#since I knew I absolutely wanted to add this drawing BUT I KEPT GETTING DISTRACTED LOLLLLL

[kelpermoosee]

I LOVE SEEING YOUR CAPTAIN SHIP POSTING ON MY DASH !!! Its so so cute thank you for the delicious content ❤️❤️

Me and the guy who just (accidentally…???) killed my entire troop of Pikmin 😢

[danses-with-dogmeat]

could you do the anxious tics prompt with fo3 and new vegas companions? sorry, i think i’ve asked you to add characters a lot but i just really love your writing ^^”

FO3 and FONV Romanced! Companions react to Lone's/Six's Anxiety Tics

Here you are, my love. Please never feel bad about requesting more people! It's honestly what I live for, and I loooooove making content for the FO3 and NV folks, since I feel like there's a lot less written about them in general 😊

So thank you so much for the ask!

Here is the prompt with FO4 Companions!

FO3

Butch:

     The flash of large red-framed letters had caught Butch’s attention as the pair stood waiting to speak to Doc Church outside his clinic in Megaton. “Whatcha got there, babe?” he had asked, before realizing that it was, in fact, exactly what he had thought. Lone blushed as they looked up at him, hiding behind the pages of their comic book. “You really kept that? After all these years?” They had nodded to him, explaining that it was a sort of security blanket for them, that they could always count on reading the same story, seeing the same happy ending each time they looked between the pages, each time they felt uncertainty or stress, they could count on Grognak to see them through it. He grinned whenever he saw them with it, often curling up beside them, or leaning his head on their shoulder to try and read along with them. In these cases, Lone had to read the pages slower than they normally would, reading the same comic book over and over for the last 10 years means you can skim through it pretty quickly, but they don’t really seem to mind. Now they get to watch as this person that they care so much for enjoys the comic book they relied on and adored for so long.

Charon:

     The ghoul was curious about Lone’s tendency to nap directly after dealing with stressful situations, but he decided not to voice any inquiries. His companion would explain themself if they wanted him to know more. One day, they did. Lone had thanked him for always looking after them while they rested off their anxiety, and mentioned that it was something they couldn’t help. Charon had nodded at them, acknowledging their gratitude, before his blue eyes had narrowed in his effort to process the rest of what they had said. It seemed strange to him, sleeping off nerves... Wouldn’t that make it more difficult to sleep? He decided that the logic of it didn’t really matter, whatever it was that caused it, he would look after his partner as they took the time to rest. Soon enough, they would beckon for him to join them, leaning against his shoulder or laying their head in his lap as he kept watch over them. A scarred hand would come to run softly through their hair, or graze lightly over their arm as they dreamed away their anxieties alongside their watchful partner.  

Clover:

     Lone wasn't quite sure why, but it seemed to them that Clover was always so handsy whenever they became anxious. They had to admit, they didn't necessarily mind it, but she always seemed to get frisky at the most inopportune times. Meanwhile, Clover just can't seem to figure out why Lone is always casting hints her way in the middle of stressful situations. She gets it, she totally is picking up what Lone is putting down every time they draw their bottom lip between their teeth and gnaw away so suggestively, but do they really have to do that right now?! Once Clover finds out it's just Lone's way of coping with their anxiety, she feels sort of foolish… but that doesn't stop her from getting a little turned on whenever Lone does it, even though the timing is usually inconvenient for both of them. But after the trouble and stress has passed, Lone will certainly need to blow off some steam, right? If that’s the case, Clover is more than ready for it. 

Cross:  

     Cross often noticed when Lone had trouble focusing, she tends not to miss a thing, especially when it comes to her Lone. When she sees her partner struggling to keep their attention trained on the person speaking to them, she usually will step in and ask if the person can speak to her companion again at a later time. Her direct and clear way of speaking is a relief for Lone when they are experiencing tension, as their listening becomes almost ineffective when they are being spoken to during times of high stress or anxiety. Paladin Cross understands this, and pays particular attention to speak slowly and with great care in these times. Due to her affinity for speaking this way normally, she and Lone tend to never have issues with communication; which evidently, tends to keep Lone from becoming anxious when they’re around their partner.

Fawkes:  

     Within his first couple weeks of traveling alongside Lone, the mutant noticed their need to constantly snack. When he decided to inquire about it, and they hesitantly explained their habit to stress eat, he wasn’t sure he understood it, but he knew that he had his own ways of dealing with his nerves, which came in the form of wringing his hands whenever he became anxious. So, if this is how Lone deals with it, he will accept it without question. It wasn’t until one fateful day, when Lone had realized they were completely out of snacking material and they were on the brink of a breakdown, that they realized Fawkes had taken their words to heart, as he reached out a large hand, filled to the brim with an assortment of their favorite snacks from one of his pockets. All this time they thought he only kept ammunition in there, turns out, their partner always had a well-stocked stash of their anxiety-repellent hidden away for cases just like these. They smiled coyly as they took a box of snack cakes, and a tin of crisps, settling down beside Fawkes as he lightly ran his hand up and down their back as they leaned into him, their breathing already beginning to return to normal with each passing moment.

Jericho:

     The ex-raider always thought it was a little annoying, the way his companion would stutter at him every time something got dicey, or when they had to deal with some sort of verbal confrontation. It was painful to watch, and when he brought it up to them, and they stuttered back an embarrassed response, he realized it was well out of their control. It would still bug him, and he might make an off-handed comment about it every once in a while, but the more he saw that those comments weren’t funny to his partner, the more they glared at him as he laughed at his own rude jokes, he decided he should refrain from such talk. Lone hadn’t developed a thick skin like most wastelanders he was used to, and certainly not like most raiders; and he would have to constantly remind himself of that. After his realization, he wouldn’t say a word about their stutter again, and God help anyone who did. You mention his partner’s stutter, you’ll probably have one too by the time he’s done with you. If you still even have a tongue, that is.  

FONV:

Arcade: 

     The doctor almost flinched at the feeling of Six’s fingers wrapping around his thumb the first time they did it, but he managed to keep his composure and simply utter a sarcastic comment in response to their sudden action. But when their stress passed, and they explained that it was a tic of theirs that they had trouble controlling, he immediately understood. Not only was he a doctor (so you know, he has pretty extensive knowledge regarding things of this nature) but he’s also had his own lovely tangles with anxiety in the past, and can’t really blame Six for their habit (despite the fact that he has absolutely no tics of his own to deal with). However, his understanding of it doesn’t mean he isn’t going to make some sort of humorous comment on the action whenever it occurs. At Six’s annoyed expression he says that he is simply trying to lighten the mood a bit, maybe distract them with his humorous musings. Six thinks he must not have a clue that he exercises his own coping mechanism (ahem, sarcasm) whenever their gesture makes him uncomfortable, so they end up trying to keep themself from grasping onto his thumb to the best of their abilities. But, to be honest, they’re relieved when Arcade begins reaching over his hand to them in times of stress, his eyes avoiding theirs, and his comments going unuttered, but his thumb extending outward to allow easy access nonetheless. This gesture usually results in a kiss on the cheek for the doctor when his partner has gotten through their bout of stress.

Boone: 

     He had noticed it when he first met the courier, the way they couldn't look him in the eye. Boone hadn't been sure if it was just him, considering his constant need to wear sunglasses and his somewhat stoic demeanor, or if it was the way they were with everyone, but either way, he didn’t mind in the slightest. When he found that it was a result of their anxiety, he simply nodded to them in understanding, and the pair went on their way. The sniper honestly wasn’t big on direct eye contact himself, another boon of wearing sunglasses was being able to keep your eyes trained wherever you liked, and so people tended not to notice his own habit of avoiding eye contact with them. He threw the idea out to Six one night, and soon enough the pair wore matching sunglasses nearly all the time. And though, as he said, he didn’t mind Six’s habit one bit, the knowledge that they only looked people in the eye when they felt completely comfortable and at ease with them made it all the more special when they did decide to look into his eyes when the pair was talking, or sharing a tender moment. In those little instances, Boone liked to study the details of his partner’s eyes, committing their warm and vibrant glow to memory, paying distinct attention to their unique shape, and the way their pupils dilated as they gazed back at him. He only wondered if they noticed his eyes doing the same in return as he took in the details of the one he loved.

Cass:  

     The caravaner always tends to offer some form of alcohol to Six whenever she sees their leg shaking in such a way. Cass is familiar with the side effects of withdrawal when she sees them, and she'll try to help her partner to the nearest drink as soon as she can. When Six finally asks her about why it is that she offers alcohol to them when they’re feeling stressed, mentioning that it maaaaaay not be the most healthy coping mechanism for anxiety, she is a bit confused. They were anxious!? Strange, she only tends to shake like that when she hasn't had a drink in a while. With the knowledge that it’s a nervous tic of theirs, Cass uses it to her advantage to better tell when her partner needs to take a load off, or blow off some steam. At the sight of their leg thrumming away, she’ll give their thigh a pat to get their attention, and then ask if there’s anything she can do to help them. As luck would have it, a stiff drink does tend to give Six the time to calm their nerves, so that trend isn’t completely abandoned once Cass has found out the truth about Six’s habit.

Raul:

     "What's the matter, boss? Can’t find the right word? Lo siento, mi corazón, English isn't my best language, but I can try and help if you want." Raul is… confused at first. Whenever Six snaps their fingers, he can't seem to figure out if they're trying to find the right word to say, or if they happen to be looking for something, maybe they're trying to keep time, or make a beat? Maybe they’re counting something, trying to remember a phrase? Once they tell him it’s just a nervous tic they have, Raul looks a little embarrassed at the fact that he didn’t assume this earlier on. The ghoul tries not to pay much attention to his partner’s habit, since he knows it must make them a little self conscious when people point it out, but sometimes he can't help but snap along, trying to make a little song to go along with their own improvised rhythm. When Six does finally notice his contribution, Raul just likes to wink at them in response, flashing a playful little smile as they blush in embarrassment at the fact that he caught them doing their nervous tic.

Veronica:

     When Veronica noticed that her partner had pierced ears, she was ecstatic. Ecstatic, and jealous. She always wanted to pierce her ears, to find or make her own pretty little earrings to decorate herself with, but alas, ear piercings were certainly not within the limits of Brotherhood dress and decorum. Given her interest in them, it’s no surprise that she noticed the way Six twisted the backs between their fingers, twiddling the bits of jewelry absent-mindedly whenever they became stressed or nervous. Often times, Veronica would reach a hand out to gently pry their fingers from their earring, pulling their hand to her lips so she could give it a small kiss before bringing it to settle somewhere else, to keep them from damaging the little bits of jewelry in their ears that she envied so much. 

[asterekmess]

Did you ever watch Buffy? The first episode where Anya was introduced was titled "The Wish" and all I can think about is if Scott McCall had ever run into a pure Sidhe where they offered him a wish. Instead of, "I wish Buffy had never come to Sunnydale." It would be more, "I wish I was never bitten to become a werewolf." But just like all feaye tricks, the outcome is more, his Dad ended up with primary custody rather than his Mom and he was forced to leave BH. And then Stiles ended up more friends with Heather and others. And while Scott's life is worse, when he tracks down the others he finds all of theirs are greatly improved.

I think about it a lot and how Scott never really dealt with the consequences of any of his actions, everyone else did, and how an episode or mini-arc could have fixed a flaw in the show's design. I mean, we were already dealing with a lot of Celtic lore, why not someone from the Sidhe courts?

I have no idea why this took me so long to answer, so apologies for that. <3 I did watch buffy! I've seen all of it, and all of Angel as well. XD

I remember 'The Wish' episode, and whoooo boy it gave me chills. I loved how big the butterfly effect was, how something that seemed so small, something that Genuinely seemed to be the cause of a lot of problems in Sunnydale, ended up being so important to how things had progressed. Because, yeah, you would think Buffy not coming to Sunnydale would be a Good Thing, right? Sunnydale didn't have all of these insane issues before she arrived. It was quiet, and nothing big or scary ever happened. Her arrival matches perfectly with when everything started going absolutely nuts, so whatever selfish ideas Cordelia had, her thought that Buffy not coming to Sunnydale would be a good thing, makes sense. Except that, as she finds out, she's entirely wrong. Buffy's arrival was a lucky coincidence, or fate, whatever your taste leans toward. She showed up right as things started going nuts, and she kept it from going SO MUCH MORE NUTS.

Now, moving on to TW, it is a fascinating mix of being the Exact same situation, and the exact Opposite. I'll add a Read More, cus' holy god is this a lot of Rambling.

Because Scott wishing not to have been bitten...yeah, the bite Did improve things. But it improved things for him. He would absolutely regret making the wish, just like Cordelia did, because he would realize how many good things the bite had brought with it. BUT, conversely, he would have to realize how many good things the bite had brought for him, not for other people, and how their lives either wouldn't have been affect, or might've even Improved without him being bitten. Without the bite, Scott wouldn't have gotten on first line, period. His health issues made very clear in the five minutes he had them that any kind of stamina based sport was just out of the question for him. If he is unable to walk through the woods at a moderate pace without needing to grab his inhaler and stop against a tree, he just plain cannot play lacrosse for two or three hours of running at high speeds and working a bunch of muscles in his upper body. He likely wouldn't have gone out with Allison, because he would have no convenient way to get her attention. Furthermore, he wouldn't have the extra senses that both impressed her on the lacrosse field, and told him about her 'family dinner' the night of Lydia's party. (I've discussed this before, but... While it's true, Allison would have still brought him the dog; that dog would likely have attacked him, and his chances with her would have been shot in the foot when they both got in massive trouble and he likely had to go to the ER for stitches or something. Without Allison or first line, he wouldn't have started hanging out with the 'cool kids,' and quite frankly, wouldn't have had anyone to help him study for the classes he was struggling with. It's true that he also wouldn't have had werewolf things to worry about, or even a girlfriend to distract him from homework, so maybe that wouldn't have been such a huge issue, but still.

If we look at other people's lives and how They would have been affected by Scott not getting the bite...well, let's talk about that.

Stiles didn't get on first line because of Scott, or because of a werewolf bite. Or even because of the werewolf bullshittery occurring in town. He was put on first line because of his abilities, and even after being taken OFF first line for missing the game, he was put Right onto the field in the next game, chosen OVER other players who were perfectly viable options. Which means, he still would've ended up on first line. Allison wasn't interested in dating before she met Scott, and part of her draw to him was based on how 'different' he was. He knew things she didn't know how he could know, he had a weird ability to calm a furious, injured dog, and he had charisma that was ALSO gained from the bite, since being on first line made Scott Much more self-confident. If she didn't end up dating him, it's likely she wouldn't have dated at all. Which would mean no hiding from her parents, no strange conflicts of interest, AND, interestingly enough --depending on her involvement in the murders, etc that would still be occurring in town--no night in the school that would scare her bad enough to ask Kate for extra help and tip her headfirst into hunter training. AND, even if she DID still end up getting those lessons from Kate? There would be no bitterness to fuel her behavior at the end of season 1.

Allison was Traumatized after Kate showed her Derek on the grate. She was horrified, and didn't know what to do about it, and while we can ramble all we want about the morality of her not confronting her family (whom she's just discovered is willing to electrocute people) about it, the fact is that she pushed the thoughts aside to stop freaking out and went to that dance. Where she found out Scott was a werewolf, and was So fucking Betrayed that she was willing to help Kate catch him and Derek. No Scott, no betrayal, no willingness to help Kate recapture the miserable man who'd been chained up in a basement.

If we go back to that specific night, and try to unfold the events from there if Scott hadn't been bitten, things get a little complicated, but I'll take a few artistic liberties. Scott isn't bitten. Presumably, he just happens to get out of the woods in time, or he gets caught with Stiles by the sheriff, or doesn't go to the woods in the first place. These all change the possible outcomes of that night. If he hadn't gone in the first place, and Stiles went alone, would he have been bitten instead? Would Scott have been dragged into all of this anyway, but without the protection and boost of being a werewolf and cured of his asthma? If he weren't the one bitten, and he saw everything Stiles gained from it, would he still have such a hatred for the bite? Or would he want it, like Erica did, to cure him and make him powerful and cool? But, let's assume Stiles doesn't get bitten either. The second half of Laura's body still hasn't been found, and Stiles has no reason to fear running back into the preserve the next day, and no real punishment from his father as far as we can tell. So, does he go back to look again? If he did, he would run into Derek, because Derek would still be there after retrieving Laura's body himself. He would see Derek and still recognize him, and from there, things might spiral, still involving Stiles in the supernatural, and it's likely Stiles would try to involve Scott, and Again we get hit with "Would Scott want the bite, if he hadn't gotten forcibly bitten in the first place?" The answer is probably yes. He wanted to be cool, and popular, and on the lacrosse team. He wanted everything being a werewolf gave him. BUT if we're looking at this wish as similar to "The Wish," then no matter what, Scott won't be bitten. He'll be transported to a new world where it just never happened, and he'll be human, and forced to watch everyone around him be just plain different. Scott not being bitten would isolate him from Stiles, if Stiles got involved in the spn anyway. We SAW how Stiles cut off his other friends once the spn starting getting in the way. He and Harley? We have no clue how close they were. They were close enough for her to tease him about his crush on Lydia, for her to wander up comfortably to the locker and talk to them. And he cut her off as soon as the werewolf stuff hit. What if he cut Scott off? To protect him, if nothing else, like he did his own father. Once he realized the danger involved, I doubt he would be willing to put Scott in harm's way.

So, Scott would not only lose first line, lose his girlfriend, lose his popularity, lose his health and strength and heightened abilities, lose his 'importance' to the goings-on of Beacon Hills, but he would also lose Stiles, who seems to have been his only friend, unless he also had a relationship with Harley.

Okay, I've rambled enough about the what if's, so let's talk about the Reason why this wish would go so badly for Scott, in such a different way than it went for Cordelia. Cordelia, first off, wished that someone Else would not have/do something, rather than wishing for herself not to have done something. She watches how fucked up the world gets, and how much worse her life is without Buffy around to save the day. Scott wished for Himself not to have done something (even something passive, like 'get bitten') and would have to watch how fucked up his world gets, and how far behind he would fall. The other's lives might not necessarily get better, because Peter is still on the loose, and the hunters are still there, etc etc, but they would still Progress, while Scott would stay stagnant.

And WHY is that? Because Scott isn't important to the story. It DOESN'T start with him. That's the Whole Point of his character. He is supposed to be the 'everyman' who gets dragged into crazy shit and becomes integral to things that he wasn't ever meant to be a part of. The guy who wanders into becoming King or 'The Hero' that will save the world, even though he's just a small lad from a tiny town, whose highest prospects were "get on first line."

He was NEVER supposed to be Buffy, or if he was, it was done Very Badly.

But Beacon Hills WASN'T a quiet town before Scott was bitten; however much he might've said 'nothing ever happens in this town.' It was FULL of bullshittery and magic from the very beginning. There was the fire, and Paige, and the blinding of Deucalion, and the death of Alexander Argent, and the Nogitsune in the internment camp nearby. All of these things were around So much longer than Scott's bite, and they'd been affecting the world that whole time too. Because yes, in Buffy, the master was There before she was, but he was literally rendered inert by the situations he was in. And the things he'd done happened Centuries before, not six years. There is a difference. Sunnydale was Not Known for the insane number of weird deaths. Beacon Hills was. And aside from the Nogitsune, every single fucking thing that happened in Beacon Hills, was attuned to the Hale family in one way or another. Deucalion's blinding occurred during a meeting on Hale land, because Talia was known as a wise leader, etc, in the area and other wolves flocked to her. Deucalion biting Argent seems unrelated (if you even believe Deucalion did that, despite being a fucking pacifist before Gerard blinded him), but again, it occurs just a couple hours away from Beacon Hills, which is Hale Territory. The one who plays the Buffy role here? Who shows up at just the right time, and launches themself against an endless wave of evil, with slightly enhanced senses and a thorough need to do good and not back away from things that 'aren't they're problem'? The actual hero who is somehow tied to everything going on in ways even they don't understand? Was Derek. The guy who entirely unwittingly allowed Julia Baccari to survive, because he was trying to be merciful to his first love. Who entirely unwittingly was manipulated into giving up information that let a hunter kill his family. Who followed his sister back to town after six years of just trying to survive in New York, fell into a fucking tragedy, and decided to stop the bad guys anyway, even though he knew he didn't stand a fucking chance.

And as annoyed as some might get. The 'everyman' who stumbles onto the set and accidentally becomes integral to the saving of the world? The one whose ambitions are small and who expectations are smaller? Who is misunderstood, and has abilities that aren't recognized or appreciated, that doesn't really fit in, but tries their best anyway? The literal Angel to Derek's Buffy?

Is fucking Stiles. The son of the sheriff who just could not let it go when he discovered there was something funky going on. Who hung around on the edges, even though he wasn't really wanted, because he needed to help. Who ended up saving Derek's life over and over, and becoming so important as to be Derek's anchor? Who literally WENT DARKSIDE and HAD TO BE NEARLY KILLED, even though Derek didn't to kill him???

I know how it sounds, but JD SAID he took inspiration from Buffy. The issue is that his parallels are between DEREK AND STILES, and BUFFY AND ANGEL. Respectively.

Derek might act like the broody bad boy, but it is STILES' mentality that matches Angel's behavior, and it's Derek who matches Buffy.

I'm so fucking off track. Scott would be miserable if he ever managed to get a wish and used it to keep from having been bitten. And it would be sad. I would feel bad for him, had I watched something like that happen. Seeing him realize that most of the good things he had, he only got because of the bite. That Stiles would still be on first line, that Lydia and Jackson would still be the popular kids. That Allison wouldn't know he existed, or if she did would avoid him entirely. That Jackson would never have been turned into the kanima in the first place. That everyone else would move on and up in life, and he would still be standing at the bottom step. Because it wasn't his actual limitations that were holding him back, it was his refusal to accept them, to work with them, and to just plain stop Envying Everyone Around him, and start living his own fucking life instead of trying to steal other people's.

Scott wishes he were Cordelia, and I promise that would backfire too.

[ijustwant2write]

Always Mine-John Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @tommyshhelby​)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Can you please do a imagine where y/n and John were childhood sweethearts (no Martha) and she has known the peaky blinders her whole life and they love her too but then John has to marry esme and even though tommy does feel bad he does it anyway.Y/n works in the betting house so they see eachother every day she acts like it doesn’t bother her but is obviously a bit distant with John who is still inlove with her but she is respectful of the marriage so when Michael comes in he has a crush on y/n and kinda flirts with her and John gets jealous not sure if it’s a John or Micheal imagine your choice’

Characters: John Shelby x Reader, Thomas Shelby x Reader (platonic), Michael Gray x Reader (platonic), Polly Gray x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name  (Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Heartbreak, swearing, mentions/intentions of sex, arguing, violence, slight fluff

                                          *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Heartbreak, many people went through it, many people wanted to avoid it. Although your heart wasn’t physically damaged, it felt like it was. Humans often forget how strong their emotions are. Emotions are part of our survival, they determine how we live, it controls our day, what decisions we make. Unfortunately to live, we had to experience sadness. You could turn it around and say that the bad times made the good times stronger, more enjoyable. But it’s hard to think positively when you’re stuck in a terrible situation. 

“He....He’s getting married?” I whispered out, clutching onto my dressing gown as the cold air blew into the house.

Tommy was stood outside, I had invited him inside, but I was glad I hadn’t now.“Today/ I’m sorry (Y/N), it has to be done.”

“Why? Why wouldn’t he tell me?”

“John doesn’t know. And you can’t tell him.”

“Why are you telling me this? I could easily run to him now and tell him.”

“If you do that, you’ll put us all in danger.”

I was growing more angry by the second.“Aren’t you always in danger?”

“This is different. It will benefit the whole family, the Peaky Blinders. He has to do this (Y/N).”

I shook my head at him, crossing my arms over my chest. What with it being so early in the morning, no one else was out in the street, it was slightly dark, with a low fog roaming the streets.“You know I love him. You know how we feel about each other. I’m just confused. Why would you tell me this before they get married? I could go tell him, we could run away together like we said we would since we were fifteen.”

“Because I love you (Y/N). You’re basically family. It felt wrong not to. But I can’t lose you at work either. You need to stay.”

I scoffed.“I can’t believe this! You really think I’m going to stay and see the man I love everyday with a wedding ring on his finger? I can write up my resignation now if you want-”

“(Y/N)-”

“Honestly Tommy, this is taking the piss. You get away with a lot of shit, but this is just fantastic-”

“(Y/N)!”

“Wait here, I’ll get a pen and some paper-”

“(Y/N) would you just listen for a second!?” he yelled, silencing me.“You would be as equally angry with me if I told you after. Just be happy that I mentioned it at all.”

That had been the longest day of my life. Knowing that my worst fear had come true, the man I loved was marrying someone else, made time move at an incredibly slow pace. Part of me pondered crashing the wedding, if I knew where it was or who he was marrying, but I knew that Tommy was partly right. He had a huge responsibility to keep control of his power, but the way he manipulated his family infuriated me. 

“John, are you sure you want to marry me?” I said to him as we laid down in a field.

“You’re really asking that after what we just did?” he asked, doing up his trousers.

“Well, Susanne and Jack do the same as us, and he hasn’t asked her.” my (not so) innocent seventeen year old self pointed out.

“Believe me, I would not be suggesting that sort of thing if I didn’t mean it.”

“So you don’t ask every girl you fuck to marry you?” I teased.

He leaned over me.“I haven’t slept with that many.”

I rolled my eyes.“I don’t care how many girls you fucked before me. As long as I’m the one who gets this sort of treatment for the rest of your life, I’m happy.”

He smirked, kissing me.“You’ve been the best out of all of them.”

“Because I do anything you want.”

He leaned down to my ear, whispering,“Because you feel fucking amazing.”

I blushed, wishing I was able to tease him more.“I’m serious John, that’s a serious commitment.”

Although we were being flirty, I knew when he was being truthful.“(Y/N), I don’t want anything else. I want you beside me. My family loves you, you’re already a Shelby in their eyes, and mine. I know they say we’re young, but these feelings I have for you re strong. I wake up thinking about you, I see other women and think, my (Y/N) is so much prettier than you. And yes, thinking about you writhing and moaning beneath me is pleasurable,” I playfully punched his shoulder, which he laughed at,“but imagining you at home with the kids, waiting for me to come back and embracing me as soon as I step foot in our house, that’s all I could ever ask for in life.”

I sobbed as I thought about that memory. We were so happy back then. We were carefree, easily daydreaming about what could have been. Then harsh reality hit us in the face. He was being forced into an arrangement with some wild gypsy girl. We were supposed to be married, I was the one whose last name should have been Shelby. 

I didn’t want to hear about the wedding day. I knew that Pol, Ada or any other woman in that betting shop wouldn’t mention it in front of me.Though how was I ever to stop thinking about how the man I loved was married to someone else when I worked with him? And his new wife? Esme also had no say in this, she had been unruly and apparently the only way to sort that was to marry her off. But why did she have to work here too? She hated it here, she could never sit still. It was in her nature to be outside all the time, to run free and wildly along with the horses. Not cramped up in a betting shop counting money, surrounded by the lowest of men. Having to sit across from her as I worked was torture, seeing the wedding band made my stomach turn.

"(Y/N)?" John called me, standing in the doorway of his office.

I caught Esme glancing towards me, though I didn't care. It wasn't as if anything was about to happen, John hadn't even spoken to me since they married, not properly anyway. I had been civil towards his wife, but only speaking to her when I absolutely had to. Quietly sighing, I closed the book I had been writing in, picking up a smaller notebook and pen before entering his office. Some workers were peeking at us, they knew the drama, and it didn't help that his office was basically made of windows, meaning everyone could see us.

"You can sit down, you know you can." John gestured to the chair across from his desk, though he didn't sit.

I said nothing back.He groaned.

"Come on (Y/N), you know I hated when you gave me the silent treatment."

"Is there something you needed from me Mr Shelby?"

"You know, that only sounded nice coming from you when we were in a different environment." he smirked, thinking I would break. He was absolutely wrong.

"I have a lot of work to be getting on with-"

"I don't love her."

My eyes widened, and I kept my voice low."For fucks sake John, we shouldn't be talking about this here."

"You know I don't!" he stood in front of me, but I quickly backed away, not wanting to draw attention to ourselves."She's some random gypsy Tommy picked up on the side of the road. Esme isn't you."

"And yet you're stuck with her. So let bygones be bygones. Did you actually need me?"

"I always need you, and I will always want you."

"Right, thank you for wasting my time sir."

I promptly left, feeling my throat get tight as I pushed back my tears. If I spoke another word, my voice would crack, giving away how I truly felt. Instead of returning to where I was originally sat, I headed to the kitchen, not wanting to see Esme. It was obvious her gaze was on me as I brushed past, though I took no notice. Once there, I made myself busy filling the kettle with water and beginning to make tea, just to distract myself. As it boiled, I gripped onto the edge of the counter, painfully holding back my sobs. I couldn’t do this for the rest of my life, it was emotionally exhausting, it was torturous.

“You can’t keep up this act forever.” Polly appeared.

I didn’t bother facing her.“I know. I already told Tom I would hand him my resignation letter, he refused.”

“No, we can’t lose you, even if we had enough staff. I want you to know that I had nothing to do with that. You know what Tommy is like with his ‘big ideas’.”

I finally looked at her.“My worst fear came true. He’s with someone else. He’s married, but not to me. It’s been in our heads for so long, it was all too good to be true.”

Before Polly could speak, I saw her glance behind me. Turning around, I saw Esme standing in the doorway, her usual scowl on her face as she grabbed a mug from a cupboard.

“I’m assuming you brewed a full pot?” she asked.

“Yes.” I replied. 

She put her mug beside mine, making sure it thudded against the counter. When she left, I ran my hands down my face, seriously considering walking out. Polly decided to not add anything. We would just go in circles, trying to cheer me up, reassure me, convince me to stay etc.

Managing to get through the rest of the day, I sighed in relief and tiredness as everyone started to pack their things. Putting on my coat, I smiled at one my colleagues who was approaching me.

“John has asked for you.” they warily said.

I rolled my eyes.“Did he say what he wants?”

He shook his head.“Sorry, wants you in there soon as.”

I thanked him as he left, along with everyone else. Esme held back, obviously glaring at me. She disappeared into John’s office for less than a minute before walking out again, leaving without her husband. I watched the door shut, leaving just John and I. My stomach twisted, heart beating incredibly loudly in my ears as I took my first few steps to his office. I stood in the doorway, hating that he was already looking at me, I was incredibly nervous. 

He stood from his chair.“(Y/N)-” 

“Please tell me this is about work.”

“I need to speak to you.”

“John, I can’t do this. We’re finished now-”

I started to walk away, not surprised when he followed, but shocked when he grabbed me, turning me around to face him.

“I know you feel the same as me. I can’t fucking stand it! I don’t want to be married to her. I don’t want to fuck her in our bed. I’ve only ever imagined coming home to see you there, not her!”

“Well that won’t happen now, will it?!” I snapped back, trying to make him let go of my arms.

As I struggled, John was able to keep a grasp on me.“It can! We’ll figure out a way! But I need to kiss you. I need to be able to hold you in my arms, to really feel you. I want to keep planning our future together.”

“Tommy has made his decision, and with this family, anything he says goes! You really think we could change any of this? Even if we did, imagine the trouble you would all be in.”

“I don’t care. I would take ten bullets to the chest if it meant being with you.”

“You can’t be saying things like that.”

His eyes were crazy, staring into my soul, fingers pressing into my skin. I felt him pull me closer, it was ever so slow, and I could have stopped it. But I didn’t. We cautiously leaned in for a kiss, making memories and feelings flood back. His hands relaxed, moving up to cup my face. The passion didn’t last long, because before I knew it, I was being pushed back against a desk, clumsily lying on my back. John wasted no time to touch my breasts, continuing to kiss me as it slid down my body, disappearing up my skirt. Although it was extremely tempting to carry on, the weighing guilt made me stop him.

“John.” I breathed out, giving him the wrong idea as he kept going, sucking on my neck. I pushed against him.“John, stop.”

He pulled away.“What? What’s wrong?” he went straight back down to my neck, trying to unbutton my blouse.

“Stop!” I said a little louder, managing to sit up and push him away.

“(Y/N), I know it’s been a while but-”

“It’s not that, you idiot! You’re married!”

“To a woman I don’t love!” 

I let out a frustrated scream, buttoning up my blouse again as I stood.“I’m not going to be that woman sleeping with married men, I’m not a whore!”

“Why are you denying your feelings? We were supposed to get married.”

“We were kids back then.”

He pointed an accusing finger at me.“I said that to you every year, we were always waiting for the right time!”

“Life doesn’t always work out John!” I yelled.“This is just as agonising to me as it is to you! But if we ruin this, the Lee’s are going to come for you all, and there’s already enough on your plates to deal with them.”

“I don’t give a fuck about them-”

“But I give a fuck about you living!” I snatched up my coat and handbag, pushing past him towards the door. With my hand on the handle, I calmed down before speaking again.“Obviously we weren’t meant to be. Though at least we didn’t take our time together for granted. Don’t try any of that again John, I mean it.”

For the next week, I didn’t utter a word to John, I didn’t even glance in his direction. I considered sending in my resignation. But after thinking about it, I knew I couldn’t bring myself to do it. These people were my family, I grew up  in this business. If I left, I had a slim chance of finding a normal job, because everyone knew who I was associated with. Why would anyone risk taking on someone who was involved with the Peaky Blinders? I was paid more than I should have been for my position, and they trusted me with anything; it would be stupid of me to throw that away and lose everything I worked so hard for. 

Surprisingly, Esme hadn’t piped up towards me in that time. I thought she might say something, even if she wasn’t triggered, due to her fiery personality. However, John had been relentless with his attempts to make me speak to him, even trying to trap me in the vault with him. I couldn’t break, I couldn’t let him get to me again. As much as my heart ached for him, as much as I wanted him to grab my face and kiss me again, I would never break a marriage. The guilt that would live with me fr the rest of my life was too much to bear. 

At the beginning of another day, I had just breezed into the shop when Lizzie approached me.“(Y/N), Tommy wants to see you.”

I sighed.“Did he say why?”

She shook her head.“You know what he’s like. But he’s asking for you now.”

I didn’t bother taking off my coat or setting my bag down, following Lizzie to his office. She knocked before opening the door, letting me walk in before closing it behind me, and I was left with Tommy, who was hunched over his desk as he looked through papers; however, there was also another man, a younger man.

“Come in (Y/N), let me introduce you to someone.” Tommy stood, setting the papers aside.

My steps were slower than they usually would be as I analysed the stranger. He looked younger than me, but not by that many years. His hat was in his hands, and although he wore a suit, it wasn’t like the ones the Shelby boys wore. His hair was slightly curly, not slicked back or short like most men around Small Heath, and he seemed shy, maybe more reclusive.

“I’m Michael.” he offered his hand out which I shook.

“I’m (Y/N).” I politely smiled.

“(Y/N) is basically family and has worked with us from the beginning.” Tommy explained.“This boy here, (Y/N), is Polly’s son.”

My eyes widened at Tommy as I let go of Michael’s hand.“Wait, you mean...the children she was always talking about...?”

“I’ve come back to find out about my real family. And to start working here too.” Michael added.

“So I need you to keep a close eye on him, help him with whatever he needs. (Y/N) knows the ins and outs of this place, she’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

For the rest of the day, Michael shadowed one of the workers that dealt with the winnings, counting money and figuring out how to run the shop floor. I would occasionally pop up when I thought he needed someone kinder and quiet to help, or just to check on him. He was sweet, but that wouldn’t help him in this environment. Luckily, Michael made it hard for John to bother me, he didn’t have the usual opportunities to bombard me with questions about why I didn’t want to fight for what we had. My shift finished quickly, it seemed like I had only been there an hour and we were already leaving.

“Come on Michael, let me take you for a drink. You deserve it after today.” I offered as we walked out of the shop.

He was hesitant before smiling.“Alright then. Where should we go?”

“We’ll go to the Garrison, your cousins are basically royalty there, meaning we are too. And don’t worry about your mum, she would rather you be with me than with the boys.”

Happily greeting Harry as we walked into the pub, he nudged the other bartender to get my usual drink. After asking Michael what he wanted, I called it out to Harry before disappearing into the private room.

“We’re allowed in here?” Michael asked.

“Yeah, don’t worry. Like Tommy said, I’m family.” the window opened, a bartender passing us our drinks.“So, how did you end up in a place like this?”

We indulged in a conversation about Michael’s life growing up. It wasn’t a good upbringing, he had been through a lot of hardships as a child, and now being thrown into a completely different life was only adding to the confusion he had growing up, but he wanted to be independent. Get away from the boring country and work in an interesting job. 

Michael glanced down at his drink, seeming hesitant to speak.“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but is there something between you and John? I thought he was married to Esme.” 

I scoffed.“He is. Seems to keep forgetting that.”

“Sorry, I shouldn't have asked-”

“It’s fine. You’re family, you should know what’s going on. We...wow, I’ve never actually spoken about this. John and I developed feelings for each other as we grew up, we became a couple. We always said we would get married, anyone could see we were deeply in love. However, Tommy arranged a marriage between John and Esme, it was to form a truce between the Shelby’s and the Lee family, Esme’s family.”

“That’s horrible. Tommy still did that even though he knew you two were together?”

“Yep.” I downed the rest of my drink.“Welcome to the family business.”

“I understand the need for a truce but...”

“I know what you’re thinking. Although it was heartbreaking, I know nothing can be done about it. And I am not a home wrecker!”

He was shocked by my snappy tone.“I-I didn’t say you were.”

“I know, force of habit.”

The door opened, the Shelby brothers walking in, and only three of them smiled at us, it was obvious who didn’t. They greeted us as they sat, the window opening instantly with their drinks on the tray. Michael and I were still tense from our talk, though tried not to show it as Arthur began rambling on about something stupid Finn had done that day. I tried my hardest to listen, though it was hard to when I could feel John’s eyes on me, and he was angry. Everyone else could tell as well, but they didn’t want to deal with John’s attitude right now. After Arthur finished his story, I excused myself to the ladies room, needing to relax. Unfortunately, I couldn’t even go to the loo without any disruption.

“Why the fuck are you here with him?” John demanded to know as he followed me in. 

“John! You can’t be in here!” I snapped.

“There’s no other women here yet! Answer me.”

“He’s a new colleague, someone Tommy told me to look after today. Not to mention he’s your cousin. I was being nice to him.”

“You say you still love me yet here you are with another man.” the rage in his eyes was growing more intense by the second.

“Oh for fucks sake John.” I rolled my eyes.“Why on Earth why I be so stupid to move on with another Shelby?”

“The fuck are you saying?”

“I’ve been battling with myself whether to leave this job because of you! It was terrible enough to be in the same room as you and your wife, but trying to avoid you all day is exhausting. You have to stop trying to make us work.”

His breathing was getting faster, and he hastily grabbed my hands.“But why can’t we just hide it? Maybe after a while I’ll be able to divorce her.”

“I can’t sit around and wait for you! I’ll always love you John, but you can’t expect me to not go on living my life whilst I wait for something that may never happen. And you’re telling me that in that time, you won’t have sex with her, you won’t give her the children she wants? Because I’m not fucking you behind her back.”

He groaned, pulling away from me and turning around, suddenly hitting a stall door, causing me to flinch at the movement and sound. Instinctively, I started backing away, scared that he might flip and accidentally hurt me in his rage.

“It’s not fucking fair!” he yelled.

“John, calm down!” I said, trying not to shout back, needing him to be calm.

“Why was I the one that had to get married?! Why wasn’t it Arthur or even Finn? They know we’re in love! I wanted you to be my fucking wife! And now you’re not even fighting for us!”

I scowled at him, screaming just as loud at him now.“How dare you?! John, there is nothing to fight for anymore! Yes, we still love each other, and I would give anything to be with you again! I would kill for you, you know that. But we need to move on from this. I’m staying at work for now, just until I’ve got enough to move somewhere else, and then I’m gone. I’m not staying where I got my heart broken.”

“You can’t leave.”

“I will. This feels like someone is punishing me for something terrible that I’ve done, but for the life of me I can not think what that could be. I’m done with this John. I don’t want to wake up every morning dreading to go to the shop, being distracted from my work because I’m dreading that you’ll corner me and we’ll get caught doing something we shouldn’t be. I feel like I’ve aged since the day you married, just from the stress.”

“(Y/N), please, just give it more time, we can work something out-”

“No! John just shut the fuck up and listen to what I’m saying! Leave me alone, leave what we had in the past. You’re married now, and I don’t want to have an affair, not just because of the Lee’s but because of the moral of it all. I...I just need to go home.”

“You’re not leaving-”

He grabbed my arm forcefully, and in defence I slapped him around the face. He recoiled his hand as he went into shock, giving me a chance to escape. However, he kept calling my name as I rushed off, seeing the boys standing at the bar, obviously having heard everything. I pushed past them, bursting into the private room to grab my things before leaving the pub. The others were also telling me to come back, wondering what was wrong.

“Don’t follow me! Leave me alone!” I screeched before turning away from them. 

I felt light headed as I stormed home. There was so much to take in, too much had been said in such a short amount of time. Though I knew I had spoken my truth, even if it was the hardest thing I had ever admitted. John and I couldn’t be. Perhaps it was never meant to happen, and we needed to grow up, move on from our childhood dreams of us being together. I couldn’t dwell on it, I was right when I said I couldn’t put my life on pause to wait for him, which I knew would never happen. Until I knew what I could do to move on and away from everyone, I hoped that our argument had sent a message to John, and I wouldn’t have to suffer as much as I had been. Not for much longer, I am going to be happy.

[tobiosmilktea]

amor vincit omnia — akaashi keiji

     ↪︎ O2. I CHOOSE YOU

masterlist | prev. | next

a/n: i absolutely hated rewriting this chapter after it glitched out the first time 😔

since the beginning of your first year of university, you and the rest of your lovely friends had been eating in the library, specifically the large round table secluded and at the very corner for every meal without fail, and nobody really cared to stop you guys for two reasons. For one, no one really goes into that corner of the library that only collected dust, and two, you guys were there so often that you all befriended all the librarians to the point they stopped coming by to tell you guys to leave and eat in the canteen instead.

you were placed between daichi and kiyoko, counting the seconds by as they worked diligently in silence, munching on their lunch in the process. daichi tapped on the keys on his laptop rather quickly, the impact of each click being unnecessarily loud while kiyoko was cross-referencing documents and highlighting lines of never ending texts in a nice muted green color. tsukishima, on the other hand, was too preoccupied reading his book. eyes completely glued to the novel resting in his hands as he readjusted his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. sugawara was out and about somewhere in the sea of towering bookshelves to find a book to read, mentioning something along the lines of—and you quote, ‘something to quench his thirst for entertainment.’ 

it was honestly just his fancy way of saying that he was bored out of his goddamn mind. perhaps you were the same, eyes wandering your surroundings for something, just something to capture your attention for a few moments. it wasn’t at all difficult, actually, considering how pretty your university was.

higashi university had always been your dream college. not just by its blatant aestheticism, but the academia as well. with tanaka and nishinoya being your main friend group during your high school days, it feels rather refreshing being surrounded by other incredibly smart individuals than constant brain rot.

(no offense to tanaka and nishinoya, you loved them to pieces)

and as your mind began to wander, so did your gaze. from admiring the library’s interior to looking out the window, your lips slightly curved down into a frown.

it was only noon and the clouds were already darkening the sun’s piercing rays that usually shone through the large domed windows of the library. it was going to rain soon and for a couple hours as well.

it’s quite peculiar to think about now after you received that damned chain letter. earlier this morning, while shoving on your wool sweater and trousers, that even the weather app on your phone didn’t show any signs of inclement weather until an hour after you texted your group chat in an awkward panic.

you didn’t really pine yourself to be so superstitious. if anything, you were the complete opposite, and yet, here you were worrying over the sound of rumbling thunder in the distance.

tsukishima lifted his gaze from the words printed on his novel as he pushed his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose. he flickered a look at you, a smirk appearing on his visage the moment he noticed the way you stared at a single drop of rain on the window, flowing down rather slowly.

that stupid letter of yours was still in your hand as well. he watched you fiddle with the corners, careful not to mess with the mahogany red wax stamp that sealed the envelope.

“have you thought about which poor, unfortunate soul you’re going to give it to?” he asked, smirk still annoyingly evident. this was the third time he asked you this question in a span of three hours.

you flicked your eyes towards him coolly before it fell onto the letter in your hands. "ask that question again and i’ll be sure to send it your way, tsukishima.”

“i’d like to see you try, honestly.” he muses, “your best bet is probably slipping it into one of your professor’s inboxes. maybe professor oshiro, by chance?”

“please,” you snort, “she only gave me one failing grade that i eventually made up in the end.”

“just give it to a random stranger,” daichi cuts in, eyes still glued to his laptop as he typed his fingers away. dark circles dusting his eyes like a dark shadow. law school was certainly doing its works on the likes of poor, poor sawamura daichi.

he shrugs, evidentially fatigued when he meets your eye.

“that way your grades won’t have to potentially deal with the consequences if your professor finds out.”

you nod, humming in response. that would be terrible.

sugawara then emerges from the maze of bookshelves, holding up a book towards you with a smile on his face. “found one,” he beams, tossing it atop the messy table.

you reach for the book as sugawara pulls out his chair whilst he mutters something to his daichi about his whereabouts.

“wuthering heights?” you say the title aloud and capture kiyoko’s attention along with it.

“yeah. have you guys read it?” the silver-haired boy asks. he takes your opinions quite seriously knowing how much of an avid reader you and kiyoko were. whenever he needed book recommendations or opinions, he would always go to you two.

you nod, “i quite liked it.”

“some parts tend to be slow, though.” adds in kiyoko, taking the novel from your hands and flipping through the pages briefly before slipping back over towards sugawara. “it should keep you occupied for a few days.”

you chuckle slightly, giving her a look. “you forget how slow suga is at reading. the few days it takes us to finish a book is a good month for him.”

offense coated sugawara’s expression as he lets out a scoff in retaliation. “don’t you have a chain letter to give to someone?”

“she’s stalling,” tsukishima teases.

“am not!”

“then want to go give it to a random stranger then?”

your brows draw together, “right now?”

tsukishima nods as he stuffs his belongings back into his bag. “i’ll come with you for shits and giggles.”

a sigh escapes you, rolling your eyes as you take a look at the letter one last time and wanting to laugh at yourself for doing all this. a full chain letter from front to back, with the first quarter of it is you viciously apologizing that you had to do this in neat cursive handwriting, all written in fifteen minutes.

you gave in.

“fine,” you huff as you grab your own bag as well.

“good luck,” kiyoko muses up at you as you squeeze past her.

tsukishima waits for you until you’re by his side, strides shorter than usual just to match your pace as you two navigate through the labyrinthine arrays of bookshelves. the letter was in your hand, all small and discrete for a quick and easy delivery to an unsuspecting victim. your palm perspired slightly as you kept your eyes open, scanning for an easy person as you were aware of the possible repercussions.

you could easily get in trouble for doing something this childish, but you were in too deep already.

“hurry up and find someone, we’re almost at the entrance already.” tsukishima hisses in a harsh whisper.

“i’m working on it!” you hiss back.

“working on what?” a familiar voice asks then, capturing both you and tsukishima’s attention, whipping your heads towards the owner.

kuroo combed his freehand through his hair while he had two textbooks tucked under his other arm. he gave you a smile.

you never really got close with kuroo despite meeting him at nationals a few years back. despite only talking a few times due to him being good friends with tsukishima, you knew he was nice, incredibly smart in the sciences, and yet oddly awkward for someone as good looking as he.

not him, you thought to yourself, too nice.

“a little project,” the blond immediately answers just like that. “our majors tend to overlap sometimes, so we decided to partner up.”

“nice, i’m here with my friends to study as well.” kuroo states, causing your eyes to scan behind them for any evidence of their rambunctious selves.

like kuroo, you weren’t close with any of them either. if anything, they were just mere acquaintances on the precipice of becoming strangers. regardless, they all seemed quite nice too from your lack of interaction with them.

tsukishima says something in response then, igniting a short little catch-up conversation with an old high school friend as you lay distracted. your eyes flicked down to a study table in front of you, one of the chairs just a foot shy from you had a satchel hanging off of its side. the brown leather flap was wide open with its owner nowhere in sight as you gave your surroundings a once over.

carefully, you made your way over the table, pretending as if you were taking something out of your bag as kuroo was being distracted by the blond. neither of them were looking at you fortunately. as you placed your bag back over your shoulder, you slipped the letter right into the open satchel right at the same time–the envelope falling and disappearing into the depths of the bag.

“i’ve got to get to my next lecture,” you say to the two men, giving tsukishima a sly wink that it was a job well done. “i’ll see you guys around.”

checkmate.

fun facts! —

after kiyoko graduated and moved to tokyo, (y/n) and kiyoko kept in touch by sending each other cute handwritten letters

no one really is aware of that area in the back of the library since no one goes in that section often (this is uhh,, an important detail for later 😳)

taglist: (comment or send an ask to be added!)

@channiechanchan @elianetsantana @suhkusa @agaashesmilktea @dwcljh @duhsies @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @kitsunetea @morpheus-rex @noeminemi @ntimacy @kurokenchan @kittyddandnyla @amboisez @komouri @stargirlara @itsmeaudrieee @immxnty @spicyshinsou @bombardia @yammerss @crescenttooru @tadashi-simp @sunanyaa @saikishairclip @marvel-ing-at-it-all @seijqhigh @normalisthenewnorm @allielozoya @peteunderoos @inflxxtions @peg-legz4 @kawafika @apollochjld @bap-kingdom @yongboxerrr @kenssister @galacticyoongs

[acetarisborn]

Happy (delayed) international asexuality day!!!

I haven't written (and posted) in a while and one of my most popular posts is the one about me simping for Asmo from Obey Me while being ace so... what better day to post this than yesterday!! But I fell asleep so now...

The brothers falling in love with an asexual MC

This is my first time writing one of these so it may end up feeling more like fanfiction than headcacons lol.

Asmo

The second you saw this gorgeous charming man it was love at first sight, and he felt the same way

Although you might have felt a little intimidated when you found out he's the avatar of lust. You might even think you have no chance!

But oh boy are you wrong

This man adores every aspect of you. From your gorgeous body to your breath-taking personality and he knows you love him as well.

The surprise in his eyes when he finds out you don't like him only for his looks is priceless

He can't help but blush brightly every time you give him the slightest of compliments, which sometimes turn into ankward laughs if he adds a sexual advance at the end

You try everything to let him know without telling him. Wear the ring, make several ace jokes and even wear the damn flag pattern on your clothes, to a point that the entirety of RAD but Asmo knows you're ace

But to be fair he might not even know what asexual means

He lets you know his feelings in a BIG way, something very intricate and romantic like a huge banner with help of the bros or plans a situation where you two end up dating

When you tell him you're asexual he's shocked to say the least

Not all humans enjoy sex?! Truly the newest concept he's ever heard

He does get sad at first, realizing he won't be able to experience that pleasure he's been fantazising about, but once he thinks about how out of all the beings in the Devildom you fell in love with the demon of Lust himself he bursts in laughter

He stops abruptly once he realizes why you look scared or sad because of his laugh and explains himself immediatley

If you tell him you understand if he doesn't want you he turns serious and grabs your hand

"Mc, you are the most gorgeous, kind-hearted and amazing person I've ever met, I didn't fell in love with how you are in bed or anything about sex! I fell in love with everything that makes you, you. I would never leave you over something so... so ridiculous! No matter how much I enjoy it!"

Once you guys start dating he showers you with gifts and fancy stuff (mostly skincare products)

He starts being super cautious about what he does or says, but eventually loosens up after the thounsand time you told him to do so

He also loves kissing you all over your face (if it's okay with you). On the lips, nose, cheeks or your forehead

All because he wants to remind you every day how precious you are in his eyes and that he loves you no matter what

Beel

You can't tell me you guys didn't fell in love that time you shared a room, you knew at the spot but this certified himbo is very oblivious

"Im hung-" He never gets to finish this sentence again because you always have a snack or food to offer him

Of course this is what starts his liking to you.

He doesn't realizes at first but it's the little things like what draws him in

He always wants to seat next to you at lunch and just talk for hours, he blushes at the sight of your smile or his eyes light up every time he sees you walk by

He begs you to cook for him no matter how many times you already do or say you're terrible. If you make him a bento this will make his whole week

Once he realizes his feelings he plans to tell you, not knowing you were planning on telling him you're ace and doing the same

"That's cool but um...whats an ace?"

Once you explain it to him he's a little surprised but nothing too extreme, he understands and didn't paid mind to sex anyway, he's happy he got to know beforehand.

"Oh, that sounds like you, good to know, specially now, because..."

He stops hiding a big box of chocolates and opens it, the chocolates spelling "Will you be my partner?"

If you ask him if he's okay he nods almost agressively, which ends up in you tackling him in a hug

Once you start dating he's ready to provide bear hugs and cuddles, he's the cuddliest demon in the Devildom

"Hey, I found this food/thing with the ace flag colors, thought you might like it"

He asks you to help him cook whenever he's hungry. Doesn't matter if it's the greatest culinary piece ever or an absolute disaster, he's happy he gets to spend time with you.

Levi

Okay but that overflowing PASSION when he rambles on about TSL, that fire in his eyes, *chef kiss* you can't help but stare dreamily at him

"watcha looking at normie?" He asks while blushing madly at the way you kept looking at him

The first time he finally accepted he's in love is when you dragged him to your room to watch a new anime, he realized you were a total weeb just like him (And I know you are because why else would you be here?)

Since then you have anime nights at least once a month with all the snacks you can get in your bed or couch

He obviously loves playing any kind of videogame with you, he doesn't like some of the ones you do but plays them anyways just to see you celebrate once you've won

Dragging you to conventions is a given, he spends weeks making you the perfect couples cosplay, staying all night muttering about how yours needs to be perfect

Since most of his brothers don't care/like or are too busy for his ramblings about a new game or anime he goes to your room very often. He's happy you're always there for him.

But IS HE JEALOUS

If he sees anyone flirting with you in the slightest of ways he'll go into overprotective mode. In a bad day this means as much as asking you for a pencil in class

We all know he puts you in a bit too high of a pedestal compared to him, but it's because he loves you and tries his best to gain confidence once you tell him how wonderful he is.

"They're so cool Henry! They are so nice to me and so pretty. I don't deserve them but do I want to try!!"

Since he's too shy and introverted none of you have asked the other out yet, but you decide to trust him and come out to him first.

"Oh yeah, I know plenty of asexual characters, I know what it is. That's great! You have my whole support!" This one takes you off guard

He talks about how he kinda suspected it but never said a word in fear that it could offend you.

This was enough for you to jump in and tell him your feelings.

To say he's blushing is an understatement. His whole body is red

"I like you to...But a-are you sure? You're just so pretty an- and amazing and I-I'm just a yucky otaku... Not that all otakus are yucky! You're not! Oh crap, I'm so sorry."

You snap him out of his rambling with a hug or a kiss, telling him how much you love him no matter how he belittles himself, because he's already perfect.

He tackles you in a hug out of excitement and says he loves you too

He has no problem with sex at all once your relationship starts, he wasn't having any to begin with and never thought of the idea of you guys doing it, so it's pretty much the same.

He tries his best to make bentos for you or use any romantic tecnique he has ever seen in romance animes

Instead of overprotective mode he now brags about his amazing partner to everyone he can.

"Mc, we should cosplay these characters! This one's ace!"

He'll do anything for you to feel safe and welcome in his arms no matter your sexuality.

Satan

This lovable bookworm fell in love later than anyone (except Belphegor) did, in the train murder mystery.

At first he thought it was mere admiration, but then why was his heart beating so fast?

Don't get me wrong, he's outraged. He hates that he's not paying attention to class to write poems, being distracted from his books because his mind wonders off thinking of you, and he despises that every time you bring him a cup of tea or flash a smile his face turns bright red in front of his brothers.

Eventually he has no choice but to ask Asmo and he is overjoyed. He offers himself as a wingman many times and Satan declines every single one

He doesn't tell you about this willingly, Asmo creates some devious situation where he ends up needing to confess his feelings.

He has never felt so relieved that the time you said you liked him too

He finally shows you some of his poetry (at least the less cringey ones) all of them talking about your outer and inner beauty in a way that almost moves you to tears

Everyone is surprised by how frequently one of the scariest demons out there lets himself get hugged by you at any given time, even if he's busy he always has time for you.

Also cats. Plushies, bags, clothes, anything with a cat on it you gift it to eachother

You eventually gather courage, enter his room and talk to him, thinking that maybe him being so distracted reading would soften the news

But he just nods mindlessly

"Satan? Did you hear me? I'm asexual" You take his book annoyed but the answer leaves you in shock

"Yeah, I know! can I go back to my book now?"

Turns out you were being painfully obvious and Satan is too smart not to notice.

"So... you're okay with it?"

"What in the world made you think I wasn't?"

He closes his book and you two have a long talk about how he accepts you and loves you for who you are over some tea

Mammon

He has always been in love with you as you have with him, what else is there to say?

Mammon melts at the slightest of touches and compassion you show him

He's so happy every time he's with you because you actually treat him like his brothers should

He loves them but they aren't the kindest towards him, so there's nothing better than hearing from you how much he's worth

He repeatedly asks you for money or pulls out some pranks but suddenly stops. How weird? Could it be that he feels bad for making you feel any kind of sad?

You have to stop him from saying he's your first several times, thankfully it eventually works

He tells you how great you are in a way he isn't directly telling you? But you can just know

"Hey, hu-I mean Mc! You're...the less annoying person in this place...Thanks for that" Yes, that was him trying to compliment you

As your bond becomes stronger he starts to loosen up to you. Leaving you gifts or flowers at your door with a smile on his face.

"Lucifer took my dear goldie for a week because of this but ya know... it's worth it."

When you actually accepted to go to the biggest casino in the Devildom he considered it as your first date.

You spend the hole night seeing him win and loose money, even pulling you in to have fun as well

You two take a break exhausted at a fountain. Mammon sees his chance and goes in slowly for a kiss

"Wait, Mammon. If we're actually going to...date, there's something you have to know."

"You're the most outstanding human, what the hell, the most outstanding being in the three worlds I've ever met in my eternity, Mc! What makes you think I'd leave someone as breathtaking as you over wether or not you wanna have sex?!"

"For some people it's a big dealbreaker..."

"Well, not for the Great Mammon! Only an idiot would let you go because of your sexuality. And no matter what they all say, I'm no idiot"

You end the night holding hands and going back to the House of Lamentation, ready to start this beautiful romance.

Lucifer

Ok. First things first. Everyone can agree Lucifer is (or seems) even hornier than Asmo, so this is gonna get...complicated. But we'll get into that

He sure seems the least likely to actually show the vulnerability of being in love, but gosh did you made your way into his heart

It was a long and diffecult journey to get him to like you, but he eventually got a liking to you the more you guys spent time together

You were able to make him loosen up as well.

Dragging him to anywhere you loved instead of being sat down with mountains of paperwork

Always waking him up after he fell asleep in his desk with a blanket, a hot cocoa (Coffee if the work needs to be done by the next day) and even a kiss on the cheek if he's lucky

By the time the whole Belphie situation was defused he was finally able to show his true intentions

He's a fairly elegant person, so when he tries to make an advance, he does it with style

This means all kinds of fancy places once he's off from work with the most romantic of views. Every day you feel like being swept over by a true gentleman

I'm pretty sure he'd have you as his partner by now, maybe he never officially asked but you both imply you're a couple at this point.

But as I said it, he has his whole...punishing thing......

It's exactly because he starts crossing the line with one if these why you just had to stop him and tell the truth

He gets shocked and slowly start fitting the puzzle pieces in place

"Well, this is unexpected. Wait. Have I... made you feel uncomfortable around me all this time?"

Once you nod he falls in his bed ashamed

"My deepest apologies, my love. I truly hope you forgive my reckless words. I must know, are you not feeling safe in this relationship?"

You explain how wrong that asumption is, telling him how every day with him is incredible, but showed your discomfort at some of the things he says

He was relieved he hadn't crossed the line yet and was never going to let himself cross it.

"I am so glad you shared this information with me, I promise to make this relationship the most romantic experience of your life"

He stays up all night researching everything ablout being ace, he gives you gifts related to this, finds out your love language and does what it is every day, he does every romantic thing you can think of and he even asks you to go to a pride in the human world!

He's willing to do all he can in order for you to feel loved in any way you want

Belphegor

Well, he did tried to kill you, so I'm pretty sure his betrayal hurt if you helped him for love

He knows you're at least a little scared of him and he knows he needs to apologize, but never finds the time because you always seem wary of him

He tries by leaving a note in your desk that says "I'm so sorry for what I did. Thank you for bringing our family back together"

This is the first smile he gets out of you as you look at him

This escalates to him passing notes whenever he's not asleep. In class, the table at dinner, outside while hanging out with you and Beel, anywhere. This happens so often you end up always having a pen in hand to answer.

It goes until one of you decides to speak, you start talking and become best friends in no time

Although Belphie seems too possesive for his feelings to be just friendship

Honey, if you thought Levi was bad he's nothing compared to Belphie

He uses every excuse to get you away from anyone that possibly flirts with you. It's either that or his death glare burning them for several minutes until they run or apologize

He always wants to be with you, even if he's sleeping he feels the lack of your prescence

This is why he always tries to convince you to take naps with him, snuggling with you is the best part of his day

If you're more of a night owl he'll do his best to stay awake and look at the stars with you in the planetarium. Sometimes falling asleep in your shoulders "on accident" wink wink

He mumbled about you in his sleep and that's how you found out and ended up dating

The relationship is pretty much the same with more kisses and hand holding, along with him convincing you to skip class sometimes just to sleep

Also plushies, a lot of them, all of them

You decide to tell him one day while snuggling beneath the stars. Being sure enough that he'll understand, although the nerves are still there

"Okay... so?"

You express your worries and he stands up looking almost menacingly but his words killed the scary mood

"Are you dumb? How did you think someone like me would even worry about that?"

"I'm not Asmo, beds are for sleeping. Come on, lets steal that cake Lucifer saved in the fridge, I heard it's sort of an inside joke between us."

After this he keeps asking you about the whole asexual spectrum, thinking he might be part of it. He's shows true interest at every question you answer and tries to use this new information for future dates.

All and all it's very relaxing to date someone like him, who surprisingly has a very loving and understanding heart behind what people are used to see.

[softomi]

now accepting boyfriend applications: intro to business

synopsis: it’s crazy how things can slip the mind, just like how you posted about wanting boyfriend applications but granted, you were drunk. It seemed like Akaashi had the upper hand; until a certain classmate intrudes your mind. 

series: now accepting boyfriend applications

previous: literature

next up: biology

series taglist: @kyomihann @chesley-cant-deal @bluearmufs @your-consulting-fangirl @itsmeaudrieee @winunk @aegiseterna @katelyns-stuff @mochipk @3rachachoo @kyuudere @sixthself @merakiulous-k​ @notsostraightweeb  

*bold means I wasn’t able to tag you*

general taglist: @graykageyama @tsumue @thesorebae @micasaessakusa @alouphen @waitforitillwritemywayout @chibichab @trifliz

“I’m almost positive that guy wasn’t your boyfriend.” Kuroo would know, he probably isn’t going to tell you that he’s familiar with Akaashi due to a mutual friend. Instead, he lifts his chin, “ex-boyfriend.” He corrects himself.

You bite the insides of your mouth, “No he was not.”

You’re back to an internal groan, now you were stuck with the next boyfriend candidate and it’s starting to feel like you’re speed dating.

“Business is all about—” It’s ten minutes into class and your professor enjoys beginning class with an inspirational quote which then smoothly leads into lecture. Only, today, it seems as though he’s taking forever to get to the point of the quote.

Like always, Kuroo remains fixated on the lecture. He was the type to never take notes, though his notebook was out, and his pen is twirling in his hand, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him write anything down. Yet he was somehow managing a ninety-eight percent in the class, what an intelligent prick.

“You good?” He’s mouthing to you and you’ve realized that you had been staring.

You nod in an attempt that he doesn’t catch how embarrassed you actually were to have been caught looking at him. Kuroo turns back to the lecture and now you’re staring down at your phone that is reaching sixty percent. You shamelessly pull up the pdf he had sent you.

“Are you reading my letter of intent?”

You lock your phone so fast; it almost falls on the floor. You’re only lucky that it falls off the desk and Kuroo’s reflexes quickly catch the cell. The action makes both of your desks squeak against the floor and everyone’s heads turn. Both you and Kuroo mutter apologies as he hands you back your phone.

“Cat got your tongue?” He’s stupidly smirking, and you’re tempted to kick him, “Did you read it?”

“No.” You say in a hushed voice, turning your eyes to the board trying to pay attention for once.

He, also, turns to look at the board. Chin resting on his palm, “What a shame.”

For the rest of the class period, he remains silent. He’s fixated on the professor’s lecture, but your mind is racing. Your leg is bouncing rapidly, fingers tapping against the desk, you’re itching to touch your phone but scared it’ll make Kuroo pull another move to talk to you.

The lecture drags, you want to go back to sleep, and you’re suddenly realizing that you’ve skipped breakfast and lunch. Your stomach growls, to you it sounds like a dinosaur’s roar but no one else in the room seems to have heard it. Once more it growls, making you lean your head on the desk with a heavy sigh. You were starving, suddenly aware that you’ve left your wallet at home, and you’ve neglected to add your card to your cell phone so now you’re contemplating skipping your biology lab or starving for the rest of the day.

Your head is laid on its side, giving you perfect view of Kuroo’s side profile. His bed hair looks soft and you’ve got to admit that his jawline is exquisite. He smirks, eyes looking at you from the side. You’d feel embarrassed but you’re hungrier even to the point of being angry.

The lecture drags on and at this point you think you might die from the way your stomach is crying.

“Are you hungry?” Kuroo asks after the fifth time your stomach as growled.

“Is it that obvious?”

Kuroo laughs lowly, “You sound like a car that won’t start.”

You take full offence, “Shut up.”

He was always like this, playful and poking jabs at you. He loved to banter with you and you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t like it. Talking with him was like talking to a childhood friend, it’s easy going and free spirited. Even when the two of you were studying for the first business exam, tucked in a hidden space on the second floor of the library; the studying was abandoned when he kept showing you funny scenes from an anime, resulting in you watching the anime on his tiny cell phone screen despite the both of you clearly having your laptops out.

Kuroo leans close to you, “Want to get out of here?”

“Right now?” You whisper, “We still have forty-five minutes left.”

Kuroo is shutting his notebook, “I’ll buy you lunch.”

“Bet.”

You’re trying to hide your laughter as you and Kuroo slowly pack up to leave. Now the only thing was to try and leave without making the biggest scene. You’ve successfully stood, only drawing small attention as you’re headed for the door. Kuroo seems to struggle, as he picks up his bag, it knocks against the empty desk next to him, drawing full attention to himself and you. It’s deadly silent, you’re frozen at the door and Kuroo is rushing to you.

“Go!” Kuroo pushes you out of the class.

“That was so embarrassing!” The laughter coming from you makes you run out of breath, “How are we supposed to go back to class on Tuesday?”

“Why were you just standing at the door!” Kuroo is yelling yet laughing at the same time.

You slap his arm, “You’re the one who decided to announce that we were leaving in the middle of the lecture. God, the professor probably hates us now.”

You’ve reached the small café in the business department, it doesn’t have a lot of options, mostly cold sandwiches and packaged snacks. The café drinks are way too expensive and even the water bottle is pricey; way to go education.

“Get whatever you like, I’m paying.” His words are smooth and for a second you believe him.

His body turns away from you, pretending as though he’s looking at the drink menu, you can clearly see that he’s checking his wallet. His shoulders visibly deflate and while you fake trying to pick something from the prepackaged area, you watch as he checks his account balance on his cell phone. His head seems to fall back irritatingly. It’s cute, he was trying so hard, but the world was being too cruel on him.

“Kuroo?” You call him. He’s slowly turning, hoping that he doesn’t have to take back his words. You wave him over to show the cheapest sandwich possible, “Want to split it with me?”

“You could get something better?” Kuroo tries looking at the other options, “What about a coffee?”

He was too sweet. You’re smiling, “Nah. I drank a lot last night so I don’t think coffee will sit well in my stomach and I’ve been meaning to go on a diet so if you take half my sandwich, it’ll be like I’m starting early.”

He’s still adamant on wanting to buy you something more expensive, “You could literally get this sub, it’s more filling and what do you mean diet, you’re literally perfect right now.”

A heavy blush appears on your cheeks, you slap his shoulder, pushing him by his back, “Just share a sandwich with me idiot.”

“But the sub.”

You’re kicking him in the ass, “Mention the sub one more time Kuroo, I swear to god I’ll leave you high and dry right now.”

You settle on seats by the window, you’re opening the packaged sandwich and in an attempt to stay cheap, Kuroo secretly stole cups while you distracted the cashier and he was grabbing water from the fountain.

“So.” Kuroo starts, “You haven’t read my application yet?”

You almost choke on your dry sandwich, “Must we talk about that now.”

Kuroo raises a finger, “You know what, I’ll just read it to you now.”

He was dead serious, pulling out his phone to bring up his pdf form. He was the absolute worst, yet it’s absolutely hilarious the way he fixes his clothing as if preparing for an interview.

“I’ll start with my letter of intent.”

You’re already giggling, trying to hide behind your sandwich.

“I am writing this to inform you of my interest for the position of Boyfriend. I have been highly interested in this position ever since you asked me for a pencil and then returned it back to me a week later, not realizing that you had given me a different pencil. I knew I liked you because of how cute you looked apologizing for not returning the pencil earlier.”

You never thought you could smile so wide before until this moment. Kuroo mimics your smile, looking back down to his phone.

“I don’t have a lot to offer but I can say with confidence that I can beat you at Mario Kart. I’ve been practicing and honing my skills for this moment; I heard that boyfriends need to be good at Mario Kart and if I am accepted for this position, please don’t fall for my best friend because he is better than me at Mario Kart.”

You snort, laughter emitting from your lips. You were on the verge of tears at how funny this application was.

“Lastly, we have similar taste in anime so obviously the 2d world also ships us.”

You hum at the last sentence, “Obviously.” You roll your eyes.

He sets his cell phone down, he’s finished his sandwich by now, practically inhaled it and he watches you eat your last bite. It’s a comfortable silence, really, maybe you were so caught up in the friendship that you had never gotten to think about him in a relationship sense.

“If you think about it.” He’s staring, “This is basically our first date.”

You choke on your water, coughing loudly and he finds your reaction funny. He’s patting your back and you feel so bad that you’re basically spitting on him.

“Kuroo.” You begin.

“Ah.” He knows where this is going. He waves a hand around, “You don’t have to give me an answer. Just.” He pauses, “Just consider me in the future.”

“Is that y/n I see?”

Your expression falters the moment you hear the voice of your biology lab partner, “Atsumu? What are you doing here? Did you get lost?”

Atsumu chuckles, a hand over his heart at your jab, “So hurtful. My brother’s taking some business classes, I had to drop something off for him.” Atsumu makes eye contact with Kuroo, “Hope I’m not interrupting something.”

That was a lie, you can tell. His cheeky grin says that he was absolutely hoping that he was interrupting something. Kuroo seems to not mind, at least from what you can tell. But in his mind, it’s the same as when he had seen Akaashi; a competitor. Especially when you’re trying to shrug Atsumu’s arm off your shoulder, Atsumu pinched your cheek causing a tick to grow on your forehead.

“Kuroo Tetsuro.” He puts a hand out.

Atsumu smirks, gripping the male’s hand, “Miya Atsumu.”

There’s a strong way that they grip each other, their faces are smiling, but their grip is testing the other.

“Well.” Atsumu has a hand on the back of your seat, “We have biology in about fifteen minutes, we should probably head over there.” Atsumu grins to Kuroo, “We’re partners, I was hoping you could show me again how to use the microliter pipettes.”

“Again?” You eye him.

Atsumu has his hands in the air defensively, “It’s just so confusing. The lab manual doesn’t describe it well.” You miss the way he smirks from behind you, “And besides, I learn better with hands on education.”

Kuroo returns the smirk, “Your hand must hurt having to grow up teaching yourself.”

The sharp inhale of laughter you take when you’re drinking causes the water to come out your nose. You’re laughing, coughing, and your nose is burning. Kuroo is handing you napkins and Atsumu’s jaw clenches.

“I’m sorry.” You put a hand on Atsumu’s shoulder, “but that was really funny.” You pat his cheek when he pouts, “Let’s go, I’ll show you how to use the pipette before lab starts.” You turn to Kuroo, “I’ll see you later.”

Kuroo gives you a smile, “I’ll message you.”

Atsumu frowns, even as he walks away with you, he looks over his shoulder, chin lifted, attempting to display dominance even until the last moment.

[thecagedsong]

Forgotten Light: Chapter 6: Enchantress

A/N: Hey everyone. Going to start uploading at night so I can focus better during the day. Enjoy this short bit. Kendra isn’t going to get a lot of action at this point, so it’s training for her. 

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11

Chapter 6: Enchantress

The following morning, Kendra had Ronodin’s bag of gifts organized on the craft table in the library. Ronodin had added little labels, listing the general source and possible magic properties of each item. The ingredients were kind of icky. Fabric that was various blends of cotton, wool, hair of zombie, hair of Litche, milkweed, nettles, and deathknell spider silk, was in the first section. Wood blocks were in the second section, varieties of elder, damnation redwood, wood from the heart of hamadryad trees, blinding pine, and some from the Dedona forest of insanity. Paint mixtures in the third section, they came with various combinations of fairy blood, unicorn blood, phantom tears, poison, and reverent spit.

She decided that the wood blocks were the least gross and least possible to screw up. Reading more into their descriptions, she settled on balsa wood from the heart of a hamadryad tree. Hamadryads were nature spirits, connected to specific trees. It seemed a vulnerable wood that would help her craft an amulet for protection.

Without her memories, she felt vulnerable. Ronodin had given her an idea of who she was, but that wasn’t the same as being the person he knew. It wasn’t even the same as wanting to be that person, even though old Kendra sounded pretty cool.

Ronodin had assured her that while her family had disapproved, being an enchantress was her passion. The art of crafting magical items was almost entirely lost, but Kendra was one of the few that could bring it back. Her family had been worried about an influx of magical items falling into the wrong hands though, destroying their monopoly on the magical market. Luckily Ronodin had managed to secure most the replacements for the stuff she had forgotten to take with her.

She and Ronodin had read the how-to chapters together, and he specified which parts she was able to skip due to her status as fairy kind. She didn’t need pentagrams or runes, for example, but she did need to imbue the item with intent.

An amulet seemed like a good start. They were one of easiest since they were meant to be worn, and didn’t have a functionalty/magic property duality to worry about. She wanted a protective amulet, and browsing through her guidebook’s symbol glossary, Kendra settled on one that would make her enemies feel weak and distracted the closer they got to her.

Kendra carefully selected the knives she would need, and sketched out her design. A chain broken in six different places, at the points of a star, would go around the edges, and it would encircle a blob human. Circle for a head, hunched forward, the back at a diagonal, knees bent, hands on knees.

The second half of how to make the amulet was to ‘work the feelings into the material that makes the effect desirous’. Ronodin had explained that part too. She would take a hold of a little part of her magic, not all of it, but a little bit of the flame inside her, and feed it with emotion, bringing out that specific aspect of her magic, metaphysically drawing it into her hand and her tool. Then she would focus on separating that magic from herself, pushing it into an object with every touch, before cutting it off. Negative emotions worked best, because those lasted much longer than positive emotions, were easier to work, and attached themselves more readily to physical objects.

She took fear: fear of seeing people blasted into ash, fear of being stolen away in the night, fear of jump scares, fear of the dark she sometimes felt, pressing in around her. She took annoyance: annoyance with Ronodin’s stupid games, of being stuck underground, or losing her memories. And she took dismissiveness: it wouldn’t hurt them, just make them weak enough that she could escape or disarm them. They were in her way and needed to remove themselves, like Ronodin’s uncomfortable flirting, like the block on her memory, and like that loud dragon that kept yelling at everyone.

With each emotion, she physically made a pinching motion near her heart, and pulled out a thread of her magic and added it to the wood she carved through her knife. Technically she didn’t have to do the physical motion, the magic followed her will not her body, but it helped her focus. How good she was at this part was debatable, because while she should have been focusing on the emotions and pressing the magic into the wood, she kept having to refer back to her woodcarving guide for advice on what to do next.

Kendra cut herself twice, small knicks that stopped bleeding by the time she got the bandages out. She tried to wipe her blood off, but probably didn’t get everything. Hopefully her blood wouldn’t spoil the enchantment. Sanding until smooth felt very satisfying, letting her muscles get used in ways they hadn’t since trapping herself here. The finished product was pretty round (she could fit it into the top of her water glass), a little smaller than her palm, but good for her first try after forgetting everything.

She was a little surprised she wasn’t tired yet. One of the perks of living on your own while hiding out from your family was no one was around to tell you when to go to bed. Still, she didn’t want to throw her sleep schedule off too much, and so one paint job before bed. Instead of trying to paint in the details, she would make it all one color. When she got better at painting, maybe she could add in the details of the chain and the figure, and adding the effects of the paint would hopefully make up for what she couldn’t do in carving.

Looking over her selection of paints, which Ronodin promised were fairly sourced, she tried to feel out her options. When imagining the effect she wanted to have, it involved people turning pale, like the moment you stand up too fast, and you feel weak and can’t move.

Looking over the whites, she had three options: a silvery one of primer mixed with unicorn blood, a creamier one with magic goat milk and naiad tears, and a standard white that used Hemlock and Lethe water. She didn’t want the creamy color, and Lethe water was all about forgetting important things, which she had enough of to last a lifetime, so Kendra selected the paint with unicorn blood.

It was so fascinating what contained magical properties. Tears, blood, milk, poison, hair, it was said something about sacrifice and DNA and where magic comes from that was absolutely fascinating. She was starting to understand why she had been obsessed with it before.

Painting didn’t take nearly as much concentration as carving, and from the first dip of the paintbrush she focused on weakening those who wished her ill. Whatever she had done, the person occupying this body couldn’t be responsible for the past. Imagining her magic travelling from insider herself, down her arm, into the paintbrush, it smeared and soaked into the amulet. Harm her body or harm her spirit, and the enemy would start falling apart before they could touch her. Celebrant, the dwarf that took her memories, they would fall to the ground before they got close to her, too weak to do anything but watch her escape.

When she felt good about the paint coating, she went to the library and hung it over her fire to dry. Tired after that little bit of crafting, she picked up the book she had been reading before to take it with her to bed.

Kendra settled into bed and tried to find the page she was on before Ronodin made her drop it. She had been ending a page, and…the next page had been torn out. She hadn’t noticed it on her first read through. She had liked this book! And the gray areas those pages talked about were exactly what Ronodin had said she was interested in that her family wasn’t. It would have been nice to learn about it from another source.

The next page picked up on what was known about the Fair Folk, the Forgotten Crown, because while they were equal to the others in power technically their neutrality limited them so much as to keep anyone from caring about them. In modern times, people only ever referred to the Five Crowns, or the Five Thrones, but they shouldn’t discount the Fair Folk…

[judylicious]

And When He Smiles I Swear I Can’t Breathe

Alan Rubin x fem!Reader

Word count: 1,897

Fandom: Blues Brothers

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Blues Brothers characters or movies. This refers to Alan Rubin as a character in the movie, not the real Alan (although he obvsly played himself but you know what I mean)

I’d like to add that I made everyone of the band a few years younger (so the age gap between the reader and Alan isn’t that big), so he’s approx. in his early 30s.

Warnings: !!! IMPORTANT trigger warning mentions of physical abuse !!! also smut

Chapter VIII

It was already late and Alan was behind the wheel of his Mercedes, on his way home. He couldn’t stop thinking about Charlotte in so many ways and he was wondering if she’d be telling her parents about him right now or if she already had or maybe wouldn’t at all. He thought back about her father at the Chez Paul, not only about how he offended Alan but about the way he was with his family, which grew some serious concerns in Alan whether he shouldn’t have talked her into having that conversation. Maybe he should check on her? 

Driving by, just to see if she was doing okay? He sighed, running his hand through his dark hair. He tried to distract himself and thought about today’s rehearsal and the new songs the boys were working on, when he realised he had forgotten some sheet music at the rehearsal room. It wasn’t any music for the band but for him privately that’s why he was keen on getting the sheets back as soon as possible. He turned right at the next junction to take a slight detour to catch the papers, which would also give him some extra time to decide whether he should pay Charlotte a visit or not. As he entered the rehearsal room he did so without turning on the lights. Since he knew where he had left the sheets, the light from the corridor was enough for him. He grabbed the slips of paper and was already on his way out again, when he saw something moving in the corner. He slowly approached and felt relief but also concern, realising it was Charlotte. She was asleep, huddling, her small jacket covering her body. He got down on his hunches and stroke her forehead and hair carefully in order to wake her up. “Charlotte? Hey hun…” The girl slowly started to wake up and was surprised to see the trumpet player. “Alan? What are you doing here?”, she asked him, still sleepy. “I could ask you the same thing.” “I was sleeping.” “Why aren’t you home?” He rubbed his fingers, feeling some kind of dirt on them. He moved them to the small beam of light coming through the door and gasped. “Charlotte!” Alan immediately grabbed the girl and pulled her into the light to take a look at her. “What happened?” She had a raw wound on her temple, the blood not completely dry yet and a bruise on the other cheek. “Nothing, I-” “You’re calling this nothing?” “I fell down the stairs.” He took a moment to look into her eyes. “Was this your father?” Charlotte dropped her gaze. “C’mon hun, I’m taking you to the hospital.” “NO! No, please, it’s not that bad.” Alan pressed his lips together, “Alright but you’re not spending the night here, you will get some rest at my place. But me, no buts!” He carefully helped her up and got her into his car and to his flat, where she took place on his sofa. She looked tired and weary, her eyes red from crying, her mascara entirely smudged, she looked like a picture of misery. Alan got her glass of water and a wet towel to wash off the blood and smudge of her face. “That should do it for now.” He gave her a warm smile. “You can have the bed,” and nodded to the room next door. “I will take the sofa. And if you like you can change into this shirt, should be a lot more comfortable than…” Alan paused as Charlotte got up vacantly, grabbed the shirt and went next door. In the meanwhile he made out the sofa and got a blanket and a pillow for himself. He softly knocked at the door frame of the bed room and peeped his head in. “Do you need anything else?” “No, I’m fine, thanks Alan.” Charlotte sat on the bed. “Okay, I’ll be next door if you need me.” “Alan? Could you… would you, stay with me? I don’t wanna be alone.” “Of course.” He smiled at her again, and for the first time that night he got a smile back from her. The musician quickly turned off the lights in the living room and laid next to her in bed. Alan wasn’t exactly sure on how close she wanted him to be but eased as Charlotte moved herself close to him, resting her head on his chest. She nestled against him, squeezed him hard, so he put his arm around her in response. “I can’t help myself but think this is all my fault. I shouldn’t have talked you into this. Or at least be with you.”, tensed up he waited for a response but could only hear Charlotte’s soft breathing, the girl in is arm already asleep.

The next morning Charlotte woke up to the smell of coffee. Alan sat at her side with a mug in his hand. “Good morning”, he greeted her. “Did you sleep well?” Charlotte hummed satisfied, stretching herself. “Haven’t had a rest like this in months.” She looks absolutely gorgeous Alan thought to himself, even with those bruises. She had been wearing her hair up last night but the hair tie must have been slipped off over night, her beautiful curls now down to her shoulders. He hold the coffee out to her. “How are you feeling?” “Better actually. Thanks for looking after me. Would you mind if I took a shower?” “Of course not, towels are in the bath. How about breakfast after you’re done?” “Sounds great.”, she smiled and with that Charlotte hopped out of the bed and hurried to the bath.

After she turned off the tap, she could hear Alan was playing his trumpet. She wrapped a towel around herself and tiptoed to the living room. He didn’t noticed her, so she leaned against the door frame and watched him. Charlotte didn’t know the song he played but I sounded like heaven. Alan was so talented. How can he make a brass instrument sound so soft and mellow? Charlotte got lost in the lovely sounds and the sight of watching Alan. He looked so hot, his sexy lips interacting with his instrument and him being in total control. “Why did you stop?” “I didn’t see you standing there.”, he turned his head to face Charlotte. “Not absolutely happy with the way I played.” “You’re kidding? This was extraordinary. What is it called?” “It’s part of the solo in “You Don’t Know What Love Is”.” “It was beautiful.” “Yeah, I’m not sure.” Charlotte walked over to him and sat down on his lap. “What happened to the presumptuous Mr. Fabulous I met at the concert, who bursts with self-confidence?” She caressed his chest and planted a lingering kiss on his lips before she moved down, kissing his neck. Alan closed his eyes, savouring the moment, his hands slowly moving over her thigh to the towel wrapped around her desirable body. “I thought you’d like if I hold myself back, get out sweet Alan, lock away Mr. Fabulous.”, he chuckled about his own remark and couldn’t believe he just said that. “Mhm, nonsense.”, Charlotte whispered. “Let him out.” She started to kiss him on the lips again and pushed his hand under the towel. He let her have the lead for a moment before he kissed her back eagerly. He nibbled on her lower lip, then deepened the kiss, his tongue demanding entrance. Until he ripped away the towel, grabbed both of her legs and lowered her on the table a few steps away. She laid back while he started to kiss her neck and moved on on to her shoulder and her breasts. He let his tongue flick over her hard and sensible nipple, a soft moan leaving her lips. Alan made his way down to her core, planting a kiss on her naked body every few inches. Charlotte shut her eyes until she felt his hot breath again her inner thigh and lady parts. She looked down and caught Alan’s eyes, which were staring intensely into hers. He kept watching her as his tongue slid against her fold and they hold eye contact as he buried his face between her legs. Charlotte bucked her hips when she felt his finger thrust inside her pussy, which was wet and dripping with their mixed juices. He added another finger and began curling them up so he could feel her warm walls.  “You want me?”, Alan purred, “Yes, I do.”, Charlotte gasped. “I want you to say it.” “Mhm, I want you Alan, now. I want you to take me, please.” The trumpet player only grunted in response and quickly got rid of his trousers while Charlotte sat up and undid his shirt, running her hands over his chest. It was exactly like she imagined it. There was a bit of soft hair going down to his navel, broad and muscular shoulders and well defined pecs, he looked absolutely perfect. She hungrily looked at his length while giving it a few good pumps and strokes. He grabbed her cheek buts and positioned her in front of his throbbing cock, right at the edge of the table. The handsome musician crushed his lips on hers again, passionately, her arms encircling his neck and drawing him closer. In the heat he lined up his cock in front of her clit and pushed hard into her, catching Charlotte by surprise, causing her to whine. A deep moan left his mouth but he didn’t waste any time and started to thrust inside her. Holding her close, her ass in his hands he increased his tempo and Charlotte buried her head into shoulder. Both were a moaning mess and he could feel her walls clinching and become tighter around his thick cock, telling him she was close to climax. “Don’t come yet.”, he groaned, and grabbed one of her breasts, playing and pinching her nipples but Charlotte couldn’t hold it back anymore. “I-I can’t...”, she whined and her moans filled the air, they sounded heavenly to him, her walls pulsing because of the friction as she came hard on his cock. Coming down from her high, she tried to catch her breath  “I’m so sorry.”, she panted. She quickly removed herself from his member and pushed him a few steps back to the chair, causing confusion in him. Her mouth met his dick, intending to finish him off orally. Charlotte ran her tongue along his shaft, then taking all of him into her mouth. She bobbed up her head up and down, swirling her tongue around his tip every time she went up. “Fuck.” he growled. “Wasn’t expecting this.” A little smirk escaping his lips. His moans became briefer and heavier as his cock twitched insider her mouth and he released his cum into her mouth. Charlotte eagerly swallowing his big load and licking off what was left on his length. “You’re amazing you know that?”, he smiled down at her and quickly pulled her up into his lap again and into a tight hug, planting soft kisses on her shoulder. He picked up the towel and put it around her gently. “You still up for breakfast?” “I need it now more than ever.”, he laughed and they both got dressed before heading into the kitchen.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

[princeanxious]

for the touch starved thing, platonic creatwins? where they’re both finally accepting of each other, and roman one day randomly pats remus on the back, and remus just. hasn’t been touched in so long, because deceit mostly kept to himself and the others despised him, so he’s just. really shook and quietly says “could you do that again?” and roman is confused as to what he means, but anyway roman is horrified to find out how touch starved his twin actually is

Ohohoho angsty! Very angsty. I like it. Heres what I came up with, its not super long but its enough i hope. Hhhh

Warnings: Sympathetic Remus, brotherly Creativitwins, touch starved Remus, touch starved character recieving touch for the first time in literal years, allusions to talking about gore but its like super minor, and i think thats it?? Angst out the wazoo! Also not beta’d bcs it’s 2:30 am and I am probably going to bed after this to answer the rest of the prompts tomorrow xD so all mistakes are mine

One Touch Breaks the Dam

[[MORE]]

They’d come a long way to get to now, where Remus could relax on the living room floor in the commons without his shirt on(though, pants, he’d been told, were mandatory) and draw with his bro in relative peace. They’d bicker here and there, but it was all lighthearted and fun. Logan relaxed on one side of the couch with a book, occasionally chipping a piece of info into the ever changing conversation topics.

The acceptance hadn’t come easy, though it wasn’t like Remus hadn’t deserved his family, it just happened that he’d had to fight tooth and nail to even get that idea rolling. He didn’t mind it much, didn’t dwell on it too long if he could help it, that his brother got it scott free and he’d had to hike the mountain the whole way to meet him there. It didn’t matter now, now really, because he’d made it. And they’d helped him get here just as much as he worked to get here, and sure, there were still plenty of rough spots to smooth out. No family was perfect, he knew, but every improvement made him happy as can be.

He could hang out with Patton while the father figure baked, and listen to Logan ramble on about his latest hyper fixation. Remus could finally sit near Virgil and listen to his edgy music together, he could even go and help Dee tend to his two pet snakes! Sure, he’d been given a few ground rules set to follow with all of them, and sometimes he forgot them.. but they seemed to get more patient with him with each passing day as soon as they saw how guilty he felt about breaking one of the rules.

Where Virgil had once worried that the other’s acceptance of him could be reversed in one mistake, Remus sometimes seemed to believe he still hadn’t fully gained it yet. That he expected at any moment they would turn and tell him to leave, and he would without hesitation because he’d gotten what he wanted, even if he couldn’t have kept it, just having a taste of any of it was enough to satisfy him for a lifetime. Or.. so he said, in his quieter, not so spontaneous moments.

The world could leave Remus alone again, and he’d be fine, because for just a short period of time, he’d had a family to be part of. That was enough. None of the sides bought it, not fully at least, despite knowing Remus was the least likely to lie in any situation. Even Dee was skeptical that Remus was trying to lie to himself, but could never fully be sure.

However, with each passing week, the abandonment never came. And slowly, Remus stopped believing that they would leave, and only then could things really begin to move forward.

With each loud and brash outburst, be it gruesome or simply just a well timed, if over-enthusiastic, meme to reply with, the others slowly got used to him. And in turn, Remus adjusted to the others just the same.

It sometimes does wonders to someone prone to attention-drawing outbursts to finally have so many people to interact with as distractions, and slowly become normal interactions with family instead.

Shaking his head, Remus let out a loud breath to re-center his brain on the present and now, knowing that his brain could wander from thought to thought with wild abandon. Roman’s eyes flicked up to meet Remus’s, checking in and receiving a toothy grin in return.

Scooting closer till they were about a foot apart, side by side, Remus presented his new idea to add to their castle defense system in the imagination. Both of them had been working on the plan together all day, seeing as it was a day off for Thomas to just relax.

“Ohh, hmmm. True, geese do make much better outer defensemen than sharks, the scary feathered demons. I like it!” Roman grinned, giving Remus a gentle but reassuring pat on his back, knowing that praising Remus for working his ideas into something constructive would make his brother beam.

Instead, Remus froze for a brief second, before his entire torso trembled harshly for a split second, scaring Roman into moving his hand off of his brother in alarm.

“..woah. Okay. Um, Re? What..?” He trailed off, noticing his brother’s body language. Hunched and closed, and absolutely stiff and still. Remus’s eyes had gone blank for a brief second before blinking to life, skittering around until they focused on Roman.

“C-c.. Could you do that.. Again?”

Roman almost leaped to the thought of his brother doing something weird again, as he could be prone to do. But what stopped him in his tracks was the way his brothers eyes were wide, jaw slack and body tense as his arms reached to hold himself. The way his brothers voice shook like a timid, fearful child asking the kind of question they think could break super expensive glass and ruin everything forever. It was.. heartbreaking. All he’d done is pat his brother’s back, and to receive such a stark reaction to something so small? Something was definitely wrong.

With a gentle nod, Roman slowly moved his hand back to his brother’s back, instead just resting it there. Even as Remus’s shoulders convulse again, then devolving into twitching and shaking, he keeps a close eye on Remus, and waits for his signal to stop.

Remus doesn’t signal, and instead focuses on breathing deeply, trying to keep himself grounded into the now and not lose himself to his whirling mind. It’s only when Roman starts rubbing small, careful circles into Remus’s shoulder does Remus start to break, a sob forcing its way through Remus’s throat. His face is scrunched like hes in pain, his shoulders tensed tight, his hands gripping firmly at his upper arms, his head held low as another sob shakes its way through and tears drip down his face.

Later, when there's time to think and his brother is asleep cuddled between Patton and himself, Roman will realize why Remus was always so confident that he’d be fine if they left him all alone again.

Remus had been alone since their split. He’d had nothing of memory or of reference to all that he’d been missing throughout the years.

Most of all, the lack of a loving and caring embrace.

Roman was going to change that.

[imjusthereforbatfam]

Never-Ending Encore, ch.5

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Chapter Summary: Okay, listen. Listen. Eden may have agreed to this, but are we absolutely, positively sure she needs stitches? Yes? Er… Okay. But are we, like, SURE sure or...?

Warning: swearing, blood, describing injuries, mending injuries (on a wuss) 

Also!!! Apparently, you’re not supposed to use rubbing alcohol or hydrogen peroxide on cuts cuz their chemicals are too harsh and can damage muscle tissue. I grew up using peroxide on my cuts and didn’t know you weren’t supposed to until after I’d already written the majority of this chapter, so like… don’t do this irl. I’m just lazy and using alcohol works really well for the story so blah

—

Chapter 5:

Eden leaned her head back on the low wall behind her and stared up at the clouded sky. She huffed for what felt like the hundredth time. At this rate, she was going to be completely healed before Red Hood even got back...

She took another peek at her sliced palm. The cut was about a third smaller than it had been. Would Red Hood notice? Probably. It was hard to miss.

Should she— she shuddered. Should she try to reopen it a little with her nails?

She moved her hand away, gagging at the thought.

Nope. No way. Forget that. If it was noticeable to Red Hood, she would just play it off somehow. Distract him or something. Play dumb. Cry. Whatever it took but she was not going to reopen it. It shouldn’t heal much more before he got back, anyway. He promised it would only take a few minutes for him to get what he needed and get back. And, despite feeling like she’d been sitting on this rooftop for hours, Eden knew that wasn’t true. She was just getting antsy.

She put a hand to her neck, gently moving a finger across the gash there. It was fairly long, running from the dip between her shoulder and neck down to the crook of her collar bone. The knife nicked her jugular on the way down, too. That was how she’d become so lightheaded so quickly. Even now, her shirt was still wet with all the blood she’d lost.

She was lucky her body healed the way it did. The process was by no means instant, and sometimes it was too little too late, but more often than not it was just enough to save her from unnecessary encores.

Actually, still running her finger along the jagged cut, Eden was a bit surprised. Usually, an injury like this would be far more healed by now. Yet, somehow, the cut on her neck didn’t feel any smaller than the first time she’d touched it. True, it wasn't as deep as it had been – Eden could just… tell it wasn't – but on the surface, it was mostly the same.

Was it her? Had she gained some control over this part of her power without realizing it? Maybe. Or maybe she'd just lost so much blood that replenishing it was more important than mending the rest of her body. Or maybe her body magically knew that healing too fast wasn’t a good idea this time. Or, maybe, it was just mending itself like this, like a snail trudging across a bone-dry desert, because she hadn’t eaten anything since lunchtime.

Her stomach growled on cue, confirming her suspicions. Eden groaned. Now that she wasn’t drowning in her own thoughts or missing a remarkable amount of blood, she was fully aware of her body’s needs. And, boy, did it need food.

 “Would you—”

Eden shrieked in surprise as Red Hood announced his return by swiping her hand away from her neck.

“—stop messing with that?”

“What in the—!? Where in the heck did you come from!?”

“Hell, obviously.” He knelt down in front of her, taking a small black bag off his shoulder. “Couldn’t you tell?”

“Oh, of course,” she said rolling her eyes. “I thought I recognized the accent.” She smacked her forehead theatrically. 

Red Hood let out a small, amused sound as he unzipped the bag. Inside was a swath of medical supplies. He dug around a moment then pulled out a white cloth and bottle of rubbing alcohol.

Eden eyed the bottle as he unscrewed the cap. “I hear the weather’s lovely in Hell this time of year,” she continued, hiding behind the joke. “Good time for a visit.”

“Nah," he said playing along. "It’s hot as balls right now."

She chuckled. “Ain't it—” Red Hood turned to her urgently and Eden quieted.

He said nothing. 

“Um…" She shrank down a little, unnerved by his wordless stare. "Everything okay there, Mr. Hood?”

He studied her another moment then eased back. “Yeah. Sorry. You started laughing so I thought you might…” he drifted off, looking at her neck. He shook his head and went back to prepping the cloth. “How do you feel?”  

She shrugged. “Fine. Better than I was.”

“No more gagging fits?” He glanced over at her and Eden shook her head. “Good.”

She eyed the drenched cloth in his hand, thinking back to all the times she'd put alcohol on someone else’s cuts and scrapes. She’d never had to use it herself, not even when she was a kid, so she didn’t know what it felt like. All she knew was that other people often hissed or groaned when they used it. Even Nate, arguably the toughest of her semi-siblings, would wince if alcohol went on an open wound.

“Is that going on my neck?”

“Yep.”  Red Hood brought it closer.

Eden leaned away. “Is it going to hurt?”

“I mean.” He gave a half-shrug, half-nod like it was obvious. “Yeah?”

“Okay, but like…” She slunk down against the wall, growing quieter. “How bad is it gonna hurt? Like… bad or… really bad?”

Red Hood tilted his head in thought. “How’s your pain tolerance?”

"My...? Oh. Well, it's... um..."

No matter how she got hurt, Eden was always fine in the end. But in the moment? When it was actually happening to her? Or, if it was a trade, when it felt like it was happening to her?

“Not great,” she decided. But, then again, who didn’t experience excruciating pain while dying? “It’s hard to say. It might be normal but… I’m not really sure. I certainly don't like pain, if that helps.”

“Alright, better question: have you ever used alcohol to clean a cut before?"

“No,” she murmured sinking into her shoulders. “Never.”

Red Hood turned his head upward and let out a deep noise, something between a hum and a sigh. He glanced toward the little black medical bag, then down at himself, then around them. Searching for something, perhaps.

“Look—” Eden straightened herself up, drawing his attention. “Look, why don’t you… Why don’t you just do it, okay? You being all,” she made a gesture, “this is freaking me out more. Just throw it on there and if it hurts, then—”

“When it hurts. I’m not just slapping it down," he told her. "I have to actually clean the cut.”

“Oh, okay!” she said in a much higher pitch. “Great! Wonderful! Then when it hurts, I’ll just— I’ll— I’ll kick you or something! And it’ll be fine!”

Red Hood cocked his head. “After all I’ve done for you, you’re going to repay me by kicking me?”

Eden blinked at him. “What? Oh! No, no! I didn’t mean— I wasn’t really going to kick you! Of course not! I wouldn’t actually— Okay, I mean, maybe in like a knee-jerk kind of way, but not on purpose or anything! And even if I did do it on purpose, I’d probably hurt myself more than I’d hurt you, Mr. Hood – I think we both know that – ‘cause it would just, you know, be like a, uh, little baby kicking you or something. More sad than anything, really; just downright pathetic, and, honestly, you'd probably feel bad for me and have to pretend it hurt 'cause I'd just be holding my foot and crying, and—” 

Red Hood snickered loudly, cutting off her senseless jabbering. He turned his head and covered the place where his mouth would be but his shoulders kept shaking.

Eden’s whole face went up in flames. He'd been joking. And now he was laughing at her. Again.

“Oh, for goodness sake,” she grumbled turning away from him. She pushed her hair out of the way and offered up her neck. “Will you please just get this over with before I make a bigger fool of myself?”

“Hold on.” Still fighting back laughter, he reached for the bottle again. “I need to add some more.”

“More!?”

"Yeeaah," he said shaking his head oh-so-solemnly. "It dried out while you were talking." 

“Uh-huh, yeah, sure." She turned and pinned her eyes on the skyscrapers in the distance. "Go on and tease the panicking person, Mr. Hood. Very kind of you. Very classy.”

"What can I say? I'm such a kind, classy guy."

A laugh nearly tumbled out of her but Eden quickly fought it down, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. The sound of fresh alcohol spilling onto the cement wiped her suppressed smile clean away.

“Oh god.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “This is really happening, isn’t it?”

“You’re gonna be fine, Cookie Girl.”

“I am not gonna be fine!” she threw back. “This is awful! This is horrendous! This is— This is torturous!”

He scoffed, close to her neck now. “Don’t be such a baby. I haven’t even done anything yet.”

“I know! That’s what’s so awful!”

“Do you want to hold my hand or something?” 

Eden knew he was mocking her. She did. She just didn’t care. Her good hand clutched at the fabric of his leather jacket. The other wrapped around the exposed skin between his glove and tight, armor-like sleeve. Her mending palm warmed quickly against his skin.

He cleared his throat. “I was joking.”

“Well, that's too damn bad, Mr. Hood! Don’t go making offers you don’t wanna bank on! Now, would you puh-LEASE just get this over with!? I’m seriously starting to freak out here, and I really don’t appreciate the whole ‘Let’s draw this out as long as possible ‘cause it’s funny’ shtick, ‘cause it’s not funny, and I for one really don't appreciate—”

“Okay, okay! I’m doing it, I’m doing it. Sheesh.” He moved forward and ran the cloth over her torn skin in one quick motion. Eden shrieked and clutched his arm.

The burn was intense— sudden— unlike anything she’d felt before. Her eyes misted as she forced herself to breathe through clenched teeth.

Every so often, Red Hood gave her small words of assurance – that she was doing fine, that he was almost done – but Eden could only focus on the pain. Liquid fire bubbled and seared its way deep into the wound. She dragged the soles of her shoes against the cement, desperate for relief. Eventually, she tore her good hand away from Red Hood’s jacket and pounded her fist against the floor. She grabbed his sleeve again and held it tightly, trying not to cry.

When he finally finished, Red Hood carefully removed her good hand from his sleeve and put it on top of the cloth. “Keep this here, alright?”

“I don’t like this,” she sniffed, her voice wavering. “Why do we have to do this. I hate this. This is stupid.”

“You’re doing fine, Cookie Girl,” he said softly.

She half-huffed, half-whined in disagreement.

Red Hood turned back to his little black bag and dug around with his free hand. He made no indication of needing his other hand, so Eden didn’t let go. Every time the frothing, stinging burn flared up again she dragged her heel across the floor and gave his arm another tight squeeze. If it bothered him, he didn’t show it.

“So.” He pulled a small pouch from the bag. “What kind of trouble are you in, anyway?”

The furrow in her brow deepened. “What do you mean? I’m not in any trouble…”

“Right.” From the pouch, Red Hood took out a curved needle, some thick tweezers, and what looked like a spool of blue fishing line. “Because only someone not in any trouble would beg someone like me to patch them up instead of going to a hospital.”

“Hey now!" She let go of him and pointed to herself. "I didn't beg for nothin'. I just refused to go to the hospital. You're," she jabbed her finger at him, “the one who’s insisting on doing this nonsense.”

He scoffed and swiped her hand away as he threaded the needle. “Would you rather I didn’t do this nonsense?”

“It feels like the devil himself is pissing on my shoulder right now, so... yeah, to be completely honest, I’m kinda wishing you didn't.”

Red Hood stopped. Stiffly, he turned his head toward her. Eden shrunk back from the sudden, severe emotion coming from him. The heat of his hidden gaze, amplified by the glaring eyes of his helmet, was hard to meet.

“I’m sorry,” he said harshly, “did you want an infection in your fucking neck?”  

“No,” she said quietly.

“Then what about having a huge scar for the rest of your life?”

Knots formed in her stomach. “I’m not worried about scars,” she mumbled stubbornly.

“No? Then how about that cut reopening?” he shot back. “How about bleeding out a second fucking time when there's no one around? How about fucking dying? Are you worried about that?” he hissed. His distorted voice was sharper and more searing than Eden had ever heard it.

She sank further down the wall. It wasn't hard to understand why Red Hood was so worked up about this. She glanced down at the slick, sticky river of blood that had flooded her shirt and pooled down her torso. She'd lost so much so quickly... If she were a normal human being and the cut did reopen, there wouldn't be enough blood left in her body to survive it. She would bleed out and die just like Red Hood said.

But Eden wasn't normal. The cut wouldn't reopen. And even if it somehow did, it wouldn't kill her. Her body had already made up for most of the blood she'd lost — she could feel it. And even if it hadn't, even if the damn thing did kill her, it's not like she would stay dead anyway. The universe would demand another encore from her, just like it always did, and her heart would start again. Just like it always did.

Eden eyed the needle in Red Hood's hand apprehensively. He was going to put that into her skin. Into her cut. He was going to sew her up like an old ragdoll and she didn't even need it!

What would it feel like? Would it be small but sharp like getting pricked by a sewing needle? Strange and agonizing, as if she were being carved up by a tiny knife? Quick and exasperating, like getting her ears pierced again before they finally understood why the holes kept closing up? Or, would it feel like something she’d never experienced before — like the molten, frothy sting of alcohol on an open wound?

And, even worse, the stitches would eventually have to come out. Her body would be perfectly healed within a day or two – at most – and would leave no scar. There'd be nothing to suggest she’d ever even needed stitches in the first place. Even if she could find a way into a hospital without alarming her mother, how would she be able to explain that? She wouldn't. She'd have to remove them herself.

She could just... tell Red Hood her secret, of course. Avoid the whole kerfuffle that way but... But that was stupid. Yeah, he was trying to help her now, and, yeah, he’d save her before, but being a metahuman wasn’t something you just… told people about. Not even heroes. Eden wasn’t that stupid.

In fact, the only people she’d ever told were the “cousins” she considered siblings. And even then, unless they actively needed her powers, she only told them after years of knowing and trusting them. It was her greatest secret, and, as far as she was concerned, only family needed to know it.

Well. Family and whoever the hell Frank told, apparently.

Eden was still upset about that. People – people she didn’t know; people her mother didn’t know; total strangers – knew about her powers now. Frank had told the people he worked with about her without her knowledge or consent. He swore they were trustworthy, that they were merely interested in the science and what it could do, but that didn’t mean much to Eden. After all, he wasn’t even family. Not anymore.

She'd thought he wanted to be. Despite all the years of silence, of absence, she’d hoped he wanted to be when he suddenly reached out and asked to see her again. But when they finally did meet up, after all the backflips and hoop-jumping they’d gone through to keep Mama from catching wind, he’d treated her more like a business venture than a daughter.

That stung more than alcohol ever could.

“Well?”

Eden glanced up at Red Hood. Waiting, with needle in hand. Likely angry, or at the very least upset, with what he must’ve thought was a very stupid, very weak, very ungrateful little girl. He certainly wouldn't be the first.

She looked away again and let out a slow breath. Carefully, she removed the cloth from her neck, hissing softly as she did. She wordlessly offered up the wound a second time. He shifted closer, putting a hand near the cut. Eden flinched and he stopped again.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, softly, sure he was getting more irritated by the minute. “I’m sorry, I just…” She shook her head, fighting the shameful urge to cry. “I’m just," she choked. "I'm just no good at this stuff."

Red Hood said nothing. Eden wondered if silence was how he showed his disappointment.

After a moment, his free hand moved from her neck. He held it in front of her, his palm up. She stared at it, unsure of what it meant.

“It doesn’t hurt too bad,” he said gently. Eden's eyes lifted in surprise. “It does when the needle goes in," he continued, still soft, "but it’s more weird than painful, I swear. If you need to, you can still…" Red Hood looked to the side and started mumbling. "Y'know.” He bobbed his hand. “Hold my hand or whatever...”

A rebel tear ran down her cheek. Eden sniffed and quickly brushed it away. 

This... This was Gotham’s most-contested vigilante. The mob boss. The murderer. The one everyone and their mother had an opinion on. The one they said could never, should never, be considered a hero. This guy. The one who insisted on helping a stubborn, panicky, annoying civilian all night. The one who got downright pissed when she tried to brush off life-saving care. The one who did not rebuke her for being so pathetic, so weak, but instead shyly offered her comfort.

She couldn't wrap her head around it. People called Red Hood bad, immoral, unforgivable, but how? How could anyone think of him like that? Even if he'd done awful things... Even if he still did awful things... Red Hood clearly wasn't an awful person. He was thoughtful. He was kind. He was good.

Had any of the people who said those nasty things actually met him? Did they know how tender he could be? How sweet? Maybe they hadn’t and his rough reputation simply preceded him. Or maybe Eden was a fool who couldn't see the true cruelty hidden beneath a masterful facade. Or... maybe she was one of the lucky ones who got to see past the facade, who got to see the heart hidden underneath.

Eden gingerly took his hand, so, so grateful. “Thank you, Mr. Hood,” she whispered, hoping the words would be enough to convey at least a small fraction of what she was feeling.

He grumbled something back — his voice garbled more than usual. 

Eden smiled and giggled softly, feeling outstandingly lucky.

“You ready now?” he muttered.

She nodded. "Ready."

He moved forward again, slowly this time — giving her enough time to stop him if she needed it. She squeezed his hand in anticipation. He took it as a go-ahead.

There was a sharp prick at the base of her collarbone followed by a strange sliding sensation. Like he’d said, there was a sharp, shooting pain each time the needle went in or out of her skin, but it wasn’t too bad. The real issue was the silk-like thread. The slick feeling of it running in and through her skin, tugging pieces of herself together… It was off-putting. Nauseating, even.

Eden tried not to squirm too much. When the needle pierced too thin a piece of skin, she squeaked and scraped her shoe against the ground as Red Hood muttered an apology. When the tugging made her nearly gag, she zeroed in on the scruff marks along his jacket, breathing slowly as she counted them up.

When none of that helped, she would squeeze his hand, silently begging for strength. He squeezed back, readily giving it whenever she asked.

“There,” he said pulling the needle through one last time. He tugged the thread firmly. “Can I have my hand for a second?”

Eden let go and watched as he tied off the string and cut off the excess.

“So…" she tried. "How do I get them out?”

“They’ll dissolve or fall out in a few weeks’ time. No hospitals necessary.”

She nodded slowly then let out a breath of relief. "Thank you," she mumbled.

Red Hood studied her a moment. He lowered his head slightly and stayed that way, something clearly on his mind.

Then, as if forcing himself, he reached for her cut hand. Eden jerked it close to her chest.

“Are you gonna put stitches in my hand, too? That would hurt worse, wouldn’t it? Since it’s my palm?” She snuck a glance at the cut as she spoke.

The first time she’d looked at it, it ran clear across her palm from end to end. There’d been thin cuts across some of her fingers too. She honestly couldn't remember when it had happened in the fight or how, but she must’ve grabbed for the knife at some point and been holding it by the blade when it was roughly pulled from her grasp.

Now, the cut was much smaller. Only about an inch and a half over the center of her palm. She couldn’t even tell where the smaller slices on her fingers had been. She imagined the skin there still looked a little irritated, but – because it was dark and her hand was still coated with blood – she couldn’t see it.

“I might not have to,” Red Hood said holding his hand out for hers. “The neck was definitely worse, but let me take another look at it.”

Nervously, Eden took one more glance at her palm then handed it over.

Red Hood inspected it a moment then tilted his head. "Huh."

She panicked. “What!?” she shrieked, startling him enough to look away from the cut. “Is it bad? Do I need stitches? Please don’t say I need any more stitches, Mr. Hood, I really don’t think I can handle going through that with my hand. Please say I don’t. Pretty please?”

He glanced down at it again. “You don't.” Very gently, he ran a thumb over the cut. “It’s a lot smaller than I remember…”

“Oh, thank goodness!" she said in a fast voice. She started tugging her hand away. "So we’re all good then, right? No more patching up? You can just take me home now?” 

Red Hood let out an amused hum and started packing up his supplies. “You trying to get rid of me?” 

“No, not at all! But," she brought up a finger, "if you bring that alcohol crap anywhere near me again, I really am going to kick you.”

He scoffed and batted her hand away. Then he paused and dipped his head. “Actually," he teased, reaching for the bottle. "Now that you mention it—”

“No. No, no."

“We really should clean it."

“Nope. No. Don’t you dare.”

“Aw, c'mon, Cookie Girl,” he said waving the bottle. “Just to be safe?" 

“Mr. Hood, I will kick you and I will do it hard.”

He laughed, stood up, and offered his hand. "You gonna cry when you do?"

"No! ...Maybe." She took his hand. "Shut up."

—

Feedback is always appreciated! 🥰💕 

Chapter 6

[florenceandthemachine]

that original lifeline

chapter 5 / 5 - “you deserve what you are given” - 3.6k

in which Eddie has a good day, has a bad day, sees a familiar face, and tries not to blow up an ambulance. not necessarily in that order.

it’s all done! my first ever standalone, prompt-free fic! I hope you all at least tolerated it as much as I did. I also would like to say—please, if you’re seeing things that look messy or need to be touched up, you’re welcome to let me know. I'm sure I'm going to go over it and re-edit a million times over the next week.

read on AO3

Eddie knew that things were going to be different the moment he slapped his alarm the next morning, because for the first time in months, he actually turned his alarm off. He didn’t lie in bed and ignore it, he didn’t hit snooze until he could get the energy to see the day, he turned it off, he got up, and he started to dress. He couldn’t remember the last time he had greeted a Monday on time for an early morning workout, but the few miles he was able to get in on the treadmill was nothing compared to the look of happiness on his son’s face when he got to join him and Carla for breakfast—instead of running out the door, a granola bar lodged in his mouth. He literally felt like he just woke up on the right side of the bed this morning; judging by the way that Chris lit up, and Carla rose her brows in surprise, his change in attitude was already being noticed. 

Even if Carla was good enough not to comment on it. 

Honestly, Eddie didn’t know what was going on himself, but he wasn’t going to complain. A day ago, he had almost started to cry at one of those family car commercials with an old dog in it, and today, he was already back into the familiar motions of ‘being well’. 

He had been through enough therapy in his life to know the “highs and lows” mental health speech every which way, but what he hadn’t realized until this morning was that when you were low, being low becomes your new normal. Eddie had been through it before (with Shannon, with his parents, with… name a thing), and he knew it would probably come again, but that didn’t make the moments that he got to stand in the light on the other side of the tunnel any less sweet.

It felt like he was standing in the sun.

“Morning Hen! Coffee?” Eddie grinned as he took the stairs up into the loft two at a time, box of danishes in one hand, coffee holders stacked high in the other. He had literally been smiling since he parked his car outside, and was now beaming at Hen only because she was lucky enough to be the first person he got to see that day. Lucky, sure, but he still didn’t miss the way that her brows rose into her hair as she took her cup and her selection of baked goods, knowing full well that this was probably… a lot to take in from his behavior for the past many weeks. 

“You’re… cheery.” Hen commented easily, staring at Eddie like a puzzle to figure out—and while that would have made him nervous before, it was actually kind of nice now, a friend showing that she cared. 

To his credit, Eddie just shrugged, pulling off another coffee as he put the boxes down on the table, knowing full well they would be devoured before he could even look back. “What can I say? It’s a good day today, the sun is out, and I only have to be here for eight hours. Hey, where’s Chim? I got Mr. Asian James Bond an extra bear claw, since he’s been driving everyone up the wall with his whole sorority girls speech.”

Hen let the topic drop (and Eddie thanked her silently for it) as she groaned and shook her head, taking another drag from her coffee cup as, sure enough, the pastry boxes started to draw everyone in like flies. He started handing out coffees to those who’s orders he could remember, grinning as Hen launched into it. “No no, ‘Asian James Bond’ was last week, now it’s ‘Asian Sex Symbol’ to you. God, that stupid calendar, between he and Bobby I am ready to enter myself, blow them both out of the water as Miss July, and—”

“Hey, hold up, where’s Bosko?” Eddie said, cutting her off before she could pick up too much steam, staring at the last coffee in his hands as Bobby pulled his own free. 

Hen and Bobby shared a glance as Bobby cleared his throat around a mouthful of coffee, swallowing before he started to speak. “Actually, Lena’s back with the 136 for the foreseeable future. I’m happy to say that we finally have that vacancy filled.”

Eddie felt his brows launch into his hairline, only vaguely remembering that Lena was supposed to be here on a temporary basis—and he had been a complete ass to her for the past few months. Well, that was going to be a fun little addition to his long list of issues, and he winced as he made a mental note to swing by the 136 later on with another danish and an apology. Hen caught the look, her own brow tilting in return, though she was good enough to redirect her attention back up to Bobby. “So, wait, who’s going to be the newbie on the 118?”

“He is walking up the stairs right now, if you want to turn around. Just graduated out of the Academy last week. Pretty much top of his class, apparently impressed enough people that I had to fight off station 6 to get him to come here—welcome, Evan Buckley.” 

“Hey, uh, you can just call me Buck.” 

Eddie almost choked on his coffee as he heard a voice behind him, grabbing a napkin to catch a few drops as he turned, trying to repress his cough as he turned around, meeting a pair of blue eyes, staring at Eddie with an intensity that made his insides curl like he had just been sucker punched. He didn’t say anything, of course, just reached out and shook hands, introduced himself, did the whole shebang—with a smile, he might add! 

Today was a good day. It could still be a good day. It really, really had the potential to be a good day. 

-

Today was not a good day. 

Eddie wanted to work well with Buck, he really did, but every time Buck opened his mouth, all Eddie could feel was pressure, water pushing in on him at every angle, the choking taste of mud in his mouth. At this point in time, Eddie wasn’t sure what was worse—that Buck seemed to put his foot in his mouth whenever he talked to Eddie, or the fact that he didn’t seem to give a fuck where and when he was flapping his yap.

An exploding man hole cover literally knocking someone’s arm into the nearby pool? He had barely started with “Hey, you good? You must have lucked out after that firetruck and all…” before Eddie was talking over him, asking for gauze and a tourniquet to try and save some of the live tissue in the very-much-not-alive arm. 

A stab wound to the ass that resulted in the most lifelike Michelin man that Eddie had ever seen? “So, silver star, huh? You save a platoon or something?” Eddie managed to smile, jaw tight as he shook his head. “No, nothing like that. I was just in convoy.”

Even their downtime wasn’t safe—a grocery run that wound up with the entire team stacked high with grocery bags as they walked back into the station? “Hey, I saw a piece about that drill—“

“Alright, who wants lunch?” Eddie was immensely thankful for Bobby’s distraction, not bothering to hide the fact that his interruption was far from a coincidence. By now, even Hen was looking at Buck like he was a crazy person at that point—or maybe just an asshole. 

Somehow, after all of their calls, it only came to a head in the gym. Apparently, Buck had decided that the subtle approach (not that anything Buck did could be called subtle) wasn’t good enough, and for whatever reason decided that the gym was the best time to approach Eddie. 

Honestly, if Eddie wasn’t a good thirty away from the first real workout he had had in weeks, he probably would have walked away.

“Eddie, you… you know who I am, right?”

His jaw twitching in time with his punches, Eddie finally relented from the poor bag and looked at Buck directly, jaw set as he started to rewrap his hands. “And what if I didn’t? You think this would have gone over well with HR, the new guy bringing up the worst days of my life and all but asking me about a fucking guardian angel?”

“Jesus, that’s not what I—“

“I met Athena.”

Eddie could almost hear Buck’s mouth shut, the clack of his teeth somehow louder than the din of the station behind him. “I met her and she told me that she didn’t know what had happened, and then she offered to make me forget. Forget about you, about everything, because not even she knew where you had wound up.” Eddie started, rolling his wrists easily. “She apologized to me, she said she missed you, well, not that she was alone in that sense. You should probably find a way to apologize to her, too. Let her know you’re okay. Hold the bag.” Eddie’s voice was low even as his tone started to sharpen, doing his absolute best to keep his face neutral, lest he want any attention from Hen or Bobby for harassing the new guy. 

To Buck’s credit, he did as Eddie asked, holding the bag steady as Eddie started to wail on it anew, thankful that he at least had the temporary distraction of pressure against his knuckles to stop the urge to scream into the sky. 

“Athena… she really did that?” Eddie didn’t respond, just threw another punch, grunting with the exertion. Buck’s voice was low, barely louder than the sound of Eddie’s hands making contact with the bag. “Is that what you want? An apology? Because I’m not going to apologize for saving you, Eddie, I’m not going to say sorry for not leaving you in the bottom of a pit to… I’m not sorry for that. So if that’s what you’re after, I don’t know what to offer you.” 

Eddie threw a kick from his left, giving Buck plenty of time to adjust his grip before his ankle came smashing into the bag, panting as he stared Buck down, feeling the anger start to drain out of him as he breathed, shaking his head. “Buck, is that what you think this is about?”

Buck, bless him, just looked like a lost puppy when what Eddie said sunk in.

“You saved my life. I mean, you’ve always kept me safe, but back there you saved my life. You let me go home to my kid, you… I could never thank you enough for that. I’m not mad about that.” He shook his head, flexing his fingers as he took another fighting stance, his poster lower, more subdued than the all out attack he was waging before. 

“Well then what—“

“I’m not mad at you because you left.” Eddie repeated, starting another round of punches, each hit slower, shorter, but packed with more force than was strictly necessary. “I’m mad at you because you fucking—because you didn’t come back. Because you chose not to come back. You went through the academy, top of the class, and that was eighteen weeks of you being here, just miles away from me in Los Angeles, and you let me think that you were dead that entire time. You were with me my whole entire life, you were a constant, and then I lost you, Buck, and I had to try and live with that. And then you show up at work today, and you’re alive, and human, and I’ve had barely eight hours to deal with all of this, after I—I fucking mourned you. I mourned you, and you let me, and that—that’s why I’m mad.”

Although, the more he spoke, the more Eddie realized that he wasn’t mad, not really, not that he would own up to it that easily. He wasn’t angry, he was just… crushed. His hook got sloppy and he went wide, eyes wild, stumbling only a little before catching himself on the bag.

“Why does everyone leave me? What did I do, Buck, why didn’t you come back?”

The sudden sound of footsteps drew his eye up to the loft where the next shift was pouring in, easily exchanging pleasantries with Eddie’s team, and Eddie felt the last bit of fight drain out of him as he started to unwind his gloves. The day was done. His shift was over. And after feeling nothing but empty for weeks, Eddie had just about exhausted the entire range of his emotional capabilities in less than a day.

“Eddie, I—“

“Forget it, Buck. I’ll see you tomorrow, or whatever.” Eddie said, not even bothering to look over his shoulder as he headed back to the locker area.

-

“Fire and Rescue, hello?”

Eddie was having another… long day. Not a bad day, not necessarily, but not a… great day either. He had still managed to get up, he had still brought himself to work, he still managed an honest smile when he kissed Chris goodbye, but he found himself hesitating before he wound up walking into the 118. He didn’t know if he could handle Buck again today—thankfully, it seemed like he didn’t have to. Buck was mostly absent that morning, giving Eddie enough apologetic looks over the table to display that he got he had been an asshole the day before (or, more likely, that Hen and Chim had verbally beat that fact into him before Eddie got there).

Their morning had gone off without incident—there had only been one real call outside a few false alarms, a moron with his head literally cemented into a microwave—and to be honest, Eddie couldn’t deny the fact that he loved how easily he and Buck could work together. Well, how easy they worked together when Buck shut up for three minutes. 

Another save, an easy lunch, and Eddie’s eight hour shift looked like it would be ending easily when they got the call to head down to Torrence, walking into what felt like the worlds most mothball-scented Army Navy Surplus store.

Eddie felt his body tense up as soon as the word ‘grenade’, having to take a split second to remind himself that he was still in the States, he wasn’t in wartime, he was still safe. Because he was safe, they were okay, until Buck moved the dressings and a gold glint caught his eye. 

“None of the guys I’ve worked with were dumb enough to shoot a live round into their own leg, but I’m familiar with the ordinance.”

Eddie felt his jaw twitch again as Buck stared him down, a tic that he was sure would come to be familiar in over the next few days. Honestly, he was starting to think that Buck was just bringing all the mess with him—he had gone months without a call that threatened his life and limb, and then as soon as Buck came back into his life, there he was, with a grenade stuck inside of some old, gun collecting bastard. He could almost feel the moment where Buck opened his mouth—it was the same feeling he got whenever Buck had appeared, years and years ago, whenever something extremely stupid was about to happen. 

“I’m in.” 

Of course he was. 

For what it was worth, Buck had stellar bedside manner. It was easy for him to to make small talk with Charlie while he hung the morphine, asking about his wife, his life, and Eddie found himself a little bit reassured by how easily Buck was able to buckle down and rise to the situation. After all, Buck had been doing that for Eddie’s whole life—it would be a shame if he lost that skill when he could use it the most.

They kept their talk small and professional as Eddie worked, even though most of his work was giving short, clipped orders, like he was afraid that the grenade would be able to tell how stressed out he was and put them both out of their misery, then and there. They both let out a collective sigh of relief as the grenade plunked, solid and heavy into the bin, Buck hastily closing it like a lid would save them all if that thing were to blow up.

Eddie was just finishing up, throwing a few stitches to try and keep things together until Charlie could make it up to surgery when Buck finally found his voice.

“I was scared, Eddie.”

Eddie didn’t even bother looking up, his fingers working quickly. “I know, but we got it out, we just have to be careful not to move the box too much.”

“No. I mean, about coming back, about seeing you, I… I was scared.”

Eddie looked up as he threw another stitch, sparing a quick look to make sure that the old man was still out cold. When Buck looked up to him, Eddie rose his brows, giving him a little not of encouragement. 

“You said I’ve been with you your whole life, but… that goes both ways, Eddie. I don’t even know what happened, one minute I had hurled you out of that lake, and the next I was nothing, there was just nothing, and then…” He took a breath as he moved the dressings, letting Eddie continue his easy stitchwort. “And then I was in a loft in Los Angeles, with a drivers license in my pocket and a brochure for the LAFD Academy on a dresser. I still don’t know how I got there, but I knew it would bring me to you.”

“Here, cut here.”

Buck snipped the end of Eddie’s suture easily, passing him a tube of antibacterial gel, dolloping it along the messy wound site.

“For the first time in years, I couldn’t feel you anymore. I didn’t know what you were doing, or how you were feeling, or if you were safe, and it scared me. I missed you, of course I did, but I knew that if I just went right back to you, it would be like nothing had changed, when really, everything had changed.” Eddie looked up as he covered the gel in an adhesive gauze patch, hanging another bag of fluids, eyes tracking between the steady blip of the heart monitor and the very live grenade in a bin at the end of the ambulance, while his brain tried to keep up with the live grenade that he and Buck were lobbing back and forth.

Nodding for Buck to open the back door, Eddie waited until they both had their feet on the ground to respond, rolling his neck. “Well, that’s kind of par for the course. Being scared, I mean.” he started, a small smile on his face as Buck looked back, catching his eye. Eddie shrugged, eye darting over to the rest of their team, still safely out of earshot as he nudged Buck’s shoulder, the motion easy and simple, muscle memory built up over years.

“Welcome to the human condition. It kind of sucks. You’re going to love it.”

And fuck, Buck was smiling again. Eddie would give anything to keep that look on his face, even as they handed Charlie off to the medics, even as the bomb squad guy called in the robot to… well, to do what, Eddie didn’t know. But that was the beauty of it all—he didn’t have to care anymore. All that mattered to him in that moment were his boots on his ground, the air around him, and maybe, if he played his cards right, the team he got to work with. He could feel Bobby’s eyes on him as he pulled his flac jacket off, a little slow on the uptake of whatever had happened in the ambulance.

“You know, you’re pretty badass under pressure.” Eddie said, his face curving up into the first real smile he had worn in days. Buck looked like a deer in the headlights, like Eddie must have been talking to someone, anyone else, and even Bobby cracked a grin as Eddie smacked him in the arm. “You can have my back any day.”

Buck looked, well, Eddie would have framed the look on Buck’s face if he could. It was a vision of pure joy, the simple sentence meaning more to both of them than anyone else could ever know, and Eddie had to resist the urge to pull him into a bone crushing hug as he kicked at the ground. 

“Yeah. Or, you know, you could… You could have mine.”

If Eddie smiled any wider, he felt like his face was going to crack.

 They were still not great—not by a long shot—but for the first time in almost six months, Eddie finally felt something close to closure, to peace, a starting point for the two of them that would take them both who-knows-where.

“Deal.”

And then, because nothing in Eddie’s life was ever easy, the ambulance exploded. Eddie wasn’t even phased at this point in his life—any exploding vehicle was fine by him as long as he wasn’t on it.

“Are, uh, are you guys hungry? There’s a great burger place around here, they’re open for another hour or so.”

-

Hanging back as the rest of his crew packed up, Bobby pulled his phone out of his pocket as it buzzed, a small smile gracing his lips as he unlocked it. 

New Message from A - 11:12PM

Well? Was I right, or was I right?

“Cap, come on! Burgers wait for no man!”

To A - 11:14PM

They’re going to be one hell of a team.

[wishingforatypewriter]

Chasing the Muse

Summary: A tale from the distant past at Zaofu wherein Kuvira is stubborn, Baatar cares a lot, and Huan finds them both all too predictable (originally posted on AO3) 

There were few sounds that Baatar enjoyed more than the violent patter of rain against the domes at Zaofu. It was a perfect day to stay inside, and the engineering student looked forward to enjoying a warm moonpeach tart and a game of pai sho with Kuvira or Huan before he headed to the workshop to help out his father. 

He found his brother in the drawing room, which Huan still thought was a room specifically made for him to create art in. He was standing by the window facing the training field and scratching chaotic swirls of green and gray paint onto his easel. 

After ten years of dealing with his brother’s eccentricities, he knew better than to try and guess what it was. “What are you doing?” he asked.

Huan simply shrugged and pointed to the window. “I’m borrowing your muse for my new project,” he said. 

Shaking his head, Baatar glanced out the window and saw Kuvira alone on the field, getting absolutely drenched and trying really hard to do...something with a hunk of raw metal. He glared at Huan after a moment, finally registering the accusation. “She’s not my muse!”

“She totally is, or she would be if you weren’t completely artless,” Huan replied, deadpan. “Just look. The struggle for perfection, the desperate need to please the mentor, the quiet contemplation of a harrowing past—it’s a story that has to be told.” 

Baatar considered asking how those formless squiggles on the parchment had anything to do with Kuvira, but ultimately decided against it. “How long has she been out there?”

“Since her lesson with mom this morning.”

Baatar’s gaze flitted to the window once again. “She’s going to get sick if she stays out there all day.” 

“Yeah, probably,” his brother said, adding another stroke to his painting. “The sacrifice of physical wellbeing to the pursuit of one’s goals. It adds a layer of complexity to the piece.”  

Baatar felt his left eye start to twitch. “And you didn’t even try to get her to come in?”

Huan gave another shrug. “Your muse, your problem, brother,” he said. “Besides, if you try and interrupt her now, she’ll probably bite your head off.” 

Baatar heaved a deep sigh, resenting how right he probably was. But, of course, he was going to try anyway. “I’ll see you at dinner.” 

“He heads downstairs, knowing well the futility of his endeavor, constantly chasing after the elusive muse—”

“Shut up!”

Kuvira glared at the piece of lead before her in the meteorite garden, stretching and pulling at it to no end. But no matter what she did, it just refused to liquify. After her umpteenth failed attempt, she growled, chucking it on the ground. It brought a wave of mud splattering up at her, worsening her mood. 

That morning, when Suyin turned the hard metal into liquid and made it dance while telling stories of her childhood waterbending friend, it had looked so easy. But the sun had long since disappeared along with her teacher and—it seemed—any hope of her mastering this skill. 

With a beleaguered sigh, she bent the mud off her face and clothes, wrung some of the water from her braid, and got back into the stance Suyin had shown her. She had been getting close again, she truly believed it, when a voice broke her focus. 

“Kuvira, come inside. It’s freezing!”

She let the lead drop at her feet, and whirled around with murder in her posture. “Not now, Baatar!” 

Baatar ignored her and came closer until his large green umbrella was covering her as well. Although she kept up her scowl, it felt so good not to be pelted by water. 

“Whatever you’re working on can wait until it’s dry out,” he said, trying to be the voice of reason, as always. 

“I’m fine,” Kuvira replied, but as soon as the wind blew at them, she shivered violently.

He sighed. “Kuvira.”

She honestly did not have the energy to argue with him. “I’ll come in as soon as I can get it to maintain a liquid state.” 

Baatar blinked at her a few times. “Wait, that’s what you’re doing? Mom is literally the only person in Zaofu who can do that.” 

“And she wants me to learn it, so I’m going to,” Kuvira explained. “I can’t let Su down.” 

“She has two children who can’t earthbend at all. Something tells me she’ll survive.”

Finding no good response to this, Kuvira glanced down at her feet. “Look, you hate the rain, and your dad’s gonna start looking for you if you don’t meet him soon. Don’t worry about me.”

He smiled softly, shaking his head at her. “You always say that, but–”

Just then, a familiar call of “Junior” came from an upstairs window, and Baatar said a very bad word under his breath. 

Kuvira chuckled a bit. She was always right.

“You’ll be in soon?” he asked, glancing at her with concern. 

“Yes, now just go so I can focus!” She bent a path of solid, dry earth leading back to the house for emphasis. 

When he was halfway back she let the path turn to mud again, and watched as his feet sunk deep into the mud. 

“Kuvira!” He turned around, and if looks could kill, he’d have her ten feet under. 

“Sorry! I couldn’t resist,” she called to him, laughing in earnest as she bent the mud out of his shoes and trousers. “That was for breaking my concentration earlier!”

With a flick of her wrist she made the path reappear, and allowed him to go back inside without any further harassment. The hunk of lead looked no more liquefiable than it had back before he distracted her. It was going to be a very long day after all. 

[yourdeepestfathoms]

take me out to the back of the shed (and shoot me in the back of the head)

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

Title is from the song Old Yeller. It’s apparently a TikTok trend song but I first heard it from a furry animation when I was in 8th grade lol

Word count: 3112

Prompt: “Calm down! You’re scaring me!”

———————

“Jane! Jane, look at this painting I made for you!”

“Yeah, yeah- hang on a moment. I’m busy.”

“Jane-”

“In a minute.”

“But-”

“In a minute!”

This is the exchange Anne watched from down the hall- Joan following Jane around with a canvas gripped tightly in her hands like a little duckling and Jane doing her best to pretend the girl didn’t exist. After she was snapped at, Joan moved away slightly, but then perked up, hope glinting in her eyes.

“Okay...I’ll wait in my dressing room, alright?”

“Alright,” Jane said, not really listening to what was being said to her.

“Just come in when you’re done, okay?”

“Okay, Joan.”

“Great!” Joan beamed. “I’ll be waiting!”

With that, Joan turned around and scurried back to her dressing room, an excited smile on her lips. Anne watched her go, waited a moment, then walked to Jane’s room. Inside, the woman seemed to be packing up to leave for the day.

“You’re going to go see Joan, right?”

Jane looked up as she was grabbing her purse. She sniffed, nostrils flaring slightly, clearly miffed.

“She can wait.”

“She would starve to death by the time you finally got around to seeing her,” Anne pointed out, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed over her chest. She raised an eyebrow at Jane as if to add, “Am I wrong?”

“I have other things to do.” Jane said, sliding past the comment instead of facing it head on.

“Like what? Knit? Watch Love Island? Cuddle Kitty for the hundredth time?” Anne narrowed her eyes in an accusing stare. She’s been defensive of Joan ever since the Live where the music director fell asleep in her lap. “All of that stuff will still be there after you take ten minutes to go see what Joan made for you.”

Jane’s soft, kind facial features contort into that of a snarling white tiger’s- teeth bared, eyes alight, ears pinned back. But Anne wasn’t scared of her- not anymore. Deep down, she knew that Jane was nothing but a scared little kitten trapped in a circus cage.

“Joan isn’t my main priority,” Jane said dismissively, but the tiger’s claws remained unsheathed. “I don’t have to do anything for her.”

“Jane, that girl would take a bullet for you.” Anne said, stalking closer. Her voice went into a low whisper- a growl of sorts. “You know that, Jane. She would do anything for you.”

It was like a stare down between a tiger and a mountain lion- neither wanted to back down or step away.

“Why can’t you just be a good person? I’m not asking you to sign adoption forms for the kid, I’m asking you to just be a friend to her and go see what she wants to show you. It’s not that hard. It’s— her presence isn’t going to strike you dead! Just go look at her painting!”

Jane stared into Anne’s smoldering eyes, adjusted the strap of her purse hanging from her shoulder, and stepped past her towards the door.

“Kitty needs me.” She merely said.

“Of course she does,” Anne rolled her eyes. “It’s not like there’s three other fucking people living in that house than can respond to her every beck and call.”

Jane didn’t reply, as she was already out the door and making her way to the lobby by the time Anne finished her grumbled comment.

Anne considered going after her and dragging her to Joan’s dressing room by the hair, but she didn’t want to give the woman anymore thought. So, instead, she went to the dressing room herself and her heart broke a little when she saw Joan sitting patiently in the chair at her desk, legs swinging back and forth excitedly, smiling down at the canvas in her hands. Her head snapped up when she heard Anne step inside, but her expression dimmed when she saw that it wasn’t the silver queen.

“Oh. Hey, Anne.”

“What? Am I really that bad company?” Anne said teasingly.

“No,” Joan said, giggling slightly. “I just- I thought you were Jane.”

Anne frowned. She walked over to the girl and set a hand on her shoulder. Joan looked up with those adorable, glistening lamb eyes of hers and the words momentarily caught in Anne’s throat.

“I don’t think Jane is coming, dear.”

Joan blinked. Anne knew she knew what she meant, but she was trying to not believe it by playing dumb.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“She just left.” Anne answered gently.

Like that, all hope and excitement is gone in a flash, replaced with deep sadness that forms over Joan’s head like a thick, dark rain cloud. She looked down at the painting lying in her lap and clenched her fists tightly around the edges.

“Oh.” She whispered.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Anne said. She looked down at the canvas, too, and before her eyes soft watercolors and metallic paints and dark line-art came together brilliantly to form the beautiful painting of Jane Seymour. It was a bust shot of her in her show costume, but she was also adorned in shimmering strings of diamonds and pearls and topazes, and had a sparkling crystal crown sitting atop her head.

“This is beautiful, Joan!” Anne exclaimed honestly, because it absolutely was true. Joan truly was skilled with paints and pencils. “You’re so talented.”

“Thanks,” Joan replied, slightly disconnected. She appreciated the comment, Anne knew she loved praise, but she didn’t want to hear it from the green queen.

She wanted to hear it from the silver one.

Joan sighed and stood up, and Anne half expected her to destroy the painting or throw it away, but a tiny, hopeful smile actually tugged at her lips.

“I’m just going to leave it on her makeup table,” She said. “So- so it’ll be the first thing she sees tomorrow!”

Anne smiled and gently rubbed the girl’s head.

“That’s a good idea, Joey!” She said, even though she knew the odds of Jane actually going to Joan and telling her how much she loved the piece of art were very slim.

Still, for the time being, it cheered Joan up and she beamed at Anne before hurrying to go put the canvas in its place. Anne’s smile disappeared the moment she was out of sight and she sighed. She made a mental note to stay up until 11:11 that night so she could try wishing. Might as well see if the superstition was true.

———

Anne ended up falling asleep way before 11:11, but it didn’t matter because she knew trying to wish on a set of ones on her phone screen and alarm clock wouldn’t have made a difference since Jane would still be prancing around the theater like she is now, as if she hadn’t been gifted a gorgeous work of art. Anne wasn’t even sure if she had even seen the painting, but upon peeking inside the dressing room and seeing that the canvas was moved to the side of one of the makeup tables proved that Jane had, in fact, seen it.

She just didn’t care.

And that made Anne furious.

Poor Joan. She didn’t even have time to warn or distract the girl before she was skittering up to Jane with excitement glittering in her eyes.

“Jane!”

Jane sighed as she was getting a cup of coffee from the break room. If Joan heard the noise, she didn’t acknowledge it and just kept up her eager demeanor.

“Hello, Joan,” Jane said. All evidence of the warmth she had been speaking to Kitty with just a few minutes earlier was now gone.

“Did you see my painting? The one I made for you?” Joan asked. “I waited for you yesterday, but you didn’t come in and I just assumed you were too busy, so I left it on your table! It was there, right? Did you see it? Or did it get moved? Was it there?”

“Joan!” Jane growled, her hand clenching tightly around the cup she was holding. The sudden sharpness in her voice made the girl before her step back slightly. “Joan.” She smoothed out her tone, but remained as caring as Zira from The Lion King 2. “I saw it, yes. It was there.”

The momentary flash of fear and anxiety from getting yelled at disappeared from Joan’s eyes. She perks back up again, her feet now shuffling and tapping happily on the floor (her “Happy Feet”, as it's been dubbed by Maria).

“Oh! Great!” If she had a tail, it would definitely be wagging. Or if she were alone, she’d probably be frolicking around the room like a happy little lamb. “So? What did you think? Did you love it? I mean—like it? Did you like it?”

“It was nice,” Jane said, trying to swerve around Joan and her radiation of glee blocking the path to the door.

“Really?” Joan wanted more. She wanted more than just ‘nice.’ She needed more. “I’m really glad, Jane, because it was the first time I tried out watercolors and metallic paints together in one painting so I had no idea how it would turn out but it seemed to be good, right? I mean- obviously! You just said it was nice! B-but, umm-” She watched Jane walk for the door without really listening to her. She followed after her desperately. “S-so— Are you gonna hang it up?”

That’s what got Jane to stop. She turned to the girl impatiently fidgeting behind her and looked at her as if there were elephants parading out of her ears.

“Why would I do that?”

Up until that moment, Joan had been looking at Jane in a way that made it seem like there were swelling hearts in her eyes. But those hearts just broke with that single comment. Joan is left scrambling to pick up the pieces, but can barely catch anything, as all her hope also bleeds out through her fingers.

“B-because I...I made it. For you.” She said meekly.

“Fans make me stuff all the time but you don’t see me putting it on the fridge,” Jane chuckled, actually quite amused by the situation. “It was nice, Joan. And I appreciate it. No need to push it farther than that, because then it’ll just get weird. Like I’m worshiping a simple drawing or something.” She laughed again, then continued her stride out the door.

Joan was distraught, but as she watched the queen leave, her words fully sinking in, anger bubbled up inside of her. She grit her teeth, fingers clenching into fists. She could feel the ram horns poke uncomfortably against her forehead and slowly breach from her flesh, primed for blood.

“It’s not just some simple drawing, you—!!”

That’s all she could yell before Jane wheeled back around and stared at her from the hallway. Then, she enters once again and Joan backs up in fear, as if she were being stalked by a starving white tiger. She could almost see it in Jane’s face, but her teeth weren’t bared. Her lips were just set in a startling flat line that brought out the horror of the rest of her blank features.

“What? What?” Jane prodded. “I’m what?”

“Nothing...” Joan squeaked, hunching her shoulders in and lowering her head.

“I’m what, Joan?”

“Nothing!”

“A jerk? A prick? A bitch? A cunt? What am I, Joan?”

“Nothing! You’re nothing!” Joan cried. “I’m sorry!”

Jane had Joan cornered- literally. The girl was backed up in the far corner of the room near the window, which she glanced at for just a moment, as if she were considering jumping out of it to get away from the queen’s sterling wrath.

Jane calmly set down her cup of coffee on the nearby counter and laced her fingers together against her stomach. Her gaze was callous and cruel, offering absolutely no pity to the girl cowering beneath her uncaring stare.

“I’m going to explain this to you once, Joan, so you better listen because I will not tell it to you again.” She said. Her words are slithering slowly from her lips like venomous snakes, scaly and fanged. They bite Joan’s ears, pumping their poison into her brain no matter how hard she tried to combat them. “Nod if you understand that.”

Joan nodded shakily. She isn’t making eye contact, rather focusing her gaze on the floor and nothing else.

“I am not your mother figure.” Jane said bluntly, not even bothering to sugarcoat the comment. She was so tired of having Joan trying to force her way into her life. “You are not my daughter.”

With just those two simple sentences, it was as if Joan’s entire life just ended. It didn’t just come crashing down to her feet- it was over. She was nothing without her queen.

“B-but—”

“You are not my daughter.” Jane repeated coldly. “Do you understand me?”

This time, Joan doesn’t nod.

Jane narrowed her eyes dangerously.

“Nod, Joan.”

“Wh-what about—Kitty-”

“Don’t bring her up, Joan. This isn’t about her.” Jane warned lowly.

But Joan couldn’t stop the words that began to bubble up in her throat. Her voice comes out way too loud and way too shrill and way too desperate, but she can’t choke it back.

“Why? What does she have that I don’t? What did I do? What can I do to make you love me like that? Why her? What makes her so—”

The sound of a slap resonates through the room.

Joan was hit so hard she actually stumbled into the wall. She tentatively touches her stinging cheek, which burns upon contact, then looks up in fear at Jane, whose hand is slightly red from the force she had used.

There is no remorse present in the queen’s steel grey eyes.

“Do NOT speak of my daughter in that way again, you vile little pest!” Jane roared. Her old self, her fearsome queen self slips out in her words, and it chills Joan to the bone. “I will bring your guts into your mouth if you even THINK to do it again!”

It’s as if Jane was dehorning Joan- grabbing onto the ram horns with strong, clawed hands and twisting and twisting and twisting until they snapped off and are pulled out of her flesh with copious squirts of blood pouring free, leaving twin gaping red horrors open in her head.

“C-calm down!” Joan squeaked. “You’re scaring me!”

“And you WONDER why I don’t want to be your mother figure!” Jane went on, ignoring the plea. “I could list a hundred reasons right now and that still wouldn’t be enough to explain to you about how much I don’t want you as a daughter!” Joan doesn’t ask for any of them, but they’re still shoved down her throat anyway. “You’re clingy, you’re needy, you expect everyone to like you, you’re always tugging at my sleeve, you seem to think everything is about you, you act like a complete attention whore, to name a few! Why would I EVER want to be the mother to someone like you?”

“HEY!!”

It was like watching two big cats fight on a wildlife documentary- Anne seemed to come out of nowhere and charged her entire body into Jane’s, sending them both slamming into the back wall.

They tussle and squirm for a moment, snapping and hissing and clawing, and then Anne’s hand closed around Jane’s neck. Not enough to choke her, but enough to shove her head back up against the plaster and grind her skull into it.

“Anne, get off of me—”

“You bitch! You fucking bitch—”

“Get off—”

“You’re absolutely—”

“Stop—”

“What gives you the fucking right—”

“Let go—”

“You deserve to—”

Jane shoved Anne’s shoulders with both hands, causing the woman to totter backwards before she regained her footing. She almost lunged at the silver queen again, but somehow managed to tame herself enough to not pounce on her like a puma and gouge her eyes out, as much as she wanted to at that moment.

“You are SICK!” Anne yelled.

“You were about to strangle me!” Jane fired back.

“Yeah? Well, I wish I fucking did! Because God knows you deserved it!”

Anne paused her spray of fire to look at Joan, who was hunched against the wall, knees buckled and barely holding her up, tears streaming from her eyes, one hand cupping her swollen, red-purple cheek. Anne snapped her head back to Jane, bloodlust and rage blistering in her eyes.

“Did you fucking hit her?” She snarled.

“She was being a—”

“BULLSHIT!” Anne snapped, cutting Jane off. “That’s not what I fucking asked! Did you hit Joan?”

Jane just glared at Anne, as if she were an angry child that didn’t get the toy they wanted.

“Oh my god,” Anne half gasped, half laughed. “You absolute cunt! You really think that nobody else in this world matters, huh? Some ‘cast mother figure’ you are. It’s just you and that spoiled little weasel you keep on a harness!”

Despite loving Kitty to death, Anne couldn’t care about the comment she just made about her baby cousin because it was true.

Jane went to say something, went to somehow defend her actions, but Anne was talking again.

“I get it now! I finally understand!” She said. “You didn’t die of natural causes at all! You died from God striking you down because he KNEW what a horrible, cruel mother you would have been. He SAVED Edward from you!”

Finally, that’s what got Jane to crack. And, damn, it felt good to watch horror twist up her features.

“You really do have a heart of stone.” Anne spit.

She crossed over to Joan, who had been crying silently, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, helping her stand. The poor thing was shaking so badly.

“Come on, sweetie,” She whispered, her tone softening in an instant. “Let’s go.”

Joan staggered for a moment, nearly collapsing, but Anne managed to hold her up. She grappled onto the queen’s shirt and Anne could see that her cheek was definitely bruising.

“Oh, Joan…” Rage bubbles in her veins. She hears the girl whimper. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m not going to let her hurt you ever again.”

Anne casts a dark look at Jane.

Jane does nothing but stare forward blankly, lost in her own memories.

“Come on. Let’s go get something for your cheek.”

Joan didn’t resist. She let Anne guide her out of the room.

But not without Anne shooting out one last comment.

“Oh, and I’ll make sure to vote for you as Mother of The Year, Jane.”

[fuckinuchihas]

Cut The Love You Pieces Out of Me

KONOHAMARU X READER

NOT RATED-WILL PROBABLY END UP EXPLICIT

PART TWO

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS:

Injury to Reader, Embarrassed Reader, Uzumaki relation implied of Reader, more to be added later I’m sure.

If I’ve forgotten anything be sure to let me know!

PART ONE

You’re cut heals over the next day or so, your leg still isn’t in any kind of running condition but you can walk on it without crying so you push forward. The quicker you get back to Konoha the better. 

He doesn’t know he’s doing it but fuck, Konohamaru is a goddamn tease and for once you wish you had Kunochi friends to vent with about him. He’s doted on you for the better part of a week now and as if that wasn’t enough to get your heart to do funny things, he seems to have also adopted the civilian clothing thing and it’s...well it’s not unflattering. 

He wears a number of pale shirts so of course the universe decides to smack you in the face with rainstorms that mean his clothes are clinging to him like a second skin. His muscles flex through the material and your eyes track it no matter how many times you force yourself to look away.

It’s a wonder he hasn’t already looked at you with those big sad eyes and told you it’s never going to happen. He’s probably waiting until you get back to Konoha so that it’s not even more awkward than it has been for the rest of the trip. 

Ugh, you’re worked up and frustrated and you can’t even let it out by sparring because of your stupid leg.

You finally start to give out, your leg was done a mile back but you pushed ahead anyway. Now you’re paying for it so you tug on his sleeve and he nods in understanding.

It’s easy for you to set the barriers now, your chakra is nearly full capacity given that you haven’t used it for much except dealing with your injury. So you quickly send up the sealing jutsu that you crafted into a specialty all your own, and you will rest easily knowing you’re safe.

After the fire is built and the bedrolls are in place you feel a little tingle in the back of your neck and you smile sadly. “How do you feel about venison for dinner?” 

He looks at you and grins, wide and open, “That would be amazing, I haven’t had- 

*CRACK* 

You drop your hand that had been making a twisting motion just a moment earlier and close your eyes, “Thank you for your sacrifice, rest in peace.” 

“Did you just-” 

“It’s a quarter mile that way, if you want to lug it back I can prepare it but with my leg as bad as it is now, I can’t go after it,” you say, pointing in the direction where the young buck gave its life. 

He nods happily and takes off through the trees. 

You turn your head and let the tears you’ve been holding in finally fall.

You don’t like killing, not animals or ninja, but you’ll do it when the job calls for it. 

These tears though, are a little bit of everything. Sadness over the last moment of holding that buck’s neck in your hands, petting it softly with your chakra before twisting its neck. Then there’s the emotions you’ve been holding in for the past few days that also escape out with the rest.

You’re able to track every movement within the barrier so you make sure there’s no evidence of your tears by the time he makes it back to camp. Instead you put on a bright smile and welcome him back with gusto. It probably sounds a little fake but for all that he is, and he is quite a many wonderful things, Konohamaru can still be pretty oblivious on the day to day. So you hope he doesn’t see it and comfort yourself with the reassuring truth that a lot of more obvious things have slipped his notice. 

He’s more than happy to do the grunt work on preparing dinner so you nod in agreement and mention lying down for a nap.

He stands guard as he works even if he doesn’t really need to.

You can’t sleep despite the monumental effort you’re putting in. Your mind keeps wandering back to the way he picked you up so effortlessly. You shiver at the memory of his biceps curled protectively around your thighs and back. You bite back a moan when your brain draws up the way his jaw clenched as your arms wrapped around his neck. 

It’s enough to drive you to distraction and beyond. You want nothing more than to get some alone time but if you ask for it while in camp it would be suspicious. Potentially you could send him after water when he finishes with the deer but then you’ll have to cook the meat and watch the fire so there’s little opportunity for you to take care of yourself in those following moments either. 

You doubt he’ll let you use the bath in the lake excuse again, not with how it ended last time, which is fair but still frustrating. 

Maybe if you’re really quiet… 

No, no… you can’t. He’s a ninja with excellent hearing and no matter how quiet you attempt to be, it is practically impossible for you to stay completely silent.

You groan in annoyance. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, softly whispering your name as he moves closer to your bedroll.

“Fine. I’m just having a little trouble sleeping,” you say, hoping he will back away and leave you alone. With as worked up as you’ve managed to get yourself, one look from those big bright eyes and you’ll be lost.

“Oh, I see. Well if there’s anything I can do just let me know,” he says, and you could choke on the sincerity. 

Instead you let out a strangled laugh and rub at your tired eyes. “I’ll be sure to let you know if any ideas come to mind,” you lie, because you know exactly how he can help you sleep but you refuse to ask it. Not that it would matter much anyway, if he did it you’d only be able to add it to the neverending list of ways you’ve been a burden to him on this godforsaken mission. 

Three years, countless successful assignments, nearly every moment you were a consummate professional and yet less than a week by his side and you’ve proven to be nothing but another useless kunoichi. 

You don’t buy into that whole women are useless in the field ideology but there are always a couple that prove the stereotype true, it’s never you, has never been you before. 

You absolutely hate that it’s you when you’re with him. 

It’s not like you imagined things turning out in some daydream fantasy, that would be stupid and a waste of valuable time. However, the moment you saw his potential, the fire in his eyes, the raw something that he held above all others, you wanted. You ached with it in ways you’d never experienced but since that moment you’ve done nothing but cause him trouble and how would a man like that ever look at you twice if he had to spend the days you have together playing nursemaid. 

“You seem to be miles away...homesick?” he asks, coming closer still.

He’s snuck up on you while you were reliving your self loathing spiel. 

How rude of him. 

“Sort of,” you say, because you certainly can’t tell the whole truth. Though it’s not exactly a lie, you miss the you from before you knew him.

“Ah, I know what this is. You have someone special waiting for you back home that you miss, right?” he asks, smiling brightly. 

He’s completely unaffected by the idea of someone waiting for you. 

It shouldn’t hurt, but it does.

It hurts bad, the pain in your chest feels like a boulder sitting on top of you. 

“Yeah, that’s it..” You lie, and turn over to keep the tears from falling where he can see them. “Don’t forget to keep the organs. We’ll leave them to feed some of the local animals before we move on.” 

You swallow hard, grateful that you kept your voice steady and even despite your emotions.

Thankfully he takes the hint and leaves you to your depression burrito. 

At least you don’t have to worry about the sexual frustration anymore. 

~~~~~!!~~~~~

When you wake up to cook the meat, Konohamaru is quiet. You’re almost concerned that something happened but when you ask he just waves you off and says he’s just looking forward to the meal. You offer him a granola bar and a couple food pills, to your surprise he actually takes them and then thanks you politely. 

He goes for a swim/bath and gathers some fresh water from the lake. It’s quiet without him but when he gets back that doesn’t change and you start to feel a little on edge. 

He must realize he’s acting weird when you pass him a bowl because he smiles and tries to keep conversation but you can see that it doesn’t reach his eyes and it makes something slimy slither around in your stomach. 

What could have possibly happened while you slept? 

“I know you say everything is okay and I believe you, I do but if you wanted someone to talk to...well I’m your very own one woman captive audience,” you grin, teasing him a little as you try to poke at his cracking facade. 

He leans back on his hands, arms flexing as he stares off into the distance, oblivious to your eyes tracking the clenching of his biceps. 

‘Fuck, no...focus bitch,’ you tell yourself in your mind. 

“Oh I forgot to mention that you don’t owe me another question,” he says, as if it just randomly occurred to him and also as if you hadn’t just spoken to him before. Did he miss the interaction entirely? 

“Okay, how did I manage that...you didn’t ask me anything in my sleep did you,” you say, eyeing him skeptically. 

“No no, I uh, it’s just you answered the other question I had, that’s all..” 

You frown in confusion and your feel your mouth pull to a slight pout. “And when exactly did I answer your big number three?”

He’s turned away from you, reaching for his bowl that he’d sat down to warm his hands by the fire, “I was just going to ask if you were single, but of course you’re not. That wouldn’t make sense at all..I guess I should have thought of something better huh?” he says, scratching his head as he turns back, the slightest pink tinge on his cheeks. 

You blink at him.

He’s not-surely he’s not saying what you think he’s saying…

You must have misheard. 

But what if…?

You clear your throat, nerves fluttering wildly in your belly. “Why would you care about that?” 

“Oh no reason,” he says, stuffing his mouth full of venison as he looks at anything that isn’t you. 

“I’m not, you know...I um, I kinda lied earlier,” you admit, because you just can’t let yourself take the chance that he was actually interested and you let him believe a lie to get away from it. “I just didn’t want to explain where my mind was at, y’know? It was kinda personal and I reacted. I’m sorry...you deserve the truth.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I get it,” he says, and this time he looks at you wide eyed and the smile on his lips grows wider until it actually reaches his eyes and you can’t help the way your heart goes rabbit fast against your ribs. 

“What about you… do you uh, have anyone waiting back in Konoha?” you ask, because you’re a glutton for punishment. If you’ve read this entire situation wrong you’re going to be mortified and the chances are still slim that he actually wants you, for more than some fun anyway. 

“Not really, there’s not very many kunoichi who are my type,” he says softly, like it’s kind of a secret. 

You laugh. “Oh? And what’s your type exactly?” 

You assume whatever he’s going to say next will be laughable. You’ve heard that phrase a million times over but they all still end up wanting something you’re not. Blonde, brunette, skinny, short, smart; hell even strong, which you actually managed to convince yourself you were, at least until he showed up. 

“Comfortable,” he says, and you’re thrown. 

Surprised would be an understatement in the moment.

“Comfortable?” you ask, cause clearly you’re confused. What kind of girl would be ‘comfortable’ to him? 

“I don’t really know how to describe it, I guess it’s just something I know when I see it,” he answers, and nods his head as if he’s affirming it to himself. 

“Oh that clears it up,” you say sarcastically. Are you his type or not? You’d like to think you’re ‘comfortable’ but mostly only because he hasn’t heard your internal monologue. “Like...comforting?” you ask, because that’s so not your thing, not really. 

“I mean, that’s nice too I guess, but it wasn’t what I meant...I could- I could show you,” he says, rushing through the rest of his dinner as if it's his last meal. 

“Umm...sure I guess,” you say, ‘I have a pencil and some pages..” 

“No- I,” he starts, swallows and tries again. “Just...can I come a little closer?” 

He looks nervous and that should probably put you on edge but you trust him implicitly. After everything he’s done for you over the last few days, it's the least you could give him in return. “Sure.”

He smiles directly at you over the flickering campfire and you feel your heart thump thump irregularly. You chuckle to hide the awkwardness when he moves closer. 

He sits down beside you where you’re leaned against the tree for support and he’s so close, his face is right there and your hands itch to do something, anything. 

You stop yourself before they can actually reach up, thankfully. 

But then the next thing you know his head is cradled in your lap and he’s smiling up at you. 

“Like this...comfortable.” 

You narrow your gaze but there’s no heat in it, “Someone who’s fat?” you ask, and immediately regret it. 

His face scrunches up, “I don’t like that word and you’re not, for the record; not even by civilian standards,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re strong and healthy.” 

It’s impossible to hold back the snort and you grin down at him. “You sure you didn’t hit your head back there somewhere?” you ask, because he’s obviously being ridiculous and if it were anyone else you’d be worried about hidden agendas, but Konohamaru is like the most sincere, most kind person you’ve ever met. No way would he betray the bond you’ve started. 

“You got injured, that happens to all of us. It doesn’t make you weak- Actually if it weren’t for you I might not be here,” he says softly. “That ninja...he was a lot stronger than I am. If you hadn’t sealed him I don’t know that we could have won that fight.” 

You find it hard to swallow, but you force down the lump in your throat. You breathe out a shaky exhale before you slowly start to card your fingers through his hair. “Thank you, I-I know I  haven’t been of much use since the fight but I am grateful that you recognize my strength anyway.” 

He shakes his head but when you pull your hand away he takes it gently in his own and puts it back on the soft, still damp strands of his hair. “That wasn’t meant to be discouraging...this is nice,” he says, back in that softer tone before he goes to a normal speaking voice. “You’ve done twice or three times what most shinobi would in your place.”

You don’t know how to take his compliments. They make you feel warm and flush all over but you don’t want to let on so you go back to your comfort zone. “Yeah, well that’s not exactly a compliment. Most men are useless when they’re injured,” you say, a small laugh escaping your lips after the words tumble out. 

He laughs along, “We really are..” he says, and you’re both pleased and surprised he agrees with you so quickly. 

You lay there in lazy, quiet comfort for a while before you finally speak up again. 

“So when you say comfortable…” you start, biting your lip a bit as the nerves flutter wildly under your skin. “You mean someone like me?” 

Konohamaru just nods, you can feel his head move in your lap, feel the direction of it under your fingertips but you need more. 

“I need more,” you say, unable to hold it in any longer. “If this is-If I’m someone you want, I need more than a type. I want you to think about it, Konohamaru because I don’t want to scare you or add pressure but if that’s what you want, you should also know that I need more than tonight.” 

He sits up and you start to pull away but he grabs gently at your wrist to keep you from getting too far. “Hey,” he says, pulling you back making sure to lift you gently off the ground so there’s no added pressure to your leg. He whispers your name softly as his thumb brushes against your lower lip. “I’m willing to work for it, to prove myself to you.” 

“And what if I think you are unworthy,” you say, your lip trembling under the tip of his finger. You’re also particularly convinced you’re dreaming and scared he’s going to disappear right in front of you. 

“Oh I have no doubt you will, but I’m hoping that won’t stop you from accepting me.” 

Definitely dreaming….was the venison drugged?

“Okay, well...I uh, I should get to bed. You take the first watch, okay?” you ask, but don’t give him time to answer before making a mad dash, or as close to one you can get on one leg toward your bedroll and quickly fake being asleep. 

“We’ll reach Konoha tomorrow, I intend to take you out after you’ve recuperated. I would really appreciate it if you’d clear some time out of your schedule for that,” he says, with all the confidence and cockiness you’ve come to love.

You let out a fake snore but it’s not convincing if the way he laughs at you is anything to go by. 

Your cheeks burn inside your bedroll that’s pulled over your head as you quietly smile a soft, excited grin. 

You really hope this isn’t a dream, but if it is...you don’t want to wake up.

-UPDATED- READ ALL 4 CHAPTERS ON A03

[autumnslance]

Hey, I'm gonna need you to give us a short story with Thancred teaching Aeryn how to gunbreaker now, specifically through dueling and close melee range.

((You’re just trying to enable me and get some trope-ridden, indulgent fic posted, huh? Well joke’s on you buddy, I already have a tropey, indulgent draft, though it’s from Heavensward patch era, featuring grumpy Thancred, amused Midgardsormr, and definitely a sparring match. Now on Ao3. So is the follow up.))

——-

“You’re avoiding me,” Aeryn said before Thancred could walk away.

“No,” he answered. “I have been busy. As have you. All of us, preparing for Ser Aymeric’s grand tournament.”

“Then let’s prepare,” she said. “Spar with me.”

“Perhaps later–”

She crossed her arms and glared. “Why? You’re lounging, so please don’t tell me you’re currently busy. I also checked with Tataru.”

Thancred closed his mouth to bite back the ready reply. “Why do you need to spar anyway? We all know you are going to win. ‘Tis what you do.”

She caught the bitterness he tried to hide. “Not always,” she answered. They did not look at each other for a long moment. “Anyroad, I shouldn’t get complacent. And you’re the best sparring partner.”

“Am I?” he asked. There might have been a hint of acid in his tone.

“None better. Absolute taskmaster.”

He snorted and pushed off the wall he was leaning on. “Well fine, if you’re going to be flattering.”

They made their way through the gates and across the Steps of Faith, the wind whipping at their clothes and hair. Aeryn watched him.

“What?” He asked.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked. “After so many years in Thanalan, and you tend to wear lighter gear–”

“No,” Thancred said after a moment. “It is rather refreshing actually. And desert nights are chilly in their own way. Though I admit, I would not say no to an afternoon lounging in Vesper Bay’s square over crossing this bridge.”

“With overpriced orange juice from the Pissed Peiste?”

He did not reply, though for a moment it looked as if he might. He must have remembered he was angry, and wished to forgo banter. Aeryn suppressed a sigh.

“The tournament will be happening around here,” Thancred said as they reached the open plain beyond the Steps. The road stretched east and up toward Camp Dragonhead, clouds gathering over distant Xelphatol beyond the hills. Down to the west, she could barely make out the glint of Whitebrim’s towers.

“You will want to have a good idea of the ground,” he continued, crouching and peering across the open space. “Wouldn’t do to fall face first at some private’s feet because you tripped over a chinchilla’s burrow.”

“I think there’s a detail coming out to grade the area later today,” she said, drawing her rapier. “But that will just make it easier.”

“Hrmph.” He stood again, stretching as he did, then swinging his arms. “No doubt. Still; let us forgo magic for now. I want to see how you have worked on your swordsmanship these past few moons.”

“You’re sure you’re not cold?”

“I am limbering up,” he said, tone as cool as the air.

Aeryn shrugged. If he wanted to be that way. She was about to start her own stretches when Thancred suddenly dashed at her, blades drawn, making her bring her own up to meet them and immediately putting her on the defensive, forcing her back a few steps.

“Do your enemies announce when they’re ready?” He snarled, testing her defenses. He was mostly using his long Allagan blade, but she kept an eye on his smaller off-hand weapon; he had changed how he fought during his time in the wilderness.

Before, he had fought with a single sword, or matched short blades. His style had been flamboyant, even to the point of showing off, as a way to obfuscate his strikes and baffle his foes. As he pushed Aeryn across the clearing, she noted he still fought with flair and panache not found in most combatants–yet seemed more direct, less reliant on feints and misdirection than in the past. There was nothing wasteful in his movement, for all they flowed like a dance.

She could admit she was a bit envious.

And still on the back foot, godsdammit. She tried a parry Haurchefant had taught her, and gained back a few steps. A few quick strikes practiced with Lucia put Thancred on the defensive, and she caught him briefly grin.

“Mayhap your flirting across Coerthas has done you well after all,” he said, a sharp edge to the teasing.

“What?” Aeryn demanded. How dare he, he knew her better than—

The Echo’s warning came a moment too late as he spun away from her riposte, running his blade along the length of hers until with a flick of his wrist, her sword was caught, her arm twisted back as he stepped behind her, his offhand coming up to rest lightly against her throat.

“You’re easily distracted,” his voice rumbled low in her ear.

Aeryn turned her head to retort, but the words stuck when their eyes met and she was suddenly, intensely aware of being pressed against him, back to chest, their breathing heavy from the exercise and nearly in time with one another. They were close to the same height–he was only perhaps two ilms taller–so their faces were close, his brown eye strangely hooded and his lips were right there as he leaned in and gods why was she even thinking that…

They were close enough she could taste his breath, their lips barely brushing. Her eyes closed of their own accord, in anticipation of further pressure.

“…No,” he breathed, and she was suddenly spun, like when they used to dance to entertain the other Scions in that time Before Ul’dah.

Aeryn and Thancred stood in the snow, staring at one another. “That’s enough for today,” he said brusquely. “If you stay focused, you should do well enough against the Grand Companies.”

“Thancred…”

He turned away. “I apologize; that was an inappropriate distraction.”

She stared at his back for a long moment. Before he could turn his head to look, she cleared her throat. “Nothing to apologize for,” Aeryn said shortly. “All’s fair, as they say.”

“…Quite,” he replied, though sounded strange. “I believe I am rather cold after all, and will retire to the Forgotten Knight for some of Gibrillont’s mulled wine.”

She waited for him to add more, to invite her along, to offer to discuss whatever the seven hells that had been, but he walked on toward the gate. To be fair, though, she couldn’t quite manage to make those offers herself.

Aeryn watched him go, then continued to practice; not as effective as with a partner, but better than nothing, and she wouldn’t be returning to the city with him and the continued air of awkwardness.

“Thou art restless,” Midgardsormr’s voice rumbled from her left. Aeryn paused, looking over to see the small dragonet form of the ancient wyrm sitting upon a nearby stone.

“There is much to prepare for tomorrow,” she answered, returning to her drills.

“Yet there is spare time for courtship rituals?”

Aeryn fumbled mid-maneuver, nearly dropping her rapier. She blinked at him. “What? No! That was…we were sparring. Practicing, for tomorrow’s tournament.”

The dragonet tilted his head. “‘Tis not what it appeared, but mortals are strange.”

She only grunted a response and returned to her ready stance. Feint, riposte, zwerchhau…

“He is strong and skilled,” Midgardsormr continued, in a musing tone. “As I recall, such qualities are sought after, as mortals require physical mating to pass on–

“Midgardsormr,” Aeryn hissed–after stumbling again, her face on fire.

He flapped his tiny wings, and she swore he was grinning. “I was but making an observation, child, and musing on the differences between thy kin and mine own. Draconic mating is a melding of mind and spirit, rather than the flesh.”

“I am aware,” Aeryn said tightly, trying to not snap at the Father of Dragons. This was not helping take her mind off that almost-kiss. She was certain, too, the elder knew that.

There was a shift in the dragonet’s stance, and his deep black eyes now watched her closely, the hint of mirth faded. “Thou hath enjoyed the man’s companionship in the past.’Twould seem since his return, you have been at odds.”

Aeryn sheathed her blade; she was getting no further exercise in today. “…Yes,” she finally answered him. “‘Twould seem that way. I…failed to save the person he entrusted to my care, and then I failed to bring her back.”

Midgardsormr shook his head. “She but followed thy Mother’s call, and made her own choice. There was naught for thee to do upon the matter. Thou shouldst not blame thyself–Nor bear blame from others.” The last came with a slight warning growl.

“I…I don’t know if he does or not,” she admitted. “We’ve worked together, and he was honestly concerned when I was poisoned…And…” Her back pressed to his chest, his eye looking into hers, their lips not even an ilm apart. “…I’m likely imagining things, that’s all.”

That had to be it. A simple distraction, as he had said. She mustn’t read into it.

“Hrmph,” Midgardsormr rumbled. “How thy people have propagated when capable of such self-delusion is one of life’s great mysteries.”

She glowered at him. “Which of us is the expert at mortals, actually being one? You’re mistaken. Thancred is known for his flirtations and distractions; that is all it was. Naught more.”

The dragonet stretched, and made a motion almost akin to a shrug. “Thy protestations are noted,” he responded, before fading out in a puff of aether.

Aeryn rubbed her forehead. She could still sense his rumbling chuckle in the back of her mind. Once she was more or less composed–or at least no longer felt as if her face would set fire to the Gates of Judgment when she passed through them–she made her way back to the city.

—

What in the seven bloody hells had he been thinking?

Thancred ran a hand over his face as he nursed his mulled wine. The problem, of course, was that he had not been thinking. Caught in the rhythm of their sparring match, he had reacted on instinct, and she was right there and…

Inappropriate, he reminded himself. For so very many reasons. He knew at one point he had had a list, the first time he had bucked this ridiculous notion of an interest in the woman who had become their Warrior of Light.

There was one; the champion of the realm could certainly do better than a grizzled, magicless rogue.

There was another; since his misadventure in the Lifestream and being left in Dravania’s wilderness without magic, he now looked and felt closer to his actual age of thirty-two winters. Still young enough to do his job, but it seemed a decent gap against her twenty-six. She was even younger than–

That thought made him slug down a too-large gulp of too-hot wine. It helped focus the pain and gave an excuse for the tears threatening to appear as he coughed, waving away the bartender.

Aeryn had looked him in the eye and nodded when he had told her “whatever it takes” and yet…

That was not fair, and not part of the list, though he couldn’t help the anger, the grief, the shame at lying to F'lhaminn.

He retired to the small room in Cloud Nine that Tataru had rented for him. Laying in bed staring at the ceiling, he found his mind wandering back to the sparring match. How Aeryn felt pressed against him, how she smelled, how her grey eyes had darkened and then closed as their lips nearly touched…Godsdammit.

He could always blame spending time alone in the wilderness for how easily distracted he was by a pretty woman, colleague or not.

That Aeryn had seemed willing did not help; it would have been easier if she had pushed him away, cursed at him, reminded him that she did not experience such base attractions. A voice whispered that did not negate a desire for intimacy, and there were those rumors of her and the knight. He told that voice to shut up as he rolled over. But his imagination continued, conjuring images of furthering that kiss, of pressing closer, his fingers tangling in her fine black hair, the taste of her…

The aftertaste of mulled wine on his own tongue remembered the bite he had smelled in the fallen cup at Falcon’s Nest, her lying on the floor as chaos reigned outside, and the feeling of his heart in his throat at the idea of Aeryn poisoned.

Perhaps that was why he was in such a strange mood, he decided. Fear for his friend’s life, even as he was still grieving Minfilia.

Satisfied, he turned his mind to a mummer’s breathing exercise, a trick to fall asleep quickly, forcing his mind to still so he could rest.

—-

((There’s a lemony solo-Thancred follow-up to this too.))