#on a side note it's the first time in years since I last attempted drawing backgrounds!

[princessconsuela120]

☁ THE FAMILY JEWELS ☁

— ☁

Summary: You meet ominis' family for the first time.

Warnings: cursing, anger, crucio, angst

Author's Note: I hope you guys enjoy, i freaking love this one so much!

— ☁

OMINIS NEVER FAILED TO BE EXCEPTIONALLY VOCAL WHENEVER HE WAS ANGRY. You realized this when you and Sebastian had gone behind his back with dark magic, even when you decided to take him flying on your first date instead of the calm night in Hogsmeade he had suggested. It’s nit that he didn’t like the date -any time with you was enough for him- but despite the fact you flew like a hawk, he was never to fond to flying. He had grumbled and growled, and even groaned a few times while you glided through the air, quickly making you realize that upsetting your adorable blonde boyfriend would always be an obvious emotion. Sebastian had noticed this especially today, considering every time Professor Sharpe started a sentence, Ominis groaned as let his head fall to the table. Sebastian has grown accustomed to letting his hand rest on the table, so ominis’ head would bump against the hardwood.

“Yo, mate, stop grumbling to yourself, you're gonna draw attention to me cheating.” Sebastian whispered, making Ominis perk up slightly, completely forgetting he was supposed to be taking an exam.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize.” He replied, causing Professor Sharpe to clear his throat at the whispering.

“Mr Sallow, Mr Gaunt, there should be no talking.”

“I was just, guiding him Professor Sharpe. You know, he’s blind he can’t see the paper.” Sebastian explained, making Ominis roll his eyes.

“Alright, do it quietly.” Professor Sharpe said, returning to the texts that he was grading. Ominis nudged Sebastian, trying to stop him from cheating off his paper, being extra angry with him at the moment. It was Sebastian’s fault, he was just already on edge.

“You’re such a prick.” Ominis hissed, making Sebastian gasp with fake hurt.

“I’m not a prick, I’m smart. And that hurts Ominis.”

“Cry about it.”

“What is up yours today?” Sebastian asked, nudging ominis as the blonde rolled his eyes again. “Y/n didn’t let you hit last night?”

“Professor! I need to go to the restroom.” Ominis shouted, not letting Sebastian say anything else to piss him off.

“Make it quick Gaunt.”

“Hey! I didn’t mean to offend you..” Sebastian said, getting up to follow ominis.

“Mr Sallow..”

“Hold on Professor, my boy needs me.” Sebastian said, quickly following ominis out of the room, regardless of the angry glare that he received from Professor Sharpe.

“You’re going to get in trouble for following me.”

“I don’t mind. I’m already sure I’m going to fail anyway. What’s got you so worked up?” Sebastian asked, making Ominis sigh.

“It’s my father.”

“You’re father? You haven’t spoken to them since..”

“Since they tried to marry me to my cousin, yes.” 

It hadn’t been too long ago in the year, but Mr Gaunt had attempted to set up ominis with his cousin, Anastasia. While he loved his cousin yes, he didn’t love her that way. And by no means would he let his father marry him to anyone but you.

“What does he want?” Sebastian asked, earning yet another sigh from ominis, who stopped walking and lower the light on his wand.

“Somehow, they found out about y/n.” 

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah. And now they’re ordering I bring her to meet them, or else they’re pulling me from Hogwarts and sending me to Durmstrang.” He explained, making Sebastian jump up angrily.

“But that’s all the way on the other side of the country! They can’t do that!” He shouted, and ominis sighed.

“They can actually. No matter what I do I know I’m going to need to bring her. I just, I don’t want to scare her off. My parents are very intense. If they find out she isn’t pure blood they’ll go berserk. No matter what, I don’t see this ending well.”

“Well, it’s not a big deal Ominis, I mean you’ll make it work.” Sebastian said, referring to the smart nature of ominis’ decisions, a nature that Sebastian lacks himself.

“Not a big deal? The second they find out she isn’t of pure blood status I can kiss my love goodbye!” He shook his head, getting angry with Sebastian as he thought of never seeing you again. “They’ll attack her, banish her even. I wouldn’t be surprised if they..if they even..”

“You can’t think like that Ominis.” Sebastian interrupted, knowing where the conversation was going and shaking his head to dismiss it. “I know they’ve hurt you, but I don’t think they would do that to y/n.”

“I’m not too sure. I love her more than anything. I don’t want to subject her to that.”

“Look, ominis. All I know is that y/n doesn’t judge you for your family. She knows what they’re like, she knows how you grew up and she still loves you. At this point I don’t think anything could scare her away from you.”

— ☁

“I got your owl love, what’s wrong?” You ask, meeting with Ominis at the astronomy tower. He had a nervous look on his face, you could immediately tell he wasn’t okay.

“You know how Christmas break is coming up, right?” He asked, taking a deep breath as you grabbed his hands, squeezing them carefully.

“Yes.”

“And you know how I usually stay at your house to avoid my parents?”

“Of course. Speaking of, my mom made her classic Yule log cake this year. She says she added a secret ingredient, which I know means extra sugar but I let her think it’s a surprise.” You explained, chuckling to yourself as Ominis tried to laugh along, but you could tell something was wrong.

“Hey, is everything alright?” You asked softly, running a hand through his hair as he sighed.

“Yeah…well, no. It’s not.”

“Then what’s the matter? Ominis, love you can tell me.”

“I received an owl from my father this morning. He orders I bring you to Gaunt Manor for a day over break so my family can meet you.”

“Oh.” He sighed, shaking his head.

“Exactly. I know it’s too much. I don’t want to put you through that I just, i know he’s not gonna budge, and I don’t know what to do I just…”

“Ominis, darling calm down.” You said, grabbing his shoulder to stop his rambling. “I would love to go with you, okay? One night, then we can go right back to mine and eat my moms Yule log.” You explained, kissing his cheek to soothe him.

“You mean it?” 

“Of course love. I know your family is Rocky, but hey, if I can help to make that relationship any easier I will.” 

“But, y/n, when they find out you’re not a pure blood…I don’t know if I can protect you from what they say.” You sighed, nodding at him.

“It’s alright. I can take it, I’m tough.” You joked, making him laugh as he shook his head.

“I know but…” you interrupted him again, not letting him finish.

“You seem to forget I defeated Rookwood, probably the most pure blood lunatic ever. I’ve heard my fair share of mud blood insults, at this point they’re just noise. Yes, they hurt, but nothing your parents can say to me will have any effect on how I feel about you. If anything it’d make me admire you more, considering how far you’ve grown.” 

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” He asked, squeezing your hands with a smile.

“All the time, but a little bit more couldn’t hurt.”

“Well, I do.” He said, kissing your forehead.

“And I you.”

— ☁

“Are you sure? Sebastian is just a flu flame away. You can always hide at his house, I can tell my parents we broke up.” Ominis asked, the two of you walking hand in hand to his front porch.

“Darling, take a deep breath. It’s alright. I’ll be right here by your side.” You explained, squeezing his hand to reassure him.

“I can only protect you from so much…”

“All I need from you is to hold my hand.”

“Squeeze it when you need me.”

“I will.” You said, ominis knocking on the door with a nervous sigh as his brow began to sweat.

“Son, welcome back. It’s been a while.” Mr Gaunt greeted. Not a smile or look of kindness in his face. He looked evil, angry, empty, and terrifying all at the same time.

“It has. This is y/n l/n, my girlfriend.” He introduced you, smiling at his dad. You could tell ominis had set up a facade in front of his dad. He was different.

“Good to meet you dear.” Mrs Gaunt smiled as she greeted you. She seemed kinder than Ominis’ father, but not by much. Just enough to greet you at the door.

“L/n, I haven’t heard of that. Is your family pure?” Ominis’ father asked, making him sigh.

“Pardon?” You asked, surprised by the question.

“Not now father. We’ve hardly even gotten in the door.” Ominis said, a nervous laugh leaving his lips as he walked in.

“I’m just concerned for your future son. You know how we feel about mudbloods.”

Mudbloods, a term he just threw out in the air as if it didn’t hurt your soul to hear.

“Cassius.” Mrs.Gaunt, whose name you’d learn is Astoria said, warning her husband as she smiled at you both. “Come on in you guys.”

“Thank you. You have a lovely home Mr and Mrs Gaunt.” You complimented, feeling a light squeeze from ominis and sending him a smile.

“It’s historic. The house of Gaunt, maybe the most honored manor in all of England.”

“I bet.”

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, making you smile.

“It’s alright. Deep breaths.” You whispered back.

“Why don’t we get to dinner then?” Astoria offered, making you and ominis nod.

“That sounds wonderful.”

You had all gathered at the dinner table, the longest dinner table you’d seen in your life. Of course Cassius sat at the head, you and ominis together beside him, and his mother across from you. You felt out of place, a different contrast from your cozy small round table.

“So son, no quidditch this year?”

“Unfortunately not father, you know I like to focus on grades.”

“Yes, of course. Unlike that halfblood friend of yours.”

Sebastian. You felt your blood boil at his fathers comment.

“Father, please. Don’t speak of Sebastian that way.” Ominis pleaded, making his father scoff.

“Sorry son, I just don’t understand why those lower than us don’t decide to prove themselves. Working in class is the least those sallow’s Can do to prove themselves.”

“Sebastian is actually a very talented duelist.” You say, earning looks from everyone at the table, all a different kind of look as you glanced around at each person.

“Is he now?” Cassius asked, causing you to freeze.

“Father..”

“No, I’m intrigued. Do you think that knowing a few spells is gonna protect your status in this world?” 

You pressed your lips together, taking a sip of water to wash down your food before looking over at Cassius.

“With all due respect sir, status is only as far as how pure of blood you are.” His face grew angry. “I may be born from muggles, but that doesn’t mean I can’t just as easily beat you in a duel.” 

“You think you could beat me in a duel? You, a mudblood?” 

You let the name slip off his tongue and onto the floor, not reacting to try and keep things civil as you nodded.

“I do.”

“Unbelievable. An insolent child. A mudblood nonetheless. What do you know of magic? That a hippogroff can fly and levioso can make a feather float? You are ignorant, and worthless in the eyes of the world, you should be wise how you speak to those allowing you to live off our land.” 

“You use these hurtful words and dark curses to mask your own insecurities. Just because you were born from ancestors of a Hogwarts founder, and married your cousin, doesn’t make you any better than me. I work just as hard, if not harder because the world likes to knock me down for being simplistic and outcasted. I respect you sir, you’re the father of the boy I love, but I will not change myself to make you happy. You can turn me inside out and find that my blood comes from humans, but we both bleed red.”

Ominis could help but gawk at you. The things you said, the way you said them, his heart melted in his chest. He was sure he never loved you as much as he did in that moment.

“You dare speak to me like that in my own home? If you claim to love my son, you’d respect his patriarch.” His father seethed, practically steaming at the ears.

“This doesn’t seem much like a home. It’s a house, a decoration for you to strut your power for all the world to see. Ominis has never felt home here, and you haven’t worked to make it that for him. I need not show you respect in a place of torture and dark magic.” You tested, stepping up to ominis’ father as he stood up.

“What do you know of dark magic?” He hissed, causing you to narrow your eyes at him.

“I know enough.”

The room went quiet for a few seconds before Cassius spoke.

“Your words make me think you need learn more.”

“Enough! Come on y/n, we’re leaving.” Ominis said, grabbing your hand, afraid of what more might happen.

“How dare you show disrespect to your own father, for what? A mudblood!?”

Ominis didn’t listen, instead he walked out with you in his hand.

“Someone needs to teach you a lesson of how this world works. Being a mudblood doesn’t make you worthy, it makes you a freak of nature!” Cassius shouted, following ominis out the door, when finally, ominis heard enough.

“Keep your mouth shut of people you know nothing about! She may be born from muggles, but y/n and her family will always be better than you!” 

As you both started to aparate to Sebastian’s home, Cassius shouted a curse in your direction. You jumped in the way before it could hit him. You both separated in time, but the curse still hit you.

“Ominis? You’re here early.” 

“Sebastian, please! She needs help!” Ominis shouted, watching you writhe in his arms in pain.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Sebastian asked nervously, coming to see you struggle.

“My father, he..”

But he didn’t need to explain. The second Sebastian saw the sparks of red magic leaving her skin, paired with the look of anguish mixed with painful groans that left your lips, he knew. 

You could only see darkness. And pain. And for a few minutes, you swore the world was ending. Until it wasn’t, and your eyes opened, and you saw love.

“Love?” Ominis asked softly, running his hands through your hair comfortingly, his face full of worry.

“Well, that was fun huh?” You teased, making him laugh.

“Why would you do that to me? I lost my mind worrying for you.” 

“Aww, my big teddy bear. You worried for me?” You asked, pouting at him as he smiled, holding your face in his hands.

“I always worry for you. Y/n, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe he said those things about you. This was exactly what I was afraid of.”

“It’s alright.” 

“It’s not. You’re so much more than who your parents are. Merlin, it made me so angry.” Ominis explained, shaking his head angrily.

“I know, I know.” You said, laughing in response.

“Why are you laughing? Only you could get hit with crucio and start laughing.”

“Because you’re adorable. Protecting me from your family, it just makes me love you more.” You explained, kissing his hand that was holding your cheek.

“They are far from my family. This is, this place. You. You’re my home, y/n.” He placed a soft kiss to your lips, pulling away with a soft smile, his cheeks blushed red.

“Good. I hope I can give you the family you deserve.”

“More than that.”

“Bud, you know you’re always welcome here. Both of you.” Sebastian explained, smiling at you both before scoffing. “And besides, Solomon is about ready to build you both a room here anyway.”

They all laughed, smiling at Sebastian.

“Thank you Sebastian.”

“Of course mate. I couldn’t imagine you anywhere else.”

“Me neither. Right here, home.” Ominis said, kissing you once more before you all went inside, celebrating the holiday with your true family.

[gimme-a-man-after-midnight]

my royal roomie (part 2)

Fandom: Aquaman

Pairing: Orm Marius x Reader

part 1:

https://www.tumblr.com/gimme-a-man-after-midnight/693273500438429696/my-royal-roomie-pt-1?source=share

Summary: After a few days of living under your roof, Orm gets to know the little surface dweller he's been stuck with. With time, a stormy night, and a bottle of wine, the prince learns that he has more in common with you than he may think.

Word Count: 4,000+

Warnings: female reader, slow burn, light cursing, mentions of past emotional abuse, divorced parents!reader, dead parent, comic lore inaccuracies, floral inaccuracies??

Author's Note:

hi y'all! here's the full part 2 i've been working on for some time! thanks for the support on the last one and again, so sorry for the late continuation :/ i hope this story is to your liking! happy reading!

After the first one-on-one conversation you had in the living room, Orm didn't come out of the guest bedroom for days. You’d see flashes of platinum blonde out of the corner of your eye, just barely missing him by a few seconds whenever you’d be in the kitchen or outside of his door. You had made many offers through the red painted oak of his room to go grocery shopping together or take him on a tour of the town, but all of your efforts were met with a stern "No thank you." You had lost any hope you had of forming some kind of connection with the Atlantean for a while, cutting your losses by quietly resigning to a parallel existence. What you didn’t expect was the mutual understanding you two would come to on one fateful stormy Friday night, much like the one that brought him to your doorstep.

***

 Heavy traffic from the drive home, a full message inbox on your telephone, and the burnt attempt at roast chicken sitting on your oven rack had you nursing a glass bottle of wine by the living room window. Bad days were normal for anybody, but it didn’t make them easier to deal with on your own - the added stress of the stranger living in your space didn’t help either. You had been living a quiet life ever since you moved back to the sleepy town some years ago, taking up very little space and leaving minimal traces of yourself. Whether it was out of caution or cowardice, you weren’t sure yet. Either way, that silence had brought you comfort at a time where your thoughts were too loud, but now with another person occupying your space the quiet was becoming suffocating. 

Orm wasn’t by any means a bad roommate - he kept to himself, he didn’t make much noise, and he even managed to wash his dishes whenever he knew you weren’t in the kitchen - but he was a man.The last time you had lived with a man, the end of its course felt similar to how you two were living now, and maybe that’s why it was bothering you so much. Tip-toeing around the Atlantean made you feel uneasy in your own home, a situation you were all too familiar with. Typically at this time in the night you would be cooking up some plan to urge the man out of his guest room, but after the day you had, you didn’t have the heart to try. 

Once you took your final gulp of wine, wiping at the sides of your mouth with the back of your hand, you trudged away from the raging display outside of your window. The dishes could be a tomorrow problem, you thought to yourself as you were leaving your kitchen counter behind. You had only made it a few paces out of the living room before your body was overcome with chills, making you draw your blanket tighter around you. The draft through the house was unmistakable, confusing you thoroughly due to you always making sure the doors and windows were shut before bed. As you stepped deeper into the house, you realized the distinct breeze was coming from the direction of the guest bedroom. You had made it a point to allow Orm his space, but your brain was stirring with reasons for what he could possibly be doing in there  - most of them unsavory. 

With a deep breath and a tight fist holding your blanket, you gently rapped at the door. 

“Hey, Orm?”

No response. You knock again.

“I don’t mean to bother, but I’m feeling a bit of a breeze through the house and I can tell it’s coming from here, so I just want to see if everything is alri-”

The door suddenly opened a crack, revealing half of Orm’s face which was already more than you had seen in days. 

“If you don’t mean to bother, then don’t.”

The curt response, although expected, has you taken aback. Already seeing the Atlantean retreat from the spot again, you hold the door in its place in effort to keep his attention.

“Look, I know you wanna be alone, but I can’t help wondering why a cold ass breeze is coming from your room, so I just want to see what’s going on. Please, it’s freezing right now.” You do your best to keep control of your tone, not wanting to let on just how much the cold was getting to you - giving the prince another reason to look down on humans wasn’t on your agenda for the night.

 Almost as if he commanded the storm, the lightning cracked loudly outside as Orm swung his door open, revealing his full disheveled state to you. You jolted in place, practically leaping a step back in defense at the swift move.

“What’s going on is the stench of your burnt dinner was practically singeing my nostrils. I opened a window in hopes that I could find some relief, because clearly you surface dwellers have no trouble polluting not only the ocean, but your precious breathing air as well! I have little care for how cold your fragile body may get, so I suggest you retire to your room at once and leave me be.”  

There was a gap in the yelling match conversation, almost as if the blond was waiting for you to bite back at his harsh words, but the glazed look in your eyes and parted lips made it evident to the Atlantean that your mind was elsewhere. Orm followed your gaze, noticing that it was locked onto the maroon sweater he was adorning, looking at it with equal parts surprise and melancholy. His enhanced hearing picked up on a hitch in your breath and chattering of your teeth, confirming to him that you were clearly shaken.

After the long silence, you mousily spoke.

“I didn’t leave that sweater out for you.” 

 The arbitrary words silenced Orm, his expression turning to one of confusion as he looked down at the knit fabric on his chest.

“...where did you find it?” 

Your voice didn’t change in volume when you made your inquiry, but your tone was somber. The candid emotion made the Atlantean clear his throat awkwardly, unsure of how to handle such vulnerability from his host. You couldn’t even fully appreciate how much messier Orm looked in comparison to when he first arrived - looking like a 90s wet dream with his ungelled hair, clenched jaw, and broad shoulders peeking out of his loose fitting clothes. No, it was the clothes that were holding your attention hostage.

“It was deep in the wooden wardrobe of my room…the garb you set out for me wasn’t suitable for the storm,” Orm says, arms crossed in a defensive manner as he anticipates your response.

A part of you wanted to laugh at his retort, the corner of your lips quirking up for a millisecond before melting back into the numb expression you had prior. 

“Are you going to ask me to change? Because I don’t see why I should relent,” the blond goads, pulling a haughty expression that comes all too naturally.

Orm wasn’t sure himself why he wanted to urge a response from you - why he wanted to learn more about this sweater that was clearly jumbling up your thoughts enough to render you so silent. He tried to chalk it up to plain boredom, tried to reason with himself that all his time in self-isolation was making him yearn for more. Still, even with those excuses lined up to justify his actions, he couldn’t explain why seeing the down-turned expression on your lips felt so unnerving. This woman in front of him now was like a shell in comparison to the buoyant, eccentric character he had been previously introduced to - and for some bizarre reason he didn’t like it. 

Your thought process, on the other hand, was going in a completely different route. The glaringly red knit in your line of sight brought back too many memories that you had made efforts to bury. The cursed sweater in combination with the Atlantean prince’s snark makes your breath quicken and your mind wander to the whisper of a past life that still takes up space in your home. You couldn’t decipher if your shivering was coming from Orm’s open window or from your body trying to eject all of the feelings evoked from seeing that damn sweater.

“I-I…you…you shouldn’t-” you shakily exhale, your eyes surveying around your surroundings to try and focus on literally anything else. You backstep, hoping that physically running away from the situation will do you good, but your eyes lining up with the red-clad chest and the sound of the booming thunder makes you falter. Your hand clutches at your chest, the white knuckled grip on your blanket alerting your roommate.

The prince's body calls to action, making Orm take an instinctive step forward, reaching out as if to try and steady you. 

“What is happening with you? Why are you so high-strung? Do humans go into cardiac arrest so easily?” 

You couldn’t hear his stern questioning, your mind flitting to images of firm fists slammed against tables and nights spent alone, buried deep under your covers in the hopes of being swallowed by the sheets. It was like the space in your lungs was being taken up by a vice grip, and your ability to think - to form a simple thought that didn’t make your heart hurt - was completely ripped away from you. Even after four years, the memories of him still have so much power over you in a way that’s paralyzing.

“I-I just - I need - I need to breathe!”

With that final exclamation, you scurried away from the Atlantean, quickly making it back to your room before slamming the door shut behind you. Orm was left stunned outside of his door, his eyes trained in the direction of your room down the hall. 

What the hell just happened?

***

Arthur was done - so done.

The newly crowned Atlantean king had so much on his plate already, what with his upcoming engagement underway and him having an entire kingdom to look after. While he did appreciate his little brother feeling comfortable enough to call him at such an ungodly hour, the words the blond uttered made him want to pull his hair out. 

“I think I broke her - your human.”

“Bro, what?”

It was too fucking early for this. 

“Don’t call me - agh, nevermind - something’s wrong with your human and I’m not sure how to approach the situation. Is this really an environment you believe me to find enrichment from? My host is clearly on the brink of some sort of breakdown and I-”

“Wow, I never took you for someone that was so easily shaken, brother.”

Arthur’s poorly timed quip makes Orm stare back at the projection call with a blank face.

“First off, she’s not my human, she’s her own person. Second, what did you even do? She’s not one to just collapse on her own - although she is a serial overthinker and could definitely talk herself to an early grave...”

Orm, frustrated with his half-brother’s lack of support, rolls his eyes over the call.

“Okay, okay, but seriously. Something must’ve set her off or triggered her to react in a way. You sure you didn’t do anything?” 

“All I did was answer the door when she knocked. When she saw me at the entrance, she saw the sweater I was wearing and was overcome with emotion. That’s hardly my fault.”

Orm can see Arthur’s brows furrow in thought at the information, almost as if he’s assessing whether he’s been given the whole story or not.

“Well…where’d you get the sweater?”

“I hardly think that matters-”

“Just answer the question, bro-”

An exasperated grunt leaves Orm as he grips at the sheets beneath him in an attempt to contain himself. A part of him regretted bringing up the matter at all, communication with his half-brother being much too awkward to bear. 

“I got it from the wooden wardrobe inside of my chambers! It was much more practical to wear than the flimsy garb-”

“Shit,” Arthur cuts him off, the hologram shifting as the man rubs at his eyes. “The wooden wardrobe with vines on the sides?”

It was Orm’s turn to be taken aback, unsure of how he knew the detail from off the top of his head.

“Yes, that’s the one.”

A muffled sigh comes from Arthur’s end, the image changing again as the king shuffles out of bed quietly to not disturb a sleeping Mera.

“Listen, dude. It’s not my place to speak on her business like this, but all I can say is that the wardrobe - that room - holds a lot of memories that are painful for her. I know you didn’t mean to bring them up, but that wardrobe is off limits. Just try and apologize for now, but don’t pry.”

“But why should I-”

“Orm, seriously! I get it, you don’t like being there - that you’ve spent every day in your room ever since I dropped you off, but she’s been trying. She’s been doing everything she can to get you out of your shell and you’re not giving back anything. There has to be some give here, and that can start with you saying sorry.” 

Orm was surprised by the fact that Arthur knew of his daily whereabouts already, undoubtedly asking you for updates on him. However, what surprised him the most was that even though you have seemingly complained to his half brother, you never once suggested kicking him out - never demanded he leave your house and have Atlantis deal with him. You truly were a peculiar little thing. 

“...fine. But don’t expect me to continue such niceties with her.”

A belly laugh could be heard from over the call, surely out of amusement for the prince's unwavering coldness.

“Good. Now hang up, you disrupted my beauty sleep.”

With a scoff, Orm presses on the green gem of his wristlet and heads off to the direction of your room.

***

When Orm knocks on your door, he expects a big fuss - bouts of yelling, arguing, or cursing that’ll leave his highly sensitive ears ringing. What he doesn’t expect is everyone of his knocks being met with silence - deafening silence now that the storm has subsided. 

“Hello?”

The prince feels weirdly small waiting by your door for your answer, having no clue what he’ll be met with on the other side of him. (It also gives him some insight on how you must feel every time you knock on his door to chat, although he’d never admit to having similarities with you,)

“Are you ignoring me?” 

More silence. 

“Oh, enough of this childishness.”

With a deep breath in, Orm turns the knob of your door and lets himself into your room. He’s met with colorful tapestries embellishing the walls, big rugs covering the hardwood floor, and twinkling lights surrounding the bed frame. The scene that you set for yourself in your room makes Orm think about his home - the way that the colorful bioluminescence would sparkle throughout his kingdom. 

When the initial first impression of your room wears off, he notices there is no one in the bed. No squirming presence under the sheets or anyone sitting on top of the bed to give him a stern talking to. Where did you go?

The blond takes a tentative step inside, stepping over the fuzzy carpets to keep from disturbing their arrangement. When he walks past the bed frame and closer to the window, he sees a lump of a human wearing a large blanket over their shoulders and some type of bulky headgear that covers your ears and emits sound. You were completely enthralled by the scene outside of the window that you hardly notice Orm stepping up next to you. 

A sudden hand on your shoulder has you jolting upward with a yelp, your hand instinctively slapping away at the intruder before you turn to look at where they came from.

“Jesus fucking christ!”

Orm gets into his own defensive position as you scramble to press your back against the wall, looking at you as if you were a trembling animal.

“My god, woman!”

“What are you doing in here you scared me half to-”

“I knocked but there was no answer so I-”

“Oh, so you decided to just welcome yourself in?”

Orm purses his lips in frustration, not thrilled at being met with the uproar he had originally expected. You sigh to yourself in disbelief, willing yourself to be quiet since there would be no productive conversation if you two kept yelling at each other.

“Next time just take the hint that I’m busy if I don’t answer, okay? You can’t just barge in here when you want, it’s not cool…”

The Atlantean has some sense to feel a shred of shame when you speak, although your words are hardly convincing when your eyes don’t turn in his direction for even a second. You look so timid standing there in your corner with the blanket consuming you completely - not at all like the spitfire that called him an “asshole” and warned him not to “test her.” (He secretly felt some relief in your loud exchange mere moments ago, because it meant that version of you was still there.) 

“I…I apologize for intruding.” 

Your head whips up to finally meet the man’s piercing blues, your mouth left slightly agape at an actual apology leaving the arrogant Atlantean’s lips.

“Uh…it’s okay...although, try not to do it again.”

Another moment of awkward silence passes.

“So…why’d you come in here?”

You ask this question as you take a seat back on the floor, resuming your position of staring out of the window only this time without your headphones. You pat the spot next to you on the floor, urging Orm to sit next to you. With a small eye roll, the blond begrudgingly joins you on your multi-colored carpet, opting to rest his arms against his knees as means to shield himself from you.

“I came here to apologize, not just for barging in, but for what happened earlier. I shouldn’t have gone through the wardrobe without your permission even if I needed different clothes. I should’ve asked you instead of rifling through your belongings on my own accord.”  

His apology, although rehearsed, seems genuine enough for your shoulders to relax. Your eyes follow the droplets of rain slowly trickling down the glass of your window, racking your brain for the right thing to say. 

“It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong, I just…I haven’t revisited the memories that room brings in a long time. You putting on that sweater unearthed them today, and it got me bad. See, I was having a shit day already what with keeping up with the shop, and then an accident causing traffic on the way home, and the wine that I usually like being out of stock-” 

Your rambling gets cut off by a soft chuckle coming from the man next to you, a sound that seems so uncharacteristically happy for his usual demeanor. The corners of your mouth perk up in disbelief, the expression making Orm quickly look away from you. 

“Huh. So that’s what your laugh sounds like. It’s nice…”

Orm didn’t understand why he reacted in such a way, you weren’t saying anything particularly funny…

…It’s just the way your eyes became so animated as you spoke more, your hands gesturing stronger as you explained further - it was amusing to him. So different from the usual company he keeps, always firmly placed brows and crossed arms from the high council members he consulted. Even the Atlantean women, although much more pleasant company, were more regal in comparison to his surface dweller host.  However, what you did have in common with those women was your tenacity. Even with his cold attitude towards you, your kindness was unwavering - a few times a day, without fail, you’d knock on his door with the promise of food and semi-entertaining company. He’s starting to regret only agreeing to the food.

God, he must be going stir crazy.

“What is it about the sweater that made you react in such a way?”

This was when you noticed that Orm was no longer wearing the offending material, choosing to wear the simping cotton T shirt you had given him. It may have been nothing - a simple delusion on your part - but the weight on your chest felt lighter at the idea that the Atlantean took it off to bring you comfort. 

“It - uh,” you stuttered, “it belonged to my ex-boyfriend. All of the stuff in that wardrobe did, actually. We painted the vines on the side of it together…” 

Orm’s arms flexed tighter around his knees at your words. He didn’t know how to respond, feeling significantly awkward due to adorning your ex lover’s clothing, so he decided to just shut up and let you continue.

“When I was 14 my parents got divorced. My mom wanted so badly to make it work, but my dad didn’t like his life here in Amnesty Bay - a part of me felt like he also didn’t like his life with us in general. I mean, he never had a problem making his grievances known, so…” 

Now, this was something the blond was familiar with - uncomfortable family dynamics. The realities of his parents’ marriage were never shielded from him growing up - he often witnessed the brutality of his father whenever his mother, Atlanna, would make her opposing opinions known. He often felt conflicted about which side to take - the one of least resistance that prioritized the well-being of his people or the one that looked out for the well-being of everyone, Atlanteans and surface dwellers alike. Hearing you now, speak your piece on your own upbringing, comforted him in a way he didn’t expect.

“The divorce was messy. Lots of nights spent being pulled in every direction, but with no real place to find peace. After everything settled, my dad ended up moving to New York while my mom remained here. They agreed that for the school year I’d stay with my mom, so she’d have some help at the flower shop, but I’d visit him on major holidays…”

The blanket around you suddenly feels too thin, a chill running over you as you recount your tale. You take a sneaky glance over your shoulder to check if the blond was still listening, and you were surprised (and delighted) to find that his steadfast gaze was at the side of your face. 

“...At some point during my years at university, my mom stopped asking me to visit - demanded that I only live with my dad when I was out of school. You can imagine Arthur had his qualms about that…”

You chuckled to yourself at the memory of a young Arthur blowing up your home phone upon hearing the news. 

“It would only be for the same visiting time as before, so there wasn’t much fuss on my dad’s end, but my relationship with him had become so different after the divorce that it wasn’t ideal. It…It hurt to hear my mom reject me like that.” 

Orm’s mind flashes back to the rain soaked figure of his mother, presenting herself to be siding with his half-brother after his defeat. The sting of her counteraction still lingers in his chest.

“When I had started dating my ex during my third year, I found out the reason my mom was keeping me from home - she got sick…cancer. All of the overworking to pay the bills, lack of support, and the hereditary traits…she got really sick. I guess she didn’t want me to see her in so much pain…” 

Orm watches as you turn away to stubbornly wipe at your face, a sniffle coming from your direction. He hadn’t expected you to willingly speak on your background when he asked about the sweater, but a part of him felt guilty for being the cause of your current distress.

“When she died, I moved back here to look after the house and take over the shop…but my ex had moved in with me. Darren.” 

More tears fell from your cheeks at the same speed as the rain running down your window.

“Darren offered to help me with the business, help me get on my feet. A part of me knew that he was going to hate the life we were starting together based on talks we had about the future, but I ignored it all when my grief became the only thing I felt for a long time. He always wanted more - more than our little town, more than the flower shop…so when an opportunity presented itself to have a life on his own, he took it. Just like my dad did…” 

 Orm’s heart drops at the end of your retelling, knowing the feeling of rejection and abandonment all too well. His father would be rolling in his grave if he knew what feelings this little surface dweller was stirring in him. The gap between the Atlanteans and the humans was closing in his mind, and Orm wasn’t sure if he cared to stop it. All he wanted at this moment was to stop you from crying. 

“I’m sorry for putting on the sweater…and for being an ungracious guest these past few days. I’ve been a real dick.” 

You can’t help but guffaw at his choice of words, using your fist to mask the unsightly sound as a cough. 

“That’s not a very princely thing to say…” 

Orm’s head tilts back as he snickers, feeling slightly proud of himself for inciting a better mood in you.

Ah, that laugh again, you think as you admire how ethereal the man looks in his relaxed state. 

“Perhaps my brother is to blame for my much more…colorful vernacular.” 

“Perhaps,” you hum in agreement, “or you’re just not as much of a dick as I previously thought…sorry for coming on so strong that first day.” 

Orm’s blue eyes shine at you with something unfamiliar - different to the cold, distant stare you were first met with. You find yourself wishing to always be at the receiving end of his kind eyes. 

Orm clears his throat before uttering, “No need to be…I was the one that misjudged you before ever seeing you.” 

A silence falls over you two, a comforting one built between new comrades. Your (e/c) gaze meets his as the storm calms outside of your window, signaling the start of a new chapter for you and your royal roommate. 

[akutasoda]

Can i request the obey me brothers with a teen mc who is a fallen angel? And since they just fell they don’t trust any demons including the brothers

when the brightest fell

synopsis - how are the brothers with a fallen angel

includes - lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub, belphegor

warnings - gn!teen!reader, slight religious imagery, fluff, angst w/ some comfort, wc - 2k

some may say the original inhabitants of the devildom were once angels, but really the last time the devildom became host to fallen angels was after the great celestial war. fallen angels were by all means not a common occurrence and so when the brothers first fell it was a very popular subject in mainly negative lighting as it would be very difficult to hide - even if they were house bound for a while.

but when it was one angel? that was much more subtle, easier to hide from the prying eyes of demons alike who lived to spread gossip. it would still come as a shock when diavolo found a brand new demon in the center of the student council room - more concerning when he truly took in how young you looked.

you were infact a young up and coming resident of the celestial realm, but you hadn't really lost your teenage charm. and so perhaps you had acted out a bit too much but even this seemed like too cruel of a punishment. however nobody would come to learn of the reason such a harsh fate was imposed on you.

diavolo was well aware of the attention you would draw if people found out and so he would try his hardest to tell nobody of how you came to be, despite your blatant lack of trust in anyone you agreed to keep it hidden. except he still told his butler and eventually the brothers.

he assumed it would be the best course of action seeing as they had already been through what had happened to you. but you trust and faith was nowhere to be found and so maybe it would be a bad choice assigning you to stay at the house of lamentation.

lucifer ★↷

↪lucifer truly wanted to oppose diavolo's decision. not for the reason of trying to help you adjust but it just seemed all too sudden and his brothers weren't exactly the most behaved.

↪when he showed you the room you would occupy, you immediately locked yourself in. that would mark the first time lucifer truly felt sympathy for your situation and as much as he wanted to help, he knew your obvious lack of trust would render any attempt pointless.

↪he would constantly tell his brothers to let you adjust on your own terms, to not push for anything as clearly you're experience would be vastly different from theirs.

↪he would ignore you for a while. and while that may seem rude, he believed that you needed time to adjust. time for yourself to fully grasp your situation, even if you were too young to go through this in many people's eyes.

↪and when you did start coming around, he'd be right by your side whenever he could. he's helped his brothers all those years ago and now he'd help you.

↪and with how much he helped you adjust, it only became natural that he became the only person you started trusting. a slow process but you found yourself seeking out his presence when you became troubled or needed help.

↪it would take ages for you even trust somebody but if it was anyone it would be lucifer.

mammon ★↷

↪mammon was more hesitant than anything when diavolo had decided the fallen angel was to reside inside the house of lamentation. he didn't really know what to do.

↪he thought it wouldn't affect him at first but it reminded him all too much of when he and his brothers had gone through the same experience and so he didn't know what to do.

↪he would note how you barely emerged from your assigned room and he couldn't blame you but he wanted to help. he knew how difficult it was for him and so he wanted to do something for you but he knew that would be pretty difficult.

↪he waited until you started leaving your room before he would approach you. he knew how cooped up he felt when he was bound to the house at first and so he offered you to get out for a bit - to which you hesitantly agreed.

↪ he'd sneak you out and take you to secluded parts of the devildom as to not draw attention to you, and he'd do do often. this would provide you time to escape any pressuring ideas of your new situation and therefore you subconsciously became closer to him.

↪and if he ever got caught he'd take all the blame. and so when you slowly started opening up and trusting him, he felt as if he was all the way back to when he was helping his brothers.

leviathan ★↷

↪ leviathan was definitely very awkward around the whole situation. he had absolutely no clue how to react and felt bad that he liked the fact that you just locked yourself away.

↪but he knew that he did the same and how much that actually affected him. and so he'd starrt wanting to help you but he had very little clue where to start.

↪his first idea came in the form of slipping notes under your door with game recommendations. he was truly nervous as he didn't know if you were into that sort of thing but it was really the only idea he had. he knew how lonely and boring it could get.

↪he only perked up when he walked past your room the next day to find a note pushed back over with a simple thanks. and so he'd start putting more notes under the door, each met with another response.

↪based on your notes he grasped the kind of games you enjoyed and started actively looking for games suited to your taste. but what really got him was when he heard a knock on his door in the middle of the night.

↪ normally he'd ask for a password but he could tell who was on the other side. while he was surprised to see you, that quickly turned to a sort of embarrassment when you asked for some help on a game.

↪he would note that after that night you started emerging from your room more often. the games he'd suggest to you became an escape for you, a moment to forget your situation and eventually that helped you adjust.

↪if you ever admitted that to levi he would short circuit. becoming absolutely embarrassed but sort of proud that he had helped you through your transition to your new life.

satan ★↷

↪satan wasn't exactly around when his brothers fell. he was only a bi-product that emerged from his eldest brothers rage and so he had an entirely different issue back then. so when he found out about you he was hesitant.

↪he was the only one who wouldn't understand the pain you were going through and that kind of left him feeling out of touch with the whole situation. but he did know that someone as young as you shouldn't be going through this.

↪he knew you wouldn't trust anyone, evident by the fact you locked yourself away, but if there was anything he could help with, it'd be your anger. he could feel it radiate off of you and he wanted to help you with that atleast.

↪when you first started leaving your room he slowly started introducing himself. he could tell by the fact that you always looked so distant that you weren't going to trust him but he wanted to try and help you.

↪slowly but surely, he started talking to you more and more and eventually he became an outlet for you to express your anger. he encouraged you to talk it all out and he'd listen and offer help.

↪ eventually he became the only person you trusted at that time. he helped you adjust by allowing you time to expres your true feelings and that eased away most of your tension.

asmodeus ★↷

↪ asmodeus only felt pity for you. someone as young as you going through the exact thing he and his brithers went through all those years ago, really got to him.

↪he didn't blame you for locking yourself away. he wanted to do the same, he really couldn't easily come to terms with his new appearance so while your experience may be different he could still sympathise with you.

↪but he worried for you. keeping yourself in all day wasn't good for you and he could only imagine the kind of crisis you could be having with your new form. but he knew he'd have to wait as you trusted nobody.

↪but he always wanted to check on you but he waited until you emerged from your room for the first time. he introduced himself and immediately told you he was there for you if you wanted someone to talk to - he was met with an expected silence.

↪ however everytime he saw you he still tried to make conversation. eventually receiving short conversations and soon longer responses. asmo would always ask you about how you were fairing.

↪he always offered support, especially with any issues with your new appearance and self. this constant reassurance eventually caused you to start trusting him and he always cheered you on.

beelzebub ★↷

↪ beelzebub was very worried to start with. he couldn't help it, someone as young as you being forced through such an experience weighed heavily on him as he felt bad for you.

↪he didn't blame you when you locked yourself away but he only worried more. he knew you wouldn't trust anyone but he didn't like the fact that you stayed in there all day and night, rarely leaving.

↪he mainly worried for your health. you had become host to a different form than your previous rank as an angel and you needed to still sustain yourself and so beel took it upon himself to personally make you meals.

↪even if it wasn't his turn to cook, he'd often make you a meal and leave it outside your door, knock and let you take it. he would later come back and collect your leftovers.

↪ eventually, he began handing it to you personally. your trust was slowly rising with beel as he was really the only one offering any suppot at this time despite you locking yourself away.

↪and very soon, beel would join you in your room to not only eat but to hang out. and eventually he would do so outside of your room when you finally stopped locking yourself away.

belphegor ★↷

↪ belphegor had very little knowledge of your stay at the house of lamentation. he was still locked inside the attic and he didn't really care what would be happening downstairs.

↪he only began to care when he senses your presence in the attic itself. he could almost immediately tell that there was something off about you but he didn't really care that much as to who you were.

↪he didn't even question why you were up here, which you appreciated. truth be told you were looking for somewhere more private to process your new transition and were a little disappointed that someone was up here but you didn't mind that much.

↪belphie would eventually become very accustomed to you hanging around in the attic in complete silence. he'd briefly asked you what you were doing up here but got little for a response and never really pried much.

↪ naturally you started feeling more at ease in belphie's presence and eventually started telling him about how you were seeking refuge up in the attic. belphie cared little at first but eould notice how talking to him oftten eased the stress that seemed to linger in you and so he always listened.

↪he pieced together your situation himself. and for the first time, he started feeling a sorrow for you. he knew exactly what you were going through but yet you were much younger than him and so he could only imagine how you were feeling.

↪to everyone's surprise, your time up in the attic led you to trusting belphie a tiny bit. something you would only build on and eventually he started looking out for you while you adjusted.

[fanaticsnail]

Daughter of the Sea: Chapter 1

Masterlist Here, Header Masterlist Here

Word Count: 4,500+

Synopsis: As personal assistant to the newly titled ‘world's greatest swordsman,’ you were privy to the acquaintances your boss kept. Over the years, a young redheaded man continued to visit Kuraigana sporadically over time with his crew. But this trip felt different, something felt off. What were they hiding? And why did the entire crew all look exhausted?

Notes: Benn Beckman x f!reader, platonic!Mihawk x f!reader, platonic!Shanks x f!reader, slight mention of MiShanks ship, Beginning: Shanks is 19, Mihawk is 23, Beckman is 30, f!reader is 22, Uta is 2 months old for the sake of the plot (canonically she's 2 years old). The f!reader is suggested to be native to Kuraigana with her mannerisms and language.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @since-im-already-here @mfreedomstuff @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @indydonuts

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

A deep sigh fell from the parted lips of the dark-haired Kuraigana native as you handed him his cup of scolding black coffee. He twitched his lip up in gratitude as he removed the ceramic dish from the saucer. 

“Thank you, dear,” the cool baritone of his voice expressed his gratitude to you. 

“You're most welcome, lord Dracule,” you nodded a small confirmation, placing down the saucer in front of him and beginning to ready the itinerary over your catalogical journal. 

“My dear,” he winced out after taking a quick gulp of coffee, “There really is no need for that title coming from you. We were friends before all this, remember?”

“It's a little too early in the morning for jokes, sir,” you retorted with a soft smirk, “If my memory serves correct, we were enemies first.”

He hummed with a soft smile, glaring at you as you returned to focus on the pages you dictated earlier. You clicked your tongue, noticing a peculiarity in the timetable. 

“Something the matter? Something come true of your small espionage, spymistress?” Mihawk queried with his brow arched. He attempted to not pay you heed to the disdain written on your face at your earlier title, but did enjoy the twitch in your shoulders and snarl draw up on your lips. 

“I work for you now, sir,” you scorn him with your monotonous recoil, eyes rolling, “And, if you must know, I received a transponder message earlier from the red-hair pirates. They requested passage and resupply at our port, but-...” you drew off, approaching Mihawk’s side once more, “...-I don't understand what this says.”

Mihawk looked on with intrigue, cocking his head to decipher his old associate's handwriting. 

“Did the first-mate send you a follow up, or was that all?” Mihawk asked, twitching his eyes up to meet your confused expression, “It doesn't quite make sense.”

“Haven't needen sleepens an’ booze like this b’fore,” you read aloud, attempting to decipher the world's audibly, “Perhaps it’s a drunken confession like last time?”

“Perhaps, but Beckman usually sends a follow-up to Shanks’ messages to belay it, or decipher it,” Mihawk nodded, drawing his hand down to reclaim the coffee cup and raise it to his lips, “When they arrive here, do what you do best.”

“Aye, sir,” your practiced response had another soft smile painted itself on Mihawk's lips, “I'll seek out what they're hiding, consider my words marked.”

“That's my pretty spymistress,” he narrowed his eyes, his lips tight and taunting. 

“Not your spymistress, sir,” you retorted, turning on your boot heel and calling over your head, “Your secretary.”

Waiting at port, the familiar jolly roger drew over the gloomy horizon line at the port of Kuraigana. The sea breeze whipped through your restrained hair, your formal uniform floating in the wind as the Red Force docked at port. 

The merriment you had come to expect was not the one that welcomed you. The crew were more disheveled than usual, their attire worn and unchanged, the straw hat atop the young captain's head splitting and fraying - but Shanks' smile never faltered. In fact, the whole crew seemed to be brimming with joy. 

“Oi, eyes on the starboard bow! Mihawk's hot secretary coming out to meet us at the docks!” Shanks' booming call drew a loud cheer from the crew aboard the ship, prompting you to shake your head at his welcome introduction. 

“Captain,” you uttered with a curt nod, watching as his boyish charm carried his overemphatic steps towards you. Upon stepping closer and meeting your gaze, he immediately opened his arms and snuck them beneath your own. 

“I missed you, pretty lady,” he uttered, raising you off your feet and twirling you in place. Shock swelled at your eyes at his glee, you only having a moment to react to the spin by hastily perching your hands over his shoulders and holding him firmly. 

“Enough, Shanks,” you tapped his left shoulder, “Put me down and help me decipher your-...” your sentence was lost to you when you saw the sunken hazelnut eyes of the redhead captain. 

You snapped your eyes over to meet with several other members of the crew: all with the same sunken eyes and jolly smiles. 

“My what, pretty lady? Hm?” Shanks smiled a wolfy grin, all teeth and charm, “Decipher what?” You took a moment to reassess the situation as Shanks planted your feet back onto the wooden dock. 

Glancing at the crew, you ensured you took your time studying them all, noticing a single member missing. 

“Your competent first mate,” you mentioned, attempting to pry yourself from the teenage captain, “Where is he?” Shanks' smile deflated into a soft pout, grasping his wrist behind your back and holding your body firmly against his chest in a vice-like grip. 

“Your first thoughts after all that is big ol’ burly Beckman?” his pout intensified, “Are you really not going to say hello properly? Not even for old time's sake?” 

Rolling your eyes, you grant the redhead a small peck on his cheek. A gleeful laugh exhales through his cherry-red lips as he finally releases you from his embrace. 

“Okay, take me up to see the world's greatest swordsman,” he ordered you, turning you and circling your right arm with his left, “I have some news you're not going to believe.”

“If it's got anything to do with ‘Haven't needen sleepens an’ booze like this b’fore’,” you mocked his incoherent message in a deep voice, “I'm all ears.”

Shanks’ laughter echoed all the way towards the Kuraigana highkeep. His complimenting words to your appearance, and abilities to prepare for them a place to stay, had your small smile growing wide, but eyes remaining narrowed and cautious. Each time you would attempt to peel your eyes away from the young man, he would call your attention back to him by offering you more praise and distraction. 

As the shadow of the new lord of Kuraigana cast the two of you within his gloomy silhouette, you were get to get a single glance to the crew behind you. 

“Red-Hair,” Mihawk uttered, crossing his arms with a subtle glare. 

“Gloomy prick,” Shanks laughed affectionately, releasing you from his arm and extending his right hand outwards to clasp around his former rivals’.

As Shanks finally became distracted, you stole a moment to reassess all of the red-hair crew. All crew was accounted for: Hongo seeming to guard the turned figure of Benn Beckman with a glance over the tall man’s shoulder. 

“I have to show you my latest find, Hawk-Eyes,” Shanks sighed, placing his left hand on Mihawk's right shoulder, “You're not gonna believe it.”

“I care not for your trinkets, I have enough wealth of my own,” Mihawk retorted. Shanks smiled broadly, but you were too distracted by the dark-haired first-mate's cloak shrouding his shoulder. 

They were hiding something far greater than meager treasure, this you were certain of. The subtle bounce of Beckman's hips and sway of his shoulders intrigued you, as did the soft baritone melody he was humming through his nose. What perplexed you the most was not the unusual mannerisms he was displaying, but rather what he was not. 

Beckman was not smoking a cigarette. 

Your eyes never left Beckman's back, your gaze unblinking and intense. This did not escape the notice of Mihawk, who darted his honey-coloured eyes behind Shanks to see your gaze locked on the first-mate. 

“What have you got hidden over there, Benn?” Mihawk’s purred taunt cut through the air like Yoru into the wooden hull of a fleet of ships. 

Silence. Uncomfortable silence. A silence so tense you could audibly hear the muffled grind of several sets of teeth behind tight lips. 

Until the silence was broken with a soft sound that grew louder and louder. Whimpers, grizzles and finally a lengthy whine that immediately swelled into a loud cry drew you all in immediately. 

“Wh-What have you-...” Mihawk's words were lost to him as Beckman turned. His eyes were glassy as his sockets lay bruised and sunken against his face. The look of absolute sleep depravity was written on his face, exhaustion and exasperation in every step. 

Within his arms lay a small form, topped with pale pearl and dark ruby hair split right down the middle. Their face was contorted as they squealed out a shrill cry. Within Beckman's large arms lay-.

“-A baby!” you exclaimed in absolute glee. Your breathy sigh only has your smile raise further against your lips as you swoop towards Benn Beckman, “You have a baby!” All air of caution blew away with the wind as you reached the first mate, pressing your hand against his forearm as you glanced at the child in his arms. 

The child was dressed in pastel pink with white frills, their body revealed as they struggled to remain contained in a soft swaddle. 

“A little girl?” you asked him. Beckman nodded, sighing out a soft, “Yes.” You looked down in awe at the infant, her eyes scrunched tightly shut as she continued to wail. 

“May I hold her?” you asked him, eyes filled with excitement. It had been so long since you had the pleasure of entertaining new life and soothing their cries. Beckman was so exhausted, all he could do was nod in response. You down turned your lip in an empathetic smile, your eyes softening as he handed over the small child. 

“Oh, come to aunty, sweet pea,” you cooed at her, immediately beginning to walk with her in your arms in a pacing fashion, “Such a pretty girl! Oh, you are gorgeous.” Beckman's eyes never left you, watching you as your stoic face melted as soon as the baby was passed to you. 

The child continued to wail, her legs scrunching up to her chest and growling out in discomfort. Your questions flew out of your mouth faster than you could halt them. 

“When was the last time she was fed? Has she had a bottle? She is far too young for solids, what have you been feeding her?” The first mate’s head was spinning from the rapidity of your line of questioning, but it was a welcome change to the cries he had been dealing with for the past few hours, “Has she been changed? Is it her nap time? Has she got colic? When was the last time she was bathed? Where is she at in her daily routine? What is her name-?”

“-Her name is Uta,” Shanks’ voice softly called to you, breaking you out of your rapid-fire questions, “She's been having milk from a bladder every two to three hours, last time was about fifteen minutes ago, wasn't it big man?”

“Aye, Captain,” Beckman confirmed with a curt nod, “Changed her soon thereafter.”

“She'll be due for a nap in a minute, probably why she's gotten so grumpy,” Shanks laughed heartily, clapping his hand over Mihawk's shoulder, “Just like you, hey?” Mihawk remained silent, eyeing the child in your arms with caution. 

“Uta,” you fawned down at the infant, gently placing her chest over your shoulder left and supporting her neck with your right hand, “Oh, little song. Such a beautiful name!” 

The child stirred within your arms as you walked away from the red-hair crew and towards the high-keep. Mihawk glared at you cautiously as you smiled up at him, gently rocking the child and now patting her back. A large, guttural sound emitted from Uta’s lips, her legs softly falling away from their scrunched position in relief to the stomach pressure. 

“Oh, Uta. I bet that feels better,” you giggled at the child, walking past Mihawk towards the keep, “Clever girl. Come with aunty, let's get to work while your uncles and daddy rest, hm?”

“Just where do you think you're going, dear?” Mihawk’s disinterested tone called over to you. You halted in your steps, turning to face the large crowd of pirates. You glared down at your boss, pursing your lips as the large pack stared up at you. 

“Us ladies are going to tend to my duties for the day, and get to know each other better. Girl time,” you inform them with a stirn voice, “And you all are going to make yourselves comfortable in guest quarters and rest up. Is that understood?”

Nods frantically bobbed in affirmation amongst the Red-Hair pirates, but a firm cross of arms and scowl almost had you halt your plans. 

“Under whose authority?” Mihawk spat at you. Shanks widened his eyes in shock Mihawk's sudden animosity. You sighed, huffing out a breath while continuing to pat the child. 

“My lord Mihawk, self-made man of myth and legend,” you bowed, supporting Uta's neck as you did so, “World's Greatest Swordsman and ruler of high-keep Kuraigana. Master of the blade, keeper of secrets, loyal confidant and expert-.”

“-Alright, fine,” Mihawk caved, a small blush almost peeking through his pale complexion, “You may stay for a night to restock and rest.”

“A week would be better, sir,” you continued to hold your head low, refusing to look up until he allowed himself to be swayed by your words. It didn't take too long, uttering a curt, “A week, and you will all clean up after yourselves, am I clear?” as he did so. 

The red-hairs all uttered an “Aye, sir,” in unison, the relief adamant in their voices. 

Rising from your low stoop, you smiled at your boss first before looking at Beckman. His eyes lay half-lidded, his lips down turning only slightly as his expression remained unreadable. The man was past the point of exhaustion, you deduced from your hasty assessment. 

“Alright, do we have a changing bag, or shall I send for supplies immediately?” you asked Shanks, who grabbed at the scruff of his neck with a sheepish grin. 

“We're fresh out, unfortunately,” Shanks confessed. Beckman sighed, shaking his head at his captain’s quick response and adding one of his own. 

“We have two fresh clouts and some strips of fabric,” Beckman relayed to you, “Unfortunately, all her clothes are soiled and they'll be needin’ a good wash.” He made his way up the hill beside you, walking in step as you opened the doors to the keep. 

The Red-Hair crew remained behind with Shanks, no longer viewing you as a threat to their wellbeing the longer you braced Uta against you. 

“Thank you, Benn,” you smiled at him as he held open the door for you. He returned a small smile at you as you passed him with Uta still remaining in your arms. 

He couldn't help but notice the fluttering beat in his heart as he watched you cradle the young baby. Although Uta was not his biologically, nor were you by all means with him romantically: your flirtatious past together, your soft smile, and the way you immediately took to caring for the child had Beckman’s mind running away with him. 

You chose to follow Mihawk in his ambitions, rather than join with Shanks in his. A spymistress and master of your trade from your early years, he had many run-ins with you over his checkered past. No kiss was ever shared, nor a passionate night together - but he was always left with a sense of longing after you'd smile at him. 

It never did take you long to pry truth from his lips, and he was well aware of this factor. He was a pirate with the heart of an honest sailor; and that honesty meant he could never have a lie uttered in your presence. He adored you, and would see you spirited away from high-keep Kuraigana with him should you ever ask. 

There was a part of him that wishes he could sweep you off your feet, romance you and dote on you in a coupling that could rival Roger and Rouge, but he may be just seeing what he wants to see in your smile. 

To Beckman, you were the one that got away. The one who would reciprocate his flirtations, only to leave before anything more could occur. He adored you. He could even go as far as to say that, at one point in time, he loved you. And now, as you cradled young Uta against your shoulder and uttered sweet praise into her ear, those feelings came flooding back. 

As you moved around your desk, you readjusted the infant in your arms. You cradled her in the crook of your left elbow while you sat: going through a variety of paperwork and ledgers drawn up for Mihawk to sign. 

Beckman placed Uta’s lackluster satchel of supplies on the desk beside the papers as he noticed a small twitch in your expression. You looked hyper focussed on your work as you rocked the child gently to sleep, scowling at a line of ink drawn on a ledger. 

“You can leave, Benn,” your nose twitched as you narrowed your eyes on the paper, “No harm will come to her,” you looked up at him above your paper, “Honestly, it's a little heartbreaking you didn't disclose this in your letters. After all this time knowing one another, I would assume you would inform me you had a daughter.”

Beckman sharply sucked in a breath, eyes widening with shock. 

“Uta’s-...” Beckman began, halting as he thought about his words. Should he confess the child was found in a chest, abandoned and discarded? Should he inform you that Shanks had claimed her as his own? Should he see how your mind fell immediately to that conclusion, and should he see where this conclusion would lead you both?

You looked down at the sleeping child, taking Beckman's silence as confirmation that the girl was indeed his. 

“She is beautiful,” you sighed down at her before snapping your eyes back up towards him, “Go and join the others. Enjoy an uninterrupted cigarette, Daddy,” you added for Uta’s benefit, “And when you return after a good rest,” you smiled a melancholy grin, “Tell me more about her, okay?” 

Beckman's heart swelled for you, his spirit soaring as he watched you continue in your duties for Mihawk with Uta. His feet remained cemented in place as he willed this moment to be branded into his memory. He never wanted you more than this very moment, but remained silent in his yearning. 

“Something else, Benn?” you asked him, staring down at the baby in your arms. The girl blindly began mouthing at her clenched fists in her sleep, seeking them out to gnaw on for comfort. 

“Uta’s Shanks' daughter,” he blurted out in a low and cautious cadence, “Found in a shipwreck amongst booze and plunder. She’s not ours biologically, she’s a daughter of the sea.” 

You snapped your eyes up to him, lips parting briefly before your gaze softened at him. “Thank you for your honesty, Benn. I appreciate your candor, as always,” you immediately halted your train of thought, thinking of your earlier interaction with him, “I would also like to apologize for calling you ‘Daddy’ earlier. I meant no disrespect, and I only did it for her sake.”

“No need for an apology,” he smirked with a soft nod, “And I never could never lie to you. You always get the truth outta’ me, one way or another.”

Humming in response, you easily slotted your index finger within Uta's and watched as she tested her strength in her vice-like grip. You hung in comfortable silence for a moment longer, both eyes meeting with the tiny life cradled in your arms. 

“You should have named her Umi,” you informed him, “Beautiful child of the sea, rather than ‘song’.”

“She’s named ‘Uta’ because even her cries are like melodies to the crew,” Beckman continued, “And Shanks sang to her when he first met her.”

“Oh, how beautiful,” you commented with a soft smile. Beckman swooned at your expression, his body unconsciously leaning towards you. You narrowed your eyes while smirking up at him. 

“Go and join your crew, Benn-,” you began, the first-mate's baritone voice oozing over you like warm honey to halt your thoughts in their place. 

“-Beckman, Darlin’,” he whispered, “You don't call Mihawk ‘Dracule’, nor do you call Shanks ‘red hair’,” he leant over your desk and affectionately pinched your chin, “Call me by my name, or give me a term of endearment,” he shot you a sly wink with a winning grin, “Even if it's ‘Daddy’.”

Face swelling with a fresh rush of blood, you attempted to control your fluster. You swooned as his thumb caressed your chin, heart calling to your teenage crush you thought you long-since snuffed out. 

“Go, Becks,” you smiled up at him, his expression mirroring your own as he continued looking at you, “Go rest, replenish and relax. Uta is with her aunty, and her aunty is more than capable to care for her for a few hours.” 

“Aye, that she is,” Beckman gave your chin a gentle tap, his closed-lip smile and half-lidded eyes still holding to you as he retracted his hand, “And, what a pretty aunty she has.” He turned on his heel, walking back over to the door and hovering in the threshold for a moment. 

“Go away, Becks,” you laughed at him, shooting him with the paper in your hand, “And tell your crew to bathe while they're here, they all stink,” you called as he left the doorway. His chuckle reverberated in the hall, a song you did not know your soul yearned for. 

Looking down at Uta, now properly settled in your arms, you sighed in contentment. “Back to work for us, princess,” you smiled as you returned to your duties, “But first, let's see about getting you some more supplies. Maybe a medical examination, birthdate assessment and a good look to ensure you're alright.”

Setting quickly to work: you organized several deliveries for the Red-Force to resupply the vessel, called out a medical professional for Uta, gathered supplies to meet the needs for a child - including developmental appropriate dried milk powders for lengthy trips. 

After two hours of work, Uta woke from her rest and became restless as she searched for food with her mouth parting and hovering over her balled fists. You hastily withdrew supplies from her satchel, readying and feeding her from a fresh bottle, changed her clout and burped her, before seeing if she needed more milk. 

A small smile fell from her lips as her eyelids fluttered, her body drunk on the swell of warmth in her belly and content in her cleanliness. Soon thereafter, she was back to sleep in no time. 

In the following few hours, several deliveries were made to your office. New clothes, clouts, a bathing basin, a collapsible crib and sheets to match, bottles, a woven wrap for baby carrying, a bassinet with two anchored wheels, and a soft velvetine hawk with weighted wings were amongst the gifts you had purchased with your own Berry for your new niece. 

Uta stirred in your arms, enjoying following a similar routine from earlier, but instead of falling back to sleep, she remained wide awake and staring up at you. 

“Oh, pretty girl,” you cooed down at her, watching as she stared with a vacant, unreadable expression back towards you, “Eyes with wisdom far beyond her years.” You set down your papers, pressing a steel paperweight down atop the pages. 

“You know all the secrets, don't you,” your words held no truth to them, only speaking in melodic jest, “They will all be at your mercy one day, won't they?” You stood, walking with her while holding her at eye height. Supporting her neck and propping her upright, you continued to hold a one-sided conversation with the small child. 

“You've got all your uncles wrapped around your finger,” your sing-song voice carried down the hallway, “You’re gonna get to your uncle Hawk too, one day. He's going to be the one that loves you the most.”

Ears pricking up in the hall beyond the door, three men halted their eager footsteps as they eavesdropped on your conversation with Uta. Mihawk attempted to feign disinterest, but was highly intrigued by what you were relaying to the child. Shanks felt his heart swell at the bonding moment between his two favorite ladies. And Beckman? 

Beckman didn't know what to think. Especially with sweet praises falling from your lips onto his newfound niece. All he knew was the soft call of his heart, his soul yearning for a woman he knew he could never have. 

After what felt like a small blink for you, but several eternities for Mihawk; a week had soon passed you all. The Red-Force was freshly stocked and resupplied, and you enlisted Yassop to pile the gifts for Uta onto the ship. 

As Shanks stepped on board the planked barrier, he extended his arms out to claim the small infant from you. You wanted to hesitate, to offer Uta a solid place to call home: but with Mihawk commissioned to claim bounties and enact horrid acts of war, you felt Uta would be far safer with Shanks. 

“Please keep me updated on my beautiful niece, Shanks,” you warned him with a soft scold, handing him his daughter, “And any other children you find within your care. I would hate to see them going unspoiled by their favorite aunty.”

“Hah!” Shanks laughed at the notion, “If I find another baby in a treasure chest, you'll be the first one to know. Of that, I'm certain.”

You waved Shanks off, a bittersweet look on your face as you mourned the loss of warmth in your arms. Beckman was the last to board, turning on his heel and extending his left hand out to claim your right. 

Without further word, he stopped down and pressed a gentle kiss atop your knuckles. He held his lips against your hand for a fair while longer than he intended, truly depicting his gratitude in getting a reprieve from both uncle and captain-watching duties. 

“If Shanks doesn't keep you updated, I will Darlin’,” he uttered against your skin, removing his lips and looking up at you through his dark eyelashes, “Every milestone, if you truly want.”

“Please,” you smiled at the tall man as he elevated himself back up to standing height, “I would not want to miss a thing, especially if it’s coming from you.” 

“Alright, pretty lady,” Shanks called down at you, sporting Uta in the woven wrap against his chest, “Give me back my first-mate. We gotta make waves.” 

“Aye, sir,” you uttered, glancing down at where Beckman's hands still held yours. He followed your gaze, cheeks dusting with a subtle pink as he realized he was the one still grasping your hand. You giggled as he carefully retracted his hand from your own, his fingers gently brushing yours. 

As the Red-Force glided over the swell of waves, you couldn't help but feel a piece of your heart left with them. The question was who held that piece: was it the young child you had carved for, or was it the dark-haired first mate. 

[lilbitdepressed27]

Tara Carpenter/Fem!Reader The Last Of Us AU

Warnings: mentions of attempted r*pe but it doesn’t go into detail. Torture.

WC: 7.0k

Author’s Note: no one asked for it but I was replaying the last of us and I got inspired. So here y’all go. Hope y’all enjoy. Also I’d like to wish everyone happy holidays :D sorry for any mistakes in advance.

***

"So you and Tara. What's that about?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh come on everyone saw you two kiss at the dance."

"I don't know. She just kissed me, she probably just did that to make Chad jealous. You know how she gets when she's been drinking."

You were riding on the back of the horse that had been yours for the past five years. Ever since you got to the town, Jackson with your best friend who was more of a father figure to you. Things have been decent. Ever since you and Dewey left Boston things have been...different. But it was good type of different. The journey to Jackson was tough. It was something you were sure you'd never forget. The pain and suffering you went through was scaring.

The five years you've been safe behind the walls of Jackson. It was a beautiful place to call home. But even with time moving on, you still had nightmares of the year you had been on the road with the older man. It had been hard to get used the peacefulness of living in Jackson.

Now here you were on patrol with a friend of yours. Mindy had been a close friend since you arrived in Jackson. Along with some others. She also happened to be Chad's twin. She had always complained about how Chad and Tara weren't right for each other. Tara had also been a close friend of yours. A girl you also had a massive crush on.

"You haven't spoken to her?"

"Of course not. You were literally the one to wake me up for patrol. I haven't seen her since I ran out of there after the kiss last night." You got off the horse once you reached the radio tower. Feeling the judgmental look coming from Mindy. You purposely ignored the look as you moved to go up the stairs.

"Dude you're such a pussy." Mindy spoke out as she followed you up to the logging book.

The tower looked over the north side of the land. It really was a beautiful sight. The patrol was set to check the tower along with the surrounding area. Your partner was usually Tara but she had an accident last time she went out with Chad on patrol. She had a nasty fall and still hadn't been cleared to go back out on patrols. Even though she seemed fine now.

"Looks clear. We'll go out to the small town near by make sure it's clear down there as well. We don't need any infected or raiders near Jackson. We'll go quietly. Just to be safe." You spoke as you looked through the binoculars looking down at the small town that was near by. There were a few houses, most of them being destroyed, where no raiders could use as cover. And a grocery store that had seen better days.

"If we move now we could beat the storm coming in from the south." You handed the binoculars to Mindy, as you pointed to said storm.

"Yea come on then. I have a lady I'd like to get back to." She handed back the binoculars back to you. You stuffed them back in your bag and nodded.

"Come on then."

You had always taken the roll of a leader since being allowed to patrol. It was a roll that was given to you by Sidney, who was seen as the leader of Jackson. Sidney was the sister of Dewey which you had no idea at the time. But as you spent more time in the walls. You had grown close to the older woman. She had become like mother figure to you. She had helped quite a lot when you first arrived. She had seen the best of you and knew you'd be great out on patrol. Dewey had taken a bit to get used to. He always wanted you to be safe and careful. Which you were. He truly had nothing to worry about.

As you rode down to the small town you mind wondered to your best friend.

As you rode down to the small town you mind wondered to your best friend.

*Flashback*

You were drawing the destroyed clinic. You had always wondered what the world was like before the infection took over. Dewey often told you stories about the world before the infection hit. It was something you would have loved to see. You had been amazed at all the things you saw on the journey to Salt Lake and then back to Jackson. It had been your first time out side of the walls of the QZ. You had spent fourteen years in those walls. Being able to be outside of the walls had you excited but also terrified. You had heard of the stories that happened out side of the walls. Ever since you had been given the journal by Dewey you used it as a way to express yourself.

"You are so good at drawing."

The sudden voice right next to your ear had you jumping just a bit. You looked to your left to see the face of your best friend. Her chin resting on your shoulder as she looked down at your journal. She was standing on a empty supply box in order to reach your shoulder. You loved how short Tara was. Her height was one of the many things you loved about her. Tara had been your first friend when you arrived at Jackson. It had been hard at first, getting used to peacefulness that came with living in Jackson. The year you were on the road with Dewey had been a tough one. Especially during the winter. The winter had brought back some memories you wished to forget.

But with Tara around, she had become such a great help. Opening up to Tara had been difficult, you didn't open up to her right away. And you didn't tell her everything. You had felt so, ashamed of what happened during the winter. You had never felt so...weak.

"You should paint me like one of your French girls."

You could tell that what she said was meant to be a joke but the joke had gone right over your head, cause you didn't have slightest clue on what she was talking about.

"What? Like my who?"

With a small laugh escaping from her lips, she moved to stand in front of you with a teasing smile on her face. "It's reference from a movie, I'll have to show you when we get back. Now come on. I wanna see what's inside of the building."

You felt Tara's eyes on you as moved to stand in front of her after putting your journal away. You knew Tara could take care of herself. She was strong and smart. You tried not to show it but you had shown signs of protectiveness towards her. Something you knew she hated it,  when someone thought she couldn't handle herself. She's complained about Chad doing it all the time. Sam did to. But you couldn't help it. You had to protect her.

*End of Flashback*

"Yo Y/n, you good?"

The voice snapping you out of your thoughts. You looked at Mindy and nodded. "Come on, we'll tie the horses good distance from the actual town. It's small, but we don't know who or what could be hiding in there. Horses could bring us some unwanted attention. We'll go on foot."

You got off your horse and loosely tied her reins to a tree. You had to make sure that if something spooked her she'd be able to get away. All the horses knew their way back to Jackson. Which was a good thing. You'd hate for her to get lost and killed.

"Alright then, let's check the pharmacy first. The houses seem too run down for someone to be in there. Then we'll check the market and lastly the ski lodge." Mindy spoke as she also tied her horse next to yours and walked towards your side. She didn't really want to go to ski lodge. Especially with the storm coming in. But she had drawn the short straw with the other patrols. Once a week, one patrol has to make the trip to the lodge to make sure there was no raiders there.

"Let's go then. The quicker we finish here the quicker we get the lodge and then back home."

**

"Home base come in, this is patrol 3 done with the grocery store. Heading up to the lodge." You spoke into the walkie talkie. There had been a few of the infected in the store. But it wasn't nothing that you and Mindy couldn't handle.

"Roger that. Please be careful going up there okay. Check back in the second you're done."

The sound of Tara's voice had you cheeks feeling warm. The look that Mindy shot you had been enough for you turn away from her. It was a hundred percent due to how cold it was and not because of the memory of Tara's soft lips on your own.

"We will Tara don't worry."

"Hurry back to me okay? Cause we have a movie night to get started."

The walkie talkie was taken from your hands before you could reply. "Don't worry Tara I'll bring your little girlfriend back to you. Now stop flirting so she can focus. Over and out."

"...Over and out."

You heard Tara mumble, you could picture her face at the this very moment. The small blush that colored her freckled cheeks. How you loved loved counting her freckles.

"You're such a dick." You pushed her away from your horse. Mindy laughed as she put the walkie talkie in her bag and getting on her horse.

"Oh come on. Don't you think it's about time you and Tara get together. I mean, even Dewey noticed how you two act around each other. Dewey out of all people." Mindy groaned in mock frustration. She truly wanted you and Tara to be happy. Anyone with eyes could see the bond you and Tara have. They way Tara was quick to become your friend. The way Tara, from the moment you arrived had been determined to be around you and be your friend. The way Tara had become so protective of you, it had all been something so obvious.

"Nuh uh, Gale had done nothing but flirt with the old man since we got here. And he hasn't noticed. Plus like I said earlier Tara's just...confused. Her and Chad had always been off and on again." You argued, there was just no way. And you sure as hell didn't want to get your hopes up.

"God Y/n, you are so bad at this. How can you not see it. I'll never understand."

"You don't understand, I'm not-I've never really had a..." A wave of her hand urging you to continue. "Ugh I've never been in a relationship." A wave of embarrassment crossed your face.

"What?!"

"Dude, would you shut up." You looked around with red cheeks (although you would blame it on the cold) to make sure the cost was still clear.

"Wait what do you mean, you haven't been in a relationship? I thought you dated Quinn. Literally everyone thought you two were dating."

You shook your head. Quinn was a great friend. Other than Tara, Quinn had also been a good friend. She was also the main reason why you could now wear sleeveless shirts. The chemical burn was a nasty scar and you had been insecure about it. So at first not only did you have to wear long sleeve shirts cause of the bite mark. But also cause of the chemical burn. Quinn had been the first one out of your friend group to see the chemical burn. She had offered to cover it up with a tattoo.

But back to the rumor, Quinn was just a friend. Don't get it wrong you had a one night stand once or twice. Quinn liked you as friend and that was it. It was same for you.

"Well I, I mean we did fool around once or twice. But that was it. It was never anything serious. Now can we save this talk for another time. We're almost there." You got off your horse and tied her up once again. The ski lodge wasn't far now. It looked empty from a far. But you knew it was a great spot for raiders to be camping in. The lodge was in perfect condition, it was a great spot to hide in to get out of the cold.

"Home base, we are at the lodge. Stand by for status." Mindy spoke into the walkie talkie. With a conformation coming from Tara.

"Okay, check in the second it's cleared."

"Copy."

You guys moved up wards. Taking your rifle and getting it ready. You were a good distance from the lodge where if someone was in there they wouldn't see you coming.

"You take the back, and I'll take the front?" Mindy spoke as you both went through the hole in the fence.

"No we stick together. I have a bad feeling about this. Stay close and stay quiet."

But nothing would have prepared either of the two for what was to come.

**

The short brunette sat next to the radio waiting for the patrols to give the all clear. She had woken up in the morning with her lips still tingling from the kiss she had with her best friend. The feeling of your lips on her were everything she dreamed of and more. The way your lips moved against hers were just so exhilarating, she wanted more. She needed more. The love she had for you was something she had been hiding for years now.

She never really hid the feelings. You were just so damn oblivious it was cute at first but it had started to get annoying. Why couldn't you understand that she had feelings for you.

The confused look you always had when she flirted with you, she couldn't help but to laugh sometimes. The innocent look on your face was so, cute. The feelings she got every time she looked at you. It was feelings that she had never felt before. She had thought she was in love with Chad but from the moment she first saw you. She knew she wasn't.

She remembered the first time she saw you. It had been few months before you actually stayed in Jackson with Dewey. She had seen you walking around with the older man and Sidney. Later she found out that Sidney and Dewey were related. But she remembered you clearly. She had wanted nothing more than to walk up to you that day but she couldn't cause they got attacked soon after. And then you were gone with one of the horses.

She had seen Sidney and Dewey take off to find you, only for Sidney to return alone with an extra horse. No sight of Dewey or you. She had been left with so much...regret? Regretting that she didn't talk to you before you left. She had really thought that she would never see you again. But almost a year later she had watched how you and Dewey came to Jackson.

She'd never forget the look in your eyes, when you followed Dewey and Sidney. You had changed from the last time she had seen you. But this time she made sure to talk to you. You had been closed off at first. But with time she was able to get through your tall walls.

Your smile was something she absolutely loved. Along with your laugh. It took a while for to hear it. But once she did, she was on a mission to always hear it again.

There was just something about you that had her heart in a tight grip. Taking you out to dance last night had been her sitting her foot down and taking the first step. Cause she knew if she waited for you to do it, she'd be waiting way too long. She was done waiting.

It had been going great up until that asshole Frankie interrupted the kiss and called her a dyke. That asshole had interrupted something she had been working hard to get and when you stood up straight your smile no longer on your face. She knew there was no stopping you. You stood in front of her as you demanded Frankie to say it again. And Frankie being the moron he was, had repeated it. He didn't necessarily get to finish the slur before you punched him so hard he had been knocked out.

She knew how protective you were of not only her but of every single one of your friends. Remembering how you punched someone else for calling Ethan a faggot. She had seen the way your shoulders tensed at all the eyes being on you. You were never good when it came down to having all the attention on you. Before she could go to comfort you, you had ran out of there. She tried to follow you but she had lost you in the crowd.

"Home base come in, this is patrol 3 done with the grocery store. Heading up to the lodge."

At the sound of your voice she was quick to snap out of her thoughts and quickly reach for the radio.

"Roger that. Please be careful going up there okay. Check back in the second you're done." She hated that she wasn't the one with you. It's not that she didn't trust Mindy or believe that Mindy would keep you safe. It was just that she wanted to be the one with you. When it was you and her, it was like you both were unstoppable. She had preferred being parred with you. She just felt more reassured of your safety when she was with you.

"We will Tara don't worry." Your gentle voice had her smiling with out her even realizing.

"Hurry back to me okay? Cause we have a movie night to get started." It was a small date, she had named it that, before the kiss happened last night. Teasing you was always so easy, she just wished she could see your blush right now.

"Don't worry Tara I'll bring your little girlfriend back to you. Now stop flirting so she can focus. Over and out." Mindy's voice teased right back. This time she was glad she was alone, so no once could see her own blush that was no doubt on her neck as well.

"...Over and out." She mumbled in the radio. She swore she could hear Mindy's laughter from here.

"Not fun being on the other end of being teased is it?"

Tara looked up to see Sam standing there with a small smile on her face. Tara had arrived in Jackson with Sam when she was eleven and Sam was eighteen. Sam had been in bad shape when they met Sidney. Since then Sidney had taken them under her care and basically became somewhat of a mother figure. She had never been so thankful that in that moment they met Sidney. Cause for a moment she had thought that Sam wasn't going to make it.

"Shut up. How was patrol?" Sam had been tasked to go on patrol. It had been the short route. Apparently Sam had won it playing poker with some of the older men.

"It was alright. No signs of infected or any raiders." Sam looked back at her younger sister. The red of her cheeks was still noticeable. When Sam had first met you, you had been a quiet, shy girl. Sidney had spoken to her and Tara when you and Dewy arrived for the second time. She had also remembered how much Tara had asked Sidney about the older man and the younger girl he had been with. The first time she saw them.

The amount of times Tara had asked Sidney when they were coming back. Or if they were coming back. From the very first moment. She had known that Tara wanted more than just friendship.

Or how obviously jealous Tara had gotten when you started hanging out with Quinn more often. She had never seen her sister get so jealous. Not even when Chad would speak to other girls or be seen hanging g around other girls. Not to say Chad was the cheating type. But how annoyed she'd see Tara get when you'd be seen around with Quinn. It was almost too funny.

She being the mature person she was and simply asked you about Quinn. Like a normal person. You had said that you and Quinn were just friends and that was it. She had asked a few days ago.

"You do know that Quinn and Y/n never dated right?"

"What? Yes they did. Everyone has seen them together. Not to mention when Ethan said he saw y/n coming out of Quinn's apartment."

"Okay so if let's say Y/n is dating Quinn. Why would you kiss her?" Sam sat down and really looked at her sister. The way the younger girl looked down at her hands. The guilty and shameful look glossed over her sisters face. The crestfallen look directed her way.

"I don't know. I mean, Quinn hasn't said anything to me and I saw her this morning. She even smiled at me. Lord knows what I would have done if someone kissed my Y/-my partner. I sure as hell wouldn't smile at them." Tara looked down at her hands. "I love her Sam. I love her so much. I thought I loved Chad. And I do love him. Just not in that way. He's great. But I-You want Y/n." Sam finished for her.

She nodded as she felt her eyes fill with tears. The fear of rejection had become to crawl its way back.

"Well then Tara you-Base come in!" Mindy's voice cut through the room. The faint sound of gun fire being able to be heard in the background.

"Mindy what's wrong?" Tara was quick to respond.

"Fuck, there's too many! They got Y/n! Fuck, I'm hurt and I barely have any—" The gun fire was heard and Sam moved fast to call in Sidney and Dewy. Moving to gather a group to help her friends.

"—Ammo. Fuckfuck. They got Y/n. They took her. And I don't know where. Send help! Quickly!"

Tara wouldn't be able to explain how she felt in that very moment, even if she tried. Gale, who had had come into the room the moment Sam ran out shouting. The older woman took the radio from Tara. Signaling for her to go.

At the sound of more gun shots coming from the radio. Everything snapped back to normal. Tara was out of her seat and running to the armory. She needed to find you. She needed to get you.

She has to save you.

*

"Now tell us about Jackson."

A hard punch was delivered to the side of your head. You hadn't expected for things to turn so quickly. The ambush was something you truly weren't expecting. Maybe a few guys, no more than five. Something you knew you and Mindy could handle. But almost a dozen people had been in that house. It was like they expected for you to come.

"Fuck," You groaned, letting out a wet chuckle. The beating you have been receiving has been, well just that. A beating. "Go fuck yourself."

"Mmh a feisty one. They always turn into the begging ones." The man smirked as he leaned down getting in your face. His yellow dirty teeth just about made you want to throw up.

"Ugh ew gross. Ever heard of toothpaste?" Your head snapped to the right from the force of the punch.

"Your people, they won't find you."

"Oh I don't know man, I don't mean to brag but my best friend is very protective of me. And she's a scary woman when she's mad. And she can be very ambitious." A punch to the gut had you hunched over in the chair you were tied to. Gasping for the air that was punched out of you.

"Shut up. Now if you won't talk we will make you talk."

**

Tara, Sam, Dewey (there was no stopping that man from getting to you) Chad, Ethan (who both had been on patrol and over heard Mindy's distress call), Anika who had been quick to follow Sam the moment she heard. A few others had also gone.

"We don't know how many are in that lodge. We can use the storm as cover. Stay with your partner we can't risk one of you being lost in the storm. Okay?" With a nod of understanding. Dewey moved from the table. "Keep things quiet. Chances are they have Mindy's and Y/n's radio." Taking out his radio and holding it up to his mouth. "Patrols, this is home base. Return to home base. Storm is going to get worse. Too dangerous to be out."

"What are you doing?" Ethan spoke from standing next to Chad. He wanted to get to his friends. Who knows what those assholes were doing to them. He also couldn't lose them. He had been so close to just going off to the lodge with Chad. They had been closer Mindy and Y/n.

"We gotta make them believe that no one is going to the lodge. Hopefully that brings down their guard. Come on let's go."

*

"Patrols, this is home base. Return to home base. Storm is going to get worse. Too dangerous to be out."

"Oh well you listen to that. Looks like your people aren't coming. Now tell us what we want or, suffer." The man smirked down at you. His hands still had blood, your blood. You wondered where was Mindy in all this. You had hoped that she wasn't facing the same suffering as you were. Hoping that she somehow made it out.

"Fuck you."

A scream full of pain tore through your throat as the knife went down on your thigh. The agonizing pain as he tapped the knife. Your tried not to show any signs of pain. But you could only hide the pain for so long. The knife in your thigh was clear sign of that. You already had one knife going through your palm.

"Now, how many of you are there?" When he didn't get a response, other than the heavy breathing coming from the girl, he slapped her cheek. Then roughly cupping her cheeks to make her look at him. He couldn't deny that she was much stronger than any other guy he's done this to. But there was a clear difference between torturing a man and a woman.

One of the biggest fears for woman was being helpless in the hands of a mad man. A man no one was going to stop.

*

Tara barely remembered getting to the lodge. Quietly killing some of the guards that were too unbothered to actually do a guards job. She had one goal in mind. One thing. Save you and Mindy. The men that stood in her way, saw no mercy. The knife she used, a knife you had given her, a modified buck 120. It was knife she treasured with her heart. Caring it everywhere she went. The way knife slit there throats, hearing them choke on their own blood. She didn't hear.

A hand on her shoulder indicated for her to stop. She looked back at Sam, who pointed at one of the doors. A door to what she assumed was a supply room. With a nod she prepared herself for her sister to open the door. The door was pushed open only to see Mindy tied to a chair badly beaten. Mindy's wrist tied to the arms of the chair. Her mouth tapped shut. Eyes widening when they made eye contact with Sam.

Sam was quick to untie Mindy and removing the tape. "Fuck. Did you guys find Y/n yet?" Mindy whispered as groaned from the pain coming from her arm. The gun shot wound burned but she knew she'd be fine.

"No. Do you know where she could be? We've cleared the down stairs area. Most of the men I'm sure." Tara whispered back.

"Fuck, I heard them say she was in the main office upstairs. With the leader I'm assuming. He asked to not be disturbed. Fuck, that was few minutes ago. We gotta go stop him. Who knows what he's doing-No Tara wait for us." The whispered shout was not registered.

Tara had not waited for Mindy to finish was she was going to stay. The implication was there. The horrifying picture was there and they were rage filled.

With those in mind, she was still not prepared for when she pushed open the main office door. You chained up to ceiling by your wrists. To see your shirt cut open from the middle exposing your bra. Your jeans being unbuckled with the zipper down. You showing no signs of consciousness. The man in front of you had no shirt, had been in the process of taking of his own jeans.

This rage that coursed through her body, it was something she never felt before.

"I said to leave us alone-"

The sentence was never finished. Tara moved with a speed the man couldn't process. The knife cutting the man's popliteal artery. The screams of the man were heard. The way he fell clutching the back of his knee has the blood gushed out. She didn't stop there. Moving to cut off the genitals, that had been out. The disgust and anger she felt were fueled. His screams grew louder. Letting him suffer for few more seconds before she silenced by stabbing him in the mouth. His blood spraying on her face as he chocked. The life fading from his eyes.

She was quick to turn around taking in your beaten body. The way your bra had been cut half way down the middle. Almost exposing you. She felt her eyes fill with tears at what you almost went through. The choked sob as the amount of blood, your blood covering your body.

"Y/n? Baby open your eyes. It's okay now. He's dead. Fuck, Sam!!" Your breathing was uneven, she couldn't get you down by herself. The rope tying your wrist to ceiling being too high.

"Dewey! Somebody fucking help me!!"  She dropped her back pack. Taking out the medical supplies. The gauze to stop the bleeding coming from your leg. She had moved with a with such a hurry. She couldn't lose you. The blood coming out of your body was too much.

"Oh my god."

"Don't just fucking stand there. Help me get her down." Tying the wound after stuffing the wound with some gauze, like she was taught hoping that would stop the bleeding. Hearing your groans of pain had her tears escaping her eyes. She had also been quick to button up your jeans.

Sam, Dewey and Ethan were by her side in seconds. Sam and Dewey  holding you as Ethan cut the rope. Your body falling into her arms almost taking her down if it weren't for Sam and Dewey holding you.

"We have to get her back to Jackson." Ethan said as he glanced back at the man. The anger he felt had been so intense. But seeing the state of the way the man was left. He figured that the man got what he deserved although he wished he could done some harm to the man. He saw how Tara tended to you, the way she was fast to take out everything she needed to help you.

"We have to go."

Tara moved to grab your jacket that had been thrown to the side. With the help of Sam she was able to put on the jacket making sure every wound she saw had been covered and cleaned in hopes you wouldn’t get any infection. Ethan had moved to carry you out of the office. Tara following close behind.

Dewey would have carried you but he knew with his injured leg he wouldn't be able to. His leg had been shot during a raid, a year back. His leg almost being shot off completely. He had been lucky to still have his leg. Although he couldn't carry heavy things, not at risk of his leg giving out.

But he did hold on to the y/hc haired girl when he got on his horse. The girl he looked as his daughter. The fury he felt was still there. Seeing the bruises, cuts and dried blood on your face was-, the storm was raging on and they had to get back to Jackson quick. The group rode close and fast. Tara being close to him as they rode, her eyes looking at you every few seconds. He knew how much the short brunette cared about his daughter. The concern that was obvious in the girls eyes. He could still see the rage in her eyes as well. He had seen the bodies left in her wake, the way no one could stop her to get to Y/n.

He held Y/n closer to him. Making sure she wouldn’t fall from his grasp from all the movement. That guy had what was coming and he hoped he felt every painful stab before he was killed.

*

With how fast they were moving, they had gotten to Jackson in no time. Sidney had her husband Derek, who was the doctor of the town. Ready. She had been ready to go with the group to save you. But she knew she couldn't. Not when she had a baby on the way. So she stayed. Waiting in the tower hoping to see any sign of the group returning. She waited about three hours before seeing lights. With storm she could barely see the lights, but when she was sure it was them, she had the gates opened. Hurrying down the stairs to get to the group.

Seeing Mindy first. The girl was injured but from what she could see the girl looked okay. Which was relief. But when she the state Y/n was in, she gasped. Hurrying after Ethan who had gotten off his horse to help Dewey. He had been quick to take Y/n and rush her to the house that was their own little hospital. Tara was on at his heels hurrying after him. Derek had also moved so fast she could barely register what was happening.

"What happened?" She asked Dewey as soon as they were out of the storm.

"They wanted entail on Jackson. They had been camped out there for at least a week. Seeing is that they weren't their last week. They tried to get information out of the girls. They-" Dewey clenched his jaw. The image of how he found you flashing in his mind. His fists shaking wishing he had gotten his hands on that man. "They're dead now. There won't be anyone coming looking for them."

Sidney knew, she didn't have to ask. The way Dewey was acting from the way Tara had been covered in blood and from what it looked like, it wasn't hers. To the way Ethan (who was usually a sweet, caring boy) and Sam had the looks of just anger that she knew.

*

The first thing you felt when you woke up was the pain. The pain coming from all over your body. It was almost too much to bare. The dryness of your throat felt like it was rubbed with sand paper. The last thing you remember was being hit repeatedly by that asshole. Then everything went black. You didn't remember anything after that. You were clearly saved, which you were grateful for.

Eyes snapping open, when you remembered Mindy. You tried to get up but the pain prevented you from that. Not only did the pain stop you but warm hands gently touching our shoulders. Your eyes (one eye cause the other was swollen shut) connected with the familiar dark chocolate colored eyes you loved.

"Tara." You smiled softly, your uninjured hand reaching over to wipe the tear that escaped her red puffy eyes. Then cupping her cheek. Smiling through the pain when she leaned into you hand, one of her hands moving to be in top of yours. You had been so grateful to see her beautiful face again. "Is Mindy okay?" You rasped out.

"She's okay." Tara whispered back. Her eyes taking every single cut, bruise that she could find. Your face cleaned of any blood, making the bruises and cut stand out more. She couldn't help the tears as she gripped your hand with both of hers. Crying as she brought your hand to her lips.

"Fuck, I was so scared, I thought I was going to lose you."

Your heart clenched at the sound of her sobs. "I'm okay. Come here." Taking the shorter girls hand gently pulling on it.

"But you're hurt—I don't care. Lay with me, please."

With a bit of hesitation, she laid by your side. Your good arm wrapping around her shoulder pulling her closer. She was careful not to cause you any harm in any way. Feeling her shoulders relax as her head laid on your shoulder. Feeling your lips on her hair line. With your warmth pressed to her body, the exhaustion finally took over.

*

Tara had stayed by your side. Helping you when ever she could. It had been a week since, that day. You were thankful that Tara had stayed by your side. But something had been off since that day. You could tell something was bothering the shorter girl.

You sat on your couch in the garage right behind the house Dewey lived in. Tara was in the kitchen making a small dinner for the both of you. She was a lot more quiet than usual. It was starting to worry you. You figured she needed time to process what happened to you. But the more she had her moments like this, quiet, stuck in her head. The more you felt like she was keeping something from you.

You carefully took your injured foot off the coffee table where it was resting. Biting your lip at the pain. Your thigh and palm wound had been thee most painful out of the injuries. From what Derek said you had been lucky. Only severally bruised ribs, lucky to not have your eye socket broken, or nose for that matter. And lucky that the knife to the palm didn't cause any nerve damage. Even with all that luck, the pain was still very much there.

You stood up straight making sure to put too much weight on your bad leg. Taking the crutch Ethan had fixed up for you.

"Hey you're supposed to be off the leg." Tara was by your side in seconds. Her hands going to hold your waist only for them to freeze before she actually touched you. That had also been something that you had noticed. Tara wouldn't touch you until she had your full consent. It was something she usually never really had to ask for.

"Okay, tell me what's wrong? At first I thought it was due to injuries I have. But that's not it, is it." You stood straight in front of her. You wanted to know what was causing her to act so strange. When Tara refused to look at you, you took her chin with your good hand. Gently turning her head, you were a bit taken back when you saw the tears in her eyes. Even with the tears, you could see a hint of anger in her eyes.

“Talk to me Tar, what’s wrong?” With your thumb you took her bottom lip away from her teeth. You knew she had a habit of biting her bottom lip when anxious.

“Fuck Y/n, I-I don’t, the guy he was-that mother fucker was going to-” She couldn’t finish the sentence, but she didn’t have to. You knew exactly what she meant. The feeling of disgust and dread at what happened.

“He didn’t-He didn’t you know—No! No I got there in time.” This time Tara was quick to take your hands in hers. There had been no hesitation on her part this time. She lead you back to the couch.

“Is he dead?”

“Yes. He died a very slow painful death. I made sure of that. No one harms you and gets away with it.” Tara held your hands and looked back into your eyes.

“Tara, thank you. For saving me.” You looked away debating whether you should tell her.

“You don’t have to thank me, I love you Y/n. You’re my best friend. I’ll do anything for you. Even if it means cutting off a creeps dick.”

Your jaw dropped a short surprised laugh escaping your lips. “What? His dick?”

She smiled proudly, “Yup, chopped it right off. It’s what he deserved. Nobody messes with my girl.” Her confidence never breaking eye contact had you blushing.

“Your girl huh. I like the sound of that.” It had been her turn to blush.

“Can I kiss you?”

“You don’t have to ask.” With that you pulled her into a long awaited kiss. This time you would make sure to pore everything into the kiss. To make sure Tara knew how much she felt for her. The feeling of her warm hands cupping your cheeks bringing you even closer to her. Only pulling away when lack of air became an issue. She rested her head on to yours. Her thumbs creasing your cheeks.

“I love you to Tara.”

Tara smiled, her dimples on full display. She couldn’t help herself as she once again pulled into a kiss. The feeling of your lips on her was something she had dreamed of. And now she had you.

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE:)

[mcntsee]

Shooting star

Summary: You spot a shooting star, close your eyes tight, make a wish, and hope it comes true.

Warnings: Angst.

Note: This is not my favorite work, but I saw a shooting star today and just had to write something.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

Kaz wasn't certain what had brought him here in the first place, nor did he have an inkling as to why they were having this conversation.

"It's not foolish; it's a shooting star!"

Yet, deep down, he acknowledged it might have been his heart’s silent plea to remain close to her, willing to follow her anywhere, even through the depths of hell.

"It's not even a star."

"Quiet and let me make a wish."

He couldn't fathom it. Watching her squeeze her eyes shut so tightly, he wondered if she wasn't seeing stars.

Despite finding her actions silly, he couldn't bring himself to extinguish the twinkle in her eyes.

So he waited until she opened her eyes again. "I've seen you take down multiple men, yet you believe a rock will make your wishes come true."

“There’s people out there that can stop our hearts with a mere gesture.”

Not to mention those born destined to become Saints.

"I believe a rock entering the atmosphere could make a wish come true."

He recalled his mum mentioning shooting stars a couple of times. Just like Y/N, she had mimicked the same actions. Whatever his mum had wished for, he never discovered.

“Has it ever?”

“What?”

“Has a wish ever come true?”

“Yes. One.”

He wanted to laugh. How unfair it seemed that she could find happiness in a rock when he, as a child, had been let down by the so-called shooting stars multiple times. But he didn’t.

“What was it?”

“To be saved.”

If Kaz was known for anything other than the dreadful things he could do for the right price, it was for always having a retort. This time, however, he didn’t. So he listened.

“I was hungry, angry, cold and sad. And I saw one.”

She could recall that day vividly, as if it were yesterday. Granted, it had only been a couple of years, but she was certain she would never forget it.

“I wished someone would come and save me.”

She had closed her eyes tightly, her father’s voice echoing in her head, reminding her of the countless times he had taken her stargazing.

The day they saw a shooting star, her father had told her to make a wish. She had.

Sometimes she still wonders if the reason why her father died was was because she had shared her wish with her friend. If the Saints viewed it as breaking a rule and twisted her dream into a nightmare.

“Next day, you found me.”

“I think that’s called luck, love.”

“We don’t get lucky, Kaz.”

Kaz hummed. A silence enveloped them both, and he wondered what she had wished for. To live for many years? To always have money? Perhaps she had wished for love or to leave this city behind.

“You should try it.”

“I don’t rely on rocks for my wishes to manifest.”

With a sigh, she stood up. For a moment, Kaz yearned to grasp her hands and implore her to stay, to convey that he would, just to keep her from leaving. Yet, he hesitated, and that brief pause was all she needed to vanish.

“And, I already have my shooting star.”

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

Kaz never would have imagined that the next time he returned to this spot, it would be without her by his side.

He never anticipated the overwhelming emptiness that would consume him—the ache in his heart echoing the memory of her laughter and the beauty of her eyes whenever his mind dared to revisit those moments.

It had been so long since he last heard her voice—telling stories, teasing him, attempting to draw laughter from him.

His shooting star was gone, and all the magic she had planted within him was extinguished—ripped away just as she had been.

He felt so alone.

While his mind had been lost in what if’s, his eyes caught the swift movement in the sky—a shooting star, racing faster than the constant wind hitting his face.

He laughed—a laughter laced with pain—as he reminisced about the countless times he had seen Y/N pause, shutting her eyes tight in pursuit of wishes.

Without meaning to, he imitated the same actions he had seen her do countless times, closing his eyes. His wish left his lips in a quiet whisper.

“Come back.”

But she wouldn’t. After all, it wasn’t even a star. Just a rock breaking through the atmosphere.

In the blink of an eye, the shooting star was gone, much like his- his girl, his shooting star.

[ihearthes]

Christmas Thyme part 1

Author: @ihearthes

Pairing: Harry x Reader Insert (1st person)

Rating: Smut (NSFW, 18+ Only)

Word Count: 2665

‘Tis a week before Christmas, and just as I am preparing to twist the “Open” sign to its “Closed” side, the bell over the door jingles. Inwardly, I groan. Outwardly, I paste on my brightest smile as I pivot towards my (hopefully) final customer of a very long, very exhausting day. 

I freeze. 

Because standing there in the doorway of my boutique is Harry Styles. THE Harry Styles. You know. As It Was. Watermelon Sugar. Sex on a stick. That last one isn’t a song. Just a description. 

“Um, hi,” I mumble, not knowing what else to say, but then I quickly tack on a “How may I help you?” 

His eyebrows draw downwards, and he looks around at the merchandise which, after a long day of Saturday sales in the last few frantic days before the most important gift-buying holiday of the year, is scattered everywhere. 

I’ve no idea if I want him to decide to leave immediately or if I should beg him to stay and shop. I do neither. 

But only because I spot another person on the street outside, pointing at one of the most sought after and most frequently purchased soy candles. She and her friend appear to be heading towards the door, so I summon the last of my energy and lunge for the door ahead of them, pulling the shade while simultaneously rotating the lock. My panicked movements mean I jostle the popstar as he stands nearby. 

“Oops! I’m so sorry. I just…” 

“Are you open or closed?” He asks, worry etched on his forehead where it peeks out underneath his black beanie. I take him in, recognising his face instantly. With a pair of joggers, he wears a black Pleasing crewneck, and I’m briefly jealous of how cosy it looks. I wouldn’t mind snuggling close – to the crewneck, of course. 

I am, after all, a competent businesswoman. Pfft. Okay, I’m trying to be one. 

“We’re closed now, but if you don’t have much to shop for, you’re welcome to look around while I tidy up in preparation for Tuesday’s maniacal clientele. 

He grunts, and I assume it’s affirmation that he’d like to look around, so I nod. “Are you looking for something in particular? Or shopping for a certain someone?” Wracking my brain, I attempt to recall if he’s currently dating anyone, but I’ve no idea. Since opening up my pop up last month, I’d not had time to do much more than work daily until exhaustion forces me to crawl into bed with a heating pad on my back and warm peppermint compresses on my feet. 

“Just looking…” He smiles, and I’m nearly blinded by the left dimple. 

Holy shit. No wonder he’s so popular. 

I have the silly idea that I should sniff him. It would be easy to make a tonne of money from bottling his scent and selling it. Then I would have enough money to set up a permanent shop to sell my organic candles, soaps, and lotions. 

Resisting only because I have managed to maintain some self-respect after being yelled at and cursed at by customers all day long, I decide to provide him some privacy. 

“Absolutely. Let me know if you have any questions.” 

He nods once, and I swear my insides melt into a puddle like Frosty the Snowman when the sun has come out. 

Stepping to the counter, I fiddle with the sound system, turning off the grating holiday tunes that permeate the atmosphere this time of year and sliding instead into some soothing jazz from Alfa Mist. As soon as the first song starts playing, Harry’s head whips around and he stares in my direction. 

“Excellent choice.” His voice is gravelly and kind with a bit of surprise in it. 

“It’s the kind of music I prefer,” I shrug, not knowing what else to say. 

“Me too.” 

It’s such a surprising thing for him to say that I do my own double take, but he’s returned already to smelling the candles on the wall display. 

Shrugging, I move to the first shelves to the right of the register, straightening products, and making mental notes of what I need to restock. When I move to the next set of shelves, though, it’s clear that a mental note isn’t going to be of any help. There are simply too many hand lotions, soaps, and other products that need to be replaced. Sighing, I move behind the counter again, withdrawing a pad of paper. Quickly, I jot down what I need to replace on the first two shelves. 

Turning my head, I see that Harry has barely finished sniffing one shelf of candles. “Um…” He glances up at my utterance. “...would you mind if I stepped into the back to grab some more stock?” 

“Whatever you need to do.” His voice is so silky that I could easily wear it and nothing else against my skin forever. 

In the small stockroom, I remove my shoes, wiggling my toes that have been screaming at me for the last two hours. Grabbing a basket I keep for just this purpose, I fill it with the items on my list before stepping back onto the main floor. The coolness of the tiles under my toes is soothing, and I sigh at the pleasure of it on my hot skin. Quickly, I restock the first two shelves, giving my feet a workout as I have to rise onto my toes multiple times. My knees also get to practise squatting so I can place items on the bottom shelf. 

After I slide my protesting feet back into my shoes, I sneak a peek to check on Harry. He’s moved on to the next set of shelves, opening the sample shampoos and smelling them one by one. 

At this rate, he’ll be here another hour at least. 

Surveying the third set of shelves, I jot down the merchandise I need to pull from the back for this one. It’s the shelf of eye compresses I’ve made that include differing herbs to soothe the skin around the eyes and quiet the mind. With a quick glance at Harry, I return to the storeroom, trying to recall where I’d placed the box holding more eye compresses. 

Spying it on a higher shelf, hiding behind a box of the scented rice neck pillows I’d designed to be heated and worn next to the skin, I stand on my tiptoes in order to reach. Just — one — more — inch — CRASH! Both boxes clatter to the ground, the sides splitting open on the box holding the neck pillows, and I sigh. 

“Are you okay?” 

His voice startles me, and I jump like that time I’d been forced to watch a horror movie by my previous boyfriend. The arsehole. 

Placing my hand on my chest to calm my pounding heart, I smile at where his head has emerged through the curtain separating the sales floor and stockroom. 

“Thank you for checking on me. I’m okay. Just knocked off a couple of boxes.” 

“Shit. That looks annoying. Let me help.” He muscles his way past the curtain, assisting me by setting the box right side up. I locate the roll of packing tape I’d used earlier to package some items for a customer who wanted them delivered, handing the tape to Harry as he repairs the box. “I’m Harry.” His introduction is endearing, and I share my name too. 

“No one else working tonight?” His hushed tones do things to my body that are inappropriate for work. 

“No one else is working ever. It’s my shop, and I couldn’t afford to pay for help this year.” 

“Damn. How do you manage?” 

“Well, I take it slow on nights like this with the restocking and tidying because I know I’ll get the next two days to soak my feet and relax.”

“But how do you do it during the day with all the customers?” 

“I think that’s clear from the state of the front. I muddle through.” My shrug is intended to communicate that there’s no real answer to that question. 

“Can I help?” 

“YOU?” I yelp, clamping both hands over my mouth at my shriek. 

“Why not me?” 

“Um, cause you’re Harry Styles.” 

When he smiles this time, his eye crinkles come into focus, and I’m lost in him. I could stare at those crows’ feet all night, I think. 

“And that means I can’t help?” 

“It means that you probably have plenty of plans that don’t include stocking shelves.” 

“Hmmm… tonight, I actually do not have plans. My sister and I were supposed to shop for our mum, and then my sister ended up ill, so…” Trailing off, he raises both hands to the side in imitation of a shrug. “You can pay me by helping me choose gifts for my mum and my sister. And my manager’s wife. And maybe the wives of my friends.” 

“That’s silly. I’d help you with that for free.” 

“Ah, well then, you can take me out to dinner after we’re done.” 

My jaw drops. Dinner with Harry Styles? 

Is he asking me out on a date? 

“Just as repayment, right?” I ask. 

“For starters,” he smirks, and my panties become uncomfortable as I rub my legs together. “I’ll take these boxes out front.” Bending his knees, he picks up the box of neck pillows with the box of eye compresses on top. Striding through the curtain, he drops the boxes on the floor and immediately starts artfully arranging the merchandise. Occasionally, he brings a pillow to his nose and breathes in deeply. 

Mesmerised, I watch from the door to the store room. After a few minutes, he removes his coat, carefully draping it over the counter, smiling at me as I straighten the bottles of lotion on the table, ensuring that the rosemary mint doesn’t get mixed up with the rosemary thyme. It’s easy to get them confused as the labels are similar. 

“How long did it take you to prepare all of this?” Harry asks, his hand encompassing the entire shop. 

“All year. My dad –” I pause as emotion invades my throat, layering it with sorrow. Finally, I swallow, clearing the grief. “My dad was ill for the last couple of years, so I quit my job to move in and take care of him. I started growing the herbs in his garden. And then I needed something to do with all of the herbs I grew, so I started making soaps and selling them at the local farmer’s market. Demand was swift, and I’ve been expanding the line for the last eight months or so.” 

“That’s amazing!” His face has lit up like the Christmas tree that’s in the corner of the shop, and his grin takes over his entire countenance. “And how’s your dad doing now?” 

I wince. “He actually died in July.”

“Oh. I’m sorry for your loss.” 

My watery smile hopefully conveys my gratitude. “He was ready to go. At least that’s what he told me. And I needed a project after his death to keep me busy while I cleaned out the house and prepared to sell it.” 

“Sell it? Why?” 

Moving to the next table, I straighten the bars of soap. Wiping a tear from my eye, I answer his question. “Too many memories. I’ve had a lot of loss in my life, and now I’m the only one left in my immediate family. So when I’m in the house, all I can see are the people no longer with me.” 

“That must be hard.” His hand rests on my shoulder, and I’m startled because I hadn’t realised he’d approached. 

“It’s life. Lucky for me, I have my dreams to keep me going.” 

“Dreams of expanding beyond a popup shop at the holidays?” 

“Something like that,” I nod. 

“Sounds lovely. Listen, I’m done with these shelves, and those over there look pretty good. I, um, straightened them earlier when I was testing the product. Is there a broom so I can sweep up?” 

Astonished, I blink at him. “No. No. No. I draw the line at having a number one pop musician sweep my floor.” 

He giggles, his laugh growing until he’s slapping his knee, his full body moving with glee as he heartily releases his mirth. “So if I were the number one classical musician or number one jazz musician or number one country musician, you’d be okay with me cleaning the floor?”

Seeing the humour in my comment, I laugh along with him. “Okay. Okay. You’ve found me out. Only pop musicians aren’t allowed to sweep up. Everyone else is fair game.” 

Bopping me on the nose, he grins. “Good thing I’m not a number one pop musician tonight. I’m just a customer who is quite taken with your goods.” 

And the way he rakes his eyes over my body lets me know that he’s not talking about the merchandise on the shelves. 

Dammit. Why don’t I keep a pair of spare knickers in my bag in case I run into the handsomest man alive? Because the ones I’m wearing right now are ruined. 

Sticking his head through the curtain and peering into the back, he joyfully exclaims, “There it is!” Seconds later, he’s pushing the broom around the shop floor, and I am both pleased and appalled. 

Reluctant to let him do all the work, I watch him and squirm. Using the broom as a partner, he dances to the music, and I can’t help the giggle that escapes. 

“I remember when you couldn’t dance at all,” I reveal, then clamp my hands over my mouth at my rudeness. 

“Some would say I still can’t.” 

“Screw ‘em.” I grin. “Listen, I’m about to count up the money for a night deposit. Are you planning to pay with cash or credit?” 

Wincing, he bites his lip, resting his arm on top of the broom handle. “Oh yeah. I was having so much fun that I forgot I was here to shop.” He looks around at the merchandise. “You’re taking me out for dinner, right?” One eyebrow raises while the other stays in place. It’s a talent not many have. 

“I believe that was the deal in exchange for your labour.”

“Then let’s eat first. I can tell you about those I need to shop for, and you can decide what would be most fitting for each.” 

“Hmmm…” I tease, “Are you trying to get out of buying products from me?” 

“Nope,” he grins, stepping closer to me. “Trying to let you get to know me more.” 

“Who's to say I don’t already know everything about you?” 

“Ah, I see.” The expression on Harry’s face is smug. “You wanna have a quiz? Find out what exactly you know and don’t know?” 

“Sure,” I smile, “but somehow I’m not sure I trust you. You could easily say all of my answers are wrong, and I wouldn’t be able to contradict you.” 

“Let’s start. What colour are my eyes?” 

“Are you taking the piss? They’re green. That one’s easy ‘cause I can see them.” 

“Okay, okay. You got one right. What colour are my lips?” 

Which of course drags my eyes right to the body part in question. And they look lush. Soft. Slightly chapped, but not enough to keep me from… 

Shit. I’ve gotten lost in staring at his lips. 

“I didn’t hear your answer.” 

My tongue dips out to lick my own lips, and he steps closer, his eyes locked on my tongue. Shaking my head, I dart my gaze back to his eyes, and I can feel his breath on my cheek. Leaning forward, he reaches his arm to my left, and I briefly wonder if he’s going to wrap his arm around my waist and haul me to him for a snogging session. 

Which is when he grabs his coat from the counter. 

“Let’s count the money so you can make your deposit. I’m getting hungry.” 

Really? I'm experiencing a powerful thirst.

Author's note: Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed it, please reblog. I know not everyone reblogs, but it really helps writers out.

READ PART 2 HERE

[bloomingdog]

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 — 𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐱 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

data: your basic florist au, bit of angst, identity reveal, all that stuff. 4k words, no use of Y/N.

You know him, you know what the looks like at the very least. Once a week—the day never stays the same—him and a group of other instrument-carrying people go into the small venue in front of your shop at nine in the evening, an hour after closing the shop, when you’re about to head home. One early morning, out of curiosity, you checked the schedules adhered and covering the roller shutter in a poor attempt to find who this mysterious guy was. You found no useful information in that regard, you did foind, however, that the club opened at ten and most concerts held there started at least half an hour later. With that new gathered intel your best guess was that they came early to get everything set or a rather quick sound-check.

The venue is on one of the corners that limit the four way pedestrian crossing, the two corners on either side both hold pubs, and diagonally there’s you. “For the Roses” is a name given by its old owner, a sweet lady—and Joni Mitchell fan—you had worked for since you were seventeen, and four years later she had decided it was time to retire. For the last five months it’s been just you, it was easier to take care of it when you were two people working, that much is true, but having to close the shop has given you staring privileges. Years ago, when you first started working here the placement of the shop seemed rather odd, between clubs, pubs and the many other forms of amusement, this, however, was a strategical position. A big part of the clientele consisted of repenting boyfriends and enamoured halves of a first date, and they kept the business afloat.

You recognise him the moment he walks in.

“Hello! How may I help you?” The clock ticks away the last minutes before closing as you try to put on your cheeriest voice.

“Hi, sorry about comin’ in so late. My mate’s playing a gig, I just want some flowers to throw on stage, whole dramatics and all.” His voice is smooth with only the slightest rasp to it. He’s a fun last client.

“Do you want the classic roses then?”

“Nah don’t bother, give me the leftovers.” There are one or two extra cuttings and a bouquet that never got picked up you wouldn’t mind getting rid of. 

You excuse yourself to pick out the best leftover flowers you could in an attempt to make a half-decent bouquet. He’s oggling your shop, he’s particularly eye-catching inside your light coloured, slightly old-fashioned establishment. He likes it there, it’s cosy, the floors are filled with different types of flower arrengements and the walls display an amalgamation of different decorations gathered throughout the years, his inspection is only interrupted by your coming back behind the counter.

“Here, I tried to make it as cohesive as I could.”

“It’s alright, love, it’s gonna get thrown anyway.” Oh, that pet name went straight to your chest.

“It felt unprofessional not to give you at least a small sample of my usual, better, quality.” He gave a side smile as a response.

“How much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house, no worries, I wouldn’t make you pay for only scraps.”

“That’s quite nice, take this as a tip, then.” He slid a twenty pound note on the counter, right before turning around a saying his goodbyes with a single wave of his hands.

Spinning the sign at the glass door so it reads “Closed” you turn to sweeping the floor and leaving your workplace as neat as possible, you hum along to the song playing from your phone on the counter. The 20 dollars he gave you felt a bit too much, not that you’re going to complain, not with the cost of everything, a flower shop isn’t a luxurious job to have, so it’s much appreciated. 

Drawing the curtain-like metal you spot a group of people walking into the club, one of them must be his friend.

A mere day later, he’s back, making the dainty bells above the door chime.

“Hello! Got another show you need to throw flowers at?” You quip and he chuckles.

“Nah. Only wanted to get actual flowers to have a good reason to ask you out.” He’s confident, maybe overly so, and Hobie is well aware of that, it’s not often that his confidence fails him, though. You look surprised before laughing, it’s ridiculous.

“And what were you thinking of getting?”

“I was hoping you could recommend me something.”

“Roses are usually the go-to flower, although I much prefer freesias.”

“Sick, I’d like a single freesia, please.” He says it in an overly polite manner, the whole situation is laughable.

“That’ll be two pounds.” You say as you hand him the flower.

“Here you go.” You mutter a thank you for an answer. “My band’s playing tonight, at ten, just on the other street, you could come and we could get a drink after.”

No way you’re attending a club on a Wednesday night, with a stranger nonetheless. 

“Sure.” 

“Sweet, I’ll see you. My name’s Hobie by the way.”

And it sounds like proper fun, really.

You’ve managed to avoid the biggest wave of people going home during rush hour and, thankfully, your ride home is as pleasant as the tube allows it to be and yet, you’re restless. His invite plays around in your mind. He’s handsome, that’s for sure, and it would satiate your curiosity on the other side it would also make you tired for work the next day, you’re too old for that, you think and softly laugh at your own joke. The walk home gives you time to ponder on wasted opportunities and the best years of your life, your flat instead greets you with the promise of a reheated dinner and an eight-hour-long sleep which for a moment makes you think about ditching him. 

The commute back feels longer than it usually does. You ate in a rush and got ready far too fast after your flatmate complained about needing to use the bathroom. Your phone marks 10:05PM, fashionably late. You’re thankful the show hasn’t started by the time you sit by the bar, ordering a beer. You still haven’t decided if it’s brave or cocky to ask someone out to your own show.

The whirring of a guitar being plugged signals the beginning of the show.

“Hello, we’re The Spider-Slayers! One two three!” Is your only warning before they start playing. They’re quite good, you have to admit, Hobie, as you’ve recently learned he’s named, exudes power and confidence while on stage, he’s rather skilled. It’s enjoyable, half of the audience is too plastered—it's only ten in the evening—to pay attention to the actual music and are merely glad to have a loud noise playing for them, but they’re well-liked, no doubt an established part of the community. It passes faster than you had anticipated, not even an hour later he’s walking your way while another band prepares to play.

He’s sweaty as he sits down and orders a rum and coke, he looks at you questioning if you also want one. “Make it two.” He indicates the bartender. “Did you like it?” 

He’s tall but not intimidating in the slightest, the metal in his face a contrast to all of his warm side smiles. 

“Yes!” You’re quick to answer. “It was really nice, you guys are good.” He fully smiles at the compliment, he’s got a pretty smile.

“Thanks. I forgot to ask your name earlier, sorry about that.”

“No worries, it’s Y/N.”

“Pretty.” It’s flirty. 

“Did your mate like the flowers?” You ask as the man behind the bar hands you your drinks.

“Totally, made a mess on stage and everything. She was grateful, seriously, funny and praising in equal parts, the bouquet was beautiful too, such a shame it ended like that.” You laugh at that. “How’s it working at a flower shop?”

“Good, actually, better than one good expect, I’d say it’s one of the better retail jobs out there.”

“Seems hard.”

“It is at the beginning, you should’ve seen some of my first arrangements, they were bloody awful, I’m still wondering how we didn’t get any complaints.” It’s Hobie’s turn to laugh.

“You’ve made some improvement then, your shop’s beautiful.” You beam and thank him, you’re proud of the way it’s looking these days. “How’d you end up working there? Do you need a degree to be a florist?”

“Not really, no. I’ve taken a couple courses but for the most part I was trained by my old boss.”

“Hm.” He nods. “Strange place to set up a flower shop, innit? I see you closing all the time and wonder who in their right mind would think of opening it at a nightlife epicenter.” Good to know you’re not the only observer.

“You’d think so! We get a lot of our clientele thanks to that, not all flower shops open until eight either way. Flowers make both great apologies and gifts, you can only imagine the kind of people who walk in there.”

“What, like me?” 

“No way, I’d put you in the normal bunch.” He quirks an eyebrow, an invitation to tell him more about yourself. And that you do. You talk for the two hours that the club remains open, he’s fun, you’re both chatty, you’ve got a multitude of things in common, he tells you about his bandmates, you exchange numbers, he’s a cat person by the way. 

“You want me to walk you home?” The underground closed an hour ago, it wasn’t that big of a trek to your place, you could say yes if not for the stranger—acquaintance—danger middle school talks flashing in your memory. The bus, though taking longer than the tube, was still an option.

“It’s fine, really. I’d rather take the bus.” 

“Got it, I can wait with you if you’d like.” Yeah, yeah, you’d like that. The two of you walk close to each other to the nearest stop. The pavement is damp, it gives you another reason to be glad that you wore your trusty old, slightly dirty, converse instead of a more sophisticated option.

“Thank you for inviting me, I had a nice time, you’re fun.”

“So are you, love.” How could an overused term like that have such a big effect on you when he says it remains a mystery.

You sit in a comfortable silence until the right bus gets there and as you bid your goodbyes you’re unable to contain the big smile you give him, blame it on the drinks. You send him a quick text noticing him that you got home safe and sound before falling into deep sleep.

Your phone rings and vibrates from the bedside table, it always goes off at the same time and yet today it manages to scare you awake. The trip to the bathroom and coffee making is accompanied by a string of curses: music, bad choices, the opening hours of your business and pretty boys all fall victim to your vulgarities. The lack of proper sleep makes your day go by twice as slowly, nodding off and almost missing your stop and doomscrolling during work hours to pass the time, even turning to reading an article from The Daily Bugle, it’s laughable, it’s says something something Spider-Man, something juvenile delinquent something menace for the city.

The chime of little bells half an hour before closing wakes you up better than your alarm had done earlier in the day. Looking up from your phone you spot the same bright eyes and confident stroll that kept you company last night.

“You need to stop coming in right before closing.” You scold him. You’re confident he’s aware that it’s an invitation for him to keep showing up.

“My bad. Do you like food?”

“I-What?” Indeed, what? “I like food, yes.”

“Peng. You want to grab dinner?” And he also needs to stop proposing last-minute plans.

“Where?”

“What do you fancy?”

“Thai?”

“Sure.” 

“I close in half an hour, you can stay here if you want.” Not that you’re expecting any more costumers.

He asks if he can help with anything and you hand him the broom and dustpan that hangs in the back of the shop, he laughs and takes it as payment for having you get out earlier. The floors aren’t dirty per se, it’s mostly leaves and bits of cutting that have fallen. He sweeps while you get everything ready for tomorrow and put away what’s been used today. Half an hour later you hang your work apron and close the shutters. 

There’s a nice restaurant a couple blocks away you’ve got food to-go from before. You order a spicy noodle soup, khanom jeen nam ngiaw, and he settles for stir-fry noodles. It’s good, warm and comforting, you take a bite from his plate and he follows suit with a spoonful of your broth. The conversation picked up while cleaning and it has yet to die down, he tells you about his hobbies—you can't help to make fun of him by saying Hobie's hobbies—and you share your love for museums with him, ‘We should visit one.’ he says to which you agree in excitement. 

You don’t let go of his hand until your bedroom door is closed and you softly push him into bed. Taking only a short break to take off both of your shoes you don’t waist time in straddling him, his hands on your hips as you return to kissing. Soft moans mark the tempo for your exploring hands and you stare at his bare abdomen with much less shame than you think you should have. His hands are slightly calloused and scarred, it doesn’t matter with how skilled they are. It feels like you’re drowning in him, you hope he feels half as good as he’s making you feel, if his breathless mutters of ‘fuck’ and ‘good girl’ are any indicator you can pat yourself on the back after it’s over.

The dinner is paid for, the night chilly compared to the warmth inside the restaurant. He offers to walk you home again, this time you agree because you’re no longer strangers, right? You make it half of the way before puts his hand on your lower back, you don’t make an effort to move it, it’s comfortable.

You make it three quarters of the way until you start kissing, your back against the wall of a mildly busy street, you feel like a horny teenager. You climb up the stairs to your flat two-steps at a time, your hand holding his and praying that your flatmate has confined herself to her room so you don’t have to introduce one to the other, not right now at least.

The morning after your alarm not only scares you awake but it also makes him sit up in bed with a jolt.

“Sorry.” Sleep is still evident in your voice.

“S’okay.” He replies before giving you a chaste kiss on the lips, you don’t think either of you wants to deal with each other’s morning breath, it’s a tad early for that.

You offer him breakfast. Your flatmate has left for work but she won’t forgive you if you don’t tell her of last night’s events. At least it won’t make this morning awkward, or more awkward than it already is, it happens with first breakfasts: sleepy, a mess, cranky from waking up, it’s not anyone’s best look. 

You take the underground while he chooses to walk home, it’s not crazy far away from yours, apparently. In the meantime, the work day is spent looking up frantically every time the bells over your door chime, hoping that it will be him at some point. He does come over, at ten past eight, and he has to knock on the door to catch your attention. Your strange arrangement goes on for the better part of the next two months, he comes over when you’re about to close, you eat together multiple times per week, he’s quite a skilled at making exactly seven different dishes, he invites you to his shows and you’ve met his bandmates, you’ve had every cliché date imaginable: the park, the cinema, the natural history museum, markets, the full deal. You don’t call them dates though, you’re not a couple even with all the kissing and sleeping together—literally and figuratively—he’s told you he doesn’t like labels, but he’s being exclusive with you so you’re okay with it. 

He shows up with little cuts and bruises, you attributed to being clumsy at first but it’s become more common lately, he excuses it as a protest that went south, a moshpit or just a friendly scuffle with his mates. It doesn’t ease your nerves. But you're soon to forget all about it once you’re outside, walking hand in hand and sharing headphones, he’s incorporated bits and pieces of your music to his playlist and he makes sure to show you the songs he thinks you’ll like first than anything.

Your phone lights up with a text notification from Hobie, he’s coming over soon. It shouldn’t be, but it reads as ominous, he doesn’t usually tell you in advance and would rather showing up unannounced.

“Hey pet.” He greets, it’s his latest nickname for you, you’ve always thought it ridiculous but he’s making you grow fond of it.

“Hi Bee” An animal-related nickname you gave him after he tried calling you ‘duck’ that has stuck. “You want to do something or should we head home?”

“Home’s fine, I’m tired.” It’s fair, he’s always running around doing things, you’re okay with a night in. 

He sweeps the floor, it’s his assigned task, you feel bad but he says he doesn’t mind and likes helping you. The ride back to your place is quieter than usual, he seems pensive. You’re about to open the door to your building when you notice him stuck a meter away.

“Are you okay?” Your heart is picking up speed.

“Listen, love.” Oh no. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to come up.” You’re on the second and final step of the stairway while he’s at ground level, he looks smaller than he’s ever been. “I’ve had a lot of fun, really, but I don’t think I can go on with our thing, you know? I’m not good at commitment anyway.” Your lack of a response get’s him speaking again. “I’m truly sorry, I just don’t wanna go on with this and end up hurtin’ you.”

“Okay.” Is the only thing your brain is able to formulate.

“Okay.” He replies. “I’ll be leaving now.” He says as he kisses your temple, turning around and giving you a single wave of the hand for a goodbye.

You feel the tears beginning to fill up your eyes, your vision blurry, at least you were able to hold them until he left, it’s already embarrassing as it is. You don’t bother re-heating dinner that night, choosing to go straight to bed and waking up with puffy eyes in the morning. For the first time in a while you’re sure you won’t have any visits at work, it’s terrible. You feel stupid. He told you enough about himself to know that the two of you weren’t in for a long-term relationship and still you held onto some sort of hope of being an exception. 

That was two weeks ago. You’ve seen him two times since, while leaving for home. He waves your way and you wave back, out of politeness more than anything. Two weeks of radio silence that break your established routine and fill you with a sense of expectation during the last hours of work. 

It’s nine-twenty on a Sunday, it’s usual for you to stay until late at the end of your work week, Hobie knew that and would make sure to keep you company and take you home those days. The early November weather has made it so it’s already been dark for hours, the city is rather calm, you don’t suppose there’s much to do on a cold November night. A series of knocks on the door alerts you of the presence of someone outside, it startles you as you hold the broom you were using against your chest.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight outside the door. Spider-Man was doubling down and leaning against the glass of your shopfront, electric guitar strapped across him and hanging in his back, clad in his usual metal decorations while his suit had been torn. You let him in a hurry, it’s not ideal to have an idol of the working class dead on your welcome mat. He limps to the back of the shop, in your current state of panic you don’t stop to wonder how he knows the way so well, until he’s sitting on the floor and leaning against one of the walls, guitar forgotten besides him. You follow him and crouch at his side just in time for him to take off his mask. 

“Fuck off.”

“Hi pet.”

You were so excited to be done with work and head home to watch a film, lucky for you, your ex-situationship still has a habit of coming in right before you leave. 

“Bloody hell Hobie.” 

“Please don’t be shocked right now, we can talk about it tomorrow.” He can’t be serious. “I’m knackered.” I wonder why, you think. He looks like proper shit.

“Hobie you’re bleeding.” You’re trying your best to be helpful and not panic.

“It’s fine love, it’ll heal in no time, I kinda have superpowers.” You’re choosing to ignore that and get up to retrieve your first aid kit, it’s far too basic to be useful right now, only equipped to help with cuts and minor injuries.

You can feel his eyes on you and your whole body is shaking as you kneel by his side. You try your best to keep your hands steady while pouring rubbing alcohol into a cotton pad.

“You don’t have to, I’ll be fine.”

“Let me clean it, please, so it doesn’t get infected.” He lets you, wincing at the alcohol making contact with his open injuries. He knows you're doing it more for yourself than him. “Sorry.” He shakes his head as a way of saying ‘no worries’.

You reach for his face with your bare hand once you’ve considered him clean enough, you cradle his cheek and can’t hold your tears from spilling.

“This is why I cut thing off with you, you know? Don’t wan’ you getting hurt.”

“I don’t care.”

“Don’t say that.” He pleads. 

“What about you getting hurt? Does that not matter?” He laughs and winces right after.

“You’re a sweet thing. I don’t have a choice but you do.”

“And what if my choice is to stand by your side?”

“You can’t.”

“Yes I do!” You’re reaching tour breaking point and can’t help but raise your voice. “I didn’t know I loved you as much as I do until these last weeks without you. It’s been torture.”

“It’s been torture for me too.” His words soften you, and it’s only then you realize what you said, you don’t dare acknowledge them, maybe he didn’t notice or the head trauma will make him forget it.

You’re crying now and it feels awful because you should be the one comforting him, he’s hurt not you. He holds you as you shake and places a kiss to your head.

“Can we sleep here?” He asks once you’ve calmed down. The tile floor is anything but comfortable and still you nod yes.

You fix a make-shift bed consisting of your bunched up jumper and apron for pillows and your big coat, that barely covers his upper body, for a blanket. Not that it matters, you chose to turn the radiator up and it’s hard to get cold while curled up to a human heater. You’re careful while laying with him, both out of fear of hurting him and prudence of this hurting you even more. He doesn’t care and brings you closer, your head on his chest and his hand drawing shapes on your back over your clothes, you can’t help but worry about the state of his back in the morning. 

You find sleep easier than you have since your “break-up”, his rhythmic breathing lulls you and his caresses calm you down. You’re in the before-falling-asleep-limbo when you hear his voice, he says “I love you too” like a confession secret, you’re not sure if you were even supposed to hear it. It’s too late for you to react, his words mix with the beginning of your dreams into a spiralling nonsense.

🕷 i really enjoyed writing this! i was thinking of maybe doing a part 2? tell me your thoughts if you dont mind too! i haven't written anything that isnt academic in years and i feel rusty

[obetrolncocktails]

Karma Sutra | Sam Kiszka X Reader | Part 1

Warnings: 18+ readers/interaction ONLY. slut-shaming, female objectification, frat boy Sam, crude language, alcohol consumption, mention of drug usage, mention of graphic injury. Fluff. :)

Word Count: 2.3K

A/N: I've brought Karma Sutra back from the dead and have reworked much of the story in a way that better suits the way I have always wanted the story line to go. Hope you enjoy! Here's the first of many parts of Karma Sutra.

Listen while you read!

Karma Sutra Playlist

You felt eyes on you as you walked across the quad between classes. For what reason, you couldn’t place, but you knew that you were being watched. Peering across the quad, eyes flitting in all directions, you attempted to find the source of your insecurity. Nothing. You bundled yourself tighter within the thickness of your peacoat, shielding yourself from the evening cold. Making your way under an awning, you smelled the familiar odor of cigarette smoke. It wafted in your direction, beckoning for you to turn your gaze upward. Ugh. Of-fucking-course. Sam douche-bag-extraordinaire Kiszka. “Cold as fuck out here,” he said to you casually, puffing out O-rings of smoke from the side of his mouth. 

“Mm, so you decide to step out in forty degree weather to smoke a ciggy?” You spat sarcastically. 

 “It’s a bad habit, sweetheart. You know what they say…they die hard.” You rolled your eyes and marched away from him. “There’s a party on the row tonight–you coming?” your eyebrows furrowed instantly, turning over your shoulder to meet his gaze. 

“I haven’t been to a frat party in over a year, Sam. Why would I?” He threw his hands in the air, shrugging. His cigarette remained burning between two fingers, dropping ashes every few seconds to the ground. 

“Just thought it might be nice to see a refreshing face for once.” 

What the fuck? Why was Sam taking sudden interest in me? “I gotta make it to class. See you around.” You waved him off and continued walking to class. 

“Hey, Y/N, for old-time’s-sake, it really would be nice to see you there.” His eyes were the color of chocolate, which was ironic. His beauty could melt any girl on campus just like the confection–except for you. You would always be the exception. “Bye, Samuel.”

Samuel. He liked the way his name sounded on your lips. He bit at the corner of his lip, his eyes trailing you as you disappeared within the halls. Mm, I’ll save her for later, he thought. Blowing out the last puff of smoke, he stubbed out his cigarette against the brick wall, dropping it carelessly to the ground before strolling away to the next entertaining encounter. 

***

Philosophy class soon turned into Philo-so-fucking-boring class extremely fast. Your mind wandered from the lecture, unable to focus. Why the fuck was he watching me? The truth that you wouldn’t even admit to yourself was that you had feelings for Sam, and had since freshman year. They’ve remained in the recesses of your mind ever since. For one, he was an asshole. You and almost every girl on campus knew it; however, some part of you would always have a soft spot for him, no matter how cocky he was. He just didn’t know it, and you sure as hell wouldn’t show it either. Fuck that red turtleneck sweater. Why did he have to look so good in it? You caught yourself doodling random hearts and sparkles in the margins of your notes as you thought about him. 

“Pssst, hey.” Your best friend, Paige, jabbed you from behind with the top of her pen. “Pay attention, there’s going to be an exam tomorrow.” Your hands flew to cover your notebook from her view. “What are you hiding?” She whispered, curious as to why you were being so secretive. 

“It’s nothing, just drawings.” You realized a little bit too late that mere drawings wouldn’t have elicited such a reaction.

 “Doesn’t seem like it’s just a few drawings.”

 “Ladies, would you like to share your conversation with the class? Is it more important than the material that will be on tomorrow’s exam? Would you like to take it today after class since you don’t seem invested in the review?” You fell silent and averted eye contact, heat creeping up your neck to your face. The remainder of class passed excruciatingly slow. When three o’clock finally arrived, you filtered out of the classroom to meet up with Paige. 

“So I was thinking…how would you feel about going to the Row tonight.” Meeting your expectations, she recoiled instantly. 

“Uh, who are you and where is Y/N? You never go to parties.” You turned away from her and began to walk down the hallway. 

“I just thought it might be nice to do something different for a change.” Your cheeks were flaming again. 

“You’re such a liar. Who is it?” You bit your lip. 

“What do you mean?” you stalled. Paige stopped you mid-gait, grabbing at your arm. 

“Who is it, Y/N?” You had no choice but to look at her. 

“Ryan McClean.” Another Lie. It was a good replacement though. He was sweet, good looking and respectful. At least as much as could be expected for a frat boy. Paige stepped back with a hand on her hip. 

“You’ve never mentioned him, let alone told me you have a crush on him.” You continued to walk, ushering her forward.

 “Well, it kinda happened fast. I don’t know–I was hoping to see him tonight. I wanted to look cute.” You saved face by putting on an extra air of confidence. 

“Okay, okay I see you!” Paige grinned, snapping her fingers left and right as she walked. 

“Unfortunately, I have a date with Mark tonight–so I won’t be able to go.” You nodded, secretly relieved that she wouldn’t have to see you lose what little humility you had left. 

“Stay connected to the phone, don’t drink too much, play safe, get home safe,” she counted off on her fingers. 

“Thank you, Mom. Would you like to dress me, too?” you asked, grinning. Paige rolled her eyes playfully. 

“Actually, now that you ask, let’s go pick out an outfit that doesn’t scream ‘pilgrim lost in the twenty-first century.’” You eyed her for a silent moment, challenging each other not to laugh, but you were the first one to lose, throwing your head back and cackling at her. 

“You are such a bitch!” You said, elbowing her. “Let’s go. Paige wouldn’t let you go to that party without looking your best.

***

“Lacy Monroe.” “Total babe, thirteen out of ten, would fuck her any day,” Wyatt Sellars interjected, a massive grin pasted on his face. 

“Okay, how about Holly?” Matthew asked the question from the ping-pong table, tapping balls back to Wyatt. Christian Hearst entered the room next, a towel wrapped around his waist, applying deodorant to his armpits. 

“Wilson? She’s a bit of a bitch, but I'd chase her for a little while until I got bored.” He chuckled, walking to the fridge for a beer.

“How about Y/N?” The room falls silent, save for the fast bounce of the forfeited ping pong ball that was previously in play. Samuel Francis Kiszka. He sits cross-legged on a lounge chair in the corner, knocking back the rest of his IPA.

“You mean the sexiest girl at school?” Wyatt offered. “Is she Mormon or something? She could have easily made her way through the entire football team by now.” 

“Jesus, you dumb fuck, she’s not Mormon.” Christian came behind Wyatt, thumping him on the back of his head. 

“Well-I didn’t know, I–” 

“I think she’s stunning,” Sam says, leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees. His grin was obvious, and his cunning expression cut through the room.

“Okay, asshole. What’s with the look?” Christian moved to the couch, taking a seat across from sam. 

“I saw her today. Walking to class.” He licked his lips as he talked. Christian rubbed his hands together, prepared to hear about some salacious romp. 

“And?” 

Sam’s eyes grow wider. “Oh, n-nothing happened, I just saw her.” A chorus of disappointed scoffs filled the room.

 “You fucking suck, man. You literally had us going, just for nothing,” Wyatt whined. 

“It’s not like anything would happen– I’m pretty sure she’s a virgin anyway,” Sam continued with a casual shrug. 

“Oh, so she’s the pick of the litter. Nice!” Matthew interjected. Sam looked at him with a minor look of disgust, shaking his head. 

“So why are you being a pussy, Sam? I Bet–” Christian pointed his finger at Sam in a telling gesture. “I bet you…I bet you that she won’t let you take her virginity before the month is over.” Rising from his seat, Sam padded to the kitchen tossing his beer bottle across the room, where it clattered into the trash can. 

“I bet you I can make it happen. Six hundred dollars and open supply of weed for one month–split evenly.” His grin emanated throughout the room. 

“Aha, bet!” Matthew said, coming around Sam to slap him on the back in approval. “Paying up like a man.” Sam took a long gulp of his beer before retreating to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. 

***

Just as you finished your makeup, your hand slipped and your eyeliner streaked messily through the eyeshadow that you had just applied so effortlessly. “Fuck!” An exasperated sigh escaped your parted lips as you wiped at your eyelid to salvage the look. After several minutes, you emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed except for your top–you didn’t want to ruin it with makeup stains. Just as you pulled your head through the sparkly black crop top, your phone chimes. Paige.

Show Ryan what he’s missing, bitch! Shake that ass in my absence, too. Stay safe, I love you. Call me if you need me.

Right. Ryan. My little secret. You sent her a quick text wishing her well on her date. Pulling a pair of gold hoops through your ears, you got a notification that Carlos, your Uber driver, was waiting outside of your apartment. Grabbing a few last minute items, you made your way downstairs. Pulling up to campus, you noticed one thing first. It was loud. So loud in fact, that your head  was pounding by the time you made it to the Row. The identical houses were arranged in a perfect square with a patch of green lawn in the middle. Adirondack chairs littered the grass, loosely thrown around a glowing brick fire-pit. Girls looped themselves around boys, chattering aimlessly with beverages that sloppily poured over the sides of their cups and onto their laps and into the grass. They giggled and slurred–their heels dug into the earth, causing several unfortunate partygoers to trip and lurch, earning themselves yet another spilled drink or bitchy laugh from gaggles of jealous and judgemental girls.  

You rolled your eyes, debating on going after all, but your feet were already moving underneath you, carrying you along the sidewalk that led to each house. Who were you to think that it was smart to come here alone, especially when it was the first party you had attended in God-knows-how long? 

“Y/n!” Your eyes darted upward, trying to place the voice that was calling your name. You found him. Your eyes met his and you instantly felt like you were drowning. A vignette seemed to filter out the unnecessary material around you; the blaring music muted, the giggles and shouts subsided into soft static. He was impeccably dressed in navy silk. A tailored blazer skimmed his bare chest, provided as a mere accessory rather than a true piece of clothing. His bottoms hugged at his frame, falling just above a perfectly shined pair of leather loafers. His hands were casually tucked into his pockets as he looked directly at you–with that fucking smile. 

He strode towards you, knocking you out of the trance. Your breath hitched, sending bolts of panic through your system as he approached. Oh shit, what do I do? You thought, averting eye contact as you made every attempt to not look as awkward and helpless as you really were. 

“You’re not a figment of my imagination, right? If I remember correctly, you acted like you would rather be caught dead than come to the Row.” His feet landed in front of you as he arrived. You met his eyes, crossing your arms defensively.

“Well, I wanted to see what I was missing–by the looks of it, it just looks like it’ll lead to meaningless sex and a bitch of a hangover.”

He readjusted in his spot, cocking an eyebrow upward. He likes your sass. He likes it a lot. “Well, it is a party, Y/n, what better to do than get drunk and fuck, hmm?” You scoffed at him, stepping off to the side, making your way to the first house. You heard his shoes tapping the pavement as he walked. Good. You wanted him to follow you. 

“What's your drink of choice?” He asked, trying to change the subject to something more playful. “I usually stick with tequila–the citrus notes are just–” You heard him kiss the tips of his fingers in a ‘chef’s kiss’ gesture from behind you. You couldn’t help but grin, careful to maintain your guarded disposition. 

“Got any Pappy?”  You asked, turning over your shoulder with a grin. “I’m an expensive lay.”

Sammy snorted. “Two thousand dollar bourbon? You know the fucking answer, sweetheart.” That earned him a smile. You turned to face him and were immediately tossed upside down at the sight of his dimples. 

“Well, we do have some lovely white claw reserve that was bought at this very upscale store. Maybe you know it–Target?” You couldn’t help but chuckle at him. 

“Shut up, Sam!” He smiled warmly, coming beside you, pulling an arm around your shoulder.

 “Let’s go find something worth drinking, hmm?” You hadn’t processed what was happening, but you didn’t want to, either. You let it happen, weighing risk versus reward.  You stepped forward into the party with him at your side, forgetting the lie you had told Paige. So much for finding Ryan. You had found Sam.

___

End of Part 1.

Taglist: @gold-mines-melting @itsafullmoon @gracev0609 @dilflover-4ever @fleetingjake @savannhuh @jazzyfigz @ashisill @wetkleenex-gvf @ageofwagner @lipstickitty @muffin-heads @stanfordpinesmarryme @i-choose-the-road. @dannythedog @lizzielbr @mar-rein12 @weneedsomehealing123 @feelslikejakey

[sweetheartsaku]

༄ MISSION: OUR SUMMER― looking out for you

𝜗𝜚 ―H.KAI 【휴닝카이】 VERSION || NIGHT EDITION.

HE SWORE HIS HEART BEATS TRIPLE WHEN HE SEES YOU. hyuka was seated on his thick blanket he had cleanly prepared, turning to his bedside table to check the time. 9:53am. his eyes trailed to the side, towards a photograph of you and kai as kids at a park, doing peace signs and smiling as bright as the sun.

he tenderly smiles at the sight of the pair, an inseparable duo since kindergarten. like two peas in a pod.

his chocolate eyes draw over back to his bed and his crisp sheets. he looks up, his attention lingering to the guitars on the wall. 2 acoustic, one electric.

the beige body of the first acoustic was decorated in colourful, dried stickers and the neck sprinkled in star stickers representing the simple notes. it had built up some wear and tear because it was his childhood guitar that was always a little too big for him. 6-year-old hyuka loved to perform little concerts for you and his siblings.

he had received his second acoustic on his 13th birthday, and immediately fell in love with it. the body had significantly less stickers than the last, a new edition of a scratched up with a silver tuner clipped to the top. 13-year-old hyuka thought he was the coolest boy in town. he had written so many songs about you unconsciously on it, holding this guitar close to his heart

the latest guitar was the cleanest, an electric guitar that you had bought him a couple years before. it was a sleek mint, your attempt to find a cute colour yet one he'd love. he treasured all his instruments, but especially this one... had sentimental value.

snapping from his dash of nostalgia, his nintendo switch chirps. he quickly glances at his keyboard and other trinkets in his room, before taking his switch out of the station with a click. it was daintily decorated, with a small lyric in the corner; "you got a smile that could light up the whole planet!" from tyler the creator's 'SWEET / I THOUGHT YOU WANTED TO DANCE'.

his switch trills as he turns it on, scrolling through his recently played games and landing on animal crossing new horizons. he logs on, noticing you're online and working on your island. he remembers the last time he had come over; you both had been villager hunting.

something in his head suddenly clicks, and he remembers he had left his childhood cd over at your home. he abruptly gets up, obliviously forgetting to change his clothes (it's not like it matters).

kai forgetting items at your house was a common occurrence and was an innocent excuse to spend time with you. his hoodie in the winter, scarf in fall, and hat in spring.

he hops on his bike, taking a short trip to your home. the warm summer wind bites his cheek and grazes his actively moving shins. he feels the occasional breeze press against his loose, white t-shirt and grey shorts.

hyuka finally arrives at your house, no hesitation in gently knocking on your door. your gaze meets his as you slowly open the door, surprised at his unannounced visit despite this being a quite typical and natural event. you instantly smile.

"HYUKA!!" you exclaim, pulling him into an embrace and gesturing him into your home. he quickly accepts your hug, slightly damp from the summer heat. he finds his natural spot on the right corner of your low-set bed, taking in the comforting and nostalgic fragrance of your room. posters everywhere, stringed with fairy lights, and photos of you and your friends in every corner.

there's a mini music player in the corner, playing songs off your shared playlist with kai. which is where he got the lyric on his nintendo station from, the words written on the cd that he was here to collect, and caption of your instagram biography.

you take a seat right next to him, still curious on what brings him here this time. "here to pick up the cd you left?"

"mhm!" he chimes.

you find yourself lost through time in the endless pillow talk, his words simply igniting one after another. in your own little world, that only you two shared. you both had an enchanting, entrancing mind that people struggle to even imagine.

the mini music player clears up the magical fog in both you and hyuka's ears, making one lyric clear.

"if i compared you, the sun is a stand in."

you were like his comfort zone. a comfortable presence,

a hand to hold.

TAGLIST: @hyukassubi @lun4kazumii

[ventismacchiato]

˗ˏˋ balladeer & friends ´ˎ˗

scaramouche x g!n reader

scaramouche — film major, childe got him into streaming and everyone thirsted over his hands when his camera accidentally pointed towards them, gained popularity from being in childe’s videos first, uses the name kunikuzushi irl so nobody figures out his online persona, goes by scara online, horror game fanatic, loves story games and gets rlly invested in them, ppl love his voice and snarky attitude.

childe — business major, kinda like mr beast and throws a lot of money away in streams for entertainment. just lookin for a good time and has scara in the back of his videos but always slaps a giant eggplant emoji on his face to not expose him. already had a following because of the insanity of his videos as time went on and gave scara a jumpstart, closest friend of scara #chiscara4lyfe

heizou — criminology major, started streaming as a side project for class and then never stopped, known for his conspiracy videos like those game theory ones and loves mystery games but always figures out the ending, also does those buzzfeed unsolved/watcher kinda videos, SUPER flirty to his chat omfg so many edits of him saying the most outlandish shit, joins kazuha’s streams and attempts to flirt via donations

tighnari — botanic science major, has a bunch of compilations like “tighnari roasting his friends for 10 mins straight” very blunt with his chat and will judge them. does those judging my viewers confessions videos a lot, will play story based games solely to judge the writing, does garden tours during streams and his fans like to send him rose petals through his p.o. box, has a long geoguesser streak

albedo — art major, art streams and youtuber, does a lot of drawing tutorials and known for his unique art style and talent. lots of edits since he’s rlly attractive and has a sexy voice, has a segment where he lets his fans send in their hw and he does it for them when he’s bored, he and tighnari get shipped a lot for their compatible personalities, his sister klee streams with him when she visits and he lets her win in all the games and tells his chat to keep quiet about it

behind the lens !

masterlist — prev | next

teyvat university, junior year of college, age 20-21

everyone lives off campus together

scara doesn’t have a face icon for now cus he’s a faceless streamer he’s so sexy and mysterious

both groups tend to collab but usually stick to their own, kinda like content houses but less douchey lmfao

tighnari is so sexy but pretend he isn’t a furry in this modern setting ☠️

synopsis - , better known as STARDUST, and BALLADEER have always been in competition for the top streamer spot on twitch, which is especially impressive since the two of you have never shown your faces. you’ve never been on good terms, constantly one-upping each other in matches and getting into petty arguments on twitter, causing your fans to also dislike each other. that’s until BALLADEER does a face reveal that breaks the internet with his good looks…which makes you realize it’s the same guy you went on a date with last night. the type of date that made you crave to see him again. the only problem was he didn’t know you were STARDUST and he was way different behind the lens than he portrayed himself online to you. should you keep your identity a secret to salvage the relationship or just let him go?

author’s notes - planned out the au for the most part will start it when i feel like it 🤗

taglist is closed — @captainzep @elysiumarchieve @plinkuro @sakkakuu-squared @eliqusgenma @vuvulia @kunikuzushiit @heehooyeslol @stxrgxzxr @lilneps @uma-umie @lynnforever @mitsukifilms @caesars-bubbles @wheneverthesunrise @its-like-twilight @kazuhalvrr @camiluvsreading @cloudxemoji @thenightsflower @p1utto @caesars-bubbles @lxry-chxn @orbitscara @court-jester-stuff @lauragalliart @veyu002 @kaeyas-eyepatch-69 @leathernourishingshoepolish @satowaluverr @lexlapis @drunkwithfever @remiikoe @exhaustedcommunist @vincanzu @just-here-reading @amoguz @ainlaw @ovaliz @depressedwhore @kitsuvil @whatamidoing89 @bunny-x-sakura @scarasaver @kazioli @xiaosoneandonly @vinskypuff @cridtiins @cherrybeomgyu @asukahiriko [1/3]

name in bold means i can’t tag you

[bentosandbox]

Lappy fancam animatic blogging/production notes

now that wolfgirlyaoi is out on global its rambling time about my powerpoint presentation

Concept

Originally I wanted to do an (Tex & Lapp) animatic with the boss theme (broken wall/Signore dei Lupi .mp3) ever since the event dropped but I thought 1) by the time I finished anything someone else would have probably already done it first (lol, lmao even) 2) I remembered the song exists and how much i looped it then while listening to the group's new album drop and thought the lyrics fit Lapp a little too well and also doesn't end abruptly like the boss theme + was shorter so yea

initial stickman storyboard where i put down the lyrics with event dialogue/happenings that i felt would fit nicely together > hastily scribble the images that form in my head

storyboards were basically what i wanted to see (same rule as my comics) lol especially if they weren't shown in the event CGs, eg. there's a CG of the truck crashing into the courtroom so I didn't do that but they didn't mention her physical acting in that scene + the song I used has a bow/salute at that exact part in their live choreo with the very similar line so I wanted to do a homage even though-

-I was like it's going to be such a pain to figure out an economical hand twirl and bow but I have to do this I need to transplant the image in my brain onto the screen because official media did not do a—

Honestly still don't know if its a common phrase and action combo because I was having so much trouble finding external references that wasn't just scrubbing the live video over and over anyway

part of the storyboards were 'recycled' from comic drafts I did (of the chocolate scene because ofc) when the event was running on CN

Originally I wanted to draw Lapp feeding Texas for The Girlyaoi Funny but I wanted to reference the plaque you get which is a Creation of Adam reference right but I also saw people saying it's referencing the scene from Silence of the Lambs lol so...peel the layers to your liking!!

(The chocolate flavour choice was from asking my Columbian friends what the worst chocolate flavour they ever tried which was white coconut)

my sorry attempt at colour keys > final spreadsheet to keep track of progress and paste all the dialogue i put in

Art Direction

A bunch of shots/colour schemes are references to Måneskin's stuff or other media tehepero I'll just put a few here

At first I was going to limit red/blue to tex/lapp respectively but since Omertosa is blue I just did away with that rule and lapp gets to have both (and more!) these two colours have pretty obvious emotional readings I think but also

red = self blue = society Siracusa or: red = yaoi & blue = yuri

for the others:

Purple = Alberto/Saluzzo, its not orange like the fruit he keeps holding because see below; I needed the colour for something else LOL Also the Saluzzos are iirc nobility or whatever and they have purple hints in their clothes so I think it was a good fit anyway

Yellow/Orange = Its supposed to be representing the last word in the story which apparently, yostar went with 'Savagery' which is Correct I guess but (laments again about how nuance is lost in localisation because imo savagery has a more derogatory kind of connotation while I think 蛮荒 in context of the story also has a 'nature/untouched by civilisation' side to it) which is why Texas setting the house on fire was not (entirely) red but orange (and it complements the blues both visually and thematically) and it's yellow at the end when they're frolicking(?) in the wilderness lol

(these colour rules don't apply to the penglog shot and technically a few frames like the shot with shocked penance, the one right after and 'im just lappy' because...i forgor my own rules lol)

The greens/teals were just a reference to the shades in the 3DPV I think

The silhouette/general style was inspired from the 3D teaser thing they had at the beginning of the 3.5 anniversary stream and the card suits that I..forgot to move to the other layers which is why only the green one had them (supposed to be 1 per set 💀)

The clash bit is basically the same as the event CG but with a flipped camera/POV sorry for world's worst screenshot lmao. Couldn't imagine the poses in my head so I ended up posing 3d models in CSP pretty good posing practice

These shots got rendered extra because..they were the first frames I started on and I was still figuring out how much to simplify lol

I also posed the chairs shot for some inexplicable reason…my file was lagging so bad

Headcanon part (kind of)

The childhood flashback scene is probably the part I took the most liberties (headcanon) on since it's not explicitly canon like the rest...the sequence/how I connected the scenes itself to fabricate a timeline of her childhood was kind of inspired by some weibo post musing about how (iirc) texas's sweet tooth maybe came from when she was being fostered at casa Saluzzo and Lapp treating her like a pet essentially and giving her a lot of treats since...you know what happened to her actual pet hehe except maybe texas offered her a stick first and then Lappy just reciprocated endlessly because its one of the few 'acts' she knew that wasn't violence haha yeah this section was basically a stealth doujin sorry

It's mentioned that she was brought up as the ideal Siracusan or whatever and she does the cute doodle in the 3DPV so I thought she probably had the Forced Music Lessons as a kid (The music sheets are Bella Ciao and of course)

The bow choreo was the one thing i really wanted to animate but the music sheet segment (based on that one split second shot above) ended up being my favourite part even though compositing the motion was a mini hell on it's own (ended up compiling a long png to scroll by with the red doodles layered over)

Other things

I will never live down my (self-imposed) shame of misspelling the title (I fixed the title on youtube but its why the ending shot in the upload says ZittE e Buoni instead of ZittI e Buoni) don't rush your fancam in 10 days 😔

I didn't look through the entirety of the EN loc but Idk why they had Lappy say 'Then go.' to Texas when it's supposed to be more like 'Let's go.' as in, 'let's go together' as opposed to 'alright off you go to the greyhall alone' lmfao also her saying goodbye forever padre when addio is right there

I don't think I'm insane enough to do another ppt soon but man this pair really makes the 'imagines a whole music video while listening to music' part of my brain go wheee like first it was Starset's Manifest then Signore de Lupi then this and while working on this one i was thinking how Måneskin's Torna A Casa would be another good track

ok ty for reading #GIRLYAOIREAL

[aelove]

hold on

PAIRING: best friend heeseung x gn reader SYNOPSIS: Heeseung has always been enchanted by you. Since the day of your first meeting in kindergarten, he knew that you were destined for each other. He's always imagined spending forever with you, even going so far as to apply to each and every college that you did, so that you wouldn't have to leave his side. However, as graduation draws near, fate reveals its own differing plans for the both of you. GENRE: angst, best friends to lovers au, high school au, kind of a star-crossed lovers au, right person wrong time au WARNINGS: unedited, major character death, frequent pov changes, please lmk if you feel that there are any other warnings that should be added WORD COUNT: 3.4K NOTE: this has been in my drafts for so long, so i'm rlly happy to finally publish it !! and thank you to my lovely esther bae @urszn for the beautiful header which was the perfect motivation to finish writing ♡ MASTERLIST | NAVI

Heeseung couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief at the sight of you, an invisible weight falling off his shoulders.

“I thought I’d find you here.” Heeseung said, hoping his voice doesn’t reveal his previous state of panic. Despite his casual comment, he had actually spent the last forty-five minutes frantically searching for you. Your room was the last place he’d expected to find you. Yet there you were, silently sitting on your bed, bundled up in every fluffy blanket you owned, completely unaware of the outside world and the mental breakdown that had just been cut short by your appearance.

It’s otherwise dark except for the messily placed star stickers strewn across your ceiling, illuminating the room in a pale green light. Knowing of your fear of the dark, Heeseung had gifted you the stickers for a past birthday, but you had always refused to use them. worried that they would eventually die out, opting for a regular lamp instead.

"Don’t make me laugh, Hee. I saw the hundred missed calls you left." You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him. He was leaning against the door frame in his favorite matching gray hoodie and sweats. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed in worry, but he looked absolutely gorgeous. You had always thought he looked as if he came straight out of a cringey teen romantic series. With his sweet doe eyes and all his other pretty features, it wouldn’t be hard at all to fall for your best friend. He would be one of those sweet best friend types that was always there for the protagonist. They’d be high school sweethearts, joyfully spending the rest of their lives together in each other’s arms. Maybe they’d settle down in the countryside after one too many years spent in the chaos of a big city. They'd eventually have two kids and maybe even a cat or —

"So you were ignoring me, huh?" Heeseung questioned, interrupting you from continuing your delusions. His lips were jutting out in a joking pout, and he was standing with his hands on his hips, giving the impression of an upset little kid. You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at the sight of the unserious glare he directed towards you. You patted the spot across from you, welcoming him to join you in your latest coping mechanism. At your invitation, he finally entered the room, carefully stepping over the numerous clothes and stuffed animals littering your floor to make his way next to you.

The bed dipped a little, creaking as Heeseung sat on the bed, scooting next to you. You adjusted the pile of blankets so that they enveloped both of you. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you could smell the notes of tangerine and oak from his favorite cologne. You both stayed there for a while, relishing in the presence of the other. You both enjoyed the respite the other provided, neither making a move or attempting to break the silence.

For the past week, both of you had been so busy preparing for the upcoming exam season that your only chance to see each other was in passing while hurriedly rushing through the halls to the next class. You had also started using lunches as a free period to study for your respective classes, so it had certainly been a while since you had last been this close in proximity. Heeseung found himself immediately comforted in your presence. Heeseung looked down at you finally up-close and his heart ached at the sight of the remnants of tears trailing from your puffy eyes. He didn’t know what to say, but his every nerve yearned to know the reason behind your current misery and eradicate its existence. 

The dark circles under your eyes had also grown significantly, almost at an exponential rate compared to his memory, and you looked so fatigued that he vaguely remembered hearing one of your shared teachers expressing concern about you to another teacher when passing her classroom on his way to a different class.

Heeseung had known you long enough to recognize that this type of behavior wasn’t uncommon for you. As a professional procrastinator, you were a proud night owl, and both of you often stayed up together. But your appearance made it seem like you had hit a new extreme of sleep deprivation. The fact that you had obviously been crying before he found you just made him feel worse. He didn’t know the reality of whatever you had been dealing with, but he was confident something was wrong. He just wished he could do more to help you, that you would rely on him more, that you would realize he’d always be there for you.

"Why now? I thought you said you were never going to use the stickers," Heeseung asked in a desperate attempt to fill the silence. He had said the first thing that came to mind, but he couldn’t deny his eagerness to hear your answer. With the stars bathing his vision in an unfamiliar green hue, feelings of uncertainty spread through his body. Maybe it was just the fact that college decisions would soon be arriving, but nothing felt right anymore. The only thing he would always have complete confidence in was his relationship with you. You had stuck together through thick and thin, and he had no doubt you would always have his back.

"I thought it might help me come to terms with everything. You know, since we don’t have that much time left together either. It’s kind of healing, being one with the darkness. Besides, shouldn't you be glad I’m finally putting your gift to good use?" You had also come to the realization that the stickers' lifespan had nothing to do with your use of them, but you preferred leaving that out. You would rather not draw attention to a fact that he had no previous idea of, knowing Heeseung would tease you relentlessly about it otherwise. He was very similar to you in that you both often shared equally stupid sentiments. It was one of the reasons you both got along so well.

"What do you mean?" Heeseung's voice was firm, despite being puzzled by your statement. You had spoken of separating as if it was something guaranteed in your future. He was offended that you had even considered parting ways with him, but even more hurt by how sure you were about it. "YN, we’re always going to be together even after graduation. You’ll forever be my number one, and I better be yours."

While you had been more focused on avoiding his teasing, it seemed your previous sentence had taken all his attention. The sudden seriousness of his tone took you aback, making you wonder if you had somehow angered your best friend.

"Hee, you know I don’t mean it like that. I love you so much, but it’s inevitable that we’ll eventually reach a point in time where we can’t be together 24/7." You sat up, adjusting your position so that you were both face to face. He frowned and avoided your eyes. Cradling his face in both your hands, you tilted his head up, but he continued looking away from you. He looked upset, but you knew that you had only spoken the truth.

"Hee?" You smiled at him, hoping to find some sort of confirmation or consolation in his reactions. You didn’t like seeing him unhappy; it didn’t suit him at all.

"Have we already reached that point then? I know you’ve been avoiding me, and it’s not just a phase. We haven't had a single decent conversation with each other in the past month. You can’t even deny it. You’re not answering my calls or texts. You’re not even talking to me anymore." Heeseung tried not to lose his composure, but he was sure that his voice must have betrayed his true feelings because he could feel the tears starting to gather.

Heeseung wished that you would just reach out to him. You were such a precious person to him, and he absolutely adored you. To everyone who had ever known Heeseung, it was obvious just how much he loved you, shown through his actions alone. His every thought revolved around you, and he had no doubt that he would do anything for you.

Heeseung had known you long enough to easily recognize all your emotions. It was almost like he had a spidey-sense solely dedicated to you. Whenever he heard even the slightest hint of sadness in your voice during a call, he was immediately on his way to you with your favorite foods in hand.

Heeseung could spend all the time in the world by your side and never get bored of his best friend. He had pulled more all-nighters than he could count just to keep you company as you hurriedly crammed to finish a project for school. Even if he had already finished the same assignment weeks in advance, he was always there to help you. In fact, it was only after learning of your dangerous tendency to procrastinate that he had taken it upon himself to do the exact opposite.

Everything Heeseung did was with you in mind. In fact, he had been determined to stay by your side even after graduation, so he made sure to apply to all the same colleges as you. He had never considered leaving your side, so it stung hearing you talk as if you had already accepted the idea.

The sight of your best friend with tears brimming in his eyes was too much to handle, and you felt as if you were on the verge of crying as well. You immediately reached out to hug him, hoping to comfort him and bring him back to his usually happy self. Heeseung remained silent even as he hugged you back.

“Hee, I’m so sorry. Please don’t cry.” You do your best to assure him with your words, but you couldn’t help but feel out of place trying to comfort your best friend. It had always been him in your current position; he had always taken care of you. It made you feel incredibly guilty that your friend had done so much for you that it would never be possible to pay it forward to him in this lifetime. 

“You’re right. I was avoiding you and I’m so sorry, Hee. I haven’t been completely open with you either. I know you’re probably also anxious about college and life after graduation so I didn’t want to trouble you.” Hearing your confession, Heeseung stilled. Breaking away from the hug, he wiped his tears and looked directly at you as if telling you to continue on.

“I really didn’t want to tell you about it, but I realize now that it’s probably best that you hear it from me first.” As the first tears started to fall, you dropped your head to rest on his chest. You were full-on sobbing now, afraid of his reaction, but you continued on, finally whispering the truth to the person you had been most determined to hide it from. 

Heeseung had always hated goodbyes. As a child, whenever family came to visit, he was always the odd one out at the end of the trip, the only one who had shed no tears. The dramatics associated with partings just didn’t come naturally to him. He didn’t like how everyone else would break down in tears or how the hugs seemed to never end. It all felt awkward to him. It didn’t mean that he wasn’t sad or that he wouldn’t miss spending time with his family; it was just that he had never been the type to openly show his vulnerabilities. It was only in complete solitude in the peace and quiet of his room that Heeseung would allow himself to mourn. 

This wasn’t like that though. No, not at all. He had been completely confident that his family would visit him again, but Heeseung wasn’t sure that he would ever see you again. The love of his life was about to disappear out of his life before he could even confess his feelings. It wasn’t even the feeling of a forever unreciprocated love. Heeseung knew that you loved him in the same way that he felt about you. He had originally planned a big confession to take place in the coming weeks as graduation approached, but it seemed as if fate had alternate plans for the both of you. 

Heeseung felt like a ship lost at sea, tossed and tormented by relentless waves of grief. The weight of your eventual absence was a heavy burden on his heart, engulfing him in a whirlwind of memories and regrets, unable to escape the torment.

It was with great reluctance that Heeseung forced himself to enter the Hospital. The stark, white walls and dreary interior echoed with the sounds of crying, likely from families experiencing their own goodbyes. It was all so overwhelming and just made him more nauseated at the thought of finding you here. He was right outside your door now, but he found himself still in place, his knees growing weak. As much as he hated the idea of ever having to part ways with you, he knew he would regret not seeing you in your final moments. A violent cough erupted from behind the door, echoing through the hallway, serving as a painful reminder of the finality of your current state. He choked up as his hand reached for the handle; the pounding of his heart growing in frequency upon touching the cold metal. 

It took a moment for Heeseung to gain the courage to open the door, but he was absolutely floored at the sight of you when he finally entered. Upon his arrival, your parents stepped out into the hall, deciding to give you both some privacy. It completely broke him to see you look so much more fragile than he remembered you ever being. He approached your bedside with a lump in his throat, struggling to find the words he’d wanted to tell you. 

It’s obvious to see from his appearance that your best friend had been taking the news of your sickness very hard. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were swollen but he still looked as beautiful as ever in the dull light of the hospital room.

“I missed you, Hee.” You mustered out a weak smile at your best friend. Despite being bedridden, your smile remained bright, but Heeseung couldn’t help but feel that as if it looked out of place compared to your dull appearance. The eyes that he often found himself lost in were now almost entirely devoid of their previous shine. 

“I love you.” Heeseung blurted out, hoping you could hear the sincerity in his voice. He wished he could say more, but he couldn’t speak. The longer he looked at you in your delicate state, the harder it was for him to maintain his composure. He had imagined the two of you spending your lives together, side by side. He had already planned everything out. He knew where he wanted to propose and how he was going to do it. You might not have realized it, but you were the object of all of Heeseung’s affection. The persistence of your image in his mind was the only thing that relentlessly haunted him, and it terrified him just how much he loved you. 

“Hee, you know I love you too.” You had spent the entire day saying goodbyes to loved ones, but it was only after seeing Heeseung that you felt completely disheartened. Tears were pooling in the corners of his eyes and with it, your guilt continued to grow. 

“I’m going to miss you so much, Hee. You were the best best friend and first love that anyone could have asked for. You’ve always done so much for me. That’s why I need you to promise me something.” You held his hands tightly in yours, wanting to ingrain the feeling in your memory forever. 

“I’m wishing you all the best. You’re such a lovely person and I know that anyone would be lucky to be the recipient of your friendship and love. Promise me that you’ll start living for yourself. I’ve held you back for so long and I’m so sorry that I didn’t realize it earlier.” You paused to look at Heeseung for confirmation. He hesitantly nodded his head in agreement.

“Do everything that makes you happy, okay? I might not be able to stay by your side, but I’ll always be there for you. I’ll be your guardian angel, so trust that I’ll be watching over you. You’ve spent your whole life looking after me, so now it's my turn to return the favor.” You smiled up at him, gesturing for him to lean down towards you.  Heeseung’s eyes welled up with tears as he obeyed your request. He was determined to stay strong for you even as his cheeks grew wet, biting his lip in an effort to suppress the sobs from spilling out his chest.

“Don’t miss me too much, yeah?” Your voice broke a little seeing your best friend look so defeated. You wiped the tears from his face and pressed a kiss to both of his cheeks, resting your forehead against his. 

“Don’t cry. You’re too pretty to be crying over me.” Your comment only made him cry harder, though, and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at the sight. 

“I love you so much, Hee.” Heeseung took you by surprise when he cradled your face in his hands. Time seemed to slow down as he pressed the gentlest of kisses to your lips. You wished  it could have lasted forever; you wished that you could have spent forever by Heeseung’s side. You were so grateful to have met Heeseung, for him to have been your first and last love.

After your passing, Heeseung often found solace in the stars, the same stars that had once adorned your ceiling. He would gaze up at the vast night sky, eagerly searching for your light among the countless others, hoping to feel your presence and know that you were watching over him.

While he had long been stressed about what to expect from life after graduation, Heeseung knew that nothing could possibly go wrong, not with you watching over him. Just as you had expected of him, it didn’t take long for Heeseung to get acclimated to college life. He had already befriended quite a few people in the same major as him. They all shared similar personalities, and he knew that he would quickly grow close to them. He lucked out with his courses, somehow managing to get his ideal schedule. With everything just as perfect as he had always dreamed, he knew he had nothing to worry about.

While the ache of your absence never ceased to disappear, Heeseung didn’t want to erase you from his life or pretend as if you had never existed. He was adamant about never forgetting you. He continued to keep you in his memory, proudly referring to you as his "best friend" and "soulmate." He wrote heartfelt letters to you, pouring out his every thought and emotion onto the page, imagining that you were still there to read them. He still had your number saved in his phone, often calling it just to hear your voice on your voicemail. Whenever he came home for a break, he visited your parents without fail, who continued to treat him as their own son. He made sure to stop by each and every one of the beloved hangouts you had once frequented together, where your laughter and smiles had once, allowing himself to be reminisce in the cherished memories you had shared.

Heeseung carried you with him always as he continued to live his life just as you had wished for him to do. And just as promised to you, he lived each and every day to the fullest. The pain of your loss never quite left him, but Heeseung's heart swelled with gratitude for the time he spent with you, for the memories you shared together. Heeseung would be forever grateful for the serendipitous intertwining of his life with yours, a testament to the power of fate. You might not be his last, but you would always be his first love, remaining foremost in his mind and heart, etched and woven into the tapestry of his life.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING !! and a million thanks to my lovely moots @kimsohn @chiyuv & @luvhyun3 for helping me with proofreading ILYSM 💗

networks : @kflixnet @k-labels @enhanet

permanent taglist : @ilynaevis @yeongwonie @gfksn @luvhyun3 @esc6pism

[lets-steal-an-archive]

Ben Collins: It’s time for journalists to draw the sword and throw away the scabbard

“Triumphs of the truth are not accidents. They are times the American media — including and especially those outside of the disinformation beat — did not equivocate and did not give an inch to lies and the liars who tell them.”

By BEN COLLINS June 13, 2023, 12:16 p.m.

Editor’s note: NBC News reporter Ben Collins was one of the winners of the 2023 Walter Cronkite Awards for Excellence in Television Political Journalism, given by the USC Annenberg School for Communication and Journalism. This year’s awards focused on “best practices of TV journalism aimed at combating disinformation and defending democracy.” Collins included this memo to the judges, along with a compilation of TV news reports.

An update on the information war, for the 2023 Walter Cronkite Awards

We’re losing.

I’m hesitant to start off this memo on such a grim note, but it’s true: The people putting out the truth are under siege in the information war, and we’re not doing so great. That’s, in part, because a lot of those people aren’t even aware they’re in an information war to begin with.

There is good news: We can still win. It will take a change in tack, and a little bit of courage.

But first, since I’m doubling down on bad ideas right out of the gate, I’m going to do something else that’s probably ill advised. I’m about to quote Edward R. Murrow, who, I’ve been told by a bunch of books, was not a pal of Mr. Cronkite. They both wound up at the same place — the facts — and they took two separate ways to get there. They were in the trenches and were too deep in it to see they were on the same side. I get it. We’ve all been there. A lot of us are there right now.

Murrow, famously, said this:

This instrument can teach. It can illuminate. Yes, and even it can inspire. But it can do so only to the extent that humans are determined to use it to those ends. Otherwise, it’s nothing but wires and lights in a box. There is a great and perhaps decisive battle to be fought against ignorance, intolerance and indifference. This weapon of television could be useful.

Stonewall Jackson, who is generally believed to have known something about weapons, is reported to have said, “When war comes, you must draw the sword and throw away the scabbard.” The trouble with television is that it is rusting in the scabbard during a battle for survival.

We’re back in that very same battle right now, and it’s against the same enemy: ignorance, intolerance, indifference. The box is smaller now. It’s in your pocket. It’s brighter and faster and it vibrates and dings and brings you horror and joy and knows what makes you feel better and sure as hell knows what makes you feel worse. Then it assigns those bad feelings to a political enemy, and the good feelings to anybody trying to get rid of those people.

That’s what you’ll see in the stories I’ve covered in the last year. Fear and panic and paranoia and lies and deceit that led to terror, death and the attempted disenfranchisement of American voters.

You’ll see that first with my coverage of the Buffalo shooting, a terror attack perpetrated by a white supremacist obsessed with the “Great Replacement Theory” lie that has pervaded extremist spaces online. The shooter posted his own tranche of racist lies on the internet in his manifesto for 4chan and 8chan users, which I had to convey to our viewers without further spreading his hate.

You’ll see midterm election night coverage of the attempts to shoo away voters from early voting ballot drop boxes by “mule watchers,” the conspiracy theorists obsessed with the lie that “2,000 ballot mules” had stolen the election from Donald Trump.

You’ll see the hate campaign targeted at America’s trans youth that continues to make some of the most persecuted Americans fear for their lives to this day.

But you’ll also see interspersed moments of justice and relief. You’ll see my reporting on a day I thought would never come: October 12th, the afternoon Alex Jones was forced to reckon with his decades of lies and pay almost $1 billion to the families of children killed in the Sandy Hook Elementary School massacre. You’ll see how Russia’s global information war fell apart as its military began to invade Ukraine, and how Vladimir Putin’s propaganda arm scrambled to adopt lies first spread by American anti-vaccine groups.

I hope you notice something specific while reviewing my coverage of the last year of hate, and how hate loses. Triumphs of the truth are not accidents. They are times the American media — including and especially those outside of the disinformation beat — did not equivocate and did not give an inch to lies and the liars who tell them. No one attempted to falsely humanize the inhumane — like the horrors of Vladimir Putin. No one tried to bend over backwards to provide positive framing to intentional cruelty — like the lies of Alex Jones — even, or especially, if it was politically inconvenient at the moment.

When media manipulators were met with a unified opposition armed with clear facts — when that unified opposition stood firmly alongside those who were constantly attacked by men with powerful and profitable propaganda machines — that opposition won. We won. The news won.

But it takes unity, and not capitulation, in these moments. There is no meeting liars halfway, because the truth then becomes one-half lie. We must simply be louder, and clearer, with the truth.

The wires and lights in the box aren’t quite so simple now that they’re in our pockets. Some of them are keeping your kid up at night, telling your teenager fantastical tales about the Illuminati on TikTok. (And some of them are keeping your parents up at night, too, telling equally fantastical tales about the nightly gunfight that is actually just fireworks on NextDoor.) The people spreading those Illuminati lies are not playing by the rules, nor are they particularly interested in the truth. They are interested in money and power, and they have been gaming our algorithms to gin up fear and sell a balm for it.

I have been covering this stuff for too long now, and I can assure you that they are not going to stop. So we have no choice: We simply have to tell better stories than them. We have to be better at extolling truth — based in empathy, democracy, and human rights — than fearmongers have become at selling profitable lies.

We can win, but we have to be more unified, and we have to be more human. We’ve faced this before and we’re facing it again. “There is a great and perhaps decisive battle to be fought against ignorance, intolerance and indifference.”

Look down at your phone. The lights and wires in that box are smaller, but they contain exponentially more ways to do harm. If you want your vote to count, or if you were born in any way different, I’m certain you’d agree.

“When the war comes, you must draw the sword and throw away the scabbard.” I’m confident I threw away my scabbard.

—

Ben Collins covers disinformation, extremism and the internet for NBC News.

[amavaria]

This might not be as easy to answer at this point in your career, but i won’t know until i ask.

From the time you were drawing to learn and maybe experiment, to current day, when you’ve gathered enough of a following that you can take on drawing as an avenue for making paid work, how have you balanced creation of both original content of your own as well as fan-art, outside of commission work? And how did you approach the balance of drawing what you want and drawing stuff that would probably gather more interest?

I’ve wrestled with both my want to actually draw stuff that i genuinely want to, while at the same time tailoring it in a manner that attempts to appeal to some kind of audience, over the last… 5 years? The latter criteria has been VERY tricky (and frustrating) for me, to the point that in hindsight, i definitely overworked myself over it, and i’ve felt averse to just admitting to myself that content that is TOO original/ personalized being almost all of my output, is probably going to keep me stuck where i am, no matter what.

Hiii, I'll answer this in sections to make it easier so here we go!

How to balance working on commissions Vs personal work and fanart?

The key here is to treat commissions like any regular job (Like an office job but without annoying coworkers!) I work monday-friday and maintain a schedule and set deadlines to follow.

Some people don't work well under pressure but in my case it pushes me to take action. Knowing I promised a client progress or a finished work by a certain date gets me going no matter how burned out I'm feeling. Also keeping a public queue helps this as well as it motivates me to visible update everyone on what I'm doing.

Discipline is very needed, not because you're your own boss means it's easier. People are paying you their hard earned money and it's your responsibility to deliver quality work for them in the promised time.

It's not just drawing, it's social media management, self promoting, bank account checks, regular updates and keeping a good streak of happy customer to spread the word for you!

I draw personal work on my free time on weekends. And sometimes in between when I get particularly itchy about an idea. But I always prioritise commission and I will always make sure to have at least reached my daily goal of work before I start goofing around drawing blorbo art.

It's taken years of adulting, to finally find a rhythm I'm comfortable with, where I can work and still keep my fandom self well fed. So do not despair, I felt helpless at 21 trying to sell a $5 commission but now I'm making $100+ with one single purchase!

TLDR: Treat commissions like a job separate of your hobby. Take weekends free, use your time responsibly 👍👍

How to build an audience

I don't know lol. It sort of happened to me. My main target was always furries (I am a furry) On my first 3 years of 'career' I never reached over 400 followers on my most popular social media, but my income was steady since a random streamer decided that I'd be her artist for everything, so I was able to survive more or less.

On the side I was working on my own OCs which I was lucky enough for randos to find appealing enough to warrant a follow! (Alois here getting pretty popular).

Parted ways with the streamer after hoarding me for 2 years and started drawing fanart which brought followers to me in waves. I'd get into a super obscure fandom (Solatorobo for example) draw a ton of stuff for it, bringing a wave of new followers thirsty of content and then stay because they like furries too.

And rinse and repeat and I got hundreds of people perceiving me (thank you) and even more people eager to commission me (thank you harder)

Important to note: People on different socials have different interests. Example: Twitter has been very friendly with original content but flops certain fanarts. Tumblr hypes up fan content a lot more enthusiastically but original content doesn't get very far.

TLDR: mostly takes good rng, but having a loud social media presence and a steady amount of new content to keep interest is a step on the right direction.

Last... What about burnout and frustration? What do you do?

TAKE A BREAK! TOUCH GRASS, separate yourself from the screen and breathe a moment. Then you come back and join Artfight.

Artfight is freedom! It's a chance to freely experiment with any character that catches your eye. You can try things that you wouldn't do during commissions, a different brush, different layer modes, angles, poses, etc. AND put enough effort on it that would make the receiver very happy 💖 and by posting this experimental work on socials, it got a lot of attention. Most did really great, a few flopped too, but it was overall extremely positive.

Without noticing, you find new paths, new techniques, you realize you can draw better and faster, and when you come back to work when the month is over, it shows!

TLDR: Take a break, then experiment!! You'll improve and find your path. This works different for everyone, but I'm sharing what has helped me.

[lizzzylovee]

Eywa’s Vision

Chapter 1: Arrival

Summary : “Born with the ability to receive visions of the future, Kani must choose to abandon what she knows to aid in Navi that she's never met.“

MDNI

Authors note: Hello! Just wanted to start off by saying that this the first thing I have ever wrote before lol. I have fallen in love with the Avatar Movies, and after binge reading I realized I wanted to attempt to do it.

Story starts off with the original characters in Home Tree, the sky people haven't returned yet, and all the characters are aged up by 5 years! I will be going more by Navi standards as best as possible. There will be mature contents, but each chapter will be labeled appropriately as possible. There will be a mix of languages, and I will try my best to be as distinctive as possible lol.

*This will most likely be more slow burn than not, I don’t want to rush the story line as much I really want to lol. Eventual smut*** If you see this on Wattpad I have also posted it there under the same tag.

WK: about 3k ish?

CW: cursing, Neteyam being in love struck awe lol, nothing really in this chapter

Chapter 1: Arrival          Chapter 2: Story Time  

Masterlist

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The jungle hummed with life. Through the tall treetops, light seeps through, basking the ground with a peak from the light above. Even with the peaceful feeling, it traps you into a sense of safety.

Crouching down, he looks through the foliage, eyes tracking it's movement. Taking slow breathes, he maneuvers into position, knee bent while kneeling on the ground. Bow grasped tightly in hand, sure movements notches the arrow. With one last inhale, he draws the bow, clenching his core, and with one final glance, he releases.

As the arrow soars, it meets it's final destination, straight into the eyes of the unknowing Yerik.

"Bullseye!"

With a roll of his eyes, he can't help but smirk at the praise of his companion.

"You know bro, one day you too might have a chance of being as good as me."

Spiders smile falls, only to proceed to roll his eyes, and flip off his friends back as he goes to pray over his kill.

"We both know I would kick your ass if I was Navi. Besides, why go hunting if the hunting party already left?"

Lo'ak proceeds to bind his kill, securing the feet together for easier carrying on the way back.

"Because if I show up empty handed, my parents might actually disown me."

"What did you do this time?"

Biting his lip, Lo'ak spares Spider a glance over his shoulder.

"I may or may not have forgotten to watch Tuk, leading her to paint a family portrait on the tent.."

With a baffled look, Spider could only gawk at his friend, watching as he puts the final ties to together.

"And hopefully with my peace offering, my dad might actually rethink the 'life sentence' and take me off cleaning duty."

"Fat chance, but I hope it actually goes well! Kiri's been holed up in the Tsahik tent, last thing I need is my other friend being punished to death." Spider slides down from his watching post, kicking at the grass.

"Other friend, since when did she replace my spot as the best friend?" Lo'ak looks at him, eyebrows furrowed, hand to his chest with mock hurt over his face.

"Oh shut up, let's go home." Spider rolls his eyes, glancing down at the floor, trying his best to get the heat from his face. Lo'ak can only laugh at his friends' inability to admit the truth of his feelings, even though he knows that nothing can come about it. With the raise of his hand cupping the side of his mouth, he makes the sound to call out to his Ikran.

"You know bro, maybe you should go for one of the older scientist." Lo'ak replied with barely hid mirth.

"You're fucking disgusting."

With a final laugh, Lo'ak drags his kill to his Ikran, anchoring it around onto it, giving a few tugs to test it's security.

"Come on bro, we gotta head back before dinner, I don't want to wake up dead before tomorrow."

"You do realize you can't wake up dead right?" Spider clamors on, smacking Lo'aks attempt to assist.

"You act like you've never met my mother." Swinging his body over, Lo'ak climbs on behind Spider, and after making tsaheylu, the Ikran takes off with a final screech.

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Growing up, Lo'ak always dreamed of the day of owning his own Ikran. Flying through the sky with no care of living up to expectations and having the ability to pretend to be who he wants. After his first failed attempt, which he tries his best not to think on, flying came so naturally that it allowed his mind to blank.

Flying back to Home Tree, first glances at the kill he was hauling for his family, and then to Spider to make sure he was secure, though he would never admit due to knowing how Spider would get if he felt like he couldn't keep up with the 18 year old Navi male.

With the wind hitting his face, he looks far ahead to watch for Home Tree to come into the horizon line, making the appropriate turns needed to avoid floating mountains around. Closing his eyes for a second while leaning his head back, he mentally prepares for this peace to end when he comes back home. With opening eyes, his breath catches in his throat at the sight before him.

8 Ikrans, all in a variety of colors, flies just left above them, flying in a distinct, formation. With an open mouth, Lo'ak gawks at the sight in front of him, having to make a conscious effort to close his mouth, least he wants something fly into it. With a titled head, he he squints at the sight, attempting to make sense of what he was seeing.

After carefully peering at the Ikrans, he realizes that it isn't the Ikrans that is causing his sudden heart spike and confusion, it is the way the riding Navi the Ikrans are dressed. Wraps of colorful fabric cover them, unlike the clothes adorned from his clan.

Without taking his eyes off the unfamiliar flock in his sights, he reaches for the throat comm, pressing two fingers to the button on the side.

"Devil dog, I have my sights on some Ikran riders."

"Send your traffic."

"It looks like Navi, but they aren't dressed like anything I've seen before. And they seem to be heading to Home Tree."

"Copy, do not engage. Get home as soon a possible, no interacting."

"Copy that Sir."

"I mean it boy, no fucking around."

With a roll of his eyes,  Lo'ak urges his Ikran to fly faster,  as the group above seem to have moved expertly through floating rocks, moving as one unit, leaving Lo'ak and his carriage behind. Having set his mind to the task, Lo'ak locks eyes on his unknown enemy, causing Spider to sputter out curses, in the attempt to hold on.

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Home Tree has always seemed to have a certain buzz to it, with all it's inhabitants busy with village life, doing what it expected to help aid the clan having a sustainable life. Excusing himself from the hunter's party, leaving his subordinates with the task of cleaning and appropriately readying the day's kill for the cooks, Neteyam seeks out his father to report the day's happenings when a sudden comotion causes the clan to become on uproar.

Attempting to make sense of what was going on, Neteyam frantically looks around, trying his hardest to find the source that started the sudden defenses.

"Outsiders!"

"They're at the check points!"

Wide eyed and erect ears, Neteyam tries in the gentlest of ways to make his way through the crowd. Knowing it was of no use to radio his father, at least with the yells from around, all he could do was make his way to the front of the crowd, knowing where the choas orginated,  his father was already there to contain it.

Swinging his bow over his shoulder, he makes way through the crowd, being internally grateful that being the Olo'eyktan's first son made the clan members aware of just who was bypassing them, almost opening a way for him to make his way through the ground level of Home Tree. After passing by higher level Navi in the clan, the sea of bodies opens up to a sight that instantly puts him on guard.

8 Ikrans. 8 Ikrans that  land side by side in the clearing. The animals are restless, screaming and screeching in their language, shifting   around on the ground, irritated by the warriors that surround them, sharp spears and bows drawn. Warriors cry, with mother's clutching onto children that seem to be overly curious at the sight in front of them.

Keeping his eyes on the sight in front of him, with him slowly circling his way to the front, Neteyam was so focused on the unknown sight that he almost missed the sight of his baby brother hastily landing his Ikran a ways away, only to fall face first into the ground due to his uncoordinated pace of trying to get off the beast. With a minute shake of his head, he refocused on the intruders, catching the sight of his fathers back making way, with his mother only a few paces behind. Following in line with his parents, he swiftly takes his bow off, hand reaching for the arrow on his person, absently mindlessly notching the arrow, muscles tense.

With a raised hand, the clan leader calms the uproar cries of the clan, all falling silent, only for whispers to muttered, in respect of the chief's orders. With a glance to the crowd forming around, the leader makes way around the warriors, stopping in the middle of the odd dressed intruders still perched on their rides. With each step closer, the whispers die down, anticipation rising in the air, almost suffocating.

"State your business!"

With the roar only a seasoned leader possessed, it seamed as if it had gotten impossible quieter, with clan moving restless against one another, intently watching for the intruders next move.

With slow, but sure movement, the rider situated towards the middle made movement to descent off the Ikran. Moving with grace that isn't known in such a tense situation, the small form touches down. Clothed with colorful wraps around head, face, and body, with only the ability the see into the intruders eyes through the riders mask, the unknown figure makes way to the leader, in calm, sure footed steps, raising a hand to take off the riders mask.

With unblocked eyes, Jake Sully allows himself to survey the figure in front of him. Keeping mind of his mates hand on his shoulder, he notices a distinct feature on the figure, that while it may put his clan in an defensive state of mind, only cause curiosity to bloom in his chest. Instead of the normal Navi feature of only having 3 fingers, the Navi in front possess the same amount that him and two of his children have. With gears turning in his head, he comes back to present day with said figure gestures their fingertips from their forehead down, signing 'I see you'.

Straightening their back, the figure locks eyes on the clan lead, and with a voice clear in the Navi Language, "I see you, Jake Sully. I apologize for the intrusion, but there are matters that I must speak with you on."

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With a mind and body that seems on autopilot, almost as if he is having an out of body experience, Neteyam brings up the back of the group of foreigners, watching as the strange Navi follow almost single file after his dad, with a couple of them clustered together, limbs clenched together as much as the cloth around the bodies allow. Doing his best to keep a close eye, he ignores the stares and whispers of the passing clan members. Due to his height, which almost passes his father at this point, Neteyam adjust his eyes to look further, able to spot his father leading the group to the large meeting tent, mostly used to gather warriors and to hold meetings. He spots his mother walking tensely by his father, muscles tight and an aura that would let anyone know of her mood.

Walking in almost a daydream like state, a hand clamped down on his shoulder, ripping him from his inner observations. Turning to look at the offender, Neteyam could only shake his head at the sight of his younger brother.

"Bro what the fuck is going on?!" Lo'ak tried as best as possible to keep his volume under control, he did, but when one of the foreigners ears swiveled their way, Neteyam was aware that their conversation was not a quiet as his brother believed, regardless with it being in English.

"You know as much as I do, and still you ask this question? Learn to watch before you speak and you will understand much sooner baby brother." Neteyam hissed back, only giving a spare glance at the human that tried his best to keep up with the longer legged Navi.

Slipping his hand off his brother's shoulder, Lo'ak resigned himself to walk behind Neteyam, knowing that while he may sound rude, he was right in the lack of knowledge.

Coming up on the Warrior's tent, the flap was opened, with his father gesturing the inside. A fire was lit in the middle, casting a more ominous glow. Looking around, Neteyam noticed a handful of his fathers warriors inside, weapons drawn tight in their hands, outline the edge of the tent, barely noticing the glare his father sent to his brother, with the promise of punishment if he acted out of turn. The flap was then closed, closing off the rest of the village, leaving his parents, Lo'ak, and warriors surrounding them, as the foreigners huddled together, kneeling down on the ground, with what it seemed to have their legs tucked under their body.

The one that had spoke with his father prior sat on the front, the rest nestled behind, all stilled wrapped in clothes, with a few holding tight as if the wrap was a form of protection, instead of privacy. With his father turning to look at the group, absentmindedly paying attention to his mother pacing with agitation behind, he takes a last glance and addresses the group.

"Who are you, and where are you from?" Jake spoke in Navi, voice unwavering despite the tension around. After a passing second from the group, the figure in front makes the move to first remove the wrap around their head, causing the cloth from her nose down to fall, revealing their face. Neteyam's eyes widen, not realizing that the cause of so much commotion in his clan, was actually the most stunning woman he has ever seen. Roaming his eyes, he took in every feature.

She had long dark hair, way longer than the women in his clan kept theirs, with half her hair up, secured by what seemed to be a tie with crystals on it. Looking through the hair that framed her face,  he took in her facial features, noticing bright eyes rimmed with black, down to her nose, with a half crescent object hanging from her nose. Her ears were pierced in a similar fashion to his mothers, with feathers looped through and hanging through them. Her neck was adorned with a neck piece, though it was not in a similar fashion found in his clan. It was adorned with crystals, their reflections bouncing from the light caused by the flickering fire in front. His eyes caught the hair above her eyes, similar in the way he has seen on his dad, brother or sisters face. High cheekbones framed and shaped her face, leading to a relaxed facial expression, as if she was unaffected by today's turn of events.

While lost in his thoughts, he was seemingly broken out of his spell when she opened her mouth.

"While I understand the reason for warriors to be present, I do believe this conversation would be best handled with as much privacy as possible."

Everyone in the room froze.

Not for the words actually spoken, but for the language she replied in.

"How the fuck does she know English?"

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Well there’s part one! Hopefully you guys like it! I will try my best to attempt to keep everything organized, but Imma be honest, idk how to tf to put stuff together when it comes to links lol. Once again, there will be eventual smut, just gotta set the mood lmfao. Thank you so everyone that took the time to read! Also if you ever curious about the OC characters and how the family dynamics works, hopefully this guide helps lol.

***Kani*** 

19

Youngest Daughter

Kekunan Clan

***Heatey***

22

Oldest brother

Mate: Tal'i (22)

Kekunan Clan

***Naya'il***

21

Older sister

Mate: Tsuten (21)

Kekunan Clan

***Zernem***

20

Youngest brother

Kekunan Clan

***Mai***

18

Best friend

Kekunan Clan

***Zute***

13

Mai's younger brother

Kekunan Clan

_____Other Characters____

Neteyam- 19

Lo'ak-18

Kiri-18

Tuk-13

Hopefully that answers everything!