#really living up to their name i guess but like

[karasbroken]

I am still in escape-from-reality mode, so have an essay on John being smart, I guess?

I loved this photo of the shuttle interior, though of course I can't view it without sparing a few thoughts for the crew who lost their lives for our quest to be free from being trapped in our one, beautiful, complicated, suffering planet.

But what it made me think about next was Farscape, of course. It's so briefly mentioned, and never referred to again, but the Farscape mission was John's third trip to space, minimum. He'd been on two previous space shuttle missions. And they must have been significant and successful roles because he was commander for the Farscape project. So this overwhelming morass of switches and readouts was familiar to him. He could probably name what every control did, what every blinking button meant.

John's ability to adapt so quickly to alien technology doesn't seem so improbable when you consider how much Earth technology he was used to dealing with. He struggled mostly with the stuff that had no labels or details to guide him, like handles that turn unintuitively back and forth instead of up and down, or doors that open by waving the right way at specific unmarked spots. (I feel like PK techs also found the doors of Leviathans baffling because they engineered specific glowy pads for all of Talyn's doors.)

I'm positive that John knew every subsystem on this shuttle. There's a reason they let a guy go up to space in a ship of his own design, and it's not just because he's the son of a famous astronaut. (Good for publicity at a time when the space program was struggling for mind share and funding.) He might use half his brain for pop culture and Aeryn, but the rest of it was more than enough to make John that rare super genius who can put his math and science into practical use building shit. So of course the vast majority of the time we see John being idle, he's taking something apart or putting it back together.

When he goes back home, John claims not to understand how the hetch drive works, "he just installed it", but his friends know that's bullshit. Of course John knows how most of it works, but he doesn't have full grasp of the math and science because he's had to deduce everything from tinkering and an under-trained Pilot without full grasp of the science himself. John is being coy partly to not bias what other scientists can figure out from their own experiments and partly because he doesn't want to get stuck all day every day being interrogated for his knowledge. Kinda been there, done that.

But anyway, this picture made me think things, about Earth tech, and our wonderful, adaptable human in the wilds of constant space magic and a hundred species worth of tech....

(Okay, just one more rant: I'm convinced Aeryn becomes a tech herself at least partially because she hangs out with John a lot, and she hates being idle, so she started messing with tech too.

I can just see him opening something up and asking a lot of questions that irritate her because she has no idea why any of her equipment works and it has never been necessary to know how to fix it, yet the way he asks questions makes her feel ignorant. But then after he pokes around enough to figure out what the red squiggly button does, he shows her and wants her to understand it too. Which she wouldn't be interested in, except she can shut him up faster if she makes him show her how to put it back together, freeing him up to go play with the next thing that catches her eye.

Or he'll go into this rant about how this particular thing is always breaking and should really be redesigned and she tells him she'll fix it, again, just to shut him up.

Because she quietly loves being in his frittery, high energy presence; there's enough John to fill up a squad's worth of space and he helps her feel less lonely on this giant empty tomb of a ship. But she wishes he talked less because she can't not pay attention to him and three quarters of what he says is nonsense. John earnestly messing around with something too intent to even talk is perfect. She'll happily sit there and clean parts or do the tedious soldering if he just limits himself to occasional mutters and "youreekas!", whatever that means.

John, of course, being a super genius, eventually figures out the pretty girl will sit with him all day--really close to him actually, their knees will bump a lot--if he tells her he really needs help assembling backup circuits or whatever. But only if he shows her how to do it once, provides minimal feedback from there, and limits himself to two Earth pop culture references per arn.)

Flight Deck of the Space Shuttle Columbia image credit: Eric Long/Smithsonian Institution                          National Air and Space Museum

[lale-txt]

❦ IDLE HANDS (Kuroo x f!reader)

Shameless, you think. Unsure if you mean him or yourself when you narrow the distance between you two.

a/n: little something for @husbandograveyard ♡ writing this made me a Kuroo girlie. i get it now. i really, REALLY do. also when i started writing this i was aiming for 1k or so idk what possessed me but here we are. maybe listening to bouncy while writing this wasn't the best idea (lie)

tags: f!reader, mild enemies to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, shameless flirting, food mention, bit of a slow burn, they're so in love your honor

wc: 3.7k

Kuroo Tetsuro is a heartthrob.

With his stupid messy hair and his stupid rolled up sleeves, showing off his stupid toned arms while he’s mumbling stupid sweet things to your favorite cat that’s currently coiling underneath his stupid big hand, getting the best belly rubs of her life from the looks of it. 

It’s not like you’re jealous or something, no; it’s just that you’ve been coming to this cat café for a year now and you thought you and the calico shared a special bond. Maru, who is just as her name implies, very round and very soft, has been sitting and purring by your side while you spend hours typing page after page of your next book. She’d also stretch out all over your laptop and remind you to take a break when you’ve been going at it for hours. Yes, it took you some bribery to win her heart but over the past months she really warmed up to you. Wow, she usually isn’t this friendly with people, you remember the café owner say once. 

What a blatant lie. 

Your peace has been disturbed. A slight shift in the universe when he showed up for the first time merely a week ago. It was easy to remember him, because he was sitting in your spot with your favorite cat purring in his lap, looking like he didn’t have a single worry in the world except maybe that untamed hair of his (and even this was kind of charming, you had to admit begrudgingly).

Sharing usually wasn’t a big deal for you–until it was. You come to this cat café almost every day, feeling much more inspired to write here than in the shoebox you call your apartment at the other end of town. Your landlady doesn’t allow pets, so this place has been a lifeline in the tiring times of deadlines and rejected book deals. At the end of the day there was always a cat rubbing against your legs, reminding you that not everything was bad and that no matter how severe things got, there was always a kitty waiting to be picked up.

You hold this place very dear to your heart, a secret gem you felt a need to protect. It is hidden away in a side street, far from the hectic buzz of the city. The interior is cozy, it isn’t too big and the owner, an elderly lady with candy cotton hair and knuckle tattoos, lives upstairs and treats the place like her second living room with all six of her cats. There’s never too many other guests around and in the corner seat by the window you can unravel your thoughts quietly. It feels homey, something you haven’t felt in a long time.

But now there is an intruder in a business suit and you didn’t really know how to deal with that new found irritation.

“That’s my spot.”

Balancing your laptop, notebook, a slice of carrot cake and a hot drink in one hand, all manners aside, you point at the stranger with your other. In your right mind you know it is rude to point at people, but to be fair he kinda started it by sitting where you rightfully belong. His eyes, a certain gleam in them, follow your movement down to the cat curled up on top of his thighs. With the amount of cat hair sticking to his suit pants you could only pray for him that he had a lint roller somewhere at his desk. 

He cocks his head to the side, giving you a boyish smirk that maybe would make your heart skip a beat if it wasn’t for his audacity. 

“Usually I ask someone’s name first and take them on a few dates before I let them sit in my lap, but I guess I can make an exception,” he replies and you never in your life before wanted to strangle someone so badly. If that wasn’t already worse enough, the tuxedo cat lifts its small head and slowly blinks at you before jumping down from his lap, as if it was trying to make space for you. My bad, didn’t know this seat was taken. Here, girl, you have it.

For once in your life you’re too stunned to speak. You watch the stranger check his watch and let out an almost inaudible sigh before he grabs his backpack (one that looks like he has had it since high school) and stands up to full height. He’s in your space now and you have to crank your neck slightly to meet his eyes. Mentally you’re adding stupidly tall to your list of things you hate about him. 

“Gotta get back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

True to his words he is there the next day, too. This time around you managed to secure your spot by the window, three cats idly sleeping next to you on. You’ve been stuck on a paragraph for almost an hour now when the doorbell chimes and his figure appears at the counter. The cats look up with interest but you force yourself not to pay any attention to him, which is hard when his order is literally “I’ll have whatever she is having”, followed by a nod in your direction and this cheeky smile again. 

This damn smile.

“You didn’t strike me as a dirty chai drinker,” you deadpan when he takes a seat at the table next to yours. The café is almost empty around this time of the day, which is no surprise since most of the workers in this district are having a hearty meal for lunch and not whatever sweet delicacies this place is offering. 

He peels himself out of his suit jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. The same cat as yesterday jumps into his lap immediately after he sits down, giving you a look of “if you don’t want him, I’ll take him” and you almost roll your eyes. Kuroo (you learn his name from the ID he is wearing around his neck) seems to notice and he grins at you. 

“Then what did I strike you as?” he asks, his chin resting in one hand while his other finds the soft fur of the kitty, stroking it gently. 

You look him up and down, now taking your time while stretching out the silence between you two. Only the purring of the cats and the soft music in the background could be heard. At first glance he seems like your typical office worker in the three piece suit who spends his time filling out spreadsheets and drinking cheap vending-machine coffee from the conbini next door. Everything a little rumpled, himself included, someone so used to tristesse he doesn’t even notice it anymore. 

Only at second glance do you notice the small wrinkles around his eyes, not from age but from laughter. The dimples when he smiles down at the tuxedo cat in his lap, now showing off its belly. His calloused hands, atypical for an office worker, more like you’d see them at craftsmen or athletes. Something in his eyes that radiates warmth and an air of calm confidence. None of it is unpleasant.

“If I had to guess, maybe three espresso with a pump of caramel and honey,” you say, more to yourself than to him. Kuroo looks at you in surprise before barking out a laugh. You hate how you like the sound of it.

It’s the beginning of spring and you award Kuroo Tetsuro the title of the greatest nuisance you’ve ever met.

In the midst of summer, you pity him. 

“I’m just saying that maybe you radiate a natural fragrance of catnip,” you say as you stir your iced oat milk latte. Kuroo got you that one when he popped in during his lunch break and saw that your glass must have been empty for a while. By that time you were hunched over your laptop, trying to decipher your notes from last night. You had saved him a seat at your table, but if he asked you, you’d say you just happened to put all your belongings on one chair and nothing more.

The man is swarmed by the cats of the café. They didn’t even bother to hide who their favorite is, rubbing around his legs, sitting pressed to his side or just straight up climbing his shoulders. It would’ve been enviable if he wasn’t already sweating from wearing a suit in the humid heat of the summer month alone. 

“Can you get at least one or two off me?” he asks and his tone is close to pleading. It makes you laugh as you stretch out in your light sundress, giving him a look as if you’re contemplating his question. 

“I could, but it’s really much funnier seeing you struggle like that. Serves you well,” you chime and pull out your phone, snapping a photo of this moment. You hold it up for him to see, a kitty phone charm dangling from it (they just happened to come in a pack of two and you gifted him one out of generosity, nothing more). He snatches it from your hands and makes a face.

“So you like seeing me suffer, is that how it is?” he snarls at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His slender fingers fly over the screen of your phone and you let out a small gasp.

“Don’t you dare delete it,” you huff and grab the orange tabby mercifully off his shoulders so you can lean over him better. 

“Relax. I’m only saving my contact info since you never bothered asking me for it despite being my constant for the past three months.”  

There was this cheeky smile again. You blame the flutter of your heart on the caffeine and not the way his pupils are dilating when he gazes at you. 

He loosens his tie and unbuttons his shirt slightly, just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. Suddenly you’re very aware of how close you’re leaning over at him. Kuroo gives you a little glance from the corner of his eyes and taps the now revealed side of his neck. 

“What do you say? Do I really smell like catnip?” 

Shameless, you think. Unsure if you mean him or yourself when you narrow the distance between you two. You can feel the heat radiating off him and for a brief moment you wonder what it would feel like to press open mouth kisses on his skin. Your eyes flutter shut as you engrave this moment into your heart. 

“Definitely irresistible,” you murmur once you pull back–reluctantly, as if a hidden part of you ached to be in his proximity, in the inside of his soul.  

By autumn you miss him on the days when he was gone. 

He traveled quite a lot. You didn’t know one would need to be on the road so much for something as simple as volleyball (you can imagine the look he’d give you over this). But he was passionate about it and that’s also something you liked about him. The way he talks about the sport holds so much love and you wonder what it would feel like to be loved by a man like Kuroo Tetsuro.

Gentle, you think. Honest. Treasured.

A tap against the window pulls you out of your thoughts and when you look up, you're met with a pair of honey glazed eyes. Whatever he sees when he looks at you, it’s making him grin from ear to ear before he hurries towards the entry door, eager to meet you again.

Kuroo is holding up a bag, some brand of sweets from Hokkaido he’s been texting you about, but you didn’t think he’d actually go so far and bring you some. He sounds breathless when he speaks, as if he rushed all the way to get here and when he keeps on rambling, you order him and yourself a hot matcha boba and a chocolate mousse to share. 

The cats are happy to see him back too, and you laugh when you help him take his scarf off before some kitty claws can tangle up in it. It was a precious gift after all, one you knitted for him, under the feeble excuse of “keeping my hands busy helps me come up with ideas for my writing process”. It makes you happy to see him wearing it, and the color makes you feel as if you took the red string of fate connecting you two and turned it into something to help him stay warm.

You think a lot about kissing him now. Sometimes your hands would brush against each other on the table, neither of you pulling away. He spends his lunch breaks with you and comes to pick you up from the café in the evening, walking you to your station. The two of you still bicker at each other, but underneath lies a certain kind of softness, one that feels too fickle to put it into words just yet but also too bright to ignore. The leaves of the trees are falling and so are you. 

With winter comes snow and the quiet realization that maybe, just maybe, it’s unadulterated love. 

You spend a lot of time huddled together in the corner by the window now. He looks over your shoulder when you type on your laptop, one arm resting idly on the back of your chair, fingertips brushing against your spine sometimes. You don’t think he even notices when he lets them run up and down there. Often you forget which cups on the table belong to who but it doesn’t matter since you order the same things anyway and because this could count as an indirect kiss, right? 

On some days he’d just close his eyes and laze next to you, with his head resting on his folded arms on the table and your fingers idly weaving through his hair, before he had to hurry back to work. On others he would tell you excitedly about a special match he was organizing and you can hear the pure joy in his voice. It’s contagious.You get them now, the cats. How drawn they are to him, like chasing sunbeams. 

He spells L-O-V-E on your back with his fingertips and something inside of you softens. 

Then there’s snow, more snow than you’ve ever seen in your entire life, and Kuroo comes to pick you up early, the tip of his ears bright red and his cold hands seeking yours to warm them up. 

“I’m really sorry but I’m closing the shop early today,” the café owner apologizes and puts a box of cinnamon rolls for you on your table. “You two kittens better hurry and get home, too. On the radio they said they’re gonna shut everything down soon.”

It can’t be that bad, you think. But when Kuroo and you stand in front of the closed station, it dawns on you that maybe you’ve underestimated the amount of snow a teeny tiny bit. You huddle a little closer to him for warmth and to shield yourself against the snow as you pull out your phone. 

“If there’s no more trains running, I better start looking for a place to stay. With some luck there’s still a few vacant rooms in the hotels nearby…”

Kuroo puts a hand over your screen and gives you a stern look when you open our mouth to protest. 

“You can crash at my place for the night. I live close by," he mutters and it doesn’t really leave room to decline his offer. Maybe it’s not really an offer to begin with; more of a silent pleading to stay. Not just for the duration of the snowstorm, but forever maybe. 

His place is just like you imagined it would be like. Not overly spacious but it feels like a home in every corner. There’s photos on the wall, back from when he was a kid to his high school and college years, and pinned with a magnet to the fridge is also a polaroid he took of you back in summer. In it you’re laughing about something silly he said and you’re holding up two cats at once, one strap of your sundress almost slipping down your shoulder. You still remember how he fixed it for you because you didn’t have a hand free and how his fingers lingered for longer than necessary. 

You hope one day he won’t pull his hand away anymore.

The apartment is certainly not messy but you can see he lives in this place, with some papers scattered across the coffee table and the unmade bed and the slightly concerning stock of buldak noodles in the kitchen shelves (in which you peeked out of curiosity into while he was in the shower). You imagine yourself living here, too. Maybe you’d get a cat on your own and plants for the balcony once this winter was over. 

The laundry machine rumbles quietly in the background after you step out of the bathroom, too. It wasn’t just the steamy shower that had your cheeks feel hot, it was also his clothes that he put out for you, with his scent lingering on them and engulfing you softly. Kuroo appears with two cups from the kitchen and pauses when he sees you, his mouth opening and closing again as his eyes flicker over your form. He doesn’t want to stare but also he does want to stare, wants to drink you in and memorize every detail of this moment. 

You can see his Adam's apple bop slightly when he swallows and nods over to the couch, and it’s at this moment that you know you’re not leaving this apartment again before every inch of your skin has been plastered in kisses. 

“It’s not as good as the one’s at the café but I tried my best for my special guest,” he laughs quietly when he hands you your cup, his fingers brushing against yours. The hot chocolate looks impossibly sweet, with whipped cream and sprinkles on top (they’re not ordinary sprinkles, you realize, but tiny cat shaped ones), and the first sip would’ve been enough to send you in some higher spheres if you weren’t in a state of bliss due to his proximity already. You put the cups to cool down on the coffee table and sink into the couch. 

Outside the snow is falling relentlessly, muffling the sounds of the outside world and opening up a new one, right here in these four walls.

In his arms. 

Without realizing you both settled down in your now familiar positions, only closer this time. Huddled next to each other, with one of his arms around your shoulder drawing you nearer to him. It feels natural, the way your head comes to rest against his shoulder and your legs thrown over his lap, the two of you sharing a blanket. 

He’s warm. Kuroo is so warm. 

And when he presses a fleeting kiss on top of your head it’s like everything is falling in place; the months of pining and yearning and unspoken desire. In the midst of a snowstorm both of your hearts are set ablaze, with a tenderness you haven’t experienced in this lifetime before. You sure hope he will find you in the next and the one after that as well because you never want to miss his embrace ever again. 

“That’s my spot,” you murmur and Kuroo laughs, the kind with his head tilted back and his chest rumbling. His grip around you tightens and he pulls you impossibly closer, till you’re really in his lap now, your head tucked under his chin. 

“Damn right it is.” 

You can feel his heart drum, or maybe it’s your own that’s doing somersaults–either way, it’s the same rhythm, a steady thrumming and rattling, begging to be felt. Time seems to freeze at this moment and you’re both quiet. Cat’s got your tongue. Kuroo has both arms around you now, and one of his hands settles on your waist, at the part where your sweatshirt is bunched up a little. His thumb draws small patterns against your bare skin, his touch featherlight and gentle.

You lift your head, only enough so you can catch his gaze. For the first time in your life you understand what it means to have your heart in your throat, because he takes your breath away with a simple glance. His other hand comes to rest against your cheek, cupping your face softly while his grip around your waist tightens a fraction.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he mutters and you can see his sharp teeth flash in the corner of your eyes when he laughs. 

“Like what?” “You know what.” “I think I’ll need to have it spelled out for me.”

He laughs again and this time he leans in closer till his breath is fanning over your skin and everything is happening all at once. Honey and caramel eyes asking you to drown in them. The heat of his body mingling with yours. Your fingers playing with the shaved part of hair in the back of his neck, sending small shivers down his spine.

“Oh, I’ll spell it out for you alright.”

Kuroo kisses you with all the gentleness of the world. It feels as natural as if he had done this countless times before, as if he had kissed you in every life prior to that. He hums into the kiss and smiles when your lips part for him so willingly, and then he deepens the kiss in a way that makes you forget your name for a heartbeat or two. 

Sweet, you think. Soft and saccharine. And warm. So warm. The same what loving Kuroo feels like.

[buttercandy16]

SEDUCED BY MY STEPMOTHER

(R E M A K E)

PAIRING: Agatha Harkness x Reader

SUMMARY: After four years, the reader's father introduces his new fiance to the family - who turns out to be an alluring and mysterious seductress who is set to shake up the lives of the reader and their loved ones in ways they never could have imagined.

WARNING(s): None... yet!

A/N: This is one of my old stories that wattpad deleted. I decided to do some slight remake to it, character wise and all.

Should I continue this?

Y/N POV

I stood close to the balcony, staring at the beautiful view of the setting sun to clear my head. I  just recently found out that for the last few months my beloved father has been seeing someone in secret. On this warm evening, I’ll be meeting her for the first time at dinner. It was finally time that he did so I guess since he’s been widowed for almost 4 years already since my mother died from a car crash. But even with that certain thought I can’t help but feel uneasy about the changes that are about to happen. Hopefully, whoever she is, she’ll be a good one, for my father and also for me.

“Hurry up Y/N, or we’ll be late!” My deep thoughts were disturbed when I heard my father’s voice calling me from downstairs. I guess it’s finally time to leave.

Standing in front of the mirror I straightened my mid-white dress while checking my hair for the last time before grabbing my shoulder bag and went running downstairs.

“No running in the house young lady! How many times do I have to tell you that?” By the end of the stairs stood my father Frank, looking more dashing than usual while wearing his expensive black suit and tie.

“Sorry dad, just didn’t want you to call out for me again” I responded while giving a sheepish smile.

He gave me a playful eye roll as he grabbed my hands and gave each of my knuckles a chaste kiss.

“I appreciate that you’re willing to do this for me, sweetheart. I know this is not easy for you” he said while still holding both of my small hands in his large ones.

“Anything for you dad, as long as she makes you happy,” I said while I gave him a reassuring smile.

“She does, she really does. Now let’s not keep her waiting, shall we?” Dad smiled as he led both of us to his car.

I really do hope so dad…

(A few moments later)

We finally arrived at the restaurant after a 30-minute drive. Dad left his car keys to the valet and went straight inside while I followed close behind.

A male waiter in his 20s led us to a secluded part of the restaurant where a single square table was set beside a huge glass window that oversees the beautiful night streets. I was so caught up with the dancing lights outside that I failed to notice the beautiful woman sitting at our table.

That is until I heard a velvet-like voice calling out my name.

“Hello Y/N, I’m Agatha Harkness. It’s nice to finally meet Frank’s special girl”

My eyes looked for the owner of the angelic voice and they immediately settled on a beautiful woman in a purple dress. I can’t help but admire the beauty in front of me from head to toe. She is breathtaking. Aside from her physical appearance, I can also smell her intoxicating scent from where I stand. I’m in awe, I’ve never met someone as attractive as her before. I was about to look her over again but I was interrupted when I felt my father’s arm on my shoulder.

“Y/N, aren’t you gonna say something?” daddy asked.

“Umm…”

Due to being lost in my own thoughts, I became speechless as I looked up at my father’s questioning gaze before settling my vision on Agatha’s. Her eyes… oh her eyes… held something dark and mischievous that made me shiver to the core. I caught a small glimpse of the subtle smirk on her rosy lips before it disappeared.  That’s when I realized that she must’ve caught me while I was checking her out. Oh, fudge how embarrassing!!

I immediately shook out from my thoughts and shakily offered my right hand for her to take.

“Um... It’s nice to meet you too Miss Harkness” I gave her a shy smile which she reciprocated by giving me a radiant smile before correcting me. “Agatha, will do, sweetheart”.

She took my hand in her slender ones and gave it a soft squeeze. Her hand was so soft and it looked a little bigger compared to mine, she held my hand a little longer than she should have, which almost caused my heart to burst out from its ribcage before she decided to finally let go.

My father then ushered us to take a seat but before he got to do so, Agatha called out to him.

“Hon, did you forget something?” She asked with one eyebrow up.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Silly me” my father went towards her and gave her a kiss on the lips. It was supposed to be a chaste one but before he can step away she grabbed the back of his neck to hold him in place and then deepened the kiss.

I was going to look away because the sudden intimacy made me uncomfortable but before I could, I found myself frozen on my chair and my breath coming in short and hot when I saw her giving my father a passionate kiss…while her eyes were devouring mine.

What. the. actual. hell?!

_-_-_-_

Thoughts?

[hvnyrt]

Voice in the Wind - ALTERNATE ENDING

JASON TODD X READER

I have never really written angst before, and I was really happy with the way my last work came out, but I couldn't help but want the reader and Jason to end up together in the end ;’) So I wrote a quick alternate ending to the same work, a happy ending this time, enjoy!

SUMMARY: Jason has been struggling with the idea of a relationship, fighting inner battles with himself constantly, you convince him to open up.

The rooftop of a Gotham skyscraper was cold beneath Jason Todd’s boots. His breath formed small clouds in the air, the city’s ever-present hum a background noise to his thoughts. He stood facing the edge, arms crossed, eyes scanning the streets below. It was late — or early, depending on how you looked at it — and the city was bathed in a sickly orange glow from the streetlights. Gotham was always awake, like a predator that never rested, and Jason… Jason was just another hunter in its maze of shadows.

He was trying to focus. ‘Focus, Todd,’ he told himself. ‘Don’t be weak. Stay sharp.’ But there was a problem. Your face kept slipping into his mind. No matter how hard he tried to shove it away, there you were again, with that crooked smile and those damn eyes that could cut straight through his walls.

Your voice rang in his ears. He hated your voice because it followed him everywhere, like an earworm he couldn’t get rid of. And your name. He hated your name because it made him feel like he could say it, like he could speak it aloud and claim it, and he didn’t want to claim anything. Not You. 

"She’s just a distraction," he muttered under his breath, the words lost in the wind. "Just a damn distraction." 

Except you werent. He knew it. 

He didn’t know how you had got under his skin, but you had. It had started innocently enough: a few random meetings while he was on patrol, a conversation here and there. But then something shifted. Something he couldn’t control, couldn’t shake. It wasn’t that he wanted to care about you; he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not when he knew better, when he was haunted by the ghosts of his past mistakes. People like him didn’t get to have things like that. People like him didn’t get to have… normal.

It was so fucking frustrating. 

"Stupid." Jason spat the word out as if it could wash away the thoughts, the feelings he didn’t want to deal with. There was no place for feelings in the world he lived in. It was all blood and violence, adrenaline and fear, and you… you were none of that. You were calm. Grounded. Real. You made him feel like he wasn’t constantly running from something.

Nope. Not happening.

"Jason?"

The voice broke through his internal tirade, familiar and warm, cutting through the cold like a blade. Jason didn’t turn around. Didn’t even flinch. But his heart did a strange little lurch. He hated that it did, but it did.

There you were, standing a few feet away, your arms wrapped around yourself to shield against the Gotham night. You didn’t even seem to notice how out of place you were up here — on this rooftop, so far above the city you loved but could never truly understand. You weren't like him. Never would be.

"You shouldn’t be here," he said, his tone as dismissive as he could manage. "Go home, It’s dangerous up here."

Your eyes flickered with that same mixture of concern and defiance he was growing all too familiar with. "And I’m guessing you’re worried about me?" you said, your voice laced with quiet amusement.

Jason’s lip curled slightly, though it wasn’t a smile. More like a reflex. “I worry about everyone, you're no different.” He said flatly, his back still turned.

But even as he said it, the doubt crept in. You had a way of doing that — making him second-guess every cynical, hardened part of himself that wanted to pretend he didn’t care. But he didn’t let it show. He never did.

"I’m not helpless." you said softly, stepping a little closer, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off you. "You don’t need to protect me. You don't have to worry me. Just please, tell me what's on your mind. Talk to me. Let me in." You wanted him so bad to just admit that he wanted you as much as you wanted him. You tried too hard to get him to open up to you, to get him to see what your relationship could be. He never listened.

The words hit him harder than they should have. He wanted to argue, to push you away again. You didn’t understand. You didn’t get what the world was really like, what it could do to someone like him. Someone who had already been destroyed once, who didn’t want to give it a second chance.

Instead, he just shrugged, trying to appear indifferent. "I’m not your protector. Just someone who knows better."

You raised an eyebrow, that familiar smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "So you’re telling me I shouldn’t be out here, too, but you’re not protecting me?" 

Jason didn’t answer. His gaze drifted away from her, back to the city lights, to the shadows below. But he didn’t walk away. He never did.

"You really think I can’t handle myself?" Your voice was quieter now, and for a moment, it almost sounded like you were teasing. Almost. 

Jason let out a breath, unable to keep the edge out of his voice. "You think you’re the only one who can handle themselves?" He turned his head just enough to catch her gaze. "This place doesn’t make you stronger. It makes you smarter. And if you’re not smart enough to get the hell out of it, you’ll get crushed. And that’s not something I’m willing to let happen."

The words left his mouth sharper than he’d intended, but he couldn’t stop them now. He never could when it came to you. 

You didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at him with those damn eyes that felt like they saw straight through his bullshit. Then, slowly, you took a step closer, not intimidated, but calm.

"Jason, you don’t have to pretend with me. I’m not going anywhere."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, though he’d never admit it. "I’m not pretending," he muttered, too quickly, and too defensively. 

The city stretched out beneath them, vast and indifferent, like a black sea dotted with the flickering lights of a thousand lives he would never touch. Jason stood there, his shoulders tense, his fists clenched. You were still beside him, too close for comfort, your presence a constant reminder of everything he couldn’t afford to feel. 

Focus, he told himself. Don’t let her in. Don’t let her do this to you.

But it was already too late.

You were right. He was pretending. 

Jason’s jaw tightened at the thought, and he could feel the familiar coldness creeping in — the walls he had built so carefully around himself, the ones that were starting to crack and crumble under your quiet, persistent gaze. The feeling of wanting to reach for you, of wanting to say the things that scared him more than anything else in this broken city, gnawed at him like a sickness. 

But no. He couldn’t do it. Not to you. Not again.

"You don’t get it," Jason said, his voice rougher than he meant it to be. He didn’t look at you, but he could feel you staring at him, that soft gaze that always seemed to see straight through him. "This isn’t… this isn’t some fairy tale. You can’t just waltz in here and fix me. I’m not… I’m not someone you can save. You don’t know what it’s like, and you never will."

He finally turned to face you, his eyes burning with something he couldn’t even name. "I’m dangerous. And you think you can handle me? You think you can be around me and still come out unscathed? You have no idea what this world does to people like us."

You didn’t back down. Of course you didn’t. You never did. Instead, you stepped closer, her voice low but steady. "I know enough, Jason. I know you’re scared. You don’t have to push me away—"

"Stop," Jason cut you off, his voice sharp, almost desperate. He took a step back, as if your proximity was suffocating him. "Stop pretending like you know me. Like you understand anything about me."

Your brows furrowed in confusion. "Jason, I—"

"I’m not the guy you think I am!" He didn’t shout, but his voice trembled with the raw emotion he refused to show. "I’m not the guy you can fix. You think I don’t care about you? That I don’t—" He stopped himself, the words lodged in his throat like broken glass. He could already feel the heat in his chest, the thumping of his heart, the same damn pain that had been there since he came back from the dead. 

His fists clenched tighter. "I’m not your fucking hero. I’m a killer. A broken, fucked-up, damaged thing, and you don’t want to get close to that."

The words came out in a rush, desperate, but also… final. His eyes were wild now, the storm inside him too strong to ignore, the war he’d been fighting with himself spilling out in a way he hadn’t intended. 

You stood there, silent for a moment, your face unreadable. Then your expression softened, a mixture of hurt and understanding flickering behind your eyes.

"I’m not trying to fix you," you said quietly, your voice steady despite the tension crackling in the air between them. "I’m just trying to be here. I’m trying to be someone you don’t have to push away."

Jason didn’t respond right away. He couldn’t. The words felt too raw, too close to something real. And that scared him more than anything. 

"You don’t understand," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "You can’t understand. I can’t let you in. Not like this. Not after everything."

He took another step back, further into the shadows, his heart pounding in his chest. Every instinct in him screamed to get away from you, to run, to push you out of his life before you were swallowed up by the darkness he carried with him.

"Jason," your voice was quiet now, soft, like you were trying to reach him through the thick walls he had built. "Please."

But he couldn’t do it. Not for you.

Jason shook his head, more to himself than to you. He turned his back on you, the weight of his decision heavy in the pit of his stomach. His feet moved automatically, the thought of staying with you—of letting you see him, really see him—was too much to bear. 

Before he could even reach the edge of the rooftop, he heard your voice again, fragile but clear.

"You don’t have to do this alone."

He froze. For a second, everything inside him wanted to turn around, to reach for you, to tell you how much he wanted to believe that. How much he wanted to let you in. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t let anyone in.

Jason's gaze lingered on the skyline, the weight of the city pressing down on him. His fists were still clenched, his jaw set tight, but inside, a storm was brewing, one that was just as chaotic as the one in the streets below. His heart was a mess of confusion and fear, and even though he wanted to push you away — needed to push you away — something about your quiet presence beside him made it feel impossible.

When you spoke again, your voice was gentle, almost like a whisper, yet it cut through the thick air between you with the clarity of truth. "You don't have to do this alone, Jason."

His eyes flickered to yours, and for a moment, he could barely breathe. He’d heard those words before, but never with the kind of sincerity that made him feel like he wasn’t alone in the universe. That maybe, just maybe, there was someone who saw through his walls, someone who wasn’t afraid of the darkness he carried.

He shook his head, his voice rough, trying to hold onto the hardness that kept him safe. "I told you, you don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like."

"I don’t need to," you replied softly. "I just need you to know that I’m not going anywhere. Not if you let me stay."

Jason’s heart pounded in his chest, the words stirring something deep inside of him, something that scared him more than anything. He wanted to say something — push you away, explain why this couldn’t happen, why he couldn’t let you in.

But the words stuck in his throat.

You took a step closer, not backing down, but not rushing him either. And for the first time, in the midst of all the noise inside his head, he realized that you weren’t asking him to fix himself. You were just asking him to be real. To stop pretending. To let you in.

Without thinking, without even fully knowing what he was doing, Jason reached out, his hand hovering just inches from yours. The proximity felt like a tug, a pull he couldn’t ignore. You didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Instead, you stood there, looking at him with those eyes that had always been so damn patient, so damn sure.

And in that moment, something inside Jason broke open — a crack in the walls that had kept him safe for so long. He didn’t need to pretend anymore.

He moved before he could stop himself.

One step, then two, and suddenly, he was close enough to feel your breath against his skin, close enough that he could see the way your lips parted slightly, as though you were holding your own breath, waiting for him to make the next move.

And then, like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you, Jason closed the gap.

His lips brushed against yours in a slow, tentative kiss, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he pressed any harder. But you didn’t pull away. Instead, your hand reached up, cupping the side of his face, and you kissed him back, steady and sure.

Jason’s heart skipped a beat, his mind racing, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. The tension that had held him captive for so long unraveled, piece by piece, until all that was left was this — you, here with him, unafraid.

He kissed you deeper this time, a soft but desperate need in the way his mouth met yours. The world felt a little less heavy, like maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to carry the weight of it all on his own anymore.

When the kiss finally broke, Jason’s forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing in the same air, your hearts syncing in a way that made everything else fade into the background. He didn’t say anything at first. He couldn’t. But the words he didn’t have to speak were already there — in the way his hands found your waist, in the way his body relaxed against yours.

“I’m scared,” he whispered, his voice rough with the admission. "Scared I’m not… enough. That I’m too broken for anyone to be here. To be what you need."

You leaned into him, your arms wrapping around him, grounding him with the warmth of your touch. “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be you. And that’s enough for me, Jason. That’s more than enough.”

His chest tightened at your words, the sincerity of them striking deep. He wasn’t used to hearing that — wasn’t used to anyone seeing him for who he really was, not the mask he wore to survive, not the monster he sometimes thought he was.

But you did.

He let out a breath, the weight of everything in him finally beginning to lift. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Jason closed his eyes, his heart a little lighter than before. Maybe he didn’t have to have all the answers. Maybe he didn’t have to be the hero, or the villain, or the broken man he always saw in the mirror.

Maybe he just needed to be someone who didn’t have to face the world alone.

As you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Jason realized that he wasn’t as lost as he thought. Not anymore.

For the first time in a long time, he was ready to face whatever came next.

And he was ready to face it with you.

[mintmatcha]

obsessed with kirishima in that new sero series ngl,,, if you ever want to or decide to write, i'd love to hear abt kirishima and reader hanging out- or just how they are with each other. how they became friends etc etc

anyways,,, how have u been miiiint how's it going ;w;

on her knees, his mom smoothed his hair down one day and told him he had to be friends with the girl across the hall. the city was still half built from after the war, his own cuts healed, yet pink.

"you're such a sweet boy," she mumbled, with a kiss on the forehead. "go be sweet."

and so, he was marched over, box of sweets in hand.

"i'm eijiro-" he uses his given name when you answer the door, instead of the family one labelled outside their door. "my mom made these for you."

You don't reach out to take the box. he's afraid you're about to back up and close the door when you shake your head.

"you d-didn't need to do that," you whisper, ducking away from eye contact. Oh, he thinks. That's why his mom sent him over here.

"it's cool!" He pushes the box forward and you gingerly take it, "My mom loves to do stuff like this."

You bow, just a dip of your head, and Kirishima gets a view into the apartment. It's smaller than his family's, with the living room right by the front door and the walls glossed with pink posters. There's a bookshelf packed with figurines and manga.

"whoa." Kirishima gapes. "your parents much really like anime."

"Oh, uh-" You shut the door a bit, trying to block his view. "I-it's just me. I like anime."

"Your parents let you decorate the apartment? That's so cool."

"no, it's just me." You still can't meet his eye. "My parents live out in the country side and it's too far away from my school."

It's not uncommon for students to get apartments near their high schools, but Kirishima thinks it's a strange choice for something as skittish as you. Living by yourself, in the middle of the city, while they rebuild it all: he doesn't know if he could do it.

"That genius school down the road?" Kirishima points in the (probably incorrect) direction. It's not UA, of course, but it's just as competitive to get in. "You gotta help me with math sometime-- I'm drowning."

For the first time, you smile.

"I am not a genius," you say. "But I can take a look."

-

Thursdays turn into tutoring sessions. You're a year behind him in school, but a year ahead of him in math, which makes you a tough grader. Kirishima thinks that you might actually be a genius sometimes. His mom pays you in warm meals, his dad irons your uniform for you when he has the time.

It fills the gap leaving the dorms left in his social life.

"don't you get lonely?" he asks one night, sitting in the middle of your apartment. the faucet leaks, a constant, drip, drip, drip, that your dad promises to fix the next time he can make the train ride over. "your friends from school never come over."

you've scribbled little Xs across your piece of scrap paper, each one tiny and dark, drawn with a shaking hand.

"yeah," you say, "it's okay. they're just busy, i guess."

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XXV)

Chapter 25: ‘They will think of ways to make you smile so you can be happy for a while’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Some embarrassing scenes for both our babies… it’s pretty cute! Also, Siobhán is back, hence the poem!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so no minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2247

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

A Friend

A person who will listen and not condemn Someone on whom you can depend They will not flee when bad times are here Instead they will be there to lend an ear They will think of ways to make you smile So you can be happy for a while When times are good and happy there after They will be there to share the laughter Do not forget your friends at all For they pick you up when you fall Do not expect to just take and hold Give friendship back, it is pure gold.

Gillian Jones

You were kissing him.

Hands in his hair, gently pulling, not enough to hurt, but enough to tug and make his brain short-circuit altogether.

Your lips left his for a moment, he blinked his eyes open, bending further to keep you close. You were in his arms, he was holding you against him, and you were bringing your lips to his ear, and it was divine, really, the feeling of you so close, your warm breath fanning over his cheek as you whispered.

“Andy, I want you…”

He held your face then, to bring your lips back to his, and you let him… and not only did you let him kiss you, you let him deepen that kiss, you kissed him back, you moaned into his mouth…

“I want you,” he whispered against your lips, breathing heavily, panting even. “God, you have no idea how much I want you, Y/N…”

You kissed again, both of you breathless while you struggled to walk across your living room, and all the way across your flat. You stumbled a little on the bed, both of you struggling to take your clothes off.

And suddenly there was so much skin to touch, to kiss, to gently bite on…

The way you sighed his name…

“Andy…”

He was kissing the skin of your thighs when you spoke his name again, louder this time.

“Andy.”

Your taste on his lips when you shouted, but it didn’t sound like a pleasurable cry…

“Andy!”

Andrew jumped up, startled, opening his eyes and falling onto the floor as the chair under him was pushed away by his rushed movements.

“Christ! Andy, you’re alright?”

He blinked, facing wooden tiles, a floor he recognised instantly…

“Andy?”

He looked up, following your voice. You were crouching by his side, fully dressed, in your black jeans and blue jumper, staring at him with worry in your eyes.

His eyes grew round.

He was at work. He had fallen asleep, he was in your office, in the same room as you while he dreamt of…

He sat up in a hurry, blushing to an extreme, looking anywhere but in your direction. Jesus… how could he ever look at you again…

His breathing was a mess, you stared at him with worried eyes, he knew you did, he could feel your gaze on him and the intention behind it.

“You’re okay? You look like you’re panicking…”

“I’m alright, sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry, you just… you were dozing off. I should have been more… gentle, I guess, to wake you up.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost 10 p.m.”

“Christ, we should go home anyway. Thank you for waking me.”

He was still doing his best to look away, to not make eye-contact with you…

… for now, he could see your eyes looking down on him while his tongue was…

“Well, if it makes you fall off your chair, that must have been some dream you were having,” you joked, unaware of how true your words were.

“Yeah,” he joked. “I don’t know, can’t remember to be fair.”

He was finally back on his feet, and you were standing too. You gave him a smile, again, he wasn’t looking at you but he could feel it. He could hear it in your voice too.

“You look flustered, Andy,” you chuckled.

He nervously rubbed at the back of his neck.

A lie, a lie, a lie… he needed to find a lie. He couldn’t tell you the truth, obviously, how he had dreamt of kissing you, of doing much more than simply kissing you…

He rested his hand on his desk for support, but when he looked as his own fingers, he could see them again touching your bare skin, picture them pleasuring you…

He cleared his throat, reached for his jacket.

“Yeah, well… I did fall asleep on the job and then made an arse of myself so…”

“Oh, Andy…”

Your voice was so soft, so filled with fondness that he had to look up at you.

“You truly are adorable when you blush, you know?” you said, and even though he guessed that there was teasing in your words, your voice sounded too genuine to feel this way.

You chuckled, embarrassed at your confession, it seemed. You pushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

And then you started laughing, trying to hide it behind your hand at first, but then you were gone in a fit of laughter.

“You…” you choked on your own words, brushing tears away, and your laugh was so infectious, Andrew started to chuckle as well. “You falling from your chair… was hilarious though… you just…”

You dramatically imitated his fall, making him explode with laughter too. You couldn’t stop laughing for a good five minutes, both of you holding your painful stomachs.

“You’re right though, let’s go home. It’s late, I’m exhausted… and we do have to do this all over again tomorrow.”

“My God… don’t mention that…” Andrew smiled, waiting for you to turn off your computer and put on your coat.

For once, he would have preferred to make a quick escape, so he could curse at himself all he wanted and let himself fully feel the unbearable weight of embarrassment that came with his fantasies; but it would have seemed strange, completely out of character and habits, and he didn’t want you to ask more questions.

He walked with you out of the empty building and all the way to your cars. You chatted about the classes you had the next day, the book he had just begun reading. It was so easy, talking with you, Andrew almost forgot his dream. He was only hit with the memory again when you turned to him to bid him good night, all grin and shiny smile, looking unbearably beautiful in the orange streetlights. He wanted to kiss you again then, and that’s when the images came back, how he imagined you lying in bed under him, moaning his name…

He cleared his throat, bid you good night and hurried to disappear into his car while he fiercely blushed again.

“Y/N!”

“SIOBHÁN!”

People looked at the two of you as you ran across the train station, falling into each other’s arms, but none of you cared. Your best friend was back for a week, you had so many things to say and do together!

You helped her with her luggage while you crossed the station, then the parking lot all the way to your car. Before going to your flat, you needed to drop by Trinity for a meeting with Lydia you couldn’t move around in your schedule. There would be a conference organised later this year, hosted by Trinity, and she needed to start planning some details with you. Lydia wanted you for a conference, even if she hadn’t asked you officially yet, it was obviously the reason behind that meeting. You were grateful already that she would include you as one of the main speakers.

So, you took Siobhán to Trinity, showed her your building, got a coffee with her before heading to your office. She had brought her laptop, wanted to get some work done while waiting for you. After all, no one was truly on vacation when doing an academic job…

You spent some time talking with Colm in the corridor leading to your office, and he greeted your friend with a joyous tone. You were surprised to learn that he knew about Siobhán’s work, and you were almost ready to leave them alone for the rest of the afternoon as they were enthralled in a discussion about their work, when the door to your office opened. You saw Andrew walking out, bending down to avoid the doorframe. He greeted you with a warm smile, one that turned shyer when he noticed your friend.

Meanwhile, you saw the way Siobhán was raising a surprised eyebrow at your colleague, the way she blinked a couple of times and let her eyes trail along his frame for a couple of seconds, before catching herself.

“Hi, Andy!”

Siobhán sent you a questioning look that silently asked ‘THIS is Andy?!’

“Hi,” he answered with a tender smile.

“I’m glad to bump into you! I wanted to introduce you to my good friend, Siobhán! She’s staying in Dublin for a week. This is Andrew,” you added as you turned to Siobhán, without any other explanation. After all, you talked about Andrew often… or maybe, all the time.

“That’s very nice to meet you,” Andrew spoke in his softest, quietest voice, the one he used when he was feeling particularly shy, or when he wanted to soothe people around him.

He offered your friend his open palm, and she shook his hand with a grin.

“It’s nice to meet you too! Y/N can’t stop yapping about you, you know?”

You nudged her in the ribs, but she barely noticed. Andrew raised a surprised eyebrow, and yet you witnessed his expression turning into a smug one, almost cheeky.

“Does she now?” he asked, his tone teasing, and you hated your stupid heart for skipping a few beats at the light in his eyes, at how low and deep his voice sounded, at the hint of flirt in his tone…

“All the time. It’s exhausting!”

“Siobhán!” you complained, but your friend merely shrugged.

“Just telling the truth!”

“I only hope Y/N doesn’t tell too many bad things about me.”

“Nah, don’t worry! On the contrary!”

“Alright, we’ve got to go now, sorry! Weren’t you heading for a class, Andy?”

“I was, yeah…”

“Good…”

“But I can stay five more minutes if your friend can provide us with some terribly humiliating stories about you…”

“Ha, I’m afraid I can’t disclose such information to you, Andrew,” Siobhán replied.

“Really? Why not?”

“I have a feeling she would prefer to be more… attractive, to you.”

He raised a surprised eyebrow again, while your eyes were going as round as saucers.

“Bye, Andy,” you mumbled under your breath, grabbing Siobhán by the arm and dragging her inside your office while she waved at Andrew. You didn’t turn around to see his reaction, didn’t want to bear witness to your own humiliation…

You shut the door and locked it before turning to your friend, aghast.

“What the fuck was that?!”

“Are you banging him?!”

“What?! Of course not! He’s a colleague! He’s a friend!”

“He’s so bloody hot, though, Y/N…”

“Siobhán!”

“I am only speaking the truth. You’re single. He’s single. You’re hot. He’s hot. It all comes together beautifully. And such a nice voice he has… so damn sexy…”

“I am not sleeping with Andy nor will I sleep with him in the future.”

“He likes you.”

You snorted.

“Yeah, sure,” you replied sarcastically.

“He does! Did you see the way he beamed at you? He’s into you.”

“He’s not.”

“He is!”

“He’s not!”

“But you are into him.”

You blinked, opened and closed your mouth a couple of times trying to think of something to say, of an argument to find… but there was nothing that could come out of your mouth for a long time. Too long for your next words to be believed by this woman who knew you better than yourself.

“I… am not! I’m not! Not at all!”

“Oh, yes… you are…”

“I am not! I… I’m trying to get Frank back!”

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow, but you merely heaved a sigh.

“Sorry, I really do have to go to my meeting now, I’ll be back later.”

You left for your meeting, which turned into exactly what you had expected. You obviously accepted to be one of the speakers at the conference, and started planning a subject for your lecture.

Over an hour later, when you came back to your office, Andrew was chatting with Siobhán. You recognised his nervous laughter, the way he bent his shoulders a little to seem smaller and less intimidating. He was shy, but he seemed to genuinely get along fine with your friend, and for some reason, you felt a great feeling of pride run through you at the sight.

They both turned to you as you entered the room.

“So?” Andy asked, and you merely grinned at him. “Ha! I knew she would ask you to be one of the speakers!”

“Has she asked you yet?”

Andrew shook his head.

“I’ll apply, once we can officially do so.”

“Fingers crossed!”

He heaved a painful sigh.

“Christ, I hate those things…”

The three of you kept on chatting for a little while, but then Andrew was heading to another class, and you and Siobhán were going home. You had barely walked out of the building that your friend held onto your arm and leaned closer to whisper in your ear.

“Christ, Andrew is so much better than Frank. I give the two of you my blessing!”

You rolled your eyes.

“There’s nothing between us!”

“There should be! You deserve someone better than Frank. Someone like Andrew. Someone who looks at you the way Andrew does.”

“What do you mean?” you frowned at her words.

She gave you a knowing look.

“Y/N… his eyes lit up every time I mentioned you. He was looking at you like you hung the stars and the moon… the lad is a goner. Don’t waste your chance.”

You laughed at her, brushed it all off, told her she was mad and should stop talking nonsense. Andrew didn’t even like you. He couldn’t have…

… could he?

[joemama-2]

ten reasons i love you

pairing: gojo x fem reader tags/warnings: angst, angst, angst, light fluff, smut, death, divider by @cafekitsune

word count: 2459

Reason #1: you’re patient

Sometimes, I get a little jealous. I wish I were like you, and I try to be, but no one could ever be like you. You handled every situation, every wrongdoing, every argument, every fight, with grace. A simple and natural elegance.

Every time, it proved why I fell in love with you. 

But, I love when you’re patient with me. I know I can be hard to handle sometimes, annoying, or an “ass”, whichever name you decided to grace me with that day. You stayed with me, even when sometimes I wished you hadn’t. Because I knew you deserved, deserve, better.

“Can’t you just tell me all the reasons now?”

“Nope, that would ruin the surprise. You get your next reason next week.”

A gentle kiss to the forehead, followed by one to your cheeks, nose, and then lips.

Reason #2: the way you laugh

I know it’s getting hard to do that now, but when you finally do, it’s the most pleasant sound my ears have ever heard, that my body has ever felt when you giggle against my neck. It sounds like a sweet melody, one that makes you warm. One that makes you smile, without noticing. 

I don’t think anyone could ever have as beautiful as laugh as you do. Even then, it wouldn’t compete.

The way you laugh sounds so natural like you don’t care who hears. I miss your laughs so much. Whenever I hear it, in that moment, everything is okay. Everything is perfect. Because you’re perfect. 

It’s the sound of joy that fills up a room and my heart. I wish I could listen to it forever.

“I didn’t take you for a poet.”

Satoru laughs, dimple more prominent. “I can be cute when I want to.”

You smile, followed by your oh-so-precious laugh. He practically melts on the spot. He can hear the rattling in your chest he’s unfortunately become familiar with. But his face doesn’t fall, instead, he holds you closer and presses a kiss to your hairline. 

It feels like just yesterday when you both got the news, when your lives changed. It’s the second week, but he just prays for time to slow down. For he’s not ready for the future. 

Reason #3: your determination

It’s so beautiful to see. The way you try and try, even after failure. The way you never give up. Maybe it’s because you’re a bit stubborn, but you never back down. It’s a quiet strength about you that I hope you can make loud one day.

You’re fierce, but quiet. Determinated, but timid. I’ve never seen those combinations before, but now that I have, I love it. 

“I wish I was still strong enough.”

His heart breaks at the sight before him, along with your resigned tone of voice. Pushing some strands of hair out of your eyes. “Listen,” he murmurs, head titling. “You are strong, then and now. You will always be strong. Do you want to know why?”

“Why?”

“Because I know you. And I know you’re not ready to give up, just like I’m not giving up on you. We’ll both fight this. In the end, I’ll buy you that ice cream you really like.”

Tears fill your eyes, a sad smile playing on your lips. “Okay, I can’t wait.”

Reason #4: your creativity

I know you’re trying to find ways to take your mind off the now, I am too. I didn’t think someone was capable of picking up on hobbies so fast, but the gloves you knitted me say otherwise. Oh, and the cute little crotchet animals that now take residency on my side of the bed. But I’ll let that slide, just for you. (The little gray bunny is my enemy, btw.)

I wish I was as creative as you. It’s like your juices just get flowing and once you start, you don’t stop. I love seeing it happen in real-time. It makes you happy, I know that. So it makes me happy too.

I’ve been getting more yarn now when I’m out, it’s kind of just like second nature now, I guess. They’re starting to pile up, but I hope one day they’ll all be gone. 

“Keep her off her feet more.” The doctor tells Satoru, who currently stands with a pensive expression, fingers curling around your own. “Your wife needs all the rest she can get, so if you can, keep her on bedrest with less strenuous activities.”

Bedrest. 

That word alone shakes you to your core, a prime example of your deteriorating condition. You can hear your weakened heart pound in your ears, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. If you’re being advised to be put on bed rest, what hope is left for you?

Almost none.

Reason #5: how you care about people

“That’s ironic, isn’t it?” You huff out, a wince soon taking over. 

Satoru’s comforting hand places itself on your pale one, smiling. “Just keep reading.”

With one final breath out, your eyes travel down to the small journal, reading today’s entry.

You have a certain way of making people feel seen. Including others in conversation, making sure no one is left out. You listen when needed, comfort when needed, and give advice when needed. Even if you’re not doing the best yourself.

You make people feel important, make me feel important. You look beyond titles and hierarchies and just see…me. 

If someone’s at their lowest, you make them feel seen. I’ve seen it, I’ve experienced it, and I love it.

You don’t even know you’re reaching out for him until his arms wrap securely around your waist. Careful not to drop his full weight onto your frail body. But god do you wish he did, you missed how things were before.

Hot tears stain his shirt and Satoru feels his own set begin to let loose. He’s always been good at comforting you when you’re crying, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t cry with you. 

Reason #6: the way you make the mundane beautiful 

“Mundane.” You repeat, coughing. 

“Mundane.” Satoru confirms, holding your hands. “Do you think mundane is bad?”

“I feel like I can’t even do mundane things now.”

His head shakes. “You can, and you do. Life is mundane with you, but it’s also exciting, beautiful.”

With a jut of his chin towards the journal, you take the hint and continue reading.

How you can turn something so ordinary into something magical is still beyond me. Maybe you’re a secret witch (I would like that). You look for the beauty in things.

The way the sun hits the leaves, the sound of rain, or the way our hands fit together. You see the world in a way no one else does.

I see the beauty in you too. When your nose crinkles because of my “smelly” socks, your head tilting when you’re confused, or even that look you give me when I say something stupid or funny. I like admiring you, and I like the way you admire. 

Reason #7: how you make me a better person

There’s a resounding thump noise as you throw the journal into the wall. Health slowly failing along with your own mental stability. Satoru holds back a frown, feeling himself uncomfortably shift beside you.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He gently asks.

“I don’t wanna read anymore.” Your voice is bordering on unrecognizable, the rattling in your chest more prominent.

He heaves a small sigh, walking over to pick the book up and back to you. Sitting on the edge of the bed and carefully regarding you with an examining gaze. “Why not?”

Many reasons. “I-It just makes me emotional, Satoru.” 

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Everything!” You shout, looking at him with a pitiful expression. “I’m already fucked up as it is, I don’t wanna cry anymore!”

God, is this really testing his emotional resilience. But that’s not what you need right now. “I know, I know you don’t, baby. But look at it like this,” he scoots closer, fingers intertwining with yours. “There’s nothing wrong with crying, it means we’re still human, it makes us feel….complete sometimes. And I know you’re trying hard to hold everything in, I see it. But please, just let everything out, don’t worry about the mess. Because I’m here.”

Your hands tremble, no longer fighting back your tears as you hesitantly reach for the outstretched journal and read, tears wetting the page. He holds you close.

You challenge me, in the best way. You push me to be more rational, logical, to be more punctual and caring. You push me to be the best me, you encourage my beliefs and ideas, and you’re there for me when something doesn’t fall through.

Without you, I can’t be who I am today. Without you, I’m not me.

You���ve made me the best me, by just being yourself. 

Next week, you’re saying bye to your forever home. Being forced to spend your last days in an uncomfortable hospital with a scent that you hate. This is the last time you’ll walk these halls, use that stove, watch that TV, sleep in that bed.

You cling to him like a lifeline, sometimes you wish he was. 

Soft cries fill the otherwise dim and quiet room, his arms wrapped around your body. Your arms are around his neck, legs opened wide enough so he can fully accommodate his body between them. The way he deliciously slides in and out, in the slowest and gentlest manner, all for your sake. Small moans and grunts fall from your guys’ lips.

The last time he’ll ever make love to you.

“Reason #8: the way you love me.” 

You almost break down even more at the sound of his cracking voice, noticing the shaky inhale he does as he looks down at you, hips moving in a steady motion. 

“You love me so fully, so unconditionally.” he starts off, grunting quietly as your walls squeeze around him. “It’s not about perfection with you. It’s about the way you choose me. Every day, even when we’re not at our best. I know I’m loved because you show it, every moment, in a thousand little ways.”

His lips kiss and gently suck on your pulse point, tongue darting out to lick and savor your sweaty skin. The tip of his cock hits your g-spot in a rhythm that has you whimpering out, nails digging into his shoulders. Your head tilts back slightly, he guides it back with one free hand and kisses you passionately. 

He swallows your moans and tastes your tears. His tears fall onto your cheeks, mixing in with everything. 

This isn’t just about sex, but it’s about being one with each other. It’s about savoring each other like it’s your last breath, melting into each other’s bodies, and loving you in the most intimate way.

He commits this to memory. 

Satoru stays by your side every day and every night. He doesn’t leave, even when he’s prompted by you to eat and sleep. But he can’t, not when this could be the last time he’ll ever talk to you. 

You look so fragile, so out of place in the hospital bed. The gown one size too big and he just wanted to take you in his arms and into a far-away place. Away from the hospital, away from this heart condition, and just with him. 

You can barely even keep your eyes fully open, multiple wires running through your body to keep you conscious. But you still hold onto his hand, tightly, as if you never want to let go.

And you don’t. Neither does Satoru,

Pale skin and dry lips. Everything about you screams illness. No matter that, you force yourself to stay coherent while he reads. 

“Reason #:9”, he looks at you, “the way you feel like home.”

Satoru forces his voice to remain steady, smiling at you. “Being with you is a safe place, a shelter from this cruel and dirty world. No matter where I am, where you are, where we are, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. You make me feel seen, understood, loved. Nothing else matters but us. Your touch, your voice, your presence, that’s all home to me, and I’m so happy I finally found my home.”

Warm tears slowly trickle down your cheeks, your smile feeling like it’s too hard to handle. “You’re my home too, Satoru. I….I don’t wanna leave home.”

A shaky breath. “You won’t.” His hand squeezes you tighter, planting a chaste kiss on your cracked lips. “I’ll always be here, I’ll always follow you. Just keep holding onto me, okay?”

“O-okay.” You croak out, sniffling. 

That night, he falls asleep with you. Holding you like he always does. Whispering sweet nothings into your ear, thumb tracing lazy circles on your knuckles. Your warmth keeps him going, but it also makes him sleepy.

It’s only then does he realizes something. 

He’s happy. He’s so, so happy. He’s with you, you’re with him, and everything else fades away. Because it’s just you two. As much as it hurts, he wants you to go peacefully, and with him.

So, as the hours pass and when he opens his eyes. He’s met with a cold body, an unmoving form in his arms. And tears mixing in with your hair as he hugs you tight one last time.

“Reason #10.”

He sets the bouquet of white roses down on the cold stone, kneeling down before it. Your name stares back at him. 

“The best one, in my opinion. You know….I really hate how I couldn’t tell you this last one in person. But you’re still listening, aren’t you?” He places his hand above your name and a small gust of wind replies back. He smiles. 

“The way you taught me to live.”

“You taught me to how to live, not just in ‘big moments’, but in the small ones too. The moments that matter. The times we spent together, the quiet talks, the laughter, the shared silences. You’ve shown me that life isn’t about counting days—it’s about making days count.”

After leaving, he can’t help but cry. Fingers twitching by his sides, ears ringing. He blocks out the world. Until there’s a small rustling in the bushes beside him. He stops and looks.

He laughs.

“Guess you’re still keeping an eye on me, huh?”

Staring back, a cute little gray bunny. Its ears twitch, as if acknowledging him.

He takes a step closer, then kneels down, his voice softening. "Don’t worry. I’ll be okay. I promise."

He looks at the bunny one last time before standing up and walking away, feeling an inexplicable sense of comfort. 

[rdr2xreader]

“Is it even right to tell them about the two of you? Arthur isn’t sure.”

Rating: Mature, Mild Smut

CW: Talks of Sex, High Honor Arthur Morgan, drinking, background ships, gender neutral reader

Ship: Arthur Morgan/Reader, Karen Jones/Molly O’Shea, Bill Williamson/Kieran Duffy, Sean Macguire/Lenny Summers

“Kieran is one noisy motherfucker when it comes to sex. Who would’ve thought, huh? Kid has some vocals on him,” Bill snorts as he sips on his booze.

Arthur didn’t bother looking up from his journal, but he was following the conversation. But should Bill really be talking about that?

He doesn’t need to know how loud Kieran can get.

Karen hums in agreement, equally as drunk. “You should hear Molly. She can sing real pretty for me.”

Arthur doesn’t need to picture Molly underneath Karen, nor does he want to picture Kieran under Bill.

Sean says something about Lenny, which makes Karen and Bill tease him about not lasting long and how its a mircale Lenny hasn’t run off to find someone else to properly fuck him.

“What about you, Arthur?” Bill asks, catching the outlaw’s attention.

“What about me?” Arthur grunts, still scribbling.

“How’s your partner in the shack? Loud? Quiet? Share with the group!”

Arthur frowns, pausing.

Is it even right to tell them about the two of you? Arthur isn’t sure. When he thinks about it, he guesses you can be both loud and quiet. Really, it depends on how rough he’s going and how deep he can hit.

You can moan his name as loudly as can be, especially if you want others to hear. (Like those working girls down in Valentine—)

Or you can quiet the noise down enough so the others don’t hear the two of you going at it.

You’ve learned the hard way to control the volume after Jack curiously asked why you got so loud and why you were walking funny.

“I don’t really wanna—”

“Come on,” Karen groans. How drunk is she?

Sean takes a swing of his booze. “Lenny’s real loud if I strike him right. Really gotta aim for that spot.”

“You should see Molly sometimes. God, all pretty sprawled out like that for me,” Karen licks her lips.

Bill grins, eyes locked on Arthur. “Share, Morgan.”

Arthur picks at his journal and scowls. Nope. He’s not doing this. He isn’t going to share how flustered you get when his cock is deep inside, or how he lives for those noises when your g-spot is continously hit.

His cock hardens a little at the memories.

“No,” Arthur says. “Ain’t doing this. I ain’t discussing my private life.”

He tucks his journal away, ignoring the groans of the others, and walks off to find you.

It’s your fault his cock is starting to get hard anyway, so you can help deal with the problem.

[nemainofthewater]

Halfway through and currently Lan Wangji and Xie Yun (Wang Yibo) ar ein the lead with 20.3%, followed by Xu Xie and Shen Wei (Zhu Yilong) with 19.8%, then in third Yun Weishan and Xiao Lanhua (Esther Yu) with 9.6%.

It's been a close race so far - this worning there was only a 0.5% difference between the two frontrunners! There had also been some excellent (non-tag) propaganda and I highly recommend checking it out in the notes. There has also been anti-propaganda where people are positing that the switch would actually make things better, and I love to see it!

Tag propaganda under the cut:

Shen Wei and Wu Xie

by @unforth

by @thelaithlyworm

#hooooboy shen wei and wu xie#the entire graverobbing industry would be sooooo fucked#guardian#dmbj by @fixaidea

#look wu xie is a chaos gremlin#while shen wei is a sweet professor#who moonlights as an enforcer#the sheer chaos wu xie would do if he is mistaken as shen wei#would be chef kiss by @1ebilcat

Yun Weishan and Xiao Lanhua

#the yu shuxin one#honestly most of her characters if they switched with weishan in mjty it would be a mess#i love that she usually plays silly carefree characters she does it so well#also interesting bc weishan is a twin by @baek1nho

Lan Wangji and Xie Yun

#I don't recognize enough of these names...#but both Mei Changsu and Lan Wangji would absolutely wreck havoc trying to get back home#They're too driven and have made promises to live by by @okionlywanttoreadforever

Ye Baiyi and Xiao Zijin

#ye baiyi and xiao zijin switching is sooooo funny like#yby in the mlc world is absolutely hilarious but the idea of xzj having to deal with wenzhou..... delightful by @nutcasewithaknife

Wu Xun and Hao Chen

#I'm picking wu xin and the other guy#whom i don't know but i think is evil?#because that would be chaos in both directions#with lots of deaths in blood of youth i guess#bc evil guy would side with what's his name pathetic evil half brother prince#xiao se wouldn't live long enough to get healed#ruoyi would...#and it would be chaos all over that country#meanwhile wu xin would wreak a bit more wholesome havoc in the other world by @fire-burning-brighter

Mei Changsu and Ming Tai

#ming tai is getting mei changsu dead whilst ming lou is getting mei changsu dead in a whole other way*#I would love to see wu xie shen wei swap tho ngl. their surface personalities seem so different but actually they're both entirely insane#the untamed#mdzs#nif#dmbj#lost tomb reboot#the disguiser#yby-xzj swap would be amusing but ultimately both characters would spend their time being annoying/ed to different degrees#mlc#woh#*mcs may be a schemer like ming lou but that's based on him having cards to shuffle. if he got swapped into the disguiser he'd have none#and he'd also have a very suspicuous brother. hence ming lou -> mei changsu = 💀 by @muninnhuginn

Other

by @lacommunarde, @merinnan, and @thelaithlyworm

#i've seen this one on lofter quite a bit:#teng she and xiao ruofeng (bai shu)#teng she being the one to cause chaos obviously#(i think xrf would make a good shenjun) by @rose-tinted-vision

#ye bingchang and wen xiao (chen duling)#if hyx and shui long yin were out I would have said Chu Wanning and Tang Lici (Luo Yunxi) by @travalerray

#dawg imagine kongming js coming back to Liu Bei and being like huh your hair is different.. heYY OH GOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING-#or meeting up with 'zhou yu' again and 1. no mustache 2. really flamboyant clothes??? 3. WHY DOES HE REFER TO HIMSELF AS A PRINCE?? by @popfishjr

#Jin Xuan and Happy Ghost switching places is the definition of chaos#the sheer difference in personalities#the power levels involved#and their potential team-ups#yang chaoran#the blood of youth#word of honor#poll by @feng-huli

#I'm gonna have to go with Xie Wei from Story of Kunning Palace and Changheng from LBFAD actually#Zhang Linghe#cdrama by @circumference-pie

It's really fun pointing at the screen and going 'hey it's that actor!'

(Or at least it is if you can tell the actors apart when they have a different hairstyle, which i can't. In that case a trusted friend helps)

But have you ever considered.

What if the two characters changed places?

[withlove-xixi]

— THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MISSING YOU AND WANTING YOU BACK: chilchuck x reader

ᥫ cw: angst, break up/divorce ᥫ wc: 820 ★ we are back baby!! oh and if it's written weird, then its just because this a sort of vent i guess ? im fine really, i just want a way to verbalize my emotions rn and there just so happens to be a conveniently placed divorcee in front of me (‾̀◡‾́ ๑) cross posted on ao3

— MORE THAN ANYTHING, CHILCHUCK CRAVED WARMTH

[♡]: chilchuck isn’t the best when it comes to his emotions. at most he can tell what he’s feeling, he knows he’s angry when he comes across particularly annoying people, he knows he’s happy when he has a nice drink of something expensive and delicious, and he knows he’s sad when he’s missing you.

CHILCHUCK WISHES, with every atom in his body, with every bit of his soul, with every ounce of his heart, that he could be selfish.

There’s this part of him that’s missing, some part he had a feeling he would lose, one way or the other; that part was you. As ashamed as he is to admit, the thought has passed his mind more than he’d like, as if he had already counted how many steps there were left until you walked another path, how much more grains of sand were left until you grew tired of him. Chilchuck can’t blame you— He could never bring himself to do that. Not when, in the depths of his sorrow-laden heart, he knew it was his fault.

He wants to say the signs were there, because if he had looked back at the final moments of his life with you, they were there; all the telltale symptoms of a dying love. It was the way you gradually stopped coming by the door to greet him when he came home, the way your eyes had slowly grown sullen with worry and exhaustion, the way you eventually he’d come home to find you already asleep. 

It had all happened gradually, not enough to have been particularly slow, but enough that the half-foot should’ve noticed from a mile away.

So, Chilchuck wishes he were selfish. This loud, angered part of him wishes he hated you. He wishes he hated the way your eyes shone when you looked at him, the way you smiled when he kissed you, the way you’d whisper a syrup-coated “I love you” before bed. With every fiber of his being, Chilchuck wanted to hate you. He’s convinced it would be easier that way, it’s easier to strike down your enemy, it’s easier to kill a stranger. But it was you, sweet, kind-hearted you. The same you that had tucked Chilchuck into bed when he got sick and was too stubborn to rest, the same you that had bought him an expensive bottle of ale on a random weekday just because, the same you that he had danced with in the rain the first time he asked you out, the same you that blew him kisses when he left, the same you that leaned against him when you were tired.

Chilchuck’s eyes hesitantly dart around the house, now more empty than ever, and only then does he realize the scar you had carved into it. He sees the window where you’d have stood waiting for him to come home, the couch where you two would come napping together, the kitchen where you made sure he was loved with a warm meal, the hallway littered with little notes and letters you two had given each other over the years. If he closed his eyes, he was still there; the smell of warm roast from the kitchen and fresh flowers in the living room

The house was well-loved, scorched with the memories you had together, every nook and cranny a different moment of tenderness and love. And more than the house, Chilchuck was well-loved.

His hands hold the kisses you pressed into his scars, the warmth of your cheeks, the weight of your body. His tongue brands the sweet way you taste, the motion of your name spilling from his lips. His heart beats with every ounce of love he still carries for you, and with it, every infinite moment you might never share.

It’s why Chilchuck wishes he was selfish. He wishes, truly, that he could simply pin the blame on you, trash his well-loved house, still neat and tidy like you had left it, like you always kept it, and tell everyone that knew you of how you so suddenly up and left without so much as a note or a goodbye or a kiss or a “I’ll see you again, someday.” But instead Chilchuck is left to wallow in some strange sort of illness, a terrible mix of grief and guilt and indifference.

It’s this gloom in his heart that he doesn’t like, the same feeling he had been recklessly burying beneath work, what are his plans next week, what should he eat for dinner. He can’t really tell what exactly he’s feeling, mainly because he doesn’t want to. It was as if his whole being had been shrouded in darkness, not enough to consume him just yet, but enough for him to notice from a mile away, enough to cast a permanent shadow on his life.

He needs to be selfish, put himself above you, above how he hurt you. Chilchuck needs to parade around town waving a flag of victory on how you had so tragically left him. He needed to be selfish, to find a way to absolve himself of this heavy guilt that nearly crushing is poor body.

More than to be selfish, Chilchuck needs a drink.

[soaps-mohawk]

Kinda random and idk if you’ve said this before, but are claiming bites legally binding like marriage? Like how do they work in the various legal systems? Like are they legally binding in some countries but in some other countries they aren’t? Is marriage even still a thing? And if so would divorce even be legal? Guess who got hyperfixated on legal stuff today of all days 💀 (love living in the US/j)

-🏷️🦖

I have answered this before but it might not have made it onto the lore masterlist yet. I have quite a few under the tag from the last few months that haven't made it onto the masterlist because I've been tired and lazy.

Anyway, the short answer is yes. They are legally binding since marriage isn't really a thing that happens in the universe. Bonding and claiming is more important though marriage ceremonies can happen. Once an omega is claimed, they're legally under the care of the alpha and the extent that the alpha takes that to is entirely up to the alpha (things like name changes, etc).

Divorce isn't really a thing as we think about it. Claims and bonds can be broken but it's a very severe decision and can be devastating (not that divorce can't also be that way but you get the point).

I totally get that hyperfixating because I've been off the rails the last few days. This is being answered late but still. I'm trying really hard not to think about it.

[1tsstargaze59]

Anxifear College AU Chapter 3🧡💜

I still have no idea for a name for the fic- ILL THINK OF ONE I PROMISE ^^""""

Prepare to meet all the other emotions! Including Shame! 👀 Guess in the comments who's who, cuz I (hopefully) made it obvious enough XD /Mild family angst

Chapter 3 : Conversations

Anna-lee happily skipped on over to her department's teacher's lounge. Entering the room, she approached her supervisor, a woman with a small but thick build, thin rim round glasses, and a blue sweater. She placed the hair from her short black bob behind her right ear and turned to face her junior :

"He gave you a bouquet of lavender?" questioned Saddie, a little perplexed.

"Ya! Do you know where I could put them? I wasn't exactly prepared with a vase- it's not every day someone gifts you flowers!" Anne laughed nervously.

"He gave you flowers! Anne, that's wonderful. What's his name again?"

"Fred," affirmed Anne, "he's a good friend. He got sick and couldn't come in to work today so he- send me flowers?" She laughed again, "He's so funny, I wonder how he comes up with these gags!"

Saddie leaned in, analyzing the look in Anna's eyes, "Has he been... complimenting you?"

"Huh? Ya, why?"

"Let me see that note," asked Saddie, opening her hand for Anne to pass over the little sheet of paper. After carefully reading it, her eyes opened wide, and she blurted out, "Anna-Lee, he's been flirting with you!"

"What???" Enid yelled back at her, "Are you telling me my brother is flirting with my teacher???"

"Don't say it like that! You make it sound like it's a bad thing," Daphne replied, checking herself out on her phone, "They're both teachers. What's the harm? I think they're cute; I like teasing M. Frederick about it, right Vivi?" Her sister smiled and nodded furiously as she gobbled down her lunch.

Enid sighed deeply, wiping her long face with her hand, her dark eyeshadow mysteriously left intact.

"I can't believe it; how did I not notice? I mean, looking back, it's so obvious!" Anna paced around the office, the sound of her shoes tapping against the wooden floor followed by the sound of a clean slap between her hand and her forehead, "I feel so stupid-"

"Don't be so hard on yourself, sweetie," Saddie reassured her as she sat back down on her chair, "You don't need an excuse to misinterpret situations."

"Misinterpret? Who the heck misinterprets giving someone FLOWERS???" She dropped all her weight into her chair, causing it to roll back slowly.

She chuckled, "Why are you so upset? Isn't this good news?"

"Good news? This is TERRIFYING news! I've never had someone hit on me before!" She brought her hands to her cheeks and squeezed her face.

"Never?"

"Well, yes, but mostly from people I've been in a relationship with, and even then, I was the one who initiated my past relationships! I was NOT prepared for THIS; how could this happen to me? Well, I honestly didn't even consider this was a possibility- but still!"

"You're overthinking things dear, is there something now that's troubling you?"

"Well, it could get really awkward for me since I still, O tu sais, LIVE WITH HIM?? Could you IMAGINE he takes her home and it's just like 'oh, hi! It's me, your HISTORY TEACHER'!!!" The yelling knocked the air out of Enid's lungs, her head dropped to the table as soon as her rant was over.

"OK, that's fair, that does sound really awkward," Daphne responded, opening her setting powder container, "is that all you're worried about, or?"

"That's it? You're acting too calm about this, even for my liking," she sighed again, she who does not tend to care about things, now yelling at her best friend, "I'm thankful for my brother, but I am NOT playing third wheel to any of his romances; I'm not his child."

"I'm sorry, it's just hard to take you seriously when I already got a solution planned!" She smiled, a perfect white smile, before closing her makeup container.

Her droopy eyes peaked up with a glimmer of hope, "You do?"

"I propose we go see my husband. He's a terribly shy guy, I'm sure he has some wise words for you. Besides, the library is a quiet, pensive place; it'll help clear your mind dear," Saddie leaned over her desk to pat Anna-Lee's hand.

Anne smiled meekly.

●●●

"Hey Freddie! Welcome back; you feeling better?" greeted Joy, sitting at the teacher's lounge table of the math department.

"He's fine! He had me deliver flowers to little miss carrot top!" Angrily yelled Antonio from behind his desk.

"You-" she gasped dramatically, "You had Anthony do you a FAVOR!? That's a new one!" She laughed hysterically.

Fred sat beside her, a smug grin plastered on his face, "Hey, miracles can happen. Thanks, Anthony. I owe you one!"

"You owe me 40 bucks!"

They laughed at their elder's frustration.

"So~ how's the courting going?"

"Joy, you know I hate it when-"

"Ok, I'm sorry, you're right. Let me try that again : romance isn't really my thing, but I sure do like watching it go down, so spill!"

"Well, I don't wanna push any further than I already have... I think I've made my intentions clear, and I fear if I flirt anymore, it'll creep her out..."

"Oh, thank the lord," sighed Anthony in relief.

"Anthony!" she yelled at him.

“It's ok Joy, he doesn’t mean it that way.”

“Yes, this childish behavior is simply a pain to watch,” he grumbled, frustratedly tapping away at his keyboard, ”I, for one, think he should be upfront about how he feels.”

Joy stared at Antonio with her mouth agape, “I… agree! You should keep being honest and clear about your feelings.”

“Thank you.”

“About what?” she whispered.

“For caring about me.”

“Of course sweetie,” Saddie reassured her.

She took Anna into the library and behind the counter, where she sat her down to speak with a tall older man. He was rounded and soft in appearance, betraying his size. He seemed like a gentle giant. His pink cheeks matched well with his pink cardigan. Anna felt a weight lift off her chest when in their presence. 

“Anna, this is Emmet; my husband,” Saddie clarified, squeezing his right hand, “Barry, this is Anna-lee, she’s a friend of mine from the History department.” 

Emmet waved a small shy hand at Anna. It made her smile. She explained to him everything that’s happened so far; her uncertainty about her feelings towards Fred. He listened to every word without a peep, his eyes trying to maintain eye contact, but always darting back to Saddie, his face flushing with more pink. When she was done, he looked pensive, staring down at the table. Then, he looked up, a glimmer sparkling in his eyes. 

“What about the chess club?” asked Joy, “Did you think of inviting her?”

“The chess club?” Fred lifted his finger up to his chin, passing near the door, “No... I talked to her about it, though; I thought that if she wanted to see me more often, she’d take initiative, you know?”

“That’s fair,” she remarked, “Dead end there then.”

“Book delivery,” a small raspy voice shot Fred from behind. He yelped like a young girl and jumped forward, looking behind him to find the slim dark figure of a young woman, “For the math department?”

Joy laughed, “Shay! Be careful; you trying to give Fred a heart attack?” 

Taking deep breaths, he took the pen and clipboard Shay had in her hands and signed off on the delivery, shivering from head to toe.

“Thank you,” said the young lady, taking her items back, “and sorry for scaring you, M. Fitzgerald.”

“It’s… ok! I’m very jumpy anyway, dear,” his shivering making it hard to hold onto this many heavy books, “and thank you for your service!”

After waving goodbye with a timid smile, Shay rolled her cart down the hall to the elevator, down to the ground floor and into the library. She went behind the counter and placed her clipboard back onto it’s hook on the wall and left to find her uncle, her expression dulled. She found him sitting at a table, accompanied by her aunt and a strange woman. Her ginger locks tied up in an unusual, incomprehensible manner; she had giant round glasses and a remarkable overbite. At first, she stayed out of the conversation, listening in curiously, as she had done with the two math teachers before, as she had done for too many conversations before. Then, she understood who the lady was.

“Ok, but how do I spend more time with him? I’m so busy, I practically spend all my time in between work and home!”

“What about the chess club?” Shay whispered behind them; making the lady jump in her seat. Her aunt and uncle turned to her, and Saddie smiled. 

“Anna-lee, this is Shay.”

●●●

The leaflet Daphne had handed her had a bold red title : Seeking roommates? Reach out! Enid made a sour face and looked up at her once more.

"What do you say? This could solve a lot of our issues, you living with your brother, me paying the whole rent; we can kill two birds with one stone!"

"Aren't you rooming with your sister? No offense, Vivi," she clarified.

Vivienne shook her head in response, "None taken. I wanted to prove I can room on my own like Daph, despite her insistence on rooming together."

"Ugh!" Daphne rolled her eyes, "Quit acting all grown-up, you're 18! Anyway, as you can see, I got rejected!" She turned to her sister, vindictive, and smiled painfully, "So I got an open spot in my apartment. What do you say?"

"... I'll think about it; thank you for the offer," she said with a hoarse tone.

From then on, the leaflet was placed in her pocket. During her next class, it rolled around. On her way home, it crumpled in on itself. Once Enid walked into their condo and placed her hand in her pocket, she found it had become a shriveled mess. She opened it carefully : Seeking roommates? Reach out! The bold red lettering was a wet slap to the face. She threw it out the door furiously, but not before her brother could catch it. 

“Hey! Lâche ça tout de suite, it’s not yours!” she yelled at him.

“Woh hey, calm down, Ellie; I thought you knew better than to litter,” Fred crossed the doorstep into their apartment and removed his shoes, “and mine? Of course not, but it’s not yours either since I just saw you throw it away,” he handed the piece of paper over to her. 

Enid froze for a while, staring at the paper with distress. Fred looked at her before directing his gaze towards the leaflet, “... Do you.. want to leave?”

“I…” she didn’t know what to say.

He swallowed, “You don’t have to stay, Ellie, I’d never force you; you know that, right?”

“But, what about my studies?”

“I’d still help you pay for them.”

“Still?”

“Yes, really… I want what’s best for you.”

Her eyes looked up at him; he was sincere. He meant every word, but the shine in his eyes... Enid felt guilty, “I want to be with her, Fred, mais… I don’t want you to be sad, because of me.”

“I won’t be; I’ll be sad, but I'd never blame you. You deserve to choose what you want to do in life.”

Enid’s blank stare was highlighted by a single teardrop, streaking down her cheek. He extended his hand to wipe it off and forced a smile on his face, “If you need to go Ellie, don’t be scared. I will remain the annoying thorn on your side forever; we’re family, remember?” He pulled her into an embrace.

Ellie chuckled and hugged him back, feeling his arms tremble, “Ya… I know home isn’t a place.”

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

-----

Hey! Thanks for reading! I know that last scene probably left you with many questions, so I’ll be happy to answer the general ones, since I know I don’t want to address them in this fic:

Fred and Enid have a complicated family history, but mainly know that they were separated, Enid was placed in the child care system since her birth. Recently, Fred lost their mother to an illness. She admitted to Fred that he had a sister on her deathbed, and this helped him cope with her passing. He felt less lonely knowing he still had a living family member, and he reconnected with her right before she left child protective services on her 18th birthday. They have lived together ever since. Enid is currently 25, do the math XD Damn that story is sad- Sorry guys, I like complicated relationships it seems XD I wanted to include this scene though, as it demonstrates their bond and how important it is for Fred to find company for himself, to rebuild that family bond he feels like is lacking in his life. If there are any other questions about any other character, send an ask my way! I’ll be happy to answer! ^^ Know that we won’t be hearing much about them from this point onward; they are mostly background characters. 

Doodle reward for scrolling to the end! ^^💖

[murmaiderii]

A BETTER WORLD CHAPTER 2: MABEL'S NONDENOMINATIONAL HOLIDAY BASH

NSFW, MDNI, also available on ao3

Dipper and Mabel's parents' names courtesy of @lomy-bloom

Ford packs the last of his shirts for his trip away. He was only planning on taking two outfits, one to sleep in and one to wear through the day. Odyssey, his girlfriend of just under a year, refused to let him wear the same unwashed outfit three days in a row. He insisted it was a more efficient use of space. She insisted that that was ridiculous. He looks at his girlfriend’s much larger suitcase on the bed and wonders how she can go through so many clothes in such a short trip.

“Honey, are you done packing?” Ford yells.

“One more thing!” She rushes into their shared bedroom and stuffs a toiletry bag in a suitcase pocket.

“I’ll pack up the car. Can you grab some snacks for us?”

“Gotcha.” Odyssey darts to the kitchen. Ford goes outside and drops their suitcases in the trunk. He waits for her in the driver’s seat. After a longer wait than he was expecting, she stumbles into the passenger seat and lets out a shuddering breath.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Ford takes her hand and rubs it with his thumb.

“Just… Jesus, I just know your family is gonna hate me,” she sighs. 

“That’s not true. Mabel and Dipper already like you,” he reassures her.

“Yeah, but they’re kids. It’s the adults I’m worried about. Everyone’s gonna accuse me of being a gold digger.”

“Let them think what they want. All that matters is what we think of each other.”

“They’re gonna call you a dirty old man, you know. People get super judgemental about age gaps.” Ford sighs.

“I admit, that has been on my mind. But we can’t hide from my family forever. Mabel would never forgive me if I missed one of her nondenominational holiday bashes.” Odyssey giggles at the name of the party. That niece of his sure has a flair for the dramatic. 

“Do we really have to stay at the house with everyone?”

“Mabel insists.”

“We won’t have any privacy. I dunno how I’m supposed to keep my hands off of you for three days,” she complains.

“We’ll just have to sneak out when we can,” Ford says with a blush.

“That’s kinda hot, actually. It’s like forbidden romance. Wanna get some practice fucking in the car before we go?” Ford chuckles.

“Odyssey, we’re already running late,” he reminds her.

“Fine, we’ll sneak out in the middle of the night. I guess let’s get this over with.” Ford gives her a kiss on the knuckles and starts the car for the seven hour drive.

“God, my ass is sore,” Odyssey complains. Ford parks on the crowded street outside of his nephew’s house. They get out of the car and unload their luggage. Despite her full bladder, Odyssey hesitates to go into the lively home. Ford puts a hand on the small of her back.

“Come on, honey. Stalling won’t make this any easier.” She groans and drops her head.

“Right, let’s rip the bandaid.” Ford slips his hand from her back to hold Odyssey’s. They approach the door. Ford squeezes Odyssey’s hand and knocks on the door. Ford and Odyssey are both relieved to be greeted by Mabel.

“Great uncle Ford!” She launches herself into Ford’s arms. He fondly laughs. “It’s been too long!”

“Good to see you again, Mabel. Now, I know you’ve been eager to meet Odyssey.” Mabel lets go of her uncle to give Odyssey a big hug.

“Heya, Mabel. Thanks for inviting me to your party,” Odyssey says. 

“Pfft, don’t mention it. I’ve been waiting my whole life to be able to invite one of Fordsy’s girlfriends.” Mabel leans into Odyssey’s ear to whisper. “There haven’t been any until now.”

“Mabel!” Ford whines.

“It’s okay, babe. She’s not telling me anything I didn’t know.”

“Wow, ‘babe.’ You guys are the cutest.” Mabel flicks her wrist and guides the couple inside. All sorts of family members whose identities Odyssey doesn’t know mingle through the house. 

“Uncle Ford, you’re finally here!” Mabel’s father, Ford’s nephew, walks through the foyer and gives his uncle a quick hug. “I see you brought your… friend.” Odyssey smiles awkwardly at her boyfriend’s nephew, who is more than a decade older than her.

“Nice to meet you…” She extends a hand for him. He curtly shakes it and proceeds to act like she isn’t there. Mabel kicks her dad in the shin.

“Dad, be nice,” she says through gritted teeth.

“I am being nice. Why don’t you take your great uncle’s friend to their room while I catch up with him.” Mabel rolls her eyes.

“His girlfriend , dad. She’s his girlfriend .” Mabel grabs Ford’s suitcase from him. “Follow me, Odyssey.” Mabel brings Odyssey to an upstairs bedroom. There are two blow up mattresses on the floor, along with an actual bed. “It’s a good thing you’re with Ford. It means you get an actual bed.”

“My boy is that much of a VIP, huh?”

“No, it’s because he’s old. All the older guests get actual beds,” she explains.

“Hah! Don’t tell him you said that. He’s already a little embarrassed to be dating someone so much younger.” Odyssey lines the suitcases up to the side of the bed. Sharing the room with several strangers is one of the top things she was dreading about this trip, but she’ll suck it up for Ford. She’s taking the side of the bed against the wall, though. “Now, onto the most pressing issue; where is the bathroom?”

“Down the hall and to the left,” Mabel instructs. “Hey, if anyone says anything all dumb and judgemental to you and my great uncle, just find me. I’ll give them a piece of my mind.”

“I’ll do that. Thanks, Mabel. You’re a real one.” Odyssey and Mabel fistbump.

“You know it, dawg.” Mabel goes back downstairs to socialize while Odyssey uses the bathroom. The relief she feels in there is intense, not just because she’s needed to pee for an hour, but because this is the only room where she’s alone. She’s only met Mabel and Ford’s nephew so far, and she’s already worn out. If Mabel’s dad is a sign of things to come, she’s in for a very long vacation. At least with this many people around, no one will notice if she sneaks out to the car with her laptop a few times a day. She can lounge in the backseat and write up a short horror story about a family gathering when she needs a moment away.

When exiting the bathroom, her head kept down, she collides with another woman. “Crap! Sorry!” She apologizes. She looks up at the woman, who shares some features with Mabel, but not with Ford. “You, uh, must be Dipper and Mabel’s mom.”

“And you must be uncle Ford’s… friend…” She says with a sneer.

“His girlfriend, yeah,” she corrects. “I’m Odyssey.” She extends a hand. Mabel's mother shakes it in the same manner as her husband did. She knew the adults wouldn’t like her.

“Right, nice to meet you. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Mabel’s mother goes into the bathroom, freeing Odyssey. Now she needs to find Ford and not leave his side all night. People might at least pretend to not be disgusted by her if he’s around. 

Downstairs, she finds her boyfriend talking with his nephew and great-nephew, who is the only person she’s excited to see other than Mabel. Dipper looks at his great uncle with an adorable adoration in his eyes. From what she’s heard, Dipper has always idolized Ford. Ford has confided in her that he feels guilty for not being able to see Dipper more, having rejected several invitations to family functions, as well as limiting visitation from Dipper and Mabel. He’s a busy man, sometimes not even having time for his own girlfriend, so it’s to be expected. That doesn’t mean he can’t feel bad about it.

“Odyssey! Hey!” Dipper walks up to Odyssey and gives her the first proper handshake she’s gotten tonight.

“‘Sup, Dipper!” She gives him a friendly smack on the arm. 

“Honey, Dipper was just asking me about my recent research on banshees. Odyssey is the one that edited the article you read.” She walks over to her boyfriend and wraps an arm around his waist.

“Reading that thing nigh on gave me a heart attack. Do you know what your crazy uncle had to do to get those banshee tonsils?” Odyssey asks Dipper. Dipper grins widely.

“What did he do? Tell me!” Dipper’s father clears his throat.

“I hope this story is appropriate for kids, Uncle Ford.” Dipper frowns at his dad’s killjoy attitude.

“Come on, dad, I know that his work is a little dangerous. Let me at least hear the story since he won’t let me go on expeditions with him anyway,” Dipper rants.

“It’s for your own good, my boy. I won’t even bring Odyssey out on most research trips, and she’s a grown woman,” Ford tells Dipper. Dipper’s father scoffs.

“Is she, though?” He says under his breath.

“Dad!” Dipper chastises his father for being rude.

“You know what, babe, why don’t we go get some food?” Odyssey drags Ford to the kitchen, gripping his side. She pours glasses of wine for her and her boyfriend and guzzles it down. Ford rubs her shoulder. “Jesus fucking Christ…”

“I’m sorry, dear. I wasn’t expecting him to be that bad.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” She rubs her temples. “I just needed to get out of there before I started getting mean in front of his kid.” Ford plants a kiss on her jaw. A few other people in the kitchen gawk at them. She takes another glass of wine and pops a piece of cheese in her mouth.

“You have exceptional judgment, my dear. You would have absolutely humiliated him if you ‘got mean’ with him.” Ford chuckles in her ear.

“It would’ve been a bloodbath. Why don’t I just… stay in our room before I do something rash? I’m sure your nephew won’t be the only one who has something to say to me.”

“I don’t want to be away from you. Let’s just grab a plate of brownies and sneak off somewhere until someone notices,” He suggests. She shakes her head.

“You should be spending time with your family. Mabel wouldn’t be happy if you hid away all night.”

“She wouldn’t want you hiding away, either.”

“She’d prefer it to me giving someone a verbal beatdown in the middle of her party. Go, socialize for a change. I’ll abscond with this bottle of wine and calm myself down enough that I might be able to play it nice tomorrow.” She gives him a quick peck on the lips and makes her way through the crowd. Ford sighs as he watches his girlfriend leave him to fend for himself tonight. Now it’s his sole responsibility to defend his relationship. Odyssey is certainly right that she can’t be unleashed when she’s mad. He’s still traumatized from the time he watched her dismantle the matriarch of the Northwest family for implying Ford was a cradle robber.

No one notices Odyssey’s absence, other than Ford and Dipper. Dipper is pretty understanding of Odyssey’s need for isolation. He would much rather be playing video games in his room than be passed around from distant family member to distant family member. He wanders into her room a couple of times with some snacks and some questions about the previously discussed banshee research.

“He should’ve been bed bound for a week after that, but the maniac refused to stay put for more than three days. He would’ve been back at work the day after if I hadn’t forced him back into bed.”

“I wish he’d let me come to help. I could’ve distracted the banshee before it hit him.” Dipper puffs out his chest. 

“I’m sure you would,” Odyssey giggles. “Don’t tell your parents I told you this, alright?”

“Yeah. Sorry they’re being such dicks to you. Don’t tell them I said dicks.”

“Our little secret,” she promises.

“Dipper! Come help me with the music!” Mabel shouts from the bottom of the stairs.

“Ugh, I gotta go before I blow both of our covers.” Dipper runs off, waving to Odyssey. At least she has a couple allies here. She sits back and relaxes until people start turning in.

“Baby, remind me I hid the empty wine bottle under the bed,” Odyssey whispers to Ford as he gets into bed. “I don’t need them thinking I have a drinking problem on top of everything else.

“Of course, dear.” Ford wraps his arm around Odyssey from behind and nuzzles his head into her back. They lie awake in bed, occasionally sneaking quick kisses, both stressing about the coming days. She could get away with hiding for one night, but she’s going to be expected to participate in the daytime events. One of the men staying in the same room starts snoring violently.

“Oh my god, that’s so bad,” Odyssey quietly cringes.

“It puts mine to shame.”

“Your snoring is cute. His is ear shattering. What the hell? How do you not wake yourself up with that?”

“Do you want to… sneak out to the car for a little while?” Ford asks, tracing circles in Odyssey’s skin.

“God, yes.” They get out from under the blanket and creep through the room, down the stairs, and out the door. No one seems to wake up. Ford unlocks the car as silently as possible, and they both slip into the backseat. Odyssey rubs her man’s upper thigh. “I’ve been wanting to touch you all night.” Ford pulls Odyssey into his lap. They share passionate kisses. Odyssey grinds into Ford’s lap.

“Ohh, my love. I missed you tonight,” Ford moans into her mouth. “All I could think about was joining you in bed.” Odyssey reaches down and tugs the waistband of Ford’s pants down enough for his dick to spring out. She contorts to pull her shorts and panties off. “My Odyssey…” He rubs circles into her clit.

“Yeah, Ford… god, you’re so good, baby.” She lifts herself up to sit on his dick, bringing erotic groans out of both of them. He grips her hips roughly. “Wanna savor the moment, but… not very comfortable in here. Gotta make this quick.” She rocks on his lap. He gives her those sad little whimpers of his that she loves so much.

“Won’t be a problem,” he pants. He erratically massages her clit as she bounces on him. He buries his face in her clothed breasts. “Yes… Odyssey… my—” He lets out a loud groan. “My beautiful Odyssey.” His fingers work faster, bringing her over the edge. She buries her face in his shoulder to muffle her screams as she comes.

“Ford!” She shouts into the fabric of his shirt. The force of her walls clenching around him brings him to his own orgasm. With a heavy grunt, he finishes inside her. They relax all of their muscles and sit in each other’s arms while they come down from their highs. “Tissue, tissue…” She feels around on the ground for the packet of tissues she always leaves there specifically for moments like this. She awkwardly maneuvers off of his dick and cleans up his semen.

“God, I really needed that.” She slips her panties and shorts back on. Ford lies down, resting his head in her lap. She snakes her fingers through his hair.

“So did I. Seeing my family… it’s always stressful.” He sighs heavily into her stomach. “You’re really getting along with Dipper, aren’t you.”

“He’s a great kid. They’re both great.”

“Yeah, they are,” he says quietly. Being around them must remind him of his own twin brother. Ford never spoke much of him. All that Odyssey knows is that he exists and they’re estranged. She never pushed him to reveal more. God knows she doesn’t want to talk about her family either. 

“The rest of your family I could do without. No offense,” she says in an attempt to lighten the mood. His chuckles vibrate through her stomach.

“I mostly stay in contact with them for the kids. I don’t think I saw any of them for years before the twins were born. I’m sure you’ve noticed why.”

“Yeah, I was ready to fight within minutes of meeting them. Still better than my family, though.” They bask in the comfort of each other for a few minutes, Odyssey gently stroking his gray hair and scratching his scalp. “I guess we should go back to bed.” Ford sits up and pulls Odyssey in for a romantic kiss.

“I love you,” he whispers into her mouth.

“I love you, too.” They stumble out of the car on numb legs and try to go back through the front door without alerting anyone.

“Is everything alright?” A female voice startles them both. It’s Dipper and Mabel’s mom, dressed in a pink robe, staring the two of them down. Luckily, Odyssey can lie on her feet.

“One of our roommates was snoring like a jackhammer. We needed to get away from the noise.” It’s a half truth.

“And what were you doing out there?” She scrutinizes Odyssey and Ford with her eyes.

“We just went for a little walk, Betty. I don’t know how we’re expected to sleep in the same room as whoever that is,” Ford says.

“That’s my cousin. I’ll see about changing the sleeping arrangements for tomorrow night.” They can tell she doesn’t believe them. “Do you need anything, or will you be going back to bed?”

“Back to bed. I think I’m tired enough now to sleep through the sound. Goodnight, um, Betty.” She takes Ford’s hand and drags him back to the room. The room hasn’t quieted down at all. “Aaand he’s still going,” she sighs. They crawl back into bed for a night of awful sleep.

[scorchedmizar]

Yeah, he's glad he didn't get used to that.

Making sure to keep his eyes on them he finally stands to his feet. He wipes down his pants best he can, choosing to ignore the trembling of his legs. Their odd sort of... banter would be kind of funny if he wasn't still feeling the after effects of nearly getting mauled. Sharp teeth, sharp claws... not so sharp of a mind- ... the Lord might be rubbing off on him a bit. Aggressive and violent doesn't necessarily mean they're stupid or anything. He's just being judgy because his pants are all dirty now. No hard feelings. At least they look less interested in breathing down his neck. Or biting it off.

My- My name isn't... I-I go by Angel. And, well, she came to me first like I- like I said. I don't really know how she, um, found out about me but I didn't really question it. We talked about... We talked about just- our lives? I guess? She mentioned you two a little bit...

Knowing that Elara had loved ones back home is actually why he acted so brash back then... finding temporary refuge here was only a passing thought, his Lord would've... Angel blinks, his hands coming up to mess with his ribbon instead.

I, um, I'm not sure why she wouldn't have mentioned me. She, heh, probably just forgot. I'm not really... all that much to- to look at.

Even as the servant shrugs, he's thinking of several reasons why she wouldn't even bring his name up. He doesn't know her super well but it is very likely she really did just forget. However, the main reason that he's considering is that talking about him would eventually lead to discussing his Lord and then that would lead to what happened... And then its pretty obvious how these two would react if they heard about that.

Just a quick fifteen minute trip. In and out.

Drop off the painting, don't get seen, and be back at the specific location in time for the portal to show up so he can leave... Even that feels complicated.

But it really wasn't that hard! Angel just hopes this is the right cabin... Does the painting look crooked leaned against it like that? Oh but if he leaves the note there and it rains it'll get wet...

He crouches there, focused, as he tries to make the presentation look damn near perfect. It's possible Elara won't even be the one to find it! She did say she lives with other people...

This was not at all what the heads of the household had thought to see when they wanted to peer out of the front window to simply watch the forest. They thought something smelt off. Bloodmoon slapped a hand against the window pane with three of their hands, their face pressed up against the glass in an almost comical manner. Well, it would have been if they weren't snarling viciously at Angel. Or in their eyes: Sun!! Their voices were muffled behind the glass but it was no less threatening.

YOU DARE show your face here, Sun Man?! Have you not learned from your last humiliation!!?

They spared not another moment to dart away from their spot, the thundering of feet and scratching of wood indicating that they were coming for him. The door was quick to swing open as the four armed Bloodmoon bared their serrated teeth at Angel.

This time we'll make good on our promise to devour every piece of you until there is nothing left!

[robinfollies]

Been really pondering Fantoccio and the cursed citizens lately… like, if you’re stuck in a city for 15 years with some of your only company being these cursed globby versions of the people that used to surround you normally, you’d start to Notice Things that remind you of who they used to be, right?

[dxxtruction]

Louis' "You're boring!" Could mean so many things, but I think what's most apparent about that line is that Armand takes no initiative just for himself. He's not really anybody, because he never goes out and finds himself or gets attached to anyone but Louis. Without Louis as his guide he's literally just sitting on a couch picking lint! That's the thing.

He orbits constantly around what would make Louis happy, and never really fully going what would make me happy? Ultimately that drive to please Louis is what drives him to torturing Daniel, not so much that he'd care to just do it. Ultimately, not giving proper care to Louis is just a way to make sure Louis knows he has to orbit around him as well, with shoving Lestat onto him just that other nail on the coffin. So, even if he fails to figure out how to make Louis happy with him, he still knows what Armand is good for, and better than.

That dependency is what drives Armand's abuse. It really just comes down to that. Armand doesn't even realize how suffocated he is by his own dependency. This is just how life is to him. (It shouldn't be lost either that dependency is a theme considering this episode also deals with addiction).

Daniel's fascinating because he's just so driven to be somebody. He's largely independent, he seeks things because he wants them. It's his drug to poke and prod at all the things that he shouldn't. Daniel's exciting because he lets Louis in to something different, lets him in to all this potential in another person that he can also do the same with for himself. It's a real connection. A two way street. It's easy to tell how Armand can be smothering then because he's never introducing him to anything really new, and most the ways both of them connect are all painful and traumatic. It's never just fun because there's always that layer of that pain. Fun died with Claudia.

50 years on they've gotten to a lot better place, both of them, but it's still that same shit. No seriously, "How is this any different from last time, Louis?"

Well... Because Armand's going to be, at the very least, making one [1] decision only for himself - and that's to hold power over Daniel's life. Fucking sick foreshadowing.

They aren't driving each other to the brink anymore but "The vampire is bored" STILL. Maybe it's even worse, despite being in better places, because Louis' sort of just been defeated by it. (I mean, can he even really leave this either?). He's accepting the dependancy cause he kind of has to. He'd literally ended up letting all the enjoyment be up where he can't reach [The book shelves]. Armand so desperately wants Louis happiness but what really ends up happening is that Louis ends up having to give Armand all his own. He's got no one or anything else to get it from. But like an iPad and an over the top eating ritual. Two extremes of what's just more lint picking.

This whole relationship is one I find just tragic inside and out. You have to just pity it, really. There's ways in which you can find yourself feeling bad for both of them. But you can only really be mad at Armand for any of it. Armand, who isn't even 'free' in any sense, having so little concept of his own independence, but is at the same time so controlling over other's. It's a tragic cycle. It's an infuriating one.

Louis at least has the mind to know when enough is enough. If just needing that extra push to get there. Armand's too scared of it being over to even try.