#no clue how shadow and baby shadow would interact

[yourkidding]

IM SO READY

[wrathofrats]

Kinktober day 23: double penetration

Prompts by @kroas-adtam

Keep Quiet, Nothing Comes As Easy As You

Alpha/omega/rain

3.6k, explicit, warnings for: trans rain, tentacles, dubious consent, double penetration, objectification, shame, floor licking, water ghouls are wet, anatomy discovery??? Idk rain has no clue he has a tentacle,

“All the other water ghouls have one, where’s his?” Omega sounded borderline concerned, practically grabbing at his folds and furrowing his brow as he looked at alpha. He was a medical professional, someone that rain trusted even in a position like this, so why shouldn’t he also be a little scared. It’s embarrassing, he doesn’t know what’s normal or not but all he can do is squirm while alpha rubs and inspects along his pussy to try and coax it out.

“My- my what?” Rain managed to get out before he prodded somewhere that made his knees buckle.

Rain tried to haphazardly shove his sheet music back into his bag as he walked out of the practice building and down the concrete steps. He still wasn’t used to the mask yet, it was slightly hard to breath through the balaclava meant to obscure his identity, even though he thought it was futile, he was a ghoul and all the sibling knew that by now. He chocked it up to a religious thing, like a nun habit. Whatever the reason, it was annoying, he was tired of the condensation that kept gathering in the metal.

The sun was starting to set on the abbey, the pathways beneath the trees and between buildings being cast with a dark shadow. Rain tried to walk briskly even if he believed his fear of the dark was irrational. Less of a fear, more of an eerie feeling when the ministry was dark and empty.

Something whispered from inside the shadows between the chapel and the building that the new papa had been given to stay in. Rain stopped dead in his tracks on the sidewalk, squinting to see if he could see anything moving in the dark.

Rain stepped closer, toeing the line of the edge of the sidewalk before a large hand grabbed at his arm and pulled him into the dark. Someone wrapped their hand around his mouth, whispering into his ear as they held him to their chest.

“Don’t worry guppy, it’s just us” rain looked up to see alpha stepping from the dark and into the small area where the sun still was. He stopped fighting, relaxing in what must have been omegas arms. He trusted the two, not having much interaction with either but knowing that they were here to watch over the ministry, the ghouls included.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing walking alone at night?” Omega whispered into his ear, taking his palm off his mouth but keeping him held tight to his chest.

“Band practice?” Rains tone was questioning, like he wasn’t sure if he had the right answer or not. Alpha had a look in his eyes like he wanted to just tear into him while omega rubbed at rains waist with his thumb.

“Oh dear alpha, papa should know better. Who can imagine what lurks in the alleys at night?”

“Glad we got to him first then, would be a shame if something else did”

Alpha stepped closer to the pair, practically sandwiching rain between their two bodies. Alpha was a good couple inches taller than him, enough to be able to look down properly, almost menacing. Omega was even taller, and wider, his embrace almost swallowed rain whole.

“Will you walk me back to my room then?” Rain looked up and behind him to see omega smiling. Alpha grabbed at his waist, placing his hand over omega. Their hands could probably wrap all the way around rains waist and still touch. Alpha couldn’t stop admiring his body, how the new tight uniforms hugged him deliciously, bordering on slutty if alpha was being honest with himself.

“What’s your rush baby?” Alpha chuckled, moving his hands to rains ass to give a proper squeeze, “who picked out this uniform for you?”

“Practically asking for someone to feel you up in this thing” omega gave a small kiss to the side of rains neck, smiling against his skin.

“Oh you don’t think we could, right omega?” Alpha got close enough to be able to almost speak directly into omegas mouth. “Do you think he would let us?”

“Ask it permission first, doesn’t seem like he’s fighting much though”

Rain gave a small gasp as alphas thigh found its way between his legs.

“Can we touch you rainy? We haven’t had our turn yet, it’s all omegas been able to talk about” alpha put more pressure between rain thighs, leaning into him even more to watch as he jutted his hips forward. They felt impossible close, impossibly warm against rain.

“Please-“ rain tried not to straight up moan, settling somewhere between a whimper and a gasp from alphas thigh.

“There you go alpha, go ahead, know you’ve been dying to get your hand in his pants”

Alpha slipped his fingers past rains waistband and down his navel, feeling soft, tight cotton on the back of his hand. His fingers toyed with the neat patch of hair for a second before dipping down and pressing his fingers inside.

“Oh-“ alpha bent his fingers upwards before sliding them through his folds and just past rains clit. “Isn’t that nice?”

Rains pants were forced to his ankles by alpha as omega snaked his hand to toy with rains cunt as well. Sliding thick fingers through his folds to feel how wet he was starting to get. He spread him wide as alpha pushed two fingers in, earning a groan from rain. The true state of their predicament escaped rain as they continued to both play with his cunt. Standing in some dark corner where anyone could find them.

“Oh he’s tight megs…..”

“Think we’ll fit?”

Alpha crooked his fingers up in rain hole, buried knuckle deep as rain squeezed, clenching down from their words. He already sounded slick and wet, hoping the sounds wouldn't echo in the small space.

“Could just use both of his holes,” alpha started a small rhythm, pumping in and out of rain slowly as he writhed. “Or we could make it fit”

“You would think aether and mountain would’ve loosened him up by now”

Rain was a mess between them. He tried to keep the embarrassing sounds down, biting his lip and taking heavy breaths. Small whimpers and plea’s still escaped him as he begged alpha to touch his clit.

“Wonder if he’s taken anything at all yet” alpha spread his fingers, stretching rain even more.

“Hoping to ruin the packs new plaything are we?”

“Oh you know me too well dear”

Rain squirmed in omegas grip. The idea is almost terrifying, sure he’s taken aether and mountain before, both ghouls who seem massive compared to his smaller frame. But alpha and omega? At the same time? It was almost unfathomable.

“No- w- wait-“ rain feebly protested even as his hips still canted into alphas hand. He just needed a second, air to clear his foggy brain as the combined warmth of the two melted his senses. Part of him felt dirt beneath all of it, letting the two treat him like some fleshlight they found on the ground instead of a sentient being. He dripped down alphas wrist all the same.

“Think I found his off button” alpha chuckled as he rubbed along rains clit and watched as the words completely died in his throat. Omega skated his free hand under his shirt to lift it above his chest and expose his pretty little tits right in alphas face. The other hand met alphas to stroke at his silky walls as well. Both hands fighting in the small space as omega got a finger in rain beside alpha. He gave an experimental pinch to his nipple just to feel him clench down with a groan.

“Wait, alpha” omega gave another prodding stroke to rains cunt, “I don’t feel a tentacle”

“All the other water ghouls have one, where’s his?” Omega sounded borderline concerned, practically grabbing at his folds and furrowing his brow as he looked at alpha. He was a medical professional, someone that rain trusted even in a position like this, so why shouldn’t he also be a little scared. It’s embarrassing, he doesn’t know what’s normal or not but all he can do is squirm while alpha rubs and inspects along his pussy to try and coax it out.

“My- my what?” Rain managed to get out before he prodded somewhere that made his knees buckle. Rain let out a small sound as omega cooed.

“Oh alpha I don’t think he knows!”

“Do we get to teach him? Be the first ones to feel him up like this?” Alpha and omega talked about rain like he was simply not even there. A toy to play with without any concern for him listening in.

“Would be an honor since someone got to dewdrop before us last time”

“I think you found it, right there” omegas hand moved to feel where alpha was touching. Something wiggled beneath their touch, right under his clit, a smooth patch of skin to conceal the thing.

Alpha gave a low chuckle as he continued to pet over the area until rain started to jump as he felt an odd pressure.

“No stop wait-“ rains voice was shaky, trying to pry himself away from whatever it was even if their hands on his clit had him feeling like he was floating.

Rain nearly shrieked but omega slapped his palm over his mouth to try and muffle the surprised sounds. Something slithered from his cunt, wet and immediately searching for stimulation from alphas fingers.

Drool escaped rains lips and pooled into omegas hand as alpha started to stroke the tentacle. It was pretty, a flushed dark blue and purple, not super long but definitely fairly thick, thicker than the other water ghouls they had seen. It made rain lightheaded to look down and watch the thing squirm between his legs.

“Please not here ….” Rain mumbled against omega, coming out muffled and pitched. He knows he won’t last long, having enough experience to know he’s about to make a mess all over himself and the concrete. Omega just gave a small pet to his cheek, throwing a smile over his shoulder at alpha.

“Hear that? He wants to go somewhere a little more private darling”

“Oh? Doesn’t want anyone to see him like this? Don’t tell me the things shy.”

They won’t give him the dignity, not yet anyways. In alpha and omegas mind it’s much for fun to ruin him in the open air than to put him behind a closed door, even if they’re dying to see how bad he can really get with some privacy. He asked for this, begged alpha to touch him, and they won’t give him a lick of decency until he squirts for them all over the ground.

Slick ran down the back of alphas hand as he continued to toy with rains tentacle. A bit followed the path of the prominent vein on his wrist and if omega wasn’t so caught up in how rain whines against his hand he would’ve grabbed alphas arm to lick him completely clean. Rain can protest all he wants but if he’s this wet it’s hard to really believe him.

Rain gets off on the fear, being manhandled and exposed while he can’t do anything about it is too arousing to admit. He clinged to omegas arm as alpha started to stroke his tentacle in earnest like he’s jerking him off. Rains hips twitched into his rough hand, almost uncomfortably hot.

“Think he’s ready omega,” Alpha shoved three fingers in rain and spread him wide with ease, wet and loose from being played with for so long. He grabbed at rains thigh and maneuvered his legs to his waist so he could wrap them around as omega still held him tight against his torso.

“Gonna take it like a good boy? Gotta be real quiet, wouldn’t want anyone to find us huh guppy?” Omega unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants as rain gave another muffled sound from behind his palm. Alpha was already lined up with his holed teasing between his folds with the head of his cock.

Alpha pushed in slowly, feeling rain arch against omegas chest. He was still tight, even after the prep. Slick and hot as alpha groaned with the sensation. Rains eyes crossed, breathing heavily to adjust to the new feeling, even as he knew more was coming.

Omegas finger prodded at his hole and attempted to nudge itself right next to alphas cock. It was almost too much, it struggled to wiggle its way in there but tears escaped rain's eyes as he felt it pop into him. It slid in and out, in time with alphas shallow thrusts, simply trying to get him prepared enough to not be painful once omega got his turn to be inside him too.

“What a sweet thing, isn’t even fighting anymore” omega cooed at him, sickly sweet in tone. “Knew once you got a cock in you that you’d settle down”

“More” rain moaned. Drool was falling from the corner of his lip and down his neck. It left a shiny trail in its wake that shined in the moonlight, along with the wetness that coated his inner thighs.

Another finger slipped in and out of him along with alpha. Every thrust made his vision hazy, barely able to keep his eyes focused on alpha in front of him who was still practically grinning from ear to ear.

“Think he’s ready?” Omega asked with a loving look.

“Be gentle, he’s been sweet so far, right rainy?”

Omega nudged the head of his cock right next to alphas, slowly working it to stretch rain enough to take him. It was borderline overwhelming, rains never been this full before. He could feel them both in his abdomen, a little bump forming on his stomach from how they pushed against his small frame. He looked completely wrecked.

Rains tentacle slithered to wrap around alphas cock, small suckers attaching themselves to his shaft as he thrusted harder into rain alongside omega. Rain was being held like a limp doll, tentacle jerking both of them off as they left him completely gaping around them.

“Close- need it-“ rain choked out.

“Cum for us pretty boy, cum right here and we’ll give you your dignity back until we get behind closed doors”

Rains body spasmed as he gushed around their cocks. It dripped down, splashing onto alphas pants and the ground. It was filthy, they didn’t think they’ve ever seen a water ghoul cum so much. A thick heady sea salt smell filled the air as rain cried and tried to calm himself down from the high, still unbelievably full.

“Unholy shit rain” alpha looked down to see how he soaked the both of them. He was sure some had gotten on rains discarded pants as well, still dripping off of his thigh and onto the concrete. His tentacle retreated back to where it had come from while the blue flush on rains body started to recede while omega slipped out of him.

“Dew wasn’t this messy” omega gave a click of his tongue, tucking himself back into his pants, “better learn to control yourself sweetheart, I’ll forgive it this time but next time you’ll have to clean it up”

Alpha slowly pulled himself out, watching rains face so as to not scramble his brain any further. He untangled his legs from around his waist and hesitantly set him back down on his two feet, the two bigger ghouls still holding onto him to make sure he wouldn’t collapse under his own shaky legs.

“There we go, just hold onto my arm guppy” omega reached to grab rains pants from off the ground and attempted to have him step back into them. He promised him modesty after he came, the semblance of some dignity before they got him any privacy.

“It’s a shame though, we can’t just leave this here can we?” Omega gestured to the puddle in front of them. Rain hid his face, embarrassed to see the mess he made on the dirty ground. He still felt absolutely filthy from the ordeal, ashamed of how easy he was to be warmed up and pliant between the two.

“Omega …..” alpha gave him a low look as he zipped his jeans back up.

“Go ahead alpha, clean it up for me baby” omega practically purred as he got rain redressed.

“You can’t be serious right?”

“Don’t act up in front of the little siren, you’re the one who wanted to ruin him. So you can clean up the mess”

Alpha looked unbelievably flustered as he hesitantly got down onto his knees, giving another glance up at omega to ask if he was truly serious. Omega just smiled and held rain closer, giving him a sly nod.

The ground tasted like dirt and musk, making alpha cringe. Saliva pooled in his mouth as he lapped up the pool of slick off of the concrete. It was gross, the taste alone being embarrassing enough to make alphas head spin.

“Isn’t he such a good boy?” Omega whispered into rains ear, just barely loud enough for alpha to hear. Rain shook like a leaf against omegas chest as he also watched alpha pressed his tongue to the dirty ground, “such a sweet thing aren’t you? You were so good for us rainy, proud of you for taking all of that”

Rain relaxed a bit into omegas body, still hanging onto his arm. His head was still full of static and the abundant praises spilling from omegas lips only furthered the feeling. Alpha was much less terrifying like this, the once menacing ghoul now a mess at his feet licking up his cum like a dog. It was hard to be scared of him anymore.

But omega? It only made him more nervous. From everything he’s seen and heard rain was certain this scenario would have been switched. Omega being sweet and friendly, a trusted figure in the ministry while alpha was known for being aloof and stoic, if not at times somewhat cruel. Sharper features, a deeper growl, harsher grip, rain was warned not to fuck with him. But omega simply just commanded, and alpha obeyed without argument.

It sent shivers down rains spine to think of what omega could have done to alpha to get so obedient for him. Surely it can’t be just that alpha is willing, right? Maybe he’s naive, maybe it’s one of those things like aether where he rarely waits for someone to be obedient and simply prefers to take it without a fight. Maybe omegas simply forced it out of him so many times that alpha knows better than to fight. The idea is more than arousing to ponder as alpha finishes up on the ground and moves to stand. The idea of omega forcing the obedience out of him, especially after he’s seen how praiseful he can be.

“Don’t think we are exactly done with you yet tadpole” omega turned him around to assess his state. He still looked pathetic, wide eyes and messy hair but he was still desperate, needy, the new found information of his tentacle running rampant through his mind as he needed to know more. It was alphas turn to grab at him, pull him close into his side as if rain didn’t just watch him suck his cum out of the concrete. It reminded him that he truly had no leverage here, simply strung along for alpha and omega to use in exchange for the sweet praise alpha and omega were so generously pouring out.

Alpha tugged him along down the sidewalk and to the large building rain recognized as primos ghouls quarters. The old door creaked as omega pulled it open. The high ceilings echoed every noise off of them as their shoes clicked on the tile. He heard a familiar voice echo off the walls, another pair of clicking footsteps coming towards the trio.

Mountain rounded the corner and gave a small pause as he saw rain. His face fell, turned into something displeased as alpha and omega couldn’t help but give a cocky smirk at the earth ghoul. He was probably there to see earth, get some small pointers on his element while rain had his head down like he was a cheap prostitute the two were bringing back to ravage.

It’s clear what they’re doing, mountain isn’t stupid. He can’t do fuck all to stop them either. He’s heard of the two bringing new summons back to their room with a promise of showing them around their new vessel. Dew was easily bedded before mountain could get to him, a sick jealously bubbling inside of him. Rain just keeps his gaze fixated on the floor as they walk past him like his life depended on it.

He felt ashamed, he still was barely cleaned up and he could feel his cunt soak through his underwear as they walked. Mountain gave a low growl while alpha flashed him a toothy smile, as if he was telling him should’ve moved faster!

Rains tentacle is restless, needing more stimulation even after rain already came. It’s like it knew that there was something more, finally being coaxed out and now it was insatiable. It cant move much, rains tight pants left no room for anything but the new sort of ache is killing him. He wants it to go away, to shove his hand down his pants and feel every inch of it for himself. All he could do is burn in shame as he continued to walk.

Alpha and omega probably know much more than him. Omega was a doctor after all, had inspected every inch of the other water ghouls. It made rain feel weird, a partial fear in him of what they could expose about him without him knowing a single thing about it.

Omega kept a steady hand on his back, rain was flustered and tunnel visioned staring at the tile, could barely walk straight with that thick tentacle writhing between his legs, rainy just hoped it wouldn’t get too relentless before alpha and omega can get him into their bed.

[everettswritings]

What would shadow milk be like as a caregiver? would be a very silly caregiver who would always make his little laugh because he loves the sound of their laughter and wants them to be as happy and playful as they can be?

Yes. (NO NSFW INTERACTION, THIS IS SFW!)

You thought Royal Margarine was silly? No, no, no, no! Our favorite trickster is far more silly. And I mean SILLY

Loves constantly making funny faces at you, especially whenever you copy him. It already makes his heart melt when you laugh, but when you copy him? He’s just a puddle at that point!

Feeding time is always fun. Expect to be spoon fed and expect them to say something like:

”Here comes the airplane! Nyooom!”

“Here comes the choo-choo train! Open the tunnel!”

”Here comes the Race car! Zoom zoom! It’s gonna crash, open the garage!”

They mix it up every time, but what’s most funny is when they struggle to come up with something and their mind blanks a bit. Do you have any IDEA how hard it is to come up with new material? How dare you laugh at him?!

Expect him to get super involved with playtime, especially whenever it’s something like “house” or “doctor”. For example: as a patient in the game “doctor”, he is going to come up with the wildest scenarios imaginable.

”Oh, doctor! It’s terrible! A car drove into my mouth and now it’s stuck in my throat! I can’t breathe! Help me, doc!”

How is that physically possible? No clue! But who cares? So long as you’re entertained, that’s all that matters!

Oh yeah, tickling is a must. Just sayin’

Same with any other physical affection.

Reads books with you and goes all in, making funny sounds and giving all the characters distinct voices.

If we’re being honest with ourselves here, what DOESN’T he go all in on? They may treat everything else like a joke, but caring for their little is serious.

They just want their little to be happy! Why wouldn’t they? That smile of yours of so sweet and that laughter is like an angel singing

Speaking of their little(🫵), you definitely get a lot of nicknames. Some generic ones like “baby”, “cutie pie”, and “little one”; but also some more specific ones. His favorite to call you being “jingle bell”/“little bell”

Oh, do you babble? That’s okay, he’s still gonna talk to you! It doesn’t matter how much you sound like you’re just speaking gibberish, he’ll carry a conversation!

”Oh my goodness! Is that so? Wow!”

“I never thought of it like that! Jingle bell, you’re a genius!”

What can I say? He just loves entertaining his little.

Actually, he just loves his little :)

And that’s about it! Caregiver Shadow Milk never crossed my mind, but I’m so glad for this ask because it’s such a cute concept. I genuinely love this so much! Have a good one 🫶

[renaiswriting]

Velvet embrace (part 4)

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo/Reader

Summary:

Shadow people were always there in your life. They never disturbed you; they never interacted with you; it was like there was a pact between both of you to simply ignore each other. They saw you grow from a baby to an adult.

So why are you now getting attached to one of them who keeps looking out for you?

Warnings: none, I think.

Word count: +5.2k

If you want to be tagged, please fill out the tag list form.

@sahhmochi @darkdayelixer @ryusha-rose

Previous | Velvet Embrace masterlist | Next

The silent watchers masterlist

Masterlist

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

You have yet to meet someone who has gone through something similar to you, and the exhaustion from your useless internet search and the books that you were spending hours (that you most definitely did not have) reading was only making you more and more scared of what was yet to come.

 

There was lots of information about shadow people, yes, but most of it came from old tales and fantasy books that gave you no answer to what to do or why they were in your life when you had little to no interest in them.

 

If anything, they only made your bills go higher than what you could afford.

 

There was no clue as to why they were suddenly interacting with you when, all your life, they have been just fine being in their space and letting you be on your own.

 

You were actually terrified of you going nuts, and now your own mind was not as reliable as you had trusted.

 

What if something so horrible had happened and your mind was trying its best to make you think there was one of them that was nothing but nice to you?

 

You tried to avoid thinking about the worst-case scenario, but your mind was nothing but a whole compilation of them.

 

There was one tab that was open, and it was catching your attention more than you wanted to admit, but a good exorcism was maybe the answer to your questions.

 

Based on what you have seen in horror movies whose names you couldn't recall right there since there were way too many to remind them all, those things were constantly around and only started gaining more strength as you noticed them more.

 

And the thing was, no matter how much you were telling yourself that those things were not real or did not exist, you were constantly thinking about them.

 

Wonwoo.

 

You remembered his name a little bit too much for your liking.

 

He had been making his presence impossible to ignore, constantly leaving stuff behind for you on the other side of your door and some messages here and there, most of them written on your mirrors or windows, but you still remembered clearly the note he had left on the fridge wishing you a good start of the day and apologizing for the mess in the kitchen. The last part had been made almost impossible to read by covering it with what stinks like dry tomato sauce.

 

What was his deal? You wondered, eyeing the little cactus he had given you a couple of days ago.

 

You were never sure whether it was a good idea to accept his gifs or not, but you were a little bit too scared that he would turn like one of your (unwanted) roommates and start slamming doors as well as breaking the sole of your stuff.

 

So you always keep them safe in your bedroom, the only space where you truly feel safe.

 

Fortunately, he never made an appearance, so at least you were free to have nightmares with him as the mail character.

 

And speaking of nightmares, you were having so many recently that the dark circles under your eyes seemed to be permanently tattooed, and your own family was starting to feel concerned over your well-being.

So big were their concerns that they had actually accepted coming over for dinner, and you were, for the first time in a long time, praying that they would accept to stay the night.

 

You were weighting your options because none of them seemed a hundred percent harmless.

 

The first option would be to ask, or rather hint, at your parents to get them to stay the night at your place, but you will still have to find a way to avoid having to explain why the lights should stay on all night and what the strange noises would be at night if the lights were off.

 

The second option was to spend the night at their place, an option that you would have normally accepted, but you had classes that you could not skip the next morning, and their home was way farther away for you to simply spend a peaceful night there.

 

You eyed the plant that was on your bed table; you didn't even dare to voice the third option.

 

The third option was the one you were most afraid of.

 

And you would wish to come up with a million other excuses before choosing that one.

After one last glance at the web page, you closed your computer, throwing it as far away from you (within the space of the bed) as possible.

 

You lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling of your room. There was a large damp patch that had been forming over the past few days, but you simply hadn't had the time or energy to fix it.

 

You knew it was coming from the bathroom, which was officially off limits to you, but you were afraid that if it kept growing, one of those nights you'd end up under a bathtub.

You sighed, and your fingers moved to your eyelids, massaging them. They felt tired and burned with every massage you gave them, no matter how gentle. You had been getting too little sleep and spending too much time in front of your computer screen for your own good.

 

You gave yourself a few moments to mentally prepare for whatever you might find on the other side of the door.

 

What you feared most was the living room, because the night before you heard that, a couple of things had fallen.

 

The only thing you were hoping for was that some of the pictures that your grandmother had painted and hung on her own when your grandfather was still alive had not fallen.

You opened the door with white knuckles, holding on to the door handle as if from the door you were absorbing the strength and courage needed to take a step forward.

The door to the bathroom was wide open, and while you remembered closing it, it didn't catch your attention.

 

What struck you as odd was that all the other doors seemed to be untouchable, exactly as you had last seen them before you closed the door to your room for the remainder of the evening.

 

This time there was no sort of present waiting for you in the hallway, and you didn't know exactly if this made you feel calmer or if it just added to the feeling of alertness you were constantly experiencing lately.

 

You walked to the bathroom expecting a message on the mirror, as you had usually received them, but there was nothing.

 

The expressionless face reflected back at you, staring into your own eyes.

 

You decided to just push that awkward feeling deep inside yourself, using the time to take a quick shower and start your day.

 

If your parents were coming that exact night, you had so much to prepare and clean that you genuinely didn't have the time to care right there.

But when you finished descending the stairs, you found yourself in front of a completely clean living room.

The television was off, with the remote control sitting in the center of the coffee table in front of the sofa.

It had all the pillows arranged the way you used to leave them, and the curtains were already open, arranged in two different bows to let in all the sunlight.

Did you sleepwalk down to the living room? You wondered, and your eyes and hands quickly traveled to each end of your body, making sure you weren't hurt in any way.

Maybe your famous TV-loving roommate had decided to take a little break that night, you thought with a shrug.

You made your way to the kitchen, expecting to see dishes ready to be washed, but the dishes were already dry and put away.

On the table, there was a crystal glass you hadn't seen in a long time, with some water in the bottom of the glass, and three moonflowers (already dried and unfortunately dead) decorated the dark wood of the table.

 

These had surely been the beauty of the night, but unfortunately, once they bloomed, they died the next day. You wondered where they could have come from because you didn't remember seeing them around the house.

 

There was already some coffee prepared, which was fortunately still warm enough to drink at that moment, and a bowl of your favorite cereal with the spoon you always ended up using because you could take a large amount of the cereal with it next to the bowl.

 

You weren't going to lie; it was nice to wake up and find everything ready and breakfast waiting to be devoured, but a part of your brain, the rational part that told you since you were little that it was never a good idea to accept candy from a stranger, was insisting on making you some toast instead.

You guess it was now or never, so while you were waiting for your two toasts to be ready, you decided to give your parents a quick call using the phone on the wall. You paced nervously in the limited space you could move with the phone on hand as you mentally counted the seconds before someone over your parents' house picked up the phone. After some rings, your mother was greeting you happily.

"(Y/n), darling! It's been so long, how are you today?"

Your mom's voice had an automatically calming effect on your tense shoulders; you quickly felt like crying without even knowing it, and your breath suddenly became shaky.

"Hi, mom!" There was such a big smile on your face. You let your elbows dug into the table, stealing one of the cereal pieces and biting it.

"Is everything alright, sweetie?" Your mom asked, and just by the way her voice sounded worried, you could picture her with a frown on her forehead.

 

"Oh, yeah, yeah, everything's fine." You quickly reassured her, cleaning your throat to take all the shakiness away. Your finger was playing with the phone cord, twisting it. "It's just that it's been a while since the last time you both came to the old grandma's house, and I was just thinking... it would be nice if you and dad came over tonight; I promise I'll not burn the food, and I'll make sure to make something other than instant noodles, I promise it." You joked.

"So you'll make us coffee for dinner?" your mother laughed from the other end of the line.

"I mean, if you guys want to." You laughed. This was what you missed about your other life—having another human person in the same space as you to sootle down some of the chaos of the shadows.

 

"We will bring some lasagna leftovers from today's lunch. Your father's cooking it right now; wanna say hi?" Your mother asked your father, and you could hear him speaking but couldn't really understand what he was saying.

 

"Hi (y/n)!" Your father shouted, and your ear almost went numb from the strenuous noise. "What are you doing?"

 

"Not much. I was going to clean my house, but it seems like it's already pretty clean." You mentioned moving the phone away from your ear to avoid it hurting later.

 

"We'll be there at seven; do we need to bring something else?" Your mom took over the call again. You wanted to ask for your favorite dessert that she knew exactly how to make, but you decided it would have been rude to ask her to do it.

"Nah, it's okay; just come over tonight." You smiled at her.

 

The conversation continued for some more time until your mom excused herself because some guests had arrived at their house.

 

You took a sip of your now-cold coffee and the toast you had made with some butter and jam. Your stomach felt full, but you still eyed the cereal. You have taken some pieces of it, and it did taste as normal as always.

 

You decided that, before throwing it in the trash and wasting it, you would save it for later in case you got hungrier and didn't feel like cooking anything.

°•°

"This is lovely," your mother mentioned, putting her purse on the table. Her fingers were carefully touching the moonflowers; the white flowers were almost as big as the palm of her hand. "Where did you get them from? I didn't see any of these in the garden."

 

"One of my friends gave it to me." You replied, anxiously looking over the living room, which was starting to be a little too dark for your liking. You moved to the windows, moving the curtains to let the last glimpse of natural light come through the window, and before it was too late, you turned the lights on.

 

"The bill is going to be impossible to pay; just turn them off; we can use the light once it's dark outside." Your mother scolded you.

 

"It's okay; I can't cook unless I can see what I am doing." You excused yourself by putting the food in the oven. You heard your mother sigh, walking to the kitchen door.

"And does the living room's light need to be on for you to cook as well?"

 

"Where's dad?" You asked instead. Your mother's back was resting against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest as she shook her head in disapproval while still looking at the living room.

"He went to buy some wine; he thought we still had some at home, but it seems like the last one had been emptied the last time we met with our friends."

 

"Lasagna and wine. This is way fancier than what I thought."

"It's been so long since I actually spent time here; everywhere I look, I can remember your grandma walking around, speaking to someone, cooking... it just feels weird. How are you doing?" Your mother asked. Her hand was on top of yours, squeezing it. "My little girl has become a woman now; it's just so weird. This whole big old house just for you must take so much work and effort."

"It's alright. It was harder at first, but I think now I'm getting used to it, but I miss you both." You confessed, smiling at her. "That's why I thought it would be a good idea to invite you both, and there are so many rooms in here; maybe you can stay the night? I still haven't cleaned all the rooms, but there are a few guest rooms that are ready to be used."

"Oh, speaking of rooms, why don't you show me yours?" Your mother asked excitedly. Standing up from her seat.

 

"It is really messy right now." You tried to change the topic, "I didn't clean it."

 

"Honey, do you forget that I was the one that had to clean your room until you started high school? I bet it's nothing I haven't seen before."

"Yeah, I know—but... Mom? Where are you...?" Your mom had started to move to the door, disappearing as you started hearing some steps on the staircase.

 

You quickly put on your feet, trying to catch up with your mom's quick footsteps. She always had light steps that, in seconds, could move kilometers.

You almost tripped, catching just on time to avoid hitting against the wooden staircase by holding dear God to the step right above the one you almost fell.

"Be careful! God." Your mom sighed in relief once you started walking again. And, luckily, this time she waited for you to be right next to her to continue walking again.

The only door that was open in the hallway was the bathroom's door, and the light was on. Your mom didn't like it; she clicked her tongue as you both passed by, sneakily turning the light switch off before you could realize it.

The only light in the hallway came from the living room light, but as soon as your mother's hand touched the doorknob of your bedroom door, it seemed that both of you were blinded by the amount of bright light coming from your room.

It seemed as if you had your own electric sun in your very room.

"But for heaven's sake! How do you not go blind with all this light? My God." Your mother covered her eyes with the same hand she had opened the door with, advancing into the room with a little nudge to the door so that there was too much room for both of you to enter.

 

Your room was such a mess; there were lots of clothes on the floor. You have not vacuumed in almost two weeks. There were some books and a good twenty pages of your notes on your desk, with an old cup of tea that had been there for so long that there was a ring of it already tattooed on the desk.

"You are still the same mess you have been since you were a child, huh? Adulting hasn't reached out to you yet." Your mom joked, sitting down on your bed that was still undone.

"At least you're keeping something alive; I cannot remember the number of plants you have killed in the past."

Your mother was putting some water on the little cactus. She was glancing at you here and there, noticing your lack of response.

"Where did you get it? I want to have one for myself as well." Your mom continued. "Does it take that much effort, or do you just water it once per day?"

"It was growing outside," you replied, trying to come up with some sort of response to your mom's curious eyes. "If I find another one, I'll save it for you." You promised it.

Your mother nodded. "Yeah, I would love to." She kept looking around. "You could use some new decorations; what are these curtains? You could use some less thick ones; can you even tell when there's sun outside?"

The horn of your dad's car made them know it was time to eat, fortunately for your stomach, which had already been waiting for food for a long time.

Your dad was waiting on the other side of the door; his hands were full of things he seemed to have just bought. Your mouth started salivating when your eyes fell on the chocolate ice cream he had against his chest. That was most likely freezing him, even with his big jacket on.

 

Your mom was already taking the food out of the oven. Settling the table with the plates you had to buy new because one of your gentle roommates had broken more than six of them, you remembered bitterly.

 

"It took you long enough; where are you fabricating it by hand?" Your mother joked, taking the things from your father's hands and placing them on the fridge to have them later.

"There was only one person manning the cash register," your father commented with a tired sigh, sitting down in one of the three chairs that sat with a plate of food in front of them. "So I had to wait until the couple finished paying for theirs. It looked like they had bought it for a whole year. Oh, it smells so good." Your dad complimented you, smiling happily at you.

 

"Mom cooks." You confessed. Your mom rolled her eyes, taking the only available chair.

 

"Well, I wanted to make sure you're actually eating food for once, but I must say, I am surprised. I saw some onions, carrots, and tomato skins in the trash, so at least you're eating your vegetables."

"That's an upgrade from the two in the morning cereal that I usually found you snacking on almost every night." Your father agrees with your mother.

"Hey, wait," you suddenly said, your hands moving under everything that was on the table, even checking the floor. "Has anyone seen my phone? I swear I had it here just a minute ago."

"Are you for real? Again?" Your mother nags, helping you search for it. "How come you're always losing that thing when it's basically an extension of your own arm?"

You ended up finding it on the staircase. You frowned, not really knowing how it ended up there in the first place.

You took advantage of the fact that you were already there to turn on the lights in the hallway, and in almost every room you could, the sun had already gone down completely.

You hurried up to go back to enjoy the rest of the dinner with your family, convincing them both to stay the night and hoping that your mother did not turn the lights off as soon as you closed your bedroom's door behind your back once it was time to sleep.

•°•

You had already lost count of the mental count you were taking, sighing deeply to hold on and reinforce your thin patience that was almost non-existent.

Your blankets were covering you up to below the neck, and you were debating whether it had been a good idea to have invited your parents that night or not.

It seemed like everything had been amplified by your parents' visit.

There was a point in which you just couldn't support it anymore, and you could even hear your dad's classic coughing technique to let you know you weren't letting him sleep that he had been using since you had memory.

So, feeling a little bit braver now that you knew your parents were upstairs, you started walking through the long and spooky dark hallway, the only source of light coming from the bright electronic sun you had made in your bedroom, and the lamps posited here and there in the narrow space up to the staircase.

You could tell they had already started sensing you out of your room because a heavy and unwelcoming sensation ran through your spine, making you hug yourself tighter. Your hands were starting to hurt from how they were holding onto your own waist.

You let out a shaky breath. You were now not so sure that this had been a good idea, as your anger and lack of sleep had made you feel two minutes away.

You basically throw yourself to the other wall, slowly pocking your head out of the protection the wall had given you and taking a quick glance at what was going on downstairs.

You could see a lengthy sillouete moving with heavy footsteps to the kitchen, moving their head in your direction before disappearing. You could hear the sillouete opening one of your snack bags and, seconds later, the sound of the microwave making some popcorn. The smell travels from the kitchen to your nose.

There was a noise that was scarily similar to a thunderstorm coming from your own living room, and almost as if you were still dreaming, you saw a way shorter figure running quickly to the stairs, throwing some of the family portraits on the wall to the floor, some of the crystals not surviving such a fall.

"What are you doing?" A voice came through, and your eyes darted around the dimly lit room with a few orange-hued light bulbs.

The somewhat annoyed-sounding voice soon had a body to go with it. His silhouette was tall, with broad shoulders and a small waist. His legs were long and slender, seeming to be the length of miles. "It's too dangerous for you to leave your room now!"

His long and thin fingers wrapped around your wrist, the cold and icy feeling not as recomfortating as you would have hoped.

His touch gave you goosebumps. And his hold was so strong that you were scared it would leave red marks once you could get free from his hold, because it would mean this actually happened and it was not a product of your mind, that it was not a nightmare.

His fingers dug even deeper into your skin as he cinched you with long, spaced steps to the nearest room he could find, practically pulling you inside and hurrying to close the door behind him.

 

The door had barely reached the latch when something began to slam it hard, causing the piece of wood to vibrate with each blow it was given. You feared the door was going to break in two, and you would be face-to-face with whatever was providing such blows. You would have nowhere to go.

 

"Jihoon, drop it off." Wonwoo exclaimed; his voice wasn't shouting, but even with his calm voice, it was obvious the annoyance in it.

 

Distes took two steps back, wanting to cover as much distance as possible. Wonwoo didn't even look at you, but his arm found you with ease, occultating you behind him again, serving as a shield between the door that threatened to break at any moment and you.

 

His big back didn't let you see much, which a part of your brain was grateful for because it only kept you from overthinking the ways in which that shadow could hurt you.

 

You had never entered that room, or at least you didn't remember ever having done so. But the little light coming in from under the door was the only source of light, so you couldn't make out much.

 

The pitch darkness only made you feel even more anxious, and a feeling that you were being watched began to creep in with a knot in your stomach.

 

You reached out your hand to where you could see the light switch, trying as hard as you could to reach it with your fingers.

 

Just a little more...

 

"Don't even think about it." Wonwoo's voice sounded a little panicky as his eyes fell on what you were trying to do, your fingers brushing against the plastic rectangle, seconds away from turning on the light. "You want me to disappear and get trapped in here?"

 

Jihoon, as Wonwoo had called him, gave one last angry thump but quickly moved on to other doors. And it was in those moments that you remembered something...

 

"My room." You muttered in horror, your hand covering your mouth as the realization settled in.

 

"Don't worry," Wonwoo said, shaking his head. "Though it may seem so, Jihoon isn't stupid. He knows that if he gets close to such a light bomb, he'll disappear before he realizes where he's trying to enter."

"Do you think we'll be here for long?" You asked, trying to see if you could pick up any movement over your shoulder, but nothing seemed to be there.

 

"I don't think so." Wonwoo murmured, his hands going to your face and his fingers gently stroking your temple.

 

You could hear the path Jihoon was making because of how far away the knocking could be heard, and everything was going great until you heard the sound of a mirror shattering.

 

"That goddammit brat." Wonwoo sighed. "You can take a seat; it's probably going to take longer than I expected."

 

You nodded, but you made no attempt to actually sit down when some rat or spider could literally be right next to your foot.

 

"There's nothing," Wonwoo mentioned, looking over his own shoulder at you while you still remained standing. "It's just you and me here."

The space was not that big; the room looked more like a large closet than a bedroom. And his silky voice echoed between the four walls.

His steps made you follow his way even when his dark sillouete camouflaged with the darkness of the room.

You heard some sort of chair moving against the old wooded floor. "Sit." He ordered, and you did as he told you once you felt the chair hitting softly against your foot.

You didn't know, and didn't even dare to ask, how dirty and dusty that old chair was because you knew it wasn't something you brought into the house.

It felt cold and uncomfortable under your weight, and the poor chair complained once you finally settled in.

"This is my room." Wonwoo filled in the silence. He was sitting down right in front of you; his legs were crossed and his fingers interlocked. "Sorry for the mess; I was not necessarily expecting guests tonight."

 

"It's lovely." You politely replied. You could feel your heartbeat beating faster now that you realized how close you both were, with his ankles accidentally bumping yours. He quickly apologized for this, moving as far away into the chair he was using as possible.

 

"How do you know?" He asked, and you could tell there was a hint of a teasing smile on his face because of his tone. "Human eyes cannot see when it's this dark."

 

You chocked with your own saliva once his words were registered by your brain, suddenly feeling a little bit too hot. You were thankful for the darkness of the room; at least he could not see your embarrassed state.

"I never knew this room was occupied before." You mumbled, moving on the chair, still uncomfortable when you felt his eyes on your every move.

 

"Well, I don't like to be as noisy as Jeonghan or as explosive as Jihoon." He replied.

His voice was mesmerizing, and with each word he spoke, it crept to connect with the other.

 

He cleared his throat as footsteps sounded near the door. Someone sighed, and they began to sound further away from the room.

 

"Who...?" You began, but Wonwoo didn't need to hear more to know what it was you were trying to ask.

 

"Jeonghan," he muttered, his body stretching toward some piece of furniture he had near him, because you could hear a drawer dezlising and the rattle of a package. "I'm sure he came to get this."

Something brushed against your hand, and you jumped in your seat, your back suddenly slamming against the backrest.

 

You quickly discovered it was a package of your favorite snacks.

 

"He was already finishing them, so I hid the remaining ones here."

 

"And how does he know they are here? What if he tries to get in here just like the other one?"

Wonwoo shook his head. "He won't. He's not like Jihoon; he knows how to respect private space. It's just that he thinks everything in the kitchen or common spaces around the house is for everybody to take and use."

"Then why don't you open the door to give them to him? I can buy more later anyway." You ask him; you didn't mean to sound as judgy as the words that came out of your mouth.

"Because I don't trust you to not lose your calm and to turn the lights on. I don't want to die just because of Jeonghan, you know."

Wonwoo had stood up, leaning against the door, and without even seeing his face, you could see that his eyes were on you, undisguised.

You were a little intimidated by how tall he was.

"My parents are going to wake up if they keep making such a fuss."

"I'd be more worried that they weren't sleeping in Hyowun's bed. Your grandmother had let her have her own room because she hated having her space used."

"Who is Hyowun?" you asked worriedly, already standing up, ready to open the door and face whatever was in there.

"There's no way you alone can go in there and make him understand what he's supposed to do. In his mind, you're invading his personal space."

"Then what do I do?"

"A deal with me." Wonwoo proposed, his hand outstretched.

[saintsir4n]

19

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF WAR

1914

"YOU'VE got a what?" Finn asked, the expecting couple.

Isaiah's gasped, "In where?"

Days had passed since the celebratory drink in honour of another Shelby baby and the boys were still confused about all of it, so Tommy and Eden pulled them aside from their learnings to explain as much as possible, considering he and his brothers would be leaving in very soon.

"How is a baby in there?" Isaiah turned to his best friend.

"Sex," Finn answered, despite not knowing what he was saying.

The couple looks at each other in shock watching the two interact.

"How does he..." Eden was too stunned so Tommy took over.

"Boys, Eden's got a baby in her tummy, just like Martha did –"

"-- she might again," Eden mumbled, luckily only Tommy heard but she gave him an 'I'll tell you later' look and he continued.

"The baby will come when I'm not here, so you two need to be on your best behaviour," Tommy instructed, leaning down as they stared up at him with their innocent faces, "no messin' around, no gettin' on her nerves, just be good, alright?"

His words went straight over their heads, "Does that mean I still get sweets?" Finn asked no one in particular.

Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose, "Finn you've been told you're gonna be an uncle for the second time and you're worrying about sweets."

The Shelby boy awaited an answer.

"Yes, you'll get sweets Finny and another niece," Eden reassured him.

His brows pinched together, "What's that?"

Finn understood that he was an uncle but nothing more than that.

"Is it a girl?" Isaiah questioned, folding his arms, when he received a nod, the boys exchanged grimaces, "Ewww."

Immediately they ran off and went back to their books, leaving the couple alone.

"What the fuck?" Eden blinked rapidly.

Tommy took her hand, before palming her stomach once again.

"Now that's done, let's go," he said, nodding to the basket on the floor.

"But what's up with 'em?"

"Fuck knows."

__

Two days, the lads were leaving in two days. Tommy's heart hammered in his chest at the thought, nevertheless, he promised Eden a perfect day, filled with chocolate slices, sandwiches and a flask of tea. She wore the sweetest frock she could dig out of her closet, it was cheery red, matching the colour of her lips. He adorned a crease-free shirt which was concealed by his favourite navy blue jumper, his shoes were polished, and the gifted horseshoe and box were in his slacks.

Despite not carrying his gun with him, he decided the blades in his cap would suffice and along with the knife he knew that clung to Eden's thigh, they would be safe.

They rode Shadow once again, this time Eden was much more relaxed and free, the light wind combed through Tommy's hair and luckily didn't move a strand of hers, being that she styled it into a low bun.

After tying the horse to a nearby tree, they found the spot overlooked the city, allowing them to spread out the blanket and sit down, basking in the heat.

The sun felt like hot kisses against Eden's skin, leaving her with tints of amber, drawing Tommy's attention as he pulled out all the food he'd spent making up that morning. She was everything he dreamt of and more, the very thing that he yearned for in both body and spirit, she challenged him in ways he hated to love and often drove him to madness, but brought him back with only the right sequence of words. Eden bloody Dawkins, she was his home.

"What?" she felt his stare.

Tommy simply cocked his head to the side, raising his brow at her as a smile tugged at his lips.

"Aren't I simply a dream Tom?" she teased, winking at the man.

"That you are my love."

Eden bashfully laughed at his response and started to dig into the spread, she carved anything and everything, the previous night she'd woken up Tommy so he could make her some rose tea, he didn't have a clue of what she was on about and cautiously told his aunt about it. Polly wasn't pleased with being pulled out of her slumber but aided him anyway.

"How's the little one treatin' ya?" he gently palmed the slight swell of her stomach.

"Can't feel much, bumps don't show properly for another two months," when you're away, she wanted to add, but decided not to, "nausea's died down for now."

"Can see that," he nodded to a half-eaten sandwich in her hand, making her snort.

"And you can say it's a girl, Tom unless you don't believe your aunt," she gave him a pointed look.

"I believe her, things might change, just being realistic."

"'Cause you want a boy?"

"Did I say that?" his hand didn't leave her stomach as he picked up the flask.

"Y'know she's a girl, so you're not havin' a peaky blinder," she narrowed her eyes at him, "but by the grace of god, we have a boy he ain't becomin' a blinder Thomas alright? Promise me." he shrugged, making her hit his forehead, "You promised a perfect day so promise me."

He nodded after gulping down some tea, "Alright, I promise... if it's a boy he ain't becoming a blinder," he paused, "I'll make sure he goes to London and becomes one of those established toffs."

She scrunched up her face, "Ugh, I think I'd prefer a blinder."

They both started to laugh, but in truth wanted a bright future for their child, their children, not wanting them to be subjected to the same misfortunes they inherited, but it was a lot to ask for, let alone dream about. Money could change a lot, but it couldn't change blood.

"You thought of any names?" she asked, as he rested his head in her lap.

His eyes fluttered shut, "A few."

She gently patted him, "Spill."

He inhaled sharply, "It's a lot to ask..."

"Go on."

"Somethin' to do with my mum," his reply had her intrigued.

"Mara Shelby," he stiffly nodded at her mention, "it's a pretty name," she said smiling.

"Esme too," he added, recalling how he and John were up a couple of nights ago talking about it. Arthur joined in, and so did Ada before they passed out in the front room.

"Esmerelda," she liked how it rolled off her tongue.

He chuckled before saying the next, "Pollyanna, but don't tell Pol 'bout that."

"Secret safe with me," she giggled.

"You thought of any?"

"Nothing's come to mind, none have felt right, my mum told me that she spent months thinkin' of what to call me and then changed her mind on the day," she said, combing her hand through his thick locks.

"Really?"

"Yeah, spontaneous thing right?"

"Sounds it," as a man who made part of their child, he didn't want to influence Eden too much with the name of the baby, but the fact she was taking his input made him grateful.

"Just picturing the little girl, runnin' 'round, with a dog chasing her..." her eyes fluttered shut at the image.

"A dog, what one?" he questioned, envisioning the image also, it made his heart swell.

"Bullmastiff," she breathed out.

His eyes fluttered open. "Those big dogs?"

"Yeah, family dogs apparently, but can be brutal when needs be," she continued with the vision, believing it would be the perfect addition to the home they already dreamt of.

"Ballmastiff it is, anything else Mrs Shelby?" and with that question her eyes snapped open, glancing down at the smirking man.

She swallowed the lump at the back of her throat, "Not Mrs. Shelby yet, haven't even popped the question."

"That's true," Tommy sat up, then rose on one knee, rendering Eden to softly chuckle behind her shaking hand, "Now, I was gonna do this a while ago, back when I got permission from your parents. And yes even your dad gave me 'is blessin', a shock to me and all, but I promised I wasn't gonna fuck this up, and I'm not am I?"

"No, you aren't, keep it up."

"Been thinkin' of all the ways I was gonna ask you this, dreamin', talkin' talk my self 'bout how I was gonna ask you to be my wife, did it so often Pol thought 'bout 'avin' me admitted," a teary laugh escaped her at his confession. "So I thought what would my Edie do when she's stuck? She'd write it down wouldn't ya love?"

"I would," she admitted.

"But I couldn't do that," he jokily tutted, making her laugh even more, "I scrapped the paper and thought speakin' from the heart was better, even though I think I'm doin' a crap job at it, but you're smilin'" her smile reached her teary eyes, making his heart hammer once more, "best smile I've ever seen, the brightest too," his voice cracked slightly, "and a great woman once said 'you have to be a bright ball of fire to be seen' and I've never not seen you, Eden. You're everything to me, my bright ball of hope, Christ how sappy is that?"

"Keep goin'" She softly nudged him, despite her tears.

"Oh right," he reached into his back pocket, "even before that little one starting growin' inside you, I was gonna propose. We speak about the future and mine wouldn't be right — it couldn't be without you in it. You've always been in it, so Eden Mary Dawkins would you –"

"Yes," she practically fell into his arms, covering his face with kisses.

"Darlin' I 'aven't shown you the ring yet or properly asked the question."

"Fine, ask me," she playfully rolled her eyes, not letting go of him.

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes, it was always gonna be yes," she exclaimed.

An uncharacteristically wide smile broke out on his face as he produced a small box, but that didn't stop her from kissing him and he immediately kissed back, flooding her with feelings that burst through his chest and she did the same, swirling his mouth with the joy that took over her.

Pulling away, he presented her with a ring, that she squealed out, much to his shock, sure it shone in the sunlight, but he didn't think it was much, in honesty he thought she would hate it, but it was the best he could do.

"Brought it for cheap, don't be mad," he said, settling down onto the blanket again.

Her brows furrowed slightly, "And why would I be mad?"

"You deserved better."

"It's perfect," she wasted no more time and slid it onto her finger.

She even laughed when he fitted his cap onto her head.

My secret blinder, he thought.

She wouldn't stop looking at the ring, so he took his time to speak again, "I want us to have the best weddin', but can't do it now only when I come back, so promise me you'll tell people we're married."

"For protection?..."

"Exactly, protection, our little Shelby needs it, just like you," he and his family agreed to it as well, making sure to spread the word that they'd wed, so no one questioned it. Even asking Jeremiah to pretend he performed the ceremony and Polly to put together a fake marriage certificate.

"'Course," she smiled at him, watching as he slipped on a wedding band of his own. "Should we make up our own vows then?"

"If you want," he couldn't stop smiling.

"Well, I... promise to be loyal to you, always, mind body and soul."

He let out a nervous chuckle, "Not to love ey?"

"You can love someone and hurt 'em right?" she blurted out, eyes widening at the words she spoke. It was out of experience she wanted to be cautious, she loved Tommy and he loved her, but the future they planned wouldn't be plane sailing. "I promise to always love you, also, but loyalty, our loyalty to each other can't be brought, or made, it was always there, alright?"

Tommy couldn't disagree despite himself.

"I promise to be loyal to you, always, mind body and soul."

They sealed that vow with a kiss, arguably far more meaningful and sacred than the last.

The sun brightened, bearing witness to the faux wedding, shining down on their rings with its harsh rays, before Tommy turned to whisper something to her bump, putting on voices for his daughter to hear, making his fiancé laugh at his utter foolishness as she ran her fingers through his hair. Thirty weeks left of her pregnancy to go and Tommy had to make the most of this moment, imagining what their child would look like before she popped out.

He was about to go through the flames of war, but right now all he could think of was his family, and how he would make sure to cherish them, despite how little time he had.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

a/n:

for a while, i was trying to figure out how far along eden is and she's roughly two months pregnant, give or take a week.

we all know when it comes to tommy loyalty is more vital than love, merely because he's committed atrocities in the name of love and family, so he's really not one to be trusted.

how did you find this chapter? the proposal? the happiness between teden?

next time chapter will be the last before the epilogue and bonus chapter, guys so might want to bring some tissues.

[willowthewiisp]

More random thoughts about the lore in the dlc and how I'm trying to murder board it

Messmer and Marika mirror Mary and Jesus but in a fucked up way. Messmer quite literally sacrifices himself for his mother's sins so she could be a saint to the golden order. There's literally a Madonna esque statue of her and messmer as a baby. The name Marika is literally just another version of Mary. I don't even think messmer has a father like there was no player two Marika must have made a deal with either the serpent god or the fell god (and I'm more inclined to say the latter) and in return gifted her a child she could raise to slaughter her hated enemy. It's pretty clear the shaman village and the humans in general were more than likely all women. They were long lived but seldom born. Hard to have babies without men unfortunately. This ties back into erdtree births too and why Melina seemed so confused about how boc actually came from his mother. Now idk about Melina. She's still a big mystery. But it's implied people were literally reborn through the erdtree and through it's sap. The amber egg should be clue enough considering it holds the rune of rebirth and amber is fossilized tree sap so... Messmer was definitely a miraculous conception sort of deal, but I think because he was born of a single god like miquella and malenia, he was born cursed and afflicted too, just by the serpent god. It's why the snake is so reviled and hated. Marika hated what the snake did to him but as she stripped away her humanity she couldn't care less so long as he bathed the belurat settlement in blood. I also think this is why the fell god and the giants cursed "radagon" with red hair because Marika betrayed them and killed their god whom she had made a deal with to have a child.

Messmer was the sacrificial lamb she raised just for the slaughtering, and Melina has the same unfortunate fate as well, reduced to being kindling to burn the great tree. Who her "father" is and when she was born is a mystery considering she was clearly messmers sister, but she doesn't seem to have the same origins, or maybe she does and is also afflicted like miquella and malenia. Another cycle.

The only child she seemed to genuinely love was godwyn. He was perfect, golden, and the scion of her empire. His death drove her insane. Sucks she didn't go mad over messmer who literally took a huge bullet for her and welp we kill him too. She cared for miquella in some way shape or form considering there's an item (I forget the name) that basically says Marika blessed miquellas journey to the lands of shadow and his journey to godhood. Which is odd in retrospect. Also calls into question if godwyn was actually first born or not, but honestly I'm starting to think he still was, mostly because it seems like messmer was apart of the family for some time if he was like an older brother to radahn (I guess that explains why rellana loves him?) so the massacre must not have occured until after godwyn was born because I firmly believe her sins against the hornsent cursed her children with Godfrey and resulted in the omen twins. Godwyn must have been born at the very least because then messmer at least had some sort of chance at meeting radahn and interacting with him since radagon was married to rennala at this point. But that also must mean the war with the giants wasn't the final battle because radagons red hair came from that and kinda need radagon to have radahn so he can be a brother to messmer. I think this may be even confirms radahn is the oldest? Considering the crusades were hidden away from history, it would make sense history would call the fire giant war the last one to solidify marikas rule. Also would make sense why the fucking giants are ALL impaled like c'mon now.... But Marika after seeing how powerful her precious little boy was gave him the singular task of avenging her and slaughtering those monsters. And boy howdy did he. But then she locked him away. Threw him away, threw Godfrey away...she throws the rest of her children away after godwyn is killed. But messmers crusade made the hornsent curse Marika and that's when I think the twins were born. They had to of been while radagon had radahn and after messmer because remember godwyn fought the dragons during the time when the erdtree and golden order was still new. Either way she throws her cursed omen children in the trash, and I'm fully convinced if it hadn't been for Godfrey they would of been killed. Why wouldn't she want them dead after all. Would also make sense after the twins were born she began to have doubts and started to deep dive into how the fuck her perfect order allowed the crucible to come through and how omens still exist. It all culminates in godwyn being murdered and she loses her ever loving mind. But these are just thoughts because I've been up all night suffering side effects of a antidepressant and I'm going nuts

[birdiesbirdies]

hihihiiiiiiii. 2 of them. for u

📓 - Do you associate any quotes or lyrics with this oc?

💛 - Are they ‘good with children’, or more awkward?

(these r both 4 tic i need to know what they think about bab ies

OKOK

First one: very specific and it’s more abt the “moment” than the quote itself but playing off and finding that book one in the library:

Jacob Geller’s fear of cold also has the lease “He opens the door to his shack and steps into a blizzard, a solid wall of snow, White Death…” and fittingly follows in with a quote from the man he’s talking about: “You are reduced to a crawling thing on the margins of a disintegrating world… nothing will so quickly isolate a man.”

Allll of To Build A Fire is tic core to me but ESPECIALLY the constant, deadpan repetition of “It sure was awfully cold” even as the main character is dying..

The poem She Dwelt among the Untrodden Ways… “She lived unknown, and few could know / when Lucy ceased to be; / But she is in her grave, and, oh, / The difference to me!”

There’s House of Leaves too:

-“When at last it is over, there is no evidence: no weapon, no body, no blood. The only clue might be the shadows beneath your eyes or a terribly thin line near the corner of your mouth indicating something has been suffered, that in the privacy of your life you have lost something and the loss is too empty to share”

-“No one is ever satisfied. Darkness never satisfies. Especially if it takes something away which it almost always invariably does.”

-“The boat’s gone. ‘So?’ Your mate’s dead. ‘So?’ Hey at least you’re alive. ‘So?’ An awful word but it does harden you.”

-“Perhaps in the margins of darkness, I could create a son who is not missing; ... His shields are instantly available though seldom used. And those who value him shall prosper while those who would destroy him shall perish. He will fulfill a promise I made years ago but failed to keep.”

Second one: THEY ARE SO BAD WITH KIDS IS UNREAL. you have to understand that they have literally never even SEEN a baby they’ve never had to interact with anyone more than five years younger than them they will either treat a child like they treat any adult (as a potential threat) OR try to go mentor mode and teach the kid their Ways STOPSTOPSTOP showing the five year old how to hide spike pits under the snow DONT show them how to rig explosives YOU CANT BE TELLING THEM THAT EVERYONE WILL TURN ON EACH OTHER IN THE END AND THEY SHOULD PREPARE FOR THAT IN EACH INTERACTION THEY HAVE. oh well surely their best friend march and bestfriend yew and janet can set the kid straight. Surely.

[sarcasticsciencefictionwriter]

#1, #4*, #5*, #6*, #8, #41, #42

*The Remember This series!

Hi! Thank you! :D

1. What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?)

Oh, this is a hard one. Hmm.

Probably The Abnormal X-File. It was actually the first fic I wrote for Sanctuary and I think it's one of the best examples of my writing that I've published. It's also not monstrously long and also sticks to canon for both shows, so it's a good way to ease into my writing.

(It is, at the moment, unfinished due to fucking geeksquad, but I digress)

4. What detail in Remember This (series) are you really proud of?

I think I mentioned it in my post about all my little tie-ins and Easter eggs and such, but aside from Nigel's entire story? This detail in Nikola's version, in the chapter where James was talking to him about Helen's pregnancy:

Nikola had cut ties, John was lost to the world, Nigel was dead, and Helen had, occasionally, reached out but had made it clear that she would contact him and he was never to contact her, no matter what and especially not through her Sanctuary. If he truly needed something from her, she had told him to go through James and he couldn't fathom why. James had told him nothing either.

This. This! This was me giving time-traveling Helen interacting with Nikola a nod in this story. Future Helen was the one that told him to do that and is why he has to go through James. Past/Present Helen has absolutely no clue. Helen was preserving the timeline and Nikola, of course, knew nothing back then.

5. What do you wish someone would ask you about Remember This (series)? Answer it now!

Oh my gosh, I don't know! I don't usually get asked questions about my fics, so I never really think about it!

Maybe more about Nigel and Jeanette and their relationship? I don't know how to answer that, though, because I need specifics to start blathering.

Though if anyone asked if there had ever been Helen/John/James in that universe, I would have 100% said yes and left it at that. XD

(sorry for this sucky answer)

6. What’s one fact about the universe of Remember This (series) that you didn’t get a chance to mention in the fic itself?

I'm really not sure, to be honest, because I was trying to make the universe in the fic as close to canon as possible. 🤔

I left a sprinkling of things throughout all the fics hoping readers would pick up on them, fun little tie-ins and nods and details, but I think I included everything I wanted to in the series.

Oh! I kind of headcanon that Nigel and Jeanette were trying for a second baby in the later bits of Nigel's story, but it didn't work out for them. I don't think it would have really fit into a fluff story, but mostly I was thinking they didn't want Anna to be alone.

8. What song would make a great fic (to either write or read)?

Tale of the Shadow by Sail North.

The song is basically a story, but I already have a fic planned based on it, expanding on my mermaid!Helen and pirate!John AU and it gives me all the thoughts.

41. Link a fic that made you think, “Wow, I want to write like that.”

The amazing Time Will Tell by @galactic-pirates! I love this fic very much and I love the emotions that are captured and explored through the story. And polyamory! The way Helen/John/James is written in the story is gorgeous and heartbreaking in the best way and gahhhhh.

If I can ever write a fic close to that, I will be so pleased.

42. Have you ever received a comment that particularly stood out to you for whatever reason?

Look, I'm tired and feel stupid right now, so I can only think of the negative ones right now and I don't really want to get into that.

With the good ones I'm not sure I should get into them, because the last time a question like this came up, I accidentally outed a few people as fangirls.😅

Also there's 66 pages in my AO3 inbox and that's a lot go through.

[chimivx]

expecting, expected. // myg.

pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Female!Reader, and ot7 { couple from vegas, baby }

summary: Exhaustion, anxiety, hormones... This is life now, for the next nine months... And it's time to tell your friends!

words: 6k

warnings: fluffy (lol), mentions of sex, suggestive conversation, jikook warning, drinking, grown adults out for dinner and interacting, If I missed anything PLEASE LET ME KNOW.

a/n: HI! You already know what I'm posting. VEGAS SERIES ADDITION! I'm unsure how I feel about this one... Fell in love with it, but now... I dunno. I hope you ENJOY IT if you read it! I'm in need of more fluffy dad!Yoongi so be prepared, more of that will be coming. I'm never letting this series go.

{ find the vegas, series here to get to know this couple some more }

Tucked beneath a blanket, curled up in a ball on Yoongi’s lap watching the new episode of Run BTS, you were fighting to keep your eyes open, doing the slow blink. Running his fingers through your hair, dragging his fingernails soothingly over your scalp, it was as if Yoongi was actively trying to get you to fall asleep. That’s all you’ve been able to do for the past two weeks anyway, and it didn’t matter where you were, you were dozing off at random.

Shortly after the Golden Disc Awards, and that blur of a day, you were scheduled to see a doctor where the news you knew to be true was confirmed. Yoongi stood by your side watching attentively as the doctors did bloodwork, spoke with you about your symptoms, and gave you a long list of do’s and don'ts for you to follow for the next nine months after they showed the two of you that you were definitely pregnant.

This early on it wasn’t necessary for you to see a doctor yet, considering your age and your health, however Yoongi let his worry’s slip to a director, one of the higher ups that had most of the power. Keeping the entire situation on the down low, it was decided you’d be treated as if you were an Idol yourself, being ushered into the office almost against your will, a place where you’d get the most prompt, unconditional care throughout your pregnancy.

You didn’t expect anything less from Yoongi. That morning, holding onto his hand, his other was wrapped around you protectively wherever you went. You knew he would go overboard. Your dark haired, still in physical therapy boyfriend found a new hobby- waiting on you hand and foot, like he wasn’t the star of the household. None of that even mattered in your rapport anyway, you were the star of his life.

After the awards, once the two of you were back home and cuddled underneath the safety of your bed covers, nearly nose to nose, you took turns speaking into the early hours of the morning. Initial shock had subsided, and you were both able to actively listen to one another, and think rationally. Yoongi expressed his excitement, telling you how he dreams of this, wanting to do it all with you, only if you wanted it too.

When the sun had risen and the time was checked, laughter was shared along with a reassuring kiss. 

Meeting Yoongi at twenty two, you were young, still at the beginning of your life. Barely out of college, you didn’t have a clue if you ever wanted to have children, the thought rarely crossed your mind. For a while it was full of, how am I going to pay for my next meal, before it did a complete one eighty, turning into, what city are we flying to next? You were jet-set for six years until the global shutdown of the year 2020.

Now, age twenty eight, with seven years of a relationship down, living with the man who knew you better than anyone else, and loved you three times as much… Things had shifted. A universal halt wasn’t expected because of a new rampant illness in the world, and though it came with extreme measures, it was exactly what you and Yoongi needed. It gave you time to grow up a little bit, your subconscious doing most of that work. 

During the hours and hours of whispering like two people with a secret, the work done in the shadows was unveiled, sparking the realization that you did in fact want this. You were ready for the next step of life with the man you loved.

“Oh, you’re out,” You hear Yoongi speak quietly to himself, feeling him shift beneath you a bit. With closed eyes, you roll over to face his torso and sigh, wrapping an arm around his waist, weaseling it between his back and the couch cushion.

“Not out,” You barely whisper. Yoongi looks down at your sleepy face with a smile, putting a hand back into your hair, stroking it with care.

“You missed the rest of the episode,” He says, “You started snoring before they even split into teams.”

“No… I didn’t,” You mumble, “I saw.”

“Who won?” He perks an eyebrow, finding it amusing you were laying here lying to him in real time.

Without missing a beat you whisper, “Jungkook,” And he starts to laugh, resting his head back on the couch.

Both teams had won actually, they made some incredible food. Yoongi was content with you on his lap, and hungry. He debated telling you the truth, but figured you’d want to rewatch it later when you had some more energy, so he kept the answer to himself. This was the second time you tried to watch it, you fell asleep during the premiere of it last night, curling up under his arm in bed.

Letting you rest, Yoongi picks up his phone to check his messages. There were plans set for later today with the guys, and Sunny was joining as well, flying in from a job to visit. The nine of you were meeting for dinner at a cozy, quiet spot where you would be able to share the news of your pregnancy with your family. Though two of them were told two weeks ago, they kept their mouths shut, which was utterly impressive.

The seven boys were interviewed the night of the Golden Disc Awards, and there was a moment of panic that something would slip, at least to more of the boys. The interviewer had them share New Years wishes with each other, sending it to the boy to their right. Jin, the unlucky bastard, was stood next to Yoongi and had to watch his mouth.

There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to share, he found out moments ago that his best friend was going to be a father. This new year was huge for Yoongi, one he’s dreamed of, and Jin wanted to shout his happiness from the rooftops. 

Loving someone as much as Jin loved Yoongi, and watching that person go through hardship after hardship finally find their reason for living, their reason for true happiness… That’s a feeling that can’t be explained.

So, opting for awkward laughter and the introverted persona of Jin, he shared his well wishes with Yoongi carefully, taking his time, making sure it was simple. Yoongi listened anxiously, beckoning him with his eyes pointed to the floor to keep it quick, but took his brother's words to heart, recognizing and understanding every underlying meaning behind the short message.

Looking through his phone now, he has two unread messages from Jin that he swipes by, deciding to open them after he reaches out to Sunny. Tapping on her thread, he chuckles at the last picture he sent- you sitting on the bathroom floor in just a t-shirt, glaring at the camera, flashing him a middle finger. It was from a couple of days ago when you were physically unable to be in any other room, because the moment you stepped off the tile, you were overcome by nausea and yanked back in front of the toilet.

Thankfully that period of time didn’t last too long. Now you’re going through an energy depletion, the tiny little group of cells inside of you stealing it all soon after you try to recharge.

Sunny, who was now working select dates with a couple Kardashians, was oblivious, and didn’t think anything strange of the picture. She sent a heart in reply, and went on her merry way through Los Angeles, shaking salads with Kourtney.

[yoongi]: ETA?

Yoongi sends to your best friend, watching the screen as bubbles pop up in an instant.

[Sunita Sunshine]: Landed about a half hour ago!!! I’m in an Uber…… meeting Jin for drinks before we come see you guys

[Sunita Sunshine]: How’s lover girl feeling??? Any better?

Yoongi’s heart just about flies out of his chest. He types back to her with lightning speed.

[yoongi]: She’s great… Why?

[Sunita Sunshine]: She was sick right??? Before golden discs until like a couple days ago….. I talked to her

He sighs, letting his eyes shut for a second, completely forgetting the two of you, though in different parts of the world most times, still shared everything with each other.

[yoongi]: Right. Yeah she’s good now, she can't wait to see you

Tilting his head to the side, he peeks down at you from behind his phone screen. Eyes closed, lips parted slightly, taking in slow deep breaths, you sure seemed ecstatic to be having dinner with the best friend you haven’t seen in a couple of months.

The iPhone in Yoongi’s hand starts to buzz dramatically. He’s had his ringer turned off for a few days since these bouts of narcolepsy were at random. A facetime was coming in from Jungkook, another member of his group that had the pleasure of knowing your secret. You couldn’t help yourself, when he flashed you a wholesome smile and your emotional state was overcome by comfort, you let it slip.

“Hey, man,” Yoongi answers, keeping his voice quiet. He clicks the volume down a few notches, watching the screen as it’s pointed at the cloudy, grey, January sky. “Are you outside?”

“Hey, yeah,” Jungkook says, finally appearing inside the box wearing a black bucket hat over his bleach blonde hair, “I’m about to walk into Jimin’s, I just left the studio,” Yoongi can hear the smacking of his stompers on the concrete, “They, uh, they want to do my hair purple for Butter.”

“Oh no,” Yoongi mutters as Jungkook glances away for a second to somewhere ahead of him, and smiles. His eyes crinkled in the corners.

“Did I just hear you say they want your hair purple?” Jimin can be heard off screen. It goes black for a second, Yoongi can hear muffled voices, then the top of Jungkook’s head appears again.

“Yeah, purple,” Jungkook sighs.

“Thought you wanted it blue, maybe?” The end of Jimin’s sentence sounded like he said the word, baby, instead of, maybe, but maybe Yoongi’s brain was overridden by nerves for this evening, making him hear things. The two step into Jimin’s home, Yoongi just along for the ride as they converse about this dire hair matter.

“Uh,” He gets their attention back and points the phone down to you. Jimin coo’s, peering at the screen with a pouty lip. “Can this be discussed tonight? Why was I called?” Yoongi chuckles, bringing the camera focus back to himself. Jungkook cringes, like he suddenly remembered your condition.

“Sorry,” He says, “She wasn’t answering, thought it meant Sunny was there, I need to talk to her about it.”

“You’ll see her tonight,” Yoongi says, “She’s getting drinks with Jin right now.”

“Jin?!” Jimin exclaims, grabbing the phone from Jungkook’s hands, “That woman wanted to see ME!” The diva was shushed by both Yoongi and Jungkook, the youngest snatching his phone back from his tiny hands.

“I’ll see you later,” Jungkook says to Yoongi before he glances up to Jimin, “I don’t want purple hai-” And the phone hangs up, trilling a sad little tune, announcing the end of the call.

“His TinyTan has dark hair, D, I swear, if I have to create one for Butter, and I’m told to match whatever color they give him, Army will rip me to shreds if the shade isn’t right,” You say, startling your boyfriend the slightest, “Remember the pink hair? I didn’t sleep.” Opening your eyes, you look up at Yoongi who is gazing back with a small smile. Placing his phone aside, he shakes his head.

“You won’t be doing anything, you’re taking time off from work,” He says, keeping his tone soft, “No more sleepless nights and caffeine highs.” Rolling your eyes, you huff.

“Yeah, that’s for after September,” You whisper, though you were unsure when your baby would be arriving. It takes him a couple of seconds to catch what you said, both of you laughing once he does. 

Sitting up, you situate yourself beside him and smile, saying, “Dream ON is doing really well.”

“Why are you checking stats?” Yoongi disciplines, sliding an arm around your shoulders.

“I have to stay busy,” You shrug, “TinyTan was my entire year last year, do you know how many ideas I have? I already have something for Dynamite on paper, even though no one’s asked me to do it.”

“I don’t want you to stress yourself out, there’s no reason to rush. You need rest.”

“No, I need them out of the Mic Drop outfits, it’s been years since that came out, I don’t know what I was thinking,” You shake your head before laying it on his shoulder. It was a tad sore today, but Yoongi didn’t mention it. He needed you to be comfortable, he wasn’t worried about himself at all.

Planting a kiss to the top of your head, he keeps his head there, lifting the hand that was around your shoulder to graze your hair once more. His gentle touch is soothing, helping you relax like it had when you laid down to watch the show, but coupled with the kiss, your raging hormones were reading the wrong room.

Lifting your head, you turn your chin to press your lips to his in a rush. Yoongi barely has a chance to react before you climb into his lap and slide your hands around his neck, slipping them up into his black locks. Parting your lips, you dance your tongue across his bottom lip and deepen the kiss, the strongest warmth erupting within your center. Powerless with his head locked to the cushion, Yoongi hums and attempts to pull away.

“Baby,” He chuckles as you resort to kissing his cheek, down to his jaw.

“Shhh,” You hush, dipping your head to press open mouthed kisses to his neck.

“You should nap, we have dinner.”

“Not tired anymore,” You sigh, dragging your tongue from his collar bone to behind his ear, nibbling his earlobe for half a second, “I need you.”

“You need sleep, you’ll be nodding off at dessert,” Yoongi’s eyes shut during the jaw kisses, he thinks, his voice coming out of him now on auto-pilot while his body responded to you directly. His breathy, lust filled sigh that leaves his lips after his words makes your brain short circuit. Grinding down on his lap, your fingers tighten in his hair, giving the strands a harsh tug. Brushing your nose against his, you kiss his lips and whine after you part.

“Yoongi,” Whispering his full name, something that rarely leaves your lips, his eyes pop open, heavy lidded. The desperate riff graces his ears while your widened eyes plead with his. Yoongi could easily walk away from this, let you go upstairs to get some sleep before your night out, and be completely fine. On the other hand, your fixed gaze was begging him, telling him that you were not going to be completely fine if he didn’t do something.

His eyes studying you was nearly enough of a connection to satisfy the emotional hunger, but then his hands slid up your thighs and your knees tightened around his waist. Every move he made, your body heightened the sensation to a hundred.

“Take me upstairs… Right now,” You whisper from behind clenched teeth. Yoongi smirks, giving the round of your ass a squeeze, watching your body melt before him, listening with delight as his traveling fingers make you moan and groan.

“There’s no time to go upstairs,” He breathes, gripping your waist as he stands to his feet, laying you down on your back, settling over you, “Gonna fuck this out of you right here.”

In the backseat of the car taking you to dinner, Yoongi’s hand was sliding up and down the inside of your thigh. His eyes were on the road where he sat in the center seat, staying observant of your surroundings at all times.

Glancing down to your phone that had been blowing up for the past five minutes, you open another message from Sunny.

[Sunny Girl]: Why did Tae just say you have something to tell us???? Can you HURRY UP and GET HERE

“She’s pissed,” You show Yoongi the message, and he laughs under his breath.

“Tell her I had to pry you off of me to get you in the shower,” He raises a brow, keeping his words quiet, between you. Pressing your lips together, you shoot him a silly glare.

“I don’t know what to say to her,” You say, staring at the text, “I don’t know what to say to anybody, I’m freaking out.” Yoongi looks back down at you, this time with worried eyes.

“Freaking out?” He mumbles, giving your leg a squeeze.

“Aren’t you nervous?” You ask with a small laugh, meeting his eyes. Thinking to himself, he takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “What?!”

“Baby, two of them know already,” He breaks into a grin, but not to diminish your anxiety, to help push down his own. On the inside he was a mess, on the outside he was as cool as a cucumber. The two of you shared crises, and he knew that this one would be yours to have, so he ignored his own anxiety for you.

“I’ve known Sunny since I was twelve,” You say, “You see the way she loves me, this is about to deck her straight in the face, D,” Yoongi holds in a laugh, and nods, “What if she tries to do something crazy?”

“Like what?”

“Like, like…” You glance around the car as if the answer was going to jump out from the wrinkles in the leather seats, “Like, put her job on hold, and try to move in with us… Or, or… Quit the Kardashian show, and move in with us…”

“Hm,” Yoongi frowns, lowering his brows, “Sounds like you want her to move in with us.”

“No!” You shout, slapping a hand to his chest, “I don’t want that! We don’t want that,” You lower your voice dramatically, “Trust me, I lived with Sun, you don’t want that.”

“Okay, then if she tries, we tell her no,” Yoongi soothes, letting his hand explore the fabric of your pants like it had been for the ride. He glances to your hand on his chest that was slowly starting to grip the cotton, your fingers tightening passionately. “Take a deep breath, please.” Yoongi reaches for your hand, declawing it from his beating heart, linking his fingers with yours. Listening, you suck in a breath and release it with shaky hands.

The car makes one last turn around a tall, white building, coming to a stop at the back where your car door was opened for you. Clutching Yoongi’s fingers like he was going to leave, you slide out of the car and come face to face with a familiar man who gives you the most welcoming smile, washing away some of your nerves.

“Branson, you would be here,” You grin, throwing an arm around his back to hug him, keeping Yoongi close. The two guys share pleasantries, then the head of security looks you up and down and shrugs.

“You’re here, I have to be,” He says, “Shall we?” Branson gestures toward the door, giving the space behind and around the car a scan with his sharp eyes.

Gripping the long, metal hand of the door, Yoongi pulls it open for you, letting you lead him inside the dimly lit, beautifully decorated restaurant that smelled of everything delicious. He feels your fingers tighten even more, if that was possible, and it makes him wonder how powerful your grip will be the day you give birth to the child. This is only the day you’re telling your friends you’re having it, he had nine more months to get used to this.

Passing by the bathrooms, Yoongi pulls you back a second to make sure you saw where they were, then lets you continue on your flustered jog down the hall. Turning a corner, the space you’ve arrived in is totally empty, except for a round table in the corner that is surrounded by your rowdy group of friends making a scene with drinks in their hands.

“AYE!” Is called out from the commotion, and six other heads whip around to find you approaching with a pep in your step. Sunny, leaping to her feet with two glasses in her hand, clicks over to your side in her high heels and hugs you as best as she can with the drinks occupying her extremities. Kissing both of your cheeks, she sighs and takes a long look at you, big, soft eyes taking in every detail.

Wearing a smile, her eyes narrow a bit, asking you quietly, “Why do you look different?” 

“Different?” You repeat in a flash, glancing over your shoulder at Yoongi, “I don’t look… I don’t look different.” Nervous laughter escapes you with every breath.

“You were having sex when I called you three times, weren’t you?” Sunny grills, turning her eyes over to Yoongi who smirks, pointing his chin up to the ceiling to avoid her glare. Blushing, the nervous laughter takes over.

“Sunny!” You say, wiggling Yoongi’s hand that was still latched to yours. Your best friend looks down at them.

“You can’t even let go of him,” She laughs with you, “It’s alright, I know, you’re in love, nothings changed,” Sticking her tongue out to mark her faux disgust, she holds out one of the glasses in her hands, giving it to you, “Here, Jungkook tried to tell me I shouldn’t get it for you, but tonight is a night to celebrate!”

“Celebrate?” You question.

“Yes! All of us here, together. I haven’t seen this in months,” The smile that relaxes her face is sincere, “Which makes me have to ask,” She shifts her attention to Yoongi, “How’s the shoulder?” Stepping closer to him, she lifts her now empty hand to rub his arm. Using this opportunity to slip away, you release his hand to hurry over to Jungkook sitting beside Jimin at the table.

Watching as you scurry away, Yoongi answers all of Sunny’s questions while shaking his now emancipated fingers.

“I assume this is for you?” You half ask the blonde boy standing up to give you a hug and a kiss on the cheek, “Smells a little fruity, must be yours,” Jungkook giggles, baring his teeth, taking the icey glass from you.

“Told her not to get it, but she insisted,” He rolled his eyes, “She’s persistent that one.” Pulling back a chair on the other side of him, he offers it to you, pushing you in after you sit down.

“Don’t I know it,” You say, giving Jimin a wave.

“She doesn’t know it’s really for me,” Jungkook lifts the glass as if to ‘cheers’, then takes a sip. His lips pull into a frown as he swallows it. “Oh god,” Wincing at the flavor, he sits the glass on the polished wood finish of the table and slides it in front of Jimin, “Maybe this is for you.” He whispers, making you laugh.

“Kookie,” You pop out your bottom lip staring at his wavy hair, “Are they really going to make you go purple?” He groans, folding his hands on his lap.

“I don’t want it,” He says, sitting back in his chair, “I like this blonde, and I honestly would want blue over purple,” Jungkook nods toward Sunny, still chatting away with Yoongi and now Jin who joined the duo, “She says blue is better with, uh, I dunno, something about my skintone?”

“Oh my god!” You lean into him, grabbing his arm, “Do blue, think about me, do blue. I have designs to do, even though Yoongi won’t let me near them, and if you do blue it will be so much easier to mix.”

“Why won’t he let you near your work?” Jimin asks, inviting himself into the conversation with a scrunched up face of confusion. Straightening up, you clear your throat and look at Jungkook for help. He looks at you, then at Jimin, then back to you and widens his eyes in defeat. Releasing the tiniest sigh, you tilt your head and play dumb.

“I think it’s because I was sick,” You say convincingly enough.

“Oh, yeah,” Jimin’s face shifts to a worried one, “I’d wanna ease you back in too, especially with everything we have coming up between the singles and the music videos and the shows-”

“Chim,” Jungkook cuts him off with a smile, then turns to you, “You’ll be fine, I promise.” Amidst Jimin's rambles, the anxiety about work you've set aside for the future wanted to worm its way into this important night. Babies were time, babies were money. Two things you once used to struggle with before you fell into the grasp of the man walking up behind your chair.

Yoongi’s arms slid around your shoulders slowly. Everyone took their seats around the table, leaving the chair next to you empty for your boyfriend to have.

“Do we need to walk away?” He whispers to you, smiling and nodding at Hoseok across the table. A shake of your head wasn’t enough to get him off your case, he whispers again, “What’s going on?”

“Normal stuff,” You mumble, turning your chin to peek at him.

“New normal stuff?” He raises a brow.

“No, we’ve talked about it before.”

“Lovebirds, can we eat?” Sunny sing songs, waving her hands in your direction, “I’m starved.”

The thought of eating mixed with your nerves has you screwing your eyes shut as nausea clouds over your being. On your back you feel Yoongi take a breath, and stand up tall, placing both hands on either of your shoulders. Massaging you for a moment, he sighs theatrically, catching the attention of the attendance around the table.

“We’re still… getting better,” Yoongi bobs his head. A couple of the guys pulled a face, or nodded along with him, Sunny however, was quick to pick up his bullshit.

“You said she was great earlier,” She says, confused.

“Uh, well, you know what it’s like to come back from being sick, right?” Yoongi nervously chuckles, glancing at Jin and Jungkook for some kind of backup. He wasn’t sure you were going to go through with telling them tonight, this could be you backing out of your announcement. Jin launches forward, sipping his drink through a straw.

“Totally!” He says with wide eyes, picking up on his cue, coughing after he swallows his drink, “If you guys need to go, we get it.” Yoongi gives him a smile to thank him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Sunny’s voice gets louder. Sitting forward herself, she bumps Jin's shoulder, “You’ve been at their defense all day, this girl is fine,” She then squints at how you were sitting, still with your eyes shut, barely taking in any of the conversation happening around you, “I know you, I know you two, something is up.” Snapping your eyes open, you jump up to your feet, taking everyone by surprise. Sunny’s words had struck a nerve, a fiery one.

“I… We…” You choke out, reaching a hand behind you to grab something of Yoongi’s. Finding his hand, you yank him closer. One of his arms slides around your body, holding you close to his front, while his other holds your hand happily, his thumb drawing circles on your palm. Anxiety has riddled your expression, but Yoongi’s smirk tells the group that there’s something juicy on the way.

“Oh my god,” Sunny gasps, planting her fingers over her mouth, looking down at your left hand, searching it for clues. That’s the first thing that gets you to finally smile.

“What!?” Taehyung glances at her, attempting to follow the line of her eyes, “What is going on?” 

“Say something, somebody,” Namjoon bangs a fist on the table once, wearing  a light smile, sitting forward with anticipation like those without the knowledge of your news.

“Tell them,” Yoongi says quietly, yet loud enough for everybody to hear him. Your tentative eyes scour the table, starting with Jin who couldn’t put his drink down, passing by suspicious Sunny, confused Taehyung, smiley Namjoon, hopeful Hoseok, and pouty Jimin, ending with Jungkook who held tens of thousands of galaxies in his eyes. The smile he wore was incredibly sincere, gazing up at you like you were his idol. 

Giving Yoongi one more look, he smiles, waiting patiently.

“I’m not sick,” You say with a breath, turning back to your friends. Taehyung fake gasps, making Hoseok giggle. Yoongi scolds them with his eyes, the two friends jumping back into place, to listen to what you have to say, but you choke again. “Can’t do it, you do it.” You whisper, squeezing Yoongi’s hand.

“Me? You sure?” He asks, and you nod, closing your eyes. Yoongi wastes no time, looking out proudly to his friends. “We’re pregnant,” He says with a grin. 

At the sound of the words, your eyes open to a reaction you did not expect. No one had moved.

“Is that it?” Taehyung asks.

“Yeah,” You breathe, “That’s it. I’m pregnant.”

“Fucking called it!” He shouts with a smile toward Jimin. 

“You did not call this, this was expected,” The It boy rolls his eyes.

“Hold on,” You stop the bickering by holding up a hand, “This was expected?” You tilt your chin and glare at him. Pouty lips smirk back.

“Guys,” He says quietly, looking between you and Yoongi.

“He’s not wrong,” Hoseok says sheepishly, lifting his shoulders to his ears.

“What!” Yoongi sighs, laughing. Jimin starts to plead his case with Taehyung and Hoseok to Yoongi, bringing up your relationship's past, and your favorite thing to do together. You want to listen, you want to hear what they’re discussing, because it’s about you, but you’re glued on Sunny.

Sitting sideways, body facing Jin, her eyes that were once sharp, and a little pissed off, had softened immensely. Your goddess of a best friend slowly shook her head in tiny, lips parting in shock. Standing up, pushing her chair back aggressively, she pulled the boys away from their amusing bickering, her aura sucking them in.

“You’re pregnant?” She asks just above a whisper, never once leaving your gaze. Nodding, your smile starts to grow. “You’re gonna keep it?”

“Wouldn’t have told you all I was if I wasn’t,” You chuckle awkwardly, feeling a lump in your throat, “I’m gonna be a mom.” The cry breaks, tears stream down your cheeks as Sunny pushes past Jin’s chair to throw her arms around you, holding you so tight you can feel her heart beating a mile a minute.

“You’re gonna be a mom,” She repeats, and her own tears start.

“Yeah, you are!” Jungkook cheers, the next one to stand up. Holding open his arms for Yoongi, your boyfriend smiles and takes him in, patting him on his back a couple of times, sending him another type of thank you for keeping your secret.

There is at least five minutes occupied by hugs, and congratulations, and kisses as you and Yoongi share broken info with each member who was the next to approach you. Yoongi tells the story of the Golden Disc Awards, how that was the day you had found out, and ultimately the reason you were plastered to the couch the entire time, not even making it out to see the show. At the mention of it, you feel your heart twist. You wanted to watch that performance.

“Holy shit,” Taehyung sings, slapping an arm around Yoongi’s back.

“I know,” Yoongi says. Since he spilled the news, he was unable to control his smile.

“And I thought Jimin would be the first,” Taehyung says.

“Hah,” Jimin cackles, “I can’t get pregnant!” In front of him, Jungkook shoots him the quickest look of worry, like he just leaked some kind of secret of his own, but it’s brushed away as fast as it had come up.

“What the hell did that mean?” You ask Jungkook, elbowing his tattooed bicep. 

“No idea,” He whispers, giving Jimin a deadly look.

“You besties okay?” You question, a joking tone hidden within it.

“We’re fine,” Jungkook sighs, switching to a more positive energy, “How do you feel? Everyone knows!” He hugs you for the fifth time, giving you a shake.

“I think… I think I feel hungry,” You say after some thought, and Jungkook pulls away with mischievous eyebrows that make you giggle.

“You’ve read my mind,” He says, then releases you to toss his hands in the air, gathering the attention of the room, “Baby Mama is hungry, let’s eat.” He blushes at his own words, covering his mouth with a hand as he glances at you with a grin.

“Baby Mama!” Sunny repeats, the group laughing together.

Yoongi approaches you as everyone begins to take their seats. With his lips pulled into a smile puffing out his cheeks, your stomach takes a tumble, finding him incredibly adorable. Sliding his arms around your torso, he pulls you close and kisses your temple. 

“I don’t think I see anyone packing their bags,” He says quietly, pressing his forehead to yours. Rolling your eyes, you smile and laugh under your breath.

“Give her a week,” You say, rising to your tiptoes to give him a proper kiss, and when you take a breath, you smirk and whisper, “Congratulations daddy.”

Widening his eyes, Yoongi huffs a laugh, shaking his head, “No, no, don’t do that.” 

With a giggle, you press your lips to his, and mumble a quiet, “I love you.”

Taking your seats at the table with your friends, there’s a tremendous relief, a huge weight taken off of your shoulders now that they know. Throughout the dinner they asked a million and one questions, which should’ve made you nervous, but instead gave you an excitement you haven’t felt yet.

All seven of your friends were going to be there for you throughout this entire experience, ready to help, ready to pitch in, ready to look after you, as well as the man beside you who held his hand over your thigh for the entirety of dinner. You were loved, you were supported, but most importantly, you were happy. Completely, utterly, truly happy.

Here are some of the events & works mentioned in this piece for reference... I spent some time studying & watching these!

Golden Disc Interview

TinyTAN Dream ON

In no means do I mean to discredit anyone who created TinyTAN or worked on it. In this piece of fiction, OC is a 'ghost' creator and remains anonymous, so all original creators in ACTUAL real life are still there to be credited. This is a piece of FICTION.

thank you for reading, I hope you’ve enjoyed this piece! 

feedback is always greatly appreciated & helps artists immensely. we also all love messages & the audience’s input, opinions, and ideas.

leave me some here! <3

~

vegas series tags <3

@damn-u-min-yoongi @my-dark-happy-place @ahewlett

[crack-whore-who-fuckedup-already]

The Man Needs His Cat

Bucky x fem!reader

Word count: 1,960

Warnings: mentions of animal death, fluff, Tony/Bucky interaction

Summary: Bucky and Reader stumble across a kitten in the woods and Reader is tasked with asking Tony for a huge favor. 

A/N: y'all- I'm head over heels in love with catperson!Bucky

The situation had to be dealt with carefully, (Y/n) knew. She didn't want to come on too strong or he'd be quick to turn her down. Maybe a hypothetical would be the best course of action... She took a breath and pulled her shoulders back. Then, with only a second of hesitation, she entered Tony's lab. 

He greeted her from his hunched over position at one of the many cluttered tables, barely sparing her a glance. In the heat of engineering, he worked on some odd piece of tech he had yet to fully present to the team. She echoed a small 'hello' back and rocked awkwardly back and forth on her feet. 

Still not looking up, Tony indulged the girl with idle conversation. They spoke of their day, of current world news, of the weather. That's how he knew she wanted something. The girl would always engage him in casual conversation just before asking a favor. Tony didn't mind much, of course. If anything, he found it entertaining how intently she tried buttering him up. But today he had quite a bit of work to get done so he wanted to get this show on the road. 

Putting his tools down, he looked at her pointedly with a knowing grin. "Alright kid, what's up?" He asked.

(Y/s)'s eyebrows raised in question, playing dumb. "What do you-" 

"Drop the act, (Y/n)," he chuckled, and grabbed an already greasy rag off the desk next to him to wipe his hands. He stood and made his way to her, tossing the rag back on one of the several tables in the lab. "I know when you want something, so just go on. Ask." He said, his face light with a smirk.

(Y/n) flushed with warmth, embarrassed by his boldness. But she continued anyway, determined to fulfill her promise to Bucky. 

The night before, she and Bucky were on their way home from the movies. It was a beautiful night out and in their comfortable silence, they found themselves on a slight detour through the woods. At some point, Bucky had pulled over off the side of the road and onto a look out.

Bucky, ever the silent communicator, simply stared at (Y/s) confused face with the softest smile on his own, before stepping out of the car. While (Y/n) scrambled to open her door, Bucky walked the couple of feet towards a barrier fence overlooking the river beneath him. His eyes followed the shine of the water as it drowned the boulders lining the river bed. He thought for a second how exciting the challenge of rock hopping sounded, never really having gotten the chance to as a child.

The call of an owl pulled his attention to the tree line which he observed with such intensity that (Y/n) nudging his arm made him tense. She flashed him a smile to calm the surprise on his face and in an instant, his arm was around her, pulling her close. They both looked out at the shadowed woods and (Y/n) was even sure to point out the moon and stars themselves. 

In the silent moments that passed, they both had turned to embrace each other wholly. They stayed like that for a moment and then Bucky pressed a kiss to her forehead. Pulling back to look at his warm, loving face, she found acute concern instead. He was glancing just past her head, off into the bush leading down to the river bank. 

"What's the mat-" she asked quietly, shrinking away. 

Bucky pressed his fingers to his lips and hushed her quickly and gently and then slowly gestured to his ear. Listen, he was telling her. 

She didn't hear anything at first. Nothing but the rush of the river below them and the gentle night breeze above them.

But then, just as she was about to ask again, she heard it. The faintest of mewling. Barely audible but definitely there. 

Bucky grasped her shoulders and looked her in the eyes once more before he squeezed them tightly and moved past her. He approached the thicket and hesitated for only a second before pressing forward. The branches hurt his skin but he'd suffered worse.

(Y/n) tentatively called his name to which he responded "I've almost got it." His voice sounded distant and strained and it worried (Y/n) that she could no longer see him through the darkness, being so close to the river and all. But as long as she could hear his grunts of discomfort from the branches whacking him in the face, she remained calm enough. 

Eventually, he emerged. Even in the dark, (Y/n) could see the pure white fluff sticking out between Bucky's fingers. As he approached, the fuzz ball revealed its face from its careful hiding spot in the crook of Bucky's arm and glanced around. Two dark eyes and the palest little nose swung in her direction, its whiskers twitching with cautious curiosity.

A kitten.

The poor thing was trembling but so was Bucky. Placing a hand on his forearm, she beckoned his attention and spoke low.

"What was it?"

To bide his time, he shifted the kit closer to his chest and took a deep breath. He didn't meet her eyes but he mumbled just loud enough to hear.

"A whole box of them but…." He didn't dare finish the sentence and instead held the kitten in front of his face, ignoring the unwarranted feeling of loss he felt for its siblings. Swallowing hard, he finally met the girls soft, understanding eyes and smiled sadly. 

Before she could say anything, the small creature let out another indignant mewl that seemed to reassure Bucky just a bit. With that, (Y/n) moved to his side and slung her arm around his waist.

"Alpine," he mumbled.

"What's that?"

"I think I'll call him Alpine." Bucky said fondly. His eyes never left the baby and the girl knew he was in deep.

"Oooh, I know that look." She tittered. Bucky only stared, his eyebrow creased, questioning. "That's the way you look at someone you love. That's the way you look at me." She said with a blush, nudging him lightly.

His face melted into that soft loving one she cared for so dearly. The kitten settled into the warmth that embraced him as the couple kissed.

"Let's get a move on. It's getting colder and colder by the second and I'm sure this little guy agrees." The kitten mewled one last time.

With a light chuckle, they spared one last glance over the look out before returning to the car where Alpine slept peacefully in Bucky’s lap the whole way home.

The two couldn't help but discuss what they were going to do with little Alpine. Bucky was set on keeping it and had even decided to clear his schedule the next day to make a vet visit. The only issue was their living space. They weren't too sure how Tony would react to them bringing a cat in off the street. But the girl could see how much the kitten meant to Bucky already so she promised to talk to Tony in the morning. 

Well, morning came and now here she was.

Tony crossed his arms impatiently. "Well?" He pressed, tilting his head up.

(Y/n) anxiously grasped her hands in front of her and leaned forward a bit. "What would you say to the idea of us getting a pet?" She stared openly at his face as he stared back at hers. The question bounced around in Tony's head, leaving his eyebrow slightly creased and the room painfully quiet. (Y/s)' nervously raised eyebrow gave him a clue into the situation.

"Right….and who exactly is this 'us' you're referring to? Cause something tells me I'm actually being iced out of this decision." Before she could even get a full breath in, he continued on. "All right, what are we working with, huh? A rabbit? A goldfish? If it's a parakeet, it won't even get past the front door, so help me god." 

The girl shook her head as she let out a laugh. She could tell he wasn't overly fond of the idea. It was clear by the way his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. But judging by the way his voice didn't fall completely flat, he wasn't opposed to it either….not entirely, anyway.

"No, no. Not quite. It's a cat. A kitten, actually, so there's still time to train it and all," She reassured him. "And Bucky should be getting home any minute from the vet with him if you'd like to say hello."

Tony caught himself before he let his expression drop at the name of the elusive ex soldier. He'd gotten better at watching himself since the two of them moved in. Bucky and (Y/n) weren't together when they did, but being only a few steps down the hallway certainly allowed them a closer relationship.

Tony nodded his head reluctantly and dropped his arms to his sides. 

He followed the girl down the various halls as she recounted how they found the poor kit, and found themselves approaching the common room. Or the family room, as (Y/n) preferred to call it, while simultaneously prattling on about how much time and energy the team wastes pretending to hate each other. Huh.

They could hear the tinkling of a bell being wacked around from down the hallway. As they entered the room, they stopped in the archway and took in the sight before them. 

Bucky sat crisscrossed with his back to them. In his hand was a feather wand, standing out bright purple, blue, and white against the dark brown floor. In front of him, white fluff darted back and forth. There was the smallest sound of tearing as its tiny claws ripped against the carpet, no doubt leaving it frayed.

Tony tried his very best to suppress his dissatisfied grumble...

They watched for a bit as Bucky went back and forth with the kitten. Tony didn't have to look hard at all to see how much the ex soldier cared for the tiny thing. No only because of his undivided attention towards the cat but also because of the many beige bags labeled "PetsPlus+"  full of toys, treats and towers scattered around the sofas. 

He thought it might be good for Bucky to have another companion around. Maybe it would help him relax. Maybe even lighten up a bit.

Tony stepped forward.

"So, uh, I'm not a big fan of funky smells so that's got to be top priority as far as pest control goes with this thing, alright?"

Bucky jumped to his feet and Alpine followed suit, hackles raised. Bucky quickly scooped him up and held him close. "Of course." (Y/n) made her way over to them. "Our rooms are big enough to keep him there most of the time and we have already worked out all the responsibilities between us. We've got it covered."

Tony stepped back a bit looking them up and down, humming. "I expect weekly visits in the family room," he said pointedly, then waved his hand. "Keep it tidy, folks." And with that he left the couple to their new fascination.

Tony lingered at the doorway on the way out. While the couple was distracted, he found himself watching that wretched arm. The dark, intimidating metal turned soft and gentle as it reached out fearlessly to antagonize the tiniest, weakest thing in the room. No hesitation, no fear. Not in Bucky or the kitten. Tony knew then that it stayed, no question.

The man needed his cat. And damn it, he'll get it.

[shimmershae]

Okay. So I did one of these wish lists last season and got gifted way more than I ever could have anticipated so I thought why not do it again?

Shae’s wish list for Season 11.  

Putting it under a cut because it’s long and rambling.  And it will probably be revised and/or added to whenever the mood strikes me.  

Things I want to see in Season 11:  

 The actual episode.  Why the hell does everything have to be so dark in the literal sense?  

Carol and Daryl to have an epic reunion that will totally blow the reunion in the woods outside of Terminus out of the water.  C’mon.  It really feels like the stage is being set for it and you know Angela loves her callbacks.  What better moment to revisit than this one?  The one where we all just knew these two were embarking on something new (only they didn’t, not in the way we’d hoped)?  Like, it’s a seemingly insurmountable task but I know Norman and Melissa have it in them again.  The real question is:  do the writers?  

Judith and RJ bonding with Aunt Carol and her telling them stories of the old days and all the people they didn’t get to meet.  What better way to foster our nostalgia and make us remember why we fell in love with this show and its characters in the first place?  

More Carol and Dog because those scenes in Diverged were the epitome of precious. 

More Princess.  Princess’s “meet and greets” with all our community members, yes.  But Princess’s first meeting and assessment of Carol and Daryl.  Methinks she’d have something mighty interesting and enlightening to say.  

All this angst for Daryl and Carol eventually building to a head and Kang finally delivering on that “heart to heart” she mentioned what feels like a million and one years ago. 

Aaron and Gracie scenes because Aaron is such a good daddy, ya’ll.  

Rosita continuing to have significant screen time and not having to step back into the shadows just because Maggie is back.

Speaking of, I’m glad Maggie is back.  I really am. For the simple fact that Baby Hershel is the cutest alone.  But I’m not happy that everybody so far seems so ready to just defer to her when they’ve been perfectly fine making it without her.  That is not okay and that shit needs to stop soon-ish.   

Hershel making fast friends with Judith and RJ and Gracie and all the Jabila kids.  They’re the next generation, ya’ll.  I just really need this.  

More Jerry and Nabila, please.  Because I have a special soft spot for my Jabila.  

Jerry and Ezekiel scenes.  Because Jerry is Ezekiel’s person and the truest bond he has on the show.  

Kelly and Lydia striking up a friendship because Kelly’s a sweet cinnamon roll and Lydia is in desperate need of friends.  

More scenes of Lydia, period, and not just her seeking out Negan because they both feel like outcasts.  Lydia was raised in Hell.  Negan wreaked Hell.  It’s different and I don’t appreciate the heavy-handedness of Angela trying to make Negan into something he has no right to be.  Leave him at an antihero if you must persist but stop trying to convince us he’s earned his place as a good guy because he hasn’t.  JDM may have risen to the challenge of making him a much more compelling, shades of gray character these past two seasons, but Negan is still the guy that gleefully bashed Glenn’s head in with a barb-wire wrapped baseball bat and if he’s not going to show remorse about it?  The least he can do is show the common sense not to go out of his way to antagonize Maggie.

Kelly reuniting with Connie and Carol getting to have a hand in doing in.  Some acknowledgment from Connie that she chose to go back into the cave with Magna would be nice but ultimately not necessary because I don’t think Connie blames Carol at all.  

Dog surviving the season unscathed and getting all the cuddles he deserves.  

The not-so-rosy truth about Leah being exposed and Daryl making his choice clear once and for all.  Spoiler alert?  Leah doesn’t even rank.  

I’d love the fake dating/fake marriage trope to be trotted out at the good old Commonwealth with Carol and Daryl because I think it would be so much freaking fun and hey. If Kang is going to continue to give us fanfic (unknown child, a la Rick and Michonne), why not try out a true blue?

Some freaking clue as to why/how Rosita and Father Gabe hooked up.  Like I just don’t get it, especially when you consider Siddiq was RIGHT THERE.  The amount of distrust Rosita and the rest of Team Family had in him back in the early days of their arriving in Alexandria.  I just find it hard to wrap my mind around this relationship when it wasn’t even on the radar pre-time jump. 

That said, Father Gabe did have a great scene with Judith in (what was then) the Season Finale where he gave her a message for Rosita and I did find it touching.  So I dunno, ya’ll.  I could be persuaded.  But not all that easily.  

Some resolution to the whole Virgil thing.  Talk about your random characters in the right place at the right/wrong time.  Him promising his wife flowers every day touched me but come the fuck on. 

More Carol and Lydia scenes and more Carol and Kelly scenes because Carol with these young ladies gives me life.  You know what?  Carol getting to interact with and have friendship with any and all of the ladies gives me life and should be a regular thing.  Like TPTB missed the opportunity of a lifetime having Carol and Michonne sharing all kinds of bonding scenes.  It would have been so poignant to watch them relate to each other over their lost children.  

Can we please get some Commonwealth scenes where the kids of Alexandria learn how to be actual kids?  I mean, not that they aren’t already, but I’d love to see them have the chance to be carefree and have fun.  You know, though, that Jude is definitely going to be a tough little nut to crack, and she’s always going to be keeping one eye open for trouble.

Speaking of Commonwealth, I’d love to see all our faves dolled up, lol.  Yes, it’s a rather shallow wish, but can you imagine Carol in a simple but beautiful dress and Daryl utterly tongue-tied to the point that the kids--Lydia, Judith, and RJ--just start giggling uncontrollably and Carol and Daryl both blush?  Because I can and it is glorious.   

Let the villains villain.  Not everyone needs to be redeemed.  Some people are just too far gone.

You know what?  It’s past time to let Carol in particular unpack some of her trauma and cast it aside so she can move on that future Daryl keeps reminding her they have.  She and Daryl are way overdue for a heart to heart where she just opens up a vein and lets it all flow.  It’s the only way she’s going to be able to heal and move on, IMHO.

Some indication that Rick and Michonne and the Grimes babies and the rest of their family (Carol, Daryl, etc.) are going to be reunited. 

The promise of at least a chance of a happy ending for everyone we’ve watched and loved these last 10+ years.  

There’s more.  There’s always more, lol.  But that’s enough for now.  As I think of things I just really, really need to see?  I’ll come back to this list.  Because hey.  Like I said.  I did one of these for Season 10 and I got way more of them than I ever could have anticipated so.        

[0risha]

“BONES.”

✰ PAIRING ⤷ dabi x fem!reader

SUMMARY ⤷ It took him over a decade to muddle his brain with different memories to overshadow his past ones, not wanting for the abstained shadows of remembrance to embrace him.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust you.

Dabi doesn’t trust himself.

He doesn’t trust the color of his mind to stay in the now state it’s in. If Touya Todoroki were to unwrap the gauze that clung to his very being, he’d fall apart. And he couldn’t have that. This unforgiving life of his had finally unfolded its palms and given him a gift and he’d stay sane for as long as he could to enjoy it.

✰ WC ⤷ 6.6k?

✰ TAGS ⤷ major angst, there is fluff though pinky promise, there’s a suggestive line, please don’t cancel me, it was detrimental to the story manga spoilers, a few curse words, character death, very, very soft dabi, shigaraki is an ass

NOTES ⤷ this is, indeed, the longest thing I've written that wasn't for school. and the summary is just a blurb because i had no idea what to write there. lol, I'm sitting at my laptop while crying my eyes out...... but uh.... I hope you like it ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ

You smoke, Dabi takes that into account on the first day he sees you. Dabi hates cigarettes, despises them. He hates that itchy feeling his lungs get whenever he takes a drag, hates the way it makes him feel abyssal, co-dependent. And if there's one thing that Dabi hates, it's relying on something else that wasn't him self.

With that into consideration, he’s not entirely sure why you catch his eye, you’re not typically the type he goes for. He usually chose the dainty ones, the ones that were so eager to experience a jive of thrill, they don’t realize that they’ve encountered a person who played an important role in one of the most powerful villain organizations. 

You're in the corner of a dingy bar, the dim lights somehow doing your angelic features justice. The light catches the glint of your name tag and the pastel blue of your scrubs. You look tired. Even from a far distance, he can see the sunken tent of your cheeks. The cigarette stick which hangs from in between your index finger and middle is halfway from becoming a stub. The plastic platter of pretzels that sit across from your chest is untouched as you grumble out replies to the bartender who's trying to make conversation with —a very uninterested— you.

When the clock hits eleven, your bar stool is scraping the ground as you attempt to leave. The relentless bartender grabs your arm with one last plea. His voice raising when you deny the idea that you should give him your number because you're too pretty to be by yourself. With one last pull, you stomp away towards the exit. Dabi doesn't know if it's because he's a villain too, but he follows after you. His senses telling him that there’s no way the bartender who you’d just rejected would let his wounded pride stay unbandaged. 

He’s careful not to make any noises with the soles of his boots. The absence of street lights concealing his figure. Unbeknownst to him, his body enforces the skills he uses while stalking his next prey. His languid motions flowing with the same transverse as the cold, biting wind.

And you don’t notice a thing, your hands stuffed into the pockets of your thick silver jacket. But when your walking comes to a stop, Dabi’s heart nearly tumbles out from his chest. Not a second later, you pull out a pack of cigarettes and place one to your lips, lighting it in one go. When you resume walking, Dabi’s body internally holds a jubilee with jeers of relief. He’s not exactly sure why he’s helping you but what type of person would he be if he let a pretty lady like you get hurt? 

At the thought, his throat tickles with the hope to let out a laugh.

When Dabi hears the crunch of leaves that bounce off the cracked concrete, for the second time that night he nearly breaks into a fit of laughter. The culprit’s first step is to trap you behind the fenced wall and his burly figure. What an amateur.

A part of Dabi wants to wait and see what you do. Are you a regular civilian? Do you have a strong quirk that would fight him off? His trail of thought evaporates when you hiccup out a laugh, smoke from the corner of your lips flowing into the man’s face. Dabi’s eyebrows quirking up with interest. What’s your next act?

After several hitches of breath, nothing comes and Dabi finally decides to step in as he feels the waves of anger emitting from the balding, middle-aged man who has you cornered.

The confrontation is brief —when the bartender turns to glance at an approaching lean, scarred figure, he scurries off without a word.

“Didn’t have to help me, I had it in the bag.” You squint at your savior as your cigarette bobs with the movement of your full lips. His stature towers over yours but you don’t seem the little bit phased. 

“You weren’t scared,” he says and it’s more of a question than a statement. His cool voice sends a frosty layer through each stack of your vertebrae. Though, it slowly ebbs away as you study his features and realize how pretty he is —his eyes a pool of melted lapis. Sharp cheekbones molded to accustom to scars and silver staples that do nothing but add to your thinking connotation of him being ambiguity personified. 

“Yeah, even if he did... you know.” You wave your hand. “He would’ve died sooner or later.” Dabi’s eyes narrow in confusion as he catches the way your eyelashes flutter prettily against your skin.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh.. uh- he had heart issues, the kind you can’t recover from.” You remove the lit stick from your lips and give him a full-toothed smile. “Thank you, Mr. Stranger.” And with that, you turn away and resume your lethargic walk down an empty alleyway.

Must be your quirk. Dabi thinks as he watches your figure disappear into the grasping shadows of the night. When he returns to the battered LOV hideout, he goes out of his way to avoid any interaction with the League. Refusing to taint his memory of your pretty smile and pretty face.

The next time Dabi sees you, you’re in the same place. This time you’re not wearing scrubs, opting for a more casual look with a baby blue top that contrasts nicely with your skin and jeans that accentuate your figure. You don't have a pack of cigarettes either.

Unlike before, you notice his stare and you bathe in it. The bartender from the other day all but glances at you. Amusingly, you turn to glance at the brooding figure in the corner of the bar with a knowing look.

After two beers and spinning courage, you walk towards Dabi with sway in your step. His eyes follow your movement until you decide to situate yourself next to him in the booth. His low lids focus on you as you fidget with your manicured fingers. Cute. He thinks. You’re too cute for your own good. 

“What’s your name?” You break the silence. Teeth gnawing into the plush dent of your bottom lip.

Dabi takes his time to mull over his answer, he doesn’t notice the way his body temperature flares nor the tiny blue flames that threaten to dance on his scabbed knuckles. A grasp —an unfamiliar cloak, wraps its fabric around his shoulders. Prickles of his being push with urgency to ease it away but it’s all in vain.

“Touya.” 

Touya, from the corner of his eye, watches your eyes light up with interest. Bright and wide with swirling specks of gaiety— joy. Which Dabi guesses are because of him. He turns his attention away from you, not wanting to get warped into your pretty eyes that sparkle just from hearing his name. 

“S’ a pretty name,” you whisper. Sporting a subtle grin, one that blows wide when you see all four chambers of his heart pumping wildly with blood. 

“Can you walk me home, Touya?”

It goes on like this, again and again —conversations with Touya at the back of the bar, sitting next to him in the grimy booth. His replies are quip ones but you know he’s listening to your idle chatter because you feel the way his eyes bore into your skull. 

The night always comes to a close with both of you walking shoulder to shoulder, the plans of your upcoming day echoing off the bounds of the night sky. You live in an apartment building, a shitty one. He remembers you complaining about the squeaky floorboards, your loud neighbors, and the pervy, greasy-haired landlord that barges through your door at the most unreasonable times of the day. Touya raises his eyebrow at that.

“I’ll take care of him for you.” The words fly past his lips before he can stop them. 

Your response is a peal of robust laughter that comes to a halt when you pull out a cigarette. “I’ll be sure to come to you,” you say. Today marked the thirtieth time you both engaged in subtle conversation. He takes note in the fact that you only smoke when you wear scrubs —the rope of curiosity gets the best of him.

“I have to keep up with the appearance of my two personalities, duh.” Touya has no clue what you mean but your clipped tone tells him that he shouldn't pry.

Meanwhile, your eyes flit to his sapphire ones than to his lips.

“Touya?”

“Mhm?”

“Can I kiss you?” You watch the way his eyes widen with a low giggle. 

But before he can answer, your lips are already on his. He’s quick to take action as he cups the underside of your jaw, your breath minty even though you just had a smoke. His head’s a mess, there’s a jumble of terms that fail to come together and form coherent ones. The only thing his brain can commit is the pillowy softness of your lips. Sadly, he can’t enjoy the whole experience. His bottom lip erased with the tissue needed to feel, only leaving a purpled patch in its wake. 

For a second, his chest tides over with a tinge of shame but it’s quickly washed away as you pull him even closer. Your small, gentle fingers carding through his soft, inky tresses.  

The kiss ends when you pull away with a breathless sigh. You stay close to him, noses nearly touching as once shared breaths mingle. His hands are on your hips now, slowly kneading the soft flesh. A couple of seconds dart by as your dark eyes stare into his bright ones. The low-lighted area giving them a fascinating glow.

You want to tell him how pretty he looks at this moment. His flustered expression causing your gut to simmer with heat.

You need to tell him how nicely entrapped his presence always makes you feel but something in you decides against it, choosing to save it for another time. So you search for an alternative, breath growing unsteady as you stumble across one.

“Can you....walk me home, Touya?” This time it's different from the first night you asked him.

This time your voice trails off with a much different undertone.

››››››››››››››››››››› ~★~ ›››››››››››››››››››››

Touya wakes up before you do. Peeks of the sun squeeze through your bedroom blinds, casting a shining glow on your skin. As he studies your peaceful features, he encounters a divulgence. One that causes his skin to crawl with parasites that immediately beg him to keep up with this facade. To derive a little longer and enjoy this bliss at his own expense. However, Touya decides against it. It’s quite obvious that he’s not the safest person to be around, his appearance giving that thought away. 

It might be better if he tells you first, he thinks.

It might be better if he lets a precious thing like you go before he builds a stockpile of lies that’ll eventually come crashing down when the realization finally hits. 

“I’m a villain, you know,” he murmurs as he watches your eyelids flutter open. He grimaces as he tries to think of what your reaction may be. The first words you woke up to would have to be that you’d let a criminal into your home —into your bed.

He sits up to place his back on your cool headboard. The bell of anxiousness that sits at the pit of his stomach rings after a few beats of silence. You turn to stare at his upright figure with two arms tucked underneath your satin pillow. “I know, m’ not stupid, Touya.” You grumble, turning your head to return to sleep.

“What?” His eyebrows knit has his chest shutters with disbelief. 

You ignore his bewilderment. “Since we’re confessing our deepest, darkest secrets can I tell you what could’ve been my villain origin story?” Touya stares at your face before bursting into laughter, one that nearly causes the staples around his jaw to unhinge. Though, this laughter is one of relief.

 A part of him doesn’t believe it. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever done a deed so right, so pure, that had earned him someone like you. The only thing his reeling mind can suffice is that he had killed a scum in some random, dirty alley that ended up being the lowest of the low. At the random thought, he laughs some more. 

“What?” You can’t help but giggle, his laughter —which was a rare entity— made you giddy with joy. “I’m serious!” You pout, turning away from him to feign anger, your ears stay perked up as his smooth, rich laughter fills your bedroom with warmth. 

“Okay, fine I won’t tell you.” His laughter trails off as he moves from the headboard to lie directly across from you. 

“Alright, tell me.” His abnormal body heat causes you to shuffle closer until you rest your head on his chest. 

When your story is done, he can’t help but stare at the ceiling in cerebrate silence.

At the age of fifteen, a program introduced by the hero association had recruited kids with abilities related to the medical field. Yours being an x-ray like quirk that allowed you to detect diseases, broken bones, and infections. Ones even normal x-ray’s couldn’t see. Forced to drop out of high school to take nursing classes and discard your latest stage of childhood life, you’d already become a registered nurse before the ripe age of nineteen. You worked in a special division, one where you only dealt with pro-heroes. You tell Touya about your worst encounter, one where you diagnosed a collection of broken ribs and the incapability to do hero work for several weeks and got shoved so hard that your ankle had twisted. Fortunately, the program had been discarded when you were twenty. With your inability to do other things that weren’t related to nursing you decided to stay one. 

“Where were your parents?” It takes you a second to answer, chest deflating in the worst kind of way as you remember your father and mother’s shame-ridden faces staring back at your own —your's ridden with disbelief.

“They got money, so it didn’t really matter what happened to me.” You whisper, using the soft pad of your index finger to trace his scarred skin.

“Wanted to be a writer, Touya.” You try your best to hold in your cries but to no avail. “Wanted to write a best-seller,” You laugh, but it’s overshadowed by the watery sob that follows.

And with that, he finally understands. You’re two personas, a writer and a nurse. His chest tides up with pride once he realizes that he’s probably the first person to see and understand what they both mean to you.

“You can still be one,” he says. But it’s a promise of his own in disguise. I’ll change the world for you, make it so you can do anything you want to. It echoes from his every syllable and trails off with a familiar lilt.

And you see it too —hope-filled eyes flit to glittering ones. His, a bright pair of blue gems that shine with raw, unfiltered passion- yet to be completely polished. Against your will, every tendril of your being untwines and wraps itself around his words- you believe him. Unconsciously, your lips blow into a wide smile. “I’ll hold you to it, Touya.”

The stagnant air diffuses once you ask him a question, “when’s your birthday?” 

Internally, you kick yourself in the shin as Touya shoots you a whimsical look. You’re not sure why this is the first personal question you decide to ask him.

But to you, Touya’s painted in grey, moral wise. You’ve only known him for less than a month, his background revealed the same night you met him. When you were with Touya, he didn’t seem like a villain. Villains were supposed to be vile, viscous people that didn’t dissolve properly into the troughs of today’s society. 

His touch was gentle, handling you with nothing other than care. But you’re sure he’s used those same nimble fingers to inflict pain on whomsoever he chose. To you, Touya’s a jigsaw. You’re prepared —at least you think you are— to solve it. Prepared to start with the small pieces. And when those gradually come together, you’d use them as a guide. Treading carefully to work from known to unknown. 

However, Touya prays to the gods that you don’t use your quirk to see the way his heart pumps wildly and the way his breath hitches. It took him over a decade to muddle his brain with different memories to overshadow his past ones not wanting for the abstained shadows of remembrance to embrace him. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you.

Dabi doesn’t trust himself. 

He doesn’t trust the color of his mind to stay in the now state it’s in. If Touya Todoroki were to unwrap the gauze that clung to his very being, he’d fall apart. And he couldn’t have that. This unforgiving life of his had finally unfolded its palms and given him a gift and he’d stay sane for as long as he could to enjoy it.

“December 15th.” Your eyes widen when you realize the day was when you both had met. “I was your birthday gift then, huh.” You giggle, pressing closer to his body to feel the erratic thump of his heart.

“Guess so.” A good lie is always better than the truth. 

That’s what he tells himself when Tomura asks where he’s been for the past couple of months. Vehement, crimson eyes digging into Dabi’s skull.  He scoffs in annoyance, opting to tell the blue-haired man that he’d been out of town to scout for new members. Rummaging through underground areas where the average of villains was the thickest. 

And yes, they’re all lies. He’s happy that Tomura is as dumb as he looks. Though it may be because Dabi has mastered the art of weaving intricate webs of lies- he’s grateful, nonetheless. 

When Dabi turns away from him, Tomura’s eyes narrow.  

Shigaraki Tomura isn’t as dumb as he looks. But Dabi didn’t know that -at least, not yet.

Here in the LOV hideout, where Dabi’s just a ruthless flame kindler, he finds no self-content, only impatience. Sometimes, taking part in Toga’s antics as a source of entertainment, her bloodlust too damn thick to ignore.

Impatience, a contagious drug that filters through Dabi’s veins and causes his blood to sear whenever he thinks about the overturn he wants hero society to so badly face. It’s the only way this ache of his can be soothed.

At first, it was just for him to bask in -for him to enjoy. For him to see a part of his past, burn. To see a rage of flames that -in time, turned to a cinder, his memories with it. 

But now, he wants you to see it too. He wants to keep you tucked by his side as everything unfolds. Knowing this, he waits. Dabi’s not naive, this dream of his isn’t a one-man act. 

Though, the biggest step closer to glory comes earlier than expected…

He’s a hero, the number two pro hero in all of Japan. His speed and the aid of his wings being his strongest suit. The information he provides is what still causes the Leauge to thrive. And the reason that Shigaraki now knows of the Meta Liberation Army. A powerful villain organization that rivaled Tomura’s very own. Led by a man named Destro, a name that every villain’s supposed to know. Kuriogi tells him this in his usual monotone voice, he’s the founder and now his son currently leads the army. The thing is, Dabi does know but for other reasons. His father was a hero after all.

Shigaraki orders Dabi to keep watch over Hawks. Sure, Dabi has his suspicions too, but he couldn’t differentiate if it’s the hostility he feels after he learns Hawks’ friendly relationship with Endeavor or for the fact that several missions had been deemed as errors because of the red-winged man’s mistakes. 

Though, his stress dissipates when he comes home to you. It didn’t take a lot of time for Touya to get accustomed to your apartment. He’s used to living in shitty places, the League had been -and still is- living in one for months. 

Fortunately, your landlord never comes around. You think it’s because of Touya’s intimidating presence but it stretches farther than that. Farther into the territory of what makes Touya into the fearful villain he is. But, you didn’t have to know that. Touya deliberates. You were stressed enough as it is.

Sometimes you’re not even home, late shift reminders overtaking your flimsy calendar. On those days, when you return, you’re so tired that Touya has to undress and bathe you himself. It’s never a toll, he enjoys listening to your barely decipherable recaps of your day, ones that sometimes turn into angry speeches of frustration that he’s sure to soothe with soft kisses to your pursed lips.

“Touya,” you whisper. Head in the crook of his neck while he lathers your body with body wash. Your head’s cloudy, exhaustion taking its home in your body. 

“Mhmm.”

“Love you, like.. a lot.” The words bleed together with little to no pauses. It’s so slurred that Touya has to mull over it.

When he finally separates them in his head, he pauses. Eyes going wide as the grip on the pink loofah loosens. 

Those words had never been emitted between you two. They were the three forbidden syllables that hung still, frozen in mid-air. It should’ve been easy to say. So easy to confess if push ever came to shove and the tides of adoration ever became too much to bear.

Despite that - in Touya’s head, his sole belief was that he was a package of damaged goods. What solace could you find if he ever told you that he loved you? Would it bring you happiness- fear?

Months had passed between the two of you, the light of winter and spring passing with intertwined hands. But what if- what if- you didn’t love Touya as much as he thought? What if you stayed by his side because you took pity on him? Took pity on a man who had no efficiency, no worth, no value, and used it to your heart’s content to mend yourself together.

Unbeknownst to him, those thoughts had run aimlessly across your mind as well. Both of you were damaged goods. Both of you unfamiliar with the thrum of the common melody. 

When you feel his movements halt, a part of you feels victorious.

Oh, how lucky you were for being high on delirium. This was a chance pulled out of luck’s pocket. 

“Don’t gotta say it, I see it.” He lowers his gaze to see you staring intensely at his chest. Which no doubt encases an organ that beats wildly because of your words. For the first time in a long time, he grows embarrassed. A streak of red blossoms from under his scarred cheeks as he chooses to hide his head in your neck, inhaling the strong citrusy scent of your body wash. 

Hesitantly, you brush your fingers across the expanse of his back. Careful to avoid rough skin. Hoping that with your touch, you can convey a message of understanding. 

I love you Touya and I know you love me.

››››››››››››››››››››› ~★~ ›››››››››››››››››››››

On a week that you’re finally off from work, you choose to spend it with Touya. He‘s barely out anyways. When you ask him why he’s never out doing villainy things. He answers with, “to spend time with you, princess.” A chortle at the end of his sentence when he sees you duck your head in embarrassment. 

“Wanna go dress shopping with me tomorrow?” You ask, taking a handful of potato chips in your palm, focus still on your tv show -which Touya believes is the most boring thing he’s ever come across.

He turns to glance at you, eyebrows knitted as he contemplates. 

He knows he shouldn’t, situations where his identity might be discovered, wouldn’t be good for the both of you. 

And if Tomura were to find out…. the possibilities were too endless and Touya would keel over before he put your life in jeopardy.  

But he still says yes- he’s never actually seen you wear a dress, he tells you. A subtle smile adorning his lips when he sees yours. He doesn’t ask why you want to buy a dress all of a sudden but he doesn’t mind.

The next day, you dress him up in a big burly coat that you had found at a thrift store years ago. Touya scrunches up his nose in disdain as you pull it up to cover his purple-hued scars, the fabric smelling oddly like sulfur. If it weren’t for the way you seemed so focused on hiding his identity he would’ve discarded the clothing a long time ago. He thinks the last straw is when you plop a pair of dark sunglasses on his nose.

“Don’t look at me like that!” you fuss. “I tried my best.” 

“Was your best option really a combination of coat and sunglasses?” He exasperates, voice coming out muffled.

“What... I can’t hear you?” You cup the back of your ear, feigning curiosity.  

He rolls his eyes at your comment. “Whatever, let’s go.”

You grab your silver coat from your rack and walk outside, both of you making it to your beat-down  Honda. As Touya shuffles in the passenger seat you can’t help but giggle at his uncomfortable posture, they turn louder when he turns to glare at you but fails miserably, his intimidating face shrouded by the coat and glasses. 

When you enter the boutique a small ding of a bell hits your ear. You smile in victory once you realize the vacancy. A short lady with gray hair waddles towards you and Touya. “Well, hello there!” She exclaims her soft voice matching with the appearance of her shop. Sweet and adorable. “What are you two looking for today.” She walks closer to you two, her motherly aura shrouding you in contentment. 

“Well… I’m not entirely too sure,” you say, clasping your hands behind your back. “But something blue and flowy.” You hum.

“Blue and flowy, you say?” She turns. “Follow me.”

You turn to glance at Touya, whose attention is already on you. You grab his hand and follow behind. She leads you to a wide room, the smell of laundry detergent filtering through the air. Your eyes widen once you see the rows of dresses adorned in plastic.

“These are all my babies.” She waves and turns to you with an expectant look, eyes crinkling as she gives you a warm smile.

“They’re real pretty, aren't they?” You nod. “Well, the dressing rooms are back there.” She points to the far right. “If you need anything just come to me, I’ll be at the front desk.” 

You walk towards the small corridor of dressing rooms and pick the first one you see. Pushing Touya into the stall, you place your hands on your hip after clicking the door shut. He takes his sunglasses off and shoots you a quizzical look.

“Show me your flames,” you breathe out, palms growing clammy as nervousness starts to set in. 

You wring your hands as you watch his adam's apple bob, his stare turning hard. “No.” 

You cross your arms and plead. “Please Touya, I wanna find a dress that matches your flames. They’re probably really pretty… don’t know why you won’t show me.” Your voice trails off.

He had an idea that this would happen sooner or later. There were times where you did see his flames but those were accidents. He always made sure to quickly extinguish them when he caught your peering eyes. 

His chest floods with guilt once he sees your disappointed expression. He didn’t think his flames were pretty. He’d melted too many flays of flesh to count. The last thing he wanted to do was show you the bright-tinged spirit responsible for his grave sins.

But one dilemma Touya has is that he can’t ever seem to jump over the weak spot he has for you. So, he gives a meek - fine.

He watches your features light up with glee, only hoping that you wouldn’t regret asking him for this. “Can I take the coat off, first?” You hum, scrambling to do it for him. Revealing his plain white tee and his dark black jeans. 

“Step back for me,” he whispers, gnawing at the bottom of his scarred lip. He opens the palm of his hand- to first, show a tiny blue flame that sways languidly. Progressively, he increases the flame until it engulfs his hand and upper wrist. When he looks up from his palm to your face, he’s surprised to see that your eyes aren't menacingly calculating or searching for release from fear. Instead, you look on in astonishment. 

He sees the reflection of his flames in your eyes and from that circled mirror, a tiny nibble of his conscience starts to ebb with pride of his quirk. 

After gushing about how pretty his flames look, you commit the color to memory. Dashing out of the stall to search for a dress, humming a tune when you envision his reaction to seeing you in such a nice, quaint dress on such a special day. 

He perks up once you unlock the door, expecting you to change and show him what you’ve found. But instead, he’s met with your smiling face and what seems to be a dress -shrouded in a velvet coverup. “Don’t look so disappointed.” You wag your finger in front of his face. “You’ll see it soon.”

When December rolls by with chilly air as company, you start to see Touya less and less. He never does tell you what exactly it is he does while out doing villain work. Though, he did tell you that his absences would occur more and more since he and his league were working hard to take down a villain organization. 

Your eyebrows had furrowed at that. “I thought villains were supposed to band together,” you asked, head resting on his thigh as you stared up at his face. “Not ones with different philosophies,” he had said, hand suspiciously inching closer and closer to your chest. You hummed, still confused. 

It might sound naive, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Hero society didn’t interest you. You couldn’t say villains did either but Touya was one. One of the bigshots. 

Once, when you’d seen him on the little tv in the corner of your break room, it took a lot in you to not crack a smile. Though the idea of bringing chaos into the world with wide arms made your nerves rack with trepidation, you had Touya, and that seemed like enough. 

Fortunately, Touya not being home was a benefit to your plan. You’d already scheduled your days off for work and booked the reservations for the fancy restaurant that was at least an hour’s drive from your apartment building. It was hard work, but for Touya’s birthday, it was all worth it.

››››››››››››››››››››› ~★~ ›››››››››››››››››››››

Shigaraki Tomura does not like to be lied to. 

If he had written commandments for the people he came across, that would be his first line, golden engraved. It’s an unexplainable feeling he gets. If he could, he’d describe it as an itchy, hot coil that warps across his skin. It’s not painful, it’s simply annoying. And he feels it nearly every day. The scars that mar his neck being a result of it. 

Why does the world have to be riddled with so many liars? 

Dabi’s a liar, he knows that much. Hawks, that red-winged hero may be one too, but he’d deal with that when things finally came into play. 

Now, he focuses on the man Dabi truly is. Villains lie. Shigaraki knows this, he’s a villain too. But- he tells the truth when it comes to his goals. 

He tells the truth with what he wants. 

What he wants LOV to bring. 

What he wants society to flood with.

So why couldn’t Touya Todoroki do the same?

Shigaraki Tomura’s smart and Dabi is a fool to not see this. Who came up with the plans? The missions? The very concept of LOV? Sure, AFO had shaped him into who he was today but he was the same man locked in Tartarus, not Tomura.

When Tomura finds the roots of Dabi’s lies through Kurogiri’s peering eyes. It takes an hour of pleading for the ghastly man to convince Tomura not to find Dabi and disintegrate him into a fine pile of dust. 

“Why should I!” Tomura shouts, his ruby eyes glaring into Kurogiri’s yellow ones. “He lied to me.” Shigaraki spits out the word so hastily and it’s as if saying the word itself was a sin of its own. Kurogiri nods, silently transmitting his words of understanding, not wanting to raise his temper even higher. 

“But Dabi’s an important member of the League, Tomura.” Kurogiri coaxes. “In a week or so, we’ll be off to fight with M.L.A. If anything give him a warning, a threat. Just don’t kill the boy.” Shigaraki takes a second to glare at Kurogiri but eventually, his shoulders sag with defeat. 

Even though Dabi had committed the gravest sin, he’d show mercy. 

Begrudgingly, he grabs the cup of orange juice from Kurogiri’s hand, his thoughts flying at a fast pace, anger refusing to subside. All until his thinking cogs get stuck on one idea, one thought. 

The thought crawls out from his mind and paints his expression with one of sickening glee. His smile so wide, that rivulets of blood dribble down from his cracked lips. His tongue darts out to lap up the tangy liquid as he gets high on this idea, on this revelation. 

Shigaraki Tomura needs Dabi but Shigaraki Tomura does not need you.

Tomura knows everything about you, your background, your parents, the countless homes you had to reside in, where you live as of now- where you and Dabi live as of now. Where you work and what exactly you’re planning to do on the 15th day of December. It’s terrifyingly easy to uncover reservation logs.

You’re a pretty woman, Tomura could admit that. But you were a stain in his perfect, webbed canvas of the future. Those countless months where he had expected Dabi to be his righteous subordinate and listen to his demands were spent with you. Cooped up at your run-down apartment doing god knows what. 

Tomura’s teeth grit as he digs into the flesh of his neck, specks of blood underneath his fingernails while he fervently scratches the already scabbed skin. Kurogiri glances over at him, seemingly reading his mind. 

“I’m leaving.” Shigaraki swipes up from his dusty seat. Oh, how he missed the elegance of his LOV’s old hideout. 

“Don’t forget AFO’s orders concerning Gigantomachia.” 

Tomura blinks once, twice. “That thing has way too much HP.” He breathes out. 

“For now, I need to do something else.” He whispers, bringing his embalmed hand to rest on his face.

››››››››››››››››››››› ~★~ ›››››››››››››››››››››

Whenever Touya thought of coincidences he thought of the word luck. It was a coincidence that Touya had been at the same bar as you, a coincidence that because of your lack of care for hero society that you’d glossed over the fact that he was a villain. But as Touya stood in your empty apartment, bloody and bruised from his prior fight, his connotation of coincidences slowly turned sour. A bitter taste sat on his tastebuds as he read over your note. 

Happy Birthday Touya, my love.

meet me at the Burqoues Restaurant! 

Take an uber…. I don’t have any money for one 

(using it on the restaurant money) 

so I’ll just take my car.

p.s. you’ll get to see my dress. 

It was a coincidence that the day he told you was his birthday was the very day the League of Villians had merged with the Meta Liberation Army. Touya didn’t know what this grappling hook of fear was, but as he saw that your Honda was still idly parked in that weird angle you always had a habit of doing -it came to take its hold around his neck. 

Maybe you’d actually found a couple of bucks and took an uber instead. Right? 

You were probably in the restaurant, ordering that expensive champagne you really wanted to try. Ready to show that pretty, wide smile you always gave Touya when you saw him. 

Right? 

Touya couldn’t think- couldn’t breathe as he sped down the street. His grip on the wheel was so tight that his staples were close to popping. The loud ringing in his ears drowned out the persistent honking of cars that he nearly collided with. 

What should’ve taken an hour took a measly twenty minutes. Without a second thought, Touya was already out of the car. 

Upon entering, he received perturbed glances. He didn’t blame them, his clothes were bloodied, several staples unhinged from the skin. 

“S-sir?” a tiny voice squeaked. He glanced at the receptionist desk, the bright chandeliers illuminating her meek stare that looked borderline terrified. He probably looked like a villain. 

“D-do you have a reservation.” 

“Yes.” He answered gruffly, head craning to see if he could catch sight of you.

“Your name please.” 

“Touya.” He gritted, eyes focusing back on the receptionist who didn’t seem to believe him. She ducked her head to check, eyes scanning frantically. 

“Oh, yes!” She smiled, it was too wide to be real but, frankly, Touya didn’t care. All he needed to know was that you were here. 

“Table 15.” She pointed. “You won’t miss it.”

Touya didn’t bother to reply, legs already scrambling towards what he hoped would be you. Ignoring the stares that followed behind him.

Table 12

Table 13

Table 14

Table 15-

Touya's heart nearly stops, vision tinging with black as his knees nearly crumble beneath him. 

You weren’t there. 

››››››››››››››››››››› ~★~ ›››››››››››››››››››››

When Touya returned to the now, Paranormal Liberation Army hideout, Shigaraki had given him a smile so sweet that it had caused Touya's blood to run cold.

However, Touya did not pry, choosing to ignore the guilty glances the rest of the league sent his way. And he hated himself for it, hated the coward he'd grown to be in such a short period of time.

Later on that night, he returned to your desolate apartment, choosing to take a cigarette from your half- empty pack. 

Yes, Touya despised cigarettes but at that moment they'd never tasted so sweet. His lungs didn't itch, he didn't feel abyssal. He just felt— soothed. As he took several drags, Touya silently pleaded for the nicotine to somehow make every fiber of his being believe that you had decided to finally leave.

That you had finally realized that a villain like him was no good and would only put your life at risk.

However, his façade had cracked when he'd found multiple files on your desolate laptop, drafts of your story in the making. The first page dedicated to your love for giving you the motivation to publish your first ever book.

And at that moment, for the first time in his godforsaken life, Touya wished he could cry. To show you, somehow that he was grateful for everything you had given him. That he was thankful and sorry for letting his mirror that reflected thousands of moments with you -your arms cradling him, him cradling you- shatter into fractured pieces.

As Touya Todoroki sat on a velvet sofa, arms wide and camera ready, a piece of his brain fabricated the image of you next to him --adorned in a sapphire blue dress, showing him that pretty, pretty smile that he’d grown to love, he told you —and told the world the story he never had the chance to.

To simply, atone.

[megsironthrone]

Meg's Game of Tales: Tale 11

*Familiar characters are NOT mine! The original story of "Rumpelstiltskin" was written by The Brothers Grimm.*

Warnings: Rumpelstiltskin AU, angst, magic, deceit.

Pairings: Petyr Baelish x fem!reader, fem!reader x unnamed prince

The Miller's Daughter. That was all you were to the people in the village nearest to the castle. Your name didn't matter to them. The only thing that mattered was that you made the flour deliveries. You could say you hated your life. But then, it happened. The delivery your father had been waiting for. The first delivery to the castle. The king was finally giving your father a chance. If only you had known the fate that was about to befall you.

See, you didn't know that the prince had a habit of trying to sneak away through the kitchens to avoid his princely duties for a few hours. It was during one of those times that you, quite literally, ran into said prince. As soon as you made contact with the solid mass of human being, your heart sank. One of your bags of flour busted open and the others fell to the floor in a heap of white powder. All your hard work…destroyed.

"Watch where you're going!" you snapped, not even bothering to look up at the offender. "I beg your pardon?! How dare you speak to me that way!" Your head snapped up and you froze as a curse tried to escape your lips. You stood to your full height quickly and curtsied before dusting the flour from your skirts. "Forgive me for snapping, my prince." He arched a brow. "And what of my clothing? You’ve gotten flour all over them!"

"No. You did. I couldn't see around the bags of flour. You should have been paying attention." The prince looked positively gob smacked that you once again had spoken to him the way you did. Only this time, it wasn't the prince who called you out.

"You are speaking to the crowned prince, girl! You could be thrown in the dungeon for such insubordination." You glanced around the prince to see the king and two guards standing in the kitchens. It was clear the king had come down to stop the prince from leaving but had walked in on your interaction instead.

"You would throw me in the dungeon for your son's mistake, Your Majesty? I was simply trying to deliver the flour and I did apologize for my tone," you explained, doing your best to keep your tone from sharpening once again. It didn't help. The king looked furious. "The flour you were supposed to deliver is now all over the floor, you , and my son! You have failed." You wanted to cry. Your father was counting on the commission from the castle since the last miller the castle used had recently died. Your family needed this.

"Please, Your Majesty. My father had nothing to do with this. Please give him another chance." The king crossed his arms over his chest. "He should have taught you better. My answer is no and, should you continue to argue, I will throw you and your father in the dungeon." He beckoned his son to follow him and turned away. "WAIT! Please. Let me prove to you that this will be different. I can give you money. To replace the prince's clothing! I-I can give you enough money to provide for your kingdom for years to come."

The king looked back at you and laughed. "Girl, I am king. I have more gold than you will ever see in your lifetime." You shook your head. "That isn't true. I-I make gold!" You don't know why you said it. You simply said the only thing you could possibly think of that might be able to save you.

"Impossible." You licked your lips as your eyes scanned the room to find a pile of straw in the corner. "It's true. I can spin straw into gold." A boisterous laugh escaped the king's mouth. His entire body shook in merriment. "If you can do that, I'd let you marry the prince." You straightened your back and looked him directly in the eye.

"I can. I will prove it to you." The king stopped laughing and pondered for a moment. "Very well. I will have a room prepared in the tower with straw and a spinning wheel. If, by tomorrow morning, you have spun all the straw into gold as you claim you can, you shall have the prince's hand and your father will never want for anything. Do we have a deal?" You gave him a curtsy. "We do, Your Majesty."

As soon as the royals were out of sight, you nearly ran back to your cart, hopping over the now useless bags of flour, and leaned against it. You were in so much trouble. How in the world were you EVER going to spin straw into gold?! You felt stupid and scared. Your overactive imagination and your willingness to save your father had gotten you into a situation you were certain was going to be the death of you.

That evening, you were shut up in a room in the tower and the door was locked behind you. A spinning wheel sat in the center of the room and a stack of straw was piled high next to it, reaching into the corner of the room. The weight of your lie hit your heart and your shoulders slumped. Obviously your lie was an impossibility. Still, you had to do something while you waited, so you decided to spin the straw. It wouldn't be gold, but at least you'd have something to do with your hands while you waited for your inevitable death.

"Seems you're in a spot of trouble," a voice suddenly said. You jumped nearly a foot off the stool. Your eyes scanned the room to find a man (at least he looked like a man) standing in the corner. "W-Who are you?" He gave you a little smirk. "My name is of no importance. What is important is that I can assist you with your little…dilemma."

You scoffed a bit. "No one can help me. It is impossible to spin straw into gold." His smirk grew, but you saw that no emotion reached his green-grey eyes. "For you, perhaps." You rolled your eyes. "Sure. Now, if you don't mind, I have my death to prepare for and I'd appreciate it if you left."

Instead of leaving, the man slowly approached you. "Aren't you even the least bit curious?" You were done with his questions and games, so you moved off the stool and gestured for him to have a seat. A sort of "put your money where your mouth is" challenge. He took the stool and began to spin. Before your eyes, the yellow straw turned into gold. Your jaw hit the floor.

"How did you do that?!" He chuckled. "Magic. Now, I have a deal for you. I will spin all this straw into gold for you. You'll marry the prince, live happily ever after, blah, blah, blah." Your brows furrowed. "And what's in it for you? You don't seem like the type to do something for nothing." Another chuckle. "You are correct. Your first born child."

"I'm sorry?" you asked, certain you'd misheard. "That is my price. You will give me your first born child." You blinked at him surprised. He stared at you passively for a moment, but there was a slight tic of his lip that showed that he was getting irritated with every second you hesitated. "It isn't a difficult decision. It is life or death, my dear." He was right and you knew that, so you agreed. He immediately got to work spinning gold from all that straw. By the time dawn came, there was not a single ounce of straw left. The man gave you another smirk before disappearing in the darkness as the door opened.

*time skip*

You ended up marrying the prince, as was agreed and a few months later, you brought a little girl into the world. You had all but forgotten about the little man who had saved your life. At least, until one night in your daughter's nursery. You had decided against governess and wet nurses for the time being since your husband wasn't king yet so you didn't have many queenly duties. So when your daughter cried in the night, you got up and walked into the room adjacent to yours to tend to her.

This time, however, when you walked into the room, the shadow of someone almost made you scream. "Now, now, my dear, is that any way to greet the one who saved your life?" You didn't relax, but you didn't scream either. The man turned and you were met the green-grey eyes of the one who spun straw into gold. He held your baby in his arms.

"Why are you here?" He gave you a look. "Surely you haven't forgotten. I'm here to collect my payment. Magic comes at a price, you know." You froze in fear. If he took your child, your husband would know what had happened. That you had lied. "Please, don't. Don't do this. I will give you anything else." He chuckled, his expression twisting into something dark and foreboding. "We made a deal, my dear. I upheld my end of the bargain. Now it's your turn."

You felt tears welling up in your eyes. He regarded your face for a moment before a twisted smile formed on his lips. "However, if you can figure out my name, I will return your child to you." Your heart sank. How were you supposed to figure out the name of this little demon? "How long do I have?" He gave you the time limit of a week before disappearing again.

You spent six days trying to figure things out. Six days of trying to find a clue or two as to his name. Or even where to find him. Finally, your overheard gossip from some of the villagers that brought supplies to the castle. A location. It was all you had, but it was better than nothing and you were running out of time. You kept your down as you made your way to the location and peered in the window. Sure enough, there was the man along with your daughter and someone else.

"This is what you've been up to, Littlefinger?" the other voice asked, "Truly cunning. Stealing an infant." You felt yourself smile. You knew his name now. Without waiting another moment, you burst through the door, surprising the two people. "Littlefinger! That is your name!"

His face fell before contorting in anger. "You cheated." You arched a brow. "Did I, Littlefinger? You never specified how I needed to learn your name. Only that I learn it. I did. Now give me back my baby!" He shook his head. "No." You put your hands on your hips and glared. "A deal is a deal. That is my child and you will give her back this minute, Lit-" he cried out, trying to stop you, but you continued on, "-tlefinger!" Without warning, the little man before you turned to dust. You jumped back.

"What just happened?" Littlefinger's companion smiled. "You said his name three times. His curse was that he could perform great feats of magic but if anyone he has made a deal with says his name three times, he would be destroyed. Now, take your daughter and go, Your Highness." You didn't wait another second.

When you made it back to the castle, you took your daughter to her nursery, made certain the window was locked and sat down with the girl. You rocked with her. You grinned to yourself. Life was wonderful. Littlefinger was gone. You had your prince and your daughter back. No one else would ever know anything about what had happened.

(a/n: I hope you like it! Tags for Game of Tales are still open!)

[ayellowcurtain]

could you please write Elu - best friends to lovers - situation where Eliott wants to kiss Lucas on his cheek, but Lucas is unaware of it, so when he turns his head to Eliott to tell him something he’s suddenly surprised by Eliott’s lips on his?

It’s hard to stop seeing things, to read the situation differently now that Yann shared his thoughts with Lucas. That Eliott might like him more than just best friends. Lucas never saw it that way but now that he knows it’s a possibility in other people’s eyes, it’s hard for him to not overanalyze every interaction he has with Eliott. He thought a lot about the past too, searching for clues he might have missed or seen in a different way than how Yann or Eliott saw it.

Eliott is affectionate, with everyone. Lucas should not think about that with him personally. It’s just the way he is.

Lucas knows Eliott never wants to see the bad side of things, he never wants to worry or to stress because his brain can take him there any time it feels like it. So when Eliott feels in control of himself completely, he’s a little too reckless, fighting every possible conflict with anyone, about anything. He wants to live in Wonderland and Lucas can’t blame him for that. If Lucas had to explain it, he would tell Eliott can be a little too much. Especially if compared to himself, the grumpiness and anger in the form of a human. They’re really contrasting in every aspect. Eliott is beautiful too, Lucas does notice how most heads turn whenever they walk by Eliott. Lucas is average. He’s cute on his good days. Eliott is...unbelievable.

Eliott can have anyone, and the fact that he could be interested in his best friend since they were babies sounds like a stretch. But Lucas also knows how good Yann is at seeing these things, a lot better than he is. He could be a love god. And Yann wouldn’t mention it if it wasn’t clear. He knows Lucas can get a little too excited when a single sight of happiness appears to be coming his way.

“Why are you taking so long?” Lucas feels the wet hair on his naked back, trying to tickle him and he looks down, at the hands that appear on the counter, so close to both his hands too. He wonders if that’s intentional.

“Need to brush...my teeth.” Lucas tries to control the shiver coming from his back caused by the hair and how close Eliott is standing right behind him, putting his chin on Lucas’ shoulder to look at him through the mirror. He’s shirtless and a lot colder than he was five minutes ago on the bed right next to Lucas’.

He wakes up like it’s only a switch turning on or off. Eliott opened his eyes, stretched his whole body and looked out the window, the bright sky and warmth coming from the wall next to his bed more than enough of a sign for him to think he could jump in the pool right away to already start his day.

Lucas needed more time to wake up like he always does. He stayed there, sprawled on his bed, pretending he wasn’t watching Eliott sleep, afraid of what could happen between them for good or bad. Eliott is his best friend since forever! He’s not willing to risk it for Yann’s romantic imagination. He still needed to brush his teeth, put some shorts on so he could go check if the water wasn't freezing. It feels cold if Eliott’s body temperature is anything to go by but he can at least lie on the grass and sunbathe for some time.

“Why brush your teeth to go do nothing outside?” Eliott asks, his head still right next to Lucas’. Before Yann said anything, this would feel normal. Now he’s worried about how close they are, if he’s behaving in a way that might hurt Eliott or give him hope. Lucas feels so lost. Like he was spinning and now he has to walk a straight line right away.

He sighs, cleaning his eyes with one hand, overthinking about leaving the other where it is, almost touching Eliott’s on the sink because that’s what he wants to do. Keep his hand close to Eliott’s but he feels guilty about it.

“I don’t know.”

Eliott finally stands up, and Lucas closes his eyes. It would be easier if they didn’t know each other as well as they do.

“I’ll be at the pool then.” He kisses Lucas’ shoulder and leaves the bathroom.

“Sorry!” Lucas turns around but Eliott is gone, Lucas sees his shadows passing by the bedroom window and the water splashing when he jumps back in the pool.

He puts his head down between his shoulders, sighing. Yann should have waited to tell him all about his opinions about them some other time. He knew they were coming here before anyone else. That Lucas would have to live with his romantic ideas while also living with Eliott and Eliott only for twenty four hours in a tiny house in the middle of nowhere. Lucas almost thought about asking if Manon could come with them but he didn’t. Deep down he always enjoys when they’re alone. Deep down hearing Yann’s opinions about them gave him hope Eliott might like him some day.

He turns back around, brushes his teeth for no reason and changes to some shorts he can swim in without freezing in afterward because it’s wet and cold. He takes his underwear off - thinking it's a risky move on a day like today but he doesn’t want to have underwear to wash later on that old washing machine that doesn’t always work - and grabs his sunglasses, walking outside.

It feels nice, not too warm, with a soft breeze making it more bearable, the grass is a little too tall, and feels like you’re walking on a mattress of the greenest grass. Eliott’s shirt was carelessly thrown at the only chair they found when they got here late last night.

Eliott is floating, arms and legs open wide, and Lucas almost laughs at how pale he is, almost shining with the sun on him. Lucas grabs the shirt and hangs it on the back of the chair so it’ll be warm and with no wrinkles when Eliott needs it later. He lies down on the grass close to the pool, taking his sunglasses off to watch Eliott finally move, smiling softly at him.

“Sorry for my bad mood.”

“It’s okay. I’m used to it.” Eliott comes closer, laying his arms over each other at the edge of the pool, staring at Lucas, making him blush for the first time in his life.

Lucas never saw it coming, and now that he knows, Eliott is making him blush and his heart race just by being too close in the bathroom or just looking at him, giving him too much attention, in Lucas’ opinion.

“How much do you think I’m annoying? Like, how much percent of the time am I annoying and how much time am I nice?”

Eliott looks at him, and he takes so long to answer Lucas starts doubting even if he said that out loud or just thought to himself.

When he’s about to start another subject, turning his head to the side to see Eliott properly, he sees him right on his face too, and the next second their mouths meet in an awkward middle, and Lucas can almost feel himself actually trying to reach and not so accidentally brush his lips against Eliott’s for another second.

Lucas sits up right away when Eliott slips carefully back inside the pool, still looking at him. He’s almost sure Eliott could feel his intention when he probably chased his lips for a second too long to pretend it was part of the accidental kiss.

“Sorry…” Lucas whispers, and he can’t hear himself talk because it feels like his heart is not only beating fast and loud in his chest but all over his body.

“You’re never annoying to me.” Eliott finally answers, with that comfortable and happy voice he always has. With the eyes that are almost as clear as the water in the pool, with the light brown hair that turns golden in the midday sun.

Lucas can’t stop looking at him, so he grabs his glasses to put them back on and not feel as ashamed as he is.

He looks down at the grass, then back to Eliott still there, as in shock as he is but so much better at dealing with the feeling, at hiding behind his chill face expression.

“Was that extremely awkward?” He frowns, pulling some of the grass out, folding the tiny leaf with his fingers.

Eliott shakes his head slowly. “Not awkward to me. But everything is awkward for you, so...you tell me.”

Lucas doesn’t have to think about it but he pretends he does. He folds the leaf a few more times, and finally looks at Eliott again.

“Not awkward for me.”

Eliott smiles. “Good.”

Lucas nods his head slowly as he’s diggesting his realization. “Good, yeah.”

[bluegarners]

AHHHH YOUR CARD LOOKS SO GOOD!!!! maybe hope is scary with young bruce and dick ?

Ugh, dust, you know I’m such a sucker for them!! Thank you so much for sending in your request, I hope you enjoy it~ @dustorange

Hope Is Scary

Bruce never really realized how quiet the Manor was until he began to notice the echoing of padded footsteps that weren’t his own. Alfred was easy to tell, polished shoes with prim heels step step stepping along waxed hallways and carpeted floors. Easy and comforting in a way that Bruce was accustomed to and found a strange warmth in. Alfred had been wearing the same brand of shoes since coming to work for Wayne Manor. The same color and shoe size, and though Alfred had lost some weight over the years, he still carried himself like the young man at heart he’s always been.

But the additional pair of footsteps was new to Bruce and the dim creaking of stairs and uneven floor boards made that apparent to him. 

Dick didn’t like to wear socks. He said they were distracting and made it easier for him to slip and fall when he was running around and trying to do intricate flips off of the railways and walls. When Bruce suggested that, maybe, he just not do those things, Dick had leveled a look at him that made him feel as if he had just stepped upon his parents’ graves. Which, perhaps, he did. This was Dick’s livelihood. All he had ever known. To ask him to stop flipping and twirling was like asking him to stop breathing. It just couldn’t be done.

Bruce buys him some socks with rubber pieces on the bottoms as a compromise. Dick wears them only once before stowing them away in a drawer. He says he doesn’t like not being able to feel the floor.

And maybe that’s something Bruce should have been paying more attention to. That key part in Dick’s reasoning. He’s new at this though. New to being a p... a guardian. To being responsible for the well being of another. Bruce doesn’t interact with children. Ever. Sure, he’ll smile at the camera and kiss a couple babies on the head so the Gotham Gazette has a nice picture and headline, but he’s never actually had to take care of a child before. What do nine year olds like? What do they do? Are there certain rules he has to follow? Rules Dick has to follow? It’s not like Bruce can go up to him and ask what his parents usually did because that would be horribly insensitive and Bruce doesn’t want to replace Dick’s parents. He doesn’t. 

It’s only been a month since Dick arrived at the Manor. A little more than three since the Grayson tragedy. The weeks in between were days Dick did not like to talk about. Why Gotham thought a juvenile detention center was the next best thing to house an orphan still infuriates Bruce. He tries his best not to think about it. Dick doesn’t seem to be bothered much by it, however. In all actuality, Dick has been remarkably resilient so far.

Again, maybe that’s something Bruce should have been paying more attention to. The stability factor. It didn’t align with everything that had happened recently, but Bruce had taken it as a sign of hope for the small boy. That perhaps he wouldn’t be as badly affected by the murders or the things that happened afterwards. Of course, these were all stupid and foolish notions Bruce had convinced himself of. He’s studied psychology before, knows the signs and symptoms of PTSD, but Bruce kicks himself sometimes for not having invested enough time into child psychology. 

Bruce’s room is three doors down from Dick’s. Between them is a guest bathroom, a guest bedroom, and a spare closet Alfred likes to keep his dusters in. They had allowed the nine year old to choose his own room and when he had realized Bruce would be down the hallway from him, a strange look had passed over his face. Dick had looked up and down the corridor, something similar to trepidation flashing across his young features, and Bruce had glanced around too, searching for the thing that had caused that look. It was just an empty hallway though, a picture here and there of a late Wayne or some sort of art piece Bruce has never really bothered to look at.

Briefly, Bruce had allowed a sliver of panic to settle into his chest at the idea that it was himself that was the problem. Perhaps Dick didn’t want to be so close to Bruce, a near perfect stranger offering a house to live in, and maybe three doors just simply wasn’t enough for the boy to feel comfortable. The initial anxiousness had passed after a week though, Dick showing no further outwardly signs of distress at their proximity. In fact, he was a rather cheerful child.

Was, being the unfortunate key word.

The small but sure steps that echo down the hallway at twelve thirteen a.m are Bruce’s first clue that something is wrong. It’s not uncommon for any one of them to get up in the middle of the night, seeking an out from the nightmares or sleepless dreams. Alfred’s habits usually just had him retiring into bed late and getting up early, something Bruce has been trying to coax him out of by taking melatonin pills. Bruce himself is a deep sleeper, his REM cycle taking only about ninety minutes to take over, but even then he can’t seem to sleep more than five or six hours at a time. 

The smallest things will forcibly wake him up, now ingrained into him not to ignore them ever , and that has resulted in him listening very carefully to the patter of tiny feet across wooden floors. It’s Dick, Bruce knows this, and it’s not uncommon for Dick to get up late in the night for water or exploration. The boy was still learning to accept the fact that neither Bruce or Alfred would be angry with him for exploring the Manor, peering into all the rooms and invading the attics. Bruce had done the same thing when he was younger and he does remember it being quite fun, but Dick carries the notion with him that one little slip up will spell out his removal from his new home.

Bruce struggles with reassuring the boy. He hasn’t made any head-way as of yet.

The footsteps stop outside his door and Bruce can see the shadow of small feet beneath the gap. The lights are on, dimmed in the hallway, and the figure stands there for several moments, refusing to move. The handle shutters, like someone grasping at it but failing to fully turn the mechanism, and Bruce sits up in bed unsure at what to expect. The handle slowly turns again, jerking back upwards when the door opens a crack, and Dick stands in between the door and the corridor. His slight figure blocks out some of the light, shadowing the child’s face, and Dick continues to stand there, seemingly staring into the void that is Bruce’s room.

“Hey,” Bruce whispers, completely lost on what he should be doing or saying. “Are you okay, bud?”

Is he allowed to say that? Is it alright for him to use nicknames yet? Bruce has heard Alfred refer to Dick as “lad” or “chum” a few times, old English nicknames second nature, but Bruce has been careful not to overstep his bounds. He still doesn’t know what the boy thinks of him. What he thinks of his… guardian. 

No sooner do those thoughts enter and leave his mind does Dick turn around and begin walking away. He pads away almost as noisily as he came and Bruce tosses off his sheets to follow the boy. Just as Bruce steps out his door, he sees Dick re-enter his own room, leaving the door wide open. The lights aren’t on in Dick’s bedroom, bathed in darkness, and as Bruce takes measured steps to check in with the boy, he hears Dick begin to cry.

It’s a sad and hollow cry, one that Bruce himself is much too familiar with, and his heart skips a beat as he fumbles with the light switch. Dick is sitting on the floor, legs splayed out in front of him like he’s fallen, and for a moment Bruce wonders if he did fall and hurt himself. He crouches down beside the boy, hands hovering and unsure of what’s appropriate for him to do.

“Dick?” he asks, trying to look into the boy’s eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

The nine year old ignores him though, continuing to cry and look down at the carpeted flooring. The tears that pour down his face and drip off of his chin sadden Bruce deeply, a strange pang in his chest as he merely watches the boy sob in earnest. Should he get Alfred? No, the man gets little sleep as it is. Besides, Bruce is an adult. He can handle this, he’s handled much worse before.

“Dick,” Bruce tries again, “Bud, please look at me. What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”

He’s ignored again, the boy’s small shoulders shaking beneath the weight of his tears. Cautiously, Bruce reaches a finger under Dick’s chin, tilting it upwards so he can see his face. Dick’s eyes are open but there’s a lull in them, like he’s not quite focusing on anything at all and is merely just staring off into space. They contract and expand like normal though and carefully Bruce waves a hand in front of his face. This seems to be the wrong thing to do as Dick flinches back, a whimper escaping him. At the sound, Bruce feels himself pale a bit.

“Sorry,” he is quick to rush out. “I didn’t- sorry. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

It’s like Dick can’t hear him though as he continues to whine, hands fidgeting with nothing and grasping at air. His mouth moves in patterns like he wants to speak but has forgotten the right words, and his eyes dart about as if picking one thing to look at only to find it gone the next. It scares Bruce. He doesn’t know what’s going on. What’s happening? What is happening? 

Despite his better judgment, Bruce reaches out a hand again, gently placing it on the ankle of one of Dick’s splayed legs. He’s wearing SpongeBob themed sleep-wear, and though Bruce nor Alfred know hardly anything about the cartoon, Dick’s smile had bloomed at the sight of them and had shyly given them each a hug. It was like receiving a… gift. Full of love and gratefulness that Bruce isn’t used to getting. It was warm. Genuine. Kind. He places his hand, that is neither warm nor kind because he has hands made for punching and handling sharp things, atop the ankle-cuff of the silly pajama bottoms and Dick screams. 

Bruce jerks his hand back, immediately shuffling backwards, and he’s about to say something, say anything, say sorry because he’s still new at this, still doesn’t know where the boundaries are, still doesn’t know if Dick is even happy here at the Manor, but Dick is still screaming and wailing. He’s staring off into a dark corner of the suddenly too massive room and a chasm yawns before Bruce as he struggles with the urge to help and the knowledge that it’s not wanted. He steals a glance towards his open hand, half-way expecting to see blood or angry red or something that would tell him what he did, how he hurt the boy, because that wasn’t his intention but he should have known. He should have known.

His hands are not made to be gentle.

Soft and thunderous footsteps pound against the wooden floors and Bruce surges upwards as Alfred enters the room, robe half on and feet clad in old gray slippers. His crinkled eyes are wide open, searching for the distress that had announced itself so loudly, and with a presence of mind Bruce himself isn’t capable of having at the moment, flicks on the light switch to the room.

“Good heavens,” Alfred cries as he finally sees the sobbing child. “Master Dick, what in the world-”

Finally, Alfred’s eyes flick over to Bruce’s guilty and hunched form, a hand hidden behind his back and an awful look of shame shrouding his sharp face. “I don’t know what I did,” Bruce says, shaky and uncertain. “I didn’t hurt- I didn’t mean to hurt him, Alfred.”

The butler just frowns though, neither unkind nor scolding. Instead of a lecture or some reprimand, Alfred cautiously approaches the nine year old, who is still staring sullenly into the far corner of the room and heaving with great hiccups that expand his small frame to a great degree that was surely painful. Carefully, in full view of the child, Alfred lowers himself to the ground and assesses with an experienced and all-too-ready gaze. 

“Master Dick?” he calls softly. “Can you hear me?”

There is no response other than the continuing tears and rough hiccups that echo in the much too wide room. One would think with the impossibly thick pillows, soft blankets, and even softer still carpet, sound would travel as if stuck in a tube, but each cry is as loud as a gunshot in Bruce’s mind. He caused this. He did this. He… didn’t mean to.

Bruce is a man composed of glass shards and copper stained cement. There is nothing gentle about him. He should not have tried to be.

Alfred stands then, hands on his knees as he heaves himself off of the ground. Were his joints bothering him? Bruce thinks he should look into getting another physical therapist for the butler. Maybe a chiropractor or massage therapist as well. It couldn’t be good to crouch and bend so often and the man has-

“Master Bruce,” Alfred says, “a word, please.”

At the beckon, the younger man takes a few steps forward, meeting the butler halfway to the door. The brighter lights from Dick’s room bleed out into the dimmer hallway, a shadow of sorts created between the two sources as their figures shroud the doorway. Carpet meets wood and Bruce wonders if Dick chose the softer texture for a reason. If he chose the cushioned floor so he’d have something nicer to land on when he falls. 

“I don’t like it when I can’t feel the floor, Bruce. I just don’t.”

Bruce sighs heavily and with the knowledge that he was never fit to be any sort of guardian to Dick. He had fooled himself into believing he could save this child from the same fate he’s cursed himself into, save the child from years of torment and ache that came from the bones of murder and the empty graves of justice and peace. Who was he to think he could save someone from that when he was still stuck in that chasm himself, still struggling to use these scarred hands of his for anything else other than exacting his vengeance in the dark night.

“Alfred,” and Bruce hates the way his voice cracks but he’s so lost and still so young himself, “I didn’t-”

“No,” the butler sighs, placing his own calloused hand on Bruce’s sagged shoulder, “No, you didn’t, my boy. I know you would never hurt that child, not if you could stop yourself, and even then that would be some fight.”

“But, Dick, he’s-”

“He’s fine, Master Bruce, I promise you that. He won’t even remember any of this come morning.”

The younger man looks up, still so horribly ashamed and confused. “I don’t understand. He’s crying. He- He screamed when I touched him, Alfred. He’s terrified of me. I must have done something to make him so scared. Maybe this was all a mistake. I thought I could help him by bringing him here, but I’m just making it worse, aren’t I?”

Alfred’s face is a weathered one. The creases in between his brows tell of many nights spent thinking, frowning at the future and unknowns. The crow's feet that dance and jump at the corners of his eyes also tell of many days spent laughing, smiling, embracing the present. He, too, has his own scars to tell about stories that are best left unsaid, marks that are proof of a life that could have been but would never be. There are a thousand words alone that can be thought of through the visage of the old butler’s weathered face, but sometimes, it’s good to say them aloud. Sometimes, they are needed, deserved, to be said aloud. 

“My boy,” Alfred says, a softness in his eyes belaying the heartache in his face, “you have done a tremendous thing, bringing Master Dick here. A tremendous and kind thing. In the few weeks that boy has been here, I have seen remarkable growth and healing. This,” Alfred motions to the crying nine year old still on the floor, “is all part of that. This is a sign of hope, Master Bruce.”

“He’s frightened of me, Alfred. He… I’m not good for him.”

“These are simply night terrors, Master Bruce. When you were a child, you had them too. I know it’s… scary to look upon but you must understand that they are here because the boy finally feels safe. Master Dick finally has a place, a home , to feel safe and happy in once more.”

Dick wails again, forlorn and raw, and Bruce flinches at the sound. The palm of his hand stings with the phantom touch of soft fabric and the echoes of wrong-doings.

“What do I do?” he asks, head bowed and voice hardly above a murmur. “I don’t know how to help him.”

Alfred squeezes his shoulder, a grounding and solid gesture. “For now, my boy, you must merely be there for him as I once was for you.” Alfred sighs, releasing Bruce’s shoulder and letting his arm fall back to his side. “Talk to him. The terror will be over soon enough, but in the meantime, comfort the boy. Coax him back to bed. This will pass, Master Bruce, but please. Do take it as a sign of hope for the boy. He is in desperate need of it.”

Alfred’s muted footsteps go back out into the corridor and Bruce is left standing halfway between the open doorway and the weeping nine year old. The carpet feels like grain beneath Bruce’s toes as he shifts to face the boy, tugging against his feet as he takes the three steps that distance them. Slowly, gingerly, Bruce lowers himself to the floor and criss-crosses his legs. He does not touch the boy, does not dare get close enough to even consider it, and folds his hands together in his lap. The bumps and fine lines he feels on his own palms make him cringe and he hides them deeper into his knees.

Dick doesn’t stop crying. His bright blue eyes stay transfixed into the far corner of his bedroom and Bruce wonders what he sees. What captures his attention so completely and holds onto him like that of cold hands and wilted flowers. Alfred said Dick won’t remember tonight. Won’t remember coming to Bruce’s room. Won’t remember cowering away from Bruce’s touch. A small part of Bruce hopes that he doesn’t. Hopes that tonight remains forgotten in oblivion, the only shred of evidence of it all being the wet stains on SpongeBob pajamas.

Dick mutters something, voice small and a jumble of nonsense, and Bruce’s heart clenches in his chest. His hand twitches to wipe away the salty tears that slide down the boy’s face but Bruce resists the urge and continues to sit motionless. Yes, it was better to have this chasm between them. Dick is kind and pure, composed of things that would only become crippled when exposed to what makes up Bruce. 

He was not made to be gentle.

Bruce sat with the nine year old into the night, well after the terror had stopped and Dick had fallen asleep once more. He leaves before the first creep of morning, slinking back into his room, and splashing cool water on his face. By eight, Alfred is ringing him to come down for breakfast and with heavy limbs and an even heavier heart, Bruce lumbers down towards the kitchen. 

He freezes when he spots Dick happily munching away on eggs and toast, mussed up and pillow-worn hair splayed in different directions. He sees Bruce as well and gives a sloppy wave, sleep still tugging at his small arms and droopy eyelids. 

“Mornin’, Bruce,” he says. “Alfie made toast.”

And it’s just as Alfred said it would be. Dick doesn’t remember any of it. Bruce does. He always will. But this is hope, right? This is what healing is: searching eyes. Tears. Screams. Terror. Helplessness. 

This is hope, Bruce reminds himself later that night as his door creaks open again and footsteps slap against the wood floors. Dick screams at him again and howls at the walls, grieving over things he won’t remember in the morning but will bounce around in Bruce’s head for weeks after. 

This is hope. This is healing. This is Dick feeling safe and comforted. It has to be, it has to be.

But it scares Bruce.

[b1ksh88p]

Be Mine Chapter 3

Plot: A storm is brewing in Valentine, and you’re in the middle of it. It’s been a few days since you’ve seen Harry and there’s already been a horrendous murder. With tensions high and everyone finger pointing your ex, Edmund, makes everything worse by spreading gossip. With the sting of rejection still weighing heavy on your heart you attempt to clear everything up only to make things worse.

Describing your mood as sour would be a understatement. You were numb. A grey cloud loomed over your usual cheery exterior as you went through day to day activities. Whenever someone asked if you were alright you’d chalk it up to trivial excuses. When in actuality you were torn that you’d been stupid enough to try and have a picnic with a killer. If you were sane maybe you’d tell the Sheriff and get some of his boys in uniform to smoke Harry out somehow but you had no taste for revenge. All you wanted was to move on.

But it seemed your ex had other plans. You worked in the diner, usually taking up the night shifts to rid yourself of boredom. As you were cleaning a table you overheard a couple chatting away about you of all topics. Why your name was in their mouths you didn’t know but from what you got out of it made you want to raise hellfire.

“I heard she goes down there every night to see that killer.”

“Edmund said that the sherif saw her go in with food and came out empty handed.”

“No way, maybe she’s a killer.”

There’s no way you could allow these two peons spread such outlandish babble. You’ve never killed anyone nor would you ever. The thought of murdering another made you sick to your stomach. “Edmund is a long-nosed good for nothing asshole who spends his time making up calumniations and dumping his girlfriend on Valentine’s Day for a dumb blonde with a baby voice. You two and the rest of your bubble headed friends would be fools to believe anything that comes out his mouth.” You finish with a astute turn into the back for a extensive smoke break.

If you saw Edmund or that sleazy sheriff you’d be sure to give them a piece of your mind. And speak of the devil, there he was. Your blood was replaced with boiling water as you stomped your way towards him. He was with the sherif and some other random cop you didn’t know. Both of them saw you coming and started to drift apart before you whistle and jogged towards the two snakes.

“Where we going boys? Running away from the new killer of the town?”

“Now listen Y/N I didn’t mean to start anything.” The sheriff assured.

You weren’t impressed. “You’re just the last one seen in the mines so...it makes sense.” Edmund shrugged.

“And you were the last one fucking the blonde bimbo you cheated on me with and she has crabs....so it makes sense right?” You snap back garnering a chortle from the other cop.

“It’s not my fault you’re a boring bitch who can’t get anyone to date you except for some psycho?!” He growled.

“I’m not dating anyone and I’m not a killer. Instead of gossiping like little girls how about you three go investigate and find the real killer.” You throw down the cigarette and stomp it out beneath your heel.

“We apologize if we’ve caused you any trouble Miss, we’re doing the best we can.” The Sheriff whispered.

“Keep my name out your ass licking mouths and out the fucking paper.” You demand before walking back inside the diner.

After your shift you began to walk home. The ominous glow of streetlights did little to scare you. On your way to you lovely home you stopped by the liquor store. A bit tipsy you ventured the winding fucked up roads. The quiet sounds of the night were ruined by the sounds of sirens. It had been what? 72 hours and some change since the last murder what the hell could the coppers be speeding for? Even in your mildly drunken stupor you noticed where they were heading. The mines. Sober you would’ve kept walking like any sane person but you were running on anger, worry, and rum. A mix that didn’t bode well when making good decisions.

You knew a shortcut through the trees and made haste. By the time you fought through flora and fauna two cars were already there. The sheriff and Edmund were there holding lanterns and guns. You step out from behind the trees, face bathed in red and blue lights. Softly stepping towards the shit show. “What the fuck are you two asswipes doing?!” You call out as you make your way to the entrance of the mine. Before they can stop you you’re in front of the cold entrance.

“You protecting your boyfriend again?” Edmund spat as he loaded his gun.

“You don’t have a gotdamn clue who killed those two. It takes you dumb mother fuckers months to even get close to closing a case!”

“We know he’s down there Y/N and he’s gonna fucking burn for what he did. And if you gotta burn with him so fucking be it!” He aimed the gun at you which almost made you piss yourself. You stumble back as he aims it at you. The thumping of your heart beat in your ears.

“I’m not you enemy! And neither is he!” Your words were bold but hoarse.

“That son of a bitch killed family. I don’t care what you think he’s going to die, and if I have to shoot you to get to him I fucking will!” The sheriffs attempts to calm down Edmund were futile. He had his eyes on you. They were large and red and full of rage. He looked like a rabid animal and you his prey.

“...You’re angry I get that but this is a mob attack not a lawful pick up. You have no evidence-“

“DONT GIVE ME A FUCKING LESSON IN LAW BITCH I AM THE FUCKING LAW!” He shot at the ground beneath your feet sending dirt into your eyes. The muffled scolding from the sheriff did nothing to stop your beating heart. In fact there were bigger problems.

Another shot cracked through the night sending you to the ground covering your head. The grotesque sound of choking made you gag. The Sheriff was on the ground, clambering hands grabbing at the gaping hole in his chest as he bled out. Edmund was in shock. He held the man’s dead hand with wide eyes. Perfect time to get away. You book it into the mines. It was dark and cold, even chillier with a fresh murderer on your heels. At first you didn’t hear him but a shot echoed through the caves followed by some demands for you and Harry to reveal yourselves. That wasn’t happening so you keep running, ducking into random corridors to try and throw him off your trail.

Apart of you was afraid of running into Harry. What if he was angry at you? Running into one killer to escape the other was a chance you really didn’t want to take. You’d rather wait it out and hide. Hopefully Harry would take care of Edmund and you could run away without interacting with either of them. You stop running to hide in a old mining cart that was turned over. Covering your mouth with shaking hands you listen. A heavy set of footsteps past you, Edmund more than likely. It wasn’t like Harry to be so loud. He taunted what you assumed were the shadows to face him like a real man. He didn’t really see him right? You wish you could peek but you were far to afraid you’d get your head blown off.

“So that’s what you look like. Y’know it’s crazy. You don’t look like a monster.” He cocked the gun. “Tell me how you did it. How you killed my dad you fucking monster.” He demanded.

There was no response on Harry’s end. You hear something fall to the ground and then Edmund’s smug laughter. What the hell was going on? You quietly peak from out your hiding space. The minimal lighting made the scene hard to make out but by the looks of it Harry had...given up. He had thrown his pick axe ahead of him, taken off the mask, and dropped to his knees. A gloved hand on the barrel of the gun pointing it to his head. You couldn’t believe your eyes. Was he insane? Edmund goes into a end game spill about how long he’s waited to do this. How he’d pin the Sheriff’s and I’s murder on Harry and walk out the mines a hero. During this you start to crawl towards them, ready to rush him or throw a rock, anything to buy Harry time. Your chest is tight as you hold your breath. Nearing the both of them as quietly as you possibly can. Edmund cocks the gun and says something to the effect of “everyone dies, somebody should’ve take your sorry ass out long ago.” Before you hear a shot.

It hits the ceiling once you use all your might to swing Harry’s pickaxe into Edmund’s head, through his cheek. The blast was so close to Harry he fell back in pain. Edmund leans on the wall holding the left side of his face, still turned away from you. When he does look at you all the blood drains from your body. His tongue hung from the broken jaw like a salivating dog, torn flesh dangled around missing teeth, with so much flesh exposed blood spritzed out every time he moved closer to you. He couldn’t move his jaw so when he spoke it was a gurgled cacophony of rage and disbelief. You lift the pick axe once more but see him lift the shotgun and take aim. This makes you freeze like a deer in headlights. You close your eyes, bracing for impact. But to your surprise it never comes. Instead Harry had gotten up and tackled him, only problem was that he got shot.

The two men fell to the ground. Edmund kicking him off and frantically reaching into his pocket for two more shells. Without thinking you kick the gun from his hands. He tried to get up but you stomp on his chest with all the rage bottled up inside. He looks up at you with that mangled face and large eyes but mercy was the last thing on your mind. You look over him, raise the crude weapon, and allow the cold metal to pierce through his chest. You let out a exasperated scream as you continue your onslaught. Hammering down years of neglect, wasted time, slander, and abuse into what’s left of his broken body. When you’re done he’s left torn apart. Rib cage broken and organs exposed. In all the madness you vomit from the stress and overall exertion of energy you used up. The groans from Harry snap you back to reality and you go to aid him.

“Oh god oh shit hold on hold on.” You ramble. Your hands try their best to cover the wound. He was shot in the side. Luckily it wasn’t a direct hit but without medical attention it was gonna get nasty. You use Edmund’s jacket to help stop the bleeding. He was just staring at you. “What? What the hell are you gonna yell at me for now???” You yell trying not to cry. He lifts a bloody hand to your face.

FIND OUT NEXT TIME ON DRAGON BALL Z