#like there was certainly a vision there but. oh BOY was it not delivered right

[runningatypufullspeed]

I have promised, and so you shall receive….

WOULD YOU GUYS LIKE TO SEE MY FUGLY UGLY ASS ALLEGORY OF THE CAVE X FAHRENHEIT 451 CROSSOVER DRAWING THAT I WAS FORCED TO DO FOR SCHOOL….. ITS SO UGLY AND MONTAG IS

WHITE.

AND THE HOUNDS ARE DISGUSTING THE COLORING IS SO SHITTY AND MILDRED …. Well ok she looks alright kindof but the drawing….. SKETCH WAS BETTER but do you guys. Do you still want to see it…….,,,,,,

ALSO NO OFFENSE TO WHITE PEOPLE PLEASE I LOVE YOU GUYS 🫶😁👍 within reason

[rizsu]

cashier's revenge gojo satoru.

sum. annoying ex!gojo gets his lick back. not beta read !

satoru's existence itself is a warning. is it a harzardous warning? not quite, but it's also not a good one. at this very moment, at this very precised second, gojo satoru is contemplating the consequences of clocking out of work before his shift is up. in his eyes, if it's executed properly, it can work. the only downside would be the possibility of getting fired.

he cannot afford such a tragedy. being a man in today's day and age comes at an expensive cost. one day satoru promises to find AND deliver punishment to whoever created the "men are the breadwinners." motion. he suffers from society's insane capitalism and boy might he just dive into hell. head first, even. perhaps even toes first, if he's feeling special.

satoru's current employment stems from two reasons. not one, not three, but two:

1. his urge to prove that he can be better off without you.

2. getō suguru, someone's that's just as bad as he is, told him he had the chance to do the funniest thing ever.

now, don't mistake him! gojo satoru is not easily influenced ( he is. ) he knows right from wrong ( sometimes. )

prior to him signing up as a cashier, your break-up was mutual. he agreed to let you go and you agreed that you weren't committed to being in a full relationship yet. on his vision, he hated that he had to let you go; his attachment grew and he couldn't go two days without bothering you.

it would've disgusted satoru if he made you stay with him but god he wished you would've done so.

bored and bothered, satoru fiddles with his fingers, unable to find entertainment elsewhere due to his phone's low battery warning.

"if no one enters in the next five minutes maybe i can — fuck," feeling his right eye twitch, satoru exhales a deep sigh. not only did someone enter but that unlucky customer happened to be you, y/n l/n.

his eyes following your body, praying that you magically decided to no longer buy anything. unfortunately for him, he cannot get everything he wants in life. watching you make your way to his position, he chants a line of curses before going into automatic-customer-service mode.

"hi," satoru begins, forcing his sunshine-like smile, "what would you have today? any menu specials?"

"hello! i'd like to have a — oh my god it's you.." stopping mid-sentence, you clutch the strap of your handbag. the odds weren't one hundred but they definitely weren't zero.

'am i a curse or what?' gojo thinks. your expressions most certainly didn't bypass his radar. setting his offense aside, he continues, "i'm sorry, we don't have an "oh my god it's you" on the menu!"

"sorry, i'll have the daily special," counting the money needed, you wait for him to finish his cashier duties.

"that'll be ten dollars and ninety-nine cents," satoru says, raising his hand to collect the money. for some rather peculiar reason, it seems as though a twenty dollar bill is stuck on its owner's hand.

"miss, please let go of the bill."

"whatever do you mean?"

scoffing, satoru yanks the bill out of your hand. he watches as you twist your face into disgust and shake your hand off. he's sorry, really, but he has to put himself first at times.

—

although satoru was set on escaping early, he now has a reason to stay longer. going out of his way to deliver your meal, satoru sits in front of you. he has the plot and the platform.

"here's your meal, bill, and change," sliding everything to you, he sits with folded arms. this position means business. formal business.

"thank you — but what are you doing there?" you question him, squinting your eyes at his choice of movement.

"don't question me. how have you been though?"

pulling out your fries, you tilt them to his direction, offering them to him. "i've been wonderful, you?"

"my life has been fine. i've recovered ever since you broke up with me," taking a single fry, he shakes his head as he munches.

"that's crazy but why're you even here?" you couldn't contain your curiosity.

"ever since you broke my heart, i needed to get my life back." gojo takes two fries this time, munching them in sadness.

"ah, i see." you reply.

"it's amazing that you can see ever since you broke up with—"

"do NOT finish that sentence." glaring at satoru, you shut down his pity party. whatever he has going on needs to stop.

"you stop me from doing stuff the same way you stopped my heart ever since you —" satoru tries to finish but was met with a burger being shoved in his mouth.

smiling to himself, he compliments himself as he managed to annoy you. satoru can only thank the gods that you don't despise him. even if you do then that's a problem for someone else.

on your side, you're regretting handing over your burger to him. you were sure that breaking up with him will cause a broken heart but it seems like someone's doing fine. taking a sip from your drink, you look at satoru who's happily eating your food. 'he looks cute' you think.

"satoru," you speak up, redirecting his attention from the burger and onto you.

"hm?" he hums, wiping away the sauces on his face.

inhaling a deep breath, you mentally prepare before asking him, "wanna come over tonight?"

satoru's mouth shaped like an 'O', he thinks for a while before agreeing, "i'd love to — especially after you broke up with me."

"i swear i will kill you, satoru."

[tepkunset]

Rating all* the Hellfire Gala 2023 Outfits in my Correct Opinion

*At least, all that I can find, because Marvel decided fuck making that easy in a little book or a single post like last year.

(Long post alert!)

Iceman, I love most of this look. The accented orange is perfect for the mostly blue look, and I love that he has a matching earring for his cuff-links. Such a nice touch! But those rubber boots, man... those rubber boots ruin it for me. 8/10

Fisk is giving off some Doctor Doom vibes with this outfit. I love the regalness of it, especially the golden leaves behind the ear. 9/10

??? I'm not sure who this is, but their outfit looks like they're going to a Halloween party rather than a gala. 3/10

Emma, oh my god, YES. Almost always delivering, and this is definitely one of those cases! 10/10

Xavier... I hate to say it, but I genuinely love this look. He's bringing major space man vibes, and it's super elegant at the same time. 9/10

Bishop doesn't even get points for effort. He got a red suit then slapped some belts on it. Boring as fuck. 1/10

I was about to write another "???" because I had no idea who this was, until it occurred to me that I think this is supposed to be Scarlet Witch? Except she is super duper whitewashed, so I did not even recognize her. Auto-failure regardless of the look. 0/10

Proteus looks moderately snazzy, but out of the Five is the least interesting in my opinion. 3/10

Egg has a cool coat, but those balls around his neck are way too big and awkward. 4/10

Hope looks a little like a fairy princess here, and I like that! 7/10

Tempus looks like she's going to a prom more than a gala, and I don't know what's going on with that giant shoulder piece. Did Cable lend it to her or something? 4/10

Elixir, my golden boy, is embracing the shiny and I love it! 9/10

Exodus seems to be trying out a new costume rather than a gala look, but in terms of style, it's fine. 5/10

Vision's outfit is as boring as he is. 1/10

Miles, holy shit. Miles should be giving lessons to everyone else on how to actually make a suit look unique! Bishop, take notes. 9/10

Old Laura looks like she's dressed for a gothic funeral more than a gala, but at least that's to her style rather than some crazy OOC look. So, points for that. 5/10

T'Challa... I. Am. Swooning. I know he's not a king right now but damn does he ever look like it in this outfit. The beautiful patterns and complimentary colours, holy shit. 10/10

Synch has certainly done way better in the past. It's just a plain black suit without a shirt, for fuck sake. 2/10

Captain Marvel looks like she's a marching bad, lol. The stars in the hair are a nice touch, though. 3/10

Jean's look is, I know, divisive. I've seen some people say they adore this design, and some people say they hate it. I'm personally on the fence. I think it would be better without the stupid helmet, that's for sure. And I think it looks a little too much like an Emma Frost design, if you were to just colour it white. 5/10

Fantomex? Where the fuck have you been? Anyway, he literally just looks like he always looks but with some sunglasses lmfao. 0/10

Dylan looks like a moody teen as ever, lol. I do like the black and white though. 6/10

Black Cat... Like I said, I like black and white together, but this is giving me too much Cruella de Vil vibes. 4/10

Mary Jane just picked up an evening gown off the rack I guess. 2/10

Firestar, I think? Not actually positive if it's her. Anyway, the sleeves are a bit too much for me, but I love the fiery frills on the cape. 5/10

Thor looks so ugly here lmfao I'm sorry but I hate this look. It's way too clunky. 0/10

At first I thought this was Kwannon, but then I remembered seeing panels and I believe it's Kitty/Kate. Anyway, I like the lace-up boots and I like the frills. 7/10

Hellcat looks like she's took some inspiration from a wrestler's pre-fight look, and I like that. It's simplistic but just enough stylish to pass. 6/10

Nova, going with a tits out look as well I see. I like the feathered shoulder pads, and I like the skirt. 6/10

Moon Knight, oh my god, I have a strong feeling it was Steven who pulled the strings to get a gala look, because there's no fucking way Marc or Jake would be caught dead there. Anyway, this is exactly the type of vibe I would expect from MK, maybe even a bit more playful than that with the mesh part of the top. And I really like it up until the strange boots. He and Iceman must've compared notes or something. Still, 8/10

Psylocke - now THIS is Kwannon for sure! I like the classical ninja meets evening gown look, and I like that she's sexy but not to the point of being objectified, which is a refreshing change for how artists often treat her. 8/10

Destiny and Mystique I will rate together because the score is the same: A what the fuck level of 0/10.

Forge looks fucking awesome, especially compared to last year. I love the fringe and the scarf and the jewellery and the cane... it's a complete look that gives me great vibes. 8/10

Cyclops, come on, man. You can do better than this, can't you? He looks like Mister Sinister dressed him or something. 1/10

Cuckoos look like they stepped off the set of Tron: Legacy. Or a Daft Punk concert. Not complaining to be clear, this look fucks. 10/10

[dkniade]

Mondstadt Songwriter AU stuff

Inspired by @koriyue’s website mock-up of the boy-band 5wirl’s first album “With The Wind” here

some interactions and concepts I’ve had a while back

Diluc, Venti (ft. Jean), Kaeya (ft. Rosaria), Albedo

(Basic profiles + albums track names at the end. See if you can spot the symbolisms and parallels in the albums…?👀)

Metal musician “Noctua” Diluc trying to find a sound engineer

Noctua: Are the recordings alright?

Jean: Mr. Diluc, with all due respect, I don’t think I can handle even ten seconds of the first track. The genre is… rather intense for me.

Noctua: I see… Thank you for telling me. I apologize for not knowing before.

Jean: Please don’t worry about it. You and I have different styles, after all. Oh, but if you’re looking for sound engineers that work with diverse genres, I’d recommend Bar— Er, Venti.

[later]

Venti: So, you’re the metalhead Noctua that Jean told me about, huh~? I’ll be honest. I couldn’t tell at first. You need a sound engineer?

Noctua: …And you look like you’ve only mixed pop tracks.

Venti: Hehe, you don’t know who I am, do you? I know every song from the past and present, and the ones that have yet to be released!

Noctua: How—

Venti: You could say I’m the god of songs, ehe! Trust me, Noctua. Your tracks will be in good hands with me. Or if you don’t believe me, you can take a listen to DarkRose’s metal album that I’ve worked on?

Noctua: “DarkRose”?

Venti: Doesn’t ring a bell? Maybe the name “Rosaria” would sound more familiar? She doesn’t think I should call myself the “god of songs” but even she came to me for her album.

Noctua: So the musician that Oculus has made friends with is Rosaria…

Venti: Oho? You know Oculus?

Noctua: Nevermind about that. It’s in the past now. So are you available to mix my album?

Venti: I’ll make your vision a reality! Now, tell me more about this album of yours…

Feb 17, 2023.

“Oculus” Kaeya Hides His Album from Venti and Works with Albedo

Venti: A certain Noctua has asked me to master his new album… But I’m a little tight on Mora lately. Say, aren’t you also touching up yours, Mr. Alberich? I can do yours afterwards~

Kaeya: Haha, I appreciate your offer. You’re certainly a talented engineer, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.

Venti: Oho? It’s not like you to be so formal. And around your drinking buddy? What’s your album called?

Kaeya: Death After Noon, simply for the taste of it. Anyway, I’ve got some guesses of what Diluc’s album might be about. You must have your hands full with a… fiery style like his, no?

Venti: I’m flexible with genre.

Kaeya: Genre isn’t the problem here.

[beat]

Venti: Is there something in the lyrics you don’t want me to know?

[Kaeya recalls how he has cried on vocal takes because the lyrics are too personal and it’s his first time putting these emotions into a song.]

Kaeya: Me? Secretive lyrics? Come now, I haven’t gone through that much.

Venti: You’ve got good taste, naming it after such a delicious alcohol.

Kaeya: Why thank you~

[later that day]

Kaeya: Kreideprinz—

Albedo: Simply Albedo is fine. Would you like to hear how the mix is—

Kaeya: Make it clear to Venti that I don’t want him to handle my album. I already have you for that role, after all.

Albedo: Is that not obvious to him?

Kaeya: Well, he’s quite the persistent one. Venti’s fame as an audio engineer… is dangerous for these tracks.

Albedo: You… do understand that once the album is released, he will have access to it like everyone else?

Kaeya: Albedo, think of it this way. He’s an engineer and a poet. How long do you think it’ll take him to decipher the symbolisms in the track titles alone?

Albedo: Symbolism and literary devices are not within my field of study, but I imagine Venti would have little difficulty with them.

Kaeya: Right, so you get it.

Albedo: Are you uncomfortable with the idea?

Kaeya: …

Albedo: Forgive me. I won’t pry any further.

Kaeya: Best of luck on the mix.

Albedo: Relax. Have faith in my abilities as an engineer. You have delivered your emotions; the final product’s quality will not undermine them.

Venti, an audio engineer: I know every song from the past and present, and the ones that have yet to be released!

I guess you can even call me… the 🍃God of Music🍃, ehe

Diluc, metal guitarist & songwriter:

Rosaria, also metal songwriter, who Venti has mixed for: He’s not lying this time

🦚

“Oculus” / Kaeya (jazz & funk guitarist & songwriter)

produces groovy tracks with smooth vocals

often puts symbolism in titles

lyrics seem to have lots of hidden subtext that nearly noone can understand

I’m not sure what his fashion sense would be

Used to be part of a pop unit “burning-ii” with Diluc until a certain argument

🔥

“Noctua” / Diluc (metal guitarist & songwriter)

produces heavy tracks with surprisingly classy vocals

No who am I kidding. He’d absolutely go all out: high-tension vocals, growls if he feels like it. Energy matches his music. The idea is: power.

(Kinda like the whole Diluc/Darknight Hero persona. Calm and professional as “Diluc”, aggressive and unrestrained as “Noctua”)

titles almost always have something to do with birds and flames and dawn

lyrics are so straightforward you could read him like an open book

formal and reserved fashion sense despite his works’ aesthetic

Used to be part of a pop unit “burning-ii” with Kaeya until a certain argument

🥀

“DarkRose” / Rosaria (metal songwriter)

Good friends with Oculus

vocals are cool/chilling/low & smooth-sounding but it’s part of her charm (something like MEMAI SIREN’s vocalist, whose voice I love very much <3)

It balances well with the heavy instrumental

Flowing black clothing with some small spikes and chains here and there

🍃

Venti (audio engineer & poet)

famous audio engineer who claims to be the “God of Songs”

Very flexible with genres despite the indie-pop musician appearance

Comfortable outfit of pastel greens, beige, and browns, lots of charms here and there

Also a poet but does it as a side thing

💫

“Kreideprinz” / Albedo (audio engineer, graphic designer & illustrator)

more well-known for his visual works than audio works (despite the former being a side job and the latter being more high-quality)

Does not care for fame and simply enjoys the mediums

became an audio engineer because he likes the technical aspect of bringing the tracks together in harmony

black and white with gold accents, basically his canon outfit but a bit more techwear-like style

Diluc Ragnvindr & Kaeya Alberich, aka “burning-ii” — pop

1st Single: Together With Our Hands

Vocals/Lyrics: Diluc Ragnvindr, Kaeya Alberich

Music: Diluc Ragnvindr, Crepus Ragnvindr

Arrangement: Crepus Ragnvindr

Mixing/Mastering: Adelinde

Visuals: Kaeya Alberich, Crepus Ragnvindr

1st Album: Dear Winds on High

Vocals/Lyrics/Music: Diluc Ragnvindr, Kaeya Alberich

Arrangement: Diluc Ragnvindr, Venti

Mixing/Mastering: Crepus Ragnvindr

Visuals: Kaeya Alberich

2nd Album: Mondstadt KNights

Vocals/Lyrics/Music: Diluc Ragnvindr, Kaeya Alberich

Arrangement: Kaeya Alberich, Venti

Mixing/Mastering: Jean Gunnhildr

Visuals: Kreideprinz, Kaeya Alberich

Kaeya Alberich, aka “Oculus” — jazz & funk

Debut Album: Death After Noon

Vocals/Lyrics/Music/Arrangement: Oculus

Mixing/Mastering/Visuals: Kreideprinz

1. Confidante

2. A Million Reflections

3. Death After Noon

4. Treasure Hoarders (Such As I)

5. Crystal Steps

6. The Only Checkmate

7. Angel’s Share, Not Mine

8. The Knight, the Pawn, the Uncrowned King

9. Arctic Abyss

10. The Peacock Tail’s the Start of It All

11. Grape Juice, So Unromantic

12. If Only I Could Right My Wrongs

Diluc Ragnvindr, aka “Noctua” — heavy metal

Debut Album: Burning Dawn

Vocals/Lyrics/Music/Arrangement: Noctua

Mixing/Mastering: Venti

Visuals: Albedo

1. Justice

2. In Spite of the Night

3. Burning Dawn

4. Mortem Crepus

5. Always So Inefficient

6. Flying Embers in the Rain

7. Delusional Vision

8. Abyssal Intel

9. Falcon’s Return

10. Phoenix Reborn

11. Wind God, Always

12. With These Hands of Mine

Somehow, the track names imply that either Kaeya and Diluc really like mythology and metaphors, or wind gods and the abyss order still exists… in this modern AU- Don’t think too hard about it haha

[redrobin-detective]

because I could not stop for death

because I could not stop for death / he kindly stopped for me / the carriage held but just ourselves / and immortality ~ Emily Dickinson

Danny Fenton was dying, properly this time.

Somehow, in the back of his head and in his worst nightmares, he knew it would end this way: bleeding on the floor of his parents’ lab where it had all began. He was so hot he felt like his skin was on fire, blood and ectoplasm were dripping all over him and his lungs and heart were working overtime to try in vain to keep him alive a moment longer. He’d imagined at the time that there would be more screaming but death, in the end, was turning out to be a quiet little affair. A lonely table set for one.

“Danny, Danny come on, you-you gotta slow down your breathing, just relax, for me, please,” Sam moaned, more than making up for his lack of noise. She was shaking and touching him all over, his chest, his face, his hair. Normally she jumped right into action but she had to know, deep down, that there was nothing she could do. All that was left was to watch her panic and cry, it wasn’t his favorite image. 

“Vlad!” He heard Tucker scream cry into the phone, “please it’s Tucker, Danny’s dying I think. The Fentons had some new invention, something about his core, please we don’t know what to do!” 

Ugh Vlad, he was probably going to be so happy Danny was on his way out. He wasn’t looking much forward to his last images being his archenemy gloating. Tucker hung up and reached down to grasp Danny’s hand so hard it hurt. “Don’t worry dude, Vlad’s coming. He knows so much about you half ghosts that you’ll be fixed up on no time.” Right, Danny was already dead. If calling Vlad, feeling like he did something, helped Tucker move on then he’d deal with it.

Danny tilted his head to the side where Sam’s fingernails were carding through his hair. It was getting harder to see with the blood pouring out of his eyes but he looked at her, and tried to memorize her face. He’d never been able to tell her how much he loved her, that any day spent with her was a blessing. Tucker too, his best bro and a part of his soul. His best friends in the whole wide world, through thick and thin. God, he was going to miss them.

“Glurk,” he said, trying to convey those feeling but the fluids in his mouth and airway made it impossible. “Blerh.”

“Shh shh shh,” Sam soothed, “it’s okay, don’t try to talk.”

“Daniel!” He heard Vlad’s voice shriek as he materialized in front of the portal. Sam and Tucker were violently pushed out the way. Danny wanted to be angry at his loved ones being taken away in his final moments but anger was for the living, he barely had the energy to breathe. This death was too long and too short all at once. He made eye contact with Vlad who all at once lost the frantic edge to his tone and and instead knelt on the floor. “Oh my dear boy. What did they do to you?”

“What is going on?�� Sam demanded, shoving her way back in. Danny was glad, he could see again like this. “Why aren’t you doing something!”

“There’s nothing to be done,” Vlad said in a flat, monotone, he picked up one of Danny’s hands and patted it gently. “His core is dying, it’s like a ghost’s heart. It contains their very essence, it is from which everything they are comes from. If Jack and Maddie somehow disrupted it then there’s nothing anyone can do to save him.”

“But he’s human too,” Tucker defended, grabbing Danny’s other hand. His human warm skin burned but the contact felt so good, he twitched his fingers closer to his friend’s. “He-he doesn’t need a core, he’s already got a heart. So, so he doesn’t have powers, we can do normal again.”

“You-” Vlad hissed before taking a calming breath. “The accident that made Daniel like this irreparably altered him. His core was as much a part of keeping him alive as his other organs, without it, his body is shutting down.” Vlad turned down to look Danny in the eye and saw true, genuine grief in those hateful red eyes. 

“I cannot imagine the agony you are going through, I’m so sorry. I’d say it will be over soon but,” a hitch that sounded almost like a sob if it was coming from anyone other than Vlad. “But you’ve hovered on the edge of death for years, son, and you’ve always been such a fighter. You have minutes at most but those minutes are an eternity when you’re suffering.”

Sam and Tucker’s sobbing blended together in the background, Vlad was saying something with a miserable, stunned expression. The swirling of the portal in the background seemed louder than anything, louder than his heart beat pounding and pounding as it ran it’s last race. 

“Daniel, Danny,” he focused his eyes back on Vlad who had a stubborn, unhappy set to his brow. “Do you want me to make the pain stop? An ectoblast to your chest will end your life instantly.”

“Don’t you dare touch him,” Sam shrieked, coming back into view and looking like she was trying to fight Vlad off. “You do anything to him and I’ll kill you!” Tucker just sat and stared at him, like he too was trying memorize Danny’s face.

“It’s a mercy, Samantha or do you want his last moments on earth to be drowning on the blood in his lungs.”

“Sam, he has a point. I don’t- I don’t think we can fix this.”

“No! No we always fix things, I’ll do it myself if I have to!”

Danny’s vision was starting to go, more black than anything else. He closed his eyes and readied himself for the inevitable. 

“Time Out,” Danny opened his eyes and found he was no longer in pain. He was standing up and apart from where he’d previously been lying. Sam had her hands in Vlad’s face and the older hybrid was snarling something at her. Tucker was midmotion trying to stand up, presumably to get Sam but the three of them were frozen in the moment. Danny turned and found Clockwork floating, looking very out of place in his parents lab. “Good evening, Danny.”

“You that short on cash that you work part time as a grim reaper?” Danny quipped out of habit. He looked down at his body and grimaced a bit, that wasn’t a pretty sight. No doubt traumatizing for Tucker and Sam. God how were they going to explain this to his parents? “Gonna ferry me across the River Styx? I don’t have two pennies but I think I have a bloodied $10 on me.”

“You’re core is dying and you have 17 seconds left in this world before all your organs give out and finish the process you began when you turned on your parent’s ghost portal,” Clockwork explained as he changed into child form. 

“O-okay,” Danny said shakily, trying to be brave even when he was so, so scared. He was going out whether he wanted it or not but he refused to leave crying. “Nice of you to come say goodbye then but, uh but unless you have something to say then you should let me go back. No one knows better than me that you can’t outrun death. Thanks but I’m uh I’m ready.”

Clockwork stared at him for a bit, not sure how long, time was weird like this but he changed forms a few times. “You’re quite the remarkable young man, Danny Fenton.”

“Uh thanks,” Danny added, once more looking at his body which had, according to Clockwork, a 17 second expiration date. “What’s going to happen? Am I going to become a ghost? Does heaven or hell exist for someone like me?”

“I don’t get to decide what happens, I merely see options,” Clockwork stated easily, taking his time. “If you die naturally you’ll become ghost, a mere shadow of who you are now and one who would fade fairly quickly. You don’t have strong enough anger or regrets to tie you in the real world for long.” Not great but okay he supposed, hell for his friends and family though. “You could let Plasmius deliver his mercy kill, destroying what’s left of your ghost core and ensuring you do not come back.” Better, probably won’t help the Fruitloop’s instability but he can’t save everyone.

“That one comes with it’s own caveat but I’ll get to that in a moment,” Clockwork explained. “There is a third option where you get up off the floor and walk away.” Danny blinked then looked back at his body which certainly wasn’t walking anywhere but into a plush casket. Clockwork opened his hands and the Ghost King’s Crown materialized in his hands. “If you accept your claim to the King’s Cown, it will revitalize your core and your life would be saved.”

Danny blinked.

“By sealing Pariah Dark, you won by proxy and established a legitimate claim to the throne. The Zone has been without a king for millennia, most have forgotten the old rules. Those who remembered were not too keen on a half-ghost child assuming leadership and kept you in the dark. If Plasmius ends your life then your claim transfers over to him, which he is aware of. It had been his plan all along to trick you into defeating Pariah so he could steal the Crown from you at a later date, a much easier opponent.”

Danny’s mind was overloaded with information, he didn’t know what to focus on first. He stared at his 17 seconds from death face and tried to process it all. Crown? Claim? Vlad?

“Of course,” Clockwork tutted, “he didn’t plan on your dying and in such a gruesome fashion. If he kills you and takes your claim, he would spend his remaining years ruling the Ghost Zone in a just, controlled fashion for your memory. He destroys all the stable portals and keeps the ghost and human worlds separate.” Clockwork became and old man and titled his head, “it’s not a bad timeline, all things considered.”

“And if I take it?” Danny asked quietly.

“You’re compassionate, brave and motivated, you have all the makings of a revolutionary king,” Clockwork smiled. “The Zone would experience and unprecedented era of peace, there would be positive interactions between human and ghosts for the first time since life and death split into two. Your name would spoken with reverence for the rest of time.”

“But I don’t want to be king,” Danny frowned.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Clockwork stated. “Which is why I am giving you the choice. If you pass peacefully there will be no one to claim the Crown and life will continue on, ghost attacks and all. If Plasmius kills you, he becomes an effective but unmemorable king. If you take the Crown, you can get the chance to tell Sam and Tucker how much you love them.”

Danny rubbed at his face, he didn’t want to die but he’d be sealing away his entire future with a move like this. He didn’t even know if the Crown would let him go with death, maybe he’d die and be stuck as the Ghost King until his core finally gave out lord in who knows how long. Eternity was an awful long time to carry such a responsibility. He couldn’t bring himself to ask, too afraid of the answer.

“Is there ever a timeline I became an astronaut?” He asked instead. Clockwork hummed, seemingly unsurprised by Danny’s non-sequitur. 

“Yes, in one of the few universes where you never walked into the portal. You never go into space what with human politics putting a halt on the programs but you work for NASA. You leave Amity Park at 17 and don’t come back save for your parents’ dual funeral.” He paused and Danny felt read down to his very bones, “from the moment you became half ghost you were always heading for this moment. The circumstances varied but it always came down to you and the Crown. Time is straining to continue, to see how this drama plays out. Will you accept it and all the joy and grief that comes with it?”

Danny looked over at Vlad, still mid-sneer but there was a scared desperation in his face. He and Vlad sniped at each other all the time but Danny didn’t really hate him and he didn’t think Vlad did either. Leaving him alone, plus making him be king was a heavy burden to put on his enemy. 

Sam and Tuck probably wouldn’t recover from this, he’d put them through so much already but he just knew that they’d never be the same. Could he do that to them? Take the easy way out and leave them to suffer? Mom and Dad didn’t deserve to come home to a dead son, the truth would come out and they’d never forgive themselves. Jazz certainly wouldn’t, she was 2 states over at University but he could already hear her angry, grief-stricken screams. 

Death, death was quiet. It was quiet and merciful and sad, but it was also easy. And Danny Fenton had never once taken the easy route. He reached out and took and the crown before shakily placing it on his head. He gasped, throwing his head back as his core swelled, taking up residence once more right next to his heart. Clockwork smiled, looking like the cat who ate the canary. 

“The Crown of Fire, pardon me the Crown changes with each core, the Crown of Ice is now yours as is the Zone. Your reign begins now but so too does the rest of your life. People are waiting for you. Time in.” Danny slammed back into awareness on the floor of his parents’ lab, the floor he’d almost died on twice. 

He sat up as cold radiated off his body, causing frost to crawl down his arms and along the floor. Sam, Tucker and Vlad, who’d been frozen up until now, jumped back to life. There was a new, familiar weight on his head that he didn’t dare acknowledge. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and said a silent goodbye to a quiet, normal life. It wouldn’t be all bad, he could be happy like this but the Crown still felt like a iron manacle around his neck. But he got used to the ghost powers, he could get used to this too. Maybe one day he won’t look at the stars and say ‘what if?’

“Danny!” Sam shouted, throwing herself into his arms soon followed by Tucker. Their warm weight, their relieved sobs, their shaky breaths in his air, now this was something worth living for. He squeezed them tightly.

“But how dude, you were at death’s door!” Tucker asked, still not letting go.

“You accepted the Crown,” Vlad said evenly, “I wasn’t aware you even knew about your claim. Who told you?”

“You don’t know everything, Vlad,” Danny sighed, sitting himself upright. Ugh his shirt was covered in blood and ectoplasm. He needed to trash these clothes before his parents freaked. And find a way to hide the floating ice crown on his head. 

“Even an old man can be surprised every now and again,” Vlad said wearily. He stood up to his full height before startling Danny by dipping down to one knee. “Then allow me to be the first to welcome my new king and wish him well.”

“I thought you wanted this,” Danny questioned.

“I do, I did,” Vlad said, unusually off balance. “To be quite honest, I’m not sure how to feel about it but, right now, I’m just immeasurably happy you’re alive, little badger. Now I best be off, enjoy your kingdom, my liege, I’ll be sure to come bother you some time soon.” Vlad disappeared in a swirl of pink leaving just him, Sam and Tucker still clinging to him.

Danny may have a kingdom, a job he didn’t want and his whole life decided in a spur of the moment choice, but he also had something very important. He squeezed his friends tightly.

“I love you guys, thank you for being my friends even though I have the worst ideas for activities. Dying? On a Sunday night? How lame is that?” Sam laughed, a bit hysterical but it was real and it made Danny feel weightless. 

“Don’t do that again, buddy,” Tucker breathed into his shoulder. “So you gonna explain what just happened and why you’re apparently the Ghost King or something?”

“Yeah, yeah I will but let’s get changed first. Mom and Dad will be home soon and I think I’m going to need to have a conversation with them about my new job.” 

[angelkurenai]

Wish upon - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Title: Wish upon

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: You were close when Wanda’s grief took over and she inevitably started controling an entire town, including you. Being her closest friend, though, instead of simply playing along, you were given a normal life of your own, with a daughter and husband whom you knew very well but never thought you had feelings for. Months later as you try to figure out your emotions for Bucky, the man seems to be trying to find every reason to stay close to you. Including asking you to join him when he’s ready to follow Sam in his adventures.

“Is that... Is that what I think it is?” you blinked several times, head tilted as you took in the object your husband was, full of pride you could clearly tell, holding and showing off to you.

“You bet it is. Polished, glittered or bedazzled, I can never tell the difference it's equally sparkly anyway, but above all ready to deliver justice. It's finally finished. Right on time at that.” he set the small pink and sparkly shield on the kitchen counter, right next to the baby bottle you'd just filled, because he knew just as well as you did that it was honestly the only way you'd keep looking at the toy and hoped that you'd like it. Which you did, sure, but not in the way Bucky hoped. “Well, what do you say about it?”

“I say that it would certainly deliver justice, no doubt by dazzling the bad guys first and foremost. Besides-” you tore your eyes away from the toy to narrow them at your husband “Just on time for what?”

“Halloween, of course.” he shrugged casually as he slowly made to reach for a piece of the potatoes you'd cooked to have on the side for dinner, but you noticed him and slapped his hand away, earning a not-so-innocent smile in return “I mean... What else is there else to talk about, of significance, in a small town like Westview besides holidays and who the new otherworldly couples in town are. The second having little to no point when one's wife can read minds, amongst so many other things, and said one is a metal-armed 106-year-old.” he sighed, raising his metal arm which he usually kept covered when outside “Honestly, I don't know who're gonna get called out on it first. Wanda and Vision or us.”

“We're handling it great. Besides, oh well a 15 year old gap is so overrated anyway. I tell you, 106 is the new 30, don't you worry a second, dear. You don't look a day over that.” you smiled sweetly, leaning in to peck his lips as he grinned.

“Ah yes, coming from the woman who last time we fought you told me that it's time to stop mourning over my buddy Rexi the dinosaur cause they're all gone now.” he said with a raised eyebrow and you shrugged.

“I don't see what you mean, I was still right.” you brushed him off, checking once more the temperature of the milk “Besides, getting off track here? You still haven't explained to me how that lovely and sparkly shield is of any use to us in Halloween?”

“Well, not us, obviously.” he turned to, according to everyone including him, his little princess “Jean of course!” he picked one of her hands and let her tiny fingers wrap around one of his as she let a giggle when he kissed her belly “It's all you've been talking about with Wanda these days. Her boys have their suits already in mind, it wouldn't be right for Jean to not have hers. It's her first Halloween anyway, even if she can't do any proper trick or treat yet.”

“I'm well aware of that, seeing as I've been planning all of ours suits. And no-” you raised a finger when you saw him raise an interested eyebrow “No, I'm not wearing the skirt version of it. Besides, what we're talking about here is Jean and I still fail to see how a shield will be any part of our little Phoenix's suit.”

“Well, because it's Halloween and she's- Well, she's part of this and she'll- The shield is part of the suit, honey. Obviously. I don't see what confuses you so much as to-”

“And I don't see what confuses you so much that you'd make a shield for her, beautiful as it might be, even though it has no place in all of it. Especially after I made it quiet clear on what costume will be.” you pointed out, baby bottle back on the counter as you crossed your arms over your chest “Honestly, I would rather her have a sparkly version of Sam's redwing before incorporating the shield in her phoenix look.”

He let silence fill the room, save for your daughter's adorable baby noises, before he finally spoke in all seriousness “No, no you wouldn't. You hate that thing too... It was the main reason that made me ask the question, like when you realize you've met your soulmate.”

“I-” only half a pause before you nodded “Yeah, you're right. I hate it... although I can't really remember how it looks like sometimes to be honest. Huh weird.” you let out a breathless laugh, frowning nonetheless.

“Oh how I'd wish for that sort of blessing.” he huffed “Including its owner.”

“Hush you love him!” you hit his shoulder “And, well, that's still all besides the point. Because Jean is not going to have a redwing or shield to her phoenix look in any sort of way. Maybe next Halloween if you wanna choose the costume, fine by me. But this year I am following through with my plans and not changing my mind.”

“Plans of what? Her being a phoenix bird? I get it, it's all magical and what not but-”

“Not just any phoenix bird, geez weez, do you not even listen when I speak, Mr Barnes?” you shook your head with a roll of your eyes.

“Well, sometimes it gets impossibly hard when you look as stunning as today, Mrs Barnes. Sadly all words fade away and as I am captured by your beauty all I can seem to hear is kiss me. How can I not comply?” he said so innocently and with such an adorable smile you couldn't help your fond one in return.

Seeing such adoration and love written all over your face had your heart on overdrive again, as if it was the first time you realized you were in love with him again. It was incredible how you could barely remember that moment whenever you thought about it, however you didn't care. You couldn't find yourself to care when looking at him had your chest fill with warmth, a pleasant buzz all over your body and no weight dragging you down. He made things more simple, having his love and having him by his side made life have meaning and your future full of hope. It hadn't been easy, that much in a way you could remember, but you knew it was worth it because he was worth it. You wanted to give him all your love, wishing that it could live up to the one in his eyes for you in return, so that he could understand what you did from the first moment you met him: he deserved it.

And even if- you couldn't explain why you thought so, but even if there were ever people that would willingly leave him behind, even if you'd never understand that, you were ready to show to him that you could and would be with him till the end of the line. This love you had in you for him had sealed the deal long before you even knew about it.

If anything, you were more than willing to live in this small town, heavens in these four walls of your house, so long as you had him by your side and were able to give him all the love you didn't know you had for him.

You shook your head lightly and gave him “Sweet talking me will get you nowhere, darling. Or rather-” you paused, smirking at him “It might get you in one place. The bedroom.” you grinned when you saw his eyebrows raise in interest “To get Jean's suit. Cause I remember I have some adjustments to make.”

“Bet you do.” he huffed like a little child “Cause she'll be a bird and not a superhero who-”

“Not just a phoenix bird, Buck. The phoenix, that's different.” you pointed out, making him frown.

“How is that different? And what... is the phoenix?”

“Well, it's-” you started but paused abruptly, frowning at your own thoughts “It's actually-” you blinked several time and let out a nervous laugh “Funny thing, I... can't remember. Wow that's... it happens all the more often lately.”

“Can't be important then, right?” he brushed it off casually even though you kept frowning in deep thought which for some reason didn't lead anywhere “Certainly no more than Jean's suit that it... And how we could incorporate a shiel-”

“No.” you cut him off before he could get to complete his sentence “Not gonna happen. I've already got everything planned, you're not going to ruin my plans.”

“Is this how it's gonna go every Halloween now? Us fighting over what Jean's costume will be until she's old enough to choose herself?”

“Oh dear, of course not. It's not fighting when you don't stand a chance against me in the first place.” you shrugged innocently and he tried to look stern by narrowing his eyes at you but you smiled and pecked his lips before speaking “I mean, you could never say no to these pretty eyes, could you?” you batted your eyes at him and he very fast, much faster than last time, sighed in defeat and nodded his head “Besides, you don't have to worry. Next Halloween we'll make her a costume that incorporates the shield too, happy?”

“Always.” he breathed out with such ease that it took a few seconds for you to not openly stare at just how much relaxed he looked, how he truly meant it and how shockingly different he looked while admitting it compared to only a few months ago... months, you weren't sure of the time anymore but truth was that you didn't care, because if there was one thing you could remember was that he had not always been like this and to have him truly happy made everything worth it.

“However-” he cleared his throat, as if noticing how you'd zoned out “That doesn't really solve the problem. Having to compromise, you know. Why should any of us have to? However, if we were to have more than one option...” he trailed off, leaning in closer without any regard for your personal space, not that he needed to, as you narrowed your eyes suspiciously at him “Say... if we were to have more than one options then things wouldn't be this hard, right? Just... to make it easier on ourselves?”

“Make it easier... how exactly?”

His hands found your hips, earning a small giggle from you as he pecked your neck once, twice and three times before he kissed your cheek and the temple, whispering in the end “Let's make more.” it earned a squeal from your as your eyes widened but he grinned even more widely “Come on, think about it. A little boy or maybe another baby girl, Jean would make a great sister. And we wouldn't have to argue about the Halloween costumes. Besides... would be a fun process either way.”

“You have to be kidding me.” you gave him a serious expression but his hopeful smile- no, scratch that. His smile that was bordering that of an idiot, if not lovesick one (but you were on the same boat on that), didn't fade in the least bit “Oh you have to- Alright, Mr Barnes, how about you learn how to feed your daughter without making a mess first and then you can come and talk to me about a second or third one hm? Cause, good as you might be at changing diapers, it ain't just that.”

“She just makes a mess because she enjoys to laugh at my expense, just like you and Sam.” he pointed out and you fought back a smile “And- Hold up a second... did you just say third? You think you're gonna let me ask for a third one too?”

Your eyes widened when you realized that he was really considering the prospect before your lips parted, you being ready to retort-

Only for no words to be uttered after that from your lips. The only sound being a deep intake of air as you were startled awake. Soon followed by a groan as you took in your surroundings and realized you were sadly still in your room. Sadly? Really? You didn't know if that was the case but even if it was, you didn't want to think even more about it. You buried your face in your pillow, not ready to face the day yet because... who were you even kidding? You wanted to go back to it. If not that fake reality, if not the playhouse that Wanda had built out of her grief and had dragged you into it as well - and maybe you hated yourself for how part of you did want that - then at least your dream would be nice.

It's been months and yet it feels as if it's been just yesterday that you were all released from her control. How could you not feel that way after all? When you were awake, the fake reality you'd thought your life was constantly on your mind, and when you were asleep even if you were not thinking of it, you were dreaming about it. It was constantly on your mind. And as if the experience itself, mind-control and all, hadn't left you with a few mental scares to add to your already existing ones to take care of, then the realization of the truth that lay within your own heart, was more than enough to keep the events replaying on your mind day and night.

To put matters simply: when you had followed your best friend, Wanda, after seeing her so distraught, leaving SWORD, you had never thought you'd find yourself playing house with a fake copy of one and only James Bucky Barnes thanks to said best friend. But while there was a chance for that, you never thought there was a chance that you'd realize you had feelings for the man all along.

Your life had been different there. Maybe because you were always close with the other Avenger, who knew. While there were times where you'd experience Wanda's grief, her nightmares from time to time came to haunt you at night just like it did with the rest of the town, your life was mostly... good. No, forget that, your life was nearly perfect. You had everything you wished for and things you didn't even know you had wished for. Maybe deep down you had always wanted it, a normal life, peace and calm, a kid whether it was yours or not... Bucky. You had probably always wanted him but didn't know it yourself, no doubt you were too busy crushing over Steve.

If only your current self could see your past self, or at least self of barely a year ago, you'd have smacked some sense into your stupid self who thought Steve Rogers was the only man you could ever have eyes for. While you had come to be very close with the Captain and ended up doing almost everything together, everyone thought there was much more to the two of you, that it hadn't even occurred to you to think that Steve wasn't really the one you wanted. Maybe you had convinced yourself so, in a way that now that he was no longer there you were more shaken by the fact that you were not shaken by how he had decided to live his life with Peggy in the past than his absence itself.

You had not felt any sort of betrayal, nor that you were suddenly all alone, certainly not as if anything was missing from your life. Granted, you had plenty to think about most of the time, day and night, but that didn't change things. You wished Steve had had a happy ending and you would on the occasion miss him the way you'd miss... a brother. You were always calm, no worries or fears, content with the fact that you knew he had been happy even if it was away from you because, in a way, you wanted it to be that way, it was natural. However, the mere thought of someone else leaving, someone that you thought far too often about, made your heart leap to your throat and your stomach tie in knots. The mere thought that Bucky could leave the way Steve had done made your throat close in a painful way and your eyes burn with tears, making you realize just who mattered the most.

If, again, Wanda plucking the truth about your feelings for the man to give you a life with him wasn't proof enough.

Your phone buzzing made you jump once more, eyes landing on the device on the nightstand. Reaching for it you were not surprised to see the messages that were pilled in your inbox. All from the same specific someone. A specific someone you had found yourself speaking with all the more often lately. Each time successfully managing to make you smile in one way or another, without fail.

Good morning. :)

Did I use that one correctly? I keep forgetting them, no matter how many times you show me.

And show him you had, just like that there was an option for him to choose from different ones instead of having to type them, but that was still work in progress. So even if Bucky learning emojis was a memory that you'd cherish forever, it wasn't the only important one at the moment.

On second thought, it's a bit too early.

You're probably still asleep. Nevermind. Sorry for bothering you.

And then more, shortly afterwards.

I only wanted to know if you're alright, that's all.

Anyway, hope I didn't wake you up.

He, much like everyone else, thought it was hard on you to deal with Steve being gone so he did his best to keep in touch and being as selfish as you were, you didn't bring yourself to tell him the truth that you cared more to know about how he was and wanted the contact for that. Maybe he was also worried about you after Wanda's mind-control too. But if Sam's words were anything to go by, then it was all an excuse for Bucky to stay close with you. You didn't let your hopes get up for that reason though. You could gladly take whatever you got without wondering.

Again it was followed not much later by another message.

I've actually got something to talk to you about. Something happened, though you could already know if you saw the news. Can I come over to talk with you? I need your opinion on the matter.

And shortly afterwards came.

I've already got your favorite breakfast. To make up for, probably, waking you up. :)

The next one had taken longer, he had probably been waiting for an answer all that time. You couldn't help but feel bad about it. That and the fact that the reason behind you not replying earlier was because of how immensed you were in your fantasy life with him that you had not told him a thing about.

(Y/n)... are you sure you're alright? It's getting late even for you.

Truth was you had more trouble waking up after having a dream of that time. But you couldn't tell him that. And then there was the latest one.

Alright, I'm coming over. I really hope you're not dead in there. I'm not going to let you hear the end of it if you are. Oh dear, I sound like Sam right now. Forget I ever said that. Both of it.

Before you even had the time to think about what he could mean, because no you had really not seen the news yet, let alone type back a reply, the door to your bedroom burst open. It earned a squeal from you as you looked with wide eyes at Bucky standing on the doorway. You weren't even surprised how you hadn't heard him, not when he already had keys to your apartment and could easily sneak up on you. Not that him surprising you was what you cared about at the moment. It was, and you could only admit it to yourself, more important how you looked at the moment – and having just woken up you weren't sure just how attractive you looked – than anything else. Especially when Bucky looked better than ever with that new haircut that you were sure he'd gotten on purpose, just to test how much your heart could take.

“I thought doors existed back in your days, Barnes. Maybe knocking was an option too.”

You saw him let out a sigh of relief, shoulders relaxing “What would have been the point if you were dead? You wouldn't have replied anyway.”

“Bold of you to assume I would miss on another chance to lecture you about the proper use of emojis, Mr Barnes. Even death could not stop me.” you broke into a grin and he chuckled.

“What, did I really mess it up?” he asked with a small, far too adorable for your own good, frown.

“Oh no you got it just right.” you said softly, adoring the proud look on his face before you added “However, I've told you, you don't have to type them anymore. There is an option on your keyboard with that kind of stuff for you to-”

“Eh alright, alright I get it. I suck at it. I'm not even gonna try using them anymore.”

“Wha- No!” you whined softly “No, Buck, I didn't mean that. Come on, you're good. You just... have a lot to learn still.” you shrugged “That's all. We didn't do great at first either. Nobody really got emojis a first, but you'll get the hang of it.”

“But you still think I am a grandpa when it comes to technology. And my age doesn't help on that case either.” he shrugged, as if he meant it casually as a joke but you could see a small hint of self-consciousness there as well.

“Nonsense.” you said softly, finally throwing the blankets off you “You're far from a grandpa, Buck. In fact, I strongly believe that 106 is the new 30, and you don't look a day over that.” the words were out of your lips before you could even think about it and when you realized what you'd said, your smile flattered a bit. You were glad his back was turned to on that second that he didn't notice. You cleared your throat, sobering up “Besides, new things are not everyone's cup of tea anyway.”

“Uh yeah...” you notice the relaxed, and almost happy, look fade away from his face as his eyebrows pulled back into a frown. He looked down for a second, leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets “Things do change. Sometimes faster than we can adapt to the new world around us.”

“Alright, unless you're channeling Charles Darwin right now, which I don't think you are, care to explain to me what's wrong? Because... I am guessing something is, judging by your expression.” you got up and approached “Is this... about the shield? I- I don't know if Sam giving it up is that much of a good choice however... he must have his reasons, right?”

“Well, yes, but- this is not just about that.” he sighed, finally looking up to meet your eyes “Something happened and I've been thinking about it, I wanted your opinion on it. You know it matters to me.”

“...And? There is more to that, come on. Tell me.” you knew him too well and you hadn't even realized when that happened too “You know you can... Always.”

“I do.” he paused for a moment, holding your gaze before he let a soft sigh “It's just, I am going to go find Sam and... I want you to come with me. If you're up for it, I would like you to be there with me... maybe?”

“You know... I should punch you just for doubting whether I'd follow you or not. But just because it won't lead anywhere for me-” you smirked at him “Buy me dinner too and consider yourself excused and me up for any challenge. Strongest Avenger at your disposal, Mr Barnes.” you patted his shoulder, enjoying the deep chuckle that came from him. Even if his next words made the air get caught in your throat.

“It's a date then.”

[yannowhatigiveup]

A Blinded Kiss

I haven’t posted anything recently so I dug around in my WIPs to see if anything was even worth posting and I found this that I made a while ago. It certainly isn’t the best but it isn’t the worst out of all my other WIPs.

"Is this really necessary?" The bluenette asked, eyeing a blindfold given by her brotherly figure.

"Of course it is Pixie!" An older man with two-toned hair replied, way too over enthusiastic about the whole situation. "It's a great way to find your way around the manor”

"And it's a great family bonding experience too!" Another man in the room replied, even more enthusiastic than the first.

"Fine, I'll do it Jay" the blue-eyed girl huffed, twirling the blindfold between her fingers. "What are the rules again, Dick?"

Dick beamed at the girl before answering. "Well Mari, it's simple. Put the blindfold on, count to fifty, spin around and try to steal a hug from anyone in the manor"

"So I have to walk around the manor blindfolded and try to sneak up on you? You know that's impossible!" Marinette exclaimed, she would not go around the house looking like a touch-starved fool.

"That's exactly why we're doing it" Jason replied, shrugging his shoulders. "It'll last a long time."

After a few seconds, the blue-eyed girl sighed, giving in to both Jason and Dick. "Fine, if that's what makes you happy" Marinette wrapped the matte-black fabric tightly around her eyes, already struggling within the first few seconds. She began counting and she heard the two scuffling away, smiling while being able to tell which direction they went in. In the mean time, Marinette debated her options.

'Both Jason and Dick would be the ideal choices but they'll be able to hear me from a mile away. Tim would be the most logical one since he's half asleep, but where does he even go in this maze? God knows where Alfred is, Mr Wayne is scary. Damian-' She paused her train of thoughts, granted Marinette had only met him a few days ago but that didn't stop the crush she had heavily try to cease. 'He'd probably hear me from a mile away as well. This game is so unfair'

Soon enough, Marinette reached fifty and spun herself around, she used a bit too much force than needed so now not only was she blinded but she lost her sense of direction. Giving herself a minute to recover, the bluenette began to walk. Using her improved senses, thanks to the miraculous, Mari was slowly able to create a theoretical map in her mind, though it did take much more energy than she desired.

"Fighting an akuma is easier than this" The bluenette muttered as she hit her thigh along the corner of a wall.

Even though she was using her enhanced abilities, she'd pump into a corner or a wall every now and again, the amount of times increased when her energy was being used. After wondering a hall for what seemed like hours, the bluenette came to a staircase, one that she ever so carefully used to get to a higher floor. Once she did, she kept a hand on one of the walls, using it as a guide. Soon enough, her hand came to what felt like a doorframe. The door was closed she could tell but it was recent used due to the fact that the doorknob was warm. Making sure not to intrude, she knocked on said door, she almost missed the muffled 'come in' had she not been paying attention. Marinette opened the door, went in and quickly shut it behind her, taking a deep breath.

"Okay I hope you don't mind but which room is this and whose in the room? Dick and Jason thought it would be a good idea to walk around the manor blindfolded while trying to sneak up on them" The bluenette huffed, only to freeze when she heard a familiar chuckle.

"I've heard, you're in my room, It's Damian just to clarify" 'Sh-' "So, what task must be fulfilled to give you permission to take the blindfold off? I doubt you want to keep it on any longer" Marinette giggled.

"You're right, I would probably get lost of I continue. Um, I have to 'steal a hug' apparently"

"So you have to hug someone without them inspecting it" Damian came to that conclusion to which the bluenette nodded her head.

"Yeah that's basically it, hey do you have anywhere I could sit down? I'm getting tired..."

"Of course, my bed is five steps to your front and two steps to your right, make yourself comfortable" She wasn't sure how red she had gotten but she obliged anyway. Had she not been wearing the blindfold, she would've seen Damian smiling at her flustered state. Giving herself a moment to regain her energy, Marinette turned to where she presumed Damian was working at his desk. "Can I hug you? Jay never said I couldn't ask the person first. I-I won't if you don't want me to! I just wanted to ask so..."

She heard the boy thoughtfully hum before he made his way over to her. From what she could tell, Damian was now in front of Marinette, looming over her.

"Did Todd or Grayson say it had to be a hug?" Marinette tilted her head in confusion and thoughtfulness, that had never crossed her mind before.

"W-"

"What happens if I kiss you instead?"

The bluenette didn’t reply with words as she knew how terrible her words would be in her flustered state. But she wanted this, her heart longed for it in a way it never did for anyone else. Instead, she nodded, giving the green-eyed boy permission to do as he wished.

She felt his hand lightly tilt her chin up towards, where she presumed, his face was. Then he pressed his lips onto hers, his other had behind her head, tugging at the fabric around her eyes. Marinette felt bliss, she was glad that no one else would interrupt this moment. Shivers went down her spine as she felt Damian’s hands travel up from behind her neck and to wear the blindfold was knotted, gently tugging at the binding. She was glad that when her face was free from the fabric that comprised her vision, the first thing in her line of eyesight were Damian's deep emerald eyes, the shimmered the same way they had when she first laid eyes on him, she'd been enraptured ever since. The boy, however, was smirking as he noticed the pink that dusted her face. Without a moment passing, she threw herself the green-eyed boy, delivering a hug. As she pulled away, her hands cupped his face and she returned his embrace with one of her own. When she pulled away once more, she smiled in satisfaction at his flustered expression.

"When did you realise you had feelings for me?" Marinette asked softly, her forehead pressed against his trying to regain her breath.

"That's a very easy question" Damian stared lovingly into her eyes. "I fell the moment I saw you take down that Akuma three times your size" Her eyes widened.

"You know about me being Ladybug?"

"The same way you know I'm Robin"

They both smiled, creating a truce to not reveal anything.

"Well I better get going, see you later." She got up from the bed and opened the door, only to turn around and say "Je t'aime mon cœur" before exiting the room, leaving a blushing Damian.

Marinette walked back down the stairs, the piece of cloth in hand and small love-struck smile on her face. When she entered the main living room, she came face to face with the owner of the manor.

"Oh hello Mr Wayne"

"Hello Marinette, I see you managed to get the blindfold off" The older man gestured towards the piece of fabric in her hand. "And please, do call me Bruce. Who did you end up surprising with a hug then?"

She smiled brightly before replying. "Damian"

His usual formal demeanor broke for a moment but Bruce quickly picked the pieces back up. "He didn't attack you or injure you in any shape or form?"

Marinette decided to play the oblivious little girl. "No..? Why, does he do it often?" Her head titled in confusion.

"Nothing it doesn't matter" Bruce simply sighed and shook his head. "Also, there's something I'd like to discuss with you at dinner, if you don't mind"

"No not at all, I'll see you at dinner then?" Bruce nodded and left, leaving Marinette alone in the room, waiting for her honorary older brother and his brother to come in. Which they did but only after some time, it was hilarious to see them crouched down, talking to each other in hushed voices. They flinched as she cleared her throat, both slowly turning towards the sound to find a smug looking Marinette and a blindfold whipped around her finger.

"I win"

~~~

Most of the occupants at the table were either in an all out war or were about to be, except for Marinette and an exasperated Bruce Wayne.

"So Marinette" The eldest Wayne began, silencing the rest of the table. "I hope you don't mind me asking but when you were off searching for Jason, you mentioned attacks that have been occurring in Paris, is this true?"

No one failed to notice the girl flinch. "Yeah it's true"

"...how bad are the attacks? In your opinion"

"Well it depends on how strong the person's emotions are really. If their emotions are strong, then the Akuma is strong too"

"What's the strongest akuma that Paris has seen?" It was Tim who asked and memories of the event began swimming through her mind, she got rid of them with a shake of her head.

"The deadliest akuma Paris has experienced was an akuma called 'Syren'. She's a regular person but, as an akuma, she managed to kill around 2 million people. But don't worry! Ladybug's cure managed to bring them back to life"

"D-did... did you die, Pixie?" Jason asked, his anger mixed with worry was boiling over and luckily simmered after seeing her shake her head.

"Do you think the heroes of Paris would let heroes from the Justice League come over to help?"

Marinette contemplated for a moment, should she really risk the heroes getting akumatized? "I think they would but I wouldn't know"

Bruce nodded while Jason leaned over the table to talk closer to his honorary little-sister. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I didn't want to bother you"

"You're not a bother, Pixie" Jason smiled at the bluenette on the other side of the table. "You never are and you never will be"

~~~

Marinette returned to Paris a few days later, in the mean time, Bruce and the rest of the batfam were planning their visit to the City of Love. Soon enough, the vigilantes were boarded on the plane. Their flight to Paris was relatively silent. After a few hours, they landed and the vigilantes waited on the Eiffel Tower, only to find out there was a battle going on. Before they could engage in the fight, they were engulfed with magical ladybugs that seemed to fix anything destroyed. As they were mesmerized by the cure, a certain spotted-heroine wobbly landed on the platform. Batman was first to notice.

"Ladybug" His voice caused the others to turn around. "Thank you for allowing us into your city"

Ladybug nodded, not uttering a single word.

"We were hoping, with your permission of course, that we could help you be rid of Hawkmoth once and for good" Again, Ladybug didn't reply. "Ladybug?"

When the heroine didn't respond, Batman glanced at Nightwing and the rest of his sons, clearly something was wrong. Unexpectedly, Robin took his glove off, approached the Ladybug-themed hero and placed his hand onto her forehead.

"You have a fever" he stated, his hand trailing down her face to cup her cheek. His family all shot him weird looks. She tiredly blinked at the vigilante, recognising him as Robin and allowed herself to fall into his arms, detransforming while doing so, leaving a burning hot Marinette.

"Dami?" He hummed. "Take me home, please..." She drifted off to sleep, comforted in her lover's arms. He glanced at his family, holding the bluenette close.

"Pixie...is Ladybug?" Red Hood's voice was first.

"You didn't know?" Robin's voice mocking confusion, enraging Red Hood that his youngest brother knew something about his sister that he didn't. Even more so that his demon brother was holding said sister,

"We should take her back home" Dick went over to feel the girl's forehead. "She's burning"

"Tikki?" Robin asked and a red creature flew out from one of Mari's pockets, startling most of the people there.

"I'll try to heal her on the way, follow me"

The floating red creature flew down from the Eiffel Tower, Robin and Marinette close behind. After some hesitation, the others followed, they ended up on top of a bakery. One by one, they entered through the trapdoor on the balcony, finding both Damian with his mask off and a weak looking Marinette. Despite her enfeebled state, the bluenette greeted each vigilante, her gaze landed on Jason.

"It's just a fever, I'll be fine"

Jason removed his helmet and ran a hand through his hair before both settled on his hips. "You don't look fine"

"I promise I am" She wasn't convincing, not at all.

"Fine" Jason huffed, he could never truly say no to the girl he viewed as his little sister. "But since when were you two a thing" He pointed at the two, his gaze resting maliciously on Damian.

"It's all thanks to you, you know" Marinette smirked at Jason's confusion. Tim snickered as he seemed to catch on to what she was saying.

"Had you not organized that 'blindfolded game', I doubt we would be together at this moment" Damian supplied the information, clearly unfazed by the burning rage in the eyes of his older brother.

"Baby Bird's all grown up" The eldest Wayne son overdramatized wiping a fake tear, Batman sighed at his two eldest sons while pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Get your fucking hands off her, Demon Brat!" Jason tried to lunge at Damian, only to be stopped by both Dick and Tim. Though his fury only grew when Marinette snuggled closer to the green-eyed boy, both smirked in victory over Jason's horrified appearance.

Marinette was now part of the family in more ways than one. Though they wish they had found out in better circumstances, they would be able to take down Hawkmoth once and for all, side by side, all together. And to think this all happened because of a silly blindfold game.

[pillage-and-lute]

How about-Hanahaki disease? Gerald/Jaskier? Happy ending please!

Nonny! Darling you read my mind, I’m an ‘angst with a happy ending’ kinda gal. Just so we’re clear, I know nothing of flower meanings and I didn’t research.

TW: Gore

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

Jaskier first coughed up a flower at age three.

Poets loved Hanahaki, it was considered romantic, and those prone to it were tragic beauties, destined to languish, delicately spitting blood and rose petals into a silk handkerchief. No one really wrote about how it could be brought on by deeply unrequited platonic love.

Jaskier coughed a violet into his little fist and brought it to his mother, who turned him away.

Fifteen years down the line and having graduated Oxenfurt with honors, Jaskier was old hat at taking care of Hanahaki. His feelings, although often unrequited, were also often fleeting. A night spent coughing tulips into a bowl and a sore throat the next mroning, but rarely more than that.

If it persisted for a week or more there was tea. Any apothecary in even a mid sized city carried it. It was putrid and thick and slid down the throat like a cup of slugs, but in the morning there were no petals, and after two or three days of the stuff, the disease was gone. 

He was almost thankful for being so prone to Hanahaki, it was romantic and lended much to his chosen profession. People gave him sympathetic looks and free drinks if he sang a sad song and discreetly spat a rose petal into a handkerchief. Most of the time he simply didn’t mind it, and considered himself twice blessed with his mobile heart.

Sometimes he had nightmares of what would happen if he found true love.

The notions of true love itself was romantic, but everyone knew that your true love, the one you were fated to, if they didn’t love you in return no tea would save you.

He’d watched a friend, a grad student at Oxenfurt, die of it. It was no delicate coughing into handkerchiefs, no poetic languishing. He’d held her hair back as she threw up petals and blood, crying as she clutched the bucket with skeletal hands because she could no longer force food down a torn throat. 

It had been so slow, she’d said between pulling thorned stems from her mouth. More than a decade of loving the boy she’d had a crush on in her small town village. She’d lived through it all, only occassionally throwing up flowers. Always snow white roses, for him, apparently. It would have been wonderfully artistic if Jaskier didn’t know how they looked covered in blood.

Then she’d gone to his wedding to the baker’s daughter and two weeks later he watched her cough out roots wrapped around a chunk of lung and screamed for a doctor knowing it was too late. The blood stain never washed fully out of the floor.

And she’d said it was worth it. That she wouldn’t have stopped loving him for the world, even as she said it through a throat full of thorns. 

Jaskier never understood it, leaping from town to town, avoiding long term connections while knowing all the while that if fate wanted him to fall in love he would. Denying Destiny only made things nastier, he knew. And then, in a tevern in Posada, with bread in his pants and a hole in his boot, his eyes met pure gold. 

It took a split second, less probably, for him to realize that, although he didn’t love the man yet, for love at first sight truly is a poet’s myth, he could love this man. And if he died for this man, maybe the love would be worth it after all.

The man was a witcher, who punched him in the gut and stank of onion and talked to his horse. Jaskier followed him anyway.

He followed him and coughed up flowers, different blossoms for different people, and he began to fall deeper in love. He wondered sometimes what flowers he would cough, as the bouquets turned into only one kind. 

What flower would represent Geralt? Not buttercups or dandelions, certainly. Perhaps if someone else were to catch Hanahaki for Jaskier those would be for him. Geralt wasn’t a dandelion. He was grumpy and spiky and after ten years wouldn’t even call Jaskier a friend. 

In the dead of night Jaskier feared it would be white roses, like he’d seen once before.

And then Geralt died in a collapsing building only to be alive and fucking a purple-eyed sorceress after nearly killing Jaskier with a djinn. Jaskier vomited flowers not twelve hours after vomiting blood.

Snow drops, tiny and delicate. And from that point forth he never coughed up any other kind.

It didn’t progress so quickly though. Jaskier had expected to die within a month of Geralt meeting Yennefer. He didn’t. Love and sex weren’t the same thing, and his love didn’t go totally unrequited either. It wasn’t the same sort of love, but in the quiet moments just after dawn it was enough. 

Then Geralt made a choice.

He wouldn’t kill dragons, he didn’t hunt sapient creatures, he wanted nothing to do with the dragon hunt, until he caught sight of Yennefer.

And that left Geralt and Jaskier, on top of a mountain, as Geralt screamed into the wind that Jaskier meant nothing to him. Jaskier felt the roots set in.

He wasn’t going to get the story from the others. He could barely breathe, the pain was so sharp and intense and he could feel it growing, feel the flowers growing. Little snowdrops had no right to be so painful.

He wasn’t going to make it off the mountain.

Jaskier took a different trail down, and then wandered into the forest a little way, coughing blood and stems the whole way. He collapsed under a tree, blood staining his doublet. He wished he had a friend to clutch his hand, hold his hair back and rub his back like he’d done more than twenty years ago. 

There wouldn’t be a funeral though. No one would know what had happened to Jaskier the bard. Worse, no one would know what happened to Julian, the person, the man. As he threw up a clump of flowers and blood he felt very much like the scared little boy who threw up a flower for the first time. 

It hurt. It burned and shredded his throat and he wanted a friend and he didn’t have any. He’d thrown all his eggs in one basket twenty years ago and Geralt had kicked that basket off the mountain. 

Jaskier leaned his lute up against the tree. It’d be such a shame to get blood on the lovely girl. He curled up next to it, in a fetal position on his side as the coughs wracked his whole body. 

His friend had lasted two weeks, he thought. But her rejection was a wedding. Not her best friend and the love of her life telling her never to see him again. That he was a burden. That if life or Destiny could give him one blessing it would be to take Jaskier off his hands. And Destiny was going to deliver. She had made Jaskier love Geralt, and she would kill him by it. 

Still, Jaskier would have given anything for the comfort of his friend right now. He began to cry, snot and tears and blood and petals all mixing. He couldn’t even breathe, his lungs burned so bad. 

His vision was blurry.

He could hear noises, tromping through the forest and who knew what awful creatures lurked here. Just like Dame Destiny to have him disembowled while dying of Hanahaki.

It was dark, but it had been noon on the mountain. Black clouds swirled and closed in his vision.

A strangled noise.

No monster made that noise. That was a man-made noise. It sounded very much how Jaskier had felt on the mountaintop. He retched up a flower and tasted pollen and iron.

“Jaskier!”

He didn’t remember hallucinations being part of the final stages, but the brain played funny tricks.

“Jaskier!” There it was again, and he was being bundled up tight to a chest that was not at all comfortable and smelled of horse and leather and sweat and onion. A buckle of Geralt’s armor dug into his cheek. Jaskier’s mouth was full of stems and roots.

GLoved fingers dug in, pulling snowdrops from between his lips and then Geralt kissed him. It was entirely awful and unsatisfying. 

Dimly Jaskier came to the realization that it was not supposed to a kiss, but Geralt trying to blow air into his flowering lungs. A nice gesture but unhelpful.

He lolled his head to the side to throw up another clump of root, not wanting to throw up directly into Geralt’s mouth. 

A shudder ran through the chest he was pressed against, like a tremor before an earthquake. Then a sob.

It was quiet. The worst sobs are. 

Geralt lay Jaskier down on the floor, one hand cupped beneath his head, gently cradling. Then the witcher curled next to him, face pressed against a pale neck streaked with blood, and cried.

Jaskier wanted to comfort him, to stroke a hand through soft white hair one last time and thank him for not letting him die alone. He just didn’t have the strength.

Another wretched, tiny sob, then, “I’m sorry, Jaskier. I’m so sorry.” Oh that wasn’t fair. A tear leaked from Jaskier’s eye.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt continued, face pressed into Jaskier’s collarbone. “I didn’t mean it, I was angry and tired and I’ve hurt you but please,” the voice faded to barely a whisper. “Please don’t leave me, I didn’t mean it, I love you don’t leave me here alone.”

Don’t leave him here alone. Jaskier though. Destiny owed him, owed them both for all she’d put them through. Don’t make him lonely, he prayed. I don’t want to leave him alone.

Geralt held Jaskier tighter, pressing even closer like he was trying to meld them into one. “I love you,” he said. “I’m sorry, Jaskier. I love you.”

The world went white.

Jaskier blinked his eyes open with blood in his mouth. It didn’t seem to deter Geralt, who kissed him so thoroughly his head felt light. Then Geralt pulled him upright. There was blood on the ground around them, some even streaked into Geralt’s hair. 

There were no stems though.

The forest floor had been carpeted for ten feet all around them with snowdrops, planted firmly in earth instead of lungs. They were so close together it looked like a sudden snowfall, trailing to fewer and farther between at the edges of their little pool of white. 

“I...” Jaskier said, letting Geralt pull him to his feet. He wasn’t sure what to say but it turns out he needn’t say anything. Geralt was clutching him like a lifeline and tucking a snowdrop into his hair.

“I smelled blood,” he said, lips brushing into Jaskier’s brown fringe. “I smelled blood and was so afraid. I haven’t been truly afraid in so long and then I found those wretched flowers.” Geralt took a shaky breath. 

“I truly thought it was too late.” He pulled back and looked into Jaskier’s eyes. Geralt’s own yellow ones were dry but the emotion was clear. “I thought I had lost you, my love.” A gloved hand, only slightly bloody stroked Jaskier’s cheek. “I thought I had lost you, my life’s greatest gift. And I wanted to lay down beside you and die as well.”

Jaskier chuckled wetly. “You overdramatic sod,” he said between watery sniffles. “What a ridiculous notion. And I can’t believe it takes me dying to turn you into a romantic.”

“Almost dying,” Geralt said firmly. There was panic written plain across his face, as if he was terrified that time would slam into reverse just to take Jaskier from him. Another embrace, just this side of bone crushing. “Almost dying, my love.”

“Not dead, my love,” Jaskier responded. 

As they made their way down the mountain snowdrops bloomed in their footsteps, but they were too busy looking at each other to notice.

[turnmeintoastar]

“ rose-pink bliss ”

summary: a boy who seeks escape, finds it in the most unexpected place.

         The life of a noble was not easy. As appealing as life in a big castle; servants, ready to deliver your most perverse longing; delicacies from overseas;  gold; jewels; and swanky clothes — [m/n] fancied the latter, mostly — sounds, endless balls, foreign and unwanted suitors, parental protectiveness — to be read as “overprotectiveness” —, and relentless efforts on hosting a successful bride-show, were not so much.

         In the middle of another hellish ball, [m/n] was not doing so good. Yes, of course, the food cooked by the skilled chefs of [l/n] Park was delicious, and the orchestra has been playing his favourite tune just fine. Something, however, was terribly bugging [m/n] for the whole night. No, not the persistent, borderline annoying, partner he was stuck with — he was used to such matters, smile and sway along, he has been telling himself.  Something, was not right.

         “M’Lady, please, allow me,” a voice cut through his trance. [m/n] snapped his head to his right, startled, uncle. No, Zhongli was not related to him, by blood, at least, but he has been with [m/n] through the most of his childhood and teenage years. Hiding her small smile and a faint blush behind her flower ornamented fan. Performing a small act of  reverence, they parted their ways. The woman, now, dancing with Zhongli. [m/n] silently made eye contact, nodding gratitude,  Zhongli nodding back.

        [m/n] did not waste the opportunity on escaping  — these shenanigans, surely, shall be the end of him. Straightening his posture, he was about to stroll off, to find the reason of his displeasure. Just as he was about to leave the ballroom, an arm sneaked around his shoulders.

         “Lil’ bro,” its owner cheered, “how’s the night going?”, [m/n] swore he was not a violent person, like his acquaintance, for instance ,Scaramouche, now, he was a violent person; [m/n], never.

         “Go choke, Old Man,” he grumbled. Childe was not his preferred company. Not now, not ever.

         “Don’t be like that! Who was the man who sent Zhonli, hm? Me! I did! And for what? I should a t least get a kiss,” the ginger whined, throwing his arms up in exaggeration. [m/n] merely rolled his eyes.

         “Wonderful proposal. I ,unfortunately, ought to decline. Shall we count that as payment, for all the times you almost beheaded me, Dear?”, [m/n] tapped his finger on Childe’s forehead. The man was tall, but [m/n] was not of small ones, either.  Childe was left with a heavy blush and mumbling something along “little, spoiled brat and “oh, you just wait”.

         [m/n] walked out of the residence; the sun had already set, and the only thing illuminating the flower labyrinth was the faint glow of his vision, dangling from one of his belt-loops. He took a slow pace as he stepped inside the maze. Living in the castle for over [age] years, he had memorised every little thing about the place. The garden was the place he has been the most fond of.

         Thoughtlessly walking amidst the calming walls of roses, he was startled by the faint “hm” and “uh”s from the other side of the wall. After some time, he could detect faint sounds of a musical instrument.

         “Would you like some help, um.. Sir..?” he asked, finding a quick path to the other side was easy for [m/n], trying to sound confident in the assumption he made regarding their gender.

         “Ah!” the stranger yelped.

         “Ay, did you hear that?” a deep voice, [m/n] could assume it was one of the guardians.

         “Yeah, let’s go look,” another voice, higher, ordered. [m/n] could not care less about their antics, he was more than capable of protecting himself, and he wanted some peace.  “No, I’m just fine! Just a little slippery here,” [m/n] answered from inside the maze.

         “Young Master, do you need any help? We can bring you fresh clothes if yours got dirtied,” the first voice, again, voiced.

         “Just go! I’m good! Not dirty at all,” he ordered them away. With a few words, they departed.

         “Six guards..That could get me in trouble,” the boy on the ground laughed.

“You’re either a creep that's been watching over me and memorised the place or a very good guesser.”

         “Neither, I’m actually a musician,” the boy boasted, twirling a lyre in his hands.

         “I don’t think musicians  do that. And they certainly do not invade property, boy,” [m/n] glared, a little suspicious of the young man before him.

         “Hey! I’m no ‘boy’! Venti the Bard, for you!” he turned away with a huff and crossed arms.

         “Never heard of such a bard, and I know a lot, are you not from here?”

         “I’m from Mondstadt,”

         “What brings you here, to Liyue?” [m/n] shot.

         “Heard there was a big celebration. I am where the fun is,” Venti sat criss cross on the grass.

         “And what did you want there?” obviously, Venti has just answered, but [m/n] was a curious fellow.

         “I heard the host's son — they have three of them, I believe — was a great storyteller! The oldest one,” [m/n] rolled his eyes. Always his brother, never him.

         “Then you should go, he’s now in the mood,” he commanded, turning away with a harsh glare.

         “Hey! Can you at least tell me your name? Lead me out of here, at most!” Were strangers always annoying? [m/n] could not tell.

         “[m/n] [l/n]. Second born son of the host,” the last part was not necessary, yes, but he was going to prove his coolness to this Venti person.

         “Oooh!” Venti was standing now, eyes gleaming in interest.

         “Does he also have any talents?” Venti asked. For some peculiar reason, [m/n] found himself smiling and his chest being tingly. Venti was pretty. Definitely [m/n]’s type.

         “He’s the first to receive a vision in his bloodline, he’s a skilled artist, a wonderful diplomat, and..” he was unsure on how to say that and not sound funny.

         “‘And’ what?” Venti prompted. [m/n] walked closer to Venti. Towering over the bard, he leaned closer to his right ear.

         “He’s great in bed,” [m/n] held a prideful and arrogant smirk on his lips, Venti saw when he pulled away. Venti wanted to say many things; be it a cocky reply of a small dick joke, or a flirtatious ‘prove it then, sir’, or to just look into his [color] eyes and be hypnotized by his mesmerizing voice. Venti wanted it all, he himself concluded.

         “Now, boy, don’t get lost,” [m/n] said, turning away and starting to walk away. Venti just stared at him; still in shock from either his looks or his from the thing he said earlier, possibly, from both.

         “And? Do you need a special invite? We’re going inside, you’re my companion for tonight,” [m/n] playfully rolled his eyes and smirked from behind his shoulder, making eye contact with, now, smiling Venti.

         Venti has never been this enamoured by someone in his whole life. Be it how gentle [m/n]’s touches were, or how many funny or peculiar stories [m/n] has come to share. Venti had fallen in love with [m/n], hard. And his object of affection could not deny his liking, too. The smiles that Venti gave him, and the short melodies he played, and the way he talked and looked, — everything about Venti.

         When they neared the ballroom, [m/n] shared a smile with Venti. Not one of his cocky or prideful ones, a smile born of pure love and affection. He then extended his hand, doing a small bow. Venti took his hand, and they entered. Not the looks Venti got, about his unfit clothing, or the girls trying to steal [m/n] for a dance could stop them.

         Tonight was going to be fun.  

[gothgirlmahi]

Tight Fit

Summary: This is just porn. You’re a receptionist that gets stuck in an elevator. Everyone is very happy about that.

This was just an excuse to write my faves :) Masterlist

No beta, I live on the edge.

Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader, Thor x Reader

Warnings: All the smut. Very corny porn with no plot. One line of implied Stucky. Minors DNI

The situation you found yourself in was altogether ridiculous. You had to deliver some documents to another floor. The information could have been handled by a phone call but bureaucracy. After hitting the button on the elevator, you realized you left one of the documents at your desk. A quick jog back to grab them left you running back to the elevator, scrambling to get between the doors before they closed. Then it happened.

You were stuck.

Somehow, you managed to get caught around your waist. Your upper body and head faced the inside of the elevator while your lower half was still stuck facing your desk. The papers you held spilled to the floor inside the elevator. The doors were tightly cinched around you, giving no leeway as you tried to wiggle your way out. You could feel your skirt riding up with the effort you exerted.

Steps coming down the hall caught your attention. Someone could help you!

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

Judging by the voice it was Captain Rogers. America’s golden boy. Gorgeous Steve Rogers. You went weak in the knees at the sound of him and if you weren’t being held up by the elevator, you were sure you’d be swooning.

“Uh,” you tried your best to look behind you and through the doors, “can you help me out of here? I kind of had a little incident.”

“Oh?”

With your head turned, you watched as he came closer and put down his shield. The angle soon became too much for your neck and you turned back around, sighing and dejected.

“How bad is it?” you asked. He was silent for a moment.

“It doesn’t look bad at all. Maybe I can help.”

Steve came closer and firmly held you by the waist. The first attempt to pull you out was unsuccessful but he was undeterred.

“Maybe if I just...get closer.”

He stood right behind you to ground himself. His crotch was pressed up against your behind and your eyes widened.

Was he hard? That very much felt like an erection.

He pulled again, with a little more force this time. You may have budged by about an inch but no more.

“I don’t think it’s working,” you told him. He didn’t say anything. His hands began to wander along your lower back and down the sides of your thighs.

“Uh, Captain Rogers? Is something wrong?” you asked.

“Sorry, I just...your ass is so—I mean. I think maybe if I pull your skirt up I can get you out.”

That didn’t make a whole lot of sense. But if Captain America wanted to ogle your ass you’d be a willing model for him. Even if he wanted to do a little more than that, it would be alright with you.

“Go ahead,” you urged him. You heard him sign in relief behind you before bunching your skirt up at your waist. He made a pained noise behind you.

“Your ass is amazing.”

“I thought you were getting me out?”

“I will, but consider this. You want to get out. I want to get off. Maybe we can help each other out.”

This was better than any wet dream or any fantasy you crafted. Captain America was asking to fuck you.

“Yes, yes, a million times yes.”

Steve spanked you lightly before rubbing his hands all over your ass. He massaged it tenderly, kneading and appreciating the supple flesh. One of his hands lifted your thong and held it by the string.

“You always wear these to work?”

“Every single day,” you answered him. He chuckled behind you before pushing the material to the side.

The sound of his belt buckle excited you. How many people could say they got fucked by Captain America, one of the hottest people on the planet? How many people knew Captain America was an ass man?!

You both let out groans as he entered you. He was big, but you were ready. Plenty of sleepless nights riding dildos and imagining it was him had you prepared for anything he could give you. He slammed into you hard and you let out loud moans into the space of the elevator.

Steve’s hands never left your ass as he fucked you. Pinching and squeezing while he rammed into you. Soft groans of pleasure left his mouth, spurring on your own enjoyment. You bit your bottom lip, trying to keep your screaming to a minimum and braced one of your hands on the wall even though Steve was doing a good job of keeping you in place.

“Steve, it feels so good,” you cried out. He cupped your ass cheek, shaking it in his hand.

“I love watching your ass jiggle. Everyday you come in wearing these skirts. I’ve wanted to fuck you for months.”

The idea that you could have had this months ago made you want to kick yourself. You could have been fucking Captain America months ago?!

Steve sped up the rhythm of his hips, eagerly fucking you. Your body was alight with pleasure, happily taking everything he gave you.

“Such a tease, sweetheart. It’s like you’ve been taunting me all this time. Is this what you wanted?”

“Oh fuck yes!”

Steve laughed at your reply and reached his hand under you to play with your clit. Your legs shook at the stimulation and you cried out, clenching around him. Steve slapped your ass hard and had you coming all over his cock, moaning and squirming as much as you could in your position. He touched you until you were overstimulated and soon he was filling you up while a low moan of your name escaped his lips. He pulled out and let some of his cum spurt over your ass. You let out a deep sigh at the feeling of him dripping out of you.

Steve stood straight behind you and you heard him shift his weight while he fixed your underwear in place and pulled your skirt back over your ass.

“I’ll be back. Maybe Tony has something that can help.”

You sighed as you heard him step away and enter the stairwell. Sure he was fast, but he’d have to find Tony first. And there were how many floors in this building? Even with the elevator it was still a sizable ride from the first to top floor. You would probably be stuck for a while.

With nothing to do, you twiddled your thumbs before trying to wiggle around and get out. No luck. You were really jammed in there.

You perked you when you heard the door to the stairwell open.

“Steve?” you called out.

“Hey—whoa, what happened to you?” Definitely not Steve.

“Sergeant Barnes?” you asked. This was an embarrassing position to be caught in. Never in your life did you think you’d be greeting the Winter Soldier ass first. Oh well.

“Are you okay?”

You had just been fucked by one of the hottest men you’d ever met. Things could certainly be worse.

“I’m okay, but I’m stuck. Steve was here and he went for help. Do you think you can get me out of here?”

He had a metal arm for crying out loud. If he couldn’t get you out, who could?

“Hmm, let’s see.” You heard him approach and stop a bit behind you. He made a thoughtful noise.

“You have something on your skirt.”

Oh no. Now this was embarrassing.

Found stuck in an elevator covered in Captain America’s jizz.

“Oh, I must have, err, sat in something earlier!”

“I’m going to try to pull you out, okay?” he asked.

“Sounds good to me!”

Bucky placed his hands on your hips and pulled, receiving the same result as his friend.

“Geez, you’re really in there. How did this even happen?”

You shrugged as best you could in your position.

“By all means it doesn’t make sense and yet, here I am.”

Bucky chuckled behind you.

“Okay, I think I get what’s going on here.”

“Huh? What’s going on?”

“If you wanted me to fuck you, you could have just told me. You didn’t have to do some elaborate scheme.”

“But I’m not—“ you stopped yourself as you realized what he was saying, “umm, yeah. You caught me. Was it that obvious?”

It was really your lucky day. Getting laid by two Avengers? What could be better?

“Steve is such an overachiever. He covered you. God, I want to taste you.”

You perked up, suddenly not very keen on your escape plan.

“Then do it! I mean—that would be great! Do whatever you want to me!”

Bucky pulled your skirt up from where it clung to your skin. He groaned at the sight of you before getting to his knees.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, doll. I gotta get my tongue in that pretty pussy. Clean you up. Stevie really made a mess.”

You were nearly rabid from excitement.

Bucky pulled your thong down your legs and you happily stepped out of it. He lowered his face to your pussy and licked a stripe from your clit to your folds. He sucked on your lips sloppily before pulling away.

“Oh yeah. That’s definitely Rogers.”

You quirked an eyebrow.

“How would you—oh fuck!” Bucky took your clit between his plump lips and sucked hard, leaving you gasping for air. He moved his mouth up, pushing his tongue inside you and moaning as he cleaned you up.

He ate you like a starving man. Within minutes your legs were weak and ready to give out while he pressed against all your sensitive spots. His tongue began to circle your clit and you squirmed, pushing back against his face desperately. Bucky pushed a metal finger deep into your cunt and you moaned his name, still trying to push your hips even further against him. When he pressed another thick digit into you and curled his fingers, you were a goner. Vision blurred and body convulsing while he continued through your orgasm. A little burst of liquid from between your legs had your face heating up in embarrassment as you came down from your high.

Bucky pulled away from you and sat back on his heels.

“That was the hottest fucking thing I have ever seen in my entire life.”

“That’s never happened before,” you confessed. You could practically hear the smirk on his face.

“Didn’t know I was that good, but glad to be of service. When I get you out of here, I want you to sit on my face.”

“No complaints from me. That is, if I ever get out of here.”

“Hey, don’t worry. We’re going to get you out of here. I’m going to go find Steve and we’ll figure this out.”

He pulled your skirt back down and skipped off into the stairwell. You couldn’t help but notice he kept your underwear. You supposed it didn’t matter at this point, you weren’t exactly doing great at keeping up an air of modesty. You were starting to get sore around your middle from the cinch of the elevator door and hoped they would be back soon.

When the door to the stairwell swung open and someone else stepped out, you could tell by their gait it wasn’t either of the men you had already encountered.

“What is this? Who has done this to you?” Thor bellowed at the sight of you.

“No one did this to me,” you explained.

“This is strange. Some sort of Midgardian tradition?”

“No. I had to deliver some files and I got stuck in here.”

“A helpless maiden. This is certainly a problem I can solve. I’ll have to hold on to you. I hope that is not indecent?”

“Go ahead. Might as well try,” you encouraged him.

Thor circled his hands around your waist and pulled at an angle. To your surprise, you moved just the slightest bit. An idea hit you and you called out for him to stop.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked in concern.

“No, uhh—“

You had one chance to get this right. If Thor could actually get you out of here, maybe you could wait just a little longer and request something else.

“Thor, if you want to, we could do something else before I get out of here.”

“Oh? What could we do in this position?”

“I don’t mean to be forward, but if you want to fuck me you can.”

Thor was silent for a moment. You wanted to hit yourself for sounding so slutty. But you’d be crazy to set aside the opportunity. This wasn’t just anyone, there was a literal god standing behind you. It would be ridiculous not to even offer.

At east that’s what you convinced yourself.

“Well, who am I to deny a beautiful woman her carnal pleasure? I would love to fuck you,” he nearly growled.

You felt like you won the lottery.

Thor pushed your skirt up and gasped at what he saw.

“Oh, you are absolutely dripping. A very welcome sight.”

“Oh, yeah. Steve and Bucky are to blame for that.”

“Ah, they arrived here before I did. This won’t do at all. I’ll have to fill you with my godly seed.”

“You are more than welcome to do that.”

Thor pressed his thumb against your clit and you sighed, reveling in his touch. While he touched you, you heard him fumbling with his armor with his other hand. Thor pulled his hand away from you. Before you could complain, the head of his cock was pressed against your clit and rubbing in mesmerizing circles.

“Ah, that feels good,” you told him.

“I have something that will feel even better. Are you ready?”

“I can’t say yes enough.”

When he pressed against your entrance you realized just how thick he was. Certainly larger than Steve and bigger than any man you had ever been with. He pushed slowly into you, opening up your tight channel for him. Your inner walls clung snugly around his length as he fed you more and more of his cock. Just as you felt like it would never end, his hips were pressed firmly against you.

You let out a shocked gasp.

He stayed there for a bit to let you adjust but you wiggled your hips in protest. You wanted it now. His first thrust had you arching your back and holding onto the elevator door to keep yourself upright. It was like he was touching all of your insides at the same time. Brushing past every single sensitive spot you had and driving you crazy.

You were out of your mind as he fucked you. Absolutely drunk on his cock.

This is it, you thought. My hoeing is going to get me killed.

But what a way to go.

Thor grunted behind you and placed a hand on the back of your neck while the other firmly kept hold on your hip.

“You are breathtaking,” he complimented.

“Yeah,” you managed to get out, “we’ll have to do this again some time.”

“You’ll have no complaint from me,” he assured you.

This experience would probably ruin normal men for you. Nothing could compare.

Thor made you cum so hard your legs went limp. He was pressed deep inside you, leaving you clenching hard around his thick length. Thor fucking growled as he came, thrusting so hard that both of you were pushed through the elevator doors and onto the floor.

His quick reflexes were the only thing stopping him from landing directly on top of you, instead landing beside you at your back. Sometime during your fall his cock had slipped out of you, leaving cum dripping down your thighs.

You had to laugh. The situation was too insane. But you were free! You turned to Thor with a bright smile.

“I could kiss you!” you yelled in excitement. Thor looked intrigued and opened his arms for you.

“I encourage it!”

You fell on top of him, smothering his lips with yours. Neither of you noticed the doors closing and the elevator ascending.

The doors opened to a shocked Tony and Pepper, looking down in horror at the mess of papers you and Thor were lying half naked in, still making out.

“How the hell are we going to explain this to HR?”

.

Important Author’s Note: I really wanna make out with Thor.

[wordynerdygurl]

Hello Everyone! I've been conspiring with @sammy-jo1977 to create a new series of sorts. We want to explore all those characters that started us on our journey into Fandoms, large and small.

This series will be a place for those ladies and gents who haven't had a lot of attention recently, are old favorites or the ones you can't seem to shake. If you would like to contribute a chapter to this guide, please send me a message! We want to have a full and accurate guide, so we are hoping you'll hop in with your character of expertise!

As an example, I'm posting our first story... I'd love to get your thoughts! With Love - Your WordyNerdyGurl

In The Stacks - A Rupert Giles Story

Author’s Note:  This story is due, in large part, to my beta-bestie @sammy-jo1977 and it is part of the afore mentioned series.  This character might be off television, but his fiery spirit lives on!! As always, reblogs/ shares are encouraged as are comments and love!

Pairing:  Female Reader x Giles (Buffy The Vampire Slayer Series) Summary:  You get up to mischief with the librarian, in the stacks. Warnings:  SMUT ahead.  General Buffy knowledge might help, but is not required.  There’s a moment with a bit of blood, but hopefully nothing too triggering for anyone! I hope you enjoy!

“Mr. Giles?” “Just a moment!”  You heard the clipped British voice answer before being drowned out by the heavy thumping of falling books and the rustling sound of shifting papers hitting the floor. As you stepped further into the Sunnydale High library, you weren’t surprised to see the familiar faces of Buffy, Willow, Xander and Cordelia huddled around a small table.  The friends were practically inseparable and clearly close.  You found their kinship adorable and couldn’t help smiling at the group as you drew closer. “Hello to some of my best students!  And of course, to you Mr. Harris.  How is everyone today?”

Willow, stalwart student and overachiever, smiled broadly, “Pretty good.  I did ace my math quiz and got an A on my English paper… but, well, I only pulled a B on my Bio test and I just know that I could have done better.” Offering her friend a consoling pat to the shoulder, Buffy sighed, “It’s ok, Will.  You’ll get those cells next time!” “Tune in next week as Willow passes her AP Biology test with flying colors, on ‘As Sunnydale Turns’!” Before anyone could counter, Giles came around the corner carrying a sturdy stack of texts which he dropped onto the table as gently as the large load allowed, “As always, you four are the best assistants a librarian could ask for.” “Come on Giles!  You know I only hang out here for the beautiful ladies!” Pinching the bridge of his strong nose, Rupert Giles sighed, “I am well aware of where your interests lie, Xander.” “Please, he can hardly handle being with one beautiful girl.”  That was from Cordelia who pouted prettily, her hand mirror open as she fixed her hair. “My girlfriend, ladies and gentlemen!  Thanks for that, Cordy.” Snapping the case shut, staring down her beau, she smiled, “You’re welcome.” “Uh, Mr. Giles, if I may?”  You hated to interrupt but you had come in with a purpose and you meant to see it through. “Yes, of course, how can I help?” Shuffling your feet, a bit nervous now with the asking, you smiled shyly, “I asked at the local library but they were absolutely no help.  You see, I’m looking for a specific point of reference and I was led to believe that you could help me.” “Oh!  Is it something for our Inner Vision collage boards?  I love working on mine, only… It’s not my fault that I only see dark clouds and blood when I close my eyes.” “Well, Miss Summers, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  And the best art challenges us to see that beauty.” “I hate to tell you what I see when I close my eyes.”  Xander retorted. “Ah, Mr. Harris, your collage certainly showcases your, ahem, cultured world view.” “Hey!  The Simpsons are fine art, ok?  Just because they don’t live in a museum doesn’t mean they aren’t culture.” Giles, unable to stand by any longer griped, “Xander, I am almost positive that cartoons do not count as culture.” You started to answer but Buffy cut you short, adding, “Don’t mind Giles.  If it doesn’t come out of some dirty, dusty old book it can’t be culture.” “It’s pop culture!  The entertainment of my generation!” It was your turn to cut in, turning to the tweed clad gentleman, “Actually, Mr. Giles, Xander has a point.  Cartoons and animation in general are all increasingly seen as valid forms of art.  No matter what your tomes might tell you.” Smirking a little, he appraised your answer before replying, “Be that as it may, Mr. Harris, the amount of television you consume is corrosive.” Raising his hands in defense, Xander’s head swiveled between the two of you as Willow chimed in, “Give it up, Xander.  You know you’ll never win and besides, I’m pretty sure that animation and art are different.  Wait.  They are, aren’t they?” “When I was in Rome last summer, the very attractive, very Italian tour guide told us that they’ve found painted graffiti on the Coliseum.  It only goes to prove that times change but people don’t.” “Cordy’s right!  About the art, not the dishy Italian.  And they didn’t paint it, they carved it.”  Bouncing her blonde hair decisively, Buffy made her declaration.   “Wouldn’t paint be easier?  I mean, who wants to carry a chisel in order to deface a wall?” “Oh!  Oh!  I know this!  The kind of paint needed to last for centuries hadn’t been invented yet!”  Willow, lifting out of her seat in the excitement of academic excellence, was giddy. “Yes, Willow, that is correct.  In fact, a lot of the graffiti is simple and very crude.  Mostly of the phallus, if memory serves.  I’m sure I can find a documented case in Agrippa if you’ll all just-” And you watched as everyone rolled their eyes as Giles trailed off, lost now in the hunt for a specific volume which could be sited, should further proof be needed. “Ew.  Pass.” “I’m with Buffy here, Giles.  Keep your Grecian graffiti out of my brain.” “I’ll stick with the Simpsons, thank you very much.” “Yes, well.  It’s not Grecian at all, is it?  It’s Roman-” Smiling broadly, Buffy hopped off the table, “Giles is right.  The Greeks were more into orgies!” “Buffy!”  Willow’s shocked response made you cover a laugh with a fake cough. “-Of course, cites are rare.  Very difficult to find documentation.”  Giles, typically, hadn’t given up the search. Cutting through the chatter, louder than it ever needed to be, the period bell sounded. "Ugh.  Gym class for me.  Why is this even a thing?" "I don't know Buffy, I thought you liked showing off in your little shorts and beating the boys at basketball." "Cordy, that's enough.  And while us boys do love looking at you, Buff... we don't love the beatings you regularly deliver." "Well, I have a free period Giles!  Do you want me to stay and -" Snapping shut the leather book he was gripping, Giles caught your eye and turned to the peppy student, "Uh, no Willow, I don't think so.  I believe I need to see what our Art Department is in need of at the moment." With a shrug, Willow began packing up her belongings as Xander slung his back back over his shoulder, "Will, you can come with me.  I'm going to find a nice little corner, under a tree, and sleep away my study hall." “But, I… I could help find the Agrippa?  Or… some other old Roman book?” Xander wrapped an arm around Willow and took Cordelia’s open hand, “But why do that when nothing calls?” "Another fine example of your scholastic aptitude, Mr. Harris", was your parting shot at the foursome as they walked out the door. "Well. Mr. Giles, now that we’re alone… Could I talk you into helping me out?" “Of course, of course.”  Pushing his glasses further up his nose, fixing his light eyes on yours, “What are we looking for?” Sighing deeply, knowing the chances were slim, “I was hoping we would find some examples of Pre-Columbian deity carvings.” Pausing, his look serious, Giles peered at you, “Interesting.  Anything in particular?” “Yes, actually.”  Again you flushed, more than a little flustered at what you were really looking for, “I’m researching fertility icons.” Raising his eyebrows, Giles started, more than a little outside of his comfort zone, but you had to give him credit.  He recovered from the shock rather quickly, “Oh… I… I see.  Well yes, I’m sure we can find… something.  If you’ll follow me, please.” “I’m right behind you.”  Biting into your bottom lip, you smiled to yourself.  Right behind Mr. Giles?  What a place to be.  Giles led the young art teacher through the deepest stacks of the library, pausing once or twice to confirm that she was keeping up with him.  He was ashamed to admit that he had lost travelers a time or two as he stalked through his overstuffed shelves, knowing instinctively where to find the book he needed most. For her, watching the tweed covered bottom of Mr. Giles was no hardship.  True, he was older and tad bit reserved in the best British way, yet she had the sneaking suspicion that underneath all the wool and starched cotton was the heart of a wild man poet. "Uh... just a bit further, I'm afraid.  Books like this, well, I keep them at a greater remove." "It makes sense.  Don't want the kiddos getting a hold of anything too tantalizing." "Of course not.  As you well know, they don't need much help in the libidinous response department." You chuckled softly, nodding as the air around you grew stuffier, "Too true!  You should see what some of them turn in and call art.  It would make a blind man blush." And at the mention of blushing, you were shocked to see a rosy hue grow on Mr. Giles' cheeks.  You liked it.  It reminded you of the high color in a Vermeer painting.  You couldn’t help the flutter in your belly at the thought, "Mr. Giles, have you ever seen a South American fertility statue?" "I can't say that I have... have... have you?"  Something about the idea of you examining an ancient artifact directly connected to sexual congress made his body stir.  "Hmm... Oh, yes.  I was able to study in Mexico for a semester.  Some of the art work is just incredible and the carvings, they're truly magnificent.  Carefully made.  Usually stone or..." swallowing hard, your throat suddenly dry, "hard wood." Breaking fast at the implication in your words, Giles froze in place which caused you to press directly against his broad, vest covered back.  You had a second to register the soft scent of his aftershave; something spicy and masculine, which made your mouth water.  Moaning quietly, you offered a weak apology, “Oh, I am so sorry, Mr. Giles.” Offering you his profile, the bookcases too cramped for him to turn around fully, you saw his sweet smile, “That’s… that’s quite alright.  In fact, we’re here.” Stepping out of the way, you pushed back against the opposite wall, the shelves digging into your spine in the confined space.  Giles bent over, giving you a great view of his backside, as he extracted a slim book from the bottommost ledge.  When he stood up, directly in front of you, the narrow, book covered alcove caused him to stumble. Giles’ chest collided with your own, forcing the air out of your lungs.  Instinctively, you lifted a leg, curling it over the swell of one trousered hip and lifting the hem of your knee length plaid kilt.  Nose to nose in a compromising position, you exhaled a shaky breath as Mr. Giles inhaled, “Close quarters around here.” Shifting under his deceptively hard figure, it was difficult to ignore all the places that were firm to the touch, especially when you could feel so much through the thin barrier of your cotton panties.  Bracing one arm on the obliging shelf biting into your shoulder, Giles pushed back a bit, lifting his weight off of you without making any other attempts to move away.  He was so close now.  Close enough to feel your fuzzy sweater and all the soft skin that trembled beneath it.  Close enough to see the pound of your pulse in your throat.  Close enough that when you licked over your bottom lip Giles could almost taste it too.  And why shouldn’t he?  “Giles?”  Your voice was whisper soft, fanning hotly over the face of your colleague. “Uh… yes?” “I’m stuck.” Blinking behind his thick lenses, it took the normally quick witted Brit a second to process your words, “You’re stuck?” Nodding slowly, your hair curling over your cheek, “My… My skirt.  It’s… uh, caught.  Caught on something behind me.” “Good heavens!  I’m so sorry, let me help you.”  Slowly, Giles lowered your bare leg to the floor, his hand lingering for a second longer than absolutely necessary.  He was still in your space.  Still incredibly close to you. You arched away from the bookcase in an attempt to free yourself with a groan that sounded heady in the stuffy stacks.  All you managed to do was force your sweater covered décolletage into Giles’ chest.  Stammering, a wave of sweat breaking over his brow, “Allow me?” The way your skirt was caught pulled the bright plaid lower on your waist than you would normally consider decent.  It meant that you had a fleshy strip of skin exposed along your tummy and Giles raised his eyebrows by means of asking permission to touch you.  “Yea, yes.  Please!” Tentatively, gently, you felt the strong fingers of Rupert Giles circle your waist and shivered at the unfamiliar familiarity of his touch.  Your chin rested on his shoulder as he worked and you couldn’t help sighing when he opened his hands and pulled you closer.  Under other circumstances you might have misunderstood the embrace but you were both professionals.  Not that you hadn’t considered the handsome book guardian a time or two before. “I… I think we’re almost there.  If you’ll just, maybe to the right?” “Um, sure.”  Following his directions you twisted in his arms, trying hard not to tear your outfit or rub against Giles.  All the close contact and talk of fertility gods had you feeling a little aroused and it wouldn’t do for your colleague to learn that fact. With a triumphant grunt, Giles set you free, only for gravity to kick back in.  The momentum created by your falling took the gentleman and the entire Grollier’s Gothic Almanac collection with you.  A cascade of papers, scrolls and dust rained down on you both. Coughing, aware that you were laying on something softer than the floor, you struggled into a sitting position, swatting away clouds of disintegrated pages, “Rupert?  Are you alright?” From beneath you a rumbling grumble that sounded like, “Yes quite… you?” was heard.  It was then that you realized exactly where you were.  Straddling your friendly neighborhood librarian, surrounded by debris, but safe, all the same. “Oh my!  I’m so-” “No, No.  Please, don’t apologize.  I’ve been meaning to reorganize this section and well, now it seems I’ve got no choice.” “You’ve got a bump.  Right here…”  Just over his right eye a small bruised egg, the color of lilacs, was starting to rise and you gingerly touched the swelling spot. “Then it will match the one on the back of my head perfectly.” “Poor Giles!  All of this injury in the name of research!” “No one ever tells you the dangers one might encounter in the library.” His dry British wit sent you both into giggles and suddenly nothing could be funnier than the moment you were in with Mr. Giles.  Looking up at you, his fingertip traced over your cheek, suddenly serious, “I’m not the only one with a war wound, it appears.” “Oh?”  Your hand covered his as you realized that you had a small cut, bleeding just a little, over the apple of your jaw.  Smoothing his thumb over your injury, Giles soothed you, saying, “Hush now, I think you’ll live.”  And you watched as Giles sucked the drop of scarlet from the pad there, his green eyes on yours, daring you.  Something about it was so… sinful.  So dark.  So alluring. Then his lips were on yours, suddenly and savagely.  Hands, firm and capable, slid under the fluff of your sweater along your spine as you tangled your own in his dark hair.  Giles, drawing you near, was satisfied only when you were splayed over him, writhing between the piles of text and stacks of piled paperbacks, as his tongue plundered your mouth. Trapped by his bent knees at your bottom, Giles helped center you over the firmness of his excitement, teasing you as you moaned, “Oh, oh Rupert!” “Call me Ripper.”  Before the word had left your throat, Giles was sloppily kissing over your neck, sucking lightly on the skin revealed by the v-neck of your top.  Sitting up quickly, you lifted the soft sweater over your head, tossing it away from you without concern.  Like one of the teenagers you might chastise, you then hugged your lover tight, gasping when you felt the nip of teeth over your bra.  “Giles… Uh, Ripper!  Please, go easy?”  With a hard grip on your upper thigh and one hand on the back of your neck, Giles held you still, smirking, “If you wanted easy you shouldn’t have come looking for fertility icons, my dear little art teacher.  And if this particular article of clothing-” He paused long enough to pinch at your hardening nipple before continuing, “-is dear to you, take it off.” Clenching your abdominals at his crass language, more turned on that you could remember, you reached behind you.  Unhooking the pretty scrap of lace and satin, you shyly covered yourself, biting into your bottom lip, “Fine… Ripper.  Should I be worried for my virtue?” “Absolutely.”  Without waiting for permission, Giles pulled your arms away, exposing your bare body to his blazing gaze, “You have nothing to hide, you know?  You are-” “Just shut up and kiss me, Ripper.”  And he did. Grinding your hips into his, it was impossible to ignore his hardening manhood, even through the fabric of his pressed trousers.  Giles cupped your bottom, under your skirt but over your panties, bouncing you in place as if he was already inside of you.  For your part, you tried to unbutton his pin striped shirt, but the force of his kisses was proving too distracting. “Oh, dear!  Poor thing been kissed senseless?”  He was teasing and cruel, but in the sexiest possible way. Red cheeked and huffing, you nodded, “Yes… let me touch you!” “Tsk… you didn’t say ‘please’.” “Please!  Please, Ripper!  Oh god, please let me!” Unseating you slightly, Giles leaned up on his elbows, cocking his head to one side as he took in the mess he had made of you, “Go ahead then.  Unzip my pants.” “What?” Removing his glasses, eyeing you darkly, “You heard me, I think.” Swallowing hard, your hands shaking with excitement, you reached for Giles’ belt.  Watching him, and only him, you slowly slide the leather from it’s buckle.  When you popped the button of his pants and let your hand drag over his hardened length, Rupert groaned and tossed his head back, “Yes.  Keep going.” Slowly, agonizingly so, you lowered the zipper as you were ordered to do, “What now, Ripper?” “Take me out.  I want you to feel what you do to me.” “I can do that.”  You played it cool, but the saucy words being said in that clipped British baritone did things to you.  They made your thighs tighten, your belly flutter and your breath catch.   Trailing a hand over Giles' barely exposed hip, you moved closer to the prize, your prize, as it pulsed with need.  Wrapping your hand around the meaty girth of Rupert's member, you couldn't help stroking the silky hot skin, so vital in your palm.  That it caused the man beneath you to moan your name only added fuel to the fire of your desire. Slick and sorely wanting, you licked your lips, ready to savor the flavor of your book stacking beau but he stopped you, saying, "Last chance to run back to the studio." "No way… Ripper."  And you felt a rough jerk as your panties were removed by force, the air cool on your overheated core.  Another kiss, full of needful things, distracted you as Giles parted your lower lips with his nimble fingers. Pumping into you, once, twice, just to ensure that you were ready, Rupert swiftly stretched your center.  With your small hand guiding his shaft, you lowered yourself onto the engorged tower of his power, crying out a ragged, "Oh God!" You thought you were capable of handling any man, but the delicious spread Giles' fine form forced you to endure was more than you expected.  Clutching at his bunched up sweater vest, your back arched tautly as Rupert dragged your hips down onto his unrelenting hardness over and over.   In your head, a rhythmic, tribal tattoo that made you think of ancient fires and curved statues took hold and you rose and fell against Giles on the beats vibrating through your brain.  He sensed it too, alternating his stroke, slowing down and speeding up in time with the thrumming pulse only the pair of you could hear.  "I want you to cum for me.  Do you understand?  Tell me you understand." "Yes!  Yes!  I'm so close, Ripper!  So close!" "Good.  That's very good."  Tingling now, your muscles tensed, ready for the release Rupert would provide.  You flung yourself onto his swollen sex without thought or reason, merely searching for the pleasure he had promised.  His thumb, so thick, so clever, pressed against your sensitive clit and your world imploded. Rupert felt it.  The moment your body and his melded together was forceful.  It tore his pleasure from his loins in grunting gasps as he experienced your ecstacy at his hands. Limp and listless, you draped your half nude body over his, dazed and drained.  Who knew screwing the librarian would feel this good?  In your post coital haze you started to laugh.  Giles, his hands roaming over the sweat soaked skin of your back, heard your chuckles and joined in.  It was another release, of sorts, and you found it almost as intimate as the act you had just committed. Folding your hands under your chin, flashing Rupert a wide smile, "Ripper, huh?" Sliding his glasses back into place and carding a hand through his hair, Giles grinned, "Oh, uh… yes.  Ripper.  My nickname in London." Toying with the collar of his shirt, "I'd love to hear about London sometime… Ripper." At the sound of that name in your voice, Rupert flexed inside of you, "Call me that again and you'll miss last period." Gasping against him, nodding weakly, "Hmm… promise?" That made him smile broadly as he handed you back your sweater, "We can't have a repeat of last week, can we?" "It wasn’t my fault you didn't hear the bell ring, Mr. Giles!" Sitting up, you fastened your bra and shrugged into your sweater before asking, "Did you have to destroy my undies?" "I'm afraid I did.  Although I told you to remove anything dear, didn't I?" "What am I gonna do for the next hour, Giles?" Pushing his glasses up, "I would advise you not to bend over." Swatting at him playfully, you used one of the sturdier shelves to stand, adjusting your skirt and fluffing your hair.  Looking around at the absolute mess created by falling books, embarrassed, you asked, "Can I help clean this up?" "No, I don't think that'll be necessary.  After all, Willow will be in-" "Along with Buffy and Xander and Cordelia.  Got it." Standing himself, Giles chuckled as he fastened his trousers and set himself to rights, "Precisely.  Now-" he bent over to retrieve a slim volume, "- The book you asked about.  Fertility iconography in Meso-American subcultures." "Thanks.  Ya know, I always enjoy coming to the library.  I'm surprised more people don't." Walking with you, his hand on your lower back, nuzzling into your neck, "I enjoy you cumming in the library." It was on the tip of your tongue to say something fresh when the overly loud bell clanged.  Lifting up on tiptoes you pressed a kiss to the goose egg over Giles' eye, saying, "I hope that makes it feel better!" Snagging you into a tight hug, Giles stared into your eyes before kissing you deeply, "That.  That makes it feel better." And then the library door swung wide on the four students who called the library a second home, "Um… are my eyes deceiving me or is Giles sporting a black eye?  I was only gone for an hour, big guy, what happened?" "If you must know, Xander, a shelf collapsed in the back.  We were fortunate enough not to be badly hurt but, there were some bumps and bruises." "A shelf!  Oh no… which one?!" Giles turned to Willow solemnly, "I'm afraid all the Grollier’s… and most of Crentist." "On it.  Come on Xander.  You can help me sort!" "Aw, gee.  That sounds like fun." As the pair trotted off, you turned to Giles, whispering low, "Dinner?  My place?  You can tell me about London, your childhood and why you love tweed." Eyeing Buffy, who was distracted and a distraught, Giles answered, "Tonight?  Um…" "He'd love to!  Say 9 o'clock?  And, he'll bring the wine."

Spinning on your heel, surprised that Buffy was your champion, you grinned, "Great!  Awesome!  I will see you then."

As you left you heard the bubbly blonde doling out instructions, "No Giles.  You can't wear that outfit to dinner!  You need to look nice.  Nicer than you do now.  Also, why is there so much dust in your hair?" If Giles answered you didn’t hear it over your big yawn.  You had a lot to do between now and 9 o’clock.  Rupert Giles was coming over for dinner and you could hardly wait.

------ Fin ------- I’m tagging my minxes, even though this is specifically NOT a Loki story.  I do want you guys to send me stories that might fall under the “Hot Characters” banner though!   Minxes:   @scrumptious-finicky-illusion​ @iamverity​ @mizfit2​ @sammy-jo1977​ @wolfsmom1​ @jessiejunebug​ @iluvsumbucky​ @unadulteratedwizardlove @procrastinatinglikeabitch @shxdowofdarkness​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @ahintofkiwistrawberry​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @rorybutnotgilmore​ @crystalizedcaramel​ @lokislittlecorner​ @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81​ @caffiend-queen​​ @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​​ @jenjen8675309​​ @that-one-person​​ @roguewraith​​ @toomanystoriessolittletime​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @just-random-obsessions​ @brokenthelovely​ @lots-of-loki​ @thefallenbibliophilequote​

[damnzawa]

Hi there! I just found your account and I love you writing! I was wondering if you could do a bakugou x reader fantasy au? Where prince bakugou goes to a small village in his kingdom for a pit stop while on a quest but meets the reader who's a poor butcher's daughter that doesn't know who he is and doesn't really care either but really wants to go on a quest and begs him to let her travel with him in exchange for being a chef. Thank you so much!!💞💕💗 ⁽⁽ଘ( ˊᵕˋ )ଓ⁾⁾┌(★ｏ☆)┘

ANNOYING — B. KATSUKI

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry if this took a long time to be published! I went off tumblr for a while due to personal issues but now I'm back! Hope you like this!

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED (for now)

WARNINGS: Language LMAO but its Bakugo so what do we expect. Also this is not beta read!

WORD COUNT: 1955

Not everyday you have the privilage to meet the prince. The heir to the kingdom's throne. The second most respected man in the whole entire kingdom.

And not everyday you get to mistake him as a thief either.

Not that you care about his title, really. You believe that all men are created equal, regardless of their social standings, heirarchy and whatnot. Thus, you didn't really care about the prince and the royal family that much to ever know about them. Not even their faces, nor names.

So, it wasn't a surprise that it will cause you your possible demise.

You see, the day started nice. You went out to do some deliveries, met some nice people on the road who bought half of the meat your father had cut, and to top it all off the farmer was kind enough to give you extra rootcrops as a sign of gratitude to you and your father. It was a great day all in all. Until, the knights came.

Along with the explosive prince.

Murmurs began to start as you headed back to your father's stall in the market after a long day of delivery work. Even though you didn't mean to eavesdrop — it was kind of hard not to, considering how their volumes were — you caught the words: arrogant, self-centered, short-tempered. And later you found out those words described the prince.

"He must be a nincompoop then. To get such a reputation from the people in town, he must have done some... questionable things." You said to yourself. Too engrosed in your thoughts, you bumped into a red-headed knight. You bowed immediately while apologizing then excused yourself, you didn't really want to interact with knights today. All you wanted to do was cook a hearty meal for your stubborn father, read a book by the fireplace after a bath, and relax.

But all those plans seem to be quickly washed away when you saw an ash blond quietly steal from your father. You were gonna let it slide, thinking that maybe it was for a good cause.

That is until you realized, the man stole a prime cut.

As if a switch was flicked, you quickly ran towards the direction the man headed to. Spotting him from afar, you ran as fast as you can and knocked the man into the ground, shocking the people around you.

"Give it back." You sternly commanded the man. "Give back the meat you stole from my father."

The man scoffed at your 'accusations' and tried to wiggle his way free but your entire weight placed on top of his back made it hard to do so. "Let me fucking go. I have no idea what the actual fuck you are accusing me of."

"Oh shut it. I saw you with my own two eyes and I am very much sure that their vision is not impaired yet." His futile attempts at escaping now stopped as he tilted his head to see the scoundrel who had the audacity to knock him down and embarrass him infront of townspeople.

Of course it had to be a girl.

"Are you one of my admirers to go such lengths as accusing me of stealing from a commoner?" That comment made your eye twitch because first, you are certainly not an admirer of this prick. Two, you don't even know the guy! Three, who would admire this piece of work? And lastly, your father might be a 'commoner' but he's the best 'commoner' you could ever find! There wouldn't be a slab of ribs or a fine piece of steak on your plates if it weren't for him! And the way this asshole said 'commoner' with such distaste too! What a prick! Who the hell does he think he is?

"My prince!" The same red-headed knight you bumped into earlier shouted from afar. Your eyes widened for a second before turning back to the asshole beneath you who now has a smug grin on his face.

"Miss! Are you alright?" The knight asked while helping you get up. "Did the prince cause you any disturbances? Any problems?" It was your turn to plaster on a smug grin on your face. You saw his own falter which you made you more smug than before.

"Why yes actually, the prince caused me a slight inconvenience." The red-head sighed, taking a quick glance at the prince beside him — who couldn't stand due to pain. "The prince stole a priceless little thing from my father's stall earlier and I'd like for him to return it or better yet, pay for it." The prince was about to retort but the red-head beat him to it.

"I deeply apologize for the prince's action, miss. If it would make you happy and satisfied, I will pay for the items he stole. I will also ask for forgiveness on his behalf." Angry noises came from the prince's (beast) mouth as the red-headed knight did exactly what he told making you raise an eyebrow.

"Why are you doing it for him? Can't he do it himself?" It was amazing to see a knight easily convinced to do something a mere 'commoner' like you demanded, but you concluded that this red-headed fellow wasn't an ordinary knight. He seemed like the type that's fed up with the prince's antics, thus his demeanor towards people is filled with empathy and the usual knightly courage. But your words made him halt, and look at you as if you were from some otherworldly land.

You caught the knight mutter about something manly before the prince interrupted. "Hah?! I'm not gonna apologize to someone lower than me! You extra!" The knight sweat-dropped at the prince's words while you looked at him blankly. Wow, the rumors are true, he is an asshole.

"Well, Your Highness, this extra happened to be the one who cared for the rib who used to be a part of the cow that you stole just now. So, apologize and pay up. I don't care if you're the prince or not. Thievery is a crime, and you just committed it." The crowd begin to whisper, making the prince's eye twitch.

"Fine, you annoying extra! Give her whatever the fuck she wants!" And with that the prince stormed off. Leaving you and the red-haired knight behind. The crowd began to disperse, seeing as the scene just concluded and that the man of the hour was gone.

The knight turned to you once again and bowed. "I'm deeply sorry for my prince's actions. As he caused such an inconvenience and refuses to be accountable for his actions, I shall ensure to provide whatever compensation you need or want — within reason of course." Before you can respond, he introduces himself with a grin. "Ah! How silly of me! Chivalric knight, Kirishima Eijirou at your service."

"I appreciate your efforts, Sir Kirishima, but I just need the payment for the stolen goods." You replied with a smile, but soon your smile faltered. You had wanted to be a chef for so long and travel unknown lands to discover cuisine and cooking techniques you've never heard of before. Perhaps... is this the right time to do it?

You bit your lip as you contemplated. Should you grab this opportunity and run with it?

Seeing your hesitancy, Kirishima waited for your answer. "Actually... I have a request... I was wondering if it's possible?"

"I'm all ears, Miss."

...

"What is this extra doing here?!" Prince Bakugo exclaimed as he saw your annoying little face within his traveling party. Kirishima sighed as he explained the situation. You would join his party as a chef until you reach the capital where you will be training to be a chef under the great Lunch Rush. Bakugo was about to object when Kirishima shot him a look.

"Fine. But I'm not eating garbage cooked by a commoner!" You rolled your eyes at his demeanor. Are all royals like this?

As if reading your mind, Kirishima responds. "Don't worry. King Masaru and Queen Mitsuki are quite modest and kind."

"Then what happened to him?" You pointed to Bakugo.

"I heard that, you extra!" Fowl language followed that statement making the traveling party sigh. Oh boy, this is gonna be a painful journey.

After that, you said your goodbyes to your father, who was very emotional about the turn of events. "Be good and be brave, my sweet child. And ask for forgiveness from His Highness." Your brows were scrunched in confusion.

"Why must I do that? He was clearly in the wrong!"

"Ah... that slab of meat was a present from me to him. He once helped me round up the cows when his traveling party went by our house yesterday. The slab of priceless meat was a token of appreciation for his kind gesture. So, do apologize for your actions, ok?" The information you just heard astounded you, making you speechless. Guilt pooled in your stomach as you promised your father that you will apologize to the prince. And with a final promise of coming home as a renowned chef, you parted ways.

The journey started rough. The prince refused to eat anything you made at all. His stubbornness knows no bounds and his overall demeanor towards you was not pleasant, which you understood as the scene you caused was a total misunderstanding on your part. The only upside was the traveling party greatly enjoyed your meals, and some even gave you recipes from different places and suggestions of destinations that you'll surely enjoy to explore! Overall, it went smoothly.

That is, until the prince became sick.

The doctors in your traveling party asked you to concoct different meals suited to His Highness, You had to stop at a village in order to ensure Prince Bakugo's speedy recovery. And one day, you were assigned to deliver his meals to him personally.

"Prince Bakugo?" You knocked on the door, and as expected, not a response came from the prince. You sighed and slowly opened the door, cautiously stepping in so you won't wake Bakugo up or spill the contents of the bowl you held.

"Go away, you extra." He grumbled, but his rough voice was replaced with a weak ome due to his illness.

"Look, I know you won't eat my meals but you need to eat. You can't recover from this if your body doesn't have the nutrients it needs to fight back this illness." You huffed. "And... besides, consider this as my way of making up to you."

"What the heck are you talking about?"

"My father told me about it. I'm sorry for mistaking you for a thief. I tried to apologize to you on several occasions but you angrily push me away every time I do. So, I figured this might be the right timing since you know... you aren't your usual aggressive self." You scratched your nape in embarrassment. "Besides, if there's something I learned while traveling with you is that you're a big softie inside. You might act rough and is shard on the edges, you're actually kind-hearted and caring. Uh... anyways. Please make sure to eat your meal, Prince Bakugo."

Before you can exit the room, you heard him say, "Annoying extra." But the usual hostility behind those words wasn't there. You might just be assuming it or imagining it, but those words almost sounded... fond.

With a shake of your head, you left the room.

Later that day, you found the bowl to be empty and outside of his room. Along with it was a note that read, "Don't fucking tell me what to do, you annoying extra."

[thishintoflove]

A Sweet Package - BobaDin Week Day 5: AU

Pairing: Din Djarin / Boba Fett

Rating: General (no warnings aside from mild swearing)

Summary: Boba has to deal with an unwanted package at his front door. Luckily, the hassle turns out to be worth it when he meets the package's true owner.

A/N: Here, have some tooth-rotting fluff because these boys deserve it! (ﾉ☉ヮ⚆)ﾉ ⌒*:･ﾟ✧

Also available on AO3

“Ouch, shit, god dammit,” Boba swore as he stubbed his toe.

He shifted his keys to his other hand and leaned against his apartment door as he bent down to rub his toe, glaring at the offending object.

The damn package was in the wrong place. The worst part? He hadn’t even ordered anything recently.

It had been a long day, he was tired, and he didn’t have the time or patience to deal with unwanted shit outside his door.

Boba was inclined to just let it sit there, but he had to move it out of the way if he didn’t want to repeat this stubbed-toe incident tomorrow. As he glanced down again to shove it away with his foot, he noticed that the package had actually come to the correct place, but it had come to the wrong person.

It was his address, but he was certainly not the “Grogu Djarin” to whom it had been addressed.

He’d been living here for almost three months and he hadn’t received any other pieces of mail. Surely there was a forwarding address set up for this Grogu Djarin? The outside label had a personalized message that read, “To Grogu. I love you to the stars and back, little one. Happy Birthday! Love, Dad.”

Ah shit. He was going to have to do something with it.

Boba did not want to be responsible for a kid missing out on his birthday present. Grogu Djarin would probably be expecting his package-- what if this was his only birthday gift? Another closer look at the box revealed a “Perishable: refrigerate after opening” label. Damn, he certainly couldn’t just keep the package and hope that the father in question would come by and collect it. Given its size, weight, and postage markings on it, whoever had ordered it had spent quite a lot on getting it sent.

Boba sighed and bent down to carry the package inside. As he set it down on the kitchen table, he saw that there was no return address, just the information from the company that had sent it. A bakery. A well-known, quite expensive bakery.

He had a very clear picture of what was going on now, but he didn’t know what he could do about it. Boba’s brow furrowed. It wasn’t his responsibility, technically… But the thought of a little boy not receiving his birthday treat, from his father no less, was enough to soften his heart.

He couldn’t get the vision of this unknown man telling his sad child that he wasn’t getting a birthday cake this year out of his head. It was terribly sad...

Oh great. He was on a mission now.

Boba had to get the cake to this child. He needed a plan. Returning to sender would be useless at this point, so he had to find out the current address of Grogu Djarin’s father.

He grabbed his phone and typed up a quick message to his landlord and leasing agency.

"This is Boba Fett from apartment fifteen. Do you have a forwarding address for the previous tenants? I’ve received a time-sensitive package for them."

After sending the message, Boba ambled around his apartment and tried to find something to take his mind off the Problem sitting on his table. He took some cold noodles out of the fridge for dinner and listened to a voicemail from Fennec that mostly involved her complaining about a recent customer.

Right when he was about to dive into invoices from work, his phone buzzed with a message from his landlord. It contained the former tenant’s email address.

He scratched the back of his head as he considered how to compose the email. He figured keeping it formal was a safer bet. He didn’t want this guy thinking he was some kind of creep. Boba hummed to himself as he typed out a message.

"Hello. I’m the current tenant of your previous apartment and I’ve received a package addressed to you. It says “perishable” on it so I figured it was important. Let me know how you’d like to proceed."

He leaned back in his chair, assuming that it would take a while for Grogu Djarin’s father to respond. But it didn’t. Within five minutes, his phone chirped with a response.

"Thank you! I was wondering what happened when it didn’t arrive today like it was scheduled to. It was my own fault for forgetting to update my address when I ordered online. I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience. Thanks for letting me know what happened."

Boba frowned as he read the response. The man obviously wasn’t expecting anything from him. That was a good thing, but Boba still felt guilty. Perhaps the man was too polite to ask anything of him? He decided to dig a little deeper.

"The package is a birthday cake, right? I recognize the bakery on the label. Do you still need it?"

"Yes, it’s a cake. It’s my son’s birthday tomorrow. All the kids in his class are obsessed with this bakery but we’ve never been, so I decided to order from them as a surprise. I’d offer to come pick it up but my son’s already in bed and I can’t leave him alone. Thanks for letting me know what happened to it. You can get rid of it, or enjoy it yourself if you want."

Boba sucked in a breath and considered his options.

"Are you still in the city? I could bring it to you."

"I couldn’t ask you to do that."

"It’s no trouble."

"Okay, then yes, thank you! I can’t tell you how much that means to me. My address is ---"

Luckily it wasn’t too far from Boba’s apartment. No more than twenty minutes. He could handle that.

He sent back one more message affirming that he was on his way, and then he gathered up the package and his keys. So much for a relaxing night. He had to be up early as usual, but the warmth in his chest almost made up for it. Hell, he felt like some kind of personal Santa Claus. Fennec would say that his actions were “good karma”, but deep down Boba knew he was doing it for the little boy on the label. He knew what it was like to have a disappointing birthday as a child. Boba wouldn’t allow another child to experience that if there was something he could do about it.

Twenty minutes later he was standing in front of an unfamiliar apartment door, double-checking his email to make sure he was at the correct address. He knocked gently, since it was late and the kid inside was likely asleep.

After a brief moment, the door opened to reveal a tall, disheveled man. He was fit and looked only slightly younger than Boba, but his hair was a mess and there was... flour? Yes, flour, spilled across his shirt and sleeves. His brown eyes immediately widened in recognition and gratitude when he realized who was at the door.

“Hey,” Boba said awkwardly, hefting the package in his arms, “I believe this belongs to you.”

“Yes, thank you!” the man exclaimed, opening the door wider and stepping into the threshold, “You really have no idea how much this means to me. My son’s going to be very happy tomorrow.”

“I figured,” Boba replied, handing over the package. He allowed his eyes to run over the man’s features again. He was a mess, but cute. Very cute. And he was clearly a caring father. It made Boba want to be nicer than usual.

“You didn’t have to come all this way. Can I pay you, or give you something to thank you-”

Boba just held up his hand and shook his head.

“It’s no problem, really. I wanted to. As soon as I saw the ‘happy birthday’ message, I thought oh shit, I gotta get this to them. I hope your son enjoys it.”

“I’m sure he will. You really did me a huge favor. We moved a few weeks ago and my head’s still all over the place. Finally got a two-bedroom,” the man said, then quickly shut his mouth when he realized this might be unnecessary information.

“Congratulations,” Boba replied, giving him a wry smile. The man blushed and shifted the package under one arm so he could reach out and shake Boba’s hand.

“I’m Din by the way.”

“Boba. Nice to meet you.”

He knew he could walk away right now, but something about the man in front of him was magnetic. Boba was jaded enough at this point in life to not believe in stupid romantic fantasies like love at first sight, but there was something about this man that seemed special. His eyes captivated Boba’s attention, and he found that he wasn’t ready to end their conversation just yet.

“Were you trying to whip up a last-minute backup cake?” Boba asked, gesturing to the flour he spotted on Din’s collar and neck.

Din gave a humorless chuckle and shook his head.

“Just cupcakes. And it was going terribly. I uh, can’t bake to save my life,” he said, his hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Boba hummed and tilted his head. Should he…? Yeah, he was going to be honest with Din.

“Well, I can.”

Din’s brow furrowed and he gave Boba the most adorable confused look. “Huh?”

“I can bake. Actually, I bake quite a lot.”

“You do?”

“Couldn’t tell just by looking at me?” Boba tossed back sarcastically, but he grinned to show the man he wasn’t truly offended, “Yes, it’s my job. I own a bakery.”

“Oh! That’s amazing! And you… came all this way to deliver a cake from a rival bakery?”

“I’ll be honest, when I first saw the package at my door I was ready to dump it in the trash, but your note changed my mind. They’re overrated, but they’re still pretty good. I’m sure your son and his friends will love the cake.”

“I’m inclined to believe you, seeing as you’re an expert and all.”

“But now you’ll have to allow me to get some free advertising out of this deal,” Boba replied, his grin widening, “If you’re interested in trying some real delicious, authentic stuff, come by my place with your son sometime. It’s over on the West Side. I promise I’ll make something that’ll blow this cake out of the water.”

Din’s eyes sparkled as he nodded, “I think that’s a fair deal. It won’t take much to convince my son, he has a massive sweet tooth.”

“Fantastic. It’ll be worth the trip, just wait and see.”

They smiled at each other like they were in some kind of damn rom-com. Boba knew that he was probably wearing the same goofy-grin as Din but it didn’t bother him. So what if he appeared soft? It was near-midnight on Wednesday, there was no one else in the apartment hallway to see them anyway. Even if there was, Boba couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Well… have a good rest of your night,” he said to Din, taking a step back. He had to leave before he did something really stupid, like lean in for a kiss with this overly attractive stranger. This wasn’t actually a movie- it wasn’t like there was a soft-rock ballad swelling in the background.

“Thank you again, Boba,” Din replied, his voice brimming with sincerity. He gave Boba one last soft smile as the man started to step away, “And I’ll see you soon. I promise.”

“I look forward to it.”

As Boba walked back down the stairs, he couldn’t get the stupid smile off his face. Fennec would laugh at him tomorrow when he recounted the story, but he didn’t care. Sure, real-life wasn’t a movie. But this was as close to it as he’d ever come, and you could be damn sure that he was going to savor it.

[becausethathappens]

Will you please write a super angsty fic where Link is freaking out because he thinks the wedding vows he has written aren't good enough and Rhett helps him go over them and make corrections and says they're perfect but also, just says the vows he would say for Link if it was them like it should've been because he's heartbroken and Link can tell but their hands are tied and they don't know what to do so they soldier on without saying a word, but wordlessly communicating lifelong love and misery and everything, maybe comfort as well?

i'm really really sad and i can't shake it off and i really want some good angst and hurt/comfort and i really love you, maura, you're awesome

I don't do unhappy endings, anon. I'm confident you don't either. In fiction or otherwise. So, pardon this if it’s not what you expected.

Please enjoy? This was done a little hastily to share it with you (and I should be writing other things per usual) but I've had a rough week and I want to hopefully make someone smile. (I have way angstier stuff in the drafts and I will be sure to get those out eventually, too.) You’ll feel better soon.  🤞  Thank you! 💞

-———————-

now or forever

4k - Rhett writes Link vows.

If you were my boy, Blue

I’d bathe you in honeys (sp?)

I’d sing write you a love song

I’d shoot you a star**

If you were my boy, Blue

There ain’t nothing in this life I wouldn’t give

From my heart, to my toes, to my fingers, my nose (**)

Whatever it takes just to watch you live 

continue to ‘ ’ grow with you like a vine ‘round a rose 

If you were my boy, Bue

I wouldn’t want you all for myself

There’s no star bright enough to match your lightin’

In sickness, blue, so certainly while we have health

Hand in hand, no longer fightin’

What’s destiny (**)

You and & me

If you were my boy, Blue

I'd marry you

&

Thank God for Rhett. Giving him, delivering him, blessing him with Rhett.

Link is in the middle of a spiral (what he’ll later recognize as a panic attack) when Rhett arrives, the eve of his wedding. Bailing him out of this with pen, paper, and a smile.

Link has always been good at improv.

Though Rhett tended to find the words to start. These were his own vows and Link has been putting time to sit and start them off for weeks. Now that he has to, he’s dumbfounded, despite being deeply in love.

Amidst all the planning and chaos, writing his vows was such a given that Link left it as priority sixty-seven on a list of many more.

Unfortunately, even as busy as they’ve been, that list was shredded with the “who gifted what” tracking sheet (both literally, accidentally, and figuratively) back around the bridal shower and it’s been anarchy ever since.

So he thanks God for Rhett, who’s here, to stop another needless disaster from happening.

That same generous God, however, watches him plagued with thoughts of utter devotion at Rhett’s willingness to drop everything on a weeknight and rush over to help Link find his words.

His lyrics, really, is what Link has in mind. Since they used to write songs together and this felt much the same. He’s been floundering all night and now that Rhett’s here, he knows he’ll at least get what he needs done. Even if it’s not all he wants, right now.

That same God seeks judgment on his every decision or flinch against His will, for any reason, to spite him.

For this reason.

He wants to smush Rhett’s face and kiss him. Deeply. He doesn’t.

Even if there were sometime in the past that he could get away with a platonic smooch, now he can’t. He simply could not prevent that from escalating.

So, he merely tightens his grip on the wrinkled scrap paper in his hand and scrunches his eyes.

“Why can’t it be you up there…” Link bemoans, loudly, in his frustration.

Rhett’s eyes widen, in horror, and Link slams his other hand at his mouth, rolling his eyes. “Not like - I mean - why can’t you go say my lines for me. You’re so much better at this kinda thing.”

“Let me read what you’ve got,” Rhett says.

After some review, Rhett sighs, not unkindly and sits down next to Link. “Let’s just talk through what you’re trying to say because, yeah, this reads like liturgy.”

“Ain’t is supposed to? It’s in a chapel!”

“What do you like about her?” Rhett asks, ignoring his nitpicking. “Christy?” Rhett stares at him, waiting, too upset for Link to chastise but clearly wanting to.

“She’s patient,” Link says, reminded by the similar. Rhett folds over the book to an open page and clicks the pen in his hand, writing that down. “A-And she’s kind. Like considerate, ‘specially with babies and little animals. Sh-She does this thing where she immediately drops to their eye-level to make sure they don’t feel unheard or seen. Probably ‘cause she’s always been so tall…”

Rhett’s still writing.

“Then when I’m sick, she forces me to rest. You know I hate that,” Link says, voice rising a little, at the memory. “But you know I need that. You won’t be the last to make me stop and smell the roses or take a break, once in a while.”

“Her hair, write, her hair - the way it looks in the sunshine. Like warm caramel with flecks of gold. She’s a vision, an angel. Especially when she’s wearing all white, like,” Link says, pausing to point to Rhett’s undershirt and pale grey sweats. “Makes blondes look ethereal-like, always has.”

“Oh, and her voice. Sometimes, the way her accent catches, well, you know she don’t like to sing like us, never has, but when she says certain things, asks a question the right way - it’s music. The way it harmonizes with my answer, reminds me of singing, reminds me of us.”

Rhett keeps writing, quiet, and focused.

After a short time, Link can’t stop and wants to crane over to see what he’s come up with. Rhett hands it over after crossing a final “t” somewhere on the page.

“Those’re good, Link, but I think you need to keep closer to what I wrote, leave out the stuff about me.”

“Stuff about you?” Link asks, having spoken in a stream-of-conscious style, Link forgets most of what he even said

Rhett looks away, shakes his head.

Distracted by the desire to read the rest, Link abandons the lingering questions he has about Rhett’s suggestion and response.

“These are great, man, thanks,” Links says, pushing a soft hand into Rhett’s side.

His eyes scan to the bottom where Rhett’s added a few lines about the journey, the marriage, all the ceremonial aspects of the day for him to close with, but then something more.

Something about him.

Rhett catches him catch it and looks further away. “I know Christy pretty well, too, y’know. Y’all are just alike, in that way. She might need some back-up vows, to have and hold.”

Link reads them.

“You know, just in case.”

Link looks up and tries to laugh.

He doesn’t laugh.

He goes back to reading them.

Rhett shifts uncomfortably, touches the back of his neck, and shuts his eyes.

“Rhett, these ’re…”

“I know, bo, you can forget ‘em,” Rhett excuses, still not meeting Link’s gaze. “You want me to… I can rewrite the others on a different - I can turn the page and write ‘em there so you can just…”

“Hey, hey,” Link interrupts him, mad at Rhett putting down his best friend, and eager to explain his actual thoughts. “Rhett, these are perfect. These are… I’m sad I can’t say anything as nice in return to you.”

Rhett finally looks up to acknowledge that and their gaze heats and lingers.

“Not that I…” Link stutters to clarify. “Y-You’d have to be a - if that’s something that was gonna - you know - if that was gonna work…”

His mind does it’s usual jump to a visual for the worst case scenario depicting the implication he stumbled across. Him out eight grand on the wedding. Not to mention a wife, a family, a future, a faith -

a friend -

Link gulps, pushing that back away, pushing them both forward, in his estimation.

It’s too much to bear to think about for another second. When he glances at Rhett, he can’t get a read on his face what he thinks about it, and that’s scary enough for him to want to abandon the concept altogether.

“Christy’s gonna love them.”

It’s enough, saying his fiancée's name, to ground him again. Enough to make it okay for him to grab Rhett’s palm and squeeze it in thanks, between them.

Rhett’s made his choice to give up on film school.

Link’s made his choice to give up on whatever schoolboy obsession he has with monopolizing all of Rhett’s days and nights. 

He’ll stick to the days or every other weekend, however they can still fit time together, is fine by him. This ceremony, tomorrow, feels as much about his graduation from friend to husband, and all that that entails.

They’re adults.

They both know there’s a lot of sacrifices to be made and this feels like the first time he’s really acknowledging how hard they’re going to be to make. He hopes they’ll still see each other.

He hopes their kids will get along.

He has a lot of hopes.

All of them involve Rhett.

There’s a lot he should write down for when Rhett finds his own bride to wed.

Link notices, suddenly, that Rhett is crying. The same part of him that's nearly broken the headwind of these conflicting emotions turns back to comfort him.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Link soothes, realizing he’s also still holding Rhett’s hand.

“‘M sorry,” Rhett intones, the words bubble up and out of him simultaneously, sounding like water draining in a filled sink. “And the night before your wedding, good Heavens.”

“Hey, I’ve been crying all week,” Link says, waving a hand at the stress that planning a wedding has kept put on him. “Nothing I haven’t seen in the mirror.”

Rhett laughs, rubbing a thumb over his own thigh in a way that brushes upwards against the place Link’s clasping his hand. Link nearly pulls his hand back, thinking Rhett’s trying to get him to sense his want for space, but when he meets his eye it’s clear he’d like nothing less.

“I think I’m just -” Rhett starts to say, trailing off. The light from the lamp on the far coffee table is the only thing on in the room. Link drops his gaze a few inches to try and see more of Rhett’s downturned eyes as he hems and haws. He squeezes their hands together, again, this time clasping it more firmly, still pressing Rhett’s large palm down from above. “I think I’m just a li’l jealous, is all.”

It’s the quietest admission he’s heard from Rhett since he told him he failed their chemistry mid-term in eleventh grade.

Link is also so lost at the innocence of the admission that he can only think of follow-up questions. “Of me?”

Rhett looks at him for a long, long minute and finally, when Link’s gaze remains confused for the whole length of the pause, he shakes his head, no.

Then he waits. 

He waits for Link to realize what he means.

But he’s still waiting when Link, oblivious, moves onward trying to comfort Rhett, instead of understanding him fully.

The tension in the room is palpable as Link talks, but only to Rhett, it seems. Only Rhett pictures air bags being deployed in a car safety video as metal hits cinder block. Only Rhett moves his hand, though it’s all it takes to dislodge them from each other completely.

“I know you’re gonna make an amazing husband some day.” Link is saying.

Rhett’s hand aches where cool air now surrounds it.

“I know your wife is gonna get to hear you say such wonderful things about her.”

Rhett wipes his hand of the misunderstanding on the cotton of his pants.

“I know she’s gonna say the same kind of things about you, when it’s your turn up there.”

Rhett mourns the idea that this would ever be requited.

“I know she’s gonna love you, just as much as I do, so she’ll have plenty to say.”

Rhett looks away, wiping the last of his tears from his eyes. 

 “I’ll make sure she has plenty of ideas where to start.”

Rhett pats Link’s leg, in camaraderie, and nods.

And that’s it. They shoot the shit, they make a plan to meet up at a donut place for the groomsmen’s breakfast to thank them for their help, before the ceremony, and they’ll talk things through if Link’s feeling jittery still. Then Rhett’s gone.

It’s not until the next day at eleven on the dot (everyone has an agenda to follow and every moment is accounted for) that Link understands Rhett’s pain.

His mother straightens his tie and flattens the edges of his suit. “You’ll wanna know I heard Christy looks like an angel in her dress, from the girls upstairs.”

“Those actual angels you been talkin’ to, Sue?” Rhett jokes, where he’s twisting his cummerbund around every so often, bored.

“Very funny, honey,” Sue ribs back. “From the cousins, Beth and Hailee Sue. Remember they’re friends with the hairstylist you got to do the curls for Christy’s hair, today? She was over last night getting Christy ready for bed with how to wash and dry it a special kind of way. They were there, too.”

Link starts to tune her out, since there’s a lot on his mind, but then she says more.

“She says the hairstylist was talking about how jealous she was of Christy, all night, getting to marry you,” Sue relays.

“Oh, mama, please,” Link dismisses. The compliments he’s been getting have felt faker than the toupee on his uncle Bruce. That girl has never even met him. “I’m the only person here people should be jealous of, who would be jealous of Christy,” he says, trailing off, muttering his reasoning as he did. “Marrying a trainwreck like me.”

Link looks up in the mirror where some of his friends continue to mingle in various states of undress. Rhett is already dressed, however, and staring straight at Link like he’s been caught with a hand in a cookie jar.

Link’s about to ask what’s wrong when he remembers his words. Then looks again over the planes of Rhett’s face.

Last night’s words slam back into his mind and Link’s mouth drops open.

The church organ belts out an opening flurry of notes before Canon in D begins playing loudly through the sound system built into the rafters above them. Link looks up to see one of the church staff at the door instructing them to join the bridal party to line-up.

Link’s mom dashes off to where she’s paired with her nephew, Link’s favorite cousin, to be escorted down the aisle.

Rhett sees Link’s face rushing through a wash of emotions from a distance, he nods to the staffer in silent understanding that he’ll handle it, and then they’re alone.

He walks up to Link and takes his hand. He squeezes it.

“Hey, you gotta go. We gotta go. It’s showtime,” Rhett insists.

Link looks around like a bomb went off, since in some ways it did, and he doesn’t know what to do.

Rhett seems to pick up on that. He squeezes Link’s hand again.

“I’ll get over it, Link, it’s okay,” Rhett whispers, on the verge of desperation.

That confirmation is enough to fully shatter Link.

Only for a moment. 

The music continues and Rhett keeps his hand hold.

They are adults. They are in love. They have to marry. 

None of these things can be helped.

“I’m gonna be so jealous of Her, too,” Link whispers back. He squeezes Rhett’s hand one last time, as they part.

They leave.

They walk straight.

They part again.

Until later.

They move houses and cities and states.

They move mountains, inside and out.

They move together.

Much later.

They join again.

They run crooked.

They return.

To one another.

Link has spent years worrying a ring that means too much to too few people.

In the beginning, when he cries himself to sleep at what he thinks has been the mistake of a lifetime, it’s His talisman. It reminds him of the expectations upon this life he’s made.

As the years pass, however, the adherence to the bogeymen of their childhood’s rules wears thin. It starts to strictly represent love and patience.

Sacrifice.

It begins to feel like a burden. A representation of what’s been lost, not what’s been found.

He contemplates taking it off, but believes that to be a betrayal of all that it stands for to the people he stands for. 

Then, one day, (surely mid-spin) he hears Rhett tell a story about wanting to change his ring.

He watches the silver twirl as Rhett explains.

He believes he was rushed into a certain type of marriage and a certain type of life by a certain type of person.

It’s a life that he’s grown to love but the ring represents a union forced by custom and not one that’s grown through devotion. 

His ring reminds him of that too often to be good for him.

Link twists his again at the admission.

So, Rhett’s thinking about replacing the ring.

Link returns home that night in a stupor. He’s sure he said one too many things to Rhett to emphasize how wild it felt to hear him talk about changing rings.

Any memories of that day, their wedding, bring up a rush of emotions that he’s never been good at sorting through.

Today’s admission makes him feel the same spur to make use of idle, betrothed hands he feels when he cleans the fridge.

He wants to clean the slate.

He finds an old DVD copy of their wedding ceremony that he paid to have converted from miniDV some years ago. Now he struggles to find a place to watch that DVD. How quickly time has flown by.

Eventually, he ends up in his son’s room - no one’s home for the remainder of the night but he and Christy - now, he’s sitting on a bean bag, squinting at the game console’s controller trying to get the joysticks to move to “play” on screen.

The ceremony bursts to life and, like it was yesterday, Link’s nerves fizzle awake.

About halfway through the video, Christy finds him like that and sits down next to him in a thwump absorbed mostly by the stuffing of the chair.

They watch themselves smile happily at each other and Christy takes his hand.

“Should I be happy or scared to find you alone watching this on a Saturday night?” she asks, wryly, squeezing his palm.

Link doesn’t know what to say. He’s caught up in Rhett’s bygone script being spoken on screen. Words about Christy and about Link that were not their own, declared loudly in front of the congregation.

“I don’t know,” Link admits, shrugging. He doesn’t. He squeezes her hand back.

“You wanna tell me what’s eating you?”

Link hesitates, but relents. He wants that clean slate, after all. “Rhett’s getting his wedding ring replaced.”

“Replaced?” Christy asks, balking.

“Replaced, yeah,” Link responds, sure he didn’t misspeak.

“With what?” she asks.

“Oh, some new one. Fancy thing, very cool, made of trees or something. Honestly he wears the other one, the slick black one more than his wedding band half the time. He says it feels like the old one? It’s the kind of ring you get in a bauble at a vending machine crank. So, he wants a new one.”

“Jeesh,” Christy says, making a face at the screen. The camera catches Rhett stealing glances at the couple, then at the crowd, beaming at all with unbridled pride.

“Wouldn’t you be mad if I did that?” Link inquires, still baffled at the idea.

“Well, no, but don’t you love your ring? Heirloom and all that,” she says.

Link cringes. “Yeah, yeah. Honestly, I do.”

“So?”

“So, I still kind of want to and I’m not sure what that means.”

They watch the screen together.

“Do you wanna stay married?” she asks, in a small voice.

“Yes,” he breathes out.

There’s a long pause.

“To me?” she asks, her voice even smaller.

“Yes,” he breathes in.

She squeezes his hand, her confidence built back up. She begs him to join her.

“And him?” Christy whispers.

They both look the screen, the lens centered on the two of them, but their gaze is mutually torn to where Rhett stands wiping a tear from his eye at Christy reciting the last of the vows that he wrote her. Wrote him. Wrote them both.

She squeezes his hand again.

“Yes,” he breathes out.

She leans her head on his shoulder.

“You should probably get another ring, then,” she jests. “We shouldn’t have to share everything.”

The slate is clean.

There’s a lot he wants to say to Rhett about it, but just as before, he’s relied on Rhett to give him the right words to say. So, instead of words, he starts wearing Rhett’s ring.

Then, a new one, when he realizes he can match him separate from the other, all told. Have something of Rhett’s, all to himself.

In his unspoken push towards something more, their hands now match along with their steps, as they walk forward.

On the last week in July, they get ice cream at the fifth place that month to mistake them for husbands, but the first one he hears Link crow an affirmative in response.

Rhett waits for him while he triple-tips the cashier (for the guess) and pays for their cones.

“Bad joke,” Rhett says, softly, but firm.

“Who’s kidding?” Link parries back, a smirk dancing it’s way across his lips.

Rhett watches him with a wistful look of disbelief.

“Link, we’re married,” Rhett warns him.

Link shrugs. “I know. I’m just waiting for you to figure that out and minding my ice cream here, all right?”

He’s got a mouthful of vanilla bean and extra cookie crumble, the next second, so his vow ends there.

Later, at home, Rhett startles Jessie awake when he fully realizes Link’s words.

He shakes her awake. He shakes them both awake.

“I’m in love with Link,” he says, like it’s a confession.

She kisses him because so is she. So are most people.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

Rhett repeats himself.

So does she.

They stare at each other under the cover of silk and moonlight.

“We’re married,” Rhett whispers, touching his hand to hers. Their rings clink, new and shiny.

“Yeah, and so are we,” she whispers back.

They fall asleep smiling.

The next day, Rhett sneaks up behind Link while he’s working and causes him to spill his cup of coffee. He gets the stink eye for only a minute because it’s the same length of time he can stand Link’s grumpy mug before he has to swoop down and kiss him on the lips.

“You figured it out,” Link says, grinning.

“I did,” Rhett chirps as he kisses Link more.

They take a car to their house. It’s filled with their love and the history of it; before, during, and after.

“What’s this?” Link asks, dazed in their post-sex glow, naked and alive.

He spots an old chord book of theirs from last time they wrote music.

“Oh,” Rhett says, bashful. “I came looking for you here this morning, hoping you slept over again, but, uh,” Rhett stalls, looks away and tries to take the songbook from Link’s hand. Link pulls it far enough he can’t reach. “You were already at the job.”

“And?” Link asks, using his spry, sinewy body as an advantage to slink away from the bed out of Rhett’s grip. He still has the book in hand.

“Those are your vows,” Rhett explains.

Link looks down and squints, confused. These aren’t the vows that Christy read at their wedding. He’s seen that video only a few months back and is sure of it.

“Our vows,” Rhett whispers, explaining further, at Link’s puzzled look.

“It’s a love song,” Link notes, marveling at the gesture. What it means to a young version of himself that once felt like they had surely cut out and mourned the possibility of this - all of this - ever happening. To have that thought coexist with the image of a nude, hulking tree trunk of a husband laid before him smiling up adoringly felt panoptic.

“So are you.”

Link begins to cry.

“Play it for me.”

Rhett wipes his cheek.

“Get my guitar.”

They sing twice more that night, always in harmony (not always in lyric), then spend the rest of their lives together doing much the same.

[twisted-imagines]

Hello! I know someone has done a similar request to this on another blog but I was curious on your interpretation: how do you think the Leech brothers and Azul would react to having a crush or a SO that REALLY likes seafood, maybe even a particular fondness to eel or octopus dishes? (My personal favorite is squid n salmon 🐙🐟) Feel free to do whatever format you think would work best for this request!

I personally don't eat seafood much so it may be inaccurate, but I had fun with this one~ Scenario part is about eating their animal counterpart🤭 My attempt at comedy. Why did it turn to horror with Floyd though?

Maybe someday I will stop to just randomly go MIA. Maybe.

Octavinelle and a s/o who loves seafood

Jade Leech 🐬

"I promised you the sight, here it is, [Y/n]."

You pant heavily, supporting yourself with hands on your knees, for a minute all you can think about is calming down your breath, but a burning pain in your throat severely hinders your attempts to. Somehow a guy who was born in the sea and never left it before a few years ago can climb higher and faster than you, and you've lived your whole life with your legs. You feel like your skull is squeezing down on you, putting an immense pressure on your brain.

"My my, someone really needs to exercise more. How about joining the Mountain Appreciation Club, [Y/n]? We could do mountaineering more often and build up your stamina?"

You are about to tell him that he'd better kill you now than make you suffer another climb, but once you lift up your head up words die in your throat. Jade sure kept his promise, the sight before you is majestic.

He told you there is a lake somewhere behind that hill and that flora and fauna there is diverse and rich, but what he didn't mention is just how beautiful it is. Untouched, lush greenery, flowers of all colors of rainbow scattered across all the glade that sway to the wind, strive to reach the sun. The horizon is just a straight green line, with mighty trees towering over a pristine blue lake in the middle of this small haven. You can't look at the water for too long, bright sun rays it reflects blind you immediately.

You notice that your head no longer hurts and you can freely breathe in the fresh air, clear of foul smells that people bring when they flock together. But here it's just you, Jade and wild inhabitants of this sanctuary.

"It's beautiful."

"I expected you to enjoy this place. I'm glad my prediction was right. Feel free to explore it, I've made sure that there're no creatures that might hurt you. Before the sun starts to set, enjoy yourself."

You leave your gear and backpack behind and stride forward, having half a mind to take off your shoes and feel for yourself spangled with dew, glistening under the sun bright green grass. You briefly turn to Jade who is still standing behind, seemingly not turned his gaze away from you. He sends a small smile your ways and nods his head encouragingly as if knowing what thought visited your head. You are positive you've never felt so close to nature and to Jade too.

You can't possibly notice, you're already way ahead, touching the water with your leg, retreating when you realize it's too cold for you, keep trying anyway, but the smile does not leave Jade's lips, it grows wider the more he observes you. He can't tell you yet, but the feelings he harbors for you make his heart sing, they are not like anything he's felt before. Oh, how he wishes he could go out with you like this, spend time together without any care in the world, see you smile and look only at him. But things like confessions and relationships need careful planning, he can't possibly let himself be sloppy when it comes to you. Jade is patient, he can wait until that time comes.

"[Y/n], there are lots of different plants and fungi, unique to this area. I go search for them, can I leave setting a camp to you?"

"No problem, go do what you need to do, Mushroom Boy.”

He can't even be mad at you, what a lucky human.

When a noise of someone's footsteps adds to the singing of birds, with cicadas whining and creaking of a bonfire near you mixed in, you know that's it's your companion who's finally returned. Although you stay focused on your task, heat from the fire makes it tempting to turn away,but you just raise your voice to greet him.

"Took you long enough, Jade! I've had time to set camp and to fish! Look, I caught all of these myself!"

Jade approaches you from behind, ready to apologize for his absence, but before he can the sight in his peripheral vision takes away his speech. The fish you have caught and skewered to put above the fire is certainly not what he expected to see. Not what he has ever wanted to see you do.

"[Y/n], I humbly request you to put this poor thing aside or go eat it somewhere a few meters away from me or I might not forgive you for slaying technically one of my kind."

You force yourself to stay in place before you can possibly turn and face himself. You're not ready to look death in the eyes. And the day was just starting to look great, how miserable.

• If his brother at least has a bigger pet peeve than cooked eels, Jade hates seeing eels being prepared as food the most. Like always, you can't tell from looking at his face, but he's furious on the inside. He can't police what you eat and it's not like few humans consume eels. Still, he doesn't want his s/o eating his animal equivalent, even though it can't possibly have the same self-awareness or intelligence that he possesses as a merman. If you insist and don't try to at least hide it from him, expect some petty Jade in the days following. You don't want to comply and listen to his wishes? Then neither does he, he will find a way to annoy you while staying as classy as ever.

• But when it does not concern eels or their distant relatives Jade is all about you exploring sea cuisine, he himself will never miss a chance to partake in some seafood as well. He smirks when he learns that you also share a common love for octopuses. You understand, right? Not only they are tasty-looking while alive, but cooked and seasoned they're just the best. Cue a distressed Azul hiding from both of you in his VIP room.

• When Monstro Lounge was still new Azul really needed someone both skilled and trusted on the kitchen, Jade became both. He will gladly cook something for you and his cooking is amazing. His dishes and how they taste is everything you've ever wanted from your dinner. Can he also cook for you in the morning and in the evening? Jade says that he should have a very important reason to stay with you for the whole day and to live with you... If your fixation with seafood, sea creatures, and the way he prepares them makes you think about becoming more serious about your relationships, particularly starting them or bringing them to a new stage if you two are not quite there yet, Jade won't mind. He always reminds you he's there for you whenever you may need him.

• If Monstro Lounge menu is to undergo a change you're one of the first to taste any new seasonal dish, made by either of brothers, however, Jade usually prefers to take care of you himself, no matter if you're at the cafe as his friend, quote-unquote crush, of just as a customer. If he has to appeal to your taste buds first for you to consider him a suitable mate Jade will try his best for sure.

Floyd Leech🦈

"Thank you, Rook, I really appreciate it!"

"Don't mention it, Trickster! My humble persona is always ready to help you and hunting just happens to be my specialty. Until later!"

Capricious male from Pomefiore runs away faster than you can question whether fishing and hunting are the same, but at least he helped you out. Your boyfriend doesn't get along with him at all, but to your thought Rook is not a bad man. Or maybe you just have a thing for flamboyant people.

You reminisce about how you recently commented on the college's cafeteria lack of fish dishes you loved so much, only for the male to overhear it and offer you a whole basket of different sea dwellers today. You aren't sure if some of them can be even found in locations of NRC or near it, not to mention actually having it be caught and delivered to you. And for a small price of "remembering his good deed". Shady deals are pretty much a part of your life at this point, but you are sure this particular one won't sit right with Floyd. Well, not like he should know about it anyway.

You get to the task at hand, it is preparing all the goodies that you got. Clams and oysters, crabs and lobsters, mackerel, salmon, squids, and several other creatures, some that you don't recognize at all. You know you will be having a blast both preparing all of this and then eating! Your evening promises to be amazing.

"Oh, it smells so good! [Y/n], is there any tuna? Say there is!"

"I believe I see some! We're having a feast today, Grim!"

With an excited mewl following you to the kitchen you place the basket on the countertop with a small thud. It's cold to touch and permits no smell that fish usually gives off. You're as unfamiliar with magic as one can get in this world and Rook knows about it just as well as the next Heartslabyul student. Pretty considerate of him to cast some cooling spell on it. But you will be doing everything with your own hands from this point, just like you always do. Apron in place, sleeves of your shirt rolled up. When fleeting Ramshackle dorm somebody left the knives too, you take the one that you sharpened prior. Time to get started!

"[Y/n]! It's the best! My lovely, tasty tuna! Let's dig in!"

Salmon's pale orange meat easily pierced by a fork, an alluring aroma of spices surrounds you, you place it in your mouth and it basically melts there, leaving a unique aftertaste. You've missed it. You are no chef, but your skills are enough to cook the dishes you've eaten countless times already. It's due to thank Rook for the amazing evening. Nothing can make it better at this point.

"Shrimpy, I'm home! Did you miss me? I missed you~ What a tasty smell-"

Faster than you can take another bite, Floyd bursts into the dorm, making a beeline straight to the kitchen, lead by the scent of your cooking. You've forgotten, haven't you? Elated about the perspective of finally partaking into your favorite dishes once again after the long while, you forgot about inviting your boyfriend altogether. Caught red-handed; or more like open-mouthed. Floyd stops right before the dining table, watches intently first your dinner, then you. You slowly put the food back on the plate, your nervous chuckle fills the awkward pause, before your unexpected guest stars to talk again.

"Whatcha doing here Shrimpy? Eating? Why not come to Monstro Lounge? Why not welcome me?"

Hit with the string of questions, put under the pressure by the deadpan gaze he is giving you while still upholding that carefree smile of his, you hurry to the cupboard to bring Floyd a plate. The male has already leisurely taken his place behind the table. Back turned to him, you don't feel like you can be rescued from this situation, or at least pardoned from giving him some sort of answer. You know pretty well how badly Floyd handles separation and boredom, since entering these relationships you've become his first and most welcome relief from both of those feelings. Being excluded from your life is rather upsetting for him.

By the time you sit back the grey cat, your only other companion in the dorm is nowhere to be seen.

"I was just about to call you. It's been a long time I have eaten any of these, got a little carried away. Sadly, Monstro Lounge has little of things I like, and I already tasted everything I could."

Listening to your rambling with a placid smile, Floyd hasn't said a thing, only hummed twice, commenting on how he is usually the one preparing you all the dishes at the cafe and now it is his turn to taste your cooking. You hope that the sigh you let out is not visible, the stress instilled by the awkwardness of the situation you got into is slowly draining from your body, making your movements lighter, calmer. A hard contrast to Floyd, who seemingly didn't move one inch in his seat, continuing to observe you.

"And where did you even get all of these tasty creatures from, Shrimpy?"

You hurriedly bring some piece of meat from the variety of dishes you prepared to your mouth to and bite into it, your words muffled and hurried. You did nothing wrong so why does it feel like an interrogation?

"O-oh, my friends gave me this basket, I'm very grateful to them-"

You don't manage to finish your sentence.

"Ah, Shrimpy~ Lying to me, not welcoming me to dinner and now eating one of my kind...

You really want to get at me for something, don't you?"

• Perceives you eating eel dishes as a personal attack, Floyd will make you stop at any cost if he sees you eating one. He's peeved at the sight and starts to think back to things he could have done to you that made you angry with him, or reasons for you to trying to start a fight, you're basically eating him! He doesn't fear a Shrimp like you, but the sight is unnerving him.

• But Floyd does share your fondness for seafood, it's the only food he has eaten for most of his life after all! Monstro Lounge has a wide variety of fish dishes and he will gladly prepare anything to you as long as it's in their stock. And he's a pretty great cook too! And utterly the worst to eat with, he'll annoy you so by taking away your utensils and feeding you himself until you'll eventually either lose a nerve or burst from embarrassment. While Floyd generally loves eating what you prepare, he especially looks forward to you cooking sea creatures, not only for the taste but also to see how a land dweller usually eats them, what kind of recipes you have.

• Will cook some squid or octopus at Monstro Lounge, just before the closing, a time during Azul always goes out of the VIP room to supervise the cafe, and then share it with you, praising the taste and smell all the while, looking at his friend straight into the eyes, searching for a reaction. Encourages you to do so too. It will not end without furious Azul chastising laughing Floyd, and depending on if you like to join your boyfriend in his pranks, then you too.

• If you did something to upset him, but not enough for him to argue with you, expect to see Floyd order a handful of shrimps and eat them in a simultaneously gross and intimidating way. Does he want to threaten you? You don't know if you should be scared that he's eating "you", angry that he wastes food instead of talking with you or amused by his childishness.

• If you happen to be somewhere near the lake or sea, where there are sure lots of fish, Floyd will hunt some for you. Two birds with one stone: he gets to see you happy and hear you thank and praise him, and he can spend some time in the water, trading human legs for his dear tail and fins. Fishermen hate him, he catches what he needs, but all other fish swims away, scared.

Azul Ashengrotto🐙

"It sure is busy during this time of the year."

You have to grab your boyfriend's hand tighter, afraid to lose him in the raucous crowd that is so hell-bent on pushing you from side to side. Merchants touting passers-by to look at their stands, food stalls and crowds that get drawn to them, why would you want to get a picture with this monkey, no, children happy to ditch their parents and go run amok and you don't want to get started on the unbearable heat, today is unusually hot. Most of your vacation with Azul has been calm and relaxed, you greatly enjoyed yourself, resting under the shadows, once or twice nearly lulled into sleep by the tranquil sound of waves hitting the shore. The most action you got was when you showed off your new swimwear to Azul and when you had to catch the sandal that almost got taken by the sea, so this commotion is tiring you exceedingly fast. The only upside is that Azul is still by your side, his company definitely the best part of this small getaway you have.

"It is, yes... But it is to be expected, especially from the main street. Wavecrest Neptunalia is one of the few holidays that merfolk and humans share and come together to celebrate, each on their own land. It's a festival dedicated to praising the sea so there bound to be a lot of "sea gifts" for you to eat too."

He goes on a little rant about the origin, customs, traditions, and so on. You only know just how stunning he looks. You get little chance in the college to see him wear less fabric or express himself so freely, you don't even have that much time to be with him at all, damned be responsibilities of dorm leaders, extra curriculum and other crap. Doesn't Azul not handle hot weather well himself? He's a bit red in the face, and a few loose silver strands have stuck to his forehead, but otherwise, he seems very upbeat. You like that look on him.

When he expectantly turns in your direction you do not show you've been preoccupied with looking at him, rather than listening, although some parts did get through to you.

"You sure did your homework, Azul."

"I always do my homework- Ah... Yes, it's our first trip and you would have no way knowing about it, I wanted to give you the insight."

Isn't he the most adorable and loving man in the whole Twisted Wonderland? To you he is. He may have his own hang-ups, but you love him whole, you can't not to. You smile warmly at him and squeeze his hand, he may overheat if you try to do more while in public, you can deduce as much from the way his face reddens profusely at such small gestures.

"I appreciate it, thank you."

To turn back your head to the street, just in time to notice the sign of some rather intriguing looking restaurant. Perfect, you get to hide from both people and less than nice weather and also eat!

"Well then, you mentioned "sea gifts" - I want to try them, let's find someplace to eat! This one looks interesting."

The interior is styled with a lot of sea motives, the main attraction, a huge barracuda skeleton, hanging from the ceiling. You notice Azul looking around, in the end being pretty unimpressed, humans design and decoration abilities did not meet his expectations. Despite that both you and he find yourself shocked by the diversity the menu is offering. You make a mental note to make sure you walk out of this place on your two, and not rolled out by Azul in a form of a happy, big ball.

"Dear, you know what to order, I must excuse myself. Don't get bored."

He sends you a smirk, before disappearing into the general direction of the restroom. But look at this menu, they even have a separate page for every creature, crazy...

By the time Azul returned you have already made an order, waiting time passes unnoticed, you're too engrossed into your chat, discussing with Azul nothing in particular, you believe you could enjoy being silent with him. You don't mind it when your boyfriend goes quiet when your first dish is served to you.

"Octopus carpaccio, huh, [Y/n]."

You look shocked, like a guilty puppy. Only a sigh follows suit from him. He did forget octopus was nearly the first in the list of your most favorite seafood. You sure do love his kind, no matter the form they come in, he's the prime example. Azul catches himself on the thought that all people dear to him are either octopuses or love to eat them, no in-between. He wonders whether there's some kind of odd curse cast upon him. His businessman smile takes place on his face.

"How about a deal? You won't notice me eating this fried chicken later and I'll pretend this one never happened too?"

• Azul is unfortunately used to be the butt of jokes about eating his animal form, all credits to Leech twins, he's also well aware of how popular octopus dishes are in general among people, mer or not. He's rather chill with you liking to eat something made of his animal counterpart, but no matter how distanced he feels from his merman form he gets nervous at the sight of you eating those dishes, of anyone really eating them before him, and he gets more agitated if you taunt him with it. His hands are full with two eels, he doesn't need you teasing him too, no matter how lighthearted it is.

• Is it deep-fried? Yes? Then Azul loves it. No? He won't see the allure, even if you try to convince him otherwise. He eats his vegetables, but not without a feeling of disgust, he would rather have something less "grass-like", so he understands when you express how much you love seafood, and he's happy as long as it's healthy for you. For that reason he will either feed you at Monstro Lounge or in a really trustworthy place, goes in hand with his little quirk of going out with you to different restaurants and cafes.

• Please, don't tell him that his merman form looks tasty, he will get scared, it's not a joke. If he finds a pot to hide inside first you'll have to persuade him to leave it and then make it up by paying him countless compliments, apologizing is a must too. No, you can't take a bite! Maybe from his human body, but not this one. You don't like human flesh? Oh, mighty sea, help him.

[quiet-kunoichi]

[ @suck-my-tomato | Halloween Party Oneshot | verse; highschool ]

It was their senior year at last, and Kimiko was not about to let it go to waste. The rest of her high school years had been spent either too insecure to show a little skin, or not single enough to get away with it without some disapproving stares. The tail end of junior year, along with the summer that followed, was spent in a near-lifeless haze: she’d become well accustomed to depressive dissociation and avoidance to the point of self-destructive isolation. Meanwhile, Sasuke likely had the time of his life as a bachelor in the paradise of their recent split: that is, until his chronically-ill brother took a lethal turn for the worse.  Upon hearing about Itachi’s sudden death, Kimiko had lassoed herself back into Sasuke’s orbit  — Invited herself inside ( she never returned the key to his apartment ), ensured that he was taking care of himself in lieu of his recent loss. Additionally, it felt like a loss of her own, too. She’d known Itachi as long as she had known Sasuke, for obvious reasons. As odd as it sounded once her feelings became obviously romantic for the younger Uchiha, Itachi felt like.. a big brother in-law. After all, he bailed her out of her holding cell after she’d caught Sasuke cheating with that bimbo redhead from chemistry. It was a wonder why he kept the kind of company that he did; the run-ins she’d endured over the last few months since her split with Sasuke had soured her to the whole ‘Akatsuki’ gang. Just a bunch of sleazy womanizers.  It’d been quite a few months since that had occured, and Kimiko and Sasuke were growing steadily more attached to one another, once again. Not nearly close to the way they were, before the letters ( still unknown to Sasuke ) and his decision to plant the seed of everlasting insecurity within her by betraying her trust for the opportunity to mesh face with someone new. For a short while before Itachi’s death, Kimi had arrived to parties solely to keep the recently hotheaded Uchiha in line. She was his designated stormbreaker, and was expected to deliver him home safely each night that he took things a bit too far. Those incidents didn’t come without their rewards, such as the few instances in which he’d cling to her in his drunken and drug-addled stupor, apologize profusely and confess his everlasting love.. Just to slip away into sleep seconds afterwards.  Admittedly, Kimiko would entertain the heartache of such a prentendedly wholehearted and pure moment before ultimately lapsing to silent tears and peeling herself from his side to take her quiet leave from his shared home. More than a few times, Itachi and the Tamashi would share a quiet and lingering look across the front room. Now that he’s departed, Kimiko often wishes she would have sat next to him and allow herself a single shred of comfort from the situation she’d found herself in. His stare had always been a little somber: Like he knew all of the things that she was shoving beneath the surface. Was this going to be her lingering reality? Harboring this blood-stained secret, playing guardian angel to a haphazard boy whom broke her heart but didn’t manage to drown her love? Perhaps she should’ve asked the wise Uchiha Itachi, before it became too late. Even if she grew back what was left of her mauled heart to learn how to forgive him, Kimiko knew now that a life of romance and love was never going to be the same, for her. Not with old memories dredged back up and spot-lit like fresh wounds, vague yet promising threats from her imprisoned and somehow still imposing father appearing two more times since that first letter made it to her porch step. Sasuke had changed faces and become someone new overnight; he squandered all of his previous promises of her being his one and only  — and it elicited a violent response that her father had only just forewarned her of inheriting. Perhaps this was just her destiny, after all.  Tonight would be different, in a sense: Kimiko was attending this senior year halloween party solely for herself. She wasn’t trailing in on Sasuke’s colonged scent, nor was she couped up at home until the siren call came and beckoned her to act as ‘Sasuke Uchiha clean-up crew’. She was here to cook up some fun of her own, solely for herself.. Which is precisely what she had told herself at the last party she attended three weeks ago for ‘Homecoming.’ That night tumbled away into a mess of limbs beneath trashed bedsheets: Sasuke and Kimiko had once again found the most intimate form of comfort in one another’s arms, for the first time in.. 8 months. Tonight would be different. Or maybe it wouldn’t. Did she actually just put all of this effort into her costume for the hopes that it would catch his attention above any other girl there? Was she hoping for a similar end to this mixed-bag night as the last party lured them to?  Perhaps. It was mostly for herself, though. Yes, the tight black latex zippered corset, a pair of short spandex that clung to her hips and ass like it was life or death, the heeled boots that cut off just below her knee and the tights that squeezed her curved thighs just at their most voluptuous circumference.. The feathered black wings attached to her back and the headband horns adorning her crown .. All the way down to her perfected makeup, the dark tinge to her lips and the dash of gloss at the very center.. It was all for her. Not to grab the attention of anyone who bothered looking her way, and certainly not to make his jaw drop. Once again, her phone buzzes from its place stashed between her breasts. With a sigh that exhales the last puff of her menthol cigarette, ( thank you, Shikamaru ) Kimi plucks the it from her corset and unlocks the device. A strange twist of disappointment curls her stomach when the texts popping up were just from the girls. Perhaps it was a tad childish to wish upon a ball of gas in the sky that Sasuke would reach out to her: provide some sort of hint that he was interested in seeing her tonight — that he wasn’t already wrapped up in some other nameless skank.  Instead, it was just Ino and Sakura, buzzing at her ear like flies and wanting to know ‘ Where the hell ’ she was. They made plans to pick her up, but Kimi had different plans for herself. Already outside the party house, the fallen angel runs out the cherry of her pregame cigarette against the side of a white Prius. It belonged to one specific redhead from junior year chemistry class. If she knew what was good for her, that bitch would keep a healthy distance from the Uchiha, and a restraining-order distance from the Tamashi herself. The rest of her flask is guzzled with little more than a post-swallow wince: the fire of honey whiskey lit her back to life. She’d shared swigs with the passenger seat of Ms. White Prius — poor decision to leave the windows open a crack. Now that her confidence was rightly bolstered by liquid courage and her anxious insecurities settled with those two cigarettes, Kimiko pulls herself off the car. She throws a single backward kick of her heel and dents the door, donning a wicked smirk as she heads up the walkway and pushes inside. The damn wings of a fallen angel knock against the doorway — but they’ll provide a healthy bubble of distance from everyone else around her as the crowd parts around her. If she learned anything from the parties she’d attended in the last year — it was to make a b-line from the front ( or back ) door straight to the booze selection.

 Although she was already feeling that hot buzz of spirits in her blood, Kimiko needed to secure a drink to clutch for the rest of the night. Any time something stupid was said, any time something unforgivable was done, she would take a drink. And if Sasuke was seen with another girl, after what happened between them at the Homecoming party three weeks ago, and how often she’s been at his apartment and patiently helping him sort through his emotions, after everything that happened between them.. Well, she’d guzzle the whole cup and then someone else’s, too. Maybe crack a skull, pluck a tooth off of the floor for keepsake..  Ino and Sakura have flocked to her side, bubbling with astonished compliments as well as soured remarks on the Tamashi’s disappearance. The familiar crimson of slow boiling rage starts to fade away from the corners of her vision. She’s standing at the kitchen counter, red plastic cup empty and surveying the options. “ Holy wow, Kimi! You look gorgeous. ” Sakura, the little angel of their trio, chimes in at her left. On her right shoulder, Ino the devil shares her opinion. “ Gorgeous? Fuck that. Kimiko looks drop dead sexy. This is definitely an ex-revenge costume. ” Silent as ever ( at least, as she’d become over the last year ) the fallen angel reaches for the rum, rolling her thumb over the cap and flicking it across the marble counter.  It glugs liquid fire into her empty cup while Sakura wraps around her arm and tucks her head against Kimi’s shoulder ( a good sign that she was inebriated, herself ). “ Ex-revenge costume? How’s she supposed to get revenge from an outfit? ” The naive pinkette asks. Ino scoffs, “ Are you kidding me? Do you know how many guys have cracked their necks just to gawk at her? I counted six, just on her trip from the front door to the kitchen. ” Kimiko adds a splash of tequila into the mix, as well as the rest of someone’s open redbull can. Then comes the mixer: some sort of grapefruit soda, and a lime. Like, a whole half. She likes the bite.  “ And other guys looking at her is supposed to be.. revengeful? ” Sakura questions after slipping from Kimiko’s arm, their polar opposite wings knocking against one another in her clumsy step to shoot a questioning look to their blonde-haired and red-clad she-devil. A hand comes up to Ino’s forehead as she sighs. “ Oh my god, I knew you had too much of my Prosecco. ” Sakura makes to protest, and Kimiko ( who has yet to acknowledge them or make an expression of either distaste or amusement ) takes a tasting swig of her drink. It wasn’t bad, but maybe it needs more grapefruit soda. “ The more attention she gets from other guys, the more jealous Sasuke is gonna get. She gives him a taste of what he’s missing out on. ” Ino explains.  Sakura pretends to understand, but she’s never been the type for manipulative revenge schemes. Her payback is served with a crack of her knuckles. Meanwhile, Kimiko uses a healthy balance of the two methods of torture. Even still, as both girls bicker over whether it was a good idea to lure that side out of Sasuke ( especially in lieu of his recent loss ) or to move on like he didn’t exist, Kimiko scanned the crowd for his unforgettable features. They had no idea of what happened between the two at that last party; they didn’t know about his once thorny exterior quickly becoming dependent on her emotional support through this difficult time, nor how she honestly felt concerned and protective over him despite still trying to figure out how to forgive him ( or if she even had the kindness left in her to accomplish such a feat ). At last, they’d found each other through the writhing mass of bodies mingling, dancing, flirting, and drinking in a kaleidoscope of lights. Yellow high-beams meet swimming pools of obsidian over the rim of her cup. The whole world deafens and stills around them: despite the five yards of distance that separated the two, Kimiko swore she could hear his shaky exhale as he drinks in her visage — wonders briefly if he could somehow hear the tripping thrum of her heartbeat as her stare flickers over his own devilishly desirable costume. Pulling her lips from her drink, the fallen vixen swipes bubblegum tongue quickly over her lip and offers a little wink across the room ( unseen from her female counterparts ). Let’s hope this doesn’t backfire.