#now that it's been up for a few days i'm like oh wait it's not that bad actually it's pretty good

[adara-of-the-flame]

the-name-is-hoggle

Hoggle had no idea about the statue of Liberty. The only concept of giants he has was from old stories. Fairy Tales. Fe Fi Fo Fum, and all that.

And once more being carted away by Selva’s palm made all of those descriptions pale in comparison.

"I don’t mind the company.” Hoggle turns away from watching the Dwarves, and the rest of their group, fade away in the distance and looks over to Mars. Giving the Urru a warm smile as he did.

The Summer Real truly was a lush, and lively place. The trees alone outshone any of the greenery from the Labyrinth, let alone a lot of the other places Hoggle had seen in his time. That went for the orchard they were set down in as well. He had never set foot into an actual orchard before.

He wondered if Spring had once been so lush and varied….

“……I assumed because he had no replacement. No Proper Heir. If the Bog of Eternal Stench was any indication, each realm is tied to the state of it’s ruler. I can’t image how it would’ve looked if there was no Spring King at all…..”

Hoggle looked up at Selva, standing in her great shadow.

“……Right? Even though you all split his greater powers amongst you, he was still there. Waiting….”

adara-of-the-flame

"Yes, yes! You're correct!" Selva Roja's massive maw widened in a gargantuan grin. "But...That is not the complete correct answer. So, maybe you should ask youselves why we need a Spring King at all. What would the Bog look like if Saisho No Me--may he rest in peace--were completely gone."

"Um...." Obediently, Mars raised a couple of arms like she would have at school. "What would the Bog look like if Saisho No Me--may he rest in peace--were completely gone?"

"Dead."

"Oh..." Mars paused. "But...it'd come back alive again when someone showed up to be Spring King, right?"

"Mmmmaybe. But, we really don't want to take any risks like that again."

"What do you mean agi--"

"Anyway. Lesson time!" Selva Roja clapped her massive, manicured claws together. "All aspects of reality--from the few seconds past Midnight, to Infinity itself--needs to have a tether, of sorts. A life tied to it's existance.

"And, all existance follows a pattern. For example: Wake up, Work, Sleep. Sun goes up, Sun goes down. Night follows Day. Spring follows Winter follows Autumn follows Summer. Life, Death, Rebirth, repeat. And, there cannot be a break in this cycle. One cannot exist without the other."

"How come?" Queried Mars, who was hanging on the Summer Queen's every word.

"I'm so glad you asked! Now, I'm gonna need a visual aid for this..." Selva Roja made a sweeping motion with one of her hands. And, a hoop, an unbroken rainbow made of water and light, rose from the perfect circular pool beside them. She flipped the circle of water up so it was facing them like a giant, 'O'. "Alright. The Seasons have their own domain, but they are part of a never ending Cycle."

Water swirled around the edge of the rainbow. "Okay, let me just sort of draw some boundries here. Let's say...pink for Spring, green for Summer, orange for Autumn, blue for Winter." The unbroken ring now displayed the apropriate colors, each in it's own section: A whole circle divided into quarters. And, still the water continued to swirl along, happily. "Everything here is funcitoning as it should be. Spring follows Winter follows Autumn follows Summer and back again. Wash, rinse, repeat. A perfect wheel."

Selva Roja's eyes swiveled over to meet the new Spring Prince. "So, Hoggle. What do you think would happen if I remove one of the sections on this wheel?"

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the stench of this terrible blog…bleck!”

[yua0ra]

𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝 (𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭)™

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

WARNINGS: downbad!mattheo x slytherin!fem!reader, SFW, english is not my first language. not proofread | fluff ☏

SUMMARY: Mattheo is now emotionally unwell and possibly hiding in a broom cupboard. You, meanwhile, are thriving.

WC: 1.8K AN: Just a silly little draft of the weekly report. I'm trying my best here, this format took me so fucking longggg. Enjoy!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

𝑶𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏: 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝑭𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒔 𝑰𝒏 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆: A Case Study in Emotional Chaos

You were walking toward the library when Theo caught your arm with all the subtlety of a Howler in the Great Hall.

“Hey,” he whispered with a conspiratorial grin, glancing around like he was about to pass you a top-secret Ministry file. “Just… be cool. Okay? Something’s coming.”

You blinked. “What?”

He patted your shoulder. “Good luck,” he said solemnly, and then disappeared down a corridor like a man who had done something irreversible and didn’t want to be around for the aftermath.

Which is exactly when Mattheo appeared.

He was walking toward you with the energy of someone who’d been dared to do this under threat of public humiliation. He looked like he might be sweating. A little.

“Hi,” he said, trying very hard to sound normal and failing spectacularly. “Uh. I—this is for you.”

He handed you a folded note like it was cursed. His hand hovered for a second too long, and then he shoved both into his pockets and took three full steps back, like you might explode.

You eyed him. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he said too fast. “I mean, not nothing. It’s… words. It has… words.”

You opened it. He looked away like he couldn’t bear to witness what he had just done.

You began to read, smiling as your eyes scanned the first few lines. And then—

“Mattheo is totally into you. In case you didn’t notice. Or, y'know, maybe you did, because he looks like a deer caught in the headlights every time you talk to him.”

Mattheo’s head snapped around so fast you thought he might sprain something.

“WAIT—are you reading it out loud?!”

You kept going, undeterred.

“FROM THEO (aka Chief Strategist & CEO of Operation Matty Falls in Love™): I have tried everything short of slipping Veritaserum in his tea—”

“Oh my god,” Mattheo muttered, burying his face in his hands. “I’m going to crawl into a hole and stay there until I’m thirty.”

“He’s a walking, brooding poem of longing. It’s exhausting.”

He let out a strangled sound. “That’s not even accurate! I don’t—brood—okay, I do, but not like a poem—”

You were laughing now, full-on laughing.

“Hi, beautiful,” you read in Blaise’s voice, with a smirk. “Quick check-in: have you noticed the way he stares at you like you're the only thing keeping his soul tethered to this mortal plane?”

Mattheo made a noise like a dying animal.

“He told me I looked ‘warm’ the other day—”

“OKAY,” he blurted, snatching the letter from your hands in a panic, eyes wide and red-eared. “I’m officially confiscating this. You weren’t meant to read it like that—they told me it was subtle! Like a nudge!”

You were still grinning. “You practice saying hi in the mirror?”

He turned around, mid-flee, and groaned into the air. “I hate all of them.”

“And you faint when I smile?”

“I black out at best.”

You giggled again, stepping forward. “Hey, Mattheo?”

He turned, suspicious, still flushed and mortified. “…Yeah?”

You smiled softly. “You’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

He groaned, crouched to the floor, and dropped his forehead into his hands. “I will never recover from this.”

From around the corner, a muffled “YES!” echoed, followed by Theo yelling, “PHASE SIX COMPLETE!”

Draco’s voice: “That wasn’t Phase Six. Phase Six was ‘he confesses in a normal, non-pathetic way.’”

Blaise: “Let him have this. He didn't die.”

Mattheo just looked up at you again, blinking.

“…Wanna go to Hogsmeade with me?” he said weakly.

You smiled. “Yeah, Matty. I do.”

He looked like someone had just handed him the last biscuit in the tin and told him it was all his. And somehow, even through the horror, he grinned.

[grahamzcracker]

˙✧˖° 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 4 𝐮

i only threw this party for you

▸ party 4 u - charli xcx

travis martinez x popular taylor!reader

— after months of crushing on travis, you come up with a plan - throw a party, invite some people from school, but more importantly : invite travis.

w.c : 820 / c.w : fem!reader, drinking, loser!travis / request status : open !

being jackie taylor's sister had its perks — after following in her footsteps like your parents expected, you were nearly as popular as her. you could have anyone you want, yet you want your coach's oldest, loner of a son. travis martinez.

you see him around school sometimes, he's rather quiet and often sticks to himself, but you're drawn to him nonetheless. you see him occasionally during soccer practice waiting for his dad, either listening to music or sitting up in the bleachers. sometimes when you'd take a glance at him, you'd notice him looking at you as well, but you two never spoke.

after months of crushing on him, you come up with a plan — throw a party, invite tons of people, but more importantly : invite travis. you didn't give a shit about anyone else you invited, you just wanted an opportunity to talk to travis alone.

---

the following day at school, you approached travis at his locker before lunch.

"hey, travis, i'm having this party tonight at my house tonight and was wondering if you'd mayhe want to come?

"sorry—what?" he asked with a blink, dumbfounded. were you actually talking to him right now?

"i'm having a party at my place tonight, i'd like it if you came." you smiled, before heading to your next class without giving him a chance to respond.

---

now, on the day of the party, you were more nervous than ever. music was blaring throughout the house, a lot more people had showed up than you were expecting — jackie more than likely invited people she knew as well — and now your house was crowded with sweaty, tipsy teenagers.

after searching the crowd, you find travis in the corner of your living room, sipping from a red solo cup. you take a deep breath before approaching him with your own drink in hand.

"travis, hey!" you exclaim.

"oh, hey... cool party." he replied, fiddling with the edge of his shirt as he gave you a quick smile.

"yeah? i'm surprised you came, figured it wasn't really your scene."

"it's not, really... figured i could try something new, for once, though."

"well, i'm glad you came." you smiled warmly, the two of you falling into a comfortable, yet slightly awkward silence, before you spoke up again. "wanna get out of here? we can take a walk outside or something, and i could get you a beer, if you want?"

he just looked at you for a moment, then gave a slight nod. "yeah, sure. sounds nice."

you lead him out of the living room and he lingered by as you stepped into the overpopulated kitchen, grabbing two cans of beer out of the fridge, then the two of you exited the house.

you fell into step side-by-side on the sidewalk, popping open your cans of beer.

"how come you hardly hang out with anyone?" you ask him after a beat of silence.

"i don’t know, it’s kind of always been that way for me. i don’t care either way, i’m perfectly fine the way i am.”

“i get that — i just feel like it gets lonely sometimes.”

“sometimes, i guess. it’s not like i’m completely alone, though. i’ve always got javi, and, like… my few acquaintances at school. plus, dad’s always dragging me along to whatever events the team has going on, so i guess i have you guys too? i don’t know, that doesn’t really count. you’re the only one of the girls i’ve actually talked to.”

“damn, you really need to socialize more. and… yeah, you do have me, even if we don’t talk.”

“thanks.” he replied, taking a sip of his beer, then : “you know, i’ve never even been to a school dance.” he chuckled. “always figured they were no fun.”

“seriously? okay, we have got to fix that. prom’s coming up soon, isn’t it? maybe we can go together.”

he nearly choked on his drink at that — were you seriously asking him to go to prom with you?

noticing his flushed expression, you quickly added : “it doesn’t have to be a date or anything, just… as friends? it’s our senior year, you should experience at least one dance.”

“no, no—a date is fine, i just wasn’t… expecting that. i’ve always kind of thought you looked nice, i just never thought in a million years that you’d notice me, if that makes sense.“

“it does. i’ve actually had a crush on you for a while now, if i’m being honest.”

“what, really? me?” he asked, genuinely surprised.

“yeah, you. you’re… weirdly intriguing. plus, i’ve always thought you were cute.”

“…thanks,” he muttered, “you’re not so bad yourself.” he added, trying to play it cool.

“why, thank you. so, it’s a date then? prom?”

“yeah. it’s a date.” he smiled faintly.

and with that, the two of you continued walking through the neighborhood, drinking and chatting away throughout the night.

---

a/n: made this into a bot — 🔗

also,, part 2 with prom ????

[sweetsea42]

Vacationing

pairing: nanami x gn!reader

plot: nanami finally has a break and wants to be with you during his vacation, but you're still working and he has to wait for you to finish some reports. he's clingy and a little off his usual personality

cw: none, just fluff, not that proofread

Wc: 1.6k

Requested by @wawacatsigma I'm sorry it took so long, my dear 😔

Your husband Nanami was a hard-working man, yes, and the first time after years he decided to have some vacations, he didn't expect you to be working during his free time. That's when he finds himself being too clingy and whiny.

Lord, have mercy.

"Darling, please" He said in a calm tone, almost like a whisper, as he tugged on your shirt in an attempt o steal your attention from your laptop. But you really had to finish the report of the day. You have been working from home and there was no way you could put your tasks aside. Being home didn't mean having free time, but your husband couldn't see it this way. 

"I've been home for two endless weeks now, and I can't have my beautiful partner all to myself?". His chair was next to yours by the table, and his upper body was sprawled on the table, only an arm under it holding your shirt. He looked devastated, and not to be mean, but the view had a grip on your heart it was almost impossible to finish what you were doing. But you stayed strong, the best was to come and you planned on surprising him with great news later. "Can't you wait till evening? I'll be done in a few hours".

And the sun lowered in the clear sky. Its golden sunbeams invaded the kitchen window as you still worked o your laptop. Nanami was still there, laying on the table with a warm hand on your arm that held the mouse.

You had never seen him this way, sad and tired of yearning your embrace. So eager to be close to you that he wanted it 24/7. He wanted you in his arms all the time to "make it up for all the time he was away in his endless work". And by the time you finished typing your last email (asking for a two weeks break), it was already night and your husband was sound asleep by your side.

"Ken, come on, let's go to bed" you said, softly rubbing an open palm on his back. His eyes fluttered open, trying to adjust to the lack of light in the room. When he straightened up and started to stand, he stopped and let out a frustrated groan. "Oh, gosh. I was so still my legs fell asleep too". He rubbed his eyes and looked up at you like a puppy. Your face was glowing under the moonlight that now occupied the sunrays place.

What a great window placement, he thought. "you're so pretty my love". Still not being able to stand, he stretched his arms to reach for your face. You lowered a bit for him to catch your cheeks, but instead, he threw his arms around your neck and pulled you fast enough for you to lose balance. Nanami was quick enough to catch you mid-fall and place you on his lap. Still hugging you by the waist, he placed his chin on your shoulder and let out a satisfied sigh.

"Please give me more attention. I had been busy for so long couldn't take proper care of you" Your back was turned to him and you couldn't see his pouty face, but his grip on you tightened at each word he said.

"Well, now you know" you chuckled lightly at your own response. And as if it had resonated on him (and it did), he turned you by pulling your knees, your side now facing his chest. His eyes were watery and pleading. The last time you had seen him act this way was when he got drunk during your honeymoon and asked you to never leave him.

"You're my all, please never think less of you" were some of his words that day. But now, he was not drunk at all. It was the abstinence of being glued to you. "old man, you were never this clingy. What happened?"

"I've been missing more of you all these years. Please spend more time with me" said the man with painfully pleading eyes. "but you have me for two whole days every week"

"Darling, I just realized two days aren't enough" His grip on you started to get a little too tight, and as he realized it, he apologized "I'm sorry, love"

He loosened his hold and rested his forehead on your shoulder, letting out another deep breath that tickled your neck. You brought your hand up to ruffle his soft blond hair, feeling the tension slowly drain from his body.

"I was planning something, you know," you murmured, almost teasing.Nanami turned his head just enough to look up at you, brow furrowed. "Planning what?"

You cupped his cheek and smiled. "Well, now it feels like spoiling a surprise." He stared at you, unblinking. "Tell me."

You shook your head and leaned into him, your nose brushing his temple. "Not yet. You'll like it better that way." Nanami pouted. "You're torturing me., you know that" 

"Am I? I thought I was giving you attention now," you whispered against his skin, the smile in your voice unmistakable.  "You're mean," he said softly.  "and ou love it."

He didn't deny it. Instead, he gently picked you up bridal style, slowly, making sure your legs were tucked in and your arms around his neck, and began walking toward the bedroom.

Nanami softly placed you down on the bed, and then without even giving you a second to move, he collapsed beside you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His arms found their way around your waist again, and he held you close, like he was afraid you'd leave him. You stayed like that for a moment, your hand stroking lines along his spine, feeling the soft rise and fall of his breathing.

"You know," you whispered, "when you're back to work, you'll regret wasting your entire vacation clinging to me like that." "I won't regret a single minute," he said against your skin."You say that now." "No, I mean it. I don't care if I spend every day of this break glued to your side. That's exactly where I want to be. "He pulled back slightly to look at you, one hand coming up to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear. "I've been working so much for so many years. And I thought it was normal. I thought being exhausted and distant was just what it meant to be an adult, a responsible man with a respectable job. But now that I'm home, and I have time to just feel again... I don't want to go back to how things were."The honesty in his voice hit you hard. He wasn't someone who often showed fragility in his composed demeanor. But here he was, lying beside you, telling you things he'd probably been holding back for a long time

"You're not going back to how things were," you said, brushing your thumb over his cheek. "That's why I asked for time off. I want us to have these two weeks together. Fully." His eyes widened, and for a moment he blinked like he wasn't sure he heard you right. "You asked for time off?", he asked, amused. You nodded. "Just finished the email tonight. I hit send while you were drooling on the table."He huffed a laugh. "I wasn't drooling." You laughed in disbelief. How could he be so stubborn. 

There was a warm silence after that. It was comforting, and the only sound that accompanied both of you was the humming of the refrigerator in the kitchen, some birds chirping their babies to sleep, and the occasional creak of the house settling.

He hen wraped his legs around you. Nanami from years ago would never. He would've see the current Nanami as pathetic for loving someone to the point of acting like a clingy cat. But now it didn't matter. All that mattered was the fact that he was with you, sharing moments and being a family.

The next days of your vacation felt like a dream come true for him, even though he had never dreamed about it. He never thought he would crave for a domestic life so hard, and it showed to you how much he liked this lifestyle. 

"Darling, how about you quit your job? I was thinking about how these days were so special to me, and I don't want them to ever end" he said after thinking for days."But then you're the one that would have to quit your job" he blinked in confusion. "Like, for both of us to stay home like this, u should quit your job. I'm already home all the time". "oh..."

You just knew he would never think of quitinh his job. A few months without work? He would go absolutely crazy.

"okay, that's a possiblity. Sounds way better too" he said, unblinkingly, not a drop of confusion in his eyes, just happiness.

OKAY??

"okay... we need to think about it before making any decisions..." you said, brushing off the topic. Not because you didn't want it, you did, but because you thought he was still too sleepy to think straight.

-

A/N: sorry it took too long. my new job is killing me mentally and phisically.

[belle--ofthebrawl]

Mushy May Day 5: Love At First Sight (kind of)

Word count: It's probably 1k

Rating: T (for These Idiots)

Notes: @forlorn-crows thank you Mushy May, it's always fun to write something short and sweet :) honestly this would probably work better for day 25 but I'm not waiting that long.

I need you

Come to the greenhouse

No other message in any realm of hell or earth could get Rain to move faster. Finally. Mountain had finally picked up on Rain’s endless hinting and flirting, dropped the sexy stoic act of his and realized exactly what he wanted. What they both wanted. Rain did not skip on his way to the greenhouse but he was pretty sure he might have started floating a few times.

Oh, wasn't it so romantic? To be surrounded by the harmony of both their elements, the scent of greenery and the erotic humidity coming together as they would kiss and confess their feelings and Mountain would say how stupid he was for taking so long to notice and Rain would toss his head back and laugh and forgive him as long as he kept kissing his gills like that-

He ducked into a bathroom to check himself out. Lords below, wasn't he a sight. Cheeks pink, lips plump from where his fangs had been worrying them. Eyes sparkly with all the hope of a new lover. He pats down his hair, smoothes out his uniform and gives himself a devastatingly gorgeous smile as he leaves. It was anyone's guess why it had taken the big guy so long to notice him.

Out of the Abbey, down the path. To the greenhouses and of course there was Mountain in the doorway in the first one. Tall and strong, shading his eyes against the sun as he watches Rain approach.

“I'm glad you came.” He murmurs in that deep voice of his and Rain's tail makes a little heart shape as Mountain puts an arm over his shoulders and guides him into the greenhouse. Rain breathes him in, thick viscous pine sap and freshly overturned dirt with the overlay of human sweat. He's irresistible. It's a miracle Rain has kept his composure and not just thrown himself naked at the guy demanding to be taken to bed that instant. From the moment Mountain hefted himself out of the crack in the earth at his summoning, Rain has wanted him.

“Do you feel it?” Mountain asks, bringing them to the center of the greenhouse. Lush greenery crowds the glass, ensuring their privacy for whatever happens next.

“Yes…” Rain breathes as Mountain places both his heavy hands on Rain's shoulders. He closes his eyes, tilting his head so Mountain can reach his gills and not be tickled by his hair, waiting, whole body alive with anticipation as Mountain says:

“Can you fix it, please?”

The moment is gone. Confusion is a bucket of cold water tossed over his head, rude and dousing. He makes a confused noise and Mountain gives him a little shake, though now that Rain isn't in lala land, he thinks the frustration rolling off the other ghoul isn't something his proximity has caused.

“The humidity.” Mountain says. “We can't get a new part to replace the broken one until next week with the shipping delay. I need you to pull the excess moisture out of the air, didn't you read my message?”

“The one where you said you needed me and wanted me in the greenhouse?” Rain snaps, pulling away. His tail is coiled right to his legs, trying to wind tightly around a thigh and if he was unglamoured, his fins would be fully flared in defense. “Yeah Mountain, I read that one.”

“The third one.” Mountain spins him around so easily Rain’s heart skips a beat. “Where I clarified that to prevent a misunderstanding.”

“I may have missed it.” Rain says stiffly, chin held high and looking anywhere but the giant before him.

“Oh.” Mountain says softly. “I'm…I apologize. I didn't mean to mislead you.”

Rain clears his throat and shuffles a few steps away to try and regain some of his dignity. Thank Satan he hadn't thrown himself naked at the guy after all; that would have been so much worse.

“I'll still fix it.” He says after a few moments of unbearable awkward silence. “Do you have a bucket for the water to go into?”

Mountain nods to the table where a bucket lies and Rain nods back, not wanting to speak. Just wants to get this over with so he can go mope in his bathtub. Pulling water out of the air isn't an easy trick but he's Rain and like hell he's going to let Mountain see him struggle.

“Thank you.” Mountain says when it's over. “I'll take that to the lake.”

“You're welcome.” Rain says with a toss of his head. He feels the start of a headache that will come later, payment for this small favor. What a waste of time. He starts to walk past Mountain with a straight back and a tail that does not give his emotions away when Mountain speaks again.

“But if you wanted to do something like that later…” He starts and falters. “Unless you're busy with somebody else.”

Rain stops by the door. Reconsiders every time he's ever flirted with someone in front of Mountain to make him jealous, to see if he'd ever want to experience what Rain let everyone else do to him. Each sly glance to make sure he was watching had been taken the wrong way. Each laugh meant to entice had been taken as dismissive. Rain inhales and feels like screaming at himself.

But he doesn't. He's calm. Collected. Cool, as he glances over his shoulder with lidded eyes and a smile.

“I'm free whenever you are, big boy.”

The shade Mountain turns is enough to get his heart pumping with excitement again.

“I wouldn't have done it like this.” He blurts out. “Not in the greenhouse, not when I'm working, but uh-”

“Just bring the bucket to the lake when you're done.” Rain interrupts. “It's a hot day out. We can have ourselves a little splash fight to cool off.”

“Oh…” Mountain says dumbly and Rain laughs. Takes off running in the direction of the beach, relishing the sun on his skin, the sand between his toes and the flip his tummy does when he cannonballs off the dock with a jubilant, whooping

"YES!"

[sashimi020]

chaos meets guitarist p3[manjiro x reader]

p1 | p2

A/N: i hopee u guys like this chapter! thank you so much for the support on the last two chs. hope this is as enjoyable :33, comments, reblogs n likes r much appreciated!!<3 ALSO, @idk-what-myurl-shouldbe, all credits to them for the idea of making one of y/ns music bandmates be someone in the gang i hope i did it justice! (thank you, we all say in unison)

baji pulled out the restaurant table chair and slumped on it with a long sigh. kazutora huffed "long day?" "jeez. you have no idea. i seriously should've prioritized my studies back when we were teens. this shit is so hard and everyone else is doing way better than me! i have to work like, 10 times harder than everyone else" "well, you're improving right? that's all that matters. don't compare yourself to others..." chifuyu responds, baji chews the inside of his cheek, "whatever. let's just enjoy for a bit yeah? what are you guys ordering?"

__ chifuyu speaks up, "how have you guys been? we honestly need to catch up like this more often" kazutora nods and sighs "it's been fine," he rested his head on his palm, "i met this girl a few months ago-" "ooh! you like her?" "god! no, baji would you let me finish?" kazutora huffs childishly, "i ran into her when she was getting her jacket altered from mitsuya, somehow we all started talking and turns out that she's trying to do some music thing alongside college. after meeting up a few times after that," he pauses to take a bite out of his fries, "we decided to work together to start a music course-slash-band thing, i mean, it's nothing much right now, i'm still working at XJ land and obviously i will be for a while," he turns to chifuyu "but this shit seems pretty promising" he pauses "we'll do covers and upload them online, we'll take commissions, y'know, do gigs and also teach."

chifuyu smiles warmly "that sounds great, you guys should play for us sometime" baji snorted, "at least you won't be blasting your dumbass guitar and bass in the apartment anymore" he paused, "but in all seriousness, i'm happy for you dude. i'm glad your pursuing this"

__

becoming friends with draken and emma came with a lot of benefits. firstly, you found yourself being more social than before. somehow, they had an incredibly huge friend circle, it intimidated you at first but over time and over hangouts, you'd gotten used to all of them and they all seemed to like you quite a bit thankfully. you had the chance of getting to meet hina and takemitchi properly, who were so heartwarming and wonderful. they were super cute together.

they certainly made you feel single though.

your prospects in relationships were never very great - in all honesty, it would be great to have a partner - you quickly push the idea, though, in favour of kickstarting your music business.

__

"we're going out for dinner with everyone today, right?" draken spoke as he yawned, "mhmm! you think we should invite y/n? they already met.. hina.. mikey and takemitchi, they all got along so well so maybe?… i feel like they'd fit right in. i'll ask the others first too though" emma said as she stretched her sleepiness away. "yeah sure, that sounds good" draken responded. __

emma: hi guyss

kazutora: sup

chifuyu: yoo

emma: would it be alright if a friend tagged along today? they're pretty cool and i think you'd all get along well

baji: sure why not

baji: i haven't made a new friend since high school 💀 college is eating up all my time i swear

mitsuya: sounds cool!

hina: me and mitchi met them recently! super chill

hina: can't wait for tn! its been a while since we all got together! __

emma: hey y/n!! ru free tonight?

y/n: oh! yeah i think so

emma: would you wanna come to dinner with us? a few of our other friends will be there too!

_

you stare at your phone for a few seconds and consider the offer. it was undoubtedly thoughtful but you found yourself hesitating. meeting new people was always a rather daunting task, and you'd developed a certain feeling towards this group of people. everyone was so amicable and enjoyable to be around that you hoped that you were the same to them. 'what if i embarrass myself?' 'what if i'm too awkward?' worries and anxieties plagued your mind.

but you needed to take this risk. moving into a new place and finding a long term friend group wasn't an easy task. why miss out on this opportunity?w

_

y/n: sure, sounds good, what time?

_

the evening rolled around, you got ready and met up with draken, emma and mikey. "ready to go?"emma asked you, you nod in response, still feeling slightly nervous. the four of you got in the car, draken and emma sitting in front and you and mikey in the back.

"actually ah, i'm slightly nervous" you chuckle, the anxiousness in your voice was more prominent that you'd have liked it to be, "i always get like this while meeting new people," "awh! don't worry, you'll get along just fine, everyone will like you for sure," emma reassured you. you glance out of the car window and watch the scenery speed by. mikey eyes you curiously, a part of him hoping you'd turn your head and talk to him instead.

_

the four of you get out of the car, seemingly having arrived early. you all settle down at the table and chat for a bit. mikey huffs in a childish manner and it interrupts your train of thought, "everything okay?" you tilt your head towards him, "fine, just cold. stupid.. dumb air con.." he pouted and mumbled. you pause, shrug off your jacket and place it over his shoulders. "that better?" his cheeks blossomed into a noticably adorable pink colour, "you didn't have to.." he muttered but didn't take it off. draken and emma share a knowing glance as she smirks smugly. "cute" emma chuckes, "huh?!" "i've never seen you act like this mikey," draken snorts.

before mikey can defend himself the others arrive.

you lean over to introduce yourself, a taller guy with long black hair pulled back into a ponytail holds the door open for a few others, 'why the hell are all these people so tall.. it's ridiculous' you think. you see hina, and takemitchi walk in, then suddenly, your brain malfunctions.

"KAZUTORA?!"

"Y/N?"

"MITSUYA??"

"Y/N???"

"YOU GUYS KNOW EACH OTHER?!"

"you- wait.. i.."

"SHE'S YOUR NEIGHBOUR?!"

"SHE'S THE ONE THAT WORKS WITH YOU GUYS???"

hina interrupts the chaos "hey! guys, sit down first don't yell in the restaurant! jeez.." you stare in slight awe as the others glance at you in slight confusion and curiousity. "small world huh?" mitsuya chuckles, somehow the most composed out of everyone, "okay! i need an explaination right now" emma interjects, "we..- well they're the friends i uh, i'm working with on the music centre and band" "ohhh" everyone says in unison.

your brain feels fuzzy from slight shock and happiness. what a pleasnt coincidence. "baji, chifuyu, meet y/n, y/n, meet baji and chifuyu". you give them a small smile "it's nice to meet you both!" "sup!" "nice to meet you too!". after everyone exchanged pleasantries, you all sit down and order. mitsuya smirked and stared at mikey, "that's y/n's jacket, no? the one i altered," "oh- oh, yeah. well, he said he was cold.. so..". mitsuya smirked, "sure, yeah" __

"ah.." kazutora laughs heartily, "this is great! i was just going to introduce you, y'know?" you smile sheepishly, you never expected things would turn out this way. any anxiety you felt before coming was mostly quelled.

the converstion went on, you learned about chifuyu's pet shop, you knew kazutora had a part-time but you found it amusingly sweet that he worked with animals. you wished baji the best of luck as a veterinarian. you could only imagine the workload he has till he graduates.

you learned a lot about all your newfound friends. it felt warm. really warm. you glanced at mikey a few times and he met your gaze. he smiled contently. it was a look you liked. "you know, you should smile more" "really?" "yeah, it suits you, you know, you're mostly always wearing that pout. you look happy. that's nice" his grin softened into a more sincere smile. "okay. i'll smile more. it won't be too hard though, you'll see it often, cause you make me smile". you chuckle brightly in response, "that's so cheesy!" "shut up.." everything felt so sweet.

you learned about their gang and childhood. mikey reminisced about it in an excited, animated manner, and their eyes lit up. they were all clearly so passionate about it. an air of nostalgia laid heavy, you were never a part of these memories, but in the vivd manner in which they described it, you might as well have been.

after a few drinks, the conversation shifted back to the music centre. "so, you know, you guys barely gave us any details about the thing you're doing! and i'm only now finding out that you guys know each other?" emma whined, "i need to know more, c'mon!" her face was flushed slightly from the alcohol. your mood heightens. you loved talking about it. "kazutora's our bassist and also guitarist, mitsuya does vocals, well, you already know that i do guitar but on the occasion i play drums." kazutora grinned "i'm really excited to finally start playing together, y'know? i don't know if it's sustainable income but, it's fucking fun" "i'll be teaching as well anyways and i'm still getting a degree so i have that going.." you respond. "we rented a studio. we should all practice this weekend, yeah?" mitsuya asks, "sure. sounds great"

"you guys gotta play something for us" baji said. "hell yeah!" kazutora responded enthusiastically, "c'mon, guys, c'mon let's make a toast" "toast to what?" "to.. new adventures and.." mikey glanced at you "to new friendships", chifuyu whooped and the sound of clinking of glasses filled the air.

baji, chifuyu and kazutora booked a cab to their apartment, chifuyu was slumped onto baji and remained fairly incoherent. you hoped that his hangover tomorrow wouldn't be severe. mikey was of a similar state, face flushed and a dazed expression with glossed over eyes. he seemed clingier than usual. hina and takemitchi dropped off mitsuya. the four of you got back in emma's car.

mikey's head lolled to the side, almost, just almost resting on your shoulder, you feel the need to resist the urge to shift slightly closer so his head falls completely on your shoulder. ultimately you didn't need to do anything because he moved anyways. closer than you would've expected. your arms touched and you felt your face heat up.

you figure he wouldn't mind and wrap your arm around his shoulder. he hums contently at the warmth and the comfortable weight. you cant help but smile at the sight.

emma glances at the pair from the rear view mirror and a soft expression falls on her face. it was about time mikey found someone he could be completely and wholly vulnerable with.

'emma'll wake me up when we reach home' you think, as you shut your eyes too, and lean your head on his.

__ tags: @manjirosfairmuse @dollrndo @dancingnewcat @bowloficecubes @idk-what-myurl-shouldbe extra notes: i wish i could've expanded on hina and takemitchi more tbh! might make a game night chapter next.. not 100% sure though. if you guys have any ideas do drop them in the comments!

i know this is supposed to be a mikey x reader fic but i really wanted to expand on the platonic relationships b/n reader and everyone else. i feel like that's something that a lot of x reader fics lack, (totally not that it's a bad thing!! many x reader fics that are isolated to the character n reader are great!! ) but i did want to give my two cents on these relationships and improve my writing!

[mysilaan]

Hiii~ I wondered if you could write something about MC realizing they are falling in love with Ais ? Thanks ✨

AIS ASK!!! And a lovely one 🤭

I was having a hard time to write lately so this ask is a little old but I'm back at it :))

__

TOUCHSTARVED HEADCANON 🍒

Falling in love with Ais

⭐

You were heading to the Wet Wick after a long day. It had become a habit now— hanging out with Leander or Vere and Ais, when they were around, for a drink. You always looked forward to that moment of the day. Though it had been a while since you last saw Ais and his absence was weighing on your mind.  When you entered the tavern, the sun was just creeping over the horizon, yet it was already noisy inside. You had to push your way forward to reach the bar. None of the boys were here yet, so you exchanged a few words with the bartender, who had become a good acquaintance after your prolonged stay. But the place was full, and he eventually had to return to serving the rowdy group of brutes that were the Adders. After finishing your glass, still alone in the corner of the bar, you got up, considering heading to your room. But right at that moment, you heard a familiar voice calling out to you. “Sleepy already?” You turned toward the sound and your eyes widened when you spotted Leander, Ais, and Vere— all three of them together—approaching. It was unusual, but you didn’t question it. Your gaze fell on Ais, and you couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. You grinned and crossed your arms nonchalantly. “Oh, I thought you were the ones running away from a drinking night.” Ais scoffed. “I thought you knew us better, Sparrow.” Leander laughed and slung his arm around your shoulders in a friendly way. Your eyes lingered on Ais’ for a few seconds before turning away and following Leander to a corner of the room where the four of you settled. “What were you guys up to? You took your time.” you asked. “Oh, just business.” Leander answered casually. It was clear enough they weren’t going to say more, so you took the hint and dropped the subject. Ais went to the bar to fetch drinks for the group. You found yourself lost in thought, watching him from afar, until the voices of the others pulled you back. Leander and Vere were locked in what had clearly become a heated argument—the air around them tense and sharp. You couldn’t make out the whole exchange, but your blood ran cold when Leander, voice low and cutting, muttered, “The Senobium’s dog,” with clear disdain. For a second, the table went silent. You could feel the shift immediately. Vere’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched tight enough to crack. The insult had landed hard—and it wasn’t meant as a joke You didn’t know where to put yourself. The tension between them was like a storm waiting to break, and you felt woefully out of place, too weak to intervene, too unsure to leave. Just then, Ais returned, carrying three mugs of beer. He paused when he saw the atmosphere, raising an eyebrow as he took his seat beside Vere and across from you. “What’s happening here?” No one answered. Leander gave him an innocent smile, while Vere turned his head away, still clearly offended. You remained in the middle, completely unaware of what had sparked the fight. Leander—ever unfazed—rested an elbow on the table, turning toward you with a teasing glint in his eye. If you didn’t know better, you might have thought he was flirting. Well… maybe he was. “Let’s leave him alone for a bit… Tell me, you didn’t bore yourself to death while waiting, did you? I know I’ve been a terrible host lately, but duty called.” “Of course not,” you replied. “I know you can’t be around all the time. I stayed with Kuras in the meantime, he said he didn’t mind me around.” “Not surprising coming from the town’s good doctor!” He laughed.

You glanced back toward the monsters in front of you and raised your eyebrows in surprise. Ais was leaning casually on his chair, one hand holding his beer mug, the other resting around Vere’s shoulders. His thumb moved slowly in circles on Vere’s forearm. You couldn’t hear their words, but Ais seemed to be calming him down. You bit your tongue, your blood boiling in your veins. Leander’s slight eyes followed your gaze, then flicked back to you. “They’re certainly a pair, huh?” His voice startled you. You tried to laugh. “Haha, yeah… They seem close.” You tried to sound confident, but your words came out like a question. Leander picked up on it. “These two are like peas in a pod. Very fond of each other, yeah, you could say that.” You turned your gaze back to them, the horrible feeling from earlier rising again in your chest. Your mind was racing so much you didn’t even notice Leander’s cold stare fixed on you. Eventually, Ais caught your gaze and looked back at you. “What is it, Sparrow?” Your face flushed. You stood up abruptly. “I don’t feel well. I’ll go upstairs. Have a nice night.” You tried to sound normal, but your sharp tone didn’t escape Ais, who raised a questioning brow. Each step to your room made your heart pound harder. It felt like a time bomb ticking in your chest. Your thoughts whirled. Why were you like this? You knew they were close. Vere told you. Ais mentioned it once too. You always knew you were interrupting something by getting closer to Ais. You never stood a chance against Vere. So why wouldn’t that glimmer of hope disappear? You froze in front of your door as the realization hit you.  You had fallen in love.  How stupid.  Why would you? How could you? You didn’t come to Eridia for love. You didn’t come to waste your time on foolish feelings. You hadn’t even found a way to cure your curse. How dare you? It was all his fault. Ais. For being kind on your first night in the city. For beating up the man who attacked you. For saying he didn’t want to make a bad impression. For calling you “Sparrow.” For trying to understand you like no one else did. For saying your laugh was nice. For touching your face with that unbearable gentleness. Fuck. You were in love. A noise behind you startled you. Someone was coming up the stairs. You turned, almost gasping when you saw it was Ais. “Just checking on you. You seemed a bit shaken down there.” He really couldn’t give you a break, could he? You forced a faint smile as you pushed your door open. “It’s nothing. Just felt a little down. A night of rest and I’ll be back up!” He gave you a dubious look. You couldn’t fool him. But he didn’t push. “Alright. Rest well, Sparrow. If you need anything, we’ll be downstairs until late.” “Sure! Have fun.” He grinned, waved, and headed downstairs without looking back. You stood there until he disappeared, then closed your door with a heavy sigh. Your stay in Eridia was definitely going to be exhausting.

[mikimakiboo]

Mermay day 7 - Batten Down The Hatches

The Leviathans protecting their mates >>>

This trope will come back soon, be prepared

- Megalodontale -

A whaler ship attacked the shiver, Nightmare isn't happy with that and decides it is time to get big.

First

Prev

Next

- You're okay there ? Think you can stay alone for a bit ? Horror asked.

Nightmare huffed from the rock he was clinging to, looking up at the giant shark. Dust and Horror were on hunting duty and Nightmare came with them, wanting to find some clams, crabs, and maybe some starfish too. He couldn't hunt with them, but he could hunt for his brother and himself as their preys were a bit too small for the megalodons to catch without crushing them.

- I'm not a kid, I can stay on my own ! He argued.

Dust chuckled.

- You're pretty much baby size to us.

- I'm not baby size, ya'll just big as fuck, Nightmare growled.

- Sure, if you say so, Dust shrugged.

Horror sighed, shaking his head though still amused by his mates' playfighting. The only playfight they could do with their tiny mates as their big forms took a lot of energy and therefore weren't used that often.

- Enough fighting you two, Dust hurry up, the whales are gonna leave if we wait.

- Yeah yeah, I'm coming, Dust yawned, taking the lead.

Horror looked at Nightmare one last time, making sure the little octopus was good before following the white tip shark to where the whales were. They only needed to catch one to feed everyone, but since they were as big as them, it was better if they were two to catch and bring back the prey to the nest.

Both got into position, circling the group and gradually inserting themselves between the cetaceans to redirect one in the open. Horror stayed back, ensuring no other whale followed as Dust leaded the prey away, back to where Nightmare was to be closer when they would have to go home.

The great white joined his mate after a few seconds, smiling with satisfaction.

- Do you wanna have the honor of killing it ? Horror asked Dust.

The white tip smiled too, already preparing his claws.

- Don't mind me if I do- 

He was brutally cut in his sentence by a harpoon flying in front of his face, barely missing him. Both sharks looked at each other, frozen, where did that come from ? They had never seen such a big harpoons before, small ones yes, but never big like that. Horror slowly looked in the direction it came from: the surface, where he could distinguish a big dark form.

- It's.. a ship that launched that... ?

Since when could ships throw such big weapons ? Horror looked down at his mate again, they needed to go back to the nest quickly. He was about to warn him when a sudden sharp pain pierced through his shoulder.

- Horror ! Dust yelled, rushing to his side and completely forgetting the whale, oh fuck ! We need to get you to the nest !

Horror's breath fastened, he brought a shaky hand to his shoulder, Dust was already holding him, his blue cape progressively becoming red with the cloud of blood in the water. A second harpoon had been launched, and it hit his mark.

- Forget the whale we need to go ! Dust pushed him aside.

Both sharks started to swim, Horror being inconveniently slower due to his shoulder. Dust kept looking up, afraid of a third blow, but instead of feeling a harpoon they felt the water vibrate, agitate, and a low grumble was heard.

They stopped, what was happening now ? The water was darkening, clouds of sand and dirt were emerging from the depths and they could feel the waves getting bigger, more threatening, the surface lighting up before thunder was heard. They really didn't need a storm now.

- Hold on to me, do not let go. Dust ordered, pressing himself against Horror's good side to support him.

- We need to get Nightmare.. !

As he protested, a big glowing cyan light appeared in the dark water, making a massive black form the only thing distinguishable. The megalodons stared in shock as tentacles as large as cruise ships  emerged from underneath the form, one of them wrapping itself around the two sharks to move them out of the way as Nightmare, the Leviathan of the Moon in all of his glory, left the abyss.

The tentacle gently squeezed the sharks, a gentleness contrasting vividly with the violence of the storm outside, thunder was rambling and lightnings were seen from under the water. The Kraken's tentacles flew, slamming against the boat, tearing it in half and swinging it in the air, the useless harpoons falling in the water and the Leviathan's sharp teeth closing on the land walkers falling from the dismantled ship. They didn't stand a single chance.

Once emptied of any life, the remains of the boat fell in the water, sinking in the depths to be forgotten and left for the fish.

The storm didn't calm down, and Nightmare dived back into the sea. The tentacle holding the sharks loosened, letting Dust get out of the grip before tightening again around Horror, the great white barely holding on consciousness at this point.

None talked, but words weren't needed as Dust took the lead, bringing the Leviathan and his mate back to the nest. Horror needed urgent healing, they would come back without preys, but it wasn't important for now, Dust could go back hunting later with Cross and Killer. Horror's safety was more important.

It wasn't often that Nightmare was in his big form, but when he was, he had a good reason to be, and you needed to batten down the hatches and hide away, because an unstoppable force was about to strike, and the Kraken never missed his mark...

[isca-rambles]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

SHE MADE FUCKING SERGEANT. FIRST PLACE. SHE DID IT.

The episode was like so-so I loved the cop mum stuff and the Wesley/Del Monte stuff and eh I didn't hate the Randy stuff but I could've done without it BUT OH MY GOD you could have screeched in my ear for 43 minutes and I would still love that episode because LUCY MOTHERFUCKING CHEN IS SERGEANT NOW 😭😭😭😭 That she asked Tim to look for her, she was so nervous and he went right there because he knew she'd be waiting nervously and obviously he wanted to know too but he was there to support her. And that he tried so hard to school his expression so he didn't give it away to her, Grey too, but the second she wasn't looking his face just burst into this bloody teary-eyed smile because he was so proud of her, not just the love of his life but the cop he trained from day dot becoming sergeant and starting her eventual rise to the very top of the LAPD. And the looks. Oh my god the looks they gave each other. I know this was a Chenford lite episode but good lord just one look between them is worth like 20 scenes and we got multiple! Not to mention that she called him again in the shop for advice. Even if it was just silly advice, he's her first call every time because she trusts him even when he gives advice like cigars. Okay back to Lucy. Dear god I keep tearing up. I was up until like 5am again, probably later tbh, and I just bawled at one point. Like I teared up during the actual scene and did a little happy cry at 3am but at some point I rewatched it and everything in me just broke and I full on bawled and didn't stop until I went to sleep again because wdym my girl got first and finally got the recognition she's been denied for so long?!

I would've loved to see everyone celebrate her and I'm still hoping we might get a little scene of that next ep, but I can cope with it being in fic I guess, but oh that scene was so perfect. Her two strongest supporters being there and finding out before her but letting her discover herself just how amazing she is. Headcanon is that Grey was a few minutes late posting the rankings because he had to have a little proud papa cry in his office first and didn't want to give anything away. Like he saw how broken she was for the detective's exam results and this time he could give her good news she deserves! Okay okay I'll stop for now because I could just keep going forever because Lucy has taken so many hits, she's been through so much, and S6 was just frelling awful for her in so many ways. S7 has been a bit rough for her too but slowly getting better and she's finally getting her win. Everything she's earned and fought for and deserves, she's going to get. Sergeant and then the love of her life. S8 Lucy is going to be in charge and on frelling cloud nine! Okay next week and the promo! So so so glad they're not just having Lucy and Tim leap back into a relationship the second she became sergeant. That was their biggest obstacle but Lucy is obviously still hesistant (and for good reason) and Tim is pretty hesistant too - he wants to be with Lucy but he wants to make sure that she's the one calling the shots. So it looks like they're going to be ships in the night, maybe we'll see the first week of her being night shift sergeant and we see them trying to catch each other but failing or being too tired to talk. Either Tim or Lucy will be the one to wait for the other to finish shift and force a talk, at the station or at one of their houses. They'll talk things through (again, I'm not expecting a massive indepth talk that was never going to happen with this show) and then one of them will ask the other on a date. I kind of want it to be Lucy? I want that mirror from S5 and her asking him coyly if he wants to get dinner sometime? Him being all 'yeah?' And them being big goofy idiots in love. A little kiss and those heart eyes and I will go into this hiatus a very happy woman. Honestly i'm going into this hiatus a happy woman anyway because Lucy is my first priority above all else and she got her promotion. Whether it's in the finale or the first episodes of S8, she'll get her man back too. I'm not worried about that at all. I was worried they might try and fuck her over again about the promotion but thankfully no. But yeah, I'm happy to go into this next ep and see what happens, but that's my theory for now. They'll find it difficult, Tim won't want to push until Lucy is ready, Lucy is going to be anxious because why isn't Tim contacting her, and then it'll get resolved. Also the night shift is not going to be permanent. Either it'll just be handwaved away at the start of S8, which is the more likely option, or her Mid-Wilshire family will pull some strings to get her back on days. Maybe in the finale? Maybe at the start of S8. Either way it's not going to last long.

Oh aside from a big celebration scene, or at least other characters acknowledging and congratulating her on her promotion to sergeant, I'm going to need a tiny boots scene. I need Tim to do that for her. He can get help if need be. Tiny boots in her locker, in her car, in the apartment. Something. Celina can take a picture for him. I just have a great need of it, okay? OH OH I also need someone to pin her new badge on. Literally anyone important in her life will do, but I think Tim or Grey mostly. uuuh other things. Oh, only one, but Wesley! Maybe he's going to step into the race for DA now that Del Monte is stepping back? Legit I thought Del Monte might die or his son would and he'd become corrupt because I've always had weird vibes from Del Monte but idk. I think Oscar will be dealt with in the actual episode, but Monica is going to stay a threat into S8 and dear god please no but I guess I'll take it. I honestly don't care I'm riding this high all frelling week.

[howlingday]

Based on a discussion I've shared with @misterlazer, here's Ozpin as Dr. Jonathan Crane, AKA Scarecrow

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

Ozpin: It is in my opinion that Mr. Callows is as much a danger to himself as he is to others, and I believe that prison is the least suitable environment for his rehabilitation.

Tyrian: (Grins)

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

Weiss: Headmaster Ozpin?

Ozpin: Ah, Miss Schnee...

Weiss: Do you really think a man who butchers people for criminal organizations doesn't belong in prison?

Ozpin: Well, I'll hardly testify to the contrary now, Miss Schnee.

Weiss: This is the third of Roman Torchwick's goons you've had declared clinically insane and moved into your asylum.

Ozpin: Yes, well, unfortunately, work within organized crime must act as a sort of draw for the insane. (Continues)

Weiss: ...Or the corrupt.

Ozpin: ...Mr. Belladonna.

Ghira: Hm?

Ozpin: I believe you should have a word with Miss Schnee about exactly what implications your legal office is permitted to make... if any. (Exits)

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

Ozpin: No more favors, Mr. Torchwick. Someone is getting too close.

Roman: We had a deal, Ozzy. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. We're the ones bringing in the shipments!

Ozpin: The shipments I'm paying you for.

Roman: Have you considered how much I value favors more than lien?

Ozpin: Yes, yes, you're very intimidating, Mr. Torchwick. But you are not as intimidating as the woman you know I'm working for. And when she arrives-

Roman: Wait... She's coming to Vale?

Ozpin: Indeed she is. And when she arrives, she's not going to be happy to hear how you're endangering her operations just to get some small-time thugs out of well-earned jail time.

Roman: ...Who's bothering you?

Ozpin: There's a girl at the DA's office.

Roman: So I'll buy her off.

Ozpin: Not this one.

Roman: Oh... Great... An idealist... Well, there's a fix for that, too.

Ozpin: I don't need to know.

Roman: Yeah. You do.

Ozpin: ...

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

Goodwitch: Good evening, Headmaster. Thank you for arriving on such short notice.

Ozpin: This is my academy, Glynda. Why wouldn't I be concerned about Mr. Torchwick's attempted suicide?

Goodwitch: He might be attempting an insanity plea, sir. But if this isn't a one-time event-

Ozpin: Of course. Better safe than sorry. (Enters)

Roman: (Lazily) Yeah, Mr. Headmaster. I can't take this anymore. It's all too much. The walls are closing in. Blah, blah, blah. Ugh... Another day of this slop you call food, and I really will crack!

Ozpin: What do you want?

Roman: I wanna know how you plan to keep my mouth shut.

Ozpin: About what? You don't know anything.

Roman: I know you don't want the cops to take a closer look at those chemicals they've got. And I know you've also got a few lab animals locked up here in Beacon, too. Some more literal than others. See, I've got a habit of looking into people when I do business with them. And those thugs you've been using? I own the muscle in this city. Now, I've been bringing your stuff in for months, so I know whatever she's planning, it's big. And I want in.

Ozpin: ...Unfortunately, I already know what she'll say, and the answer is no. Moreso than that, she'll say that we should kill you.

Roman: Pfft! Yeah. Right. Even she can't get me in here. Not in my town.

Ozpin: ...

Ozpin: Would you like to see my mask? (Opens case) I use it in my demonstrations. (Twists valve) I'm more than aware that I'm not normally terrifying to a man such as yourself. But my subjects? Oh, they can't stand it~! (Dons mask)

Roman: ...Who left the boob in charge of the boob hatch?!

Ozpin: (Click!)

Roman: (Sprayed by gas, Screaming)

Ozpin: (Twisted and horrifying to look at) THEY SCREAM... AND THEY CRY... JUST LIKE YOU'RE DOING NOW~...

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

Ozpin: (Shuts door) Well... He's definitely not faking it, Professor Goodwitch. I'll speak to the council and see about having him transferred to the psychiatric wing of Beacon. We certainly can't treat him like a criminal here, now can we? (Exits)

Goodwitch: (Looks to door)

Roman: (Muffled screaming and crying)

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

Ozpin: (Walks in, Looks around) Someone's been here. Erase everything.

Thug: Let's torch the whole place.

Goon: Alright...

Ozpin: (Notices open window, Exits)

Thug: (Douses gasoline everywhere)

Goon: (In the bathroom, Taking a leak)

The Huntsman: (Drops down onto goon)

Thug: Huh?! (Holds up fire dust)

The Huntsman: (Takes away fire dust, Launches it away, Knocks down thug)

Ozpin: (Masked) BOO! (Sprays gas)

The Huntsman: (Swats spary, Inhales)

Ozpin: WHAT'S THE MATTER? HAVING TROUBLE...? (Rabbit crawls out of his skin)

The Huntsman: (Stumbles over)

Ozpin: TAKE A SEAT... (Tosses alcohol) HAVE A DRINK~! YOU LOOK LIKE A MAN WHO TAKES HIMSELF TOO SERIOUSLY...

The Huntsman: (Swarmed by rabbits, Struggling not to scream)

Ozpin: (Holding fire dust) GOT A FEVER? BECAUSE YOU'RE BURNING UP~. (Tosses dust)

The Huntsman: (On fire, Jumps out window)

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

Weiss: ...Headmaster Ozpin.

Ozpin: Miss Schnee. I wasn't expecting you, but then again I don't have anything more to say that hasn't already been explained to the council.

Weiss: I still have questions about your report.

Ozpin: Those being?

Weiss: You don't think it's convenient that a man 45 years of age with no prior mental health concerns suddenly has a full psychotic breakdown just days before his indictment?

Ozpin: Well, as you can see for yourself, Miss Schnee, there's nothing convenient about Mr. Torchwick's symptoms.

Weiss: (Looks to Roman)

Roman: (Eyes wide with fear, Shaking) The... The Flood... The Flood...

Weiss: What's "The Flood"?

Ozpin: The patient is suffering from a delusional episode, and sometimes they focus their paranoia on an external tormentor they believe exists. In this case, in the form of Junger Archtype of The Flood.

Weiss: Is he drugged?

Ozpin: Psychopharmacology is my field of expertise, Miss Schnee, and one I take great pride in.

The Huntsman: (Listening in)

Ozpin: Outside, Roman Torchwick was a monster. But in here, the only monster is what we make of ourselves.

Weiss: Do you enjoy making monsters yourselves, Headmaster?

Ozpin: I respect the analysis conducted in observing the mind shifting from one state to another. It's why I do what I do.

Weiss: And I do what I do to keep criminals like Torchwick behind bars, not in therapy. (Walks away) I'm going to request my own psychiatric consultant with full access to Roman Torchwick, including bloodwork. I know exactly what you're doing to him.

Ozpin: Very well. I will see them tomorrow then.

Weiss: TONIGHT. (Enters elevator) I've already contact Dr. Polendina at Atlas Academy. He'll be here in a few hours.

Ozpin: Very well, (Enters with her, Turns key) if that is what you wish.

Weiss: (Elevator opens)

Ozpin: (Exits) This way, please... I think you'll find this most interesting.

Weiss: (Follows)

Ozpin: (Opens doors, Reveals chemical lab) This... is where we make the magic~.

Weiss: (Watches cauldron poured into pipe)

Ozpin: My wife's recipe~. Cures what ails you~.

Weiss: (Runs away, Gets into elevator)

Ozpin: (Inhales, Walks to elevator)

Weiss: (Mashing useless buttons)

Ozpin: (Wearing mask, Sprays Weiss)

Weiss: (Gasping, Coughing, Screams)

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

Ozpin: (Watches as Weiss is set on table)

Weiss: (Trying not to look at him)

Ozpin: WHO KNOWS YOU'RE HERE...? (Rotten flesh falls away) WHO KNOW?!

Weiss: (Screams)

Ozpin: (Light goes out, Takes off mask, Smiling) He's here~.

Thug: Who?!

Ozpin: The Huntsman~.

Goon: What do we do?!

Ozpin: What anyone does when a predator is on the hunt... Call a hunter.

Punk: You want hunters here?

Ozpin: At this point, it doesn't matter what they do. We're already too far along now. Even though THE HUNTSMAN is a fond of disruption. When the hunters arrive, they'll shoot him on sight~.

Goon: What about her?

Weiss: (Lolling her head)

Ozpin: She doesn't have long. I gave her enough fear to kill a man ten times her size. Now go!

Mook: (Watches Goon, Punk, and Thug run) The things they say about him... Can he really fly?

Hench: I heard he can disappear!

Ozpin: Well... (Steps away) We're going to find out~. (Hides as violence happens, Jumps)

The Huntsman: (Catches arm, Bends it away, Tears off mask) Think you deserve a taste of your own medicine, Headmaster. (Sprays)

Ozpin: (Coughs, Wheezes)

The Huntsman: What have you been doing here?

Ozpin: (Shivers)

The Huntsman: (Looks like Grimm) OZ... WHO ARE YOU WORKING FOR...?

Ozpin: (Shudders) Salem... The Grimm Queen...

The Huntsman: SALEM IS DEAD. WHO ARE YOU WORKING FOR...? (Squeezes) OZ...

Ozpin: (Smiles) I'm sorry... The headmaster isn't available at the moment... But I'm sure if you make an appointment-

The Huntsman: (Tosses him aside, Leaves)

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

Ozpin: (Holding mask)

Pyrrha: What was your plan, Ozpin? How were you going to get your chemicals into the air?

Ozpin: The Flood... The Flood...

Pyrrha: Who are you working for, Ozpin?

Ozpin: ...Oh, it's too late. You can't stop her now...

Pyrrha: (Takes mask, Tosses to guard, Leaves)

Ozpin: ...

Ozpin: (Mask tossed to him, Looks up)

Neptune: (Grins) You're needed, Headmaster.

Ozpin: (Smiles)

[mxtantrights]

mob!bucky wants to try out some freaky positions!

ONE YEAR LATER

As you stir the milk into your coffee you can hear the soft padding of feet coming your way. You don't have to turn around to guess who it is. Only he likes to walk around on cold floors with bare feet.

"Mornin' my precious wife." he says from behind you with a groggy morning voice.

Almost enough to get you to stop what you're doing and drag him back to the bedroom. Almost. You needed to get to work. There's a big client coming in to talk about an acquisition contract.

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close into him. You lean into him, head resting back against his shoulder. He smells like a quick shower. Which is the smell of something pine-y and woodsy.

You're also being mindful not to spill the coffee-he'd take any excuse to keep you here. You'd like it just as much as him. But you really should get to work.

He kisses your cheek once, then twice.

"Busy day?" he asks.

You nod, "I'm needed in the office. Closing a contract."

"I'll let you go, if you promise me all of tomorrow." he whispers into the shell of your ear. Then he's kissing the spot right there.

You close your eyes, "It's my day off. That's a given. I'm not too sure about you."

"I cleared my schedule."

"I don't think that's how your job works." you joke.

He places a kiss to your shoulder. You can feel the stubble on his face more prominent. You maybe have told him that you liked it in passing. He's maintained it since.

"Lucky thing I'm the boss."

You pull away from him and turn around with a smirk, "Not my boss. Who is expecting me at work on time."

He raises his hands up as if to surrender any control.

"I only go along with what you want, you know this already." he smiles.

"yes yes, good husband." you peck his lips and reach for your coffee from behind you.

It's in a to-go cup. You're basically out the door already. You just have to make it past Bucky. Your sweet, honest, ravenous husband. The word husband is the word the sends a shiver down your spine.

Husband. In every sense of the word.

He pouts, "I'll just be here. Waiting. Bored. All day."

"Oh I'm sure Steve could help you with that." you remark.

Steve had his hands busy with becoming a new boss. Brock didn't deserve it, he never did. It was only right that after he, took a long walk into an ocean, that his assets were given to the right person.

That had been Steve. Who had that talent for this life. A heavy but gentle hand. He knows the ins and outs of the business from his years under Bucky. And he's got something new to give.

Honestly you're a bit thankful he took the offer. The moment he almost caught you and Bucky in a flexible position in this very kitchen, you wanted to shrivel up and cringe. He couldn't look you in the eye for a few days after.

But now he doesn't have to worry about running into you and Bucky in incorrigible situations.

"Speaking of, tomorrow is gonna be a double date kind of thing. You and me and Steve and his new girlfriend." Bucky speaks.

"I didn't know he had a girlfriend, that's sweet." you comment.

"It's Sharon."

Your eyes go wide. Sharon? From your Job, Sharon? What the hell? Well, actually that made sense. When he was following you you noticed that he'd show up a bit earlier before you went to work and stay later way past when you left.

Sharon. Huh.

"Good for him. And I will see you later tonight." you say with a pat to his chest.

Then you side step him and head towards the door. Your platform boots clicking against the floor. You can hear him trailing behind you, can practically feel it too.

"'round about what time? Lunch?" he asks.

You laugh, "James! I said tonight!"

"12pm is night."

"No it isn't!" you snicker.

"It is now."

You shake your head as you reach the front door. Your hand wraps around the knob. Just as you're about to twist and pull it open, you turn yourself around.

Bucky is standing face to face with you. A smile on his face. You reach up and grab the back of his neck with your hand, pulling him toward you.

Your lips connect with his in an open mouth kiss. It's hot and not at all dry. His hands tangle themselves around your waist, pulling you right into his chest.

You pull away first, "I'll see you tonight. I love you."

He pecks your lips.

"I love you too."

[maraschinomerry]

Sleepless Nights pt4

Pairings: George Karim x gn!reader Summary: after the events of the Annabel Ward case, you're hit hard by the exhaustion of so many sleepless nights. George finds a way to help. Content: post-canonish, hurt-comfort (heavy on the comfort), discussion of nightmares, vaguely whumpy, confessions of love A/N: wow, I can't believe I've made it to the end! This series has been a 19,500 word labour of love, it's been fascinating exploring the events of the show and I'm so grateful to everyone who has read and supported throughout 🫶 pt1 pt2 pt3 Word count: 3.8k Taglist: @neewtmas @avdiobliss @uku-lelevillain @marinalor @ettadear @honey-with-tea @mischiefmanaged71 @cryingpages @inyourwallsbbg

A little over a week had passed since the events of Combe Carey hall and life was slowly returning to normal, for everyone but you it seemed. Every night you had slept fitfully - enough to make it through the day without collapsing, but too plagued by nightmares to get the rest you so desperately needed. Too much had happened for you not to think of it all. Fighting Annabel Ward's ghost in the attic; Lucy's attempt at communication which led to her nearly choking and you having a chair thrown at you by the spirit; being attacked and tied up in your own home; Lucy stealing the ring; the horrors of the Red Room; being trapped with the monks and almost blown up; Fairfax holding Lockwood at gunpoint only to be killed by Annabel; being arrested and let off only if you signed the NDA. It was a lifetime's worth of trauma in a matter of days, and you hadn't even begun to process it all, let alone the revelation that you had some kind of feelings for your own coworker. But there was no time for that now, you had a funeral to attend. With a groan, you rolled out of bed and staggered down to the bathroom. The shower thrummed from behind the closed door, so you leant against the wall and waited. After a minute, the hum stopped. After another minute the handle turned and George stepped out. Your heart skipped a beat. He was positively glowing, bare face smooth and rosy from the warmth of the shower, curls coated in droplets. His Steel Claw T-shirt clung to his chest, reminding you of the way you'd held onto him in the chapel under Combe Carey Hall.

“Morning,” he greeted as he fumbled to put his glasses on, giving you enough time to force yourself to look normal. “Sleep well?”

“Eh, sort of,” you shrugged. You hadn't told anyone about the nightmares, there was no point reminding them of what you'd all been through or making them worry about you.

You both stood for a moment, something unspoken hanging between you. You knew exactly why you were so on edge around him without warning, but why were you sensing a similar energy from him?

“Oh, sorry, did you-?” George broke the silence, gesturing to the bathroom. Right. You nodded, and he quickly stepped aside. “I can have breakfast ready for when you're done, if you'd like. To save time,” he added.

You beamed at the offer. “That'd be great, thanks. Give me ten minutes.”

“Of course.” The smile he gave you was soft, almost shy, as he left you to it.

The blanket of clouds which covered the sky above the cemetery was fitting for so solemn an affair. Barely twenty others had turned out to attend the funeral of Samaran Pandy. None of his team were left to mourn him, just a few of his wider cohort, now grown to maturity. Beside them stood a handful of higher-ups, including Inspector Barnes and Penelope Fittes herself. A few stragglers watched from beneath a tree on the other side of the path, and a little further up the slope stood Lockwood & Co. Once again you were all dressed smartly, only this time without instructions from Lockwood required to remind anyone. The boy was in his usual suit with a dark tie, George had opted for a black wax jacket and dark blue jeans, and Lucy had paired her blue and black jacket (the only good one she owned) with all black. You'd scraped together a suitable outfit as well, consisting of your best trousers, a black shirt, and the peacoat you usually saved for winter. It was a bit too warm for a day like this, but the slight chill in the air kept you from overheating too badly and you'd have been worse off without it. The four of you listened in silence to the prayer being read over the flower-laden coffin, and you wondered if the others were as painfully aware as you were of how close you had come to the same fate. How long would it have been before anyone found your bodies? Who would have come to mourn you? Your thoughts were put on hold by the ending of the ceremony, and a quiet note from Lockwood that it was time to go. The gravel crunched beneath your boots as you headed back up the path. You were glad to be on the move; a headache was brewing behind your eyelids, heavy and sharp.

“Excuse me? Excuse me,” a woman's voice called from behind. You all turned to see the dark-haired woman who had stood by the side of the coffin. She introduced herself as Penelope Fittes, not that you didn't know who she was, and thanked you all for finding Sam, as she knew him. She then revealed in turn that she knew each of you: Lockwood was obvious, it was his agency after all, but she was able to put a name to Lucy and remembered George from his time at Fittes. Of course, he immediately put his foot in his mouth by implying that the agency was full of fools, which earned him a not-so-subtle elbow from Lockwood. If Penelope noticed, she was too polite to say anything as she turned to you.

“And you must be y/n. It's a pleasure.”

“Mhm, you too,” you replied quickly, trying not to blow things in spite of the throbbing in your head. Lockwood glanced sideways at you.

“Thank you again. Really,” the woman smiled and waved a brief goodbye as she approached the long black car awaiting her, followed by another group of mourners passing silently by.

Lockwood grinned. “Penelope Fittes knows who we are,” he said with barely contained glee. He clapped a hand on George's shoulder and began to stride towards the exit. The other two followed, but you remained still. The thrumming in your skull was growing stronger. “Y/n? Everything okay?” Lockwood turned back.

“Headache. Stupid coat, I'm probably just overheating.” You wrestled your way out of the coat and draped it over your arm, brows furrowed. Your steps were wobbly as you wandered over the uneven ground, and you weren't even sure you could blame it on the terrain. Removing your coat hadn't helped as much as you hoped, in fact you were trembling and your eyelids fluttered. George had fallen into step beside you, and you tried and failed to mask how much you were struggling. Without a word, he slipped off his own jacket and draped it over your shoulders, taking your own in his arms. You shrunk into the fabric, the lingering scent of vanilla and sandalwood body wash keeping you going just enough to get to the edge of the cemetery, where Lockwood had the good sense to hail a cab home. He and Lucy exchanged a small glance when they turned back and spotted you in the other boy's jacket, but said nothing.

Back at Portland Row, you barely made it through the door before slumping onto the sofa in the living room with a groan.

George stood in the doorway, toying with the cuff of his shirt. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, ‘m fine,” you mumbled.

“Well clearly you're not, you look like hell.”

“Oh gee, thanks George.”

“No, I just meant-”

“He's right, y/n,” Lucy interrupted before he could dig the hole any further. “Terrible choice of words,” she paused and shot him a glare, “but you don't look well at all. Do you need to go back to bed?”

You forced yourself to your feet, and as you did so you caught a glimpse of the mirror above the mantelpiece. The face that stared back at you was pale and clammy, with unfocused eyes made prominent by the deep purplish rings below them. You barely recognised yourself.

“No, I'll be alright.” Don't cause a fuss, don't let them worry. “I might just go and sit in the study for a while.” Your friends nodded in understanding, parting to allow you to pass by and amble away.

The study was warm, inviting, and blissfully quiet. You'd gone to your room first and changed into a loose T-shirt, pyjama bottoms and fuzzy socks, and now you curled into one of the armchairs, hugging your knees. The sounds inside your brain were uncomfortably present - the pounding of your head, the slight ringing in your ears, the muffled cotton wool where your coherent thoughts ought to be. You screwed your eyes shut, trying to will them away. Without the security of being able to see the room, your mind began to fill piece together a view from the last time you were in there. Your eyes snapped open just before the imaginary flying chair hit you. Your breath was coming in short, quick gasps. At least it was something to focus on other than your headache. No. You needed an actual distraction. There was a book on the table beside you which you picked up and opened to a random page, but instead of words all you could see on the pages were blurry strips of black, shifting and undulating the more you tried to focus on them. With a huff, you laid it, open, back on the table. In the distance, you heard Lockwood and Lucy’s voices in the hallway, followed by the opening and closing of the front door. You wondered whether George had gone with them or stayed behind. George. The thought of him was a small reprieve from the static that crackled in your head. Whatever feelings you'd been obliviously harbouring for the boy had been all but cemented during the events of the previous week, and when you added in the sparks you'd felt today, and the past few if you were being honest, when he'd been so caring and attentive, there could now be no doubt. You were in love. You rubbed your temple, and this time it wasn't because of the headache.

You had no idea how long you'd been sitting there. It was certainly long enough that your legs had gone to sleep (at least part of you had got the memo, you thought wryly), but your thoughts had drifted back into the abyss and now you were left staring at a patch of the wall, unable to conjure enough energy to look elsewhere.

There was a gentle tap at the door, and George leaned round it a moment later. “Just checking in, Lockwood and Lucy have gone to the shops so I've asked if they can call at the chemist to see if they can get anything to help.”

His thoughtfulness once again gave you butterflies. “Thanks.” You knew you should say something more, anything, but the words wouldn't come. George could sense it too.

“Are you sure you're alright?”

“Yeah, I'm just reading.” You gestured vaguely to the book laid open on the coffee table.

“Oh?” George feigned interest. “What's it called?”

You opened your mouth and closed it again. When he raised an eyebrow, you let out a resigned sigh. Satisfied that he'd won that little argument, he sank into the other armchair.

“Talk to me, what's going on with you? And don't say ‘nothing’.” You chewed your lip, eyes not quite meeting his, and watched the gears turning in his mind. “This morning, when you said you ‘sort of’ slept well, that wasn't true, was it?”

“Not exactly, no,” you admitted quietly.

“Then why not say so?”

Something snapped. “What was I supposed to say? That the last time I slept through was the night before Annabel showed up?”

“But that was… Jesus, y/n, that's nearly two weeks ago!”

“I know!”

“You've not slept in two weeks?” The way his voice faded from exasperation to concern so quickly weakened your resolve, and as much as you regretted the truth that was spilling from you now, the furrowed brows of the boy next to you made you regret not confiding in him sooner.

“I have a bit.” The words came softly, cautiously. “Just not enough.”

“Nightmares, right? I have them too, you know.” You blinked at George, surprised by his admission. He continued speaking, and your surprise grew stronger. “You're in them a lot actually. There's one where Ellie is attacking you and I'm stuck in the basement unable to help, one where I don't get to you in time in the Red Room, one by the well where… sorry, this probably isn't helping.”

You scrunched your face a little, trying to force back the tears that were gathering on your lower lashes; one had broken free and was trailing down your cheek. “No, it's okay. At least it's not just me, I suppose. I just… it's not just the nightmares waking me up, I can't even go to sleep in the first place in case it's not safe. What if there's another source I don't know about, or someone else breaks in and I'm not awake enough to stop them? So I can't, I can't…” The tears were flowing freely now, and you shied away, curling in on yourself and retreating further into the armchair. George was out of his seat in an instant, kneeling before you with doleful eyes. One hand rested on the arm of the chair, close enough for you to know he was there and to reach for, but without crossing a boundary.

“Hey, shh, it's alright,” he soothed, voice low and tender. “You're safe, I've got you.”

You weren't sure what it was about his words that stirred the emotions within you; maybe it wasn't his words at all, but the way he was looking at you, the way he was reaching for you as he had done so many times in that godforsaken hall. Whatever it was, it spurred you out of the chair and you fell to your knees, wrapping your arms around him and burying your head in his shoulder. He rocked backwards slightly, taken aback by the sudden momentum, but quickly steadied himself and returned the embrace, one hand in your hair and the other rubbing calming circles across your back. When the tears subsided, you sat back on your feet and scrubbed your cheek with the heel of your hand. You opened your mouth to say thank you or sorry or both, but George spoke first.

“Will you be okay if I leave you here for ten, maybe fifteen minutes? I promise I'll be back as soon as I can.”

You nodded weakly, and he helped you to your feet and settled you back into the armchair with the blanket from the back of it. You sat huddled, listening to the creaking of the house as he moved about - into the kitchen, then up the stairs, back down and up again. True to his word, a quarter of an hour had not quite passed when he tapped on the door and stepped back into the study. He looked considerably more bashful than he had fifteen minutes ago.

“Okay, um, please tell me if I'm overstepping but, well, follow me.”

You shuffled to the door, placing a hand on his arm and allowing him to guide you up the stairs.

George stopped you on the landing. His bedroom door was ajar, a low amber-gold glow within, and he glanced at it nervously. You peered round the door. It was tidier than you expected, hastily tidied but still, the bed was made with crisp fresh sheets and the table beside it had been cleared to make room for a flask of tea, a plate of biscuits and a scented candle with its flame flickering peacefully. The curtains were drawn to block out the afternoon sun, the light in the room coming from a lamp on his desk. You turned to George, your expression soft and newly tearful.

He mistook your tears for upset. “Sorry, is this too far? I just thought maybe you'd be more comfortable in a different space, and I can stay and keep watch if that would help you feel safer.”

“I-” the words caught in your throat. “George, this is so thoughtful.”

“Can't have you dead on your feet, now can we?” His tone was casual, but he was blushing all the same. “Do you want me to…?” He pointed over his shoulder and began to retreat.

“No!” You caught his other wrist, your hand shaking slightly. “Please don't go.” As if realising how much you'd just opened up with those three simple words, you let go. Your hand didn't fall far, however, as his fingers laced with yours and led you inside. The thought of imminent rest overtook you quickly, weighing your bones down and making your eyelids droop. George took it in stride, pulling back the corner of the duvet before placing his free hand cautiously on the small of your back and sliding the other up to your elbow to help you into bed. The pillow smelled faintly of detergent and the lingering scent of George's shampoo. You nuzzled down into it, feeling immediately at ease. Behind you, the boy settled onto the other side of the bed, back against the headboard and legs stretched out. He picked up a book from his bedside table and turned the page with a ruffle.

“What are you reading?” you asked. Sleep was already thick in your voice.

“More Shakespeare. Othello, this time.”

“Will you read it to me? I don't need names or anything, I just like hearing your voice.” You heard the words a moment after you said them and tensed. George took a small, sharp breath. You were lying on the wrong side to see his expression, and you panicked that you'd confessed too much or overstepped his kindness. Then you heard a sound, that soft thud that a book makes when closed, followed by the turning of pages.

“Tush! Never tell me, I take it most unkindly that thou, Iago, who hast my purse as if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this.” George's voice was soft and resonant, immediately filling you with a sense of utter calm. He'd gone back to the beginning of the play. You smiled to yourself and closed your eyes. As he continued reading, you felt your breathing slow. Your eyelids fluttered for a second and then fell shut. The lingering threat of your nightmares played at the corners of your thoughts, but you felt safe enough that you weren't scared by the possibility of them. It was funny, really - you couldn't deny that you'd pictured a scenario like this, you just never imagined it would actually happen or that these would be the circumstances under which it did. You couldn't remember when you'd last felt this peaceful.

After a while, George fell into a rhythm, the turning of the pages lulling you towards sleep almost as much as his reading. All of a sudden, there was no page turn when you expected one. Instead, his voice took on a little more of its normal quality, still as soft but less performative.

“That night, by the well… I was going to say ‘I think I love you’, because I didn't think I'd get another chance and I was so scared of losing you.” Your eyelids flickered open, and you fought to keep your breathing steady. “But now here you- here we are, and I know you won't hear this but I feel like I'll go mad if I don't take the chance now it's been given to me. So I do… love you, I mean.”

“I love you too, George,” you murmured.

The poor boy almost fell off the bed. “Y/n! I thought you were asleep! Why didn't you say something sooner?”

You rolled over and gazed at him through low eyelashes, a cheeky smile playing across your lips. “And deny us this beautiful moment?”

He laughed, the tension in his shoulders easing. “You’ve been around Lockwood too long.”

“Hmm, perhaps,” you hummed. “Maybe you should take me out so I can be around you instead.”

“Now that's more like it. You go to sleep, for real this time please, and dream up your ideal date and we'll do it.” He leaned down to place a soft kiss on your forehead. Smiling, you snuggled into his side, head resting lightly against his hip and arm draped across his thighs. The page turn finally came, and George resumed reading as you slipped into the calm depths of sleep.

The next morning, you awoke to an empty bed and the smell of toast and eggs. You glanced around the room which was noticeably not your own, and wondered for a brief moment if you were still dreaming. Then, a piece of paper on the pillow beside you caught your eye. “Just gone to cook breakfast, rest as long as you need and I'll make you something when you're ready x” Your face broke out into a wide smile. He was so sweet. Excited, you swung your legs out from under the duvet and pulled on your socks before padding downstairs. The scent of fresh food was stronger here. You pushed open the kitchen door.

“Morning, love!”

George turned at the sound of your greeting, smiling the most brightly you'd ever seen, and immediately popped two slices of bread into the toaster. “Hi! You seem chipper, sleep well?”

“I actually did, thanks. You?”

“How could I not?” He approached, poking his head out the door to check whether Lockwood or Lucy were nearby before taking you carefully, tenderly, by the waist. “But just to check, you do remember the, uh, conversation we had?”

“Let me see…” you tapped your chin in mock thought. “Do you mean the one where you admitted you're terribly, awfully, hopelessly in love with me?”

He rolled his eyes with a barely concealed smirk. “That's the one. And you meant what you said?”

“That I'm soul-crushingly, devastatingly, overwhelmingly in love with you? I did.”

“Then may I kiss you?”

The toaster pinged behind him. You giggled, resting your hands against his chest. “You may.”

He pulled you in close, pressing his lips tentatively to yours. When you rose to meet him, he deepened the kiss, and you wondered how long he'd been waiting for this moment. You'd certainly been waiting long enough, and returned his affections with delight.

Eventually you broke apart, and he smiled down at you. “So, about that date, any ideas?”

You bit your lip, suddenly bashful. “A picnic in the park?”

“That sounds perfect. We could go at lunchtime, if you'd like.”

You nodded enthusiastically; you could think of nothing you'd like more. Overhead, you heard the low thuds of someone heading towards the stairs. Lockwood, by the sounds of it.

“You'd better have a good excuse for having forgotten your toast,” George grinned.

“Oh, I've got one in mind,” you smirked back, curling your hand into his hair and bringing his lips down to yours once more.

[paulinet]

For the sake of breaking a habit

Warnings: fluff, kisses, gn reader, ooc Medicine Pocket, Medicine Pocket - they/them.

Synopsis: Your lips are in a terrible state, and no amount of hygienic lipstick can save them. It's a habit that's hard to break without someone's help, right?

World count: ≈1700

From the author: Well, something uncomplicated before something complicated. I wanted something like this: soft, streamlined, and enticing.

When I have more of my story's, I'll compile them into a little masterlist.

English not my first language!

Enjoy reading!

We all know nervousness, right?

Nervous when you are working on a gigantic project, on which you spend all your energy and time. You get nervous when you present this project in front of dozens (if not hundreds) of people, explain every aspect of it, and then nervously rub the edges of the sheets in your hands and wait and wait and wait. Approval, a nod, a wave of the hand, anything to take away the aching pain under your ribs.

But you're not afraid of these people, no.

But you worry about your work as a part of yourself. Here, you have taken something from your soul, from the depths of your mind, and you put it all together in a presentation and present it to the big people. Funding for almost any project, you know, hurts you enough if it doesn't come from somewhere else.

The habit of biting your lips came quite suddenly that you didn't even realize your lips had turned into chewed mincemeat.

All of a sudden you found out that they started hurting. And when you looked in the mirror, you were stunned and wondered, when did it get so bad?

You put the stack of sheets aside, sit back in your chair, and finally let yourself relax. This day hadn't been too hard compared to the other days, when you'd been working hard to clear out the backlog of reports, but you were still exhausted.

It's after midnight and there's about three of you left here. You and two other subordinates finishing their work.

There was no need to stay so long, but man, you wanted to finish most of the stuff for tomorrow (because there will obviously be more tomorrow).

The muffled knock of the door opening into the half-empty lab didn't even make you turn around. Few interesting people would have come in this late, at most one of the other workers ran in to say "hey, idiots, it's past midnight, let's go to bed already!" Same questions for him, of course.

"Well, how long are you going to stay here?!"

Oh, right. There's a person of interest, and that person is welcome to drop by anytime.

"Sprawled out in the chair and now she's going to sleep here. Shouldn't you move the bed over here right away?" — you sigh when Medicine Pocket sit down next to you, only on the desk, disrupting your careful arrangement of papers. Ouch.

"I'm not going to sleep in here. But you're right, my strength is almost gone," — you hear the sound of sheets of paper shattering and frown. "You've ruined my meticulously organized stack of papers according to all canons of perfectionism."

"Oh, yeah? It was an accident."

"Sure you did."

You don't even turn your head away from the ceiling to pay attention to them. Not to say they don't like it, but it does make they worry.

"How many hours have you been sleeping these past few days?"

"I am a creature in no need of sleep."

"I don't think Lovecraft would praise you for parodying some of his creatures."

You laugh.

"I'm trying to get 6-8 hours of sleep..." — their face seems to lighten, but resentment catches up again in seconds. "... In 2 hours. It's not working yet, heh."

They're clearly not happy with your answer. And who would like to find out that their partner has suddenly decided to adopt their lifestyle and also sleep less than a giraffe or a horse, not even close to the numbers needed to maintain strength in the body?

"Like a child, for God's sake."

"What about you?"

"Well, you have to admit, I look a lot better after a few days without sleep than you do."

"You're such a romantic."

"But honest."

"Uh-huh."

The conversation is interrupted while their interest is piqued by your face, because over the past few days you've started to look like a person with a less than healthy lifestyle. Not a junkie, but on the right track. It's time to look for jokes on the subject and appropriate cosmetics.

Especially their eyes ran over the bags under your eyes. Goths would be jealous that you don't have to work hard on your makeup - they'll take you in, and praise you for being in character.

And their gaze stopped at your lips. And it lingered until you stared back at them in puzzlement.

Awkward pause.

"What, is there something on my face?"

"Your face looks more like a mask from the movie Scream right now. And what the hell happened to your lips?"

Oh. You have forgotten about them for the duration of your work, but they always remind you of them afterwards. On a brief inspection of you, people can't tell that your lips are suffering from a meat grater or a meat mallet. It's only when they catch your eye for a long time that you realize that things are just awful.

That's what nervousness brings people to.

"I don't know."

"How do you not know what you're doing? Are you using or something?"

"No, it's just a bad habit I picked up out of nowhere."

"You can't get rid of it? Or is it out of your hands?"

"I don't notice when I start doing it. It's fine in the morning, by the end of the day it's like kissing a grater."

"Nerves are fraying?"

"Along with the cuckoo, I suppose."

They don't say anything to that, which you can't tell by their facial expressions.

Annoyed. Again.

But instead of grumbling, silence follows. A brief hiccup before they climb off the table and hover over you in a chair. Their venomous eyes prickle you, and before you can make any sound, they take your chin and kiss you.

You don't even manage to squeak. As usual.

The feeling of fatigue was replaced by the anticipation and excitement of an unexpected kiss. And more than one. Your consciousness focused on every fleeting sensation, every tiny movement of your bodies.

Their lips are always wet. Wet and thin, like two strings, curved in irritation or sickness from something poisoning they've eaten. Cold, they leave a herd of goosebumps behind them if they kiss hotter parts of your bodies, and never warm up no matter how many times they kiss. Even after a hundred kisses before bed or in the morning. But that doesn't stop them from being persistent and not at all shy of outsiders you've already forgotten about.

They don't close their eyes most of the time, and today is one of them.

Staring point-blank, as if they were preparing to fire a gun at some animal and aiming without being distracted by extraneous sounds. In the light their eyes are like two Ilyich bulbs, and even in the darkness they will stand out with their sparkles. And they've never been embarrassed by it.

On the contrary, they like to place bets on which minute of the kiss you will avert your eyes. And it's very annoying and fun for you at the same time. It's like stepping on the same rake every time because you like it.

Their lips, although thin, are very assertive. They do not hesitate to take the initiative and apply more diverse actions. They have a different way of kissing every time, you can never guess what was intended for this time. They savor your already killed lips, push forward, don't give you a chance to get out of the situation and turn your head.

The fingers in white gloves encircle your chin and do not let you move, holding you firmly, but in their own gentle way, not forgetting to change the position of your fingers from time to time.

You hear your own heart pounding when all they has to do is run their tongue over your lips. Here's someone, but Medicine Pocket, after much practice, have gotten much deeper into kissing. And now they'll bet anything just to see the ripples of burning excitement on your face again.

They're so mean when they need something. So untouchable, but in need of that little act of appeasement. Screaming audacity in every action. You know you'll be in drool and hickeys (later) afterward, but you reach your hands behind their nape and use your fingers to part the strands of their hair.

They take it as a call and, most importantly, as a permission to take further steps.

And somehow, you know, it doesn't matter that somewhere out there the laboratory door opens and one of your coworker leaves (perhaps he couldn't stand the unexpected sexual pressure. You can understand him).

And you look away, unable to take the pressure anymore.

They love it. They love it to the point of shaking at their knees.

Like to tease you and pull you out of your frames, Medicine are happy to break them against their knee and toss them into the dark sea, to the bottom, where already lies a whole collection of what they have stepped over with indescribable pleasure. They bite your bottom lip with a mocking smile before you feel their other hand on your waist.

Under your lab coat.

And they slowly moves upward, their fingertips tweaking the fabric of the garment underneath. Carefully as they continue to run the other limb down your neck, squeezing it lightly. They're not sadistic, no, by any means, and it doesn't rob you of even a crumb of air, but the feel of long, slender fingers leaves you no choice but to succumb completely to their power. Which, by the way, they always have plenty of.

Hot breath scorches your face as they pull away - the air isn't infinite, after all - and leave a weightless kiss on your cheekbone with a sarcastic smirk and squinted eyes as if to scream "you just can't say you didn't like it."

They don't seem to be tired at all, and the air in their lungs never planned to be released, but you've been there before - once they didn't let you go for so long that you got dizzy. No, not from magical sensations, but from lack of oxygen. They've been trying to be careful ever since.

You breathe deeply, massaging the back of their neck with your fingers. They love that, especially when kissing. It makes them go crazy.

And they respond by weightlessly stroking your waist, sometimes squeezing it lightly.

But now they just slightly arch their head back before dropping their arms to the sides of your chair and moving closer again. Just a little more, and their knee will be between your legs for balance.

"I'd rather you didn't bite your lips anymore, but that's a buzz too," — they give out in one breath, still relaxed under your hands. "Your lips aren't lips, they're chewed up duct tape."

You take a deep breath. You try to keep a serious face, as if the job didn't end hours ago. Like it would have been possible to keep working if someone hadn't decided to show off and go on a "distract at all costs" mission. Who wants to be caught thinking, breath hitched just because of the person next to you who just kissed you with all the passion they're been saving up lately?

"Pff, what, so disgusting?"

"Mm-m, no, quite the opposite. 'Almost' as good as always," — they flick you on the nose, and curve up in a smile. "But you'd better not bite your lips again."

"Why would I?"

"If you want to kick the habit, you need to switch to something else, something safer."

"On you, or what?"

"You're guessing," — Medicine Pocket pull away with a noisy sigh. You cross your arms across your chest and pretend you don't want to continue. "You're going to get some kind of infection - and then what are you going to do? I'm not going to treat you."

"..."

You puff up your cheeks and don't say anything. Still in mixed feelings, it's hard to think as well as move. Your body still feels their touch at your waist. It's hard to let go.

It's hot, isn't it?

"You need to get better sleep. Otherwise you'll look like a pale grebe"

"Thanks."

"But honestly," — they shrug. They take you by the chin again and examine your swollen lips more closely. "I've got some ointment somewhere that's just right for this."

"...Can I have some?"

Not for nothing. Of course they won't give you anything for a simple thank you. Especially not to you.

And you can see their facial expressions become more condescending. You guess you're in luck.

"I will. On one condition."

Oh, right. Of course.

"And what's that?"

They poke their thumb at your lips.

"You stop biting them. And start control yourself."

Expected. But did they think it would be so easy?

"And what happens if I can't kick the habit? I don't control myself when I'm nervous."

They let you go, take a couple steps away, and spread their hands as if they're really upset about it too.

"Then don't expect me to kiss you again."

...

One second of silence.

And you burst out laughing.

"Ha-ha, can you contain yourself?"

"Let's just say it's a challenge for me, too."

Yeah, a challenge.

You roll your eyes tiredly. You know they're lying.

You know they'll break their promise tonight before they go to bed.

And yet you still listen. As if nervousness is nothing. It's just a little thing.

They're such idiots.

"Either..." — they lean closer and give you another slap on the nose. "...Remember this situation every time. What's better: biting and tearing your lips in cold, nervous, rotten loneliness or making out with a gorgeous person like me who loves and cares for you, you stupid lip-biting lover, huh?"

"...I'm gonna take that damn book of poetry away from you and throw it away, you've learned to talk too pretty."

They turn on their heels, starting to walk back towards the exit and make no response to the sarcastic comment.

"Think about it!"

And they hide behind the door.

You sighed, going back to cleaning up the mess on the table and floor. The papers were all scattered, and they hadn't even bothered to clean up after themselves. Well, nothing-nothing, you know how to retaliate terribly, he-he.

You stack the paper in an even, aesthetically correct stack and place it on the edge of your desk.

And then you meet the gaze of your remaining coworker.

...

Spark. Lightning... And the anticipation of a lump in your throat of shame.

Words cannot convey the shame and embarrassment on your part, and you just nod her and pretend that paper is the most interesting material on Earth. The best of the best. She walks by, pausing for a moment near the table, shrugging timidly.

"I'd agree to kick the habit if I were you."

And quickly retreats toward the exit. The lab is quiet and peaceful now, with only the occasional beeping of devices.

And suddenly you realize she's heard everything.

All the conversations, including...

...

You cover your burning face with your hands.

How much you love and hate that Doggo.

I already know I'm gonna need a couple days to rest. Well, you know, it's not like I'm an English-speaking person, and it takes me about... 3-5 hours? To edit this or that text and not to lose the meaning of each sentence (I just don't want to present everything in a horrible state I'm a perfectionist a bit).

That's why I post something once a week, you know, so I have enough energy to recover and +- enough energy to write something new. At least I try.

I will definitely post part 4 after «Love jinx» and part 2 «Bonus for waiting», it's just that right now they are in... A little bit in a stupor. I'm working on them, but I'm not really happy with what I'm getting. Plus I have more ideas lying around that I'd like to do, ahem, well, I'm working, just slowly...

Dividers by @petalpxl

Thanks for reading!

[greetingfromthedead]

21. The Caravaners

Series: Apple Blossoms Pairing: Knives x GN!Reader Word count: 3.2k This chapter has been beta-read by kn1vesm

Author's Note: I am happy to be back and posting Apple Blossoms again! This set of chapters is very special to me and I can't wait to have them all out for you to read! And if you want to join a fun little group chat to have the latest news about this series and talk crazy (about any topic) with other goons, join our Discord community.

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The longer you stare at the faintly lit structure in the distance, the clearer it becomes. Your heart swells again with hope, your stomach taken over with anxiety. The storm of emotions paralyzes you for a moment, so great is the relief of finally seeing a caravan. Nothing says they are carrying medical supplies, but they are a sign that goods are starting to move again. For a moment, you even forget about the distress signal that still flashes in your general direction; all you can think about is the possibility of your worries being over.

Finally, you lower yourself onto your saddle again and push your tomas forward. Your bird carefully makes its way down the dune, and you can faintly hear Knives following behind. Before you reach the caravan, a flashlight floods you with blinding light, and shouts reach your ears. It is a rush of voices and commotion; words of concern slip over your lips, and soon enough you are in the midst of four people, all talking at once.

Once your mind catches up, you start to piece together the situation. The car pulling the caravan broke down during the day and won't start again; the battery is full, and nobody can figure out the reason behind this issue. That's what one of the younger men tells you once you ask what happened. The eldest man doesn't seem too happy with everyone flocking so eagerly around you; he keeps grumbling comments that make it clear he is weary of bandits and other lowlives. The only woman among them is relieved to see you and assures that nobody is injured and that their food and drink supply has not failed them yet. She puts your heart at ease, and afterwards she apologizes for her husband's mistrustful nature. The fourth person is another young man who details everything he has already tried in order to fix the car. You aren't sure how long the conversation takes; you aren't even sure if any greetings were spoken. The caravan people are glad to have caught the eye of someone who doesn't seem to have any ill intent, and you are still like on a cloud, happy to see a caravan and eager to find out what they carry. Not a single phrase or name sticks with you, but by the end of it, you are all on the same page.

"I'm glad nobody is sick or injured!" You smile at them. "But then again, I'm afraid my knowledge only applies to doctoring people and not machines."

"It was a long shot anyway; flagging down a mechanic would have been great, but since you are on toma, you could at least make it to the next settlement with less trouble and perhaps send someone our way," one of the young men speaks kindly, seemingly starting to calm down again and settle into a slower and steadier tone of voice.

"Not sure there are any decent mechanics around, but we can certainly try to get you help. The next settlement isn't too far away. Is that where you came from?" You nod, starting to feel better now that a plan is beginning to form.

"Yes, we left in the morning and broke down somewhere in the late afternoon," the other young man fills you in. "By bird, it shouldn't take longer than a day. We can hold on, no problem, if you would be so kind as to head there in the morning. As long as no worms eat us or bandits come to be a bother, we have the resources to be stranded for at least a few days."

"You came from Grantsmon, right?" You double-check that your knowledge doesn't fail you.

"Yes, spent the night there after driving for two days straight from Octovern," the same man continues, "Boy, oh, boy, is that quite a place nowadays."

"Hey now, perhaps we should get settled? I'm sure our new friends have also had a long day. It is silly for us to just stand around here," the woman speaks up just as you were preparing to ask about the city.

You are led to the other side of the caravan, where the wind is less harsh. They have set up a tent there; it is large enough to act as a shop for their wares but currently houses four spots for sleeping. You follow the caravan people inside after tying up the toma. You keep glancing towards Knives, but he avoids looking at you, or perhaps the hood hides him from your sight by accident. This should be okay. Even if they recognize him, they are stranded and can't haul him off. But what if they take your toma? The bounty is enough to be worth abandoning their wares. Anxiety starts to creep back into your gut.

"We have enough space for everyone. You can set up your own sleeping spots. What we lack in privacy, we make up with protection from the pesky sand," the woman speaks as she pulls the already set-up bedrolls closer together. "Are you hungry? We saw your light; you must have been making dinner. We have enough to offer you some of our supplies too."

You thank her for her hospitality, but you still feel uneasy. The men glance towards Knives, who brings in your bedrolls, his face still hidden by the hood. You realize he might look even more suspicious like this. Uncertainty pulls you apart. If only you could trust people, if only you could keep everybody safe.

"So what wares do you peddle?" you finally ask, trying to draw their attention onto yourself as you help Knives set up the two sleeping spots next to each other.

"Mostly clothes and some other essentials. Food, water, some tech," one of the young men replies with a shrug.

"Do you happen to carry medical supplies?" you ask, hoping to hear a positive answer.

"Sorry, we unfortunately don't. I gather you are a doctor?" The same man crushes your hopes.

"Yeah, I have been looking for traders who could bolster my equipment. I was already low and left most of what I had with some people who needed them more." You wonder how Jenny is doing and how the people you treated are. They probably expect you back soon, yet you are still empty-handed.

"You don't happen to be talking about Silvercrest?" The woman asks and makes you raise your gaze, fingers still gripping the thin sleeping bag you were laying out.

"Yes. Do you happen to have any news?" You perk up further.

"Not really, I just know an emergency package and a doctor amongst the newcomers were sent out in a hurry," the woman replies apologetically.

"Yeah, we heard about it from the other caravan who was getting their own supplies at that time," a young man mentions.

"There are more of you?"

"Oh yes, we caravaners were stuck near Octovern for a while so they could get their productions up. Some we knew from a while ago; for others, it was the first time. A group of us set off at the same time, heading for Grantsmon. We split up only now. They headed for the northern trade routes; we took the western one." You can barely tell who is talking; your mind is already running rampant with the shards of information given.

"So someone is carrying medical supplies among the other caravans?" You ask for clarity on what you already suspect.

"Yes, quite a lot of it too. They're heading for the remaining towns that still might have doctors. They all headed towards New Pernvil, to my knowledge," one of the young men replies, and you finally sit down on your mat, taking a moment to let the good news sink in.

You have hope again that you don't have to head to October. You have confirmation that caravans are moving again, and they carry what you need. You smile, relieved that your journey may not be as difficult as you once feared. You don't mean to glance over towards Knives. And you for sure don't mean to smile at him. But there you are anyway, meeting his gaze and feeling a warm flutter in your chest. His eyes are wide, his black hair messy from the hood that has slipped from his head. He doesn't turn away from you; instead, something akin to a slight glimmer appears in his eyes, as if he is relieved too.

A map draws itself up in your mind; you try to picture a route that would help everyone, but you quickly run into a problem. These people here need the help of a mechanic as soon as possible. The closest town is Grantsmon, but if the other caravans have already moved north, you will lose at least a day of travel time trying to catch up with them. Probably even more. If you could head straight towards New Pernvil, you might meet up with them in just four days, considering that the caravans most likely aren't moving too much faster compared to your toma despite being cars.

"You okay?" the woman asks as she reaches out a bowl of soup to you.

"Yes, I'm fine," you smile, not wanting to reveal that you had the small, fleeting thought of leaving them stranded for longer than needed by heading north in the morning. You can't do that to these people.

"Man, I am glad we found someone in the desert! What luck! I was not looking forward to the possibility of walking all the way back again!" One of the younger men settles into his bed, resting his head on his hands.

"Well, our new friends haven't agreed to anything yet. We can discuss it tomorrow morning and come up with a plan together. Let's rest for now," the woman smiles at the other men who don't seem to be very interested in Knives anymore, who hasn't spoken a single word all this time. They must be used to all kinds of people.

"Right! I am beat!" the other young man announces, stretching his arms above his head.

After this, everything settles—the young men soon are fast asleep, the woman puts away the little burner she used as a light source, and while her husband still seems a bit unhappy, you don't get the feeling that he is hostile, not towards you nor Knives. Perhaps they don't recognize him. Maybe they don't care. Whatever the case, the anxiety within you calms just enough for you to feel tired too. For a while, you fight it. You try to remain alert, especially when Knives gets into his bed beside you, his wide back towards you. Maybe this is what the caravan people were waiting for. Maybe this is the golden opportunity for them to strike. But the long day claims you before you can worry about it for too long, and soon you are fast asleep.

When you finally wake, you feel dry as a bone. Your mouth, nose, and eyes all feel parched. Your body is heavy and tired. You can tell you have slept for a long time; the suns did not wake you this morning since you were hidden away by the tent's canopy.

"Here," you hear a woman's voice, and as you force your eyes open, you see the outstretched canteen.

The warm water still feels refreshing, allowing you to gather your wits and properly wake up.

"Good morning," the woman speaks softly while smiling, "You must have been tired."

"How embarrassing," you mutter while clutching the canteen, "I'm sorry for being so rude."

"It's okay; you have nothing to worry about."

"But we were supposed to head out early to go get you help," you remember, feeling guilty for causing a delay.

"I've got a feeling you don't need to go get anyone, dear."

You wonder about the woman's words for a moment before starting to hear male voices from outside. A quick look around confirms your fear—Knives is gone. Your stomach drops. For a brief moment, your brain turns all the voices into a violent struggle. Before you can jump up from your spot, you realize there is no malice at all in those voices, and suddenly they get interrupted by the sound of a car engine. You slowly get up to go and investigate just as the sound dies down again.

Pushing aside the cloth door reveals the brilliant weather outside. The sunlight blinds you for a moment, but quickly you start to make out shapes again and realize all the men have congregated around the car. Including Knives. He stands in front of the open hood and wipes away the loose hair from his brow that gets in his eyes as he focuses his efforts back onto whatever is before him. Knives wears a different shirt, one that is stained with grease and dirt from working on the car. It barely fits him; the fabric is pulled tight around his chest, and the sleeves are rolled up, revealing his muscular arms that still carry a few scars from his injuries. The others are chatting around him; one of the younger men sits in the driver's seat, halfway hanging out the window to try and see what is happening. The other youngster stands beside Knives, and both of them seem to bombard the raven-haired man with questions he has no intention of answering. Your companion simply stares straight ahead with a stoic expression as he works on the car. You are reminded how he helped the family with their water purification system. He is handier than he lets on, and it is surprising that he reaches out a helping hand at all, considering his usual cold demeanor. You see the slightest hint of strain on his face as he pulls on something and then lets out a sigh of relief.

"Try it now," Knives's smooth voice speaks out as he steps back.

The man in the car quickly settles into the seat to turn the key, and after a few labored whines of the engine, it starts. The men around Knives celebrate and pat him on the back, but his eyes turn to you. His expression is strange, somehow so distant. He doesn't show any joy or excitement, a drastic difference from the scene around him. His gaze seems peculiar; it almost makes you feel as if he wants to tell you something, but on the other hand, he appears as cold as usual.

As you step closer, he averts his eyes, talking to the man beside him and pointing at something under the hood. His voice is low, and his sentences are brief. Reaching the congregation, you get ignored by everyone there. The men are still celebrating, talking over each other, claiming to have known the cause from the beginning, and Knives simply takes a rag and cleans his hands while walking away without giving you a second look.

Despite being used to Knives's coldness, seeing him just turn away without a word leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You don't understand him or his motivations, not for the things he does nor when he acts the way he does. You know there is a more candid version of him; you have seen it yourself. You have seen his gentle eyes. You have cupped his blushing cheek. You know that there is a vulnerability within him waiting to be revealed if only he would trust you enough to stop pretending. You want it, perhaps more than you should. You want him to like you.

"This is fantastic!" the cheerful man beside you exclaims, patting you on the back, "We don't even have to wait for a mechanic!"

"Yeah, I wonder why he didn't say anything yesterday. Strange fellow, but I am glad he could help us out of this pickle," the older man speaks calmly, his low voice reverberating in your bones.

"I certainly thought him strange! I just found him under the hood in the morning! I thought he might take off with our battery or something, but apparently he just couldn't sleep!" The man inside the car pipes up. "He studied it all for quite some time before even asking for any tools; lucky for us, I had them all on hand!"

The chatter continues, but you are unable to respond. You have nothing to say, and your mind is overtaken by the way Knives walked away. You spot the shirt he must have worn before the borrowed one, and you pick it up, heading back towards the tent since you left in such a hurry that your pillow and sleeping bag remained thrown about. You turn the fabric in your hand as you walk back. You don't notice the curtain doors moving; you don't raise your eyes from the faded color, so you can't stop yourself in time and walk into Knives, who just exited the tent. You bounce off his chest, your head quickly snapping back, and the inertia is enough to make you lose balance, toppling you backward. Just before you lose your legs, Knives's hand grabs your forearm, his long fingers securely wrapping around to pull you back into balance, perhaps a little too quickly, a little too recklessly, since you end up stumbling forward instead, grabbing hold of his shirt as you crash back into him.

Even as it becomes clear that you are not going to fall over, Knives's hand doesn't release you, instead holding on, holding you close. Slowly you raise your chin, looking up into his surprised face. You caught him before he could school his features into indifference, his eyes wide, a pinkish shadow flushed over his cheeks. You feel his chest shift under your hand as he draws in a breath, a little later than he should have. As if he held it until now.

"You'll get dirty," is all Knives mumbles, his face settling into a more neutral expression as he lets go of your arm.

You are still left speechless, too flustered to say anything, too taken in by the expression he donned. He shifts away from your touch and sidesteps you, his gaze lingering on you until he can no longer see you from the corner of his eye. You still feel his handprint on your arm; it tingles slightly, and you cover it with your own to soothe the goosebumps. You turn your gaze on Knives's back, who once again walks away from you, the hand that grabbed hold of you brushing its palm against his pants as if you were the one dirtying him.

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[icewindandboringhorror]

Little bright colored outfit with a fun vest ~

(shoes from ebay like 10 years ago. everything else is thrifted)

[m1dnight-blu3]

someone please free me from the shackles of my ableist job so I can read my books, draw and write my silly little fics in PEACE