#maybe she’ll treat you to some fish cake

[mag-loopy]

Kokomi day :)

Some AU kokomi for the soul

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Guest Side Story

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Sarah Wilson Rating: T Word Count: 3214

Summary: Sam told Bucky not to flirt with Sarah. But this is her house, so Bucky's pretty sure she makes the rules.

Bucky’s missed white lies. Ones that don’t hurt anybody.

“Is that cigarette smoke I smell on your coat, James Barnes?” “No, Ma. ’Course not.”

“And you’re sure this dame knows it’s my arm she’ll be on?” “Sure, Steve. She’s been after me to fix the two of you up for weeks.”

Stuff like that.

Past few years, Bucky’s either been transparent or a brick wall, all lies or all truth. Which one he loses more sleep over just depended on the day. The most human thing, he’s learning, is to work with a little of both: fact and fiction. Give something here, hold something back there. Lying doesn’t have to be mean-spirited and telling the truth doesn’t have to make him feel hollow and guilty. Maybe you can only realize this kinda thing when you find your way home, even if the home isn’t yours.

Bucky’s standing in the kitchen listening to Cass teach him how to fish. It’s purely theoretical, no gear involved, just the overexaggerated motion of Cass’s arm as he mimes casting. Laughing, Bucky lightly grabs the boy’s elbow before it can collide with the refrigerator on an especially big swing. Cass downsizes his demonstration without pausing the excited flow of his instructions.

AJ catches Bucky’s eye; from the look on his face, he’s beginning to suspect that Bucky might already know how to fish. While Cass is focused hard on his hands pretending to show how to fit live bait onto a hook, Bucky smiles at AJ over the smaller boy’s head and raises a finger to his lips. White lies. Let Cass believe he’s the expert.

When Cass is winding down, Bucky moves around him with a grin, carrying an empty plate to the sink.

“I got it!” AJ declares, whisking it from Bucky’s hand and pumping a squirt of dish soap in the center while his other hand runs the hot water.

Cass slotted the Pop-Tarts the plate lately held into the toaster for him (no better end-of-the-day snack, Bucky was told) and now AJ’s cleaning up. They’re a hospitable family, all day long. No phoniness, no insincere offers of help that they’re hoping Bucky won’t take them up on. He actually had to race the kids to the shed to store a toolbox earlier. On the boat, Bucky has room to put in the effort for the Wilsons, but inside the walls of their home he’s not allowed to do a damn thing because he’s a guest. Per square foot of property, he doesn’t think he’s ever been treated this well in someone else’s house.

“Fine,” Bucky concedes, “but I’m doing all the dishes tomorrow—breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And don’t get up early to drink a glass of orange juice and try to wash it before I’m awake, ’cause I’ll be listening.”

The boys giggle and Bucky leans against the counter, hovering while AJ hands the plate off for Cass to wipe dry and pretending not to listen to Sam and Sarah talking in the next room.

…But there isn’t a full wall separating the kitchen from the living room and Sam knows Bucky’s hearing’s good, right? He doesn’t think they’re discussing anything that private and if Sam’s annoyed with him later for what he supposes Bucky might’ve heard, Bucky’ll just offer up another white lie and swear he couldn’t hear a thing. And Sarah… Sarah wouldn’t think any worse of him if she knew. Bucky imagines she’d have a lot of compassion for his frequent urge to give Sam a hard time just for the hell of it. He flicks a quick glance over his shoulder, just to see her, and concentrates on what they’re saying, giving himself vague permission because he overheard his name.

“This was your idea,” Sarah’s saying. “You brought the stray cat home, just like when we were kids.”

“Don’t compare him to something cute,” Sam complains. Bucky’s mouth tenses to keep his smile from spreading too far.

“He is a guest in my home, Sam, and he’s more than earned it after the work he’s been putting in with the boat.”

“And what about the work you’ve been putting in watching him do that work?”

“Sam. Grow up.” Sarah’s voice is playful and Bucky almost turns, wondering what her expression looks like.

“So you’ve just been appreciating his skill with a wrench and some sandpaper,” Sam says skeptically.

“If I’m also appreciating his shoulders in that shirt— if—” she emphasizes when Sam tries to interrupt, “—it’s nobody’s business but mine.”

“Ok, you definitely can’t have him sleeping on the couch.”

“What do you think I’m gonna do? Try to sneak him to my bedroom after lights out? With you listening, trying to catch us? Uh uh. Your sister is a grown woman with two children, a home, and a boat she couldn’t manage to sell, and she can lust where she damn well pleases.”

Bucky snorts out a laugh and AJ gives him a funny look. Kid’s too perceptive.

“He’s tricky,” Sam lectures. “You can’t see it, but I do. I’ve been around him a hell of a lot more. You think he smiles like that at everybody? If he smiles at me at all, I gotta assume he just looked up and saw a meteor hurtling towards where we’re standing and is only smiling because we’ve got seconds to live and I won’t be able to tell anybody.”

“You are hilarious.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re telling me your friend is charming. That’s what you’re describing. Don’t I deserve to be charmed? Where else is he gonna sleep, huh? With you? In one of the boys’ little beds while they share the other one? Because I know you’re not suggesting we skip the pretense and put him right in with me.”

Sam lets out a noise of obvious frustration.

“Time to intervene,” Bucky tells Cass and AJ, leaving them to swap confused shrugs in the kitchen as he saunters into the living room.

“Hey,” Sam greets stonily, arms crossed over his chest.

Just for fun, Bucky decides to be all the friendlier.

“It’s so great of you to put me up. Thanks, Sarah. This beats a hotel by a mile.”

“Our gourmet kitchen does offer an impressive range of sugary cereal,” she jokes. “I might even cook you boys a special breakfast tomorrow before you head back to the dock.”

Bucky’s grin widens.

“Oh yeah? I wouldn’t wanna—”

“No, it’s no trouble—”

“Well, that would be—”

“Both of you stop it,” Sam orders.

“Sam, go outside,” Sarah orders right back. “Play some tag with your nephews.”

“Sarah, I’m beat. We’ve been working on that boat all day.”

“Mhmm, you and the rest of the neighbourhood. You worked all day and you come home and there’s still two kids to entertain. But guess what?” She smiles deviously at her brother and throws a few fake punches at his stomach. “You’re Sam Wilson, the Falcon! Looks like you’re special after all. Me and Bucky here know you’ve still got some gas in the tank. Go on.”

Sam looks fairly planted to the spot as he glares from his sister to Bucky, but he eventually moves with a lurching step.

“I’m gonna be right outside,” he warns.

Bucky sidesteps out of his path and says nothing, though it’s hard to resist the instinct to egg him on.

“We’re gonna have a super-secret discussion about which towels he can use,” Sarah goads at her brother’s back.

Sam ignores her, corralling his nephews in the kitchen and guiding them out the door into the fading daylight with a hand on each of their narrow backs.

“Great kids,” Bucky observes.

Sarah nods, watching her family disappear, then turns to him.

“We’re not really gonna talk about towels.”

“No?”

Bucky’s eyebrows rise in surprise and delighted anticipation until Sarah grabs a folded blanket off the back of the couch and passes it to him.

“We’re making up the couch.”

“Oh.”

This is ok too. Actually, really nice, standing next to Sarah and unfolding the blanket as she stuffs a pillow into a clean case. Her eyes find his already on her and he swears he almost blushes; he’s been smoothing out the same crease in this blanket for a good thirty seconds with no result, just watching her easy movements, the way she flips her braids back when they fall forward over her shoulder.

“I hope you’re comfortable,” she says, lingering once they’re done.

“I woulda slept on the floor. A closet, even, like Harry Potter.”

“You read Harry Potter? Don’t tell the boys—they’ll be bugging you to play wizards with them.”

Bucky laughs and shakes his head.

“Nah, I just watched the movie.”

“Which one?”

“There’s more than one?”

“You really better not bring it up then,” Sarah advises. “They’d try to tell you everything at once.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to get in out of my depth.”

It feels like a significant look they exchange after his words. Bucky wants it to be—he thinks he does—but he feels awkward, romantically clumsy. Heartstrings tied together like shoelaces, waiting to trip him up. He’s been telling himself she’s only being kind, but after eavesdropping on her conversation with Sam, he knows she’s interested. In his shoulders at the very minimum. Was that right? His shoulders? Just in case, Bucky does his best to square them. Can’t hurt.

He’s fucking ecstatic when Sarah does glance down briefly, her gaze returning to his face with something flustered in it. Sure, she’s a mom and she runs a business, but it’s like she told Sam: she deserves to be charmed. Bucky’s not entirely sure he’s doing it right though.

“So,” she says, “Sam was just being a pain when he tried to convince me you can’t sleep on the couch because you’ve got a bad back, right?”

Bucky sighs but keeps smiling. It’s natural in her presence.

“I’d say that’s him making old-man jokes about me.”

“I apologize for my brother and his bad manners.”

“Ah, he’s not totally wrong,” he concedes, perching on the arm of the couch. “These last few birthdays have required more candles than you could fit on a cake.”

“Then you just have to get yourself a bigger cake.”

Bucky laughs.

“I guess optimism’s pretty much a family trait?”

“We work at it. They say you need to take the good with the bad, but they don’t tell you that means creating the good out of nothing a lot of the time, if you want any at all. The Wilsons worked that out some time ago, so we mostly do alright.”

“It’s a good feeling to be around,” he tells Sarah earnestly. Clearing his throat, he gets to his feet. “Feels good, being around you.”

“We’re… I’m happy you could stay with us.”

The light’s softened in the room and her voice has gone with it. Bucky shifts on his feet.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” he assures her.

Sarah’s eyelashes flutter when she looks from his mouth to his eyes. Probably too try-hard to bite his lip now. God, Sam thinks Bucky’s so suave with Sarah, but it feels like he’s only got one move and it’s fucking smiling. Some Casanova he is. Sarah, meanwhile, is beautiful and authoritative and generous and moving closer to toss the pillow he’ll rest his head on tonight onto the couch.

“Anything else you need to be comfortable?” she asks, gaze slipping from one of his eyes to the other. “Another pillow? Pajamas?”

“I’ve got some, but…”

“But?”

Sarah gives him a questioning look and Bucky starts summoning the courage to make a move. He’ll touch her waist—no, take her hand. He’ll cup her sweet face so there’s no doubt what he means.

“But,” he picks up, “if I get cold in the night…”

There’s longing in her eyes, Bucky knows it, but Sam bangs in the screen door right then, one nephew squealing where he’s been slung over Sam’s shoulder.

“Well,” Sam announces loudly to the house at large, “that’s it! No more gas in the tank! Everybody get to bed!”

Sarah appears sorry as she steps back. Bucky almost reaches out to pull her in, to take another shot with another lousy line. Shit, he’s bad at this.

“There are more blankets in the hall closet,” she says, and slips away.

“Thank you,” he calls after her.

Sam walks past, Cass still dangling upside-down over his back while AJ runs ahead, and watches Bucky like a hawk (or some other bird of prey) as he digs through his overnight bag. What’s Sam expecting him to pull out? A strip of condoms? Bucky extracts a green toothbrush and holds it up with an expression of fake wonder. Sam rolls his eyes and heads off down the hall.

They are going to bed early, barely 9pm. That’s probably late for the kids though. Bucky’s pleasantly weary after a day outdoors, more working than talking, feeling like part of something as the Wilsons’ community came together to repair the boat. Seeing Sarah throughout. Flashing Bucky a smile while she spoke to a neighbour, grasping his outstretched hand to let him help her aboard so she could see their progress, checking Sam’s work like she’s his foreman while Bucky grinned and watched the siblings good-naturedly pick at each other. Sam was probably out like a light and Bucky should be too.

He’s not.

He can’t get to sleep right away, but it’s peaceful to lie here on the couch, on his back, while the house gets dark and darker. Sarah left the nearest window cracked for him and a gentle breeze washes in with the chirp of insects. Bucky’s already looking forward to being woken by the sun streaming through in the morning. It’d be good to get from now to daylight in a single stretch of sleep; that’s what he fantasizes about while he lies on his back: no nightmares. His head’s propped up by the pillow he tells himself smells like Sarah, though it probably just smells like her laundry soap.

It’s hard to put his finger on what’s missing, why he can’t fall asleep, until he hears the soft shuffle of footsteps on carpet. They’re too close together to be Sam’s—either hesitant or made by child-sized feet. Bucky cranes his neck around, expecting to see someone walk past on their way to the kitchen for a glass of water. His gaze roams over nothing for a minute, then he slumps back as the footsteps retreat. Maybe it was Sam after all, getting up to look in on his nephews or something. It’s the sorta thing Bucky would do if he were an uncle; he’d treasure the time with those kids, try to remember everything about his visit so he could hang on to it when he found himself half a world away, in Berlin or Riga or Madripoor.

He’s settling, trapping the blanket against his chest with a heavy hand, when he hears the footsteps approach again. Then back away seconds later. Slowly, Bucky starts to smile to himself. It’s Sarah. Can only be her. She’s either trying to psych herself up to come in here and talk to him and failing, or trying to resist venturing down the hall and succeeding.

On her next attempt, she gets closer, and Bucky sits up, kicking the blanket aside, and drops his feet to the floor in anticipation of her rounding the corner. He’s nervously gripping the couch cushion on either side of his knees when she does.

“You sneaking past Sam?” he asks quietly.

Sarah jumps, pressing a hand to her chest.

“You scared me. I wasn’t sure you’d be awake.”

Bucky shrugs, dreamily fixated on her smile. One of her neighbours turns on their porchlight and now Sarah can probably see his smile too.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says.

“Shoot. Did you need something else?”

Kinda funny how she’s pretending she was coming out here for another reason and is just making a detour for him. He knows better, but he’s got enough remnants of being a gentleman not to call her out on it.

“Nah. It’s nothing to do with you.” Bucky stares at her a few seconds and changes his mind. “You know what? Actually, it is you.”

“What is?” Sarah asks with a hushed, confused laugh.

“The reason I can’t get to sleep. Sarah…”

But she smiles and does what he did to the boys earlier—holds a finger to her lips.

With the confidence of a woman at ease in her own home and her own body, she steps forward. She wore a yellow t-shirt today, but the one she wears now is pale pink. It’s loose and worn and reveals the strong, elegant curve of her shoulder when she moves and it slips. Gazing up at her, Bucky shifts until he feels the back of the couch. His hands hover in the air as Sarah digs one knee, then the other, into the cushion on either side of him. She lowers herself onto his thighs.

Moving slow like the hour, deep like the black sky, Bucky runs his hands up her back.

Sarah’s palms land on his shoulders and, smiling, she confesses to him, “I like these.”

He’s smirking when she ducks her head to kiss him.

Now that he has her here—on his lap, in his arms—Bucky forgets every way he wanted to touch her earlier. How he was gonna woo her with tender contact applied just right. Well, thank god for Sarah. She sets the pace of the kiss and, when his hands go still at her upper back, reaches around to bring one of them back down to her waist. He can feel that there’s no bra beneath her shirt.

“Rusty,” he breathes when their mouths slide apart.

“You were on that old boat all day,” she reminds him. “You know I’ve got patience for rusty.”

Still, Bucky wants to do a little better, prove that maybe he’s what she had in mind when she decided he was worth smiling at. He cradles Sarah closer, pulling her in, dipping his fingers into the valley of her spine when she arches into him. They kiss firmer, then faster. At her quick nod of encouragement, he moves his hands to her hips. Lower.

“Sarah?” Sam slurs sleepily from down the hall. “You outta bed?”

Sarah presses a hand to Bucky’s chest and pushes off his lap, other hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter. He chuckles too.

“As the Falcon, timing is one of his greatest strengths.”

“And as his sister,” Sarah counters, “it gets on my last nerve.”

“Well, I didn’t wanna say that, but…” Bucky grins.

“Sarah?” Sam calls out again.

She sighs.

“Is he trying to wake the boys?” She takes a step away from the couch, wearing a regretful smile. “I better go.”

Bucky catches himself before he can blurt out I’ll miss you. Overeager fool.

“See you in the morning?” Sarah checks, something shy about her now, but not in a bad way. Cautiously hopeful, Bucky thinks. He’s been feeling that way himself.

He gives her one more smile for the road.

“You bet.”

[belphies-cuhm-sluht]

Birthdays Come But Once A Year ( F!Reader x Leviathan, Satan, Lord Diavolo) 

Warning (NSFW)

Birthdays were special, but it was way more different in the Devildom. They took birthdays more seriously down there than any humans did up in your world. Cake and presents, maybe a special dinner, but after the excitement wore off, the day would go on like any other. That’s how it usually went, but to the demons, this day was special, especially since it was your day. The day that you were brought into this world, setting the course for them to finally have you. You would be treated like royalty, and you deserve nothing less on your special day. 

“Why should you get her on her actual birthday? That’s not fair. She was mine first!” It was always that way with him, and nobody, especially you, expected anything different from him. Mine mine mine, I was her first, I had her first, she’s mine. It was the same thing over and over, no matter what the plan or what the day was, he always felt like he had first dibs. Sure, his point was valid, and they would probably feel the same way if they were in his shoes, but they weren’t, so they didn’t really care. “It should be up to her who she spends her birthday with. She chose all of us, the order that we came in doesn’t matter.” 

They all bought gifts, some bought more gifts than necessary, others didn’t really know what to buy so they just got everything that caught their eye or made them think of you. The presents were all wrapped, hidden away so that you didn’t see, or complain about the amount of Grimm being spent on all the presents. Not that they would really care, because in their eyes, you deserved all the gifts they got you and more. “I should spend the day with her, I have everything planned already and I’m quite certain she’ll love it.” Honestly, none of them knew how the hell he had found a way to slither into your life, and they both surely hated how much of your life he had taken over, they still couldn’t say no to him. “Like I already said, nobody is choosing for her! She gets to decide. Then we’ll know.” 

Of course, none of them made your decision making easier. Each of them had their own ways of attempting to get you to choose them, and quite honestly, it was pretty comical how much they tried. Comical, yet endearing all the same. This wasn’t something that would happen on a regular birthday, no one would be fighting to spend the entire day with you if you were back at home, you would just… spend the day with the people who wanted to see you. They made it seem like you couldn’t share yourself between all of them, but you knew your birthday was special to all of them, so you found a way to include all of them. 

You spent the night before your birthday with Levi, not just because he deserved it more because he was your first, but there’s also something comforting about waking up with your head against his chest, the blankets wrapped tightly around both of your bodies and seeing the soft lighting of Henry’s fish tank when you finally lifted your head. Not that the two of you didn’t partake in “activities” all night, at least until both of you were too sweaty and exhausted to even give a proper kiss goodnight, but falling asleep and waking up next to Levi in the morning, that was the most calming for you. For the first time, he was awake before you, not just that, he had already left the room. The smell of pancakes, eggs, toast, and coffee filled the room. At first you were still too tired to think anything other than that it was probably Beel making himself breakfast. Quickly slipping on one of his shirts, you made your way down to the kitchen, still rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you turned the corner. Seeing him there, working on something at the stove, it was cute. He was trying so hard, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle when something on the stove popped and he jumped back a little. He quickly turned around when he heard you, pouting a little. “Oh man… you weren’t supposed to see anything yet… uhm… g-give me five more minutes!” You rolled your eyes at him, seeing him try so hard for you was heartwarming, and it was clear that he wanted to surprise you, so you turned around and walked back towards the stairs, sitting down and waiting to be called back in by him. 

It definitely took longer than five minutes, but you didn’t really know how much longer considering the fact that you had at some point dozed off while waiting. “Hey… I’m back… Sorry, for being rude… I just wanted it to be… like… surprise…” And you were surprised as you walked hand in hand with him into the dining area. Multi colored streamers hung from the ceiling and balloons were stuck to the wall, others floated up to the ceiling next to the streamers. The decorations were nice, but your eyes landed on a large pile of presents that sat waiting for you at the end of the table. He led you over to the table, letting go of your hand and taking a step back to watch you as you looked over the plates. Pancakes were made into shapes to spell out Happy Birthday to you, and although his regular writing wasn’t the greatest, his pancake writing was perfect. Toast was cut into strips so that they could stick out from underneath the sunny side eggs that he had made, to make them resemble balloons. A large cup of coffee was placed on one side of the plate, along with a glass of orange juice, and on the other side was a large bowl of cut up fruit. “I-I hope it’s not too much… I just wanted you to… start your birthday off right.” He grabs your hand to turn you back towards him, brushing his thumb over your knuckles as a soft blush turns his cheeks a light shade of pink. “Happy Birthday… I’m glad that I get to spend it with you.” Although he knows he doesn’t get to spend the entire day with you, it wasn’t something that he dwelt on long, instead, focusing on the more important things, one of those things being you standing right in front of him. “D-Do you want to open your presents now?” 

Satan was next in line, pushing Levis bedroom door open and walking in to pull you away from his brother. “H-Hey! I didn’t even get to-” Satan didn’t allow him to finish his sentence as he dragged you out of the room, shutting the door behind him to block out his brothers complaining as he smiled down at you. “Happy Birthday, kitten.” His lips were quickly placed against yours, his hands firmly holding your hips to keep you still, humming into the kiss. When he pulled back his face was a dark shade of red, and you loved how he’d always get so flustered whenever he was with you. Green eyes stared straight into yours, his hand moving up to cup your cheek, brushing his thumb along your skin. “I hope Levi didn’t go overboard with breakfast. I was planning on taking you to Ristorante Six for lunch.” Even if you were full from breakfast, he was still going to take you out. He loved showing you off to the other demons, demons that didn’t matter, that would never get to look at you or touch you the way he did. 

He grabbed your hand and pulled you toward his room, lifting your hands up to your eyes once you were inside, and you could hear the excitement in his voice as much as he very clearly tried to hide it. “Keep your eyes covered. This is a surprise, an early gift. The rest come later.” The rest? Your room was already filled with all the gifts that Leviathan had given you. It’s not like you slept in there anymore, but now it was becoming a storage area for birthday presents. It took an entire month to unbox all the Christmas gifts you had received, and it seemed like your birthday wouldn’t be any different, it might actually take longer. “Alright, open!” He was holding out a sparkly red bag towards you, nodding to you, urging you to take it. His eyes were on your face the entire time as you opened it, pulling out the red cocktail dress that was very clearly as much a present to you as it was to him. “There’s something else in there too…” He bit his lip, watching you more closely this time as you looked in the bag again, spotting the black, lacy lingerie that was folded neatly at the bottom. “You can put that on underneath the dress… for when we get back to the house.” 

Lunch was pleasant, and while you expected him to have a cake brought to the table and have the entire staff of the restaurant sing happy birthday to you, it seemed that his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of what he would be doing, could be doing, if lunch would pass by just a little faster. The bill was quickly paid as soon as you finished, grabbing your hand and, as gentlemanly as he could, walking with you back to the house. He didn’t want to seem like he was rushing, but it was pretty obvious that he wanted to get back home so he could celebrate your birthday with you more intimately. 

“I’m sorry if I seem to be rushing… I just know that I don’t have much time and…” He didn’t even finish his sentence, pulling the sleeves of the dress off your shoulders, taking a step back to admire how perfect you looked in the lingerie he picked. He knew you would look good in it, but he couldn’t help but pat himself on the back for having such great taste, at least when it came to picking things for you. Lifting you up, he pulled you down on his bed on top of him, his hands roaming over every inch and curve of your body. “You have full control, kitten… Just another one of my gifts to you.” Your hips rolling against his had his cock growing with anticipation, and as much as he wanted to take control, to just get inside you because he knew time was running out, he wanted to let you take charge because he never did before, it was a good gift in his eyes. 

Things were just getting good, his shirt and pants were laying on the floor next to the bed, having been quickly discarded. You were teasing him as this point, fondling his balls through his boxers as you kept rocking your hips against him. “Please… Ch-” The movement in the corner of the room caught his eye and he almost lost his temper when he saw Barbatos standing there, the same robotic looking smile on his face as he looked at you. Satan quickly grabbed his shirt off the floor and pulled it over your head, growling at the intervening butler. “You couldn’t have waited?!” Barbatos scoffed, taking a step toward the bed, his smile almost turning to a smirk as he looked down at the blonde. “My Lord has sent me to retrieve her. I’ll give her a couple minutes to get dressed, I’ll wait outside.” 

As soon as you were dressed Barbatos zapped you out of Satan's room, out of the House of Lamentation and to Diavolos castle. You didn’t have much time to make yourself presentable, but to the Demon Lord that didn’t matter. His eyes were immediately on you when his butler zapped you into the main entrance of the castle, they lit up and you could have sworn you saw a twinkle in them as he walked over to you. Muscular arms wrapped around you tightly, lifting you off the floor and spinning you around as a wide smile graced his lips. “The hours wouldn’t go fast enough… I couldn't wait to see you!” He set you back down, holding your face in both his hands, and it was precious how he seemed more excited for your birthday than even you were. “I have the whole day planned! But first… I want you to feel like a princess… like a queen, so… come!” He dragged you up the stairs, and on your way up you could’ve sworn you heard Barbatos chuckling softly at the bottom of the stairs. 

When he pushed open the door to his room your eyes were drawn to the bed. Three gift bags were sitting atop three different shoe boxes. “They’re all yours, but, you get to pick one for the evening. They’re ballroom gowns, well actually… the gowns are hanging in the bathroom, pick the one that’s in the same lineup as the bag you chose… but… I want to dance with you.” He let go of your hand, bouncing with excitement as you walked over to the bed and stared at the bags, part of you was excited about the items inside the bags, but another part of you was internally cringing at the amount of money he most definitely spent on the dresses. It wasn’t just the dresses though, you saw the massive stacks of gifts that were in the main entrance, but you weren’t shocked by it. Diavolo had the tendency to go overboard, and you didn’t expect any different for your birthday. 

Your choice was entirely random, picking up the bag and box and walking towards the bathroom, and for once he didn’t even follow you. “I want it to be a surprise. Take your time, I have you for the rest of the day. I’ll be waiting at the bottom of the stairs for you, my Queen.” His words had you nervous, but like butterflies in the stomach type of nervous. It didn’t get any better when you placed the bag and the box on the counter, unzipping the garment bag that was hanging on the clothes rack revealing a, beautiful, yet extremely over the top red and gold beaded dress. The shoe box had a pair of extremely fancy red and gold heels, and you were pretty sure the gold was real which made you not want to wear them at all out of fear of somehow ruining them. Inside the gift bag was another set of lingerie, and you rolled your eyes at the fact that Satan and Diavolo both seemed to have the same idea. That wasn’t all though, the light in the bathroom caught on the diamond facets of the gold tiara. He said he wanted you to feel like a queen, but you didn’t think that he’d… actually… yes you did… this was completely expected. 

After getting dressed, which was a struggle in itself, and placing the tiara on your head, you couldn’t help but admire how you looked in the mirror. You looked like a Queen, like you actually belonged next to him, although he told you all the time that you belonged beside him no matter what. Carefully, you made your way out of his room, stopping at the top of the stairs to look down at him. He actually let out a quiet scream when he saw you, his eyes wide and a cheek cramping smile on his face. “My Queen! Come here!” As much as you wanted to run down the stairs into his arms, you knew that in the gown and the heels, that would only end in you falling, so you slowly walked down, holding the dress up and gripping the railing tightly until you made it far enough down for him to grab you. “You look… stunning. Absolutely gorgeous!” 

Once he knew you were off the stairs, his arm was looped with yours, walking with you towards the large double doors that were pushed open, revealing the ballroom, and, much like the entrance, everything was gold. The walls, the floors, all gold, and the rest of the room was empty, the emptiness causing every sound to echo off the walls, even the clicking of your heels sounded amplified in the room. For once in a very long time you were nervous, not because you couldn’t dance, but because you probably couldn’t ballroom dance as well as he could. “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll lead.” And he did, he led the entire time, even letting you stand on his feet as he swayed and spun with you around the entire room to random classical music, and at one point, A Whole New World from Aladdin started playing which made you laugh. “Do you not like the song? I thought I heard you listening to it at one point…” He was nervous, which was precious to you, and even if you didn’t like the song, you didn’t have the heart to tell him. 

Time seemed to become a blur while you were dancing with him, and you didn’t really care how long it had been. He was holding you tight against him, your head leaning against his chest, the music had at some point stopped and he was now humming quietly a random tune to continue dancing to. He stilled, pulling back a little and smiling softly to you before turning you around, his hands laying on your shoulders. “Close your eyes for me…” He whispered next to your ear, and you quickly obliged, feeling his fingers brush your neck as he moved your hair to the side. The next thing that you felt was the slightly cold pendant against your skin, his fingers working quickly to clasp the necklace before turning your back around. “Open!” When you opened your eyes you saw the soft smile on his face, and then you looked down to see the solid gold chain connected to two diamonds, a deep red ruby between the two. It was beautiful, of course it was, but you could tell that it was expensive. He didn’t mind though, because according to him, you deserved much more than even he could buy, but he wanted to spoil you nonetheless. 

Shortly after it was time for dinner, which, much like lunch, didn’t last very long, even though Barbatos had served a whole five course, five star meal. As beautiful as the dress and the shoes and the tiara were, they were heavy, and they weren’t the most comfortable things to wear, and you weren’t able to eat much when you were so uncomfortable. Diavolo quickly thanked Barbatos for dinner after scarfing down his entire meal, helping you out of your chair and grabbing your hand, walking with you up the stairs, stopping outside his bedroom door. “One second, let me just do something really quick.” He kissed you on the forehead before stepping into his room, and you could hear the faint sound of matches striking, and then it got quiet. You waited a little longer, about to just walk in the room before the door opened, he was standing there with a wide smile. His suit jacket had been taken off, the sleeves of his white button down rolled up to his elbows, his hair slightly disheveled which you assumed was from running around the room. The room, which was now littered with red and white flower petals, the lights were dimmed down as low as they could go, allowed the vast array of candles to illuminate the room. He watched the way you looked around, and part of him was weary that maybe he had done too much, or maybe gone a little overboard, but his worries were quickly put at ease when you gave him a soft smile, pushing him further into the room and shutting the door behind you. 

As soon as the door was shut his hands were on you, tugging at the fabric of the dress as his lips moved hungrily against yours. He worked quickly, stripping you of the garment, his kisses never stopped as he lifted you up and carried you slowly to the bed, falling down on top of you onto the mattress, his hips already grinding against yours as his lips moved to down to kiss along your neck. “You wore the piece I got you…” His voice was hoarse and deep, just slightly over a whisper right against your ear as his hands traveled down your sides, squeezing them lightly before pulling back, admiring the way you looked, your cheeks flushed red, your hair sprawled out around you, eyes wide and pupils dilated as you looked up at him. He could see from the way you looked at him, you wanted him, needed him. Not only could he see it, but he could smell it too, how aroused you were, and just the scent of it alone had his cock straining against his dress pants. 

His fingers worked swiftly to undo his pants, yanking them down along with his boxers, allowing his fully hardened cock to spring out, slapping against his abdomen as precum leaked from the tip. Yes, as much as hated to admit it, and no one would ever know, you made him weak, weak enough that even a short makeout session and dry humping had him rock hard and dripping cum. He watched as your thighs squeezed together just from the sight of him, his name whispered from between your slightly swollen, soft, red lips. You hadn’t even spoken the first three letters of his name before he was back on top of you, his hand moving down your chest to dip beneath your panties, rolling his fingers slowly over your clit. Foreplay was fun and all, and usually he loved to do it with you, but there was something so appealing and irresistible about you tonight. Maybe it was the way the candlelight burned bright against your pale skin, or the way your hands grabbed at him and gripped onto him tightly once he was back on top of you. It was these things and more, or maybe something else entirely that not even he could think of right now that made him want to skip right to the part where he buried himself deep inside of you and made you all his own.

The lingerie, as sexy as it looked on you, was torn off with one quick pull, ripping completely and discarded onto the floor next to the bed. He wanted to see you in all your natural beauty, to cherish your body, your heart, and your soul, as he completely ravaged you at the same time. “I’m sorry… I really should be taking my time but-” You didn’t let him finish his sentence, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him in to kiss you, his lips devouring yours as he reached down, grabbing his cock and lining it up with your entrance and slowly pushing in. He felt how tight you were, no one else had had you today, not the way that he has you right now, and that only spurted him on more. He pushed in deeper, bottoming out with one hard thrust, a quiet moan escaping his lips that were still brushing against yours. 

The night went on for what seemed like forever, the only essence of time in the room were the candles that slowly began to flicker and burn out as the wax reached the wick. The room became darker and darker, and with each burnt out candle his thrusts got slower and softer until the room was pitch black, the lights long since turned off. The two of you were sweaty and exhausted, breathing heavily after multiple orgasms, and after the fourth you stopped keeping count, your mind too foggy to even think of anything but how absolutely amazing he felt. He fell down on top of you, both of your chests rising and falling in sync as you came down from your last and final climax of the night, struggling to keep your own eyes open as you brushed your fingers through his sweat soaked hair when he finally laid his head down against your chest, listening to your heart slowly return to a steady, relaxed rhythm. Soft, lazy kisses were placed across your skin as a small, tired smile graced his lips, a smile that you couldn’t see in the dark, but you could feel it, his cheeks raising up slightly as he sighed quietly, contently. “Happy Birthday, my Queen. I love you, I can’t wait to spend the rest of this year, and many more with you.”

[imagine-akudama-drive]

This is anime is so underrated (despite being rated anime of This anime is so underrated and I’m so glad this blog exists, we need more appreciation of the akudamas 😤. Can I request some headcanons of swindler, courier, cutthroat, and hacker with a fem s/o whose birthday is coming up and what they would plan for/give them? (If it’s too many feel free to pick any, thank you!)

Our first multiple character ask! Thank you so much! When it comes to multiple characters I tend to write around 5-6 headcanons instead of the usual 8 for one character, so hope you don’t mind!

*Admin Designer*

Birthday Plans with Fem! S/O

Swindler

Swindler will have all special dates, including your birthday, written on her calendar. I can see her planning something days ahead of the special event!

She will send you a happy birthday good morning text, complete with emoticons. “Happy birthday S/O! I’ll be dropping by later, so get ready for a day full of fun! <3”

She will surprise you with your gift first, which will include your favorite perfume, lotion, and perhaps a piece of jewelry. A stuffed animal might even be in there too, if she was able to decide among the several cute ones she had found!

Afterwards, the two of you will spend a day out hitting the town. If you like spa days or makeovers, then she will surprise you with an appointment at a local hot spring or hair salon. Then some dinner reservations at your favorite restaurant.

You two will stroll arm-in-arm on the way back home, with Swindler asking if you enjoyed your birthday. She might act a little smug in revealing that she had been so busy making sure that the day was perfect.

Back home, she’ll present you with some baked goodies she made along with some tea to relax you. All in all, you’ve been spoiled the whole day. “S/O, happy birthday again! I hope you have many more to come.”

Courier

Truthfully, he might not act completely different on your birthday than he normally would on any other day. He will still be as serious and straight-faced as usual.

Courier definitely remembers your birthday however, much to your surprise. He has so many jobs to think about, but he has committed your special day to memory.

He doesn’t have time to do anything special, per say, but he might just cook you a little treat that you favor. He’ll play it off by saying it’s nothing though! “I just thought I’d cook something different for today. That’s all.”

Unbeknownst to you, he has made sure to finish all his work ahead of schedule to spend more time with you. It’s not much, but he feels that time can be something valuable, and you deserve that at least.

As an extra special treat, he will take you on a ride through the city before parking in a terrace that overlooks the entire area, enough for you to see the twinkling city lights. Of course Courier will say he only wanted a smoke break, but the gesture is pretty evident.

At the end of the day, once you get back home, he’ll pop out a gift he got. It would be something that you had expressed interest in before, be it an article of clothing or a simple item. He will act nonchalant in his delivery. “I forgot; I got you this. Happy birthday… shithead.”

Cutthroat

Birthdays are rather special to Cutthroat, so he will make sure to know when yours is. He will still do the classic teasing that some people do, though. “Hmm? What’s that, love? Today’s a special day? I can’t seem to remember…”

Once his teasing is done, however, he will begin spoiling you. Whatever you want to do, Cutthroat will want a piece of it. Amusement park? No ticket lines will be holding you two back. Dinner? Get ready for the buffet of a lifetime. Anyone that gets in the way will of course be dealt with.

His real birthday gift to you will be something that’s closer to his likes instead of yours. In other words, presenting you with a helpless victim to kill.

For Cutthroat, killing someone and seeing their blood spilling out is a sight unlike any other, so he would want you to experience that firsthand, regardless of whether or not you enjoy it as well.

But if you are unable to go through with it, then he will simply smile and hand you a white box containing your favorite flavor of cake. Because nothing beats sweets right?

He will wrap his arms around you tightly that night, all the while telling you how much he loves you. “Happy birthday, my angel. I’m happy you were born.”

Hacker

Hacker will be similar to Swindler in that he has planned ahead, but maybe not in the most ethical way.

That is to say, I can see him hacking and snooping around your search history for things you might like. So I hope you’ve only been looking at things that actually interest you, otherwise, that fish vase you looked up as a joke might just end up in a gift bag for you.

Despite that, he will know your likes and dislikes, so he will make an accurate guess as to what you would want for your birthday. Acquiring information and deciphering it is his whole gimmick, so of course he will know everything about his S/O!

In terms of what to do for the day, he will be content with staying at home with you. If you really want to go out however, he may just hack into your favorite store after closing hours to allow you to bypass the security and roam around freely. “See, S/O? Now you have all the time in the world to shop to your heart’s content. And no one to disturb you.”

That night, Hacker will ask you to casually get something by the window. Upon looking out, you’ll see a flying bus with a special birthday message displayed on the advertisement screen. It won’t say your name, but your favorite colors, designs, and animations will be on point.

After thanking him a million times, he will give you a simple but sincere smile. “Happy birthday. I hope today was a day to remember.”

[roseofithaca]

King Takes Knight (Part 5)

Shawn gets just what he hoped for.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

(TW: Torture, captivity, ‘nails’)

This was a glorious day. Victory Day. Maybe he’ll make it a national holiday to commemorate the occasion. Every employee will have a microsecond less work to do than usual. He can be generous like that.

Shawn watches from the stage as a Bad Janet enters, bending the arm of that pesky mutated Good Janet in front of her as she marches her down the steps. Behind them are some generic demon guards who he will have to learn the names of, if only so he can reward them for grabbing a human each between them. The four irritating losers who are behind this whole mess. 

He can’t help but laugh! How stupid can they be to have all come at once? Now there’s no one left to run their ridiculous experiment.

“Good evening, dickweeds!” He greets them cheerily, amused by the defeated looks on all of their faces - though Mendoza looks as gormless as ever; “So glad you could attend the show.”

“Oooh, what show? Is it Shrek the Musical?” Jason asks, lifting his chin up.

The large guard holding him gives his arm a painful tug, making the dumbass yelp like a cat with its tail caught in the door.

“I’m afraid not. But I’ll definitely be keen on making you sing soprano when I have them saw your balls off.” He gloats.

With a wave of his hand, he instructs the guards to walk the four of them forward, up the steps, and then force them to their knees at the front of the stage. The Bad Janet struts to stand next to him and Shawn allows her to give him a low five at his side in celebration.

Not that it took much effort.

“I applaud you for trying. But that really was a pathetic attempt to save Michael. You really thought we wouldn’t have Molotov-proofed the doors after last time?” 

Tahani turns to tut at Jason; “Told you!”

“Well I told you guys it was a trap but none of you listened!” Eleanor hisses.

Oh, this is wonderful. He would be happy to simply lock them in a room and watch them blame and scrap with each other, just as Michael originally intended, rather than all this wholesome chummy crap that ended up happening. How ironic.

“Such a shame that Chidi couldn’t be here to join you all. I guess he’s busy getting all loved up with his fellow nerd Simone, right Eleanor?”

He grins as that hits a nerve and Shellstrop darts forward, looking to go for him, before the guard grabs her hair and yanks her back down.

“Don’t worry. I have to keep my word to the Judge, after all. So I’ll be happy to let the experiment carry on, with Chidi and the others under the ‘safe’ guardianship of my employees wearing your skin suits.” He taunts them, “They won’t even notice you’re gone...especially as they will, literally, be the same skin torn from your bodies!”

“You twisted wanker.” Tahani glares at him, the British brat suddenly baring fangs; “Where is Michael?!”

“Y’know, she’s so right...Michael should be here to watch us slowly slice that fat skin off of them, shouldn’t he.” Bad Janet sways her hips, looking knowingly to Shawn with that glint in her eye; “Want me to go fetch him and give him the front row seat?”

This Bad Janet must not have got the memo.

“Oh I wasn’t foolish enough to have Michael be here. I just needed these filthy rats to think that’s where he was by the video.” He brags, watching the shock quickly drain the anger on their faces into hopelessness; “I had Michael moved a nice, cosy location far, far away. You weren’t even close to getting to him, idiots!”

“FUCK!” Eleanor swears, not even looking as though she can enjoy the opportunity to curse; “I told you all, it was too easy!!”

“No biggie.” Bad Janet rolls her eyes; “I can still stream him the footage to wherever that dingus is, can’t I? I sooo want him to see us cut Tahani’s hair into an uneven bob.”

“No! No! NOOOO!” The wannabe princess screams until the guard gives her a slap.

The Bad Janet has a point though. It wouldn’t be worth torturing Michael’s precious humans unless he was there to watch it, even if the plan with the Michael-suit fell through. Damn Vicky and Glenn both being blown up meant he had no duplicate to use, especially as he forgot to share the design with other skinsuit manufacturers (shut up, Glenn!). 

He’s certain there is very little of Michael’s awareness left after how much they’ve inflicted on him over the past few...well, it was only a handful of months but, thanks to Jeremy Bearimy, he’s endured a lifetimes worth of restraints, freezing, impalement, whipping, electrocuting, bad Adam Sandler movies, and soo much worse. There had been a time when he’d looked into those blue eyes and seen so much raw hatred. Now, whenever he took a glance at his wretch of a former employee, the light was flickering out, as if he’s conscious of nothing except the constant pain and loneliness. 

Just like the humans he adores so much that end up here, where they belong. Because they’re terrible and that’s all that needs to be known. He should have left well enough alone. 

At least now, finally, Shawn gets to have some entertainment.

“You’re right, Bad Janet. Set up a connection to the Tenth Circle, Sector B. I left one Bad Janet on duty there with Nicole who’s currently ‘taking care’ of Michael. And by that I mean making him very miserable.” Just in case the humans are too dumb to get the expression.

Bad Janet texts on her phone, popping another piece of gum.

“Tenth Circle...Sector B....Got it.” She raises her head, an oddly pleasant smile spreading across it, eyes suddenly bright and pleasant; “Thanks for that!”

“What-?”

The not-so-Bad Janet karate chops him in the side of the head and knocks him to the floor. He hears her make a shout, the theatre spinning around him, unable to find his feet quick enough before the humans get to their feet and surround him.

Shawn blinks, rapidly, as they proceed to take out some rope and tie his wrists and ankles together.

“What is the meaning of this?! GUARDS! DON’T JUST STAND THERE! GET THESE STINKING HUMANS OFF OF ME!” He rages, trying his best to break out of their puny hold but they’re, for some reason, freakishly strong.

The Bad Janet continues to smile at him.

“Oh they’re not your guards...and these aren’t the humans. You were being so smug that you didn’t see what’s right in front of you, did you?” She says.

Shawn frowns. What is she talking about?!

He glances up at Tahani leaning over his head, trying to spot the....Oh. Farts.

They’ve fooled him again. That’s no Bad Janet. And these humans have no auras. They don’t even smell! They’re the same as her. They’re...

“Meet my Janet Babies. I produced a bunch more to come with me. We just needed to know where Michael was really being kept and now we do. And I’ve forwarded that to our Team Two so, thanks!”

She gives Shawn a kick in the teeth before her group stand back at her command.

He spits, wriggling, bound and prone on the wooden floor.

The fake Jason stuffs a green stress ball into his mouth to gag him before all of them leave him there, muffled curses being hurled at them, before they lock the door and leave him in the empty theatre. He fucking hates Good Janets!

*

*

*

She likes to use the metal hooks to dig into his flesh and give them a tug, eager to get a reaction out of him despite his near frozen state. Every now and then she’ll manage to hit somewhere extra tender and a whimper will break out of his lips. 

She has a schoolgirl's giggle.

“This is like ice fishing. And you’re my big piece of frozen shrimp.” She teases him as they sit in the inside of a giant glacier. 

She doesn’t seem to be affected by the code, only wearing a pink slip dress. There’s not even any goosebumps on the arms of her suit.. 

The new one they’ve left with him is one he hasn’t seen before. She seems new to torture, possibly even new to the slim skinsuit she’s been given, still fascinated by the way her own fingers move. The way she caresses his face and sticks her tongue out makes him suspect she’s some kind of giant leech monster. The kind they used to let suck humans brains out with straws. Or cut their skulls open and lick them out like a kid with a bowl of cake mix.

Definitely not a fire squid, whatever she was.

“I bet Shawn’s almost finished making your buddies feel at home here. If you’re really good to me, Mikey...I might ask him to bring you their heads as a treat.” Nicole, as she said was her name, informs him.

He’s beyond attempting to beg for them to be left alone anymore. He’s beyond expecting any sort of mercy.

Everything he had tried for so long....everything he had hoped to avoid.

All of his efforts for the past few years were for nothing.

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry... He thinks as more tiny crystallised tears sting from the corners of his eyes.

A loud bang outside makes him start.

Nicole turns to the Bad Janet at the door; “What was that? Go check on it, will you!” she orders like a spoiled brat to her butler.

The Bad Janet rolls her eyes, flipping the bird and then doing as she’s told.

Nicole turns back to kneel in front of Michael.

He tries to escape into his hallucinations but she wants his focus on her. Her hand grips his cheek and squeezes tight.

“I dunno what you did to get the Boss to hate you so much, I don’t really give a toss about current affairs...But m’just glad I get this as my first job! Punishing a dirty traitor...” She runs the tip of an ice pick up his face, towards his nostril; “...And all the other dirty things I hear about you...My mate Kath said you had the hots for one of them humans...You creeps should keep that fetish on the internet where it belongs! Look where it’s got you now...”

She takes a small hammer out from her pocket and puts it to the bottom of the ice pick, shoving it up Michael’s nose.

“I wish you had a brain in there so this could get the same effect it does with those creatures...But the simulation is good enough.”

He wishes he could laugh through the binding in his lips. He wishes that her wish could come true. Give him a lobotomy? Take away his memories of constant failure? Make him oblivious to how he’d loved for nothing and lost everything? She would be doing him the greatest favour.

As it is, he’ll just sit there and take the pain of a nail through his fake skull. He’ll let her have her fix until she gets her reprieve and he’s left alone to his own personal inner torment. His guilt. His regrets.

Just let go, Michael. Just...forget.

Nicole leans in close, ready to fiercely tap; “Hold still. This will only hurt a-.”

She doesn’t get a chance to finish her taunting before her skin suit explodes, sending a wave of pink goo across Michael’s face. 

He blinks. Something happened.

The ice pick and the hammer clatter to the floor.

Wha...

Eleanor Shellstrop stands at the door, clutching a Bad Janet marble in one hand, pointing Janet’s demon exploder in the other. 

[7team7]

Apron

In which cherry blossoms are familiar and Uchiha history can be found woven into all the fabrics of their household.

A/N: Hi everyone :) sorry for my own lack of posts, but I’m so excited to finally share this! My dear friend and the talented artist ALISS @alisstairs​ and I have been working on this project for a long time and we’re posting this part as a Valentine’s Day treat!! Our twitters are plumbIossoms and a_lisstairs. Please enjoy and look out for the rest of the project when it’s ready to be posted! Please do not repost any of this anywhere.

Sakura walked through the front door and was immediately greeted by a delicious scent and soft sounds coming from the kitchen — which meant her husband was cooking. The fact that Sasuke was both home early from a mission and cooking dinner was enough to put her in a good mood, so when she saw him standing over the stove, she couldn’t help but break into a big smile. 

“Why’d you get an apron?” Sakura asked when she came up right behind him to peek at what he had set to boil. Sasuke jerked his chin towards his lone arm, “It can get a little messy with just this. I actually bought this for you while I was getting groceries, but I needed it myself for today.”

When Sakura walked in, Sasuke’s back was to her, so she only noticed the strings knotted around his waist that showed he was wearing an apron. Only when he turned around to kiss her in greeting did she realize the apron was pale pink in color and covered in a cherry blossom print. How cute.

“And when were you planning on telling me about this gift?” she asked with the same big smile she wore when she walked in.

“Never. It’s fine if you don’t use it and we just eat out all the time.” Sasuke honestly enjoyed his wife’s cooking, but it was always fun to tease her when everyone else claimed she was the worst. Sai’s pale skin turned a shade of sickly green anytime someone mentioned Sakura’s soldier pills.

Sakura rolled her eyes. Fine, he could just make his own bento next time! 

“Sarada is still with my parents?” she queried instead. “Yes, I figured your mom would refuse to give her up if I attempted picking her up early. We can get her tomorrow morning?” “That sounds good. I only dropped her off this afternoon, so she’ll be fine for a little longer, but I’ll definitely be glad to have her back here. Sasuke-kun, aren’t you tired from your mission? Why didn’t you want to just get take-out or something?” Sasuke’s face fell almost imperceptibly, “You weren’t home when I got back. I wasn’t injured so I couldn’t bother you at the hospital. The house was too quiet without Sarada and I didn’t really have anything else to do.” He said it plainly, but the explanation made Sakura’s heart hurt a little. Coming home to an empty house was a certain kind of lonely feeling. The only downside of Sasuke returning early was that she hadn’t been there to greet him right away. 

“Okay,” she smiled gently up at him, hoping to draw him away from any dark thoughts, “I’m glad you’re making something, I’m starving.” Sasuke nodded, but when his eyes narrowed soon after, Sakura already knew what he was thinking. “Yes, I ate lunch at the hospital. I brought the last of some leftovers.” He nodded again, satisfied.

Sakura moved away from his side to give him some space and started setting the table. “You know, this feels a little like before we had Sarada. Just me and you.” 

“Except we’re not roasting fish over a fire in the middle of nowhere,” Sasuke deadpanned. 

“Hey! You can’t deny that we had some good meals on the road. Well, I think cooking them was usually more fun than eating them because we never knew how they would turn out,” Sakura reminisced.  And she was constantly impressed by Sasuke’s mastery of fire style; every single time he produced the perfect flame for their food. On her birthday, he even humored her and produced a baby flame for a candle they picked up in a random village.

They were able to find some familiar foods during their travels, but there were plenty of new flavors too. Naturally, some were hits, some were misses. The open air markets from the various nations always had something new to offer. 

But having access to a kitchen inside a home was definitely a perk of returning to the village. For Sasuke, Konoha was a place where his home happened to be, and for Sakura, Konoha was always going to be home. Even if they couldn’t control the chaos outside the village walls, they at least had a warm kitchen to always return to. 

.

A few days later, Sasuke returned home from the market with another apron, this one specifically for him: it was larger and free of (a specific pink) decoration. He hadn’t noticed how messy they could get while cooking and feeding Sarada until he did laundry recently. He always managed to get sauce splattered on his pants while cooking. Sarada was normally a good eater, but smashed peas often ended up on his shirt after dinner. Even on the darker fabrics he preferred, some stains just wouldn’t come out. 

“Oh, but it’s so plain. At least let me sew the clan symbol on it?” Sakura rubbed the thick material of the apron between her fingers. It was so much longer than hers, Sasuke is so tall! Should she make a pocket? How big should the fan be? Should she sew his name on it too? 

“Sakura the food is burning!” Sasuke was taking off his shoes and playing with Sarada by the door while Sakura examined the apron, so neither of them noticed the rising smoke until it was too late. Sakura rushed back to the stove to turn down the heat, but the damage had been done. Their meal was torched. Toasted. Singed. Seared. Charred. Fire style jutsu-ed. “That’s what I get for trying to speed up the process by using high heat,” Sakura sighed. Work had been long and taxing, she really didn’t want to spend more time chopping vegetables, but dinner wasn’t going to cook itself. 

But thankfully, Sasuke was there to save the day (as he so often did). She felt his large, warm hand come to rest on the small of her back and at first she thought he was just trying to comfort her. But then his fingers fiddled around behind her and undid her apron’s knot. “It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have distracted you,” he said mirthfully. “I’ll fix it or just make something else. Go sit.” 

Sakura meekly shuffled away, grabbing Sarada to play on the couch. She wondered how she got so lucky. 

After stealing several peeks at Sasuke’s broad back in the kitchen, Sakura carried Sarada over to him. “She wants to know if she can help,” Sakura held Sarada up and covered her own face. Sarada squirmed and babbled in her hands, making Sasuke smile. She would be talking, as in actually able to articulate her own sentences, soon enough.

“She can be our official taste tester.” He wasn’t going to let Sakura worry about dinner, but he also could never deny her attempts at having a little fun. He took a small spoonful of broth and blew on it until it had cooled considerably. He brought the spoon to Sarada’s mouth and guided it in.

She spit half of it up onto her white bib, but giggled loudly afterwards. “I think that means she likes it?”

.

“Mom, can I borrow your apron? I wanted to make ChoCho something for her birthday, it’s tomorrow,” Sarada called out from the kitchen where she was poking around and gathering ingredients for a cake. She had only ever made one with the help of her mother, but it couldn’t be that hard, right?

Sakura came in from the living room, “Oh, sure! It might be a little big on you though. We should just get you your own, even your dad has one.”

The thought of her father wearing an apron covered in tomatoes made Sarada freeze. Papa? Has his own apron? 

“Well, he used to use mine, but then we weren’t able to cook at the same time. His would definitely be too big for you.” Sakura opened up a cabinet and pulled out her well-loved cherry blossom apron, plus a larger, blue apron with the Uchiha symbol in the center. It would definitely be too big on Sarada.

But Sarada always missed her father, so she asked shyly, “Can I wear dad’s? I’ll probably get really messy, so I need it to cover all of my clothes.” Sakura smiled at her and helped her put it on. Even though she tied the strings extra tight, Sarada was still swimming in the blue fabric. It didn’t feel wrong, though. 

As she went along with baking the cake, she always made sure to avoid wiping her hands on the clan symbol. After learning about her family’s history, she had a certain reverence for the Uchiha. The fan represented her ancestors, her family past and present, and as silly as it was, she didn’t want to dirty it. When she pulled the finished cake out of the oven, she noticed the intense heat didn’t bother her as much now that she had become more proficient in fire style. 

After frosting the cake with a simple birthday message, Sarada finally cleaned up, satisfied with her work. She was reluctant to take the apron off and part with another piece of her father. She wondered what kind of food he made when he wore this apron. Were there any Uchiha family recipes he could share? Maybe next time he was home, Sarada could make him something too

.

A/N: Like I said, this is just one part to a larger project, we will post the full thing soon enough but we’ve been working hard on it for a while. And again do not repost! Show Aliss some love on her accounts pwease she is the best <3 and happy Valentine’s Day!!

[roboticonography]

I've always wondered, in FWNL, how Steve and Peggy part when she leaves to go to school, and what Steve thinks of Peggy forging a new path in a new world. Any insight you might have?

So I know that you sent this ask approximately a billion years ago, but here’s the thing: I liked this prompt a little too much.

Because in FWNL, Steve and Peggy leave things on an uncertain note when she leaves for school - in part because of everything that’s going on in Steve’s world that he can’t talk about.

But I couldn’t stop thinking of how they might have said goodbye, if things had been a little different. So here’s what I came up with, which is basically an AU of an AU.

=======

The Nearness of You

The night before she’s due to leave, Steve takes Peggy to a free movie night, at a park in his neighbourhood.

He knows a lot of people would give him low marks for being cheap and unoriginal, but the only person he wants to impress doesn’t seem to mind.

He meets her at the subway station, because she wants to try navigating on her own.

Right on time, she ascends the stairs, elegant, unhurried. Her simple wrap dress is the green of summer grass, with a pattern of sunny yellow flowers; her shoes and her handbag are the same glossy red as her lipstick. It’s a combination of colours that shouldn’t work, but on Peggy, it’s perfect.

When he asks if she had any trouble with the train, she arches an eyebrow and reminds him, “I used to live in Brooklyn, you know.”

And it’s true that she walks with the air of someone who belongs there. But then, she’s like that everywhere she goes—in stark contrast to Steve, who couldn’t blend in with a crowd if his life depended on it.

On the way over, they pass an ice cream shop that Steve has seen mentioned online. It’s supposed to be good, and the line inside is short; on a whim, he suggests a detour.

The place happens to be next door to a donut shop, and the two have conspired to make donut ice cream sandwiches.

Something Steve has always admired about Peggy is her enthusiasm for eating. Since her return, he’s been making mental lists of foods in the new century that he wants to introduce her to. A donut ice cream sandwich hasn’t been on his radar, until just this moment.

He watches Peggy spend almost a full minute ogling them in the freezer case before concluding, with a profoundly sad sigh, “I don’t think I could manage it.” It’s the same wistful look she used to have during the war, when talking about meat and milk and real chocolate, not the chalky clay tile issued by the army.

“Let’s split one,” he offers. “You pick.”

After further and even more intense deliberation, she selects a decadent red velvet cake donut, with a cream cheese ice cream centre.

They decide not to risk eating outside; the sun is going down, but the evening is still sultry, and neither of them are in the mood to race the clock. They find a table by the window.

Steve is so busy watching Peggy smooth the softening edges of the treat with her tongue that he lets his half melt down his arm all the way to his elbow.

He blows through their entire supply of napkins trying to wipe off the sticky mess.

He thinks she’s amused; it’s still a little hard to tell sometimes, but he’s gradually remembering how to read her face.

“Aw.” He frowns comically. “Now no one’s gonna want to hold my hand.” 

He means to be cute and flirty, but he can tell by the way her expression changes that he’s caught her off guard, maybe embarrassed her a little. 

Changing the subject quickly, he asks, “Are you all packed for your big trip?”

“Yes. It’s remarkably easy, when you don’t own anything. Which reminds me, I ought to give you back your books.”

“That’s okay. You hang onto them.”

She doesn’t look pleased. He thinks he knows why: she doesn’t like owing a debt.

“You might need some of them for school. I’ll get ‘em back the next time you’re in town,” he adds.

“All right.” She takes a bite of the ice cream sandwich and it falls apart in her hand, half of it dropping straight down the front of her dress. “Oh, hell.”

Steve goes to get more napkins.

“There’s really no dignified way to do this,” she observes, one hand delving into her décolletage. He catches an eyeful of milky skin and ivory lace before it occurs to him to look out the window instead of staring like a caveman.

“I like your dress,” he says, because things weren’t awkward enough already.

Peggy grins. “Now that I’ve drawn attention to its best feature?”

He grins back, but says only, “Green’s a nice colour on you.”

“Thank you.” She dabs delicately at her neckline. “I rather think so too.”

Another thing he’s always admired about Peggy: her way of accepting compliments by agreeing with them. As if she arrived at the same conclusion ages ago, and has just been waiting for everyone else to finally catch up.

*

When they get to the park, he sees couples unfolding colourful blankets or matching beach chairs, pulling out bags of snacks and bottles of water. He wishes he’d planned a little better. He has to settle for spreading his windbreaker on the ground so Peggy won’t get her dress dirty. There isn’t enough room on it for two of them, but that’s fine; after such a hot day, it’s nice to lean back on his elbows and stretch out in the cool grass.

The movie is an animated feature about the secret lives of toys. It seems good—people in the audience are laughing—but he’s completely lost. He spends all his time either gazing at Peggy, or looking blankly ahead with a keen awareness of her body beside his.

The sky above them fades into shadow.

He doesn’t realize he’s dozing off until Peggy gasps. He startles awake just in time to catch her face in profile, lit up, staring raptly at the screen. His heart feels weightless, suspended in his chest.

She turns, as if sensing his gaze. “Are you laughing at me?”

He tries, and fails, to wipe the dopey smile off his face. “No, ma’am.”

She fake-glares at him, nudging his knee with her elbow before turning back to the movie.

The next time he wakes, it’s because she’s shaking his shoulder gently.

He sits up, slightly groggy. The film’s end credits are rolling. People are packing up, chairs in hand, sleepy children on their shoulders.

He can’t believe he fell asleep in the middle of a date. He’s lucky she didn’t just go home and leave him there. 

He rubs his face briskly, trying to wake himself up. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Her eyes and her mouth have gone very soft. “You must have needed a rest.”

There’s so much he wants to tell her, in that moment. But all he can do is nod. “How’d you like the movie?”

She smiles, cheeks dimpling. “Brilliant.”

He helps her to her feet, then scoops up his jacket. He’s about to put it on when she stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Hold still.” She bats at his back. “You look as though you’ve been rolling in the grass.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“It does.” Her hand slows, softens. “Under the right circumstances.”

Steve can’t think of anything appropriate to say to that.

They make their way to the edge of the park, walking slower than usual.

Her hand brushes his. He thinks it might be an accident, at first. The second time she does it, he takes hold of her fingers—loosely, giving her plenty of ease to slip away.

She steps closer, presses her palm firmly against his. 

They hold hands all the way to the entrance to the subway, where Peggy lets go to fish her fare card out of her handbag.

He offers to see her back to SHIELD.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She’s clearly pleased. “It’s got to be out of your way.”

The truth is, his place is a five-minute walk from where they’re now standing. “Maybe a little,” he concedes.

“You can ride along until I have to transfer.”

“Deal.”

On the train, they sit shoulder to shoulder—at Steve’s size, it’s impossible not to. After a couple of stops, he drapes his arm over the back of Peggy’s seat. It’s mostly to give her more room, though of course that’s not the only reason. If it’s not okay, he’s sure she’ll let him know.

One more stop passes.

“We should do this again,” he suggests. “When you’re back in town.”

“I’ve no idea when that will be.”

“That’s okay. It’ll keep.” 

He’s not sure exactly what it refers to, but Peggy nods, as though what he’s just said makes perfect sense. 

And then she leans into his side, and they make the rest of the trip that way, quietly together.

In the station, the silence between them turns awkward. It’s a lousy place to say goodnight: it’s crowded, the air is humid and stale, and there’s a busking saxophonist whose enthusiasm far outstrips his technique.

Steve settles for a cavalier, “Text me when you get home, yeah?”

She gives a dramatic, full-body sigh. “Must I?”

He chuckles. “I don’t need a whole message. Just proof of life. An emoji is fine.”

“Is that the… smiley face thing?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll give it a go. But I won’t promise anything.”

As her train screeches its approach, he hugs her, one arm across her shoulders. She slides a hand around his waist, presses her face to his collarbone; her breath, through his shirt, is warm on his skin. Her hair is raw silk, and smells like springtime. His eyes are closed. He thinks hers are, too.

He doesn’t realize how long they’ve been holding one another until she pulls away, murmuring, “I’ll miss the train.”

Steve is afraid of what’s going to come out of his mouth if he opens it. So he just smiles, squeezes her hand once more, and lets her go.

After seeing her off, he takes the steps up to the street two at a time, and walks the eight miles home at a brisk clip. His heart is soaring. 

It won’t be easy to be apart, of course—but unlike during the war, there’s a timeframe, and an understanding between them. It’s easier to stay in touch. And it’s not like she’ll be on the other side of the world; she might even invite him to visit her, once she’s settled.

Her text arrives about an hour after he gets home. It consists solely and entirely of the letter S.

He waits, for several minutes, watching the typing indicator fade in and out of view. At last, the full message pops up: Safe and sound.

Get some rest, he writes back. Big day tomorrow.

He’s already put his phone back on the nightstand when it whistles again. No words—just a sleepy snoring face emoji.

To Steve, it feels like nothing short of a miracle.

[daybreak-academy-fanfic]

Daybreak Academy: Chapter 75

What Me Worry?

Summary: In which Ephemer doubts the way he gives Anora affection. Word Count: 1,384 First | Previous | Next ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆

Ephemer ran a hand through his hair. The still calmness of the Dandelion clubroom only serving to let his mind wander far, far away. Tomorrow would be the two month anniversary of his and Anora's first date, and he was running out of ideas. He was also broke. Not that Ava wouldn't help pay for a trip to the movies or anything- but he felt bad taking money from her with no way to pay her back. He needed to find a job.

The young man let out a long sigh as he looked over his list of ideas. Most of them they had already done. As such, Ephemer had scratched them out with a frustrated grumble. Did this mean he was a bad boyfriend? How could he take her someplace she enjoyed when they've been everywhere? Wouldn't Anora get tired of going to the same places over and over again? What if they went to a certain place so often that Anora just turned to him and said…

“How's it going, leader?”

Ephemer nearly jumped out of his skin before whipping around to see Brain standing at the door. The older student tipped his fedora to Ephemer, making his way further into the room without any introduction.

“What are you doing here?” Ephemer questioned- not meaning to sound as accusatory as he did.

“Well, I was going to take a nap.” Brain smirked. “What are you doing here?”

Ephemer let out a hard sigh. “Thinking.” he quietly admitted.

“Sounds dangerous.” said the older as he flopped his body on one of the loveseats.

“I'm trying to think of something to do for our two month anniversary.”

Brain snorted at this. “Two... month…?” He snickered a bit before mumbling under his breath, “Unbelievable.”

Hearing this sparked a small flare of anger in Ephemer. Without meaning to he snapped, “How do you care? Your longest relationship lasted, what? A month?”

“A year, thank you very much.” came the reply with a little wave of the older's hand. “And with a very beautiful young woman named Verity.”

This, for some reason, was not the answer Ephemer had been expecting. He recoiled a little in thought. The rumor that Brain was a lady's man was one that had persisted for years. But the more Ephemer thought about it, the more he couldn't recall the last time Brain had truly dated any girl. Spare for the spring formal, Brain had been shooting down girls more often times than not. Now curious, Ephemer looked at Brain with an inquisitive expression.

“What happened?” he wondered.

Brain gave a careless roll of his shoulder before grumbling, “Doesn't matter. Just another girl wanting a cute guy as a handbag.”

“Ah...” came the small agreement. After that, the two boys went silent. Brain tilted his fedora over his face to block some light, threw his hands behind his head, and reclined against the loveseat to get some rest; Ephemer continued to write ideas down, only to scratch them out a few moments after.

Brain should have known better and moved his nap time somewhere else. Ephemer was not at all quiet about his lack of confidence. He'd sigh every so often, his scribbling being far more grading than it should have been. Brain was about to leave the room entirely before Ephemer softly mumbled to himself;

“Maybe I'm just treating her the way I used to treat Skuld...”

At this, Brain cocked an eyebrow and finally started to sit up. He adjusted his fedora back on his head so he could look at Ephemer. The younger of the two was completely hunched over his list now. His fingers were all but knitted into his wispy hair, threatening to pull a few strands out if he wasn't careful. Brain titled his head at the scene- resting his chin in his hand.

“Hmm, doubt it.” he decided. He must have surprised Ephemer again; the younger jumping a good foot out of his seat at hearing the older's voice. “Just the fact that you're more mindful of what she wants, and not what you think you should do, means you're more committed to this relationship than I ever would.”

The Leopardus student blinked for a moment before turning to Brain. He was greeted with a pensive expression looking right back at him. Not for the first time, Ephemer realized just how naturally handsome Brain was. The older boy's round face held a strong jawline, and framed with his layered raven hair. His gray, oval-shaped eyes had an odd way of seeing right through you and straight into your soul. Ephemer wasn't going to lie, if he was a girl, he would have been blown away by Brain's good looks in a heartbeat.

Had Anora ever felt that way about Brain? She didn't seem to notice him during the spring formal or during the summer. But they had spent a whole night together when they were lost on the field trip...

“When you two were lost on the nature preserve…” he then wondered out loud, “What did you do?”

Something about Brain seemed to stiffen. His eyes, once partially exhausted, now stared intensely at Ephemer.

“Ephemer,” the oldest started to say- something dark underlying in his voice, “If you're insinuating that I touched your girlfriend...”

Ephemer's skin crawled. “What?! No!” he immediately spat. “I was just…! I meant…!” With a furious shake of his head, the younger grumbled, “Never mind. You wouldn't even listen to her anyway.”

A faint flicker of darkness crossed Brain's eye. This was what made the older student stand up- the movement startled Ephemer for a moment, before wondering if Brain was going to throttle him.

“I'll have you know that Anora is the least materialistic girl on this campus.” Brain snapped at Ephemer. “She's not going to give two pink elephants what you do for your 'two month' anniversary. In fact, you could do nothing but play board games all night, and she'll be satisfied! She loves you, you moron. Nothing's going to change that for her.”

Giving a gruff grunt, Brain then left the Dandelion clubroom- he even made generous use of slamming the door behind him for emphasis. Ephemer, once more alone in the quiet room, could do nothing but sit in the tense atmosphere. He looked at the door -almost expecting Brain to come back- then looked back down at his list, which was nothing more than a page filled with scribbles. The young man gave a sigh before fishing his phone out of his pocket. His thumbs hovered over the virtual keyboard for a few moments before starting to type his text.

'what do u want to do 2morrow? big day u no. 2months!'

He sent the text off and gently placed the phone on the table. As he waited for Anora to answer, he mindlessly started to fill in the holes of the scribbles on his defunct list. The phone buzz almost scared him.

'dunno. mog has a test so we're all gonna help him after school. wanna join? pyra won't mind.'

There a moment's delay and another text appeared that read, 'i think.'

Another second passed before the addendum of, 'i can ask.'

Ephemer let out a thoughtful sigh as he rested his head in his hand. A study date didn't sound too bad- but three was a crowd, and Pyra's study group of five (six with him there) was practically a party. A pretty loud one, too. Using his thumb, he sent her another text.

'wut about tues?'

It took quite awhile for the response to come. A small pit of fear started to well in Ephemer's chest. Why was she taking so long?

'the cafeteria makes bentos with cake slices in them on tuesdays. i'll get two if you let me in your room. your bed is so soft, I miss it >.<'

A smile etched its way onto Ephemer's face. He didn't bother to get rid of it. Maybe he was just being ridiculous, and Brain was right. Anora didn't care what they did as long as they were together.

'it misses u 2. it's a date.'

Even as he sent the text, Ephemer wondered if it really was enough for her. What other ways could he show how much he loved her?

[sara-scribbles]

Dance

Jeritza/F!Byleth Note: This is slight AU. Scenes that happened may not occur while new scenes have been added. I want to support with this dumb drama club man.

WARNING: SPOILERS! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

It started with an offhand comment made by her father. “You should keep yourself sharp for battle. Maybe take up sparring with someone.”

So Byleth sought out someone to spar with. Felix was willing to spar with her, but he was a student who needed to focus on his studies. She didn’t want to accidentally injure him either. She wasn’t sure what Rhea would think if she accidentally sent a student to the infirmary.

“Maybe ask Jeritza to spar. I heard he is an exceptional combatant,” Flayn suggested when she heard Byleth’s dilemma.

If she was honest, Jeritza wasn’t very approachable. Even the students would often comment about his dislike of small talk. The few times Byleth had greeted him, he had dismissed her just as quickly. He always said he wasn’t looking for friend..

Finally finding the man, she approached him. “Good morning, Jeritza,” she greeted.

The teacher stared at her blankly. “Is there something you need?”

“Actually I have a request. Would you be willing to spar with me?” She decided to get to the point. It would lessen the likelihood of him dismissing her so quickly.

“I don’t have time for idle bonding if that’s why you’re asking.” His interest did seem to be piqued despite his words.

She quickly shook her head. “I just wish to hone my abilities. You are one of the best combatants here. I don’t want to injure one of my students either, so this might be a good solution.”

The corner of his lip curled up. Studying her, he nodded. “Fine. Meet me at the training grounds before dinner.”

He abruptly left. Byleth wasn’t sure if she had just offended him, but she did get him to agree. She really couldn’t tell with this mysterious man. --------- While the students and faculty had dinner, Byleth slipped by the dining hall to the training grounds. There weren’t many people around since most were gathered for supper.

Arriving at her destination, she saw Jeritza waiting for her. In his hands he held two dull training swords. Without a word he tossed the sword to her, which she swiftly caught.

“I guess we’ll spar until we get tired or one of us lands a hit?” She watched as he settled in a stance.

He snorted. “As if you could touch me.” With that he launched at her.

Byleth found herself immediately being pushed to defend herself. Jeritza swiftly and brutally attacked her. Without stopping, his attacks continued to rain down on her.

She was surprised by his sudden show of force. He continued to push her across the training ground. Metal met metal and echoed in the night. Her arms were starting to feel sore from continually blocking his attacks. He put a lot of strength behind each swing.

Then one slight slip and the dull sword sliced her exposed side. Byleth winced and stepped to the side. Though the sword was dull, the contact stung and she felt a small trickle of blood. 

“...!” Despite having the first blow, Jeritza continued to attack. She kept her defense up. He moved with a swift and deadly elegance.

His eyes glinted with something akin to enjoyment. Byleth wasn’t sure if she would be able to keep blocking him without another wound.

Gripping her sword tightly, she swung it with all her might, and the force of their swords clashing rang loudly. Both swords slipped out of their hands and flew across the area. They landed on the ground with a clang.

Breathing heavily, Byleth pressed her hand against the wound. Jeritza seemed to come out of whatever spell he was under as he straightened up.

“It seems you are not much of a challenge,” he mused aloud. He sounded a bit disappointed.

Her brows drew together. “We stop when the first blow was landed.”

Dismissing her comment, he brushed past her. “Go see Manuela to treat those. She’ll scold me later,” he muttered.

Glancing down at her wound, she noticed that she had several cuts on her arms. During the fight, she had only felt the one from her side. Her adrenaline had been rushing that she had completely ignored any pain. Jeritza completely overwhelmed her. She had fought many thugs and bandits before, but no one with his level of skill.

Sighing, she headed off to her room. --------- A week passed with lessons, grading papers, and practice. Byleth finally had time to breath. Leaving her room, she made her way through the monastery looking for the masked teacher.

Spotting him near the fishing dock, she approached him. “Afternoon, Jeritza.”

“Do you need something, Professor?” His mouth was pressed into a thin line.

“I would like to spar with you again if you don’t mind.” She knew he was looking at the bandages on her side and arms.

“You already lost to me. The results would just be the same,” he dismissed.

An eyebrow went up. “I don’t believe you can predict the future. I’ve learned a lot from our first spar. Eventually I’ll be able to best you.”

His dark eyes observed her. “A bold declaration. Your ego will be the death of you.���

She shook her head. “It’s not ego but experience. One will eventually learn the tricks of the trade if there is enough observation.”

Jeritza’s eyes narrowed under the mask. “I will see you at the training grounds. Same time.” He left before hearing her confirmation.

True to her words, she stood victorious with the dull blade pointed at his neck. Though her face remained blank, a sense of triumph filled her. This time she had an idea of his movements. His relentless attacks did not surprise her. She used his favor for going on the offense against him.

Violet eyes met her own. There was a fire in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before. The corner of his lip was curled up. A thin line of blood dripped from his neck where she nicked him. She pulled the blade away and offered her hand to him.

He stood up without her help. “It seems you’re skills have improved.”

“A compliment? I’m flattered.” She gave him a mock bow.

“Take your victory, Professor. You will not win next time.” Brushing dirt off his clothes, he strolled away.

She can’t help but smile. It seemed she would be sparring with him more often. --------- Every week or so they spared during dinner. Though they didn’t keep score aloud, Byleth had mentally kept count. It seemed that they were evenly matched enough that there was no predicting who would win or lose. During their spars Byleth learned more about the way Jeritza fought. He had strength in his attacks, yet it was calculated. He was graceful and quick on his feet. There was also a sense of enjoyment in the way he fought. Even more so when either of them drew blood. He reveled in fighting, and that part of him that he hid made her curious,

Each time they would both leave with a few cuts or bruises. Byleth treated her own wounds as she wasn’t sure how Manuela might take to seeing her injured so often. Some students would ask about her bandages, and she often made some excuse or another. Most decided not to continue to pester her on the matter. --------- Two months passed and Byleth had found herself settling into life as a professor. Yawning she waved to the students as they left her class. If someone had told her she would be teaching, she wouldn’t have believed them. Walking down the halls, the chattering of students and faculty filled the air.

“Oh, Professor!” Mercedes waved to Byleth as she approached.

“Afternoon, Mercedes. How was class with Seteth?” she asked. The blond fell into step with her.

“Professor Seteth is very detailed in his lectures. Though there are times where I lose focus. I’m looking forward to your class next week.” She smiled warmly.

They stopped at the dining hall. “Do you want to grab lunch?” Byleth hadn’t eaten with her students in a while. It was always nice to chat with them. She was always reminded that they were fairly close in age whenever she sat down to talk.

“Of course. Annie and I are looking forward to the dessert for today.” Mercedes led the way to a table.

“So, Professor,” Annette took a bite of her pie, “do you have any siblings?”

She shook her head. “I’m an only child. I don’t know if having a sibling would have been nice considering the life a mercenary lives…” Her father had never found love after her mother as far as she knew. “What about you?”

“I wish I had siblings. They would have made life a lot more fun!” Annette sighed.

“I...I had a younger half-brother. He...I don’t know what happened to him.” Mercedes looked down as she poked her cake. The atmosphere was a bit too gloomy, so Byleth quickly changed the topic. Everything went back to normal. Mercedes visibly relaxed as they continued their light conversation.

Later in the evening Byleth went to the training grounds for her sparring session with Jeritza. He was leaning against a wall waiting for her. “Sorry I’m late. I got caught up with a few students.”

Arms crossed, he seemed to be in deep thought. Finally he spoke. “Do you know Mercedes?”

“She is one of my students in the Blue Lions. Why do you ask?” This was a first for Byleth. Usually they started sparring the moment they met. Jeritza wasn’t a man of idle conversation.

Pushing off the wall, he strode over to her. “Are you two close?” He hovered over her, eyes filled with something she couldn’t describe.

“I care for all my students if that’s what your asking. I think we have a good relationship.” Her brows knitted together. “You never answered my question, Jeritza. Why are you so interested in her?”

He merely shrugged before walking over to the barrel of training swords. She didn’t expect to get an answer from him. Yet she was brimming with curiosity. “How about we make this sparring session a little more interesting?”

He paused in swinging the sword. “What do you wager?”

“If I can beat you in a minute, you do something for me. If I can’t, I’ll do one thing for you. It can be anything.” She adjusted her grip on the sword.

“Anything I want? That leaves you open for a lot, Professor.” His eyes were dark as he took steps toward her again. “You should be careful on what it is you offer.”

She wasn’t afraid. “Deal?”

“Deal.”

Immediately their swords clashed. Byleth pushed him on the defense this time. As her attacks came down, Jeritza was driven back. He liked to go on the offense more often than not. This time she wasn’t giving him any room to do so. As they danced, a strange smile was tugging at the corner of his lips. There were times when she saw this smile come out. It seemed to only trigger when he was truly enjoying the fight.

Suddenly he feigned left and she missed. She dodged to the side as his blade came inches from striking her side. Now he was pushing her back. Byleth gritted her teeth as she blocked his sword. He drove her to the wall and she quickly rolled away as his sword met stone. Turning, she had her sword inches from his neck. Yet he had his sword inches from her own neck.

“Well, it seems we’re at an impasse, Professor,” he mused, eyes glinting with amusement.

“Seems so. Draw?” Her eyes narrowed as she waited for him to make a move. They both slowly started lowering their swords. Then he ducked and struck out. She had expected his movement, and blocked it and shoved him back. He took a few steps back and she took her opening. Knocking the sword out of his hand, she pointed the dull blade under his chin. The training field was silent as they both breathed heavily. 

He held his hands up in surrender. “Well done.”

Pulling the sword away, she nodded. “As for my request, I’ll save it for later.”

Jeritza nodded before turning away from her. “You best turn that request in sooner rather than later.” --------- Byleth’s heart pumped with fear. Her students were fighting for their lives. Though they had fought Lonato, this was different. The blood lust in these people was strong. Despite battling in a crypt, the students at least were taking care to heed her advice.

Her dark green eyes were focused on the man in covered in armor. The black skull of his helmet made it impossible for her to see his face. Yet she felt that he was staring right at her. He seemed interested but bored. Hands tightening on the hilt of her sword, she ran at him. But the moment she got to him, he vanished.

“Professor! They’re retreating further into the crypt!” Dimitri’s words brought her back to the present. She needed to focus on the matter at hand than run after masked knights.

The events ended with her retrieving a sword that glowed upon her contact. Even stranger Rhea allowed her to keep it. The Sword of the Creator was no mere weapon. Somehow the archbishop was fine with leaving it in the hands of a mercenary. She had to agree with Seteth’s reaction when Rhea left it to her. Still there wasn’t much Byleth could do but accept the sword. She would keep it safe for as long as it was needed.

Coming to their usual sparring place, a single eyebrow went up as Jeritza observed her. “You actually came after all that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”She was a bit tired from before, but she rationalized that she still had enough energy to spar.

“You don’t look like you can even stand, let alone hold a sword.”

“I didn’t realize you cared, Jeritza,” she teased.

He scoffed. “I don’t care about your well being. I care that this sparring session will be a waste if you’re not at top form.”

“Always so kind. Honestly I can’t decide who is worse. You or Felix.” Leaning against the wall, she closed her eyes. “I just need a moment.” Sliding down, she sat on the ground.

The silence that stretched on made her wonder if he had left. “Go to bed.” That answered her question.

“I’ll be fine. Just let me...rest.” She waved off his order. As her breathing steadied, her mind drifted off.

She suddenly woke. Lightning flashed in the sky and thunder rumbled. Feeling disoriented, she realized she was in her bed. Byleth didn’t remember going to her room. Still dressed in her clothes, but missing her shoes and armor, she returned to sleep as exhaustion set in once more.

“Thank you,” she said when she saw him the next day in their usual spot.

He didn’t meet her gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He swung the practice lance with ease.

“Nevertheless, thank you.” She smiled to herself. “I didn’t know you were proficient in the lance too. I’ve always thought of picking it up myself. But I’ve never had the time.”

Jeritza did a few more practice moves before setting the lance back in its place. “There’s much you don’t know, Professor.”

“Byleth. Since I call you Jeritza, it’s only fair if you address me by my name as well.” He eyed her for a moment before picking up his training sword. --------- Jeralt had died.

For the first time in her life Byleth felt tears falling down her face. Even as the rain had fallen, she knew the water that fell were her own tears. She had tried to save him. Yet he still met the same fate. An overflow of emotions erupted inside her, and she could only cry. Her father was the one constant in her life.

Despite hearing the whispers that she lacked emotions, Jeralt still loved her. Even as she started to learn how to express herself more while at the academy, Jeralt was always there. He could read her moods so easily.

And now he was gone. Forever.

Holed up in her room, Byleth refused to see anyone. Though his body had already been laid to rest a few days ago, she mourned. Classes were canceled. Students tried to express their condolences, but she hid away. With all the power she had, she couldn’t save him. Her grief was strong and wouldn’t let her go.

Finally, when the pain in her stomach became unbearable, Byleth left her room. It was the dead of night. Only the guards were out patrolling the area. Byleth easily snuck by them and to the kitchen. She filled a bucket used for water with apples and bread. Then she made her way to the training grounds.

It was quiet and the moon hung low. The days had been sunny and bright as if the world had already moved on. Byleth couldn’t bring herself to move past her father’s death. There was a hole in her that ached.

As she ate, her mind wandered. What would she do now? Jeralt was gone so there was no one to lead her. Her life at the academy would eventually come to an end. Would she rejoin her father’s mercenary group again? Or just go off on her own? Did she even want to be alone now that he wasn’t there to support her?

So many questions and so few answers. “Byleth?” Her head jerked up in surprise. She hadn’t expected anyone to be around at this time. Let alone Jeritza.

“W-what are you doing here?” she asked. Her voice was raspy and her mouth felt like sandpaper.

Eyes swollen and dark circles, she was a sight to see. The masked man hovered over her. “I should be asking you the same.” His eyes darted to the stolen food. “But I already have my answer.”

Clutching the bucket to her chest, she took a bite of bread. He silently took a seat beside her. Swallowing, her lower lip quivered. “Is it always like this?”

“I’m not the best person to ask,” he answered. “I don’t...I’m sorry.”

Setting the bucket aside, she felt her eyes prick with more tears. “I never cried. Even when I hurt myself, I never shed a tear.” She rubbed her eyes. “I hate it.”

Looking up at him, there was something oddly human about his expression for once. Jeritza hesitated before reaching out for her. He wrapped her arm around her back and pulled her so she leaned into his side. “I may not know how it feels, but I know it’s best to let it out. Sometimes it’s better when you have someone else to lean on.”

Biting her lip, she allowed her tears to fall silently. She clutched on to the front of his shirt as she cried in his shoulder. The simple gesture meant a lot coming from a man who did not desire friendship. He allowed her to cry without a word. The warmth of his touch was the only comfort. --------- “Why do you wear that mask?” She turned to him after placing the dull blade back.

“Why do you ask?” He frowned.

Rocking on the back of her heels, she looked at him blankly. Always answering a question with a question. “Are you hiding your face because your a wanted criminal? Or do you have an embarrassing birthmark?”

Jeritza stepped away from her. “It’s none of your concern.”

“Would you stop me if I try to remove it?” She moved toward him. Standing in front of him, she reached up. Her fingers brushed under the edge of the mask. She paused allowing him time to stop her.

His hand came up and loosely ran through her mint green hair. “I preferred the original color.” He stepped back and her hands fell away. “You should return back to the ball.”

Byleth shook her head. “I think I’ll stay out here a little longer. It’s a beautiful night. That and I don’t think I can take another dance stumbling around.”

Jeritza made no effort to leave his spot against the wall opposite to her. The Goddess Tower was empty despite the superstition that surrounded it. It seemed no students would be making promises for the future tonight.

“Do you think the rumors are true? About the Goddess Tower?” She looked around. There was nothing “magical” about the tower.

He snorted. “Don’t tell me you believe those fairy tales?”

“I don’t know what to believe. There’s a lot that I can’t explain.” Crossing her arms, she glanced back at him. “If it did work, would you make the wish?”

He met her gaze. “I’m sure the goddess would not grant me any wish.”

Byleth shook her head. “It’s an interesting thought I think.” Looking away, she returned to her thoughts.

After a while Jeritza coughed. “You’re humming.”

Blinking, she realized she had been humming. “I guess I got that from the music at the ball…”

“You may have two left feet, but at least you can carry a beat,” he mused.

The corner of her mouth twitched up. “I’m sorry if my horrible dancing offends anyone. Ballroom dancing was not a requirement to being a mercenary. Can you dance?”

“Of course. It’s a requirement all nobles are forced to learn from childhood.” He clicked his tongue. 

“I can’t really imagine you dancing. Though the way you fight is like dancing…” she trailed off as he watched her intently. “Will you teach me some?”

“No. I will never dance with you or anyone else.” His eyes narrowed. “As you said, fighting is like dancing. Just better.”

Byleth chuckled. “I guess that means we have danced before despite your disdain for dancing. I guess we should return to the ball before anyone misses us.”

Suddenly he moved toward her. Standing over her, he tilted her chin up. Staring into his eyes, a mix of emotions swirled in them. None she could properly place.

“I will dance with you one last time. Don’t die on me until then,” Jeritza whispered.

She reached up and gently brushed the edge of his mask. Eyes locked with his, she slowly lifted it away. He closed his eyes as she pulled the white mask off and allowed it to fall to the ground.

Standing on her tiptoes, she marveled at how soft his hair felt under her fingers. As she closed her eyes, she wondered why the color of his hair suddenly reminded her of someone else’s. --------- The Death Knight. What did she even know about him? Nothing. Yet his fighting style was familiar. As Caspar fought him, against her orders and Mercedes’s pleas, she felt an inkling of familiarity. 

The way he moved so swiftly and elegantly despite wearing heavy armor brought back memories of the past. Though he merely blocked Caspar’s attacks, he moved with such fluid motions. Byleth was sure she knew him from somewhere. But something was holding her back from facing the truth.

When Mercedes called out to him as her brother, she felt like things started to fit in place. She wanted to deny it all, but the truth was there. So, when the Death Knight handed something to Mercedes and ran off, Byleth gave chase on her own horse.

She ignored the cries of the others. She needed to know. He glanced back and forced his horse to move faster. She caught up to him, however, and the horses raced side to side.

“Stop!” she ordered. He ignored her and continued pushing the horse forward.

Doing something reckless, she threw herself off the side of her horse and at him. Her body collided with cold armor. Her chin smarted with the contact. The force and surprise sent him stumbling off the side of his horse. The two tumbled to the ground.

Rolling to her feet, she ran at him. Before he could get up, she was upon him. Dagger digging under the helmet, she pressed her free hand on his chest. Hovering over him, his helmet wasn’t as fearsome to her.

“Why? Jeritza I know it’s you.” Gritting her teeth, she held herself back. She wanted to scream and shout at him. But she held her tongue.

He made no move to push her off. “You’re alive… I thought you had gotten yourself killed before our last dance.” Despite his voice coming out different from under his helmet, she could now recognize traces of his true voice.

“You want to kill me,” she stated flatly.

“I wish to fight you to the death. You’re a worthy fighter. Our sparring sessions were only a taste of the real fight we would have.”

She shook her head. Confused yet still angry. “I won’t fight you, Jeritza. If you want to die battling, then do so at someone else’s hands.” She pulled away and climbed off him. “You still have a chance to come with us.”

Standing up he looked off in the distance. “I am beyond saving. I have left all that made me human and have become death.”

Turning to him, she pointed an accusing finger at him. “You’re still very human. What you did for Mercedes proves it. You still hold some attachment to her.”

Striding over to his horse, he mounted. “The next time we meet one of us will die.”

She watched as he rode off. Nothing was right. --------- He was right of course. The next time they met, they danced one last time. It was no sparring match. He aimed to kill. Byleth could find no words to say to him. The battle continued as their weapons clashed. Both moved and struck with deadly grace. Their movements were fluid and synchronized. It seemed that they were at a stalemate.

One calculated move, and she managed to hit him. Yet she didn’t attack to kill. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. Yet his wound was enough to slowly bleed him to death.

Mercedes ran over to him. “Emile!” Kneeling, she pulled off his helmet. “Oh, Emile… I’m so sorry.”

Byleth turned away and allowed her to grieve. She felt her eyes sting but quickly blinked away any developing tears. Keeping her expression neutral, she waited.

“Professor…” Mercedes came to her side. “I think we should leave. Unless you have some business to take care of?”

Nodding, she gave her a gentle squeeze on her shoulder. “I’ll be right there.”

Once Mercedes made her way back to the group, Byleth made her way to Jeritza. He lay there bleeding out. His breathing was heavy and raspy. Kneeling at his side, she brushed a few bloody strands of hair from his face.

“I want to fulfill my request from our deal,” she murmured.

He struggled to keep his eyes open. His mouth twisted into something of a smile. “...B-Byleth…”

“I want you to live. Not for me. Not for Mercedes. For yourself. Give yourself a chance, Jeritza. Please…”

Lifting his hand up, his clawed gauntlet brushed her cheek. “...I’m glad...we got to dance one...last...time. I wanted to teach...lance to you.”

Ignoring the cold metal, she clutched his hand. “You can still teach me how to fight with a lance. You have so much you can do beyond this.” 

Droplets fell on his face. The tears she had held back would no longer stay. “Don’t cry. I don’t deserve...tears.”

For the second time in her life, Byleth cried. Both times it was for someone she cared about. Both times it was for someone who was dying. Would she only ever cry under these circumstances?

She removed his gauntlet and laced her fingers with his. Jeritza’s hand was warm against her own. She stayed at his side until his hand grew cold. When his breathing no longer came out in ragged gasps, she let him go.

Despite everything they had to continue. The war was still not over. Until everything came to an end there was no time to rest. Rejoining her former students, Byleth set forward as the sun came up. --------- Standing on the training grounds, Byleth gripped the lance in her hands. Unlike the training grounds at the monastery, this was far larger. There were others training together or with dummies.

“Are you okay?” her sparring partner inquired.

Byleth nodded. “Once more.” Readjusting her grip, she readied herself. She launched into a new dance.

[lgcjaesun]

               A DAY IN THE LIFE OF ... AHN JAESUN !

when jaesun learns that everyone will have ten minutes to show a little bit of their day, he goes into panic mode. well, maybe the word ‘panic’ is a poor way to describe how he feels. it’s more that he has so much that he wants to show to his ‘fans’ ( does he even have any? ) that he isn’t even sure how he wants to use these ten minutes. 

it takes him some time to brainstorm how he wants to go about all this. after all, he doesn’t want to make the wrong choices in showing off his day. he grabs his notebook and jots down some ideas. some of them include showing his morning wake-up routine, bringing the camera with him to campus, showing him bringing food to his sister, practicing in the studio ... the list goes on. 

eventually, he decides on what he wants to do and the camera starts rolling from the time he finishes with his classes on campus for the day. “hello everyone! ahn jaesun here. are you all having a good day?” he knows the video won’t be live, but he treats it as such anyway. “i just finished my classes for the day and i’m off to practice now.” he smiles brightly as he holds the selfie stick in front of him. “it’s a beautiful day today, isn’t it? however, it’ll get cold soon. don’t forget to dress warmly, hm?” he waves at the camera and soon enough, the camera shuts off and reveals him at a kimbap store instead.

“i decided to make a stop here to grab some food for jaehwa. do you guys know her? she’s my younger sister and she’s also a trainee at legacy. i wonder did she say anything about me in her vlog,” he pretends to make a pondering face as he orders an order of fish cake kimbap and an order of beef kimbap. the owner of the restaurant also gives him some side dishes, a little perk of being a bit of a regular, and he thanks her profusely. “if you guys ever have a chance to come here, the restaurant owner is super nice. she’s always giving me extras!” he opens up the bag of food and shows its contents before showing his face again. “i think she’ll be excited about this.”

once again, the camera shuts off and now shows him in the legacy practice rooms. “i’ll just stay here for a minute or two to drop this off with her.” he notes, opening the door to where jaehwa is practicing. “jaehwa ( @lgcjaehwa ), say hi to the camera,” he exclaims as he hands the food to her. “i got you some kimbap. tell the world that i’m the best brother, hm?” he jokes a bit. “okay, i’ll leave you to your practicing. i’ll go show them one more thing and then sign off.” he waves goodbye to his sister before finding an empty practice room.

“shall we dance for a little bit?” he sets the phone down in a place that could capture the space before he turns on the music. with ease, he starts to move into an emotional dance sequence, a twist on something he’s done before. soon enough, it’s over and he bows to the camera. “thank you for joining me today. i hope we get a chance to meet again soon, hm? love you!” he makes a heart with his fingers and then blows a kiss to the camera before shutting it off.

gif credit

[curiouskrp]

               “WELCOMING APT 5B TENANT, KIM YANI !

INFORMATION

age –  25 pronouns – she/her  occupation –  gs25 night manager moved into treehouse – six months ago

PERSONALITY: ISFP, THE ADVENTURER

positive –

artistic / passionate, obsessive, curious, imaginative, creative - over the years there have been many adjectives used to pinpoint yani’s ferocious obsession with the aesthetic, with knowledge and beauty. from painting to literature, film to sculpting, she’s busied overeager hands with innumerable past times. a bout of interest in sewing left over enthusiastic fingertips tinged in bloodied pinpricks, a season of interest in ceramics caked her nails in clay, a mishap with glassblowing burned her trachea and she lost her voice for a month.  her home is her workspace now, awash in warm colors and soft sketched lines, photographs strung up on the walls to examine with less tired eyes later - she’ll exhaust herself otherwise, staring at her work until a hypercritical eye begins to pick apart every minute detail, every miniscule flaw. her medium of choice in the moment, and for quite some time now has been photography, both digital and film. she works mostly with still images but has embarked on some video components. she has had her art in a few minor installations and featured in gallery shows, but has never had her own exhibit or show. 

charming / the most necessary to her success as both an artist and as a human being is the fact that yani is innately charming. warm, open, and bright she has an energy that is hard to resist. this is half by design, motivated by an obsessive need to be liked, which has prompted her to cultivate a sharp sense of humor and a dry wit to match. playful, hyperbolic, and creative, she can be a blast at parties or when in a group where she is able to play off the jokes and comments of others. however, leave her to her own devices in a one on one setting and she’s much more laid back and easy-going, preferring to let others steer the conversation. she’s got an easy grace and brightness to her disposition even when she falls into the macabre or dark, tinging it with a sense of humor.

negative –

unpredictable /  yani is not the friend you call at two in the morning for help, unless you’re looking to get really trashed and/or are okay with being left on read until a bleary and misspelled “sup?” at 4am. it isn’t intentional. yani is a slave to her emotions, moods and whims taking over each step of her life as she allows circumstance to pull her rough and tumble through the narration of her story. she seems almost a slave to impulse, which she may grandiose-ly chalk up to “leaving things up to fate” but in actuality is an effort to remove agency from her own hands due to a paralyzing fear of making weighty decisions. while she finds herself empathically able to relate to and understand the needs,  fears, and motives of others, she can easily become overwhelmed with this perceived information and find herself retreating without warning, lest she fail them in some way. her presence in life is both unpredictable and routine - she’ll flit in and out like a butterfly, appearing briefly to leave a mark before she retreats away again, always acting as if no time has passed. her personal moods are just as mercurial, vacillating wildly throughout the course of the day, or even across a number of hours. quick to anger and quicker still to apologize, she’s prone to impulse and erratic behavior that can be off-putting to those who prefer someone more stable and grounded. 

fluctuating self esteem / if you’re being kind, you’ll describe yani as sensitive. a bit empathic, too easily swayed by the emotions and feedback of others. she has a distinct lack of guard up against the world, for all her fronting to appear otherwise. the jaded exterior lasts for only a moment before it’s smashed by the reality of a girl with a heart on her sleeve. she wields a biting tongue against this like a lackluster defense mechanism, as if verbally lashing out at others can counteract how easily, how readily she can be hurt by them. while yani would often rather die than verbally express her feelings, fears, concerns, or worries in any real way, they’re very easily apparent even to the untrained eye. it frustrates her, how easily other people can read her ups and downs, of which there are many. she vacillates between an obsessive egotistical pride in herself and a damaging, truly deep set self loathing that eats up her insides. in reality she has no idea what she thinks about herself, if she’s  proud or not, and pulls all of her validation (as meager as it is) from external sources. thus, her self worth is immensely predicated on the actions, thoughts, and expression of those around her, leaving her incredibly vulnerable despite a veneer of a “devil may care” attitude that, in fact, persists long after the ruse is up.

HAUNT

how many ways can yani answer the question? 

is she haunted by her own failures? by choking in the middle of the entrance exams for university, clutching her chest in a violent panic attack in the bathroom and leaving with the test unfinished, summarily ruining her chances for higher education in the country of her birth that year? is she haunted by wasting her teenage years on booze and cigarettes and skateboards? is she haunted by pining after men and women that would never want her the way she wanted them, who relegated her to her childhood past of knobby knees and awkward limbs and dirt smudged cheeks, sunburnt and freckled from the sun that crested over the mountains?  is she haunted by the death of the one man who professed to love her, by the knowledge that she’d settled for him, had never been able to return the love he so generously gave her? is she haunted by the fear that she’d squandered her one chance of love and now it was summarily too late, and he was too far and too permanently gone, and she would now be punished for her ingratitude with years of nothing? is she haunted by her own propensity to run from the inevitable, to escape to distant locations only to realize her problems were still hers whether she be in paris or london or seoul?

it’s hard to say. 

maybe, in the end, yani is haunted by herself.

HISTORY

i. birth is an uneventful affair. she isn’t a planned baby but she isn’t unwelcome either, youngest of three by enough years that her older brothers dote on her in the abstract but aren’t really fans of actually having her around. it’s sort of a theme. her mother hires a nanny and goes back to work immediately - she took time off with the boys and she’s not willing to do it again. her father is as distant as he was with the elder two, unsurprisingly.

yani grows up this way, chasing after affection and attention, calling out for the same things that were doled out to the other two so easily. she wants her brothers to play with her - dolls or tag, she’s not picky, she’ll take what she can get. they play hide and seek but she always hides, and they never seek, just let the little girl coop herself up in the closet for a half an hour, or until she dozes off. eventually she stops asking.

 ii. she grows into the hand she’s been dealt. she wears a tan like a shield, testament to hours spent outside in the sun, relentlessly scrambling over the landscape. they live on the outskirts of a little town on jeju island, and the sun and surf and sand and rocks and mountains are her company. she takes after her brothers, athletic and enthusiastic, seemingly immune to the scraping of her knees and the scabs on her elbows, bruises on her shins.

yani feels the freest on the skateboard she inherits from her brother - or, more specifically, steals from his room when his interest in girls and his worry about entrance exams takes over his free time. in this way she learns two things: she can only rely on herself, and that she must always, always take that which she desires. 

 she spends hours on it, rolling through town to the ultimate displeasure of the ahjummas who sit outside the town hall and gossip. a girl should be more demure, she should be more careful, she’s going to hurt herself or someone else, they say, but yani is past the point of craving approval now. or at least, that’s what she tells herself, disregard is a shield she equips, straps it over a soft heart, hardens herself by hoping for little and expecting even less. when you expect the world to let you down there is a freeness in being proven correct when it doesn’t surprise you by being anything but bleak.

iii. high school treats her well. there are only so many other kids in town, so it’s not like there’s enough trouble for cliques. not when they’ve all known each other from birth. there isn’t much reason to come to the little excuse for a city, unless you’re a tourist or you’ve got a burning passion for the fishing industry, and even then there are better choices in destination. she studies well enough, but yani is prone to distraction. her attention wanders and she spends plenty of time staring out of the window, as opposed to anything else. but she’s clever, and when she does apply herself she catches up just fine.

there’s a certain sadness to a decaying rural town, and the older yani gets the heavier it weighs on her, this realization that there are no opportunities here, that the only chance for a viable future any of them have exists in some ephemeral elsewhere always slightly out of reach. it’s the cycle of poverty in action - the jobs are manual labor or hardly impressive, few remain in the town, the aging population is setting the community up to collapse in on itself, but what is anyone able to do about it? so they drink or they fuck or they whine about it, anything to carry on the way they always have. from this town yani learns denial and resignation, in a bizarre blend that ought not be properly possible.

iv.

whatever chance she had of success in school goes down the drain with truancy and delinquency, with smokes stolen from the corner store and beer she convinces neighborhood oppas to buy for her with their ids. she gets what she wants and she doesn’t look back, morality a luxury she can’t afford and frankly doesn’t try too hard to squeeze in anyway. she loves boys that don’t love her back and she chases a high that never quite seems to satisfy. climbs a little bit higher, goes a little bit further, to fill herself with the seratonin and the adrenaline that seem to evade her. 

when she finds out, in the dead of night, half drunk with her best friend, who has never seen her the way she’s wanted to be seen, that his older brother - her boyfriend, her second choice, because he sees her the way her best friend refuses to look - is dead, in a car crash, her word falls apart. it crumbles. 

v.

yani deals with her tragedies and her uncertainties in the way she has been taught. she denies it even unto herself, buries herself into distractions. it gets harder, immeasurably, when her two best friends leave for the military one after the other. she submits an application, a portfolio. it’s a long shot, but she makes it. she leaves, on a plane, in a search for more ways to bury her heart. 

it’s so easy to find them in a city like paris. in drink and drugs and then maybe even in boys and girls. she finds her redemption in sex and adrenaline and in petty, stupid actions. she is a terror on two slender legs, she is weaponized femininity and a cutting tongue, she is every bit of sharp wit and killer instinct wrapped in a devastatingly pretty package. the last distraction, the most enjoyable and the most wholesome, comes in the form of an old film camera. she buys it with money she’s picked out of the pockets of men who lean to close to her in clubs, men too old to promise her the things they do, who line her pockets and give her gifts in the hope that she’ll be foolish enough now to offer her youth to those leeches, those vampiric men that wait so eagerly and desperately to drain her dry.  it’s another way to put a distance between herself and the world; observer and artist, not integral, not intertwined. she can expose the truth of the world without involving her own truth in it, betrays herself in a thousand tiny ways. 

vi.

it is so terribly easy to get what you want in a city like this. there is always someone willing to give it to you, for a price of course. yani learns to play this game, to divorce herself from her own reality, to compartmentalize. she feels like a hundred different girls. she feels like a line of glasses on a counter, each varying levels of empty. she feels like she could shatter in a moment, or sing beneath a touch, or neither, or both. 

she feels like they can sense it on her, the sins that paint her skin. she rots herself with alcohol, nicotine, prescription pills designed for someone decidedly not her. she wears herself down with long nights, early mornings, insomnia that clings to her, a weight that settles heavy, drags her down. her moods are mercurial, she tears through the people around her like a storm, intent on destruction, pausing for the briefest moments of calm before the winds pick up once more. 

she falls apart this way, bits and pieces at first, and then all at once, like a spaceship reentering orbit too quickly, she is engulfed. 

vii. 

in the end she stays there, in france, for a little longer. longer than she’d intended. money starts to run out, her feeble language skills are put to the test. it’s sheer luck that lands her a job at an art gallery, luck on top of luck that gets her through an accelerated program. in the end, she spends two and a half years in france, eventually returning to her dismal little rural town. returns with a degree from france that means very little besides “you didn’t make it into a korean school” and “you dedicated your life to creative pursuits that will provide you with nothing.”

she returns with her camera, with a few years of gallery experience, with a couple thousand dollars saved and very little in the way of confidence or strength. she has dreams she barely dares to dream, thoughts she can hardly expose herself too. with a portfolio and no direction, no idea what to do with herself, for herself. 

viii. 

by the time she gets back, one of her friends is out of the military at last, the other long gone for seoul. she spends two months in the little town before she can’t handle it anymore. has photographed every inch of the decaying rural landscape, the town left forgotten by progress, by the government, by the future. her collection on the state of the town, deemed a cutting photojournalistic insight to rural korean poverty, becomes a minor sensation and is picked up by a gallery in seoul. it’s the boost she needs to relocate, flees the town that made her, that funded her flight, to head for the city, to lose herself again. 

seoul is much the same as any other city. she wanted it to have answers that it doesn’t. she hates her apartment, a half basement decked out in mold and wrinkled vinyl flooring over the thick pipes of the ondol. she drags herself through the day to day, gets a job and does what she can to keep herself afloat. takes pictures, sells them, does what she can. it’s unfulfilling. she’s frustrated. her friends feel distant and she feels thoroughly disconnected from the world around her, floating as if on the currents of the ocean. 

viv. 

the treehouse offers a chance at a community, the selfsame thing she has done so much to avoid, so earnestly  distanced herself from - lest anyone figure out the great pretending of her life. that she’s not half the person, half the artist she wants to be. she lives a life steeped in imposter’s syndrome and unspoken words, preserving her thoughts in notebooks and photographs, fragments of time and feeling captured without explanation, left for the viewer to infer.

[sofiahahaaa]

Demigod Delinquents | Pt. 8 | Percy and Mera become *Besties*

| MASTERLIST |

Summary: Percy kinda sorta pretty much spills the tea with Mera. And awhh he misses Annabeth! I miss her too. I like writing her scenes.

Rating: I don’t feel that there’s much to warn. Percy is shirtless? Ah, so scandalous... yeah, that’s it.

A/N: I know, I know, we just had Percy. But it was either Percy or Jason, and I didn’t have any good Jason ideas… so I went with Percy. Please don’t kill me. I love Jason and Leo, too, but Percy is a lot easier to write for, and he and Mera are going to have some more conversations like last chapter (oops, spoiler)... so I kinda need Percy for this one. Again, don’t kill me. Please?

~~~

Percy’s POV ~

I lay awake in bed. 

Yard time had already started, but I didn’t feel like leaving. Besides, Jason had told me he would cover for me if anyone asked.

No human interaction. So unlike me.

I pretended I didn’t know why I was laying in bed instead of socializing. But I knew. It was because of the recurring nightmares. I wanted to get some restful sleep, but the nightmares came– and being awake was lonely without Annabeth. I wondered when I’d see her again.

I heard footsteps, and I sat up. Mera stood in the doorway, holding a plate of… blue cake? Blue food! Yes! “You didn’t come out.” She said calmly. I sighed.

"I can’t.” Mera raised an eyebrow in question.

“Well, I brought you a slice of blueberry cake. Jason told me you had somewhat of an obsession with blue food." I scratched the back of my neck.

“Um, yeah…" I got out of bed, only then remembering that I didn’t have a shirt on. She hid her eyes. I rolled my eyes. 

“Clothes? Do you know what sleeping in clothes is?" I snickered, reaching for my orange jumpsuit.

“Alright, I’m dressed. Now to the blue food.” Mera put a hand on her hips.

“Are you going to tell me why you didn’t come out?” She stared at me. I gulped.

“Sure." I took a deep breath, running a hand through my hair. "It’s because of the nightmares," I paused and looked at her. “You get them too, right?” 

She wouldn’t meet my eyes. 

“Me and my girlfriend, Annabeth– she’s amazing. You should meet her.– we fell into Tartarus. Ever since then, they’ve gotten worse. And this is the first time I’ve been so far away from her. It’s really hard to be away from her." Mera’s eyes widened. I chuckled. "Being awake is lonely and being asleep is scary. But– we’ve been fighting alongside each other since we were 12 years old… and separated I feel weak. I miss her so, so much.” 

“Tartarus? Are you serious?" I bobbed my head up and down. “Oh my gods.” She seemed speechless. Then she raised a finger, like she had just figured something out. “You weren’t in a prison before this, were you?” She shook her head. “No, no. You aren’t a delinquent, not on purpose at least." I bit my lip. I wanted to go on but I knew Jason would be upset.

"It’s true. But if you tell the others," I shook my head warningly. I decided to turn the tables. “Alright. Something’s bugging you.” She had an excellent poker face, but her eyes were too easily read. "I don’t know what it is, but I see the same face I have. You’re sad. And you only lose the look when you’re having fun with Keaton or Ari." I smiled. " It has to be about family, right?” It felt like a cartoon, where a light bulb suddenly turns on above your head.

“You are smarter than you look, Percy.” She commented. I scrunched up my face.

“Yeah, I get that a lot.” She smirked.

“Alright. I’ll fess up since you told me about your girlfriend.” Success! “My father was killed by mania. I... I don’t really know what that means. But it haunts me, day and night.”

“Jason has dealt with them firsthand. I know enough to be scared.” She nodded.

"I don’t know who my mother is. I’m aware that she is a Greek goddess, but so far everyone has neglected to tell me." I bit my lips again, trying not to speak. "I… I survived for what seemed like an eternity with my sister. We fought side by side, survived off each other, and shared our worries about the strange mobs that came to destroy us. We always rose to the top, though. My sister was– is, exceptional, and I was cunning. Together we could make ourselves heard.” She sighed. “But it was around a year ago that we came across the Hunters. Do you know them?" I hunched my back.

“Yes. I am a good friend of Thalia’s. I am acquainted with many of them.” Mera huffed.

“They offered us immortality if we would join their group. Swearing off boys, surviving forever. You know of this offer?" I nodded, remembering Bianca. “Yeah… She was so scared, once they told us about the monsters. She was afraid that know that we were aware, we would be overtaken. So she accepted without a doubt. She was blinded by her fear.” Mera choked up. I put a hand on her shoulder. She looked at me gratefully. “And I declined. I would not swear off boys. I didn’t want to be immortal. So I left, and I found Ari and Keaton. I recognized that they, too, were demigods. We’ve become like family. Sometimes I wonder if my sister is still alright…" I tried to comfort her.

"I saw her. I did.”

“That’s good…” She sighed. “Someday, when I meet her again– she’ll look the same as she did when she left me. And that pains me. I’ll grow older, and she’ll live eternally.”

“That’s how I feel about Thalia. I’m 17 years old. And her… she still looks about 15. The fact that she will never age–" I was at a loss for words. 

“Yeah…” She smirked. “Why am I telling you this?”

"I dunno!" I admitted. “But can I take a bite of that cake?” She rolled her eyes.

“Here.” She handed me the cake, and I bit into it, devouring the whole thing in no time. "I can’t believe you just ate that in, like, a tenth of a second." I laughed.

“Get used to it." I made my bed quickly. “Alright. I’ll join you guys.” Mera smiled and we walked out.

“Do you want to know what I think?”

“About what?”

“About your mom.” She looked at me quickly, picking at her nails.

“Sure.”

“If it were me just guessing, I would say that you are a child of Athena. But– personally, it doesn’t matter. Your godly parent shouldn’t define you. And, either way, I think you’re great. So, keep that in mind.” She let the edge of her mouth curl a bit. 

“Thanks. That was really nice, considering how I’ve been treating you.”

“Anytime.”

We entered the dining hall, finding our group of misfits.

“That took a long time,” Leo said, picking at his roast beef.

“Yeah…" I racked my brain for a quick excuse. “She wouldn’t give me the cake so I had to chase her.” Keaton laughed.

“Why didn’t she give you the cake?”

“‘Cause she thought I was being antisocial," I raised my hand. "I wasn’t, honest. Just… tired.” Jason caught my eye. It swirled with radiant blue like he was reading my mind. I stared right back at him, lifting my chin. Then I turned to Keaton and Leo, who were hunched together over a project of some sort. “What is it?” I asked them. Leo held up a finger.

He was stooped over a hatch in the object, tweezer in hand. He carefully plucked a bright red wire and slipped it so it made contact with a metal plate. “Yes!” He dropped the tweezers on the table. “Yes, yes, yes!” Keaton smiled and closed the hatch. “I got it, Percy!” Keaton handed me the thing.

“What is it?” I studied the exterior. It was a box, by the looks of it. He grinned.

“It’s a safecracker.”

“Don’t they already exist?” (It is totally against Leo’s principals to create something common or known)

“Yes, but this one can crack 30 digit codes, digital or traditional in under a minute. And, get this– it acts as an explosive!” I whistled.

“How’d you figure that out? And how’d you get the materials?” Leo shimmied his hands toward his toolbelt.

“First of all, I already have this baby.” He coughed. “And you’d be surprised by the number of spare wires they have around here.” Keaton bit his lip.

“Those weren’t spare wires. They were wires from the AC units in G wing.”

“Ah, minor complications. They’ll be fine.” Leo put a finger to his temple. “Actually, I didn’t give credit to this genius.” He pointed at Keaton. Keaton smiled sheepishly. “This man– I was looking for a reactor… like something to– agh! This is hard to explain. But Keaton here understood. He just thought for a moment and fished a pen out of his pocket.” Leo nodded, petting his project. “Smart guy, smart guy.” Mera giggled.

“Of course.” She patted a loose strand of Keaton’s hair down.

Keaton reached into his pocket. “Actually, I’ve been working on a whole lot of stuff with pens. They’re really useful.” He took out a normal-looking pen. “Poisoned pen knife–” He grinned as he uncapped it. The razor was one that could be taken from a pencil sharpener.

“Poisoned?” Ari questioned, taking the pen.

“Yeah. Rat poison.”

“Do you have to insert that into their system orally?” Mera said, peering over their shoulders. Keaton shrugged.

“Maybe. I’m not an expert in the poison department. It’s just an experiment…” He fished out another pen. This one was attached to an elastic rubber band and was duct-taped to an inkjet.

“Crossbow?” Jason guessed. Keaton raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, Actually.”

“Ni-ice.” Leo called.

“But Leo– why did you make a safecracker?” I asked him, taking the tool into my hands again.

“Why Percy, I’m so glad you asked.” He grinned mischievously.

“Oh?”

“Yes. You’ll see tonight.” Leo tapped the box. Mera’s eyes lit up.

“You decided it was tonight?” Mera inquired, sitting down next to Keaton. Keaton drummed his fingers on the table.

“Yes! Oh, this is crazy. The moment we’ve been waiting for… for forever, practically!” I raised my eyebrows.

“Alright– I guess you guys are really excited about this… endeavor. I–” Just then, the PA crackled, and a booming voice resonated through the yard.

“We will see prisoners 120-122 and 456-458 in the Director's office. Stat.” I looked down at my uniform, watching Jason and Leo do the same. Mera, Keaton, and Ari grumbled. Their jumpsuits read 120, 121, and 122 respectively. I cursed. Mine was 456.

“Well, that’s us, I guess.” Leo licked his lips. “It was only a matter of time.” Jason’s lips tightened, but he said nothing.

“This is the third time this month.” Ari glared at the loudspeaker.

“Just go.” Mera clenched her jaw and led us forward, preparing for a blast.

[applejee]

you know, i truly believe in my heart of hearts that after everything, rather than apologising to izuku, bakugou will apologise to inko first

bakugou katsuki loves his parents, and even though they're always fighting and arguing, they’re still a loving family. he knows he can be difficult and appreciates that his parents are there for him, even if he refuses to outwardly acknowledge this at times. he cares for them, and they care for him, and with how close he and deku were as children? well, inko was like a second mother to him when he and deku were still tiny, when they were still some form of “friends”. and despite everything, deku still qualifies as "childhood friend" to katsuki, no matter how much he tries to quash it. katsuki was—and is—a bratty child; he knows he was a nightmare to deal with, and yet inko still put up with all his bullshit when he was small, and some part of him still recognises that

when hisashi leaves, katsuki is nowhere near as forgiving as deku; hisashi was only meant to be gone for a year but he never came back, and while he knows that they’re officially separated, he still sees it as inko being abandoned. katsuki idolises heroes and their values just as much as deku, and abandoning someone when they need it isn't at all what all might would do! how could hisashi do that to his wife and son! (inko and deku live in a small apartment, and katsuki's sure the only reason they don't live in a big house like his parents is because hisashi left when he did and took away all their money while he was at it; children aren't very good at rationalising) katsuki helps in his own way, by putting toys away when he's asked and leaving his shoes neatly at the genkan, cause he's gotta help his auntie out when he can.

but this all changes, of course, when katsuki gets his quirk and deku doesn't. 

katsuki stops going over to the midoriya's, and he starts bullying deku in earnest. he tells himself he doesn't care about what inko would say, but deep, deep, deep down he's terrified of what she thinks of him. it's only years later, after UA and kamino and the provisional hero licence exam and his fight with deku, that he starts to allow himself to think about inko again; he knows that she's still his emergency contact, and he wonders if she would still even come for him if she was called.

katsuki has been slowly, slowly working on maybe repairing things with deku; he's talked to him rationally, he's given him pointers, he's stopped bothering him and verges on ignoring deku entirely. but he /knows/ that he has to fix things somehow, and probably before kirishima finds out exactly what happened between him and deku in the past, or even before he finally manages to get his provisional licence.

katsuki knows that if he apologised to deku first, he would immediately be forgiven and nothing would change. he would still feel that twinge in his gut when deku looks at him and pretends as if nothing happened between them, as if there’s nothing he has to atone for. intellectually, he knows he's a bully, he knows he isn't a good person, and he knows that bad people can't be heroes.

and so, he agrees to go to that therapist his parents keep insisting on, and when he does—he tries to listen and do what she recommends. she's an ex-wrestler and still incredibly strong, with muscles bigger than katsuki, and that helps him reconcile the help he's receiving; is someone as strong as her says that she went to therapy, then maybe it’s okay for him to be there too.

and slowly but surely, he begins to heal from kamino, and maybe the weight of a dual inferiority-superiority complex starts to lift from his shoulders, and maybe he finally starts to realise that constant feeling of anxiety he couldn't name until now is just that—anxiety. a nameless feeling quashed and beaten down and ignored that festered until it couldn’t be ignored any longer, finally acknowledged at the onset before it drags him back down.

he gets prescribed medication, and he fights it more than he fought going to the therapist in the first place—but the thought of not feeling that constant burn of anxiety, the burn that winds him up and makes him angrier and angrier, that's what makes him eventually relent. it takes months and months, but his instinctual anger starts to recede and his trauma becomes more manageable, and finally he's ready to begin healing his relationship with izuku (but only on izuku's terms, his therapist insists; and yeah, yeah—he's izuku now)

(...but he still hasn't called him izuku to his face. that'll come, with time)

it comes to a point where apologising to izuku is something that katsuki can visualise, but he feels that rather than going to izuku first, who'll surely accept him on the spot, he has to speak to inko first, before anyone else. and so, katsuki decides that he needs to apologise to inko. or... at least start the process of apologising to inko. it’s been years since he last saw or spoke to her, and he has no doubts that she knows what he put izuku through for at least ten years of his life.

katsuki does some recon and finds out when he can visit inko, making sure that izuku or mitsuki won't be around (he knows that they're still friends, and that his mother visits for tea every so often). he buys her favourite black tea, andbakes a small chiffon cake; he remembers tagging along on a visit to the english teahouse, and his mother still keeps a tin of that tea in the house for inko when she visits. he dresses nicer than usual, and gets permission from aizawa to head out. he doesn't tell izuku where he's going, nor any of his friends, and makes sure his phone is muted. katsuki spends the trip to musutafu writing a shopping list in his head, planning to stop by his parent’s house later.

when he arrives at the apartment building, katsuki spends ten minutes staring at the stairs, internally yelling at himself to just go up the stairs you fucking idiot, what is there to be scared of, the worst that'll happen is she'll close the door on you; he knows he shouldn't worry, but a great sense of foreboding grows stronger with each step he takes up the stairs, and in no time at all he's staring at the nameplate reading MIDORIYA.

it takes a few more minutes for katsuki to compose himself and press the buzzer, and he can hear inko making her way to the door, and despite all his training at UA he just wants to run, run, run. inko opens the door, and he sees her face go from a pleasant smile to a blank slate in an instant, and he waits for her to slam the door in his face—but she doesn't. "hi, auntie," he says, avoiding eye contact, and she lets him in.

conversation is awkward and stilted as inko leads him to the kitchen table, and katsuki offers her the cake and tea. her faces softens as she notices the cake is clearly homemade, and katsuki thinks that maybe, just maybe, this might not end a total disaster. it's been just under ten years since she saw him last, and katsuki's sure she's seen just how badly he treated izuku all those years. it isn't until he says izuku's name—izuku, not deku—that she finally begins to relax, and he sees her shoulders drop, millimetre by millimetre. katsuki didn't think about how to go about this, or what he would say; all he knew was that it had to be done, and if this is how it's going to go? he's alright with that.

 it's a long conversation, and an even longer afternoon. inko made a pot of the tea, but it's long since gone cold, the chiffon cake forgotten on the table. there were tears from both sides, mostly from inko, and katsuki clenches his teeth as she very near shouts at him. more than once he thinks he's going to be thrown out, but eventually their conversation comes to an end.

"i accept your apology," says inko, "but that doesn't mean i forgive you." katsuki hunches his shoulders and swallows.

"i know," he says gruffly, almost under his breath. "...thank you."

inko doesn't say anything, and just nods.

it isn’t long after that when katsuki gets the hint that it’s time to leave, and begins to make his way out. when they reach the genkan, inko calls his name and katsuki turns, and she asks for the name of his therapist. katsuki blinks as he fights down the instinctual anger, a defensive reaction, and fishes out his therapists business card before handing it to inko. he has the number saved in his phone on auto-dial, a long battle with denial.

(he sees inko's face drop again as she looks at the business card, and he knows she's thinking of izuku as she reads that his therapist specialises in extreme childhood trauma)

inko thanks him for the card and the visit, but she doesn't say anything more as katsuki opens the door. "thanks for having me, auntie," he says, and he's just stepped outside when she calls "wait!"

katsuki turns to see inko's face harden again. "i do appreciate you coming here to apologise, and i'm sure you've changed, but i never want to hear that you've hurt my son ever again."

katsuki nods, further cementing a promise he made to himself a few weeks earlier.

inko then passes him a small note, with a mobile number written on it. "my details should be current on all your emergency forms," she says, "but i want you to have my number, just in case—" her face softens further— "maybe if there's anything you can't tell your parents."

tears spring unbidden to katsuki's eyes, and he nods again before saying thank you once more. he only hears the apartment door close when he makes it back to the stairs.

 ---

it's a few months later when katsuki texts inko, sending her a selfie izuku had taken of the two of them; izuku is holding up a peace sign in front of a slightly blurry katsuki, an awkward candid capturing him serving curry and rice.

>>i'm still not giving you the recipe

[auntie is typing]

> 😄😄🍛🍛🍛✨

katsuki huffs and locks his phone, tuning back into the conversation to hear izuku is still debating kicking vs punching, and for the first time in a while, he feels truly content.

[thedarkrose17]

Baby headcanons

So more Linus headcanons but now it's what if Promptis have another kid or kids. They're 24 here so here's me ignoring the canon cause it hurt me. If it was accurate to the timeline they'd be 30 and their kid would be 10

So let's go~

- So Prompto starts feel really sick over the weeks. At first Prom and Noct unsure and concerned cause they think he's got a bug. 

- Noct's talks to Iggy, Gladio and Iris over it cause he's worried and doesn't know what to do. When he explains about the sickness, Iris suggests maybe Prom's pregnant again. Noct isn't sure

- He tells Prom this and a lightbulb moment happens cause he's like oh shit I've felt kinda different maybe she's right. So he goes off getting tests instead of like going to the medical wing of the citadel. He's not a hundred percent sure if he should or not.

- Meanwhile Linus who's about four now is asking Noct if papa is ok cause he's scared. Noct reassures their little boy and helps distract him while Prom's busy

- First test he does comes out weird results wise which confuses him cause he's unsure if it's positive or not. Because it looks a weird combo of both. So he does more in a panic before deciding to wait a couple of days. He's got a little tiny collection happening at this point of maybe 10 or more tests

- Two days later he decides to go down to the medical wing and get a test there and it's positive. He pretty much tries to hold himself together there but he's on the verge of tears cause he can't believe it and he's just relieved he knows what's been happening with him. He might ask for the test before practically rushing off to find Noct, who's with their little boy in their room

- Noct's first reaction is him basically being like I'm not touching the pee end right? Before dropping it the moment he sees the result.

- Linus meanwhile cause he's so young is like ew why you handing daddy a pee stick. He's so confused at Noct's reaction

- Noct's reaction is somewhat precious during it all. He keeps glancing down at the test then up at Prom with a look of surprise. He keeps asking if it's true or if it's really happening over and over

Prompto just laughs and smiles during it saying yes each time before crying. Noct goes over at hugs him at that point

- Linus doesn't understand what's happening so they explain vaguely they're pregnant and Linus just beams immediately cause you're having a baby? Really? 

- Cue moments later him asking how it got there and the boys just freezing. 

N: "...We made it?"

L: "How?"

P: "...B-By making a special cake!"

N: "Yeah...Totally."

- Linus accepts this at this age 

- A few days later they tell their friends and Iris organises a baby shower inviting all their friends. It's sweet but Prom's a little emotional and sleepy so promptly drifts off half way through on the couch but him and Noct are very thankful

- Prompto has a rough few months honestly. It eases later but at the start it's hard

He's very nauseous and aching during those months. He gets craving but they're fairly tame. All he wants is strawberries or sometimes something as simple as mints

- He naps a lot during these rough months so Noct tries to help make it easier on him. Linus too.

- Linus usually goes and naps with Prom or rest his head on the growing bump trying to see if he can hear his sibling

- They didn't really get much of a chance to get many scans when Prom was having Linus with them being on the road but now they get to have the chance now with this baby

- The first scan Linus was in said the baby looked weird while Prom and Noct was having a moment but they explained they hadn't finished developing yet. He came to one more before they decided to surprise him with the baby's gender

- Linus likes resting his head against Prompto's stomach, as he tells stories to the baby or just keeps Prom company along with Noctis. Though Noct had to scoop him off at times cause Prom either needed the bathroom or was super close to throwing up

- Noct and Prom don't really need to get baby supplies cause the citadel is on it so instead Prom explores the gardens with Linus and does wherever he can. He might go out and buy plushies though mostly Chocobo or fish themed

Noct hands him a plushie of a little creature with a red horn he thinks he saw on photos at times. (Its Carbs~)

- Prom's very insecure during the whole pregnancy. It bothers him the weight gain even though he knows it means the baby is healthy. He's cried about it to Noct many times

- When it comes to revealing the gender, Prom asks Iggy if he can make any cupcakes for it. In the end Prompto sticks around and helps out cause he's so excited 

- Once they're done he gives one to Linus saying it'll say if he's getting a sister or brother. The cupcakes are black and gold but inside it's either purple or red. They didn't care for blue and pink and thought it was a little silly so purple for sister and red for brother.

- They explain this to him before Linus takes a bite. The moment he looks at the colour he cries immediately and Prom and Noct aren't sure how to take that

Until he just wails "I wanted a brother!" and sobs more which makes Noct hug him and chuckle a little as he soothes him. Prom's caught between aww buddy and laughing cause it's precious but he's so lost on what to say he's just like "I'm sorry?"

- Moments later he heads over and cuddles Prom, Noct joining in too

- Linus afterwards is pretty excited for his little sister and along with Noct protects Prom or tries 

- He follows Prompto around a lot. Asking when she'll be here and can she hear him along with does she do anything 

- The baby first kicks one night before Prom and Noct go to sleep. It's earlier than they expected but it's a cherished moment. Noct quietly talks to her after she does it making Prompto laugh as she moves more. They talk to her a lot after that

- Linus gets to feel it the next day to which he says stop kicking papa and says how it's not nice. Prom smiles and runs a hand through his hair saying it's ok

- The later months are a little easier. Prom wanders around more while Linus is at school or Noct's in meetings or sometimes he'll quickly pop into meetings when they're finishing and get a little smile from Noct

- He's been found napping on the throne a few times specially when he's further along. He tires easily and wants to wait for Noct but at times he can't keep his eyes open

- He does light exercise with Iris and Gladio almost throughout the pregnancy until the 5th month. He struggles and feels more drained at that point

- Prom develops anaemia during the pregnancy which worries Noct and Prom himself. Their friends worry too but thankfully the citadel doctors help with treatment there and explain it's a common type that can happen. He's a paler than usual and a lacks energy at first but the close eye on it and treatment really helps out there 

- He tends to hang around Iris a lot whenever he can usually discusses worries with her and about the baby but they also have casual conversations too. He might mother her but she doesn't mind cause honestly he mothers nearly everyone like this 

- He likes going to Iggy and Gladio and remembering their trip and when he was carrying Linus but at times during the pregnancy it makes him emotional so usually it ends in them comforting him before he ends up taking a nap between them or against one of their shoulders 

- Iris brings him little treats either for him or the unborn baby. He had a moment over little boots she brought once

- When the day comes nothing happens which concerns him cause like wasn't she supposed to come today. He quickly learns over the days he's overdue which is tiring. All he does in curl up and nap when he can usually 

- She finally comes about a week later. It happens late at night and he wakes Noct over it and he takes him to the medical wing. After some surgery they have a wailing healthy little girl

- Prompto looks exhausted but very happy and Noctis just keeps looking at her and smiling. He can't believe she's finally here. He thinks maybe she's a perfect mix of them but they have to wait and see who's eyes she gets. (Surprisingly it's Noct's)

- Linus gets to see her the next day and he's so happy. She's so squishy and cute 

- Since Noct named Linus, he suggests Prom should name their daughter 

[neverstranger]

Sugar Rush 1

[A series of fan fictions dedicated to the ship of Dylan Wang and Shen Yue]

When Dylan Wang first saw Shen Yue, he thought she was rather plain. She was this thin sulky girl on the corner of the room. She looked like she didn’t want to be there and she poked and pressed on her phone like it was nobody’s business. It was so awkward because Dylan was supposed to work with this girl for four straight months at least.

“Hey, hey. Look at Shen Yue.” Xize called for their attention. They were all inside a waiting area, passing time before they had to be called for script reading prior to shooting.

There were a few people in the room. All their road managers were around the table, talking about something. The four of them, Chen Kuan Hong or Darren Chen, Liang Jing Kang or Connor Leong, Wu Xize or Caesar Wu, and him Wang He Di or Dylan Wang, were settled on the sofas near the door.

But Shen Yue was all alone in a leather armchair near the window.  

When they all got here, she was already on the chair, typing away on her phone. She nodded at them when they entered the room, but after that they were ignored.

“What’s up with her? Is she a snob or something?” Dylan couldn’t help but ask. He arched his eyebrows towards Shen Yue’s direction. If he’s going to have to work with this girl and she keeps this up, he assumed they will have problems.

“I guess she’s tired.” Kuan Hong said, looking her way. “Oh look!” He pointed silently.

They all turned to look at her. She was silently dozing off, her right hand propping her head up.

“She’s pretty cute, isn’t it?” Liang Jing Kang commented.

All three of them looked at him, puzzled.

“You like her?” Xize exclaimed, bewildered.

“What? No. I was just observing her.” Liang Jing Kang deadpanned. “Don’t you think she’s cute? She’s so little.”

“Yeah, she’s so small.” Kuan Hong laughed. “She’d look like a kid next to us, especially to you, man.” He pointed at Dylan.

“Yeah. You’d be doing lots of scenes with her.” Xize said to Dylan.

“I don’t know if that would suck or not.” Dylan sighed.

The four of them dropped the topic of Shen Yue at the same time. They talked about the most random things: basketball, Liang Jing Kang’s shoes, their road managers, and the script.

But Dylan’s eyes would occasionally dart from Shen Yue’s location to the other three. She really had to be tired, seeing as she was already knocked out on the chair. This time, she wasn’t pretending to be awake by propping her head up. Now, she was lying across the armchair, with her head on one arm rest and both her legs on the other, fast asleep.

Her arms were folded on top of her chest, and Dylan could see that she was slightly shivering. He hadn’t noticed before, but her face was also kind of pale.

Dylan was about to say something when Shen Yue’s road manager got up from the table, pulled a blanket from one of the bags, then wrapped Shen Yue in it. She was awaken by that motion from her road manager, but her road manager just whispered something to her then she fell back asleep.

Soon, all the road managers went to their place on the sofas.

“Hey guys, do you want to grab something to eat? They said script reading won’t start until two hours later.” Kuan Hong’s road manager said.

All at once, the other three started to speak, mentioning restaurants around the place and food they should order. But Dylan’s eyes immediately searched for Shen Yue. And true to his hunch, the noise was bugging her sleep. Her brows were scrunched, and she was clutching her blanket closer.

“Hey, hey guys. Could you speak more silently? Yueyue’s asleep.” It was Shen Yue’s manager who spoke.

“Is she sick?” Dylan couldn’t help but ask.

“She’s a little feverish. She hasn’t had enough sleep for three days and she’s eating little so…” The woman trailed off.

They all went silent for a while, most of them looking at Shen Yue who was now facing the backrest of the armchair.

“Are we gonna leave her here? I don’t think that will be a good idea.” Kuan Hong said.

“Should we just order takeaway?” asked Dylan. Then he ventured slightly. “She’s sick. She has to eat. Maybe we should order something she’d like so she’ll definitely eat?”

 ---

Shen Yue was awakened by her road manager when the ramen arrived.

They all crowded the table, but there wasn’t enough space so Dylan, Kuan Hong and Xize had to eat on the low coffee table by the couch. The three of them sat cross legged, blowing the steam to each other’s faces. They were all laughing when a Shen Yue wrapped in a blanket placed her bowl on the table, waddled a little then plonked beside Dylan. She smiled at them like she was getting a treat, then proceeded to eat.

This left the boys to stare at her. Kuan Hong was one of the braver kinds to initiate conversation.

“You’re gonna choke on that.” Kuan Hong commented, quite amused. Shen Yue was wolfing down noodles at a very fast rate.

“Nah.” She looked at him, waving her chopsticks.

“I’m pretty sure you’re gonna.” Xize said, watching her warily as he ate his ramen.

And just like what they thought, the girl started coughing after a few minutes. Dylan was very quick to give her water.

“Slow down, missy. No one’s taking that.” Dylan said as he helped her to some table napkins. Shen Yue managed to smile at them before taking a big breath.

“Thanks.” She smiled, biting on one of her fish cakes. “I’m sorry I haven’t introduced myself, I’m Shen Yue by the way.” She extended her hand for them to shake.

After doing so, all of them fell silent, enjoying the meal. Xize would occasionally strike up a conversation, but all of them would go back to eating or scrolling on their phones.

Dylan took this as an opportunity to look at Shen Yue closely. She was sitting adjacent to him, eating away on her katsu. She would take occasional glances around the room and outside the window, but only when she was not so busy chewing her food. He took this as a good time to talk to her.

“You’re not sick anymore?” Dylan asked.

She looked at her with wide eyes, at first with shock, then with a look that said she was mulling over her answer. Then she shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. I’m feeling a little dizzy though.” She pushed her plate of katsu away. “How did you know I was sick?”

“Your road manager told us.” he said, earning a nod from her. Then he promptly added. “You’re Chen Xiaoxi right?”

She looked bashful. Shen Yue gave a silent ‘yeah’ before returning to her food.

“Some of my friends watched it, they loved you there.” Xize commented from the other end of the table.

“Chen Xiaoxi? Is that a character for what drama?” Kuan Hong asked.

“A Love So Beautiful. She played the lead there, Chen Xiaoxi who was so in love with Jiang Chen.” Xize explained to Kuan.

Kuan nodded, then he turned to Shen Yue. “Can I watch it?”

“Oh you better not!” Shen Yue said. Then she added shyly. “It wasn’t my best, and it’d be really awkward.”

Kuan smiled. “It would not. I’m sure it was good.”

Shen Yue waved her chopsticks again, shaking her head with it. “No. Please don’t. It was bad enough I was in it.”

They all laughed after that. The other three went on to ask each other about previous shows they starred in. Kuan and Shen Yue even recalled their brief meeting in Taiwan months back. Shen Yue was laughing about Kuan’s hair, and Kuan was trying to find things he could tease Shen Yue about, but to no avail.

Dylan sat and laughed with them, looking back and forth to his co-workers. They all looked like doe-eyed people in naturally high spirits. Eventually, Liang Jing Kang joined them and they killed time by chattering about the most nonsensical things. They laughed at the littlest details of stories they would tell.

It was five minutes to three in the afternoon when someone from the production team of Meteor Garden knocked on the door to inform them that the script reading would be in five minutes. All of them stood up and started stretching, except for Shen Yue who was still wrapped in a blanket and waddling back to her leather armchair.

“You look like a burrito.” Dylan commented as Shen Yue started to untangle herself from the blanket. She arched an eyebrow at him before smiling.

“Do I?”

“Yeah.”

 ---

 Shortly after the script reading, Angie Chai invited all of them to dinner. They went to a hotpot place with almost all of the main cast and the whole team.

They almost occupied the whole restaurant. Dylan, Kuan Hong, Wu Xize, Liang Jing Kang, Shen Yue, Li Jia Qi, Sun Yi Han and other cast members sat on a separate table. It seemed to Dylan that they all clicked immediately. Everyone was talking merrily to each other like they had been friends for a long time, and they were starting to have inside jokes.

After eating, they even went to a KTV bar to have some “good time before hell starts” according to Angie Chai. They occupied a large room and soon enough, everybody was hooting and singing.

Dylan was having a good time himself. He had a few drinks and was singing along happily to Liang Jing Kang when someone from the corner of his eye caught his attention. It was Shen Yue, and she was sitting at a corner again with her legs folded up to her chest. She appeared to be embracing herself and shivery, but she would sometimes sing along to whatever song is up.

Shen Yue caught his eye, and she winked at him before looking at the screen again. Within a heartbeat, Dylan was sitting beside her.

“Hey, you coming down with that fever again?” He asked, bowing down a little to see her face. She was pale, and her eyes were puffy and teary. “You look sick.”

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll have two days off starting tomorrow, it’s gonna be fine.” she smiled, patting his arm. “How about you? Enjoying this?” she gestured in front of her.

Dylan looked at one of the associate producers belting a Chinese ballad. He sounds really awful, but they were all laughing and cheering for him. Then the guy tried to reach a high note.

“I’m having ear cancer.”

“Yeah me too. He shouldn’t be allowed to sing.”

They both sniggered. They continued to secretly badmouth a few of their co-workers including Kuan Hong when Dylan realized that Shen Yue was slowly dozing off again. She was trying to keep her eyes open, but her head was falling back to the couch’s backrest.

“Missy, I think you should go home.” Dylan slightly nudged her slightly, which made her bolt upright.

After Dylan was done laughing, Shen Yue replied, “Ugh, I’m so sleepy but I don’t want to leave yet. If I leave early, they’ll end the night early too.”

“How about you sleep for a while? Fifteen minutes is good for a powernap, and I’ll go cover you?” Dylan offered.

She seemed to be pondering over her choices, but after a minute or so, she raised her thumb at him then slightly leaned on the backrest. Dylan looked around, seeing if anyone can see her sleeping at this angle. It was pretty exposed, so Dylan had to sit closer to Shen Yue in order to hide her completely from view.

In the end, Shen Yue ended up sleeping for a whole thirty minutes, with her head leaning on his back. It was kind of painful for Dylan, for he had to lean forward in an awkward position to support her head and still hide her from view.

It was past midnight when they all decided to go home. It was also Dylan’s cue to wake Shen Yue up.

“Shen Yue…” he called gently, tapping her knees. “It’s time to wake up.”

After several taps, she finally took a sharp breath on Dylan’s back before stretching her limbs. Dylan straightened his back and listened as his bones snapped.

“That’s more than fifteen minutes, Wang He Di.” she said, rubbing her eyes with her clenched fists.

“You slept for thirty minutes. Am I not the best? Nobody saw you.” He jabbed his thumb towards the crowd.

This smug remark earned a ‘tch’ from her. The both of them stood up and stretched as their road managers called for them.

When they reached the parking lot, all of them said their ‘goodbyes’ and ‘see you soons’.

“Ya, thanks for the nap a while ago.” Shen Yue said, smiling up at him. She was really little.

“You should drink some medicine, missy.” He raised his hand for a wave good-bye. “Bye.”

“Bye Dao Ming Si.”

“Bye Shan Cai.”

They both smiled and winked at each other.

On the drive home, Dylan Wang could not stop thinking about the day and his co-workers. He thought he would be good friends with the rest of the new F4, plus Shen Yue was pretty nice.

And… alright, she was pretty cute too.

[lysmune]

to forget

      Accepting the position as a Madgod means many things, the willingness to become something more deranged than she’s bargained for as the change twists her memories.

      What has she got to lose?

Oneshot about F!HoK’s last thoughts of Martin before becoming Sheogorath.

Another one taken down on AO3. 

      Gold. Yes, yes, she remembers him to be gold - or was it amber? (No, too dull, not fitting enough. Something precious, something that glitters and demands royalty) - no, but he’s never demanded nobility. God’s blood - yes, he bleeds ichor. She’s never tasted ichor, which is a pity, because now she’ll never know how Akatosh feels on her lips (maybe she should’ve pinned him down). He’s all stone and ivory now, can’t be helped. She’s always liked seeing him ooze - did she really? (Yes, too much; sometimes she cried) - and oh, the delight when he glimmered in it. He dripped like nectarine (no, ambrosia), pavements of bronze running down the length of her stomach (oh, she remembers the way he kissed her into something worthy) as he steeped her body in Midas’ touch.

        She would’ve thought he were rougher, but no, he had always been a little more gentle, a little more understanding - and what good does it do? Better to have a little fun and take her there.

      His eyes used to stare at her with such wonder - as blue as the plants she used to pick (What was it? Bugloe? Bugalos? It had a snake in the name, she recalls) ( But why concern yourself with such mortal things? ) -  skimming over her carefully and tenderly. They reminded her of the waves that crashed upon Anvil’s docks - ah, seawater and vomit, and dead fish, and the people lingering upon wet cobblestones, a scenery so commonplace atop the wretched mansion’s balcony (nostalgic; odd).  But his gaze was never dead, they were always so, so alive. Sometimes they told her secrets, they told her fears and in some memory from her past days, she comforted him with truths, lies he believed. He should’ve worshipped madness instead of debauchery, maybe then she could’ve saved him.

      His skin had been the colour of ironwood shells, smooth and withholding unnaturally taut muscles. I was not always a priest. No, he wasn’t, she knows. Sanguine had never learnt to treat his followers kindly (or maybe he did and the ex-priest was just foolish). Underneath all he was, she knows he’s capable, stronger than he lets on. His ribs must make a pretty cage for his heart, one crafted out of steel, and yet she finds herself remembering that he’s never been too harsh. He’d alway tried his best to treat her like porcelain (and she riveted in it once; now she doesn’t think she’d like the same gentleness).

      He wore the night sky upon his back, but these ones never changed. Always marked with the same scars, the same freckles and she’d once wondered where they led. Now she does not. These ones did not glow, instead serving their purpose to remind her that despite his immortal lineage, he was still as human as her.

      There’s more, oh, there’s always more. The unfinished picture hangs behind her irises as she strains to piece him together. He’s always been too perfect (nothing close to a prince, though). She tries to catch his scent, but lavenders are a newfound hatred and the sweet taste of promises that he tried to keep are more ashen than anything she’s ever eaten.

      Disgusting. Is that all she can grasp? (You disappoint me. Why focus on such intangible things? A doll need only be physical).

      What else to remember? What else, what else? A man is incomplete with just his eyes and his blood, and his skin and bones. (His hair, his thoughts and lips. Mould him, mould him, mould him). Do not scream, little cur, I will.

      She takes a moment to compose herself with a breath because the voices are a little louder today. Whose voice it belongs to is unknown to her, it’s just there. You’ll be hearing more once you’ve completely turned, it cackles (ah, a female this time).

      She tries to dig a little deeper into the recesses of her mind, then, and she’s greeted by the faint smile on his lips, the silken threads of his hair running through her fingertips while he calls her name before he leans in to kiss her (the feeling is oddly fresh, as though new, untarnished). Her shoulder scorches, her hand immediately going to the injury as though to staunch an open wound and she’s hissing his name under her breath because his words have sunk into her flesh (all the confessions, the soft praises of reverence).

      It hurts, it hurts, no more, one of them moans.       Forget the boy, he’s of no concern, another growls.       Make it stop, it stings, the third voice beseeches.

      Amongst the clamour, she asks herself which of them belongs to her, because she knows she would disagree because she must’ve loved him, maybe held him close. She knows she brought him to bed, made pleasure in the dead of night, but no disagreement comes and she finds herself wanting this wretched feeling (painful things, painful words, painful memories) gone.

      So she lets go of his writhing memento (good riddance), lets the fondness go up in flames so she sees him as an Emperor, a Septim, some saviour who ended like all others, not as some man she kept to her heart (and look, his name’s all gone. What was it again? Maron, Marin? Savarins? No, that’s a cake).

      Savarins? Brilliant.

      Don’t you feel lighter? Yes, she does, although, for some reason, she finds that the pain on her shoulder is sharper than ever. Don’t mind that, that’s not important. Yes, that’s not important, this pain is incompetent and dull, and it’ll fade as her dreams do.

      A hoarse, brittle laughter escapes his (her?) lips, and she can feel it cracking around its edges. He can sense it creeping up his skin, making her into something different, changing her mind. But she welcomes the change, she welcomes this new, twisted deliriousness, the halls echoing with each growing cackle, snarl and snap.

      His visage turns to tatters in her mind. She recalls his name for a moment (Martin, they called him), his golden scales rippling across the dark. (Hardly fair to any of the previous Septims. They never got to rule as a dragon). Then it just dwindles away as the waves overtake him.

      This madness will be his mercy now.