#like he was so stunned and kind of disturbed that it came out entirely dry and flat

[well-its-not-human-anymore]

Hi! Could I get HC from the guys? 👀 How they would always react to catching the reader seeing them "badly", in addition to the fact that he usually avoids them, but with his brothers it is incredible and they feel bad because they think they do not like him.  But she actually likes them and she looks at them like that because she "studies" them to draw them and she is too clumsy and shy to talk to them, that's why she ends up avoiding them. Until finally he catches her drawing them with lots of hearts or maybe they'll find her notebook with lots of portraits of them.

It's kind of funny because when I study people to draw them, they think that I look at them with hatred xd maybe I should increase my glasses prescription

God, glasses are such a pain in the ass but I have to wear them. If I don't anyone within my near vicinity doesn't have a face. But why they gotta get dirty so easily???? Makes me wanna explode or something

TMNT Headcanons

The boys w/ a quiet reader who is fine with his brothers but acts cold around him and stares a lot

Michaelangelo

mikey couldn't describe his disappointment upon realizing that you didn't want to be friends with him

well, you never actually said that to him

but he was pretty sure it was the case

you'd never made an effort to be friends with him

stared at him an awful lot though, but there was always something off about your gaze when you looked at him

like you were sizing him up, scrutinizing him, like he was an opponent

it kinda worried him

to add to that, you didn't even attempt to look embarrassed when he caught you staring

you'd just stare harder

on your end it was quite the opposite

you always found the brothers fascinating and you LOVED studying their anatomy, you'd confessed this to Donnie early on and he happily indulged in your questions

and you loved how easily you got along with the boys

well, except for Mikey

but it wasn't for a lack of trying

whenever the orange sporting turtle came around your normally flamboyant personality crept back into its little corner and hid

any words of excitement that had previously been with you died in your throat

for the longest time you didn't understand it

and you hated not understanding things, so you turned to your only outlet

that's how you ended up with an entire sketchbook full of the youngest brother in vastly different styles and poses

you had a separate book for the others, none of them as detailed as this

and when you stared to analyze you'd fallen into a habit of not looking away when caught

by your logic, if you stared back hard enough he'd look away first or just assume you'd zoned out

he didn't

and on one hectic day you'd left your sketchbook open on the kitchen table in your rush to get to work

you hadn't even noticed the slip up until Leo texted you to let you know during your shift

instant panic

in truth, Mikey was the one who discovered the book upon waking up from his nap and he'd spent the next three hours analyzing every drawing

when you finally dropped in after work to grab your book the turtle was waiting for you with it in hand

he'd asked you if you hated him

you told him no and accepted your sketchbook from him

he was relieved and screaming excitedly, just in his head

"Do you maybe wanna hang out sometime?"

You sighed in relief and nodded

"If you're cool with it- you don't think I'm weird do you?"

"I mean- you are talking to a turtle..."

you lightly shoved his chest and smiled, although it faded within a second

"Oh hush, 10 o'clock tomorrow? I'll bring snacks."

he was so stunned he could only shoot you finger guns in approval

Donatello

Donnie genuinely couldn't understand your unease around him

he'd followed all the proper expectations of holding a conversation

he was polite and engaging

so why wouldn't you talk to him?

this boy has read so many social blogs to try and figure out what he was doing wrong and he just couldn't put his finger on it

you were fine with the rest of his brothers, you'd stay up for hours laughing and gaming with them

you'd even sat still long enough to listen to Leo explain some old Japanese myth that he'd read about in a book

but with him it was always a quick, cordial greetings and farewells with bland small talk in between

Donnie had picked up pretty quickly that you weren't interested in any sort of interaction with him

and he convinced himself that that was okay

but that didn't explain the staring

he'd caught you in the act several times, eyes narrowed and locked on him

especially when you were alone with him in a room or just in the lair

the poor turtle just couldn't put his finger on it

then he caught you drawing, he noticed early on that you always carried a small sketchbook on your person but he didn't think much of it

and it wasn't so much that he caught you drawing, in fact, he wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't snapped at him while he was trying to do a sudoku puzzle

"Damn it Donnie! Stop moving! If I fuck this arm up one more time I'm gonna decompose!"

he'd quickly moved back into the position he was in prior

"sorry?"

but you'd gone silent again, occasionally glancing up from your work and running your eyes along his frame before looking down again

nearly twenty minutes later Donnie had finished the puzzle and it seemed as though you had finished your drawing

"Uh- can I ask what are you-"

"I'm drawing you but you kept moving your arm and making me mess up. You always do that when I draw you so every damn picture I have of you stays a sketch because you always come out looking like a fucking octopus."

He just stared

"Sorry, I uh- I didn't mean to explode on you like that. I'm just- I'm really bad at talking to you okay? It's so easy with everyone else but you've just gotta be so damn smart all the time and I worry that you'll think I'm boring so I just... don't talk to you?"

Donnie is stunned™

You refuse to show him the drawing until you can complete the line art and color it

But at least he knows that you don't hate him

Leonardo

To be completely honest Leo didn't mind that you were distant from him

You created an aura of calm when you were around and you always managed to distract his brothers while you were present

And he enjoyed the alone time

But after a few months that calm acceptance turned into jealousy

Not that he would ever admit it

He would just push it off and ignore it, that usually seemed to work

So why wasn't it?

And your obvious staring problem didn't help at all

Leo didn't spend much time considering his appearance but something about your gaze made him self conscious

And he hated that with a passion

Why was it that you could hold entire debates with his siblings? Even his dad for gods sake. You'd have hour long conversations on almost everything but whenever he tried to say hello you'd make up some lame ass excuse and scamper away

He just wanted an explanation

It appeared that the answer resided in your sketchbook

You'd left it open on the couch when Raph had called you away to spar with him

Leo very delicately flipped through the pages, careful not to disturb some of the polaroid pictures of his brothers

He was admittedly surprised to find pictures of himself among the pages

One of him in a handstand, another of him meditating, there was even one of him mid sneeze that you'd recreated with pencil and paper

The image of his eyes was the most startling, but the book held no polaroid of his eyes

You drew them from memory

And he was shocked when you returned to the room and didn't immediately panic

But that might have been because he didn't try to withhold your book from you

"It took me three months to color them, your eyes. I could never get the shade of blue just right."

"I'm gonna be honest with you y/n, I really thought you didn't like me."

You had the nerve to roll your eyes and follow it with a laugh

"I don't. I mean- I do but no, you just remind me a lot of myself and I haven't exactly figured out why yet. I thought that maybe if I drew you it'd be easier to figure you out..."

"Well did it help?"

You grinned

"I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

Raphael

If there was one thing Raph hated it was not understanding something that was right in front of him

which is ironic, as a much younger version of himself probably couldn't care less

and a part of him wishes he didn't care about it so much

he wishes that your blatant avoidance of him didn't upset him

but shit, it got under his skin better than any needle ever could

was it too much to ask for you to just tell him what he said or did wrong?

was he asking too much of you?

but on the same scale you'd never shown obvious dislike towards him, you were never rude and you sure as hell didn't talk shit about him to his brothers

you got along great with them

in fact it was getting more difficult to remember a time before you became a part of his family

he'd become so used to your presence that it no longer put him off when he found you hanging around the lair

but in another sense he was certain that you hadn't spoken more than three sentences to him in your time knowing him or his family

so what was the reason

several months in he finally caught onto the staring, your narrow, glassy gaze locked onto his body and refusing to look away

he stared right back at you

this annoyed you for several reasons

because within five seconds your very peaceful drawing session had turned into a staring contest and your eyes were getting VERY dry

then you exhaled in a half-sigh and looked back down at your paper

"Huh, I guess your head is more of an oblong shape..."

he took offense to this

"What tha' hell is that supposed t'mean?"

now your eyes held more of an amused silent judgement, you begrudgingly held up your sketchbook

"I'm drawing you, you fucking walnut."

"Oh..."

now you rolled you eyes and tossed the book to him, he nearly dropped it and fumbled with the pages

your annoyance was quickly growing

"Careful with that."

He flipped through the pages at a snails pace, assumingly because he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing

you had some real talent

when he looked back up at you he was wearing that crooked smile

"and here I was thinkin' that my eyes were just green."

Hope I was able to get this down pretty well! I really enjoyed writing this one! Thanks for the patience!

-Mars 🌠

[liptonsbabe]

Chains of a family [B.W]

Bill Weasley x Grant! reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Summary: Molly thinks that Bill’s and the reader relationship is a mistake so she wants them apart from each other. Bill’s against his mother wishes and he find a way to drag the reader into the Weasley family officialy

Word count: 1.9K

Warnings: none

A/N: Hi! Part 4 of this thing lol. I’m so happy that you guys like this story. It’ll have like 20 chapters or so, i’m still deciding that so yeah, that’s pretty much the thing. Btw, from now on chapters will be more interestings... i hope so lol. Again, english not my mother language. Please let me know if something’s wrong. Aaaaaand if you want to be tagged in the next chapters tell me and i will add you! Enjoy!

Chapter 4: Arguments

The rest of the afternoon passed as normal as the days before your arrival. Arthur Weasley made sure of it. Even if Molly attacked you with her dagger gaze when you and Bill hugged each other after you were done with dessert.

You didn’t know what Mr. Weasley had talked about with his wife while you were taking a shower, however, you noticed the tension rising from their bodies after you sat down at the table next to Bill and saw an annoyance sign on Molly’s lips. Her temple was frowned, reminding you of your own mother's gestures. Those flaming eyes, cleft chin, and pinion lips. Both women contract their features too much when they were upset and in your distress, you knew that they must not be disturbed.

The last thing you wanted was to hurt a marriage as solid as the Weasley's. More than once you heard your mother talk about it with your nanny making a powerful emphasis on how Molly and Arthur were able to carry out their marriage even if their economic conditions were precarious and the war was on their heels. They were an envied couple. Few dared to expand the family as much as they did without money in their pockets and spreading their progeny like a plague. No one was surprised, not even your mother, not when her marriage to Evan Grant was merely for financial advantage. Now Arthur and Molly looked upset, too upset for your understanding and you just hoped they could get along soon.

You weren't sure you deserved the sacrifice Bill's father had made for you, yet a flame of hope lit up in your chest. If Mr. Weasley started to trust you that was a good sign for others to do as well, right?

The afternoon continued as normal, seeing how Bill's plans to distract you from the fervent harassment of his mother was marred by the twins intervention. They had just finished a new product for their store and needed a good taster to certify the quality of their merchandise. It was a bad idea, he told himself, because twins were just a disaster and you didn't know them well enough to deny their good-natured pretensions.

"Be kind!" He yelled at them as Fred and George pulled you into their. Bill exhaled, pleading that his brothers wouldn't bother his girlfriend more than his mother already had.

Before taking you home, he thought about the pros and cons of your stay in the burrow. His conclusion was based on the fact that his entire family welcomed Harry Potter with open arms, so you didn't have to be the exception. He knew the difference in conditions in which his theory developed, yet he put his trust in the good judgment of his family even if the Grants' past left much to be desired. Bill didn't talk much about you with his mother, in fact, your presence at home was the last of his worries, the real problem came at the time of joining the Order of the Phoenix, would you be willing to fight against your relatives even if that mean betraying your own blood? Bill hope you will

Coming downstairs, Bill found his mother storing the leftover food in the fridge while the dishes soaked in the sink. Then he watched her clean each plate with her bare hands, no magic. William knew his anger was real.

"Want some help with that?"

"I'd love to, honey, thank you," his mother answered without looking at him. Bill raised the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows, dipping his hands into the tide of water and bubbles that flew across the kitchen. Molly was silent, drying the dishes and flying them to her place in the display case across the kitchen. Bill cleared his throat doubtfully "It never hurts to help, much less when I have so many things to do before the rest of the Order arrive"

"Don't worry, I'll help you with that too."

"Perfect"

"Mom, can we talk?"

"About what?

"You know what," Bill clicked his tongue, passing her the last plate from the sink to continue with the spoons. "(Y/N)..."

"Your father has scolded me enough about that girl, I don't need you to do it too"

"I wouldn't if you had a little consideration with her."

"More consideration?" Molly asked in a squeak. Bill shook his head. "I'm letting her stay at my home!"

"Our home, mom, ours," he corrected, drying his hands with a cloth. "This house also belongs to my dad, my brothers, and me. It's the burrow, a family property, not a secret club where some people can get in and others cannot."

"You know what I think of her"

"And you know I don't care." Molly looked scandalized at her son. She didn't understand what he had seen in someone like you or what you had given him to come out and defend you as he did "I don't ask you to love her, but at least you have to try...

"Have you ever wondered what will happen when she betrays us?"

"That's not gonna happen"

"You're very sure of that, William"

"I'm convinced, Mom. You don't know her like I do and, you know what? I see that wanting to talk to you was a mistake"

"Moody thinks like me," Molly stopped him when Bill was ready to go upstairs. The woman clung to the railing watching her son standing in the first step out of the kitchen "(Y/N) Grant is a danger to the Order"

"Really? Like Mundungus Fletcher? I beg your pardon, mom, but if there is anyone who represents a latent danger to the Order of the Phoenix, it's him and yet you have assigned him for the mission tonight"

Molly's lips parted and if it weren't for the fact that Bill knew her mother too well, he might think the woman was about to throw herself on the floor in a tantrum. Still, she clenched the bars tightly, her brow furrowed, and the redness on her cheeks washed over her forehead.

"William!" Don't talk to me like that!"

"I wouldn't if you had a little more respect for my girlfriend."

"Don't you understand? I care about you! For all of us!" She snarled angrily. "Having a Riddle in this house..."

"A Grant, mom, (Y/N) is a Grant and that's not the same." Bill descended his steps, approaching her mother, returning that angry look that she had inherited from him. It was a strange sensation. A dyad of emotions between joy and fear where the composed emotion was guilt. He had never exploded that way with his mother, but Molly hadn't behaved that way with anyone either "His grandfather is Lord Voldemort's half-brother and his brothers are all Death Eaters, what does it matter? (Y/N) is not. And when do we judge others by where they come from? If so, we could start with half of us. Being a Weasley is equivalent to being a blood traitor"

"William!"

Molly's face went from fury to shock to fury again. Bill's eyes were twinkling and Molly swore she had never seen any of her children this angry, or worse, this determined.

"What would you have done, Mom?" Bill questioned taking his mother by his arms in an attempt to make him feel her despair. Molly opened her eyes, scared. "When your family tell you not to accept dad? When your brothers object to your engagement, just 'cause the Weasleys have long been considered blood traitors?"

For the first time that day Molly's mind went blank, Bill guessed, rewinding the memories of how difficult it was for the Prewetts to accept the marriage. Bill pleaded silently, but pulled away from her when his mother gave no indication to be a little more respectful with you.

"We aren't like that. We don't separate people by where they come from, we hug them" Bill resumed his way towards the stairs, stopping a couple of steps up, turning to take a look at Molly's stunned figure "As you did with Hermione, Remus and Harry when you and Dad became his godparents after Sirius died. (Y/N) is no different"

"She will turn her back on us when the Order fight the Grants. That moment will come and you know it"

"Don't worry, i'll make sure that doesn't happen"

"She is not part of this family"

"That can be solved very easily," he said and the smile he wore gave her a terrible chill down her spine. "Because I'm going to ask her to be my wife."

Molly's gasp was the only thing Bill heard before climbing the stairs and heading to the twins' room. He always respected his mother a lot and even thinking of opposing to her wishes was inconceivable, but your well-being was something that was involved and Bill couldn't just let her mother control his life at her will. Maybe the mistake he made was not telling his parents the truth about you from the start or, in that case, mentioning that the woman he loved was the fucking niece of the strongest fucking dark wizard of all time.

Bill Weasley rubbed his face as he reached the twins' door. He no longer had to torment himself, it was done and the only thing pending at the moment was to get Harry out of his uncles' house, take him safely to the burrow and find the courage to do what he told his mother he would do.

Would you agree to marry him? He hoped so and if not, he wouldn't pressure you. You were young - even a little younger than him - and it would be understandable if you refused to tie your life to someone else's from one moment to the other. The war progressed every day and if you were going to do it, you would do it as soon as possible.

Loud laughings brought him out of his thoughts to observe you and his brothers sitting on the floor, right in the center of both beds, laughing at each other and touching your faces. From the doorway Bill can't see the full painted room, however George's face showed a rather abstract mural full of bright colors when he felt the presence of his older brother. Fred did the same showing his face in the same situation and then you turned to Bill, still laughing and your face smeared with paint. It seemed the twins had created a paint bomb in millimeter pills, that explode when you put a little bit of pressure. You tried to clean yourself with the sleeve of your sweater but you spread the paint even more. Fred and George laughed and so did Bill.

His heart swelled with love as he saw that at least someone in his family - besides him and his father - had hope in you. God, he may have even cried with happiness.

Bill never understood how a sunshine as beautiful as you was never accepted in your entire life.

Tags:

@purple-vodka-99

@vampirestrawberries

Thanks for the 100 followers!❤

[sylvies-chen]

You Make Me Feel So Young

Summary: Tim shows up at Lucy's apartment after struggling with some guilt, and finally gets that dance she'd saved for him.

Warnings: none

Words: 2.6K

A/N: For day 1 of the Chenford Fanfic Week 2021 organized by @therookiebook!! I'm so excited to participate, I hope you guys like this oneshot <3

AO3 link

++++++++

He feels guilty.

Lucy knows he does, even before he tells her. After everything at Angela’s wedding went down, after she and Jackson had been taken and nearly died, after the dust had settled from that entire stressful day, Lucy can feel the guilt oozing out of him.

Only Tim Bradford shows up at her door to talk about it, and it’s about the last thing she expects to happen.

Like, ever.

“Hey,” he blurts out as soon as she opens the door.

“Hi.” Lucy doesn’t know what to say but she knows the hand that’s holding onto the edge of her door feels numb all of a sudden and her breath gets caught in her throat.

“Can I come in?” Tim asks, trying to seem nonchalant. Lucy sees right through it, knows that him coming here alone, out of the blue, must mean something’s wrong. But she doesn’t say anything because she knows Tim takes a while sometimes to be able to open up. So instead, she nods.

“Yeah, of course.” Jackson’s out, so she lets Tim in without hesitation. Not that it’d matter if he were here, really, but she sees that broken, guilt-ridden look in Tim’s eyes and knows it’s best that they’re alone.

He plays it cool at first— out of self-preservation, she thinks— and looks around the apartment as she lets him in.

“This place looks a lot nicer than the last time I saw it,” he starts out.

“Yeah, well Cujo’s not around to tear up pillows anymore so I’d say it’s a big improvement,” she jokes meekly.

His hands are shoved in his pockets stiffly as he walks around her living room, glancing over to Jackson’s bedroom.

“Jackson’s not here?”

“No, he went to check up on Angela. I’m surprised you aren’t there too,” she adds.

“Why’s that?”

“Because it’s where you’ve been for the past week,” Lucy explains simply, glancing at him expectantly and waiting for him to talk. Not this kind of talk, not small talk or dancing around what he really needs to get off his chest, but for him to actually, really talk.

All does is stand by her couch, less than ten feet away from her, and avoid her gaze. She swears she can see his fists tensing up in the pockets of his jeans. “I didn’t realize you were keeping track.”

“I wasn’t.” She was . “I just know how worried you were about her when she was taken. I don’t blame you for not wanting to leave her side.”

“Just making up for what I didn’t do the first time, I guess,” he grumbles under his breath.

Lucy sighs, cutting their small talk short and getting to the point. “Why are you really here, Tim?”

Her bluntness surprises him, she thinks, because he blinks at her. “What?”

“Why are you here?” She repeats. “You’ve never shown up at my place randomly while off shift. Hell, I didn’t even think you’d remembered I live here. I know this past week has been intense but clearly you need something or else you wouldn’t have come here. So would you just tell me whatever it is you want to say so that I can help you?”

He exhales quietly, his chest shaking as it falls. “It’s my fault. Angela and Jackson nearly died, she nearly lost her baby, they were put in danger at her own damn wedding, and it’s… it’s my fault.”

“No, no,” she replies sympathetically, shaking her head. “It’s not. What happened to them happened because of La Fiera, not you.”

“I was her man of honour,” he explains with a dry and slightly sarcastic chuckle. “Where’s the honour in failing to protect the bride?”

“If you really felt that, you wouldn’t have come here. You knew,” she tells him, her voice determined and fierce. “You knew I wouldn’t let you sit here and feel sorry for yourself. If you wanted to sit around feeling sorry for yourself you would have gone to a bar, alone. But you came here, which means somewhere deep down you know you couldn’t have done anything to stop it.”

For one of the only times since Lucy’s known him, Tim Bradford is speechless. He looks for words but finds none, huffs, and sits down on her couch, fiddling nervously with his thumbs. Her heart sinks at the sight of it. This guilt of his isn’t going away with anything she says, she knows that now. Healing takes time, so all she can really do is just be there for him.

She sits down next to him on the couch, leaving only an inch of space. “You don’t have to carry the weight of everything, you know,” she continues gently. “You take on so much, you don’t always have to feel so responsible for every bad thing that happens. That’s no way to live.”

“I’m a cop,” he shrugs painfully. “I became a cop because I wanted to keep helping people, protecting them. So sure, it might make me a more serious person, but I do it because it’s supposed to be what I do best.”

“I get that. But no one’s perfect. I’m not perfect, even with all of your Tim tests,” she teases meekly. “That doesn’t mean you did anything wrong. You fought hard to get both of them back and you did. You did that. Angela’s home now, she and the baby are safe and alright. That’s what matters.”

He looks at her, stunned but greatly appreciative. “Thanks,” he offers, slightly begrudgingly, after a moment. “I just... thanks .”

“I think I have something of yours,” she tells him gently, changing the subject to lighten the mood. Because if she can’t assuage his guilt then at the very least, she can make him feel better; feel happy again.

Tim’s brows scrunch up, sending a confused look her way. Lucy wordlessly moves to pull out her phone, connecting it to the small wireless speaker on the coffee table. The buttons crisply click as she turns up the volume, pressing play on the first ballad she finds in her list of varied songs. (But her taste in music isn’t actually as diverse as she’d like and is really just filled with K-pop tracks).

The music streams through the speaker and throughout the apartment, audible but still quiet so as not to disturb the other tenants. Tim stays seated as Lucy stands up, still confused but shifting to the edge of his seat as if being drawn to her by an unnamed force.

Lucy finally extends her open palm, giving him a shy but cheeky grin. “Your dance, Officer Bradford?”

Realization hits and Tim’s shoulders relax a little. “I don’t know, I’m not in the mood for dancing right now.”

“Come on,” she pleads. “It’ll make you feel better, I promise. Or, at the very least, it’ll give you something to tease me about at work.”

Tim gives a hearty chuckle, smiling widely as he accepts her hand. It makes Lucy smile too. Why shouldn’t it? He’s always so surly and serious, making him laugh would make anyone proud and giddy. Right?

“Alright. After you, Officer Chen,” he replies as she pulls him off the couch and onto the rug in her living room. His hand is warm. They’re calloused, and bigger than hers to the point where her fingers get swallowed up in his as he gives her hand a squeeze. But god, they’re so warm and safe . Her mind can’t stop coming back to that observation, no matter how much she knows she shouldn’t.

Tim’s other hand finds her waist, his grip gentle. Her hand flies to his chest, pulling him in until her chin is inches away from resting on his shoulder.

Up until now, space hasn’t really been an issue for them. The only time there’d been this much physical contact between them was last year when Caleb had buried her alive. Even then, the situation had allowed for a special exception. She’d needed all the physical and emotional support she could get at that moment, and Tim had provided it for her.

Now though, there's no exception, no special circumstance, no excuse. They’re dancing while wrapped up in each other solely because they want to be, and that change is enough to terrify Lucy. She doesn’t move though, only keeps swaying to the music and letting out small, shaky breaths.

What can she say? She never was one to back down from something that scared her.

“You’re a good dancer,” Lucy points out quietly.

“You’re not half bad yourself,” he replies, his breath catching onto her neck and sending a delightful shiver down her spine.

“Is it safe to say you’re enjoying yourself? You feel more relaxed, I daresay you’re having fun,” she tries teasing.

“I’m just surprised,” he counters. “I was prepared for my toes to endure some serious stomping.”

“Oh please, like my tiny toes could ever harm you.” Her nose scrunches playfully as she feigns a threatening look, which makes Tim smile again. What is it with that smile of his killing her softly?

“I don’t know, you’re a lot tougher than you look.”

“Was that a compliment?” She asks teasingly.

“Don’t tell Nova, she’ll get jealous,” he jokes back, continuing to sway to the music.

“Yeah but I bet she’d love this,” Lucy remarks. In her head, she adds that the line between herself and Nova is getting blurred but it goes unspoken and, eventually, ignored.

“Nova’s not the only one,” he risks replying. “You’re right. This is… nice .”

Tim leans back a little to meet her eye, the swaying decelerating until they’re standing in her living room. Alone. With an intense and inviting gaze piercing into her eyes.

“It is,” Lucy agrees. Her voice is barely audible and before she can think twice, she blurts out probably the worst thing she could ever think of: the thing she means with every fiber of her being. “I wish we could stay like this forever.”

She really does mean it. She wants to stay there forever, where everything feels good and safe and right . Only she hadn’t meant to say that out loud, per se. To her surprise though, he doesn’t react poorly to it. Instead, he flashes the smallest smile and nods in agreement, swallowing hard. "Me too."

He looks so young like that, something juvenile and exciting radiating off of him like a breath of fresh air. For a second, she almost thinks he’s the same age as her.

And oh fuck , something just clicks after that.

His lips part only slightly, his eyes glimmering with something intense and hopeful. Her skin is on fire, her heart is racing, and every neuron in her brain is telling her to look away but she can’t. She can’t escape his eyes. Lucy doesn’t know what this thing between them is, only that one minute, they’re dancing and the next, they’re… doing something else. The swaying stops and everything comes to a glaring halt as the song starts to come to a gradual end. They’re left with nothing to do but stand there and look at each other. It’s almost like he’s listened to her and that somehow, he’s made them become completely frozen in time so that maybe, just maybe, they really could stay here forever.

Admittedly, terrifyingly, Lucy would have no complaints about that.

They’re holding each other too— god , she almost forgot about his hands on her wait, on her back. They’re strong and massive and yet so gentle. And before she knows it, they’re pulling her in closer and closer.

His face is inches apart from her, their lips so close. She shouldn’t be thinking about his lips, about any of the things she’s feeling right now, but she can feel his breath and it makes it impossible to think of anything else. Her chest is almost pressed against his and she wonders if Tim can feel the shaky rise and fall of her chest against his.

They get closer again, and closer, and closer…

Then, the door clicks and swings open, sending her and Tim jumping apart.

The moment ends before it ever has a chance to start.

“Hey, I’m back,” Jackson calls out as he walks in, checking his phone. “So fire up the next episode of Love Island and put in the popcorn because I am ready to g—”

Jackson stops mid-sentence once he looks up from his phone and finds Lucy, standing next to Tim as they both look away from each other with flushed cheeks and awkward coughs from their throats. The music on her phone has stopped now, thankfully, but the light from the speaker still flashes to indicate it’s on and Jackson soaks in the whole scene. He meets it with confusion though, his brows furrowing.

“Uhh… What’s going on here?”

“I was just about to leave,” Tim announces, looking down at the floor as he makes a beeline for his coat.

“Right, yeah,” Lucy nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, I guess?”

“Yeah, of course. Uh, bye,” he replies awkwardly, his eyes meeting Lucy’s one last time with something that she daresay looks like disappointment— like yearning. Jackson’s still there though, and so the moment is short-lived. Tim’s hands fly back into his pockets, just as stiff as they were when he first came over, and he leaves. The door shuts behind him abruptly.

Lucy stares at the door where Tim used to be, her shoulders sagging in a disappointment of her own, but she turns to see Jackson staring at her and knows she has no way to explain… well, to explain whatever the hell just happened.

“You want to tell me why Tim was here?”

“He felt guilty about what happened with you and Angela,” she explains, a little defensively. “I was just talking it out with him.”

“Sure, yeah,” Jackson nods with an unconvinced laugh, “that’s why you two jumped apart like frogs as soon as I came in.”

“We did not jump apart ,” she protests.

“Ok, if you say so,” he concedes, his hands up in surrender. “Besides, whatever you two were doing here, I just—… don’t want to know.” He lets out a small chuckle after that, shaking his head as he moves to grab a pack of unpopped popcorn out of the cupboard and put it in the microwave.

“It was nothing,” she mumbles quietly. “Nothing happened.”

It’s the first real lie she’s told that night. Jackson drops it after that though, and she sighs to herself as she sits back down on the couch.

She closes her eyes as the microwave buzzes and Jackson starts to ramble about his visit with Angela, slowly transporting herself back to that dance with Tim.

Maybe she’s wrong for this, maybe she’s completely insane and unprofessional. But as she plays it over in her head, her own words ring through her head and she realizes that maybe she really did want to stay like that with Tim forever.

Oh, screw it . She knows she did. It’s not a fact she can necessarily scream out to the world, but she did.

To Lucy, there are much worse things to want to be.

[bonesaldente]

Caliginous I Darth Maul x Reader

Chapter 4: The Flight

read this on ao3

read the last chapter here

words: 3100+

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He turns and walks the same way he came, not bothering to check if you’re following him. Which, of course, you are. What’s the alternative?

His spaceship is well hidden in a small clearing in the forest. It looks like a star courier, but you aren’t sure: They are diplomats’ ships, and not many diplomats make it all the way out to Kessel; or bother to, that is.

The ship seems to be in pristine condition, and the ramp extends to the ground smoothly after the Sith types something on the keypad. All the ships you’ve flown so far have been old, heavily modified and recycled ships that did the job, but not much more. This is on a whole new level and you’re somewhat excited, inwardly, to see the interior.

Maul enters first and you follow suit. The interior is illuminated by red lights, which seems to be the color scheme the Sith follows. 

There is a sleep compartment on your right and you can see one more straight ahead, next to what appears to be a lift at the side of the round ready-room. 

Together, you take the lift to the next floor and exit it into a rather large room with six seats lined up against the dark grey oval back wall, and the pilot’s seat in the cockpit in the front.

Darth Maul takes his place in the cockpit and you decide on one of the passenger’s seats in the back.

It’s the first time you speak up.

“Where are we going?”

The Sith doesn’t turn around to face you.

“Nar Shaddaa.”

“The smuggler’s moon? What kind of business do you have there?”

“Somebody is late on a payment to us. We will pay them a visit.”

“I see.”

There is silence between you as he starts the engine which comes to life with a smooth rumble.

You can feel the ship take off and accelerate to a faster speed than any ship you’ve ever flown.

“How long until we reach the moon?”

“Navigation says one day.”

His eyes are still trained on the large viewport.

“Leaving atmosphere now.” The computer announces.

This seems as good a time as any to wash off the dirt and blood from both your last mission and the fight with the man in the seat before you.

You clear your throat. “You got a refresher?”

“Downstairs, straight ahead,” he replies, the gentle bass of his voice filling the room. His voice is too nice to be used so scarcely, you think to yourself.

  The refresher is small but big enough to fit a shower, which is all you want at the moment.

You pile up the dirty clothes in a heap on the floor, next to a stack of fresh ones. 

The warm water is pleasant on your worn-out body, but you have to physically restrain yourself from wincing when the soap gets into all the cuts and minor injuries you’ve sustained in the fight, though you’re probably the one to blame for those. The detonator did more damage than the rest of the fight, with the bruises on your neck and your lightly burned wrist being the only exceptions. However, if this is what you look like after the explosion, Maul must be hurt even worse- he was a lot closer than you to the detonator when it went off.

You can’t say you feel bad about it. It was self-defense, after all.

  Drying yourself off with a small towel, you freeze when you reach your feet. 

“Blast!” you whisper, looking at the thin layer of synthetic skin that’s now clung to your finger. Staring at your ankle, you see the black marking visible again.

Dread fills you as you realize that you didn’t think to bring any more synthskin. 

Sighing heavily, you stand up straight again and look in the mirror. The tattoo on your ankle is far from being the only one you have. Adorning your midriff, black lines, shaped into a pattern of curves, stand out against your skin. 

  “Please don’t kick me out!”, you sobbed, begging the man standing in front of you.

“You’ve violated our code, have you not? Why should I make an exception for you?”

“Please, understand! He… She was right there and he… was fine. Why should she have to suffer and not him? How could I live with myself knowing he had a fast death, when he choked her to death?” Your fingernails dug into your palms so hard, blood was drawn.

“How many times, hm? How many times did you stab him, breaking the rules we gave you?”

“Twenty-three”, you pressed out between clenched teeth. “Magnus…” you said hoarsely, “his eyes looked like mine.”

His gaze softens slightly.

“How do I know it won’t happen again? How will you learn?” 

“Please…”

“We will need to find a way to remind you of how you failed us today. Something that will stick with you for eternity.”

  Eternity, indeed. Ever since you were fifteen, every day when you look at your reflection in the mirror, the black inkings on your skin remind you of the day you lost your mother and killed your father, or at least presumably your father. Each painstakingly inked line is made to resemble a wound inflicted by you. Twenty-three lines, arranged into a pattern.

There must be something about you that makes people want to give you tattoos against your will.

But you stand by the tattoo on your midriff. It’s the one on your ankle that you want to - no, need to - cover up.

  Damp hair pulled into a loose braid, you re-emerge from the lift on the upper floor.

You don’t expect to see Maul sitting on the floor cross-legged, eyes closed, meditating.

Unsure of what to do, you awkwardly stay where you are.

“Do you…” It feels wrong to break the silence. “Do you have any synthskin?”

His eyes open slowly, intense gaze focused on you, before moving to your wrist, which has been burned by his lightsaber.

“Your injury doesn’t look severe enough for synthskin.” 

His tone isn’t condescending, or dismissive. It’s questioning.

“It’s not for the injury.”

His eyes bore into yours once again, unwilling to answer you without a more elaborate answer.

You sigh and take your left boot off, pushing the sock down far enough to expose the sign that’s eternalized in your skin.

He musters it for a moment, not moving from his place on the floor.

“A slave tattoo.” He remarks in a matter-of-factly tone.

“Yes.”

He holds your gaze until you give in. “I was born into slavery, before being taken in by the Concinnity.” You make your unwillingness to talk about the sore topic very clear and readjust your boot.

To your surprise, the zabrak gets up from his previous position and walks past you, into the lift.

“Wait here.” Is all he says, then the doors to the lift slide closed.

You just stand there for a moment, staring at the closed doors, before plopping down on the closest seat.

Through the viewport in the front, you can see the dark nothingness of space, only disturbed by the gleaming lights of stars far out of reach for you. You used to despise flying when you did jobs on other planets. It made you feel alone in the universe. 

Flying with a companion, however—as quiet as he may be—is somewhat comforting.

  The Sith returns, a packet of synthskin in his hand.

“We will need to restock soon.”

You are briefly stunned by the act of kindness, before taking the item from his outstretched hand. 

He didn’t need to do that. He could’ve told you to get over it, but he even went so far as planning ahead for you.

“Thank you,” is all you manage to say.

He just nods and sits back down on the floor, going straight back to meditating.

You take him having his eyes closed as a chance to openly stare at him; The red light illuminating his skin makes him blend into his surroundings easily, the black markings on his face, around his eyes, at first glance making him look like he is scowling, but the longer you look, the more you can see that his face is actually relaxed.

You notice he is wearing different, lighter robes than he was when you were fighting, though it was hard to see what he was wearing in the dark of the alley, and you were pretty preoccupied with other things. The robes on him now, though still quite unrevealing, have a looser neckline, exposing more of the art that’s tattooed on him.

Do all Zabraks get their entire bodies tattooed? 

You can’t help but wonder what their meaning is. He doesn’t seem like the type to get a tattoo solely for the aesthetic, though you would be lying if you said they don’t somehow enhance his dark appeal.

Glancing at the computer screen in the cockpit, you see that you still have over twenty-three hours to go.

You suppress a yawn and stand up from your seat, getting into the lift.

Downstairs, you examine the two sleeping compartments. One of them seems to be Maul’s, though the only way you can tell is through the covers that are draped over the bed neatly, instead of being folded up like the ones on the apparently unused bed. Something inside you snickers at the thought of the all-mighty Sith lord making his bed in the morning, but you do wonder if he even sleeps that much, or if his meditation thing is how he gets most of his rest.

You wouldn’t judge, you aren’t exactly a picture book example of healthy sleeping habits either.

Now, however, you unfold the covers on the sleeping compartment you claim as yours, seeing as you’re the only other person on the ship. First, you sit down on the surprisingly comfortable bed and start covering up your tattoo. The synthskin doesn’t take long to apply to your ankle, you have gotten pretty good at it over the past few years.

Trying to get comfortable under the thin covering next, you twist and turn, but can’t seem to shake off the feeling that something is wrong.

It doesn’t take you long to realize what’s bothering you - you sit up straight in the bed and reach out for your bag that you discarded earlier when boarding the ship. You pull out a small knife and place it under the pillow. It’s a habit most inhabitants of your city pick up over time, and the continuously rising crime rate on Kessel is indicating it won’t stop anytime soon. Obviously, the measure is obsolete on a ship with only two passengers, but old habits die hard.

Settling back down, you finally close your eyes and let the constant hum of the ship lull you to sleep.

  You awaken to your stomach rumbling. On the wall to your left, a small projection lets you know you’ve slept for five hours - a more than decent amount, you think.

But now, you’re hungry. You feel somewhat embarrassed to ask him for something again, but your body is not really giving you a choice in the matter, so you get up and into the lift, fixing your hair on the way.

Maul is no longer meditating, but instead seated in the pilot’s seat again, typing something on a keypad you can’t see.

“Do you have food rations somewhere?” Your quiet voice sounds louder than you expected.

His hand hovers over the keypad, before moving to the side. A box moves out of a shelf to his right and floats over to one of the seats in the back, gently settling down. 

You sit down next to it and open the lid, examining its contents. It’s all fairly basic stuff - some ration bars, and powders that, mixed with hot water, turn into a kind of bread. You don’t know why you’re surprised, not knowing what your subconscious expected. Siths need to somehow sustain themselves too.

You grab a ration bar and contemplate offering him one too. No, this is his own ship, if he wants one he’ll take one - you can’t just offer him something that’s his in the first place, can you? You’ve learned a lot as a member of the Concinnity, but they weren’t really big on social skills, something you never regretted until now. 

Luckily, it doesn’t look like your travel companion is much of an extrovert either.

Chewing on the somewhat tasteless bar brings back memories from when you had just moved into your first and only own apartment and lived off these things for nearly two years, not knowing how to cook and not making enough money on jobs to be able to afford to buy every meal. You are the living proof ration bars contain everything you need to survive.

There’s still so much time left, and you are not used to having off-time… at all. For a minute, you wonder if the zabrak will mind if you make yourself a bit more at home and go through some training exercises, and you decide that since he forced you to go with him, he can’t complain if you keep up part of what makes you this good in the first place, so you decide to use the time on your hands now to practice your flexibility and balance. Down in the ready room, you get out the small ball you have for that purpose and look around you. Unsatisfied, you shake your head. This won’t do, the room is too small, and you need space to stretch out your body.

You go back upstairs, trying to fight the impression that your presence disturbs Maul, who doesn’t even acknowledge you entering the room again, his back turned to you.

You start out with your basic stretches but quickly move along to the more advanced moves, balancing the ball on your foot while in a handstand, slowly lifting your one hand off the ground while keeping your balance.

Your instructor when you were young taught you that combat skills won fights, but that stealthiness prevented them, which has been proven true on multiple occasions in your life. You may not be a member of the guild anymore, but that doesn’t mean you believe what they taught you is not still true.

Carefully, eyes closed in deep focus, you kick the ball up in the air with your foot, catching it in your hand, still maintaining your one-handed handstand.

After a few more moves, you decide you’ve had enough and get back on your feet. 

“How long have you been trained?” His question startles you and you turn around to see those intense eyes focused on you.

“Since I was four.” You meet his gaze, waiting for a follow-up question, while you put on the boots that you had taken off for your practice.

He blinks at you.

“The man. You called him your brother.”

You freeze in your movements, almost having forgotten that he had looked into your mind.

Choosing not to answer, you train your eyes on the task of tying up your boots again, but you can feel his eyes boring into you still. You sigh almost inaudibly.

“He was the legitimate son, I was born to a slave his father bedded. A bastard.”

You pause for a second.

“I didn’t know him until yesterday. I mean I knew of his existence, but I have never met him.”

“And the father?”

You glare at him. “I don’t see how that’s relevant. It doesn’t make any difference.”

“But it does.” He says calmly, insisting. “How can I trust your loyalty to our cause when you hide things from me?”

You stare at each other for an eternal moment again, until you finally avert your gaze.

“Four years ago. He killed my mother, I killed him. I was fifteen.”

The memory resurfaces despite your efforts to suppress it. The limp, beaten-up body of your mother. The bruises on her neck. The stench from Lycus, lying next to her, passed out from alcohol and spice, but alive.

The look on his face when he looked you in the eyes, the realization. And the feeling of your blade buried in his chest.

The day you were officially an orphan, and the same day you had officially become a fully instructed member of the Concinnity, after completing your first kill, no matter how you had broken their code.

Again you get the feeling he is looking into your mind and seeing this scarring, but most importantly personal memory.

‘Get out of my head.’ you think, trying to put as much weight into the thought as you can.

You could swear he flinches, but it might just be a product of your imagination.

He blinks and turns back to the controls in front of him, flicking a few switches.

“Watch over this,” he says, getting up from his chair and swiftly moving past you into the lift. The doors close before you can answer.

Nervously, you move to the pilot’s seat and sit down in it uncomfortably. You know how to fly, yes, but you are not a great pilot, so you can just hope nothing happens that would require you to leave autopilot. 

The sound of water running downstairs confirms your guess that Maul is taking a shower. Without wanting to, your mind wanders, wondering how the tattoos on his torso look, spanning across his no doubt toned body…

You mentally slap yourself for the thought, telling yourself you are above daydreaming about a man who is coercing you into working for him.

Sitting up straighter, you shake all thoughts, however appealing they may be, off and force yourself to just focus on the space before you.

If it weren’t for the sound of water running, the well-known loneliness would settle in again. But for now, you’re fine, just watching the stars.

  The next few hours are uneventful. You decide to get your equipment ready about four hours before your predicted arrival on Nar Shaddaa, which is when you realize the Sith hasn’t let you in on his plan yet.

  “There is no plan. We go meet them and ask them why they’re late on their payment. If a fight ensues, so be it.”

You furrow your eyebrows, which he, turned away from you, of course can’t see.

“On Nar Shaddaa? Three out of four times you come there to meet someone, especially the Hutts, it’s a trap. You can’t trust them.”

He turns to face you.

“You’ve been there?”

You huff. “Aside from Kessel, it’s where we get most of our jobs from. And most of them end in some kind of dispute about the payment.”

He narrows his eyes in thought.

“So what do you suggest?”

You’re taken aback by him asking for your opinion, your advice.

“They don’t know I’m coming, do they?” He shakes his head slightly. “Then I say, you go in there, I wait outside and watch. If all is well, you collect their money and leave. If it’s a trap, I can jump in and help.”

He thinks about it for a moment, then nods in approval. “Fine.”

Satisfied, you lean back in your chair. 

“What are you going to do if they refuse to pay?”

He turns back to his original position, facing the viewport in front of you.

“We kill them.”

That’s very much your way of doing things.

You’ve got the feeling you’ll get along well.

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next chapter

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@princessayveke

[harkasun]

More Than Blood

Read HERE on AO3 or read below

For @izzymalec and @permetstu‘s 5 months of Shadowhunters Challenge.

Week 4: Favourite Dynamic

↳  Magnus Bane & Raphael Santiago     (AKA: the ultimate father-son duo)

***

For Raphael, the entirety of Magnus’s wedding is spent trying not to cry.

The ceremony had been beautiful. Stunning, elegant, radiating Magnus’s exquisite touch. Raphael swallowed back his tears when Maryse Lightwood walked Magnus down the aisle. He had heard enough about Magnus’s birth mother to know how important it was for him to finally have a maternal presence in his life.

When Magnus said his vows, he and Alec completing promises to one another beneath an arch of flowers and bathed in colourful light streaming through stain-glass windows, Raphael dabbed the hem of his sleeve to his eyes, fighting to keep them dry. Magnus had seated him in the front row, right beside the aisle. He may have shed a tear or two when the couple came together for a kiss, broke apart in their new life as husbands.

Now, at the reception, watching Magnus stand beside his new husband, laughing at something one of his shadowhunter friends said, Raphael knows that Magnus has found what he spent so many years searching for. Raphael and Alec may have had their differences, but there is one thing they will never disagree on.

Magnus deserves happiness.

Raphael has a brief, yet amiable conversation with Isabelle and Simon.

Maybe he feels like crying a little when he sees them together. Isabelle is so happy. He knows that Simon is better for her than he could ever be. He gives them the most heartfelt congratulations he can muster. The exit is becoming more and more appealing. Standing alone, Raphael watches Clary head towards it, thinks she probably has the right idea.

Humming softly, he glances around for Magnus, catches sight of him dancing again with his new husband, laughing at Alec’s less than perfect technique. He looks so happy, so full of life. Raphael elects not to disturb him with a goodbye. He’s sure to see Magnus again soon. For now, he’ll let Magnus have this time with his husband.

Heading for the exit, Raphael exchanges an absent word with Lorenzo when the High Warlock intercepts him on the way. He keeps it brief, still harbouring a secret dislike for the warlock who had caused Magnus so much strife. When he turns away from Lorenzo and a hand falls to his shoulder, he assumes the warlock wants to continue their conversation.

When he glances back, however, he sees Magnus. He looks incredible and it isn’t simply due to his wedding attire or his perfectly done hair and makeup. He looks lighter: happier. Magnus gives him a gentle kind of smile, hesitant almost.

“Now I know you weren’t planning on leaving without saying goodbye,” he says, trails a hand down Raphael’s arm when the former vampire turns to him.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…” He shakes his head, huffs softly. “It’s been an emotional day. I can’t even imagine what it must’ve been like for you.”

Magnus cants his head. “To tell you the truth, I was only keeping myself from crying because I didn’t want to ruin my makeup. Happy crying mind you.”

“I know,” says Raphael, because he does.

“And I know that we haven’t spoken properly since... too long now,” says Magnus, a careful hand moving to touch Raphael’s arm again, lingering there this time. “I wanted you to know that I’m happy for you, and I am so pleased that you can get away from this life and celebrate your faith again.”

Raphael swallows hard, almost choking on his anxiety. He has been dreading this conversation, but it has to be said. “All I’ve done is rob you of an immortal friend... Magnus, I’m going to get old now. I’ll die one day. I...” Again, he had to fight back the tears, for the complete opposite emotion than before, at the actual ceremony. “I’ll have to leave you.”

Magnus clicks his tongue, his eyes narrowed in sympathy. “Oh, don’t worry about me, sweet boy. That’s a lifetime away... I’m glad you got to benefit from the barbarity of Aldertree’s schemes. You can walk in the sunlight. You never have to taste blood again. You can celebrate your religion.” He clutches a hand to the nape of Raphael’s neck, holding him firmly. “I am so proud of you, do you hear me, Rafe?”

Raphael nods. Magnus draws him into a tight hug, presses a chaste kiss to the side of his head.

“Thank you,” says Raphael. “All these years, you took care of me. I was a pain in the ass… I don’t know why you stuck with me.”

Magnus breathes out slowly. “Because family is more than blood.”

Frowning, Raphael lifts his head to Magnus, pulling out of the hug slightly. “Are you making vampire puns?”

“No, Rafe, just…” Magnus huffs his amusement and waves an absent hand of dismissal. “We share no DNA and I can never have children… but I always considered you a son to me. I know it may have been wishful thinking, but you, Simon, all these people I found so lost… I thought of you as my children, my family… I always will.”

Raphael swallows hard. “You came to me when I was lost and you fixed everything that you could… You are my father, Magnus. I know we’ve grown apart a little over the years, but I want you to know, and I should’ve told you years ago, that I love you.”

“I love you too, my boy.” Magnus smiles and sets a gentle hand to Raphael’s cheek. “I know we could end up being quite substantial distances apart, but don’t be a stranger. Promise me you’ll visit us, or just... call sometimes if you can’t get away from work.”

Raphael nods, lifts his hand to clutch Magnus’s wrist. “I will, I promise.”

Magnus smiles, lowering his hand. He straightens his jacket and smooths the ruffles of his shirt, more of his usual self coming back to his eyes, bright and kind, but without the overwhelming sincerity of their revealing conversation.

“Now,” he says briskly, holding his arm out for Raphael to take. “Come and try this cake. I worked very hard on it and it would be rude of you to leave without having a slice.”

Raphael lifts a dubious brow. “Taking that much credit for something you magicked up with a snap of your fingers is a little self-serving, don’t you think?”

Magnus casts him a feigned look of hurt. “Now, there’s no need for that. It is my wedding day after all.”

Smiling softly, Raphael says nothing, takes Magnus’s arm and allows his oldest friend to lead him back to the throng of wedding guests and to a little group in the corner. Isabelle and Simon greet him again, both entirely genuine. Maryse gives him a small, china plate holding a slice of cake, the white frosting piped with intricate pink roses. Alec smiles at him.

Raphael looks to Magnus, a little overwhelmed, and the warlock simply nods, like he understands everything. His hand comes to rest over Raphael’s back. In his darkly glamoured eyes and the soft curve of his lips indicating the beginnings of a smile, Raphael finds familiar ground.

He knows now what he has suspected for years. He knows now that Magnus is incapable of being disingenuous when it comes to his loved ones. As he casts his gaze around this unlikely group of people, he knows now for certain what he had wished for so long.

He has a family.

[sohin-ace]

Ceasar - Bath

This is cross-posted from Wattpad and available on AO3.

Enjoy~

This is Male!reader. Enjoy your gay.

After a long and hard day of Hamon training with Lisa Lisa, Joseph and Ceasar finally got to have some well deserved time for themselves and rest at the end of the day. Poor Joseph was already knocked out in his bedroom, and Ceasar went to take a warm bath.

Suzie Q had asked you to go get him some towels since she couldn't remember if she put some in his bathroom already or not. You kindly accepted and so, you were on your way to give the blond fighter some clean towels.

You walked the long corridors and approached the lit bathroom where Ceasar most definitely dwelled in. You knew he wouldn't really mind if you disturbed him since you two were close and he had an unhidden soft spot for you.

You figured you would make it quick anyways and go back to your own business as soon as you gave him the towels. You finally got to the door and knocked softly.

"Ceasar? It's me, I came to bring you some towels. Can I come in?" You called out to him, but no response. Strange. "Ceasar...?" You insisted, but still nothing.

You looked around you, subconsciously looking for any kind of help, but eventually decided to enter the bathroom. You weren't an intrusive person, but you couldn't deny the fact that the man's silence had started to worry you.

Maybe he wasn't even there in the first place, but maybe something had happened to him. And you were not taking the risk of ignoring it.

"I-...I'm coming in!" You hesistantly called and carefully opened the door, staring at the floor the entire time to make sure you wouldn't witness anything that would fluster the both of you.

"Hi Ceasar, I'm just gonna put them over here don't mind me. Don't worry I'm not looking." You spoke respectfully, a trait that was well-known of you, as you entered the room.

You were greeted by deafening silence yet again and this struck you as odd. You carefully looked up, unsure of what to expect, only to find the man sitting in his bath, his head hung low. Completely asleep.

Your eyes widened at the sight. The man must have been so tired and overworked. "Poor Ceasar..." you whispered to yourself in sad empathy.

At first you didn't know what to do. Should you wake him up? Wouldn't that be weird if he saw you there? Inside his bathroom, as he was using it? But then you got worried that it could be dangerous or that he might get sick if you just left him like that.

You closed the door behind you and put the towels on the counter. You approached him carefully and he didn't even stir at your presence, no reaction. He was very fast asleep. You slowly crouched by the tub and looked up at his resting face.

He looked so peaceful, so calm, it was so different than usual. He wasn't wearing his head bandana or his hair accessories, which oddly enough, was actually what made him really look naked, more than his nude chest.

His breathing was steady, a water drop glided along the wet skin of his neck and down onto his collarbone. Even asleep he looked like the beautiful sculpture of a greek god.

You couldn't help but just admire him, how stunning he was. You didn't know when you'd ever have the occasion to have a long close up look at him like this again.

You smiled to yourself and bit your lip. He looked so insanely cute when he slept, you had to fight the burning urge to kiss him. Before you could do anything reckless or straight up inappropriate to him, you decided to wake him up.

You reached out to shake him awake, but pulled back, not knowing where to put your hand as you wouldn't dare touch his bare shoulder. So you cupped his cheek in your palm and gave him tiny gentle pats.

"Ceasar. Ceasar, hey wake up bello."

He subconsciously turned his head towards you, guided by your comforting hand and soft voice as he regained consciousness, slowly fluttering his eyes open. You stared at each other in silence for a moment.

You were mesmerized by his beauty, his emerald green eyes and effortlessly sultry expression focused on you made you weak. You could only stare at him in awe, your breath catching in your throat, completely in daze. He was so handsome it felt unreal that you were this close to him.

For a moment you were scared he might take your presence the wrong way, and you expected him to yell at you and tell you to go away, calling you a gross pervert and whatnot.

So you quickly pulled your hand back, but before you could even say anything to him, he grabbed your hand in his drenched one, splashing some water on both of you in the process.

"Ah Y/N, it's only you..." He whispered hoarsely in relief, slowly taking in your unique features. Your expression softened on him.

"Ceasar, finish up your bath so you can go to sleep and rest." You uttered with honey in your voice, feeling bad that he overworked himself so much that he would fall asleep even in his bath.

"Y-yeah... You're right. Thank you."

He stirred, making the water crash against the tub like waves on a shore. You got up from your crouching position and checked on him one last time before turning around to leave.

He grabbed your sleeve before you could slip away from and you turned back around. He threw his head back to look up at you, his tired eyes almost begging you to stay. You smiled down at him, concern evident on your face.

He looked so exhausted, you wanted to help him. You instinctively ran your fingers through his blonde locks and he closed his eyes in content.

"You haven't washed your hair yet?" He shook his head no in response. "Do you want me to wash it for you?" This time he nodded his head. You chuckled at his childish yet endearing behavior.

This was a rare side of him and you were happy to be able to witness it, of all people. You knew this more clingy and sensitive part of him probably came from his lonely past and you could only understand.

He was like a lost puppy when tired, you would take great pleasure teasing him about it later. You got some shampoo in your hands and went behind him to work your magic.

You slowly slid your hands through his blonde hair, running circles in his scalp with your fingers, and giving him a nice massage. It was somehow satisfying to do for you, and the male couldn't help but shudder towards your sweet touch.

He sighed in pure delight, his eyes shutting against his will as your ministrations sent tingles running down his spine. There was nothing better in this world than a head massage. He let you work on him like the expert that you were.

"Y/N..." He moaned lowly, the deep breathy sound coming independently from his mouth.

"Don't say my name like that, Ceasar." You playfully scolded, gripping tentatively on his hair. "It's dangerous..."

"You're dangerous. Don't walk into a naked man in his bath when you're alone. Even if it's me."

"Huh?" You scoffed at his warning, "In this position, I'm more inclined to do you harm, Bambino. Besides..."

You slid your hands from behind his ears and down the base of his neck and he shivered again, gulping as if it would help with his drying throat. Oh your fingers felt heavenly on him, how could he ever calm his stammering heart down when you had so much effect on him?

"...I trust you." You breathed reassuringly against his reddening ear and he put a warm hand over one of yours, whining softly in response.

Ceasar felt like you were always so attentive to his needs and so selfless. Out of all of his friends, you were the one who seemed to care for him the most. Always making sure he was okay, felt good, or didn't lack of anything.

Just like you did today by checking up on him, and helping him relax. He'd have to remind himself to make it up to you later.

"You're always like this Y/N... So kind... So delicate... I don't deserve you." He uttered in what seemed to be slight melancholy.

He sure could be emotional at night, quite the romantic Italian he was. You huffed at his words and your cold breath against his damp skin gave him goosebumps.

"Nonsense, caro. Don't say such things, it just makes me want to kiss you..."

You mumbled that last part, but he definitely heard it, prompting the male's eyes to widen and his cheeks to heat up.

Before he could react, you let go of him and straightened up, unintentionnally caressing his neck in the process and he felt a bit disappointed that you needed to go already.

It felt so good to be with you, and to be touched by you, and to be loved by you. With you he could get off of his brutal daily life and you always brought peace and comfort to him. These moments were way too short for him.

"I'll let you finish. Call me if you need anything, okay?"

He smiled gratefully at you, already missing you. "Thank you Y/N..."

You smiled and closed the door behind you and let him alone to his thoughts. Thoughts of you.

It was undenyable that the blonde boy fell for your sweetness and your caring nature. There was something about you that just made him so vulnerable.

He felt like he had the right be weak around you. Like he could show you his true colors when his Italian pride prevented him from showing any signs of weakness to others. And he knew you wouldn't betray his trust or take advantage of it. Ever.

From an third party point of view, you just looked like you were the 'mom friend', especially with all the cute little nicknames that you gave him. But you both knew deep down what your feelings were towards each other. Untold feelings of pure love and admiration.

He couldn't shake the thoughts of you out of his racing mind as he entered his bedroom, entirely dressed but still drying his hair in his towel. As he was about to finally crash, he noticed that a cup of hot tea was neatly put on his bedside table.

Next to it was a single piece of a little heart-shaped chocolate and his heart melted at the cute gesture that could only come from one person.

The blonde took the chocolate between his fingers and landed the tiniest of kisses on it, as if it was your own heart.

"He's just as sweet as this chocolate... My love Y/N..."

He sat down and took a sip of his tea, relieved of all his stress and fatigue of the day and heart swelling with love.

I fell asleep in my bath once lol contrary to what it may seem, it's not a good time at all, I wish someone woke me up. I was so damn cold and pruny yikes

[merpmac]

Let’s go campin’ pt. 1

They had slept through their alarm, hearing Ma screaming up the stairs at them telling them to get their asses to school. Murphy lifts his head and looks at the clock, "Shit!" he swears, he scrambles out of bed and runs over to Connor's bed and shook him. "Conn! We slept through the alarm! Get te' fuck up!" he shook him a little more before running off to grab his uniform trying to hurry and put it on. He scrambles downstairs with his backpack and shoes and sits on the couch, hurrying to put them on and he was out the door before Connor. He got to school first and hurried into their English class, came in late and sneak behind the rest of the students to take a seat next to Connor's seat, putting his backpack in Connor's seat to save it from others.

He didn't see much of Connor after English cause English was their only class together. But at lunch he found him and sat down next to him giving him a nudge. "What te' fuck took ye so long gettin' to English class?" he whispered, "Woke ye up and everythin'.." he mumbled, rolling his eyes a bit.

Early mornings were always a pain. Connor questioned their existence and his during the wee hours of the weekdays. Former buzzing of the alarm didn't even reach his ears, he was sound asleep. Yet, his blissful land of rest was disturbed when he felt the motion of somebody prodding him to get up, knowing exactly who it was. A brief thought crossed his mind to take the pillow beneath him and sock Murphy as hard as he possibly could with it. Instead, a mere groan of aggravation came from him. "Fuck off..." he muttered as he pulled the blanket further up over him. Just a few more minutes, that couldn't hurt... could it?

Finally rising, Connor dragged himself to get ready. Minimal effort was put into making his bed mimicked by the effort shown with his uniform, shirt half tucked in his pants, coat collar untucked... all things fixed and perfect by their Ma, making him grimace with teenage annoyance. Connor's mind was young, free and naive. He had an array of ideas on what he wanted life to be, ready to charge out and direct his fate as he intended. No Ma fussing, no brother badgering him... little did he know how things would change so drastically.

Breakfast was forgotten as he rushed to school, being late of course. He got a verbal scolding from the teacher as he took his place in the seat, sitting Murphy's bag aside. He slumped back as class resumed though his gaze traveled between the teacher and Murphy now and then, ocassionally becoming by other minor things within the room just so he could keep himself awake.

Lunch was a blessing. It provided his mind time to relax and something to appease his growling stomach. No sooner than he had begun to dig in, was he accompanied by his brother - little one by his standards. The roll of Murphy's eyes made him grin. "I got 'ere, didn' I?" He answered in response with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"Ye' know ma is gonna bitch at ye when she get's off work tonight if the teacher calls her 'gain.." Murphy reminds him, "Lucky she won't be home to catch te' call aye? Ain't answerin' it either tis time." He chowed on his food for a moment before catching the eye of a girl walking by and he ducked his head and frowned. Lately he had been really ignoring the girls in school, no matter how much they tried to be sweet with him. He tried to tell himself it was because he knew they were just trying to get to Connor through him, but he sometimes had a feeling that it wasn't like that all together and he was just being weird and picky. He'd been hanging around some of the older guys that smoke outside during lunch but to his surprise he didn't feel like being around them today. He'd rather be in his brothers company rather then trying to be someone he wasn't, those guys were just something to do when his brother was up some girls skirt rather then paying attention to Murphy.

"After school." he states between bites, "What ye' want te' do anyway?" he asks Connor who usually had some plan to do something but sometimes it didn't involve bringing Murphy along like he was older or some shit. Hated that, treating Murph like he was five years younger when they were the same age. Constantly belittling him or talking to him like a child, really did him in sometimes which caused fights before but he was trying to ignore it more lately when it happened.

Connor listened in silence for the moment as he took a drink of what had been offered with school's lunch. He caught Murphy's gaze which seemed to be briefly locked one of the girls that passed by. Connor's followed as she went to take her seat, his tongue poking out just the slightest to lick over dry lips. Accompanying the teenage glory years, Connor had begun to divulge in his adolescent hormones, noticing not only the changes among himself but those within his peers as well. Murphy seemed to be opposite of him, shying away from such socialisms. Connor made a mental note to push him a little more and get him out of his shell. Perhaps he should find a party for them to attend one weekend. Oh, their Ma would surely kill them. With the girl disappearing into the crowd, Connor turned back to Murphy and gave him a nudge. "Relax… Ma can't stay mad at me fahrever, right?" He retorted back with a sly grin.

Connor didn't answer for a bit, thinking about just what exactly he did want to do when he left school. A few bites of food later, he shrugged his shoulders. "Haven't thought much of it… Might go sneak into one of the local pubs but not sure if that's such a good idea…" His words were accompanied with a slight laugh. If he did, he may just end up late again in the morning or not show up at all. "What 'bout you, Murph? Any bright ideas?"

"Nothin' to excitin'.." he finished his food and pushed the tray forward a little. "Probably just go home take a nap.." he was always sleepy, always taking nap more then Connor but maybe it was just a way to avoid actually doing anything else or--getting out of his shell. He often did avoid actually going places with Connor knowing he would always be looked at as the younger no matter what. He hated that but nothing he could do to avoid it, although that was the case he still felt like doing something rather then staying home today. "Maybe we could.. goin' campin' like ye promised last time ye' would?" he muttered a little like he didn't quite want Connor to hear what he said cause usually when he mentioned something Connor said before he always had an excuse why he couldn't do it /now/.

He then grabbed his tray and mumbled something about being back and discarded his tray and left to go to the toilets. While he was in there he was approached by one of the guys he sometimes hung out with. They were bein' kind of too nice almost like the guy liked Murphy, but it must be in his head right? Next thing he knows the taller male hovers closer to him and steals a kiss before leaving Murphy stunned in the bathroom. He quickly left, looking flustered and angry and he just started walking home by himself without so much as looking for Connor the entire time. He was upset, his first kiss had been a boy and it wasn't even a boy he liked. As he was sitting on the couch eating Connor's ice cream out of the carton without care, he came to the conclusion that the guys he'd been hanging with were a bunch of fairies! Shit, now he had to explain everything knowing Connor would be asking him all kinds of stuff when he got home, if he ever did come home tonight.

Finishing the not too appetizing meal, Connor pushed the trey back. It wouldn't be a surprise if he hurried back to his next class and left it there… Attention and efforts not his priority for this place. Murphy's suggestion surprised him, acting as a bitter reminder that he had promised. How long ago had that been though? Must've been some time if Connor couldn't pinpoint the date. Running a hand through his hair, he let out a audible breath. Connor had been so preoccupied with himself and the starting process of figuring out where he fit in this big 'ol world and who he was that he had started to pull away from his brother a little more as the days rolled on when they were once each other's best of friends. "I'll tink about it." He answered honestly. It confused him that such things felt more like tasks anymore than downtime to enjoy and bond as they once did.

Murphy never did return like he said he would, not a big concern at first but as the day lingered on Connor began to wonder where the little shit went, casually asking the few mutual people between them who unfortunately hadn't seen hide or hair of him either. The breaks between classes, Connor found himself outside smoking. Being self absorbed in his own world, he wasn't all that aware of the people Murphy hung around when he wasn't directly in his presence so when noticed the group of guys talking and laughing among themselves about something, he turned a blind eye to it… for the time being.

Late, Connor always seemed to be late to everything these days, including coming home. As soon as the door shut, he was faced with the questions of where was he by their Ma. Reassuring her, he made his way through the kitchen and into the living room, throwing his stuff down. Catching Murphy's presence from a side glance, he full on glared at him. "Where de fuck did ye go?" He asked, gaze traveling down to the ice cream carton in Murphy's hold. "And eatin' all me shit too!" He barked, reaching down to rip the carton from Murphy's grasp.

The outburst took him by complete surprise, leaving him standing there stunned for a moment, eyes wide. He flinched when the carton of ice cream was slammed onto the coffee table and Murphy pushed past him to jolt upstairs. What the fuck had just happened?! A deep breath escaped him and he turned, to face his Ma suddenly who looked at him with concern written along her weary face. Connor's gaze traveled to the floor and he felt bad suddenly though he didn't understand what he felt bad for. He loved what was of their little family; the three of them… He just… Well, things were complicated. Connor just wanted to branch out on his own. All of his life, this house, his Ma, Murphy… They were all he knew. Connor slumped back on the couch in silence, Ma taking what was left of the carton back to the freezer.

The house wasn't the worst, but it wasn't the best either. Upstairs, he could hear the kick to the bathroom door, followed by the flow of the shower afterwards. Connor sat there, idly fiddling with his thumbs as he tried to sort out the problem among himself in his head. He wasn't one for sentiments now, he was starting to harden around the edges and emotions were beginning to become more reclusive within him. After all, wasn't that the standard to being a "man"? He had always tried to be the stronger brother, the one to fall back on. Hearing the water cut off and footsteps above, Connor assumed Murphy had made his way back into the room they shared. Connor willed himself from the couch and made his way upstairs. Quietly, he went into their room, looking over to Murphy's resting form. Connor took a seat at the edge of Murphy's bed, as carefully as he could as if he were afraid to disturb him. "Murph, you awake?" He nearly whispered, though he doubted the other man was asleep so soon.

Quickly dodging the others grasp, Murphy was in a right bitter mood from the day he'd had and he barked back if not louder. "TE FUCK DO YE CARE WHERE I WAS, NOT LIKE YE FUCKIN' CARE!" he probably shouldn't have done that, but he was feeling attacked immediately and fought back. He slammed the carton on the coffee table and shoved hard passed his brother and ran upstairs. An audible slam to their door resounded through the house. Murphy ripped off his clothes and slammed the bathroom door behind him. He was pacing a little, all red in the face from being angry and he turned around and kicked the locked bathroom door for no good reason he could think of other then he was angry. He turned on the bath water and soaked in the tub for about an hour just to calm down. When he got out he was still kind of angry at everyone, but he dried off a bit and wrapped the towel around his waist before coming into the bedroom.

He avoided acknowledging whether or not his brother was in the room, picking up his dirty clothes and shoving them in the clothes basket by the dressers. Then he crawled into bed and pulled the sheet over himself and his head, hiding away from this stupid fucked up world where people thought it was funny to mess with his feelings. Mess with his head and whatever else they could do to Murphy. The fuck had that kid thought it'd be a good idea to be kissing him for like it was some kind of big joke, like they thought he was fucking gay or something. He wasn't.. he didn't fuckin' know actually what he was, his feelings were all kinds of mixed up since he'd gotten older and had less time with Connor now. He just wanted to be around him, join in on the fun but every time he did he just seemed to be the outcast of the group no matter what. It wasn't like he was trying to be weird and quiet but it was just that he didn't feel very welcomed around Connor's friends.

The outburst took him by complete surprise, leaving him standing there stunned for a moment, eyes wide. He flinched when the carton of ice cream was slammed onto the coffee table and Murphy pushed past him to jolt upstairs. What the fuck had just happened?! A deep breath escaped him and he turned, to face his Ma suddenly who looked at him with concern written along her weary face. Connor's gaze traveled to the floor and he felt bad suddenly though he didn't understand what he felt bad for. He loved what was of their little family; the three of them… He just… Well, things were complicated. Connor just wanted to branch out on his own. All of his life, this house, his Ma, Murphy… They were all he knew. Connor slumped back on the couch in silence, Ma taking what was left of the carton back to the freezer.

The house wasn't the worst, but it wasn't the best either. Upstairs, he could hear the kick to the bathroom door, followed by the flow of the shower afterwards. Connor sat there, idly fiddling with his thumbs as he tried to sort out the problem among himself in his head. He wasn't one for sentiments now, he was starting to harden around the edges and emotions were beginning to become more reclusive within him. After all, wasn't that the standard to being a "man"? He had always tried to be the stronger brother, the one to fall back on. Hearing the water cut off and footsteps above, Connor assumed Murphy had made his way back into the room they shared. Connor willed himself from the couch and made his way upstairs. Quietly, he went into their room, looking over to Murphy's resting form. Connor took a seat at the edge of Murphy's bed, as carefully as he could as if he were afraid to disturb him. "Murph, you awake?" He nearly whispered, though he doubted the other man was asleep so soon.

"Aye.." he muttered from underneath the sheet. He'd laid there for a minute long enough to start getting tired from the warm bath he'd just had. All the anger deflated and now he was just kind of feeling needy. He uncovered his head slowly and rolled over to look at the other, blinking tiredly. "Em sorry Conn.." he starts before Connor could say anything else. "Didn' mean te' yell at ye jus.. had a bad day.." he sighed, rubbing at his face a little. He just wanted to forget for a moment what happened today, just sleep it off. He rolled on to his side facing Connor and reached to him a little.

"Somethin' happened today.." he mutters, looking away from Connor with a frown. "Was in the toilets.. bout' to come back to see where ye' were and this.. this guy I hang out wit' sometimes cornered me and kissed me.. didn' know what to do.. felt angry.. been botherin' me all day.. Don' go tellin' Ma I'll never here ta' end of it eit'er.."

Connor frowned upon the apology. Really, Murphy didn't have to apologize or explain anything. He hadn't done anything, had he? Connor rolled his eyes at that. "Shut de fuck up with dat… Don't wanna 'ear it…" He grumbled. "Nothin' to be sorry for…" He slumped in his posture. Pride was strong for Connor, mouth opening slightly several times in attempts to admit where he felt he was in the wrong and yet, no words came from him but he knew he had been lacking as a brother. If they didn't have nothing else, they had one another and he was letting Murphy down.

Suddenly he perked up, form stiffening as his eyes narrowed. Hands curled into fists, gripping the sheets beneath him. "He did what?" Connor's voice seemed to change, taking on a more serious and deeper tone. He felt the heat of anger start to rise within him. "I'll knock 'is fuckin' teeth out, I will…" He muttered under his breath, mind going back to earlier that day. It wouldn't be that much of a challenge for him to find the culprit if he truly wanted to. Connor flinched, feeling Murphy's slight touch. His expression softened some but still, he felt that protectiveness for his brother. "I won't tell her." He assured.

Murphy looked on at his brothers expression, the anger in it worried him like he might actually kill the guy who did it, slightly regretting telling him but at the same time he couldn't hold it in either, he needed to get it out. "Conn.." he frowned, sitting up. "It wasn'--" he stopped himself, "Was just a kiss.. just-- took me by surprise I guess.. It's alrigh' I'll get over et'.. just won't hang wit t'em no more.." he assured his brother though he knew it was too late to stop it now, Connor was going to do something whether he liked it or not. He scooted closer and wrapped arms around his brother in a hug, laying his head on his shoulder.

"GET YER BUTTS DOWN 'ERE AND EAT!" Their Ma shouts up the stairs making Murphy flinch and sigh. He wasn't in the mood to eat anything but knew better then to refuse their mothers food. He climbed out of bed and pulled on underwear before looking to Connor, not really knowing what to say before he just goes downstairs to eat. He was silent while he ate while Ma and their aunt sat there eating and talking.

He finished his food and went to the laundry room in the basement, turned on the light and pulled on a fresh shirt that'd been just dried. He looked around and listened and then he went to a closet/room near the back of the basement where he'd made a hide out, not even Connor had bothered to come back here cause he didn't know about it. He grabbed the joint he rolled earlier and lit it. He came back up an hour later still kind of stoned and went right up to their room in order to spray on some of Connor's cologne to mask the scent of skunk. That's why he'd been hanging around the older kids, to get weed off them with his allowance money.

Connor sighed. There wasn't one thing about this and he did consider himself the protector of the two. Connor pulled him in closer, resting his face in Murphy's hair, taking in the clean smell. "Aight… If they cause anymore problems though, they'll 'av ter deal with me." Connor chalked it all up to that he was just looking out for his brother and nothing more but the way he felt towards the matter was something deeper than that. If he had actually saw the scene unfold before him, he couldn't promise the guy wouldn't be sent to the infirmary. He swallowed hard, attempting to ignore whatever confusing thoughts lingered in the back of his mind. Life was hard enough without him questioning things within his own personal circle. He merely closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the little moment they had, as they once did. Though the innocence of childhood had nearly faded. What would people think of their closeness and what if something were to happen? Connor was beginning to find himself tore between the bond they shared and the stigma society put on others.

The yell of their mother jerked him to attention and he pulled away quickly, heart beginning to race. Something told him that Murphy wasn't all that thrilled to go down and in truth, neither was he. It was an odd thing that when his brother seemed to be in a off mood, it effected him the same. "C'mon… Better get down dare before she chews our 'eads off." Connor offered a chuckle to try and lighten the atmosphere. Connor tried not to let his gaze linger to Murphy when he got up to pull a pair of underwear on. These days Connor felt awkward in certain instances with Murphy where before Murphy would be the only person he felt his most comfortable around.

Dinner was silent for the most part, stiff and just tedious and draining. Their Ma talked with their aunt for the most part and Connor ate his fill, leaving the rest to just be picked at and pushed around on his plate until he could be excused. In a means to give them both some space, given the day had been tense, Connor decided to hang back in the kitchen and help their Ma with the dishes. Only after he was done, did he make his way back up to the room to settle in for the night. Coming into the room though, the faint smell of his cologne lingered, leaving him to raise a brow, attention landing on Murphy. The fuck was he doing now? Taking more of his shit again? Connor decided not to push another matter and upset him further. Rather, he took his place on his own bed. "So… I was thinkin'… 'Bout what ye said earlier today… We can go camping, dis weekend, if ye want."

Giving a slight cough, he felt guilty and rather nervous, worried that his brother would know--fuck sake he would know the second a giggle comes out of him, Conn will know. He straightened up a little, keeping a straight face and he went over to Connor and climbed on his bed to lay beside him. "Aye?" he asks, kind of surprised Connor would finally take him camping although, he wasn't crossing any fingers at this point. Conn talked up a storm but most of the time he'd forget or just not do it all together. "Ye' really gon' te or ye' just sayin' tha' cause ye feel bad fer not takin' me in te first place?" he asked with a little smirk as he turned on his side facing his twin.

Maybe it would be fun, they could make a fire and go deep off from the town and really be alone for once. They were never truly alone with their mother and these thin walls separating the boys from her. It really felt like he was trapped sometimes but really, he just wanted to finally be alone with him and just relax and talk and do stupid things like they use too. "Maybe we could.. make fuckin' s'mores or somethin' aye?"

Filling the bed dip down under Murphy's weight, Connor knew he had to be cautious with him in such a close range. He released a soft breath, looking down at what was essentially the other part of him. They were one another's strength and weakness. Connor rolled his eyes as he gave a shove to Murphy for asking such a thing even though, he wasn't entirely wrong. Connor did feel bad for skipping out before and other times Murphy wanted to be in his company and he found some excuse to bail. But, he also thought it would be good for Murphy, to get away from the stresses of life and maybe it would even be good for him too. He had been so occupied trying to just roll through the motions, he'd truly forgotten how to live. "I don't feel bad for ye, asshole… Doin' it 'cause I want ter do it, dat's all…" He grumbled, an attempt to keep up that tough barrier around himself.

The suggestion made Connor scoff. He flopped back, laying across Murphy as he gazed up at the ceiling. "S'mores?" He repeated. "Will ye ever grow up?" He asked in amusement, a chuckle following his words. In a way though, he hoped Murphy never did lose that softer and even sweeter side to him. It helped to balance them out. "Sure… We'll do whatever ye want."

"Aye I fuckin' said s'mores! And.. and drinkin'.. whatever we can get our hands on anyway.. know where ma keeps the keys to the liquor cabinet.. think she's all smart an' shit keepin it in her jewelry box.." not that he should know where it was, let alone be in his ma's jewelry but he ignored that bit. He squirmed a little and sighed, "Where we gon' te get a tent? think we got one in the shed Da' might've left us?" he asks. The thought of spending time with Connor, all night in a tent just the two of them sounded fun. He smiles a little, "Hey.. ye wan te see somethin?" he asks, sitting up a little. "'long as ye don' tell ma.. not dat I tink ye would but.." he sat up and moved Connor before getting up. He looked to Connor and gestured for him to follow. They snuck past their mother and aunt in the kitchen to the basement, and Murphy opens his hide-away closet door and plops into the blankets and pillows he stuffed inside. Then he holds up a joint to Connor, "Fuckin' don't say shit.. Ma would kill us bot'.." he gives a nod. "Fuckin' sit and close te door."

"Course ye did… You'll get all shit faced an' pass out on me in dat case." But the thought of bringing liquor into the mix sound fun. Connor was always up for a drink or two. Brows furrowed at the mention of the jewelry box but he just chalked it up to their Irish blood and the love they had for a good drink that led Murphy to scout out the key to the cabinet. Their Ma was clever but, they were always a step ahead of her. "I'll look 'morrow, see if there's one out dare." Connor sat up when Murphy got up, looking up at his brother with a curious gaze. "Ye know our secrets are ours." He assured. Connor rarely spoke about the things they shared to their Ma because most of them were things that either strengthened their bond or was minor occurrences Connor himself could handle. Getting up, he followed quietly behind Murphy, sneaking past the kitchen and into the basement. Connor's eyes widened a bit at the little hide-away. "Ye sneaky wee bastard… So dis is where ye go, aye?" He scoffed as he took a seat beside Murphy, closing the door behind him. He snatched the joint from his brother's grasp, pressing it past his lips and inhaling a deep breath of the contents. Smoke bellowed out seconds after and a content sigh seemed to slip from him. He was quiet for a moment but then, he looked back over to Murphy, handing the joint back to him. "Da fuck did ye get dis from?"

"That guy who kissed me.. he sells it to me from time te time.. now I don' think I'll be askin' him no more after the shit he pulled today.. find someone else.." he took a hit and got comfortable in his little hide-away. He grinned a little, "Aye this where I been goin' when ye' and Ma can't find me.. know none of ye would come lookin' ere so I just made it me own. But now ye know about it, suppose it's ours now.." he shrugged a bit. He didn't mind having it to their own. Could be a good thing, but sometimes Murphy wanted to be alone but he knows if Connor knows he wants to be alone he wouldn't be bothered.

After a long hour of smoking, the closet was foggy with smoke and Murphy was high as a kite, giggling about something they were talking about. He moved to lay against Connor's chest and stretch out, yawning a little. "Wish it was Friday.. don' want te go to school tomorra'.." he frowned, "Don' want te be made fun of, lord knows what tha' prick probably told his friends.. What te fuck anyway! I'm no' gay!" he crossed his arms and grumbled.

A faint smile peaked at the corners of Connor's lips at the statement. They had always shared everything together and yet he was trying to change that between them. Maybe he was being a real jerk about things. "Tis a good place ter go… Quiet, cozy… Tis very, Murphy like." His smile grew wider when he looked over to his brother.

Time seemed to pass quickly as they fell back into old habits of conversing among themselves, laughing with one another and just getting back to what made them, well them. Whether it was the relaxing effects of the weed in his system or the nostalgia of what they've always been; Connor found himself pulling Murphy closer to him without hesitation or any second guessing. He could fall asleep here and now with his twin using him as a pillow and be perfectly content. A hand found it's way to Murphy's hair, fingers scheming through the strands. "We got two more days… Don't worry about dem, if they say anythin' I'll take care of it." Connor may have started to become more relaxed through the years but when it came to Murphy, his fists could still do the talk for him if need be. His chest rose and fell with a deep breath. "Course you're not! Fuck dem! Bunch of assholes…"

Murphy huffed a bit, but relaxed finding the fingers running through his hair relaxing. He ended up going quiet, little did Connor know he was beginning to fall asleep. He jumped awake, realizing he was falling asleep and groaned, rubbing his eyes. Faintly he heard their ma' calling for them and he frowned. He crawled out and got up, stretching his arms above his head. It was late, better get sleep for tomorrow. With a silent look to Connor they went up stairs and Murphy instead of crawling into his own bed, crawled into Connor's which he hadn't done for months. He curled up on his stomach and fell fast asleep.

In the morning he de-tangled himself from Connor and lazily got ready for school after shutting off the alarm. The walk to school was quiet, he had a bad feeling in his stomach and he stuck close to Connor when he could. When he was alone, putting his stuff in his locker the same guy came up to him, picking on him about the kiss and Murphy got so pissed off at him for picking on him he nailed the guy in the face with his fist and yelled at him in Gaelic before storming off to the playground where he bummed a smoke off a kid and sat under the slides, knuckles bruised and his hand shaking while he attempted to smoke.

Connor knew they shouldn't share one bed together, they were getting too old to be doing these kinds of things together. But, the company felt nice. Murphy was warm and his presence was comforting to Connor. Against better judgement, Connor wrapped his arms around Murphy and snuggled into him, drifting off to sleep.

The following morning was even more aggravating than the previous, simply because Connor didn't want to lose the moment of closeness between him and his brother. But he reminded himself they only had tomorrow left until the weekend. Connor accompanied Murphy to school on time today and for the most part they hung around one another. Knowing the events of yesterday, Connor felt a need to keep a close watch over Murphy but unfortunately there had to be times between classes where they were separated.

Slamming his locker door shut, Connor overheard a group of guys speaking among themselves about something, noticing one rubbing the side of his cheek. Eyes narrowed, Connor stormed up to them, an argument ensueing. "Run ye mouth some more and I'll knock ye teeth down ye throat..." he threatened and left them in a huff. Connor searched for Murphy, eventually finding him outside. He kneeled down under the slide in front of him, sigh leaving him. "Ye alright, Murph?"

"Fuck 'em Conn.. They told the whole fuckin' school practically that em a fuckin' faggot.." his hands shaking, anger in his eyes. "Fuckin' hate tis place, should'a seen te girls lookin at me Conn, fuckin' disgusted wit me now. I'll never find anyone in tis fuckin' school don' think I want te anyway. Don' want anybody.." he frowned, he could do this; be alone never be with anyone. Fuck it why did he need anybody when he had Connor right? He looked to Connor and tossed his smoke. "Let's get outta here aye?" he said and climbed out from under the slide and brushed off his pants. He saw those guys in the distance, talking to one of the teachers and they all started looking his way. He felt so angry, those fuckers rattin' on him for some shit they started. "FUCK YOU!" he screamed at them from across the playground and flipped them off. He hit his chest with both hands. "COME GET ME YE FUCKERS!"

He knew he was in for it if they came over, two against five wasn't a good out come so he knew they should just go but he was so pissed off he wanted to start swinging left and right as much as he could fight. Eventually though the guys were told by the teacher to leave it and the teacher came over. "Murphy Macmanus!" she said angrily, "What is your problem with those boys?" he asked. "They were-- They called me fuckin' gay! Ain' a faggot." he huffed. "Watch your language Macmanus. I suggest you and your brother go home. Detention. Tomorrow Murphy." and after that, Murph having nothing more to say to that he hung his head a little as she walked away.

Walking home was quiet, they stopped for smokes and snacks and then went out to the back yard and sat at the picnic table, smoking. Ma would be at the bar late so they had a good chunk of the night to spend by themselves. He was hovered over a small plate in his lap rolling a doobie and then lit it up. Passing it to Connor he hops up to sit on the table part instead of the bench and then grabbed a chip from the bag and popped it into his mouth. "Fuck detention tomorra'.. ain' goin.."

Connor bit into his bottom lip, wanting to reach out to his brother and just bring him into a tight hug and yet at the same time bash someone's heads in. Typically the more calmer and relaxed in terms of having his emotions reigned in, that didn't mean Connor didn't plot things within his mind for those that crossed him or Murphy wrong. Perhaps that made him more dangerous than the other twin. "Don't say that, Murph… The girls in this school aren't the only ones in the world." Connor spoke with a frown. Following his brothers lead, he nodded and got up, about to start walking until his gaze followed Murphy's, eyes narrowing at the guys. His fists flexed at his sides, Connor believing that he had the strength alone to take them all on if he had to. The anger exerted from his brother was well deserved but with the teacher there, Connor knew they were fucked.

"Murph… C'mon…" He muttered, as he reached out to tug on his twin's arm. Yet, their teacher came storming over causing Connor to let out a deep breath, rolling his eyes. "But they-!" He attempted to put in but was shot down quickly with threats of being in equal trouble as Murphy if he continued. Once more, Connor bit at his bottom lip as she began to walk away. "I'll break their fuckin' jaws if I catch 'em out… See if they wanna go 'round kissin' people den." He huffed.

Connor didn't like the silence between them on the way home but he knew a lot was weighing on Murphy's mind so he didn't push. He just merely glanced at him here and there, observing his facial expressions. Sitting at the picnic table, Connor was quiet himself, thinking about everything that day and scenarios of how to get the group to themselves out of a teacher's watchful eye or even the one guy specifically. Justice. He wanted his own justice for his brother. Connor was beginning to learn that life wasn't fair and people were easily persuaded but he, he saw the wrongs overlooked. He shook his head when the doobie was handed over to him, taking it from Murphy and inhaling a deep breath of it. He let the smoke linger for a bit before releasing a breath of it. At least they had some time tonight before Ma came back.

"Ye know… We could just skip tomorrow… Go campin' early. We can stow away in your wee hide out til Ma's gone den split." Connor suggested.

[lizziebennet]

AURORA. Very important question for you on this Tuesday night - what is your opinion on the HP scores and could you order them from fav to least fav?

what an excellent and essential question. i admit that it’s hard for me to approach this matter from an objective point of view as obviously my opinions of these scores are very intensely affected by nostalgia and my experience w the film itself, but i shall try my hardest to just evaluate the scores on their own merit. 

RANKING OF THE HARRY POTTER FILM SCORES, FROM WORST TO BEST:

7. deathly hallows part 1&2 by alexandre desplat

i remember when it was announced desplat was going to be doing the last 2 films and it was so exciting to have such a Hot Composer taking on the final two films… but i gotta say he severely disappointed me and i haven’t forgiven desplat since. these films–especially part 2–were the culmination of the entire franchise, and should’ve been fucking epic masterpieces that evoked the previous films’ score. instead, desplat largely ignored the iconic potter themes that williams and others created and went in his own direction which like… isn’t really the right move for the last 2 films of a franchise imo. 

and im just not super a fan of what he came up with?? like ‘lily’s theme’ is good, but im not sure it really fits potter?? and i just feel like a lot of the final battle stuff could’ve been so much more epic and emotional like. it doesn’t take a lot for a bitch to cry in a harry potter movie but desplat wasn’t helping me out u know. anyway i honestly like the score he did for fucking new moon better than for potter which …….is not great. 

6. order of the phoenix by nicholas hooper 

i am trying not to let my hatred of this movie cloud my judgement here but like even so i think this is one of the weaker scores. there are just so many annoying tracks lmaooo that like they blast at the wizarding world parks u know. like umbridge’s theme… i get its SUPPOSED to be annoying but still its not a fave. and like i think again the stuff in the ministry of magic during the fight scenes couldve been better. its just not a fave tbh but i do like a few themes like particularly the track ‘a journey to hogwarts’ is very sweet and sirius’s death moment was well done. but overall there are more tracks on this one i skip than play. 

5. chamber of secrets by john williams

this is where things get rly tricky bc i legit love the rest of these scores. but i have to put chamber here because i feel like a lot of its greatness piggybacks off the genius of the score of sorcerer’s stone... which isn’t a bad thing at all but. it doesn’t bring a ton of new stuff to the table. however i do love the ‘fawkes the phoenix’ theme!!! so!! much!!! and lockhart’s theme is very funny and cute. we do edge into a saccharine territory a bit when it comes to tracks like ‘reunion of friends’ but like i cry every time so who fucking cares. 

4. half-blood prince by nicholas hooper

i really really love this score as a stand alone score, and i almost put it higher on this list but i feel like this score totally abandons all the potter scores that have come before it and does its totally own new thing. this isn’t really the scores fault, as im sure like david yates told hooper to do this you know, but it deviates so far from the original themes instead of just adding onto them, so much so that if you just heard it without watching the movie you might not even associate it with the potter movies at all. again, this probably isn’t hooper’s fault but i think this was a big mistake for the sonic evolution of the movies. the potter movies failed to create a cohesive sound across all the films, and i think it is worse for it. can u imagine if the harry potter movies were like the lord of the rings movies, where they bring back themes from the first movie in the final one and the audience recognizes them subconsciously and the moment is all the more emotional because of it? tbh just a missed opportunity imo. 

but anyway just about this score on its own, it has some of the best standalone tracks in the entire movies tbh. the one that stands out the most to me is of course ‘dumbledore’s farewell.’ such a hauntingly beautiful song--i remember seeing this movie for the first time and this track pierced me to my core. i also love how this score uses harp like in ‘when ginny kissed harry,’ and how it uses choral arrangements?? like in ‘in noctem.’ honestly i adore this score so much but i have to rank it lower because i doesn’t feel like it serves its purpose in the potter movies as a whole well :( 

3. goblet of fire by patrick doyle

idk why patrick doyle only did the 1 movie because i really like this score. i know its super hard to follow up john fucking williams lmaooo but i feel like he did a pretty good job of drawing from the original williams themes but also incorporating some new stuff to fit the darker tone of the movie. there are some of my favorite potter tracks of all time on this score like ‘death of cedric’ which is so haunting and perfect and ‘harry in winter’ which is so beautiful and potter-esque. he also did a really good job with the action scenes in the graveyard which is v important to me. and the diegetic music in the yule ball stuff is so funny and lovely at the same time. 

2. sorcerer’s stone by john williams 

the fucking classic. the og. like, what is there to say?? talented brilliant incredible amazing showstopping never the same totally unique. like only john williams could create such an iconic theme. it’s hard for me to be objective here because i was young enough when the first movie came out that ‘hedwig’s theme’ /is/ harry potter to me, they are one in the same, you cannot separate them in my mind. but truly williams captured the magic of the harry potter world in music and enchanted everyone with this score. 

i also love the little medieval-y influences in this score that were dropped by chamber of secrets. like with the harp moments and in ‘diagon alley and the gringotts vault’ and ‘in ‘hogwarts forever!’ there’s just a very majestic and antique vibe that i really dig that didn’t really carry over to the other movies. 

i will say sometime williams gets very... williams-y in his very uhh loud?? and kinda frantic composing u can hear in like ‘the quidditch match’ which isn’t my favorite way to do action scenes, but like who the fuck cares u know the pros of this score far outweigh it. 

like. just. so manyyy iconic themes that have so much EMOTIONAL WEIGHT!!! like the moment u see hogwarts for the first time and the choral vocals... and the bells in ‘christmas at hogwarts.’ and who can keep a dry eye during ‘leaving hogwarts’??? NOT I!!!!!!!!!!! such a gentle theme of longing and home and yearning and family and bittersweet loss. it starts so small and intimate but then swELLS to this grand and sweeping tune. it’s stunning. 

1. prisoner of azkaban by john williams

this is PEAK!!! potter for me. again, hard to be objective because this is the best my favorite harry potter movie, but i also truly think this is the best score because it carries over the iconic themes of the first two movies but adds a quirky and dramatic flair that fits the tone of the movie cuaron was trying to make u know? i think u can really tell that cuaron had a lot of imput on the score and didn’t just let williams do whatever he wanted, because we get a really interesting, stylized sound that is really different from williams usual fare in such a great way. but, it still is a williams score and because of that it shines and also weaves in the past movies’ themes to give us an outstanding amalgamation of sound and melody. 

like we start with ‘lumos!’ which gets us right back into the potter universe but then we get a series of quirky new themes, like the waltz for aunt marge, the jazzy knight bus theme, and the medieval choral rendition of ‘double trouble’... iconic. and we get the dark and disturbing dementors theme (’apparition on the train’) which is very understated for a williams score and extremely effective. 

however ,,,, we do not abandon the themes from prior movies!!!!! a great illustration of how williams takes those old potter themes and adapts them for this movie can be seen in ‘secrets of the castle.’ this minimalist take on hedwigs theme is a completely different tone from the original, but still establishes that we are in the same sonic world as that film. you can also see this in ‘the portrait gallery’ where an old potter theme is played on some kind of woodwind (idk sorry) and a harpsichord, giving the odd, quirky, vintage feel of the movie but still keeping with the established potter musical world. 

i really love the ~medieval vibes~ that this score gives me and i wish this was something later scores went back to (instead of going in a jazz direction..looking at you hooper). theres a lot of traditional sounding instruments used that give it a real rustic, celtic feel rather than the grand classicism of a full orchestral sound that the first 2 movies use. a lot of harps, strings, and woodwinds!!!! 

some of my favorite tracks of all time are on this score. ‘window to the past’ is just... a triumph of emotion. its absolutely stunning in its simplicity in the beginning, and how it builds toward the end. the return of that theme in ‘finale’ when sirius is saying goodbye to harry...i truly sob every time. the isolated vocals in ‘the patronus light’ truly embody the purity of that awe and joy when the patronus is cast. and of course, of course, ‘buckbeak’s flight’ is an absolute magical joy ride captured in sound. williams refrains from using a full orchestra for most of the score, so when everyone plays together in moments like this you get the full grandeur of the scene just... bAM! it’s so fucking well done and just... perfect. 

[eddycurrents]

For the week of 19 August 2019

Quick Bits:

Aquaman #51 continues “Amnesty” as Aquaman, and now Aqualad, help the elder sea gods move in to their new home on Amnesty Island. There’s a lot of character building and reflection throughout this story and definitely feels like a calm before the storm hinted at by the cliffhanger and the “Year of the Villain” material. Kelly Sue DeConnick, Robson Rocha, Daniel Henriques, Sunny Gho, and Clayton Cowles are continuing to deliver one of DC’s best comics.

| Published by DC Comics

Bad Reception #1 isn’t a bad start to this horror series fully written, illustrated, and lettered by Juan Doe. The title is a clever play on both concepts in the story of no connectivity to social media and on a wedding reception. Utilizing a highly publicized wedding event that’s being promoted as “off the grid” to potentially commit a murder (or whatever actually happens at the wedding or after) is an interesting hook.

| Published by AfterShock

Bettie Unbound #3 sends her to Mars this go around to land smack in the middle of a conflict. Things only seem to go downhill from there. Great art from Julius Ohta, Ellie Wright, and Sheelagh D.

| Published by Dynamite

Black Mask: Year of the Villain #1 gives us Luthor’s offer and gift to Black Mask from Tom Taylor, Cully Hamner, Dave Stewart, and Wes Abbott. It nicely gives us some insight into Black Mask’s childhood, before changing him into essentially a parallel to a Marvel villain. There’s also a bit of a new status quo for Batwoman.

| Published by DC Comics

Blade Runner 2019 #2 continues to be a wonderful ride from Michael Green, Mike Johnson, Andres Guinaldo, Marco Lesko, and Jim Campbell. This is still a wonderful exploration of the tone and feel of the Blade Runner franchise in an entirely different setting with different people. 

| Published by Titan

Bloodborne #14 is going to mess with you as “The Veil, Torn Asunder” continues and our protagonist this arc keeps breaking with reality. It’s disturbing and unnerving, perfect for this series. Piotr Kowalski and Brad Simpson’s art just seems to keep getting better and better here too.

| Published by Titan

Bronze Age Boogie #5 is fairly insane as this penultimate issue careens through the past with a rather nasty battle between humanity and the Martian forces. The artwork from Alberto Ponticelli and Giulia Brusco is incredible. The back-up featuring “Moon-Thing” this issue from Stuart Moore, Shawn Crystal, Lee Loughridge, and Rob Steen is also great.

| Published by Ahoy

Canto #3 has some more interesting twists and revelations as this beautiful fable continues to unfold from David M. Booher, Drew Zucker, Vittorio Astone, and Deron Bennett. Continuing to build the story on storytelling is wonderful and your perspective on the slavers might change.

| Published by IDW

Criminal #7 pushes “Cruel Summer” forward as we get Ricky Lawless’ perspective on Teeg and Jane’s relationship and how it, and pretty much everything else, is ruining his life. Very interesting development of Ricky’s youth as he becomes more and more of a jerk.

| Published by Image

Deadpool Annual #1 is a heartfelt and funny story as Deadpool explains why he’s better than Squirrel Girl from Dana Schwartz, Reilly Brown, Nelson DeCastro, Craig Yeung, Matt Herms, Guru-eFX, and Joe Sabino. Actually, it’s more about Deadpool helping a young kid deal with Nightmare, featuring a hilarious trip through Nightmare’s realm, and a horrifying realization. It’s also really nice to see Reilly Brown back at doing some Deadpool.

| Published by Marvel

Death’s Head #2 is more glorious madness as Death’s Head, “Vee”, Wiccan, and Hulkling try to work out who’s going to be parts or who’s going to face Dr. Evelyn Necker (the alternate reality doctor who made Death’s Head II and apparently eventually this upgrade Death’s Head V) from Tini Howard, Kei Zama, Felipe Sobreiro, and Travis Lanham, yes?

| Published by Marvel

Eve Stranger #3 gives us some deep revelations on Eve’s past, her parents, and how she came to live with Delilah. David Barnett, Philip Bond, Eva de la Cruz, Lee Loughridge, and Jane Heir continue to deliver a deeply funny thriller here.

| Published by IDW / Black Crown

Excellence #4 deals with the fallout of the battle between Spencer and Aaron. It’s nasty, and further reinforces just how much Spencer’s father is a jerk. It’s interesting as to how layered and complicated that Brandon Thomas, Khary Randolph, Emilio Lopez, and Deron Bennett are making this world, and yet the key motivating factors are still some of the most simple, basic human interactions and how we hurt one another.

| Published by Image / Skybound

Fairlady #5 is a rough one to end this on. Don’t get me wrong, this story is great. Brian Schirmer, Claudia Balboni, Marissa Louise, Lesley Atlansky, and David Bowman deliver another interesting mystery with gorgeous art, and an interesting tie to a previous issue, but the build up for an even broader mystery hurts. It hints at possibilities that may never be answered because this series is now cancelled. Still, this was great while it lasted.

| Published by Image

Ghost Spider #1 is a direct continuation from the previous Spider-Gwen: Ghost Spider series, from Seanan McGuire, Takeshi Miyazawa, Ian Herring, and Clayton Cowles. As Gwen moves to the 616 to go to school, I guess it makes sense to relaunch the series with a new number 1, but, as said, it’s still continuing on the same story with the same creative team. Thankfully it’s a great creative team and story, so it’s well worth picking up.

| Published by Marvel

Guardians of the Galaxy #8 is heartbreaking. Donny Cates, Cory Smith, David Curiel, and Cory Petit continue “Faithless” as we learn what’s going on with Rocket. It ties together much of his past with his Guardians tales and his current condition. Very nice character moments.

| Published by Marvel

Hellboy and the BPRD: Saturn Returns #1 begins a new historical mini from Mike Mignola, Scott Allie, Christopher Mitten, Brennan Wagner, and Clem Robins. This one’s set in 1975, but spans a wide time period as they discover more and more bodies. The mystery set up of who’s committing the murders is quite compelling, especially with the pseudo-occult drawings likely to have been drawn to give a misleading impression of the murders. But the real gold is in the character development, looking at how Liz Sherman is adjusting to some of her early years at the Bureau.

| Published by Dark Horse

History of the Marvel Universe #2 is again worth it alone for the absolutely stunning artwork from Javier Rodríguez and Álvaro López. Like the first issue, it’s a dry read, but it can be fascinating as Mark Waid, Rodríguez, López, and Joe Caramagna guide us through Marvel’s history.

| Published by Marvel

Killer Groove #4 is kind of messed up as everything practically goes to hell. I love the approach to flashbacks and hallucinations this issue, keeping the main characters in full colour while the rest are a grey wash. Really neat effect from Eoin Marron and Jordie Bellaire.

| Published by AfterShock

Last Stop on the Red Line #3 is still one of the most unique series on the stands, even as it gets weirder and more straight-forward as the secrets and truth start potentially sliding into place. The art from Sam Lotfi and John Rauch is incredible.

| Published by Dark Horse

Livewire #9 kicks off a new arc from Vita Ayala, Tana Ford, Kelly Fitzpatrick, and Saida Temofonte, building on Amanda’s confrontation with PSEP and adding a new wrinkle on politics. It’s interesting to see the problem from the political perspective and addresses some of the issues that naturally arise from a government program sanctioned to abduct and murder children.

| Published by Valiant

Middlewest #10 introduces us to Abel’s grandfather and it goes about as well as you’d expect. More toxic masculinity, more “be a man” and “embrace your anger” nonsense, leaving Abel a confused and scared child. Skottie Young, Jorge Corona, Jean-Francois Beaulieu, and Nate Piekos are continuing to tell a very strong story here of abuse and survival in a magical realist way.

| Published by Image

Outpost Zero #12 asks some very important questions as it demonstrates that a portion of the colony certainly would rather keep their heads buried in the sand, ignoring the potential of alien life and secrets from their past, rather than confront possibilities of their future. Great character work here from Sean Kelley McKeever.

| Published by Image / Skybound

Pearl #12 concludes the series (for now at least) with some explosions, gun fights, and a new kind of order. Brian Michael Bendis, Michael Gaydos, and Joshua Reed have really been telling a compelling crime thriller here, offbeat and with some oblique humour, with impressive artwork.

| Published by DC Comics / Jinxworld

Psi-Lords #3 is another beautifully illustrated issue by Renato Guedes. This series is worth it even just for the artwork. We also get further backstory on the genesis of the Psi-Lords and the Starwatchers and the reason for sending the “Astro-Friends” to the Gyre. And some may not be what they seem.

| Published by Valiant

Savage Sword of Conan #8 continues “Conan the Gambler” from Jim Zub, Patch Zircher, Java Tartaglia, and Travis Lanham. There’s a great build of tension as Conan plays his game of cards and a wonderful twist as we go into the finale next issue. Nice detail on the trump cards.

| Published by Marvel

Strayed #1 is a very strong debut from Carlos Giffoni, Juan Doe, and Matt Krotzer. It’s a rather interesting concept of harnessing communication with a cat who can astral project, coupled with the horrors of humanity colonizing alien worlds. Stunning artwork from Doe.

| Published by Dark Horse

Stronghold #5 is a very interesting conclusion to this series, giving more information on the true nature and history of Michael, and setting up the potential for more stories somewhere down the road. Gorgeous artwork from Ryan Kelly and Dee Cunniffe.

| Published by AfterShock

Superior Spider-Man #10 sees much of Otto’s past come back to haunt him as his identity as the former Doctor Octopus goes public and he searches for who is trying to ruin his new life as San Francisco’s Spider-Man. Very nice build on Spider-Geddon and the most nightmare inducing character from therein from Christos Gage, Mike Hawthorne, Wade von Grawbadger, Jordie Bellaire, and Clayton Cowles.

| Published by Marvel

Superman’s Pal Jimmy Olsen #2 is another fun issue from Matt Fraction, Steve Lieber, Nathan Fairbairn, and Clayton Cowles. We get more on Jimmy’s family, his legacy, and Superman’s secret super powers, but it also introduces the next sensation who should be lighting up the charts, Pawquaman.

| Published by DC Comics

Teen Titans #33 elaborates on Luthor’s offer to Lobo. We also get more on the current state of the team and on just how far, and rather villainous, Damian and Djinn’s actions are now in regards to how they’re dealing with criminals. Adam Glass has been taking the team down a dark road for a while now and I’m interested to see how this blows up.

| Published by DC Comics

Transformers ‘84 #0 is a bit of an oddity, reuniting the Regeneration One team of Simon Furman and Guido Guidi to celebrate the 35th anniversary. It’s a one-shot tale set in nebulous continuity detailing trying to discover the Ark in medieval Earth. Great art from Guidi and John-Paul Bove.

| Published by IDW

Valkyrie #2 is another great issue from Jason Aaron, Al Ewing, CAFU, Jesus Aburtov, and Joe Sabino as Jane takes on Bullseye. It’s a pretty epic battle, beautifully illustrated, that looks like it’s going to have some interesting ramifications.

| Published by Marvel

Vampirella #2 is liable to divide people further on this new run as it leans heavier into sex & violence and reveals Vampirella’s therapist as a potential misogynist with very problematic diagnoses for mental conditions. I mean, I don’t think “crazy vampire bitch” is anywhere in the DSM-5. Great art from Ergün Gündüz, though.

| Published by Dynamite

The Weatherman vol. 2 #3 reveals more information about the virus plaguing Earth and sets up even more problems in the way of Nathan, Cross, and co.’s attempt to restore Nathan’s memories. Gorgeous artwork from Nathan Fox and Moreno Dinisio. 

| Published by Image

Other Highlights: Absolute Carnage vs. Deadpool #1, Batman #77, Daredevil #10, Faithless #5, Fearless #2, The Goon #4, Grumble #9, James Bond 007 #10, Jim Henson’s Beneath the Dark Crystal #12, Jughead’s Time Police #3, Lucifer #11, Magnificent Ms. Marvel #6, Marvel Comics Presents #8, New World, Powers of X #3, Red Sonja: Birth of the She-Devil #3, The Ride: Burning Desire #3, Spider-Man: City at War #6, Star Wars: Doctor Aphra #35, Star Wars: Tie Fighter #5, Star Wars Adventures #24, Tony Stark: Iron Man #15, Warlord of Mars Attacks #3, Wonder Woman: Come Back to Me #2

Recommended Collections: Age of X-Man: Marvelous X-Men, Age of X-Man: NextGen, Bloodborne - Volume 3: Song of Crows, Corto Maltese: The Early Years, The Curse of Brimstone - Volume 2: Ashes, Hawkeye: Private Eye, Klaus - Volume 1: How Santa Claus Began, Meet the Skrulls, Ophiucus, Saga Compendium - Volume 1, Spawn: Enemy of the State, Star Wars - Volume 11: The Scourging of Shu-Torun, Star Wars: Age of Rebellion - Villains, War of the Realms: Strikeforce, X-Men: Grand Design - X-Tinction

d. emerson eddy would like to be a mongoose dog.

[siriuslymoon]

May I request 89 for ThorBruce? I love your writing btw ❤️

Thank you so much! Of course you can 💕💕 89. We’re having a movie night and you fell asleep so in confessed my love to you and what do you mean you’re awake?

-

Bruce was not prepared for a social interaction.

And while that statement could be used to sum up his entire existence, on this particular evening it was referring to an avengers movie night.

Tony was still hell bent on introducing Steve and Thor to ‘all the classics’ and everyone else had just been lured in with snacks and comfy sofas.

Bruce liked his friends, he did, and he liked spending time with them- but he was close to finishing a project and every second that he spent away from the lab filled him with guilt and an over all feeling of unease.

So when he stumbled into the kitchen, lab coat singed and overall appearance in disarray; the last thing he needed was to be hauled into a five hour film event.

“I just,” he pointed over at the machine “I just came for coffee”

But Tony shook his head, “cmon Bruce we’ve got a full house tonight, you can’t be the only one left out” he wrapped his fingers around Bruce’s wrist and began to pull him towards the sofas.

Bruce noticed the only available seat would be next to thor and stilled.

He hadn’t showered for a few days and he currently smelt like burning cloth and various chemicals, something he didn’t feel like wafting up the nose of the guy he was crazy about.

“Can I um- can i at least change?” He gestured to his ruined appearance, and tony was about to say he looked fine when Thor cut in.

“Bruce should be comfortable if he is to fully enjoy the movies” everyone nodded and the blonde sent him a small wink, accompanied by a soft smile; Bruce didn’t know which made his heart stop first but either way he couldn’t breathe.

“I guess- alright you’ve got the minutes til we start without you” Tony threw himself down next to steve in the sofa and stole a handful of popcorn.

Bruce began to grin causing Tony to quickly cough around his popcorn and wave his arms.

“No! Bad wording- ten minutes until I come get you and drag you in here” he smiled at the correction and Bruce nodded, turning and heading for his room, doing everything he could to ensure he didn’t trip as he walked out.

He showered quickly using as much scented body wash as his hands could hold, roughly drying his hair afterwards so that it wasn’t dripping down his torso but leaving it damp enough to avoid frizz. He pulled out a sweater he didn’t know he had and a pair of sweat pants, before evaluating himself in the mirror.

His damp curls hung round his face and the sweater slipped from his neck and dangled past his hands, the sweatpants hugging tight in places and sitting looser in others.

He shrugged, and headed back out to the living room, happy to see the seating arrangements hadn’t changed.

“See? Told you he’d be back. And aw bruce you look adorable” tony pointed to where the grey knit skimmed his finger tips and Bruce flushed, mumbling a thank you and scurrying Over to Thor’s side.

The man was warm, even sat at a distance Bruce could feel the waves of heat rolling off him, mixing with his natural scent of rain water and rich royal spices to create a tangible aura.

Bruce leaned in closer, damp hair brushing Thor’s dry jumper, the cotton soaking up the moisture immediately.

“What are we watching?” He adjusted his glasses, smiling lazily at Thor, choking when he returned it.

Thor leant in closer to reply, “I believe we are watching time travellers”

Bruce nodded, turning to see Tony mouth ‘back to the future’

They started the movie, Bruce shuffling to sit as comfortably as he could next to Thor, ignoring the constant hammering in his heart and pulling his knees to his chest; sock covered toes stretched across the free space beside him.

He enjoyed listening to Thor laugh every few minutes, or gasp at the crucial points. It painted a natural smile on Bruce’s face and worked to relax him.

He made it through one film, blinking heavily every few minutes to try and force away the tiredness overcoming him. But when everyone yelled for the next one to be put on he sighed; not wanting to seem like a kill joy he sat there and tried his hardest to stay awake.

But he had gravitated closer to Thor throughout the first film, and the gods steady breathing worked as a lullaby that had Bruce off to sleep within minutes.

No one noticed at first, not until Bruce’s position fell and he slumped against the gods shoulder, inching over into his chest- Thor’s arm immediately curling around him to steady him.

“Should we wake him?” Steve asked, everyone’s eyes now on the sleeping scientists, face so relaxed in slumber it had them all smiling.

“No- he doesn’t get enough sleep. Just turn the volume down a little” Thor told them, pleased when they took his instructions and went back to watching the film.

But Thor couldn’t bring himself to look back at the screen, finding the man in his lap much more interesting.

He moved to take off Bruce’s glasses and brush a curl from his face, laughing softly when He twitched and scrunched his nose up before breathing out and burrowing deeper intoThor’s chest.

Thor ran his hand up and down the mans back following the lines of his spine, finding comfort in the steady rhythm of his breaths, the gentle fluttering of his eyelashes as he dreamt luring the confession out of him.

“You’re so beautiful” the declaration slipped past his lips, his friends too engrossed in the movie and each other to notice.

But Bruce noticed.

He had began to wake up after someone sneezed, and when he heard thor talk he froze, focusing on keeping his breathing even and his eyes shut.

But then Thor was playing his his hair, fingertips grazing his scalp and letting his curls loop around his fingers.

His breath caught in his chest, heart building with the urge to scream but he did not move.

“You’re so smart, so wonderfully smart” Thor’s hand move this his cheek, cupping his face and running a calloused thumb over his cheekbone.

“I’m so in love with you Bruce” he whispered, not even sounding like he meant to say it, as though it was no natural to him, but then quickly finding comfort in the mans unconscious state and knowing that he couldn’t hear him

Except he did.

“You what?”

Thor screamed, the sound ripping from his throat and causing everyone’s hearts to thud uncomfortably.

“Jesus point break, this isn’t a scary movie!” Tony cursed, hand resting over his chest.

Bruce sat up, wiping sleep from his eyes and watching his friends calm down.

“Ahhh dude you woke up Bruce” Clint sighed, scowling lightly at Thor.

“My apologies” Thor mumbled before excusing himself and running from the room.

Why did Bruce say anything, why couldn’t he have just stayed quiet- let thor have his moment.

“I’m gonna head to bed if you guys don’t mind, enjoy your movie” he made sure to blink slowly, and move as though sleep still plagued his body; when in reality he had adrenaline thrumming through his body and had never felt quite so awake.

They muttered a chorus of “nights” and “later’s” and Bruce hurried from the room.

“Jarvis where did Thor go?” Bruce asked, waiting for the reply.

“Mr Odinson is currently on the rooftop, and when asked if he wished to be disturbed- he said he did not”

Bruce nodded, making his way to the rooftop entrance, and finding the door locked.

“I told you” Bruce grinned and how much of an attitude Jarvis could have at times, the whole thing screaming Tony.

“Open the door Jarvis”

“But he-“

“I’ll tell Tony that you let steve in after their fight despite him telling you to lock all the doors” Bruce retorted, smirking to himself and at Jarvis.

“Sir was being a stubborn fool” came the reply, to which Bruce said “and so am I- open it up buddy”

He swear he heard a sigh as the door clicked open, and Jarvis wished him good luck.

Bruce found Thor on one of the chairs Tony had put out there, over looking the sky, the odd bit of stray lighting running through the sky.

“I thought you were asleep” Thor told him, not needing to turn around to know Bruce was stood behind him.

“I was,” bruce nodded “I think Clint sneezed- it woke me up”

It was Thor’s turn to nod.

“I apologise if i have made you uncomfortable, I will leave promptly and forever carry the horrible burden of knowing I caused the destruction of our friendship” his voice was low and heavy, the sky clouding over as he spoke.

“Woah, wait what? Thor I’m not mad at you!” Bruce moved closer, sitting beside him on one of the chairs, though the god still refused to look at him.

“Did you mean it?” Bruce asked, and Thor’s features contorted “why on Midgard would I lie?”

Bruce deflated “I don’t know..”

“Even unconscious- I’d never lie to you bruce I hoped you’d know that” Thor looked sad again, heart broke at the thought of Bruce not trusting him.

Without thinking Bruce grabbed Thor’s hands, squeezing them in his own smaller ones as he rushed out “I do trust you! With my life, I do. I just- didn’t think you’d feel like that”

“Why ever not?” Thor raised an eyebrow, finally looking at Bruce, though now that his gaze was on him Bruce kind of wished he’d look away.

“Because,” he laughed “I’m me and you’re- god Thor you’re… well a god for one thing. And you’re the sweetest person I’ve ever known, no matter how harshly any world treats you you’re always smiling and you make me smile and you’re stunning and…. and you deserve better Thor. You deserve someone like you- if anyone else that perfect even exists”

Thor laughed.

“Why are you midgardians so caught up on what people deserve? Do you think I deserve to be happy?” Thor asked, moving so that his hands cupped Bruce’s instead”

“Of course”

“Then let me be happy with you, you who is just as perfect, more so if anything”

Thor grinned, so wide and bright that Bruce had to look away for a moment to catch his breath.

Until Thor tilted his head up to look at him, an eyebrow raised in question, a question Bruce answered with a nod and then he felt Thor’s smile pressed against his own.

And if Bruce caught an explosion of lighting across the sky before his eyes fluttered shut, well then he must just be imagining things.

[unoriginaltoast]

Hey for your new bingo how about Peter and Ned for the "I'm fine: Narrator they were not fine" prompt. Maybe with Peter coming down with the flu or something and trying to convince Ned that no he's totally fine to hang out then go on patrol afterwards no really. Or something.

I am absolutely not against doing prompts more than once, especially for multiple fandoms and especially for my fav prompts! So thank you anon and I hope you like this story :)

Peter slumps against the bathroom wall as sweat forms on his warm brow. He places a shaky, clammy hand on his cheek and tries to steady his breathing. Peter has been up since four that morning thinking he was going to throw up, but nothing came. Now, he just rests on the cool tile because it’s much more comfortable than his too-warm bed.

May is on a business trip until Monday and Peter just needs to make it through one more day of school. Then, he can relax that weekend, after his patrols, of course. Mutant spider-kids don’t get sick days, especially since crime in New York City never takes a break. 

He uses all of his strength to pull himself off the floor and steadies himself against the wall. He feels like the floor is about to come over and swallow him up, but he tries to shake the thought from his mind. He just needs to focus on getting out the door and then on surviving school.

It takes some time, but Peter manages to throw on some clothes and get his backpack together. He’s out the door with a few minutes to spare and makes it to the bus stop right on time. The fresh air even makes him feel a little better, he thinks. Maybe that was all he needed after all. 

It was not, in fact, ‘all he needed,’ as he begins to feel worse and worse as the bus snakes its way through the New York City streets. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of bumping and jostling, it pulls up in front of the grand stone steps of Peter’s school. He gratefully gets out, takes a deep breath, and walks inside.

He’s not a foot away from his locker before Ned spots him and comes bounding over with news of all the exciting things that happened to him in the 18 hours they had been apart. His best friend is about to open his mouth to talk about the latest thing he found on Youtube when he stops and takes another look at Peter.

“Hey, man, you okay?” he asks, the excitement draining from his face. It’s replaced by a particular brand of worry, the kind that only comes from being friends with a superhero.

“I’m fine,” Peter dismisses him shortly as he attempts his locker combination. He pulls the door open and deposits his books.

“You don’t look so fine,” Ned presses. “Did you have a big fight last night? Oh! Did you get that robber on Eleventh Street? Or the arsonist that set those fires down on Forty-second? What about the–”

“No, Ned,” Peter replies. “I went home. I studied. I went to bed.”

“What about,” Ned starts and then drops his voice into a whisper, “Spider-Man?”

“Spider-Man needs to study or else Spider-Man has to go to summer school.”

Ned almost laughs at this, but stops himself as his laughter turns into an amused puff of air escaping from his nose. “You’re smart as hell, Peter,” he tells him. “There’s no way you’re going to summer school.”

“Yeah, Math and Science are alright, but tell that to the D I got on my last English paper.” Peter frowns, trying to push the memory of getting that report back out of his mind. He opens his mouth to say more, but his breath catches in his throat and he dissolves into a fit of harsh coughing. Ned swiftly places a hand on his back and it’s only then that the boy can feel the heat radiating off of Peter.

“Dude, you’re burning up,” Ned reports as Peter finishes his coughing with a dry heave.

“I’m fine,” he says again.

“You should go home.”

“I’m fine,” Peter replies more forcefully this time and with a pointed glare at Ned. His friend puts his hands up in surrender and backs off and Peter immediately feels guilty for snapping at him. “Sorry. Long night.”

“It’s cool, man,” Ned says carefully and grabs his backpack. “Well, then come on. I guess we gotta go or we’re gonna be late.” He’s not entirely sure if Peter should be going to class, but he also knows he’s not going to convince him otherwise. Peter just nods, grabs the books he needs and closes his locker before following Ned through the halls.

***

Peter manages to make it through the day. Barely, but he makes it. By three that afternoon, he’s absolutely wiped out and finds himself craving the gently caress of his twin-sized bed. Ned is still a constant at his side. A few times, Peter almost took a dive straight onto the tile floor, but Ned managed to catch him in time. He doesn’t believe for a hot second that Peter is actually okay, but he doesn’t know how to argue with his best friend.

“You should go home and go to bed,” Ned says. “Take the night off. New York can survive without Spider-Man for a day.” It’s those words that bring Peter back to reality as they walk outside the school. He can’t go home and go to bed. He has to make up for lost patrolling time the night before.

“I’m fine,” Peter replies. “In fact, I’m so fine that I need to run home and get my suit! I have a long night ahead of me.” 

Ned frowns, noting the paleness on Peter’s face aside from two red flashes on either cheek.  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, man.”

“I don’t really have a choice.”

“Of course you do!”

“No. I don’t.”

“Peter–”

“Jesus, Ned would you just leave it?” Peter shouts, attracting attention from students surrounding him. They spare a quick glance at the two and then move on, but Ned is stunned by his friend’s outburst.

“Dude,” he starts, but Peter waves his words off.

“I’m sorry. Look, I’m not 100% today, but I have to go out there because if I don’t, who will? That’s responsibility. That’s my responsibility.” Ned doesn’t look convinced, so Peter adds, “Do you want to come with me?”

That brightens Ned’s face and he breaks into a wide, excited smile. “Wait me? On patrol? With you? You never let me come!”

“Yeah, well consider it an apology tour. Come on, I gotta get the suit.”

***

It takes Peter some time to change into the suit between panting for air and dry heaving, but he makes Ned wait in the living room, so his friend doesn’t notice. Then, the two are out on patrol. Ned has a police scanner on his phone and is reporting disturbances to Peter who judges whether or not he needs to go in and assist. 

A little before eight that evening, Peter stops a mugging in an alley a few blocks from his high school. He manages to keep the victim safe while running the criminal in circles. Just as he’s about the tie the man up with his webs, he feels a sharp pain in his stomach. He glances down and sees the handle of a knife sticking right out of his abdomen. Under normal circumstances, Peter would just take the knife out, tie up the criminal, and let his healing factor do the work, but the fever he is sporting makes him panic. He slings a web wildly, manages to catch the edge of a balcony, and is slung through the air. He lands on the other side of the alley, giving the mugger a chance to escape.

“Peter!” Ned’s voice rings through the built-in speakers. “What happened?” But Peter can’t find the words to respond. He’s too busy fumbling with the handle of the knife and trying to breathe. Ned calls his name again, but Peter barely hears it. The edges of his vision become spotty and he faintly hears Karen say something and then the sound of a phone ringing lulled him into darkness.

***

Peter feels warm. Not the intense heat he felt before, but comfortably warm. He wants to stay here in this state forever, but he soon becomes aware of an incessant beeping that pulls him from the comfort. As his senses come back to him, he feels the prick of something on the top of his hand, smells a particularly sharp sanitized scent, and hears the beeping of a few other machines. He knows immediately where he is and that knowledge makes him want to stay asleep forever.

“Alright, kid. I know you’re awake,” a not particularly angry, but not very friendly voice says. Peter slowly pries his eyes open and blinks the blurriness away. He glances up and finds himself looking at Tony Stark, who looks tired yet agitated with his arms crossed over his chest.

“A one-hundred and three-degree fever and Mister Genius thought he could go to school?” the man asks with one eyebrow raised. “And then go on patrol?”

“I was fine!” Peter insisted.

“Try again.”

“I thought I was fine.” This earns him a pointed look and Peter sighs heavily. “Okay, I’m sorry.”

“You’re damn right you’re sorry. What the hell were you thinking? You should have been at home in bed with your unnecessarily hot aunt taking care of you.”

Peter makes a face at the idea of his aunt being hot and then says, “But I need to go on patrols every night. Crime doesn’t stop just because I’m sick.”

“And if you push yourself too hard you’re not going to be around for the rest of the days that there’s crime in New York,” Tony responds. Peter slumps back further against the pillows, knowing his mentor is right. “Thankfully your friend Ted was there.”

“Ned?” Peter asks, sitting back up. “Where is he?” For the briefest of moments, Tony’s expression softens as he steps aside. As he does so, Peter notices Ned sitting in the chair behind Tony, slumped over as he snores. 

“Kid wouldn’t let me leave without him,” Tony said. “And I normally wouldn’t let anyone over here but he was so damn insistent that I couldn’t just take you and go.” Peter nods slowly as he stares at his sleeping best friend. “You owe him.”

“I know,” Peter replies.

“Good, you’re not as stupid as you act.” Tony takes a step back and moves towards the door. “Get some sleep, you’re with me the rest of the weekend. Red can stay too.”

“Ned,” Peter corrects. “And thanks.”

“Oh, you won’t be thanking me after I’m done with you this weekend. Just wait until tomorrow when your fever’s down. My lab needs a cleaning.” And with that, Tony disappears. 

Peter slumps further into the pillows and looks over at Ned. With a friend like him, Peter knows he’ll always be just fine.

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Mommy” Part 4

It was a well known fact The Joker’s girlfriend left him with four young children and disappeared. It was also known that his ex stepped up and took care of them even if she didn’t have to. The King of Gotham might have lost his woman, but he never lost his Queen.

Part1       Part2      Part3     Part 5

Another fight with The Joker and you didn’t have the patience to wait for the elevator; you just took the stairs, wanting to be far away from him as fast as possible.

“Mommy left,” Kase whispers to his siblings, noticing you stormed out of the penthouse.”She took Emma,” the six years old reports to the other children that stopped playing and look at their father, knowing that he must be the reason why this happened again.

“Don’t come back!!! Do you hear me?” J shouts, going back inside his office. He continues to mumble and slam stuff around even if you are not there anymore to participate in the fight.

“Whe’s mommy?” Mia squeezes her doll, stepping over the toys scattered around in the left corner of the living room.

“Mommy’s gone,” Kase repeats and Zane whimpers, already upset:

“I want my mommy. Where did she go?”

His twin is on the verge of crying:

“Is she coming back?”

Zane lifts his shoulders up, confused.

“Oh,” Mia bends over and picks up one of the teddy bears laying on top of a pile of Legos, handing it over to Aiden: the little girl saw his teary eyes and tries to soothe her brother.“Fo’ you, ok?”

Aiden wipes his eyes, accepting the gift from his three years old sister.

The kids don’t like it when you’re not around: they are very fond of their mother and old enough to understand daddy says things that make her go away.

You actually drove straight to your house, grabbed some baby supplies and went to the mall with Emma. After aimlessly walking around for about an hour, you retreat to a quiet lounge and start breastfeeding her. You love looking in her bright little eyes and kiss the tiny fingers while she eats. You couldn’t do this for the other children since you are not their biological mother; they were raised on formula because Anya didn’t like to take care of them. And it suddenly hits harder because this was on your mind since you left the penthouse: the kids probably wonder where you are.

A mother needs her babies. All of them.

You take your cellphone out of your jacket, careful not to disturb your three weeks old and press on the first name in “Contacts”: The Joker. He answers instantly.

“It’s me…I want to talk to the children.”

“NO!” and he hangs up.

Great, he’s going to be a total jerk…

You try again. He picks up after the first ring.

“J, let me talk to…” “NO!” and you get the dial tone once more.

You sigh, evaluating your options. Not too many.

You call him again.

“Where’s my daughter?” he barks before you have a chance to say anything.

“She’s with me, of course!” you mutter through your clenched teeth. “Where else?!”

“Bring her back!” “I don’t want to see you, J. I just want to talk to the children!”

“Don’t think so!!” he yells in the phone and hangs up again.

“Seriously?!” you talk to yourself at this point, staring at your cell.

Back at the penthouse, The Joker tosses his phone on the desk, irritated you keep on bothering him. Why do you want to talk to the kids?! You’ve only been gone for about 2 hours.

Like he understands your need to hear their voices and the fact that you already miss them.

After half an hour, J realizes something is weird: so quiet in the penthouse…too quiet. It’s never this silent with a bunch of offsprings around.

“Kase?” he shouts, carefully listening.

No answer.

“Aiden?”

Nothing.

The Joker gets off his chair and goes to the living room. The children are not there. He looks around, going to the second floor. No trace of them. Did they take the elevator? They know they are not supposed to use it. Nope; still there, the doors opened. Balcony? Nobody there either. Did they take the stairs? Better check, it’s the only other option. J keeps on descending until he hears them talk, quickens the pace and finally catches up with them.

Kase is leading the pack, carrying a small bottle of water; probably the oldest figured out they need some kind of supplies for their quest. Behind him, Mia is stepping down the stairs just one at a time since her feet are too small. Zane is holding her right hand and Aiden her left, helping the little Princess. They have been gone for a while, yet only made it to the 24th floor: it’s a slow process.

Surprisingly, none of the henchmen bumped into them yet – they are required to patrol the whole building regularly.

“Where are you guys going?” the kids hear their father and stop, turning to face him. The Joker notices they have no shoes on, just socks.

“To find mommy,” Kase candidly answers.

“Why, is she missing?!” J sarcastically asks and the kids are too young to understand his sassiness.

“I want my mommy…” Zane whimpers and The King of Gotham realizes the boy’s jeans are wet:

“You are The Joker’s son !” J huffs, “and you peed your pants?!”

If you were present you would probably roll your eyes and make a comment similar to: “What does being The Joker’s son has to do with anything?! He’s only four and a half and accidents happen ! ” Since you’re not here though, nobody to underline the obvious.

“Sorry daddy,” Zane remorsefully sniffles, upset his parent is interrupting the search party.

Mia sticks out her tongue and J sneers, displeased.

“How dare you?! Got your mom’s attitude, hm?” J snatches the little girl, aware she is the weak link and it will take forever if he waits for her to walk upstairs. “And straight into the bathtub with you, understand?” he addresses Zane. “As soon as we get back home, you’ll spend 10 minutes in time out, got it?” The Joker announces the punishment to his daughter and Mia’s eyes get big.

You actually came up with this: when the kids don’t behave, you make them face one of the corners of the penthouse for a limited time; they are not allowed to talk or look at each other. For some reason, they believe it’s the worst thing that can happen to them, which works when discipline is needed.

The three boys are silently following their father, worried they will get in trouble also.

Mia wiggles in J’s arms, fake crying for a few seconds; J pretends not to hear. She wraps her arms around his neck tighter, kissing his cheek.

“No, da’yy, no corner, ok? Mia’s good, ok?”

Every time she says ”ok”, her voice goes really high pitch.

“How are you good?! You showed me your tongue!”

“Noooo, da’yy, no, no, no…” she pouts, caressing his face. “Mia’s good, ok? No corner, ok?”

“You sound like a broken record,” the Joker mumbles and the little Pumpkin puckers her lips, not understanding what he means.

“ I  ‘ove you da’yy, ok? No corner for Mia,” and she rests her chin on his shoulder, waving at her brothers. The Clown Prince of Crime feels warmer and the only thing he can remember for the moment is how disappointed and mad he was after finding out Mia wasn’t his daughter.

“Nice strategy,” J gently pats her back and she whispers in his ear:

“So’yy da’yy, OK? No corner, OK?”

The Joker takes a deep breath, oblivious she got under his skin a long time ago.

“Why did you stick out your tongue?… Show me again!” he growls and Mia obeys, shyly blinking.

“Such a nerve, just like your mom,” a frustrated parent concludes, reckoning you should be there to witness the ordeal.

Finally back to the penthouse and Zane is send to undress for his bath. The cute Doll is set free and she runs to the other two brothers, returning by her father’s side after a few seconds.

“Da’yy, I need to go potty.”

“Well…go!” J urges and Kase speaks up:

“She needs help daddy.”

“Great!!” the drama takes a new turn but the exasperated parent grabs her hand, heading towards the second restroom downstairs. “Where’s your mother?” comes out of his mouth for the lack of a better sentence. Such a useless question: your boyfriend knows exactly where you are and why you left in the first place; entirely his fault, not that he would admit to it.

After helping the little girl, J goes to turn on the water in the other bathroom where Zane awaits in the bathtub; the water gets higher and the splashing exponentially intensifies.

“Hey, sit down and behave!” The Joker admonished and his son giggles, splattering in his dad’s direction. Water gets on J’s brand new Armani outfit: dark purple pants and a silver shirt, half unbuttoned of course.

He gasps, stunned.

“On my new clothes?!”

More water aimed his way and patience runs out:

“You asked for it brat !!” and he leans over, splashing Zane, not because he wants to play around, but because he wants to pay back such an affront. The little one screams with delight, jumping up and down in the huge bathtub which prompts his siblings to check on the noise. Oh my God, why weren’t they invited to the party?!

The other three children run directly in the bathtub with their clothes on before J can stop them. They laugh and scream, excited and happy to horse around, pushing one other and splattering water all over the place. At this point, The Joker is soaked and so are the kids; takes him a good 20 minutes before he manages to calm them down and get them out of the water.

He has to go change his clothes and dress the four misbehaving mini-Jokers with dry clothes too. Clearly not what he had in mind for today!

“Daddy, I’m hungry,” Aiden fidgets while J finishes putting on his t-shirt.

“Stay still !” the struggling parent yanks at his son’s outfit. “I’ll get you something to eat, alright?”

Big surprise: apparently everybody’s hungry, including himself. He gathers the kids at the big table in the living room, placing a bunch of food in front of them. J starts eating and the children look at each other, confused.

“What now?!” The Joker sighs, chewing on his chicken salad.

“Ummm…Mommy cuts the crust,” Aiden shows the clueless father the stack of sliced bread.

“So?! Just eat, it’s fine!”

There’s whimpering, some faded protesting and explanations, prompting J to lose his cool.

“Fine! Fine! I’ll cut the crust, are you happy now?!” he angrily fulfills the request, watching them take a few bites before the kids stare at him again, waiting.

“Yeeees?” he exhales, giving them a mean glare.

“Mommy puts the olives in cups for us,” Kase bites on his lip.

“Why can’t you eat olives from your plate, huh?”

More justifications, whining and reasons he does not understand, enough to make The King of Gotham annoyed.

“Yeah, whatever! Just eat ! Or do you want to spend a few minutes in time out?”

The kids listen to him and munch on the food, scared they will be punished.

“I want my mommy,” Mia rubs her eyes, upset.

“Me too,” Zane sniffles, chasing a cherry tomato on his plate with the fork.

“Mommy!!!!” Aiden shouts, seeing you enter the living room with Emma in your arms. Nobody heard the elevator: too preoccupied with the eventful day and your absence.

All four children rush and hug your legs, talking in the same time; something about bread crust and olives, difficult to understand since voices overlap.

“Just look who decided to grace us with her presence,” J stabs at his salad, impertinence surfacing right away.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?! I was worried something happened!” you bend over to kiss the kids and they cling to your neck, fighting to get your affection.

You’ve been trying to reach him without success for the last hour and a half.

“I was busy, OK?!” he points his finger at you, mad. “I thought I told you not to come back!”

You wouldn’t know, but J is relived you returned without further action from his part.

“I came for my babies!” you frown, limping towards the table since the four brats won’t let go. “I was afraid they got hurt or something!”

He wouldn’t know how happy you are to see the children; you missed them and… sort of missed him also. Just a little bit, almost inexistent urge…

“Maybe you should have worried about it before you left !” J spits out, signaling for Emma. She’s awake, looking completely adorable in the yellow onesie with lady bugs and pink flowers. You hand her over wishing to make some comments, yet the kids keep on talking and reporting what occurred in the measly 4 hours you were gone.

J keeps on gazing at Emma, loving the fact that she has blue eyes. He doesn’t realize you made the kids sit at the table and you’re eating with them now, too absorbed by his three weeks old.  Blissfully unaware she got under his skin the moment she was born, just like the rest of his children. How could he know? The Joker always thinks he hates everybody, no other feelings inside his heart besides disgust and animosity towards the world.

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

He is back in the office, but the non-stop giggling going on in the living room is very distracting. J stops typing on his computer and peeks outside, curious to find out the source of the commotion.

The five munchkins are lined up on the floor, from the youngest to the oldest and you are doing push-ups on top of them, moving from one child to the next. Every time you go down, you kiss them and blow raspberries on their necks, prompting laughter and impatient screams.  Emma is the only one not overjoyed with what her mom is doing, way too young to savor the game. She is cozy on her fluffy pillow, eyelids getting heavy.

Behind the cracked door, The Joker is pleased to see you are wearing the new work-out outfit he got you last week with matching Adidas shoes. J decides to join his family, indifferently bringing one of his laptops and crushes on the couch, spying on the fun.

He couldn’t stay away from the chaos in his life even if he’d try.

Seems you are done with the push-ups and Mia is the first one to get up, approaching her father and trying to get his attention. She softly steps on his shoe, waiting.

“What is it?” he asks, confused.

The little girl does it again.

“They like to imitate what I do when I work out,” you disclose, not necessarily wanting to talk to him. “You know I’ve been trying to teach them self-defense before I got pregnant and I now can reprise my routine; she’s showing you what she’s learned.”

“Great skills,” J smirks, tucking Mia’s hair behind her ears. “Are you going to defend daddy if Batsy comes?”

“U-hum !” she nods a yes even if she has no clue what he’s referring to.

“Good girl,” the smirk gets wider and he kisses her forehead, somewhat amused. The boys see their sister is getting attention from daddy and come over, climbing on his knees. There is not enough space and they start fighting. Surprisingly, The Joker doesn’t chase them away and closes his laptop, setting it aside while striving to make space for all four.

This is something to be taken advantage of.

“Can you please put the kids to sleep?” you take Emma in your arms, the precious treasure already napping. “ I’m going to take a shower,” you lay her in the baby basket, covering the tiny body with the warm blanket.

“Yeah… I will,” J agrees and you are fast to go before he changes his mind.

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

It took The Joker some time to put the overly energetic offsprings to sleep, but he achieved tonight’s goal. How come you didn’t show up yet?!

You actually fell asleep downstairs in your recliner after the shower, wanting to watch TV; didn’t even make it to the first commercial break of the movie and you’re out, exhausted. Very tired these days, especially with waking up at night every 2-3 hours to feed Emma. And four more kids to take care of, plus a difficult boyfriend to deal with. He’s lucky you love him, that’s all you have to say about it.

“Hey Y/N, wake up,” he taps on your cheek. “Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

You mumble half words and turn on your side.

“Come on,” he pulls you in his arms and strains to lift you up. “Jesus, woman, you’re heavier,” the complaint follows and you wrap your legs around his waist, not opening your eyes.

“I just had a baby,” you keep your head on his shoulder, yawning.

“I didn’t say anything about that; you’re making up things,” J gazes at your face close to his, studying your features; he really liked the glow you had when you were pregnant with Emma.

Such a strange feeling in his heart while carrying you towards the master bedroom… Is it love?… Impossible. Absurd. Ridiculous. Not in a million years! Hate?…Probably. Unmistakably. Definitely. What else could it be?!

Your legs weaken around him as you lose your grasp on reality and he lifts you higher, making you open your eyes.

“Mmmm, lemme sleep,” you protest, almost at the destination.

“Hey Y/N, I think we should have another baby,” he whispers and you’re suddenly alert, lifting your head to look at him. That smile blooming on your face makes him uncomfortable.

“You mean it?” and it sounds you’re about to cry.

“Being a mother suits you so yes, I mean it,” The Joker gets you in bed, crawling besides his girlfriend. You can’t utter another word and he has no problem continuing the conversation on his own. “If you have a second baby, will things get saggy? Will your boobs get down to your knees?” You burst out laughing, still emotional about his proposition.

“Maybe just down to my bellybutton.”

“I can deal with that,” J chuckles to hide how mesmerized he is by your teary eyes.

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for the children,” your smile gradually fades under the burden of anxiety. “ I fear for them, because of who they are…”

“I know…” he traces your lips, sulking. “But I’m here and you’re here…right?”

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” you admit, cuddling to him.

“Except the mall,” The Joker teases and hears you snicker on his chest even if you’re still worried. “Go to sleep,” he turns off the lamp, only the baby monitor blinking in the darkness.

The same eerie darkness surrounds a deserted warehouse outside the town where several parties are meeting to plot the murder of everyone closest to The Joker: his children and his woman. And maybe take him down also if the occasion arises.

Gotham has no idea what The King and Queen of Gotham are capable of in order to protect what’s theirs, but the damned city is about to find out.

Also read: MASTERLIST

http://diyunho.tumblr.com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

[nemesisxgenesis]

  Is a title even necessary? Are tags necessary? 

  Those are two of the questions we’ve been asking each other for about an hour straight. Clearly, neither of us have gotten an answer; we’re leaving it up to fate at this point. 

  We should probably begin to take a look around Tumblr so we can get some examples, but believe it or not, both of us have a life. 

  That being said, here’s a little something I picked up from my drafts. 

  No particular fandom, just a little something we made for a friend group. 

--

  The sweet melody of birds chirping outside your window gently pulls you from your peaceful slumber. With a small yawn, you sit up and stretch, a single strand of hair falling from behind your ear. You tuck it behind your ear; sunlight streams through your window as you pull open your blinds to reveal the beautiful scenery outside your window. Everything is fine. 

  Just kidding, who the hell wakes up like that? Life isn’t some kind of fairy tale.

  Your nightmares seem to try their best to ensure that your sleep is never peaceful, and they never seem willing to leave you alone. After a whole night of jostling about, you wake up in a somewhat feverish daze. A chilling breeze causes you to jolt awake; your hair is a tangled mess as you sit up, cold sweat still running down your back. 

  A shiver runs through your body as you recall the contents of your most recent nightmare. These nightmares are far from uncommon for you, one could say that they’re a daily occurrence. It doesn’t make going through them any easier, though. From ferocious beasts to seemingly random flashes of some kind of bloody battle, the creatures and characters appearing in your dreams never seem to disappear.

   As much as you appreciate having some kind of fantasy world to go to when you go to bed as an escape from your boring life, you don’t particularly enjoy watching blood and weapons fly from and into people respectively. 

  The ringing of your phone breaks the silence of the night, along with it your considerably morbid train of thoughts. You brush aside the growing feeling of dread in your stomach and crawl over to the side of your bed to answer it. As much as you trust your guts, you know who the only person who calls you on weekdays is. You’d much rather die than risk having him get hurt in any way just because you weren’t there for him.

  “Hello?” You monotone, suppressing a yawn. The bedsheets surrounding you suddenly feel suffocating, and you throw them off only to realise you wore your clothes from the previous day to sleep. Yikes. 

 The voice of your best friend greets you on the other side as you reflect on your idiocy.

  “Hey, this is Eugene. Sorry to disturb you, but could you come down to our usual spot? I’m in need of some, uh, assistance.” His voice sounds oddly strangled. Flashes of your nightmare rush through your head once more, but you push them aside as you nod, and then remember that he can’t actually see you.

  You tell him you’ll be there in a minute and throw on a coat, promptly hopping onto your motorcycle. Thank goodness you're an idiot. 

  Let’s just say you break a lot of traffic rules.

-- 

  By the time you navigate your way to the cliff, you’re out of breath. The paths are too narrow and bumpy for your poor motorcycle to drive through, so you have to run instead. It’s a pain, but maybe that’s because you’re out of shape. 

  In retrospect, choosing such an isolated location as a place to hangout every weekend wasn’t the best decision. It’s peaceful and beautiful, yes, but it sure as hell is a pain to get to. Maybe that’s why nobody else is ever here. Thoughts of what could’ve happened to Eugene flood your mind. Did he fall down the cliff? A tree? Is he okay?

  You jog up the final stretch leading up to a cliff, forcing yourself to move silently as you near the place. The sight of a strange man wearing an oddly formal attire and the ruins of what used to be an oasis greet you when you finally arrive, peeking out from behind a large tree. 

  The entire place is a mess - some kind of purple skin litters the floor, along with what appears to be an abundance of rocks and ores. The strange man you noticed earlier has one hand in his shirt. You note that he is standing completely straight and proud, and that a large number of wounds litter his battered and bruised body. Blood stains cover the majority of his clothes. 

  The feeling of dread from before makes its way back to you, twice as strong as before. 

  You stay behind the large tree and survey the situation as your heart sinks. You scan the area from your spot, looking for signs of your best friend, and sure enough, Eugene is crouching next said man, not in a much better state. You’re tempted to leap out and save the damsel in distress but thankfully manage to refrain yourself from doing so, even if it's by a tiny margin.

  Stay rational. Stay rational. Stay rational. You chant these words like a mantra as your eyes dart around the area. Your thoughts come and go as you try to figure out the best course of action.

  Everything comes to a stop when the strange man pulls his hand out of his shirt, revealing a. . . yam? You’re briefly stunned into silence as he apathetically chews away at said yam, peeling back the skin to expose the fleshy insides. Eugene appears to be in a similar state of shock as he’s attempting to launch himself at the yam man.

  Ah, so that’s where the purple stuff came from, you muse in an attempt to stay calm. It doesn’t work.

  This moment of shock seems to be Eugene’s downfall, because the man somehow manages to stuff the whole yam down his throat within seconds. A guttural scream escapes his throat as he begins to glow, and he launches himself at Eugene first.

  Frankly, you can’t bring yourself to be concerned about your friend; you’re too shocked by the man’s proclamation of “For the yams!” 

  Your cover is almost blown as the ground suddenly begins shaking. 

  A giant rock pulls itself from the ground, centimeters away from the spot you’re standing. You watch as it throws itself at the strange man and crushes him underneath it, and everything comes to a standstill once more. 

  The sickening crunch of bones causes you to tense for a moment, but soon you’re good to go and scrambling towards the now fallen body of your best friend. 

  You decide to wait until later to have a breakdown. Who needs to release emotions at healthy points in time anyways, right? 

  “You alright?” You ask, offering him a shaky hand. He nods and casts a glance at the giant rock, and then turns his attention back to you. 

  “We should go.” You’ve never heard him so serious in your entire life. Except, of course, for when he threatens people, but you prefer not to think about that. 

  A grim expression is plastered on his face as he gets up with your help. You don’t understand why, until the sound of something being crushed reaches your ears. The pure pressure emitting from the figure lifting the rock behind you is enough to stop you in your tracks as you turn back in horror.

  “Yams.” The man speaks, voice somehow deeper than before. An aura of pure masculinity surrounds him as he stares the two of you down, and God forbid anyone ask you why you even think of that word in this situation. He proceeds to break into some song about bombing and gasing, but you’re too busy trying to read Eugene’s expression. The telepathic connection between you two decides to shut down, but it's not like you need it to know what he's trying to say.

  Simply put, Eugene’s face screams “run.”

  With this turn of events, you do the next most logical and rational thing. Swinging the bloody Eugene over your shoulder, you leap off the cliff. 

-- 

  “Maybe that wasn’t my best moment” Is what goes through your brain as you plunge down a 300 meter drop, Eugene clinging on to you for dear life. The wind toussles your hair as you and Eugene fall, and you almost let out a bitter laugh as you think about how similar this is to your dream. 

  Eugene stays completely still, even if his grip does get much tighter as time passes. You swear you hear him mummering about time and ash, but maybe you're hearing things again. His breathing gets increasingly heavy as the two of you near the bottom of the cliff. You close your eyes and brace yourself for impact. 

  Strange. Time is going awfully slow. 

  Thinking back to the previous display of yams and rocks, a horrifying realization strikes you. Before you can fully wrap your head around this thought, you find yourself plunging into a pool of water you never knew existed at the bottom of the cliff. 

  You open your eyes and realise that said pool of water is floating, but at this point, you can’t be bothered to care. You’re sure that given any other situation, you would’ve screamed, but not today. Everything that’s led up to this point has been way too much for your mind to be able to process healthily. 

  You simply sit in the water for a minute and only surface after realising that you, and Eugene, need to breathe. After ensuring that Eugene is still alive, you plunge back into the pool and rest him gently on the dry ground beneath it; hopefully the water doesn’t decide to suddenly fall. Having done your duty, you allow your body to relax, and the water gently pushes you back to the top of the pool.

  A minute later, you’re out cold. 

-- 

  “They’ll be okay” You hear an unfamiliar voice next to you as you groggily come to your senses.  Even now, your nightmares still haunt you, huh? 

  With some effort, you peel your eyes open. The first thing you notice is that the sun is shining directly onto your face and in turn, into your eyes. You shut them with a hiss and angle your face away before trying again, and you swear you hear a laugh somewhere near you. 

  Still too tired to care, you stretch lightly and run a hand through the mess that your hair has become. It doesn’t even matter if you die at this point, you’re tired. Really, really tired. 

  The melodious laughter continues, and you finally open your eyes once more. This time, there’s no light shining into it, so you sit up with only a little bit of difficulty. 

  You slowly get up as you rub your head you look around the room and notice a few things 

  First of all, Eugene is lying on a couch, bandaged up from head to toe. The only part of him you can see are his mouth and eyes, the latter of which meets yours as you finish dealing with the mess on your head. You wave. 

  Second of all, there’s a tall, dark man standing next to you, laughing like he’s seen the world’s funniest joke. He has slick black hair and dons a rather professional suit, completed with a tie, sunglasses and a fedora. You give him a solid nine out of ten, definitely hot. 

  As he comes back to his senses and stops laughing, you notice that his left eye is bandaged up. The other is a crimson red which seems to stare right into your soul. 

  “I’m Ash.” Holding out a gloved hand, Ash steps back to give you enough space to stand up. You decisively ignore his outstretched hand and settle for getting up independently instead. 

  “Did you save us?” You ask, ignoring the crestfallen expression that graces his face. A small spark of satisfaction fills you as you watch the slight anger flash through his eyes. You’re not mean, but you trust your instincts. Your instincts tell you there’s something wrong with this man. 

  Your hunch is further strengthened as a smile crawls onto his face within seconds of his initial defeat.  

  “Right to the point, huh? You’re as feisty as he said you’d be. I think it’s better for Eugene over there to explain things to you.” Ash pats your shoulder then stiffly turns around to leave the room, perfect smile never falling out of place. Your eyes narrow. 

  Eugene’s coughs draw your attention, and your head snaps towards him. Flames of fury dance in your eyes as a smile that can rival Ash’s forms on your face.

  “You and I have a lot to talk about.”

 --

  Yeah. That’s about it for now; I mean, we have more stored away (somewhere), but I for one am unsure of whether or not we should even continue with this Tumblr thing. We don’t have any particular purpose, but it’s nice being able to share some of our pieces rather than just let them collect dust, I suppose. 

  We’ll see.

[lubdubsworld]

Jimin x OC Tumblr prompt.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Genre : Heavy Angst

Warnings : Dubious Consent, Domestic Violence, Emotional Manipulation. Threesome , BDSM , General fuckery . this is not something you should read if you’re triggered easily by ANYTHING. 

This is sin. there is no god to be found in the following paragraphs so if you’re someone who has trauma of ANY KIND stay off and away. 

Part 4a. 

I stared at the menu card, feeling queasy in a lot of ways, aware of Jimin pressed incredibly close to me on the couch style seat in the corner booth of the restaurant. He was suffocating me , or so it felt, every inch of his shoulder, waist and chest pressing into mine as he rested his chin on my shoulder peering over me into the small gold edged card. 

None of the dishes made sense to me and I had no appetite. I wanted to go home to my room ( our room , i thought with a desperate sort of ache) and crawl into the bed and just sleep. I wanted to sleep. Nothing more.

"You can order anything you like. This is the best restaurant in town. " jimin said softly, his voice echoing inside my skull like he was talking from inside me and not beside me. I could feel his minty breath against my skin, the little puff of air warm on my chilled skin. I was dressed in a white strapless dress, the fabric leaving my entire neck and shoulders exposed to the air-conditioned hotel room . 

The decor had a lot of small artificial water falls all around the room and the building was made of stone. The effect was one of bone-chilling coldness . I didn't know why Jimin had picked this dress and made me wear it. I wanted my shawl, but the first thing he had done was pull it off me and fold it on the seat next to us.

"I'm not hungry . " I said finally.

jimin sighed.

"Are you going to make every second of every day, so difficult for both of us baby? We're at a nice place. You look beautiful, it's a nice night. Why can't we just share a nice meal together? Why do you have to make me feel bad after all the trouble i went through? " He said , and guilt bloomed inside me . He was right. it wasn’t easy getting a reservation in this hotel. 

but i was really cold and really tired and my mind was still sluggish from lack of sleep. 

“why aren’t you replying, baby? “ He said sharply, fingers reaching out to curl around my wrist, thumb digging lightly into the soft skin of my palm and i whimpered a little. 

“Please...” I whispered and he frowned.

“Please, what? what’s wrong?” Something that sounded almost like concern coated his voice and i swallowed. 

 I stared at him in confusion, not sure what to say or how to say it in a way that wouldn't make him upset or angry or furious.

"I'm cold." I said finally, unable to put my churning emotions into words. He stared at me and shrugged.

"It's rude to wear shawls or jackets inside." He said firmly.

I let my breath out in a shudder. What else had I expected really?

"jiminah...Y/N??" A familiar voice said suddenly, deep and heavy, behind us. and jimin jumped a bit, turning around swiftly, arms wrapping around me as he pulled me close. I flinched when his fingers dug into the softness of my arms .

"yoongi hyung?" He said , and the man came around the booth, smiling softly in the pale golden light. 

He looked pale, his creamy white complexion flawless and sooty black eyes radiating intelligence . He looked handsome, his clothing tasteful and muted, but clearly expensive. He wasn't muscular like jimin but built lean and strong.

"You took the night out too? Are you guys enjoying yourselves?? " He said casually, stepping into the booth. I felt suddenly scared and nervous. He wasn't threatening in any way or form, but my limbs went stiff and I wanted to be anywhere but there.

 I glanced at the door. I could excuse myself and go to the rest room. Yoongi was staring at me now, no doubt waiting for me to greet him. But my tongue wouldn't function.

"Yes, been a while since i took her out and spoiled her. ." Jimin said , nudging me lightly. I stared at Yoongi and tried to unglue my tongue from the roof of my mouth.

"I..uh,.."

"It's nice to meet you Y/N... jimin’s lucky he has such a lovely companion for the evening. "

Was that a compliment? I was too cold and tired to acknowledge it as such. So I smiled vaguely, glancing at him. Our eyes clashed for a breathtaking moment and I felt like i'd been attacked. Yoongi had soul-searching eyes, his gaze so steady and searching that I felt like he could read the darkest corners of my mind. I swallowed my suddenly dry throat and fumbled for Jimin’s fingers gripping him close. I wanted to ground myself back to reality.

"Yoongi hyung never takes days off. He’s always busy producing something or the other.  " jimin said teasingly and i smiled weakly. 

Yoongi smiled faintly.

"No need to talk about work here, jimin -ah. Are you okay, Y?N? you look a little flushed...." He didn't look away, his scrutiny very serious and close as he continued to stare at my face. 

i could feel sweat begin to form on my hairline , despite the chill and jimin laughed.

"Yes, she's fine hyung...just nervous because she’s with two handsome men. "

Yoongi didn't reply, instead he reached over the table and snatched up my shawl, unfolding it again and stepping close before draping it over my shoulder. The warmth settled over me abruptly, pulling me out of my trance and making me blink. I finally stared up at him and realized semidetached that he was very handsome.

"You looked cold." He said softly.

jimin's arm around my waist tightened and I could feel him stiffen next to me. I nodded a little and Yoongi smiled .

“Feeling better?” He said kindly and i nodded mutely, too stunned. 

Jimin cleared his throat next to us. 

"You're still the thoughtful , good guy." He said absently.

Yoongi shrugged.

"Just perceptive. It's easy to recognize that a woman is uncomfortable." He said thoughtfully and I felt apprehension build up inside me.

With that he bowed and excused himself.

jimin didn't say another word for the rest of of the night. He was deep in thought and seemed to be genuinely disturbed by the encounter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 4b will be up tomorrow i need to finish editing it...ugh... I’m sorry... 

[coldphannie]

All The Dreams Of You

Summary: Dan gives Phil a device to record his dreams.  And they are quite the dreams.

Warnings: Mentions of smut but no actual description of it  Words: 1.5k Read on ao3

I’d like to thank my friend Claire @phloridas for proof-reading. Go check out her incredible fics!!

Inspired by PJ’s video “SNAKE OIL WITH DAN & PHIL” Title inspired by SALES - Talk A Lot.

For Christmas, Dan decided to gift Phil his very own DreamTrap. Phil came up with it in an old video, and, of course, someone made his dream a reality.

It was a personalised gift, one that Phil seemed to appreciate very much. Well, enough that they shared a brief hug.

That was it. Dan didn't hear anything of the DreamTrap in the weeks after he gave it, which wasn't enough for Dan. He wanted to know how well his gift was working. 

It led him to their desktop computer, which was set up with the DreamTrap's data. They decided it shouldn't have direct upload to YouTube, given it might ruin the carefully constructed style of content Phil had going on.

Dan had no doubts about opening the data, no caution in possibly finding something absurdly incriminating. He was very shocked to find out all of them were sex dreams.

In reality, they weren't all sex dreams, but that would be like searching for a needle in the hay. Dan wouldn't have the brain capacity to realise that, anyway, not with the stunning amount of sex dreams that involved him.

Phil was having sex dreams. About Dan.

Dan could feel his mouth go dry. It was like watching a horrific accident take place and not being able to look away. He was glad to be wearing headphones and not traumatising the neighbours, because it was also incredibly vivid-sounding. 

He couldn't stop looking, in particular, at himself behind the screen. It wasn't hard to miss how into it dream-Dan seemed to be.

A whole day later, Phil still had no idea Dan looked into his DreamTrap data.

Dan looked up from his bowl of cereal, getting soggier by the second, and asked, "How do you like the DreamTrap?"

Phil, sat on the other side of the couch as Dan, merely said, "It's good."

"That's good." It wasn't enough for Dan, he wanted to know if Phil would let on. He managed to catch Phil's eye. "Will you upload any to YouTube?"

Phil didn't show any major signs of reaction, but he did say, "I don't know about that," with a hint of urgency.

Dan, wanting to push a little more, faked innocence with a curious voice. "Why is that?"

"It's not very interesting, is all," Phil said, turning his gaze away.

Dan wanted to tell Phil he found his dreams very interesting, but that might be a bit too much for the both of them in that moment.

It was a shameful thing Dan liked to do, going back to the computer data and watching sex dreams about him and his best friend. He couldn't decide whether to feel flattered or disturbed. He kept coming back to it, which was explanatory in itself. 

He mentally chastised Phil on his lack of security. It occurred to him, maybe once, or twice, that he shouldn't watching the clips. He honestly couldn't peel his eyes away. There were some that were particularly steamy, and some that hit a little too close to home. 

That one had a much younger looking Dan, felt more like a memory than a dream. It made Dan frown from the emotions he didn't want to face. He noted how dream-Dan wore Phil's university sweater the entire time, the sentimental little shit.

It all stopped when one day, the files were deleted.

The DreamTrap was still connected. He checked the rubbish bin, maybe it was an accident, but it was spotless. Like someone wanted to get rid of something. 

Dan slept fitfully for a while after that, craving the intimacy he hadn't felt, or needed, until he saw those videos. He knew he had to take a risk.

**

He entered the hallway and bumped right into Phil walking past. 

"Oh." Phil clutched at his chest. "You scared me."

"Sorry about that," Dan choked out, a bit quieter than usual. He was starting to have second thoughts, worked up by the nerves chasing down his spine.

Phil studied Dan. "Is that my jumper?"

Dan released the breath he didn't know he was holding, wondering if Phil would ever notice. "Yeah. Is that a problem?"

"No." Phil gulped, and couldn't quite keep the strain out of his voice. "Just reminds me of a dream I had."

Dan knew exactly what dream he had, and as soon as Phil took the bait, he also knew he had to do something. He took a deep breath, and let out, more softly than he would've liked, "I know."

"What?" Phil stiffened, his voice dropping to barely a whisper. "You know?"

Dan looked up at him through his eyelashes, like he knew would get to him. "Yeah. I do."

Phil stared at him for a long time, a flurry of emotions running across his face, finally settling on deep pain. "I don't know what to say. I-I, gosh, I'm sorry?"

"Sorry for what?" Dan smiled cheekily. "Sorry that you had them or sorry that I saw?"

"I..." Phil started to withdraw, which caused a strike of fear within Dan. "You weren't supposed to see, oh god."

"Hey, now. It's okay." Dan tried to appease him, reaching an arm out. "I don't mind. It's kind of hot you see me that way."

"It's not that," Phil said, eyes welling up with emotion before he shook it off, shook off Dan's hand, and asked, "What did you just say?"

"It's kind of hot," he repeated, making himself look as appealing as he could – small, swallowed in Phil's university jumper, eyes wide and wanting.

"Dan. You should-" Phil's eyes raced around Dan's face, then down, down, and back up. "You should know what this is doing to me."

"Tell me what it's doing to you," Dan said, taking a step closer to Phil. "Show me what it's doing to you."

Phil sealed his mouth with a kiss, and led him into his bedroom.

**

It was weird because it didn't happen like Dan imagined, it didn't happen like the dreams. Phil held Dan carefully, prepared Dan gently, continued asking if he wanted to keep going, kept looking at Dan with a mix of intensity and fear. The whole time, Phil looked a bit afraid. He shut Dan up with a kiss when he'd try to mention it.

Afterwards, they cleaned themselves up with tissues and wet wipes. Dan sunk right into Phil's chest, breathing soundly. It was good. He'd like to do it again. But for now, he wanted to relax in close quarters with Phil.

He felt his eyes fluttering shut, pulling him into a lull of sleep from the lack of it he’d gotten lately and the contentment he felt in that moment.

"I don't have sex dreams about you because I'm just attracted to you, sexually, Dan," Phil said. "I have them because I'm in love with you. I can't help them."

It pulled Dan straight from the depths of sleep, smiling. "You love me?"

Phil looked surprised Dan was awake. He studied Dan for a moment, judged his calm reaction. The shine was building up in his eyes. He said, gently, "Yeah."

"It makes me really happy to hear that you love me." Dan ran his fingers over the skin of Phil's shoulder. He looked him in the eyes. "I'm not one hundred percent sure of myself, but I definitely like you a lot."

"That – That's good." Phil gave out a big sigh of relief, looking a little dazed. "That's really good. I'm not even here right now. My soul's gone on a vacation away from my body, I'm so glad."

Dan snorted. "And you left me behind? I want to go on that vacation too."

Phil was still looking at Dan like he wasn't real. "Are you sure this isn't a dream right now? This is too meta for me."

"I'm pretty sure I caught you earlier about to steal my cereal." Dan laughed when Phil gave a sheepish look. "I'm right, aren't I? Definitely not a dream."

"How would I know? Maybe my dreams have gotten hyper-realistic." 

"Absolutely not. I believe you made me cum three times in one of your dreams. That's entirely unrealistic."

Phil flushed. "Okay, then." He then said, "Well, if I tried-"

"No! I can't imagine. I think I'd turn into a soup of sweat." Dan winced. "You don't want to see that."

"Hmm, maybe not.” After a moment of laughing, and Dan making a half-offended face, he continued, “Just kidding. I think I’d want to see you in any way.” He smiled like he knew how cheesy it was.

Dan gave a groan, peering down at Phil like he didn't totally love it. "We're not gonna be one of those disgusting couples, are we?"

Phil looked entirely too happy, and said, "We might. I'll show you off to my family."

Dan collapsed into his chest, huffing. "Fine. As long as you keep doing that thing you did earlier." He blushed just thinking about it.

"You really liked that, didn't you?" Phil sounded amused, brushing his fingers down Dan's back. "And I will."

Dan smiled, overcome with warmth. He felt so comfortable in that moment, happy where things with him and Phil were going, opening up a far range of possibilities. His mind was beginning to cloud. He curled into Phil's side, yawning. "Sleep now."

"Okay." Phil shifted his grip around Dan, breath tickling his hair. "Sweet dreams."

[kyvir]

will you do a modern flowershop au where either sasu/saku works at the shop, and the other goes there to look for flowers, please? but they actually go to the shop to see the other? 🌸

Thanks for the request! This was a cute idea and I hope you like my version of this. :)

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Sweet Summertime-

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It was on a nice warm Summer day, the skies were blue and the wind flowing made it comfortable outside, or at least Sakura Haruno thought so as she made her was through town. She was wearing a white sundress. She loved dresses, they were cool in the summer time and girly enough to where she felt cute when wearing them. And today, she wanted to look cute.

She’d had to come to town for some shopping, and any time she was in town, there was a certain stop she just had to make. Though originally, she stopped because of her love of flowers- she always had to have something beautiful living up her home, but it didn’t take long for her to start going for an entire other reason, just to get a look at that flower shop’s owner.

Today she had a special reason for stopping by. It was his birthday. Sometimes when she’d stop in, they’d chat a bit, which was nice, though Sakura would have preferred more than that. Last week he’d told her his birthday was coming up, she’d asked when and he’d told her. When she asked what he’d had planned, he claimed he’d still be running the shop- that he wasn’t into celebrating. So, her shopping today had been only to find him a little something to thank him for running a shop that was so special to her.

The shop came into view as she was thinking over all their past interactions, which didn’t consist of much, but it was a lot to her. Sakura had been so busy with her life that she never took the time to date, but she couldn’t help her interest in this man. He’d caught her eye from the very first day she’d stepped foot in that flower shop, he was knowledgeable about his work and Sakura enjoying listening to him talk, so she’d ask any questions she could come up with, and she always ended up lingering for far longer than necessary, just to be around him.

She entered the shop, only vaguely aware of the bell chiming when she walked through the door, for she was already looking for him. She didn’t see him immediately, but she knew he’d be there. He was the only one who worked his shop. He’d told her before that it was a passion of his, and he didn’t really need extra help, so he ran it all alone. Though sometimes, his brother’s daughter would be there with him, however only being six, there wasn’t much she could do other than keep him occupied.

A couple steps inside and he appeared from the back of the shop, obviously hearing the bell from her entering. “Sakura.” He greeted her with a smile, but it was the briefest of smiles.

“Hello, Sasuke.” She smiled back.

They’d been on a first name basis for over a year and Sakura appreciated that. There was no other place she adored, like she did his flower shop. She admired him for a moment too long, yet too short for her. He was a stunning man, with perfect pale skin, a strong jaw and high cheekbones. He had the most beautiful, dark eyes and his raven hair was always in a perfect mess. She was sure he woke up just as perfect as he was.

“Welcome.” He said, disturbing her thoughts and she blushed before averting her eyes quickly. “What are you looking for today?”

“Not sure yet.” She told him, while taking a look around and walking to the table closest to her. Sometimes he’d help her make a special arrangement, and he was so good at it that it always surprised her, even after all this time.

He came from behind the counter to join her, making her all too aware of his presence. He smelled good. A mixture of cologne and flowers. It was a beautiful scent; one Sakura had grown to love. She inhaled deeply while staring at the flowers, though she wasn’t really seeing them.

“Well, if there’s nothing you have in mind, I have something I think you’ll like.”

“Oh?” She asked, turning to face him with interest. He was a few inches taller than her so she had to look up to meet those deep, black pools that were his eyes. Being this close to him sent a thrill through her that she just couldn’t ignore.

She couldn’t deny that she’d had a ridiculous crush on him since day one. It had been a couple years since then, but Sasuke had never made her feel as if he had any interest in her outside of her being his best customer.

“Yes, give me a moment.” He said before walking off. She watched him go behind the counter and into the back and with a sigh, she went to the counter to wait for him.

Sasuke was back a moment later, carrying the most beautiful arrangement she’d ever laid eyes on. And she’d seen many. Her eyes lit up as he sat the arrangement on the counter, it was already in a vase which she thought unusual, but she was too focused on the beauty of the arrangement to think much of it. Her hand automatically went up to touch one of the soft pink roses, they really caught her eye, though the whole piece was fascinating.

“I just made this, early this morning. It seemed perfect for the day. Clear blue skies, a cool breeze to make the summer heat bearable. I know you usually prefer the pinker roses, but these peach roses are nice too. The white daisy poms added a nice touch, and they contrast well together. Both representing a bright and sunny summer day. The blue delphiniums will remind you of the clear blue sky, the lime green carnations of the lifeful grass beneath your feet on the outside. The white monte casino and salal tips only add to the beauty this arrangement already is.”

Sakura was mesmerized by his words, and mostly by the man himself and she didn’t miss the fact that his eyes never left her during his whole explanation. She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry as she met those obsidian eyes. She couldn’t help but look away, flustered that he could make her feel so much, with so little effort. No man had ever made her feel like he did. Ever.

“It’s gorgeous.” She murmured, though her thoughts were distracting her.

She was disappointed. Though she never really thought about it, she supposed she did keep coming to his flower shop time and time again, not only for the flowers, but in hopes that someday, something could blossom between them. But, would he ever take that leap? Did he have any interest in her at all? She didn’t know, but the majority of her believed he wasn’t interested. He had to know she was single, what with her buying flowers for herself every week, but he’d never asked. He’d never asked her anything aside from how her day was, or what kind of flowers she was in the mood for. She found herself pouting as she mulled over her thoughts.

It would be best if she just forgot about him. He obviously didn’t want to date, or at least… he didn’t want to date her.

“Well, I just had this feeling… that you’d be coming by today. I figured you wouldn’t know what you wanted, because you usually take my suggestions instead. So, I made this, hoping you’d like it.”

Heart skipping several beats, Sakura looked to him in surprise. Her pink lips parted as she stared at him with wide green eyes. Did he mean he was… thinking about her? He actually put this arrangement together, with her in mind? She couldn’t believe it. Her hope was suddenly brought back to life as she watched him, watching her. She had no idea how to respond to that.

“I love it.” She finally managed after what seemed like a lifetime. A deep rose color took to her cheeks as she turned away from him to look at the flowers instead. She was sure he thought she was some kind of idiot. “Um thank you… for doing this.”

It meant more to her than he would ever know.

“You’re welcome, Sakura.”

Sakura shivered at the way her name rolled off his tongue. She loved that voice, but there was something special about the way he spoke her name. But it could have been just her infatuation with him. She was sure she’d never get over this crush, because it felt like so much more than that.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” She muttered shyly as she searched through her purse and pulled out the small giftwrapped box. It wasn’t much, but she thought of him the moment she saw it, and to her, it was the perfect gift. She handed over the box, admiring the shiny black wrapping and silver bow on top. It was embarrassing to give it to him, but she had to do it. It was her way of thanking him for always being kind to her. “Happy birthday.”

He took the box hesitantly and she was sure he noticed the way she blushed so deeply. She could even feel the tips of her ears burning, it only worsened when their hands brushed each other’s.

“You remembered.” He chuckled lightly as he briefly looked over the box before looking to her again. His eyes were warm and soft then. “Thank you, but you shouldn’t have gone through the trouble of getting me anything.”

Sakura shook her head quickly. “No, I wanted to. Really.” She waved him off. Her mouth fell open when he immediately went to unwrap the gift. “Um… You’re going to open it now?” She was so embarrassed she didn’t know what to do with herself.

With a smirk and eyes that were all too knowing, he nodded. “Of course. Shouldn’t I open it while you’re still here?”

Sakura shrugged, shifting her feet nervously. She’d rather him open it when she wasn’t around, just in case he didn’t like it. “Well, if you want… I suppose.”

She watched anxiously as he took his time unwrapping the box. Her heart stopped when the paper was set aside revealing nothing but the black box beneath it. There was no hesitation then as he opened the box right up and gazed inside. Sakura held her breath, watching him for his reaction as he pulled the small keychain out from the box. It really wasn’t much, but when she saw it, when she took in the woodsy look of it, and how much variety there was, all the wildflowers, the sun, the earth- everything about it was Sasuke to her. When she saw it, he was the only thing she thought about.

The way those dark eyes of his lit up told her she was right, it really was perfect.

“I know it’s not much, but I thought-”

“It’s perfect.” He cut her off, his words making her swoon. Did he really like it that much? “Thank you, Sakura. This means a lot to me.”

“R-really?” She couldn’t believe it. But she was so happy, ecstatic even. She smiled brightly at him then. “I’m so glad you like it!”

He smiled back, his eyes returning to the keychain as his thumb traced over its edges. Sakura couldn’t help thinking that he appeared truly moved by her small gesture. It wasn’t expensive, it wasn’t the best gift, but Sasuke looked at it as if it was something he’d cherish forever, and that in turn, touched her in a way nothing else ever had. She was so glad she’d gotten that gift.

“Well… I guess I should be going.” Sakura told him, feeling a high unlike any she’d ever experienced before. She didn’t want to hang around and embarrass herself any further.

“Oh?” Sasuke frowned from across the counter, his eyes meeting hers once more. “Do you have plans?”

“What?” She blushed. “No, of course not.” She admitted to quickly for her liking and inwardly scolded herself. It might have been true that she had no life, but she could have played that off much better. “I mean… I don’t want to get in the way of your work or anything, and I was just going to head home… and put my flowers out.”

He was smirking now, and Sakura wasn’t sure what to make of that look, but she knew she liked it. “Well it’s not like business is booming today. Wednesdays are always slow. If you aren’t doing anything, maybe we could go out to lunch… or something.”

Did he just… Did Sasuke actually… Was he asking her on a date? Flabbergasted, Sakura could do nothing but gawk at him. She was sure she was dreaming now, there was no way he’d ever suggested such a thing. Biting her lip, she looked down at the counter, away from those dark eyes that she was certain could read her like an open book.

“Are you going to turn me down?” He asked, sounding amused.

Sakura was excited, anxious and confused so she didn’t know what to say and she just knew somehow, she would screw this up. “No. Actually,” She swallowed hard, willing herself to calm down. “I’d love that.”

“Hn. Good.” He smirked again and took her flowers and disappeared into the back of the store. He came back without the arrangement. “I put them back in the cooler. They’ll stay fresher that way.” He told her in explanation as he walked around the counter and came to stand before her.

She had nothing to say, and she couldn’t move or even breathe for that matter as she stared at him in awe, mind unable to grasp the fact that he really did ask her to go to lunch with him. When he offered her his hand and she took it, she finally smiled, relishing in the moment. She knew that this could have definitely been the start of something extraordinary, and she’d been waiting her whole life for it.

“Let’s go.” He said, smiling slyly at her.

“It’s about time.” She whispered back as they left his flower shop, and for the first time took to an entire different experience between them.

Sakura was happy, and she was so, so glad Sasuke had opened that flower shop. She felt sure she’d be spending even more time there in the days to come.