down. "Its about a ritual that could help us to have a child..." Wednesday said while looking back at Fester. Wednesday was nervous. She really hoped that he could help her.

Fester looked at the book she pulled out of her bag and nodded

“That’s right… but the one you have is a way more newer ritual. I don’t know if it works as good as the old one”. He walked towards the shelves and picked up a way smaller one and much older one.

“This one. Will defiantly work.

One of our family members used it once. How do you think was vetter it born?” He laughed. “With that ritual… anyone can have children…” he added. Wednesday was shocked. She didn't thought of that - but it was possible now. It was possible that they could have a child. It was the one thing she wanted to hear right now. She blushed and looked at Fester in awe. She finally smiled but still was stunned. She looked down to the ground and nodded. "I need to speak with y/n... I'll let her know." Wednesday said softly. She turned around to go back to you and find you.

Wednesday left the library and went back to you. Finally she took this one step. She went outside, smiling at you with a small glow to her face. "I'm back dear." Wednesday said.

She looked around and saw there was nobody around, it was just both of you.

She approached you with confidence and put her hand on your cheek. "I have good news..." you were surprised to see her. But kept avoiding her eyes as you watched the family gathering from afar through the windows of the mansion. Now that no one could hear her she finally had the courage to say it. "I have a plan... A ritual that could make it possible for us to have children. I found the book and asked uncle Fester to confirm it. He said that it would work." Wednesday tried to give you a smile but she was still too scared to actually look at you. She was afraid of your reaction. She was afraid she couldn't make you happy with this.

Your heart skipped a beat and your face felt hot you looked at her shocked and asked “what?”

"We can have a child.... I just spoke to Uncle Fester about it..." Wednesday looked at you. Her voice was still shaking but she hoped that you was happy - like her. "I know this is important to you - but..." Wednesday paused for a second and looked down.

"Do you want that... Do you want this..?" Wednesday asked quietly. You were stunned and speechless and said confused “You talked with fester about this?”. Wednesday nodded quickly. "Yes... I talked to him about this... I had to... And... We can make this work. We can have a family." Wednesday said with a nervous smile.

One of those rare smiles she wouldn’t give everyone. That showed her beautiful dimples. That made you weak. You looked down not sure what to feel. You weren’t sure if she did find a way to make this possibly for us or just to make you happy…

Wednesday noticed your reaction. "If you don't want this... I understand..." Wednesday said softly. She looked at you. Her eyes showed her worry unsure what to say now. “No! It’s just…” I began with teary eyes “You gave me hope for one year. And when I asked you yesterday you said it will be something that will never happen and be something you can’t give me and now your coming and tell me about a ritual?”

"I know..." Wednesday said silently. She tried to get even closer than she already was. Wednesday put a hand under your chin and raised your head. She looked at you straight in the eyes and smiled softly.

"I was wrong yesterday... I just... I was scared to talk to you about this. I didn't want to give you hope in case it wouldn't work. No. Thats not true. I was dumb. I didn’t think so far… That's why I said that.... But Fester gave me the book... I... I think we can really do this. It's a miracle but I believe in it... Do you?"

A sigh escaped you and you rested your forehead on yours with closed eyes as tears rolled down my cheeks “Do you?” I whispered weak. Wednesday's heart started to beat even faster. She tried to wipe your tears away. "Yes... We can... I believe it..." Wednesday said softly. She put her other hand behind your head. She looked at you very deeply. "I think we can make this work, I do." Wednesday whispered back and smiled again. You looked at her

“You really want this? And you don’t do this just because of me? I need to know if you want this as well as how much as I want this Wednesday” I said softly looking at my wife.

"I want us to have a family." Wednesday said confidently and took your hands. She looked directly in your eyes as she repeated herself. "I want us to have a family that is complete. With you - with us. It really is important to me." Wednesday said honestly. Her eyes showed no doubt of what she just said. Wednesday was sure this was the right decision. “There’s no going back…” I whispered looking deep into your eyes. Wednesday smiled gently and kissed your forehead. She was still very close to you.

"It is the right decision..." Wednesday said. She looked into your eyes again with a small smile on her face. She pulled you a little bit closer and pressed you against her. "I guess we have some work to do... Now..." Wednesday said and smiled at you again. Wednesday was nervous but she felt confident in her decision and the fact that there was no way back now.

A true smiled filled with happiness came on your lips. You pulled her closer saying “I love you…” She hugged you. And you felt her heart beating under your chest. Her breath smelled sweet and she held you tighter.

She still smiled but her eyes looked a little bit like she still had something to say.

Your heart beat faster. Wednesday was beautiful, wonderful and caring just like you always had loved in moments like this. She was perfect - like everything about her.

Her braids were falling on both sides to the side of her face. She was wearing her dark lipstick and she was so... mesmerizing. She always had been. This feeling was perfect. This moment was perfect. You two were perfect for each other.

She looked down for a second and smiled again. She then slowly pulled you closer and kissed you. But not like something quick and without much emotion. She kissed you soft and slow like you had never been kissed before. Wednesday put her arms around you. You both were close and she looked at you. You could see that she was not scared anymore. She kissed you again and whispered quietly as she did.

"I love you y/n..." Wednesday said and slowly broke the kiss. Your hearts were beating like never before.

You drove back home pretty fast after that.

Now you were sitting at the end of your bed and watched Wednesday looking through the book. You felt nervous as she showed you the book with the ritual. “So how does it work?” You asked as you were already only in your underwear and wore a slight silk black gown on top.

"It's an old ritual..." Wednesday begann.

She opened the book and looked at you explaining the rituals step by step.

"The ritual takes approximately two hours... We're doing everything that is written down here. After that you need to drink a potion to confirm the ritual. And than..." Wednesday closed the book.

"It happens." Wednesday said. She put the book down, looked at you.

"Are you ready querida mio?" She asked shyly. “Two hours?” I asked shy

“What are we doing those two hours?” The answer was pretty clear but you were still to stunned to believe it.

Wednesday didn't even answer. She just blushed a little bit, a light smirk at the corner if her lips. She came closer to you and started to kiss you. She gave you her whole attention. She took your hands and put them on her body. Her cheeks were a little red but her lips were still dark.

She smiled evil and kissed you again.

She gave you her whole attention, everything in her was only for you - right now.

You breathed heavy and melted right into her. Kissing her back. The candles around you two that had been placed in a circle, were making this so much more intimate then it already was. It was the most incredible moment of her life. This moment - right here. With her girl. With y/n. She kissed you, she held you close, she touched you. You were so close together - so beautiful. The candles around the room put your faces in a romantic light and gave you a romantic but also spooky atmosphere. Your hair looked so soft and beautiful. You were so incredibly beautiful. The book with the rituals lay open nearby. She had prepared everything for this moment.

She finally could have everything with her girl and You felt pure joy.

“What about the potion?” You whispered between kisses your hands on her waist. Wednesday laughed softly. She couldn't help but smile "You'll drink it in the last moment..." Wednesday said softly. She was still holding you close and was still touching your body with a soft hand that got a little bit warmer. She was in a very good mood. She smiled the way she rarely did had, with a dark and sexy hint. But today - everything was different. Everything was so much more tense… in a good way. Almost like in the night of your first or well second time. The one you both started exploring each other way more than usual.

"It's still so unreal... That we really are going to have a family." Wednesday said and kissed you again. She kissed you so soft that you didn't even felt it at first. But with every passing minute, the kiss became harder. Bruising your lips. Tight grips around your body. The hunger was there and so much more.

You breathed heavier and was lying now on the pentagram you two had to draw before on the floor. Wednesday held you very close on the pentagram. You were laying down and felt her breath against your lips. Everything about this moment was so magical. So wonderful. And it was really just the beginning. She gently kissed you over your cheeks and jaw. Then she looked you in the eyes and kissed you heavy on the lips. She put her hands on your hips and pulled you closer to herself. In her eyes was passion and lust. The way she was breathing made it look like she was starving. Starving to touch and feel you.

You held each other so close. You wanted this so much. You felt her hair and her arms and she didn't stop kissing you. Wednesday was so amazing and you wanted everything from her right now.

The lights from the candles put you in a beautiful light. It was the right atmosphere and the right time. The room was filled with love and happiness.

It was just you and her. It was just Wednesday and y/n. A wonderful moment together. The most precious moment.

She leaned over you. Her skin was soft. Her hair was shining in the light of the candles. She smelled like a deadly flower her smell driving you to another world and then she started to kiss you again. Her body was so close and so soft against yours. You felt the heat of your bodies and you felt the love you both shared even stronger as her hands gripped tight your hips and thighs.

You didn't want to miss even a single second of this moment. And Wednesday didn't let you. She kissed you - touched you - caressed you. She was completely yours right now. A heavy breath of pleasure escaped your throat as her fingers pressed into your thigh. Wednesday wasn't shy to show her attraction. She put her arms on your waist and pressed you harder into the floor. She kissed you even harder and longer. You could feel how close her body was with yours. Wednesday smiled in pleasure. She was enjoying it. Everything about this moment was good. Everything about this moment was perfect.

Your hand moved around her neck as you gripped it tight. Your tongue licking her lower lip before you moved it inside to meet hers.

The kiss was more passionate than ever. Heat was rising between you both. You could feel your need growing. Every touch and kiss sended electric waves right between your legs. Suddenly Wednesday turned around and pulled you on top of her.

Now that you were on top of her you kissed her neck. Your hands caressing her thigh’s while your teeth hovered over her pulse.

Wednesday skin turned more and more into color. She looked at your hands and the kiss was still soft. It only got more intimate. Wednesday kissed you back - not just on the face - but everywhere around your neck. Wednesday was hungry and lovely at the same time. Your touch made her feel warm. She put her hands around your hip and pulled you even closer to her. Her legs were now completely wrapped around yours.

You gasped when you felt something between the two of you down there.

Eyes looking down to see a big bulge in her underwear.

“Is this part of the ritual?” You asked nervous and felt so much more turned on now. Wednesday grinned devilish. She didn't answer right away. She took her time to think about what she said next. Your hands were still on her hips and she moved them a little bit closer. She could feel how you reacted to her right now. You were excited. Wednesday was not surprised. She was excited too - because of this moment and because she could see your reaction.

She looked at you and whispered seductive.

"In the ritual there is one part where we... We need us to be very close... It's very important..."

“Yeah I know but i didn’t knew that the ritual and spell would give you a dick for that…” I said honestly and felt your hardness against my probably soaked slip.

Wednesday kept that sexy evil grin. Your reaction and this moment were so hot. She liked what she saw.

"The ritual has a few different parts in it..... But it's nothing strange. Nothing that wasn't planned." Wednesday said softly and kept a smile on her whole face.

She was so nervous and so excited at the same time but somehow managed to keep it cool. "I guess we can start the next part now... Can we?" Wednesday asked, but you could see that she really wanted it.

You grinned and leaned back down over her.

Grabbing tight her chin as you pulled her in a fierce kiss.

Wednesday was overwhelmed. The kiss was deep and passionate. She bucked her hips. Her hands were running over your hips and your back. Her erection was almost painful by now. It was defiantly a different experience to be intimate with you like that. To feel the effect you had on her, to see how much control you had over her.

She did not want this moment to be over. Wednesday wanted to be with you like that. Forever.

You became more confident and curious so you started grinding your hips into her hardness, to see how good the spell actually worked.

Wednesday was breathless.

She didn't speak a single word. She just kissed you back softly. The spell worked perfectly. She felt it.

Wednesday was almost panting. She put her hands tighter on your hips and pulled until she felt that you were right over her. She wasn’t nervous anymore. She was completely comfortable with you in this position. And she liked what she saw. And what you did to her.

“If there’s a way to use this part of the spell again… then we have to do this way more often” you said heavy against her lips as you kept moving against her erection.

Wednesday was completely overwhelmed. The spell worked better and better. Wednesday's breath was heavy. She did not know what to say. But she did not speak. She didn't want to stop what was happening right now.

Wednesday moved herself more and more in a motion with you. She kept kissing you and she did not stop. She couldn’t. You kissed her deep and turned both of you around cause you wanted her to be on top while you would do this. Wednesday didn't say anything. She followed your move. Your body was now laying under hers. She was completely yours right now. A moan escaped you. Wednesday was blushing. She knew it was the spell - she also knew that it was working perfect. And she was so happy.

She started to kiss down from your neck to other areas with hot open mouthed kisses . She was moving herself and wanted to make you happy - make y/n happy now. Every single muscle in her body felt alive now. The spell made her feel so excited. Wednesday was yours now. She was yours forever - she wanted this. She would never ever let you go - and she meant it from the bottom of her heart. She knew your souls were bonded for this and every other life. Always meant to be together in this and every other world.

Wednesday was so happy. You were everything she wanted. No. needed in her life. You were her wife. She was ready - and she wanted you to realize that she would give you everything you wanted, needed and wished for right now. You were everything to her. All of you.

Wednesday took control of the situation - with a spell and a few words. She was in a completely other world. She didn't want to speak. She wanted to keep kissing you. And she did. She tried all different places.

Wednesday was kissing you all over your face again. She took her hands away of your back and started taking of your slip. And she didn't stop kissing you. Instead she gave you love bites. All over your neck, collarbone and chest. Within seconds both of you were naked.

Hands and fingers roaming other each others body. Wednesday breathed lower and slower as she looked into your eyes for a short moment before kissing you long.

While doing that she positioned herself at your entrance. She knew exactly what to do since you both used a strap on regularly. Almost… regularly. But this was so much better. It made her feel everything. It gave her the full experience. She wanted to slap herself for being so dumb and never considering to use spells for things like that.

The words “my dear you’re so wet…” were on the tip of her tongue but she had always been a bit shy when it came to dirty talk. So she kept the words in her mind and started moving herself into you.

Meeting your tight walls, made her almost moan right away. “Deeper…” you said heavy and she did as you wished. Stretching you out and filling you completly with her dick.

Wednesday started to move slow with deep thrusts first but became faster in a short time. She moved her hips in different styles and tried different kinds of movements.

"Y/n... You are so beautiful..." Wednesday said in between short breaths that were hitting against your neck.

She tried to be as soft as possible - but that was hard. She usually liked being a bit rough. She knew you liked that too under special circumstances and something was telling her that you wanted it rough now.

You started moaning

Your nails deep in her back as you said breathless “I love you querida mio…”

Wednesday was breathing heavy as she heard you moan.

"I love you too querida mio..." Wednesday was kissing your neck again. And then your chest and everywhere else. Wednesday wasn't stopping. She was doing this perfect.

The room was so filled with love. The candles made this moment beautiful.

Everything about you - from your face to your body - you were so beautiful.

Everything about this moment was perfect and Wednesday could feel it coming. She didn't even try to hold it anymore. She didn't say a single word.

She was holding you tight and she knew she could finally let go.

She let all the pleasure come over her and she felt complete as you both reached the peak. Wednesday took a deep breath. Her body was shaking right now. She was still on top of you - her whole body breathing a little bit faster. She didn't move her head and she just kept kissing you.

She didn't want to stop now. This moment was perfect. You panted holding gently her cheek as you kissed her back asking “The potion?”.

Wednesday wasn't talking but she smiled. Her eyes glowed up in love and she kissed you back. "Yes... We are almost done... We just need one more spell..." Wednesday whispered and kissed you again.

Her eyes and her smile was full of love now. She held your cheek again and you could feel that she wanted to be right here. With you. Forever. Finally you both could have your very own family. “So what’s the next step then?” You asked. Wednesday didn't say anything. She kissed you again. For a long and soft kiss.

"The next spell is the ritual of the union. I need you to read it for me and then we will be done...." Wednesday whispered.

She was shy again and she didn't move her mouth.

"Just say the words I write down for you on the paper...." Wednesday whispered and gave you a piece of paper.

"Do you trust me?" Wednesday asked.

You nodded and Was feeling excited and with full hope. Hoping you both could have your own family. Hoping you would be pregnant after this. Wednesday climbed off you and gave you the piece of paper and started to smile.

"Okay dear I will write down the words of the spell now." Wednesday sat down beside you. She didn't say anything. She just wrote. It did not take long and she looked into your eyes with love and gave you the paper back.

"Read it loudly and I will listen. Say those words for me... Together we will be united..." Wednesday whispered. You nodded and started reading it out loud.

"Now the spell of union. In the name of true love I cast this spell over us. I call forth the power of all love rituals, spells, potions, incantations and sacrifices. May the love of two souls be forever united in this life and the next. I bind our souls together forever. You feel me. I know. And that is why I know this is meant to be. Let our love remain unbreakable and create something more. And last forever more."

Wednesday watched you and listened.

You chuckled after reading this

“This actually sounds like a second vow… and not like something we can have a baby with” memories of your first night together after the wedding came back. "I know... It's my little surprise..." Wednesday whispered. A devilish grin on her lips and kissed you again. She wanted this moment very much to be like on your wedding night. She wanted this night to be special and romantic. And it was. You kissed her back and after that, you drank the potion for the ritual, coming slowly to an end.

"The potion works slowly. It takes a little bit of time. It's good that we still have time for a little bit more… fun. I don't want this night to end."

Wednesday layed there - next to you - her arm wrapped around you as she caressed you back. You looked at the time “So I guess we need to go another round? Only one from two hours passed from the ritual” a slight teasing tone in your voice.

Wednesday kissed your cheek and laughed. "Yes... we need another round."

She moved your lips with hers slowly again.

"I can't think of anything else right now than just being with you... and giving you so much pleasure..." Wednesday whispered her lips on your pulse. She tried to make this moment last as long as possible. The potion was still working very slowly so she used the time she had right now to her advantage...

“Do you think it will work?” You asked softly

The fact that the ritual and spell actually gave her a dick to do this made you still scared that it wouldn’t work. Wednesday moved a bit closer to you. She looked you deep in your eyes and she smiled. She kept kissing you but after a while she whispered.

"We won't know until it's done. But I would say - it will work. The spell is working so it's just a matter of time." Wednesday had no doubt that you would be happy. In her eyes the union spell would work and everything would be fine. Your love would be there - and would last forever and most importantly… would create something beautiful. With the best parts of you both. "I love you so much... You are everything to me... You are the most beautiful woman ever..." Wednesday whispered and kissed you so passionately.

Your whole body was full of goosebumps and you felt like this should have always been the way. This was destiny. Wednesday was your girl and you would never let her go now.

You saw your whole life before your eyes together. In your head you saw that everything was right now. The feeling was more than perfect. “I love you Wednesday Addams” you whispered caressing her cheek and lower lip with your thumb. Wednesday was breathing heavily now as she kissed you again. She moved her hand up and down your chest as she kissed you again right now. She whispered softly.

"I love you so much. You make so much sense to me. Everything feels right with you. We are two people, we are together forever. This is our life right now. I am so thankful that we have each other..."

One week passed after the events of the ritual and spell you both were back in the usual routine. She was working on her book and cases and while you did your work as a video editor as usual from home. Wednesday finished her current case and looked on the clock. In about half an hour she would get a call from her office and then she could finally be done with work for today. Wednesday looked at y/n’s picture on her phone and smiled. It was perfect. Wednesday was now waiting to get this call and then she could get home and see you.

She still had in her mind the feelings of the ritual from a week ago. She just could not stop thinking about it. It was perfect and it would be her new every evening memory now. Wednesday was driving home now and was excited to see y/n. In less than 10 minutes she would be there and she could finally see if her wife had maybe some great news. While she was driving you were walking down the house up and down. Nervous about the test and excited at the same time.

Wednesday finally came home and saw you waiting. Wednesday gave you a long kiss and hugged you short. "Was your day alright my dear?" Wednesday asked as she let herself go. “Yeah querida mio” I said happy and kissed you long before pulling away. “So… let’s check what the pregnancy test says… I know it’s early but it’s still a spell so maybe… who knows…”

"Yes y/n. let's check it now." Wednesday took the pregnancy test that y/n was holding in her hands. Wednesday looked at it as she saw that it was positive.

"We did it... We are having a baby." Wednesday kissed you passionately and was so happy. Adrenaline and excitement rushing through her like never before. She couldn't even tell how happy she was right now. You did it. Your love produced a life.

Love produces life - and that was incredible. Wednesday was so full of love she couldn't stop thinking about you and the baby right now. You were speechless. And had tears of relive in your eyes “it worked?!”

Wednesday was smiling and kissed her passionately again. She was so happy.

She started to cry even a little bit. "Yes querida mio it worked. It really did!

We have a baby on our way. I love you so much." You smiled with slight tears and kissed her back deeply “Why didn’t you come up with the ritual earlier?” You said chuckling.

It's been a few months and the months were flying by. You were pregnant and your belly was getting bigger and bigger. "I'm so excited about being a mother..." Wednesday whispered to you.

Everything was perfect right now. They had each other. They had their baby. And they had their spell. It worked perfectly. The ultimate ritual of true love. I chuckled

“It’s weird to see you being all affectionate and a softy. If someone would see you like that they wouldn’t believe it”

Wednesday was touching your belly now. You were sitting in the kitchen now together.

"It feels weird for me too. It does not feel real to talk so openly about emotions. But this is our baby. And it does not matter how others see us if they see us being in love.

The whole world could look at us and laugh, but we don't need to care. We love each other and we are now having a baby. The proof is in your belly now dear. Besides that. I’ll kill everyone who dares to look weird or say something" Wednesday smiled evil. It was still so weird to see her smiling all the time. And being way more softer than she truly was. But you were happy that you were the one who had that effect on her. And you were excited to see how both of you would raise the child. You hoped it would be a Addams like the others.

"Our baby will be dark and unique as an Addams. Maybe a bit scary but very smart. Just like us." Wednesday said with a proud smirk making you chuckle “well I hope”.

"I hope so too. But I think we are having a really smart and dark child for sure. At least if he is a little bit like me I'm satisfied." Wednesday said as she kissed your stomach. She was so happy. Everything was perfect right now. “He?” I said teasing

Then I added “I hope he will be just like you. So I don’t have to worry that much about the baby, cause I know it can handle everything by himself”

Wednesday smiled. "Yes. A boy would be nice. It's a little bit more fitting for an Addams child." Wednesday added with a little grin on her face.

"Just think how good he will look in his own little funeral suit. He will be adorable." Wednesday laughed a little bit as she said the last thing. She loved your little teasing and she loved that you could have fun. It meant so much to her. You laughed about this and shook your head it was so typical for her. But I was actually surprised that she wanted a boy. You always thought she was pulled to powerful woman and stuff like that cause she was one herself.

“Tell me more about what you imagine our child to be like…” you said peacefully. Wednesday smiled and took your hand and kissed it.

"Dark. Smart. Funny. A bit weird and maybe a bit scary. But very lovable. Just like us." Wednesday said as she kissed your hand and looked in your eyes.

She imagined it to be a beautiful child. Wednesday really didn't have a preference between a boy or girl.

In her imagination the child would fit perfectly into their little Addams family.

More months passed and you both were lying in bed now. Wednesday had her hand gently on you belly that was now way much bigger.

"She is active. I can feel it." Wednesday said smiling. You smiled watching her touch your belly and observe the movements of your baby girl. It turned out that it wasn’t going to be a boy. But none of you cared about that. The important thing was to have a healthy baby. "She is so active. I can't even believe it. But I also love it... Our little girl is going to be here so soon. I'm already so happy that she is growing more and more every day. I just love her so very much already." Wednesday said as she kissed your belly. The baby was moving a lot. Wednesday could feel her more and more every minute.

Time flew by faster and soon you found yourself with her in the hospital after giving birth. Wednesday held their daughter close and she looked at you.

"I will always take care of our little girl...

She is so beautiful. I am so glad that we are good mothers. What should we call our little girl?" Wednesday said as she kissed their daughter and then look at you.

You could finally name your little girl. A child made out of pure love and dedication. Their Addams child. They could not have asked for anything better. You looked at both at them thinking about names that would fit an Addams and the miracle it self. "There is Pandora, Persephone, Calypso...

I know these are unusual. Do you have any ideas? Maybe some dark or even Latin names?" Wednesday asked.

It was always important to Wednesday to have a strange and powerful, old fashioned but dark and mysterious name. Just like a true Addams. Something special. “What about Dahlia?” You asked.

It was her favorite flower and crime story.

In your opinion the crime was to much but the flower was perfect.

Daliah Addams.

Wednesday smiled.

"I'm really happy with that name. She is going to be quite a powerful woman like us." Wednesday said and looked at you.

"I want her to grow up with strong characters. To have confidence and love. But also to be able to have power and to use it." Wednesday said smiling.

She did not know where she took those strong feelings from. It was just a sudden feeling that she now wanted all that for their little Daliah.

[gloromeien]

Hellooooo I hope your day is good? Have an ask!

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love! <3

Whoo, my first ask! And from the exceptional and lovely @zenaidamacrouras1, whose fic Monoclonius I'm re-reading right now and loving just as much as the first time. An all-time fave, really, with just the best, sexiest, nerdiest Bucky and the sweetest dad Steve. Check it out if you haven't!

But this of course is supposed to be about *my* fics, so let's get started.

Five Favorite Fics That I've Written:

History Repleating (Or the Proper Care and Feeding of One Steven Grant Rogers), Modern AU, Shrunkyclunks, kidfic

Summary: Captain America!Steve receives a letter from Dr. J.B. Barnes, Brooklyn Historical Society. Except not quite that J.B. Barnes. This leads to Steve and Bucky having a meet cute via Bucky's work as a history teacher. Smut, fluff, and a smidge of angst ensue.

Comments: This one is, IMHO, the best fic I've ever written. Which is not to say it's good, exactly--your mileage may vary--but I don't think I'm ever going to get to this place again. It was winter 2022. We were all just re-emerging from lockdown. I was in the process of caring for my sweet little corgi girl at the end of her life, and I just needed some joy, you know? Something fun to look forward to. I feel like I channeled a lot of those emotions, that grief, into the Steve in this fic. Though it's not a sad fic by any means! It's full of bad jokes and sarcasm and sweetness and found family and people just caring for each other beyond reason. Bucky here is a bright light that comes into Steve's life at just the right moment, that allows him to believe that he could have a real future with someone to love. I really needed to hear that right about then, and so, as Alexander Hamilton sings, I wrote my way out. For that reason and many more, this will always have a special place in my heart.

Last Exit to Brooklyn, Modern AU, Shrunkyclunks, SoulMark

Summary: When Steve Rogers emerged from the ice, he wound up not only in a whole new century, but also with a brand-new soul mark. Knowing that the person he was destined to be with might be just around the corner made it easier for him to settle into a future where happily ever after was a sure thing. Until the Romanian drummer of a 'popular in Europe' heavy metal band, and freight car of personal baggage, come crashing into his life...

Comments: This fic is a confluence of so many things I really, really, really love. Soul mark AUs, for one. I looooooooove those. But I only wanted to write one if I felt like I could bring something new to the table. Once I hit on this particular idea, I knew I had to write it. Also, Tommy Lee!Seb kept me up nights, friends. I loved his look in that so much. As a teen, I had a whole hair metal phase. And it was a fun way to pay a little tribute to Seb's Romanian heritage, so... anyway. I particularly adore some of my Romanian OCs in this--two of them being not so veiled versions of Nadja and Laszlo in What We Do in the Shadows, LOL. Feeling kind of weird about tooting my own horn here, being Canadian and all (Sorry. Sorry. Sorry?) But anyway, they were all really fun to write, even if I think the fic ended up being a little too long and more angsty than I expected. A good thing? A bad thing? You can decide for yourself. ;)

Cut Him Out in Little Stars, Medieval AU, kidfic, arranged marriage

Summary:

Two Houses, both alike in dignity In fair Venora, where we lay our scene

Three years after a brutal, bloody war that saw their formerly friendly queendoms at odds for the first time in history, Prince Steven Rogers of House Grant seeks to solidify the peace between Lehigh and Venora through an alliance--marriage with Prince James Barnes of House Buchanan, his childhood friend turned unexpected enemy. But after years as the Fist of Hydra and a long recovery from brainwashing and torture, Bucky isn't in a place to marry anyone, let alone someone he doesn't even remember. Stubborn to the core, afflicted by tragic losses, and still half in love with someone who might only be a memory, Steve and his family journey to Lynbrooke, the capital of Venora, to attempt to end the tension between their queendoms, and perhaps heal his wounded heart.

Comments: My least-viewed fic by a wide margin, but one that I really love. Playing with the big tropes can be so much fun, and arranged marriage is one of the biggest and messiest. I also rewatched Seb in Kings right before writing this, and it started as a crossover between the world of that series and the idea of arranged marriage. But eventually it took its own path. I have a total soft spot for the Bucky in this one. Probably the most broken I've ever written him. I shy away from Winter Soldier recovery fics--love reading them, will never write one myself--and this is the closest I'll probably get to that. One of the reasons it's close to my heart is because I feel like they really earn their happy ending in this one.

A Slaying in Scarlet, a LOTR Mystery

Summary: On the eve of Aragorn’s coronation, Legolas and Elrohir are charged with investigating a brutal murder at the Citadel.

Comments: My AO3 account is split into two eras. From about 2002-2010-ish, I was heavily involved in the LOTR fandom, specifically writing Legolas/Elrohir, but also a few other pairings, including some OOC pairings along the way. After that, I went off to be a romance writer for a little while (and yes, I'm going to shamelessly plug my Stoker & Bash mystery romance series, because I'm fucking proud of them.) Then watching FatWS knocked me for six, and here we are, all Stucky, all the time. All this to say that my early LOTR work, I am certain, is not good. I have not re-read anything in ages, nor will I ever, most likely. But it was in writing those fics that I found a bit of my voice, and they gave me courage as a writer, and so I couldn't leave them off this list completely. This one is a Sherlock Holmes type deal, because I am also obsessed with mysteries. Hopefully it stands up a little bit. Buyer beware.

A Place to Rest and Remember Yourself (In My Arms), Shrunkyclunks

Summary: It's 2015, and Steve is living in a post-publicly coming out world. His every move is scrutinized in the tabloids and on social media, he's still wrestling with life in the 21st century, and the paparazzi never give him any peace. Making friends who aren't co-workers is practically impossible, let along dating. His solution? Have a regular, no-strings 'arrangement' with one of Natasha's honeypots. Bucky is a former spy and adventurer who used to work for S.H.I.E.L.D., but left for *reasons*. Having just gotten his heart ripped to shreds by a traitorous ex, he finds the idea of a discreet, 'with benefits' arrangement with his teenage-years crush very, very appealing. But you know what they say about what happens the minute you stop looking for love...

Comments: I wanted to write something quick and fun and smutty as hell for Stucky Week 2023. Instead... *sighs* You'll note that this ended up being 18 freaking chapters long. Why am I like this? I wish I knew.

One of my fic-writing missions is to give Steve Rogers the ending he deserves. The MCU did not treat him or his PTSD right--this is well-established in both fandom and a ton of metas more insightful than anything I could ever write on the subject. But where I feel like I maybe can address this a little is in fic. My aim here was to just spoil Steve rotten. To give him the literal world back, in the form of a Bucky who has serious wanderlust. It was also so much fun to play with Doctor Strange and the whole Sanctum Sanctorum stuff, Layla and Marc, Darcy of course, Nat and Sam. The 'love shield' Steve throws up in front of the press was inspired by Harry Windsor's PR move from many moons ago. My favorite part, about this fic, about writing fics in general, is when love just kind of happens to two people who aren't really paying attention, and suddenly it's everything, and they have to conform their lives to this new gorgeous reality. Anyway that's what I'm going for in every fic I write.

This was more talking about myself than any Canadian should do in a month, let alone a day. I need to go lie down. I don't love tagging other authors in these things, but if @burberrycanary, @bluesimplicity73, @musette22, @leveragehunters, or @dontcallmebree haven't done this yet and feel like it, I would love to read your thoughts on your incredible fics. And you, readers, please don't miss any of their tremendous work. Take it from me, their amazing stories (and Zenaida's) keep many a monster at bay when the night is dark and full of terrors. Big love to everyone out there sharing their creative endeavors with the world! <3

[kokorosfanfics]

Hi! I was wondering if you were able to do some fluff of a character that you would like to do! And can it be gender neutral?

Awesome, I've been requested to write literally anything I want as long as it's fluff. -Mod Kokoro

Beloved of The Supreme Leader. Kokichi Ouma x Reader!

Every day when you came into class, you were always met with something on your desk. Always some kind of gift. Sometimes you found chocolates and candies, other times you found poetry and letters, or occasionally flowers. Sometimes you'd find cute accessories and trinkets. It was obvious someone had a crush on you. But there was the mystery. Who was it?

Today, you came into class like any other day. There it was, a lovely gift box sitting on your desk. It was just waiting for you to open it.

"Wooooow S/O. Someone must reeeeeeaaally like you!" Your best friend, Kokichi Ouma said.

"Gee, really? What was your first clue?" You joked as you went to see what your secret admirer gave you this time.

Kokichi sat right next to you in class. You'd spend most of class time goofing off, hardly ever doing actual work. It was nice, actually. Just two best friends living their lives joyfully without a care in the world. Who could ask for more?

Well. There was something. You secretly wished you were more than just friends with Kokichi. The truth was, you had fallen for him. But you had no idea how he felt about you. You didn't want to risk potentially making things awkward, so you always kept quiet. Secretly, you hoped the secret admirer was Kokichi all along.

"Come oooooon S/O! Let's see what he got you." Kokichi enthusiastically awaited for you to open it.

"Alright, alright." You giggled as you began to slowly unwrap it.

Kokichi bit his lip in anticipation, but you didn't catch it.

"S/O. I've been sending you gifts for quite sometime now. I feel confident now that I am ready to tell you to your face how I feel about you. After school ends, I want to meet by the roof on the side closest to the sun. See you soon."

"Soooo what's it say?" Your best friend asked.

"It says he wants to meet today on the roof after class today!" You exclaimed.

"Are you gonna meet him?"

"Heck yeah I'm gonna meet him! I've been wanting to who this is since this first started!" You jumped in excitement. You'd finally get to meet your secret admirer! You could barely contain your excitement.

"Usually his letters aren't in boxes. Is there something else in there perhaps?" He asked.

"You're right, there probably is." You looked again inside the box. Kokichi was right. Inside was a heart necklace. It was silver, but with the right side of the heart shining in a beautiful purple.

"Wow!" You breathed in amazement. After sliding it around your neck, you turned to face your best friend.

"How do I look?" You asked excitedly.

"Nee heehee! I think it's lovely. You look cute wearing that." He told you. Was that a slight tint of pink on his cheeks?

Eventually, the rest of your classmates came in. Class was about to start, so you both sat down as you waited. You were in the back row closest by the window. The two of you had a whole corner to yourselves that the class liked to call "The Clown Corner."

An hour had already passed, and your phone buzzed. You pulled it out to find a text from Kokichi.

Kokichi: So who do you think your admirer is?

S/O: I'm not sure, but I have a hunch.

Kokichi: Tell meeee!

S/O: I don't wanna say just yet in case I jinx it.

Kokichi: Do you already like somebody?

S/O: Perhaps. But I won't say who.

Kokichi: I can't believe my greatest friend doesn't trust me! :(

S/O: I don't want you to tease me!

Kokichi: What, me? Teasing you? I could never!

S/O: Like how you never tease Kiibo for being a robot?

Kokichi: Touche.

Kokichi: So anyways, I need to start something before I die of boredom from this class.

All of the sudden, a piece of lead hit Tenko in the back of her head.

"Ouch! Who did that?" She turned behind her to see Kaito, absentmindedly doing his work.

"You degenerate male! You have some nerve throwing lead at me! HIYAAAAAAAH!" She karate chopped him so hard he fell out of his seat.

"HEY! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?" He shouted.

"GRRRR YOU KNOW WHAT THAT WAS FOR!"

"I LITERALLY DID NOT DO ANYTHING TO YOU!" Kaito yelled.

"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO YELL AT ME! I'LL THROW YOU OUT THE WINDOW SO FAST!"

"OH YEAH? THROW ME! I DARE YOU!"

"Mkay, you know what kids? Step out." Your teacher made them leave the class with him.

You pulled out your phone.

S/O: LMAO that was so you, wasn't it?

Kokichi: I can't believe I'm being accused! We all knew it was Kaito."

S/O: Yeah that's a lie.

Kokichi: Yup it was.

S/O: Was framing Kaito a bonus?

Kokichi: It certainly was.

You and Kokichi giggled to each other. You knew he and Kaito butted heads often, so you could feel the satisfaction he got from Kaito getting into trouble.

The door opened, and in stepped Tenko. She strutted to her seat with pride, and Kaito could be heard cussing from afar. Your teacher had a grouchy look on his face.

"Nyeh? Tenko where's Kaito?" Himiko asked.

"Pfft! That degenerate male got sent to the principals office." She flipped her hair.

Kokichi laughed even harder. He put a hand over his mouth, trying to keep his composure as best as he could. You did the same. Tears of laughter began to prick your eyes.

The school day drew to an end. You felt excitement rush through you. Soon, you'd be meeting your secret admirer face to face.

'Please be Kokichi. Please, PLEASE be Kokichi.' You thought to yourself. You had a gut feeling it was him. Or was that just wishful thinking? Just you hoping it was him. Could it be?

The bell rung to dismiss class.

"Well. I suppose your off to meet him now, huh?" Kokichi asked. Why was he grinning so much?

"Yup! I gotta get there quick!"

"I'll help you pack your stuff."

"Aww, thanks 'Kichi!"

Kokichi helped you finish organizing your supplies.

"Well. I'm off now. See ya!" You waved as you ran out to the roof.

"See you soon, S/O. Very soon." You didn't hear him say this.

Finally. You're here now. You looked around, it seems you were the only one here. You bit your lip in anticipation. He'd be here very soon. You began to breathe in and out slowly, hoping to calm your nerves. Your eyes closed shut, hoping and praying that when you opened them it would be Kokichi in front of you. You loved him so much, was it even possible to love anyone else at this point?

You heard footsteps approaching. Familiar footsteps. Slowly coming up behind you. He was here. It was only a matter of seconds now. The mystery was unfolding.

"Nee heehee! Hey S/O." You immediately zipped around, stunned.

It was him?

"K-Kokichi?" You gasped. Were you dreaming.

"Yup. It's me."

It was him.

"You're..... You're my secret admirer."

"That's right!" He winked.

It was him all along.

You were shocked. Stunned.

He took your hands in yours. He looked up at you with a warm smile. He was blushing. You'd never seen him blush so hard in his life.

"Everything I am about to say is the honest truth. Please don't think I am lying or that this was an elaborate prank, alright?" He sounded nervous. He began to sweat.

You nodded, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

"S/O. You've touched my life in a way I can't describe. I enjoy everything I do with you. It doesn't matter what we're doing, I just enjoy it. I enjoy it, because it's with you. I love you. I love you S/O. I love everything about you. I can't think of anyone or anything else I love more. I adore you, I crave your time and attention. I want your love, your affection. And I want to love you and hold you and be with you. I wanna be yours. So." He breathed in.

"Be mine?" He was as red as a tomato now. You felt his hands tremble while holding yours.

You couldn't believe what you heard. He truly felt that way about you. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him. You couldn't help crying tears of joys.

You leaned in and kissed him right on the lips. He was caught off guard, but he kissed back gently. You shared a sweet and loving kiss as the sun set in the distance, it's beautiful orange shone on you.

You pulled back, foreheads pressed together.

"Yes. I love you too, Kokichi. More than anything! So yes, I'll be with you."

Now Kokichi began to tear up. He smiled so genuinely. He was happy beyond words!

He then kissed you again, on the lips. You shared another kiss together on the roof.

"Nee heehee! I'm glad."

You noticed on his neck. He wore a matching necklace to the one he gave you. The left side had the purple on his, though.

"Aww, that's cute. The necklaces are matching." You smiled.

"I figured it was perfect for us." He winked.

The two of you left school hand in hand together, beaming with joy.

You finally had everything you wanted.

[ephemerensis]

Here You’re Safe // Joel Miller x GN! Reader

another platonic gender neutral dad joel moment. TRIGGER WARNING DEATH like of a major character please proceed with caution !!! anyways this took me so long skkshd and the ending is rushed and rlly bad im sorry its 2 am :/ not proofread ALSO!! if i published a poetry book would yall read it :/

—

“Anything bad down there?” Ellie jutted a finger towards an empty hall, lined with lockers.

Outside, the wind screamed its grievances, making the old building creak whenever a particularly cruel gust swept by. It was winter in the middle of the country, and as much as the three of you adored the idea of camping outside, the snow violently pouring from the skies argued otherwise.

Thankfully, Joel found a school building nearby before the storm. A high school, it looked like. On the way in, you saw traces of the treacherous cordyceps roots intertwining through the doorway and walls. But you didn’t have much of a choice with the weather, and they were dry. Hardly anyone lived in the area to get infected anyways, and winter seemed to slow them down; the infected. Not the fungi itself. It grew just fine. Thrived even, in colder climates.

“Just you.” You bit back a chortle as Ellie scrunched her nose, almost peeved.

“You know that joke gets fucking old, Joel. I’m not even in there yet.”

The burly man just shrugged, adjusting his rifle strap as he slowed his steps to a halt, “isn’t a joke.”

“He can’t help it, he’s like eighty. Can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” You shrugged your pack off your shoulders, setting it on the floor to get situated for the time being. The man just grunted in response, glancing around the building before taking a seat at one of the long tables that littered the room. They were askew; clearly a struggle took place there sometime, but judging by the copious amount of dust that coated the place it couldn’t have been all too recent. Joel was sure it was clear, otherwise they would’ve heard you by now. The school wasn’t all that large after all.

“Whatever,” piped Ellie, rolling her eyes. She reached for your sleeve, tugging you towards the hall. “Cmon! I wanna explore a little!” Giggling, you let her lead you off, throwing a glance back to Joel before the two of you rounded the corner. His brows were deep set, almost furrowed above his eyes, as they usually were; but he looked about as relaxed as you imagined the man could manage.

“Hey!” he called after you. “It’s mostly dry, but you watch your step, understand? Haven’t cleared it completely.”

The two of you hardly heard him, though, distracted instead by the rows of little blue locked cabinets you’d only read about in passing. A lot of the world before was a wonder after growing up in the QZ. It felt like rediscovering a myth.

“This is so fucking cool!” Ellie ran her hand along a row of them, rattling the metal doors against their frame. It was a wonder they weren’t rusted after all these years, but they seemed almost untouched if not a little dusty.

“Didn’t you go to high school? In the QZ?” You didn’t get to. Before Joel and Tess you were a well kept secret, and after that didn’t change much either. They’d let you out as you pleased after awhile but you never went to school; ‘don’t need to be feeding you FEDRA propaganda,’ so they homeschooled you instead. Mostly Tess. Joel quipped in every now and then but he didn’t usually have the best wisdom to impart onto you. Aside from bedtime novels, that was always his specialty.

“Yeah but it was tiny. Just a gym and some classrooms.” Ellie had her head under a drinking fountain, staring at the pipes as she mashed the button. “This stuff is so metal, literally. It’s like your own little room at school!” Abandoning the fountain when no water emerged, she turned her attention back to the paint chipped lockers, “you think they left shit in here?”

“Like corny love letters maybe,” you tugged on one of locks to test it. It didn’t budge, as you’d assumed. Thoughts of life before were so enigmatic. They were more scared of the math test next class then when their next meal was gonna be. It almost made you jealous. It would if they weren’t probably dead. Better to grow up in hell then suddenly get thrust into it.

Behind you, metal squeaked as Ellie got one of them open, “Oh shit! Wait wait wait, Y/N check me out!” You turned around, lips pursed together in a crooked smile when you saw her. She’d found someone’s baseball cap and sunnies. Ellie flipped the bill back and slipped the sunglasses on, forcing a deeper voice as she swaggered in your direction. “Yooo what’s up bro, you going to my place tonight? Throwing a huge party!”

She pressed her hand into the locker, beside your head, leaning in. The moment your eyes locked eyes behind her darkened frames you both burst into laughter. Shaking your head, you took on a dumb expression before replicating her tone, “man, is Britney gonna be there? She’s a total babe!”

Ellie snorted, sending you both into another fit of toe curling laughter. It was all so absurd. You pushed off the locker when you’d regained your bearings, walking backwards as you tugged on the locks to see if any would pop.

“Is that really how they talked back then?”

Ellie shrugged, tugging on locks on the opposite wall as the two of you ventured forth. “Gotta be, that’s how it is in books.”

One of the locks you tugged on gave way, making you grin as you pried it open. Pulling out a binder, you thumbed through the pages before a little booklet caught your attention.

“Here, catch!” She caught it with ease as you tossed the comic book over.

“No way! Batman!” Ellie flipped through the pages with fervor, pausing in her pursuit down the hall. You, however, continued slowly wandering backwards.

You giggled, shaking your head at her glee.

A sickening crunch wiped the smile off your face.

Ellie gasped, staring at you with wide eyes as you muffled a scream. Looking down towards the source of the noise, you see it.

The semblance of a hand disintegrated under your foot. The body it belonged to seemingly dried out long ago, pressed flat against the wall of lockers it clung to.

The both of you stared a moment, as you slowly backed away in relief. Until you saw the tendrils lurking in the undergrowth, reaching towards you. Worse still, the rumbling sound that suddenly emerged from the upper floor made you blood run cold.

Shit.

Ellie saw it too, bolting first but you were quick to follow.

“Joel!” You called, turning the corner, almost colliding with him. “We have to run!”

“Y/N! Ellie! What’s going on?” The man was already ready, bags slung over his shoulder with a look of bewilderment embedded on his features.

Ellie pushed Joel forward, “Not fucking dry!” The three of you ran, making your way back the way you came. The thundering sounds of footsteps hitting hardwood grew nearer. Joel lead the way, rounding every corner with his shotgun raised.

“Why didn’t they hear us when we came in?” You choked out in a panicked whisper. Normally they came bolting at any noise you offered.

“It’s winter, were probably huddled to keep the hosts alive. Mushrooms can take the cold, but the bodies can’t.” Joel whispered back. The timbre in his voice was almost enough to soothe you, he sounded more tired than distressed as he pressed on.

“What do we do?” Ellie piped.

“Gotta get outta here first.” The three of you cleared another corner, sprinting down a hall. A violent thud against one of the classroom doors made you lose your footing, sending you plummeting towards the ground. You gasped as three runners pounded aggressively against the door, piling and clawing at the ancient thing long enough for the rusted hinges to give way.

“Shit!” Somewhere out of the corner of your eye you see Ellie pull out a knife as the three infected tumbled forward. They piled on top of each other, all scrambling to gain their footing and lunge at the nearest person in the room; you. You shuffled panickedly backwards, working to get up and kick the topmost one off your leg.

Ellie stabs one in the head, making the arm fall limp and successively freeing you. You managed to stand upright, the other two still clawing but trapped under the weight of the first. Joel fires a bullet, ceasing another one’s movement as they three of you back away from them.

Before he can shoot the third, the rumbling gets louder.

You’re all sprinting before you can fully gain your bearings. The burn in your lungs was starting to settle in, but the echos of clicks and groans mixed with the pummeling of foot steps filling the halls kept you motivated. Your heart beat so quickly in your chest, you thought it might burst out.

The doors leading out were in sight, though. The wind that bashed against it was less than inviting, but beyond that— the worn mahogany didn’t budge when you shoved. Ellie reached it first, nearly falling as she bodied the double doors. The snow must’ve piled up outside.

A glance and a nod were all you needed before the three of you charged against it unanimously. Once. The doors shook and the sound resounded, seemingly worsening the agitation of the horde heading your way. A second charge made it squeak open, the biting wind flaying your skin as it made contact. The first of the infected rounded the corner, running at you full force before you’d managed a third charge against the doors.

They burst open, giving way to a powerful gust that hit you like a wall. Joel made sure you both got out before he followed, pressing against the wind to get away.

The infected fared worse. Clickers wouldn’t be able to hear with all this noise, and runners couldn’t manage to fight the wind. Most of then fell behind, the few that persisted did so slowly; sinking perpetually deeper in the plush snow in their pursuit.

Fighting against the biting currents of the frigid wind, the three of you paved a way into the tree line. Immersed in forest, the storm felt better. The trees blocked off some of the wind to an extent, and as far as you were concerned no infected seemed to have tagged along thus far.

The ache in your bones was starting to settle as the storm did. You were deep in the woods by then, no sense of direction or time— but with the way the moon hung so high in the sky it couldn’t have been close to daybreak. Joel slowed to a halt, nodding at both of you before you and Ellie breathed a collective sigh.

Ellie dropped her bag to the ground, almost falling over. Your knees felt a surge of weakness too. The snow looked so soft you could sleep in it. You bent forward, heaving, hands on your knees. If you were born before the whole thing went down the cardio alone would’ve been enough to kill you, it was much better to be born into the apocalypse, you decided.

Thankfully you didn’t leave too much behind. A sleeping bag and more cans of food than you would’ve liked were lost, but you’d find more food and you had two sleeping bags still.

Everything settled enough for you to hear again. Between gasps of breath you could hear the crickets chirping. It was almost tranquil.

Ellie seemed the first to recover, standing up and stretching her arms overhead before stilling. She stared ahead at nothing in particular, cogs processing the monstrosity you’d just escaped.

“That was fucking brutal.”

You looked up to offer a laugh. Her dry humor in times like these were enough to send you into orbit sometimes; but that was when you saw it.

The lone stalker that lurched for her before you could yell a warning. Before you could think you reacted. Grabbing Ellie by her collar, you yanked her forward and out of its path.

Instead, if collided with your arms pushing against its chest with all the force you had left in you to muster. It was stronger, of course, knocking you down almost immediately as it clawed at you. You screamed as it opened its mouth, long tendrils extending themselves towards you, wriggling morosely.

Ellie was still in the thralls of scrambling up, but Joel took notice. A well aimed bullet made it collapse. Joel rushed to help haul it off you as you screamed from the pure terror and adrenaline coursing through your veins, clamoring as far away from it as your shaken body could manage.

He looked at you with a concern you hardly recognized, not that you even looked to see it. Everyone was still a moment until Ellie said your name.

“Y/N…” she said it uncharacteristically nervously, a shaky finger pointed towards the shining red that stained the snow beneath your palm.

You raised your hand to your face, barely able to see in the moonlight, but the indentations of teeth on your marred flesh was unmistakable.

Ironically, your veins felt icier than the frost covered leaves as you stared at it; shell shocked.

This was never supposed to happen. You’d always made it through before, why now? Not you. It could never have been you.

Ellie fell to her knees, fists bunching the fabric of your shirt as she shook you, tears in her eyes threatening to fall. “Y/N what the fuck! Why’d you do that!”

“No. No no no,” you murmured.

“I’m immune!” She was screaming at you now. “I’m fucking immune! I would’ve been—“

The older man cut her off, pushing her hands off you but not with more force than was enough to make her release her grip. He looked at you with the same shock that gripped your eyes. His hands hovered you, hesitant, but the gentle movement broke your stupor. Looking up at him you quivered under the weight of it all, “Joel.”

He looked at you with something you couldn’t quite grasp. It was pity and shock and hurt and all of it but none of it. Somewhere in the confines of his empathy and loving was a deep rooted instinct to compartmentalize. What was done was done. But you needed him now. The bullet was shot, but the dust hadn’t settled.

“Joel, I’m so scared.” Tears were already streaming, and you knew he couldn’t do anything about it; both of you knew. But as his weighty arms wrapped taut around your shoulders, it was good enough a cure. You inhaled, letting his familiar burnt wood settle in your lungs as it’d done a thousand times before.

“Shh, shh. I know baby, I know.” His hand pat rhythmically against your spine.

It’s over. It’s really over.

That’s all you could think. Behind Joel, Ellie just stared silently. It wasn’t out of anger or guilt or even pity. None of these things ever seemed real, and the three of you had been doing this together for so long. You’d survived so much of it all, and she was the cure. The hopeless, helpless cure. What else could she do?

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Joel wasn’t one to sugarcoat or lie. So often he said so little, every morsel of information or sentimentality you could pry from him felt more satisfying than a warm shower on a cold day. Maybe it wasn’t because he didn’t know what else to say. You were in hysterics and at the end after all.

But it felt true.

Your hand throbbed, but not more than the feeling of the ache in your bones— something you’d gotten used to after years of running. The air was stiller than it was before, it didn’t hold the bite of bitter wind it had moments earlier. In fact, after all the snow, it felt clear and crisp in your lungs. The birds cooed their grievances to the world overhead, never ceasing their song even in the middle of night. And the stars were so beautifully bright, it was enough to feel enveloped. Here, in this moment, in Joel’s arms, you were okay.

He’d only pulled you closer, almost swaying you with him as he kept the rhythm of his hand against your spine. You could hear how fast his heartbeat, “You remember that toy rabbit you had as a kid? What was his name? Pete? Peter?”

“Percy,” you whispered after a while. Rabbit was a strong word to describe it. It might’ve looked like one before, but by time it got to you it was anything but. Discarded and trampled on as people rampaged out of cities and infectious conjunctions. It was a mottled gray little thing, with an ear and both eyes missing. The other ear consistently found itself, for the better half of five years, securely grasped in your little hands. Regardless, you loved it. You named it the way you would’ve named a real rabbit, if you could’ve had one before all this. You held it the way you would imagine your parents held you, before all this.

“Yeah that’s right,” his chest vibrated against the side of your face as he chuckled. “You used to carry him everywhere, didn’t you? Thought you were gonna kill me when I took him to wash. Would holler bloody murder, it was a wonder the neighbors never complained.”

The wind settled earlier with the storm, and eventually so did the pace of your heartbeat. You smiled at the memory, strangely bashful. It’s almost an insult to Joel and Tess to say Percy was all you had. They gave you food, shelter, company on some days. But for the first few years he was all you had. He was promised and he was yours. Percy was the first you could ever call your own. It felt often like he was all you had. Especially on nights when the two of them were on runs, and the Fireflies would stir fights against FEDRA outside. Percy shielded you from the sounds of gunshot then.

“Course eventually you outgrew him; which was never bad! Used to get jealous of how often you’d hug it and not your old man.” He sounded wistful. You calmed down enough to pull back, now suffering from a bout of hiccups and sniffles as you tried to regain your bearings. Joel didn’t let you go, though. You stayed in his arms. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond, offering a small smile in its place.

How could he be jealous of a silly little rabbit? Percy was all you thought you had then. But you knew better. Joel was all you had ever. He was all you would ever have again.

“Then there was that kid, down the street. Darwin or something?”

Damian. An awkward, lanky, 8 year old boy, with sand colored hair that never lay flat and a tooth that was perpetually missing. Of course, you were 9 at the time and you didn’t want to play with “little kids.”

Joel really sucked with names. You knew that. He was getting on in his years, but even when he was younger— they never stuck for him. People were untrustworthy and irrelevant, it was hard to want to try. So it meant a lot anyways when he halfway blundered the names of your childhood acquaintances. To you what was so fleeting was important enough for him to commit to memory, as cold as he could be. You never thought he’d cared so much.

“Brought you sidewalk daisies for months! Damn near ripped his head off, was about fed up with his yapping and stammering around you.” You smiled at that. Damian’s crush on you was so annoying then, but sometimes on longer days you’d wished someone would love you with the same persistence— even if it was a silly boy a year younger than you. “But you were always pretty, anyone could see it. No one will ever be good enough, though. Or, would be.”

Joel said the last part almost as a whisper. It felt like a death sentence, though you all knew there was no hope for you. A silence settled over your heads, you could feel it in your lungs as you inhaled the air that felt so crisp and clean and clear. Lungs that were still alive and well.

It would be dawn soon. And they had to go. The world was cold and bitter; they needed to get to shelter and then continue to their agenda. They. Joel and Ellie.

And when they went your lungs would still work, and you still breathe in clean crisp air. But they wouldn’t be breathing for you.

So, pulling far enough away from Joel to look him in the eyes you plead wordlessly. They darted between his, begging him to understand their request and praying for him to accept it.

It took a moment, confusion crossed his face before it dawned on him. Though he should’ve known what you wanted.

He shook his head, holding your gaze. It was a cruel thing to ask. To want. How could he when he raised you? When he loved you?

But you just nodded. He had to. It was all you wanted. So the two of you just looked at each other and pleaded. You knew you were going to win. Joel always yielded for you.

Your eyes shifted for a moment to lock with Ellie’s, offering her a small smile. She looked confused, looking between you and Joel as the pieces started to fall into place.

You looked back to Joel again, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him for the last time. Your eyes fell shut and you felt him squeeze you back. It was so warm here.

“Love you, Dad.”

You were safe here.

And that’s the last thing you knew before he pulled the trigger.

—

likes and reblogs appreciated !!

[lucentaire]

Love Day was not exclusive to romantic relationships. Indeed, it was also a time to show appreciation for friendships and other connections too, which was why Freed now held a small giftbox out to her. It contained a delicious new tea blend, the package of which was nestled in a delicate and distinctive teacup (white, with beautiful vines subtly decorating it), along with a small selection of fine sweet treats. "For you, dear Rena, happy Love Day."

she could always count on freed to gift her a small something when love day came around---and she truly, fully appreciated it each year. it was always something to look forward to, much like the fact that the next day, all sorts of sweets would be on discount. she appreciated that, too. her own package for freed was sitting on the chair next to her, just hidden enough for him to not immediately spot it while still being in reach for her.

'' i will need a new shelf for all my new teacups, '' she said as she lifted it from the box, all too happy to inspect the fine porcelain. freed always had a wonderful taste in these things, she was always curious to see what he had bought her because she knew that she always liked it. there was some serenity in the knowledge that someone knew her so well that she could trust him blind, not just with her back in battle but also with aesthetic choices. '' perhaps we can go visit a carpenter later today, commission a nice new decorative shelf? ''

she paused as an almost impish expression appeared on her face. he had teased her in the morning, it was time for her revenge. or at least: parts of it. the full revenge would have to wait until she had a specifically good idea, but it was always wise to keep freed on his toes. he was a pretty good dancer, he would be fine. still, hours had passed since she had opened the fateful envelope and she still wished she had had the wisdom of taking it up to her room. it was too late now, of course. it had happened. '' unless you have some secret hot date none of us know about, we could check out the furniture store to see if we can find one that suits our living room, '' she pondered out loud. '' we could even get some takeout for everyone on the way back---unless you think certain interested parties managed to ask out the other two? ''

well, the joke was mostly about laxus, who had been the target of much admiration since they had been teens and she had had to avoid the other girls that had kept asking her to deliver their letters and chocolates to her best friend.

[slateofthesea]

The slate of the Sea: Green Pirate King, Niki Fushimi

(A03) (Vibes)

The Dresden Slate was considered to be one of the great treasures of the pirate world. Many have sought it, fought over it, murdered for it, gave their lives to it. Yet, one single man gave his soul along with his conscience to it, casting everything aside once he heard the rumors, visiting a local pub.

The Fushimi family had the money to throw around all schemes without questioning it. When the youngest member of the family declared his adventure at the age of fifteen, no one even batted an eyelash, just raised their glasses, and wished him well.

Niki had the best schooling money could buy, not for his benefit but for his family. Another pawn on the Fushimi line chessboard. However, Niki never viewed himself as a pawn, nor a knight, now a silly bishop. Queen maybe? Lose your Queen; you lost the game. King, always, his delusion of grandeur started at the tender age of four when he outwitted everyone in his home out of their money.

His gambling got wildly out of hand by thirteen, causing all sorts of trouble for his family, scheming any and all who docked at his family-owned port. It was a blessing when he took on a ship and crew of his own, leaving his former life behind.

Maps and books upon books were laid scattered throughout his cabin. Letters and journals were read over and over again. Niki followed any whispers of the tale of this slate. Everything leads him to this point to a town that’s not on any map.

Sailing straight into a storm, a storm none of the crew had ever witnessed before. Waves so tall they seemed to touch the sky itself. The only sound they heard was the crack of thunder and the roar of the ocean as it ripped the entire ship apart.

Niki never feared anything in his life, always believing the tall tale his great-grandmother told him. After her late husband was lost at sea, a mysterious person visited during a wicked storm. A stranger with no name, no past, stayed only three nights, gone without a trace leaving behind a pregnant widow. She believed in her bones; her visitor had been a god of some sort.

Sea or chaos. Coming in with the tide and leaving with it or crashing into life like a violent storm, only blowing countless damage in his wake.

His great-grandmother encouraged the idea of him being a demigod as she often spoiled Niki the most. When she passed onto the next life, he inherited everything from her. Maybe from that, his curiosity for knowledge about all things, about the sea and the god.

It was strange when he was drowning; he thought he heard his great grandmother’s voice- like a song that kept him alive. Even stranger as he remembered in the storm, that was the same song he heard in the background.

“You’re awake.” The voice didn’t belong to his great-grandmother. It belonged to a young woman named Kisa, who would lead to much higher things and regret.

Much like Niki, Kisa wanted more out of her life, having to hide away from the fear of being captured or turned into one of the Colorless King pets for being a half-blood siren. She wanted what was beyond the horizon. Only the tale of women bringing lousy luck kept her from living in this safe haven.

Meeting by the fate of the gods or more like a cruel joke on their part as saving the pirate became Kisa’s biggest regret as they fell into a relationship of convenience. Kisa used him to gain some form of her freedom.

Niki used her to acquire the treasure her kind was protecting. A simple emerald ring that once belonged to the Dresden Slate.

“I should have helped you drown that day.” Kisa glared at the Green King as he desecrated another fleet with his new power.

“You should have, love, but here we are;” Standing at the helm, drunk off of this new power. He laughed as the sea took the fleet down. As the ocean and the sky seemed to be consumed by green light.

[sergeantbuckybarnes]

dear first love // eddie munson

Summary: Your brother plays cupid and tries to get you and his new older friend together. It helps that you had a crush on him when you were kids.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Henderson!Reader

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: angst, fluff

A/N: As always, please remember English is not my first language. Thanks to @coffee-books-music​ for proofreading this! 

main masterlist

When Eddie Munson approached your lunch table and asked to speak to you privately, you were taken aback. Back in elementary and middle school you were so close that people joked and said you two were joined at the hip but these days, you barely spoke or addressed each other's existence, though your friends always made sure to tease you about how the metalhead was always eyeing you.

You knew Eddie was friends with your brother now; him being part of his D&D club and all. Eddie had become his role model, someone he looked up to, other than Steve Harrington, of course.

“What did you want to talk about?” You finally asked once you reached the safety of the Hellfire Club’s room.

He kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other and fidgeting with his fingers while you observed his nervous behavior. Why was he acting like this?

"What's the matter, Eddie?" You inquired, only to have your eyes wide open in retaliation seconds later, "Did something happen to Dustin?"

“What? No, no. Henderson is fine," he clarified quickly. The last thing he wanted was to worry you.

You breathed a sigh of relief. "So, what's going on? I've never seen you act this way before."

“You and I used to be best friends, right?” He asked, but before you could respond, he asked again, "We told each other everything, right?"

"Sure," you replied, unsure where this conversation was going or what the point of it was in the first place.

“No secrets, right?” He asked again.

"Can you get to the point, Eddie?" you asked, exasperated.

“Why did you never tell me?”

You raised an eyebrow at the strange question. “Tell you what?”

“How you felt about me.”

"I'm not following," you admitted honestly, not understanding what he was on about.

He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out an envelope.

Oh no.

No way.

There’s no way.

You felt nauseous suddenly, as if you were about to puke or pass out, or possibly both. Embarrassment filled your entire body as you realized Eddie had read the letter you wrote to him when you were thirteen. A letter addressed to him but what you never intended for him to read. A letter that was once safely stored in your bedroom closet but is now in the ringed hands of your ex-best friend.

You could feel yourself starting to perspire. "You should know that I wrote that letter a long time ago," you said quickly. "Like years ago. I have no idea what it says. I honestly don't know how it ended up in your mail."

"It did not arrive in the mail."

You scowled. "How did you get your hands on it then?"

The metalhead chewed his lips, a nervous habit he'd developed over the years.

“Eddie,” you snapped. “How. Did. You. Get. The. Letter?”

In defeat, he sighed. "I got it from your brother."

“Dustin?”

He simply nodded.

That little shit… you thought.

“Did you mean it?” he asked, unsure. Getting you out of your thoughts.

“Meant what?”

“What you said in the letter, did you mean it?.”

Okay, maybe you told him you didn’t remember what you wrote, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. How could you ever forget the first and only love letter you ever wrote?

Dear Eddie,

I can’t keep this secret any longer. I am probably gonna deeply regret this, but I owe myself to get this out of my chest. I didn’t know what loving someone truly meant until I met you. I thought liking someone was easy. Now I know better. I can’t get you out of my mind. All I want is you. Whenever I’m sad, I just want you to wrap your arms around me.

Having you just as a friend has brought me so much joy, and you deserve to know how truly amazing you are. I think you are absolutely hilarious, really. No one can make me laugh as much as you do. But it’s not just your wit and your intellectual humor. I love how silly you are. You’re fun, and you make life fun. I love how you are just yourself; weird, quirky, childish, and goofy. You don’t even need to try, you just are pure light.

I also love and appreciate that you are sensitive and thoughtful. Around you, I feel safe and protected. I don’t think I can say I’ve ever felt that way around a guy before.

I also think you are incredibly cute. However, that is not why I like you the way I do. There are so many cute boys, but there is only one you.

I love that you are you and the way you make me feel. I love that you are kind, affectionate, funny, and loving. I love that you tell me about your dreams, how you look me in the eye when we talk, and that you hug me longer than most people do. You make me feel seen, heard, and appreciated.

Today, I told Jenny how I feel about you. She said it was just a crush and that I will get over you, but that’s the problem, I don’t want to get over you. I want you, and no one else. Even though I know you don’t want me and you never will.

Love you forever,

Y/N

“Like I said, I wrote it years ago. Who cares?” You attempted to downplay it.

“I do.”

Eddie Munson was never particularly popular with women. Most of them thought his D&D obsession was too... childish, in the absence of a better word. They thought he was loud and annoying, and things didn't get any better when he started high school and was labelled Eddie "the freak" Munson.

There’s only been one girl that had made him feel like he didn’t have to change to please the rest. “Don’t mind them. They are the weirdos.” He engraved your words in his mind despite the years spent apart.

You had always been special to him. It’s true that you parted ways when he started high school and you stayed back in seventh grade in middle school, but he never stopped caring about you.

So yes, your brother giving him a love letter you wrote for him meant a lot to him.

Now, if you could crawl into a hole and burrow and live out in it for the rest of your days, you for sure would. Why couldn’t he just drop it and move on in his life? Why was this so important to him?

“Can I have my letter back?”

“Can you answer my question?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. This banter with Eddie would have been amusing under different circumstances, but it was now only frustrating you. “Why do you wanna know so bad? Who cares if I was in love with you when we were kids? What do you want me to say? That I fantasized about us getting married and having children? That I imagined the whole white picket fence house nonsense? I was a kid with a stupid crush.”

You snatched the letter from his grasp. “And this? This is bullshit!” you yelled as you ripped the envelope apart, breaking it into pieces.

When you saw the shocked and hurt expression on Eddie’s face, you thought maybe you'd gone too far, but something inside you was preventing you from apologizing. So instead you did what you were best at, you ran. You ran away. From Eddie. From the room. And from your feelings.

You stormed into your brother’s bedroom, making him jolt. “That’s the last time you go into my room and rummage my stuff, you hear me?” The rage in your eyes showed just how much trouble Dustin was in.

“What are you talking about?” Dustin feigned innocence, which only made you madder.

It was unusual for you and your brother to get into a serious argument. It was even more unusual for you to be upset with him. Dustin had never done anything to irritate you before, but this time, he went too far.

“I’m not playing, Dustin.”

“I was just trying to help.” Of course he was aware of what had occurred. Dustin walked into the Hellfire Club's room after school with a beaming smile on his face, having given his sister and new friend the push they needed to become a couple, but his joy faded the moment he saw Eddie, and he knew things hadn't gone as planned.

“Help?” you asked incredulously. “What would I need help with?”

“I know that you still like him. I know the only reason you pick me up from D&D is so you can see him. I know you go to The Hideout every Tuesday to see his band play, but you hide in the corner so he doesn’t notice you, and I know that the reason you got detention last week was because you punched Jason Carver because he was talking shit about Eddie.” You were astounded by at your brother’s speech and how perceptive he was.

Taking your silence as permission to keep going, he spoke again, . “He likes you, too. Like a lot. And I mean, that guy never shuts up about you, so I had enough and I told him about your letter. He said I was bullshiting him, so I gave him your letter to prove it.”

“You still went through my stuff. That’s a huge invasion of privacy, y’know?” You wanted to stay mad at him, you really did, but Dustin’s intentions were too pure for that.

He raised his hands up in surrender,. “Arrest me if you want to. I’ll plead that I acted in the name of love.”

You snorted. "You know, you make it really difficult to be angry at you."

"I already knew I was adorable, but thanks for the reminder."

“I fucked up really bad, Dusty.” you took a seat next to your brother in his bed. “How can I fix it?”

Dustin grinned. “Well, it’s your lucky day, because I have a plan.”

You nervously paced around the room. Repeating the speech you had memorized and practiced several times. It didn't really matter. You knew the moment Eddie walked through that door—if Dustin’s plan worked— your mind would go blank and your legs numb.

You had always been terrible at expressing yourself verbally, which is why you wrote letters. On paper, you could effortlessly express all of your emotions. All the things you couldn't say out loud — whether because of embarrassment or fear, it didn't really matter — came so easily on paper. But this was not something that could be written down. He deserved to hear those words come out of your mouth without hesitation after what you did... after what you said to him.

"What are you doing here?” You hadn't heard his voice in two days, nor had you seen him in the cafeteria at lunch period. The last time you got a glance of him was when he looked broken and hurt, courtesy of your fried brain and your inability to deal with heart-to-heart situations.

You couldn’t tell if he wasn’t pleased with your presence, and honestly you’d understand if he kicked you out of his club’s room, but he didn't; instead, he just stood there, keeping his distance and waiting for you to speak.

“Hi,” your voice was timid, his strong gaze on you making you even more nervous.

Eddie remained silent. You knew if you were in this situation with anyone else, they would have already made their way out, but not Eddie. He was different.

“I’m sorry for being such a bitch. I don’t know why I got so angry and frustrated. You clearly did not deserve that; I know I messed up and you don’t have to forgive me. I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I crossed the line, and you have every right to be upset with me. If I were you, I would be angry as well. I'm so sorry for hurting you, and I'm sorry for being impulsive and not thinking before I speak. I- ”

“Stop,” he said, his breathing ragged. “Please.” When he interrupted your rambling, you came to a halt. "I'm not upset with you, Y/N."

You looked perplexed. "You aren’t?"

“No.”

"Because it's perfectly fine if you are."

"I'm not."

"Seriously, you are free to yell at me. I’m not- ”

“Y/N, I was the one out of line.”

“What?” you said, confused. “No, you weren't.”

This was so typical of Eddie, blaming himself when he had done nothing wrong. He did it all the time, even when you were kids. And it always broke your heart.

“I was,” He rested himself against the wall close to the door, still keeping his distance from you. “I shouldn’t have pressed you about the letter and- ”

“Eddie- ” You tried interrupting, but he cut you off before you could go any further.

“I guess I just wanted to believe that what you wrote in the letter was true,.” It was. “Because I had been in love with you for as long as I can remember,” What? “And I didn't believe Dustin when he said you felt the same way. It was almost too good to be true. But then he handed over the letter and- ” He ran his hand through his hair, “No one has ever told me those things, or written them down, and I- ” He chuckled dryly, “I knew it was too good to be true.”

Guilt swept over you. Eddie had dealt with feelings of inferiority for as long as you could remember. That the confidence he displayed in front of Jason or other basketball players when they picked on him was just that,: a façade.

He only let his walls down with you; even after all these years, he felt comfortable enough with you to be vulnerable. It made you feel even worse, making him believe he wasn't good enough for you or that you were out of his league, while in reality, it was you who weren't good enough for him.

“It was true,” you finally admitted, “What I said in the letter.”

“You don’t have to try to make me feel any better.”

“I am not. I wrote it like five years ago. It was a way for me to express myself, a closer way to confess without actually confessing... If that makes sense."

“Why did you never tell me?”

“Same reason as you, I suppose,” you looked at him fondly. “You deserve the world, Eddie.”

Eddie said nothing, but for the first time since entering the room, he approached you, reached into his back pocket, and handed you something.

Your eyes were wide open. “Is it -?” you inquired as you carefully removed the paper from his grasp.

The letter you wrote on the pink paper from your diary five years ago, the one you tore into pieces two days ago, was once again back in your hands. Pieces glued together. You shifted your focus from the letter to the boy standing a few feet in front of you.

"I've never been good at puzzles, and it took me hours to put them together, but it was worth it."

And then you did the simplest thing in the world. Without a warning you leaned over and kissed him. Eddie took a moment to realize what was going on. The sensation of your soft lips against his caught him off guard, but he allowed himself to sink into the feeling and wrapped his arms around you, drawing you closer to him. You place your hands on either side of his face, the space around you shrinking. You've had been kissed before, but it wasn't  never like this. No one had ever made you feel this way. Your left hand weaved through his hair, causing him to moan against your mouth, which you took advantage of by inserting your tongue into his mouth.

"Am I dreaming?" he wondered as you both pulled apart to take a breath. He had a silly grin on his face. He could feel his heart racing and threatening to escape from his chest.

“You’re not dreaming,” you smiled, as you wrapped your hand around his neck, pulling him against you once more.

God, his lips were so fucking addicting.

“Just to make it clear, you are my whole world.” You placed your head on his chest and looked up into his eyes, finding nothing but love.

.

..

…

“Did they make up?” Muffled sounds from outside drew your attention to the door.

“I’m not sure, I can’t hear anything.”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m trying to listen.”

You both laughed at your brother’s and his friends’ antiques.

You made a mental note to thank your brother later.

[taki118]

More Stuff to disprove that MoriHaru “fact” this time authors notes from the manga

The more I see people share this “fact” that Mori was the original endgame with no sources the more I feel compelled to find info showing the opposite even if I’m really just shouting into a void. my first post on this subject is here. Anyway even if you don’t care stick around for some fun Ouran trivia. 

First lets look at the popularity polls there were three over the course of the series.

This was done early showed in the first volume. and was apparently done after the first 2 chapters (they’re called episodes for some reason) where released in Lala magazine. and the creator was SURPRISED by this if Mori were the original Love Interest wouldn’t that make her happy?

Second one in the second or third volume and was done original after the first 4 chapters. And she makes no remarks for Mori but offers sympathy for Honey.

This was the last one done after the 50th chapter. 

This was the creators response and she appears genuinely happy everyone seems to love the main pair as characters. However (and this goes into the next part) the creator notes she was surprised since most letters are about the Twins and Kyoya and that the poll mightve been altered had they kept the twins as a unit. This leads into that Tamaki was NOT universally loved by japanese fans. 

In one volume the creator drew out some fans requests she thought were fun most of them involved Mori

The final bought of this was given to rapid fire requests of Haruhi insulting Tamaki

In fact these were the only requests of Tamaki drawn, this suggests that there weren’t a lot of Tamaki requests funny or otherwise. Fans disliking Tamaki is actually brought up a bit

Twins Fans in particular seem to hate him. But the creator seems rather sad for Tamaki than anything else, even suggesting older fans tend to like him more which yeah i can see that.

Fans reactions are talked of now and then this one was closer towards the mid point of the series 

Twins fans seem very vocal and are rather consistent throughout the series. 

This was rather early like vol 4 I think. Again I would think that if the story was dictated by the publishers as the people perpetuating this “fact” insist wouldn’t this tell them to go with Mori???? Considering he’s popular with doing very little?????

This pic was made by the head character designer of the anime which could mean the anime was purposely kinder to Mori in the plot than the manga itself. 

But lets go into what the author has said of him directly

So I’m fairly certain this is what started everything, though from what I’ve read the creator had a lot of ideas in passing, but notice that this says he makes her groan. I think this means he’s difficult to write.

Which appears to be true as its kinda a running joke with her staff that he doesnt really have lines.

This was from the final volume. She talks about what sort of person he could end up with a refined traditional girl being best or a tomboyish free spirit. I guess the second you could maybe put Haruhi on to (though I think japanese idea of tomboy is different to americans) but also says that should Haruhi and Tamaki have kids first he’d be the most happy. She also shows some things she wanted to do with him but didnt and its really just face gags. 

Now lets get into the notes for tamaki

This was from volume one and while she admits to some changes to his character (for the better I’d say) It appears she was more definitive in what her plans with him were.

I think this is the creators way of saying Tamaki is the easy to write. 

She also seems grateful that his personality adds a brevity to heavy situations.

There was a good deal of mention that Twins fans in japan really hated Tamaki and the creator always seems to defend him at least a little.

I can’t remember when this one took place in the story but I mean its interesting wording.

The manga had 18 volumes, and this was when the big story lines dropped. The creator was well aware that a good chunk of the fandom did not care for Tamaki and seemed excited for his reveals and you can see that as early as the vol 1 character sheet.

This was on the game and showcases that she really does like drawing Tamaki.

The rest of these are on the development side.

So the Beach chapters were made after fan requests though not they way they had wanted. Suggesting that fan input did effect the story but not always the way intended by fans.

So not related to Mori or Tamaki or the romance. But I think it is important to note that this is the writer’s process of sorts. Rather loose. 

This was for the chapter about Haruhi and Tamaki in Boston as a couple. And she states it was something she always wanted to draw.

Last one is her talking about how happy she is to complete the series. Over the years the creator has stated she was happy with what she made the statement hasnt changed and I don’t think its a lie, implying she did just what she wanted. The idea that she had a HUGE plot change forced on her doesnt seem to be here. One could say that she HAS to act like she likes it because of contract but I dunno, overall I don’t think its good to assume that sort of thing is happening in regards to another person. You kind of have to take them at face value and Hatori Bisco has always been rather consistent in how she feels about the series, that she is happy, that she did what she wanted, and aside from this one “fact” (which again no one sources) there is no hinting that that her publishers ever interfered outside of an anime news network interview in 2019 where she said they had doubted TAMAKI working out but got her way in the end. 

Again I welcome anyone who uses this fact to tell me their source, and I’ll take the L.

[the-sword-lesbian]

She laughed at me. Not like I told a joke but in that way someone would if a toddler said something like, ‘green is blue’ or ‘nutri-paste tastes like cheese’ or something else like that.

“Kid,” she said, which always felt weird because she looked like she wasn’t even a year older than me. “I think you have a better chance of meeting god in the black than a company letting that happen.” She pinched my cheek, “the positivity is cute though,” she said before her expression changed and she stalked away swearing under her breath.

I picked up my tool bag and quickly hurried after her, “I mean it,” I said. “This fucking sucks for us.” When I’d first joined up I had been all hyped from a lifetime of longhauler serials. But after being pumped full of a cocktail of hormones and drugs for the re-education module and dealing with a constant wash of feelings that weren’t my own, the rose-colored solar visor had come down. “There’s gotta be a way for us to advocate for better conditions. The shipwrights do it.”

She rounded on me, and I saw every single one of those lost forty years in her eyes. “Okay Kid, you wanna have this conversation? Fine,” she dropped her tool bag. “Let’s say you start running around talking about unions outloud, assuming the company isn’t monitoring us on the ship right now. One of two options will happen.”

“First option,” she said, “you get some people all gathered up on a station and decide to strike. The company will tie you up in so much red tape just to stall. So all that time you’re sitting there on the station with your little union racking up mountains of debt for oxygen, water, and food because the company is dragging its feet.” She kept going like she knew this to the letter, like she’d seen it happen before.

“Then they turn all your resources off. They don’t normally do that because they’d rather you just earn debt forever but this forces your hand. And your choice is to either starve or give up on the union idea and go back to work for all the debt you’ve earned.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, “and what’s the second option?” I asked, already thoroughly demoralised.

“The second option,” she started, “is that they meet your demands. They gather your whole union together and say ‘we’ve heard your concerns and we’re going to start an all union hauler fleet.’ So they gather you all up on a ship and a week into the haul it flies itself into the sun.”

My blood ran cold, colder than the cryo fluid they pumped into me for my first sleep. “They’d really do that??”

Reade scoffed, “yeah, and then they’ll start a new marketing campaign and a year from now no one remembers the little longhauler union.”

“That’s fucked!” I said, horrified.

“Yeah,” she said, as she slowly stalked towards me, “and you know what the most fucked part is?” My back was against the wall at this point, “sometimes they do it on purpose, just to set an example. They’ll put a company plant on the hauler just to start talking about unions. Some bright-eyed newcomer talking about a better tomorrow.”

“Tha-that’s not,” I stuttered, “I’m not…”

Reade laughed again. “Of course you aren’t, I can tell.”

I cocked my head to the side, “how?”

She smirked at me, tenderly, and it made my heart clench with all the artificial love i felt for this older but not older woman. But then her expression changed again, she recognized the chemicals for what they were and she turned around, grabbing her tool bag.” Because you love me too much to be a plant, they don’t give the moles the same cocktail as the rest of us.”

I swallowed down my nerves and followed her again, back to the hab wing. We passed Vree on the way back, heading out to the engines. My breath caught in my throat and my heart started beating fast like it did anytime i saw one of my crewmates.

“What’s got you so sour,” he asked Reade.

Her scowled turned into a smile at him, before she chuckled, “them,” she pointed her thumb at me, “kid’s talking about a union.”

He laughed, this big hearty thing, it was hot every time. “Keep up that positivity,” he said, kissing me on the forehead, “it’s cute on you.” He turned and continued his long trek down to the reactor wing.

I held onto that thought the rest of the day cycle. Long after Reade and I had returned to the hab, stripping off and climbing into the shower together, to wash off the grime. I held onto it that night, while everyone was piled together in our communal bed, Vree’s strong arms wrapped around my midsection, warm breathe on the back of my neck. I held onto it while I lie there watching the gentle rise and fall of Reade’s chest and thinking about the love I felt for her, and all of them. How much I cared about all of them. “There has to be a better way…” I mumbled.

"...while these [corporate re-education] programs have shown evidence of marginal positive effects (Meredithe et al.) and continue to be employed (Kine-Veck), they ultimately run into the same limitations as A.I. on interstellar hauls infallibly loyal to those possessing their security codes. That is, once outside effective communication distance companies cannot rely on any positive reinforcement. For this reason, it has been suggested that re-education instead focus on loyalty to the rest of the crew, rather than loyalty to the company." - A Proposal for Use of Romantic/Sexual Re-education on Interstellar Haul Crews, Delivered to the Board of VeckQwenZemco on New Armstrong, Mars, 2998 CE. *** The divorce come down and turn around was brutal. One moment your brain and biochemistry and hormones, all carefully wired by the re-education modules, make you fully believe that you have long been in a deep, committed, passionate relationship with the six to eight other people on the haul. You look at them and even though you know you'll only spend a few weeks of subjective time with them, maybe a month or two on a longer job, only a brief window out of cryo and not lagged by relativity, even though you know what you gave the company your written consent to do, your brain still loves them. Then you pull into orbit over Eridiani, or Luna, or wherever, you probably bang one last time, say your tearful goodbyes, and spend the next few weeks crying like you just lost the love of your life as the chemicals wash out and the deprogramming modules hit. The moment is over. But time spent on a company station meant time wracking up debt for oxygen, water, food. So, still on the come down, Reade looked for a course, signed the wavers, gave her consent, grabbed the meager belongings that had gotten her through seven of these hauls, now dating from over forty years ago given the time lost to cryo and near-light travel. File down to concourse-E. Begin again. "Here for the haul?" the skinny low-g kid of her in the line said. "Um, VeckGreenQwenZemco 3043-28897?" Reade sized them up. New kid. First haul. She could smell it on them. In a few hours she'd probably love them and have her brain inventing all sorts of bullshit justifications for the neurochemical feelings the company would induce in her in order to improve team cohesion and morale trillions of miles away from anyone else. In a few hours she'd love them for their optimism, their smile, their cheery attitude and all the questions. But not yet. Right now, still awash in the last break up, Reade savored the simple joy of being a miserable bitch. "Kid," she said, with a malicious grin, "you're gonna love me in a bit. But you're still gonna remember this so I want you to get a good earful of it before the re-education. I'm fucking hate you and hate that I have to do this and if I could I'd throw you out a fucking airlock." She pulled her headphones on and cranked the volume. It hurt, in her chest, and the least she could do was make someone else hurt with her. That freedom, at least, she had for a few more minutes.

[sluttystucky]

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝 (𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮) || 𝐛. 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : on your sixteenth birthday, the first words your soulmate will speak to you appear on your wrist. in a world where it's quite common to get a simple 'hi what can i get you' or common phrases, you've managed to get their name. that doesn't make it easier to find him. read on a03

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : tfatws!bucky barnes x f!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 4,406 words 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : **WARNING! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, I BLOCK BLANK BLOGS & ONES WITHOUT AN AGE IN BIO** use of y/n, angsty, mentions of previous relationships but it doesn't go into too much detail, vague spoilers of most of the avengers films ig, mentions of bombing (civil war, UN bombing), nervous!bucky, open ended?

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 :  i don't know what happened, i just know i love soulmate au's and then bits and pieces came to mind so i had to rush to write them down before i forgot what i was writing in my head. i only post on tumblr and ao3, so please let me know if you recognise my writing anywhere else.

also!! while this one-shot doesn't involve smut, i still insist that minor's do not interact as a majority of my writing does. i do not feel comfortable with individuals under the age of eighteen interacting with my writing. by clicking read more, you're telling me you're over the age of eighteen. please respect my boundaries.

You remember laughing when you saw the words, your soulmates name achingly familiar now written on your wrist in charcoal lettering. In a world where most people got a simple Hello or their coffee order on their skin, you’d managed to get a full name in there.

Of course, you’d had a minor panic about the fact your soulmate was not just dead but dead, dead when your dad helped you place where you knew the name from, and then you’d both laughed the panic off when your mother pointed out that peoples whose soulmates have passed have faded ink which yours was thankfully not.

Still, the words were rather odd.

“My name is James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, I am no longer the Winter Soldier and you're a part of my efforts to make amends” Whatever that meant, was written in dark, easy to read font across the delicate skin of your wrist.

It became a running joke, somehow. A really odd one at that but something you and your family would laugh about occasionally that somehow you’d gotten a soulmate that had the exact same name as one of the Howling Commandos, Captain America’s best friend no less.

None of you ever did discuss how weird, how daunting the words were though, your mother made certain of it and sometimes the latter part of the sentence kept you up into the early hours of the morning. She was so caught up in the joy you'd get an advantage at finding your soulmate with his name being there, she refused to look further into it.

But sometimes late at night, long past when your mother had gone to bed and only your father was left in the living room, you'd both discuss them. All your fears about your soulmate and the meaning about these words would spill from you as your head rested against your dad's shoulder, kept quiet and safe by the darkness of the room and the late night comedy shows he'd stay up so late watching.

Humour was the coping mechanism of your choice, but during those nights you'd spill the fears you'd otherwise kept hidden into the flannel of your father's sleep shirt.

"What if he's really a bad person, dad? Like a really bad person. What has he done that makes his first words to me this?" You'd sob, listening to your fathers deep sigh as he tried to find words to comfort you. It wasn't his strongest suit but he always managed it.

News breaks that Captain America came out of the ice during your sophomore year of college, and then the whole soulmate thing felt odd. There's an underlying feeling, an unease you can't explain when you hear it but you try to brush it off.

You'd doubt meeting Steve Rogers was very likely, no matter the fact you were both in New York but the idea of joking about with a name of a dead guy started to feel like it was in bad taste.

That hadn't stopped your father from piping up, "Hey, at least if you ever meet him you get to say your soulmate has the same name as his best friend" and your mother promptly giving him a light smack on the arm and a stern look.

It wasn't long after that you'd watched aliens rip apart the city and your beloved, beaten down Honda used as a boost by the god damn Hulk of all people so suffice to say soulmates weren't really your biggest concern.

Dating at all wasn't your biggest concern. Despite the knowledge of having a soulmate, it didn't stop people from dating around. You'd met people you'd really liked but all relationships tended to come to their end eventually. The reason was a toss-up between the other party finding their soulmate or your focus waning.

You hadn't really bothered to seek out your soulmate after the chaos of New York's Chitauri Invasion either, far too caught up in wrapping up your junior and senior years of college to the best of your ability.

Any other time you'd try to search the name it always showed you historical sites recounting the obvious one. And really, were you gonna add all the Bucky Barnes' or James Barnes' on Facebook in hopes one of them was your soulmate when you had finals that were already riding your ass to prepare for? No.

You don't have time for dating and soulmates, you speak that out into the universe to settle that fact.

Of course that's when Natasha Romanoff leaks all of the S.H.I.E.L.D, and affectively HYDRA's files. Hashtag #SHIELDLEAK gaining in numbers on Twitter and Tumblr, really any social media site, as more decrypted information is pushed out into the public.

Such as this: Bucky Barnes is alive and had been operating as an assassin for HYDRA since the sixties. Bucky Barnes was the Winter Soldier.

So shit you think at 2:37am as you sit in your dimly lit bedroom in your shitty little apartment, room covered in revision notes and papers that you hardly care about because this! This is absurd.

Your soulmate doesn't have the same name as a war hero, he is a fucking war hero. A war hero who is most definitely Not dead as it seems but was instead brainwashed for decades from what you're able to read.

You pull back the sleeve of your cardigan, revealing the lettering on your wrist you've grown familiar with. Gently your finger traces the latter part of the sentence, "I am no longer the Winter Soldier and you're a part of my efforts to make amends”

There's no news you can find about him being in custody but his words help you drift later that night into sleep with a small smile on your face, because one day he's going to meet you and he'll no longer be The Winter Soldier.

You wouldn't say you're a Pariah by any means, but following the news that actual Bucky Barnes is alive and, you know, a former brainwashed assassin the jokes die down. In fact, all soulmate talk dies down around you— even when it's not necessarily related to you and yours.

Your mother starts bringing up dates, specifically dates with other people. 'Oh, Helen's son is back in town. You remember him, so nice and he's got a good job. Good money. You should ask him to dinner, you both always were good friends in school'

You do go on some of those dates she mentions, not because she insists but because she's right. They are nice and dating now that you're finally finished with college is so much easier. They never do go anywhere though, much to your mother's chargin.

You were glad the jokes had originally been an inside joke between you and your parents only, and that you'd kept the words private because if the weird nature your parents had adopted since news broke out extended to friends you were sure you'd scream.

Your mother spoke of an app your neighbour was using with her daughters so she'd know they were safe, a Life360 and you'd had to remind her that Janet's daughters were twelve and fifteen. You were a college graduate.

Your father, on the other hand, started amping up the security in your tiny apartment following the bombing at the UN. A video-recording doorbell, security cameras inside, alarms on the windows— the whole nine yards. He never asked for access, just installed it all and helped you set it all up like he thought Bucky was going to come and kill you in the night.

Unlikely, you think as there's a man-hunt for him as this all goes down. Even from an outsiders point of view you can see chaos brewing within the Avengers world, so you highly doubt he's wasting his time looking for you.

It's weeks later as you're slumped against the counter of the coffee shop you're working at that you see the Avenger's have disbanded on the news, split in two and now half are fugitives.

Yeah, you highly doubt his soulmate is high on his list of priorities you think to yourself, grabbing the control and turning the volume up higher.

Okay, so, maybe you start to take the words printed on your wrist a little more seriously nowadays. Especially the amends part. Because that implies something bad, something Bucky did that was bad results in him coming to you to make amends.

And considering his past as, you know, a brainwashed assassin, that thing can only be something terrible.

So yeah, you're on edge now. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop in your otherwise normal life. But nothing happens.

You're not kidnapped, you don't get murdered (that you're aware of at least) and no one else in your life dies of mysterious circumstances. You're not accused of any crimes you didn't commit nor anything else that you imagine would warrant in him having to make amends.

It's driving you up the wall to say the least.

You've even started asking about family members who'd died, but you can't imagine HYDRA cared enough about your grandma who'd knit cardigans for her cats enough to be involved with her dying in her sleep when you were six.

Your life being so mundane is becoming quite irritating these days.

You're beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, New York isn't the best place to be when Superheroes and Aliens exist. There's screaming in the streets, tattered buildings and some weird-ass space craft doing whatever the fuck it's doing.

"Why can't it be Paris, why can't Paris get the aliens?" you're grumbling to yourself as the sound of table lets scraping against the linoleum tiles grates in your ears. Truthfully, you're also (kind of) bemoaning the fact that Aliens' chose to invade when you were working because now you and a bunch of college students slash graduates have to barricade this place, lest Corporate get your ass.

"Easy," says Jake, some sophomore whose only two weeks barely on the job you've become a little fond of. "Paris doesn't have the Avengers. And where the Avengers are, trouble follows." He finishes with a huff. Despite the situation, you find yourself laughing.

The five of you, plus a handful of customers stuck in here with you wait it out until they retreat. As soon as the streets clear and you dismantle the barricade, it's as if life continues as normal.

For an alien invasion you give it a 5/10, underwhelming compared to previous situations. There's minimal damage to the shop, but corporate still closes the store down until they can get an inspector to give them the ok.

Life is normal, you think as you enjoy your unexpected days off on the couch. Naturally, you turn to dust a few days later, much to your roommates horror.

Suffice to say, adjusting to five years going by in what felt like seconds for you was difficult. Heartfelt reunions with your family came and went in what felt like days before the harsh reality of life set back in.

There were celebrations for the lives brought back and mourning for the Avengers lost.

You were lucky, in a sense, that your roommate had politely boxed up your belongings and brought them to your parents a few short months after the snap but your job? Gone. Your mother pulled some strings to get you a job while you got back on your feet, working for a friend of a friend's grandmother in her seamstress shop.

It was a small, unassuming unit up the stairs of a building burrowed between a Chinese food place and a mini mart that you'd struggle to find on your first attempt to get to work but eventually you found a stern, older looking woman waiting outside the door who summoned you towards her as she crooked her finger in a come hither motion.

The entire walk up the narrow stairway that led up to all the different units was filled with the daunting feeling in your chest and her complaints of you taking away her precious time.

You didn't know your way around needle and thread, nor a sewing machine but you knew customer service so she quickly set you to work and throwing you in the deep end when the phone begins to ring.

You're still there three months later, smiling politely and wishing each customer a good day despite the line forming. You've learnt the most efficient ways to get customers orders out to them as fast as you can, your eyes scanning their order numbers printed on the cards they all clutch before they can even hand them to you.

It's when the last of the ladies turns to leave that you see him behind her and your mouth goes dry. Because here he is, you'd know that face anywhere. You'd seen it in pages of history books, on the walls of museums and wanted posters.

Bucky Barnes, standing awkwardly and pulling a tight smile to his face when your previous customer startles at the large man she'd failed to notice behind her this whole time. He was here, and now what?

Words were apparently not what because not a single word was coming out of your mouth. The silence stretches awkwardly, both of you looking each other in the eyes while the heels of Dolores' shoes tap against the floors.

You release a shuddered breath you hadn't realised you were holding when the door closes behind her, the bell chiming loudly.

Bucky swallows thickly, you notice before he speaks. “My name is James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, I am no longer the Winter Soldier and you're a part of my efforts to make amends” He says, words sounding well practiced if not monotone.

And, yeah.... Years later and you still have no reason you can think of why those words would be directed at you. Your eyes scan the area, checking behind you to see if Mrs Collins has appeared behind you and maybe he's speaking to her but no (and truly, it's wishful thinking. That's not how they work).

Looking back to the super soldier you feel your brows furrow, confusion written entirely on your face. "I really don't think I am." You wince, watching as his eyes fill heavy with confusion before quickly flaring in recognition.

"I mean, I think this is great — don't get me wrong — but I can honestly say that I've not had anything happen to me that I can account to the Winter Soldier." Standing up from your seat at the counter, you walk around to face him.

"You're—" He starts, only for his words to dry up in his mouth and you get it. You shoot a sympathetic look his way, hand coming up to rub at his shoulder only to falter at the last second. Awkwardly you bring it back down to your side and take a step back to give him a little space.

Blue eyes are staring at you now, filled with confusion and pain. Quickly and efficiently you pull the sleeve of your shirt up to reveal your wrist and show him.

"You know, I always thought I was lucky because I got my soulmates name on my wrist. That's, like, a head start or something to finding them, right? But then over the years I found out that it wasn't someone who had a really specific namesake and, you know, was you.

But then I really took in the words, so I've literally been waiting for my life to go to shit, Bucky. Something, anything bad to happen and it's just not happened. No suspicious deaths, pretty sure I haven't been abducted."

Shaking his head, Bucky heaves out a sigh. "During my time as the Winter Soldier, I was tasked with assassinating an enemy of Hydra. Your father came across the scene of the crime and tried to help, I killed him and staged it to look like a car accident." His voice is apologetic, eyes searching yours as confusion takes over you entirely. What the fuck is he on about?

"I'm so sorry, Jean" He tries, mimicking your earlier actions and bringing his hand up to some and comfort you only to cut himself off last minute and resist.

So yeah, you can say with the utmost certainty that he has nothing to amend for. "Bucky," You start slowly, picking up his gloved hands and holding them in yours awkwardly. "Let me repeat myself: I really don't think I am. My name isn't Jean and my father is very much alive."

Looking up at him you can see the cogs turning in that brain of his, a quiet What falling from his lips as he scans your face. "My name is Y/N and I'm pretty sure you've got the wrong place, definitely the wrong person because like I said. Not Jean."

A curt Oh falls from his lips and you find yourselves being brought back into an uncomfortable silence. Suddenly the phone rings, startling the pair of you and you bound over to the over side of the desk to answer, quickly taking note of an order's details. The call is quick but you still find yourself disappointed when you hear the bell chime on the door before you say your goodbyes to the customer.

As far as first meetings with a soulmate, you have to admit that could have gone better. You imagine it has to take guts to come up to someone and take accountability for a loved ones death (though you hardly think he needs to on account of the, you know, brain washing) only for someone to turn around and say 'Yeah, you've got the wrong person'.

Especially when you then realise that person is your soulmate, your one that's the one and all that other crap.

Still it hurt how fast he'd left, not even giving you a goodbye as he'd fled. There wasn't even a rush for you to distract yourself with, no orders that needed to be filed. For once you cursed your organisation skills because you were simply left to your own thoughts.

By the time your shift is over and the shop is closed, you're cursing yourself for not chasing Bucky down. The chances of you managing to catch him were, admittedly, quite low but at least you could have said you tried.

You've just gotten out onto the street, the sounds of rain drizzling, cars driving through puddles and car horns filling your ears. Turning to your right, you intend to make your way to your car only to stop short at the sight before you.

Bucky Barnes, once again. Only this time he looks like he's as shocked by his reappearance as you are with that deer in the headlights look in his eyes and way he's clutching a bunch of flowers in his hands like a lifeline.

"Bucky?" comes your perplexed response, stepping closer to him. "You.. You're back?" you ask, head tilting in your confusion.

You give him a moment to respond but instead watch his eyes widen in panic and thrust the crumpled flowers towards you, their petals pressed against your top.

"I, uh, bought them before I came over." He says, spitting his words out quick like he's afraid they'll escape him if he doesn't. "'Didn't really think it through, so 'had to stuff 'em in my jacket. 's why they're so messed up." Nervously he scratches at the back of his ear with his other hand.

Taking them from him gingerly, delicately prying his fingers from them when you realise he's still holding on for dear life. Bucky lets out an embarrassed huff when he realises, earning him a fond smile from you that he can't help but want to see more of.

"Thank you" You murmur quietly into the bunch, the loud sounding of a car alarm being triggered in the street reminding you both that you're stood in the middle of the street.

"Walk me to my car? We can talk on the way" Bucky's quick to agree, offering his arm for you to link onto as you both walk. "They're beautiful, by the way. Thank you, you really didn't have to."

"Course I did, especially after how I left off earlier." he argues, quickly cutting you off when he hears your noises of disagreement. "I shouldn't have ran like that, I just... This wasn't how I expected this to go, shit."

He brings his forefinger and thumb to rub away the tension building behind his eyes, your own hand coming to rub at his leather clad arm to soothe some, any tension you can. "This isn't how I practiced it with Dr Raynor" His quiet, pained voice mutters under his breathe before forcing himself to look down to where you're curled against his arm.

"You know who I am" Bucky says finally. It's not a question, not an accusation either. Just a fact, earning a gentle nod in response from you. Quietly he adds, "I wasn't expecting you to know who I am."

"Well, like I said, your name has been on my wrist since I was sixteen years old." You hum, tugging on his arm to turn the corner to the parking lot. "Thought the name was a coincidence though, then Black Widow did the S.H.I.E.L.D leak and I started to put things together."

"I'm sorry" Is all he says in reply, the familiar silence stretching over the both of you.

"For what?" You ask with a quirk of the brow, watching as he gestures to your wrist with a nod of the head. "The words? How long it all is? Do you always do long sentences like that?"

"No. I'm sorry you have that on your arm." He says finally, "I wish you could have had something, anything else but that on your arm."

The parking lot you park your car in comes into view, making your steps falter for a second. You don't want to give Bucky another excuse to leave, no matter how much you want to sink into your couch.

"Don't be, nobody has control over what these words will be. I've had long enough to think these words through, Bucky. What the implications were, knowing your history. I know what I'd be getting into."

"What you'd be getting into..." he croaks out and you feel heat rising to your cheeks, you stop your walking and try to hide your face in your shoulder. "I came to you apologising for murdering a man and you still wanna consider 'what you'd be getting into', huh?"

"Think of it like this," Your tongue comes out to wet your lips, Bucky's eyes following the movement before ducking his head. "What kind of soulmate would I be if I just gave up on you without actually giving you a chance."

"A rational one, probably" He counters, but there's a warm smile you haven't seen on him before breaking out on his lips. He's resisting the urge to wipe the stray drop of rain on your face, scared to see if you'll flinch from his touch.

Instead, Bucky looks around the street before seeing the parking lot. "That where you're parked, doll?"

You sigh, disappointment filling you because his acknowledgement means the encounter is coming to a close. Nodding, your hand snakes around his left bicep once again.

Bucky gives a quiet murmur of C'mon as he continues to walk you to your car, his arm coming to rest around your waist as the sounds of the city filling the silence you both create. This time it's a more comfortable silence, though.

It's not until you're smacking the roof of your car and wiggling yourself from Bucky's space to fish your car keys out of your pocket that you speak again. "I mean it though, Bucky. I wanna try and give us a shot, but if you're not in a place for that right now I get that."

You're trying to be subtle about how nervous you are about saying that, shoving your upper body into your car to lay the flowers he'd gotten you on your passenger seat and throw your bag on the floor. Judging by the smile breaking out on his face, you're not entirely sure it worked.

"Yeah?" He asks, eyes lit up as his shoulders lightly shake with mirth. "I think I'd like that too. Do you have.." His words teeter off questioningly, his own hands rummaging in his pant pockets until he finally pulls out a phone.

"Sorry, I know it... Uh, do I, should... D'ya wanna put your number in there?" He blabbers, shoving his flip phone your way as you stammer out a yes. Quickly inputting your details, you hand it back with a grin.

"You'll text me right, Barnes?" You tease as you sit in the drivers seat, smiling a small smile when Bucky lowers his head to keep at your level.

"Might take me a while to figure it out, but I'm pretty sure I can figure that out." Bucky jokes, "This is your last chance though, to back out. Promise I won't take it personally"

"Sorry, Sarge, my mind is made up." You shoot back with a giggle as Bucky ducks his head to hide an unlikely blush creeping up onto his cheeks.

The sound of the rain beating down heavier on your window shield pulls you out of the little world you'd both been caught up in. "I shouldn't keep you any longer, you need to get out of this rain." Your thumb gestures to the seat beside you, "Do you need a lift? I can—"

"I have my bike so" he cuts you off, "But thank you. I should let you get home but I'll call you."

Repeated goodbyes are exchanged before Bucky finally makes a move to leave, stopping to turn back and wave at your car as a warm smile cements its way onto your face.

You take a cursory glance at your covered wrist, finger tracing over where you know his words are etched onto your skin before finally making your way home. The smile he brought to your face doesn't let up for the rest of the night.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Evermore

Simon Basset x Reader

Words: 2319

Summary: While residing in the same house, Simon and his wife could not be further apart. His resistance to love may cost him the only thing he holds dear while he can merely stand and watch it fade. 

Notes: I love Simon waaaaaaay too much. I have been dying to write for him, so please please let me know what you think! 

More period dramas: HERE

-

I never needed anybody in my life

I learned the truth too late

From this spot, he had a view of the entire garden. He watched as you strolled between the flowers, pausing occasionally to smell a particular bloom. You used to walk together, but now, he could hardly bear to even look at the gardens. Seeing you there sent a feeling through his heart that he could not rid himself of. It was better this way. The happiness that you had felt in your first few months of marriage was an illusion. Simon knew that he could never truly make you happy, no matter how badly he wanted to. Still, these days of silence ate at his soul. 

You felt his gaze upon you before you spotted him in a second-story window. Looking up from the rose in your hand, you held his stare with your own, as if daring him to come out from behind his closed doors. This was the first time you’d seen your husband in two days and even when you had seen each other, it was in passing, shrouded in bitter quiet. 

You looked away first, dropping your flower and storming back into the house with renewed frustration. From the corner of your eye, you could see him vanish from the window, probably to disappear into his office for yet another day of avoidance. Through your anger, your heart ached. He never explained his sudden hatred towards you. One night, he simply stopped speaking to you. When you confronted him, he’d shouted and shut himself away in his room. No word between you had been uttered since. 

To fill your lonely hours, you walked the length of the house. Clyvedon was a beautiful estate and offered at least some distraction from your empty heart. This time, however, your usual path was interrupted. 

“Your grace,” You greeted coolly. It was odd to see him in this part of the house, so far away from his usual fortress. He rarely left his office anymore. “I must say, I am surprised to see you away from your desk. You have been married to your work recently.” You put as much venom into your words as you could muster. For a moment, you thought you saw him flinch. 

“Y/N, I understand you are uncomfortable with our current situation-”

“Uncomfortable?” You exclaimed furiously. “You think that I am uncomfortable? This is not an ill fitting dress or-or a pebble in my shoe. I saw you in that window and I couldn’t breathe. Even now, it feels like my heart is trying to leap out of my chest and give itself to you, for maybe that will finally be enough for you.” His eyes shifted to the window, desperately trying to escape your hateful stare. 

“You are more than enough for me-”

“Then tell me, your Grace,” You spat, “why you can’t even bring yourself to look at me!” You had raised your voice beyond what was proper, but you didn’t care. You wanted him to see the anguish that this forced solitude was bringing you. “Explain to me how we can be making love one morning and by that afternoon, you can hardly utter a word to me. Look at me, Simon! For God’s sake just look at me.” 

Whatever his reasoning for coming to you was lost to him now. He could only hear the anger and frustration in your voice. The hatred you must hold for him. While his eyes finally found yours, it felt as though he was looking past you. 

“I presume you will be eating in your quarters again.” Was all he said. The return of his indifference was the final straw for you. Having had enough, you charged off to find the furthest place in the house away from him. Simon watched you go in quiet agony, cursing himself for being unable to shut out his affection for you. He told himself again that this was how it must be. If only that was enough. 

-

Wasting in my lonely tower

Waiting by an open door

He wasn’t sure how late it was, but his eyes were starting to burn from staring at documents all night. He could hardly keep them open. Setting his work aside, he ran a hand down his face, trying to rub the exhaustion from his eyes, and slowly dimmed his lamp until the light was gone. When he looked up, he found you standing in the doorway, shrouded in shadow. If he didn’t know better, he’d say you looked like a spirit in your white nightgown and tear stained face. 

“Why are you not in bed?” He questioned, only half awake himself. 

“I came to…” The words caught in your throat, making them sound garbled and broken. You stepped into the moonlight and composed yourself. “I came to say goodbye.” Simon froze. 

“What?”

“I have arranged for a carriage to take me back to London at dawn.” You stared blankly at him, your face sunken and despaired. He hadn’t realized the depths of the misery he had caused you until now. “My presence is clearly unwanted and I feel that we may live our lives more peacefully apart.” 

“I see you’ve already made up your mind on the matter.” Simon scoffed, the pain your words inflicted fueling anger. You didn’t reply. Instead, you turned and started back down the dark hallway to your quarters. He caught your arm before you got too far. “You cannot just leave.” 

“I see no reason to stay, your grace.” 

“You are my wife.” He growled. Finally, your sullen exterior broke away to reveal the anger burning inside of your chest, threatening to swallow you. 

“Am I?” You jerked your arm away, stumbling backwards in the dark. “Because these past few days I’ve felt like a stranger, wandering these beautiful halls, looking for something in them to keep me here. There is nothing but emptiness and grief and pain and I cannot-” 

He placed a hand on your cheek, your words halting on your tongue. You stepped closer into his touch, a touch that you had been aching to feel for days. Simon dipped his head down, bringing your lips slowly to his own. 

His movements were fast and urgent, his lips moving against yours like he depended on you for breath. You felt the familiar feeling rush over you. It was the intense feeling you’d felt so many times at the beginning of your marriage, one you had feared you’d never feel again. But it wasn’t enough. 

“Simon, wait.” You pushed back, trying to find anything in his eyes that could explain to you why he’d been acting so distant. “Talk to me, my love.” 

He tried. He wanted so desperately to be able to share with you his fears, but every time he opened his mouth he felt like that stuttering little boy again. Your gaze pleaded with him. 

“Please, say something.” Still no response. You pulled out of his grasp forcefully, that feeling fleeing just as quickly as it had come. “Tomorrow, I am leaving for London. At least there I will not be reminded how little I must mean to you.” 

You gave him no chance to reply, vanishing into the dark night while he furiously went back into his office, knocking almost every paper off his desk. Simon craved to follow you back to your quarters and show you what you really meant to him, but his feelings didn’t matter. You were miserable and it was his doing. 

Still, the idea of being away from you, the feeling of abandonment sunk into him like sharp claws. It was dark and grim and kept him awake, pacing back and forth in the confines of his office. That night, he did not get a moment’s rest. 

-

I let her steal into my melancholy heart

It’s more than I can bear

Days passed, each one quieter and darker than the last. You were gone. He had watched your carriage leave from his window, solemn and alone. Each day he waited. He waited to hear the rattling of the carriage, the pounding of the horse’s hooves. He left the door to his office open as if he expected you to walk in like nothing had happened. In fact, he hardly left his office at all in hopes that his waiting would conjure you somehow. 

It was the fifth day of your absences when he received the letter. Lady Danbury started by inquiring as to why his wife was in London unaccompanied, but it was the end of the letter that sent an icy fear through his blood. You had fallen ill and had doctors in and out of the house for the last two days. While she did not know the severity of your illness she had heard that you had been bed ridden and unable to take any visitors. She feared the worst. 

Simon didn’t waste a second readying his horse and taking off towards the city. It didn’t matter how many hours the ride took, he went on without stopping. His horse sped through the city, having little care for the foot traffic around him. Hastings house stretched ominously over him, adding to the dread filling his chest. He didn’t wait for a servant to open the door, he didn’t wait to be shown to your room. He ran through the halls like a mad man only to find your quarters empty. 

“Your Grace?” Your lady's maid gasped, nearly dropping the bundle of fabrics she was carrying. “I-I thought you were staying in-”

“Where is she?” He barked, making her jump. He didn’t mean to frighten the poor girl, but he did not have the patients for explanation. 

“S-she’s having tea with Lady Danbury in the drawing room.” The girl squeaked. His confusion was quickly replaced by rage and he stormed into the drawing room, Lady’s Danbury’s letter crumpled in his fist. Your eyes widened at the sight of your husband, sweating and disheveled. 

“Simon, what are you-”

“Your Grace, how wonderful for you to join us.” Lady Danbury smiled triumphantly. 

“Is this meant to be some kind of cruel joke to you?” He snapped viciously. You’d never seen him this way before and, frankly, it frightened you. Lady Danbury didn’t seem phased. “My life is not a game for you to meddle in!” 

“Someone had to show you how much you stand to lose, your Grace.” She said, keeping incredibly calm under the circumstances. 

“How dare you.” Simon was seething. “You wretched woman-”

“Simon!” You exclaimed, jumping up from your seat. “A word, your Grace.” You opened the door to the garden and waited outside for him to join you. 

“I think it’s time for you to leave.” Simon glared. Lady Danbury stood and walked past him with enviable elegance. 

“Don’t lose her, your Grace. Not when she’s finally made you believe in love.” She left without further comment. 

Simon finally walked out and you resisted the urge to slap him. Your fists were balled at your sides and you were walking furiously back and forth on the path. 

“How dare you come here and speak to my guest in such a manner.” You wanted to scream and cry and kiss him all at once. “What on earth are you doing here, anyway?” 

“Lady Danbury sent me a lie in order to get me to come here.” He finally let the exhaustion of his ride rush over him and he leaned against the wall. 

“And what lie could have been so great to get you to leave your office?” You scoffed. Simon’s face softened. 

“She said that you were ill.” He said quietly, his voice betraying the truth. For those few hours before he arrived were the most terrifying he’d ever experienced. “I thought that… I was afraid I would lose you.” 

“You haven’t seemed that concerned these past weeks.” You muttered in irritation. Simon’s face fell. 

“Do you really believe that?” He asked with such pain in his voice it nearly broke your heart. “That I am not concerned for your well being? That I do not care if you are hurt or-or sick?” 

“What else am I to believe, Simon?” You said, exasperated and exhausted with his constantly shifting moods towards you. “You avoid me at all costs when I am with you, you have suspended any affection towards me, and now you tell me that you came all this way because you thought I was ill? I don’t understand you, your grace, I truly don’t.” 

“Everything I have done has been for your benefit.” He stepped towards you. “My affection towards you runs deeper than I could possibly explain and that is why I cannot condemn you to a life cast into my darkness.” His eyes did not look through you now. Rather, they pierced down to your very soul. You stood in shock, trying to find the right words to convey your true feelings. 

“Simon…” You gasped, laying a hand on his chest to feel his racing heartbeat. “You are not a shadow. You are the moon. Yes, you have darkness. Yes there are parts of you that I do not yet understand, but that does not mean I do not wish to know you. You are the guiding light in my darkest nights. You are my husband and I love you.” 

You wrapped your arms around him and brought his lips to yours. It was like your first kiss, hesitant at first, but soon evolved with passion and need. Simon cupped your face in his hands and vowed. 

“I will not hide my love from you again. I will cherish you the way you are meant to be. And I will remind you how dear you are to me every moment I can.” He brushed a joyous tear from your cheek. “For evermore.” 

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

[danses-with-dogmeat]

could you do the anxious tics prompt with fo3 and new vegas companions? sorry, i think i’ve asked you to add characters a lot but i just really love your writing ^^”

FO3 and FONV Romanced! Companions react to Lone's/Six's Anxiety Tics

Here you are, my love. Please never feel bad about requesting more people! It's honestly what I live for, and I loooooove making content for the FO3 and NV folks, since I feel like there's a lot less written about them in general 😊

So thank you so much for the ask!

Here is the prompt with FO4 Companions!

FO3

Butch:

     The flash of large red-framed letters had caught Butch’s attention as the pair stood waiting to speak to Doc Church outside his clinic in Megaton. “Whatcha got there, babe?” he had asked, before realizing that it was, in fact, exactly what he had thought. Lone blushed as they looked up at him, hiding behind the pages of their comic book. “You really kept that? After all these years?” They had nodded to him, explaining that it was a sort of security blanket for them, that they could always count on reading the same story, seeing the same happy ending each time they looked between the pages, each time they felt uncertainty or stress, they could count on Grognak to see them through it. He grinned whenever he saw them with it, often curling up beside them, or leaning his head on their shoulder to try and read along with them. In these cases, Lone had to read the pages slower than they normally would, reading the same comic book over and over for the last 10 years means you can skim through it pretty quickly, but they don’t really seem to mind. Now they get to watch as this person that they care so much for enjoys the comic book they relied on and adored for so long.

Charon:

     The ghoul was curious about Lone’s tendency to nap directly after dealing with stressful situations, but he decided not to voice any inquiries. His companion would explain themself if they wanted him to know more. One day, they did. Lone had thanked him for always looking after them while they rested off their anxiety, and mentioned that it was something they couldn’t help. Charon had nodded at them, acknowledging their gratitude, before his blue eyes had narrowed in his effort to process the rest of what they had said. It seemed strange to him, sleeping off nerves... Wouldn’t that make it more difficult to sleep? He decided that the logic of it didn’t really matter, whatever it was that caused it, he would look after his partner as they took the time to rest. Soon enough, they would beckon for him to join them, leaning against his shoulder or laying their head in his lap as he kept watch over them. A scarred hand would come to run softly through their hair, or graze lightly over their arm as they dreamed away their anxieties alongside their watchful partner.  

Clover:

     Lone wasn't quite sure why, but it seemed to them that Clover was always so handsy whenever they became anxious. They had to admit, they didn't necessarily mind it, but she always seemed to get frisky at the most inopportune times. Meanwhile, Clover just can't seem to figure out why Lone is always casting hints her way in the middle of stressful situations. She gets it, she totally is picking up what Lone is putting down every time they draw their bottom lip between their teeth and gnaw away so suggestively, but do they really have to do that right now?! Once Clover finds out it's just Lone's way of coping with their anxiety, she feels sort of foolish… but that doesn't stop her from getting a little turned on whenever Lone does it, even though the timing is usually inconvenient for both of them. But after the trouble and stress has passed, Lone will certainly need to blow off some steam, right? If that’s the case, Clover is more than ready for it. 

Cross:  

     Cross often noticed when Lone had trouble focusing, she tends not to miss a thing, especially when it comes to her Lone. When she sees her partner struggling to keep their attention trained on the person speaking to them, she usually will step in and ask if the person can speak to her companion again at a later time. Her direct and clear way of speaking is a relief for Lone when they are experiencing tension, as their listening becomes almost ineffective when they are being spoken to during times of high stress or anxiety. Paladin Cross understands this, and pays particular attention to speak slowly and with great care in these times. Due to her affinity for speaking this way normally, she and Lone tend to never have issues with communication; which evidently, tends to keep Lone from becoming anxious when they’re around their partner.

Fawkes:  

     Within his first couple weeks of traveling alongside Lone, the mutant noticed their need to constantly snack. When he decided to inquire about it, and they hesitantly explained their habit to stress eat, he wasn’t sure he understood it, but he knew that he had his own ways of dealing with his nerves, which came in the form of wringing his hands whenever he became anxious. So, if this is how Lone deals with it, he will accept it without question. It wasn’t until one fateful day, when Lone had realized they were completely out of snacking material and they were on the brink of a breakdown, that they realized Fawkes had taken their words to heart, as he reached out a large hand, filled to the brim with an assortment of their favorite snacks from one of his pockets. All this time they thought he only kept ammunition in there, turns out, their partner always had a well-stocked stash of their anxiety-repellent hidden away for cases just like these. They smiled coyly as they took a box of snack cakes, and a tin of crisps, settling down beside Fawkes as he lightly ran his hand up and down their back as they leaned into him, their breathing already beginning to return to normal with each passing moment.

Jericho:

     The ex-raider always thought it was a little annoying, the way his companion would stutter at him every time something got dicey, or when they had to deal with some sort of verbal confrontation. It was painful to watch, and when he brought it up to them, and they stuttered back an embarrassed response, he realized it was well out of their control. It would still bug him, and he might make an off-handed comment about it every once in a while, but the more he saw that those comments weren’t funny to his partner, the more they glared at him as he laughed at his own rude jokes, he decided he should refrain from such talk. Lone hadn’t developed a thick skin like most wastelanders he was used to, and certainly not like most raiders; and he would have to constantly remind himself of that. After his realization, he wouldn’t say a word about their stutter again, and God help anyone who did. You mention his partner’s stutter, you’ll probably have one too by the time he’s done with you. If you still even have a tongue, that is.  

FONV:

Arcade: 

     The doctor almost flinched at the feeling of Six’s fingers wrapping around his thumb the first time they did it, but he managed to keep his composure and simply utter a sarcastic comment in response to their sudden action. But when their stress passed, and they explained that it was a tic of theirs that they had trouble controlling, he immediately understood. Not only was he a doctor (so you know, he has pretty extensive knowledge regarding things of this nature) but he’s also had his own lovely tangles with anxiety in the past, and can’t really blame Six for their habit (despite the fact that he has absolutely no tics of his own to deal with). However, his understanding of it doesn’t mean he isn’t going to make some sort of humorous comment on the action whenever it occurs. At Six’s annoyed expression he says that he is simply trying to lighten the mood a bit, maybe distract them with his humorous musings. Six thinks he must not have a clue that he exercises his own coping mechanism (ahem, sarcasm) whenever their gesture makes him uncomfortable, so they end up trying to keep themself from grasping onto his thumb to the best of their abilities. But, to be honest, they’re relieved when Arcade begins reaching over his hand to them in times of stress, his eyes avoiding theirs, and his comments going unuttered, but his thumb extending outward to allow easy access nonetheless. This gesture usually results in a kiss on the cheek for the doctor when his partner has gotten through their bout of stress.

Boone: 

     He had noticed it when he first met the courier, the way they couldn't look him in the eye. Boone hadn't been sure if it was just him, considering his constant need to wear sunglasses and his somewhat stoic demeanor, or if it was the way they were with everyone, but either way, he didn’t mind in the slightest. When he found that it was a result of their anxiety, he simply nodded to them in understanding, and the pair went on their way. The sniper honestly wasn’t big on direct eye contact himself, another boon of wearing sunglasses was being able to keep your eyes trained wherever you liked, and so people tended not to notice his own habit of avoiding eye contact with them. He threw the idea out to Six one night, and soon enough the pair wore matching sunglasses nearly all the time. And though, as he said, he didn’t mind Six’s habit one bit, the knowledge that they only looked people in the eye when they felt completely comfortable and at ease with them made it all the more special when they did decide to look into his eyes when the pair was talking, or sharing a tender moment. In those little instances, Boone liked to study the details of his partner’s eyes, committing their warm and vibrant glow to memory, paying distinct attention to their unique shape, and the way their pupils dilated as they gazed back at him. He only wondered if they noticed his eyes doing the same in return as he took in the details of the one he loved.

Cass:  

     The caravaner always tends to offer some form of alcohol to Six whenever she sees their leg shaking in such a way. Cass is familiar with the side effects of withdrawal when she sees them, and she'll try to help her partner to the nearest drink as soon as she can. When Six finally asks her about why it is that she offers alcohol to them when they’re feeling stressed, mentioning that it maaaaaay not be the most healthy coping mechanism for anxiety, she is a bit confused. They were anxious!? Strange, she only tends to shake like that when she hasn't had a drink in a while. With the knowledge that it’s a nervous tic of theirs, Cass uses it to her advantage to better tell when her partner needs to take a load off, or blow off some steam. At the sight of their leg thrumming away, she’ll give their thigh a pat to get their attention, and then ask if there’s anything she can do to help them. As luck would have it, a stiff drink does tend to give Six the time to calm their nerves, so that trend isn’t completely abandoned once Cass has found out the truth about Six’s habit.

Raul:

     "What's the matter, boss? Can’t find the right word? Lo siento, mi corazón, English isn't my best language, but I can try and help if you want." Raul is… confused at first. Whenever Six snaps their fingers, he can't seem to figure out if they're trying to find the right word to say, or if they happen to be looking for something, maybe they're trying to keep time, or make a beat? Maybe they’re counting something, trying to remember a phrase? Once they tell him it’s just a nervous tic they have, Raul looks a little embarrassed at the fact that he didn’t assume this earlier on. The ghoul tries not to pay much attention to his partner’s habit, since he knows it must make them a little self conscious when people point it out, but sometimes he can't help but snap along, trying to make a little song to go along with their own improvised rhythm. When Six does finally notice his contribution, Raul just likes to wink at them in response, flashing a playful little smile as they blush in embarrassment at the fact that he caught them doing their nervous tic.

Veronica:

     When Veronica noticed that her partner had pierced ears, she was ecstatic. Ecstatic, and jealous. She always wanted to pierce her ears, to find or make her own pretty little earrings to decorate herself with, but alas, ear piercings were certainly not within the limits of Brotherhood dress and decorum. Given her interest in them, it’s no surprise that she noticed the way Six twisted the backs between their fingers, twiddling the bits of jewelry absent-mindedly whenever they became stressed or nervous. Often times, Veronica would reach a hand out to gently pry their fingers from their earring, pulling their hand to her lips so she could give it a small kiss before bringing it to settle somewhere else, to keep them from damaging the little bits of jewelry in their ears that she envied so much. 

[sixeyesgojo]

dad time // Gojo day 2020 ♥

Summary: in which Gojo practically adopted you as his kid.

Pairing: Dad!Gojo and his kiddo, Shoko is the cool and drunk auntie

Word count: 1,252

Content warning: not for the weak heart because this is SOFT

A/N: I wrote and posted this on AO3 on Gojo day 2020. posting this for comfort after today’s chapter <3

Dad!Gojo will be a series (requested via AO3) and this is the kick-off of said series. More to come in the next few days as I slowly construct this blog. Let me know if you want to be included in a taglist or something - just shoot me a message!

If there was anything Gojo learned from this, it was that time passed quickly. Almost too quick for him. Not that he ever regretted saving you that day on the street.

-

It happened on one of his missions. He had been sent to exorcise this certain first grade curse in Nanami's stead. The latter had been injured severely in his previous mission. Nanami claimed that he was fine after having been healed by Shoko but the woman sternly insisted that he would rest for a day until he was completely fine again. For Gojo's favorite junior - whom he loved to the point that he wrote very short but endearing letters at least once a week - Gojo had agreed to take on the mission instead. After all, his students could fend for themselves for a day, as he believed in them.

The curse was nothing too special, at least not to Gojo. He had, once again, exorcised it in the blink of an eye after arriving in the nick of time. He was about to depart when his ears registered a whimper nearby. Turning around, he scanned the area until he caught a glimpse of a little shivering and crying mess that was you. Behind you were two charred corpses that reeked of cursed energy; you had been lucky to not have been hit by the curse's cursed technique.

Damn, hadn't he come so late, they two probably still be alive, Gojo thought. He let out a sigh and picked you up. "I'll bring you to a place where it's safe for you," he spoke softly, then warped away while carrying you as the curtain dissolved.

You were two years old at that time.

-

And so, three years passed, just like water flowing in a river. Though admittedly, he had an ulterior motive of raising you into a responsible adult - which had proven to be hard - and formidable Jujutsu Sorcerer to walk alongside him, Gojo had taken you under his wing and fully adapted to his role as a foster parent quite quickly. The beginning was a little rough as you just kept wailing and he was restless, not knowing what to do, but he had somehow managed. He had the means to do so, after all.

It was one of Gojo's rare days when he knew he would get off work earlier than usual and he promised that he would spend the whole day with you. So, here you were, waiting for your foster dad to come out. You were wearing a shirt he had gifted you as a souvenir after coming home after a long day: it was a black shirt with white lettering that said "if lost, return to the strongest dad". Gojo loved this shirt so much, he had gotten himself a matching "I'm the strongest dad" counterpart. Of course, you had it with you because you liked the idea of matching with your favorite person in the world.

Holding Shoko's hand while waiting for Gojo in front of the school building, you had been bugging her for the last 30 minutes by asking repeatedly, "When will daddy come, auntie?" to which she would reply with a smile, saying, "Patience, kiddo." Shoko had always played a big part in your life, being one of your dad's very few close friends. She had always been like an aunt to you and you loved her dearly. But your #1 and utmost favorite person in this world was still your childish dad.

"Auntie, my feet hurt," you pouted. Wordlessly, Shoko picked your small form up. Your little fist resting against her shoulders, holding Gojo's shirt.

After some more waiting, the door finally opened, revealing a certain white-haired sorcerer with a big grin on his face. "Ohh? Look who it is! It's my favorite little munchkin!" Gojo exclaimed and Shoko could almost see the happiness in him manifesting around him. He was as dorky as always. Your little fist held out the shirt to him as you pouted. He understood right away as he eyed you. Taking the shirt from you, he saluted with a joking voice, "As you wish!" With a snap of his finger, he was wearing the shirt already. His blindfold also switched with casual shades.

"Thanks for babysitting, Shoko," he turned to her and thanked his colleague and friend to which the said person replied, "It was a pleasure to hang out with Y/N, as usual." You kissed your beloved auntie on the cheek ("Goodbye auntie!!") before she let you down so you could take your rightful place, which was on Gojo's shoulders. He always carried you like this when the two of you spent time in town. It was a simple gesture but you always felt like you could conquer the world (or at least as far as you could see from up there).

"Where do you want to go, sweetie?" the sorcerer asked as he hoisted you onto his shoulders. "Dad, I want to go eat ice cream!!" you voiced your wish. Like dad, like kid, Gojo thought as he smiled. "I was thinking the same thing, Y/N! Wanna go to our usual place and get the special sundae with me?" he suggested. You nodded enthusiastically before realizing he probably would not see your nod. "Sure! But only if you don't gobble down all of my vanilla scoops again..." you said and puffed your cheeks.

"Aww, baby, I'm soooooo sorry. I acknowledge that it was, in fact, pretty mean of me but I reeeeeaaaaaally couldn't control myself last time," Gojo chuckled, "This time you'll get a biiiiig share of my part, okay? It's a promise."

The tall sorcerer treated the both of you to a big sundae of 20 scoops, which you shared, at your favorite ice cream parlor. As promised, he let you have a considerably big share of his part. Usually, kids would be satisfied with just that - but not you. You were Gojo's kid after all, taking very well after him and his horrible sweet tooth after all these years of being together with him - and he knew that well. This was exactly how following ice cream, the two of you happily spent time eating kikufuku, cotton candy, daifuku and the like. It truly is a miracle you haven't ended up with dental caries yet.

If there was anything Gojo loved in this world, it would be spoiling you rotten. He would stop at nothing to make you happy and carefree as these emotions being displayed on your face were his favorite. Seeing you smile never ceased to make his heart beat a little harder out of his own happiness. Talking about spoiling you rotten: on that day, he had bought you new clothes (since you started growing out of your old ones), a few new plushies you had eyed and restocked your secret candy stash ("but do not tell auntie Shoko about this, okay?").

After spending a wonderful day and enjoying dinner with your dad, the two of you went home hand in hand.

Later on, he tucked you into bed as it was time for you to sleep. "Dad, thanks for today. I love you," you said and he replied with a kiss on your cheek and a chuckle, "I know, I love myself too." You rolled your eyes.

The Jujutsu world may fear this man but to you, he was just your dorky dad whom you loved more than any other person in this world.

[kpopfanfictrash]

Raise the Barre (Ch. 1)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Creative Content Contributor: @baebae-goodnight​ (WHO MADE THIS PERFECTLY GORGEOUS MOODBOARD)

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU 

Word Count: 7,003

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.    

Thumbs hooked beneath the straps of your backpack, you paused on the sidewalk to tilt your head up. A sign reading Russet Ballet Academy hung from the building above, detailing the location of the next four years of your life.

It was the dream of many to attend and yet, few ever came to walk these halls as its students. Only eighty dancers were accepted to their dance program each year; the fiercest competition from all over the globe.

Somehow, you were amongst them.

The day you’d received your letter still felt like a dream but here you were, standing under the sign and knowing you’d made it. You stared at it a second longer before your mom came up and squeezed your shoulder.

“Wow,” she said, also reading the sign. “Seems like just yesterday you fell on your ass at Hall of Fame, huh?”

“Mom!” You laughed, the moment effectively broken. “Why would you bring that up now? I was twelve!”

She grinned and glanced in your direction. “You just had such enthusiasm! Picked yourself right back up and kept going. I should’ve known then you would make it.”

Despite yourself, you felt your insides soften again. It sounded like something your old dance teacher, Miss Katie, would’ve said. She’d always had faith in your perseverance and ability. You hadn’t started competing until the age of eleven; in dancer years, this was considered late and yet, you grew quickly through the ranks. By the time you reached high school, you were known on the competitive dance circuit as one of the elites.

Your parents joked it was your contrariness that kept you going. Growing up, you’d never much liked hearing the word no – something your parents applauded and bemoaned in equal measure.

Hiking your bag higher, you turned to face your parents. “So, are you going to take a photo, or what?”

“A photo! Great idea.” Scanning the sidewalk, your mom found your dad. “Honey, come here! Honey! Hone – honestly,” she huffed, waving both arms overhead.

Finally, your dad noticed and hurried in your direction. “Have you seen the gargoyles?” he asked, clearly impressed. “The architecture of this building is incredible, Y/N. When you get settled, maybe you can find out for me who the builder –”

“Take the picture, darling,” said your mom, handing over the camera.

She moved beside you, hugging you tight enough to make breathing difficult. You were happy though, smiling brightly as your dad took the shot.

“Okay, okay,” you said, laughing after the tenth frame. “I think you guys have embarrassed me enough for one day, don’t you?”

“Debatable,” said your dad, grabbing your luggage to haul up the steps. “We’ve got to make up for all the days we won’t see you. You’re not coming home until the holidays, right? That’s a long time!”

At this, a small pang went through you and you nodded. He was right – your parents lived a plane flight away and you’d never been the wealthiest of households. You wouldn’t be able to return until three months from now, which was the longest you’d ever spent away from your family.

It was such a strange thought, you didn’t know what to do with it. As crazy as it was, since they often drove you crazy, you hadn’t ever lived far away from home and the thought made you sad. It was just another way your life was being upended.

As you entered the arched door of Grace Hall, your soon-to-be home, your head spun from the newness. In your small suburban town, you’d had a reputation. The best dancer, the straight-A student, the person with her act together – never mind what you did behind the scenes to make it appear that way. The point was, you were known.

Here, you were just another small fish thrown into the big pond. It wasn’t that you were a bad dancer – far from it – but here, everyone was the best. Everyone at Russet had passed the same bar, which meant the stakes would be higher than ever before. You had never danced under that kind of pressure and scrutiny.

Stomach churning, you once again wondered if you’d made the right choice. You’d been accepted into other Universities; ones without dance programs where you’d have a more secure future. Instead, you chose to pursue dance as a career.

It wasn’t that other majors were without risk or difficulty, but there was a certain physical and mental exhaustion associated with dance which most found to be a deterrent. You once had a teacher who said if you needed to think twice about dancing, you shouldn’t do it. Way too many people never made it to the top; if you weren’t prepared to make sacrifices for what you loved, then this wasn’t the path for you.

At the time, you hadn’t thought twice about your decision, but that was before the events of Senior year.

A week before the final dance competition of the season, your tendonitis grew so bad, you physically winced whenever you landed a jump. Your teachers finally caught on and forced you to see a doctor, who forbade you from dancing in the upcoming competition.

It had been the last one of the year; your final chance to compete and show everyone – well, someone – why you were considered the best. You went to the competition despite your injury, determined to cheer on your teammates, but something hollow settled into your chest as you watched, realizing your time on the stage would someday come to an end.

You realized how tenuous your body was and, by extension, your career. Of course, you’d known this before, but it had been your first time to face this knowledge head-on and it scared you. Tendonitis wasn’t something that went away, although it was a condition you could work through and manage. Still, your body would only get worse and although you knew you wanted to dance, now you had doubts.

As you stepped through the doors of Russet Academy, these doubts reared their ugly heads once again.

Hiking your bag further up on your shoulder, you plastered a smile on your face and pushed these thoughts away. That was last year. You were better now, fully recovered and approved to dance by your doctors. So long as you took care of yourself, there was nothing to fear.

More suitcases waited in the trunk of your dad’s rental car, but your roommate had already texted her arrival, so you headed upstairs. Noelle Carmichael was from California, a Sagittarius, had begun dancing at the age of three and loved caramel popcorn more than anything else in the world. All this information had been thrown at you during your first text conversation, which might have seemed like a lot, but after a summer of talking, you knew it to only be Noelle. 

As you lugged your bag from the elevator – the singular service vehicle had been repurposed for move-in – a head poked itself from a room down the hall.

“Y/N?” 

When you nodded, your roommate whooped and leapt into view. 

“It’s me – Noelle!” she called.

She rushed to help you with your bags, chattering excitedly as you walked down the hall. Noelle’s move-in time had been yesterday, and her parents had already left, but they couldn’t wait to meet you the next time they visited.

You found her enthusiasm contagious and before long, most of your worries had been banished to the sidewalk outside. It felt like you’d known Noelle for much longer than the few months you talked over the summer. This greatly relieved you, since you’d been worried about making friends at Russet Academy.

Dancers weren’t always the friendliest, especially when it came to institutions like this. So much of dance was competition – competition for that ranking, that medal or that place in that dance company. It was hard to make teamwork a priority when so much of success was judged on the individual.

Noelle didn’t seem to think this way though, which helped ease some of your fears. You had both entered the ballet track at the Academy. You weren’t naturally a ballerina, but Russet recommended those who wanted to go into jazz or contemporary start with ballet. Smaller majors existed for tap and hip-hop, but those had never been your forte.

Meeting Noelle was enough for minimal tears to be shed while saying goodbye to your parents later that night. Your dad ended up crying, which of course set you off, but by the time they got in their rental car and turned the corner, you’d managed to mostly pull yourself together.

Noelle remained in the dorm while you said goodbye, lounging on her bed with a book in her lap. 

You paused on the threshold of your room when you returned, taking in the strangeness of all your surroundings. Your old comforter on a lofted bed, your laptop perched on a strange desk, your clothes hung in an armoire. It was both strange and familiar; the sight of it brought tears to your eyes.

“Oh, no!” Noelle said, hopping down from her bed. “Don’t cry, Y/N! I only just stopped crying this morning. If you cry, then I’ll cry and people will think something terrible is happening here.”

You laughed when she hugged you, hugging her back in the middle of the room. It was comforting to know someone else felt this way; after a moment, you pulled back to wipe your eyes.

“I’m fine,” you groaned, shaking your head. “Damn. I didn’t expect that.”

“I know.” Noelle smiled. “I was so excited to leave I forgot that deep down, I’m a gigantic baby. Huge mama’s girl.”

Stifling a laugh, you crossed the room to grab a Kleenex.

“If it helps,” Noelle said. “Some girls down the hall are having people over tonight. We could go and meet some of our classmates before orientation starts tomorrow. It should be fun!”

“That does sound fun,” you said, and you meant it.

A few hours later, you found yourself seated on equally horrible carpet in a room down the hall. Several other freshmen were seated beside you, sharing similar parting stories, which lifted your spirits.

“I bawled,” said Irene, clutching her chest. “I’ve had this giant countdown in my calendar all summer. I crossed each day off with a marker and then suddenly, I’m here and I miss my sister. Pathetic.”

Noelle laughed. “I’m just glad I was part of yesterday’s move-in day. It means only half of you heard my gigantic breakdown last night. Mad embarrassing. Pretty sure I told my brother I love him.” She shuddered. “He’s only supposed to get that honor on his birthday!”

The room cracked up, another girl chiming in and you swirled your cup, happily buzzed from the drink in your hand. You hadn’t had alcohol many times before, but it seemed appropriate for a night of new experiences. No one here was drinking to get drunk, since orientation began tomorrow, but some social lubricant tended to help in times like this.

Ballet wouldn��t start until Monday morning, so this was your last chance for a while to indulge. It wasn’t that you couldn’t drink during the semester, but you’d learned the hard way hangovers made for terrible class the next day. You’d only done it once before deciding to ban the idea of alcohol the night before dancing.

The other girls on your floor did their best to put you at ease. Aside from your roommate, there were five other girls who’d congregated in the room.

Ari and Jasmine lived in the room you all sat in. Ari lived within driving distance of the city, had the largest collection of gel pens you’d ever seen and had started dancing later in life (at age ten), which made it all the more impressive that she’d gotten in. Jasmine was from a tiny city in the south and was also a studio dancer; you recognized her the moment she spoke, having run into her as a teacher’s assistant at a dance convention you went to.

Also present were Irene, a ballerina from Chicago and Lia, who was on the hip-hop track. They were also roommates and although you probably wouldn’t have many classes with Lia, orientation tomorrow would be the same. As you got to know them better, the bubble of trepidation in your chest slowly deflated. Everyone here seemed nice – intense, but not as though they were out to get anyone.

As though conjured into being by your very thought, a girl appeared in the door.

She was tall, slim and had her hair pulled back in a French twist. Everything about her screamed ballerina, from her light blue warm-ups to her arched expression. The moment she appeared on the threshold, several people in the room quieted.

Noticing this, you glanced at her with renewed interest. It seemed the girl’s reputation preceded her, but you honestly had no idea who she was. Rather than introduce herself though, the girl merely sighed.

“I thought I heard something,” she said, her tone piqued.

Forcing a smile to her lips, Jasmine rose from the floor. “Hey, Sabrina!” she said, making her tone bright. “We were just getting to know one another. Did you change your mind about coming? We have room if you want to join.”

Despite her forced smile, you detected a glimmer of want beneath Jasmine’s words. Clearly, this Sabrina was considered a big deal. Jasmine’s hopes were immediately crushed the second Sabrina opened her mouth.

“No, thanks,” she said, her gaze sweeping the room. “I need to get to sleep soon. I want to wake up early and get in a quick barre before breakfast.”

Noelle, seated beside you, stared at Sabrina in amazement. “You already have access to rooms?”

Sabrina turned; a faint, amused smile crossed her lips. “Yeah. I went to Russet Prep. I’ve known most of the teachers here for years.”

Hearing this, your stomach sank to the floor. You’d known, of course, there was a feeder school into Russet Ballet Academy. You’d received the same audition letter many years ago, but the cost and distance had been too much for your family to consider.

While you’d understood the fact that you’d be amongst great dancers, you hadn’t thought specifically about Russet Prep ballerinas. Sabrina’s presence instantly dampened your mood, since the way she glanced at you confirmed what you already knew. 

She had a leg-up, she knew it and she wouldn’t hesitate to use it.

Leaning back on the futon, you slowly sipped your drink. “Did you just come here to say that?” you asked. “Or did you want something else?”

Multiple heads turned to face you. Irene’s lips twitched and beside you, Noelle let out a laugh. Based on their reactions, you got the feeling that Sabrina wasn’t very well-liked by her peers. 

Smile vanishing, Sabrina met your gaze. “That was all,” she said. “Just wanted to ask if you could keep it down. Some of us are trying to take this opportunity seriously.”

With that, she turned and stalked from the room. The door slammed shut behind her and silence lingered – until Noelle snorted and others began to laugh.

“Some of us are trying to take this opportunity seriously,” Noelle mimicked, rolling her eyes. “Give me a break. Like we all didn’t bleed into our pointe shoes to be here.”

The rest nodded in agreement and slowly, the conversation shifted to other topics. Although you joined in, uncertainty lingered in the back of your mind. It seemed some of dance’s cattiness had followed you after all. You weren’t truly surprised by this; after all, you were barely three months older than you’d been in high school. It was too much to expect people to become adults overnight.

Still, at least there was one cause for celebration this evening. The fact that you’d arrived at Russet meant you no longer had to compete against your most fierce rival.

For the next four years, Park Jimin, utter bane of your existence, would be nowhere in sight.

Early the next morning, you stood in line for registration at Danley Hall and awaited your schedule.

“Honestly.” Noelle stood on her toes to peer down the hall. “Why do they insist on handing these things out in person? We could easily get them online and skip all this nonsense.”

“We need to take our ID card photos,” you pointed out. “But yeah, it sucks. You’d think they could’ve at least assigned us time slots.”

“Dancers.” Noelle shook her head. “Great at conceptualizing abstract choreography – not so great at administrative tasks.”

You laughed, facing forward as the line started to move. It stopped shortly thereafter, as did you, rearranging the bag on your shoulder. You recognized several people from last night and waved hello to them all, receiving greetings in turn.

When your phone vibrated in your pocket, you jumped in surprise. Pulling it free, you smiled when you saw the name of your boyfriend.

“Oooo.” Noelle peered over your shoulder. “Who’s that? Boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” you laughed, swatting her arm as you opened his text. “It’s my boyfriend, Finn.”

“Finn’s a good name.” Noelle moved forward in line. “Strong. Noble. Damn, though – are you two doing long distance? Brave souls.”

“No – thank god. Finn’s at Redfield University. His orientation was last week, so we’re planning to meet up later tonight.”

“Redfield? That’s so close!” Noelle gushed. “Wow, you two are so lucky. And Redfield is a great school, too. I wholeheartedly approve.”

“Well, as long as you do,” you laughed. 

“What’s he saying? Wishing you luck with registration?”

“That, and asking where I want to get dinner tonight.”

“Sickeningly cute. I’d be jealous if I weren’t such a great person.”

You snorted, about to respond when someone called your name.

“Y/L/N, Y/N?”

Head jerking up, you saw a man at the office waving you forward. It seemed your time had finally come.

“That’s me!” you said, stepping from line.

The first stop at registration were two, tiny desks set before the main office. Past these, you could see someone finishing up their student photo. A bright flash went off, momentary blinding as you winced and faced forward.

“Here you go!” you said, placing your paperwork down. “Everything should be in order.”

The paperwork man barely nodded, grabbing the folder to rifle through. He seemed content to take his time and you quickly grew bored, glancing around the lobby. Much of your class was waiting in line, looking amusingly enough like a middle school dance. There hadn’t been general orientation yet, so most people had only met those in their (single-sex) dorm last night. Groups of boys and girls awkwardly faced off from across the hall.

While you waited, you began to size people up. It was unintentional, but you knew you’d be paired with someone for ballet and it seemed better to get a head start than not. Most people were unfamiliar to you, and you’d made no meaningful progress when a new voice said your name.

“Y/N?”

Freezing in place, you continued to stare at the hallway before you.

You knew that voice. It was one you could’ve identified in the depths of Tartarus itself – which honestly, was the only place you’d imagined hearing said voice again, since it belonged to Park Jimin. Top hellion of the underworld.

Slowly, you turned and had your worst suspicions confirmed.

Park Jimin stared back at you in the hall.

He wore a jean jacket, white t-shirt and golden sunglasses perched on his head, despite being indoors. Every part of his attire screamed pretentious, but no one around you seemed to notice. Instead, a buzz spread over the crowd as more and more people realized who you were talking to.

Before you could compose yourself, you demanded, “What are you doing here, Park?”

Jimin’s smile disappeared. Slowly, he walked forward and closed the distance between you.

“So, you’re not even going to try and be pleasant?” he asked, coming to a stop. Casually, he looked you up and down. “Surprised to see you here. Thought you’d stopped dancing, or something.”

Subconsciously, your hands balled into fists. Jimin had a way of getting under your skin that no one else did – even though admittedly, you could’ve just said hello. You didn’t have to act like he was the anti-Christ, even if he was.

“I didn’t stop dancing,” you said to him through gritted teeth. “You know that perfectly well.”

Jimin shrugged. “How was I supposed to know that? The last time I saw you, you were limping around like you were on your last legs. I just assumed.”

“I… was not limping,” you said with as much dignity as you could muster.

“Weren’t you on crutches?”

“My doctor made me use those!”

“Aha!” Jimin grinned, triumphant. “So, you were injured.”

“I had tendonitis,” you shot back. “Hardly fatal, Park. I’m fine now.”

“Right.” Jimin glanced at your feet. “Hope it doesn’t come back.”

From anyone else, you might’ve taken the words at face value, but this was Jimin. He’d never wished for your success before, so it would be foolish to imagine otherwise now.

Gaze hardening, you took another step forward until you stood nose-to-nose. Well, nose to chin was more like it. Jimin had grown since you first began competing against one another. You remembered a time when you both were the same height. This had once been a source of great amusement for you, choosing to stand directly before him at awards ceremonies.

You opened your mouth to tell him off when the paperwork man said your name again.

“That’s me!” you blurted, spinning around.

Jimin would have to wait, you decided as you strode forward. The paperwork man looked at you in alarm, clearly not used to having such enthusiastic participants.

“Uh, I know,” he said slowly. “You confirmed your name earlier. The photographer is ready,” he added, nodding towards the room Jimin had vacated.

Cheeks burning, you accepted your paperwork and nodded. Although you purposefully didn’t look at Jimin as you left, you could feel him smirking at you from behind.

Refusing to give him the time of day, you brushed past – or you would’ve, but the space was too small for dramatics. You nearly elbowed him in the spleen as you went, forced to squeeze against the wall in an undignified fashion.

Still, you didn’t look back as you entered the ID office. Some of your anger became transparent in your photo-taking, though – this much was obvious when you were handed your ID. Staring at this in horror, you remained frozen in the hall when Noelle finished and joined you.

“Oh, shit,” she said, glancing at your ID. “I feel a lot better about my photo now.”

“Hey!” you said, hand curling around the photo.

Despite this, you laughed, since she was right. On a scale of model to mug shot, your ID was definitely on the latter end.

As you walked away, you shook your head and shoved the ID in your bag. In the corner of one eye, you could see Jimin lingering while he talked with other students. You recognized no one in his group, except for a guy you thought you’d seen on YouTube. Hope on the Street, or something. Probably on the hip-hop track.

“Seriously, though.” Noelle looked at you sympathetically. “What happened? Photographer tell you he was going to murder your family?”

“Ugh, no,” you groaned. “Just got in my own head.”

“Uh-huh. And the fact that you were talking to Park Jimin right before had nothing to do with it?”

Blinking, you glanced at her in surprise. “You saw that?”

“Kind of.” Noelle looked a bit guilty. “I mean, it’s hard not to notice Park Jimin wandering the halls.”

You couldn’t help but scowl at this.

It was unprofessional, but your feud with Jimin went back so far, it was hard for you to be completely impartial. Your rivalry had begun when you’d both been picked to demonstrate the combination at NUVO dance convention and Jimin had tripped you while in the front row. He’d apologized afterwards, claiming ignorance, but you’d seen enough of his dancing by then to know Jimin didn’t make mistakes.

He’d tripped you on purpose.

Jimin was known on the competitive dance circuit, like you, but he had an almost cult-like following on YouTube and TikTok. Rumor had it, he’d been asked to join Ariana Grande on tour the previous summer, which was why you’d thought for sure you were rid of him. It seemed this was no longer the case.

“Yeah,” you grumbled as you neared Jimin in the hall. “He’s here, alright.”

Noelle hid a smile. “You don’t like him.”

“He’s an ass.”

“Yeah, he does,” said Noelle, gazing wistfully at his butt as you passed.

“Noelle!” you snorted. “That’s not what I said.”

“Huh?” Blinking innocently, she returned to you. “Oh, you said – oh. Sorry. Though you said something different.”

The smile she gave was incorrigible though and, despite your best interests, you laughed.

“I mean, he does have a nice butt,” Noelle argued. “Come on, Y/N. You have to admit that,” she continued once you were out of earshot.

“Hadn’t noticed.”

“Liar.”

“I mean, he’s a dancer!” you sputtered. “We all have nice butts.”

“Valid counter-argument,” Noelle said as you walked outside. “But seriously, he’s not a good guy?”

Paused on the sidewalk, you turned to glance at the building. Danley Hall rose above you; the location of class every day for the foreseeable future. Some of that now felt tainted by the prospect of seeing Jimin every day, as well.

With a sigh, you met Noelle’s gaze. “No,” you said at last. “We were rivals all throughout high school and believe me, there aren’t enough terrible superlatives to describe Park Jimin. He’s the most annoying, most childish, least humble–”

“–biggest suck-up, least trustworthy, mind-numbing idiot,” you finished, stabbing your salad with a fork.

Finn laughed at you from across the table. By this point, your feud with Jimin was old news to him. Shaking his head, curly brown hair flopped into his gaze.

“Damn, Y/N,” he said sympathetically. “That sucks. Can’t believe that jerk had the audacity to follow you to Russet. Sounds to me like he can’t get enough of you.”

Ignoring this, you rolled your eyes. “Believe me, it’s not that. Park Jimin doesn’t care about anyone but himself. It’s just Russet, you know? The most prestigious dance academy in the country. I just don’t understand how I didn’t know this,” you sighed, still troubled by the thought. “How come I didn’t know he’d be in the freshman class?”

“I don’t know.” Finn shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t have a Facebook?”

Most of the freshman class had connected on Facebook, at least before someone made a What’s App chat for the group. Finn was probably right about Jimin not giving out his social media.

 “That’s probably true,” you grumbled. “But still.”

Finn laughed at your expression. Reaching across the table, he squeezed your hand in his. “Hey,” he said gently. “You beat him for what – four years? So, this is just another four years of putting him in his place. You’ll be fine.”

He was right, although in all honesty, Jimin had won about fifty percent of the time against you. It was one of the reasons you’d pushed yourself so hard in high school.

“You’re right,” you said, somewhat mollified.

“Of course, I am,” Finn said, letting go of your hand. “You’re talking to a man who put his loft bed together alone. By hand.”

You looked at him in alarm. “Did you at least use the manual?”

“Please, Y/N. Men don’t use manuals. We don’t believe in them, much as we don’t believe in cleaning, cooking, or coming in second.”

“Gross,” you groaned, throwing a cherry tomato at him. “Worst ad ever for the male sex. Besides, it’s not true – I beat Jimin in dance plenty of times.”

“Oh, come on,” Finn laughed. “He doesn’t count.”

Something about the way he said this made you sit a bit straighter. Finn resumed cutting into his steak, but you continued to stare at him across the table.

“What do you mean by that?” 

Finn looked up in surprise. “Well, you know. It’s not like he’s super manly.”

You stared at him, bewildered.

“I mean, he wears tights, Y/N.”

At this, your eyes narrowed. It wasn’t like you were Jimin’s biggest fan – you despised him, actually – but Finn’s argument was just stupid, even if he meant it as a joke.

“And?” You tilted your head. “He also bench-presses women above his head for fun. Are you being serious? Just because he –”

“Whoa, wait – I was kidding,” Finn said, looking stricken. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just meant it as a joke, you know, since you hate the guy. Truce?”

You hesitated, still miffed, but ultimately deciding it wasn’t worth it. Finn truly looked sorry and this was Jimin, after all. Not that this made it better, but sometimes you grew tired of lecturing your boyfriend. Sometimes, it was just easier to let things go.

“I – yeah,” you said after a long pause. “Fine. Truce.”

“Come on.” Finn smiled and reached for your hand again. “You’re not really mad, are you?” He looked hopefully at you from beneath his curls. “Jimin’s the worst. What’s got you this upset?”

Sexism and toxic masculinity, you wanted to say, but he was right. This was Jimin and you hated that guy. It felt kind of weird to want to defend him to your boyfriend.

Still, though. Finn’s comment was annoying; it was one thing for you to insult Jimin. You did it based on Jimin’s merit, his talent, and the way he kept beating you. You’d never once insulted Jimin because of his gender. In the oddest of ways, it felt like your boyfriend had insulted you when he put down male dancers.

“I’m just annoyed by the whole situation,” you said at last, settling on a half-truth. “I hate the fact that Jimin won our bet.”

Finn nodded in sympathy, settling back in his seat to eat the rest of his meal.

You stared at your salad, no longer as hungry as you had been before. Remembering the bet had thoroughly ruined your appetite.

The bet had been made Senior year, a consequence of years of competition with no real declared winner. Jimin had been the one who suggested it, albeit after you goaded him into it. 

It had been your first competition of the season and you’d taken home the top trophy – First Overall in the Senior solo category. Jimin had come in second and when you met backstage, both holding your awards, you’d come to a stop to size one another up.

“Nice trophy,” Jimin said, his tone dripping with derision.

“Right?” Turning it over, you examined it. “Not sure where I’ll put it, though. My shelves at home are pretty full.”

“I think you’ll be fine,” Jimin said. “Competition is pretty stiff this season. I doubt you’ll win again.”

“Are you referring to yourself as my competition, Park?”

“Who else?”

“I wouldn’t worry about me,” you said, stepping closer. “After all, I beat you today. I can do it again.”

“Really?” He smirked. “What competitions are you going to this season?”

You told him, listing them off one by one without looking away.

Jimin listened and nodded. “I’ll be at four of those. How about a bet, then? Whoever wins First Overall at three of the five competitions declares themselves the winner.”

“Hm. What’s the catch?”

“No catch.” 

You paused, considering the implications of such a bet. “I don’t get it, though. What does the winner win?”

“Uh, our rivalry? Bragging rights for eternity? Pride? Take your pick, Y/N.”

“Pride,” you said with a snort. “Like you have any of that.”

“I don’t. Let me win it.”

You had to clamp your lips together to keep from laughing; it would’ve ruined your image to laugh at your declared enemy’s joke.

“Alright, fine,” you said with a shake of your head. “But here’s what I want in return – are you listening, Park?”

“Trying to.”

“At the end of this season – when I win – I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me I’m the better dancer.”

Jimin’s smile widened. “And what if I win?”

“Impossible. But if you do,” you allowed. “I’ll tell you you’re the better dancer. Deal?”

“Deal.”

And that had been that.

Shaking your head, you returned yourself to the present and took another bite of your salad.

“We were tied,” you said, the same anger returning. “Jimin had won twice and I had won twice. It wasn’t fair that he just got to win because I forfeited the last competition. I was injured!”

Finn nodded in agreement, just as he had every other time you’d told him this story.

Feeling a little bit guilty, you pushed your tirade aside and tried to focus on dinner. A bet from Senior year wasn’t really important in the long run. All that mattered was that you and Jimin had ended up at the same place.

Still – you couldn’t help but worry he’d pop up one day to make good on the promise. You still hadn’t told him he was the better dancer; it’d be even more humiliating to do so now, surrounded by all your classmates from Russet.

“Anyways,” you said with a sigh. “Enough about him. How was your day?”

Finn began a story about the supposed shower-caddy thief on his floor and you settled back, nodding and laughing at all the right times. Listening to Finn talk was comforting. He reminded you of home, of family dinners and long drives and date nights at the movie theatre.

Being in his presence felt like second semester Senior year – that invincible feeling of knowing where you were headed and feeling unstoppable. Having him in the city made the transition to Russet slightly less terrifying. He was your single known in a future of unknowns.

Well, except for Jimin. Jimin was also known, but in the opposite way. The thought of him was anything but calming; he made your jaw clench, blood pound and heart start to race. 

Even in looks, Jimin was the complete opposite of Finn. Where Finn had floppy, brown curls, Jimin’s blonde hair was usually swept back from his face. Finn was a light-hearted guy, always talking with his hands and laughing at nothing, whereas Jimin was nothing but intense. Every time you saw him at competitions, he was either practicing or sleeping. There was no in-between.

Finn took things one day at a time, which was something you envied. You always felt you were hurtling towards something, the days passing by too quickly to do everything that you wanted. It was part of what made you a good couple, you decided. Finn took things slowly and you sped him up.

Aside from his major, Finn’s future was wide open. He had no real direction other than to learn and have fun, which you also envied. As much as you wanted to have fun at Russet, you knew there wasn’t much time on your chosen career path. Each second counted and you couldn’t afford to waste one.

Starting that night.

Finn walked with you back to campus, dropping you off at Grace Hall with a lingering kiss. It became more heated than you anticipated, each of you panting when you broke things off to head inside. It had been a week since he’d come to Redfield, which was the longest you’d been apart since you lost your virginity to Finn at the start of the summer.

The sex had been good as of late, but Noelle was inside and you had no desire to hook up with your boyfriend in the bushes outside your dorm.

Once you’d returned, you collapsed on your futon and groaned when you read the schedule for tomorrow.

Noelle laughed from her bed. “Copson’s ballet class?”

“Copson’s ballet class,” you agreed with a sigh.

Vlad Copson was known, even to the incoming freshmen. He was a brilliant dancer and choreographer, but utterly terrifying as a teacher. Rumor had it every freshman was assigned to him their first year just to lower the class number from eighty to seventy.

You didn’t believe this, of course, but that didn’t keep your insides from churning. As you tried to fall sleep later that night, you realized with certainty that this was a beginning. Everything you’d done before now, everything you’d once achieved no longer mattered.

Everyone at Russet was on the same foot and all that mattered was what lay before you. Not at all cheered by this thought, you pulled up your covers and eventually fell asleep.

Vlad Copson turned out to be exactly what you had pictured; an immaculate man with a stern demeanor, wearing the exact same dress code he expected of his students.

He stood before the class the next morning, next to the stereo with both hands clasped before him. 

“Welcome,” he said, looking over his students. “I’m Vlad Copson, but you may call me Mr. Vlad for the duration of class. This is Ballet, Level 1.”

Approximately twenty faces stared back, caught in a mixture of certain awe and terror. You knew yourself to be among them, standing at the back of the room with Irene and Noelle. You’d been relieved to find them both in your classes, since there were two other schedules they could’ve been sorted into.

Unfortunately for you though, prep school Sabrina and hellion Jimin were also part of your schedule. They stood at the front on the opposite side and you did your best not to look at them, knowing no good would come from it.

Everyone in class was dressed exactly the same. The women wore leotards, buns, ballet belts, tights and pointe shoes. By this stage in your career, you were expected to do the entirety of ballet class on pointe. There had been much rosin-ing and banging of shoes before the class had started.

“Thank you to those who were on time,” Mr. Vlad said, casting a pointed glance at a boy near the front. Said boy had entered the room a few seconds after 8:00 AM. “For today, I’ll be lenient and let everyone stay. From now on though, class will start promptly on the hour. Those who aren’t ready will be asked to leave and come back when they can respect my time. Understood?”

A ripple of voices chorused yes.

“Good.” Mr. Vlad arched a brow. “You may have heard I’m a tough teacher. This is true. I am hard on my students, since you’re expected to be the best. Do you know how many applications Russet received this year alone? Nearly two thousand, and these were only from those who felt qualified to apply. Russet is a once in a lifetime opportunity, so I expect everyone who enters my classroom to act like it.”

Listening to him speak sent a bead of sweat down your neck. Although he didn’t say it specifically, you knew what Mr. Vlad meant. There were two thousand qualified individuals waiting to take your place if you failed. And that didn’t even include other students at the Academy, or even other dancers who waited out in the real world.

“For those who make it to the end, this will be a life-changing event.” Mr. Vlad paused. “There are teachers here who are far better than I – and I’m considered to be one of the best in the world. You’ll be pushed to your limits, but you’ll also grow at a tremendous pace. We gave you a spot because we believe in each of you. Prove us wrong, though,” he warned. “And that will be that.”

A lingering silence fell and in that quiet, you and Noelle glanced at each other. Again, you were glad for a friendly face. The entire speech would’ve been unbearable without one. 

The boy who’d been late was as red as a tomato, clearly embarrassed at having been singled out. You would’ve felt bad, except you knew it wouldn’t be the last time Mr. Vlad put someone on the spot. The attention could easily swing to you before the end of class.

“That’s enough chit-chat, I think.” Mr. Vlad turned towards the stereo. “We’ll start at the barre.”

No one moved and once he’d reached the music, he arched a brow. “Why is everyone still standing in the center, gawking? Barre!”

Had you been watching from outside, it might’ve seemed comical how quickly everyone scattered. You and Noelle chose a barre near the front, setting water bottles down and moving to stand at the center.

Placing yourself in first position, you turned your head and surveyed yourself in the mirror.

“Eyes on me, not the mirror!” Mr. Vlad called, forcing your gaze his way. “Before we get started, I’ll assign your ballet partners for the semester. You won’t do anything with them until across the floor, but I hate to disrupt our flow later on. When I call your name, raise your hand.”

Your heart sank as you turned to face forward.

This was something you’d known was coming. Ballet partnering was part of the set first year curriculum, but you’d been under the severe misimpression you’d be allowed to choose your own partner. Information on the process had been limited and you’d heard conflicting accounts from upperclassman before your arrival. Apparently, the teachers did something different each year.

“Ahn, Irene!”

Irene raised her hand, waiting awkwardly to hear her partner’s name.

“Olson, Brian! You two are partners.”

The red-faced late boy looked at Irene in alarm, then nodded. Irene nodded as well, lowering her hand and Noelle winced.

“Sucks,” she muttered beneath her breath. “Already paired with trouble.”

Privately, you agreed. It’d be unfortunate to be partnered with someone who’d already been singled out. You could only hope your assigned partner would be better than that. 

Mr. Vlad turned. “Y/L/N, Y/N!”

Your hand immediately lifted, waiting for what seemed like forever, until –

“Park, Jimin!”

 Author’s Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JIMIN! Thank you for reading 😊 New chapters of Raise the Barre will be posted weekly; dates are listed on the series Master List. Requests for updates will be deleted. 

RAISE THE BARRE MASTER LIST  

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[remakethestars]

Being Damian Wayne's Twin Sister Would Include:

Headcanons.

❝Exactly. I don't ask my dog to drive, and I don't ask the Justice League to solve my problems.❞

— Damian Wayne, Adventures of the Super Sons #9: Showdown on Hexworld

TRIGGER WARNING: Cursing, (Damian’s) death. Mentions of toxic masculinity and internalized misogyny, nightmares, blood, knives.

Headcanon masterlist.

When people ask you, “So, which one of you is the evil twin?” Damian always glowers, and you always motion to him.

You look disturbingly alike when only your eyes are showing; Damian’s got long lashes. Talia taught you a good tactic for tag-teaming in combat as kids was to pull up your hinged balaclavas and make the enemy think there was only one of you, that they’re seeing double.

Or for one of you to hang back while the other attacks as a distraction before the other knocks them out from behind.

Obviously, this won’t work when the two of you start filling out, but it works when you’re kids. It’s the reason why, even off the field, the two of you usually wear a matching outfits with hoods.

You utilize the same methods when she sends you to live with Bruce.

You don the Robin costume just like he does, much to the rest of the Batfam’s confusion (both because they weren’t expecting it and because they can’t tell you apart either), but sticking with the “red” theme, you go by Redstart.

There’s a rumor on the street that Robin V. is a meta that can teleport.

The two of you are freakishly good at mimicking the other’s voice and mannerisms, which makes it even harder for your family.

Jason tells you two about April Fools Day, and you make the most of it. Of course, Damian’s a pain in the a$$ and decides to go around pretending to be you and getting into trouble. You’re banned from the mall, and you still have no idea why. 

The two of you can communicate with just an impassive expression (Dick says it looks like a prime example of twin telepathy to anyone else), but anyone close to you knows sh¡t’s about to hit the fan when the two of you look at each other and smirk.

If it’s something you can’t communicate nonverbally, you use your cryptophasia. 

Cryptophasia is a language developed by twins when they’re learning to talk. Most of them grow out of it, you and Damian decided to keep developing it so it became more of a conlang. No one else has been taught to speak it, and they never will be. It’s for emergencies only.

Sun Tzu’s The Art of War was your Bible growing up, and the two of you call out verses when you fight together and need the other to understand a tactic (you both inherited Bruce’s eidetic memory, so you’ve got it memorized).

When you get too big to pull off the which-is-which game, you make your own costume and become the true Redstart. 

It’s basically Damian’s Robin uniform (the Super Sons’s version is the only one I’ll accept), but the boots and gloves are black, the biceps have a white stripe, the lining of the cape is white (the lining of the hood is black), the gold accents become white, it has a zipper down the front instead of clasps, and the mask becomes black (including the eyes). The waterline of the eyes is white. Like a painted redstart.

If Damian’s into animals, you’re into plants. The two of you find common ground on the fact that pollution sucks, so when you walk Titus, you take a trash bag and gloves with you to pick up litter as you go.

You did not want to go to Jon’s school. 

Not because you don’t like Jon (because you do), but because you know you could run intellectual circles around every one of those snot-nosed brats. 

School is stupid. Especially because the American education system is subpar; everything about it is.

You hardly pay attention in class. You do all of the homework a week ahead of time incase something comes up. Usually you’re doing next week’s homework in class. You’ve written entire papers on your phone in Google Docs in the middle of class to be printed out later.

If you’ve already done everything, Damian’s usually drawing and you’re daydreaming or you’re working on a case on your phone.

The teachers are always trying to catch you not paying attention, but you little sh¡ts can always answer their questions. 

Damian’s closest with Dick, but you’re closest with Tim. You admire his ability to plan ahead (see the entirety of the Red Robin comics), and you know that he’s better than both your father and your grandfather; you want to be as good as him when you grow up.

It takes a long time to wash the toxic masculinity and internalized misogyny our of your head, to learn that your grandfather’s ideas of “strength” were wrong, that it’s okay to lean on someone besides Damian, that you can be just as strong as your brother and still be feminine, that there are acceptable emotions besides anger.

Actually, your father teaches you that anger is more likely to get you killed. He won’t let you go into the field when he knows your angry.

It’s harder to drill out of you than your instinct to kill.

There’s a Lebanese restaurant called Tarbooshes (Teen Titans Special #1) the two of you go to when you’re feeling homesick. They make ox blood soup the same way your mother did, and it’s the only non-vegetarian thing Damian will eat for that very reason.

It’s nice to have a place to go where they know you by name and know what you want when you tell them “the usual.” It’s nice to have a place where you’re not a Wayne or an Al Ghul, where you’re just [Y/N] and Damian.

You disappear for an hour on your birthday to eat there. Bruce has asked you were you go, but you kept that between the two of you. 

Speaking of birthdays, you’re eleven minutes older than him. He was six pounds and ten ounces (Batman & Robin #0?), and you were a solid seven.

After Damian died, you go to Tarbooshes to feel close to him.

You were doing all right with the no-killing thing until the night Damian died.

Heretic never stood a chance.

He looked so much like Damian it gave you nightmares, though. Nightmares where you killed your twin brother and woke up sobbing.

Damian didn’t give you a speech in his last moments. He just looked over at you and said in your cryptophasia, “I’m sorry.” 

Not “I love you.” Not “Take care of them for me.” You knew that; you’d do that. He didn’t have to tell you, and he didn’t have to ask.

Just “I’m sorry.” Sorry that you were the one that was left behind.

It’s one thing to lose a family member, to lose a friend, or to lose a lover. It’s another to lose half of your soul.

The two of you had always feared you would die apart. It had always been a possibility; you weren’t stupid enough to think, “It’ll never happen to me.” Because it definitely could. 

And it had.

You wanted to run away from everything. Even just for a while. Go to one of your safe houses in London or France or whatever and just — you didn’t know — stare at the wall until you felt better? But you’d made that unspoken promise to Damian — “I’ll take care of them for you; don’t worry.” — to take care of Titus and Catfred and Jerry and Batcow and Goliath, to take care of Alfred and Bruce and Dick and Jason and Cassandra and Tim, to take care of Jon and Colin and Maps.

You avoided the cave. And if you had to go down there for some reason, you refused to look at the Robin suits.

Dick noticed. He asked if you wanted them taken down, even just for a while. You gave him a look like he was nuts and said, “No.”

Jon was a mess. More of a mess than you were, somehow. 

You’d shown up at the Kents’s. Jon was out doing Superboy things with Clark and Conner. Lois was the only one home.

You nearly scared her out of her skin when you materialized behind her and asked, “Is Jon home? It’s important.” 

He had to know first. He deserved to.

For all he put up with from you two, he deserved to be the first to know when one of you was f*cking dead.

Lois, of course, bless her heart, had the mom instincts to know that you were in no way, shape, or form okay even when you were trying so hard to hold yourself together. She asked you what’s wrong, and it’s what made you break. 

Your lip trembled. “He’s gone.”

“Who’s gone?”

“Damian,” your voice broke. “He’s dead.” 

Jon came home to find you in his living room in your Robin uniform, covered in Damian’s and Heretic’s blood, snot running down your lip, sobbing in his mothers arms and knew what happened without having to ask. He did anyway.

When you and Jon both finally passed out, your Uncle Clark flew you back to the Batcave. No one was in any condition — not even Alfred — so he carried you up to your room; took your boots, mask, cape, and gloves off; and tucked you in. Then he went to find Bruce because there was no doubt he was losing it too.

Bruce doesn’t tell you anything about trying to find a way to bring him back without the Lazarus pit because he doesn’t want to get your hopes up. 

You walk into your room one day to find Damian sitting there reading the dissertation (the requirement was three pages, not 120, but your teacher would just have to deal with your coping mechanisms) you had been working on for your World History class and left up on your laptop while on patrol. 

He said with the utmost indifference, “You’ve made some good points, Sister,” and, of course, you pulled out a knife and attacked him because this was — was — was some shapeshifting alien or hologram tech or a cruel joke — your twin was dead, this wasn’t funny, whoever did this was going to pay.

He met you blow-for-blow and flipped away from you before saying, “And here I was expecting a warm welcome,” in your cryptophasia. 

“Brother?” 

“Tt. Obviously.” 

Yeah, a college level thesis. You’re smart. You inherited Bruce’s eidetic memory and were raised by assassins.

You learned seven languages and wrote five doctoral theses by the time your teeth came in, wrote your first letter to a newspaper editor when you were two, could’ve had a geology doctorate when you were seven (Super Sons #1), and it only took you a week to learn the language on Takron-Galtos. You’re smart.

You’re also incredibly skilled. You learned to drive when you were five (Super Sons #1), your mother trained you to go for weeks without eating (Adventures of the Super Sons #6), you can micro-sleep for days and converse with half your brain asleep, can use a muscular contraction to move your liver out of the way of a blade (Nightwing #20), and can place yourself in a deep trance to heal damages caused by a hematoma (also #20).

(My dumba$$ didn’t note what Super Sons/Adventure of the Super Sons comic I was reading when I took notes, so I don’t have all of them noted in the two above bullet points. But that’s where they’re from. If I end up rereading them, I’ll edit this and add the comic numbers.)

The first time on patrol you thought Bruce was gonna die, you called him Baba. 

The next evening, when Dick came to visit the cave, he turned to you and Damian and asked, “So, which one of you called him Dad?” 

“How’d you know?” you asked. 

“He’s smiling the way he did the day I called him Tati.”

“He’s not smiling,” Damian pointed out.

“He is on the inside.”

Can we talk about how royally the Arkham Knights game screwed up Tim Drake? (Though, everything seems to screw up Tim one way or another, I guess.) Why does he look like a quidditch player in the gif above the cut?

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DISCLAIMER ━━━ I’m a dumb white American, and I don’t know much about Arab or Romani culture other than what I’ve learned online. I hope I got it right?? If I didn’t, please drop a comment or P.M. me or something to let me know!