#personally the answer is often but not always: yes. but only during the regular season (unless the sharks dont make the playoffs).

[goldenbcnes]

ARE YOU FOR REAL I AM SO FUCKING EXCITED!!!!!!!!!!

🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰

🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

🥂🥂🥂🥂

💋💋💋💋

🤢🤢🤢🤢

Not even gonna apologize.

cal you inspire me every day thank u for this idea i needed the big push to get some of these done i love u my king

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18 for fight club fic

Buck knew that Eddie was pulling away from him after Christopher left with his grandparents to Texas. 

He chalked it up to needing space to grieve whatever relationship he had lost with his son, his life crumbling before his eyes as he watched them walk out the door and board a plane 800 miles away, but after two weeks of dodged calls and stumbling into work, Buck knew something was off.

The circles under Eddie’s eyes were dark, a deep purple hue that emphasized the way his skin had paled over the days. Buck knew he hadn’t been sleeping, the house empty and cold with the absence of Christopher's infectious laughter and joy.

His attempts at communication went unanswered, and Buck couldn’t help but worry for him. A deep and painful ache in his chest started to weigh on him at the thought of Eddie pulling away to a place Buck couldn’t drag him back from. It also didn’t help that their current captain was doing everything in his power to make their lives miserable. 

Gerrard had made going to work something Buck dreaded, rather than bring him joy, like it was working for Bobby. The entirety of A-Shift had put up walls to protect themselves. Keeping all discussions of their personal lives out of the firehouse and biting their tongues at every comment made towards an aspect of themselves. 

While they were all struggling under new leadership, Eddie seemed to become someone Buck didn’t know. The perfect soldier, firefighter, and employee. Always punctual, however in disarray he seemed to look, grooming standards met, and uniform pressed and crisp. The distant look in his eyes seemed to grow farther and farther away every day that Buck saw him.

Eddie was retreating into himself in a way Buck had never known, and in a way he didn’t know how to fix it.

Things changed after a night on the phone with Eddie who had found a photo of Shannon and Christopher tucked away in an album that he was reorganizing, and couldn't seem to catch his breath or stop the sobs from his throat. Tommy had been over for dinner, and had given him a look when he went to pick up the phone as soon as Eddie called him. 

“Again? This is the second time he’s called during dinner.” Buck shot him a pointed look, picking up the phone without a second thought.

“Yes, again. I’m gonna keep answering him, too, until I know in my heart of hearts he’s safe from himself.” Tommy rolled his eyes, excusing himself from Buck’s counter to give him a semblance of privacy. 

Buck answered the phone and immediately stood to attention as he heard shaky breaths and sniffles on the other end. 

“Eddie? Are you okay?”

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18 for dance au

Buck had Bobby on the phone as soon as he heard the news.

“Eddie Diaz.” He heard Bobby chuckle on the other end of the phone.

“Well, my name is Bobby Nash, actually, but what can I do for you?”

“That isn’t funny, Bobby.” He was sitting on the floor of his childhood room, rolling out his quad after a difficult physical therapy session. Ever since nationals in February, his ACL had been tight and would twinge during ballet classes more often than not. His physical therapist had told him that if he kept pushing himself like he was, he would tear it and possibly tear his MCL on top of that.

Bobby had also told him to stop pushing himself to the point of injury, especially when it wasn’t necessary during the off season, but Buck took that as more of a suggestion than anything. 

Only when Athena threatened to ground him at the age of 19 did he pull back. He started going to regular physical therapy sessions in California to make sure his body was able to tolerate the stress he knew was coming in the upcoming months.

“Buck, I don’t know what you want me to say. I think it’ll be good for the team. Not just one boy, but two? It’ll be national news.” Buck could hear the chatter of students in the background, Bobby most likely at the studio.

“Are you teaching right now?” Buck groaned in annoyance, knowing that this wasn’t going to be a productive conversation, Bobby half distracted with other students.

“Not at this very moment, but soon. I could use an assistant if you want to get up and come help. It’s the junior contemporary combination I showed you the other day.” Bobby laughed as Buck let out a sigh, still sore from therapy, but all too knowing that Buck wouldn’t turn down the opportunity. “If you don’t want to, Athena will be home soon with May and Harry for dinner.”

“Is this trying to distract me from thinking about stupid Eddie Diaz?”

“Is it working?”

“No.”

“Then no, it’s not a distraction.” Buck stood and went to grab his contemporary bag, phone still in hand. His warm ups were a faded pair of Project 21 sweatpants, one of his favorites that Bobby had given him a few years ago. He held them close to his chest as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I’ll be there soon, don’t let them start without me. They love me there.”

“They do. So do we.”

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12 for drunk 5+1

She pulled the door all the way open to reach out and grab at his arm as he was halfway down the steps of her home. She pulled him across the threshold, his senses overwhelmed with the smell of the dinner they had and the sound of the tv low in the living room. 

“You didn’t interrupt anything. We just opened a bottle of wine and it seems like you need a glass.” She looked him over, probably noticing the red rimmed eyes and flush on his face. He didn’t want her to look too closely to see the shaking of his hands. He didn’t want her to see the cracks in his mask.

“Hen, really, I’m– I don’t know why I’m here.” His voice was tight, the tears still sitting at the surface of his eyes. He noticed Karen in the kitchen grabbing a third glass for him and his heart sunk. He really wasn’t trying to be a bother, but it was like he couldn’t help himself.

“Like I said, you’re not interrupting anything. Denny is asleep, we’re just watching a movie. Join us.” Her voice was kind and inviting, and Buck was weak. He sat down in the chair next to the coffee table across from the couch. Hen dropped a blanket into his lap and handed him a glass of wine.

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12 for feminization fic

In the three years since that day, they had made a lot of memories in their kitchen. Good ones, birthday cakes and anniversary dinners. Bad ones, explosive fights over bills and insecurities rearing their heads. They had lived entire lives before they met each other, but Eddie was determined to have Buck for whatever life he had left. Now closer to 40 than 30, he knew that good things could be fleeting, and Evan Buckley was one of the greatest things in Eddie’s life.

It had been three years of healthy and hearty meals when he noticed it for the first time. 

Buck had always been a big guy, broad shoulders and thick legs, a healthy layer of fat over his stomach and chest, but he had always had visible muscle and the vague outlines of abs. He was broad and took up a lot of space in the world, tending to scare people when he would pop up out of nowhere. But Buck was gentle. He was gentle in the way he approached victims on scenes, hands tender and healing when he would hold the hands of parents who had to see their children shipped off to the hospital. He was careful with tiny animals, Eddie dragging him into the backseat of his car in the parking lot of the Humane Society after he saw him handle a kitten with such tenderness.

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12 for husbands sick fic

Buck awoke to an empty bed. The early morning light filtered through the window in their room, dust still lingering in the air from their new furniture. 

The choice to pick a three bedroom was not something they took lightly. Before they got married, Buck had asked Eddie if he was open to the idea of more kids, a question that Eddie didn’t have an answer for at the time. His life had been so defined by being a father that he wasn’t sure he could do the whole thing again and get lost in fatherhood.

They married on a sunny day in July, the weather blessedly cool for the time of year, with Christopher standing beside Eddie and Hen by Buck. Maddie walked him down the aisle and Bobby officiated. Buck couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day. Instead of taking a honeymoon, they used the money to put a down payment on a three bedroom home a fifteen minute drive from Bobby and Athena’s home that they rebuilt after the fire.

Buck knew that the third bedroom was a ticking clock, with neither one of them getting any younger and the age gap between a potential sibling and Christopher grew every day. Some days, Buck would catch Eddie lingering in the doorway, watching the empty room like it held the secrets to their new life.

But if he was being honest, Buck didn’t care if Eddie decided he didn’t want anymore kids. He would be happy as a step dad to Christopher if it meant he got to spend the rest of his life with Eddie.

[bitch-for-a-rainbow]

So there's a blanddcheadcanons post that says that "Kara is the mortal avatar of Rao" and I really don't like it, especially in the context of SG 3x04 (The Faithful). At best, as was pointed out to me by a friend with whom I discussed this post, the House of El is likely blessed and somewhat sponsored by Rao, which probably doesn't do much but produce Krypton's greatest heroes, given what the word "El" **means** in Kryptonian. I'm interested in your thoughts on this (pls post your answer).

    I reject the headcannon solely because if it were true it would mean Coville was right and I fucking hate that bitch.

     In all seriousness, though, this is an idea I've seen a lot and I'm not a huge fan of. I don't know much about Raoism beyond what appears in the show and that which can be inferred off of the show. One thing I would point out though is that El in Kryptonian (while obviously being intended to mean God by the original comic writers) can mean Sun or Stars, and since the Kryptonians in the show are, as far as I can tell, monotheistic, and worshipped only one particular star, the El family is not necessarily named God. It would, however, signify their enormous prestige on Krypton and contribute to the famous El pride (or rather, arrogance). I’m not sure it would necessarily have to mean anything more than that-- that the Els are a respected house who have produced a variety of successful politicians, civil servants, and scientists. And (this time reaching a little bit) that they are perhaps so old and respected that their house name was once a title. 

      There is a certain allure to the theory, for sure. Kara is a paragon character. She always, always does what she thinks is right, regardless of the cost, personal or global, and regardless of what other people might think of it. She has a very direct moral compass, and there are only a handful of times when she doesn’t follow it, all of which involve saving Lena. Ship who you want, but it is notable that Kara routinely prioritzes Lena’s life over that of others given the rarity of that happening otherwise. She never even considered breaking Rick Thompson’s father out of prison when he kidnapped Alex, and all he’d committed was bank robbery. Kara has lines she does not cross (though murder is clearly not one of them). She is a character that has seen some of the worst that sentient life is capable of, has seen more death and suffering than most people could imagine, and she came out of it with an all-encompassing desire to protect others. She lives to give people hope. Plus, the humor of having Kara-- the one person most offended by the idea of being an Avatar of Rao-- turn out to be an Avatar of Rao is great.

       But, I would also say that having Kara want to do good because she is the avatar of a benevolent god is reductive and not particularly true to her character. It is true that helping and protecting people is a large part of the core of who Kara is. But there is a difference between altruism and the self-destructive, bordering of suicidal desperation to save absolutely everyone that Kara practices. And to anyone who doubts the suicidal bit, I direct you to the season 1 finale where Kara literally goes on a goodbye tour because she thinks if she goes out to fight Non she’ll die. She still goes because she has hope, but that hope is that she can at least save Earth with her life. She doesn’t fight because she is certain in the ultimate victory of good and justice. She does it because she more afraid to lose another family than she is to die. Kara doesn’t become Supergirl and risk her own life because she believes in good, she does it because she can’t stand to listen to people suffer-- because she has suffered. To use Alex’s words in 1x13 “You fight everyday to keep people from struggling like you have.” Notably also in 1x13, Kara wakes up from the Black Mercy and her first words are “Who did this to me?” and then she goes after Non in what could arguably be described as a homicidal rage-- a rage that is fueled entirely for personal reasons, not the greater good of Earth (though that comes as an added benefit), which is.... not very befitting the avatar of a benevolent god. 

     A major part of season 1 is Kara dealing with grief and rage. She nearly breaks a guy's arm in episode 6 because he screamed at her for damaging his car, to hell with the children he'd almost hit with it. In season 3's Midvale flashbacks we see her first put both hands through a lunch table, then attack Jake when she suspects him for Kenny's death. She gets better at controlling it as the seasons progress, but during Crisis she very nearly melts Lex. Also not particularly godly of her. 

     Then there is the fact that so much of who Kara is is shaped by fear: fear of the government, fear of humanity, fear of abandonment, and fear of herself. In her civilian life, Kara is, for the most part, unnoticeable. She's polite, soft-spoken, doesn't wear a lot of bold colors or styles, and is often a pushover. As shown by her encounter with Red Kryptonite, Kara would not dress or speak the same way to people without the pressure of hiding her identity (though much of her dialogue is purely the loss of her "don't be an asshole" filter, some of it is stuff she had every right to say before and just didn't). I have always found that episode to be very interesting purely for the fact that Kara doesn't actually seem to be seeking harm on others so much as seeking their attention. Her argument with Alex is almost entirely about how much she hates having to hide and pretend to be less than she is. Kara drops Cat off the balcony and then catches her. She attacks the police when they point weapons at her but doesn't kill or even hurt them that badly, instead of destroying the car they're using as shelter. Red-K removed her inhibitions, made her angrier, yes, but if her goal was to actually hurt people, she could have done so-- would have done so, and with great ease. She goes to a public bar and uses super strength to smash bottles by flicking peanuts. Why do that at a crowded bar? Why not just flick potato chips at the windows in her own apartment?

      This is Kara at her absolute worst-- but does she seek out the DEO agents who shot her out of the sky? Does she go after Maxwell Lord or Non? No. She tries to make people pay attention to her. Her most shameful and hideous desire is for people to give her respect. (Admittedly, respect gained through fear, but still.). Kara's a nice person-- much, much nicer than average-- but a lot of that "nice" is just her avoiding conflict to avoid attention.

      Kara is a good person. Kara inspires people. But that is because Kara gets up every day and chooses to be good and to inspire. It's one of the reasons I enjoy Non as a villain so much-- he and Astra are Kara's narrative foils. They also remember Krypton and grieve its loss. They also were trapped in the Phantom Zone. But where Kara had the Danvers to convince her that some good people existed and would risk themselves just to help others, Non and Astra had Alura sentencing them to eternal suffering rather than helping them save their planet (through the means they thought necessary) and then landed on Earth and found it headed on the same path as the planet they'd just lost. Kara had people to help her grieve. Non and Astra were surrounded by misery. They lost hope. Kara discovered it.

     Kara is the Paragon of Hope because she has been hopeless. Because she has suffered so much, seen so much, and because she chooses to believe in a better future. She didn't have hope her first time in the Phantom Zone. She didn't even have hope for a while on earth. From what we can gather, Kara's choice to start actually believing in the future was a gradual shift that occurred sometime after Kenny's death and has lasted her ever since. For Kara, hope is learned. She chose to hope and she won't let it go, and to assign that incredible victory off to her being a God is an insult to her growth and to her character. 

   Now I personally thought “The Faithful” handled this concept very well. 3x04 is one of my favorite episodes of television in general, let alone in Supergirl. Season 3 is my second favorite season, and that says a lot for its good episodes when the bad of season 3 is so, so very bad (To say nothing of the episode to episode production value, we have the waste of Argo, Mon El’s return as obviously he’s grown he has a beard Mon El, and whatever the hell was going on with Kryptonian genetic engineering eclipse causing witches). To this day I don’t know why Kara had magic dreams. The show did nothing to explain it and I can’t imagine up a reason. 

     But “The Faithful” works because it highlights the whole paragon part of who Kara is. When you realize that every person in the room of Coville’s cult is a person she has personally saved-- that hits hard. Especially since only a fraction of the people she’s saved would ever set foot inside that building with the totally not-creepy, entirely wholesome way they deliver the invitations. (“Your daughter is special. She has been chosen. As have you.”) It works because it focuses on how the average human must view Kara, the ones who don’t see her argue with her sister over potstickers and crush her phone when she gets mad. It works because of how desperately hard Kara tries to be a human. It works because the writers know that we, the audience, do not see Kara as anything but a regular person with irregular abilities: a kind and remarkably devoted person, but not a god. 

[holidaywishes]

It’s Just A Scratch

  Summary: Mat gets into a fight at a game and ends up a little worse for wear.

  Author’s Note: I hate myself. For writing this. But, at the same time, I don’t. I felt like writing it, so I wrote it. Mat Barzal is not typically who I write for but after seeing him in that GIF, I just couldn’t help it. I hope you enjoy it and I wanna shout out @imbennguintrashbaby​ for introducing me to the “whumper” world lol.

  Warning: Smut, violence/hockey fights, maybe some fluff, a little bit of angst

  masterlist

  the other masterlist

xx

  It seemed like this was a game like any other. Not a playoff game, not a qualifier, just a regular season match against Pittsburgh. But as you sat there, surrounded by angry hockey fans, you realized how different this game felt from others. There was something in the air that you couldn’t ignore and it only became more apparent when Mat began shoving different players; only to be stopped by the whistle.

  “This isn’t like him...” you said to your friend, Grace, who was stress-watching the game with you, “do you think they’re saying something to him?”

  “Probably just typical game trash talk” Grace said and you shrugged to yourself. It was possible that’s all it was, The Islanders were down three in the final period and it didn’t seem like there was much more they could do with as little time as there was left in the game; a fact you were all too sure Mat was aware of by now as well. That being said, Mat was never the most aggressive player on the team but he seemed to be the one creating a lot of the tension, which made you feel like something was going on to irritate him. Once Mat overreacted to a seemingly routine penalty, you knew there was more going on so, you rushed down to the ice to try to get him to see you, in hopes that he would somehow calm himself down; it didn’t work.

  “MAT!” you yelled to him as he yelled at the ref, “MAT!!” When the puck finally came into the corner where you were standing, you thought you’d finally have a chance to get his attention. You were wrong. You understood, because he was focused, but at the same time you just wanted to get him to take a breath so he wouldn’t get hurt. Another whistle blew and you noticed Hörnqvist push Mat after saying something pretty pointed at him, forcing Mat to drop his gloves. You gasped when you saw Mat’s fist collide with Patric’s jaw and the two of them hitting each other as hard as they could as blood flooded the ice. It wasn’t long after that the final buzzer rang and the game was officially over, leaving you to decide whether you wanted to give Mat some space or meat him by the locker room

  “He’s probably gonna be pissed,” Grace said and you scoffed, “I’m serious. Let him just have the night. He’s got a giant cut on his lip and his eye is all bruised. I really don’t think he wants to deal with his girlfriend’s concerned face right now.” You scowled at her before biting the inside of your cheek and sent Mat a text

  “Wanna Netflix?” was all you could think of to say without getting too annoying

  “Maybe.. maybe it’s just better if I’m alone tonight” he replied and your heart sunk

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, (Y/N), I’m sure. That’s why I said it”

  “Fine. You don’t have to get all grumpy about it”

  “I’ll talk to you later, I have to see the medic”

  “Mat... I’m sorry. I love you”

  “I love you too.” You could feel his anger through the screen so you let him be for the rest of the night but that didn’t stop you from thinking about the entire game. You found yourself glued to YouTube videos that showed all the blood lost from Mat and Patric and the cameras zoomed in on your boyfriend’s bruised eye and cut up face. ‘Fuck it’ you said to yourself before grabbing your keys and phone and heading to see your boyfriend

  “What?” Mat yelled before he answered the door to find you there with worried eyes

  “Oh my god, Mat...” you said, reaching out to touch his eye

  “It’s nothing,” he sighed, pulling his face away from your touch and walking away from you, “it’s just a scratch”

  “A scratch?!” you shouted, closing the door behind you as you followed him in, “Mat, you’re bleeding and your eye is bruised and your lip is cut and--”

  “Yeah, (Y/N) I get it. Thanks for the recap” he said snidely

  “Why won’t you just talk to me? Let me help you!”

  “How are you supposed to help me? The damage is already done!”

  “Fine, I can’t help you.” You threw your hands up in exasperation before sitting on the couch

  “Babe...” he said quietly, letting out a sigh before coming to sit next to you, “I really am fine”

  “I know,” you sighed, head in your hands, before turning to him, “but why won’t you just talk to me?”

  “I don’t want to relive what happened during that game”

  “What was he saying to you?” you finally asked, “I’ve never seen you that agitated before...”

  “He was just chirping me the entire game and I.. I dunno, I just got fed up with it”

  “Was it all just typical game chirps? Or was it personal? It seemed personal...”

  “It’s always a little bit personal...”

  “So..” you tried, placing your hand on his knee, “what did he say?”

  “Can we not?” he sighed, falling back against the couch and you nodded to yourself, knowing you were starting to annoy him

  “Does it hurt?”

  “Not so much anymore... I took an Advil before you got here.” You pursed your lips side to side as you tried to think of what to say, lifting your legs up onto the couch to tuck yourself into his side

  “I don’t like you fighting” you said and Mat leaned in to give you a quick peck on the lips before smiling at you

  “That’s why I don’t do it very often” he laughed

  “I have to admit though,” you smirked, “seeing you fight like that? Made me feel... probably some way I shouldn’t have”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck and tangling your fingers in his hair, “absolutely primal.” You snickered before kissing him and he pulled you into his lap. Your lips attached themselves to his and they moved in tandem with Mat’s as his hands snaked their way down to your hips

  “Your lips taste sweet tonight” he smiled and you laughed

  “Do they not usually?”

  “Just more so today I guess” you giggled at his response before moving your lips to kiss the sensitive skin behind his ear, hearing his moans as your hands began to roam his body. He pushed his fingers under the hem of your shirt, lifting the fabric slowly up your skin as your lips found his again; the feeling of his hands cupping your covered breasts leaving you wanting more of his touch. He seemed to read your mind by the way his hands found the clasp of your bra, unhooking it easily and letting his warm hands cusp your breasts once more while your hands pushed the fabric of his t-shirt quickly over his head so to not lose any time with his lips, caressing his body gently as your fingers traced the curves of his ab muscles. When he flinched suddenly, you stopped what you were doing and pulled away from the kiss

  “What’s wrong?” you asked, panting slightly as your eyes bounced across his face

  “Nothing, I’m fine” he dismissed his pain, leaning in to try to continue the kiss but you stopped him, pushing him back until you finally noticed the bruise on his ribs

  “Oh my gosh...” you cooed, gently placing your fingers on the purple and green mark covering his skin, “why didn’t you say something?”

  “It doesn’t hurt...” he lied and you scoffed

  “Then why did you flinch?”

  “Fine.. it hurts a little but not enough for me to stop this” he smiled as his hands crept across your skin. You looked at him for a second before returning his smile, his eyes following you as you leaned down to lay a soft kiss to his bruise

  “That hurt?” you asked and he shook his head so you continued, stepping off of him so you could trace down his body easier, pushing down his shorts when you reached the elastic waistband. You teased him a little before standing up to push your own bottoms off, leaving you in only your underwear and you slowly straddled him once more; Mat’s lips trailing your chest as you lowered yourself onto him. Your tongue danced with his as you took his member in your hand to prepare him for your entrance and, as if your moans were your only language, you pushed him into you. He moaned at the feeling, wrapping his arms around your body and pulling his head to your breasts, nipping at your hardened peaks and you giggled at the sensation, riding his length slowly to make sure you weren’t causing him any pain

  “You’re not gonna hurt me you know?” he laughed

  “What?” you breathed, continuing to rock slowly up and down

  “You can go faster” he whispered

  “What? You got plans?” you joked as you stopped moving entirely

  “Hey, come on!” he groaned

  “What’s your rush, Matty?”

  “Nothing... I just like going fast” he smirked before crashing his thrusts up so you would continue riding him

  “Fuck, Mat!” you screamed, “slow down!” He leaned in to kiss your neck as your panting overtook the sounds in the room

  “Shit babe,” he cursed, “you look so good, fucking me like this.” You wanted to speak, to match his dirty talk, but it was like the wind had been knocked out of you and all you could do was whine. 

  “Hmm” you hummed pathetically, but it was about all the sound you could muster before you dropped your head to his shoulder as his fingers dug into your hip bones to push himself deeper into your core

  “Fuck” he moaned

  “Mat...” you breathed, kissing up his neck, your body beginning to shake

  “Cum for me,” he growled, “cum on my dick, baby.” His words were quick to make you come undone, biting his shoulder to muffle the sounds slightly and Mat laughed

  “Just don’t move for a second” you heaved, your chest rising and falling harshly against his

  “I love fucking you on the couch” he said, laughing at the shocked look on your face, “I love fucking you...”

  “Gee, thanks” you rolled your eyes before finally climbing off him and grabbing the blanket he’d had strewn across the back of the couch to wrap yourself up

  “I love you” he finally said, a honey smoothness to his words, before kissing the crown of your head

  “I love you, too,” you smiled to yourself before you decided to tease him a little, “but I like fucking you more”

  “Oh so you can say it but I can’t?”

  “You’re a good fuck, Barzal, what can I say?” He poked your sides and you jerked your body straight, laughing uncontrollably until Mat was hovering over you. You found yourself staring up at him, pressing gently at his bruised eye before he kissed you gently, “I really did hate seeing you in that fight. I hated opening the door and seeing you like this...”

  “I know, baby” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple as your hands settled on his chest

  “The sex was great though...”

  “Maybe I should get into fist fights more often?” he joked but you could only scowl at him

  “Please, don’t.”

  “Okay, okay, I won’t,” he smiled, “but I can’t promise I won’t end up with any more bruises.”

  “Fine. Just.. try not to okay?”

  “I’ll do my best.”

[theodora3022]

How bnha boys would ask you out (Big three edition)

Request: Since you watched Season four, can I have some Mirio and Tamaki headcanons? Similar to your "how they ask you out" post before.

I assume you mean separately because I am not comfortable with writing poly.

Pairing: Mirio togata x reader, Tamaki Amajiki x reader

Notes: Reader is their underclassman, a student of 1A, met them during the work-study arc. Condition: the reader is single. Female reader I guess.

Warning: Just big Fluffs.

Mirio Togata

Before

Sunshine. That is what Mirio is, a pure package of warmth and enthusiasm. If you are shy like Tamaki, you would probably envy his outgoing spirits.

He notices you as soon as he first sets foot in your classroom. You sat there with a hand underneath your chin, looks up to your senpais with those shiny eyes. He seen you around the campus before, also seen your exceptional performance at the sports festival.

When they were introduced as the big three, he did not miss that bright light of admiration in your eyes. Congratulations, you successfully peaked Mirio’s interests. During his short speech, his eyes would circle around the classroom, resting on you for a few more seconds.

When he trained with you that afternoon, whether you are a long-ranged or melee combatant, Mirio would knock you down the first chance he got. Would not want you to hurt yourself recklessly, right? He also thinks how you try to counter him is absolutely adorable.

Nejire and Tamaki notices the extra attention Mirio is giving you. While Neijire would tease him and jokes about it, Tamaki just silently assess you with his intense glare. Mirio is happy that they both think of you as a hard-working kohai, and their approval is just icing on the cake.

After the beat-up training, Mirio approaches you causally and ask you to train together sometime. To make his intentions seems less suspicious, he also extends that invitation to Midoriya.

After a couple of training sessions, you start to warm up to him. You no longer seen him only as Togata Senpai, just Mirio the friendly upperclassman. But he is still not satisfied with the result.

His quirk is made for stalking. I do not accept counter arguments. You all seen how he scares Midoriya Izuku. Probably stalks you as a pastime, you wonder if you are losing your sanity since you always feel like someone is watching you.

During

After another intense afterschool training session, Mirio would ask you to get dinner with him in the city.

“You’re working so hard lately; you deserve a break! Why don’t we go get a bite in the city? My treat.”

You accept delightfully, did not think of it as a date. Just your upperclassman friend treating you with something tasty. You chatted with him about all sorts of things, such as your homework. It feels nothing more then hanging out with a pal.

It is when he tries to kiss you on your way back, you realize something is off.

If you accept, he will become eccentric. You thought the normal Mirio is energic enough, but this mode, good gracious.

Lifting you up by the knees with his strong arms, he will give you a bright smile that can make you blind. “Oh! My dearest (y/n)! Thank you, thank you, thank you! We’re going to be the cutest couple!”

If you flinch and distance yourself from him, that is another story.

“(y/n), not going to kiss your date goodnight?”

When you explain you see him nothing more then a friend, Mirio would laugh. It honestly creeps you out since you expect him to yell, or even show you a hint of anger. Then he would bid you goodnight as if nothing is wrong.

The next day you found an elaborate flame rose bouquet on you desk, without a single clue of who the sender is. Mina would start rambling about how sweet your secret admirer is, but you just felt shivers down your spine.

You texted him. “Can we talk?”

“Of course, anything for you.”

When you meet him in a nearby café few hours after, his usual enthusiastic attitude is still present. The sunshine boy sure knows how to hide any stormy clouds.

Mirio urges you to reconsider, sing you praises that made you blush like mad. You told him you would. “I just never thought of you in that way, but I guess there’s no harm in trying.”

Once the sunflower got you, he will spoil you, probably not with expensive gifts, but with all of his attention.

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

Tamaki Amajiki

I relate to him on so many levels, you have no idea

Before

If his best friend is the sun, shines proudly with endless energy, Tamaki is the moon, shy and would hide behind clouds. (I love this analogy you cannot blame me)

Just like Mirio as soon as he saw you in 1A classroom you got his attention.

Nejire and Mirio would notice how his gaze linger on you more then others, and tease relentlessly until Tamaki is flustered mess.

He asks Mirio to go easy on you on the beat-up training, but Mirio said if you want to get strong, he should not.

It takes a while to get Tamaki even say hello to you, however his eyes will not be left you when you are in the same room as him.

Surprise, surpise, it’s Nejire who come asking for your number, when you ask her why she needs it, she just tilts her head and say: “Tamaki said he wants to train with you sometimes! Here’s his number for you.”

If you are aware of the surroundings you could find a red-cheeked ravenette hiding in the shadows. You wonder why you, out of all your classmates who all have just as much potential.

Tamaki likes to observe small details. How you wave at your friends, how you dash through the hallways as the bells rang, how your sight follow pretty butterflies, how the rice sticks on your chin at lunch time. He got it all down.

You need to text him first, no doubts here. “It’s kouhai (y/n). Hado Senpai said you want to train together? When are you free?”

He felt he has been run over by a train. Is this what having a crush is like? No wonder why people act so stupid while in love.

His reply would be short. Tamaki is not doing that to be rude, he is just at a loss of words. Even though you would never ignore him even if he made typos. 

When you offer him a bottle of water after training, he would freeze. After ten seconds or so, he would snap back, take your gift, and mutter “thank you” before running away, leaving you there confused.

From then on you two would text on a regular basis. You ask him to help with your homework and training, he would ask you about how to deal with social anxiety (if you are outgoing like his best friend). You figured he is a lot more expressive through texts then in person, even though you still need to initiate conversions most of the time.

Tamaki starts to check his phone so often, even when he is at work with Fat Gum. The pro hero would also tease him (poor him, just endless teasing) about his “little girlfriend”. The older man laughs as Tamaki stutter how you two are only friends.  

During

After he answers some of your questions concerning an assignment, Tamaki offers to buy you ice cream. You met him by the gate, in your casual clothes.

As you two are walking back licking your treats, you notice how his dark hair has fallen in front because of the afternoon breeze.

“Ah, your hair is getting in the way. Let me help you.” Your fingers brush his face lightly as you tug strands of raven hair behind his pointy ears. His blush confirms your suspicions. Rumors has been swirling around about you two being more then regular friends, since Tamaki never spends much time with anyone apart from his two best friends.

“(y/n) ...” He dips his head as he finishes the ice cream, screaming inside. What if you say no? How is he going to face you afterwards? What if you say YES by some insane fluke?

“Would you...consider d-doing this s-some other time? W-with me, I mean.” Tamaki instantly regretted it as soon as it comes out. He seen enough rom com to know this is not how you ask a girl out.

If you said “Yes, of course!”, Tamaki would panic. He was not expecting you to, he seen how the other boys in school gazes at you. “Can you pinch me, please?” The sharp pain confirms this is all real, not some wild dream. Very insecure, he would get jealous easily. If you have male friends, he will not interfere (you need your own space too). but if you are being hit on in front of him, Tamaki would like you to kiss him on the cheek and proudly proclaims that you are taken.

If you turn him down, Tamaki’s expression turns grim and he said he understand. Of course, who would love him when they got so many other better options? 

Tamaki would not attempt to court you like Mirio. To him your happiness is his top priority, his personal feelings comes after. If you are happy, Tamaki is content. To him if you love someone, you need to ensure they are happy no matter what (such selfless love is true love).  If you eventually come around, he would be over the moon. Tamaki would bury his face in your chest, saying “thank you” over and over again, and hug you like he would never let go.

The shy ravenette may be timid and emotionally vulnerable, but Tamaki is the kindest soul you will ever find. Treat him with lots of affections and he will give you triple in return.

These boys are just so lovable aren’t they? Honestly I won’t say no to either of them...

[rainydayhogwartsimagines]

Fred with a Muggle!reader:

Warnings: swearing, sexual innuendos

He met you after the battle of Hogwarts.

He needed something from Charlie and Charlie wanted to meet in a muggle bar

"I can't get over the fact that you frequent a bar. With a muggle running it. And she knows you're a wizard." Fred admitted.

"I'm not the only one that frequents here, a lot of ministry members come here too." Charlie shrugged.

Fred had heard a lot about you, Charlie saying you often listened to people's problems, occasionally giving them free drinks if they've had a lousy day.

He'd never actually seen you. Charlie was always shit with descriptions

That's when a glass was put in front of Charlie and Fred looked over

Your hair was in a ponytail, a dishrag over your shoulder and a black cami that seemed to make your eyes pop.

"The usual?" You asked Charlie.

"Thanks dear." He nodded as you poured a glass.

"And you?" You asked Fred.

The second your eyes met his you felt something similar to a shockwave go down your spine.

"....Uh.... I'm... Not much of... A drinker.." Fred said making Charlie raise a brow.

"We have different sodas. If you want any of that." You said.

"... Root beer." He finally said making you nod.

From that point on, Fred showed up every Wednesday, it being the most empty so he could talk to you in peace.

"Hi Weasley." You said not even looking up from the book you were reading.

He sat at the bar.

"interesting story?" He asked.

You lifted the book so he could see it's title "Fantastic Beasts and where to find them"

He rose a brow. "How'd you get your hands on a wizard book?" He asked.

"It had a muggle release. I bought it after finding out it was real." You admitted.

Fred chuckled. "Curious about the wizarding world?" Fred asked.

"how can I not be? This world I live in... It's boring." You said.

"Surely it's not that bad." Fred said.

"Oh but it is. See I'm supposed to be a productive member of society. This isn't considered that apparently." You said.

"screw society." He shrugged.

"I think I'm beginning to really like you Weasley." You said with a smile.

He gave you a smile and your heart pounded.

Since then Fred basically visited you every day now.

He'd watch you work if you were too busy but on the empty days you'd sit at the bar with him.

Today was an empty day, much to Fred's luck.

"Hello there." You greeted.

"Helllooo" he said sitting down.

You sat next to him, a look of obvious exhaustion falling over your face the second you made contact with the chair.

"long day?" Fred asked.

"Long. Long. LONG. Day." You sighed.

"the ministry men just kept coming in. And that's not a problem. The problem is they all order the same damn drinks and I'm always on my feet" you groaned.

"prop your legs up on me, I really don't care." Fred suggested. You did, moving the chair closer.

"I have a question." Fred said.

"I have an answer." You replied.

"Do you own this bar?" He asked.

You nodded. "Used to be my brother's." You said.

"What happened?" Fred asked.

"...There's a reason why I'm allowed near magic." You said.

It registered with Fred what you meant.

"Your brother's a wizard?" He asked.

"He was." You said.

Fred frowned.

"He died in the battle for hogwarts." You said softly.

Fred realized your last name... Your brother saved his life.

"Sorry... Was Charles L/n your brother?" Fred asked.

You nodded.

"Your brother saved me." Fred said.

You blinked.

"You... You're the wizard he...."

You swallowed looking in Fred's eyes.

"Fred.... Thank you." You said.

"For what?" He asked.

"For not letting my brother's sacrifice be in vain. Charlie tells me how much you've helped people after the war... I'm glad you're living your life." You said sincerely.

He almost expected anger from you. But instead you were grateful.

He looked in your eyes and you looked in his.

Fred finally got the nerve to kiss you.

You looked forward to seeing him every day now, always smiling as he entered

He'd kiss you from across the bar making you smile as you worked.

One day you decided to close early though and Fred wanted you to actually see the wizarding world.

So he took you to the burrow to meet his parents for the weekend.

You were nervous the entire time but he kept reassuring you that Molly would fucking love you

Spoiler alert: she did.

Harry didn't seem to mind you either, you shaking his hand.

It felt nice for him to meet someone and not have them go "OH MY GOD YOU'RE THE BOY WHO LIVED!"

"So what do you do for a living?" Arthur asked.

"I uhm. I own a pub." You admitted.

"So that's where Fred has been running off to." George chuckled.

Percy walked in and you rose a brow.

"....Wait you're their brother!?" You said.

Percy gave you a "Don't you say a word" look but George blinked.

"How do you know Percy?" Fred asked.

"He comes to the pub every now and again." You admitted making him facepalm.

Fred and George gaped.

"Our brother. In a bar? Have you no shame Percy?" George said.

"Fred's girlfriend owns that bar, which he goes to everyday, and I'm the spectacle here?" Percy asked.

"Yeah because you have a constant stick shoved up your--"

"OKAY GINNY!" Percy cut her off making you laugh.

Fred wrapped his arm around you with a smile.

You ended up really enjoying your time there, answering questions Arthur had about muggle objects.

You went to bed early your first night there Molly sitting down with Fred

"We love her." Molly said.

"Really?" Fred asked.

"She's amazing Fred. Truly." Arthur agreed.

Fred felt relieved hearing this.

He showed you all sorts of things in the wizarding world

Your personal favorite was butterbeer.

When you had to return back to the muggle world you were kind of disappointed.

But you started making weekend trips to the Burrow a regular thing.

There was this one night you were really busy though.

This time the Weasley's came to you.

"What are you all doing here?" You asked.

"Y/n, I need an ale!" Someone yelled making you groan.

"Give me a table." Fred said. Him helping out wasn't uncommon.

"Five." You said, handing him a notepad

The family watched you two in action, both of you working around each other in impressive yet strategic ways.

"Can we help?" Ginny asked.

You whipped around and nodded.

"If you come across any empty glasses, clean them." You said. Molly and Arthur sat watching their children all assist you.

"Shit!" You grumbled as the jukebox glitched again.

"Repairio." Hermione said making it work.

"You are a godsend Granger. Truly." You said with a laugh as you sped past her.

Your balance skills with treys of alcohol was honestly impressive

Along with Fred and George's speedy order taking.

Before you knew it the bar was empty.

You finally turned off the open sign and hugged Fred.

"Thank. God." You whined.

He chuckled and Ron gaped.

"This is what you do? All day? No magic?" Ron asked.

You nodded.

"Goddess. Your girlfriend is a goddess." Ron said making you snort.

Fred kissed your head and you sighed pulling off the apron.

"Alright. Tell me we're going home, I am exhausted and looking forward to Molly's cooking." You said making Fred's brow raise.

"Did you just call... The burrow home?" George noticed.

"...I guess I did." You shrugged.

Fred already was forming wedding plans in his head.

George, Fred and you all rode separately from the rest of the group.

"Alright. Be real with me. How many times have you shagged on the bar?" George asked making you choke on air.

"Christ George!" Fred gaped.

"I'm just saying, it's right there!" George said.

"....Like three times, but that is besides the point!" You answered.

"I knew it!" George said.

"and how, pray tell did you know that?" Fred asked.

"One of your shirts were behind the bar." George said making both of you groan.

Fred didn't mind helping you out during the busy days.

A secret passage to the wizarding world being right next to it didn't hurt either.

Fred and you now had been seeing each other for about a year.

The Christmas season was a nice one, spending it with his family

Molly made you a sweater, which during the winter never came off.

Fred however was gearing up to ask you to marry him.

You already moved in with him after your six month anniversary.

Now he was fidgeting with a ring in his pocket as you worked.

"So this would go... Here." You muttered to yourself.

Fred just had to find the right time.

"Fuck, why is the scotch missing a cap?!" You groaned.

When it was just you and him.

The bell on the door rang, indicating the last customer left and Fred used a quick spell to shut off the open sign.

"thanks." You sighed as you found the missing Scotch cap.

"Hey. Why don't you take a break?" Fred suggested.

When was the right time to even ask you?

You nodded and sat next to him.

"What's in your pocket?" You asked noticing him keeping rather close to it.

Well. Now was the perfect time!

Fred swallowed and leaned forward taking your hands into his.

"I love you." He said.

"I love you too. Are you dying or something?" You asked concerned.

"what? No-- no." He shook his head.

"I love you so much and I want to make you happy for the rest of our lives." He said making you raise a brow.

"What--"

He pulled out the ring and your eyes went huge, looking at him and then the ring.

"Fred..." You breathed.

"Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" He asked.

You looked at him almost the exact same way you did a year ago, the same shocked and vulnerable expression on your face as you held his hands.

"...Yes Fred!" You said before he slid the ring on your finger and kissed you.

He called his brothers-- all of them, telling them with no context to get their asses to the burrow.

They all did, now standing confused in the living room.

"Why are we here fred?" Bill asked, Fleur equally confused.

"I'm waiting on mum." Fred said as she finally walked down with Arthur.

"What's going on?" Ginny asked.

"I asked Y/n to marry me." Fred said.

"and I said yes." You said making everyone gasp.

Molly was a happy crying mess, hugging you saying she gained a new daughter.

Harry was happy that you weren't going anywhere along with Ron and Hermione.

Charlie was cracking a massive smile.

"This happened because of you Charlie." You said with a laugh.

"Finally! She gives me credit!" Charlie said making you laugh.

"welcome to the family Y/n." Arthur said with a smile.

A few months later you were married, the bar eventually making it's way into diagon Alley

You closed down the original location but made the second one equally comfortable.

Every night without fail, Fred would find his way to a seat at the bar and would watch you work.

Harry would occasionally visit with Ginny, you two being the first to know about their engagement.

"I've got the coolest in laws ever!" You'd say making Fred chuckle.

You would have days where the family would sit around after closing, telling you stories of hogwarts before the war as you sat in a chair with Fred, him holding you in his arms with a smile.

You wouldn't trade any of this for the world. Because this is where you belonged.

This was your home.

[walkerwords]

“The Savior Sessions” Part 1 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: Gene Page/AMC

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: This will be a collection of conversations set before the events of season 9 in which the reader speaks with Negan while in his cell as they recount events and memories from their time in the Apocalypse as well as stories of his own. 

Word Count: 2417

Warning: None

Song I Wrote To: “Open Season” by Josef Salvat

Note: These are going to be smaller stories that I will be updating randomly. Each fic will be a conversation/situation about Negan in his cell in Alexandria. Some maybe very short, others not. I am still working on the other stories, but I wanted to post this as I work on those as well. Thank you for your kind words about my family, I really appreciate it.

------

“I just don’t know why you’re asking me to do this, Michonne.” 

You stood across from Alexandria’s head of security in her kitchen. Michonne meticulously cleaned her Katana as you spoke, remaining calm the entire time. When she had asked you to meet her today, you never imagined this would be the reason. 

“Gabriel is worried about his state of mind,” Michonne said, “He thinks somebody should be speaking with him on a regular basis.” 

“Isn’t that already Gabriel’s job?” you asked. “He’s always the one who’s down there.” Michonne sighed, sliding the blade back into its sheath.

“He believes that he can no longer get through to him and that they’ve become too familiar with each other,” Michonne said, placing her sword down and bracing her hands against the kitchen counter, “I also think we can benefit from it and I suppose he can as well.” You frowned. 

“You’re asking me to become Negan’s therapist,” you pointed out. “How is any of that beneficial?”

“Whether we like it or not, Negan did run an entire community unchallenged. He may have insight into this world that we don’t and I have started to think that perhaps keeping him so isolated isn’t doing anyone any good,” Michonne explained. “I am asking you because you don’t have a relationship with him. The two of you never interacted during the war and you made sure to stay out of his line of sight for most of it. You’re not a total stranger, but he doesn’t know you like he knows Gabriel, me, or even Aaron.”

“So, basically, you want someone he can’t push around by pushing their buttons,” you concluded and Michonne grimaced. 

“You were also a teacher, (Y/N),” said Michonne, “that is something you two have in common. Maybe that will get him to open up or at least… God, I don’t know what I want the outcome to be, but Rick wanted Negan to be a symbol for how we can grow as a society. I don’t know if he can ever be redeemed, but if he can even a small amount, then it may start with you.” 

“You pulled out your Rick card,” you said with a sigh, “not fair.” Michonne smiled with a shrug. 

“I knew it would come in handy someday,” she said and you finally gave in. 

“Okay, I will be the big bad wolf’s confidant, but if he tries anything or pisses me off to a degree that makes me want to commit murder, that’s on Gabriel,” you said with a wink and Michonne visibly relaxed. 

“Thank you, (Y/N),” she said, relieved. “I’m going to let you run it the way you want to, but try not to piss him off if you can.” You smiled at her brightly. 

“Oh, you know me, Michonne, something like that is inevitable.”

-----

When you arrived at the cell an hour later, you dismissed the guard who stood out front. 

If you were going to be talking to Negan to gain insight and trust, you didn’t see the need for a chaperone. As the guard left, you pushed open the heavy door and sealed it behind you. 

“Gabe, if you’re here to give me another life lesson, you can save it. I’m not in the mood,” Negan said in the darkness of his cell. You had never been this close to the man before. You had fought against the Saviors of course, but always at an outpost or in a larger fight. Rick had also used your talents with the sniper rifle and kept you up high most of the time. This whole situation was alien to you and while it was unnerving to be so near to a killer, you didn’t let that stop you from stepping out of the shadows. 

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not Father Gabriel,” you said, dragging a chair from the wall and centering it before the jail cell. Negan, who had been laying on his bed with his back to the door, slowly sat up and turned towards you.

In the cool light of the room, you could see him clearly now. His hair was shorter than the last time you had seen him which was when Rick had dragged him into this cell about five years before. He still had the stubble on his face, but the cocky grin that you had gotten used to seeing through your scope was nowhere to be seen. 

“Have we met?” he asked, tilting his head in curiosity. You shifted slightly in your seat, trying to get comfortable. 

“Not officially,” you told him. “I’m (Y/N).” Recognition dawned on his face then. 

“Yes,” he said, sitting forward on the edge of his cot, “Little Miss Grimes has mentioned you before.” It wasn’t news to you that he spoke to Judith. Most people knew that she visited Negan often. The only person who probably didn’t know was Michonne. Judith had confided in you that she wasn’t scared of the man and that all she wanted was for him to know he wasn’t some kind of wild animal. You now started to realize that her reasoning was exactly why you were here. “So what can I do for you, (Y/N)?”

“I’ve been sent by the overlords of Alexandria to be your new best friend,” you explained, crossing one leg over the other. 

“Is that right?” he asked, leaning forward. “Gabe get too bored with little ole me?” 

“I don’t know, I didn’t ask,” you told him, “but I am here as a favor for Michonne so how about we just accept the new normal?” Negan bowed his head slightly. 

“Well then, what exactly do the big shots upstairs want us to do? Compare breakup stories? Organize a block party?” 

“I see you haven’t lost your wit,” you pointed out, leaning back in your chair.  

“We all have our things, (Y/N),” he said, “I am curious, though,” he went on, “where were you when your people were trying to kill all of mine?” 

“Usually on a rooftop,” you explained, “Grimes always had me up high with the guns.” Negan seemed genuinely thrilled by the thought of that. 

“And you never got me in your cross-hairs and took a shot? Damn, that is incredibly terrifying.”

“I was never ordered to,” you told him. “I was more surveillance than an assassin.” 

“Either way, my men never saw you watchin’ me,” he said and it sounded like a compliment. The way Negan was looking at you reminded you of kids staring at a lion in a zoo. Ironic seeing how he was the one in the cage and not you. Every glance was out of curiosity and you thought you noticed a bit of gratitude in his eyes. Perhaps Michonne and Gabriel were right after all. The man just needed someone to talk to.

“Okay, how about this?” you said, after a moment of silence. He waited for you to continue. “You and I are just gonna talk. You can ask me anything you want and I’ll answer and hopefully, you will return the favor when I want to .” Negan raised a single brow. 

“It’s that simple?” he asked.

“Do you want it to be difficult?” you asked. “I think I could add some really brash and annoying terms to the arrangement if you want."

"You are a very strange person," Negan said.

"I'm going to take that as a compliment."

"As you should," Negan said with a cheeky grin. "However, I am curious about one thing. Don't you hate me?" You mulled over his words for a few seconds before shaking your head.

"Hate, it has caused a lot of problems in this world, but has not solved one yet," you quoted easily. Negan's eyes lit up.

"Morrison?"

"Angelou," you corrected.

"Ah," he said. "Wise woman. So what you're saying is that hating me isn't going to solve anything, am I right?"

"Pretty much," you agreed, crossing your arms.

"But I killed your people," he reminded you. Negan was clearly trying to put you off, but you had expected this. 

"And I killed your people," you said. "Do you hate me?" Negan scoffed, leaning back on his hands as he watched you through the bars.

"You're good," he complimented.

"You didn't answer my question," you said. Negan licked his lips before shaking his head.

"No, I don't hate you. Although, I don't even know you so that could change." This time you let out a quick laugh that was pure instinct at this point.

"Fair enough," you conceded.

"Alright, (Y/N), if you are so inclined to answer questions, answer me this: how did you end up with this merry bunch of survivors?" 

"Simple," you said, "I saved Carl Grimes from a Walker." Negan's face dropped at the mention of the late teenager. You knew about the soft spot Negan had for Carl. It wasn't a mystery, hell, Carl wouldn't have lived long after he attacked the Sanctuary if Negan didn't like him.

"You saved him?" Negan asked, pulling you from your memories.

"Yeah, I met Carl and his mom, Lori, shortly after everything happened," you began, "They, alongside other survivors, were camped at a quarry outside of Atlanta. I was on my own, trying to make it to the coast when I came across their campsite. I was wary of people, of course, but I knew I wouldn't make it far on my own. I stayed around the edge of camp for a while, just gettin' a feel for the people when Carl ran off when Lori wasn't looking. He was running around with another kid from the group." You paused, unsure if you should divulge much more, but Negan was staying entirely focused on your story.

"Carl was with Sophia...Carol's late daughter." Slight surprise entered Negan's eyes, but he remained quiet. You went on, "The two of them got turned around and then Carl being Carl, decided to run off alone without Sophia. He was near me when the Walker came out of the trees and grabbed him. I didn't really think at that moment. I just ran for the kid. I shot the Walker in the head and the next thing I know, I had a crossbow pointed at my back."

"Let me guess, Daryl?" Negan figured. 

"Damn right. Son of a bitch thought I was shooting at the kid, but luckily Carl spoke up and explained. They took me back to their camp and Lori insisted I stay so that's what I did."

"And here you are," Negan said, impressed.

"Here I am."

"That kid was pretty damn special," Negan said fondly. "This world really does take the good ones, don't it?"

"I always think that it would have been easier if a person had killed him instead of a Walker, you know? At least then we would have an enemy." 

"What, you don't think the Walkers are the enemy?" 

"They're just a part of the new world," you explained. "Can't really call them an enemy if they didn't intend to be here in the first place."

Negan was quiet again as your words sank in. In fact, you were surprised that he hadn't spoken over you whenever he got the chance. According to the rest of your friends and family, the man loved to hear himself talk. You stored that new observation away for later.

"In your opinion," Negan said slowly, "what kind of person classifies as an enemy, or rather, just evil?"

"I've seen darkness, Negan," you told him. "We all have and it was before we even heard your name. If you're trying to ask me if I think you’re evil, the answer is no, I don't. Most of us here like myself, Daryl, Michonne, we've all seen what happens when someone has lost all trace of humanity. Seen what they do to other human beings and trust me, those are the evil people of this screwed-up world. You haven't lost your humanity, Negan, and I pray you never will."

Negan leaned his forearms onto his knees, rubbing a calloused hand over his bearded face. Something had clicked inside his head, that much was apparent, but you weren't sure what.

Yet.

"Sounds like you've been through hell," Negan whispered.

"And back," you finished. "Multiple times."

"You gonna tell me that story? About the loss of humanity?" His question wasn't overly eager, instead, it was all curiosity and you were starting to think that was the main characteristic of the man who once called himself the "big bad wolf".

"One day," you nodded. "If you'll let me come back again."

"I get to decide?" he asked, intrigued.

"Yeah, no point in coming down here if you won't talk to me. That would be wasting both of our time."

"Then by all means, (Y/N), feel free to drop by," Negan said, spreading his arms wide in a welcome gesture. You rolled your eyes but nodded.

"If it means anything," you said as you stood from your seat and turned towards the door, "Carl once told me that you were the only person he always trusted to tell him the truth, and coming from him, that's a lot."

Negan looked at you for a long moment before bowing his head. "Thanks for that," he said softly. You gave him a small smile, one more out of understanding than anything. Whether people hated him or not, nobody could deny that he cared about Carl Grimes and that the teen's death had affected him as well.

"I'll see you tomorrow," you told him as you pushed open the heavy door and stepped into the sunlight. Negan didn't call you back as you climbed the steps and began walking home.

You watched as Alexandria spun on, unaware of the emotions that ran deep through you at the moment. Gabriel and Michonne had been right, after all, Negan needed to talk to another human being, but perhaps that was exactly what you needed as well and you had a feeling this was just the beginning of an odd relationship. 

TAGS: @thanossexual​

[nissakii]

Is Nishinoya an ESFP? MBTI Analysis with Functions

With a height of 159cm and the number 4 on his back, our fierce libero of Karasuno has always a big presence wherever he is.

One of the manliest among the crows and with his apparent animal-like instincts he never fails to impress the people around him.

All those things are visible by simply looking at Nishinoya first hand by watching the anime or reading the manga.

But there is another thing: Nishinoya is an ESFP.

Something you cannot directly see on first glance.

ESFP?

Oh yes, for those of you who are not familiar with MBTI personality test, the MBTI personality test basically gives the tester four letters meaning you are either E or I, N or T, F or S, and lastly J or P.

Last time in our post we only covered those letters and didn’t go much deeper into the cognitive functions, we only went over the letters without making any connections to the stack.

As an supposed ESFP Nishinoya’s stack is the following: Se-Fi-Te-Ni.

Step by step we will cover each function, it’s meaning considering the position on the stack and also Nishinoya’s extroverted nature (E).

I will show you my deep analysis on Nishinoya’s personality type through my own observations until the latest season and the manga (status: season 3), showing you in detail why Nishinoya is potentially an ESFP. (Yes this is a spoiler warning.)

Let’s not wait any longer and dive into the journey of Nishinoya’s personality!

Extroversion:

Ever wondered that there are people who are either surrounded by a group or have someone else around, but you never see them alone?

That’s extroversion, the kind of person who feels the most energized and happy when they can be around others.

The E in ESFP stands for the trait that shows how someone ‘charges’ their battery, meaning if they get exhausted by spending time alone or with people. In case of an extrovert, they get easily drained when they are spending time alone and derive their energy when they are around others, seeking much more social contact to refill the battery.

And Nishinoya is just that kind of person if you observe him throughout the anime.

The very first indicator of his obvious extroversion can be seen right away when he is introduced in the series, someone who is very loud and open-minded, boldly saying anything that comes into his mind at the moment.

After Hinata talks to for the first time he shows an easy-going and open nature that seems ready to interact with even strangers. He gets easily excited as seen when Hinata called him senpai and he immediately got carried away by that offering him anything he wants in return, teaching him at any time he wants to.

Not only does he get excited over that single thing but in several other scenes you can see him as a moodmaker as he pushes away the most negative aura due to the excitement of a new opponent he can learn from or confront.

He doesn’t fear direct confrontation and speaking his mind, and even when got suspended, the others asked him how he was in such good form despite being absent. Nishinoya stated that he had trained with the neighborhood women and other people to keep his training on-going.

After returning to Karasuno and playing as a regular again, it’s seen that he casually talks to the new members as well as his upperclassmen.

Additionally Nishinoya is always standing next to someone, very close, jumps on their back or like in Tsukishima’s case even bites his shoulder despite the fact he isn’t that close to him.

A true extrovert through and through.

Dominant Se:

Our first actual function, the dominant Se.

What is Se?

Se is a perceiving function aka the S for Sensing and since we established Nishinoya is an extrovert the first function on his Stack is, to no surprise, also extraverted.

Therefore Nishinoya’s dominant function is extraverted Sensing.

What does that mean now?

Having a perceiving function as your dominant function can already say a lot how you interact with the world around you and it’s the first thing people will notice when they look at you without even having to interact with you.

Since the dominant function is the first one that develops in our functional stack it’s the strongest and the most natural one we use, meaning it’s the easiest to use.

The Se in Nishinoya’s stack being his first function represents a lot about how we perceive him as a person, it could also be seen as the function when you introduce someone and the first words you would describe a person with.

What are the first words you would describe Nishinoya with?

Probably a lot and I can tell you: all of them would fall into the Dom Se category!

Now after a long explanation let’s see what the Dom Se is actually telling us.

His dominant function tells us that Nishinoya interacts with the world directly as his relationship with the world is established through physical sensation, it relies on sensory experience meaning what is happening around me is a constant question that his subconscious is trying to answer by observing the things around him.

Stimulating experiences to get a kick of adrenaline and enjoying the world around him, taking any opportunity that comes his way as he spots them and takes advantage of them.

People with Dom Se can be described as adventurous, loud, bold, courageous, adaptable and entertaining.

They also think that actions speak more than words, does that ring a bell?

Starting with the most obvious part is his strong sense of focussing on opportunities as he brushes off worries and concerns that others might have by playing them off, especially Asahi is someone he always explains not to be a worrywart, he often scolds Asahi for whining a lot instead of properly doing something unlike some other Aces.

Another one would be wearing shirts with word plays on them, especially those which sounded manly to him, as he also is determined to become a manly man despite his height and does live by those principles to fulfill the desire of becoming what he wishes to be instead of simply saying it or pretending to.

This is not the only decision he made based on the excitement he felt, even joining Karasuno was due to the fact he liked the uniforms and wanted to wear them as he regarded them as cool and manly.

His way of intaking all the events happening is clearly shown in the anime many times.

Nishinoya never takes his eyes off whenever they are playing or watching someone, always having the people and events around him in sight.

In-game his reflexes are unmatched as seen in the first Dateko match in season one where he got the ball with his foot at the last second.

Shortly before the first Seijoh vs Karasuno match, Hinata and Nishinoya were sitting next to each other watching Oikawa serve against another team. Especially in the manga Nishinoya emphasizes his strong desire to receive one of his serves since he mentioned that in his middle-school years he heard about an extremely talented setter that had powerful serves, even though they were not that strong like the current Oikawa.

His adventurous and courageous side wanting to enjoy the challenges around him is seen here clearly. He never directly spoke to Oikawa and in the practice match he wasn’t there but immediately spotted him. He also got angry when Aone spoke to Karasuno before their first match as he still holds a small grudge against him, even though he wasn’t at the scene at that point he always looks around and spotted them talking, quickly joining in.

Nishinoya’s constant watch on what is happening around him is also shown when he receives during practice despite just arriving at the gym or training independently without anyone asking him to receive, he also looks out for his team members and has a close watch on his opponents all the time like Yaku from Nekoma who stated that people like Nishinoya who constantly watch others with the desire to grow are indeed scary.

Yet those parts also show us that Nishinoya’s Se can go into extremes that may be considered unhealthy.

We see that Nishinoya is very moody at times and his behaviour flips in an instant, which can be - in Daichi’s case f.e - very annoying and unpredictable.

Nishinoya is a serious player and we also see him being hard-working showing us that he actually cares about his team but at other times his simple curiosity and superficial mindset can cause more trouble, yet we see it rather off-court than on-court when he interacts with people.

Auxiliary Fi:

The second function on his stack: Auxiliary Fi.

The feeling side we can observe in Nishinoya without digging too deep is also due to the function being rather on the top of the stack as the second function works like a support for the dominant óne.

Fi stands for introverted Feeling which is one of the judging functions, since Nishinoya’s Dominant Se is a perceiving one the information he constantly gathers also needs processing to evaluate situations and develop a good moral judgement before rushing to things.

Therefore the Se-Fi works like that: Se intakes information that Fi is going to process and evaluate properly in order to reduce more damage and help his emotional state by not completely being too reckless.

Being the second function Nishinoya resisting his Fi would be quite hard so we can see a lot of moments he actually uses it in the anime as well.

We have different varieties were his Fi is present one would be when he sticks close to his Dom Se, his comfort zone and tries to ignore the Fi but it comes out in a way or another, which is displayed through brushing off important feelings or emotions, ignoring warning signs, the lack of understanding why some paths may be dangerous and unhealthy,looking down on those who are too earnest and avoiding responsibility by playing the victim.

While Nishinoya is earnest himself and also displays those types of behaviours rather than the beginning in the series we see those slight resists in some examples.

The first scene in which Noya appeared was showing that he broke a mop and was very angry as he lashed out due to his emotions. That very scene was due to Asahi declaring that he would stop playing which stirred him up, also showing that he stopped coming to the club as well (even without his suspension) because he just can’t play if Asahi is not around, making this decision heavily based on emotions only.

Nishinoya doesn’t need Asahi to play his position, rationally speaking and with his skill-level it wouldn’t be a problem at all to keep playing with other people instead, yet he simply was against it irrationally choosing what felt right to him as he tried to blame Asahi for the whole situation they were in.

We also see that when Asahi is overly earnest and tries his best Nishinoya tends to make fun of him or look down on him for his good-nature and soft heart which is one of Asahi’s good sides yet a weak point as well.

He doesn’t take any warnings either as he brushes them off easily one example would be when he ignored the warning that the vice-principle was coming and he still ignored that fact causing him to get suspended.

Still Nishinoya’s Fi also displayed itself in a manner that can be viewed as overindulging in Fi which means when still developing Fi and don’t knowing how to use it, Nishinoya for example can use it subconsciously in an extreme manner.

The Asahi example can be again taken for that.

Another one would be that negative feelings are kept unresolved and inhibit his judgement, one of that moments are few but in the case of season 4 we see that even Nishinoya can stop to function in his position as a Libero after meeting Atsumu Miya’s serve that made him remember how he messed up many times and how he used to fear everything at a point making him feel useless.

Nishinoya takes things too personally at times too, as he almost started a fight with Kageyama on the court when they played against Dateko in season 4 episode 6 and 7.

His first reaction was feeling attacked by Kageyama’s remark about him being in the way which was justified, after the matter being explained Nishinoya backed off but the immediate reaction showed his trait.

But most of the time, especially apart of the beginning where Nishinoya started to appear, we can clearly see him use his Fi in a healthy manner.

Nishinoya’s emotions are always authentic and he accepts emotions very well not making fun of them (in a serious way that is).

He wanted to play against Oikawa due to his respect to him and his immense development in that short time he had heard from him in middle-school, motivating him even more as he played against him.

All in all his emotions are easily spotted, genuine and he shows them openly. When he is sad or touched he easily cries, when angry he gets louder and yells at people, even when Hinata talked to him he got touched and therefore offered to help him right away, simply because Hinata said some nice words.

Especially when excited and happy he even jumps high and climbs on other people’s backs.

He is also very understanding towards mistakes and short-comings, being the first one to encourage his teammates no matter if it was a good play or a big mistake.

Even on the sidelines he is the first one to jump over and rush into a hug to congratulate the one who made a point.

His famous line “I got your backs”, also shows us his other ways of showing emotional encouragement and himself displaying his empathetic nature of thinking about others while pushing his own self-care of confidence.

Someone who wears his heart on his sleeve, that is Nishinoya Yuu.

Tertiary Te:

As his tertiary function is Te his balance consists of Fi-Te.

Even when someone with an auxiliary Fi tries to resist it or there is a lack in it, in Nishinoya’s case it being the second on his stack makes it hard so Te is the defense mechanism that comes in when Fi is in one of those mentioned states.

Te rewards the lacking Fi with a sense of competence and strength, this means the lacking Fi misuses the Te causing the person to fall into a Te loop that tries to find a short-term “solution” for deep-lying self-image or self-confidence issues.

Nishinoya is very stubborn when it comes to his own skills and competences, despite being an amazing Libero and proving that fact in every match he stills seems to be never satisfied with himself and always seeks to improve, as he does that in a very domineering way not letting anyone stop him or even gets angry and resentful when someones tries to threaten or advise him that he is fine as he is. He refuses help from others at those times and does what he believes his right, as long as he sees he is competent enough to reach his goal his Te rewards his Fi with that false sense of strength to make him more confident about himself for the time-being than he actually is.

When he tells himself that he can do a certain thing for sure and obsessively emphasizes that even when he is in a monologue it is mostly to negative emotions, f.e when he fails to get receives several times or especially when he is not confident.

In season 4 we also see him almost not doing an overhand receive because it was the more secure way despite Nishinoya clearly trained to do exactly that receive especially when it came to jump floaters after experiencing Hanamaki doing it in the game of season 2.

His negative emotions mostly are buried behind a facade of I got your back, I am sure I can get any receive and many other words that should express his power.

Since we saw in the manga part and anime in season one, in the first practice match against Nekoma that Nishinoya praised Yaku for his skills but didn’t recognize his own, Yaku mentioned that Nishinoya probably doesn’t even see it himself. It shows that Nishinoya might be aware he is not confident but subconsciously expresses confident manners when in a loop.

Inferior Ni:

Ni, the last one on Nishinoya’s stack and it’s also the function that could be considered the least developed one out of the four.

While Ni is there to learn about intuitive connections it’s there to encourage yourself to nurture the inner world and reflect on the things happening around you, as well as connecting them into a context so you can fill the unknown in yourself. It also provides the imagination of idealistic ideas and envisioning the future ahead of you all that is part of introverted Intuition.

Yet in Nishinoya’s case Ni is his last function on the stack, it means he is more prone to resist and ignore his NI, especially when his Dom Se is going to extremes, this can cause the ignored Ni to become louder and louder when the problems caused by the former and it even can be threatening over time.

And that’s where Ni grip comes in, it unconsciously tries to compensate for the lack of the Se or Se extremes, but since the Ni usually is still underdeveloped it doesn’t turn out well and then the so-called grip happens.

The grip can be described when people would say this isn’t like you at all since usually the one exhibiting the grip behaviour isn’t even aware of that fact.

Nishinoya in Ni grip would be almost the opposite of what he almost is.

Hard to believe that the upbeat Nishinoya could be anything but loud and excited?

Well very wrong, in season four we actually see Nishinoya in his best Ni-grip behaviour.

Where do you ask?

Atsumu Miya standing on the other side of the court.

Yes, Nishinoya may be really excited and loves the challenge but especially in the course of the match we see him being quite different than we usually know him and see a whole different side of him.

It’s almost as if he was isolating himself while he felt trapped, felt very gloomy, frustrated, helpless, unassured and doubtful which are all signs of Ni grip.

He was doubting himself over and over and panicked about not being able to move, totally frozen and paraylzed by fear.

It’s as if the Nishinoya who said I got your back was a whole other being in that moment, his calm and contemplating nature about all the mistakes he could make by getting targeted and not being able to even move for Atsumu’s serves started in entire flashback about how he used to fear everything in his life.

He himself explained he moved on from that point where he was scared and after a long time admitted he was scared yet again like he used too as he indirectly questioned his confidence, abilities and his own value.

Usually Nishinoya who might be stubborn when it comes to advice or help but still accepts that he has Daichi and the others next to him, felt totally alone and trapped in that situation, closed-off and being able to reach out if it wasn’t for Kinoshita getting him out of that wrecked thought-process.

But Nishinoya himself questioned if this is all he could do, if this is the so-called Libero he should be and was almost freaking out by not being able to do anything due to he fear that overcame him,

It was a rare moment but that vulnerable, deep in thought Nishinoya who was unusually quiet and almost going crazy due to his inability seeking much more in that moment - That’s also part of Nishinoya but only the part that comes up when he is at his lowest.

As we understand now we surely can say, it was a moment where Nishinoya’s inferior Ni worked against him in a stressed situation, seeing it not being as developed as it should be but since it’s his inferior function around his age it’s quite normal for him to subconsciously misuse it to compensate for his Se extremes.

Conclusion:

Nishinoya is the very depiction of an ESFP as he embodies all the traits that his functions should represent. His personality type that is called the entertainer fits his fierce and energized nature, unpredictable of what he is going to do next.

With his short height yet big presence, he always stands in the spotlight as his amazing skills, loud voice and strong personality overshadow his much taller allies and opponents.

Even his flashy way of talking, his hairstyle and confidence Nishinoya earns the title of an ESFP.

Never getting tired of what is possible and what has to come, and never stopping to explore much more to what is there in the world.

Can you agree or do you see other traits in Nishinoya?

Write it down in the comments!

Until next time, rushing for my tea with a rolling thuuunder!

Makii

[midnight-inthe-kitchen]

“Hotel Potter” (Part 3)

Paring: Remus x Reader (Marauders Era)

Warnings: Fluff, James is bad at fixing things, More awkwardness haha, and mentions of eating issues?

Word Count: 1775

A/n: I didn’t proof read this, so enjoy/I’m sorry... (Also, we’re getting close to the part I had in my DrEaM✨)

You watched as Sirius dropped his bag on the floor before immediately breaking into a sprint to fling himself onto the bed. The bed...

You didn’t know exactly why you were expecting there to be two... I mean that would be a bit excessive for a regular house... but not until this very moment did you realize the consequences of your poor decisions.

“Hey, Y/N,” Marlene called out from the hallway after hearing Sirius’ loud running start. “Good luck!” Her laugh echoed throughout the hall.

Lily came from around the corner to let you know you were always welcome in her room if Sirius turned out to be an actual dog. You simply accepted and just smiled while shedding a singular, figurative tear. “Nah, I’ll be fine... Probably ;)”

It didn’t take you very long to choose a side of the room and stick to it. You were just going to leave most of your stuff in your suitcase to avoid any huge messes. This obviously left you with some time to kill so you wandered back into the hallway.

When you got there, however, all you saw was Remus sitting on the floor in front of the first door James had tried so hard to open. When he saw you step into the hallway, he stood up.

“Where’s James?” you asked confused since they were supposed to be ‘bunking’ together.

Remus shifted his weight, “Oh um, he went to get a hammer, I think.” He shoved his hands in his pockets in hopes of looking less awkward.

“Oh,” you laugh. “Wh- why on Earth does James need a hammer?” You laugh at he thought of James actually fixing anything successfully.

He turned and jabbed his finger behind him to the door. “It, uh... locked us out.” He laughed under his breath as he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

You laughed as well. “...Did you try Alohamora?” you offered to your ‘genius’ friend.

He straightened up a little, almost offended. “We did, actually,” he smiled, “...Except James kept saying ‘Hola-ha-mora’, so it shouldn’t have worked the first three times anyways.”

You, having the heart of a Hufflepuff but intuition of a Ravenclaw, made your way over to him to see the doorknob yourself. Remus shuffled out of the way after first being stunned by your unexpected approach.

“So what’s actually wrong with it, then?” you question, getting on one knee to peer though the keyhole.

Remus awkwardly leaned over your head to look down on the situation but quickly realized how weird it looked from everyone else’s perspective and simply took a step back. “Um... You know I was actually thinking there might be internal rusting somewhere?”

You tutted your tongue on the top of your mouth, still very concentrated. “I mean sure, but that seems very unlikely due to the appearance of the rest of the house. You would think if someone could take the time to polish the toilet-paper holders, the inside of the room locks should be in perfect condition...” Remus nodded in agreement. “... And James doesn’t have the key?” you asked, confused by the concept of poor safety measures.

Remus just shrugged, “He said the house is so old that with unlocking charms, you know, because they are so common in wizarding communities, his parents figured ‘what would be the point’ of keeping any of the keys I suppose? I don’t know... Anyways, I told him that was dumb and then he went to go get a hammer.”

You stood up, having to steady yourself first from the fast rush of blood to your head. “What does he exspect to do?” you wonder out loud, “It’s not like he can just smash the handle off— though that would solve the problem,” you mutter that last part. “...But come on... I mean Mr and Mrs Potter would kill him and let Sirius bury his bones...”

“What?”

“...Nothing,” you continued. “But by the looks of it, all the handles look like an original artist’s craftsmanship which means not only are they more valuable and rare as a completed set, but they’re also way more expensive.”

Remus marveled silently at your quirky fountain of knowledge. For such a quiet and peaceful-minded soul, he often forgot that in the moments you weren’t tarnished by the boisterous personality of everyone else, you were more than bright enough to light up his world for a moment.

Just then, you and Remus turned to where you could both hear quickened footsteps making they’re way up the staircase. “Not to fear, Moony!... You’ll be reunited with your precious books in no ti-” James stopped mid-sentence before he nearly ran into the two of you.

“Back from your quest, oh key-less one?” You watch as James furrowed his brow before glancing at Remus then back to you.

”Ah, yes, I almost—”

“Is that a screwdriver?” you bite your lip to prevent yourself from laughing right in his face. James lifted up the “hammer” he got from heaven knows where with pride.

“No. It’s a hammer, Y/n, jeeze, I would have though you’d know, coming from a nice muggle community.... Now will you please move out of the way so I can fix this thing?” He readjusted his glasses sassily.

By this point in the conversation, Remus and you were nearly having a seizure trying not to burst out in laughter at your friend who really was trying his hardest. You eventually caved and shrunk up against the wall in a ball. “You ca- You can’t fix a door know with-”

“James,” Remus chuckled as he tried to pry the screwdriver from his hands. “That’s not going to-”

You both burst into another fit of laughter as James broke free and started whacking the lock with the butt-end of the device.

When the knob finally came loose, the three of you let out a little cheer. It was you, of course, who realized that the door needed to be lifted up a little while opening or closing becuse the real probably was with the hinges, not the lock.

About fifteen minutes later, when everyone had finally “set up camp”... James gave everyone a grand tour of the house. Your favorite bits were probably the drawing room because of the gorgeous window view and the library/study for obvious reasons. The part that you couldn’t quite get over, though, was the fact that there was a fireplace in practically every room. YAAAS WARMTH✨

When dinner finally hit though, you were definitely hungry. (You weren’t exactly starving because, well, eating had always seemed like a chore to you... Just thanks to the many perks of living in a 26% functioning body... But of course, you would push it aside unless you were on mental overload and therefore stress-ate an entire box of Cheerios plus a whole bag of goldfish and chocolate all night during that one OWLS season). But right now, in the midst of friends and good food, you were excited to spend the first evening of the weekend with them :)

The table (the smaller one meant for family not business guests in the main dining hall, was seated with James and Mary on both ends. Lily had somehow slithered her way to James’ left putting her, Marlene, and Sirius between the two. Peter sat on the left of James, smushing you between Remus on your left and Mary on your right.

You watched as the conversation switched from quidditch fowls, to hot quidditch team players, to James, Sirius, Mary and Marlene competing on who had gone out with the hottest Gryffindor member.

You obviously stayed out of this one as the three of you, Remus, and Peter all watched... Lily would throw in some deviously timed mention about her short flings with Slytherin team boys just to throw James off his lead.

“Sorry about not answering earlier...” Remus stated out of nowhere.

“What?” you muffled, trying not to choke on the soup you were currently obsessing over.

Remus was hoping he would t have to repeat himself, but just when he was about to, your brain registered his words.

“Oh! Oh, no no, that’s totally fine. I actually had just told Sirius that I didn’t care where I was- Wha- I’m sorry,” you laugh nervously, stuttering on every new sentence. WhY wAs iT sO HaRd To TaLk RiGhT NoW? “I just didn’t want to put you in that position, you know having to choose who to sleep with- I MEAN not sleep-sleep with just you know...” You could practically feel your face cooking.

“...Sirius(?).” You both finish as you gesture to the boy across the table from you, trying to stick his spoon to his nose using only his breath.

You both sat there, distracted and watching him until he actually succeeded. “Mary, look!” Right as he turned to show her however, it slid off and splashed soup up in his face.

You propped your head off your hand after a long moment of thought.... “Bet I could do it longer...” you start, turning back to Remus.

A confused smile stretched across his face. “...What?” he questioned again as if he hadn’t hear you properly the first time.

Without answering, you picked up the second spoon placed at your table spot (for whatever reason) and you watched as your reflection became more and more cloudy.

“Are you—”

You turned calmly to meet his face with a spoon now hanging from atop your nose.

After a good couple seconds of Remus staring at you, it finally clicked in his head what you were doing. A rare grin stretched up his face as he grabbed his own spoon and tried it himself.

It took a couple of tries for the spoon to really stick, but as soon as it did, Sirius saw from across the room and automatically turned it into a table-wide competition.

By the time pudding came around, you were holding the record of four minutes and twelve seconds versus Peter somehow who was thirteen seconds shy.

When the competition had ended though, Lily finally asked what the heck the plan was for the rest of the weekend...

In the morning, James said, everyone could go up to an abandoned village area where a muggle summer camp once stood and they could spend the night there. He promised the plumbing still worked for whatever reason, so it could be totally doable.

Every fiber of your being was telling you that was a dumb idea, especially a bunch of teenagers in the woods alone, but whatever right? Majority votes are always won by the delinquents.

[faerytale-au]

A Darkness Lingers Pt.1

Word Count: 8,805 Fourth Prompt Place: During and After “Promises and Tokens” Rating: M TW: Mentions of Past Abuse Part 1 - Part 2 Cross posted to Ao3 here!

(During Prom&Tok)     

“So your brother’s getting hitched, talk about a shocker.” Papyrus casually gave Undyne the side eye as they walked. Why everyone kept repeating that he didn’t fully understand. Sans could be devoted if he wanted to be, after all he had helped raise him since he was young, even back when their father was still around.

“I SUPPOSE TO THE UNOBSERVANT EYE IT WOULD BE QUITE THE SHOCK YES.” Undyne could always tell when Papyrus was being sarcastic.

“Hey, I’m not the only one who thinks that, you have to admit Sans doesn’t really do much unless he absolutely has to. I wouldn’t call this a necessity either.” Papyrus stopped in place to stare at her.

“IS THERE A REASON YOU’RE BRINGING THIS UP RIGHT NOW?” When she’d all but demanded him to walk with her to work with the excuse that they were heading the same direction he’d been expecting some friendly chatter. 

Not a cross examination.

Undyne stopped beside him and folded her arms, her expression turning serious as she seemed to contemplate something. “Is the wedding even going to be legal?”

Papyrus was offended. “WHY OF COURSE IT WILL BE! WHY ARE YOU EVEN ASKING THAT?”

“It’s just well...Frisk is a mage.” Undyne stated plainly as she placed both her hands on her hips. Papyrus didn’t see what her point was, and so narrowed his sockets at her suspiciously. He knew she was uneasy with the thought of mages walking around, but last he was aware Undyne liked Frisk.

“THE ROYAL FAMILY AS I RECALL HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH MARRIAGES BETWEEN CLANS. THOSE ARE VERY MUCH STILL PERSONAL MATTERS AND DECISIONS LEFT TO THOSE ENGAGING IN THE BINDING CEREMONY.” Papyrus casually dismissed. But Undyne only seemed more reluctant about dropping the conversation as she frowned.

“That’s another thing, does she know what a binding ceremony even means Paps?” Ah, there was the crux of the matter, he could tell by the way her gaze skirted around him, but he was confused.

“I’D ASSUME SHE DOES, THE HUMANS MIMIC THE WHOLE PROCESS RATHER EFFICIENTLY IN THEIR OWN CEREMONIES.”

What was there to even know he wondered? 

A binding ceremony meant exactly what it was called, the two participating became tied to each other usually until one or both parties fell down shortly before dusting. In the meantime their tokens they exchanged, powered through the upholding of their promises, would act like soft mood detectors and tracking beacons. They would be able to tell when one was in danger or had gone somewhere far away from the other.

But then again that was for Seelie.

Papyrus had no clue what rules would apply to his brother and Frisk, he didn’t even know if it would work the same for them.

He did know however so long as she stayed in the realm and remained a mage her lifespan was sure to endure as long as any other Seelie. However Mages and regular humans didn’t go through the falling down process when reaching the end.

For the briefest moment Papyrus felt a flicker of doubt and worry for his sibling.

What would it mean if Frisk was somehow killed or died before him? Most Seelie didn’t survive when their partner passed away, and there had been stories of the effects tokens could have on those that still lived.

He didn’t want to think about the implications a token from a powerful human soul could have.

So he didn’t.

But Undyne did have very good reasons to worry.

“AND IF SHE DOESN’T I’M SURE IT WILL BE EXPLAINED TO HER. ARE THERE ANY OTHER CONCERNS THAT ONLY INCREASE THE JOVIAL MOOD I AM IN?” Undyne didn’t want to voice it seeing how his expression went neutral, his sockets habitually going wide with an empty grin to match, just as Sans’s so often did when he was talking about a subject he was uncomfortable with. 

Still it was a legitimate question that needed asking. “Yeah, last one Paps. Who’s going to bind them? Last I checked the job belonged to the clan elder, or to the oldest member and your dad is…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish.

Papyrus’s smile finally dropped completely. “AH, I WAS THINKING ABOUT THAT MYSELF. I AM AWARE I AM TECHNICALLY BY TRADITION TOO YOUNG TO KNOW ABOUT THE CLAN RITES, AND THAT SANS IS THE ELDEST BUT GIVEN THE CIRCUMSTANCES I AM HOPING HER MAJESTY AND GERSON WILL BE KIND ENOUGH TO LET ME LEARN AT LEAST THIS ONE.” 

“Is that why you’re heading to the castle with me?” 

Papyrus forced his smile back on but it was so easy to tell for the other Seelie how fake it was. “ONE REASON YES.” 

Undyne shifted in place awkwardly. She was never good with emotions when it came to someone other than Alphys but she was insightful enough to know when an invisible line had been crossed.

“Look, I’m sorry I brought up Ga--”

“IT’S FINE!”  She jolted at how quickly he cut her off and Papyrus was quick to rub the back of his vertebra as he offered an apologetic smile. “IT’S NOT EXACTLY A GOOD THING TO MENTION HIS NAME, YOU KNOW THE POWER BEHIND SUCH THINGS.” 

“...You mean the power for him behind such things.” She glowered. 

Papyrus didn’t respond, simply stared at her, with all the patience many would have thought him incapable of. It was clear he wasn’t willing to continue the conversation. Her sigh of defeat was enough to make him silently grateful even as it irritated her.

“Sorry for the questioning. C’mon we’re going to be late.” 

He smiled and went to follow, only to pause as a thick foreboding chill ran the length of his spine. Papyrus peered over his shoulder as the air around him became saturated with malevolent energy and the taste of sulfur.

If he focused long enough he swore he could see the minimalist movement out of his peripheral, the area usually reserved for wisps or other mischievous Fae that sought to cause havoc. 

He was usually never bothered by such things.

But a clan member could always tell when their eldest was nearby, Seelie or Unseelie alike.

“PAPYRUS! ARE YOU COMING!?”

Gaster watched from behind the veil as Papyrus turned back around and sauntered off after Undyne. He could tell his magic was riled but the lanky skeleton kept it cleverly concealed as he chased after the blue fish Seelie. 

It was almost impressive how his youngest’s magic control had developed he thought absently.

But then he lingered on what he’d heard. 

So his oldest son was getting married? The possibility of such a thing never once crossed his mind, seeing how cold and distant Sans had become in the years following his departure, it was quite the surprise.

Someone made Sans happy, enough to break through his guarded detachment and a human no less. Oh what irony that was. 

Gaster’s corrupted soul gave a sickening twist as a foul wave of contempt overcame him.

He supposed he wasn’t due an invite.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t by all rights allowed to meet the bride. He always knew his eldest had a soft spot for the other race that was simply his nature as it was all Seelie’s, but to go so far as to bind them to their family name?

What made this one so special?

~~

Frisk wasn’t experienced when it came to cooking. 

In her youth when she had to fend for herself she usually had a kind neighbor to help her, or if she was really lucky the town’s crops would already be just beginning to ripen and she’d pluck one or two fruits for a meal when she was hungry. 

None of that required fire or pots.

So why it had been a good idea to Papyrus and her...fiancé...to let her make dinner she had no idea. She was even a bit worried she’d potentially end up burning the house down; how was she supposed to know when the meat was fully cooked, let alone magic meat too.

Her narrowed eyes flickered over to the cookbook Papyrus had set up for her. 

It said to simmer the meat until browned...how did one simmer meat? 

Magic maybe? Wasn’t that always the answer?

Frisk was so busy worrying and glaring at the food to notice as a thin shadow slipped from the kitchen doorway behind her, it’s shapeless form gliding across the floor to rest just behind her own feet. 

It lingered still as could be while Frisk hummed and begun to look over seasonings.

Slowly the shadow darkened and grew upwards like a pillar of smoke, it’s ascent silent as the grave as it twisted and enlonged. It continued to grow until it was just tall enough it threatened to touch the ceiling and all the while Frisk was ignorant to its presence..

The sharp popping of the meat and a loud gasp from her was enough to cover a nauseous sound of rolling curd and dolloping phlegm, the crackle of raw magic, and the food’s smell of char as it burned was enough to mask a scent of coal and wood.

A face, white and round, cracked from the left corner of its mouth with a matching lightning bolt jagged like cut curving up from it’s right eye rolled out from the churning darkness to grin wide and maliciously at the human woman’s back. 

So this was her? 

Gaster tilted his head as he took in her appearance with an apathetic look. About average height, dressed simply in Seelie garb, but to his keen eye all together plain looking. He couldn’t see anything that would have coaxed his son’s attentions.

Nothing truly remarkable stood out about her that he could see. There were even faint scars dotting her arms if he looked close enough, a feature that normally would’ve been off putting among her kind he was sure, he could even see one or two trying to show from under the collar of her shirt.

Yet.

There had to be something he was missing.

A flare of brilliant magic circled his right socket as a monocle formed and his frown curved up into a smile both fascinated and intrigued. Right in the center of her being he could see a heart floating and radiating the aura of magic around her. 

Her soul was the most vivid and bewitching shade of Red he’d ever seen, determination practically poured from her being in rivets. It made his hands spawn and itch. Even enclosed within her body as it was it gave off a sense of bewitching ambition and drive.

Was it truly a wonder his eldest had fallen for her then?

All Gaster could see...was fathomless potential.

Frisk mumbled to herself as she rushed over to the sink, her hands fumbling as she filled a cup and rushed back over before stilling as an icy shiver raced up her spine. She frowned. It felt as if she had eyes on her, someone watching her as she attempted to pour water over the smoking remains of her ruined dinner. 

Gaster smirked.

Trying to keep calm she drew a shaky breath and tensed. Swallowing down her nerves she turned and froze, her body preparing for a sudden assault or unexpected visitor.

She blinked at the empty kitchen. 

Frisk had been living in the Seelie realm for a while now, unexplained sensations or fluctuations of magic weren’t unusual or uncommon. But this felt off...as if whatever that was she had felt didn’t belong to the rest of reality around her.

Furrowing her brows one of her hands came up slowly to brush the air in front of her as if to feel something she couldn’t see before snapping it away to her chest. She started to breath heavy and glanced down at her palm.

A feeling, something magnetic had rebuffed her.

“Paps? Sans?” She waited, a clamminess overcoming her skin, but no one answered her. Mentally she started to count backwards from ten as she cast a wary glance around her, her eyes lingering in corners and doorways before finally she started to calm down.

Feeling reassured there wasn’t really anyone around she let out a sigh and nearly whimpered as she reluctantly turned back to the stove and saw the meat had turned solid as a brick and black. 

She couldn’t even tell it had been meat anymore. 

Looked like it was going to be takeout for dinner again, Papyrus wasn’t going to be too thrilled.

“WE’RE BACK!” Frisk flinched, talk about convenient timing. 

Frisk smiled in relief as she called back, her eyes locked on the smoldering pan, and shivered as she swore silently to herself that she felt eyes on her again. Her hand clenched the cup she still held nervously as her heart verged on picking back up. 

The feeling of familiar and warm arms encircling her waist relaxed her.

“wow, my favorite, charcoal.” 

Her cheeks stung and the stiffness in her shoulders changed meaning at Sans’s teasing and the chaste kiss he pressed to her cheek. Her worry was instantly forgotten as she smiled at him in amusement. Her fiance had a habit of liking things just a bit overcooked. 

A lot overcooked.

“Well, at least one of us will have a lunch for tomorrow.” She pouted. 

Sans merely chuckled and slyly glanced over to the corner of the kitchen at the same moment as his brother walked in. Papyrus’s loud exclamation and Frisk’s apologetic stammering faded to the back of his mind as his eyelight flared.

Gaster and Sans stared at each other.

His hold on Frisk tightened. 

“Sans?” He blinked and his father was gone. 

Belatedly he took in the way he was standing, like a wall separating where Gaster had been from the rest of the room. His suddenly blurry gaze lingered on the empty corner with a hostile intent roaring through his bones. 

When had he let go of Frisk? 

...Why was Gaster showing up again?

Feeling unnerved he forced a grin and made sure to carefully control his tone as he turned with a shrug. “sup?” 

“You okay?” Frisk drawled slowly, her eyes flickering from where he’d been facing and back to him. If he didn’t know better Sans would swear Frisk knew Gaster had been there too. Coming into her powers he knew she would start to be able to feel distortions just as they could, but he worried; Frisk wasn’t officially tied to the family yet.

Was Gaster so strong now that his human fiance, a simple mage, could sense him?

“fine, just wondering if we have enough ketchup to go with dinner.” Papyrus frowned.

“YOU NEED TO SEE A HEALER FOR THAT ATROCIOUS SENSE OF TASTE.” Sans inwardly sighed as Frisk giggled. He couldn’t help but to be thankful that his brother helped with the subject change. This wasn’t something that needed to be talked about right now, hopefully ever.

He watched as Papyrus stole a spoon and a new mixing bowl. He looked really determined to teach Frisk some skills in the kitchen and Sans wasn’t complaining, he always enjoyed a show.

Even if he was incapable of relaxing now.

~~

(Post Prom&Tok)

Frisk blinked sleepily and let out a yawn, her heavy lids fluttering as she slowly sat up. She frowned as she looked down at herself to see her everyday clothing and cloak adorning her instead of the pajamas she’d worn to bed.

What?

She blinked, and then she was on her feet, Sans standing in front of her with his cloak billowing ominously in the wind whipping around the both of them. His sockets were void of light, and his posture was hunched, almost broken looking. 

An echoing and child-like sob had her looking around to see no one in sight. 

Was she dreaming? 

Frisk didn’t know what to think as a low growl caught her attention. Confused, she looked behind her and froze. 

A being of blackest night stood tall and imposing, their face horrifyingly cracked and grin maliciously wide. Eight hands floated around the creature, circling and moving with purpose. 

She didn’t know how to explain it, but she could feel them staring at her, and it felt terrifyingly familiar. It didn’t take much for her to realize it was the same feeling she’d felt that one lazy afternoon in the kitchen.

Her blood began to race.

There was no doubt what she was looking at was an Unseelie.

“G U I L T Y.”

A stab of ice and terror raced through her at the word, Sans’s voice echoing around her and plunging her under a shroud of fear. 

Guilty?

The next thing she knew it was an out of body experience. Sans and the Unseelie stared each other down and the scene darkened, turned to hues of grays and blues as a chuckle, low and fervent came from her husband. 

It sounded nothing like him.

The Unseelie spoke, and his voice grated Frisk’s hearing like nails on a chalkboard.

“SuCh A dIsApPoInTmEnT...TRAITOR!” 

She just barely caught the way Sans flinched but there was no missing how the air turned cold, how his smile impossibly grew but at the same time lost all hints of emotion.

It was like Sans became a shell, nothing but an empty vessel.

His voice was unusually quiet and subdued, “traitor...thought you hated jokes old man.” 

Her heart skipped painfully in shock. 

Old man? Was this...Sans’s father?

Her silent question was answered for her.

“YoU aRe No SoN oF MiNe…” With that something seemed to break, and the atmosphere instantly ran thick and suffocating. 

Her husband’s smile dipped but quickly recovered and then--

Frisk watched as Sans charged, a blast of ice coating the ground as he propelled himself forward. His expression was haunting, a grin so wide with sockets to match. Her heart hammered as he brought a hand up, thick white phalanges coated in contrastingly beautiful frost and blue magic.

An animistic roaring filled her ears as she spun to see Sans’s father curling and shooting forward like smoke to meet him, the eight levitating hands bloating to gigantic proportions and surrounding him like a cruel halo.

Sans’s hand jabbed out in silent command and bones, both blue and white, formed to shoot forward; thick tails of ice and snow rending the air in their wake as they rushed passed her suddenly spawned body. 

Frisk cried out as one came close to scraping her cheek but dodged out of the way in the nick of time and narrowly avoided being swept away with the attacks by a wide sweep of one colossal hand as it batted them away. 

“What’s happening!?” She shouted in fear, her skin breaking into a cold sweat. 

Frisk went ignored as the hand that had so easily dismissed her husband’s assault met Sans, his smile lifting in one corner before he vanished and reappeared above it, hand raised and then brought down in a furious snap that spawned two demonic looking heads. 

Her eyes widened as their jaws unhinged and two jets of freezing azure light erupted, shooting out with deafening noise like thunder as they connected and shattered the levitating limb in a fashion like glass. 

The Unseelie, let out a pain filled shriek.

Sans landed on one of the floating skulls, a light Frisk couldn’t make out from the distance between them flaring briefly in one socket as his cloak and clothing whipped violently around him. “heh, looks like you’re out of practice gaster, but what do i know? i never practice.”

Gaster looked up scornfully, something Frisk hadn’t noticed before around his wide socket blurring and glowing with an ominous aura as he grew in size and hissed nastily through his own demented smile.

“bUt Of CoUrSe, YoUr BrOtHeR wAs AlWaYs ThE PrOmIsInG oNe!”

Another sob, louder than the first drew Frisk’s gaze and it landed on a huddled child; a smaller skeleton bent over and tucked into himself with his hands covering his face. But there could be no mistake, not with the sharply red colored cloak around his shoulders, smaller but still as eye catching and attention seeking as it’s longer counterpart.

It was Papyrus, and Frisk’s heart ached. 

Sans’s grin finally dropped. 

Gaster whipped up and twirled into the sky like an arching bolt of smoke, his hands moving in front of his face in a circular formation as they begun to spin rapidly. A low whine turning sharp and high pitched snapped Frisk’s attention from where it rested on Papyrus to both of the combating fae.

“Stop it…” She didn’t know why but the words were leaving her mouth without her consent as a burning in her chest grew intense. 

“Stop it!” She cried out just as Sans raised a hand and summoned another skull; this one bigger than the others with immense blue power rolling off of it in thick waves, causing thick icicles to form and instantly break into countless shards around it.. 

Dark and tainted cold light, pitched and subtly hued purple on it’s edges, burst forth from Gaster’s hands just as Sans pointed towards him, the gigantic skull unhinging it’s massive jaw and firing--

“STOP IT!” Frisk shouted till her voice cracked--

The world was engulfed in blinding light.

And then she was falling.

“Seems you did not like that little glimpse into my son’s past.”

She jolted as everything snapped into darkness, leaving her dazed and with a thick feeling of cotton in her mouth. Blinking, the area began to brighten as her eyes adjusted to reveal she was now looking at a stone wall. 

From what she could tell she was in a cavern.

Swallowing nervously she took a step forward, yelping as a shape came from seemingly nowhere in front of her and forced her shockingly weakened legs to waver as she hurried to take a step back. 

Frisk stared with her hands clutched to her chest, waiting for her heart to stop racing. 

Was she still dreaming? It was difficult for her to focus on the thought, the issue slipping just out of reach every time she attempted to answer it. Why was it so hard to concentrate?

“Frightened? Not surprising for a human in the Unseelie realm.” She flinched at how close the voice sounded. 

Twisting her head this way and that she couldn’t make out anything other than the abnormally dark spot in front of her. That feeling was back again, and it was just as present and unnerving as the first time she’d ever felt it.

“U-unseelie...realm?” Her voice came out shy and breathy, the air around her feeling chilly and cold. Now she understood what she felt; it was a feeling of being unsafe, so vulnerable. She was hyper aware of just how powerless she instantly was.

The voice, observant but yet somehow soothing in it’s tone spoke up, “Yes, you need not worry however. No one dares to enter my dwelling here.” 

Frisk found no comfort in the mystery man’s words, instead she only hunched into herself as she tried to fight off the unending chill and frost threatening her skin. A moment of silence fell between them and it was if the entity knew she didn’t have the strength to respond.

“I forget how fragile your race is, allow me to adjust the space for you.” 

There was no warning. The darkness just suddenly brightened and illuminated the space around her almost blindingly like someone had casually thrown a candle in her face, and warmth instantly replaced the abnormal glacial air that had had her teeth nearly rattling.

She didn’t even get the chance to adjust to the sudden flux in her surroundings and assault on her senses before the voice was back. “It’s bothersome how hard it is to read you. Usually I have no trouble in knowing what one needs or feels, but in this case it’s exceedingly difficult. Although I am enjoying it.”

Sucking in air through her nose she rubbed her hands over her eyes and focused on how clear the cavern was now, noticing with a start that the blacker than black spot still stood in front of her, the edges of it curling and coiling like thin tendrils. 

Gradually it shifted and Frisk fisted her hands to try and fight off the wave of bizarre wrongness she felt as the top morphed into what she could see as shoulders before a face emerged, transforming into a taller and darkly elegant looking fae. The bizarre placement of a monocle over a wide socket disturbed her in just how menacing it made him look, but not as much as the cracks her eyes traced.

Right away she recognized him. “Are you...Gaster?” 

He appeared satisfied as he smiled at her. “An accurate assumption.” 

His gaze panned her form for a brief moment before looking back up at her confused expression. His monocle sparked with light ominously. “I would say it’s a pleasure to meet my daughter in law finally, but given the situation that would be a lie.” 

A cold sting raced down her spine as he moved closer to her, his form so imposing and tall in comparison to her withdrawn statue it made her mouth go dry. He easily dwarfed her. “I always knew Sans had unusual tastes but a human bride no less. I see he still maintains his passive aggressive attitude.” 

Frisk didn’t know how to take that but her heart gradually stopped racing as Gaster shifted a bit further from her, the oppressive feeling he radiated dulling with the small distance. It was enough to allow Frisk to gain her bearings, and one fact came slamming back down.

“You said we’re in the Unseelie realm!?” 

The place Sans had vanished to for three years!? What was only three days to him!? 

Frisk felt a wave of panic start to sink in.

How long had she been here!? Would anyone look for her? Did Seelie willingly send out search parties for vanishing mages? Did Sans and Papyrus know? What would Pap do--

Oh no.

Sans

What if he thought something had happened to her? Had thought she’d abandoned him?

“I-I need to get home!” Gaster raised a brow.

“Do you believe that a real possibility for you currently?” He sounded amused.

Frisk found sudden strength as she stood tall and faced Gaster down. No one was going to use her to hurt the ones she loved, especially the only one that had ever loved her when she’d needed it most, and Gaster wasn’t going to keep her here if she could help it.

He was surprised as Frisk attempted to look intimidating, her aura of magic spiking around her as small iridescent flames sparked in a bewitching halo to frame her body. Her emotional response wasn’t what he’d been expecting, in fact, he hadn’t even seen it coming. 

Gaster was definitely enjoying this.

“What are you planning to do? In a one on one fight your chances of winning are low, I have centuries of experience next to you.”  His words seemed to have the impact he desired as he watched her slowly wilt, her flames turning dim as the courage she found turned sour.

But then she perked up again, her flames blooming into raging infernos that wrapped along her arms to ball within her hands. It wasn’t hard for the scientist to imagine the flaring of her soul, to picture it brimming with her determination as she spoke with a tone commanding attention and confidence.

“It doesn’t mean I still shouldn’t try!” 

Gaster shot her a disinterested look but all the same willed his hands into existence and watched her eyes go wide as they enlarged large enough that she could have easily fit through a hole in the center of one palm three times over. 

Still she didn’t back down.

She was either a brave fool, or a desperate mouse wanting an out.

After a moment of Gaster trying and not so surprisingly failing to calculate the ramifications of the possible fallout if they fought he dismissed his hands with a blink. She looked confused as her flames vanished but he simply spoke as if the standoff hadn’t just happened between them.

“I have no desire to fight a battle I would easily win. Instead, tell me human, do you know what an End of an Era is?” Frisk frowned. She didn’t like how that question sounded, she didn’t like how much hearing ‘End of an Era’ made her skin crawl, and could only shake her head as he pressed the tips of his many fingers on his numerous hands together. 

His one good socket narrowed as he spoke.

“Its when the Rulers lose their lives, the end of the current millennia, unlike normal Seelie and their dark counterparts their lifespans are shorter. An unfortunate drawback to being the anchor that holds the Realms very existences in place, to keep magic itself alive and flowing.” She tensed as he moved around her, his embodied darkness bending and flickering like excited vapor as he continued.

“At the Age’s end the realms temporarily vanish, and those fae, mages, all magical beings still alive are suspended in the Either until the previous ruler’s heir or another is selected to become the new anchor. In the meantime the Veil is what keeps your human world safe from the endless flow of magic until the reformation year is up.”

“Reformation year?” Gaster let his hand drop behind his back as he smiled. If he didn’t make her feel so uncomfortable Frisk could have seen the smile almost friendly, like a teacher to a student in a way. Why he was even speaking to her about this she didn’t know, but curiosity had her focusing on his words.

The derisive chuckle he let out quickly banished all temporary illusion of friendliness. 

“You have a very interesting soul, Frisk.” Her hand instantly went to cover her chest.

“You have an interesting eye piece.” His sockets widened and she bit her lip. It felt so similar to when she’d first met Sans, she’d responded just as absent and truthfully when he’d commented on her eyes. 

Was she...at ease...somehow?

Gaster stared silently at her. “...My monocle interests you…”

She looked hesitantly at him. “Is it how you were able to see me in the Seelie Realm?” He went quiet again and Frisk wondered what he was thinking as an emotion seemed to cross his face so quickly she would’ve thought she imagined it.

“...I see, so you knew I was watching did you?” 

“I guessed…” She whispered. 

Gaster was impressed. 

Her heart began to race as he suddenly glided closer to her, close enough that she could see the tiny iridescent gems of rolling colors embedded in the monocle over his one working eyelight as it pulsed brightly.

“It takes a year of human time for the realms to reform and for the Either’s magical influence to settle in it’s new host, that’s why it’s called a reformation year.” He paused and seemed to contemplate Frisk’s befuddled expression before pulling back and cupping his bony chin.

He hadn’t expected Sans’s wife to be this intelligent. Gaster had been right to assume the amount of potential she had, and the soul she carried...Maybe there was something special about her after all.

“Are you sure you still want to know why I have this? Why I am able to see through the veil?” The way he tapped the eye piece, languid and slow made Frisk’s nerves shoot up. But she had asked, and despite everything she had always been too curious for her own good.

“Yes.”

Gaster’s smirk dropped and his sockets darkened.

“When fae and magical beings alike are suspended in the Either the Veil not only protects you humans but us as well. It puts us to sleep as many call it, though that’s far too simple a term and not as close to what it means, what actually happens to us.” His words faded out, went weak until silence swallowed them as he stared unseeing passed Frisk.

He looked haunted and beguiled. 

She didn’t know what to make of that complicated expression but for some reason it hurt her to witness it. Gaster looked as if he’d seen things no other being ever had before. Frisk just didn’t know if that was necessarily a good thing.

He blinked and refocused on her.

“The Veil coats us similar to a shield and blinds us as well. That’s what it’s supposed to do at least. The last occurrence, however, failed to protect me the way it should have.” Gaster watched as Frisk bit her lip and could easily tell how she automatically wanted to comfort him. 

But he ignored it as flashbacks threatened to overcome his vision. Memories he didn’t have all but begging to drown him in their morose nonexistence. It always fascinated him how he could talk about them, but never truly live them, only feel their presence and the old ghostly burning of his torment as if he’d experienced it only seconds ago.

He took a carefully hidden breath and looked at her dully. 

“I was awake, and the Either burned into my sockets and mind endlessly.” 

Frisk felt an icy shiver run up her back as the unfathomable horror of his words struck her speechless. 

He...had been tortured for a year…

Something about that statement resonated with her. It wasn’t the same thing that she’d gone through growing up, in fact it was worse but, she knew what it was like to feel hopeless. To feel as if the torment would never end and to sometimes silently beg to give just about anything to be free of it.

When she didn’t react Gaster simply shrugged. “A year of screaming with no one to hear would have broken a person, but I survived.” 

That didn’t make what he’d gone through okay. 

He didn’t give Frisk the chance to say it out loud though as he turned his back to her, the tenseness in his shoulders going lax as he stood straighter and let out a bored sigh.

“And when we woke up the first thing I did was shortcut to my lab where I took the Either, still filling and pouring from my sockets, and collected it in a flask. Astonishingly once it no longer clung to me but only to the cold and unfeeling glass in my hands it solidified, almost crystallized I would say, instantaneously.” 

He turned to face Frisk again and this time there was a light in his sockets, something warm and full of curiosity that it shocked her to see in an Unseelie gaze.

“Of course I went completely blind in one eye and partially in the other. Though I began to notice how different the realm around me was. Where a pond or tree would rest all I’d have to do is blink and it would instead be nothing but cracked and brittle ground with an obsidian lantern in the tree’s stead. It was gradual at first but then became constant.” 

He paused to give an annoyed roll of his eyelight. “And each time it would leave me with the worst of migraines! Even worse than my son’s ridiculous puns!” 

How frustrated he sounded and the way a floating hand waved dismissively had Frisk struggling to not let out a giggle. Gaster looked so enthused it was hard for her to keep telling herself to be weary of him. His tone had gone fond and so eager with every sentence he spoke.

He suddenly seemed so normal talking about this.

“But then I had an idea, maybe I was glancing through the Veil, each vision was startlingly similar to what the Unseelie realm was described as in the texts, and this ability only manifested after the Either had affected me.” Gaster grinned sharply, his hands wringing together as he looked at Frisk with a sobering conviction that bordered madness.

She sobered.

“If the Either could take away my sight, why couldn’t it help grant me another?” She had a feeling she knew where he was going with this and she felt her stomach drop.

“The gems in your monocle, it’s the solidified Either?” He looked so proud at her answer that it did weird things to her chest. A sense of accomplishment, a feeling of satisfaction. Frisk had only felt that particular way once before, and it had been the only time her father had ever smiled at her.

Gaster...found himself wanting to be honest with her.

“...You’re more intelligent than I’ve given you credit for.” The feeling increased in Frisk’s chest. 

“Excellent for a human, my son wasn’t completely clueless choosing a partner after all it seems.” And the feeling quickly changed to a mild offence as she frowned. Apparently Gaster was where Sans and Papyrus both got their mood ruining habits from.

“But yes, it turns out the gems when placed in a particular fashion can infuse objects. This eye piece not only allows me to peer easily through the Veil without repercussions but to choose when it happens. It offers me control.”

Frisk did not like the way his eyelight flared, the sheer malice and mania inside of it. But it didn’t scare her, if anything it made pity form a knot inside of her. She hesitated but found the strength to say what had been on her mind as he’d ranted and raved.

“It must be awful, being here alone?” 

Gaster’s face for the briefest moment went lax. His built up excitement and sense of triumph shattered as if Frisk had taken a hammer to it and replaced the feeling with a cold sensation of apathy. 

“I...can’t fully imagine what it’s like for you. You seem so…” Her words failed her but still she struggled to get her meaning across as Gaster leveled a detached stare so piercing it felt as if her very soul had been laid out in the open. “...like you’re meant to be around people, to create and discover and then share that with others.”

He slowly looked down at nothing and he didn’t know why he said what he did but found he didn’t regret it. For some reason it was bizarrely easy to confide in this particular human. “...It’s a similar feeling to being in the Either, only there’s no hope of it ending.”  

Frisk’s response was instant. 

“There’s always hope. Even if it feels impossible.” 

Gaster looked sharply up at her.

“Such confidence when the evidence says otherwise. There has never been an Unseelie returning to their previous nature once banished and I stand firm on my belief even now. You humans are nothing but trouble, the very reason our monarchy and the magic in the world goes ignored and depleted.” Frisk flinched but stood resolute before him, squared her shoulders even as she clutched her hand to her chest.

“Beliefs can change…” Her mind flashed back to her parents, doubt and confusion trying to turn her voice hollow, but she pushed the vision down and said “People can change. If they are just willing too.” 

Gaster turned to fully face her and his many hands vanished as his grin turned into a firm and curt line. He had never seen such fire in a being before, her determination shone so strongly it nearly emanated from the golden tone of her eyes turning them brighter.

He had never seen golden irises before in his many years of life, how was he just noticing them?

“Where does such hope come from? The conviction in your eyes?” 

A smile, warmer than summer and brighter than the darkness he’d long become accustomed to slowly curved her lips as her thoughts instantly went to horrible jokes and a grin so expressive even in its perpetual existence. And her eyes softened as she thought on political rants and the smell of tomato sauce within loving arms.

“Your sons gave me that.”

His face crumbled and Frisk saw the way his already hollowed sockets emptied even further. Watched as his hands flickered in and out of reality as if he couldn’t concentrate enough to decide on summoning them or not. 

Gaster looked pained and so remorseful that it felt as if it saturated the air itself. 

She...wanted to help him.

“How did you end up here?” 

Gaster didn’t speak and the air around them grew heavy and suffocating as his stature steadily grew dauntingly taller. Like a switch had been flipped his whole demeanor changed into hostile and violent, his monocle glaring white as he begun to approach her with corrupted intent.

Caught off guard Frisk took a step back and stumbled, her rear and hands stinging as she fell to the ground and continued to move backwards. Her mind raced to figure out what she’d done to cause Gaster to slowly corner her. Her blood was rushing loudly in her ears like a deafening roar and it took all her will not to cry out, only to continue in her retreat in a bid to keep distance between them. 

Her heart was threatening to rupture in her chest.

Gaster’s voice was low but it was loud enough in the stillness engulfing them as he bent over her. “That is a story I don’t feel like telling.” it was laced with utter rancor and spite. 

“Why don’t you ask that husband of yours?” 

Frisk felt her lungs lock up as her back hit wall and tried to curl in on herself as he so cruelly leaned down and closer to her that the darkness of his form devoured the area and space around her. Like a vortex that consumed everything in it’s path.

Sans? Was it to do with what she’d seen earlier?

Her father in law gave an amused and mordacious leer.

“After all, you’re not even here.” 

Her cry was cut short as the world went black and tilted, smoky darkness and the scent of something bitter flooding her senses and suffocating her. She tried to push back, tried to get away but there was no escaping.

It was the closet again--

Mom was home--

Shouting--

“frisk!” 

She jolted upright, the piercing sob she let out loud and bloodcurdling right before she felt a pair of bony arms wrap around her. 

For only the briefest second she struggled, the thought of Gaster’s enraged sockets and the sound of her mother’s voice sending her into a frenzy to escape, but quickly she relaxed as the smell of ketchup and the clothed ribs she was tucked against registered through the panicked haze. 

She...she was in bed?

Blinking she tried to get her breathing under control as Sans rocked her.

“hey, it’s okay. shh was just a nightmare. i gotcha.” His words were so reassuring just as they always were when she had night terrors, but the feeling of asphyxiating darkness still clung to her skin like static.

It wasn’t just a nightmare.

But she couldn’t bring herself to say it, not with how she clung to him and felt the sins and fears of her past rolling down the slope of her sweat soaked back. For now she was selfish, she only wanted Sans’s comfort.

She shut her eyes and tucked further into him as she relished the feeling of his phalanges running through her tangled hair and brushing away tears that had run down her cheeks. She grounded herself with how he began to hum a calming tune as he nuzzled her.

Gaster’s words echoed…ask your husband.

For the life of her she couldn’t figure out what that meant. 

What was there she didn’t know about Sans? He never kept secrets...at least she didn’t think he had any to keep, he’d always been so open with her, said what was on his mind.

But then again she hadn’t known about Gaster.

G U I L T Y

She hadn’t known he could sound like that or look so...dangerous.

“Sorry.” Anxiety and curiosity made her hoarse reply come out a near whimper but her loving husband only chuckled lightly.

“nothing to apologize for, wasn’t really out. sleeping desserted me tonight.” Frisk weakly glanced over to his end table and snorted as she saw a half melted sundae sitting abandoned.

“Papyrus is going to get onto you for midnight snacking again.” She commented.

Sans gave a wink. “only if he finds out. going to turn me in?” 

Frisk smiled and felt the last of her tension melt away. “Never.”

 Tomorrow was another day and she’d ask him then, maybe with sleep she would have a clearer head for the upcoming conversation. There was not an ounce of doubt in her mind that it wasn’t going to be a sensitive subject for him.

And she was too haunted by her own demons tonight to try confronting his.

~~

“Sans--we need to talk.” The words felt rough in her throat but she didn’t waver as Sans pulled up short of the door to turn and face her. 

The look he gave her was one of mild confusion, he hadn’t heard her sound so uncertain since she was a child, and he let his hand drop from where it had risen halfway to the handle. He gave her his full attention as he widened his smile at her and forced his concern behind a wall of habitual patience as he responded. “sure, what’s up?” 

“...Right now?” Frisk was a little taken aback at how quickly he relented. He was about to head off to work but instead he was delaying to make sure she was okay. Frisk forgot sometimes just how attentive and caring he was, how often he put her first before everything besides Paps.

It almost made her change her mind bringing the topic up in the first place. She really didn’t want to upset him. Not when he looked so ready to placate or fix whatever was bothering her.

He always did so much for her.

Sans was silent as he noticed her shuffle in place, his eyelights taking in how she shyly looked at the floor with hesitancy. Something was definitely wrong, maybe to do with her night terrors from last night? 

He tried his best to give a lazy chuckle and added a shrug for good measure. “i have time. undyne isn’t going to say much.” 

Frisk swallowed.

“It’s about Gaster.” 

That was the last thing Sans expected to hear from her. His eyelights immediately went out and a chill permeated the air as all the light around them seemed to dim and fade out with how his aura flared and spiked. 

Frisk tensed, her eyes going wide as she recalled Gaster and his suffocating darkness. Suddenly she was also recalling how Sans had looked in her dream and she wasn’t even thinking as she took several steps back. 

Sans was quick to notice the retreat. 

She never ran from him, Frisk never looked as if she might be at risk around him.

It hurt, it was a harsh slap from sanity.

Immediately he blinked his eyelights back into existence and the mood shifted, the light turning once more to its previous brightness as a drop of sweat ran the curve of his skull. His mind was racing and he found it hard to concentrate on anything other than his wife and how she cowed.

“i’m sorry frisk i--i didn’t mean to.” She quivered as he reached for her but she didn’t fight him as he embraced her. He swallowed down the magical saliva building in his nonexistent throat. “just...how do you know that name?” 

Frisk’s tensed posture loosened at the remorse she heard in his voice, the fear. Sans appeared terrified, but rather from her knowing or from just who exactly Gaster was she couldn’t be sure.

“I met him.” Before she knew it Sans was holding her at arms length with his hands gripping her shoulders, not enough to hurt or bruise but firmly, as if she could slip through his grip and be lost within seconds. 

His tone was hushed but stern, hard as iron and cold. “what do you mean you met him?” 

She had to remind herself that this was her husband, he’d never hurt her and would be the last person who’d ever wish any ill will on her, that he loved her in order not to shrink under his aggravated gaze.

She’d never seen this side to him before. He was so...uncontrolled. “My nightmare…last night.” 

Sans shook and gritted his teeth as he forced his hands under his cloak so that she couldn’t see the way his hands balled into tightly clenched fists. His sockets lidded in thought.

It had been years since Sans had even heard that name last and it angered him how now that he did it was from his own wife of all people. It was bad enough he’d seen him before they’d gotten married. He should’ve known that wouldn’t be the last time he saw him.

What was his old man up to?

“i don’t want you looking into this.” Frisk looked at him. 

It sounded like he had just given her an order, not a request or even a soft plea, a command. And it made something harden in her chest, burn in rebellion. Out of the whole time she’d known him Sans had never made demands of her. 

“What?” Sans leveled a look so empty and void of all his familiar softness it felt as if a stranger was standing in front of her. 

“i’m serious. gaster is dangerous. stay away from him.”

She bit back the initial response that built up on the tip of her tongue. Why she had the sudden urge to fight him so fervently on the subject puzzled her, it was just a feeling; a boiling and simmering feeling of wrongness for her to listen and cut off all contact with the Unseelie.

Something was telling her there was another path she could take, a better one.

It couldn’t be wrong if her very soul cried for her to obey could it?

Unknowingly what she said struck her husband like a blow. “I want to help him.” 

Sans...was outraged, frozen in shock. 

Frisk didn’t know the implication behind her statement, how insulting it was to his role as Judge. In a way it sounded as if she thought there was a flaw behind what he’d done, as if there was hope for someone he’d deemed beyond any sort of salvation.

She wasn’t aware just how damning it sounded to throw her support behind a being who represented everything wrong and unnatural with the world and how it should be. By saying what she did Frisk might as well have just crushed a flower beneath her heel and called life itself disgusting.

But this was Frisk.

There were times he forgot just how pure she was. How determined and strong the woman he loved could be if she tried hard enough, of course she’d want to help someone if she could, that’s all she’d ever wanted as a child. Why wouldn’t she give that back tenfold as an adult?

He loved her, so much.

It was that fact alone that cooled him and made his voice come out weak instead of bitter. “you can’t.” 

If his own dust and blood wasn’t enough what hope did she have? She was only going to end up hurt if she tried and Sans did not want that. He could already see the cogs turning in her head and he hated it.

He couldn’t think of a way to convince her.

Frisk didn’t believe him, she desperately wanted to after all as a fae he knew more about how his world worked, but she just couldn’t. Something in the way his shoulders slumped told her she couldn’t ignore this.

She let out a gasp of shock as he abruptly turned away and opened the door. He was going to leave? Just like that? They hadn’t even finished talking.

What was happening? “Sans--”

“frisk.” 

He paused long enough to speak but didn’t even turn to look at her. “i have to go.”

Her heart felt like it broke as the door shut behind him. But she knew the pain was nothing compared to his, he’d sounded as if he’d been about to cry with how his voice had broken, she’d seen the way his shoulders had shook. 

Frisk wondered if he even knew he’d reacted that way.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: The Rose and the Thorn (standalone)

Summary: Everyone in the city has a story of their own but there's one in particular that Rus is very curious about.

Notes: Oh, man, there was a thread on twitter about Mafiatale Edge and Underswap Papyrus, and I needed at least a taste!

Tags: Spicyhoney, Mafia AU, Flower Shop AU, Violence, First Meetings

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

If there was one thing Rus learned working in his brother’s shop, aside from how to make a lovely bouquet, it was that everyone in the city had a story. From the fresh-faced kid scraping together enough change to buy a lonely carnation to the grim-faced man handing over his black Amex credit card for the enormous floral arrangement all tied up in a bow. Everyone had their own story and Rus only caught a glimpse of it, from the moment they walked through his door until the time it swung shut again behind him.

He never got to see the end, whether it was a happily ever after or not, but eh, that was the price of doing business. Usually it didn’t bother him, except for one of their regulars and there was no one tale that Rus wondered about more.

A skeleton Monster, like he was, but that was where the similarities ended. To begin with, he towered over Rus and that was not something that happened often. His skull was formed into sharp, angular lines, his teeth as jagged as a sawblade and a crack ran through one of his sockets, bisecting it around a burning crimson eye light.

He probably gave the Humans a bit of a start when they first caught sight of him, but that wasn’t what caught Rus’s curiosity, not at all. Monsters came in all flavors, after all, didn’t bother him any.

No, this guy’s story flowed deeper than that; it was in his clothes, the fine suit he wore that probably cost more money than their little shop made in a day even during prom season. It was the glimpse of a gun holster Rus saw once inside his jacket when their regular patron reached out to take his purchase.

And it was the purchase itself. A single crimson rose to match those eye lights, the cold stem snapped off by the base so he could tuck it into his buttonhole. He paid cash every day and was gone as quick as that, the bell jangling over the door as he walked back out.

There was a story there and Rus wished fiercely he could know what it was. Some days he daydreamed a profession for his mysterious patron. Magician was a popular one or on his more morbid days, funeral director. Secret service would explain the gun, of course, but so could simply living in the city. Guy wearing a suit like that might need a little extra protection.

Wasn't like Rus could ask, he'd already tried that route once. A few weeks ago, he'd gone with the bold approach and asked him out for dinner, then had the chance to regret it when his patron very politely refused. Stupid to even try, what guy in Italian silk wanted to get burgers with a florist shop clerk?

Honestly, Rus figured that was the end of it right there. He'd made their professional relationship a little too personal and Rus figured Mister Nice Suit wouldn't be back.

He'd been pretty surprised to be proven wrong when he came back in the very next day and gotten his usual, a single red rose.

Still, after that Rus stuck with the daydreams and if a couple of them got a little racy, eh, the shop was boring in the afternoons, all right? Not like anyone could read his mind and he kept to the strictly professional whenever their regular came in.

Like now. The bell over the door was one Blue found, an old brass shop bell that he decided offered a much better atmosphere than an electronic chime, a rich jangle that anyone could hear all the way to the refrigerated coolers in the back.

“good morning!” Rus sang out as he always did. He set his broom aside and walked behind the counter where a single rose was already waiting in the front cooler. Yeah, yeah, so what, he went and chose one every morning when he first got in. Blue was always telling him about the importance of customer service.

“Good morning,” their patron replied, and Rus did not allow it to show anywhere above the counter-top at his waist that his knees went to jell-o at the sound of that rich, deep voice. Maybe voice-over actor deserved a spotlight in his daydreams, nothing so crass as a movie trailer ‘in a world!’ guy but reading poetry, letting that buttery voice soak into the pages like on a hot biscuit.

He realized he was standing there staring up at the guy like a moron when their patron politely cleared his throat and hell, even that sounded sexy.

“sorry, um, woolgathering there,” Rus laughed awkwardly. “just the usual, right?”

“Yes, thank you,” Mister Nice Suit reached into the inner pocket of his namesake’s jacket to pull out his wallet

Rus got into the cooler and couldn’t resist taking a quick sniff of the lovely, furled petals. A rose by any other name might smell as sweet, but no roses smelled as lovely as the ones his brother grew.

He turned back to the counter and held it out by the stem, and when his patron took it, his gloved fingers brushed against Rus’s.

“Thank you,” he said again, with gravity that didn’t belong to a simple exchange of goods for cash, but that sent a wave of butterflies through Rus’s soul. His daydreams today were going to be filled with that voice and he was just reaching for the bill when the other skeleton jerked, his head whipping towards the window.

Before Rus could so much as blink, Mister Nice Suit was hopping the counter and pushing Rus down to the floor with him. The tiles were hard on his hands and knees and Rus grunted, and his ‘what the hell’ never made it past a thought as all hell suddenly broke loose.

A deafening explosion of broken glass came from overhead, showering down as pebbles over them and carrying with it the rich smell of loam and potting soil. Dimly, Rus knew he cried out, but he couldn’t hear anything, nothing but the little bangs popping around them. It made him think of firecrackers two days after the fourth of July, shocking in its unexpectedness.

Instinctively, he clung to the sturdy body next to him, burying his face into the broad chest. A strong arm was suddenly around his shoulders, holding him in close as the other skeleton moved and those little popping explosions were suddenly closer, too close. Rus cringed and clung harder, his bony fingers digging into fine linen and silk as he gripped like one of the ivy vines that ran around the wooden beams in the ceiling.

As quickly as it happened, it was over, the sudden silence broken only by the tinny warble of the local radio station that played from Blue’s old radio. The staticky crackled wavered in and out, finally dying out and there was nothing but the echo still ringing through Rus’s skull.

“Are you all right?” The words didn’t quite register through the clamor in his head. What Rus did know was that warm, safe body was trying to pull away from him. He whimpered, clinging tighter and it stopped, settling back down. A large gloved hand settled on the back of his skull even as a low, soothing murmur started up, easing him back until Rus could look up into the face above him.

“Are you all right?” The other skeleton repeated patiently.

“i…yes? i think…maybe…” Rus stammered. The steadying hand on the back of his skull petted soothingly, gloved fingers gentle against bone.

“Give it a moment,” he suggested, “Take a deep breath.” The other skeleton followed his own instruction, taking a breath like a demonstration and any other time it might’ve been humiliating for a gorgeous person to be trying to teach him how to breathe. Today, Rus only obeyed, taking a long, slow breath, distantly noting that Mister Nice Suit wore equally nice cologne. Rus choked as he let that breath back out, abruptly taking in the sight of his brother’s store.

“oh, fuck,” Rus whispered. It looked like a war took a quick tromp through their shop. All the glass cases were busted out, shards littering the floor along with heaps of potting soil and broken pottery from the planters and knickknacks Blue kept around the shop. The bruised perfume of damaged flowers filled the air and even their front door was broken, hanging drunkenly on the hinges, the little brass bell fallen forlornly to the floor with the rest of the wreckage.

Everything his brother worked so hard for, gone, and why? For what, what had even happened?

He turned back to the other skeleton and it was only then that Rus realized that he was holding that gun in his other hand. Gunfire, those explosions were gunfire, his mind supplied him helpfully, someone tried to kill his not-a-magician, not-a-mortician, still-maybe-secret-service rose buyer.

This hadn’t made an appearance in any of his daydreams.

“Who are you?” Rus asked. His voice sounded too small to be his own.

“You can call me Edge,” he replied, which so did not answer the question. “This was my fault, I’m sorry.”

“your fault that people tried to kill you?” That didn’t seem right. Did it?

“No, but it is my fault that it affected your shop. I was too complacent, followed the same routine for too long to see you.” He smiled a little and Rus stared at it, mesmerized. It made him look even better, wow, and he almost missed hearing the other skeleton say, “You don’t wear a name tag, I was hoping if I kept coming in, I’d overhear your name.”

“…what?” Rus blurted, “but you turned me down!”

“I did. To keep something like this from happening.” Sirens were starting to blare in the distance, coming closer as Mister—no, his name was Edge, moved away, tucking that gun away back into its holster. “I’m sorry, I need to go. I’ll handle the damages.”

“wait, but…i don’t understand!” Rus swallowed hard, croaking out, “my name is—”

“Don’t.” A gloved finger settled across his mouth, silencing him. “It would only make it harder to leave. Take care, flower shop boy.” Edge hesitated, then leaned in to brush a kiss across Rus’s mouth.

Then with a swirl of his fine jacket, he was gone.

“what just happened?” Rus asked the empty shop. All that came back was the tinkle of a piece of glass falling and the ever louder sirens. His mouth tingled as if that light kiss had a magic of its own, infusing him with heady warmth.

Rus looked around the shop again and lying amidst spilled potting soil and pottery shards was a long stem rose. His fingers were trembling as he picked it up, the crimson petals bruised and sparkling with a diamond dusting of glass, beauty and danger all in one.

He leaned against the counter weakly, rose in hand, and waited for the police, wondering what the hell he was going to tell Blue.

tbc

Go to chapter 2

[silverfootstepswrites]

Amaryllis | Chapter 19

< Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 >

++++

Shisui started off his day by spitting tea halfway across the table. He rubbed his handkerchief over his mouth and chin as he struggled to make sense of what his cousin had just said.

“You think what?” he hissed. And then, clearing his throat, he cast a look around the room. Sasuke’s guards were standing outside. The servant girl who had delivered their tea and snacks had long since departed. Still, he couldn’t help but feel nervous. Even if he hadn’t been the one to bring up the subject, him sitting and listening now made him complicit to whatever was to come of this.

“Don’t make me repeat myself. I hate the idea more than you do,” Sasuke sighed. He set his teacup down in the matching saucer.

“You’re speaking treason. You’re going to get yourself killed. Oh, and me as well, now that you’ve roped me into your madness,” Shisui worried.

“You think I don’t know that?” It was Sasuke’s turn to snap. His hands clenched on top of the table.

Shisui’s protests trailed off. They stared at each other. Shisui lowered his handkerchief.

“Is that why Itachi is still abroad?” he whispered, leaning in across the table.

Sasuke nodded. Just once.

“So what do you need from me?” Shisui then demanded.

Sasuke hesitated. He chose his words carefully before he asked: “Your wife… do you think she can be trusted?”

Shisui hissed through his teeth. He leaned back, rubbing a hand through his hair. When his eyes returned to Sasuke, they were sharp with accusation.

“You’ll get her killed.”

“Can she be trusted?” Sasuke repeated his question.

Shisui rubbed his hair again. And then he heaved a sigh. “Of course she can.”

“How do you know?” pressed Sasuke.

“She just…” Shisui paused. Huffed out a long breath through his nostrils. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Opened them again. “I’d trust her with my life and yours. Tell me what you want.”

Each of the members of the royal family had a personal physician. It was the doctor’s job to know everything about them. To anticipate their needs and to provide prompt treatment. Finding one doctor was a challenge. Finding four was a miracle. Although, with enough money and power, even miracles were for sale.

Sasuke’s physician was a pleasant older man with perpetually cool hands. He had overseen Sasuke’s care since birth. And while he was certainly competent at his job, he wasn’t the person Sasuke needed to talk to.

Karin lowered her spectacles to stare at the two men that entered her office.

“Why not take a break, my love?” Shisui greeted her. He crossed the room before he produced a small bouquet of yellow flowers. Karin didn’t look at the flowers. She continued to examine Shisui’s smile.

She squinted at him.

“What did you do?” she demanded.

Shisui held the flowers up higher. Until she was forced to look down at them. His smile widened as she glowered and accepted them.

“Nothing yet,” Shisui assured her. Karin wrinkled her nose. She fussed with the bright flowers for a moment before she motioned for them to have a seat in front of her desk.

As they settled into their spots, Sasuke tilted his head. He looked from his cousin, a baron of modest but good standing. And then to his mother’s physician, a common woman who was tolerated in the palace due to her skill.

“How did you two marry anyway?” he wondered out loud.

Karin fixed Shisui with another sharp look. “He pursued me aggressively, getting in the way of my work,” she accused.

Shisui leaned against the arm of his chair. “For months,” he added. And then he gave a proud smile. “She despised me. I came to her office every day until she threatened to report me to Her Majesty the Queen.”

Sasuke made a face as he watched the two of them banter back and forth.

He had never understood relationships. He understood that, as a prince, he would eventually have to marry.

His parents were an example of a good union. They spent the required amount of time together for the public eye. Their conversations were polite. Almost always pleasant. On their weekly walks in the garden, courtiers loved to comment at what a lovely couple they made. His father had always honored his mother, and his mother had always supported his father. That was all he had ever known.

From a young age, his mother had made an effort to introduce him to potential brides. But she had never pushed him. Listened to his complaints with patience. Chided him when he was less than polite to these girls. Sitting on her knee, Sasuke had wondered why such silly little things seemed to matter so much to his uncles.

“A stable marriage, my son, leads to a stable kingdom. Your partner will determine the fate of this nation and all its people,” she had always explained to him.

But sometimes, when he looked at his cousin and his cousin’s wife, he wondered whether there might not be more to it than just stability.

“Anyway, as nice as it is to see you, Prince, I’m assuming this isn’t a social visit?” Karin interrupted his thinking. She raised her spectacles on top of her head. The metal and glass was lost in her tangle of deep red hair. He had only ever seen a color like that once before. It was rare enough to turn heads wherever she went.

“Shisui claims that I can trust you with my life. Is that true, Physician?”asked Sasuke.

Karin’s eyes narrowed. “Is that what he said?” she mused. She looked down at the flowers again. Then back up at Sasuke. “Have you gotten yourself into some trouble, Your Highness?”

Shisui pinched his mouth together, trying not to smile. He turned away and pretended to look out the window.

“Well… not yet. It… it depends on your answer, I suppose,” Sasuke conceded.

Karin’s scrutinizing gaze didn’t leave his face. “Your question makes me feel the need to remind you that I am in the service of your mother, Your Highness,” she stated.

Sasuke felt heat creep up the back of his neck. But he refused to look away. He nodded.

And after what felt like an eternity, Karin smiled.

“But, ultimately, I serve the Crown. So what can I help you with?”

+++

Itachi hadn’t quite known what to expect when people had warned him of the rainy season that settled over the tea isles for half the year. The rain rarely lasted for the whole day. Often, storms hurried in, enveloping the island before rushing off just as quickly. Sometimes, people didn’t even bother rushing indoors. Baskets on their hips, they leaned against palm trees or ducked under eaves until the clouds passed.

But on the days when the rain lingered, it drenched the island. The walkways grew slick, and some of the regular paths turned to mud. The servants of Sami were busy mopping up puddles and searching for leaks. Small problems had to be addressed before they could grow. A tiny leak gone undetected could lead to the entire roof collapsing in a few month’s time.

Still, life went on. Even during this rainy season.

The stalls in the market had been designed with this precipitation in mind. Panels folded and shutters closed to protect the wares within. And when the rain eased a little, the stalls opened back up to conduct business as usual. Even in the rain, divers continued to hunt for pearls. The servants in the palace kept kneading dough and folding laundry that had barely made it inside in time.

Dark clouds had gathered on the horizon at dawn. Before the sun could lift its face over the horizon, rain battered the side of the building. Normally, the opened sides of the throne room let the breeze rush through. But during the rainy season, wooden panels were installed to keep the wind and the water out.

“Please, My Lord. I am innocent,” an old man rasped. His wrinkled hands gripped his walking stick.

The Duchess’ large chair was empty. Instead, Sasori sat in a smaller chair beside it.

The space between Sasori’s eyebrows wrinkled. He leaned his cheek on his hand as he stared the man down.

“Accusing someone of withholding wages is a serious matter,” Sasori stated. He narrowed his eyes. “I doubt it is something that was done without thought.”

The old man’s shoulders trembled. He bowed his head. But he did not stumble over his words as he replied: “Yes, My Lord.”

Sasori stared for another moment. And then he closed his eyes.

“Very well. I will look into this matter. And if you have paid this man for his work, he will be punished for false accusations,” he decided.

The old man bowed even deeper. He stayed that way for a long time before he shuffled his way out. Sasori watched him. He rolled some observations around in his head. And then, very carefully, he motioned for a nearby guard.

Sasori pressed a finger to his lips. He waited for the guard to nod before he whispered something. The guard only nodded before he made his way out of the throne room. Sasori leaned his elbow on his armrest. He heaved a sigh before he motioned for the next person.

Leaning against a column, Itachi frowned. The verdict Sasori had laid out was both fair and pragmatic. But something about the exchange had felt a little off.

As if he could hear his thoughts, Sasori turned his head to look at him. The corner of his mouth lifted. He pointed to his foot.

“His limp,” was all Sasori said.

It took a moment for Itachi to realize what he meant. When the old man had entered, he had favored his right leg. But as he departed, he had favored his left. As if standing there under Sasori’s piercing stare had made him forget which side was supposed to hurt. As Itachi’s eyes widened, Sasori smirked. Sasori shook his head.

“People are so sloppy,” he sighed.

As the next person entered for audience, Sasori’s smile faded. But there was still something smug about his eyes as he cast Itachi one last, knowing look.

“What brings you here today? The Duchess is occupied, but I will hear your grievances,” Sasori recited, as he had half a dozen times that morning.

But as Itachi settled in to listen to this next case, he felt something on his shoulder. As he turned, he was met with a white mask and a wild mane of straw-colored hair. He jolted.

Out of all the sword-wielding mercenaries who wandered the palace, Kushimaru was the only one that Itachi could not get used to. Part of that was undoubtedly the way he never took off that mask. And the other was because he never spoke.

Even now, all Kushimaru did was hold out a slip of paper.

Itachi accepted it. He unfolded it to find a short message. It only took a moment to read.

“Right now?” he asked.

Kushimaru dipped his head once. And then he stalked off.

Itachi folded the note and placed it in his pocket. He turned back to Sasori to let him know that he would be leaving. But Sasori was already looking at him. He nodded before Itachi had a chance to mouth anything. Sometimes, Sasori’s acuity was a little frightening.

It had been almost half a year since Sakura’s departure.

In that time, Itachi had learned many things. Like when the fishermen greeted him with a smiling “Howzit, Prince”, he was supposed to answer, “Good. And you?”. Or how arguments in the bazaar always sounded angrier than they actually were. After getting turned around for a few weeks, Itachi had even learned the layout of most of the palace.

In turn, the people of the island were learning about him too. Shizune remembered that he preferred fish and poultry to red meat. The servants starched his clothes a little less because he liked his shirts soft. There was a merchant with a wooden finger who always sent word whenever he procured a new book that he thought might interest him.

Sasuke wrote at least once a week. It was amusing how he spoke to his little brother so much more now that they lived so far apart. The contents of his messages mostly described the mundane. Sasuke wrote about the weather. About how some noble’s daughter had thrown herself at him and begged to have his children. Every once in a while, there were hints of more serious matters, but Sasuke never went into enough detail to cause problems should someone intercept his messages.

From what Itachi could gather, Sasuke had begun requesting more duties. Their father would, undoubtedly, approve of his youngest son taking on more responsibilities. And the nobles who wanted the second prince on the throne would begin moving soon when they began to see Sasuke gaining favor.

As Itachi stepped out of the throne room, he stretched his hand out. A single drop of water fell into his palm, rolling down to his wrist. The rain had retreated, at least for a little while. The dark clouds on the horizon promised more precipitation to come.

“Ah, there you are!”

Itachi lifted his head as Kisame’s voice boomed out. The tall, blue mercenary waved as he strode down the walkway.

“Drinks on me, Prince!” he announced.

Itachi didn’t resist as Kisame threw his arm around his shoulder and lead him in the direction of the city. As they passed, the guards bowed. They sloshed down the steps together, Kisame going on about some type of new drink at one of his usual haunts. The chatter went on and on as they walked the damp streets.

The Sailor’s Rest was one of the oldest taverns in Plumeria. The Swordsmen of the Mist had taken up lodging there during their first days on the island. Although Sakura had offered them rooms in the palace, the mercenaries had declined.

Chojuro was sitting at one of the tables when they entered. Across from him sat Zabuza, who leaned with his feet up on the table. As Kisame walked past, he slapped one of Zabuza’s boots.

“Mind your manners around the prince, Zabuza,” Kisame joked.

“He’s not my master and neither are you,” growled Zabuza in response.

“Yes, your only master lies in your loins,” Chojuro commented as he continued writing. Zabuza’s eyes narrowed.

Kisame grinned. “Honestly. The General would kill you if she could see the way you follow that servant boy,” he goaded.

The space between Zabuza’s eyebrows wrinkled. He glared down at his tankard. “That’s not…” He huffed out a long breath. Before he could finish his thought, Kisame threw himself down in the seat beside Zabuza. He gave him a hearty thump on the back.

“Relax, Zabuza. You look more and more like an old man these days,” Kisame teased.

Zabuza shot another glare at him. “You’re a year older than me.”

“I’m a fresh-faced lad at heart,” retorted Kisame.

A noise of disgust rose around the table. Kisame looked up when something hit his head. He glared up at the rafters, where Kushimaru was undoubtedly hiding.

“Alright, alright. Drinks on me,” Kisame conceded. The noises of disgust faded away.

As the bartender began pouring their drinks, Itachi looked around the room.

Itachi glanced over as Chojuro began packing up his things. “What were you working on?”

Chojuro was oddly soft-spoken to be a mercenary. It was also strange enough that he was literate. Sakura had mentioned once that she thought Chojuro must be a bastard. One who had received an education from his father, but not an inheritance.

“We have a lot of those in the army. I like them. They’re desperate to show the world that they matter. They work harder than most,” she had commented in passing.

“Just making note of some things. It makes it easier to keep facts straight if they’re recorded,” answered Chojuro. As he spoke, Chojuro shut his journal and placed it under his thigh.

The drinks arrived at the table. Kisame took a gulp of his mead.

“How are you feeling, Prince?” he then asked.

Itachi rotated his shoulder as he thought. “A little sore, but otherwise fine. I can’t help but wonder whether you’ve been going easy on me lately,” answered Itachi before he took a sip.

Kisame wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before he grinned a mouth full of sharp teeth.

“Sounds to me like someone’s ready for a bigger challenge,” he declared.

“Or you could do things in moderation, Boss,” Chojuro interrupted.

Kisame made a noise of disgust as he repeated the word: “Moderation.”

Chojuro rolled his eyes.

“You break the prince and I doubt the lady will show you any moderation,” Chojuro warned.

Kisame jerked a thumb in Itachi’s direction. “He won’t break so easy.”

Itachi met Kisame’s eyes. There was something in Kisame’s gaze that made him feel like maybe he wasn’t joking.

Kisame’s hand moved to the hilt of his sword. Chojuro’s fingers slipped into his vest. Itachi followed their stares, turning his head just as the door opened.

Two men walked in, stinking of salt and fish. Their hair and clothes were wet, dripping onto the floor. They each raised a hand in greeting to the mercenaries.

“Howzit, Big Blue,” one of them called out as they crossed the room to join them.

“Not too bad. How was the catch today?” responded Kisame, his hand falling away from his weapon. Chojuro’s expression relaxed as he nodded at the other men.

The fishermen shook their heads. “Poor catch. Maybe we need a new spot,” they lamented. And then their faces lit up even more when they spotted Itachi.

“Ah, howzit, Prince? You looking strong these days,” one of the men commented.

“He trying to catch up with the Duchess, dass why,” the other said.

Everyone, including Itachi, chuckled.

“Please, have a seat. You must be tired,” Itachi insisted. The two fishermen sank into the chairs with sighs. They ordered their drinks, and then they settled in, fanning themselves.

“Ah, you know, Big Blue, we saw something strange before,” one of them suddenly brought up.

Kisame arched an eyebrow as he finished off his mead.

“Saw some buggah sailing in from the west. Weird boat. So we ask him if he lost. Says no. Rude, too,” he recounted.

“Why was it weird?” Kisame queried.

The fisherman shrugged. “Not a canoe like for fishing. Merchant boat, but shaped funny,” he recalled, rubbing his chin.

“Funny?” Chojuro repeated.

The fisherman squinted as he thought. When he looked over his companion, the other fisherman nodded.

“Kind of small… And- ah! There was a crest!” he recalled. He looked around the table. Chojuro had already pulled out his journal and turned to a clean page. He presented his pen, leaning over as he watched the man sketch out what he had seen as best as he could.

Chojuro’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “That is odd…” he agreed. His gaze trailed to Kisame, who raised his eyebrows as he thought. He shrugged one shoulder. Chojuro stayed for one drink before he quietly excused himself, journal tucked under his arm.

++++

To the west, in the landlocked capital of the Forest Kingdom, where fishing was neither good nor bad, Naruto found himself at the doors of the temple again.

“So are you going to go in, or are you just going to stand here breathing heavily like some sort of pervert?” Sai drawled.

Naruto spared him a glare. “You don’t have to be here, you know,” Naruto snapped.

Sai blinked. Like he hadn’t expected his charge to talk back. After all, Naruto was usually all laughs and sheepish grins. Sai searched Naruto’s expression before he shrugged.

“They would have my head if anything happened to you. And a certain General isn’t around to play savior,” remarked Sai.

Naruto squinted at him. “You sound real invested in my safety,” he retorted.

Sai smiled. Hand over his heart, he dipped his head. “Your well-being is my top priority. I’m sworn to watch over you, remember?” he uttered. Something about his tone felt threatening.

Naruto felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He swallowed.

“…You don’t have to come inside. Wait out here,” Naruto said.

Sai’s eyebrows rose. He searched Naruto’s face before he gave another smile.

“Of course,” he answered. He bowed too deep before he opened the door. It slammed behind Naruto as he stepped into the temple. The sound made him flinch. It echoed off the high ceilings. Thankfully, there was no one praying to disrupt. But it did make the High Priestess gasp. She dropped something metal. It went skittering across the stone.

“Goodness!” she exclaimed. As she got down on her hands and knees, Naruto sprinted down the aisle.

“Let me help you!” Naruto called. The priestess’ head rose toward the sound of his voice.

Naruto found the pendant under one of the pews. He rubbed it clean against his shirt.

“Here,” he said.

She held her hands out, skin white against the soft purple of her robes. The chain pooled in her palm. She closed her fingers around the metal disk. And then she smiled.

“Thank you, Prince. You are too kind,” she murmured.

Naruto rubbed the back of his neck.

“Ah… well, it’s kind of my fault you dropped it. My retainer slammed the door. Sorry about that,” he confessed.

Hinata’s smile brightened. “An apology isn’t necessary. But I appreciate it nonetheless.”

Like all high priestesses before her, Hinata could not see. Blindness was seen as a blessing from the goddess that marked them as chosen. The priestess could remain unsullied by the things of the world if she could not see them. Hinata wore a translucent veil over her face, but anyone could see the cloudiness of her eyes. The way they searched without seeing. She had been born sightless. People had gushed to Duke Hyuuga over how blessed his family was to have given birth to the next high priestess.

Naruto didn’t really care about those things.

The high priestess’ smiles were real. And she was kind. Two things that were becoming harder and harder to come by in this city.

Or, perhaps, he was starting to recognize when a smile wasn’t so sincere.

“How… how have you been?” Naruto asked, struggling not to trip over his words.

Hinata dipped her head. “Quite well. And you, Your Highness?” she asked in turn.

Naruto looked down at his hands. He fidgeted a little before he lifted his chin. He cast a glance around the temple, just to make sure that it was empty.

“Worried… um…” Naruto paused. Stole a glance at Hinata. Her head tilted to one side as she listened.

Naruto tried not to panic before he pulled the words out. Just as he had rehearsed in his head a dozen times over. “Can I get your advice on something?”

“Of course. The temple exists to provide guidance for those who feel lost,” Hinata responded.

“Can we… uh… should we sit?” he then suggesting, glancing around again. Hinata’s smile didn’t change.

“If that would make you more comfortable, most certainly. Would you please assist me?” she requested, holding out her bare hand.

Naruto gulped. He hesitated for a moment. And then he took it. Her skin was smooth and soft. Her hand was so much smaller than his, he realized as he helped her into the nearest pew. When she sat, she withdrew her hand back into her sleeve. Naruto couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.

He sat beside her, leaving some distance between them. He flexed his empty hand that suddenly felt cold.

“So…” Naruto exhaled deeply. He knocked his palm against his forehead, as if that would shake the words loose.

“Please take your time. There is no need to rush,” Hinata assured him.

That did help a little. He managed to grasp the unraveling threads of the question he had nearly forgotten.

“Say that you have a friend. And… you used to be closer. But lately you’re more… uh…” Naruto stopped as he searched for the word.

“Distant?” suggested Hinata.

Naruto nodded. “Exactly! Distant!” The word echoed back across the vaulted ceiling. Naruto slapped his hands down on his mouth. When he snuck a peek over at Hinata, she didn’t seem bothered.

“Sorry,” he whispered as he pried his hands away.

She nodded. “Quite alright.”

“So, I’ve been trying everything to make things better. But there are just lots of things in this… person’s… life that I want to understand. It’s just like there’s a wall up between us or something,” Naruto explained. He heaved a sigh, elbows resting on his knees. He rubbed his face with both hands.

“I just… I know I’ve messed up some things too. I want to be better. And sometimes it feels like I am being better. But other times… I just don’t know…” he trailed off.

It was quiet for a while. And then Hinata opened her mouth.

“Is it uncomfortable to speak in person with this friend?” she wondered.

Naruto considered that. He chuckled a little. “Yes. I feel like I say the wrong thing… a lot,” he confessed. “Maybe it’s because I get nervous.”

Hinata lifted her arms to adjust her sleeves. There was a thin golden band around her left wrist. It glittered with the movement. Naruto found himself staring at it.

“Have you tried writing to him instead? I often hear that it is easier for some to gather thoughts on paper,” she suggested.

Naruto hung his head. His silence was an answer in itself.

“Your friend… he does not write back to you?” asked Hinata.

“Sh- He doesn’t,” he replied.

Letters upon letters left the capital. Sometimes he even wrote daily. But the days stretched on without a single envelope addressed for him. Even a passing mention of his letters would have been enough in person. But she always stared at him with the same look of impatience. If she even looked at him at all. Sometimes Sakura’s eyes passed right over him- like he was invisible.

“That must be hurtful,” Hinata sympathized. And then her expression shifted. “Perhaps… Have you asked, Prince?”

“Asked what?” Naruto asked in the same glum voice.

“Whether your friend has received your letters. Messengers travel a long way. Letters can get lost now and then,” she explained.

“Maybe… well… no. I have no way of knowing that. I… didn’t think to ask,” Naruto mumbled.

Hinata’s hands slipped back into her sleeves. She offered him a gentle smile. “Then perhaps that is something you can ask him the next time you see him. Misunderstandings grow large in the absence of communication, you see.”

Naruto’s gaze drifted toward the window. The light danced in through leaves. The shadows rippled and swayed across the floor like so many dancers.

“Maybe I should,” he agreed.

As he meditated on this, it occurred to him that Hinata might be right.

The cousin he had grown to admire and then fear had once been his friend. Although she had always been smarter and faster, she had never abandoned him in the woods or left him in whatever ravine he had tumbled down. She had complained and scolded. But never left him behind.

During the few months they had spent together last summer, he had seen the same grudging patience in her. Even when she snapped. Even when she rolled her eyes. She always found him in the room. Always made sure he was safe.

She had even shed blood for him. Spilling it across the floor like scattered sunlight. He tried to remember what emotion her face had shown in that moment. Anger?

No. Fear.

And then relief, maybe?

“I’ll ask,” Naruto decided. “I should ask,” he said again, nodding to himself.

They sat in the quiet for a long while. The clock tower chimed outside. It was noon.

Winter had come and gone. Everyone was hard at work now that they were no longer trapped indoors by ice and snow. There were fields to till. Fish to catch. The entire city was alive and moving.

But all was still inside the temple.

Hinata clasped her hands in her lap. “Can I provide you any additional guidance?” she asked.

“No. Thank you. I feel a lot better.”

Hinata inclined her head. “I am glad to have been of service. The temple welcomes all to find rest from their troubles,” she replied.

“Oh!” Naruto exclaimed. Hinata jumped a little. Naruto didn’t notice as he turned and began digging in his satchel. He produced a bright yellow flower.

“I almost forgot. I brought something for you,” he announced, gripping the stem in his hand.

Rather than the smile Naruto had expected, Hinata answered with silence.

“Forgive my rudeness, but… I… I cannot accept anything from you. Servants of the temple cannot accept material goods,” she uttered.

“Oh. I mean… it’s… oh.” Because he hadn’t even considered what that must have sounded like to her. How many people must have climbed these steps just to bribe the high priestess for a blessing or some sort of favor?

Naruto fumbled for the right words. He looked around. Took a deep breath. Blew it out. Took in another.

“It’s a flower,” he finally explained.

“A flower?” she repeated.

“I picked it in the garden. Because it was pretty. It’s not worth any money,” Naruto went on.

Hinata’s face went blank.

“Is that… still not allowed?” wondered Naruto.

“I…. thank you. But… I still…” Hinata couldn’t finish her thought. Didn’t really need to.

Naruto stared at the wilting flower in his grasp.

“That’s not your fault. I should’ve thought a little more about this,” he sighed. As he got to his feet, Hinata lifted her chin.

“I truly am grateful,” she insisted.

Naruto put on a smile. For who, he wasn’t sure.

“Yeah. I’ll… I’ll come again,” he said.

“Please do.”

Naruto ignored Sai’s questions as he exited the temple. He threw the flower on the street as he strode down the steps. He knew that Sai was commenting about it. But it was easy to block him out.

She had asked him to come back.

That was what mattered more than any of his retainer’s snide remarks.

+++

“It’s been a few months, but Aunt Kurenai says that things are calm back home,” Kankuro skimmed over the message. The paper was in surprisingly good shape for traveling such a long distance.

The seasons meant little in the Viper’s Throat. It was hotter here than it was back in Ebizo’s palace. The last weeks of winter had passed in Baki’s palace with mostly unforgiving, hot days. Now that the calendar’s announced a new season, the temperatures remained unchangingly high.

Prince Baki imported large quantities of ice from the north to store underground. The ice cooled the palace as the air moved up the caverns and into the buildings through large towers. The servants also did their best to keep things comfortable. They ran back and forth chipping off pieces of the ice to scatter into drinks. Azra and Esma kept busy with their large fans any moment they weren’t carrying out another task.

Temari held her hand out. Kankuro leaned over to pass the letter to her. Temari rubbed her knuckles against her chin as she read.

“Do they really have no idea that Lady Sakura has been abroad?” she wondered.

“That was written at least a couple months ago. Perhaps they have noticed by now. They must have at least one brain between all of them,” replied Sakura. She shifted in her seat, crossing and recrossing her legs.

Gaara looked up when the twins entered. Azra set a tray down on the table. It was heavy with sweets and a fresh pot of tea. Esma knelt beside Sakura with a basin filled with towels. Each one had been soaked with fragrant water and rolled into the shape of a different flower. Sakura took one, still speaking.

“How have preparations been going, to your knowledge?” she queried. She unfolded the damp towel and wiped her hands. As the servant moved around the table, each person took a towel. When she reached him, Gaara offered a smile.

“Thank you,” he said.

She lifted her chin to look into his eyes. She looked surprised. As if she had never heard such words before. But then her expression shifted back to the polite smile she always wore. She bowed before she moved on.

When Gaara turned his head, he found Sakura staring at the servant girl. On the windowsill behind her, Suigetsu was staring too. His hands folded together under his chin. When his gaze met Gaara’s, the mercenary smirked.

“Messages travel slowly. I wish I had more updates for you,” Kankuro sighed. He rubbed the back of his neck.

Sakura leaned back in her seat. “I can hardly hold you responsible for that,” she responded.

“The last response I received was when I wrote to Sasori to let him know that you were bringing back plenty of guests. He assured me that they would have a comfortable place to stay on the island,” he recalled. He leaned back on his palms with another sigh.

“Where? Lady Sakura was promised thousands,” asked Temari, examining her nails.

Kankuro ruffled both his hands through his hair. “Don’t ask that right now. My head will explode,” Kankuro groaned.

Temari and Sakura exchanged a look. “Don’t tease him. I don’t have a replacement for him if his head really does explode,” Sakura scolded. Temari laughed.

Sakura pulled her hair off her neck with a sigh. She heard a few murmured words. And then Esma was standing behind her, fanning with all the fury of a soldier charging into battle.

“Oh my, she tries so hard. It’s adorable,” Kankuro remarked, leaning toward the breeze. He blinked when Temari returned the letter to him. Folding it into thirds, he tucked it into his pocket.

“Prince Baki has promised you troops. You have yet to meet them. Aren’t you suspicious, Lady Sakura?” Temari inquired, crossing one leg over the other.

“It would be dishonorable for him to go back on his word. He would not suffer such shame. He will keep his word. I’m confident,” answered Sakura.

They enjoyed glasses of tea filled with ice and mint. They moved on to lighter topics- simple gossip, the weather. Kankuro brought up an old story of how he had once flirted with a woman without realizing she was married. The woman’s irate husband had chased them both through the market. They laughed as they recalled Kankuro’s terror.

As the time passed, the heat of the afternoon sun swelled and then eased. They decided that a walk around the palace would be the perfect way to pass the time before supper. Temari looked over at Kankuro, who had dozed off some time ago. As Temari took a step toward him to shake him awake, Sakura’s voice interrupted her.

“Let him rest. He must be exhausted.”

Rolling her eyes, Temari stepped away from him, moving toward the door instead.

Azra and Esma brought out a shawl. Despite the heat, Sakura draped it over her bare arms and shoulders. She reached back, searching. Gaara slipped his hand into hers. She pulled him forward to match her pace without looking at him.

The stone halls of the palace echoed with their footsteps. The northern wing of the palace was quiet. Visitors were not permitted to roam there without her permission. But once they reached the center of the palace, they could hear voices and music. There was always some kind of performer or visitor to keep the harem occupied.

They passed a tall woman wearing a glimmering gown. She spotted them. Sneered without greeting. And then moved on. She barked something to the servant girls behind her. The girls kept their eyes to the ground, shaking hands folded in front of them. One of them looked like she might be limping.

Sakura’s eyes narrowed.

She reached a hand out from under her shawl, beckoning. Azra and Esma moved toward her.

“That woman?” asked Sakura, keeping her voice low. The twins’ eyes moved toward the woman’s retreating back.

“That is Concubine Deba, General,” Azra replied in the same half-whisper. She flinched as Concubine Deba snapped at the servants. When one of the girls reached out, the concubine slapped her hands away, her voice growing even more shrill.

“Is that how she always is?” Sakura inquired.

“Always,” Esma confirmed. Sakura’s eyes fell on her. At the tight line her lips made.

“You once served her,” she guessed.  Esma’s grimace was answer enough. Azra put her hand on her sister’s arm. She smiled.

“That’s why we’re so grateful to serve you now, General,” Azra added. Esma’s gaze flickered over to her. Then she pursed her lips, nodding as she looked down.

Sakura folded her arms across her chest. She glanced again at the direction the concubine had gone. Then back at the twins.

“Hm,” Sakura said. She looped her arm through Temari’s, pulling her along. They walked slowly.

“What’re you thinking, Lady Sakura?” asked Temari.

“Do you know why people follow a woman like that?” Sakura wondered.

Temari arched an eyebrow. She stole one last glance at the distant back of Concubine Deba. Then looked to Sakura. “Fear, it looks like,” she guessed.

“Do you think that works better than a sense of duty?” Sakura mused.

“I don’t like that look in your eyes, Lady Sakura. It makes me nervous,” Temari sighed, already shaking her head.

That made Sakura smile. Pointer finger on her cheek, she tilted her head to one side.

“I wonder. Should we try a little experiment?”

After supper, Sakura left her quarters alone. Temari looked ready to protest until she spotted Mangetsu waiting by the door. She fixed him with a hard look. The mercenary returned it. Slowly, she nodded at him before she sank back down in her seat.

Mangetsu followed Sakura out of her quarters. They met up with Suigetsu further down the corridor.

Suigetsu pulled his cowl down and coughed. “I’m sick of all this sand,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. And then he turned his frown to Sakura. He coughed again before he spoke. “Also, I don’t get this. I thought you wanted to get to the consort- not this woman.”

Sakura ran her fingers through her hair. She adjusted her collar.

“It’s not about the concubine, Suigetsu. It’s about her servants,” she insisted.

Suigetsu stared at her.

She sighed, impatient. “Who oversees the day-to-day of any palace? Who has access to my food, clothing, and nearly everything else?” she listed. And then she paused, mouth puckering as she thought. “At home, the staff sees to my every need. In Whiteriver Keep… well… you’ve seen it.”

And then she smiled. "I want to see what happens if I can move the hearts of the servants. What would be the result?" she spelled out for him.

Suigetsu held her gaze for a long moment. He sighed.

“One of the girls just left the concubine’s room. Should be coming down that hall soon,” Suigetsu reported, jabbing his thumb in the right direction.

Sakura moved past him, her skirts gathered in one hand so she could move faster. The brothers hung back, watching her.

When Sakura reached the end of the hall, Suigetsu clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. Mangetsu looked over. He watched Suigetsu dig his pinky nail into his ear. He flicked the bits of sand away, bouncing them across the polished marble floors.

“Looks like the lady’s learning something,” Suigetsu commented.

“Good?” Mangetsu wondered, his eyes drifting back to follow Sakura.

“Yeah. Good,” Suigetsu confirmed.

Mangetsu said nothing else. Just slapped his younger brother on the back a few times before he followed after her.

Sakura lingered just before the corner. She barely looked up when the mercenaries joined her. She didn’t need to warn them to stay silent. If anything, they were quieter than she was.

According to Suigetsu, this passageway led to the larger residences within Prince Baki’s harem. This was a service hallway used by the staff. These sorts of places were nice because people’s true characters often emerged when they believed no one was watching them.

“You think you’re better than us because you serve Concubine Deba now?”

There was a sharp slap. And then the sound of something bouncing onto the floor. A few voices laughed, shrill and cutting.

“Little whore thinks she’s tough,” one of them mocked.

And then there was a muffled yelp before another voice hissed: “You’re nothing. Learn your place.”

Sakura’s mouth set in a grim line. She had heard enough.

There were three servant girls gathered around a fourth girl. The fourth sat huddled on the ground, both hands covering her head. The three girls snickered as they shoved her with their feet. But when they looked up, they saw Sakura round the corner, the two mercenaries shadowing her steps.

Sakura pretended to take the scene in.

The three servant girls frozen mid-step. The one girl on the floor, hair disheveled. A basket overturned. Linens scattered.

“How unsightly,” Sakura remarked, hand on her cheek. She locked eyes with one of the girls as she added, “Is this how things are done in this palace?”

One of the girls, clearly the leader of the group, stepped forward.

“Are you lost, dear guest? This area is typically for…”

Sakura’s eyes narrowed. The servant girl’s voice faltered. Her words trailed off.

“I don’t recall asking for you to speak. What a foolish child,” Sakura scoffed. She lowered her hand. “I have an idea of what’s happening here. Clean this up,” Sakura then snapped.

The three girls exchanged nervous looks before they scrambled to gather the basket and dump the garments inside. They mumbled apologies to Sakura, bowing their heads. Sakura fixed them with a stare for a long moment before she jerked her chin, dismissing them. They hurried off. As soon as they turned the corner, their footsteps quickened, echoing off the stone walls and floors.

As Sakura turned her attention to the remaining girl, her expression softened.

“Are you alright?” asked Sakura. She held her hand out. The remaining servant girl lifted her head, about to reach out. She jolted when she met Sakura’s eyes. She swiped her sleeve across her face before she put on a smile.

“I beg pardon, Your Grace. How can I serve you?” she said. She sniffled. There was a scratch mark on her cheek.

“Well, before you serve anyone, can you stand?” Sakura asked. She moved her hand a little closer.

The girl stared at the offered hand. Her gaze flickered to the basket. Then to her ankle.

“Thank you,” she whispered before she slipped her hand into Sakura’s. She winced a little when Sakura helped her stand.

“I apologize for this scene, Your Grace. It truly is disgraceful for us to have shown an honored guest such a sight,” the girl then said, bowing. Her hands clenched into the fabric of her skirt.

Sakura studied the girl’s shaking hands. Then her eyes drifted up to her face.

“What is your name?” Sakura asked.

The girl peered up at her through flaxen hair.

“It’s Meno, Your Grace,” she replied.

“Meno,” Sakura repeated. The girl nodded.

“Why don’t you sit with me for a while, Meno?”

While it was worded like a suggestion, it wasn’t. The girl must have been smart enough to know that. She hesitated for just a moment. And then she bowed again.

Meno trailed behind Sakura as they made her way to the other wing of the palace. Meno cast nervous looks at Mangetsu, who walked near Sakura, and Suigetsu, who trailed behind them.

“Your hair is a unique color,” Sakura commented. She kept her eyes focused ahead. Meno started a little. She touched her golden hair, gathered her hands in front of her again.

“…Yes, Your Grace,” she replied.

“Are you foreign-born?” Sakura queried.

“No, Your Grace. My father was a traveler,” answered Meno.

“Oh, so you’re mixed,” Sakura guessed.

Meno hung her head.

Sakura sniffed. “With the number of foreign-born concubines Prince Baki has, I would assume that a little mixing would be more than welcome here,” Sakura observed. She glanced back at Meno. “Or is that a privilege reserved just for the nobility?”

Meno’s eyes widened.

Soon, they arrived at Sakura’s quarters. Servants pulled the doors open at their approach.

“Azra. Esma,” Sakura called as they walked inside.

The twins came running. Azra helped her unwrap her shawl. Ezra presented a pair of soft slippers. But both girls froze when they noticed Meno lingering in the doorway.

Sakura followed their gaze. She gave an absent-minded wave of her hand.

“Prepare some refreshments for my guest,” ordered Sakura.

There was a slight pause as the twins exchanged a look. And then they both answered: “Yes, General.”

Several minutes later, they sat in the parlor. Sakura crossed one knee over the other, arm draped over the back of the sofa. She nodded as the twins set a tray down on the low table. Steam curled up from the teapot.

“Oh, Your Grace, I couldn’t accept this,” Meno sputtered as she looked at the tea. Her hands curled into the fabric of her apron.

Sakura stared at the tea too. The corners of her mouth turned down. “Indeed. You couldn’t,” she agreed. Her stare flitted over to the two attendants.

“The day is hot. You serve tea on such a hot day without ice?” Sakura scolded. The twins hung their heads as they listened. But then Azra raised her head.

“Your Grace, ice is only reserved for guests of honor-” she protested.

“Which I am. And this girl is my guest,” Sakura interrupted. She released a sharp breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. And then she flapped a hand at them.

“Go. Remake it,” Sakura ordered.

Azra and Esma exchanged a wary look. They bowed.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Azra said before they hurried out the door.

As Sakura refocused her gaze on Meno, she found the girl staring right back at her. Folding her arms across her chest, Sakura raised her eyebrows.

“The harassment. Has it been going on for long?” inquired Sakura.

Meno’s hand rose to touch her swollen cheek.

“No, Your Grace. I must have tripped,” the girl insisted.

“What strange floors they have here. They rise up to strike the faces of pretty, young girls,” Sakura mused.

When Meno just stared at her, Sakura offered her a smile.

“I’ve been in a fight or two. You don’t need to lie to me,” she added.

Meno flushed.

By the time Azra and Esma returned with cool drinks, Meno was in tears as she divulged her life story. She sobbed into the handkerchief she pulled from her pocket as she recounted the bullying. There was a strict hierarchy among the staff. Those that served the higher ranking concubines were above the lesser ones. And the older servants could make life hell for the younger, weaker ones.

“But you serve a high-ranking woman. You can’t be so awful at your job?” wondered Sakura.

Meno shook her head. She dabbed her cheeks with the sopping handkerchief. Temari moved from the window. Kankuro held out his own handkerchief as she walked past. Temari grabbed it and sat beside the girl. She gave her the clean handkerchief and patted her on the back. Meno gave her a tremulous smile before fresh tears leaked out of her eyes.

“It matters little, Your Grace. They hate me so much, but I try so hard. I just don’t understand,” she sobbed, burying her face in her hands.

“This can’t be right,” Sakura sighed, hand on her cheek again. “Who is in charge of all the servants? There has to be some sort of administrator.”

At this, Meno hesitated. She looked to Sakura. Then her gaze drifted to the twin girls standing behind Sakura. Sakura turned in her seat to glance at them too. The girls bowed.

“Are you concerned that someone in this room will report you, Meno?” Sakura demanded, facing forward again.

Meno rubbed her eyes. She looked down at her knees.

Sakura’s eyes narrowed. She relaxed her arms.

“Rest assured, Meno, should anyone take issue with what you say here today… I will take responsibility,” she declared. And then she tossed another glance over her shoulder. “You have my word,” Sakura then added.

Meno sniffled. Temari patted her back again.

Twisting the handkerchief between her hands, Meno bit her lower lip. “Oh…. um…. well, Consort Hoki is, Your Grace,” she finally confessed.

Sakura touched her pointer finger to her cheek. Her thumb pressed against her chin. She tilted her head to one side as she thought.

“Unfortunately, I have yet to meet Consort Hoki myself. I wonder what her thoughts on this sort of working environment are,” she sighed. Her eyes darted up when she noticed Mangetsu cross his arms. He met her gaze, gave a slight nod. She pretended not to have seen it. Smiling, she turned her attention to Meno.

“No matter. I’m certain Consort Hoki has worries of her own,” she added.

Sakura took a deep breath before she declared: “I like you, Meno. Why don’t you come work for me?”

Meno’s eyes widened. Her hands tightened around the handkerchiefs.

“Truly, Your Grace? Can I?” she blurted out. Her face turned red as she realized what she had said. She sunk back in her seat, looking down at her feet.

Sakura’s expression warmed. “You seem like you have a good head on your shoulders. I shall speak with Prince Baki about adding you to my service,” Sakura replied. When she glanced back, Azra and Esma’s faces revealed nothing. Sakura gestured to the twins. “I’ve been working poor Azra and Esma to the bone lately. I’m certain it will be a relief to them as well.”

They finished their tea, Meno still sniffling. Sakura asked her a few more questions about her life, which Meno was more than happy to answer. By the time their cups and plates were empty, Meno’s face was swollen, but significantly more cheerful. Azra and Esma collected the tableware and left the room.

As she got to her feet, Meno bowed and thanked Sakura over and over again.

“Make sure Meno returns to her quarters safely. And pass this message along to the Prince,” Sakura instructed, pressing a note into Mangetsu’s hand. He nodded. Mangetsu then held the door open for Meno.

Sakura waved at the girl, smiling as she watched her go. But as soon as Meno turned the corner, Sakura lowered her hand. She glanced over her shoulder.

“Are you sure about this?” she whispered.

Suigetsu braced his forearm on the doorway. He craned his neck to peer past her before he spoke.

“The twins reacted when you talked about Consort Hoki. They’re likely her spies,” he replied, keeping his voice just as low. And then he stared at Sakura. “But you already knew that. I don’t know why you’re asking me.”

Sakura raised her eyebrows. “I suspected. That’s different,” she corrected.

“So why bring that girl? It’ll raise more suspicion to replace them, M’Lady,” warned Suigetsu. He peered up and down the hall again. His gaze fell to Sakura again when he felt her grab the sleeve of his shirt.

She smiled. “My Aunt has always loved chess. And she taught me to love it too. But don’t you think it’s more fun when the pieces are alive?” she murmured before she released his sleeve. She stepped back into her quarters. Suigetsu stared after her. And then he broke into a grin.

“I knew it would be fun to stick with you, M’Lady,” he chuckled as he followed after her.

Later that evening, Sakura lay on her back.

Everyone else had gone to bed. Temari was in the room next to her’s. Gaara and Kankuro shared another one further down the hall. Gaara still had nightmares, and Kankuro liked to be there just in case.

Suigetsu had gone to bed too. Mangetsu would wake him halfway through the night to switch shifts. But for now, he prowled around the wing. There were guards on duty, but neither of the brothers trusted them. Every once in a while, his shadow slid under the door as he walked past. At first, his movements had jolted her awake. She wasn’t used to someone keeping such close watch. But after a few months, she was starting to find their presence comforting. Sometimes she even slept through the entire night undisturbed.

But this night, Sakura wasn’t sleeping. Instead, she was staring up at the ceiling. There were thousands of stars painted in gold, mimicking the patterns of the heavens outside.

With what almost felt like a stab of guilt, she suddenly recalled a face. Not as if she had ever forgotten him. But he drifted to the front of her mind.

The plan had been to make a connection with Sasuke. The Mountain Kingdom was a powerful ally to have. With the political instability that had weakened the Forest Kingdom, its neighbors seemed unsure of how to approach them. In times of crises, it was important to know how other countries would react. Would they stand back and watch? Would they seize a moment of weakness to attack?

She had made it her mission to ingratiate herself with Sasuke. It had been easier than expected. Because under that pomposity, which was all a facade anyway, he was rather intelligent and even funny.

Prince Itachi of the Mountain Kingdom was an unexpected boon.

She saw his wrist. The beautiful jut of his bone. The shape of his fingers as they curled around the doorknob. She liked watching those hands. Elegant in their own way. They were smooth and soft, unlike hers. And she knew because she could remember the way it felt against hers as they sat in the shade of a pergola.

Sakura closed her eyes.

Her whole life, she had learned to calculate each relationship. What did they have to offer? What would they ask for in return?

Even her friendships were all weighed this way. Ino, one of her oldest friends, had gone through this evaluation as well. And Sakura was confident that Ino had done the same to her. That didn’t change the fact that she liked Ino- preferred her company to that of most people she knew.

Ally. Eyes and ears. Bargaining chip. Scapegoat.

They all stacked so neatly. Like pieces she could line up on her game board.

But what was Prince Itachi of the Mountain Kingdom?

A prince with no support from his subjects. One whose own stepmother crippled with poison. Whose father remained either oblivious or uncaring. She already had the support of his brother, who had the best bid for the throne.

What purpose did he serve then?

“You look anxious. Are you alright?”

What did he have to offer?

“I wish I knew how to help.”

What would he ask for in return?

“You’ve always looked like a giant to me.”

She thought of Consort Hoki. Today’s events had made it clear to Sakura that she was a consort in name. But she had little influence over the workings of the harem. From a good family. But rendered powerless because not all the right pieces had fallen into place.

She dreaded falling victim to a similar fate. It was more important now than ever that she surround herself with people of worth. Those that would move when she could not. Those that she could rely on to redirect blame should things go wrong.

As all these questions swirled together in her head, she remembered the short letter he had sent months ago. Black ink. Perfect penmanship.

I miss you terribly today. All is well. And yet nothing is well without you here.

The following morning, Sakura set her teacup down.

She graced her companion with a smile.

“Prince Baki, thank you for making the time to see me,” Sakura greeted him.

++++

< Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 >

[purplesurveys]

1278

Social Media Survey

[joybucket]

What is your favorite social media site?  Either Twitter or YouTube, though I never use YouTube as a social media site per se so I guess this round goes to Twitter.

Do you use...

facebook? myspace? twitter? snapchat? instagram? youtube? pinterest? bzoink? another site with message boards? tumblr? deviantart? xanga?

Facebook

Do you get on Facebook every day?  Yeah pretty much all throughout the day. I used to never use it, like never ever; but back in college all announcements were coursed through Facebook so I was technically required to be on it regularly, and it was from there that I began to see memes and start to be more active. I’m a shitposter more than anything though and I rarely ever post stuff of my own. How many FB friends do you have?  I have 679 at the moment but I want to get rid of like 500 of them; it’s just such a long list to go through so I never get to proceed with my unfriending spree lol.

Have you ever been on a deleting spree?  HAHA I just mentioned that. I’ve always wanted to, but like I said 679 is already such an exhaustive list for me, and that’s considering I only started touching my Facebook in like 2019. I can’t imagine people who started Facebook in like 2009 and have 4000 friends aka most people I know.

Have you blocked a lot of haters?  I don’t have haters; at least I’m not aware of any that I have. Not that it’s something I care about at this point.

Do you get bullied online a lot?  No, but that’s also because I don’t really open the channels for people to send in hate. I don’t have Q&A handles like Curious Cat and I never pick out that option in Instagram where people can send in questions.

What's your favorite Facebook app?  Oh I never use Facebook for their apps. Are those still even a thing...? Anyway, I mainly go there to be on the hunt for stupid memes I can reshare or to watch videos that are either funny or informative.

Are you a fan of selfies?  I don’t mind if other people do it, but I think I’m honestly bad at selfies so I almost never take them. I’ve never figured out my angles or what filters look ok on me.

Has anyone ever called the police on you because they didn't like your status?  No but I have had my posts reported because they were deemed ‘offensive.’ Which is weird because my posts that have been taken down are those that speak out against disgusting men, which says a lot about Facebook runs their shit more than anything else.

Are you in any facebook groups?  I’m in nearly a hundred groups, both private i.e. for school purposes, and public.

Are you the admin of any groups?  Nah. Too much time and effort needed out of me.

Do you report abuse to group admins whenever you see it?  Yes. I report the post then leave the group.

What could make Facebook better?  They could put more effort into detecting and banning troll farms.

What year did you start using Facebook?  I made an account in 2012 because of a high school class that required us to upload this specific video-format homework onto Facebook (which in hindsight is such an insensitive homework considering that was nearly a decade ago when the Philippines was still severely behind in internet connection speeds?? Ugh). But I didn’t start actively using my account until around two years ago.

What is your current profile picture of?  Myself, posing in front of the sunflowers in school during the recent graduation season.

Did you like the old Myspace better than Facebook?  I was never a regular user of Myspace, so...

Pinterest

What are some of your favorite boards?  I’ve never had a clue what the purpose of Pinterest was. I mean I have an account...but I’ve also never gotten the hang of it?? so I never touch it hahaha.

Have you ever done a craft you saw on Pinterest?  Well no, because I’m terrible at arts and crafts anyway.

Do you have a Dream Wedding board? If so, what's on it?  No.

If you have a Dream House board, what does your dream house look like?  Ok fine this one I did start hahahah but I don’t even remember what I added on there anymore. I’m sure it was filled with modern-style houses with minimalist interior design.

Do you wish they'd bring the "like" button back?  I’m not even aware of this option.

Do you have a Bucket List board?  Not aware of this either.

Which do you like better: Just Girly Things or And That's Who I Am? The second one sounds less childish. < Same, and it sounds like it covers more.

Do you have a board for tattoos you like? If so, what are some of your faves?  No. The only one I ever made was the house one, then Pinterest quickly became boring from there when I realized there wasn’t much else I could do besides making mood boards.

Do you have a "Random" or "Miscellaneous" board?  No.

Have you ever reached the maximum number of boards?  No.

Do you have any secret boards?  No.

Have you ever had a Pin deleted because of copyright laws?  No.

Do you have a Color board? No.

Do you have an About Me board? If so, what's on it? No.

YouTube

Do you have a YouTube channel? If so, what is it?  Technically I do but I only have it so I can tailor video suggestions to my interests and so that I can like videos and subscribe to channels I like.

What kind of things do you post on YouTube?  I’ve never posted any video on there, not even private ones. I’m also not the type to comment.

What do you like to watch on YouTube?  These days YouTube serves as a stress reliever for me, which is to say I would typically go for humorous BTS-related compilations because there are sooooo many hilarious channels that make these great videos haha. Occasionally I’d go back to channels or series that I used to frequent, like Good Mythical Morning, Buzzfeed’s Worth It and Unsolved, Try Guys, Watcher, etc. 

Are you subscribed to any channels?  To so many.

Do you watch any vlogs? If so, what ones are your favorite?  Hm probably Jiwoo’s, though her channel is called Mejiwoo. I find her content calming and conversational and basically fun to binge-watch when I’m not looking for anything super super particular to watch.

If you have a channel, how many subscribers do you have?  0. I’m just a lurker.

Will you subscribe to my channel? (msg me if you want a link!)  Only if it’s really fit to my interests, I guess.

Do you watch music videos?  Rarely; not a fan of MVs in particular. I only really ever put an exception for BTS.

Have you ever watched a TV show on youtube?  Well no since their copyright team works hard and works fast lol. I do watch entire video game walkthroughs from time to time.

Have you ever worked out to exercise videos on youtube?  No, I can’t care less about working out tbh.

Have you watched Amanda Todd's famous video?  No. I’m scared that it might be too upsetting or triggering for me.

Have you ever looked up how to do something on YouTube?  Not really, I prefer looking up articles that can teach me step by step in words.

Do you get a lot of hate comments on youtube?  No, I’ve never posted anything on there.

How long have you been a youtuber?  Never been.

Instagram

Do you post on Instagram a lot?  I do 1-3 Instagram stories in a week, I would say. As for posts, I only have 4 in total and I don’t really feel the pressure to add more. I just post when I feel the want to.

Have you ever posted a poll on instagram?  Nah, I’m not too sure if anyone would participate so I’ve never tried. If you don't have an iPhone, do you wish you could use Instagram?  I’m pretty sure other operating systems can also use Instagram...

Do you have any followers?  Around 50, I think.

Do you like Instagram filters? I’ll use them sometimes to make my stories appear prettier.

Twitter

Do you think twitter is stupid? Hehe show me at least one person who doesn’t think so. < Coming from someone who regularly uses Twitter, agree. It is crazy stupid but stupid is what I’m there for. Which is honestly not always such a bad thing to me - I like that people are more themselves, more stripped-down, vulnerable on Twitter. People always seem to want to show off their best selves on Facebook and Instagram, so I’m actually kind of grateful that there is at least one social media out there where people can just be their clumsy, goofy selves.

How often do you tweet?  Probably a maximum of five a day. Nowadays I’m on there mostly to just scroll through my timelines.

Do you get on twitter every day?  Yes, both on my personal and fan account.

Bzoink

Do you make a lot of surveys?  I never make them but I try to take them as often as I can.

Do you take a lot of surveys?  Haha sorry, was one step ahead of you. Yeah, I do.

Do you post in the message boards?  Nah. I dunno if I’m even permitted to check the message boards on Bzoink considering I don’t have an account.

What types of surveys are your favorite?  Categorized surveys like this one or countdown ones can be fun, but at the end of the day I like sticking to the classic random survey.

Do you have friends on here?  Not on Bzoink, but here on Tumblr yes! There’s a number of people here I like keeping up with :)

Do you post all your secrets on here?  Again, not on Bzoink; but yep I share pretty much everything here.

What type of survey do you think I should make next?  Anything but basic/about me-themed ones that will ask for my name and eye color and weight.

Do you read peoples' answers to your surveys?  I’ve never made a survey.

Do you think you are good at making surveys? 

Do you try to make unique surveys?

What type of surveys do you want to see more of?

Random

This or That

Scattergories

Have You Ever

Are you like me?

About You

Personal, Deep Questions

Girly

Music shuffle

Would You Rather

Do you have this in your bedroom?

Long

Short

All About Your Crush

Fashion

Make-up

School

Music

Your health

Your friends

Confessions

Girl Confessions - how different is this from just confessions? Hahaha

R-Rated

Controversial topics

Myspace

Did you have a myspace when you were in high school?  I started an account in like 4th grade when Myspace was ~big, but I didn’t find it fun and everyone my age was on Friendster anyway, so I was largely inactive.

Do you use myspace now?  No. Is it still even around? I have no clue.

Do you miss bulletins? I didn’t get to join in on the fun so there’s nothing to miss.

Did you like customizing your profile with the old myspace?  Not attributed to Myspace but I did have a lot of fun customizing my Multiply and Tumblr accounts back in the day. That was a period where I really got to learn and play around with HTML :)

Did you have music on your profile?  Not on Myspace again but I did on Multiply! I had a cute little playlist that played the songs immediately as soon as you landed on my page hahaha.

Did you learn HTML when you used Myspace?  Tumblr, yeah. I believe the skills are still there but I’ll definitely be a bit rusty.

Did you have a customized cursor?  Oh, no. Wasn’t a fan of those as I found them a bit tacky.

Did you use glitter graphics?  Also found those tacky haha no, I never used those.

Do you remember posting glitter graphics on friends' pages?  Nope.

Did you make "dolls"?  I don’t recall ever making those.

Did you use photo captions?  Not sure what this is referring to so let’s just say no.

Did you have a photo slideshow on your profile?  Hmmm nope, I don’t think so.

Xanga

Did you have a Xanga account back in the day?  No. It wasn’t big here so I had never heard of it until I started taking surveys on here and heard people mentioning Xanga, actually.

Do you have a xanga account now?  No.

Did you post photos and quotes on your xanga page?  I never had any.

Snapchat

Do you use snapchat?  I did; I was superrrrr active on there for a time. It kind of just got old at one point, though, and my feed got more and more dead until I too just left my account dormant altogether.

What is your favorite filter?  There were a lot of cute ones on there that helped me be more confident with taking selfies but my favorites have to be the dog and flower crown ones.

Tumblr

Do you understand Tumblr?  I had a better handle of it when I ran a fan account that required me to be more active; but now that I really just go on here to take surveys I just use the basic functions and nothing more. But yeah, I understand just enough to get by.

Do you use Tumblr?  Yeah. Even on the days I don’t post surveys, I regularly go on here to keep up with friends I like keeping up with like Elisabeth, Lane, Steph, Lina, Julie :)

Other

What forum sites did you use to love that aren't around anymore?  There was one message board I frequented for this girly/tween magazine I used to collect, but I won’t share the name.

Are there any other great social media sites that you recommend?  I think this survey was able to cover all the main ones I use.

Do you use a photo editing site? If so, what?  I use apps instead of sites to edit my photos.

Do you ever use BeFunky.com?  Nope.

Do you use a video editing site? If so, what?  Nah, I rarely have to edit videos in a super intricate, detailed way. Apple’s video editing features suffice for me.

Have you ever downloaded fonts?  Very occasionally since it’s never necessary.

Have you ever used photobucket to upload an image?  No but I remember going on there back in the day to look for images. I never uploaded any, though.

Do you use iTunes?  Not anymore. I have an account on Spotify now.

Do you listen to music on Pandora?  No, never used it.

[drtwit]

RWBY and the Shades of EEEEEEVIL!

Villains aren’t exactly uncommon, in fact, you could say they’re a constant thorn in the side of reality that only exist to make a story complicated. They hurt our favorite characters, monologue a second too long, spout threatening one-liners they probably spent weeks in front of the mirror preparing, and sometimes they even have the audacity to have sympathetic qualities just to mess with us even more. In short, they’re a bit rude. However, we’re not here to talk about the sympathetic and redeemable qualities of our nefarious opposition. No comebacks here. No, we’re here to discuss the bushy mustache twirlers, the little Hitler youths, whiny brats and the candy thieves who have a pronounced hatred of puppies.

With pure evil characters who are there to break the story over their knees and practice their maniacal laughter, it’s often that writers forget to incorporate the character’s motivation, or at least fear the mention of that motivation. See, I find that many people find it hard to recognize that even for the most insane and cartoony of bastards, there is a reasoning, however twisted, behind their actions. The Joker commits crimes to spark chaos, push Batman to question his moral code and prove life is just one big joke. Darth Sidious wants to control the entire Galaxy and believe that nothing can be allowed to surpass him, not even his legacy. Zamasu wants to fulfill his image of a perfect universe and see’s Mortals as a stain upon reality. Prince Lacroix wants a bigger dick... Oh yeah, and something about fearing super powered Asians and the apocalypse, but I think he’s just racist. They have motivations and their actions are fueled by how they reason they can achieve their goals.

In RWBY, we have our fair share of evil ice cream flavors. Power hungry Fem Fatal? Darwin’s Edgy Fangirl? Sinster Overlord shrouded in mystery? Extremist swallowed by his hatred? Mustaches? We have them all, so feel free to choose your poison. But the one I want to talk about to illustrate this trend is the most pure evil of the bunch: Jac-ass Schnee.

This blight upon the good name of a bitching stache has been a point of apathy for me in the show, both as a character who always managed to feel like a background character forced to be an antagonist and as poorly done part of Weiss’s arc. He’s the best example of what happen when you need a character to always be a villain, no matter the scene, no matter the context, he always has to be hatable and pathetic to make sure you still hate him. This leads to a rather inconsistent character.

There’s a previous point of contention the fandom had with his post-volume 3 portrayal, where both in the way Weiss acts and how he’s mentioned prior to volume 4, there seems to be a disconnect to the abusive corporate worm we’d eventually meet. In the first three seasons, he and his company is something that Weiss clearly tried to emulate, something Weiss seemed to take enough pride in to be such a snob about it, something that Weiss goes out of her way to defend against accusations from Blake. You get the idea that Weiss’s father is harsh, distant and negligent, but that he’s still someone Weiss seems to hold a little affection for. Go to volume 4 and the way the two interact make it suddenly makes prior Weiss moments rather questionable, she seems suddenly very clear about how much she doesn’t like him, he’s very obvious with how much of a dirt bag he is and the everything we learn about the SDC and Atlas elite in general make it hard to think Weiss wouldn’t have agreed with Blake back in volume 1. Hell, I found it odd how Winter back in volume 3 cared about Weiss not returning her abusive father’s calls, you’d think Winter would be like “Yeah, fuck ‘em.”

But okay, maybe it’s just some subtleties missed, Jacques is the straight up corporate sleazebag, doing anything he can to get that payday. He has money, and he knows how to use it, dominating the market and knowing which shortcuts to take to move things in his favor. Now, let’s strip away these elements to the concrete core of the the type of evil Jac is. His evil is one of apathy towards morals in the face of greed. He wants money and power, and doesn’t care what he has to do to get it. He’s a good business man who’s worked his way up the ladder. This worked for volume 4, he uses Weiss as a symbol of sympathy towards future buyers at a party, he pretends to care about the fall of Beacon to look good and slaps Weiss when she starts to threaten that with her antics.

And then here comes volume 7 to take him down in the lamest way possible. We have the build up: Weiss running away, the songs about her wanting to break free, the whole motivation of bringing the SDC back to it’s former glory, the fear of having to return to Atlas on her own, ect. He’s her personal villain and as such you’d expect her returning home after he’s had two volumes to build up his already substantial power during a crisis where his business is needed more than ever, he’d take on a rather daunting role as secondary antagonist to Watts and Tyrian. Our first scene with him in volume 7 tells us the answer.

He storms in, easily loses his cool, is revealed that no one really likes him, Ironwood makes it clear he has very little power here, he’s unable to do anything other than throw petty insults at Weiss and immediately he’s stopped being the corporate bastard he’s supposed to be. This continues with the rest of the volume with him, where the writing seems to make him multiple villains at the same time and reduce him to Watts’s mindless flunkie who could have been replaced by any character. His actions don’t connect to his motivation and situation, there’s nothing that makes me believe that he actually reasoned that this would advance his goals.

He’s a ruthless business man who brought the SDC from poultry earnings to a global monopoly. But he doesn’t have one lick of charisma or cunning to the point he thinks taking away people’s jobs will get them to support him rather than hate him.

His company is constantly facing controversies, accusations and attacks with apparently everyone hating him. But he has shit security and isn’t the least bit paranoid of bugs from potential journalists in his house.

He wants money, power and security. But goes along with Watt’s plans that clearly weaken Atlas’s defenses and isn’t suspicious at all at Watts wanting admin access to Mantle’s entire system with no attempt at insurance in case the clearly suspicious mad man doesn’t stab him in the back.

He doesn’t care about Weiss at all, she’s simply a means to an end, even disowning Winter for joining the military. But he still let Weiss attend Beacon, went back to get Weiss from Beacon when he had Jac 2.0 on standby to be his heir.

He’s a man who’s been in the game of feeding people bullshit for years to justify his bad deeds. But he immediately crumbles the moment he’s accused of anything.

He wants to sweep all accusations of unfair labor practices under the rug so they don’t damage his business. But apparently he allowed faunus to get branded with his logo.

On and on it goes, where his motivation is thrown away because “He’s evil, he doesn’t need a reason to do bad things.”. Joker wants to push Batman over the edge, thus he creates a situation that fucks with Batman’s moral code. Sidious wants to crush the Galaxy’s hope, so he constructs a symbol of fear big enough that it can be seen looming overhead from the planet below. Zamasu wants to purge the universe, so he takes the body of the man who embodies the ‘sins’ of mortals and travels to another timeline to make sure the much more powerful Gods and Zeno can’t interfere with his plans. La Fuckwad knows that everyone is looking for an excuse to get rid of him and knows the apocalypse might be coming, so he manipulates a fledgling vampire to get him the sarcophagus of an ancient vampire so he can absorb that refine ‘87 vintage blood wine and become powerful enough to survive.

You can see how they reason they need to do the things they do to achieve their goal. What connects A to B. The only way Jac’s action sync up with his motivation is if he is such a profound moron that Weiss besting him means nothing. “Wow, you beat the illiterate kid at reading, well done.”

As I stated earlier, Jac is viewed strictly as a bastard, strictly as Weiss’s antagonist, in every scene the show has to push in our faces that he’s the bad guy and that Weiss is superior to him. He never gains an advantage over Weiss, or puts Weiss in a difficult situation, he never has a real chance in this story. He is there to be arrested by Weiss. Every scene changes him to be the villain it needs for him to be for us to hate him the most. So, in some he will be calm and composed to frustrate us, while others he’ll be made to yell like a petulant child to make him pathetic and other’s he’ll just be stroking his mustache. His first confrontation with her ends with him getting slapped down and humiliated, then he’s just a yes man who does what Watts tells him to do with no thought or agency, then Weiss just walks into his party, get’s handed victory on a silver platter and arrests him.

That’s it. You got your ice cream flavors, and all of them can be pretty good on their own. However, if you get a bunch of them, stick them in a bowl and then just take a few bites and leave ‘em out in the sun, all you’re gonna get is regular intervals of a muddy looking puddle that eventually becomes grey sludge.

[grocery-n-handyman]

Top 7 Commercial Ads of all time

Commercial Ads: A Brief

Reaching your target audience online has never been easier or harder. On the one hand, video, the undisputed king of digital content is now easier to create commercial Ads and spread to your audience than ever before thanks to social channels and ad networks. On the other, everybody’s getting involved with video advertising. You need to create something truly excellent, perfectly tailored to your audience, to stand out.

Here are some Top 7 commercial Ads of all time what should you learn from them!

Coke: Share a Coke Commercial Ad Campaign: Print

Big brands are often hard-pressed to do something ground-breaking when they’re already so big. So, what did Coca-Cola do to appeal to the masses? They appealed to individuals — by putting their names on each bottle.

The Share a Coke campaign began in Australia in 2011 when Coca-Cola personalized each bottle with the 150 most popular names in the country. Since then, the U.S. has followed suit, printing first names across the front of its bottles and cans in Coke’s branded font. You can even order custom bottles on Coke’s website to request things like nicknames and college logos.

It was a breaking story across the marketing and advertising industry. Many consumers were enchanted by it, while others were confused by it why make a temporary item so personal? Pepsi even released commercial Ads shortly after the campaign launched

The Lesson

Coke fans are regular buyers, and the company leaned into that sense of individual ownership with full force. Wondering what name you’ll get out of the vending machine was a fun thrill in and of itself even if it isn’t yours, it encourages you to “share a Coke” with whoever’s name is on the front.

2. Miller Lite: Great Taste, Less Filling (1974) commercial Ad Campaign: Print, Television

Think it’s easy to create a whole new market for your product? The Miller Brewing Company (now Miller Coors) did just that with the light beer market and dominated it. The goal of the “Great Taste, Less Filling” campaign was getting “real men” to drink light beer, but they were battling the common misconception that light beer can never actually taste good. Taking the debate head-on, Miller featured masculine models drinking their light beer and declaring it great tasting.

The Lesson

For decades after this campaign aired, Miller Lite dominated the light beer market it had essentially created. What’s the lesson marketers can learn? Strive to be different. If people tell you there isn’t room for a product, create your own category so you can quickly become the leader

3. Volkswagen: Think Small (1960)

commercial Ad  Standalone : Print

Many marketing and advertising professionals like to call Volkswagen’s “Think Small” campaign the gold standard. Created in 1960 by a legendary advertising group at Doyle Dane & Bernbach (DDB), the campaign set out to answer one question: How do you change peoples’ perceptions not only about a product but also about an entire group of people?

See, Americans always had a propensity to buy big American cars — and even 15 years after WWII ended, most Americans were still not buying small German cars. So what did this Volkswagen advertisement do? It played right into the audience’s expectations. Do you think I’m small? Yeah, I am. They never tried to be something they were not.

The Lesson

That’s the most important takeaway from this campaign: Don’t try to sell your company, product, or service as something it’s not. Consumers recognize and appreciate honesty.

4. Metro Trains: Dumb Ways to Die (2012)

Commercial Ad Campaign: Internet, Radio

Yes, you read that right: Dumb Ways to Die.

In Melbourne, Australia, Metro Trains wanted to get across a simple message: No horsing around near train tracks. Disorderly conduct could lead to injuries or even death, but instead of typical warning signs or announcements inside train stations, Metro Trains came up with Dumb Ways to Die, a song that has garnered 157 million YouTube views since it debuted in 2012.

The song is about dumb ways to die — for example, by poking a grizzly bear with a stick, or taking your helmet off in outer space — and it features a catchy little chorus you won’t be able to stop humming to yourself (because singing it is a little morbid): “Dumb ways to die, so many dumb ways to die.”

At the end of the video, after you’ve watched adorable cartoon characters dying in the dumbest of ways, you get to the moral of the story: There are many dumb ways to die, but the dumbest possible way would be if you died while standing on the edge of a train platform, drove through a railroad sign, or tried to cross over a train track.

The video ad went viral on YouTube, the song was made available on iTunes, and it even played over the radio with an accompanying ad.

The Lesson

This beloved, now-famous campaign communicates a simple idea creatively and memorably — and you don’t feel like you’re being nagged, the way some public service announcements do. If your subject matter is grim or boring, consider using creativity to get your message across.

5. Clairol: Does She or Doesn’t She? (1957)commercial Ad Standalone Ad: Print

The first time Clairol asked this question in 1957, the answer was 1 to 15 as in, only 1 in 15 people were using artificial hair color. Just 11 years later, the answer was 1 of 2, according to Time Magazine. The ad was apparently so successful that some states stopped requiring women to denote hair color on their driver’s license. When your ad campaign starts changing things at the DMV, you know you’ve hit nerves Clairol did the opposite of what most marketers would do: They didn’t want every woman on the street running around saying they were using their product. They wanted women to understand that their product was so good that people wouldn’t be able to tell if they were using it or not.

The Lesson

Sometimes, simply conveying how and why your product works are enough for consumers. Showing becomes more effective than telling.

6. De Beers: A Diamond is forever (1999)commercial Ad Campaign: Print, Television

In 1999, Adage declared De Beers’ “A Diamond is Forever” the most memorable slogan of the twentieth century. But the campaign, which proposed (pun very much intended) the idea that no marriage would be complete without a diamond ring, wasn’t just riding on the coattails of an existing industry. De beers actually built the industry it presented the idea that a diamond ring was a necessary luxury. Where almost every person pledging marriage feels compelled to acquire a diamond engagement ring.”

The LessonAdvertising can make a relatively inexpensive product seem luxurious and essential.

7.Procter & Gamble: Thank You, Mom (2012)commercial Ad Campaign: Television

‘ll give you a minute to dry your eyes after that one.

Seriously — you wouldn’t expect a household and cleaning Products Company commercial to pull at the heartstrings like that, would you? Lately, though, Procter & Gamble (P&G) has launched some of the best commercial Ads we’ve ever seen from the consumer goods industry.

That’s because P&G identified the story behind the story of Olympic athletes — the stories of the supportive moms who pushed these world-class athletes throughout their entire lives leading up to that crowning moment. And yes, they probably had to do a lot of laundry and cleanup along the way — presumably using P&G products.

The Lesson

Make your audience cry (just kidding). The season or time period of your ad is important. But even if you run an ad during the Olympic Games, as P&G did, make sure it has longevity and a message that can influence people no matter when or where they see it.

Emotional nostalgia marketing is powerful tactics to get people to make buying choices, so if there’s a bigger, more universal story behind your product or story, tap into it and showcase it front-and-center.

Courtesy: DigitalHemanth

[readerstories]

The Boxer and the Italian - Bonnie Gold x gender neutral!reader

Gender-neutral since the anon didn’t specify :) Starts sometime in season 4, ends sometime inbetween season 4 & 5. Also, can’t figure out how old Bonnie is supposed to be, so I’m putting him at 22 like his actor. The reader is a bit older than him (no specified age), felt that was natural since reader is working for Changretta. If you see any typos, please tell me. (AO3)

Warnings: swearing, older reader, smut, hints of angst, some fluff, excessive drinking

Wordcount: 7629

Request: A bonnie x reader where they meet because y/n came to England with Luca Changretta

God, you fucking hated England. You had agreed to go to this shit-hole of a country to help Luca Changretta with the vendetta against the Shelbys. You had worked for him for years, you considered him a friend, but you are starting to regret it.

You are on your way to the shops, seeing if you can manage to find even some halfway decent food when it begins to rain. Again. You swear, always with the fucking miserable weather. You clamp your hat down on your head, breaking into a light jog as to get out the rain quicker. You run to the closest shop, a bakery, to seek shelter. 

You are too preoccupied with not loosing your hat and getting out of the rain at the same time that you don’t notice the door to the bakery open and a man stepping out. This causes you to run right into him, sending you both stumbling into the shop. 

The man is holding a paper bag with something, nearly loosing it before righting himself. That he is cute is the first thing you notice as soon as you have righted yourself. He can’t be very old, maybe just over 20, dark brown hair, a clean shaven face, and brown eyes that are now looking at you with curiosity. 

You try to shake off some of the rainwater before speaking up, remembering to have some manners even if you are in a shit-hole shaped as a country.

“Sorry about that, had to get out of the rain, didn’t see you before I ran into you. Hope you didn’t lose anything on the floor?” You look up from your coat, catching the boy staring. He shakes his head, as a no or to clear his head you are not certain.

“I didn’t and no worries, I’m fine.” 

“Good.” The boy watches you again, you can also tell the baker is keeping an eye on you both, but too busy with another customer to do or say anything. 

“You are not from around here are you?” You scoff; adjusting your hat on your head so it’s looks more proper.

“Whatever gave it away? My accent, my clothes, my whole fucking being?” The boy has no time to answer before the baker speaks up, interrupting your conversation.

“You going to buy something? If not, you can get out of my shop.” You look at him, irritated. You think about shooting him for a split second, before calming yourself down. It’s not him putting you in a foul mood; it’s his fucking country. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll fucking buy something.” You look over the selection of bread and pastry, trying to pick something to get, as not to annoy the baker any more than you already have. You notice then that the boy you ran into earlier is still standing there, looking at you.

“What are you looking at?” You bark at him. His eyes widen, looking away quickly.

“Nothing.” He says, opening the door and leaving into the rain you just escaped. You snort and turn back to try to figure out what to buy.

---------

You don’t think anymore of the boy from the bakery until you run into him again, this time as literal as the last time. This time however, it’s him who runs into you. 

You are on your way out of a restaurant, one of the only decent ones you have been able to find, talking quietly in Italian with one the other mobsters when someone collides with you. 

You stumble sideways, managing to catch yourself and the other person before either of you hit the ground. 

“Fucking hell, watch where you are going kid.” You then notice who it is you are holding the arms of. It’s the kid you ran into at the bakery.

“Fucking you again. Wasn’t once enough?” You say, totally ignoring that last time was your fault.

“Sorry, I’m running late for a meeting, didn’t see you.” That seemed like a reasonable explanation, the sidewalk was fairly crowded, so you let go of his arms so he stands on his own again. 

“Again, so sorry.” The boy takes his hat off, bowing deeply like an apology. You exchange a glance with the other mobster.

“My apologises, but I do have to run, going to get punished if I get any later than I already am. Bye!” And with that, the boy is running off again, disappearing into the crowd.

“What and who the fuck was that?” You shrug.

“I don’t fucking know, and I do not care. Let’s go back to the hotel, sure Luca is getting impatient waiting for us.” The other mobster nods, and you start walking away. If your mind keeps going back to that meeting and that cute boy for the rest of the day; that is no-ones business but your own. 

Bonnie is very much in the same situation as you, even taking a punch he could have dodged during training and getting yelled at by his coach.

Truth was, Bonnie had seen you through the window of the restaurant when he walked by earlier. He had wanted to introduce himself properly, but didn’t know how to go about it. The fact that you weren’t there alone didn’t help the situation either. 

He had ended up standing on the street corner out of sight of the restaurant for far too long. This led to him actually being late for his practice, but also led to you actually leaving the restaurant, and that was when he got his brilliant idea. 

It had kind of worked, he had gotten to speak to you again, however brief it had been. He needed to find a better way to meet you again. 

He’s sure if he kept literally running into you every time you met, you would tire of him real fast. Or maybe shoot him. Either or could happen. 

He keeps running towards the gym while trying to formulate some sort of plan.

---------

Off all the things you had expected to find in England, a regular bar was not one of them. The bar was a short walk from the hotel, but decidedly less fancy and more anonymous. 

No one there gave a shit about you as long as you paid for your drinks and kept to yourself. Which fit your needs perfectly. 

You just wanted to have a place to drink alone and get drunk without anything or anyone bothering you. Luca respected that you sometimes just needed to be left alone, it was something he was used to after knowing you for as long as he had, so he let you go even in the middle of the vendetta. Which you are grateful for. 

This also leads you to be super annoyed when someone slides into your booth one night. Just because you are sat alone in a booth instead of the bar does not mean you want company. You had told many a person (often a whore) this, and are ready to say it again until you notice who it is in the booth with you.

It’s the pretty boy that you ran into and who ran into you earlier. He looks nervous, you let him squirm, taking another drag of your cigarette while you wait for him to speak.

“Fancy meeting you here, you come here often?” You snort at that.

“Really kid, that’s what you go with.” He shrugs, trying to look you in the eye instead of staring a hole into the table.

“What do you want kid?” You voice is not unkind, you are genuinely wondering.

“I want to get to know you.” It almost sounds more like a question than an answer. 

“Know me? You don’t even know who I am.”

“But that could change. I’ll go first, name is Bonnie Gold.” The name rings a bell somewhere in the back of your head, you file it away to think about later. You give him your name. He mutters it under his breath, as to file it away forever. Maybe that is what he is really trying to do.

“Is that Italian?” You nod affirmatively. 

“It is.” You watch him in silence for a few seconds, cigarette smoke drifting between you, trying to fill the space.

“What is it you really want?” Bonnie seems to have gathered some courage from somewhere, as he leans back slightly as to appear more casual.

“I do really want to get to know you. Have a few drinks, talk, and then maybe more if you’ll allow me.” You raise a brow at that. Is he trying to flirt with you?

“Is that so?” 

“Yes.” You take another drag of your cigarette, thinking.

“Listen, I don’t know what you’ve heard-”

“I haven’t heard anything at all. I just knew after our last, eh, run-in that I wanted to get to know you. You seemed.... Interesting.” You tilt your head at that, Bonnie rubs his neck, breaking eye contact. 

“Alright then.” Bonnie snaps his head up, smiling.

“Really?” You nod, gesturing towards the bar. 

“If you buy me a drink, then we can talk.” He up and out his seat before you can tell him what you want, so you just watch him go. At least he has a nice ass, you think as you watch him order something. 

He comes back with two glasses, both filled generously. You take one sniff at it before taking a sip. Rum; and the good shit to. Bonnie watches you take your first sip, seeping happy with your reaction to the drink.

“So, what do you want to know?”

---------

It’s the end of the night, way too late by any decent standard. Been a long time since you actually gave a shit about that, especially with this good company. Bonnie had turned out to be a wonderful person to talk to, much to your surprise. 

You could joke with him, and he gives back as good as he takes it. It takes the bartender less than gently telling you that the bar is closing for you to leave.

When outside, you light yourself a cigarette, taking a long drag and letting the smoke out in a large cloud. Bonnie snickers at the sight, more than a little drunk. 

You are also pleasantly drunk, feeling like you are almost floating, but still very much present in the moment. Which is why you know that neither of you want to leave. 

You nearly finish your cigarette in silence before either you of do anything. You just look at him , thought churning in your head on how to do this. 

You let your cigarette fall to the ground, taking Bonnie’s hand and pulling him into the alleyway next to the bar. You press him against the wall there, crowding as much as you can into his personal space. 

You push one of your legs in-between his, pressing up. You don’t know what to call the noise that leaves his mouth, but you know you want, no need, to hear more of it. You speak directly into his ear, voice barely above a whisper.

“This is how it’s going to go. I am going to give you the name of the hotel I am staying at, the floor my room is on, and my room number. You are then going to wait here for fifteen minutes after I leave. At the hotel, walk straight to the elevator; speak to no one except the elevator operator to give him the floor number. Go to my door, and then knock on it four times. Is that clear?” You nip at his ear, hearing him swallow heavily. You can feel him leaning into you and grin.

“Yes.” As soon as you have your answer, you let him go. Bonnie has to prevent himself from falling forwards. He looks dazed, even after just a short period of time. Makes you wonder how he’ll be after hours.

“Fifteen minutes.” You point at him, not letting your thoughts go too far. He nods, not trusting his own voice. With that, you turn on your heel and leave. He looks after you in a daze, watching you disappear out his sight. 

He takes a deep breath before taking a look at his pocket watch. Fifteen minutes is going to be torture.

---------

Fifteen minutes have passed, and yet there is no knock on your door. You pretend like you aren’t filled with impatience. You pour yourself a drink and light a cigarette.

Twenty minutes pass. No knock, no Bonnie. You are done smoking, but have barely touched your drink.

At twenty-five minutes, you start thinking about just getting ready for bed. If he isn’t coming, he isn’t coming. You down the rest of your drink.

Thirty minutes have passed when you hear a knock on your door. And then three more. Happy that he fucking finally showed up, you open the door quickly.

“I got lost.” Bonnie offers up as an explanation. You roll your eyes, not really caring. 

“Come in.” Bonnie carefully steps in. You give a quick look down the hallway while his back is still turned, just making sure that no one saw him coming. When you turn around, you are met with a surprisingly shy smile from a man you have asked to your hotel room to have sex with. 

His smile makes your heart speed up, so you do the only thing that seems natural. You take a hold of his wrist, pulling him into you and smash your lips to his. 

As kisses go, it’s perhaps the messiest one you have ever had. Yours and Bonnie’s coordination is off, teeth almost clashing. But it makes Bonnie let out another, new, wonderful sound, which you also need to hear more of. 

Slowing down slightly, you fall into a better rhythm. Bonnie is clutching your hips like a lifeline. You press into him and can feel the outline of his hardening cock against your crotch. 

You start to push him backwards towards the bed. Even as tempting it is to just do it right in the middle of the room, you have certain standards you try to follow. When Bonnie hits the edge of the bed, you push him down on it. He goes willingly.

You start to take of your clothes, standing between his legs. He just watches you, before you give him a look that says to get with the program. He follows your example; soon you are both naked. 

You almost absentmindedly note to yourself that even if he looked skinny under those clothes, without them he looks to be in excellent shape. You can see the power of those muscles hiding right beneath his skin when he shifts his body to lean back on his elbows, feet still on the floor.

You give him a single kiss, and then practically drag him into the middle of the bed. Bonnie lets out a noise close to a squeak of your show of power. You smile, trying not to laugh. So fucking cute it should be illegal.

You straddle him, going back to kissing him, because that is something you definitely want more of. Bonnie kisses back with passion, rolling his hips into yours, one hand on your hip, the other in your hair. 

Your own hands roam over as much of him as you can reach, making him feel like you are leaving a trail of fire and desire in your wake. 

When your hand grasps his cock he can’t help the shocked moan that escapes his mouth and into yours. You grin, breaking the kiss so you can watch his face while you stroke his cock. Both his hands go to your hips, clinging onto you for dear life.

Bonnie looks beautiful, all slack jawed and big eyes, staring at you with wonder. You grin at him, leaning down to give him a quick kiss. You move down to his neck from there, making your way down his chest. You give each nipple a quick kiss before moving down the rest of his torso. 

You shuffle down a bit, still stroking his cock, his hands falling on the mattress. You plant a small kiss just above his hip, looking up at him. He looks divine. 

You go down even further, slowing down the stroking of his cock to near nothing. You give him a long lick from the bottom of his cock to the very tip, making him gasp. 

One of his hands go over his mouth, you are up there with him in seconds, moving the hand away.

“No, I want to hear you.” Bonnie pants, saying nothing, but nods. You go back down, one of his hands going behind his head, the other into your hair. You let him, giving the tip of his cock a quick kiss in approval.

You take the tip in your mouth, sucking on it slowly. There is nothing that can stop the moan that comes out of Bonnie’s mouth. You need to hear more of them. 

You go down deeper, varying between sucking on his cock and just letting it fill your mouth. You swallow down as much as you can, covering what you can’t take with one of your hands. 

The other hand alternates between fondling his balls and holding down his hips when he tries to buck up into your mouth.

You don’t know how long you are down there, just enjoying listening to all the sounds you can make Bonnie let out. You do however know he is close to coming. 

He tries to warn you, tries to tug you off his cock. You are having none of it, instead you keep sucking, making him let out even more wonderful noises. 

It’s not long before he is spilling into your mouth with a cry of your name, tugging on your hair hard. You drink it down, and then give his cock a last, long lick before sitting up. 

Bonnie is panting heavily, just watching you, trapped in a post-orgasm daze. You smile at him, crawling into his lap once more. 

You bend down to kiss him, letting him taste himself. He finds that he doesn’t really mind the taste as long as you lips are on his. 

Knowing how boneless he feels right now, you take one of his hands and put it at your own crotch. The little gasp that he makes goes into the catalogue of noises you learnt that he can make today, and is saved for another time. 

You roll your hips lazily against his hand. He lets you, even pushing back sometimes to give you more resistance. You are in no hurry to chase your own orgasm, just enjoying the feeling if Bonnie’s hand on you and his lips on yours. 

Eventually, you stop your motions, body shaking with your own orgasm. You break away from your kisses, leaning on his shoulder to moan trough it. When you are done, you get off him, dropping onto the bed right next to him. 

You stretch, feeling how wonderfully loose your body is. It had been a while. Next to you Bonnie is staring at the ceiling, saying nothing. You don’t really mind the silence.

You get up from the bed, making your way over to the drink cart. You don’t bother to put any clothes on; you see no reason to. You pour yourself a glass of rum. 

You look up to ask Bonnie if he wants a drink, catching him staring at you. He blushes, looking away from you. What an odd person. You came by his hand just minutes ago, and now he’s acting shy about seeing your body?

“You want a drink?” You take a sip of yours; it’s not as good as the one from the bar. Damn. You should figure out what brand he had ordered.

“Yes please.” You grin, and pour him a glass of rum too. Ever so polite. You go over to the bed, giving Bonnie his glass before getting back into the bed, leaning against the headboard. 

He shuffles up a bit so he to leaning is on the headboard instead of laying down. He drags the covers up so it’s covering his and your legs. Ever the gentleman.

You both stare off into to space for a while, just letting the silence be while you occasionally take a sips of your drinks. 

It’s Bonnie who speaks first, after taking a big swig of his drink,

“That was.... I don’t even have words.” He chuckles.

“Wonderful, amazing, fantastic?” Your turn to him; not bothering to hide your grin. He slaps your shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, all of those.” You both chuckle, taking another sip of your drink, enjoying the silence.

It’s not long after that Bonnie finishes his drink and gets out of bed. You guess that he has somewhere he needs to be in the morning and needs to go. You don’t mind, even if you wished he could stay for another round.

You decide to help him gather his clothes, as somewhere strewn across the room. One sock is even hanging off a lamp; you don’t even know how he managed that one. You get lightly dressed, just so you are barely able to walk around without too much nudity.

You bend down to pick up his coat, but freeze when you see what is sticking out of his coat pocket. It’s a cap, but not just any cap. It’s the fucking exact same one that the Peaky Blinders use. You hope to all that you believe in that it’s not. 

But that hope is shattered as soon as you feel the cold metal of the razor blades sown into the edge. You straighten up, quiet in your fury.

“What is this?” You don’t even turn towards Bonnie when you speak.

“It’s just my cap.” Bonnie sounds genuinely confused about what the deal about it is.

“You are a fucking Peaky Blinder?” You are almost screaming, but still mindful that these walls aren’t the thickest, and your boss is sleeping just a few rooms away. The boss that has a fucking vendetta against Peaky Blinders. 

The whole fucking reason you are even in this shit-hole country to begin with. At the confused look on Bonnie’s face, you sigh irritably. You gesture with the cap towards him first, then yourself.

“Peaky Blinders, Italian.” You watch at it dawns on him. The shock on his face, the horror when he realises what a fuckery you two had made.

“Fuck, I didn’t, I uhh....” He stutters, not sure what to say.

“You didn’t what, realise I was the fucking enemy? Have sex with me just to try to get some sliver of information?” You are angry, fury lazed in your words. Bonnie rushes forward at your words, crossing the room as quick as he can without actually running. He clutches you face, you have half a mind to punch him, but you don’t.

“I promise. I really just found you fucking attractive, and wanted to get to know you. After you ran into me at the bakery, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I even ran into on purpose the second time to get even the slightest shiver of a chance to talk to you.” He holds your face for a few moments, searching for something in your eyes. He doesn’t know what, eventually letting go to drag his hands over his own face.

“We’re really fucked up didn’t we?” He speaks from behind his hands, hiding his face. You sit down at the nearest flat surface you can find, which is luckily a chair. You lean your head back, staring at the ceiling.

“We did yeah.” Silence. It stretches on for what feels like forever.

“We could just... Ignore the whole supposed to be enemies thing you know.” You look at him like he’s crazy.

“What the fuck do you mean?” 

“I mean, neither of us are directly related to the two families in the vendetta, so it should be fine, right?” You blink, thinking. He has a point.

“Perhaps. I guess. I don’t know.” You tip your head back, closing your eyes. You can hear Bonnie moving around the room, and then you have a weight in your lap. You open your eyes and look at him where he has put himself in your lap. 

He is beautiful, breathtakingly so, so you have to look away. He grabs your chin; gently turning you back to face him.

“I would really like to continue this, whatever this is. We don’t need to let this thing come between us.”

“This ting is a fucking vendetta, not some petty arguing between families.” You try to sound aggressive, but your words have no bite. You are just tired.

“I know that, but still. We can work around it.” You say nothing, opting to just look at him, thinking, thoughts going faster than a runaway train. As if he can sense this, Bonnie leans down to kiss you. 

He gets no response at first, and then you are surging up to meet his kiss. You cling to each other, kiss desperate and hungry. When you stop, you lean your foreheads together, breathing in each other. 

You give him a last quick kiss before gently pushing him off your lap. At the confused look he gives you, you give him a reassuring smile.

“Do not worry, I still want to do this. But you need to go for now, so no one catches onto that you have been here.” Bonnie nods, giving you a tired smile. 

He gathers the last of his clothes, putting them on as he goes. His cap slides back into his coat pocket from where you dropped it on the floor. You stay seated in the chair the whole time, watching him. 

Bonnie gives you a quick kiss and makes to leave, but you catch his wrist. He looks down at it confused. You clear your throat. 

“Same place tomorrow at 9?” Bonnie smiles, nods, giving you another quick kiss before disappearing through the door. You let him this time. You sit in the chair long after he is gone, just thinking. You hope it’s all worth it.

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

After that first bar meeting, you make a habit of it. You never meet there directly again, trying to be discreet. Your meeting time is usually 9 at night, since that is when you are both most likely to be able to sneak away. 

Whoever is first will order a rum and settle into the booth closest to the exit, the one you can still see the bar from. Then they will wait for the other to show up. 

The second person to come will order one beer, drinking it standing at the bar. Since there’s a mirror above the whole length of the bar, it’s easy to spot one another without having to meet directly. 

You both drink up your respective drinks, leaving within ten minutes of each other. You meet outside, and then walk separately to a nearby hotel that neither of you stay at, rotating between a few, as to not be too obvious. You don’t go back to your hotel after that first night.

Most nights it’s Bonnie that is there first, since most times it’s easier for him to slip out. He sits at the booth then, his leg jumping up and down beneath the table. He knows it doesn’t look good, but he can’t help it. He just wants to be with you as much as he can. 

The nights where you are the first one to arrive are actually the ones you love most. You get to sit there, unwind while thinking of Bonnie and waiting for him to stroll through the door. 

He does indeed stroll, even though he denies it to high heaven. You definitely do not mind the way he walks, it makes him look even better and more irresistible.

Some nights, one of you can’t make it to the bar, and some neither of you makes it. You have an agreement that if the other one hasn’t show up an hour after the initial time, the other person should leave.

Those nights are the worst; they are spent alone in your respective ways, thinking about the other. You dislike those nights the most and you know Bonnie does too.

It’s also the fact that both of you know that the other one might be dead. With all the things happening with the vendetta it is a real possibility. You are of course the most likely candidate, but Bonnie isn’t out of the dangers way either with his and his family’s involvement with the Shelbys.

So you try to make the most of it the times you are able to meet, staying as long as you can, pushing the limits of how long you can be together without being missed or noticed. 

You have to leave the hotel room eventually, you returning to the hotel where the rest of the mafia is staying, Bonnie back home to where ever his father has him. You both hate it, not being able to sleep in each other’s arms like you want to.

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

When you find out Bonnie is a boxer, his body build suddenly makes more sense to you. The lean, but yet somehow still muscular shape of his body is a perfect build. 

You don’t really ask him about it, he just tells you out of the blue one night. 

You’ve just had sex, you are lighting another cigarette, like you almost always do afterwards. You have never offered him on before this night, almost seemed too intimate in a weird way, but tonight you do. 

He declines with a shake of his head, just lying in bed next to you.

“What, you don’t smoke?”

“I try not to, my coach says it would interfere with my boxing.” You blink down at him.

“You box? What, like a hobby?” Bonnie looks up at you at that, almost seeming offended. 

“Not a hobby, I’m going to go professional soon.” You hum, taking a long drag of your cigarette.

“Show me then.” Bonnie furrows his brow, flipping over so he’s on his stomach, still looking at you.

“You want me to box you?” He sounds so confused. You chuckle.

“No, I am many things, but a boxer I am not. I meant you get up and show me by yourself.” You lock eyes with him, taking another drag of your cigarette, blowing the smoke into his face. He waves the smoke out of his face.

“Okay then.” Het gets up, only in his underwear and takes up a stance on the floor. Even if he’s not even dressed, you can see the power in his stance. He throws a few jabs at an imaginary opponent; eyes focused somewhere right in front of him. 

You know very little of boxing, having never really had any interest in the sport, but even you can tell that his punches are powerful. He does some more moves while you just sit and watch. When he stops, he’s panting slightly.

“What do you think?” Bonnie’s tone make it seem like he’s searching for something, like approval perhaps? You smile at him. 

You beckon him back to the bed with a single finger, putting out your cigarette in the ashtray on the bedside table. He goes slowly, settling in so his back is against the headboard. You straddle him.

“I know fuck all about boxing, but you looked really good.” Bonnie’s smile is glowing.

“Yeah?” You give him a quick kiss.

“Yes. And to show my appreciation of your boxing, I’m going to do this.” You say as you start to suck on his neck and roll your hips. 

He moans, your hand sliding under his underwear, finding him half-hard already. You grin and start to make your way down his chest.

---------

Another hour later, you are laying next to each other again, both panting from your latest orgasm and looking at the ceiling. 

You have a cigarette between your lips, unlit, as your lighter has fallen down from the bedside table at one point, and you are still too blissed out to summon any kind of muscle control to get it. The silence is comfortable.

“You should come see me sometime.” Confused, you turn your head towards Bonnie. It takes you a while to figure out what he means. You then remember the earlier conversation.

“Oh, one of your matches you mean?” He nods, turning his own head towards you. 

“Maybe one day, if I can make it somehow.” You do want to, but you don’t dare making a promise that you might not be able to keep. It would be rude and maybe even bad luck. 

With that thought in your head, you get up with a groan to look for your lighter so you can smoke your cigarette. Bonnie watches your back while you look, saying nothing.

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

It’s not long before you give Bonnie a nickname. It’s not on purpose really; it just slips out of your mouth on night while you are kissing slowly.

“Bello, Bello.” You whisper in-between kisses, not even realising that you have done it until Bonnie stops and pulls slightly away from you.

“Bello?” He’s confused, you can tell. You are too until you figure out what happened.

“Oh, it’s a nickname for one you care for. It means handsome.” Bonnie grins, you through to fight the butterflies forming in your stomach to no avail.

“Really? You think I’m handsome?” 

“Yes, I do.” You lean in, kissing his briefly on the lips.

“My handsome Bonnie.” You kiss his cheek.

“My Bello.” You kiss the other cheek.

“Mine.” You give him a single kiss on his neck, which turns into several more, which turns into another round in bed. Neither of you mind that at all.

Bonnie tells you he really likes the nickname, so it sticks after that. You try to whisper it to him as often as you can, sprinkled in-between mutterings of his name, and sighs of pleasure.

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

“Where are you going every night?” You look up from where you had been cleaning your gun to catch Luca standing in the doorway of your hotel room, watching you. You take a drag from your cigarette that have been resting in the ashtray next to you while you worked.

“Since when do you care where I go at night Luca?” You go back to cleaning your gun, cigarette back in the ashtray.

“Since we’re in this shit-hole of a country and in the middle of a vendetta against the Shelbys.” His tone is sharp, but not unkind. You sigh. You let the lie you knew would have to come roll of your tongue.

“I’m fucking whores Luca, not like there’s much else to do here when we’re not shooting at someone or being shot at.” Silence for a few seconds, then the closest thing to a laugh you have heard from Luca in months.

“Yeah, just make sure you don’t get anything you don’t want from them.” You look up at him with a frown on your face.

“Thought you knew me better than that Luca, I do have standards and good taste when it comes to whores.” Luca snorts, hiding a grin behind his hand while pretending to scratch his cheek.

“I seem to remember things very differently. Remember, what’s her name, Elizabeth Rizzo?” You groan, this time Luca doesn’t even hide is grin.

“Ah yes, didn’t she follow you home at one point.”

“Okay, one bad fucking choice. Not my damn fault.”

“Whatever you say, I’ll let you clean the rest of your guns in peace.” Luca closes the door behind himself when he leave, grin still on his face. 

“Motherfucker.” You haven’t seen Luca joke like that in a long time. You doubt it will ever happen again.

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

You are there at the boxing match when it all goes down. You are watching Bonnie box from the shadows, not in your own clothes, blending into the crowd. Luca had sent you there to keep an eye on everything, to make sure that it all goes to plan. 

You are only really watching Bonnie in the ring, paying no mind to anything else but him. He is beautiful in the way he moves. 

You don’t like seeing him take hits, but you know he’s just waiting for an opportunity to strike. Or he has been told to wait, to draw out the fight to make it more exciting. If you were the kind of person to bet, you would have gone for that. 

In the fourth round Bonnie knocks Goliath out, to an uproar from the crowd. 

Then Thomas Shelby is in the ring, firing his gun in the air, screaming that his brother has been killed. He seems mad with grief. You pretend to be shocked and scared, playing along with the rest of the crowd. 

You manage to make it out of there without anyone catching on to your Italian roots. Your time with Bonnie had paid off in an unexpected way as you are able to mimic his accent to almost perfection when you need to speak. 

You make it out of the venue without any trouble, but are stopped just a block away by two men that are clearly Peaky Blinders.

“Mr Shelby wants to speak with you.” You shift your gaze between the two men, thinking about shooting them both and making a run for it. But you don’t. 

If Shelby wanted you dead, you would have been as soon as you stepped into the venue. So instead you spread your arms wide, showing that you are unarmed, like everyone had to be.

“Show me the way fellas.”

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

When Luca Changretta meets with Thomas Shelby for the last time, you are one of many that stand by, not doing anything when your boss and friend dies. 

He calls your name before anyone else’s, staring in disbelief when neither you nor anyone else says anything.

You stand there, watching him be beaten by Tommy Shelby, then shot and killed by the recently resurrected Arthur Shelby. Not like he was dead in the first place, but seeing the shock on everyone that believed he was is something else.

Before you came to England you would never dreamed of doing anything like this, but love changes a person and their priorities. 

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

When everyone leaves to go back home, you give some weak excuse about why you stay behind to the men. A few of them guess your real intentions correctly, but you don’t tell them how right they are, instead just telling them to fuck off, and to make sure they get on the boat before it leaves without them.

You stand on the docks, watching the boat leave and smoking when you are joined by another presence at your side. A quick look and you recognize Thomas Shelby, just standing there with his hands in his pockets and a cigarette in his mouth. You say nothing, keeping your eyes locked on the boat.

“Thought we told everyone to fuck off.” 

“I didn’t stay because of any of you, so don’t fucking flatter yourself.” The look he gives you is sceptical and calculating. You hadn’t expected anything less.

“I can’t really go back to New York now can I? My boss and friend got fucking murdered and I stood by and did fuck all didn’t I? And I rather not join this new boss. There’s going to be no trust there with my previous position and history. I got a better chance of staying alive in this shit-hole.”

“You seem fine with sending the rest of them home.” You glance at him, waving dismissively with your cigarette.

“They were low-ranking soldiers, not much more any of them except Daniel and Matteo. The real loyal ones you already killed, so there’s that.”

“We could always kill you.” You snort, taking a deep drag of your cigarette, finally turning to look at Thomas Shelby properly.

“Except there would no fucking point would there Mr Shelby? Luca is dead, the vendetta is gone, and as I already have said, I’m not here for you.” Shelby watches you, face made of stone.

“I guess not.” You take a last drag of your cigarette before you throw it on the ground, stepping on it to kill the flame.

“Thank you Mr Shelby.” You do a mock bow; this time it’s Mr Shelby who snorts.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere I would rather be than on a shitty dock with you.” He says nothing, so you take it as your cue to leave.

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

You don’t see Thomas Shelby for a few months, which you are more than happy with. You much prefer spending time with Bonnie, the real reason you stayed behind in this country you supposedly hate. 

You are in a bar somewhere in London, tucked away in a private booth with Bonnie. It’s a slow night; you haven’t really done anything except talk and drink all night, just happy to be with each other. You are so glad Bonnie had managed to sneak away from his training and father for the weekend so you could spend time together. 

You know that some of that time will be spent in bed together, but for now you are content with this. You make sure to steal some kisses between the talking and people watching you two do, always quick and discreet. 

Your hand is on his thigh all night, almost absentmindedly slowly stroking it. You can tell it’s making Bonnie’s mind go places that you definitely don’t mind. 

He gets up for only the second time tonight, telling you he has to use the bathroom and then he’ll return with more drinks for both of you. You give him a quick peck on the lips before he goes. 

While you wait, you go back to just watching the other patrons in the bar. You are so preoccupied with trying to make up a funny backstory about the man with silver striped hair to tell to Bonnie when he gets back, that you don’t notice that someone new have slid into the booth opposite you before they give your shin a light kick under the table. 

You startle, ready to hurl whatever insult you can think of at the person, then you notice who it is. Thomas fucking Shelby.

“Mr Shelby.” Your tone is clipped, trying to very much tell him to fuck off without saying the actual words. He ignores it of course, the bastard.

“So this is what you stayed for.” He says, gesturing to the bar.

“I do believe that is none of your fucking business.” He gets out a package of cigarettes, taking one for himself before offering you one. You take one, hoping it will get him to leave quicker, and to make sure he has at least one less cigarette to enjoy. He lights his with a match, you light yours with your lighter.

“It is my fuckin’ business when you’re one of the people that tried to kill me and my family, and killed my brother, just a few months ago.” 

“I thought I made it very clear last time we met that I didn’t fucking stay for you, you obtuse prick.”

“So what did you stay for then?” Before you can give a similar answer to the one you gave just minutes ago, Bonnie appears next to you, bottle of rum and two glasses in hand.

“Mr Shelby?” Bonnie is one big question mark beside you. Shelby flickers his eyes quickly between you two before a slow grin appears on his face.

“Bonnie, nice to see you again. So this is where you have been sneaking off to ey’?” Bonnie stammers, slowly turning red. You pull him down on the seat next to you.

“Kindly fuck off Mr. Shelby.” Bonnie gapes at your rudeness, Shelby just grins.

“Okay, I can tell when I’m clearly not wanted.” He gets up, buttoning his jacket, looking every bit the bastard he is.

“Be sure to be back in time for you training on Monday Bonnie, don’t want your father to worry ey’?” Bonnie doesn’t answer, while you give Shelby the finger. He says nothing, another grin spreading on his face before he turns and leaves, disappearing into the crowd.

“You shouldn’t have acted like that in front of Mr. Shelby.” You don’t answer that, instead watching the crowd to make sure that his stupid cap is gone. You pull Bonnie into your side, making him let out a noise close to a squeak that he will forever deny making.

“I know I said I wasn’t here for him, but I do really want to shoot him right now.” Bonnie rolls his eyes, recognising your mood for what it is, mostly annoyance at having your night interrupted. 

He finally puts the glasses down on the table, pouring you both a glass of rum. He gives on to you, you take it absentmindedly, still making sure that Shelby is really gone. Bonnie taps your cheek, making you focus back on him.

“Ignore him. I’m here, you’re here, and there is no one else we should be focusing on right now.” You sigh. You know he is right. You lean in, giving him a quick kiss.

“Sorry, you’re right.” After that, you go back to what you were doing before you were interrupted, just enjoying each other’s company. 

At some time during the night, you leave the bar, ending up at your apartment, in your bed, thoroughly enjoying each other’s company. And for now, you are happy.