#secret litter 5 weeks

[anadiasmount]

imagine you're a celeb, and jude slides into your dms but you're having none of it because duh he's a football player and you know better than to get yourself involved with guys like that, but then you meet at an event and he's flirting but he's kind of intimidated by and you find it amusing but you still don't bug and he's litterally trying for months, months to get you to go on a date with him, and when you finally agree he's realised he's completely in love with you and you kinda are too but you're still guarding your heart because you don't want to lose him but you guys make it work and you become the it couple, private but not secret.

hii! you should also totally check out the fic @20-th-centurygirl posted, that’s called “work for it” as it’s similar to this anon post! please check it out it’s so so good 😣😋🤍

ik jude has mentioned he’s shy when meeting new people or just is in general, so this is making me think of shy! jude when meeting you.

he’d come across you after overhearing a couple of his england teammates talk about you, how you were this shiny new star that has taken over the internet rapidly. that same day he’d look over your profile completely falling for you. the posts you’d dedicated to friends, to charity, and selfies. he wouldn’t hesitate and quickly follow you. liking a few recent pictures and an old one where he liked by accident as he scrolled through your page.

a couple days later he continues to think about you, whether it was at breakfast with his teammates, during training, recovery, hell even if he was trying to fall asleep! your smile and bright eyes would consume his dreams and the reasons for his zoneouts, “yo jude, you good?”

he’d replied with a nod and quickly takes his phone out to send you a dm. he feels slightly embarrassed and shocked to when you don’t respond or bother following back, making him overthink if he should delete the reply. but instead he would find himself at the club with his mates, reacting to your recent story many weeks later.

you scoffed and laughed showing your friends who was hitting you up. it wasn’t that you weren’t interested, you were, but you knew you couldn’t trust him let alone yourself if you would be around him. you have commitment and trust issues after your very public break up, not being able to make friends easily as you did before.

5 weeks would pass by and you would continue to get notifications from jude, biting your cheek anxiously debating whether you should follow back or not. after a recent dm he’d sent you, you’d made the decision to follow him back and just react to his latest message. jude felt like you were ignoring him, which kinda pained him.

jude felt like you were playing hard to get and this would mess with his head after seeing you at a social event in madrid. he couldn’t take his eyes off you, drinking the last bit of his whiskey before having the courage to go over and introduce himself to you.

he would notice the small tint of pink on your cheeks as you had to look up at him, he felt immediate butterflies in his stomach, a tinge of nervousness now invading his system. “hello, i’d like to introduce myself, i’m jude. jude bellingham,” you would accept his handshake.

jude blinked rapidly, eyes roaming up and down your beautiful figure, becoming intimidated by your beauty and the way you made yourself feel and look confident. “i’m y/n, nice to meet you,” you’d smirk at the small shaky breath he released.

watching him stumble over his words trying to form a sentence. he’d be unable to look you in the eye for more than a couple seconds or he would be a mess.

while you know you shouldn’t get involved with a footballer, it felt right with him. jude would constantly check in with you, to see how you were, what you were up to, discussing his and your plans, wanting and offering to hangout bit you would turn him down at every opportunity.

while he slowly lost hope, he wouldn’t give up until you agreed because he had fallen madly inlove with you, even though you were stubborn to him. months and months later, on a special occasion where you would be in madrid again, you find yourself wanting to see jude after so long, texting him if he was still up for the date he suggested.

his palms grew sweaty and with wide eyes, he agreed without hesitation. he needed to see you, hold you, talk to you, just be close and never let go. even though he could tell you were afraid that night told him that the way he felt for you, was the same towards him.

“can i say something?” you’d ask him, watching as he shifted his full attention towards you. “i’m still kinda new to this whole thing… my last relationship was super public and honestly i don’t want that right now,” jude felt his heart sunk, his stomach wanting to throw up the food he’d just ate.

“if you’re still interested, i would love for us to continue having nights like this. i’m sorry for constantly shutting you out, i just have major trust issues and i don’t want to go through what i did again… i’ve healed…” you offer a small shy smile, jude’s eyes searching for hesitation or something that would hold him back.

“of course i am. and i respect you for telling what you did just now, it takes courage and a lot of healing, but you giving me a chance is making me the happiest man in the world y/n… i like you so much, i will protect you from anyone, okay?” jude grabbed your small hands and kissed them softly, but then quickly attached to his face where you kissed him.

the two of you would become the most talked about pair and couple after making it official, often invited to do interviews and shows together. he would soft launch you for months, driving even his teammates insane, but he was madly inlove you with, you were his adoration from here on out. “i love you jude…”

“i love you, princess.”

[yearningandstillnotlearning]

A r t .

- B.E.

Blurb :p | no use of any names for the characters, just “she” and “you”

a/n: first fanfic posted ever im so nervous | this was my yearning from some months ago i decided to make it into something more | please comment on your opinion on this im nervy

Not fluffy nor sexual but a secret third thing (sensual)

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Have you got colour in your cheeks?

Leftover snack packets and crumbs of cookies and sugar littering the couch of the living room, clock read 12:38AM, its past midnight, yet for two girls with a sleep schedule as theirs, the night is still young, too young.

Family and friends long gone, others went home others went on dates, and another stayed behind to cherish this very moment.

Are there some aces up your sleeve?

Have you no idea that you’re in deep?

Laughs had hit the walls hours ago when they were once gathered up to 7, and even now at 2 laughs are still bouncing back and forth. Sneaky giggles and stupid jokes, unexplainable videos that just seem so funny when its late and for once youre not alone.

Energy drinks on the floor next to the bed and an annoyingly bright light hitting at the side to make up for the lack of sun, yet thats the last thing to bother you right now. Theres nothing that could actually bother you right now, not when you finally have her in front of you.

Ive dreamt about you nearly every night this week

Sketchbook in your lap, pencil in your hand and coloured pencils scattered along your side on the bed, criss crossed bodies mirroring each other face to face.

Even if your face wasn’t able to stay in one place. Even if your face couldn’t handle the urge to heat and melt your makeup off in the process, even if you couldn’t handle looking at her, as much as you couldn’t handle her looking at you.

How many secrets can you keep?

Your heart thumping in your chest the same way it does when you’re at a club next to the speaker, body shook with the beat of the speakers and the bass, and you couldn’t tell if its from the amount of energy drinks you’ve consumed this evening or her presence.

But this is better, oh this is way better, theres no eardrum-breaking noise, or people squished up together, stomach-stirring drinks, uncomfortable heels. None of that.

This is simply adrenaline in itself, it was the excitement pumping in your veins.

Cause theres this tune i found that makes me think of you somehow and i play it on repeat..

Emotions thumping at your heart and in your veins causing your blood to rush to your face, cheeks burning red, but the colour showed at your ears, palms so sweaty you hold your sketchbook carefully to not wet and bend the paper. Neck and collarbone stained with red rash spots, just how into her are you?

Shes not stupid now, you tell that to yourself to sleep better at night. She has noticed everything, a simple blood rush is nothing. The way you look at her when everyone is talking laughing and you’re quiet? When your choice of “recharging” your social battery is looking at and through her? When you’re alone and suddenly your voice drops to just above a whisper, sweeter than any sugarcoated candy? When you doodle her and her only out of so many people, there are 5 other people with you two, yet who do you draw the most? You spend all your effort and time on her, enjoyably so.

Until i fall asleep,

A hand picking up your own has a wave of goosebumps sent across your body, a wave of heat while doing so. An amused laugh breaks your gaze, from the mixed hands, up to her own stare.

Shes staring at you, and you’re wishing she would stare nowhere near you. The fear in your brain banging like a migraine, wordlessly telling you she sees it all, and the very same fear in your body, giving her all the confirmation she needs. Her eyes softening as her one-sided laughter dies down, and you’ve yet to actually see her. So far you have been too caught up in your own thoughts to see in front of you until now.

A hand holding your burning one to her also heated cheek, and a twinkle in her eye right between that blown out pupil and icy blue cloud that dances like the stars do on the dark night sky right outside the window.

“I knew you felt it too, Im not crazy to like you”

spillin’ drinks on my settee.

[disassociation-daydreams]

Secret Admirer - Dave York x F!Reader

A/N: Not only is this my first time ever writing fanfiction, but also the first time I've written anything in general, not counting essays in college? But I've had this idea rolling around my head the past few days and felt the need to get it written down. Shoutout to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for being so supportive and an amazing human being overall! I definitely would not have typed this out or posted it if it wasn't for you <3

Sorry if this hurts you the way it hurt me! Idk why my brain did this.

Summary: Dave is meant to be watching a target, but instead he ends up paying more attention to you.

Pairing: Dave York x F!Reader

Rating: 18+ (mdni)

Word Count: 3,010

Tags and Warnings: allusion to murder, allusion to violence, possessiveness, stalking, obsession, age gap, pervy Dave, pining Dave, allusion to drug addiction at end, mention of alcohol, slight voyeurism, mention of hospital stay, mention of suicide (only to cover up for Dave being a murderer), angst (I think that's it? My first time ever doing warnings)

He was meant to be watching a new target; noting the time of day he’d get home (Wednesdays and Thursdays a few hours later than the other days of the week), his habits (smoking a joint and passing out on his couch before he even made it to his bed), and anything else the piece of shit did that was noteworthy. And to be fair, he was watching him… but he was also watching her.

Her, whose windows he could see right into as he watched from the dark apartment in the building adjacent to theirs. Her, who just happened to have the apartment in direct view of his vantage point. Her, who was one door down from his target. He was trying to be discreet when he chose an apartment diagonal from his current prey; he hadn’t meant for it to turn into a distraction.

He hadn’t meant to watch her as well; he had never been the type to voyeur, to invade an innocent person’s privacy for his own enjoyment (that was saved only for the guilty). But her curtains were always wide open, both her living room and bedroom lit up from lamps until she turned them out, a tv until she was tired of watching in one room, shutting it off and then the other illuminating the space in the next, or even her phone as she stared down at it in her bed. 

He hadn’t meant to watch, but he also couldn’t stop. 

From evening to the early hours of the morning, his attention was hers. Her apartment was cozy, filled with soft blankets, books littering multiple surfaces, mugs of coffee (or maybe tea?) all over the place, and a cat tower in each room sometimes occupied with a small, white cat that she fawned over when she arrived home between 6:15 and 6:25 PM every weekday. She had a seemingly normal schedule for a 25 year old (he knew her age from research he had done for strictly professional reasons). He would be gone by the time she woke up each day, but based on her clothing that she stripped out of as soon as she got home each night and the information he could find online, she seemed to have the typical 9-5 schedule that accompanied a boring office job. 

Her schedule seemed monotonous on those days: come home, greet her cat, shower and change into a large t-shirt and panties (his second favorite part of her routine), make dinner for her and said cat, then collapse into bed. Sometimes she would scroll through her phone or pick up a book for a few hours with the tv on the opposite wall brightening up the space slightly, until she fell asleep around 10:00 PM (this was his favorite part of her routine). For hours after that, when she (and the target) were both sound asleep, he could watch her without feeling so guilty for doing so. He could watch the way her body tossed and turned a few times for the first couple hours until she settled into her REM sleep. He could watch the slow and steady rise of her breasts, the peaceful look on her face with her full lips slightly parted, the way her arms never seemed to get comfortable while she slept, sometimes clutching a pillow to her chest or sometimes rising above her head as if her wrists were pinned in place (fuck, he wants to do that to her, encase her small wrists in one of his palms and hold her arms still while the rest of her body writhed and squirmed underneath him). He wishes he could watch her when she wakes up, see the way her soft and pliant body stretches, memorize her morning routine so he could imagine himself in more parts of her life. He can’t risk it though; can’t risk the morning light illuminating where he and his camera sit perched, can’t risk falling asleep in this spot as exhaustion from being up all night overcomes his body, can’t risk getting a glimpse into more parts of her life and falling more in love than he already has. 

So, he takes what he can get. He sits there and watches her (and him; yes, the target still exists) for a few weeks, her weekday routine monotonous, but her weekends not so much. She came home later on those days, usually a little past midnight, sometimes only a little earlier. She never brought anyone home with her, her makeup was always perfectly in-tact, and she never seemed the slightest bit tipsy, her footsteps steady but also lighter as if she had a song stuck in her head from earlier in the night that she was still dancing to. He had come to the conclusion that she was out with friends after the first two nights of this routine. Or at least he hoped for his sake and the other party’s. He had no right to feel possessive over her, to feel like he had a claim to her body and her heart, and he knew this rationally… but that didn’t stop him from wanting to break the wrist of any possible suitor that laid a hand on her waist, to punch any mouth that could have landed on her soft skin until the face beneath his fist would be unrecognizable. She wasn’t his, but that didn’t stop him.

Her routine was predictable for the most part, even on those weekend nights where the time she was coming home varied. It was predictable until it wasn’t. It was predictable until one Saturday night she didn’t make it home (big deal, she probably crashed at a friends, right?). It was predictable until she still wasn’t home Sunday night and he saw her cat pacing around in anxiety and probably hunger. It was predictable until he watched another girl her age enter the apartment Monday night, feed the cat and pet it, then pack some clothes and other items into a bag before leaving and locking up the apartment again. The routine became predictable again, but not with his girl. Instead, he watched this random girl stroll in at the same time for four days, feed the cat and spend time with it on her couch for an hour, and then leave, just to repeat the next day. 

It took less than two days of that routine for him to cave and figure out where she was; Boston Medical Center, been there since the Saturday she stopped coming home, discharge date undetermined and reason for her admittance not given. He could’ve dived deeper, threatened the life of her nurse or doctor for more information, hacked into the hospital’s medical records, and he was about to be at that point, until she returned home on Friday with the same random girl from the past four nights helping her inside. 

______________________________________________________________

Dave York was not a good man and never could be considered one. He stalked, tortured, murdered; some for money and others for pleasure. His dreams, not nightmares, were full of vengeance against the people he deemed guilty and felt he should bring justice to. In fact, he can’t remember the last time he had a nightmare, not sure there was anything left in this shithole of a world that could scare him… until this. He had lost count of the amount of people he had drained life from, but at this moment he had never wanted to kill anyone more even though had no idea who his victim was. He was sure that when he made it home in the morning that he would be fighting against sleep because every time he blinked, all he could see was this version of you behind his eyelids. You, his soft, angelic girl with the cute, white cat and the predictable routine. You, who was now limping through your house, a large black boot on your right foot, bruises scattered up your plush thighs, disappearing under your clothes until they reappeared around your neck in the shape of handprints. You, who usually had a soft smile gracing your lips, but whose face now winced in pain from the light your friend just turned on that beamed directly into your black-eye. 

Dave was sure he was looking into the camera still, but he couldn’t see you anymore. In fact, he couldn’t see anything at all, anything except the color red.

______________________________________________________________

You don’t remember when you first noticed it, the feeling that you were being watched. You don’t even know if you are, nothing ever confirming your suspicions, you just had this feeling. This feeling that there were almost always eyes burning holes into the side of your face, or the back of your neck depending on which way your body was turned. The feeling wasn’t always there, in fact you only felt it for a few hours a day, from the moment you came home until you fell asleep. By the morning, it was gone and you wouldn’t think anything of it, moving on with your usual routine. 

It should have scared you, should have creeped you out. You could’ve closed your curtains, could have told someone and tried to check it out, but you hadn’t. For one, you didn’t want people to think you were paranoid, and secondly, the gaze never seemed predatory. In fact, you often felt protected, endeared, even revered… which may sound crazier than the idea that someone was watching you if you ever told anyone that.

You had an idea of where the feeling was coming from, somewhere in the building next to yours, but you never searched the windows to figure out who, mostly because you weren’t entirely sure you’d want them to stop like they probably would if they were caught. So, you went on with your routine, always feeling their gaze at night and never paying it in any mind. You had almost completely forgotten about it at this point, after being away from home for so many nights in that god-forsaken hospital bed. It had been the furthest thing from your mind, the least of your concerns after what you had endured and the pain that was still wracking your body. But, you felt it again now, as you sat on the edge of your bed, trying not to cry anymore than you had been, not sure if the tears would even come anymore. You felt their gaze peering into the side of your head, watching you.

Had they noticed your absence? Did they wonder where you had gone, why someone else was in your apartment every night, why your body was now littered in bruises? Did they care? You didn’t even know if they existed, but that didn’t stop you. It didn’t stop you from walking over to the desk in your living room, pulling out a piece of paper and a sharpie, and scribbling onto it before limping over to the window to tape your message for whoever was watching to see, on the off chance that they did care, or even existed.

______________________________________________________________

“I’M OKAY”

That’s all that was written, in large, black letters, on a piece of white paper that he watched you tape to your window. He should have felt more worried than he was, about the fact that you knew he was there, even if you didn’t know who he was. He didn’t know how long you had felt him there or why you felt the need to reassure him right now, all he knew is that he felt more angry than before. Angry at shitty societal standards that made you feel like you needed to act okay in a moment like this. Angry at himself for not being there to protect you from whoever thought it was a good idea to lay a hand on what was his. Angry at this person that he was going to find and torture until all the bruises and breaks in their body matched the ones they had left on yours. He was going to let this anger consume him until he saw the light go out of their eyes, until he saw it return to yours.

______________________________________________________________

Your routine became monotonous again, after a few more days of resting at home. The bruises were starting to fade along with the pain, although the boot would remain around your broken ankle for another few weeks. You were back at work the Monday after coming home, not able to justify to your corporate shit-head bosses that you needed more time off. The days seemed to be dragging on for longer, exhaustion overwhelming your healing body to the point that you were collapsing into your bed within an hour of getting home each day. By Wednesday evening, after a longer than usual wait for the metro, you might as well have been dead to the world around you, people and buildings blurring together, the sounds of the city sounding like white noise in your ears, until you arrived outside your apartment door and your eyes focused in on the bouquet of peonies sitting on the ground. 

Putting your key in the lock and pushing the door open behind the vase of flowers, you quickly bent down to pick them up while making sure not to spill anything out of your work bag in the process. After setting everything else on the floor by your couch, you placed the vase of your favorite flowers on the coffee table in front of it, the setting sun outside your window casting the room in a soft-orange glow, partially impeded by the “I’M OKAY” sign still taped to the window.

Taking a few more moments to get comfortable, your booted foot lifted up to rest next to the vase and Toast, your furry companion, begging for attention in your lap, you reached over to pluck the small card from in between some of the flowers.

Inside, in slightly messy and what could only be described as a man’s handwriting, a short message was written:

“Glad you’re okay, the other person isn't. They’ve been handled.”

It should have scared you for multiple reasons. One, the fact that someone is watching you was now confirmed, and two, they’ve alluded to doing another person harm.

It should have scared you, but it didn’t. You’ve never felt more safe.

______________________________________________________________

Dave watches you as you walk in with the flowers, as you pull out his card and read the short and possibly terrifying message he left inside. He watches as the first genuine smile he’s seen on your face since you disappeared on him graces your lips and gets his heart beating rapidly in his chest. You were smiling because of him, you weren’t scared of what he had written and what he alluded to doing. He had brought a smile to your face and he would be damned if he ever let it fall again.

Only a few minutes after watching you read his message, his eyes followed you as you took down your previous sign from the living window and replace it with a new one.

“THANK YOU 🖤” ______________________________________________________________

One week after that, the job Dave was originally watching for had been handled. He couldn’t justify it anymore, already taking weeks longer than he usually would just so he could prolong watching you every night, and hemorrhaging money on the weekly rent he was paying to use this apartment for his stake-out. On the last night of the job, he watched you with an alertness like never before, keeping his blinking to a minimum so he could commit each and every single part of your life and your being to memory. He stayed past the sunrise the next morning so he could finally witness your morning routine that he had fantasized about, giving himself one more piece of your life that he could imagine himself fitting into, in another life.

______________________________________________________________

You stopped feeling like someone was watching you. It happened suddenly, one night it was there and the next it wasn’t. It wasn’t there the night after either, or the one after that. Your mind couldn’t decide between being more worried that something had happened to them or that you would never get to feel their gaze upon you again. 

Paramedics had been in your building the night after the feeling had disappeared, entering the apartment next to yours and leaving with someone in a body bag. You weren't sure if the two were connected, but wouldn't be surprised if they were, even if your building super informed everyone that your neighbor's death had been ruled a suicide.

After a week without your secret admirer, you closed the curtains. ______________________________________________________________

He did his best to stay away, to not give into the temptation that was the sight of you. It was like trying to break an addiction, one that he didn’t want to get rid of but needed to. He could only imagine the havoc you would wreak on his being if he ever had the balls to approach you in person; you would utterly destroy him, ruin his heart and soul for anybody else. After a week of withdrawals that made him even more snappy and impatient at work, and cravings for your smile and light that were starting to blur in his memory, he gave in. 

He gave the building super an excuse that he had left something in the apartment and would be out in a few minutes. After grabbing the key and sprinting up the stairs to the seventh floor, he slowed down his pace, trying to get his bearings and calm his racing heart rate before it exploded out of his chest. 

Finally, he turned the key in the lock, pushed the door open, and strolled up to the window adjacent to yours. But, instead of the usual sight that greeted him, his pretty girl going about her life, he saw nothing.

You had closed the curtains.

[mysteriesmuse]

Kirishima and the Washing Machines

You lived in a pretty large apartment complex about 150 residents in all. And yet, somehow, you always found yourself using the washer and dryer after this one individual. Every. Time. 

And you now what, they never remember to clean out the lint tray after they’re done.  

You sigh through your nose, inching out the door of the lint tray and seeing a very full cage. Reaching in and deftly scooping it all up in one hand and dropping it into the trash can without second thought. 

Whoever this person was they had the most ridiculously long and lacking hair care routine ever. Seriously, 5-6 inch long firetruck red hairs that were coarse and fried to hell littered your clothes now. Probably because said person never emptied the lint tray after their laundry so now their hair littered your own wardrobe. And this would naturally urge anyone to choose a different washer and dryer out of the apartment laundromat. And it wasn’t like you hadn’t tried, it just seemed that whoever this person was seemed to read you mind — move laundry machines with you, so you’d given up.  

Subjected to a life of dyed red hair in all your clothing. A lifetime supply of lint rollers in hand at all times.  

And in Kirishima’s defense he was a busy prohero — but you’d never seen him in the apartment complex, much less seen him patrolling the neighborhood in order to make the connection.  

Although he’d seen you — only a handful of times though — over the past few months of living here. He thought you were pretty — the kind where you have to mentally acknowledge a strangers beauty just because they are so attractive.

Except for today. 

And You were having a good day.  

You’d hit massive stroke of luck to this week to find that this red-haired person and your secret domestic enemy hadn’t been to the laundromat before you. You couldn’t be more pleased as you sat down on one of the lobbies padded chairs. Content with sitting and reading your book as you waited for the little chiming song of the washer and dryer to alert you that this batch of clothes was free of a strangers weird hairstyle. 

And you were ready, sliding back in the chair, tittering your hips, slipping your finger between the fresh crisp pages and into the sweet spot where your little impromptu receipt bookmark lay nestled next to the spine — a perfect morning.  

you’d gotten through that euphoric breath part of the process before the awkward spinning doors to the complex blew open and you’d dropped the book into your lap — staggering in was a beefcake of a man.  

It was the first thing you noticed, and how could you not? The stranger was shirtless and only clad in a pair of worn joggers that bear the emblem of the most famous hero producing highschool — hung snuggly around his hips, but just low enough that you could see the elastic of his boxers peaking out. And up from there was the defined muscles of his abdomen, not full on bread rolls, but a smoother definition and one that fit him nicely. The slight healthy layer of fat smoothing over the man’s defined and sturdy trunk — which lead to a completely hairless chest — a conscious decision. And then his arms were huge like the rest of him, but had a very strange reverse farmers tan to them. Another conscious decision?  

You didn’t even make it to his face before he was already in the room — and he took up space.   

somehow you found the conscious effort to close your mouth when he turned in your direction flaming locks of hair reaching his broad shoulders. 

Beefcake had noticed you as soon as he had walked in. The gorgeous h/c woman. And he could see the whites of your eyes and the pink of your tongue from the door. 

He flashed you an award winning smile full of sharp canines before awkwardly tugging on a few small strands near his face. The book in your lap now open to a random page, a receipt lay fluttered close to your feet.  

Kirishima chuckled, deep and low, bending down on one knee to hand you the receipt that’d been flung out on the ground from your shocked stare — yeah, that was a perfectly normal reaction he got often as a pro.

 “Sorry to startle you, beautiful. Here’s your bookmark,” he said, holding it out to you. You blinked back surprised before taking it back from his outstretched hand rather stiffly. He could see a crinkle between your brows as you seemingly took in every single detail about his face — tongue prodding the corners of your mouth as you did so.  

You were not, in fact, openly checking him out as much as Kirishima was secretly kind of hoping — a reaction he would naturally have gotten fairly often since you presumed he was a hero of sorts with his build and those flashy alum joggers.  

No — you were busy studying his hair: eyebrows, eyelashes, stubble, the whole lot. All of it thick and black — unlike the hair on top of his head, but similarly matching with the sometimes atrocious roots on those long hairs from the laundry machine.  

“Aha—“ you thrust out the hand with the reciept and waved it in front of Kirishimas face. “It’s you! My laundromat enemy — you’re the guy that always forgets to empty the lint drawer!”

Kirishima blinked back at you crossed eyed. A vague recognition of what you were taking about slipping past his eyes like a montage. He couldn’t remember a single time where he emptied that lint drawer, now that you mentioned it. He swallowed thickly

“I — I, how? How do you know it’s me?” He garbled. 

You shoot him a pointed look that reminded him of his best friend, “You really think there’s that many other people around here with hair like yours?” You hummed, gesturing to his still damp locks. You answered for him, “yeah, me neither.”   

Kirishima was shocked at your certainty, but he was also pretty certain that you were absolutely right. He gulped nervously, adams apple bobbing in that thick neck of his. 

of course he had luck like this, upsetting the beautiful woman in the apartment complex before he’d even meet her. You called him an enemy. A domestic enemy — he was supposed to be a hero! 

He started, “Look . . .”

“Y/N” you supplied. 

“Look Y/N,” he said, noticing the way you perked up more at his use of your name. “I’m really sorry to have bothered you by forgetting to clean out the lint in the dryer. There’s no excuse for me forgetting, or actively ignoring, that in a communal space. That’s really un-neighborly of me and I promise to actually take the time to do it from now on.”  He finished, hand strapped across his heart like a knight of old making a pledge to you.  

he watched as you slowly uncrossed your arms and tapped at the cover of your book. Your eyes of some beautiful color — that he would commit to memory if you looked up at him, stared down in your lap.  

He put placed his hands on the side of the armrests, pleading with the best puppy dog eyes he could give, “anything I can do to make it up to you?” Practically begging. 

you looked up, ahh so they were e/c then.  

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, nose wrinkling. 

He seemed genuine, and charming and polite, but he was large and intimidating — and in your personal space, “you do owe me quite a handful of change in lint roller money.”  

Kirishima grinned, that he could do. 

“How about I take you out — this time, next week. There’s a really cool bookshop cafe on my patrol route. I’ll come by and pick you up.” He noticed your hesitation, a worrying shimmy closer to the back of the seat and away from him. He removed his hands from the armrests and reached for the wallet in his pocket, “— we could just walk then, if that’s not comfortable for you. Or you could meet me there. Here see, Kirishima Eijirou prohero alias Red Riot.”  

That caused you to relax and lean forward, as you examined his hero license.  

He really was a hero. You were already pretty sure with those UA joggers, but it felt good to know you were right. One that wore an oddly terrifying dog-muzzle? You glanced back up at his strong jaw littered with a stiff 5 o’clock shadow. And surely enough there were faint lines of pale skin surrounding his mouth and just under his eyes that confirmed the weird existence of this accessory. Again, what is with the fashion choices here??

You raised a brow, “Ever think this is a little unusual for a hero?” You asked pointing at his ID.  

Red Riot glowed like his namesake. “I thought it was cool back in highschool — now it’s part of my image.” He chuckled, a hand touching at the place where it would be.  

you wondered what that would feel like having that cage against your skin all the time — surely uncomfortable.

Kirishima wondered if you’d consider yanking him by those bars to bring him into a kiss. Metal clanking on metal as the pretty ring on your finger gripped around the edges of its frame. If you’d be a woman he could come home to after a long mission and be fall into lovingly seering embrace like some of his pals. . . 

Clearly two very different trains of thought going on here, but Eijirou was always a hopeless romantic at heart and nothing but a gentlemen. 

He heart leapt into his throat when you placed a cool hand against his forearm with a little conformational pat, “I’ve got work next week, but I’ll go ahead and meet you there.”  

He grinned standing up to his full height and pocketing his wallet, face morphing as a realization dawned on him. He quickly scrambled for his phone, “I — wait you don’t have my number and I haven’t even told you where it is. And it’s pretty far, so I don’t think you’d know it — because it’s all the way in Fatgums district and —“  

and now you were laughing at him. Kirishima tucked a thick strand of hair behind his ear as he looked down at you — washing machine songs lighting up the atmosphere.  

“Actually I do have your number. We — apparently — live on the same floor, Kirishima.” You snorted holding out your phone with the familiar floor group text that he was apart of. A ridiculous dorky contact photo of himself as Crimson Riot as the contact photo he send in the chat.  

Plus Ultra! Forget red, crimson — he was scarlet right about now.  

“Ah right . . .”  

“Don’t be embarrassed,” you waved, “you’re much cuter in person. Ya know, for a laundromat menace.”  

Kirishima scratched awkwardly at his chest which was hardening there randomly — oh wait nope, it’s because he heart was thumping a mile a minute and he was on a mad adrenaline rush right now in the middle of the apartment complex lobby bc was talking to the beautiful stranger of his complex. 

You rose from your chair and stood in front of him, book clutched to your chest. 

the only thought running through his head was don’t move. And you watched as this handsome young pro hero stood stock still — every muscular plain of his body becoming rock hard and just towering over you.  

the chimes started up again. 

“Uh excuse me, you’re kinda blocking the entire door?” You giggled. 

In a flash this Kirishima was hardening even more and now you could clearly see a set of abs in the early morning dim lobby light as he stepped further into the elevator so he wouldn’t be crushed — although with that quirk you think the elevator might take most of the damage. 

Now he was too cute.  

And as he backpedaled into the elevator you could hear him audibly sigh with relief as the sound of your book pages started flicking. 

“Kirishima—“  

he looked down, the apples of your cheeks light and bouncy — such a pretty little smile on your face, “you should really invest in some conditioner.”  

And the last you saw was a sliver of a grin and framing tan lines from that muzzle/cage looking mask of his. He beamed staring at the space you were in before the doors closed, a blissful whisper as he realized he was replying to an empty elevator, “yeah I do.”  

[fandombead]

The Dancer

Hello!! This is my submission for Prinxiety Shipweek's prompt: Music.

Summary: Virgil is the small (like– 5'' tall) 16-year-old son of a woodcarver who crafts him a little dancer friend out of special wood he got from one of their regular clients. Imagine Virgil’s shock when the figure, his size, comes to life in the nighttime. (note: Fairy Tale-ish AU!)

WC: ~4.8k || It's on AO3!

@prinxietyweek !

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Music

Virgil stepped down and wandered out of his space in the walls onto his dad’s desk, trying to get a peek at the man’s latest project. 

Patton was extremely skilled at his craft, to the point he was renowned in all the land for his detailed, “impossible” works. He had learned from a great teacher and put in the work to always remember the lessons. It wasn't a miraculous talent he was born with, but a skill he cultivated. He liked to say he gave a piece of something he loved to all his precious creations. 

Virgil didn’t think much of it, but he was lucky. His dad often made everything he needed from scratch or tinkered out of something he thought would be useful, and it always surprised him how crafty and resourceful his dad was even when he wasn’t carving oak and cedar. 

Right now, Patton was bent in a way that surely would hurt when he finally got up, intently focused on his latest secret project that had captured Virgil’s nosey attentions entirely. It wasn’t near his birthday; that had passed a few months ago and he had gotten a new Violin (and it was incredible how good it managed to sound. Even better than the first model Virgil had learned to play with).

But Patton had been hiding this from him for weeks, and it was driving Virgil crazy. As it was, Patton knew where all his perches for looking out at the shop and people watching were, and had been very good at keeping the new…whatever it was out of sight.

Virgil had caught glimpses: Patton had chosen a rather expensive-looking hardwood that Virgil didn’t even recognize as any used before, which meant it either was for a top-paying commissioner or one of Patton’s major passion projects that would require a lot of detailing. He’d also ordered an odd mechanical base from Logan: the clockmaker several shops over who he often collaborated with. Having a custom part or apparatus from him wasn’t unusual, but the secrecy had Virgil more invested than he’d otherwise be. 

He tried to interrogate Logan from the counter when he’d dropped the boxed mystery device off a few days ago, but the man had simply smiled and told him to be patient and he’d surely get to see it soon. Virgil did not like that answer. It only kept him awake at night and more curious.

Virgil peeked out from Patton’s old design books on the desk, trying to see what his dad’s arm was blocking. There were interesting scraps of sparkly and sheer fabric littering the table and he could at least see that Patton was holding a paintbrush in his left hand, tongue out in concentration.

As Virgil tried to see, however, Patton cracked a knowing smile. “Heya, kiddo. Can’t help but want to peek, hmm?” Virgil ducked back behind the books guiltily before shuffling out at being caught. Patton set the brush down. “Well, it’s alright. I was actually just finishing the detail on this, he’s nearly done. I was going to introduce you at breakfast, but I think now is much more interesting.”

Virgil gave his dad a confused look. “‘He’?” 

Patton just grinned and told him to turn around for a moment which Virgil complied and did. Whatever just to get to finally see this…whatever it was Patton had created.

Virgil heard Patton shuffling and setting things down, then the light tap tap tap of his small mallet.

Something was set down again, closer behind Virgil and Patton finally let him turn to see.

Patton held an ornate little red box in the moonlight coming in from the window behind them. On top, poised gracefully on one pointed foot  was a figure of a beautiful dancer, with chestnut brown hair in waves that looked more soft than carved and a just as soft smile on a kind face. He looked similar to the dancer in the ballet Patton had taken him to last winter, in a shimmering long-sleeved shirt and embroidered gold vest. 

The figure in his hand was posed in a dance, as if captured right as he reached out his hand to a partner, waiting. His other leg was carefully positioned behind him, pointed rigidly. If not for his base, he’d probably be close to Virgil’s height. Virgil looked at the creation as he circled it in awe. Patton sat back and wiped the polish and paint from his hands, chuckling proudly. “So, whatcha think, Virgie? He’s pretty nice, yeah?” Virgil’s eyes were wide as he looked back at Patton, near sparkling. “How did you even make this?? It’s so– I’ve never seen you make anything this elaborate before.”

“Well, I was gifted a very rare and simply elegant block of wood from one of our regular clients, Sir Fraus. He says he got it during his travels but didn’t say what kind it was. Only that it was in thanks and that he thought I’d know what to make with something this rare. So, I figured that I should make something just as special. I'm excited to show him the next time he stops by. He’s got joints to be posable and everything– and just wait until you see this.” Patton reached into his apron pocket and pulled out a small gold key. Virgil watched, walking around to see as Patton stuck the small key into the back of the box and it clicked in. He turned it a few times, winding it up and then let go. The dancer began to slowly spin on his toe, the metal base he was attached to rotating.  

Virgil watched as the shimmery sleeves of his outfit caught the moonlight, unable to look away. Patton smiled, also admiring the dancer spun, dancing to an unheard tune as his arm that wasn’t poised moved up and down as he spun. 

“I’m only a bit disappointed I couldn’t add music to the box, but Logan didn’t have a comb the right size or the cylinder for the song I was hoping for anyway. Perhaps one day I can get one custom-made.” Virgil tilted his head as he watched, sitting next to Patton to watch as the figure slowed to a stop, arm down in rest again. 

“Did you…name him?” Virgil asked as Patton reached around his son to wind it up again.

“You know, it’s funny you mention that. I went to the nice woman who sells fabrics from her home in The Den– you know, that little shop district across town? She made the costumes for the play we saw. Anyway, I was explaining to her what I needed and asked for any outfit suggestions and somehow we got onto the topic of names being important for creations like this. She gave me a few, but I ended up liking one the most: ‘Roman’. What do you think?”

Virgil had to admit that was very fitting for the regal dancer. He liked it. “Roman,” he repeated, nodding in approval with a tiny smile he hid in his arm as they watched him spin again. “Suits him.” “I’d say his clothing suits him too.” Patton grinned and Virgil groaned, laying his head in his arms. “Baaad, that one was awful.”

Patton laughed, ruffling Virgil’s hair with a fingertip and a wide smile. 

“Hahaha, I bet Roman likes my puns!”

Virgil made a noise of doubt as Patton turned and looked at his colorful clock on the wall. “Ah, I stayed up far later than I meant to. You’re welcome to stay out here if you want, but I gotta get to bed. Early day tomorrow, as usual.” he hummed, standing. Virgil watched him and gave Patton’s hand a brief hug when it swept up to ‘hug’ him goodnight. “Don’t stay up too late, Virge.”

Virgil gave Patton a vague wave of his hand in acknowledgment, not taking his eyes off the dancer.

Patton made sure the shop was locked up and then left to his room in their home above the shop.

Virgil sat alone, going back to wind the box when it stopped. He really did think it’d be nice to see Roman dance to music. And then he realized that it was something he could provide.

Virgil got up and ran off to his room in the walls. There was his little workshop space Patton had carved out and covered for his privacy, with a little balcony, but he ended up having to go all the way back up to his bedroom adjacent to Patton’s. He could see Patton brushing his teeth out of his balcony but didn’t stop to chat as he grabbed his black violin case from the corner by his shelf bed. Then he was immediately headed back down. He jogged out onto the worktable again, his instrument case already open as he set it down.

Virgil spun the key as far as he could, which was admittedly difficult after 5 turns, but he used all his strength to get the coil as tight as he could. Then he picked up the violet violin and started to play the first song that his hands picked: one that he’d learned by ear from the record Patton liked to play in the shop the most. 

They’d heard this one at the ballet and it felt fitting for the dancer still diligently posed on one foot. 

The pretty tune filled the air around him and Virgil smiled as it looked like the dancer was moving to it with the one arm that shifted as he spun. He could almost imagine he really was playing musician for this dancer, Roman. His vest twinkled in the gentle moonlight, and it was mesmerizing as it created a shimmer around him. Virgil was so lost in the music and gazing at the stunning figure that he did not notice the soft click of the key stopping.

He finished the song out, the lilting drawn-out end fading gradually, and the dancer stopped turning with his arm down in rest. Virgil was smiling, proud, and a bit sheepish that he’d even done it. But it was nice.

And then the carve dancer blinked, and Virgil gasped, nearly dropping his violin. He froze, staring as the dancer’s pretty dark eyes seemed to focus on him. Then it moved again, head tilted curiously. Virgil dove behind the toolkit holding Patton’s chisels, the nearest thing. 

Virgil stared in awe as the figure twisted around curiously, gazing around the shop and tentatively looking over to where Virgil hid. He tried to get down, stumbling as he pulled his foot free and nearly fell off the box entirely, much to Virgil’s anxiety spike as he gasped. Thankfully he caught himself on the edge with his hands and was able to carefully sit and hop down.

The figure was alive…alive?! Enchanted?? He didn’t think Patton knew that, surely! He would have shown him– or at least mentioned it so that his anxious son wouldn’t freak out. Was he even awake right now? The wooden man danced a little about the table, wobbly for a few steps before getting used to moving rather quickly and happy about it. 

That was a wooden person smiling over at him. Virgil scrambled back, startled. “How—how are you moving right now?! My dad carved you out of a hunk of wood!!”

The possibly possessed wooden figure blinked at him— despite Patton having never created eyelids with which to do so— hands clasping in front of himself as he stood and appeared to be listening, and even just standing there he looked like he was posed perfectly to begin dancing.

Virgil was a little unnerved that he just kept staring but his eyes were curious rather than judging or belittling like a lot of people’s tended to be when meeting him. Though their being nearly the same tiny height probably made that observation moot.

And he was the first person Roman(?) had properly met. 

Virgil didn’t know what he was waiting for but the other suddenly spared him from needing to figure it out by hurrying off to some unknown goal.

Virgil jolted at the sudden movement, scrambling up to see where the man—figure— Roman was going.

Roman popped out from behind the bookend, nearly giving Virgil a heart attack. Though before Virgil could properly decide if he was running for the wall door, Roman held up what he’d retrieved, out to Virgil with an eager look.

He had Virgil’s violin and bow, carefully held out in offering. Virgil blinked dumbly as he slowly took it.

Roman bounced on the balls of his feet a little before splaying his arms out, standing on the tips of his toes again. He was looking expectantly at Virgil and the nervous teen clutched the instrument as he realized. 

Virgil lifted the violin to tuck under his chin, mind reeling for what to play. He watched Roman stand straighter still and send a dashing smile his way, and suddenly Virgil found it easier just to let the melody that felt right flow. They both anticipated the start of the music as Virgil played the first clear note. His hands did the rest on their own, skillfully guiding the bow along the strings.

And Roman…Virgil had no idea how he knew to dance in such a way. He danced like a man finally free of rigid demands, and it was more enchanting than the beautifully poised expectation of the dancer frozen in place on a spinning point. Despite the freedom to move, Roman seemed to enjoy the little fast turns and twirls, and he spotted Virgil to keep from growing dizzy. It was impressive and alluring, the thin ruffly tule at the bottom of his shirt waving around his waist even as he stopped, catching himself gracefully with a flourish.

This was a man unrestricted, flowing in sync to the timeless music like he’d practiced it a hundred times and now had his opening night performance. His vest glittered stunningly as he moved with more grace and freedom than a person made of wood should have been able to. But it was natural for him. Roman moved across the table elegantly, the resonating sounds working with him as he reached toward the streaming moonlight like it was where their unseen audience might be. Then he was stretching into a near bow as he stepped back, going into tight spins as he twirled away, arms tucked in.

Virgil was in awe, turning to keep the dancer in sight as he played his violin for him. Roman beamed in his exuberance for just a moment before tamping the pure joy to focus again. The smile never fully left.

The dance and song sped up in tandem, and Roman swept around Virgil close enough to reach out and take his hand. Virgil was captivated and almost stuttered to a stop as Roman used his shoulder as a support, hand barely applying weight as Roman leaned in with dazzling bright eyes. It was a long gaze and yet just as quickly as he’d appeared at Virgil’s side, Roman was flitting away as if carried off by the drifting tune as the song peaked. 

As the song finished, both Roman and Virgil stepped into their final poses, Roman’s not dissimilar to the one he took on the stand, with pointed feet and one arm curved high above his head. Both seemed breathless in their own way, watching one another as they stood still, just taking it in. Virgil moved first, lowering his arms and letting a little grin spread on his face despite himself. “That was amazing!! How do you know how to dance??? It’s like you just knew??” Roman let himself down from the pose, the bright smile back as he padded over to Virgil. He laid his hands over Virgil’s bow hand and bounced happily, trying to convey his own excitement. Up close, Virgil could definitely still see the wooden body that made up the dancer, and the little joints that allowed him to pose freely were visible through his sheer long sleeves. Virgil held his violin to his chest, looking at him in wonder. “Incredible…so..you’re Roman, right? Is that actually your name?” Roman tilted his head and then nodded happily. 

“Really? Because I doubt my dad’s just guessed that out of the thousands of names, right?”

Roman pointed to the stairs that led up to the living area of their home then back at himself. Virgil looked a little confused. “I’m guessing you can’t talk, since…no voice box?” 

Roman stilled a bit but nodded once more, unbothered by this but acknowledging it. 

“Oh…well, it’s nice to meet you, Roman. You’re an incredible dancer,” he stated, looking away sheepishly and couldn’t believe he was embarrassed right now to be talking to a magical doll person. 

Roman perked up at that though and insistently tapped Virgil’s hand, nodding hard as he pointed at Virgil. He clapped happily and Virgil’s face flushed. “I-I’m still learning, but thank–thank you– do you– uh, need to rest? Sit down?”

Roman shrugged but tugged Virgil’s hand as he walked to sit down by the red box he belonged to. Virgil went willingly, sitting beside Roman who tucked his legs to the side, probably limited in how he could move this way.

They were able to see the moon and stars through the window across the room. 

“Are you cursed?” Virgil suddenly asked without thinking and winced as soon as it left his mouth. 

He glanced at Roman, who very much seemed to be chuckling at him, even as no sound came out. Ro shook his head. Virgil relaxed a little. 

“Oh, good– so just a magical creation? Are you…aware…of things? Like when you were frozen earlier?”

Roman looked thoughtful, then reached around Virgil to point at the key in the box.

Virgil tried very hard not to blush at the closeness as Roman peered at him and then the key insistently. 

“T-The key? Okay, you–you know about the key??”

Roman frowned, then mimed turning it and dramatically opening his eyes. He pointed to his ears and the violin. Virgil’s tired mind raced.

“...you– you’re aware when your key is turned? The music does it? O-Or, like– you can see and hear and things…?” he tried.

Roman smiled and pulled away, nodding. Virgil wasn’t sure exactly what he got right, but he was pretty sure Roman could see and hear whenever the key was turned. He started to worry. “And when the key isn’t turned?? You aren’t–aware of that too, right?” Roman put out his hands and shook his head gently. He seemed to search for the right thing to attempt to communicate before he mimicked sleeping.

Virgil relaxed as he seemed to finally understand. “Oh. Okay, it’s like you’re not awake, then? …How do you even know what sleeping is.”

Roman just smiled and shrugged, but the look he was giving him led Virgil to think that was not all.

Virgil talked for what became hours with Roman. He ended up showing him around the shop using his bridges and walkways along the walls, holding his hand as they went. Roman seemed perfectly happy to listen, and he’d point and get Virgil’s attention when he wanted to know what something was. 

Virgil played him another song when Roman silently requested such. He had no idea how the night was over so soon. They were back on Patton’s worktable and Roman was standing by his box, trying to convey to Virgil that he had to go back. 

Virgil was disheartened as he watched. “Can I see you again soon? I’m sure Dad would love to meet you, and maybe then you won’t have to go back on that thing.”

Roman turned back to Virgil, interest peaked. He gave Virgil a soft look and hugged him, gentle and earnest as he tried to convey what he felt. Virgil was very still as he cautiously settled his arms around Roman’s back. 

Roman pulled away too soon, and Virgil let him go. Virgil watched as he settled his foot back on the support, and posed as he had been, confident and with a professional ease. Virgil didn’t know for certain when, but between one blink and the next, Roman was once again just a figure on the musicless box.

He would figure out what he had to do to see him again.

—-

The next morning, Virgil tried to show Patton when he woke up. He played part of a song from Swan Lake and watched, but Roman did not shift from his spot, much to Virgil’s confusion. Patton enjoyed his son playing, though seemed a little confused about what he was supposed to see. “That was lovely, kiddo! It really is lovely to watch him spin to music.”

But Virgil just sighed, shaking his head. “No, he– last night– he was dancing! To my music, and smiling, and…and…” his face grew hotter as Patton was smiling at him, hands clasped and Virgil quickly looked away. 

“I’m really happy you like him, Virgie! Maybe it’s a good thing we never found the music for his box. You playing whatever you want is a wonderful idea.” 

Virgil was dejected. Did it only happen once? Had he truly dreamed it? No, he had seen it, felt Roman’s cool hand in his. Was he shy to come out in front of his dad? But Roman had seemed genuinely eager to say hello when Virgil mentioned them meeting. Maybe it was just conditional? Roman wouldn’t likely know– he’d just been just as surprised as Virgil when it had happened the first time.

He brainstormed about this in his room most of the day, coming out occasionally to help Patton around the shop– he was very good at moving small things about and getting them for his dad, as well as ringing up customers– and to eat.

That night, Virgil went down to the shop after dinner. Violin in hand, he turned the key fewer times than before and started to play a pretty, upbeat tune. The wooden dancer spun stiffly, but as the song neared its end, the arm became less rigid as it lifted with more grace. The smile etched in place became wider still and Roman shifted, lifting his foot higher then back down as he bowed. 

Virgil grinned, stopping as Roman found him on the table nearby and waved. Virgil quickly pulls himself up onto the base. “Roman! You’re still here,” he breathed, and Roman gave him a bright look and eager nod.

Virgil offered his hands. “Here, let me help this time.” Roman gratefully took the help, holding Virgil’s shoulders as he carefully lifted his foot free of the metal stand. Virgil helped and was shocked at how easy it was to lift him for support. He wasn’t as dense as a flesh and blood being, and Virgil didn’t know what to do with the fact that he could easily hold Roman over his head if he wanted to. He let go of his waist before he got any more silly thoughts and hopped down from the box. He offered Roman his hands and Roman took them to get down easily as well, hopping with a grace he apparently always possessed.

It was another night of strolling around the shop and performing for one another as music filled the air. They ended up on the railed windowsill beside the door. Roman somehow made him feel like he was a part of the dance despite Virgil being his musician, dancing captivatingly around him. Even as the song ended, Roman danced in the silence, and the music was in his head as he enticed Virgil to join him. Virgil nervously set his violin down and couldn’t refuse that beautiful smile as Roman took his hands and danced with him. 

Virgil honestly felt like it was only Roman’s skill that kept them from tripping over each other. He certainly didn’t know how he’d become the lead in this soundless song that they both knew the steps for. But he twirled Roman easily and guided him into dips that he’d seen dance partners do on the stage. It was relaxed and free of any real form, but they were miraculously in sync together.

He got bolder and confident with the trust Roman put in him, and how had he ever earned that?? He settled his hands at Roman’s waist as the other guided them there and he lifted Roman with little trouble. Roman settled a hand on Virgil’s shoulder as he posed and Virgil turned with him, then let go to raise his arms high, trusting the person supporting him. 

When Virgil set Roman back down, Roman was giddy, hands waving at his sides as he jumped and did a little happy dance in place. He threw his arms around Virgil, and that time he really almost did knock him over from the force of the hug. Virgil laughed, letting himself go to the ground as one arm wrapped around Roman. “Yeah–yes, it was fun–”

Roman’s smile couldn’t get much bigger as he tucked against Virgil, happily nudging him and content.

Virgil had never danced with someone in his life; not like this, where their hand wasn’t his platform or partner. Not in a way where he was on equal footing, able to hold them close. They sat there together, catching their breath and gazing out at both the sleeping town and the stars above. Virgil must have nodded off because suddenly the sky was lighter and Roman was shifting next to him.

Virgil sat up straighter as Roman stood, looking back across the shop to the table. To his stand. He looked down at Virgil and offered him a hand, gesturing. Virgil’s at-ease expression changed to one of concern. “You want to go back?”

Roman looked off to the side with a small, sad shrug. 

“If you don’t want to, just stay, you don’t have to go back.” Virgil insisted, taking one of Roman’s hands in both of his own.

Roman gave him a gentle smile, free hand held to Virgil’s cheek. He stood on his toes and pressed a kiss to Virgil’s forehead, hoping it said all he needed for him. Virgil held his hand there for as long as he could before Roman began to pull away. Virgil squeezed his hand imploringly.

“W-Wait! What if you just don’t go back onto the box? Then you won’t turn back again, you could stay! I-I’d love if–if you could stay?” he practically pleaded.

Roman turned back slowly to him, holding his hand reassuringly but his expression was apologetic. He looked down at his foot: a simple cloth slipper that covered the wood and the hole to anchor him to his place.   

Virgil shook his head. “You don’t have to get back up there! Dad will absolutely understand once he meets you— please. Let’s just try it?”

Roman looked hesitant as he looked over at the growing dawn light filtering through the window. But he nodded obligingly and settled beside Virgil, resting his head lightly against Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil tiredly held his hand and they sat there against the window frame to wait together, though really it was just an excuse to not say goodbye again. 

Virgil was not truly surprised when Roman went still and rigid against his side, his hand losing its grip even as Virgil continued to hold it, gently stroking with his thumb. He felt disappointed tears brim for a moment, but he didn’t let them fall. Roman wasn’t gone. Virgil could bring him back in the evening. But it wasn’t fair that he would not get to see a sunrise.

As Patton found him and fretted about whether Virgil had been out here all night (and he didn’t ask why was Roman off the box), Virgil was devising a way to change that. As his dad gently scooped him up and took him upstairs to deposit him into his little bed in the wall, Virgil lay there vowing that he’d find a way to break the spell keeping Roman trapped to the night. He deserved to bask and dance freely in the sheer unreflected light of day. 

Virgil would show him all of life he could, beyond the shop and all the music he could dance to to his heart’s content. Virgil wanted to play all his favorite songs for him and to dance with him again. Roman would get to really live, and Virgil was determined to be by his side through it all. 

[gracev0609]

Welcome Home Honey

The return of Iced Chai Jake and his little story

WC: 2k+

Warnings: The Iced Chai Universe is 18+ Only!, Fluffy Dad Jake, Single Dad Jake, Surrogate.

Jake gathered the package from his front porch, carrying the large plastic bubble mailer envelope down the hall into his spare bedroom. This was the secret that was the hardest to keep, he thought as he looked around the room. Freshly painted in yellow, all of the new furniture and baby items stacked in the center of the room as he continued to work on painting the bumblebee themed mural. Opening the newest package he smiled as he took the little baby blanket out of the wrapping, super soft and creme colored littered with happy yellow bees. For weeks Jake had kept this entire process to himself, he thought about it endlessly, made a pro and con list, had many in depth conversations with his doctors and specialists. Every question he had was answered and all that was left was for him to make decisions. He had made those decisions confidently, he could feel it in his bones, he wanted this, he wanted to be a father. By the time he received the call that the blood test confirmed that his surrogate was pregnant he was sure that his baby was one of the things he had ever wanted most. These last few weeks had been so difficult, Jake wanted nothing more than to tell his entire family about his life changing news, but he was determined to wait until he had the ultrasound picture in his hands. His hands shook lightly as he dabbed out more paint onto the pallet he was working with, still chugging away at the mural. He needed it to be perfect for his baby, this will be their room, Jake needed it to be special. He was informed, according to the schedule that she had shared with him, that she was going to the ultrasound appointment today at noon. He had it all planned out, his family was coming over tomorrow evening. Jake even had his parents fly out to hear his news in person. Each little bee he painted brought him closer and closer to seeing his baby, the bundle of nerves in his stomach growing tighter, gnawing at him. He was so excited and nervous. Halfway through painting a flower his phone chimed, eager to see the notification he tapped on the screen. His face fell slightly when he saw that it was a text from his mom letting him know that her and Dad are boarding their plane now and they'd be in town this evening. As he was typing back with paint smudged hands, another notification popped up on his screen. A text from his surrogate reading, Hey Jake! I just finished up at the appointment, all went really well. I sent the ultrasound pictures into the portal but it may take a few minutes for you to receive those. I took a few pictures of them for you myself ☺️

Image attachment ½.

Excitedly he clicked onto the text thread, a huge smiley grin appeared on his face, he was looking at his little itty bitty baby. Granted there wasn't much to see, implantation was a mere 5 weeks ago, but they were getting stronger and bigger and in a few more weeks he was going to be able to hear his babies heartbeat. As he studied the rounded lines of the tiny blob one thing became glaringly clear to him. I love you.

🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝

Jake was lost in thought as his family gathered around his kitchen table, laughing and smiling, catching up as it had been too long since everyone was in the same room together. There was a small gap in between himself and the chair that Sam was sitting in and he couldn't help but imagine a highchair between them, his heart feeling warm and fuzzy at the thought. Josh wandered back in from the kitchen, a glass of white wine in his hand, his other squeezing Jake's shoulder,” So, are you going to tell us why you've made all of us come sit at your table? You wouldn't tell me anything besides ‘you had news’ which honestly, rude. I'm your twin there are no secrets Jakey.” Josh giggles sitting back down in his seat.

Jake exhales as he pulls his phone from his pocket, logging into the portal and pulling up the ultrasound pictures. Standing he makes his way over to his mother, handing her his phone as she looks down at it in confusion.

Her eyes scan the page seeing her son's name littered across the phone screen,”Jacob?”

He smiles at her,” So, my big life changing news… I want to be- no correction. I am a father. I decided to do it by myself and use a surrogate. You're looking at the 5 week ultrasound, at 8 weeks I'll be able to hear the heartbeat. You're- you're looking at my daughter.”

Her eyes well with happy tears,” Oh honey I'm so proud of you!” She stands enveloping him in a hug,” A surrogate? So, she's yours?”

His cheeks pinken, she is his, it feels so good to hear it aloud,” Yes! She's mine, my DNA. I love her so much already.”

A chorus of congratulations emitted from his family, hugs and smiles and happy tears from everyone. Josh Sam and Danny hug him tight, rocking him back and forth before his dad comes over to congratulate him,” I am so proud of you, son. You're going to be an amazing dad. That little girl is so wanted.”

Speaking softly, his face next to his ear in their embrace,” She is. She is so wanted.”

Pulling away he tells his family to follow him. As he leads them away from the table and down the hall the excited whispers and speculations from his family grow louder. Jake stops in front of the door to her nursery, turning around he rests his back against the wooden door,” Okay, now it's not finished yet but I still want you all to see.”

His hand gently twists the door knob, opening the door as he moves inside. The warm golden hour light is bathing the yellow walls in serenity.

His mom's voice cracking with emotion,” Oh, you're painting her a mural!”

He feels his face flame with emotion, nodding his head he watches as as Y/N picks up a tiny pink onesie, a soft smile gracing her lips. His eyes drift to Josh, his fingers lightly tracing the painted bumblebees on the wall. Sam chuckles, his fingers drifting over the soft fabric of the bee blanket that arrived this morning,” I'm sensing a theme here.”

Jake shoves his hands in his pockets, feeling excited but strangely exposed as well, watching them pick apart the things he's been hiding away,” Do you want to know her name?”

Karen smiles wide,” You picked her name already?!”

“I did. I saw it while I was scrolling on social media, and I knew it was it…. Her name is Honey.”

A chorus of awes came from his family. Danny is the first one to speak, his own little baby in his arms,” She's your little Honeybee!”

Jake chuffs a laugh through his smile,” Yeah, she is…. My little Honeybee.”

“God that's so fucking cute!” Sam wipes his under eye,” Your babies have the cutest damn nicknames, shit makes me weak!”

They giggle at him and Jake can't help but imagine them meeting her. His brothers sitting in the rocking chair in the corner holding her close. He knows he's not the only one who's going to be utterly in love with her.

🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝

Jake felt like all of his free time was spent working on her nursery. He spent hours perfecting her mural, wrapping it from one wall to the next, adding flowers and foliage, bees and butterflies and a honey pot or two. Each night he came home and painted until his hands cramped, sometimes until dawn, painstakingly making each detail. One day somewhere in her third trimester, in the wee hours of the night when he finally finished the last bee he sat back in the rocking chair and admired his work. He pictured her growing up in this room, marking which bee or butterfly she was as tall as in each passing year. He imagined playtime, and snuggles. Diaper changes and bottle feedings.He imagined what she would look like, what her laugh would sound like. A sense of calm washed over him, he wasn't scared, he knew he could provide the very best for her, and with his family there will be no shortage of love and support. He couldn't wait for her arrival.

🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝

Jake was in the middle of a new riff, he was in the zone, piecing together a new song. It was flowing easily, the music coming to him in melodic waves when he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He let it go to voicemail, whoever it was they could leave him a message. Immediately his phone started buzzing again, this time he pulled it from his pocket looking at the caller ID. A flood of instinctual panic came over him as his surrogate's name glared at him on the screen.

Jake's thumb swiped up before pressing his phone to his ear, “Hello?!”

“Hey Jake. I'm on my way to the hospital, it's time, she's coming.”

“Shit, yeah. I'm leaving now,” He let out a breath of air, slightly shaky,” I'm so excited.”

“Me too. I'm so excited for you.”

“Thank you… for everything. I'll meet you at Nashville General.”

Hours later, the sun had long since set, he assumed at least. Jake stood in front of the large glass pane, along with a few other new fathers. His eyes scanned all of the pink name tags until he found his name, Kiszka. Without a second glance his eyes filled with tears, and a lump formed in his throat. His own little pink baby was actually here, right in front of him.

He whispered, his voice wet,” Hi sweetheart.”

Placing his palm against the glass in front of her,” I love you, Daddy loves you.”

He couldn't wait to hold her, he couldn't wait to kiss her little head with four hairs on the top of her head, feel her little body heat resting on his chest, the same way her cousin does. What he absolutely could not wait for was bringing her home.

Soon enough the time arrived and Jake had her bundled up snugly in her infant sized car seat. He politely hugged his surrogate, sincerely thanking her and promising to send her Christmas cards. He walked out of the hospital, excitement thrumming in his chest, his fist clenching around the handle securely holding her tight. Deftly he threaded the seatbelt through the car seat the way he practiced, clicking it closed, keeping her buckled. Climbing into the driver's seat Jake let out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding. He let his truck warm up for a few minutes as he called his mom. In his haste he didn't even think about letting everyone know.

He chatted with her for a few moments, and she assured him that she would pass the news of his daughter's arrival down the grapevine. She freely gave him advice, recounting the first night she brought him and his twin home, he smiled as he carefully navigated his way back home.

“Well hon, I'll let you two go. I have plenty of phone calls to make! I love you both so very much, you can call me if you need me. I love you.” She rattled on over the car speakers.

Jake said his goodbyes as he pulled into his driveway. Turning his vehicle off he smiled,” This is where we live babygirl. I painted your bedroom, I know you'll love it. Let's go inside.”

Scooping her up he cradled her tiny body against his as he walked her inside with their belongings slung over his shoulder. Walking through his threshold he looked down, grinning at his little baby,” Welcome home Honey.”

[warrior-cats-rewritten]

For the sake of my SANITY I'm going to have to make a timeline for the Tales From The Forest (Yellowfang's Horror, Tallstar's Rage, Crookedstar's Promise and Bluestar's Prophecy)

Moonflower and Goosefeather are born

Sunstar and Featherwhisker are born

One-eye is born. Speckletail is no longer her biological sister, but is adopted when Whitekit is 5 moons old. No one knows who her parents are.

Doestar dies during the Great Hunger. She BURNED through her lives, one of the shortest 9-lived leaderships there is.

Pinestar meets Shanty. Not Jake.

Halftail is born.

Shrewclaw and Barkface are born.

Tallstar and Finchkit are born.

Raggedstar and Scorchwind are born.

Rowanberry, Yellowfang and Nutwhisker are born.

Brackenwing and Sandgorse die.

Heatherstar finds her excuse and closes the tunnels to focus on warfare. She has a personal vendetta against Cedarstar and she'll drag Windclan with her if she must.

Leopardfoot and Patchpelt are born.

Talltail finds Sparrow but doesn't kill him. Meanwhile, Yellowfang and her siblings are made into apprentices, Shadowclan steals prey and Windclan loses the battle when they fight with the death of Shrewclaw.

Raggedpaw is made into Raggedpelt from this act. Cedarstar rewarding him for killing Shrewclaw, Heatherstar's apprentice.

Later in the same winter, Riverclan's camp floods and kills Duskwater, but Stormkit and Oakkit are born.

Hopkit is renamed Deadpaw, and though he is cheerful, cats of Windclan are horrified and angry with Heatherstar. They want a leader who isn't so arrogant.

Seeing... Something.... Near Stormkit, Goosefeather snaps, snarling at him and scaring him. He breaks his jaw but in a twist of fate, a murky spirit brings him out of the water... Subverting a "Canon Event".

Later that day, Bluestar and Snowflower are born.

Stormkit runs off in shame only to meet the Barn Gang and learn how to use his jaw better.

Thistleclaw, Sweetberry, and Rosetail are born.

Stormkit returns half a moon later, and Rainflower demands that he be punished with the name she picked. Hailstar names him CrookedPAW, an early apprentice (he is ready) but turns and names his mother Rotflower, saying she can have her name back when she gets rid of the rot in her heart.

Yellowfang is made a Warrior and becomes mates with Raggedpelt when she saves his life, but she discovers that she has Forced Physical Empathy. Russetfur and Boulder join Shadowclan.

Oakkit is made an apprentice a week early after he and Crookedpaw find and save Willowkit and Graykit.

Lionheart and Goldenflower are given to Speckletail, who had a stillborn litter. (Mintkit and Pigeonkit).

Goosefeather gets his vision of Moonflower's death. He fakes the Windclan sign, sending them into battle. He tells Moonflower that he trusts her the most with the hardest job, sending her into Hawkheart's den...

Reedfeather takes Willowkit and Graykit.

Sagewhisker puts pressure on Yellowfang to be a medicine cat. Shadowclan is attacked by Proto-Bloodclan/Ex - Blood Seekers to 'rescue' Russetfur and Boulder. After the battle, Stonetooth retires and Raggedpelt is made deputy despite protests that he hasn't had an apprentice yet - but Leader's Word Is Law. Meanwhile...

Yellowfang concedes the night after to become a medicine cat, but she and Raggedpelt fight before she suggests being secret mates. No one has to know. Sagewhisker is EXTREMELY anti- med cats having mates, but Sagewhisker also tricked her by only teaching her how to suppress her power AFTER Yellowfang agreed to be a medicine cat. Meanwhile...

Pinestar meets with Shanty again, eating kibble and loving the twoleg den she shows him. MEANWHILE.

Reedfeather is murdered by Hailstar, and the kits are brought home. Riverclan would die for kits with even a drop of Riverclan blood in their veins.

Pinestar gets a sign from Doestar that a child of his will have great power, and potential to destroy the Clans.

Bluepaw and Snowpaw receive their warrior names. Snowflower and Bluemoon. Crookedpaw becomes Crookedjaw.

Tigerstar, Nightkit and Mistfang are born.

Brightsky dies giving birth to Leopardstar, Carpkit, Waterfern, and Oatkit.

Yellowfang realizes she is pregnant.

Frostfur is born, Brindleface is found in the forest days later and the 2 are raised in the nursery together.

Pinestar leaves Thunderclan to be a kittypet, preventing Sunfall from getting any lives.

Socks, Smoke, and Scourge are born.

Stormtail and Dappletail have kits. Cricketfang and Featherkit. Featherkit is deaf, but passes from Fading Kitten syndrome.

Willowpelt is born.

Yellowfang takes care of Cloudpaw and earns her full name.

Spottedleaf and Redtail are born.

Snowflower is struck on the thunderpath and killed after chasing a Shadowclan patrol.

Tigerpaw sets his own future in motion, beating Tiny within an inch of his life.

Lizardstripe gives birth to Tangleburr, Deerfoot, Runningnose, and Bristlepaw.

Yellowfang gives birth to Brokenstar, Wishkit, and Hopekit. Wishkit is the stillborn, Hopekit is the one who passes after 20 minutes. Brokenkit has a horrible relationship with his foster family. Mudclaw hits him behind everyone's back, Bristlekit, Tanglekit and Deerkit bully him relentlessly, and while Lizardstripe is no longer a physically abusive Bad Mom, she isn't very attentive, and Raggedpelt is no help, allowing it to happen so long as Yellowfang stays away.

Blackpaw makes friends with Brokenkit, and when Brokenkit becomes an apprentice with his siblings, Brokenpaw kills Bristlepaw, pushing him over the gorge. Blackpaw inadvertently covers for him without understanding what happened.

Sagewhisker has a heart attack.

Cedarstar passes from kidney failure and old age.

Raggedstar is leader and names Foxheart his deputy, taking her as a mate to hurt Yellowfang.

Greencough sweeps, killing Lizardfang, Mudclaw, and taking Raggedstar's first life.

Rotflower dies.

Mudfur and Adderfang duel, and Mudfur kicks his ass before becoming a medicine cat. Thistleclaw, growing more hateful towards Riverclan but also towards the weak, kills Adderfang. Sparrowpelt is made temporary Deputy but it's clear he doesn't like it.

Shellheart has a painful lump in his chest, he retires. Crookedjaw is made deputy.

Spottedpaw and Tigerpaw are best of friends with mutual crushes, but neither can act on them.

Brokentail is given his name early, and he tries to kill Tanglepaw only to be stopped at the last second by Yellowfang.

Tigerclaw saves Redpaw from a hawk.

Bluemoon gets pregnant at Fourtrees.

Foxheart dies. Frogtail is made deputy, he mentored Flintfang.

Crookedstar ascends to leadership, rejecting Rotflower's life, leaving him with 8 instead of 9 and leaving her in the Dark Forest.

Mistystar, Stonefur, and Mosskit are born. Bluemoon genuinely becomes mates with Thrushpelt. She is poly.

Morningkit, Swancall, and Splashkit are born. Morningkit and Splashkit do not survive their first night however.

Mosskit dies on the way to Riverclan.

Heatherstar dies from Greencough, she is the only victim that season.

Bluemoon becomes Deputy. Sunstar was under a huge amount of pressure to make Thistleclaw deputy. Everyone in the clan liked him.

Thunderclan and Windclan tensions begin, and a battle nearly breaks out, but Tallstar does not want to have unnecessary fights. Redtail no longer follows Tigerclaw, seeing his toxic influence.

Ashfoot is born.

Onestar is born.

Morningflower is born. The 3 are best friends.

Longtail and Heatherwish are born to Patchpelt and Bluebellfur. Sadly, Bluebellfur dies during their birth.

Bloodclan has kicked into full swing. Scourge throws Ruby and Socks out. Socks starves, Ruby is found and becomes Smoke.

Sunstar sacrifices his single life to save Thunderclan from a huge dog.

Whitetail is born.

Goosefeather dies from a brain infection and dementia. His last words? "Fire... Fire..."

Brushpaw becomes Brushclaw, but Tansypaw hates being wild and leaves with Bailey.

Onewhisker gets more and more enamored with kittypet life, but pushes it down. For now...

Willowkit, Silverstream, and Minnowkit are born, but Willowkit and Minnowkit pass the day after their mother dies. Crookedstar has PPD and doesn't want to be around Silverkit for the first half-moon.

Frogtail dies. Brokentail is made deputy. When protests rise, Raggedstar gets almost violent. Leader's Word Is LAW. Who cares what you think? When Yellowfang tries to raise personal concerns, he hits her. When he comes crying to her, she says "what do you want me to do?"

Leopardfoot is killed, by what? I can't say. She just... Didn't wake up one day.

Dustpelt, Ravenpaw, and Cherryshine are born.

Sandstorm is found in the woods by Redtail and Runningwind. She is nursed by all Queens, but collides calling Redtail and Runningwind her dads.

Brokentail kills Raggedstar.

Thunderclan is struck by a Greencough plague, killing Robinwing, Fuzzypelt, Thrushpelt, Featherwhisker, Stonepelt, Windflight, and Poppydawn.

Riverclan beats Thunderclan in a Sunningrocks battle, Spottedleaf gets the Fire Alone Prophecy.

Windclan are raided and driven out, some Windclan cats flee too far.

Brokenstar exiles Yellowfang.

Cherrypaw fights off a fox by herself while returning from her visit to the Moonstone and is named Cherryshine due to this.

Tigerclaw murders Redtail. Meanwhile...

Rusty becomes Firepaw.

[dairy-farmer]

Just had a dream where omega Tim, all of 10 years old, is home alone one night when he finds the neighbors dog Ace wandering his yard. It's raining so Tim let's him come inside the mud room and stay the night, and he can't help but hang out in there with him bc Ace is such a good boy, and Tim is lonely and has always wanted a dog!

Tim is expecting to just pet the dog, sit with him throughout the night so neither of them are alone

He isn't expecting to be laying on his back, his knees up and legs open, moaning like a slut as Ace eats out his sopping wet pussy. He definitely isn't expecting the dog to send him into his first heat, but at least by now he's expecting the German Shepard to mount him, fucking into his cunt and knotting him up tight. Ace comes so much that Tim looks pregnant by the end of it. Ace ends up staying for three days, helping Tim through his heat, before Tim sends him home

As the weeks pass by, Ace surprises Tim by coming over a few times a week to eat him out and knot him before heading home. This goes on for a while until Tim notices his breasts feel tender and soft, and seem to be growing. His belly, too, is getting steadily bigger, and it happens fast

He Google's dog pregnancies and learns they only last 9 weeks, and he stays true to that timeline, delivering a litter of healthy, normal looking German Shepard pups 9 weeks after he shares his heat with Ace

Tim loves his pups (all 5 of them, 3 girls and 2 boy) but knows he can't keep any of them, so he does extensive research throughout his pregnancy to find families for his puppies

He figures, as much as he loved being pregnant (and the feeling of Ace knotting him when he was nearly full term, his big, heavy pregnant belly and full, milky tits twinging beneath him as he's fucked on all fours might just be the best thing he's ever felt), he should probably try not to have anymore pups, at least until he's older and can live on his own. He tries not to fuck Ace but caves after two weeks, and hey, he isn't in heat, so it should be fine to let the dog mount and knot him, right? So long as Tim isn't in heat, he won't get pregnant

Evidently this is not true. Tim must be exceptionally fertile bc he gets pregnant again not even 3 weeks after he had his first litter. This one is bigger and it shows, Tim is huge by the end of it, his tits having gotten bigger and heavier, and his belly big and round, full of a healthy litter of what Tim learns is 8 puppies when he finally gives birth

He tries one more time to hold out but let's Ace knot him again as soon as Tim's body feels up to it, and ofc he finds himself heavy with the dog's pups once again. He decides that whatever, this is fine so long as he doesn't get caught! Ace can knot him as much as he wants, Tim can swell up with as many puppies as his little womb will hold, he'll give birth, and then the cycle starts a new

He even starts to branch out when Alfred starts keeping a closer eye on Ace, who keeps getting out of the Manor, sometimes for days at a time, and so the dog is kept in a kennel to keep him from running off. So when Tim needs to be knotted and filled, 5 days post partum of his biggest litter yet (12 perfect puppies that made him so big and heavy that he could hardly move, had to camp out in the living room where the kitchen and a bathroom were only a few feet away), he goes out to Gotham city looking for a new stud

(he isn't expecting to find a pack of strays, but he also isn't complaining, and he stays in Gotham for 2 days, letting the 9 dogs fuck and knot him as much as they want. He walks away from this encounter with a huge litter of 14 puppies, almost all of them having different sires)

So Tim becomes a little dog slut broodmare and hides it in secret. His parents don't find out, and no one else does, until he's 13 years old and on his 93rd litter (he's been getting bred and popping out pups on average of every 12 weeks: he had 18 litters by the time he was 11, then an additional 30 litters by the time he was 12, another 30 added to that when he hit 13, and since his 13th birthday, Tim has had 15 additional litters) and Jason Todd of all people walks in on Tim, heavy with his newest litter, being pounded into by Ace, having followed the dog when he snuck out again

This is, unfortunately, where my dream ended, but I woke up and immediately thought of you lmao so what do you think would happen after Jason found Tim? Or any additional thoughts to Tim being his own little puppy factory 🤭

👀👀👀👀👀 jason went from trying to find out where bruce's damn dog kept running off to to fucking a little baby slut with the milkiest tits he's ever seen. maybe jason should be grossed out or shocked or worried but he grew up in the roughest parts of gotham. he knew some of the whores would do shit like this for extra cash and jason would admit that some part of him had always been a bit curious about it when he'd catch a sight of it from the other side of the room. he knows the kid is his neighbor and he's known for awhile that the drakes sold or gave away puppies because he'd seen the childish son advertising as such hanging from their iron fence. jason had suspected the drakes were backyard breeders and it was why he'd gotten the idea to wander into their property because maybe titus smelled the pups or a bitch in heat and went following his dick.

turns out jason was right.

jason presses down on timmy drakes little womb housing what seems like a fresh litter of puppies while he pumps his cock into his warmed over puppy cunt while squeezing soft tits and full hips that had been used to birth litters of pups. god, little timmy drake is more 'woman' than most of the women in the porn jason watches. he doesn't seem to mind a stud like jason mounting him at the first oppertunity and fucking that hot, tight little cunt that's so wet it makes a 'sucking' sound everytime he pumps in.

tim ends up having his cute litter and its the last one he has for awhile because jason starts making daily visits to fuck little timmy drake. and tim's baby womb is just desperate to be filled that it's not long before he's knocked up with a real, full human baby and that's...well that one is a little harder to hide and a lot harder to give away once they're born.

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 27. brb x oc

a/n: this man is not going to keep himself together once he knows :)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: P U P P I E S

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/25/26

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-

Jolene gave birth in the second week of November, a litter of two girls and two boys. Beatrice woke up in the middle of the night with the birth already happening and all she could do was take care of her dog until she was done.It was magical, and stressful, but Beatrice was crying as she saw the puppies wriggling about.

She wanted to take a picture to send Rooster but she remembered she couldn’t, not until he told her he was close to his phone again. So she just kept it to herself…amongst other things. She was so focused on Jolene she forgot to do the follow up at the doctor about the ultrasound, only remembering when she was cleaning the little pen Jolene and her puppies were. “Oh, fuck.” she groans, pushing herself to her feet and rushing to her phone to check if there was still time.

She had fifteen minutes and she looked a mess, “Fuck!” but she didn’t want to leave Jolene alone, she had to call someone! Shells? No, Shells was probably napping at this hour, Evelyn was working and couldn’t come over, Leonardo was out of the question…which left one final person: Michael. Michael worked at night, he spent most of his morning doing God knows what and he wanted to meet Jolene’s puppies!

Which also brought the question of what she’d tell him once he got there. She had to come up with something but…the pantry was full, she can’t say she had to go grocery shopping, nothing in the house needed repairs, “Oh!I know!” she looks down at where Jolene is with her puppies, her auburn pittie just tilting her head, “I can tell him I need more blankets for you guys! That’s a great idea!”

The fact that Jolene looked like she was in an actual nest could be easily ignored.

“That’s perfect, he’ll never suspect anything.” she presses the phone to her ear after finding Michael’s name in her contact list, ‘He’ll be too busy looking at you guys too so.”

“Hello?”

“Mikey!Hi, good morning!Listen, are you busy?”

“No, I’m out and about, what’s up?”

“Can you stay with Jojo for a little bit while I buy her and the puppies some more blankets?”

Beatrice could swear he stopped breathing when she said ‘puppies’ and was probably ignoring anything else that came out of her mouth, “I’ll be right over.” and hangs up after saying he loved her. Beatrice tries to fight the proud grin but there’s no use, humming in triumph as she slid the phone back into her pocket.

Everything was going well, all she had to do was stick to the plan. No one else - besides Ev,Shells and Penny - knows about her pregnancy and while she did trust Michael’s word when it comes to secrets she also knew how much being an uncle meant to him, so he was out of the list as well.

Beatrice looks down at Jolene and her four puppies - one white, one black and brown, one auburn colored and one pitch black - all nursing themselves on their mama, as Jolene wagged her tail once she meets her owner’s eyes. Beatrice smiles, gently falling to her knees to pet her head, “You knew, didn’t you Jojo?” she asks as she scratches under her chin, “You knew about me.”

The way Jolene stood close by and how she often placed her head on Beatrice’s stomach was enough of a sign. Jolene boofed softly, as if she was confirming her owner’s questioning, closing her eyes as Beatrice kept petting her.

She sighs, then pulls out her phone just to take a quick picture of the puppies so she could send Brad whenever possible, smiling when the white one stopped feasting to lift her closed eyed face towards Beatrice as if she knew where she was already. Beatrice smiles, taking another picture of the pink nosed puppy and gently petting the tiny white bean with the back of her fingers.

Beatrice gets a message from Michael letting her know he arrived, which leaves her a bit confused but she stands up, walking towards the door where she could see her brother’s face peeking through the window. “Jesus Mike,” she says once she opens the door, “That’s creepy, don’t do that shit.”

“Where are they?” he questions, walking around his little sister with his laser focus towards the puppies, “Where are the tiny babies?”

“In the kitchen,” his massive form disappears from her view and Beatrice grins when she hears the soft yet loud gasp from her brother…followed by the baby talk. She walks back into the kitchen where she sees Michael is on his knees, leaning a bit forward with his lips parted in an ‘o’ shape, pointing at each little puppy and then caressing Jolene with his huge hand, “Cute huh?”

“Yes. Oh my God,” he whispers, “Oh they are little angels Bea. Oh I love them so much.”

“Yeah I know, anyway, I just need you to stay with them for a little bit.” She explains while placing her bag strap on her shoulder, then grabbing her car keys “To keep them company and…you are no longer hearing me are you?” Michael was too busy lying on the ground to be on face level with the new babies, cooing the one that sniffed his finger through the crate and then petting Jolene.

Beatrice rolled her eyes with a grin, knowing that they’d all be okay there…and now there was time for her to go. She knew what to do, she knew what to expect and she waited a bit before going just to make sure everything was fine. She sent another bye towards her brother, receiving no answer as she expected, closing the door behind her and making her way to the red jeep.

Honestly the drive to the clinic was a bit quick, she barely remembers arriving there and she sat inside her car with her hands on the wheel, looking ahead, chewing her lower lip.

Why was she hesitating? Why was she nervous? 

Maybe because that’s the very first pregnancy she ever had and she didn’t want anything bad to happen. That was why. Beatrice closes her eyes for a second, smell the flower, blow the candle and then leaves the car towards the clinic. As she wanders inside, she feels a bit on the spot by the amount of women there, some heavily pregnant, some not but most if not all of them had their partners with them.

Beatrice bites her lower lip, reminding that Rooster isn’t there because he couldn’t be, not because he didn’t want to be and to not let her mind spew words in her brain that weren’t true. She talks to the receptionist who smiles and tells her that the doctor will see her soon enough and to wait a bit, which she does, almost squeezing herself away from the couple next to her chair.

She bites her lower lip again, tapping her hands together between her thighs as she waits, looking up at the clock on the wall, bouncing her leg anxiously until it was her turn. She hears the mother next to her coo to her belly, then her husband puts his hand on top and she tries to gaze away from them because the last thing she wanted was to be called a creep but she couldn’t help but imagine how Rooster would react.

He’d be happy, because of course he would…maybe more protective than normal- no he’d definitely be more protective than normal. Would he become one of those satellite husbands who would always- yes. Yes he would. Beatrice has to bite back her smile before the laugh leaves her lips, just at the thought. “Beatrice Bradshaw?” a woman calls from a room and it still jolts her how now she had his last name. She lifts her head to meet the woman’s eyes, then stands up when she smiles, “Come on in.”

She remembered when she went with Marina to have her ultrasound because Derek was working, she remembered how pregnant her sister was and…it was making her second guess this decision. Maybe it was too soon, she thinks as she lies down, maybe she should’ve waited more, she couldn’t hide the gasp nor the wince when she felt the cold gel on her navel as she pulled down her shorts, maybe she should’ve-

“Well, well, there is something there.”

Beatrice immediately lifts her head to check the monitor, widening her eyes when she finally sees it. It’s very small, it’s so tiny it was hard to recognize it but it was there. That was her baby! “Oh….oh wow.”

“It’s still really small, it’s just a month old after all.” a month old, so that means she got pregnant during Palermo! “But, so far it looks okay. I do think you should come back in a few months, when you reach the fourteen to eighteen week mark.” 

“So…so it’s okay?”

“Well, it is still the first month so there’s always the need to be extra careful.”

Beatrice blinks at the doctor, she gets a bit confused but nods nonetheless, “Okay, u-um, should I…refrain from something?” the doctor offers her a kind grin, then rolls away from the table to open a drawer on her desk, flipping through some papers before handing it back to her, “Oh.”

There was a list of do’s and don'ts for first time mothers, she had to pay attention to it on the way home so she’d donate what she shouldn’t have at the house. Hopefully there aren't a lot of things? She’s been researching some stuff herself so she could at least be prepared until then.

She thanks the doctor before leaving, holding the piece of paper in her hands as if it was precious and fighting the best she could to not send a message to Rooster. No, she had to wait until he was ready to talk, he couldn’t now so there was no need to do that…but what she could do was prepare something for him…and buy paints, and work on the baby room!! Oh she was so excited!

-

“I’m back!” Beatrice calls, her hands filled with bags that she was sure to hide from her brother by hurriedly putting them in her small studio room, playing it off as drawing supplies while she goes to the kitchen with a new blanket for the puppies just like she said she’d get. Beatrice sees Michael is seated on the kitchen watching a movie on his cellphone and Jolene is still in the little pen with her babies, tapping her tail on the futon as the brunette approaches her.

Bea’s brother, who was currently eating a sandwich, looks up at her when she leans closer to Jolene, a pastel colored blanket in her arms, “How was the day? You took a long time to get back.”

“Oh, I went to Mackenzie’s to get some art supplies.” she says with a smile and for the first time the lie comes out so smoothly she’s proud of herself. “And the blanket too of course.”

“Hm, alright, well, they all behaved.” he smiles down at the puppies who were snoozing silently against Jolene, “Hey, do you guys plan on keeping them or something?”

Beatrice sets her bag on the counter, then looks over at Michael ‘Well, probably not. The house is spacious but we can’t keep them all…why? Are you interested?”

“Well, I am and so is Bibi. Once she finds out they are born you know she’ll pester Leo about it. Nevermind she just had a little sister, a dog is way better than a sibling.” he jokes, leaning on his open hand as he watches Beatrice laugh to herself as she fills a glass with water. There’s a piece of paper sticking out of her back pocket but he can’t see what it was from where he was seated, “So, anyway, do you need me for anything else?”

“No, Mike, but you can stay if you want.” 

“Nah,I gotta work later tonight and I need my beauty sleep, so,” he grunts as he pushes himself to his feet, walking over to Beatrice and pecking her forehead, “I’m going to take my leave and go home, Bea. Bye babies!” he coos towards the sleeping puppies, his smile never faltering as he walks to the door with his sister in tow, “Anyway, do let me know if you need any more help, I’ll do my best.”

Bea smiles and hugs him one final time, watching until he gets to his car then drives off. She waits a few more minutes, keeping her eyes on the car that was so far she could no longer identify it then bolted back inside after locking the door. She rushes to her little art room, yanking everything she got at the department store and setting it in front of her on the ground.

There is paint, a lot of paint, tape, a small box, alongside baby items she was going to make Rooster’s gift with, “Okay.” she smiles, gathering everything in her arms and rushing to the outside so she could have space and keep an eye on Jolene as well. Her dog just followed her with her head, blinking her big eyes until she could no longer see Beatrice on the backyard.

Since Beatrice didn’t want to make a lot of noise, even if she wasn’t cutting anything or using her power tools, she didn’t want to disturb Jolene’s puppies nor the new mama. She takes in a deep breath with a smile, then grabs everything she bought that day as she prepared Rooster’s little surprise. “Oh, shit!” she stands up, running inside the house to their bathroom, “Almost forgot!” 

She kept the tests inside the bathroom drawer for safety, fearing that if she kept it anywhere else she might throw it away by accident. Once she has them in her hand, holding it up like it was Excalibur, Beatrice walks back outside to where she left everything.

She knew she couldn’t do much, she had to keep it simple because, well, he was somewhere else far away and it’d be a bit awkward to bring home a box bigger than he could carry inside his bag. So what she did was choose one that looked like a pen box, nothing unusual nor that it’d bring a lot of suspicion once he got it and something that could fit both tests without worries.

Beatrice felt the butterflies dance in her stomach, she was happy, she was excited, she was over the moon because she was pregnant! It was almost unreal how everything happened, how one year ago this was the last thing in her mind and now, she married her crush - her handsome, tall and sweet crush - and now had a mini Bradshaw inside of her.

“Mini Bradshaw.” she smiles, wrapping the two tests in light green colored paper, keeping it closed with a paw print sticker, “It is a mini Bradshaw, oh just you wait until your dad hears about you.” she was already talking to the baby even if it was as tiny as a grain of rice– “Oh! Oh great idea!”

Jolene just opens one of her eyes when she sees her owner open the pantry cabinets and rummage for a bit until she comes out with one single grain of rice, “Oh he’s going to lose it!” Beatrice then grabs a piece of paper and a copic marker, voicing the words she writes down on it, “What is the size of a grain of rice but not a grain of rice? Oh! I should ask him to not open until we are able to video chat…so I can see his reaction to it! Yes, great idea!”

She does write that down too, knowing that surprises are the one thing that eats on Rooster the most, he is like a little boy during Christmas eve eager to get his presents first. But hopefully, hopefully he will take on her request and wait until it is time.

Beatrice smiles once she is done, gluing the tiny grain in the middle of the paper and folding around it until it was just a thin square. She walks back out to grab the box, places the square on top of the folded paper and then clicks the box shut, “Perfect.” and now all she had to do was send it…she hoped it’d get there by the time they talk again, or at least the very next time they talk is what she is earning for.

As long as it reaches his hands she’s happy, she doesn’t have to worry about anything else.

Beatrice smiles at the little box, letting out a sigh through her mouth and then places her forehead on top of the gift, feeling like she was about to burst at any second now. She just wanted a safe pregnancy, a safe delivery, a safe baby, nothing else. And she’d do everything in her power for this baby to be born healthy, including keeping up with her yoga exercises in the morning since she’d seen it was good for the baby.

She sets the gift on the kitchen counter, preparing herself for the next step in her project, walking out of the kitchen and to the art room where the paint cans and brushes sat as if waiting for her return. She made a promise to herself to paint more this year, especially to finish that picture she never did - now thinking she should add more things to it before the baby was born.

As she walks back to the baby room, opens the door and turns on the light, she smiles seeing her sketches from a few weeks back, “Okay,” she looks down at her still normal sized stomach, “Time for us to paint your room, are you excited?”

And she decided that doing it now was better seeing she wouldn’t be very mobile by the next months after all. Beatrice looked around, pursing her lips and thinking where to start, “First, let me cover the floor.” she tells herself, spreading newspapers until she is surrounded. Beatrice then supports her chin on her hand, then her other hand on her hip, looking around with her eyes squinted just a bit, “Hm…hmmmm, I think I should start with the background first, that’s a great idea.”

Since she didn’t have work that day it was also a great way to pass the time, knowing this would take more than a few weeks to finish. Beatrice popped the paint cans open and got to work, even putting on her playlist as she did so, humming to Good Golly Miss Molly as she paid extra attention while painting.

Beatrice manages to paint most of the backgrounds until she feels her stomach beg for a snack, looking down at her cellphone to see it was “Holy shit, it’s past seven, oh God!” She closes everything and rushes down the stairs, greeting Jolene and the puppies when she enters the kitchen.

She’s covered in paint, there’s paint on her knuckles, her arms, under her fingernails and undoubtedly on her face as well, but she was going to take a shower after eating. She just decides to have some of the leftovers from last night’s dinner, heating everything up on her stove and checking her phone once she turns around.

There’s no message from him yet, the little ‘<3’ he left her being the last thing he said in weeks…she tried not to worry, she really did and she didn’t want to send him more than the message of support from a few weeks back. “I hope you are okay Roos.” she whispers, “For both our sakes.” 

What was she talking about, he was okay, he had to be. He said it’d take a while for him to talk back, there wasn’t anything going on, “Yeah, he’s fine.” she says with a firm nod, looking down at her stomach, “Your daddy is very brave. He really is, you know? He’s so smart too…I think you’ll be smart just like him. And probably musically talented.” she looks to where his piano was in the corner of the living room, imagining him and the mini Bradshaw seated next to him was already making her chest constrict.

He was okay. 

Everything was okay.

“God, Roos…talk to me soon.” she says against her phone, “Please.”

[neathbound-fiends]

Had a dream about the Citizen's Armada and a potential opportunity you could encounter at Zee while an event is taking place, so I wrote out the text I remember and filled out what I didn't

★

The Armada, Splintered

Wreckage litters the Zee around you...

→

Wreckage litters the Zee around you, a vast swath of water displaying the detritus of a battle lost. Whatever did this has moved on. The ship, it seems, did not receive that same opportunity.

You recognize the name as you approach, carefully navigating the more menacing of the debris: the Hyacinth, a tramp steamer that set out with the Citizen's Armada just before you did.

Your crew is solemn, tense. A fight breaks out in the back regarding what should be done about the wreck.

Pick through the wreckage.

It would be a shame to allow anything she was carrying to be lost with her, and who knows what may have been in the hold?

[Shadowy, 1 Strange Catch]

Attempt to retrieve the crew.

Even if no one survived, it's possible to return them to London for a burial.

[Watchful, Zeefaring]

★

Pick through the wreckage.

→

[Failure]

Whatever secrets this ship might have held belong to the Zee, now. And the drownies. And that set of lengthy reptilian jaws--you make a hasty retreat while you still have all the extremities you arrived with.

[You've gained 10 × Shard of Glim.

Wounds is increasing... (+1 CP.)]

[Success]

It takes some doing--and a generous portion of bait--but you're able to pick through the wreckage rather thoroughly. The ship was apparently rerouted from its course; the hold is filled with a miscellany from London, and--oh? what's this? The authorities would be quite interested in this...

[You've gained 10 × Fistful of Surface Currency.

You've gained 5 × London Street Sign.

You've gained 2 × Tale of Terror!!!]

★

Attempt to retrieve the crew.

→

[Failure]

There is too much carnage and not enough identification. Anything that may have been useful has been claimed by the inky water.

[Nightmares is increasing... (+3 CP.)]

[Success]

It's difficult to locate anything of use, but eventually your search yields results. Bodies are loaded, carefully, onto the ship, and any identification is catalogued. Tattoos, ruined calling cards, initials in engravings on pocketwatches or embroidered into handkerchiefs. It's a long, tiresome endeavor.

Someone in your crew cries out in agony; her wife is among the bodies you recover. Where are all the Admiralty casualties?

[This has unlocked an opportunity somewhere in London. Search the City to find it.]

★

[Opportunity in Wolfstack]

Returning the dead.

You have returned to London with the bodies of some of the Citizen's Armada in your hold. You have identified everyone you recovered, and now must begin the process of determining what to do with them.

Give them to the Admiralty.

This was their battle to fight, and it is their consequence to bear.

Deliver them yourself.

You don't trust this task to those who already failed it. You will handle it yourself.

★

Give them to the Admiralty.

The Stoic Ropemaker stops you at the door. "Heard about what you did out there--the Admiralty gives you its regards. Leave the bodies with us, we'll ensure they make it to their kin."

The next week, a letter arrives at your door on Admiralty letterhead. It thanks you, in brief and efficient detail, for your contributions to the return of those who fell to protect the City.

[You've gained 1 × An Aid to the Admiralty.]

[An Aid to the Admiralty -- You have lent them your aid to return those who've fallen.]

Deliver them yourself.

You spend the day locating and calling upon the families of everyone you recovered, delivering the bodies--or what is left of them--to their next of kin.

It is a thankless task, save for the occasional token of gratitude, but you have the knowledge that you have done the right thing.

[You've gained 1 × A Champion of the Lost.]

[A Champion of the Lost -- You found your fellow citizens, and brought them home to those who lost them.]

[rinrin-the-shark-teen]

*something something Eddie confesses his feelings to Steve only for him to very kindly reject him. But then when he sees Eddie being wooed and romanced by his friends, he suddenly is not okay with it. Jealousy ensues* Steve appreciates him, really he does, but he's not into dudes, sorry Eds. I love you like a friend tho. Eddie never expected to have his feelings returned but it felt like lying to Steve on a daily basis now that they were best friends and attached by the hip. So, Eddie nods and understands, but lets him know that he will need some time and space for a while. Steve agrees with a sad smile on his face.

That was 3 weeks ago and Steve has barely seen Eddie since. He understands why he needs it, but it doesnt make it hurt any less. They are best friends, they saw each other every day, shared everything and now suddenly he was never there, leaving an Eddie shaped whole in his life.

So Steve decides to have a get together at his place with all the young adults. A quick excuse to maybe coax Eddie back, have a quick recharge of his needed dose.

And that's where they are now.

Sitting in the living room, music playing in he background, beers littered around them.. Steve has lost track of what actually is happening, they were playing something and now its just really pointing and throwing accusations around. He doesnt care, he is just staring at Eddie 90% of the time, trying not to be weird about it, he's not so sure its working by Robin's face. That won' stop him. He looks back at Eddie who is talking now.

"I just can't believe people think Nance is a priss. She has guns in her house, has shot a jock and has kissed 4 out of her 5 friends! HOW is she a PRISS?!" he laughs "wait 4????" Steve looks back at Nancy. "Yeah. I've kissed Eddie too" "WHAT?!" most of them screamed Eddie shrugged nonchalantly "I wanted to know what al the fuss was about" Everyone was a little surprised, gaping while looking at each other. "What? She was on her slut era and i was curious. It's not that deep" Eddie clarified. Jonathan looks a little uncomfortable before asking quietly "Slut era?" "Yeah" she nods quickly. "Eddie is on his right now actually" "What does that even mean?" "Wait really?" "Is that why you guys have been MIA for a week?" Nancy takes a deep breath. She's a little tipsy so she needs to ground herself a little. "It means he is having fun. He is open to fool around, hook up and date. Yes really, we did the same after John and I broke up. And yes, we went to Indianapolis, jumping from gay bar to gay bar and he well, he certainly enjoyed his time" she giggles at the end.

Robin is gaping seemingly trying to catch up with everything they just said. "YOU WENT ON A GAY RAMPAGE AND DIDNT TAKE ME?!" Eddie looks at her with sad eyes and simply says "you know we couldn't take you Robs" That seems to shake her a little before understanding what he meant. Right. Steve. That was what the rampage was about. Right. "Well maybe next time you can take me?" "You bet!" they smiled at her. Steve was getting more and more uncomfortable as the conversation continued. He understood he was the reason for the getaway and it stung a little. But most of all, the idea of Eddie kissing and hooking up with random guys was not sitting well in his stomach. Which was ridiculous because he had rejected him first, and well, its no secret that Steve was also known for his uhh multiple escapades. He shook his head and tried to focus back on the conversation. It seemed that this conversation hadn't only affected Steve, but Argyle as well, when he suddenly turned very interested eyes over to Nancy and Eddie. "Nancy?" "Hmm?" "You want to make that 5 out of 5?" "WHAT THE FUCK?!" "ARGYLE?!" "Sure" Nancy said easily while she got up and moved over to Argyle. She leaned down and give him a small peck on the lips and went back to sit down next to Eddie. While everyone was still processing that, Argyle only smiled and nodded over to her before turning to Eddie. "Eddie?" Eddie looked confused and titled his head while looking at him. "yeah?" "Can i have a kiss?" "Oh.. uhhhhh.. y-yeah sure ummm.. " Argyle and John exchanged a complicated number of facial expressions before Eddie was standing before Argyle, his fingers fidgeting with his rings and avoiding eye contact. Argyle only smiled calmly at him before leaning up to him, letting Eddie decide if he wanted to lean down or not. Eddie took a deep breath and pressed his lips to Argyles. He was completely intending to share a quick peck but Argyle clearly had another idea, when he slid his hand behind his head and softly twisting his hand in his hair before deepening the kiss. It took Eddie by surprise but it was nice, so he let it happen, exchanging more kisses with the long haired teen. Before he realized they were separating and he was left a little dazed from it. Before he could even clear his throat and get his mind back online, John was moving closer and asked the same. "Can I?" He didnt even had time to think abut it before Jonathan was leaning in and kissing him just as deeply as Argyle had. He made a small noise in the back of his throat without noticing and then they were separating and Eddie could breathe again. "wha... - he took a deep breath- wha wass that?" Both boys shrugged easily, smiled on their faces. "You said you were open to kissing and dating right?" Eddie nodded dumbly. "So we took our shot" Argyle replied happily. "But why?" "Why do you mean why?" "I mean WHY ?" The other two teens looked at each other and turned back to Eddie.

"You're hot" They said in unison. Eddie squeaked and turned bright red. "We've talked about it before and well, now was the chance, so we just took it" There was a long silence among them before Nancy cleared her throat, gathering everyone's attention. "So what does that mean? You guys just wanted to kiss him?" she squints at them, her protective side flaring up now that she has had a couple of drinks. He loved her for it. "And date him. If he agrees, of course"

They all turned to Eddie, waiting for an answer from the shellshocked teen. "are you serious?" "Yes" "100% dude" Eddie smiled softly and looked at this feet, feeling a little giddy. "Then sure" Jonathan and Argyle celebrated by highfiving each other "SCORE!" Eddie and Nancy could only giggle in actual gleeful surprise, they could not believe what was happening. "Next Friday dude, its a date! Be ready!" Eddie could only nod, his face still sporting a nice pink dustin. He was actually excited about it.

He was so surprised that he never even realized that Steve had left the room, a very concerned Robin quickly following behind her.

Next week was surely going to be veeeery interesting all around.

[theonsource]

Reminder that the first ever GREYSNOW WEEK is coming February 13-20! Here is a link to the original post where you will find more information and a list of prompts for this event!

Day 1: Role Swap AU | Secret Kisses | "If he was remembered at all..." 

Day 2: Forced Proximity AU | Arrows | "Dares not speak his true name" 

Day 3: PWP AU | Ancient Rituals | "You don't have to choose" 

Day 4: Blind Date AU | Letters/Ravens | "This is my place" 

Day 5: Love at First S(word f)ight AU | Gloves | "The runt of the litter" 

Day 6: Crossover AU | Legends | "Theon would never do that" 

Day 7: Soulmate AU | The Language of Flowers | "A Stark at last"

ANY DAY: Valentine’s Day! | Free Choice | If you are Ironborn, a member of the Free Folk, or a secret Targaryen, you can “Pay the Iron Price” / “Steal your Love” / "Dracarys" and do whatever you want!

We are excited to see your creations whether they are inspired by book canon, show canon, or an amalgamation of both! If you are writing fic, please feel free to post to the Greysnow Week Collection on AO3. And please tag all of your fanwork with #greysnowweek so that the hosts can find your posts and reblog. We also appreciate if you tag either of our blogs!

[selkiewife]

Reminder that the first ever GREYSNOW WEEK is coming February 13-20! Here is a link to the original post where you will find more information and a list of prompts for this event!

Day 1: Role Swap AU | Secret Kisses | "If he was remembered at all..." 

Day 2: Forced Proximity AU | Arrows | "Dares not speak his true name" 

Day 3: PWP AU | Ancient Rituals | "You don't have to choose" 

Day 4: Blind Date AU | Letters/Ravens | "This is my place" 

Day 5: Love at First S(word f)ight AU | Gloves | "The runt of the litter" 

Day 6: Crossover AU | Legends | "Theon would never do that" 

Day 7: Soulmate AU | The Language of Flowers | "A Stark at last"

ANY DAY: Valentine’s Day! | Free Choice | If you are Ironborn, a member of the Free Folk, or a secret Targaryen, you can “Pay the Iron Price” / “Steal your Love” / "Dracarys" and do whatever you want!

We are excited to see your creations whether they are inspired by book canon, show canon, or an amalgamation of both! If you are writing fic, please feel free to post to the Greysnow Week Collection on AO3. And please tag all of your fanwork with #greysnowweek so that the hosts can find your posts and reblog. We also appreciate if you tag either of our blogs!

[thepastisalreadywritten]

At 30 years and 266 days old, a Portuguese dog named Bobi was crowned the world’s oldest dog ever on February 1, breaking an almost century-old record, per Guinness World Records (GWR).

The previous titleholder, an Australian cattle dog named Bluey, was born in 1910 and lived for 29 years and 5 months. 

Bobi has lived in Conqueiros, a small Portuguese village, for more than three decades. But he almost didn’t survive past infancy, Leonel Costa, his owner, tells GWR. 

Costa was just eight years old when Bobi’s litter was born in the family’s woodshed in 1992.

Costa’s father, a hunter, decided the family had too many animals already, so they couldn’t keep the puppies. 

“Unfortunately, at that time, it was considered normal by older people who could not have more animals at home … to bury the animals in a hole so that they would not survive,” Costa tells GWR. 

The day after they were born, Costa’s father quickly entered the woodshed and stole the puppies while the mother dog, Gira, was out.

For the next few days, Costa and his brothers were devastated. However, they noticed Gira continued to visit the shed, despite her puppies supposedly no longer being there.

Curious, the brothers followed her and discovered a single tiny puppy safely hidden in a pile of logs.

They kept the puppy, Bobi, a secret from their parents until his eyes were open.

“We knew that when the dog opened its eyes, my parents would no longer bury it,” Costa tells GWR.

Bobi is a purebred Rafeiro do Alentejo, a breed often used to guard property and livestock.

These dogs normally live about 12 to 14 years, but Bobi has survived for twice as long—and then some. 

“That really is an unusual thing,” Erik Olstad, a veterinarian at the University of California in Davis, tells the Washington Post’s Andrea Salcedo.

“Owners will always ask me, ‘How can I make my dog live the longest life that they can?’ That’s a loaded question because there are so many variants that go into life expectancy.”

Costa attributes Bobi’s long life to his diet of unseasoned human food, his freedom to roam unleashed through the forests and farmland close to home, and the calm countryside in which he grew up. 

“Of course, our love and affection throughout his life have also helped,” Costa tells Reuters’ Catarina Demony and Miguel Pereira.

Apart from one health scare in 2018, Bobi has lived a relatively healthy life. 

The dog’s longevity has been confirmed by the SIAC, a pet database authorized by the Portuguese government and managed by the National Union of Veterinarians.

The Veterinary Medical Service of the Municipality of Leiria also confirmed Bobi’s birth date, per GWR. 

In addition to earning the record for the oldest dog ever, Bobi has also ousted Spike, a 23-year-old chihuahua mix, as the oldest living dog just weeks after the title was given to Spike. 

“It’s a feeling of pride we can’t explain,” Costa tells Reuters.

“Some people told us we wouldn’t make it ... but we knew Bobi’s age and were sure the exams would only prove what we already knew.”

https://www.smithsonianmag.com/smart-news/meet-bobi-the-worlds-oldest-dog-180981601/

NEW: Oldest Dog Ever - Guinness World Records

Bobi has been officially confirmed as the oldest dog ever recorded by Guinness World Records.

Born in Portugal in 1992, Bobi lives with human Leonel Costa.

"We are really happy and grateful to have Bobi with us after 30 years", said Leonel.

Leonel believes that living free in nature, without being tied to chains, and being fed healthy food, in addition to love, helped Bobi to have a longer life.

"I believe Bobi deserves this Guinness World Records title and I, as his owner, have a duty to give him all the best and honor him in every way for this success in life", completed Leonel.

Bobi and Leonel Costa

[bitbybitwrites]

If I Can Make Your Heart My Home - Recipe and Song list - Chp 10, 11 and 12

Here is the music/recipe wrap-up for chapters 10, 11, 12

You can see the info under the cover art by @datshitrandom

Some spoilers are below, so if you'd like to read the fic first, click here

Click below for the recipe and song lists for:

Chapters 1, 2 and 3, Chapters 4, 5 and 6, Chapters 7, 8 and 9

To see the YouTube playlist for the fic, click here.

Chapter 10

Mood music/Music in the chapter

That wasn't me.  I liked tea parties, making soufflés and petit fours, and belting out show tunes. 

Soufflé (you know if it's Kurt, it's gonna be a rum chocolate one!)

Click here for the recipe: WARM CHOCOLATE RUM SOUFFLE WITH CHOCOLATE SAUCE

I shared what I thought would have been Elizabeth Hummel's petit four recipe in chapter one. Here are a couple of other recipes I can see Kurt making.

Chapter 11

Mood music

Kurt laughed at Blaine as they stepped out of the taxi in front of the Chinese restaurant where Mike’s party was being held.  Red bags in hand, Blaine was practically bounding on the tips of his toes in excitement. “What has gotten into you?”  Kurt asked, marveling at the enormous grin plastered on the other man’s face. “Kurt, “ Blaine had this incredulous look on his face as he addressed him.  “Have you never been to Jing Fong before?” “Um, no?” “Wait, wait . . or had dim sum, like ever?”

The mention of Julliard again started to make Kurt's pulse race.  He quickly selected a bao (pork bun)  from one of the bamboo steamer baskets littering the table.  As he bit into it to distract himself, Kurt savored the fluffy bun and the sweet and savory pork inside. 

Brittany pulled Kurt out of Blaine’s arms and into the kitchen.  “Oooh, Kurt can you make me the pretty pink unicorn drink you made me last week?” She giggled excitedly and clapped her hands as Kurt nodded. Britany practically skipped away after Kurt as she followed him into the kitchen.

Tried to think of what Brittany would consider as a pink unicorn drink that Kurt would have made her. Here's are some ideas ( I imagine, whatever it is, the rim would be covered in pink sugar crystals or some sort of rainbow edible glitter, no?

Chapter 12

Mood music

I want to say thanks again to all the folks who have been reading along with the fic. I really appreciate your kudos, comments, and just the time you're taking out of your lives to spend with these versions of our favorite characters.

I mentioned on A03 we aren't done with these boys yet - there's more story to come. I'm just going to be a bit busy with family things and some traveling in the next few weeks, so there's going to be a little wait for chapter 13. And I think it's a good one!

I'll catch up with responding to some of your past comments as well!

See you soon!

bitbybit

[cypreus-and-willow]

Digimon Survive Week

Day 5 Relationships

This day's thing was supposed to be a silly little doodle about Kaito slowly taking over the role of being Shuuji’s older brother but you get two heartfelt minifics instead.

Relationship With Others

This is a snippet from a longer fic but still makes sense without context.

Dracmon looks up at him from the floor, big eyes full of sorrow.

"You can't just be angry anymore Kaito. Look where your anger leads you."

The defeat stings worse than the bruises on his knuckles. Losing over and over and over even when he wins the fight. "I don't know what else I can be."

"Well you love 'em don'cha? You love 'em, and you're angry 'cause they got hurt." His partner smiles at him. “You say you only know how to be angry, I say it's time you let other feelings take the reins.”

"Dracmon." There’s no words that can let him know what he really feels. So he lifts his partner off the floor and embraces him, sharp edges and all. "Thank you."

"You protect them like you do Miu,” Dracmon gives him the command as he wraps his arms around Kaito’s neck. “You protect 'em, 'cause there's no one else who can."

Relationship With Self

CW: self-harm

This is a snippet from my soulmate AU. Spoilers for true path under the cut.

What the f*ck do you want?

These were the words that appeared on the skin of Kayama Shuuji on the day he turned six years old. A day that every child looks forward to. The day that the universe gifts them the first words of their best friend, their partner, their forever person. His brother laughs. "Don't worry about it, soulmates just means you’re always going to be in each other's lives.” His brother slaps his shoulder, “Hey, maybe you’ll be enemies forever. It’s pretty rare, you know. You should be glad about that.”

But this six year old didn’t want enemies. He just wanted a friend.

Shuuji looks at the brand new words on his forearm; this bitter gift from the universe. He hoped that at least one person in this whole world would want him. But maybe, the world didn’t want him either.

The child he was is reflected in Lopmon’s shining eyes. He looks so small like this. Six years old. Begging to be loved.

He thinks of the scars littering the skin of his arms, his legs. Sees Lopmon hurting on the ground, scared, alone, defeated. So much like himself. Suddenly the words he’d tried to scratch out seems so insignificant. All his hopes and dreams and loves went to the imaginary person he thought would rescue him. He’d left no love for himself. No room for it, not amongst the debris left in the wake of every verbal beating. Every time his mind was scrambled from one reality to the next. But maybe, all this time - maybe he was the only one who could rescue himself. (Maybe he’s the only one who could ever love someone as unlovable as him).

I’ve hated you for so long. He thinks poisoned thoughts toward his reflection. You were always so useless. That’s why your dad hates you. That’s why your brother doesn’t care.

His cheek smarts from the punch that woke him from his nightmares. Keeps him awake and on track now amongst the danger. He looks at Lopmon, at his younger self reflected in those trembling watery eyes. And sees the kindling hope in danger of being dashed. He still remembers the day that hope in him was killed. It feels so long ago now.

He thinks there might have been a time he even liked the boy he was. He was braver then, back before the defiance was beaten out of him and he could no longer stand up on his own two feet. But Lopmon isn’t him, as much as the trembling and the fear and softness of his voice and the kindness in his eyes looks exactly like Shuuji’s worst secrets. Lopmon still has a chance.

"Lopmon."

Shuuji

"I want to be strong. Strong enough to protect everyone. Protect you… from people like me."

He thinks he sees his younger self in Lopmon’s smile.

They win the fight. Lopmon floating towards him with the brightest grin. He catches his boy, the one that never stopped yearning for love. He catches Lopmon and holds him tighter than he's ever held on to anyone. Lopmon holds him too. And for the first time in his life, Shuuji feels wanted.

@surviveweek