#same thing w blaze [the cat]

[malikselfindulgence]

Andif i wanted to go by Scourge . What then

[runa-falls]

cat and mouse - 3

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Supervillain(?)!Reader

Warnings: mention of alcohol and being inebriated, Miguel in normal clothes (yes this is a warning), friends vs. lovers type beat

a/n: this one might be a little frustrating fyi. also it might be a while for the next part to come out bc i'm having trouble figure out where i want this story to go.

Summary: Every time you try to convince people it was an accident, you immediately get ratted out to the Spider. But really, it was! You don't know why you're being hunted, you didn't even do anything wrong. Yet.

w/c: 2.4k

part 1 part 2 part 4

masterlist

----

The villain's life isn’t too bad. Especially when you have friends. Well, a friend.

Really, it’s just like being unemployed, but you’re not living off of your life savings, you’re living off of someone else’s.

Maybe someone else’s else’s savings.

Ok fine, you’ll admit it. You haven’t actually done much crime at all. You’ve just been mooching off of Felicia like a girl with a sugar mama.

So what? It’s not your fault she’s the most generous criminal you’ve ever met. And technically, the money comes directly from other people’s accounts, so you are still acting as an accessory to a crime and that’s good enough for you.

So far, you’ve been treating these past few weeks like an extended vacation. 

You’re still not used to your powers. It’s not as easy as thinking about something and it happens. It’s more like a feeling, something you have to pull from within. After the first few times of accidentally exploding someone’s Kia Soul and a breakfast sandwich that cost $12 (which is a crime in itself), you’ve been a little apprehensive about using your powers unless you really need them.  

Thankfully, you have Felicia to teach you a few non-power-related moves just in case. You actually thought you’d never see her again after she left you on that roof. Even though she did say, “I’ll see you later,” you thought she was just being polite. But then you got a text for brunch a few days later.

Feli is not a villain, but she’s certainly not a hero either. She kinda just does what she wants when she feels like it. It’s inspiring, really. 

You never told her about what happened that other night, not wanting to mention how Spider-Man mistook you for her. Or the fact that your shared a heated kiss with the hero. You’re supposed to be a bad-ass criminal, not some girl who fraternizes with superheroes like some sort of groupie. You do, however, tell her about how full-black suits aren’t your style and that you’re thinking about finally embracing your fiery locks.

She agrees adding, “We can’t show up in the same fit every time we’re committing a crime. We need to keep it fresh, give ‘em something to talk about.” 

You were ready to go down to a fabric shop and stitch something quick together, but Feli adamantly convinced you that she would take care of it. Feli has this awesome AI assistant named Zee that does everything from ordering groceries to building her a new ultra-sleek motorcycle. You were told to tell Zee what you were looking for in your new suit since she’s also conveniently connected to an advanced fabricator. 

“Hello, Ms. Hardy and Ms. Blaze.” You grumble at the AI’s use of your long-hated nickname, “How can I be of service?”

“Make her a new suit,” Feli commanded, “and make it quick, we have things to do today.” She sits at a desk, clicking idly through her large desktop. You peek over her shoulder, curious about what she’s working on. It’s a Pinterest board full of outfits and modern interior design ideas. 

“Certainly. What are you looking for?” A holographic menu streams from the fabricating machine, showing you options for the size, fit, and design of the suit. 

“Orange, maybe? And make it a little more breathable, I was sweating bullets in that other one.” 

The menu scrolls around as you speak, showing you favorable color combinations and breathable fabrics and designs. 

You tap on a fiery orange and black palette. It’s simple and makes sense. A few designs with your chosen colors pop up and you see the perfect one. It’s asymmetrical, leaving enough skin uncovered to ensure there’s a fair amount of ventilation for your extra-warm radioactive body heat. You click the ‘process’ button, and the machine starts right away. Estimated Time: 14 hrs and 27 minutes.

Feli stands up when she hears the rev of the machine working its magic. “Alright, darling, let’s get you up to my closet. We’re going to the club.” 

—

Apparently, one of Feli’s associates owns the club we’re going to. 

“He’s been asking about you, hearing about the power plant and all.” The limo he sent to her house is exquisite, offering expensive champagne and snacks. The windows are super tinted for privacy and the partition has been rolled up since you got in, so you can’t really tell where you’re headed. “I told him I’d bring you around the club sometime. That is if he lets us have some fun afterward.” 

The club itself is quite packed. The building throbs with the heavy bass of electronic music that you can hear even through the heavy metal doors. There’s already a line that wraps around the block and it’s only 8 pm. 

You carefully step out of the limo after Feli, trying not to trip in your borrowed heels. The bouncer instantly recognizes her and lets you pass, velvet rope pulled aside. 

The sea of dancing bodies moves like a stop-motion film under the strobing lights as you walk right past the general area. You pass through a curtained entrance, walk up some stairs, and stop in front of the balcony area that overlooks the dance floor. VIP only, it says. 

In the middle of the sitting area is a large bald man dressed in a proper suit, making him look like a frightening businessman. A large smile appears on his pale face when he spots your friend and he stands up to greet the two of you.

You can barely hear his voice over the loud music. “Felicia Hardy, wonderful to see you.” She offers her hand which he politely pecks. 

She merely acknowledges him, “Fisk.”

He turns to you. “And you must be the famous, Blaze.” You don’t offer a hand and he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Please, call me Wilson.”

You don’t spend too much time with him, both because he seemed pretty busy and Feli wanted to go downstairs as soon as possible. He asks you normal things like where you’re from and how you met Feli, but he was mostly curious about your powers and how you got them. 

“A vat, hm? I’ve heard that one before.” It’s true. Vats of shit almost ensure the creation of new villains. “S’a miracle you didn’t die from that.” 

—

Feli is a lot more talkative once you leave Fisk. Despite working for him, she doesn’t seem all that fond of him. “He’ll probably call you up if he ever needs your skillset. I’d recommend taking whatever job he offers, he usually compensates generously.”

“But how? I didn’t give him my number.”

“Doesn’t matter. He’ll be in touch.” 

She tells you to find a table while she gets some drinks. Apparently, the bar is open for her, another perk of working with Fisk. You feel like a wallflower as you wait for her, watching as people come and go to the dancefloor or bar. You sit at the high-top table, legs swinging idly to the beat of the music.

You’re almost shoved off your seat when someone bumps into you and you have to hold onto the table to keep your balance. “Oh, sorry,” You hear a familiar voice say over the pounding music.

“It’s ok.”

 “Lava Girl,” You look over at the man, head having to tilt up to see his face. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” You barely recognize him as you’ve never seen him out of the suit before. He’s wearing a tight black short-sleeve that stretches nicely over his broad chest and dark wash jeans. Looking like any other civilian. 

“Miguel!” His eyes wander over the short black dress you were borrowing from Felicia, briefly stopping over the length of your bare legs that are visible through the glass table.

“Always seem to be wearing something new when I see you.”

“Well, my friend has expensive taste.”

His brows furrow, “Friend? You’re here with someone?” 

“Mhm.” Your eye catches on a head of silver hair, wandering through the crowds of loud and rowdy people. “Oh, just a sec. There she is.” You stand up to catch her attention and miraculously she spots you, flashing a smile as you wave your arms around like a lunatic. 

Then she sees him and her soft smile stops. One of her perfectly tailored eyebrows raises as she joins the two of you, drinks in hand. “You.” 

He seems surprised to see her. “Fel…” There’s a long bout of silence between the three of you. Whatever light energy was there quickly grows tense and you start to feel uncomfortable. 

What’s with these two?

You try to salvage whatever you can from this weird conversation. “So, how do you guys know each other?” Felicia’s gaze releases its hold on Miguel and they both look at you, almost like forgot you were even there. 

Miguel starts. “Uh, we’re old friends.” She gives him a look that you can’t decipher. “Older enemies.”

Then she writes it out, “Ex’s.” 

You can tell he’s trying to hide a wince, but he’s not very good at it. So he was looking for her that night. Does that mean he would’ve kissed her instead of you then? Wait, that also means you kissed your best friend's ex! Shit.

“Oh.” You pick up a coaster just to have something to do with your hands. “Well, that’s cool– I mean it’s not cool, but– like, oh, so that’s how you know each other. Wow, what a small–”

“Why are you here Mig?” Suspicion drips off each word as she steps forward, almost like she’s trying to protect you. 

“You’re asking why I’m at a club owned by one of the notorious crime lords in Nueva York?” 

And all of a sudden you’re not there again. It’s just them. 

“No, I’m asking why you’re here. With her.” 

“Can’t a guy just say hi to a friend?”

It dawns on her. “She knows?” She says through gritted teeth. 

He run a hand through his dark brown waves, “Look, it just happened.”

“Miguel, leave her alone, she hasn’t done anything.” You feel like you’re a kid watching her parents bicker about things unknown to you. You nervously fiddle with the hem of your skirt.

“She’s a good girl.”

“It’s not like that, Fel.” She rolls her emerald green eyes.

“Sure, it isn’t. I know you, Miguel.” 

He scoffs, “Yeah, whatever.” He brushes her off, clearly done with the conversation. “Ok, well, I’d love to stay longer, but I did actually come here for a reason.” He pulls away from the table, “It was nice seeing you, Blaze.” You could tell that he means it just by the way he looks at you. 

You nod at him, not really up to say much of anything after tonight. You can tell you’re dismissive send-off stings, but you don’t really care. 

“Hardy.” She doesn’t even look at him and he walks away without another word.

“Ugh, that guy.” Feli takes a deep sip of her vodka cran and you watch as a napkin sticks to the sweating glass as she tilts it back. She pushes yours closer to you, letting the perspiration drag against the glass table.

At this point, you’re not really feeling the whole club scene anymore.

“Promise you’ll stay away from him.” Your eyes lift from your untouched glass to meet her stare. “I know he’s Nueva York’s sweetheart Spider-Man or whatever, but he’s bad news, trust me.” 

“Ok.” 

“You really don’t wanna get caught up in the superhero drama. I’m just, trying to look out for you, Blaze.” 

You nod, forcing yourself to smile. “I know.”

And you do. She probably has a good reason for it, but it doesn’t make you feel any better.

All the events of the evening sit in the air for a second. Felicia, Fisk, and Miguel. Your brain is having a hard time organizing everything and the noises around you aren’t helping.

You decidedly pick up your glass without thinking and quickly drain it, barely even tasting it before feeling its cool contents bloom throughout your body. You set it down a bit harsher than you intended, but the coaster does a good job of absorbing the sound. 

You hop off your seat. “Let’s dance.”

Feli is surprised by your sudden changed mood, “Oh, right now?” You need to let loose. You can’t let some stupid kiss ruin your new life. You can’t let anything distract you. You can’t let him distract you. As of now, you’re a new woman and you’re ready to embrace exactly who everyone thinks you are. 

You offer your hand, “Right now.” She takes it, letting you lead her straight to the middle of the dancefloor. 

—

This time you run before you even see him. Well ‘run’ may be an exaggeration. You were too drunk to even walk in a straight line so let’s just say you ‘left.’

So the night went off the rails a little bit. One fruity mixed drink turned into a few rounds of shots, which turned into a very ambitious plan to revisit that bank that shut down on you a few weeks ago. Since it hasn’t been hit since that night, you assumed everything would’ve simmered down around it. Less security, less fuss, and less Spider-Man. And you were right. 

You were also careless. 

Drunk girls and endless power create an interesting scene for the police to discover. First, you skipped the doors altogether. Why use the front entrance, when you can walk straight into the vault? By the time the cops would get there, they’d be greeted by a huge hole that rips through several layers of (theoretically) indestructible materials.

Then there are the two blood-red lipstick kisses right next to it. That was Feli’s idea.

“Oh my god, you know what would be so cute? If we signed off on this with little kisses!”

“Why would we do that?” Your words slur slightly as you step into the vault. It’s stacked high with bills placed in perfectly rectangular towers. A soft breeze could easily ruin the whole room. 

“A girl’s gotta leave her mark.”

“Mm…ok, why not.”

You stuff your small handbags to the brim, not worried when a few bills fall out. This job isn’t really about the money, it’s about sending a message. 

You both casually stagger away from the crime scene, catch a cab (paying with handfuls of cash because you can’t be bothered to count it out), and get back to her place. 

“You staying over?”

“Can I?”

“Of course, darling.”

[besideprimroseshade]

ᴳᵒᵈ ⁱˢʰ ᵀʷˢᵗ ˣ ⁱᵐᵐᵒʳᵗᵃˡ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ CH: 2

CH: 1

"I'm getting excited on the contrary"

TW: Suggestive comments

    Y/N's current alias:

    Ell Clocke

    Alias No. 161

    Date: 1300

    "Why would you pick that book out of all?  I mean, it's nothing more than some fanatic's fantasy.  Nothing worth contemplating about".  He sighs and you shoot back Will you shut up for a few minutes?  I'm trying to read, you know, do something actually productive.  Instead of listening to whatever crap that comes outta your mouth.  Idle chatter should I say?"  He huffs "Ugh!  This is why you dropped out of school, my professors would be sorely disappointed in such a lackluster person like yourself".  You remember what page you're on and set your book to the side "Good thing I don't suck up to professors then, unlike someone here.  People actually enjoy my presence, dunno if you've noticed, but everyone here would kill you if it were legal".  He blanches and mutters something "Y-you're wrong, such a notion is inconceivable.  The people adore me, a brain such as mine surely deserves respect!" you shrug "Tell that to the townspeople, everyone here fucking hates you, and the fact that you with your great brain can't see that your holier-than-thou attitude is the reason why you don't have anyone who would actually care if you died is something..."

    "Wait... are you revealing to me that you wouldn't care if I died?" he freezes, a sort of realization washing over him.

    "Wow, the great mind finally realized.  What did you expect?  Me to cry when you die?  The guy who said that I'll be nothing 'cause I got B's and not A+'s?  The guy who every day told me that my dreams weren't anything, that mom and dad just had me to compare my dullness to your brightness?  You should've been a comedian instead of a scholar, 'cause that's too fucking funny".  Your words cut like the sharpest of ice, frigid and unforgiving.  

    "I... I was joking!  Of course you couldn't take a joke, you're too sensitive..." comes the attempt to shake away the guilt.

  "At least I can feel things…” you quip back.     He takes a furious sip of his tea and coughs it out “W-what curious concoction is this?  This is surely not my tea!”.  Your eyes move to the snow white Persian cat in the corner of the parlor, lazing on her pillow.  Cotton, your mother’s most prized pet, a spoiled cat given as a gift from your father.  “Oh, Cotton peed in the cup, it must’ve slipped my mind to inform you…”

    The memory fades as you fade back to your tea, the faces swirling like the milk in the tea.  “That damned dipshit” you utter before grabbing a broom and flinging open your front door.  Your porch was decently decorated, with starch white paint on the walls and the beams supporting up the thing.  Thankfully the paint did not contain lead, or maybe it did, that might’ve explained why the townspeople avoided you like you were crazy.  A few plants in pots stood in neat rows by the front window, delicate little flowers grown from a variety of seeds.  But now was not the time to admire your handiwork.  Angrily sweeping your front porch and ignoring the clouds of dust that plague your vision.  Your brother never did get his dream…     You learned that for all of his labor, he was only remembered as a pretentious wannabe who tried so hard to make it big in the world of knowledge that he ended up only becoming famous for his attempts.  A local legend of your town.  After centuries of him being dead, you were still petty.       Continuing your furious sweep you barely notice the child staring at you from behind one of the poles.  Only stopping your sweep to take a few breaths, “What do you want kid?” You turn to meet their gaze.  A tiny lanky thing, who probably didn’t even reach your hip, with striking eyes the same shade as the blazing garnet ring your least favorite aunt always showed off.  Thick dark hair that reminded you of ink, silky and black, cut short above their shoulders.  Their outfit prim, with a neat white shirt dark brown pants.  Their ears confirmed that they were a fairy, small and pointed.       “You appear to be angered with something” they observe with a voice so quiet it seemed hardly a whisper.  They stand there, hiding, unsure of whether to approach the curiously angry stranger, or run off back into the forest.  “Just blowing off some steam” you reassure them before leaning your broom against the wall.  “I’m not gonna hurt you, ‘sides, you’d probably be more of a threat to me than vice versa” you admit, watching as their grip on the pole lightens, a few creaks from the wood reverberating off the porch’s roof.  “So uh… what brings you to my place?  Pure curiosity?  Or did I anger a fae?”  You continue, waiting for any sort of reaction.         “I hast stumbled upon your abode by chance, tis an interesting place.  Any sane human would place their home as far as possible from a fairy.  But your abode is right in the middle of our territory.  I can feel the magic everywhere” they respond at last.     

    “I’m not like most humans…” you say, half joking half seriously.  “I can feel that, there is something heavy around you.  Many feelings are wound up inside you, like a boiling pot of stew, ready to bubble over and burn at any second” comes their swift response.  “Thanks for the reading… but I don’t have anything to give ya’ unless you’re hungry for some leftover bread and cheese from this mornings meal” you admit.  They shake their head, “No thank you, my lady said to never trust strangers.  There is no shortage of people willing to take advantage of you”.  You nod slowly “Your lady is right, tis better to be safe then found dead in a ditch I suppose”.       “Shall I call you something?”     “Fae never give out their names”     “That’s right, you’ve got good instincts too”     “Are you going to give me your name?”     “Nah”

    That was the beginning of your encounters with that little faerie.  He never did give you his name, but simply told you that it was similar to a flower.  You ended up telling him your name though, so that he would stop calling you the ‘abnormal human’.  He wasn’t wrong though, normal humans weren’t immortal.  Normal humans didn’t challenge gods in hopes of death.  Normal humans didn’t use their fathers invitation to a school and assumed his identity.  You learned more about your little visitor.  He was a servant of nocturnal fae’s princess.  A little bat fae at the very bottom of the fae hierarchy, raised in luxury.  Trained to serve his lady’s every whim.  What a dreary existence… you thought. 

    In exchange for tidbits about his life you gave him some from yours.  How you challenged a god and got immortality in return.  “You are an idiot” he thought aloud as he took a spoon from one of your cabinets and grabbed a dish labeled for him.  “What is this?” He inquired suspiciously “A treat, leftovers from a friend’s party” you reply.  The little fae sniffed it curiously before digging in.  “Pear…” he said at last before finishing the dessert in a few seconds.       “Someone’s hungry” you grab a few cherries from a basket full of farmer’s market goods.  "That is none of your concern" he comments.  "Damn, you're quick to anger" you slightly tease.

    That was the last time you saw him that small, he never did grow much taller.  But there was something different about him, not just that he was visibly different.  But he seemed different, bore a different air about him, something sickening, but you could never put a finger on it.  It was unsettling, the curious gleam in his scarlet eyes faded away in favor of a hateful sheen.  His slit pupils constantly in a state of fury.  How he shook off your concern with a glare, was this how your parents felt with you?  His hair was now welcome to dyed streaks of red, a unique choice for sure. 

    You dabbed one of his more severe wounds with a cotton ball.  "Humans can never keep their hands to themselves" you mutter as you rub a salve on his injured arm.  Tone akin to a chiding parent's as you clean and bandage his arm.  "Tut tut, I told you not to play with those mean boys and their toys", the boys in question being men and the toys being weapons.  "You're not my parent dumbass" to which you shake your head teasingly "I know, but seeing you grow up to be such a strong fighter has certainly had some sort of parental affect on me".  He side-eyes you "That's so fucking sweet it's annoying...".  Playfully wacking the top of his head you smile "Language little one..."

"Fuck you" he mutters irritated.

"No one will sadly..." you respond with a sigh.

"I hate you"

"Such is the fate of every parent, I suppose.  Whatever happened to that sweet little faerie I encountered?  Now there's just this crass thing in his place"

   •✧• Centuries later •✧•

    Current Alias

    Hanakoto Y/N

    Orientation went smoothly, you personally didn't care which dorm you were placed in, so long as you'd be left alone for the most part.  You rolled your shoulders back as you stepped up to meet the gaze of the Dark Mirror.  For some reason the Ceremonial Robes felt heavier upon your arms.  As if they were weighing you down... pulling you away from your fate.  Feeling the hundreds of eyes staring at you with a variety of emotions.  The weight of their gaze not helping. 

    You stared at the Mirror as it boomed the familiar words to you that it had to many students before you.

   "The shape of thy soul is..."

   "Tenacious... therefore you are fit for Pomefiore"

    As you walk down the steps to the crowd of Pomefiore students, you hear a scoff.  Turning to face the student you're face to face with some pretty blonde student with tacky violet ends and amethysts for eyes.  "Is there a problem?" you scoff back.  He glares at you before turning back to see what new students would be joining him.  Grumbling about "potatoes".  You take an empty spot between a couple of fellow first years.  "The fuck is his problem?" you mutter glaring daggers at the back of his head. 

    Vil Schoenheit could feel holes being bored into the back of his head, probably from that insolent potato that he just bothered to stare at.  What was their problem?

   The dinner at your new dorm was luxurious, it felt like the dinners that fae had described to you, while the Queen of Briarland was entertaining nobles. There were plates piled high with delicacies, food that you had only read about, it was absolutely delicious, but that damned student from earlier kept shooting you glares.  As if everything you did earned his ire.  Like he was personally offended by your existence...  You were from a family of farmers but damn, his attitude towards you was worse than those falsely compassionately officals that pretended to take pity on the plight of farmers.  The same people that made it possible for them to stuff their faces with rich sauces and soups, those addicting desserts and prized drinks. 

    Not to mention that blonde with the bob who sat next to him kept smiling and complimenting him, lathering on the praise for him until it creeped you out.  You could've mistaken him for your brother, always showering famous scholars that he encountered with so much praise you thought that he was in love with them.  Those crusty old men who sat pondering alongside other crusty men who agreed with their every word.  This guy was more of a devout worshipper than fellow student.  What made him so good that someone would treat him like a god, or perhaps, what made him so rich?  So worthy of being praised, so worthy of being devoted to?  How curious...

    You were currently writing down your record of the first week of school, the classes, the teachers, the many students from all walks of life.  Finishing each sentence with a flourish.  You set your journal down.  You learned that the blonde with violet eyes was some model named Vil Schoenheit.  And the blonde with the bob was Rook Hunt.  Two insignificant people that you'd probably forget in a couple of centuries... or well, that's what you assumed at first...

    Resting your back against the wall you inhale quietly, your mind taking you back to the memories of a bygone era, a bygone you.  "Whatever became of that faerie?" you mutter standing up from your spot.  Stretching your arms you toss the journal into your bag.  You hadn't heard much about him after he left, you never learned his name after all, it was hard to look for someone when you didn't know a basic fact about them.  Did he die in the war?  Did he have a family?  Those questions would continue to go unanswered most likely.  You missed him, that nocturnal fae that you watched grow up, the fae brought up by royalty, a mere peasant by hierarchy's standards.  But status didn't matter to you, and he appreciated that. 

    That was then however, this is now.  Seeing the students rush to classes, take their time chatting with friends, and teachers exchanging lesson plans.  The similar sights of your school back when you were mortal.  You sat by yourself at lunch time, occupying yourself by listening in on the busy chitter.  Sitting silently as you picked at the your meal for today, pondering at the pangs in your chest that struck as you reminisced about a time no longer.  Idly poking at the lukewarm pile of mashed potatoes with your fork, taking small bites of the tender steak.  Too caught up in your memories to savor the flavors of the meat. 

╔══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╗

Author's Thoughts

Scarlet-eyed fae - 'A good kid. Deserved better in life'

Vil Schoenheit - 'Nothing worth mentioning, dunno why he's famous'

Rook Hunt - 'desperate, fucking desperate'

╚══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╝

A/N: thank you guys for being so patient!! have a wonderful day/afternoon/night :>

[activate-shadow-of-the-window]

I am late as hell but only by a day! Have some anticipation and just a touch of dread.

A warning: some purposefully unsettling descriptions of sculk.

-

Hermittober Day 16 (Late): Feather

-

Tango had no clue as to what was going on, and was extremely determined to find out what he did not know.

I mean, nothing this exciting had happened to him since Grian had gotten here, and the Basalt King was itching for more adventure. His tunnels were far from being complete, so why not go running off to X’s home with weapons, unannounced…

“… right when a snow storm was rolling in? I mean, something is up. And I’d like to know.”

The parrot, who Tango suddenly realized wasn’t Martyn, blinked her warm brown eyes at him. “I’m sorry, sir, but I think you have me confused for my husband. Nevertheless, none of us are able to tell you about what’s going on. Grian has insisted on you not going into the raid.”

Tango’s face froze for a moment. “W-W-What? But I’m completely ready to go in! I-I brought my flail and armor and magic stuff and everything!”

As he spoke, he opened his massive coat-cloak thing and revealed a truly insane amount of weaponry: his massive morningstar flail, a pair of short swords, what looked to be a pair of grenades, and an assortment of magical components, from bundles blaze rods to cheesecloth-covered balls of magma cream.

Grian popped out from somewhere behind the grey-and-gold who had been speaking, and grinned. “Oh, Tango, Tango! With an armory like that, there’s no way you’re not going in! Come on and suit up!”

“Oh, yeah!”

Tango joined the rest of the prospective raiders in the clanking and clinking of metal that came with equipping armor and sheathing swords and bundling arrows for quivers. He didn’t actually have to do much beyond slipping on leg and arm guards, so he took the chance to unsubtly look over the gear of the other raiders.

Etho, as usual, was dressed in barely any armor. The canid had naught but gauntlets and greaves of an odd colored metal, and some sort of high collar made of the same material. His axe was slung over his back, the double-head gleaming in the dusky light.

Impulse, by contrast, wore a veritable war-horse’s worth of armor. Every inch of him was covered in chainmail and plate, yet he still managed to move like a cat in the stuff. His heavy cavalry sword and crossbow were polished to a mirror shine.

Grian wore the exact same gear he had equipped when dueling Pearl, except metal: arm guards, a belt full of nasty surprises, and his cutlass. In addition, the parrot wore a helmet of iron and black metal, its face guard hooked like a beak.

The other parrot-folk wore similar armor but carried different weaponry: a feather-staff spear, a pair of short swords, and a longbow.

Everyone seemed to be rather nervous, which was only natural, given the circumstances.

Suddenly, the parrot with the feather-staff whirled around and pointed his weapon at a tree. “Show yourself, sovereign! I can smell that sculk!”

The snow-covered spruce rustled as Cub dropped down from a low branch, his white coat invisible in the kicked up powder. The sculk on his body stood out starkly against his transparent skin, growths pulsing with sickly light from the tips of his fingers to the ends of his wings. He raised his arms in surrender.

His voice was unsteady and carefully dispassionate. “Sorry. Couldn’t help following. Had to come. I’ll help. I’m hungry. Sorry. That’s a lie. We’re hungry.”

Grian waved for the parrot to lower his weapon. “Calm down, Tomo. I knew he was here. Can you control it, Cub?”

“We are in agreement. For once. We will help you. We feel our lost kin.”

Grian nodded, and looked towards the mountainside. “Well then. Etho, you sure you can get us in?”

“Yup.”

“Alright. Let’s do this.”

The two proceeded to lope and gilde-run up the mountain, followed closely by the Evo birds and Cub. Tango shared a look with Impulse, who shrugged and began running after them on all fours. Tango stood there for a moment, and sighed before breaking into a dead sprint. He’d overtaken them all by the time they found the door.

[thisnabisdead]

For all the things I wanted

Adam writes it as a wish.

The pen travels across the paper over and over, transmitting the ferocity of his desire, the intensity of his longing, all the nights he went to sleep thinking of him, all the mornings in which he was the first thing to come into his mind.

I want you to be my first

He starts, creating a special place within the gardens of his psyche just for Will, a secret forest just for them, in which they can discover each other's bodies as if they're searching for the treasure on a pirate's map, a place where Will can love him as Adam loves him, a place where they can finally get what they want.

I want to conquer your body with my hands, I want to touch and memorize every mole and every scar. I want to trace your nose with my fingertips, poke every blackhead and pimple like I'm touching the constellations that lay right above our heads. I want to forget what a human body looks like just so I can experience you as God's first creation, I want to glance into the veins in your sclera believing them to be the lines of my life. I want you to be my life

They just pour out of him, resembling a flood, these absurd words that could be laughed at by so many, they are the truth inside his heart, and Adam doesn't want to be a coward, not anymore, so he writes and writes and writes, until he has nothing more to write, until there are no words left on the dictionary that could ever be equal or worthy of Will.

I want your mouth, I want to feel the shape of your front teeth with my tongue, I want your tongue in mine, I want to dance with you among the wetness. I want your hands around my neck, I want my hands around your neck, I want to be breathless for you, I want to give you my every breath just as much as I want to give you my last. I want your legs around me, I want my legs around you, I want you in me just as much as I want me to be engraved deep inside you, I want to feel and become your insides, I want to be part of your walls, I want to be one of the paintings hanging in your living room.

Adam cries, sobs, his tears wetting the paper with his honesty, with his desire, desire that burns his insides, the dwarf blazing feeling inside his chest only growing bigger and bigger, he wants to hide, he wants to run, wants to run after Will, wants to be his and wants him to be his.

I want to be the green chair in your dining room, I want to be the fork you use to eat your eggs in the morning, I want to be the eggs. I want to be the pages of your favorite novel, that old book you touch so delicately just because the paper is too fragile for your usual roughness. I want to be the cigarette you smoke in the evenings, I want to be the teddy bear you still keep in your bed after all these years, I want to be the calico cat waiting at your door at 3am, meowing for you to let him in, I want to be that same door, I want to be the one thing between you and the world, I want to be the world

He wants to be anything, anything Will could ever possibly want and need, Adam's legs shake under the desk, the hand holding the pen all sweaty and trembling, vision too blurry, mind too hazy, but he looks up and stares out the window anyways. The moon is as bright as always, as bright as the boy who birthed his yearning and night terrors.

Above all, I want to be yours, I want everything and anything, I want to be the reason you regain your heart, I want to be your after hours conversations, I want to be the lover you will take back to your mother when you finally have the courage to tell her you won't ever need her again, I want to be the one you wash the dishes for wearing that silly stained cat-themed apron, I want to be the one you fight about the wet towel laying on the mattress, I want to be the one you cuddle on the couch while watching television, I want to be the one you walk home after nights out. I want you when it's dark and I want you when it's bright, and I want this to be the place in time I finally get what I want.

Adam finishes, then folds the paper four times, when he is over the shape is a perfect square. He writes his name in it, and then Will's. The boy stands up and carefully places his letter inside the novel resting on Will's bedside table, the paper still peeking out a little, just so he will notice.

The calico cat meows at Adam as if it's singing when he finally leaves his best friend's apartment, he wonders through each step of his feet as he leaves the building what name could he gift to the confession that was just written - and it finally comes to him - along with a hopeless, silent, miserable giggle.

For all the things I wanted.

[6okuto]

BRUH I REALLY WISH I DIDNT ASK FOR MICAH YUJIN IN ANON FKDNXKDNXK Okay anyways HIII I USED TO BE AN ANON HERE BUT NOW I HAVE AN ACC HAHA FEAR ME /j...unLESS-- OK ANYWAYS pls share that discord u talked abt!!! i wanna joinnnnn AND ALSO A PART 2 FOR MICAH OUR KING????? YES P L E A S E

— micah yujin boyfriend hcs 2

don't worry guys this one was not as long. (part 1 here !) also wow. a past anon..wow. heyy 😍 and the discord link is on the official itch.io page i think but !!

https://discord.gg/Smhppc7J :]

always sends you funny posts/videos he finds and makes sure to react to each one you send Him

^ has and will continue to send you videos where the 12 year old kid is matching initials as soulmates and you show up.

sends you pics of skrunkly (and him) basically on a daily basis. always captions it something stupid (/affectionate)

^ combining these two to discuss cat trends that you keep sending him so he goes OH THAT'S A GOOD IDEA

micah loves doing chores with you!! grocery shopping, Laundry And Taxes, etc etc. #QUALITYTIME i get it. you might not be Quick with him around but it's fun so i consider it a win

^ wants to try cooking new meals with you, especially any of your own cultural food ! if you can't cook then he Will offer to teach you

if you give him any jewelry he won't take it off (said by girl who does the same thing)

do(n't) play co-op horror games with him. will go in guns blazing then start yelling and running to you when he inevitably gets in trouble. actually pretty good when he tries but he doesn't try so what do we do now🤨

^ if you're playing a competitive team game and he's on your team,, there's a good chance micah will Sacrifice Himself very dramatically. if you sacrifice yourself he swears on your life to avenge you

would be very much (sends random text at 3am) (you respond) (wow i cant believe you're Awake?)

you must have a build-a-bear date. it is Necessary. personally i'd get sonic and tails together but you guys do you?

trying to get up in the morning w this guy...one of you is definitely not letting go and repeatedly asking for 5 more minutes until you're inevitably in bed for another hour

there's multiple times where you come home and find him hugging something of yours fast asleep. sorry. i am so sad

shakes you violently. do his makeup. sit on his lap and do his makeup. make him sit somewhere and stand in between his legs and do his makeup. do it . do i

micah is very good at knowing when he should be serious . if he knows you've had a bad day he does everything he can to make you comfortable and remind you he loves you — snacks, cuddles, watching the show you guys always watch, rambling so you can just listen, bringing skrunkly over, etc etc o(-(

currently imagining someone performing on the street, micah bowing and offering a hand, and saying "would you offer me this dance, your highness?" like i will burst into tears rn

i think when he hears an animal he repeats the sound. sorry this isn't boyfriend specific but like a bird cawing and him cawing back. meows at stray cats. you stopped walking 3 minutes ago and micah is still crouching on the ground trying to get its attention

he was not kidding about the maid dress thing. the Real trick is to show up in a matching maid dress/butler outfit. is micah frozen in place staring at you,, maybe

you know those stuffy riders. the mall animal rides. i'm not even going to finish this thought you know what you need to do.

grabs your shoulders and says smth like you're my ride or die before going on big carnival rides. like..thank you. makes some kind of competition out of it (who screams the most/least, etc etc)

^ makes little jokes about those couples in lines but would be that couple with you. "we're the exception, obviously."

have you seen that guy's abs. anyways. micah doing the push up kiss thing. you cheering him on because he "gets way stronger" when he knows his angel is there

if you dye your hair to match his/skrunkly he will explode. might cry a little idk

doesn't realize it sometimes but he stands in front of you to block the sun when it's super sunny

if you hurt yourself he kisses wherever it is. goodnight

bites u /affectionate

not to act like some old married couple or anything but he Will ask if you want to watch like, home renovation shows together. which i love btw. he gets very opinionated

uses the reversible octopus plushies

if you're sitting next to each other and micah notices you're tired he'll wordlessly pull your head to lay against his shoulder

would use one of those apps where you can send each other notes/drawings as a widget. will he write a cheesy pun or draw a penis That Is Not Up To Me

[crepusculum-rattus]

35 but can i request ur rambling bc about your hardcore phil. i want to know more about him always

you Can :D!!! i love rambling abt this guy.. i’ve got so much just sitting in my notes app about Him. also i was getting ready for work while writing this so it took a Minute :P

so My hardcore phil.. hes my pathetic and fucked up cat who is dunked in milk daily❤️ okay haha! i’ll actually ramble about the beginnings of his story bc i think it provides the best Insight abt Him..

so when i was on vacation w my family i was like “hrmmm i want an excuse to write ender and phil interacting.” and it just Snowballed from there. bc i had to find my way through Why they would interact and how to characterize ender.

the idea was that phil is entirely new to a hardcore style world (in the logistics where players can choose the type of server they enter ehhh it’s best not to worry abt this part tbh). he’s good at surviving, he’s good at being alone (he claims). but he keeps stumbling upon structures that were clearly built By someone (cough cough it was the gods). and he’s like “haha Weird” bc sometimes he’s a bit of an idiot and thinks nothing of it… he just keeps on exploring and progressing, working on his base and all that stuff.

aaaand he’s finds his way into the nether, and manages to Stumble upon the blaze empress. and they just Don’t get along. so he gets and bad first impression of the deities (since she’s the first deity he actually Talks to). it’s not rlly the empress’ fault, she’s just Stressed bc ender has always been a little bitch, and she doesn’t trust this random guy who claims he just stumbled into her domain (even tho that’s fr what happened).

but like Whatever.. he’s like “okay fine jeez i’ll fucking leave.” and decides to take it Personally that she doesn’t like him, and tries his best to avoid the nether all together after that. luckily he’s got most of what he needs already.. since his goal IS to earn wings in this world which you usually get from going to the end and killing the dragon. soooo he’s just an entirely human dude for most of this. literally just a Guy

and eventually he finds himself in the end. and it’s .. Wrong. he knows it is. he stands in the center of all the pillars for what feels like hours and no dragon appears. it’s just overwhelmingly Silent…….. and then the fucking bitch bastard, ender, appears. and he can very clearly Tell that he’s a god, and is immediately like “before you say anything, i’m Trying to leave but i fucking can’t yet. so shut up. i get it.” but ender just smiles and phil, the idiot, takes it as a good thing that ender appears to be polite and isn’t yelling at him to leave his realm.

there’s a strange lingering feeling around ender but he just takes it as general weirdness from a god. but he ends up talking to ender because the god seems curious as to why phil is There. when phil tells him he’s trying to earn wings (which you usually get from killing the dragon lmao) ender offers for him to stay. it’s not like phil can exactly Leave since he doesn’t really have a way to get out, but the offer is nice. so he takes it :)

aaanddddd that’s the beginning of Him and his time in his hardcore world. very fun very good,, he’s not in danger at all. and it’s not like he’s Stupid, i mean he’s surviving hardcore, he just hasn’t interacted with a lot of people in general. so he’s not.. Great at knowing when someone is just using him. plus he can be pretty stubborn in his opinions of people, so he’s like.. always weary of the blaze empress even later when he needs her help. the same stubbornness is also what makes it Hard for him later once he finally knows ender better. smile.

[athina-blaine]

MoMM Chapter 5 - The Storm, Part 2 (Preview #1)

(Note: this is not the finalized draft; anything featured is subject to edits or deletion!)

The Storm, Part 1

All he could do now was outlast this storm. Stay sane. No use agonising over the things he couldn’t change. Mum was …

He let out a long exhale, pushing through the weight that lingered on his chest.

Mum was going to have to carry on without him. She was a survivor, after all. He had faith. He just hoped things didn't change too much while he was gone– that the world will still be recognisable.

With Jon’s help, his eyes full of light and concern, and his small, scarred hand gently holding Martin's, he might stand a chance of making it.

The Storm, Part 2

Dear Mum

How have you been doing? I’ve been well. I’m sorry my letter’s a bit late this month, but things have been a little topsy-turvy. I wish I could tell you more about what was going on, but I hardly understand it all myself.

I’m out of a job. Things ended badly and I’m sure I won’t be welcome back at the Lord’s estate, but I’ll do my best to find something else as soon as I can. Something better. I’ll work twice as hard. I know it won’t make up for the missing payments, but I’ll try to make things right. 

I’m trying to keep a stiff upper lip in the meantime. I’ve met someone, and he’s been helping me through all this. We’ve started working on a garden together. I know you’ve always hated gardening, but maybe he and I can grow something remarkable that’ll impress you. Jon doesn’t have much hope, but I’m sure there’s a respectable gardener somewhere between the two of us.

I think you’d like him. He’s kind.

Love,

Martin

 ~

“Jon, these all look the same to me.”

“This is a tulip seed. I’m certain of it.”

“Are you? Because on the pamphlet, it looks like an azalea.”

“Those don’t look anything alike.”

“Just drop it in the pit, will you? We’ll figure out what it is at some point.”

With a sigh, Jon did as told, settling back on his haunches as Martin filled the pit back in with soil. “Is it just me, or does this not strike you as proper gardening?”

“Would either of us know what proper gardening looked like?”

“… That’s a fair enough point, I suppose.”

Taking a deep breath, Jon closed his eyes, shaking out his shoulders. Wiggled, honestly. Did he even know he did that? The wiggling. Like a cat preparing to pounce. Martin had to bite his inner cheek to keep from grinning at the image.

Jon had hung his cloak at the greenhouse entrance and once again Martin was able to appreciate how small the man was, for all the space he took in Martin’s head. Dirt crusted his clipped fingernails and he’d smeared a streak of soil on his cheek. A child begging to be scolded for ruining their Sunday best. Martin didn’t think the man would be so comfortable being filthy.

Comfortable. Perhaps that’s what captivated Martin.

After everything the man had been through – years of loneliness and years more of a nightmare come to life – he still managed to be so … normal? Martin didn’t like how that word tasted, but it was the only one he could think of. Martin had only suffered a few weeks and that had been enough to make him go a bit looney. But Jon …? 

“How did you do it?”

“Hmm? Do what?”

“Stay … I don’t know, yourself?” Martin rubbed the back of his neck, eyes dropping to the plots. Maybe this hadn’t been the best time to start this particular conversation, but the question had poured out of his mouth. “I mean, I’ve only been here a month and I've already almost gone off my rocker at least once. I guess what I’m trying to say is you’re … remarkably well-adjusted?” 

An eyebrow popped up. “Who says I’m well-adjusted?”

“I– Well–”

“Should I have a wild beard, then? A mad glint to my eyes?”

“Well, I’m not sure about a beard, but you haven’t seen yourself chopping radishes.”

“What? It’s satisfying. You understand, don’t you?” Jon scraped the shadowy stubble on his jaw. “Could never grow a beard, anyway. Too patchy.”

“I’m sure it would look brilliant.”

Jon hummed as he absently dug at a pit with the trowel. Martin fidgeted with the azalea seeds in his palm (maybe tulips?), before he bit his lip. Bit of a rude question, after all. Hey, why aren’t you insane actually? Probably not the best time to ask.

But as Martin opened his mouth, Jon sighed.

“To be honest, I barely noticed the difference at first. I’d already spent so much of my time alone in the archives, so by the time I was truly alone, I … supposed I’d already gotten used to it?”

Martin struggled to temper his expression, heart shattering in his chest. He hadn’t expected a nice answer, but something about Jon’s casual shrug made it all a little bit worse. Could Martin, for all his own loneliness, even imagine what that’s like? Being so alone that by the time his house has been emptied, he didn’t even notice the difference? 

A chill crawled up Martin’s arms, far too familiar and unwelcome in the warmth of the greenhouse. There had to be something he could do or say that could be helpful here. Something that could ease Jon’s burden, if only slightly.

“Well, it must have been nice not having to wear trousers all the time, at least.”

“… What?”

Martin blinked, processing his own words, and his face blazed with heat. “W-well, you live alone, you don’t have to wear trousers. That’s one of the perks, right?” 

“No! What would even– What purpose would that serve?”

“I mean, you’re basically doing the same thing already. Just, you know, in the opposite direction.”

“I have no idea what you could be referring to.”

“Right, sure. And you just like swanning about in that great big billowing cloak of yours, because …? It’s silk, it’s not as if it’s keeping you warm.”

The undertones of Jon’s face glowed. His eyes dropped to his fingers, picking the dirt out of his cuticles.

“I … That’s different. I just enjoy the way it feels.”

“Not that different. It’s about the indulgence.”

Jon rolled his eyes. With a lurch, he plucked up one of the seeds and stuffed it into the soil, and Martin leaned back as he tamped the pit with manic zeal before he settled back down with a huff, crossing his arms.

Martin gave the satchel a little shake. “Was that a tulip or an azalea?” 

Jon stiffened, eyes widening. “I-I, uh … I’m not sure? I wasn’t really looking.”

Their eyes met and the air hung heavy between them. Jon’s lips quivered. Martin’s cheeks grew sore holding his expression in place.

Then, a burst of giggles erupted between them. Jon keeled over, clutching his sides, and Martin quickly ran out of air, chest aching as he gasped for breath.

Jon recovered first, wiping his eye and smearing more dirt onto his cheek. “I … I suppose I can concede that the logic is similar.” He looked unhinged, deranged, and his eyes sparkled brightly as he sheepishly dug out the seed that might have been a tulip.

At least Martin could make him laugh. Not the most helpful thing, but it was something.

That chill didn’t go away, though, not entirely. It lingered on the tips of Martin’s fingers and the chambers of his heart, even as they both stood, wiping their hands of dirt. Did Jon notice it, too? His expression remained content and tranquil as he prepared the watering can, a gentle, absent-minded smile tweaking his mouth.

Martin tried to shake off the feeling.

It was probably just his imagination.

Check out the Monster of Magnus Manor here!

[voiceless-terror]

If it’s okay, how about “You always do that. You always warm me up.” and/or “You’ve got a fever. Of course I’m not going anywhere.” with jontim for the soft sentence prompts? your writing is some of my favourite of all time and your jontim especially is just *chefs kiss* mwah. Incredible.

Some soft JonTim for one of my favorite artists! Always happy to have another friend to spread the good word of this pairing, a particular favorite of mine. Hope you enjoy!

“Jon, you look wrecked.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” replied said wreck. “I’ve just got a cold, that’s all.”

Tim fixed him with an incredulous look. Jon stumbled through the doors of the library this morning looking for all the world like the equivalent of ‘hammered shit’ (Sasha’s words). Jon’s usual vibe was tired and harried on a good day, but this was pushing it. He only managed to get about half of his hair into a bun, the rest hanging limply around his face. He’d thrown a chunky cardigan over his clothes to hide that they were the same ones from yesterday. It did not work. Complete with red cheeks and bleary eyes, the man was not fit to be in a workplace.

Jon begged to differ. “I’m fine,” he said, burying a cough in his elbow. “I took medicine. Look.” With that, he dug a crushed box of liquid capsules out of his bag and threw it haphazardly in the direction of Tim, who caught it in startled hands.

“This is expired,” he replied after one look at the box. “It’s also not meant for daytime. When did you take this again?” Jon frowned uncomprehendingly as he attempted to parse out the words and Tim would’ve gathered him up in his arms right then if it wouldn’t embarrass him.

“Hmm.” The question should not be difficult. “‘Bout an hour ago, maybe?” Jon listed dangerously to the side, grabbing at his desk to keep steady and in the process knocking an overflowing cup of pencils to the ground. “Oops.” Jon was occasionally a man of few words, but ‘oops’ was not one of them. Tim immediately got to his feet, rushing over to steady him.

“‘Oops’ is right.” He gently managed to get Jon to his feet, leaning most of his body weight against Tim’s side. “You’re going home.” Jon just slumped further into his arms, barely managing a nod. His sudden compliance worried Tim; usually, Jon would put up way more of a fuss, getting snippy and slapping his hands away. This easy submission, while appreciated, made him more nervous than reassured.

“G’bye, Sasha,” Jon attempted a wave on the way out that looked more like a vague swatting of the air. “Tim’s takin’ me home.” She smiled indulgently, giving the two of them a wave in return.

“Take care of your man, Tim! And that’s an order.”

Tim would’ve saluted if he didn’t have an armful of Jon. “Aye aye, Captain.”

“Your man?” Jon mumbled as they made their way down the hallway, sinking further into his side. He said it as if the words were foreign, confusing. Tim couldn’t help his laughter. 

“Well, yeah.” He nodded in thanks to Rosie, who held the door open on the way out with a pitying look at Jon. The air outside was cold, bracing- Jon’s ridiculously chunky cardigan still wasn’t enough against the wind. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t help you in your hour of need?” In a stroke of luck, he managed to snag a cab as soon as someone exited at the building next door. The less time outside, the better. “In you go!” He managed to gently extract Jon from his side and maneuver him into the back of the car. He rattled off his own address to the cabbie- if all Jon had at home was an expired packet of night-time medicine, he didn’t have much faith in the rest of his medical supplies.

He shut the car door and turned to find Jon staring at him in a sort of wide-eyed, loopy wonder. It would have been amusing if it wasn’t so concerning. “What is it?” he asked, running a comforting hand over his arm. “Are you okay?”

“We’re...boyfriends?” Shit. Tim realized they hadn’t used the term before and here he was, just casually slipping it out. It was not unlike him; Sasha always teased him at how easily he fell in love. But he was trying to take it slowly with Jon, do things right. Jon deserved that.

“I mean...yes?” It came out more nervously than he’d like, Jon was really doing him in with those giant, hopeful eyes. Damn him. He tried for familiar, easy ground. “I’ve been wining and dining you all around town. Do my forehead kisses mean nothing to you?” He put a hand to his chest, dramatic and exaggerated. “I’m wounded.”

“No!” Jon exclaimed, grabbing at the hand on Tim’s chest with an unexpected strength. “I like those. Please don’t stop.” His face was a blazing fever-red and filled with concern, not unlike when he was drunk and oblivious to teasing. “You won’t stop, w-will you?”

Tim’s heart melted without his permission. “Course not.” He took the small hand and squeezed it with his own. Jon sunk into a similarly sappy expression; he had no right being this adorable on expired cold medication. God, he loved him.

Shit.

Jon continued to talk, his brow furrowing in contemplation. “Iz’zat why you got me those Valentine’s chocolates?”

Shit.

“And the bear?”

Love? The big ol’ ‘L’ word? What if he’d sprung that on Jon like this, in the back of a cab when he wouldn’t remember it?

“And the balloon?”

How embarrassing for him. Truly.

“And the card?” Tim had forgotten Jon was still talking.

“Yes!” He choked out against Jon’s interrogation. “God, I didn’t realize how much of a sap I was.” Jon giggled in response, a high, happy sound incongruous with his usual sarcastic snorts.

“Yeah, you are.” He snuggled into Tim’s side; he could feel the heat radiating from the man, even through his jacket. “You gotta tell me these things. Else I won’t know.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry.” Jon was a literal man, Tim knew this. But he hadn’t exactly been subtle in his overtures.

“Boyfriends,” Jon sighed dreamily. “I like that.”

Hopefully he would remember this conversation.

__________

“This is not my flat.”

“Got it in one, Sherlock.”

He shuffled Jon through the door, depositing him as gently as possible on the couch and wrapping a fluffy blanket around his shoulders. He looked ridiculous, eyes at half-mast and a confused look on his face. “Gonna wait on the paracetamol, at least until the shit you’re on wears off.”

“Hnnh.” Jon leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes in contentment like a particularly lazy cat. “Kay.” Tim puttered about in the kitchen, getting a glass of water and wetting a rag; he should at least attempt to get the fever under control, Jon’s insistence on layers wasn’t helping. But he couldn’t say no to him, shaking and shivering as he was. Jon deserved a blanket burrito if he wanted one.

Tim pushed the glass of water into Jon’s hands, urging him to take a couple of sips before he set it back down. He plopped himself down on the couch, maneuvering Jon so that he was laying against his chest and placing the damp rag on his forehead, despite his protests. “We’re going to watch some crap telly and you’re going to take a nap. Sound good?” He should’ve probably gotten the remote before he laid down, but now that Jon was snuggled against his chest he was pretty much immovable.

“You’re not going back to work?” Jon asked the question as if Tim staying home was uncalled for and strange. He snorted in response. Typical Jon.

“You’ve got a fever. Of course I’m not going anywhere.”

Jon managed to lift his head a few precious centimeters, though he was straining with the effort. He looked as if he were going to say something very important, but he instead just collapsed back against his chest and buried his face in Tim’s jumper with a lazy purr of contentment. I can’t believe I’m dating a literal cat.

“God, you’re really burning up,” Tim rearranged the towel so it was back on his forehead, having fallen off during Jon’s attempt at conversation.

His next words were muffled against Tim’s chest. “You always do that. You always warm me up.” 

Tim almost audibly cooed at the sentiment before seeing an opportunity for a joke and taking it. Let it never be said that Tim Stoker missed an opening.

“Why Jon,” his voice took on an unbearable, teasing tone as his smile grew. “Are you saying I’m so hot I made you sick?” Jon groaned at the words, as expected.

“No.”

“How does that song go, again? You’re givin’ me fev-aah-”

“Shut up, Tim!” He let out a quiet chuckle, giving Jon a light squeeze in apology.

“Alright, alright. I’ll let you rest.” Jon sighed, curling up in his arms. They stayed like that for some time; Tim rubbing a gentle hand up and down his back. Just when he thought Jon had been lulled to sleep, he spoke up in a quiet tone.

“You...you actually have a nice voice.” The words were slurred and Tim tried not to take offense at the ‘actually’ addendum. “But maybe just a bit quieter. And just a hum. Thanks.”

He snickered. “Will do.”

“Love you.” Tim froze, his hand stilling in its movements. He doesn’t mean it, he told himself firmly. He’s just tired and loopy. He won’t remember this when he wakes up. Still, he responded and the intensity behind the words was surprising even to him.

“Love you, too.”

Jon slept and Tim ran his fingers through his hair, listening to his soft snores. In an hour or two, he’d make him soup and insist on a dose of real meds. And that night, when Jon was curled around him in bed, with clear eyes and a lucid voice he’d repeat the words he mumbled earlier. And he would mean them.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27977733

[flowercrown-bard]

To give without knowing (20/20)

AO3

previous /  masterpost

word count: ~4k

Epilogue

Geralt and Jaskier’s room at Kaer Morhen was lit with an assortment of candles that painted a faint golden glow onto Jaskier’s skin. From his place - his head lying on Jaskier’s lap - Geralt looked up at him, with no need to hide everything he felt for the bard.

He looked beautiful in this light. He always did. And so Geralt told him, because there needn’t be any more secrets. Finding the right words was still hard for Geralt and more often than not, he closed off and tried to hide away instead of confronting Jaskier about his feelings, but he knew that at the end of the day, he could talk to Jaskier and that he would stay with him. That he loved him.

“You’re beautiful.”

Jaskier’s fingers that were running through Geralt’s hand in a soothing motion, faltered for a moment, but then Jaskier’s lips spread into a wide smile.

“You are too,” he replied, his hand leaving Geralt’s tresses for long enough to trace his face; smooth out the perpetual crease between his brows, caress his cheeks and run a thumb over his lips. Without thinking, Geralt pressed a small kiss against his thumb, making Jaskier’s smile brighten.

He didn’t need to think anymore, didn’t need to doubt or agonise over his or Jaskier’s feelings. If the weeks travelling with Jaskier by his side in which he had been allowed to kiss him and tell him how much he meant to him, however often he wanted, hadn’t been enough to convince Geralt that he had no reason to be scared, the months they had been together at Kaer Morhen had left no doubt about how Jaskier felt.

Geralt closed his eyes again, giving a content hum as Jaskier’s fingers trailed his nose, his brow and found their way back to his hair. Absentmindedly, Jaskier began to part his tresses and weave them into a lose braid.

If anyone had told Geralt a year ago, that he could have this, he would have snorted in disbelief and turned away, despite his heart aching for it.

Now, though, it was as natural as breathing – as natural as loving Jaskier - to let him run his fingers through his hair whenever he pleased. Geralt had dreamed about this for so long and yet the reality of it was better than anything he could have ever imagined.

When Geralt had searched for the carvings, he had imagined Jaskier talking endlessly about whatever held his interest at the moment and he would have been happy to listen to Jaskier if that was what he wanted to do. But Jaskier didn’t rant about the pranks Lambert kept pulling on him and his plans for revenge, nor did he gush about the elven poetry Eskel had showed him in the library. Instead, Jaskier quietly hummed to himself. Geralt wasn’t even sure Jaskier realised he was doing it, but with every note Jaskier sang, Geralt felt lighter.

“Sing the words for me?” he asked softly enough to not interrupt Jaskier’s humming.

Jaskier didn’t falter in his song, but without missing a beat, he added words to the melody. They were the exact same words that had torn into Geralt’s chest with icy claws, not five months ago. And yet, as Jaskier now sang of moonlight-strands of hair and blazing eyes of liquid fire, Geralt felt warmth flood his insides and he couldn’t stop a smile from tugging at his lips. He didn’t want to stop himself either. Not when he now knew that those words that had caused him so much agony, had been meant for him all along.

Low enough that Jaskier might not be able to hear it, Geralt hummed the melody as well. The bitter winter winds howling outside created a haunting harmony to their song. Theirs, because this too had been written for Geralt.

Geralt snuggled closer against Jaskier’s warmth, knowing that soon enough, Vesemir would tell him to go fix the roof of one of the towers or spar with his brothers. For now, though, Geralt was allowed to be with his beloved, for no reason other than that they simply wished to be close to one another.

Jaskier finished the braid and let his hands caress Geralt’s face again. As he sang of hands so gentle and so strong, Geralt reached out and enclosed Jaskier’s wrist with his hand. There was a slight hitch in Jaskier’s breathing and an amused and curious note entered his voice, but he didn’t stop singing. When Geralt opened his eyes, he was met with a gaze so soft and loving that it took his breath away.

Slowly – not because of doubt or fear, but because he wanted to savour the moment – Geralt brought Jaskier’s hand to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss against each of his knuckles.

When he was done, he brought his other hand to Jaskier’s face and tugged him closer. Jaskier followed his lead happily and leaned over to kiss Geralt.

The position wasn’t comfortable for either of them, with Geralt having to lift his head off Jaskier’s lap and Jaskier having to bend his back to meet each other’s lips, but Geralt wouldn’t exchange this for anything else. Jaskier moved slowly against him, smiling into the kiss as Geralt cradled the back of his head.

“Jaskier?” Geralt pulled back just enough to speak, but still holding Jaskier close.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

Jaskier’s eyes lit up just the same as they had the first time Geralt had said it.

“I love you too.”

They didn’t need to say it out loud - both of them knew how the other felt – and yet, Geralt’s heart beat faster every time the words fell from his lips. He didn’t need to say them, but he could. And he wanted to. After spending so much time thinking that Jaskier wouldn’t want to ever hear those words coming from Geralt’s lips, he relished in seeing Jaskier’s face brighten whenever he uttered them, just as much as he loved hearing Jaskier say it back.

Geralt’s hand wandered up, brushing the scar that was barely visible anymore above Jaskier’s brow. He leaned up to press a soft kiss against it, but fell back onto Jaskier’s lap with a frustrated growl. This really wasn’t the best position to do this.

The muffled sound of Jaskier’s laughter made Geralt stop his grumbling and when Geralt threw him a mock-glare Jaskier’s shoulders only shook more.

“Do you want to sit up?” Jaskier suggested with a grin. “Might be more practical.”

Geralt huffed, drawing his brows together in a frown that he knew wouldn’t fool Jaskier.

“I’m comfortable where I am.”

Jaskier hummed thoughtfully and tugged lightly on a strand of hair that had come loose from Geralt’s braid.

“But consider this: If you sit up, we can kiss more comfortably.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes and as if he still needed to contemplate Jaskier’s words. He cocked his head, which must look strange as he was still lying down.

“Could we hug too?”

“You know you don’t have to ask.” Jaskier rolled his eyes, but his expression softened. “But yes, we can hug too.”

He opened his arms a little and immediately, Geralt sat up and turned so he could wrap his arms around Jaskier and bury his head in the crook of his neck. Jaskier’s content sigh ghosted over his neck and made goosebumps erupt all over his skin, as he rubbed small circles into his back.

The very same motion had been used so often to soothe each other, to comfort and tell the other that they were protected. Now, though, it was just a caress, a drawing of lazy patterns, simple as that. They didn’t hold each other close to fend off the cold and there was no need for comfort. They simply embraced because they wanted to.  

For a moment, Geralt closed his eyes and just took in the feeling of having Jaskier in his arms. He nuzzled into Jaskier’s neck, laughing lightly when Jaskier complained that the bits of loose hair tickled.

When Geralt opened his eyes again, his gaze fell onto the shelf Eskel had helped install on the wall opposite the bed. Most of the shelf was occupied with little trinkets and knickknacks Jaskier had insisted were important to bring with him. Books, hair brushes, a small vial of perfume and Jaskier’s attempts at knitting, which Geralt had come to accept as part of their room now. All of it was something Jaskier valued for one reason or another and seeing it in the room that used to be so barren and cold most winters, ignited a bright flame in Geralt’s chest. All of those things were a reminder that Jaskier belonged here with him, that he had chosen Geralt and intended to stay.

And yet, despite how much meaning Geralt read into these things, it was nothing compared to the feeling he got when his eyes fell onto the top shelf. There, in a neat row, sat the carvings Geralt had given Jaskier. His lips quirked up and he let out a small laugh when he saw the stick sitting between the cat and the fish. Over the months, they had made a game out of Geralt pretending to throw the stick out and hiding it away until Jaskier found it again. Jaskier had become better and better at finding all of Geralt’s hiding spots. Granted, Geralt had never truly tried to make the snake unfindable. If he wanted to keep things hidden, he had ways to do so. Thankfully.

“What’s so funny?” Jaskier asked, and pulled back just enough to be able to see Geralt’s face. His hands slid down Geralt’s shoulders and arms until he was tenderly holding Geralt’s hands in his.

“Nothing,” Geralt said, giving Jaskier’s hand a light squeeze. “I’m just happy that you’re here.”

There were only two figures missing from the collection. The wolf and the horse stood on the nightstand next to their bed. Whenever Geralt held Jaskier at night, he could see them watching over them. He would have thought that after months, he would have gotten used to that sight and what it meant, but then again, he hadn’t gotten used to being able to the way Jaskier’s back fitted against his chest either. But he was more than happy to spend the rest of his life getting used to it. He doubted the warmth in his chest and the wonder that overcame him whenever Jaskier snuggled closer, would ever go away.

Jaskier followed Geralt’s gaze and let out a contemplative hum.

“I don’t want to leave the figurines here when we leave Kaer Morhen again.”

“I could always make you knew ones.” When Jaskier’s brows rose up, Geralt added, “Yes, I know that I don’t need to give you gifts.”

Jaskier nodded, pleased and lifted Geralt’s hand to press a kiss against his knuckles. Geralt couldn’t help but think that it felt like a reward.

“You could always take half of them with you,” he suggested. “You could put them in your rooms in Oxenfurt.” He hesitated, but one look in Jaskier’s eyes made him stomp down any doubts before they so much as became full thoughts. “So you won’t have to miss them when we spend the next winter there together.”

Jaskier’s face lit up. “That’s a wonderful idea. Especially since you so rudely thwarted our plans of having you come visit me there. I was looking forward to that.” He playfully jabbed a finger at Geralt’s chest. “Spending the winter there will more than make up for that.”

Geralt huffed in response to Jaskier’s teasing. He really could get used to this. He wanted to have moments like this one for the rest of his life. He wanted to have Jaskier with him for the rest of his life.

“I have something for you,” Geralt said, the sudden seriousness in his voice a stark contrast to the earlier playfulness. “I wasn’t sure when to give it to you, but if you’re worried about missing the carvings…this might help a little.”

He made to get up, but Jaskier stopped him from getting farther than a step, by holding fast onto his hand.

“Geralt, you just said – “

“I know,” Geralt interrupted softly. “I don’t need to. But I want to give you this. It’s…it would mean a lot to me.”

The fondness in Jaskier’s eyes as he nodded warmed Geralt from the inside. Geralt took another step away from the bed, but then he stopped.

“Close your eyes.”

Jaskier lifted an eyebrow with a grin. “Seriously?”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier closed his eyes and immediately Geralt narrowed his. He leaned in again and long before his lips ever reached Jaskier’s, a smile played around Jaskier’s mouth.

“You peeked,” Geralt said, just before brushing his lips against Jaskier’s.

“No I didn’t,” Jaskier said, still pretending rather badly to have his eyes closed.

Geralt snorted and reached for the shelf to pull down the scarf - if it could be called that – that Jaskier had attempted to knit over the course of the winter.

“Oh come on.” Jaskier’s grin took away the effect of his indignant tone. “You don’t need to blindfold me.”

Geralt didn’t reply, just placed the scarf around Jaskier’s head and secured it gently, making sure no hair got stuck in the knot. For a moment, he just took in Jaskier’s pout, the excited twitching of his hands and the way Jaskier tried to move his head in the direction Geralt was.

“Geralt?” he asked, making Geralt realise that he had gotten so lost in watching Jaskier that he had forgotten to move. “Are you still there? You know, this is really unfair, what with you moving soundlessly.”

“I’m still here.” Geralt pressed a kiss against the crown of Jaskier’s head, before turning away again and opening the chest in the far end of the room. He pressed against the inside of the chest lid, and the secret compartment he had built in there years ago, snapped open.

He hesitated a moment, before his fingers closed around the thing he had hidden in there. It might be too much, too soon. Despite having worked on this for longer than he had any other carving to perfect it, a spike of doubt shot up in him. Perhaps it wasn’t good enough. Maybe he should wait a little longer before he gave it to Jaskier.

One glance at Jaskier, bouncing a little on the bed in anticipation, dissipated all of his doubts. His fingers tightened around the gift and he walked back, kneeling onto the bed behind Jaskier.

Taking one last deep breath, he draped the thin chain of the necklace around Jaskier’s neck and clasped it. Immediately, Jaskier’s hand shot up to run over the wooden pendant lying above his heart. His breath hitched as he traced the fine carving on it.

“Geralt?”

Geralt unfastened the knot holding the scarf in place and moved so he could see Jaskier’s face as he took in the necklace Geralt had made for him.

Jaskier’s breath hitched.

“It’s-“ His words broke off with a choked sound as his eyes lit up with more joy than Geralt had ever imagined he could bring to him. His voice was but a breath, when he finished, “- beautiful.”

Jaskier truly was. He always had been. When the sunlight shone onto him, his hair would turn nearly golden. When he smiled, his eyes would crinkle at the sides and when he woke up and yawned in a truly undignified manner, his tousled hair would make Geralt want to run his hands through it to smooth it out.

Now though, with a wooden wolf medallion resting against his chest, Geralt was sure that Jaskier had never looked more beautiful.

“It’s just like yours,” Jaskier marvelled as he tilted the pendant to see all the details and the shading Geralt had burned into the wood with a controlled igni, that he had had to practice with Eskel first before he had been confident enough in his skill to use it to adorn Jaskier’s gift.

Geralt hummed, a pleased flutter in his chest at how happy Jaskier sounded at the prospect.

“Not quite,” Geralt said. When Jaskier gave him a quizzical look, Geralt added, “Flip it over.”

Jaskier did as he was told and when he realised what was on the other side of the medallion, he let out a small gasp and his eyes widened. Almost reverently, he stroked a finger over the delicate buttercups that were engraved into the wood.

“This might be a little easier to take with you on the Path,” Geralt said, catching Jaskier’s hand and holding it gently. Months of fear told him to amend what he had said and add that Jaskier didn’t have to take it with him if he didn’t want to. He was well aware that with this carving, there would be no doubt whom he had gotten it from. He knew he shouldn’t doubt, but still… “You can wear it so others can only see the buttercups, if you don’t want to be seen with the wolf medallion.”

Jaskier’s brows kitted together and he dropped the medallion back to his chest.

“The only reason why I would wear it like that is so I could keep the wolf closer to my heart.”

Geralt’s heart stuttered in his chest.

“You like the gift then?”

Jaskier’s eyes crinkled at the sides with a smile as he gave Jaskier’s hand a light squeeze.

“I love it.” He leaned forward to steal a kiss from Geralt. “And I love you.”

When Jaskier pulled away again, Geralt chased the kiss, burying his free hand in Jaskier’s hair and relishing in the feeling of Jaskier smiling against his lips.

“Greedy,” Jaskier teased.

“Can’t I be?”

“When it comes to kisses? Always. There’s nothing I would rather give you.”

Geralt took it as an invitation to steal another kiss. Jaskier laughed lightly, breaking the kiss with the sound. Geralt didn’t mind. There was no sound more beautiful than Jaskier’s laugh and no feeling better than knowing Geralt had been the one to get Jaskier to make that sound.

Geralt’s hand left Jaskier’s hair and played with Jaskier’s two-sided medallion.

“You never gave me an answer,” he began slowly, “when I asked you why you had chosen your name to be a flower.”

“Ah.” The hint of a shadow fell onto Jaskier’s face. “I never did tell you, did I?”

A spike of uncertainty pierced Geralt’s chest and he drew away.

“You don’t need to tell me.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I just…I might have been a bit dramatic when I chose that name.”

“As opposed to now, when there’s not a single dramatic bone in your body,” Geralt deadpanned, earning him a snort and a swat to the arm from Jaskier.

“Oh shush you,” Jaskier said, with laughter in his eyes. “I mean it. I might have been a bit…melodramatic. One might also say, I was feeling terrible about myself and I wanted to take that and make it into something good.”

“You don’t need to downplay how you felt,” Geralt said seriously.

“I know.” Jaskier’s twitched into a thin smile that slowly grew warmer as he exhaled. “Buttercups aren’t exactly the most beautiful flowers out there. Or the most useful ones. Or the most resilient. When I was a child, I tried to make a bouquet of buttercups and the petals had fallen off before I could give it to my mother. I don’t remember much, it’s been so long ago, but I do remember that I cried and tossed the stems away. My mother found them and together we planted a little patch of buttercups in the garden, where I could see them from my window. She taught me how to take care of them so they would grow and I loved doing that whenever I was frustrated from my lessons. I have no idea how much time I spent staring at these buttercups every time that I failed at something. When I didn’t understand my lessons on how to become a viscount, when I had an argument with my father, when I felt like I was wilting away in that place.”

A line between his brows had appeared at his first words and deepened as the story went on, but now it smoothed away, as Jaskier rubbed the pendant between his fingers. “I felt like those plucked buttercups. It was only a matter of time before I too would fester like they had. But If I could just find the way to care for myself in the right way, if I found my garden and people who cared for me like my mother and I had for the flowers, I could grow. I thought that though I might still not be very useful, or resilient or…or good enough for anyone to want to keep me around, but maybe I could find someone who would look at me and find comfort in me.”

“You did,” Geralt said, putting as much sincerity into his voice as he could.

Jaskier’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “When I told my mother, she helped me leave Lettenhove and go to Oxenfurt. I know my father wasn’t happy about my going away, but…I think he has accepted that I’d rather be a bard than a viscount. And he knows I’m happier like this. But I don’t know for sure. I haven’t seen them in so long. Only once, since leaving Lettenhove and that was even before the two of us had met.”

“We could visit them, if you wanted.” Geralt shifted his weight a little, as he tried to find the right words. “If you miss your mother, we could meet her. If your parents watched you perform, I’m sure they would be proud of you. I know I am.”

Jaskier’s bottom lip trembled and his grip tightened around the pendant. “I think I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

“So. Oxenfurt, Beauclair and Lettenhove. We’re going to have a busy year.”

Jaskier let out a small laugh and his eyes glinted with joy that made that delicate thing in Geralt’s chest glow brighter than the sun.

“Oh, don’t forget that we’ll have to go back to the coast again to tell Essi about everything that happened. And I’ve already promised Lambert and Eskel that we are going to meet up with them again in summer.”

“If you keep making so many plans, they aren’t all going to fit into just one year.”

Jaskier gave him a boyish grin and nudged him playfully with his elbow. “Good thing you’re not going to get rid of me anytime soon, then. We have all the time in the world.”

The notion was so strange, so wonderful. Even after all this time, imagining a future together felt like a dream. Geralt’s words got stuck in his throat and he could do nothing but hum in agreement.  Jaskier understood him even so.

“Well, anyway,” Jaskier gave a mock bow, “that was the glorious tale of the meaning of my name.”

“I like it.” Geralt’s voice was strangely rough. “And I think buttercups are plenty beautiful.”

“Flatterer.” Jaskier let out a snort, but his expression remained soft.

“It’s not flattery if it’s the truth.”

Jaskier narrowed his eyes. “Fine. Poet, then.”

Geralt let out a groan, that quickly ended in a chuckle. “Now that’s more an insult to you than to me, masterpoet.”

“I don’t think so. You can be quite good with words. Occasionally.” He winked and tilted his head to the side, a glint in his eyes. “Like when you told me what your gifts meant. I assume that there’s meaning to this carving too?”

Geralt hummed in agreement.

“So what does it mean?” Jaskier asked in a way that made it clear that he knew exactly what it meant.

“What do you think it means?”

Geralt leaned closer to press their foreheads together. He closed his eyes, focussing on Jaskier’s touch, as he played idly with Geralt’s fingers and drew small patterns onto his skin.

Jaskier didn’t answer right away. He didn’t need to. Both of them already knew what it meant. They saw it in each other’s eyes when they later sat together with the rest of the wolves, joking and laughing. They felt it in each other’s touch, when Jaskier brushed his side when they were preparing dinner together. They heard it in each other’s voices when Jaskier cheered Geralt on while he sparred with Lambert and Geralt gave snarky commentary just for the sake of Jaskier’s entertainment.

And later, when the keep had quieted down again and they laid in each other’s arms once more, Geralt leaned closer to Jaskier and whispered it in his ear. And Jaskier caressed his cheek gently and whispered it right back.

---

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[btsinwonderland]

A Drop of Poison - Ch. 10: Memories

A Loki fanfiction!

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You woke at the howl of the wind outside. It was still dark out and you glanced at an old wooden clock on the wall; you had only dozed off for an hour or so. It was just two hours past midnight, and though you wanted to return to your dorm room, it was too dangerous to venture outside without the invisibility cloak.

Professor Laufeyson had shifted back onto the pillow in your sleep, and there he slumbered perfectly still but for the rise and fall of his bare chest. He laid on his back with one hand above his head, underneath the pillow. The way his face was so calm made you smile. There was no mask, just a gentle expression.

You lifted yourself off the bed to find the washroom. All the professors had private washrooms in their quarters, so your search ended after a quick dash up the staircase. When you completed your trip, you returned to Professor Laufeyson’s bedroom.

One passing glance at his desk made you stop. There was a drawer you opened before that intrigued you when you were searching for bandages. You walked over to the desk and your fingers hesitated above the handle. It was not good to snoop and you should be going back to bed. With him. You gulped.

Any sleep that you felt before now evaded you. Your arms and legs felt sore from branches whipping you in the forest. At the time you felt nothing since there was so much adrenaline in your body, but after that your body ached. And amidst the pain, any dreams you remembered from the last hour were filled with bright yellow eyes and bloodstained teeth. A shiver of fear ran down your arms at the thought of the beast. There was no way you could sleep now.

You opened the drawer and once again, an ethereal pool of silver and white faced you. You gazed at it in wonder and crouched over the drawer, trying to get a closer look. For a moment, you thought you saw faces floating in the bowl. As you looked closer still, something pulled your mind into the pool and you were no longer in Professor Laufeyson’s bedroom.

A kitchen faced you, with glossy wooden counters cut from fine lumber and large candles aflame on the countertops. There was Headmistress Frigga, looking years younger, in a yellow dress with her hair down. She paid no attention to you at all, as if you were not there. For a brief second, you wondered if you were back in the book Spells for the Common House Cat. But this felt different...

A young boy sat at the counter. He could not be a day over six, and tapped his hands on the surface excitedly. “Mother, I’m hungry!”

“Just a moment, precious, let me whip you up a nice salted caramel shake, hmm?” She said and twirled her want in a circle. A medium-sized glass, filled to the brim with a brown looking milky liquid, appeared in front of the boy. His black hair shone in the candlelight and his eyes glinted.

Then, another boy, slightly younger than the first, with bright blonde hair, ran into the kitchen. “Mother! Mother! I want a shake too! How come Loki always gets a special drink and not me!”

The boy, Loki, laughed at his brother and took the glass with both hands. “It’s because I’m clearly Mother’s favourite, Thor.”

Frigga turned away from the boys for a moment as they argued, but you saw her expression. It was filled with pain.

Before you could observe any further, you were whisked away into another place.

You were in an empty classroom, and for a second you thought you were back in Hogwarts. But the colour of everything was slightly off, and everything looked hazy. You gasped when Professor Rattowl burst through the door of the classroom and dragged a lanky black-haired boy into the centre of the room.

“Sit down, you scoundrel!” Rattowl said with an awful scowl.

You walked around him to see the boy. His hair was down to his shoulders and incredibly messy, as if he had gotten into a scuffle. It was Professor Laufeyson, though he seemed a year or two younger than you at this moment. His expression was one of youthful arrogance. He threw daggers at Rattowl with a careless sort of glare.

“I clearly won that duel,” Loki said, a smile creeping up on his lips.

Rattowl looked as if he might actually strike him. “You, boy, are a curse to this school! You’ve injured one of our best students with your dark magic! The only thing left of your terrible father’s legacy!”

Loki nearly stood, eyes aflame. “Do not speak of my father with such insolence! Odin is your minister and a hero!”

Rattowl scoffed at Loki. “Are you truly such an imbecile to think that the great Odin Borson is your father?”

“You’re lying!” Loki hissed.

A woman entered the room with a glass full of a brown drink. It looked similar to what you saw previously, but a little more chunky - as if she made it in haste. “Here love, drink this, it’ll make you feel better.”

Loki eyed the glass. “I don’t want anything.”

The woman and Rattowl looked at each other, and an understanding seemed to pass through them.

“Drink it, boy!” Rattowl yelled. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Loki, whose body thrashed against the chair and then stiffened. Loki emitted the glowing green light from his hands, struggling against the pressure that held him down.

The woman force fed him the drink as he sputtered and coughed, nearly choking. She kept whispering, “I’m sorry, love” as she poured it down his throat. The green light of his magic faltered and eventually fizzled away the more he drank.

You recoiled at the horror of the whole thing and even tried to push the woman away, but your hands merely went through her form.

Rattowl threw a tan handkerchief at Loki when the woman left. “Your so-called father is here. Clean yourself up before you talk to the Minister, boy.”

A couple minutes of silence and solitude passed as Loki sat in the chair, alone. You saw his eyes well up and the most heartbroken expression on his face. Tears stung your own eyes as you felt waves of despair emanate from him.

The door creaked open, and you glanced at the hefty form of Odin arriving. You looked at Loki, who had now wiped away his tears and put on a mask of such stoicism that no one would believe he was nearly sobbing seconds ago.

The door shut with a bang as Odin slowly walked towards Loki. His single eye was shrewd and unfeeling.

“What am I?” Loki said, his eyes were sunken in and red as he slowly stood.

“You’re my son.”

Loki glanced at his hands and though they trembled, he emitted a weak orb of green light that flickered out in seconds. He looked up at Odin, eyes steely. “What more than that?”

Odin paused for several seconds. The silence dragged on. “During the Great Battle, we defeated the Dark One. In the rubble of the castle, we found a child. A small child, left to die. Farbauti’s son.”

“Farbauti...the Dark One’s son.”

“Yes.”

Loki looked at Odin with eyes that were wide and similar to a child that lost its mother at a supermarket; hopeless and frightened. “Why? You were knee deep in the blood of dark wizards. Why would you take me?”

“You were an innocent child.” Odin stood with his chin held high, as if he were the only man in the world that knew the burden of it all.

Loki shook his head. “No, you took me for a purpose. What was it? TELL ME!”

“I took you in to show the wizarding world that mercy was a better path than revenge. There was enough bloodshed, and with you we could prove that dark magic is a choice, not something passed down through blood.” At the last sentence, he looked at Loki squarely in the face, as a warning.

“And you just happened to become Minister of Magic a year later? S-so I was just no more than a tool for your promotion, locked up until you might have more use for me?”

Odin frowned. “Why do you twist my words?”

“You could have told me what I was from the beginning, why didn’t you?”

“You’re my son. I wanted only to protect you from the truth.”

“W-what, because I’m the son of the monster that parents tell their children about at night?” Loki said as he staggered back and nearly fell, trying to sit down on the chair. Tears welled up in his eyes and he looked hurt beyond recognition. The pain was raw and unyielding.

However, in a matter of seconds, it dissolved into anger. How quickly he switched to a more comfortable emotion than pain. You looked at Odin, who now clenched his jaw and fists, confirming to you that this habit was something Loki picked up from his father.

“You know it all makes sense now, why you favoured Thor all these years! Because no matter how much you claim to love me, you could never truly love someone with the blood of the Dark One!”

Odin winced and held his chest, beginning to convulse. Loki stopped, anger vanished, and ran to his father who fell to the ground.

“Help! Somebody help!” Loki shouted, tears in his eyes.

Rattowl stormed in and threw Loki aside. “What did you do to him!”

You cried out for Loki and just as soon as you stepped towards the poor teenage boy, now crumpled on the floor, he disappeared in a swirl of blue and grey.

Once again, you were taken away, and then landed in a very unfamiliar place.

It was a room with black tiled floors, walls, and ceilings. There were two large boxes of seats at the end of the room with a tall bench in the middle. In the centre there was a tiny podium surrounded by piles and piles of papers and files on various desks riddled around the room.

Odin sat atop the centre bench, above everything, with a mallet beside him. He looked furious and his visible eye blazed with anger. The centre podium was empty while the surrounding desks and tables were occupied with witches and wizards typing on typewriters and writing in notebooks fervently. The boxes along the side walls were filled with several witches and wizards, all speaking at the same time, whispering and gasping.

“Order! We will have order!” Odin roared, mallet hitting the bench once. The group silenced immediately.

The floor beneath the small podium opened up and there emerged Loki, slightly older and more deranged looking. He rose from a pedestal on the floor, wrapped up in chains from his feet, to his hands, all the way to his neck. The skin under his eyes was purple and bruised looking from lack of sleep; he had a cut on his lip as if someone had punched him; and his clothes were burnt and charred in some spots. He looked a complete mess.

Loki gazed around the room and laughed. His laugh only faltered when he glanced at Frigga near the back. He turned towards to Odin. “I really don’t see what all the fuss is about.”

Odin looked down at him from the bench. “Do you truly not feel the gravity of your crimes? Wherever you go there is death, destruction and ruin.”

“I went down to the muggle realm to rule - er - manage them as a benevolent god. Just like you.”

“We are not gods, we are born, we live, we die just as muggles do.”

Loki leaned forward. “Give or take a bit of magic.”

“All this because Loki desires power?”

Loki stopped smiling and nearly growled the words. “It is what I was meant for!”

Odin glowered at him. “You were meant to die! As a child, cast out in the ruins of a broken kingdom. If I had not taken you in, you would not be here now to hate me.”

Loki was silent at Odin’s remark and his mask returned. It was cold as he received the sentence from his father.

“You will be sent to Azkaban for your crimes, Loki Laufeyson, for the disturbance of a muggle gathering; revealing the existence of magic to muggles; endangering muggle lives; and…” Odin paused to take a breath, “for the murder of Ministry auror, Tyr Reyja, with the use of the forbidden killing curse.”

You felt like your head was going to split open. “No more, no more!” you said, clasping your ears.

You were sucked out, and you yelled as it felt as though your mind was being ripped apart.

You slammed back against the wall and fell on the floor as you checked your surroundings. It was Professor Laufeyson’s bedroom, and you breathed a sigh of relief. You shut the drawer with your foot and slowly got up, though your head was swimming. It was similar to the book, but you recalled Heimdall discussing the Pensieve: a well of memories for a wizard to file away for their personal review at their leisure.

A part of you felt ashamed at what you saw, but your heart mostly ached for him. You rose and walked over to the bed. His gentle face reminded you so much of that little boy waiting for his mother to give him a meal. The last thing you saw was the murder sentence. It hung over you like the poisoned tip of a sword. The man you saw now did not seem like a murderer, though he was extremely unpredictable.

You laid beside him, and he stirred at your movements. His eyes slowly opened, and he caught you staring at him. “Should you not be sleeping?” He said dreamily.

“I-I was having nightmares about Fenris.” That’s partially true, you thought guiltily.

“Oh, don’t worry about that shaggy beast,” he closed his eyes and grabbed your waist, dragging you right up against his body. You turned to face away from him as your heart pounded loudly in your chest and he encased your body and wrapped his arm around you, just above your chest. His warm breath blew against the back of your neck and your insides quivered. “You’re safe now,” he whispered, and you felt his lips brush your shoulder as he spoke.

Butterflies flew up your throat, and you stiffened. But being in his arms, and feeling his warm body gripping you, made you feel...surprisingly happy. It was not a feeling you were familiar with, but as your heart raced, you gradually fell asleep and, suffice to say, had much better dreams.

------------------- Post chapter comments

I definitely was going to schedule this for Wednesday but messed something up, so you get it one day earlier! lol. Enjoy ;)

[shinygoku]

Wooo, I played Mega Man 1 (Wily Wars version) in what combined would be a couple of hours, on the Switch today! Here are the most important points:

The Mega Drive soundfont is really naff for a Mega Man game! Everything sounds soft and toothless, there’s no lovely crisp and crunchy sounds of the NES, which are a Large Part of Mega Man’s audio identity!

The sprites for the most part are rather nice, Rock is in good preportions, though in 16 bit his 3 frame running looks a little odd.

The stage backgrounds have a lot more visual layers to them, an effort I like on paper but I’m unsure if they all hit the right vibe in practice. Ice Man’s stage bothers me most, the undiluted Cyan of the old ver brings to mind a tropical paradise that Ice Man used his immense power to flash freeze over, whereas here the Palm Trees are under a dreary winter sky so it doesn’t have the dope juxtaposition. Cut Man’s “Abadoned Warehouse” theme is pretty solid, though it’s a bit shadowy for my own spin on his working environment lol

No Select Pause :(

No teleporting with ladders either :(

The Magnet Beam doesn’t work as well as it did in the NES ver, and the visuals make it look like Cat Poo (but blue and glowing)

Cut Man has been massively buffed in this game, and I always pick him first (Cause he’s My Favourite 🧡) but his was a very tricky fight cause, while he still fliches upon being hit, he no longer takes increased damage from the Rockbuster, while being very nimble and having a boomeranging projectile.

This is a good point to say that yeah, I used Rewinds lmao. They got me through many tight moments and vastly improved Gaming Experience in things like Mario 2 [Lost Levels], getting 100% on Yoshi’s Island, and doing this run deathless B3

I had minimal rewinding on the Yellow Devil fight, though. Dodging his blobs felt a lot easier to memorise and the hitbox was a little more generous (note: When I play NES ports I always use the Select Trick lol)

I beat Copy Robot very slowly, with 1 or 2 Rockbuster shots, then switching to Super Arm for a breather as Copy went into a good position. I forget if there’s a better way to cheese it, I know he only acts in like 3 positions unless you go in all guns blazing though.

The uhh.... Bubble Boss thing was done by me nearly dying while using the Rolling Cutter and then using all the Guts Blocks in what I hoped were the last 4 Bubbles. It may’ve been last 5 Bubbles, but I managed to get very lucky in hitting 1 and another coming out of the gate at the same time B3

Then the last level which I love for the Aesthetics, though I found the hardest part was the brief section with the Yasachi (that’s the word, right?) cause the lift didn’t load in until I Magnet Beamed, then I kept slipping at the jump part lol

I’ll be playing the MM2 and 3 sections of Wily Wars soon, though hOof, both them games have mega stupid BS sections. I’m still a Big MM1 Lover, you know! But I do wanna try the Wily Tower out, so sacrifices must be made -w-;

[starlightxsvt]

Pink Dress || Joshua Hong au

Pairing: bad boy!Joshua x female reader

Genre: Fluff, slice of life, lil angst, suggestive, spice

Warnings: cursing, bad boy joshua coming for y'all

"What were you thinking when you wore this dress?" Joshua's dark eyes pierce into yours and you feel a little weak in the knees. As you fiddle with the hem of your dress, you squeak out a reply, "The weather was hot, you know."

It really was hot. The day started with you deciding to stay in the shelter of your home to avoid the blazing sun outside and finish your papers for the final. However, your plans changed with a call from Joshua.

He wanted to hang out with you in the library as he had a couple of books to pick up from there. You, being completely wrapped around Joshua's finger said yes without a second delay and promised the boy you'd meet him by 1 o'clock.

You rushed to pick an outfit, wanting to look pretty in front of Joshua. The male was the 'bad boy' of your campus; or so the rumors floating around suggested. It was your first year and like any other person with eyesight, you developed a crush on him. Which you kept to yourself until Joshua took a weird interest in you. He'd visit you during lunch, help you with your biology project, drop you home in his bike and even saved you from bullies a couple times.

It all made your heart swoon and turn your brain into mush. Soon enough, he's dragging you into corners and stealing kisses and touches with dirty, lustful words that fogs up your brain. That's when you fully realized, you were done for.

You have offered him your heart on a plate and now it was his to break. You try to subside the growing feelings for him in your heart but they only threaten to spill out. Hence, you thought it was necessary to look pretty in front of him.

You look lovely in pink, he'd said once when you wore pink to class. Remembering that and the awful weather outside, you go with a pink sundress with spaghetti straps and a low back,the hem reaching your mid thigh. It was a recent purchase and you were more than happy to see it's perfect fit.

You realized as you were halfway towards the library that the universe was not on your side. Out if nowhere, the sky is casted with thick clouds like they show in the horror movies and it starts raining cats and dogs. The campus library was about 10 minutes walk from your house but you make it in about 5, cursing yourself for not checking the weather forecast.

You see Joshua standing in front of the library building and rush over to him, drenched.

He quickly pulls you inside and his eyes darken as he scans you. That's how you end up with a fuming Joshua who looked very displeased with your choice of outfit.

"I can fucking see your bra, Y/n."

Your eyes widen as you quickly cover your chest with your backpack. Joshua sighs, frustrated. "Do you really think this outfit is appropriate for the library? Or were you trying to get me worked up? If so, then great, it worked."

"What? No!" You protest, a blush covering your cheeks.

Joshua takes off his leather jacket and puts it on you, ushering you into the library. After you take a seat, he hands you his handkerchief, motioning you to wipe your hair. As you do so, he disappears into the quietness of the library and returns a while later with a couple books in his hands.

"Are you here for these?" You ask.He nods, taking a seat beside you. You rub you hands together, feeling chilly.

"Cold?" He asks softly.

"A little."

"I'll drop you home once it stops raining. I shouldn't have called you out."

"No!" You reply, scared he regrets calling you. "I wanted to hang out with you too. I should've checked the weather."

"Forget it." He whispers, his eyes raking over you once again, making you squirm. "You look... sexy."

A blush blooms on your cheek, "Thank you. I-I wore it for y-you."

His pupils dilate slightly as a smirk kisses his lips, "Oh sweetheart, what am I gonna do with you?"

Make me your girlfriend, maybe.

He tucks a strand of loose hair behind your ear before leaning in to press his lips against yours. You kiss him with the same eagerness until you remember you are in public. You slightly push him away, not meeting his eyes as you chew your bottom lip.

His hand rests on your thigh as his fingers draw soft patters on your skin. He takes in your features, a feeling of adoration and desire settling in his heart.

"If I asked you to come to my house now, would you agree?"

You swallow, meeting his eyes. He never asked you to his home before. "Y-yes."

"Shit, when will this fucking rain stop." He rakes his hand through his soft locks impatiently.

You bite your lip, "You know, I'm already soaked. Why don't w-we, uhm, leave already?"

Joshua meets your eyes, a bit surprised. You yourself can't believe the words came out of you as you look down into you lap, embarrassed by your eagerness.

"Are you sure?" He says already standing up. His face engulfed in a crooked smile and his eyes intense and darker than the clouds outside, his mind wandering to the filthy things he wants to do with you.

"Y-yes," You reached for his outstretched hand. You knew you were only making way for your heart to get broken but the boy in front of you is worth the heartbreak.

A/N: I can't believe I've wrote this in one sitting. Anyway, I've always had a thing for bad boy Joshua in a bike and so I had to write this. As always, feedbacks are greatly appreciated! 💖

[nicka-nell]

New prompt! New prompt! N e w p r o m p t! ✪ ω ✪ So I hope I understand rules right, but if not - I'm so sorry. May I request Sawamura Daichi + childhood friends + fluff + 23 + 36 and Aizawa Shota + kiss at midnight + fluff + 1 + 31?

Midnight Kiss (Aizawa x reader)

Childhood friends to lovers (Sawamura x reader)

Oh hiii! ♥ I hope you are fine :)) Ahhh and thank you for the request. You understand the rules right yes :)) So let’s go!

Valentine’s Day - Prompt Event | Masterlist (coming soon)

Pairing: Aizawa x reader (kiss at midnight) Warning: just fluff  Prompts: 1.  “I missed being with you like this.“ 31. “Can I play with your hair?”

Again, you sit here, looking out into the dark sky, into the night full of stars, hoping Aizawa will be fine. Last time you heard from him was four days ago. A good night’s text, a message that he thinks of you and you should try to sleep. Nothing more. 

He is together with other top heroes in a battle against the villains. They work undercover and actually you shouldn’t know about it, but Aizawa could not just leave you in the dark. 

You haven’t seen him for ten days. For ten days you didn’t feel his warmth and sat alone outside on your terrace. Still sitting alone drinking your now-lukewarm tea. Even today he doesn’t come anymore. Admit to yourself, as you look into your empty teacup and change the cold of the night, by the warmth of your apartment to lie down in your shared bed. Without him. 

Another four days pass, in which you sit every evening on your terrace. Drinking tea and going to bed. Over two weeks have passed, the fifteenth night is coming.

Again, you sit in your sleeping clothes on the terrace, the long sleeves of your cardigan lie over your hands, while your tea cup is already empty and is now illuminated by the bright moon. He’s not here again. You sigh, hide your tears and close your eyes. You want to stay in the chilly night air for a minute. Sense the cold air on your skin for another minute. But it suddenly gets warm around your shoulders.

Aizawa is strongly convinced that you are already asleep. After all, it’s midnight. Therefore, he sneaks carefully into your apartment, only to acknowledge that the living room light is on and the bedroom door is still wide open.

Skeptically, he looks into it, finds there only an empty made bed, as he goes into the living room to see if you are not perhaps asleep on the couch. But you’re not there either. Instead, a slight breeze blows a strand of hair out of his face, causing him to look in the door's direction. He can look out into the free where he sees the person who gives him so much comfort.

Quietly you look at the sky, smiling a little while resting on the floor on a seat cushion, next to you an empty cup of tea. He doesn’t notice, but his corners of his mouth have slightly pulled up as he looks at your silhouette.

Again he goes back to the bedroom, fetches your thick blanket and steps together with it outside on the terrace. 

Quietly he sneaks up on you, lays the blanket over his and your body, before he silently pulls you from behind in his embrace. You say nothing either. Let his arms hold you to his body while he gives you a loving kiss on the crown.

Aizawa is not a man of big words. He’s not a person who reveals his emotions, but he would lie if he said he didn’t miss you. Although he never had a photo of you with him, because the fear was too big that the villains could do something to you, should they catch Aizawa. Still, he always had your picture before his eyes.

Your beautiful smile when you greet him with coffee in the morning. Your pouting when Aizawa had once again forgotten to eat the food you lovingly prepared for him. Your embarrassed gaze when you pulled on the zipper of his yellow sleeping bag to ask him to let you in and cuddle. He had really missed all that.

And now he is with you, has you in his arms, can feel your warmth on his skin, perceive your scent, watch you, while you can listen to the crickets chirping in peace. His arms pull you closer to him. Almost steal you the air out to breathe.

“I missed being with you like this.” His voice is serious, yet calm and full of love, as his thumbs caress your arms and he buries his head like a cat purring in the crook of your neck. Tired, Aizawa closes his eyes, enjoys the moment as your hand strolls towards his head and begins to scratch it.

You breathe with joy, smiling at the almost sleeping man on your shoulder as his lips separate and he lures up to you under his long eyelashes. “Can you turn to me, Y/n?” Although you are surprised that he is suddenly so touchy, you are also happy about his affection. After all, you missed him.

So you turn around, get closer to him to sit on his lap. But your smile fades. You gently pat him over his face, the beard stubble that has now almost become a real beard, over the large plaster that adorns his temple and think that he could probably have more injuries.

But your hand does not remain on his skin for long, as Aizawa’s hand wraps around your own and pulls it away from him, only to kiss your ankles afterwards. “Hey, kitten, it’s all right. Don’t look so sad.” 

Brooding, you try to believe him, try to smile as you look into his raven-black eyes. “Only on one condition.” You smile, but Aizawa doesn’t answer. He’s just looking at you, asking you with his gaze to continue.

“Can I play with your hair?” Of course you wanted that. Aizawa could have figured that out himself. You love burying your fingers in his hair, stroking them, playing with them. It always calmed you down, and he has to admit that it calms him down oddly too.

A slim smile spreads out on his lips, followed by a wordless nod which makes your face sparkle. The most beautiful sight for him.

Still on his lap, you braid his hair, humming happily and calming down in no time. You are sure that it will also calm Aizawa down, because his hands are no longer firmly around your body, meanwhile patting your back gently, while he has his eyes closed and tilts his head backwards.

For a while you linger like this until he bends his head slightly forward and looks at you with tired eyes. You notice how his grip gets a little tighter again, but not more tightly due to stress or tension, no more so, whether he is nervous, afraid of what he’s about to say.

“Y/n… You could really do this for hours… You know? I kind of like the way your little fingers glide through my hair.” Briefly he pauses, almost as if he is not sure to pronounce his next words. “If we ever have a daughter, you can both do it as long as you want.” His voice is confident, yet loving, while his gaze lies earnestly in yours.

You’re surprised by his words. He had never talked about own children. Always about his school class. However, it makes you happy, happy that he had thought about such a step. Happy that he apparently wants to make that step with you.

“Sounds good Shouta my love.” You smile happily and want to get up to go back to the warm with him. Since even if you’re clothed in the blanket, it’s cold outside. But his hands stop you, pull you up to him, so that your face is only a few inches away from his.

Embarrassed, he pokes your nose with his, gives you a nose kiss that makes you smile before he seals your quiet giggle with a proper kiss. Full of love, his warm lips press on yours, his beard tickles you a bit, but that doesn’t bother you right now.

For a moment, he loosens from your mouth, looks deep into your eyes, forehead pressed against forehead. “I love you Y/n. Let’s stay like this a little longer.” He whispers softly before closing his eyes to steal another kiss from your lips.

Pairing: Sawamura x reader (childhood friends) Warning: just fluff Prompts: 23. “I’ve been in-love with you since we were kids.” 36. “I like the way your hand fits in mine.”

Like every year, Valentine’s Day is the day you hate the most. These couples in love running through the city, taking photos of themselves and buying themselves completely overpriced gifts they don’t really need. Only love movies run on the TV and there is nothing else but the topic of love.

“Same shit repeatedly!” You curse while sitting on the sofa. You are still wearing your sweatpants, a wide shirt and plush socks while you cuddle up in your blanket and watch the third love film with a large cup of ice cream.

You’re annoyed that the same thing happens in every movie. The two young people know each other from an early age. Fall in love with other people to find out in the end that they only loved one person. And that’s the childhood friend. In the end, they are always a couple and live happily together.

You don’t know why, but you must think directly of Sawamura. About the fact that you two have known each other since the sandbox. Sawamura has always been an incredible man. No wonder some girls are after him. But you and him?

You’ve always been superb friends. The idea of kissing your best friend… Just as you want to think further, your vibrating cell phone gets you out of your mind. Surprised, you look at your display on which the name of Sawamura lights up.

Man of justice: There, there! What’s up with my little couch potato? Are you watching those stupid movies again? What do you say we go out and don’t think about that Valentine’s Day stuff? I’ll be there in 20 minutes?

Even though you were cold through the ice cream, you feel like your entire body is blazing like fire. You’re happy about Sawamura’s message. About him wanting to do something with you. Strangely enough, more than usual.

In a flash, you get up, barely answer him that you are waiting for him and go to your closet to find something to wear. You don’t realize that you grabbed the outfit that Sawamura likes best on you. Where each time he had laid his hand in the neck embarrassed and told you how the color and cut flatters you.

Also, you have your hair as well as he likes it most. All that subconsciously, but now that you’re standing in front of the mirror, you realize it. You want to look good for Sawamura. Your body wasn’t warm because you were under the blanket, no it was warm because you were happy about Sawamura’s message. Are you in love with him...?

No, it’s all just because of Valentine’s Day. Shaking your head, you look at your phone one last time to check the time when you hear the doorbell ringing and run like a happy toddler to the door.

Even though he knows you’re about to open the door, it feels like forever. But when he sees you standing in front of him, he forgets to breathe for a moment. You look incredible. Breathtaking, enchanting, like a real, beautiful woman.

“Daichi? Everything okay with you?” Brings him your voice back to the present, while you wave your hand at him, as if you want to see him react. 

He is sure that his cheeks are red; he is sure that his voice will sound equally strange when he opens his mouth to answer you. “Sure! Anyway, let’s go, huh?” He answers you in an odd bright tone.

But you think nothing of it. Pat him on the shoulder and walk past him. In a funny way you bend forward, stretch one arm in the road's direction and bend the other to signal Sawamura to follow you. 

“Please… After you, my dear sir.” You say in a voice that should imitate a butler, as Sawamura laughs and pulls you along by your hand.

Together you walk through the park. As everywhere else, they set many stalls up for Valentine’s Day. Many couples walk hand in hand through the area. Everyone has roses, teddy bears, chocolate or any other cheesy stuff in their hands, which only makes your eyes roll. But Sawamura only laughs.

“Come on, leave the poor lovebirds alone. They’re all madly in love.” He smiles, which causes your pulse to speed up. If it’s his smile? Or his hand that suddenly touches your back gently? You don’t know, but for some inexplicable reason, you feel strange around him today.

The brown-haired one notices that you do not answer him, just looks at him lost in thought and is not sure if he has not said something wrong. Pondering, he puts his hand down his neck and looks carefully around the park. 

“Say Y/n… Are you maybe hungry? Should I get us two portions of the dumplings over there? They look good, don’t you think?” But you just shake your head. You’re still full of that cup of ice cream you ate at home, but it’s too embarrassing for you to tell Sawamura. So you tell him you’re not very hungry, but you’d like to share a portion with him.

Nodding, he makes his way to the stall, while you wait for him leaning against a wall. You’re watching him from a distance, how he, with his hands in the pocket of his coat, swaying back and forth on his legs, waiting for the line in which he is standing to get smaller.

“That such a pretty girl like you is all alone in this park is really a crime. Don’t you think?” Disgusted, you look aside, where that voice came from, when you look into the face of a young man who has already fixed you as his prey.

“I’m not alone.” You answer only annoyed and go a step further away from him, but that does not interest him, because he has already filled the gap with his body. “Hm, can’t see a person next to you.” Again, this man grins, and again you want to take a step backwards as you feel a hand on your lower back gently hugging your body and pulling you away from the man.

“Are you all right, sweetheart?” Kisses Sawamura’s loving words, your ears and makes your cheeks glow. “Yeah… everything’s alright.” You answer irritated, but play along with him, because you want to get away from this man.

“Good. Then let’s go. If you’ll excuse us.” With these words, Sawamura gives the man a dark look, which you do not notice. You’re too caught up in this brief illusion that Sawamura’s words could be true. 

But even as you turn around, Sawamura looks back at the man who stares at you with tight eyes when your best friend reaches for your hand. It is warm and incredibly soft. Yet, ironically, it’s big and strong wrapped around your little one.

Unconsciously, you bite your lower lip, trying to hide a smile, because this tiny touch makes you so happy. But you don’t seem to be the only one who likes it. Then Sawamura’s gaze is already on your face, walking down to your hands linked.

“I like the way your hand fits in mine.” He smiles as he raises your hand with his, as if he wanted to show you what he meant by that. Puzzled, you just stare at him with your mouth open, not noticing that you are standing in front of a bench where you wanted to sit down to eat your food.

“Come on, sit down and eat before the food gets cold.” He has barely finished his sentence, since his warmth has already left your hand. Smiling, he pats on the empty seat, asking you to sit next to him.

You sit there together now, eating your differently filled dumplings, while you wonder what Sawamura meant by the fact that your hand fits so well into his. 

“I’m really sorry about that guy. But I didn’t want to make a big fuss, so I thought it best to just call you my girlfriend. I’m really sorry if that made you uncomfortable Y/n.” Apologizes Sawamura, who has already eaten half of his dumpling. 

But you’re just mumbling that it’s okay. That you didn’t mind, you even thanked him for pulling you away from that guy. Instead of answering you, he turns back to his bun with a smile which you do too.

It tastes really delicious, is filled with an insanely tasty cream and stimulates your hunger. Sawamura would certainly like this cream, too, you think, as your heart beats a few beats faster. Why do you speculate about him so much suddenly?

“Do you want to try? The stuffing is really delicious!” Now it bubbles out of you, and your cheeks pound with warmth. Even a little overwhelmed by your loud voice, he startles briefly before he smiles again and puts his hand around yours as he leads it to his mouth.

Embarrassed, you watch him clasp your hands and bite off a piece. He chews pleasurably when his hand leaves yours. Sawamura notices that you are still looking at him, sees that your gaze is suddenly different.

“Are you okay, Y/n?” But you don’t answer him. Brooding, he looks down at his dumpling, which is almost eaten when he stretches it out to you and asks you if you want a piece too.

Actually, you are already full, but Sawamura keeps the bun so close to your face that you can not help but take a bite. Although it is quite hearty, it tastes delicious. Sawamura also seems to recognize this by your satisfied face, and by the fact that a bit of the cream filling sticks to your cheek.

He chuckles as he uses his free hand to position it under your chin and uses his thumb to remove the food. Embarrassingly, you freeze by his touch, by the incredible closeness, since Sawamura is now only a few inches away from you.

“What’s wrong with you today, Y/n? You’re acting weird.” His deep voice embeds your body. “Nothing…” You stutter, turn away from him and quietly eat up your dough bag without even looking in Sawamura’s direction once more.

You sit there in silence, with your stomachs full, and look at the giggling, kissing couples. But you want to break this unpleasant calm. Want to ask him if you’d rather do something else than sit in a park, but a whole other question slipping your lips.

“What did you mean earlier? That my hands fit so well into yours?” Frightened by your question, you put your hands on your mouth, but Sawamura scratches his neck awkward when he turns to you and seeks eye contact.

“You know, I kind of had to think about the past. Because I always helped you up when you fell. And back then, I thought it was cute how well your little hand fitted into mine.” Almost a little disappointed, your fingers slide down from your lips to your lap. You don’t understand why your heart suddenly feels so weird. Why it hurts, even though nothing bad has happened.

Again you look forward as Sawamura’s hand sits on your lap. “Earth to Y/n!” He laughs, but you don’t. You just stare at him before you wander at the hand in your lap. Unconsciously, your fingertips are moving towards them. Turn his hand before they tickle his palm.

Instinctively you stroll to the one place where Sawamura always twitches with his little finger when you tickle him there and have to smile unintentionally. Back then, you thought it was lovable. That he was still doing it is really sweet.

“Say Y/n… Can I tell you something without you getting mad at me?” His calm voice gets you out of your mind. Afraid you’ll swallow a giant lump. You’re afraid he’ll tell you something that makes you sad, but you nod.

“Okay, I’ll just say it straight ahead… I like you. No, I mean, I like you more than a normal friend would do. I love you. I’ve been in-love with you since we were kids.”

He… loves you? Sawamura Daichi, your best friend, your childhood friend should love you? Your feelings are no longer in harmony. They are going crazy. They show you at the same time that you feel fear but also joy. Let your heart race.

“I… I don’t know what to say, Daichi… The thing is… I feel really weird around you today. My heart feels odd, my stomach tingles and… And I don’t know why, but somehow I was hoping… You saying that to me…” 

Your last words are so quiet that the brown-haired man hardly understands them.

“But I don’t know if I feel that way just because it’s Valentine’s Day? I don’t know, Daichi… I don’t understand myself right now.” He sees the fear in your eyes. The fear he had before he confessed his feelings to you. The fear he still has, the fear of being rejected. But you don’t reject him.

Because your hands press the hand that lies on your lap so firmly that Sawamura almost senses the feeling of numbness in it. He just smiles, hopes to take away the fear you and bends forward.

He removes the last inches that still separated your face to give you a loving kiss on the cheek. “It’s all right, Y/n.” Take your time, I can tell you all this again in two weeks, when you don’t think about Valentine’s Day anymore.” 

He whispers to you with his eyes closed before he gives you a poke with his nose and moves away from you again.

But you don’t need two weeks. Then, in the evening, you lie on the sofa in Sawamura’s arms, surrounded by silence, listening to him revel in old memories while he plays with your fingertips in a loving way.

[jossambird]

Saturday Morning

Axel x Female Reader on her Period

BLOOD WARNING! 18+ !! (Dedicated to my dear Salt Anon, who was absolutely disgusted at the recent talk on my blog, saying I shouldn't be ‘tainting’ the Swedes like this, BUT HERE WE ARE.)

Saturday mornings in Axel’s book were always the best.

He could finally enjoy true peace and quiet, knowing that you and his brothers were peacefully sleeping in late in each of your rooms, leaving only him and the cats to be awake.

Today, as he woke, the sound of the shower already running grabbed his attention. He instantly felt his mood sour, a bit miffed to not have his quiet morning alone.

Hadn’t he told Otto and Oscar that on Saturday mornings, he wanted to enjoy them alone, in silence? Of course, he would never hold it against them if they were sick, but the soft humming that could almost be missed if you didn’t pay attention didn’t seem to be coming from someone being sick.

Axel sighed, rough fingers pulling on a pair of joggings and a shirt, determined to go give either of his brothers a piece of his mind.

The moment he stood before the door, stopping for only but a moment to try and listen once more who it was behind it, he stared at the white painted wood, regretting waking up altogether.

It hadn’t been humming at all. Soft moans sounded out through the hard wood, your voice reaching his ears like a moth to a flame. The sounds were more sensual than he had ever imagined. Axel felt hot and desperate shame lick at his heart as his insides churned, heat pooling in his groin.

Too many times had he dreamed of you, sprawled out on his bed, clothes abandoned all over the house and soft hands seeking him out, begging to be fucked. Too many times had you touched him innocently, his skin remaining on fire for hours on end until he disappeared in his room, jerking himself off until he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

Too many mornings had he relieved himself before stepping out of his room, never able to meet your gaze those particular days. The eldest Swede felt like he was under a curse, hypnotized daily by your presence.

He couldn’t say with certainty how badly he had wished for you to truly know, simply to read his mind and tell him you wanted him just the same, but you never did. And he, cold and grumpy, yearned for you from afar, silent, watching as you cuddled and hugged his brothers freely.

But as Axel stood, listening to your moans of pleasure through the bathroom door, he froze, wondering what the right course of action was.

Leave and let you finish yourself off?

Pretend he hadn’t heard you, as if nothing happened?

Walk inside and show you what you were missing?

His body reacted before he could think any longer on the matter, hand reaching for the handle and twisting it open, allowing him to witness you in all of your amazing glory.

In all honesty, Axel was hardly surprised at this point as he groaned loudly by accident, watching you freeze and whip around inside the clear shower, panting, fingers deep inside your pussy, blood trickling down your legs, mixing with the shower water.

Neither of you moved except for the rapid breaths you took, eyes moving down his front-

“Either get in and help, or get out.” You panted in the running shower, eyes closing as your fingers resumed their careful ministrations and entering your core once more, a filthy moan exiting you as Axel watched from the doorway stupefied.

The thought crossed your mind suddenly to simply tell him to get out and that you would be done soon, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to say it, the vicious throb between your legs begging to be sated, begging for the handsome man to touch you.

The ache was terrible, a blazing heat coursing through your veins and body, needing to explode but not being able to. It was always like this when you had your period. Usually, you were able to hide your horniness from the Swedes during the day, but come nighttime, you practically fucked yourself to sleep each night, biting your unoccupied hand to hide your noises from them.

But last night? Nothing had worked, nothing had allowed you to feel the satisfying release you needed, your body growing even more tense and needy as you had imagined Axel waking in not too long.

And here you now stood, shower water running down your heated skin, fingers pounding into your aching core as the eldest of the Swedish Triplets watched you in... what is horror? Disgust? You didn’t want to know-

The bathroom door shut behind you, disappointment coursing through you momentarily until you heard Axel lock the door behind him.

“How long have you been in here?” Axel asked you as he ripped his shirt off, flinging it onto the counter with your own sleep top, eyes never leaving you. You groaned in response, pushing your cheek into the cold tiles once more to hide your blush.

“Too long.. ugh please Axel, help me.” You begged, the words waking a dominant lust inside him as he wondered if you were simply settling for his help. Would you have offered Oscar this opportunity to satisfy your body and needs if it had been him to find you like this? Would you have offered it to Otto, his gentle brother who always smiled when around you?

A slight twinge of jealousy coursed through him at the thought, throwing his joggings to the ground.

As soon as the glass door opened and closed, Axel's rough hands grabbed your hips tightly and turned you around, blue-gray eyes pinning you to the spot as he knelt infront of you on both knees, holding your gaze.

“Tell me, would you have offered my brothers the same thing, had it been either of them to find you?” Axel huskily asked, hands trailing down your wet legs, eyes flickering away for only a second to look at your immobile bloody fingers. He pulled them away from your body and kissed your knuckles, making your thundering heart flutter.

He watched with rapt attention as you gasped, shaking your head No as you continued to watch him pull one of your legs up and over his shoulder, knowing where this was going. The handsome bastard barely blinked when you tried to push away, his eyebrows knitting as he held your elevated knee roughly down onto his shoulder, not wanting you to escape.

“Second thoughts?” He asked, wondering if you were regretting asking him for help. He would respect your choice if you did, but god did he want you, cock hard between his muscled wide legs as he thought of the possibility of finally tasting you, your soaked core inches from his face.

Axel noticed your eyes crinkle before anything else, and for half a second, expected you to laugh at him. He couldn’t stop the intense pounding of his heart as your strangled laugh exited your mouth, smiling ear to ear.

There was no simple way to say it; he was head over heels for you, plain and simple.

“Fuck no, Ive been dreaming of you like this for months. But Axel, w-wait, you cant eat me out, I have my period-“

You didn’t finish, a filthy moan leaving your lips as soon as Axel’s tongue met your heated and aching core, heightened sensitivity making you reach out and cling to his face.

One hand stayed firm onto your elevated leg, caressing your skin while his other wrapped around his cock and moved, trying to match the movement of your hips against his mouth, all the while listening to your angelic voice call out his name.

“Axel oh my god, fuuuck, I'm so close!” Moans escaped you in waves, one after the other, words of praise and adoration leaving your lips, making him groan against you as he continued to lick your clit, adoring the taste of you on his tongue. As he continued, he just wondered how long you had been in here, touching yourself, trying to bring yourself over the edge. He could feel your body tense against him, practically almost there already.

“Most handsome man Ive ever s-seen eating me out- O-ohh fuck, Axel-“ you gasped, hands rising from his shoulders to seek out his wet hair, bright white light erupting behind your eyelids as Axel brought you over the edge, tongue against your clit.

He didn’t last much longer, cumming against the wet floor tiles, listening as you keened and whined against his open mouth as he continued, prolonging your orgasm as much as he could.

You panted, thankful for his hold on you as you nearly slipped, legs turning to jelly.

The sight of him was absolutely indecent; Axel smirked proudly up at you, water and blood dripping down his chin as he stood, leaning his face into the water to rinse out his mouth and face.

The sound of the water hitting both of your bodies disappeared as your heart thudded loudly into your ears.

Axel turned back to you, pulling you against him and pressed his face into your shoulder. He breathed in, smiling a bit wider as he felt your rapid heartbeat match his own.

“Better, or do you need another round?” He whispered over the hot shower, kissing your skin repeatedly in veneration as he listened to your laughter.

“Got a thing for period play Axel? How absolutely naughty.” You teased, laughing as you pulled away to look at him, breath catching as you caught sight of his gaze.

“For you älskling? Id fucking do anything you asked me to.” He groaned out, dropping to his knees once more, smirking dangerously. The sight of the serious assassin you had fallen for kneeling once more between your legs, looking up at you in reverence instantly made you need him all over again.

“Then I absolutely need you to fuck me later today, and tonight.” You moaned out, causing Axel to laugh wholeheartedly against your core.

[sagebaileyspeaks]

In the Heights: Movie Review

I have not written a new review since the pandemic began but with the premiere of In the Heights

My score: 7.5/10

Before I even get started with this review I want to state the obvious: In the Heights is not Hamilton and Hamilton is not In the Heights. The later is a celebration of a culture and people and the former is actually trying to tell a cohesive story. If you were to ask me which is the better musical, my answer is obviously going to be Hamilton. As his first musical, In the Heights captured the blazing potential of all the things Lin Manuel Miranda could do, however the plot is thin and not every song serves the story as well as they do in Hamilton. 

That said--if you were to ask me which one I enjoy more, which one gets the biggest emotional response from me--the answer is In the Heights. Nothing in Hamilton gives me a sense of pride and community like "Carnaval Del Barro" or an understanding of being poor and trying to make it like, "96,000." "Satisfied," "My Shot" "Yorktown," are all technical masterpieces but don't quite hit that same emotional beat, and the only two songs that come close are "Wait for It" and "Dear Theodosia."

Now, with context out of the way, I want to talk about everything I loved about this movie before I delve into some of the cons. 

First, Anthony Ramos. I think he made a terrific Usnavi. Second, the production design. Every single number burst with life and even the poor streets look like a charming place to be. Third, the direction. I believe John Chu also did Crazy Rich Asians and it shows. While I know Lindsay Ellis is something of a controversial person right now, in her review of 2019's Cats she was absolutely right. The movie musical that's grounded in realism needs to crash and burn and from the ashes we need to rebuild with something better. This movie with all it's bright, popping hopefulness gave me such Moulin Rogue vibes I almost cried. 

So what is it that I didn't like?

Everything that disappointed me about this movie can be summed up in "The Club/Blackout." I kept trying to figure out what was bugging me up until this point and it was when "Blackout" starts that I finally figured it out--they essentially sanitized any of the harshness that was present in the musical. 

See in the musical, leading up to the club Nina and her father get in an argument where she tells him why she left Stanford and he throws Benny out of their home telling him that he will never be apart of their family because he's Black. He doesn't actually use the word, but he tells him he isn't apart of their culture and never will be which causes Nina to storm out of her house after Benny. They end up meeting in the club and then Benny and Nina get into an argument because he's furious over losing his job and being harshly judged by her father. Usnavi on the other hand is on his date with Vanessa, and she is upset that he doesn't mind her dancing with other men and he also becomes jealous. At this point, another man starts hitting on Nina, Benny punches him and fight breaks out and then BOOM power goes out. End result is that Usnavi leaves the club to make sure Abuela's alright, Sony and Graffiti Pete go to protect the bodega from looters, and Nina and Benny reconcile with Nina spending the night at Benny's and act two opening with them in post-coital bliss standing on a fire-escape.

In the movie...not so much. First off they killed off Nina's mom which I don't understand in the slightest. My only assumption is that they had to do this because making her dad an asshole with no one to play off of would've made him unlikeable--but in doing so, they made her dad a stern but ultimately loving father who actually likes Benny and doesn't mind him dating Nina and only wants what's best for his daughter when in the musical, he seems a bit controlling and stubborn. Secondly, instead of Usnavi leaving the club and going to check on Abeula on his own (where she then tells him about winning the lottery), HE gets into an argument with Vanessa about her dancing with men and then she leaves. "Blackout" doesn't end with Nina and Benny kissing or her going back to his apartment, instead he goes to the dispatch where Nina's father finds him and they work to navigate the neighborhood. 

Now, if I wasn't so familiar with the musical, I probably wouldn't care. But there was something genuine about how Nina and Benny wanted to be together, how Usnavi and Vanessa just weren't great at communicating their feelings, and the reality that they DO live in the ghetto that was missing from this adaptation. In certain ways, it feels too accepting and too sweet to where there isn't really a point of conflict, even with the looming theme of gentrification. 

And I suppose the last thing that kept this from being a 10 out of 10 movie for me is that the actresses for Vanessa and Nina just weren't that great. Their voices didn't really seem to fit the music and they were just there to be pretty. This affects Vanessa far more than Nina because in the musical, while she certainly has an edge there are several moments where she shows a softness towards Usnavi (particularly in "It Won't Be Long Now") but she was so standoffish in the movie, it was almost as though the character didn't like where she lived, the neighborhood she grew up in or the people she was around which isn't the vibe that I got from her in the original. As a result, I don't buy this Usnavi and Vanessa. They don't seem compatible. 

As far as Nina, in the movie they make the reason for her leaving Stanford that there was racism and she didn't feel like she could handle it. That is actually a 100% valid reason to want to leave college (it's why I transferred my third year) but she doesn't really do anything but softly object to her father. She seems like a pushover, whereas in the musical, she seemed more ashamed of the fact that she couldn't afford college, didn't want to put that burden on her parents and was willing to fight for her relationship with Benny by being openly defiant. 

By this point in my review, if you're still reading, you might be asking yourself if I even liked this movie at all if I'm so vocal about what I didn't like--and the answer is, yes I did. It's hard to describe to someone who's not a person of color, but there's a certain joy you feel for another community when they're able to have something of their own to celebrate. We had it with Black Panther, the Asian American community had Crazy Rich Asians and now the Latino/Chicano/Mexican community has this and it feels good to see such a proud display and celebration of who they are. "Carnaval Del Barrio" will always have my heart for this exact reason and despite the changes to the source material, In the Heights is one of the most sincere and heartfelt movies that I've seen in a very long time; it is beautiful to look at and if you want a movie that feels like summer and will lift your spirit, I 100% recommend you go out and give it a watch.